Evil Invaders

Far, around the lake, in a land caught between two shattered kingdoms, you've gathered on a hilltop, looking down upon a valley of winter's lifeless trees. At the far end, you see your goal, the abandoned royal tombyard of the Calphatian Duchy.

Duke Calphat was slaughtered in the War of the Falling Stars, eviscerated by his own men, it is said, in the midst of battle. The soldiery abandoned the field and fled. The man you met was burning his tattoos off with hot blades, "The better to suffer now than be drawn and quartered as a traitor. Kings have no mercy for those who do shirk their gate to die as dogs for their whim."

What interested you most was the plague unleashed, if rumor is true, by Duke Calphat upon his own people. A great tide of death, plague hunters at the borders, and an entire dukedom consumed by death.

This was a year ago, and it has been some time since the last case of the plague was reported by the rumor-heralds.

If you're the first to enter these, then the tombs of the ancient line of nobles will be unguarded. Untold wealth for the taking.

At the hilltop, Hermod scans the valley with eyes reflecting an oath-sworn determination and the fires of hell.
He pauses as his gaze falls on the tomb yard. This is what we came for. Though Hermod is not here for treasures and riches. A nobler purpose has driven him here.

He then turns his attention to the other people present.

Pike's ax, brown with caked blood and gore balances on his ample shoulder, his chiseled chest heaving a little from the exertion of carrying his bulk up the hill even though he doesn't reach the top until much after Hermod and the others.

"Haha here we are!" He stares wide-eyed at the vista below. "What untold wealth lies there for the taking I wonder?" For him it is a magnificent sight and he licks his lips in anticipation.

Lowering his axe from his shoulder he starts to pick at the dried gore with his filthy fingers, occasionally popping a piece into his mouth as he gazes at the scene below. "Looks pretty abandoned. Such a pity. There's nothing lovelier than the sound of cracked skulls, am I right? Maybe there will be a few nice surprises."

He throws back his head and lets out a loud, humorless laugh. His eyes brim with tears of mirth and the smile tugging his lips breaks into a grin.

A lithe figure of chains, spikes and flesh the pale of death springs suddenly atop the hill, having set a wicked polearm and flipping acrobatically through the cold winter's air, to land in a feral crouch. Her long fingers flex with razored tips, as eyes of flame search from within a mask of spiked metal.

"Oftc yp za mydd." The hellion curses in a growl.

His countenance perpetually twisted in a snarl, the tall and gangly bone elf, Ash Soulshriek, strides to the summit of the hill and looks down upon the sallow snow-laden valley and their goal, the field of the royal dead, beyond. Haunting yellow-gold eyes stare at the sight, as the chilling wind blows long white wisps of his hair across the pale and unpleasant face.

"Lo. Our destination is in sight." He speaks in a rasping whisper and a gesture with the tip of his curved blade.

As the sun sets, balefire lights up within the main mausoleum at the far end. Magical light, Ash sees, an incantation that draws power from the abyssal realms. A beacon to draw the weary, and he would be right to suspect for what purpose would you draw the guileless to a temple of death.



You enter the valley of the graves and wind your way through the neglected tombstones of lesser folk. The moonless sky drags clouds like ragged nails across the starscape. A wolf howls in the distance, answered by the scream off some nightmare predator.

As you pass through the poor plots as approach the first tomb that can rightly be called such, a wretched chuffing sound precedes the crack of dry twigs to your right. Twin pale eyes open when you look that way, then two more, as two fel guardian turn toward you, the unwanted interlopers. Their firms are concealed by shadow.

Ash points toward the glowing eyes with his blade. "See. Even now the dead rise to greet us. Let's send them back to the grave forthwith." His rasping voice carries on the chill of twilight's embrace.

"Dyz zmyp tapy!" Viv snarls, whirling the haft of her weapon about her.

Drawn to the noise, Pike glances towards the first tomb smiling gleefully when he sees the guards. "It seems as though there will be some skull-cracking after all, eh Ash? What shall we do to the vile things, Viv?" Sliding his tongue along his broken teeth he draws blood, while a low roar rumbles and builds in his chest, his hatchet slowly twirling in a lazy arc above his head.

Hermod looks towards the thing Ash is pointing out, then he readies his shield and draws his sword.
"Aye, let us banish these foul things and make them rue they ever stood in our way." he shouts bashing the sword blade against the shield to make a clamor in preparation for battle.

"Slaughter.." The feral hellion answers Pike, as she readies to spring onto the guardians and send them back to the grave.

The creatures move to attack, advancing quickly. They use a full turn to move, ending up fifteen feet from you.

Initiative checks please. If you beat them, go hard. We won't track initiative at all, you're just checking to see if you go before them.

Pike continues whirling his axe in a slow arc while he shifts weight from one leg to the other in a kind of slow-motion battle dance, while the blood from his tongue slides down his chin.

"Ha! Indeed! Skull-cracking for everyone!" Ash replies.

He sees the undead rushing toward them. "Oh...Its ON!"

Ash opens his mouth wide and shrieks, as a gout of acid spews forth onto the guardians.

RRRRWAaaaaaarrrr! Viv roars and moves in for the kill.

Hermod stops the beat on the shield and assumes a battle pose.

"Yuck!They don't look tasty to me. I'll pass, yewmph!"

Strux, not standing much taller than your usual goblin, looks up at his comrades trying to look more amused than phased by the sight. He draws his scimitar and holds a dart at the ready in his off-hand.

Ash reacts impossibly fast as the two skeletal cadavers risk to grab you with their deadly claws. Their bodies are wrought of death itself, rotting and pustule ridden. The risen dead of those who died by horrid disease. Fingerbones emerge from pealed skin to become sharpened claws, black ichor shines from their gaping maws.

---

The creatures take avoid damage from Ash, then one attacks Ash and the other Strux. They both misses.

Everyone can act before they go again, in whatever order you post.

Damage Track
Bone Hellion 1: -11
Bone Hellion 2: -6

Viv spins her axe and, holding her weapon nearer the butt end of its long haft to avoid the diseased flesh, wades into the acid drenched walking corpse. She slams the lethal blade down two-handed upon the undead thing, seeking to cleave it in twain.

Hit and damage delivered in full. Please let me know which you're attacking, otherwise I'll flip a commemorative Iron Maiden coin and key Eddie decide.