The Severed Hand

The children cling close to Zenithral at first, watching the rest of the party warily. In particular they seem distrustful of Fergy's beard - until he turns into Nessa and they realize that beard smells better than demon. By the time he returns to his dwarf self, they appear immensely relieved. The one person they don't seem to care for at all is Erevain - perhaps because his full elf heritage makes him smell the most like Erestor.

Though neither of them speak, they clearly have different personalities. The girl is curious, freely poking into bags and with little sense of personal space. The boy is much more serious, showing little expression and observing more than acting.

Tonight Halla is very reserved around the party members, still ashamed of the part she has played in the recent events. She spends much more time with the children, oddly, and quickly puts together some animal skins for them to wear. She stays close to them, speaking softly and stroking their hair.

It seems oddly maternal for the druid woman, but those who know her better remember that her parents had been murdered when she was very young. After growing up in the wilderness, Arundel had taken her in to teach her some civility - and then he, too, had been murdered. Though human, she has up until recently always lived on the fringes of town and people. Perhaps in these young cambions she sees some innocence to preserve. Or perhaps seeing to their needs is merely more comfortable than interacting with the friends she has let down. Every so often she glances over at Zenithral, but then goes back to watching the children.

Ug feels no mental connection with the boy. Whatever ability allowed Whitcomb to communicate with Ug telepathically, these children to lot seem to share it.

The boy does notice Ug's intent gaze, however, and shies away from the large barbarian.

In the morning, the sun bleeds over the crest of the surrounding mountains as the party makes ready to enter the Hand together. After some discussion about what to do with the cambion twins, Halla volunteers to stay with them on the airship with Oswald, and the rest of the companions agree.

When they are ready, the heroes approach the drawbridge. It is with some understandable trepidation that they move forward, Zenithral at their head. As they walk along the old planks, however, there is no sign of the figure who questioned Zenithral yesterday. Seeing no better alternative, they slowly move to the other side of the drawbridge and into the Hand.

Within, it is dark. Even those in the party whose eyes are accustomed to darkness have trouble seeing more than a stone's throw away, and that dimly. Their footsteps echo on floor tiles that once were finely crafted, but now are thoroughly cracked and worn.

This place is wrong. The air they breathe seems different - heavy and unsatisfying. Small things seem to change between glances, as though a pile of rubble has moved over several feet from where it was, or footsteps that appear and disappear in the dust that coats the floor. At times even gravity seems to be shifted slightly, which makes walking down a straight corridor a dizzying affair.

Alalla studies the script for a moment, unable to comprehend what the words mean. Defacing an enemy's territory is a common orc practice. Could orcs have been the ones that assaulted the Hand, provoking such desperate measure for defense?

Alalla is pondering this for a moment when the creature appears. Seemingly from nowhere, it launches itself into the midst of the party and tears into Ras with deadly claws (Ras takes 80 damage, a mix of slashing and psychic). Hunched over and gnarled with muscle, its unearthly, bestial shriek shatters the silence of the hall into a hundred jagged pieces. Half a dozen times it shreds at the small gnome, and in the blur of movement Alalla knows she sees the slightly porcine face of an orc, tusks and all, but its face... Warped. Twisted. Where are its eyes?

As the heroes grab their weapons and turn on the creature, Alalla can only stand in complete shock, her mind unable to accept the horror of what she is seeing.

Twitching madly and lightning fast, enough creature slips out from the midst of the party and charges across the hall, sometimes loping on all fours, sometimes half-rolling as its limbs propel it forward. It is uncanny how little sound it makes as it moves so fast.

Round 1 Player Phase!

Ras' wounds start to mend when another shriek pierces the air, unexpectedly close and much more shrill, but still awful and hoarse. A tall, gaunt figure in tattered robes stands not far from the party. This one does have eyes that glitter with a pale, hungry light. Its mouth is opened impossibly wide to reveal a fat tongue and chiseled teeth, and somehow Ras can feel it *taste* his healing magic.

It moves forward through the darkness, reaching for the gnome, and seemingly oblivious to the other companions.

Round 1 Player Phase!