Callen nods as he prepares to follow the sequence.
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Kanei prepares himself as well, hefting the axes up.
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Hereward’s confidence in this mission continues to drop. They could back out now, they have gained no progress so far. And they would back out if the storehouses were empty. Why didn’t they have a scouting party try and get to the storehouses first and ensure the rations? A question he should have asked before they were sent this far. Though the answer would just be impatience. How they managed to wait this long to start with was a minor miracle.
He continues to hang back, waiting to see if their next attempt goes wrong.
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Representative Vaughn takes the fourth axe.
You are able to maneuver the axes to twist the levers in the order Bren pointed out - the top right, the bottom left, the bottom right, the top left.
There is another click, another, deeper hiss. The door opens.
Sort of.
You can hear cranking gears as the door slides upwards, revealing a second door, wooden, with a steel inset in the shape of a wing.
“Ah.” The Scholar Representative says, pushing roughly past you. With his back to most of the group, he pulls something out of his robe. Those by the door - Callen, Bren, Kanei, Iosif - see a red object, reflecting the light, which is connected around his neck with a delicate chain. He presses it to the steel inset in the second door. A flash, a click, and it, too, slides upwards. He replaces the object in his robes.
He turns to the group, ignoring entirely those that opened the door. The smile on his face is almost indicative that he himself accomplished the feat.
“Shall we proceed?”
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After having his wounds attended to, The Verdant Paladin is ready to go. He once again takes up position in the back so that he can keep an eye on most of the party (especially Iosif).
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“You’re welcome.” Callen says to Aron as he returns the axes to their respective owners.
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“Obliged. Excuse the Scholar. He’s accustomed to attention.”
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Callen nods, “Aren’t we all, to some degree?” He asks.
“And, thanks for helping.” He says.
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Iosif slowly returned to his feet and joined back in with the moving party. At times like this he really wished he could stop glowing at will; this was painfully inopportune for everyone else.
Maybe nobody will talk to me if I’m too bright to look at?
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“WOOOOO!” Kanei shouts in celebration.
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The march begins again. For those unaccustomed to such activity, it is grueling. Even for those well-used to marches like this, it becomes an effort to talk or think. After what seems like an eternity, or maybe a matter of minutes, the procession stops again. Vaughn raises his voice.
“We’ll rest here for a few hours.” There are sighs of relief from many of the Scholars. “We believe this was once a factory, so there may be equipment worth salvaging. But if it looks volatile, don’t touch it.”
He provides no information as to how you are to discern what constitutes as “volatile”.
The Scholar Representative opens the door. It is made of wood, and slides upwards on visible gears, although it is unclear how they were activated.
The group files into the building, or room, whatever you would call it. The sphere of light encircling the party does nothing to show you how big the building it is, but you can tell by the smell, the feel, the way the noises echo, that it is large. Larger than the original pavilion you were in.
And something is wrong. Deathly wrong. The wrongness of an infected wound, or a mangled bone.
Someone- something, briefly, swoops over your head.
Iosif, you briefly glimpse a horrific figure, bloated belly, massive bat wings, the face of a gargoyle. Outstretched claws, scything down towards your scalp, pulling up and away just in time to avoid crashing into the group.
The air is suddenly filled with a cacophony of high, whooping yowk-yowk-yowk cries.
Hereward, a soldier just to your left and in front - not one of your squad - screams, “Get d-” but his cry is cut off by a gurgle, as another of the giant batlike shapes latches onto his face and shoulders.
You all have seconds to act. What do you do?
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Callen immediately orders for everyone to shine as bright of a light as possible at any creatures that get near and ready fires to use in battle. He also draws his sword and shield for battle and yells, “Gores!”
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“Thank god, I need a drink.”
Kanei draws his sword backing himself up next to the beefiest person in the nearby vicinity, The verdant paladin. @T4k4nuv4
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Iosif stared at the oncoming figure in awe and wonder, flabbergasted by its appearance. He only recoiled in horror after it narrowly missed pulling his scruffy hair out by a few inches.
Entering the fetal position was out of the question with the cage on, so Iosif had to settle for kneeling at an extremely awkward angle and trying not to cry. Pretty much anyone was capable of squatting lower than him, and given the size of the creatures, it was entirely possible they might be strong enough to carry him off.
But he didn’t want to think about that.
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You’re joking. Kanei formed a thought, this though took much difficulty as he was not only slightly intoxicated but terrified.
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Hereward stands his ground, quickly moving his right leg back as he squats down. His body shifts so that he’s sideways, body facing to his right rather than front. Similarly, he points his left foot out in front of himself, somewhat forward while the right foot in the back is positioned more horizontally and also towards the right. With both hands on sword, he turns the executioner’s blade towards the possible target and lunges forward with a downward swing.
For any watching Hereward, his motion could almost be described as a cartoon exaggeration for chopping a log. And perhaps it would be funny, until the force of execution bites. It may not be a great sword for combat, but it separates flesh and bone like few others.
Hereward fully intends to chop through the foul monster attacking the soldiers in front of him. If he manages to cut through the beast entirely, he can only hope to strike his ally in the shoulder but does not hold back on his force. If another creature tries to do the same to him, they may be the first to taste the head lopping swing.
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The Verdant Paladin grabs his axes in one swift motion. Always quick to adjust to darker situations from his time in the forest, his eyes quickly spot movement. He figures out where it will be, then jumps over the group and hacks at the beast.
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Unable to twist fully out of the way in time, your weapon connects where the wing meets its bloated body. Before you are able to carry out the full momentum of your swing, however, the Gore spasms violently, pulling you off balance. Instead of cleaving through the monster, you feel your weapon connect with it’s spine and lodge.
The Gore’s scream is not like the yowk-yowk hunting cries. Is is ear-splitting, visceral - and brief, as it’s life is snuffed out.
Around you, those with weapons are still struggling to react, and the fight resembles a mass of chaotic flesh, blood, and steel. You seem to have made the first kill.
One of the creatures swoops towards you.
Mid leap, something slams into your left side, claws digging into your tough skin. The effect of gravity becomes less pertinent as you are borne aloft. Wings beat at your face and eyes, and a whining scream fills your ears, drowning out all other noise.
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Callen leaps into action and moves to defend Iosif, hacking at the creatures when they got too close, each strike was done with the intent to kill.
“Strike to kill!” He orders.
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Kanei retrieves his sunstone hoping the light will be enough to scare it off.
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