The Canterbury Tales- Chapter 4: Dead Drunk


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Borric exclaims, "Nasty critters, burn!" And he pushes the flame from the torch at the spider swarm.

<<Melee Attack +5, This is probably against their Touch AC.>>
 



Once again, the Professor scorches one of the swarms in front of him, and once more he escapes being harmed as Francis and Sir Richard provide him with even better protection. Borric attacks the second swarm while being joined successfully by Kindroff. Francis misses with his swing of a torch, but is satisfied that he kept his comrades out of harm's way. As Sir Richard puts his flame to the swarm the Professor had been attacking he starts a small fire which leaps from hairy spider to tiny hairy spider, causing most of the swarm to harmlessly disperse in a chaotic flight.

The remaining swarm is made quick work of as the scouts surround it and eliminate the majority of the spiders inside, causing the rest to flee, although not before an almost human-like death cry is shouted out from inside the writhing mass. The cry continues to resonate, weaker each succeeding time, as the wailing echo is carried by the swarms' remnants into the shadows and finally ceases altogether.

As the panting men catch their breath on the slightly overgrown cobblestones the throne begins to illuminate with pale light from the rays of some invisible moon. A tall man sits there, his body and face hidden underneath a dusky set of robes and hood, the type sometimes worn by poorer monks. He claps his hands three times in a slow and loud manner before rising. "Good, good! Well done! You have proven yourselves worthy to become my new servants. I, Varath, will readily make you priests of the Dreaming!"
 

"Me serve Odin and ney other god! Reveal yerself servant o' Loki, I wont be fooled by yer tricks!" exclaims Krindorf, drawing his weapon.
 

The Professor wipes the sweat from his forhead with his sleeve. And then turning towards the clapping he realizes the "man" was not there before was he?

He keeps the torch at the ready whiel he adjusts the suitcase and hatbox carried in his other hand.

[sblock=OOC] Ready action to throw torch and any signs of attack. [/sblock]
 

Duncan rests one had on his knee, crouching slightly while he breathes after the swarm. His second tightly grips his lance. As the strange man calls attention to himself, Duncan looks up and takes an involuntary step back. “Are you truly Varath, or another blasted illusion?”
 

Francis lets the torch drop to the ground, bits of oiled cloth breaking apart as it rattles and rolls to a stop. He moves between a few of the gathered men, putting a hand on the northman Krindorf's sword hand, staying any potential threat where diplomacy may work. He keeps his words to himself, hoping this Varath answer truly Duncan's question.
 


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