The creature had caught Jiminous off guard. He had fully expected the temple to have protections against undead creatures. It was very much a surprise to him that this one had snuck in. Heck, it was for this reason that he hadn't animated the corpse of the priest on the ground next to them to begin with.

Still, all it takes is one mistake to kill a man. Jiminous had made two. First, he had made the mistake of not knowing, and then he had made the mistake of prodding. He was the biggest threat to the creature in the room. He had made this obvious in his attempt to stop his future allies from being harmed. It had backfired.

The creature held one long dark, blade in each hand. Two massive claws that were tearing through Jiminous's chain shirt as if it wasn't even there. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his chest mostly because there was so little chest left between the claws and the heart. Weakness... he thought, his thoughts slowing, the blood leaving his extremities.

He had never feared death. In fact, he had planned out his meeting with the creature. He wanted to argue with him over the use of a scythe "Why do you want to harvest crops? I'm here to kill people!" But, he had hoped his death would come with more glory, not at the hands of his own in a temple to a god he despised.

It was an unfortunate situation. Still, it wasn't as though this man didn't have a god that he clung to. He was rather attached to Corgerus. The one that called himself the Reaper was quite appropriate. He had rather liked the skull symbol too. If it hadn't been for spell requirements, he would never have animated a corpse with the skull still on. It was quite appropriate to behead them with his axe, and leave the skull in honor of Corgerus.

That was all he knew of Corgerus, but he thought it enough. He didn't breathe as the last stroke of those dark claws cut through his soft heart. Weakness... He didn't need to anymore. It was as though he had achieved lichdom. He was able to stand up, and look down at himself as he fell, his back against the wall, his eyes wide with surprise at the creature the beast had been. He was calm now, and the pain, though he enjoyed it for what it was, was fading.

A bony hand touched his shoulder and he turned quickly, prepared to fight. It was Corgerus, standing there beckoning him. The god carried a greatsword. How peculiar...

Raiel had not time to get off her next shots the dark intruder leap from where he had attack the necromancer and grabbed up his body and disappeared in a sudden crack of energy.

The Dark Intruder was gone. The immediate threat was over, all that was left was the aftermath of the attack and many questions.

Raiel's voice issued into the relative silence following he disappearrance of he intruder. The only difference is that she was quite alive and it was no ghostly whisper sound. But a clearly enunciated vocalization, "I think we deserve some answers to our questions."

The immediate battle was over, and though another of their supposed allies had been felled and taken, Katriana could not say she was upset over the matter. The vampire had taken the necromancer as a victim, and thus two evils were rid from this chamber. The fact that the vampire was able to enter the inner sanctum of the high church of the order however was troubling. To Katriana’s knowledge all were sanctified hallow grounds, imbued with wards to defend against such things, either Magnagoth’s followers had been slacking, or the vampire was truly a fell beast ineed.
The battle currently over though, Katriana checked to ensure everyone near was alright, heading over to Raen and bowing solemnly to the warrior. “Ragnarok, blesses those who are stalwart in battle sister” With that she lays hands upon Raen healing her up until he full daily allotment of healing I need be.

Turning to Kaene, Katriana stepped forward. and took a kneel, Kumadel's limp form draped across the bed by her side. "Ecclesiarch Kaene, I know your time is both valuable and sparse in these days of gathering darkness, but please. This here is a stranger, I do not know her name, but I do attest to her valour and bravery. She was felled by a tragic accident which robbed her of the chance to be seated in the Great Halls of those on High. She is so young, please, I beg of you, as a Warder, as a mortal being, as a follower of the light, please spare her from the turmoils of unclaimed afterlife, and breathe into her another chance to do right in this world."

Katriana looked upon the high ranking priest, concern in her eyes. (I radiate an awesome aura of goodness btw) "I have gathered what funds I may to aid in the process, (taking into account Devalero's generous donation of whatever) and I hope it is enough to sway you that this favor of no mere asking will benefit us all in the days to come."
With that, she retrieving the coin purse with the other, and placed it head bowed before her as an offering.

The Krim Mountains, Far Northern Tar’Talon
The angry screams of the bandits echoed oddly across the mountains as they charged towards the pair. Bursting over the bluff in a crude parody of a line they tore across the plateau, clearing over half of the fifty feet separating the two groups before the pair could react. The one with the crossbow remained behind and let loose with another shot, striking Toby in the shoulder but deflecting harmlessly off his fine dragonhide armor. The ambush was fast but so far ineffective, and it took only a second for the pair to get their bearings.

Toby was the first to react, grabbing his whip and shield and heading out toward the approaching horde trying to put something between them and the frail looking cleric he accompanied. With a loud *snap* his whip lashed out like an angry tongue, wrapping tightly around the lead bandit’s leg and pulling him into the air. In the same fluid motion Toby swung again, whipping directly across the man’s chest, the whip sizzling and leaving a long bibbling black gash across the fallen man’s abdomen. The other bandits quickly took notice of the threat and eyed each other warily, Toby’s whip gave him nearly uncontested control of his immediate area, he would be difficult to avoid.

Ishkanna, seeing Toby locking up the ground battle, drew her bow. The crossbowman was the only target out of Toby’s range, and she looked to ensure that he would not be able to take advantage of this. Her eyes darkened, and in a moment she embodied all of nature’s fury. She drew back an arrow, its shaft becoming cloaked in a deep black outline as she did. With prefect precision she let the arrow fly, catching the bandit directly in the throat and knocking him bodily into the air and out of sight. Her eyes brightened, and she adjusted her position slightly, careful to keep Toby between the remaining bandits and herself. She knew full well how frail she was it would seem.

((OOC: Ryst you tripped a fellow and hit him in the chest, Reralae you crit’d a fellow and hit him in the neck. If anyone moves more than 5 ft you get an AoO Ryst, and lots of the trip attacks. This should be fun))

As he walked forward, a bolt from the crossbow bounced off the breastplat of his armor, and for a moment, Toby wondered if Ishkanna undestood that he had expected her to take care of the man with her bow. No time to worry about that now, as the rest of the men charged him, quickly closed the distance between them... Well, they tried to.

Seeing his opening, Toby lashed out with his whip, pulling the legs out from under the lead bandit and leaving him a stinging welt across the body for his trouble.

Toby felt the wind of an arrow ripple his long white hair as it flew past, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the crossbowman go down, blood spraying from his throat. Apparantly Ishkanna was entirely on the same page. Taking the time to aim a shot like that was more than forgiveable, especially since no harm had come from the crossbowman's rushed shot.

"You men might want to reconsider your profession," he said, lashing his whip so that the cracks echoed off the nearby rocks. "There's nothing but death for you here."

OOC: Readying an action to attack anyone who looks like they're going to make some sort of ranged attack, and if they start provoking AoOs, I'll still be using trip attacks.

Iskanna looks over her companion's shoulder, and sees the now-tentative advancing of the ambushers. Holding her bow in one hand, she traces an intricate array of symbols and circles through the air, murmuring as she does so.

Her gentle voice sings almost in a hymn, murmuring several times this phrase: "Tincmaegea en vilya pelekta ho."

At the third repeat, she raises her hand, which has now finished drawing in the air, and seems to grasp something that shimmers slightly in the air. They appear to be the outlines of two throwing daggers. With a negligent flick of her wrist, Iskanna sends the two daggers flying, sailing through the air without fail to strike the man next to the one that fell to her companion's whip.

The Krim Mountains, Far Northern Tar’Talon
Toby’s whip had the bandits at bay, and they looked at one another before turning back to the solitary warrior in front of them. The fallen bandit stood in a hurry, the large welt on his chest visible through the tear that had been ripped into his clothes from Toby’s strike. He looked over his shoulder at the space of air that had once been their ranged support before bellowing with rage and rushing straight at Toby. The others followed suit, and the line convened on the lone whip wielder, hoping their numbers would limit his ability to hold them off.

Any hope of that was quickly squashed. Toby twirled expertly, his whip snapping the legs out from under three bandits, and striking another two of them on their way down. The remaining three continued towards him, lead by the one he had injured moments earlier. They trio encircled him, ducking under his whip and attempting to cut him to ribbons.

Toby’s dragonhide armor protected him yet again however, and the crude blades of the bandits were turned aside. Their offense blunted, Toby had merely to turn before loosing his whip on one of them, taking his feet clean out from under him and tearing a long stretch of flesh off his back as he hit the ground.

"You men might want to reconsider your profession…there's nothing but death for you here." he said menacingly, and his point seemed to come across quite easily to the two men left standing.

Not to be left out, Iskanna called upon her mage training and conjured up a pair of bolts of force. With a flick of her wrist they sailed unerringly towards the wounded bandit who remained on his feet, and soundlessly they struck him straight in the chest. His eyes bulged a moment before a spray of blood escaped his lips and he fell backwards onto the ground.

The last standing bandit looked about as his comrades began to return to their feet and regained his resolve, keeping his blade trained on Toby.

((OOC: Quick Ryst…knock them all down again!))

Iskanna tilts her head at the scenario in front of her. She would like to do more, but her training in both clerical and arcane was quite taxing, and so left her with far less in her repertoire of magic than if she only along one path. She was also hesitant to use spells that could otherwise be used for healing. Iskanna sighs, and nocks another arrow to her bow.

Taking aim at one of the other wounded men, with care to not hit her companion, Iskanna looses another shot.

Them stubbornly rose to their feet, trying to continue the fight... now a few of them had gotten close, and despite the lash of his whip and the magic of his companion, they seemed unwilling to break off. Most bandits were not so tenacious, preferring to live to rob another day. Either these men were truly desperate or something else was going on.

Either way, there was no time for idle wondering now, the raiders were dangerously close, and though they had failed to harm Toby, his companion didn't seem to be as a hardy as he. Few were.

Slashing the whip furiously, Tobe did everything he could to keep the men grounded and immobile, focusing on preventing them from moving past him. Whatever happened, he would rather die than let these men harmthe innocent behind him.

OOC: Pretty much the same plan as before, except readying an action to trip anyone who manages to move past me (like if an AoO misses or good tuble roll or something).

Lheriel stood, slightly in awe at what happened. The supposed vampire grabbed one of them, and disappeared right in front of him. Jeskell came up to his side, and had the same look on his face. A quizzical look with anger mixed in. They fought this bastard and then he didn't have the honor to die nobly? What a fool he was. He will die someday.

Lheriel could only look on as Katriana pleaded to bring their first fallen member back. He noticed not as many tears were shed for their second loss as were the first. The circumstances befit the reactions though.

Both Lheriel and Jeskell check themselves to make sure they were ok, and waited to see what the priest would say.

The feeling of a blade slicing through flesh, whether it is undead, living or something else entirely, is exhilarating. Success, pride, and adrenaline all mixed with some primal urge to utterly destroy your foe all built up to that killing blow. That is how a fighter must do battle. Anything less and you end up as a pile of bloody meat on the ground.

Raen did not feel worried at dropping her shield and tossing her longsword. The greatsword felt fluid in her hands and was easy to maneuver up and over her shoulder into a downward strike even as the vampire turned to see where the longsword had come from. The end of her blade bit into the vampire’s chest-piece, the tip coming off bloody. Without hesitation, she drew another line across the retreating creature’s front. A dark drop of the liquid fell on the ground and more began to stain the leather around the new wounds.

Raen’s lips curled in a smile that almost became a sneer at the creature. He was wounded, backed into a corner and without an escape route. The feral attacked again with her claws, clawing away as the vampire tried to dodge the attacks. A pair of arrows zipped past and lodged themselves into the creature even as the half-elf fumbled, nearly being hit by his own man’s arrow.

With a growl, the unholy creature backed into the corner, grasping with one hand for the limp and blood-soaked body of the necromancer. Even as Raen readied another swing, the vampire leapt up the wall, dragging the body with him. Loosing a final hiss towards the Ecclesiarch, the vampire disappeared with a loud crack.

“Fu**er!” cursed Raen, slamming a fist on her armored thigh. Another person was dead and this time there wasn’t even a body to recover. With their luck, the vampire would be able to turn the necromancer into one of his own and send him back against them with a vengeance.

Raen rolled her right arm, resettling her armor, before walking to her pack and taking out of a rough cloth tucked in a side pocket. The cloth was stained dark from use and most could tell it had only one purpose. As she wiped her blade’s tip clean and sheathed it, the feral paladin, Katriana, came over, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Ragnarok, bless those who are stalwart in battle sister,” said the feline humanoid. Raen felt a chilling warmth spread into her shoulder and shuddered for a moment but felt no pain or stiffness in the wound.

“My thanks, milady,” replied Raen. She stood and retrieved both her shield and longsword, cleaning the steel rim and blade before sheathing the sword and laying both beside her pack.

"I think we deserve some answers to our questions," said the ranger who appeared across the room from where Raen stood, the spell of invisibility no longer needed without the presence of their foes.

“I think we deserve a lot more than just answers,” added Raen as she motioned around the room and to the body of the priest. “But first is this place safe now? And if it is, we should get him out of here. We all may be killers, but that doesn’t mean we enjoy the presence of the dead. At least, I do not.”

The Krim Mountains, Far Northern Tar’Talon
Where there were once seven, only one remained standing. Two of his comrades were dead, four other lay on their backs, and he stood face to face with the imposing figure that was Toby. Toby’s lash cracked out again, and his comrades that tried to rise found themselves on their backs, this time for good. Toby was effective at what he did, no one could move within with range without taking a hard lashing. The last bandit looked about, and without a moment’s pause made a run for elsewhere. He didn’t get ten feet before Iskanna’s arrow took him down.

The fight had been quick, having only lasted a minute and no sooner had the last bandit hit the ground than Chancer stepped out from behind an outcropping, a look of supreme satisfaction on his face which quickly turned to shock as he stepped out and noticed the pile of bodies surrounding Toby.

”Can’t I leave you guys alone for a minute?” he said jokingly, a half smile on his lips. ”Let’s get this mess cleaned up and get ready…looks like we’re getting close…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Temple of Magnagoth, Camatcha
The vampire had escaped, taking the body of the necromancer with it, but for now the group, and their cargo, was safe. While some breathed a sigh of relief, Raen’s thoughts on the situation could be easily determined from her choice words. Her call of ”Fu**er! echoed oddly throughout the room, it was obvious she did not like having her opponent run off instead of fight her. Without skipping a beat, Raiel reappeared and moved toward the Ecclesiarch.

"I think we deserve some answers to our questions."
“I think we deserve a lot more than just answers,” added Raen as she motioned around the room and to the body of the priest. “But first is this place safe now? And if it is, we should get him out of here. We all may be killers, but that doesn’t mean we enjoy the presence of the dead. At least, I do not.”
The elderly priest nodded grimly. ”I had thought this place to be safe as it was, but it seems our enemies have more resources at their disposal than we thought. The man, or rather the beast, you just encountered is called Rakdos, and if he is involved I fear we’ve entered something far worse than I ever thought possible.”
He sat himself in a chair around the table and motioned for the others to do the same.

”Previously I had told you why I had called you here, the theft of a potent artifact of the Church of Gob, although what I know now is that this not a catastrophic act of chance. Before I continue, I must ask if you have heard the story of Arcanaloth, brother of Magnagoth and scourge of the gods. I fear you do not, for in truth few other than myself can recount such a tale.”
Kaene waited a moment, giving a silent census to those assembled. Their looks of puzzlement and silence told him clearly that none of the group knew anything of the story. The priest drew a quick breath, and proceeded to tell them the tale of Arcanaloth and sealing of the material plane from divine influence (OOC: See First Post For Refresher).

”Now as I told you, the seal can only be broken by the will of the deities that created it, and even in the direst of circumstances not all of them would personally grant their consent, the risk is too great. Unfortunately, their personal consent is not required. The will of the gods holds the seal in place, and the will of the gods can break it. But even the magic of the gods is flawed. Their divine will flows through all their followers, their temples and their lands, but not one of those is concentrated enough to worry us. It is their gifts to us that cause me worry. This artifact of Gob’s that has gone missing is the last remaining ”Rack of the Sadist” a tool of interrogation and torture gifted on his most devout followers personally by the Pain Bringer centuries ago. A potent symbol of Gob’s favour, it is undoubtedly infused with some bit of himself, possibly enough to act as his will in the destruction of the divine wards.”
Kaene paused a moment, but whether if was for effect or to catch his breath the group could not discern.

”While I had initially thought its theft was a horrifying coincidence, the attack on my very temple has convinced me otherwise. There is no question in my mind that Rakdos came here looking for this.” He said as he gestured to the crate. ”And I fear had you not been here, he would have succeeded.”
Kaene gestured lightly, and the crate rose into the air as if supported by unseen helpers. It hovered slowly over and set itself gently on the table. With another wave of his hand the top of the crate lifted itself off and moved across the room. The side of the crate fell harmless over, revealing the ornate and finely crafted crystal ball contained within.

”This…” Kaene pointed at the ball, ”Is only remaining ”Sphere of Truesight” in all the planes. It has remained safe with our order for six-hundred years since it was granted to us by Magnagoth, and was kept hidden for the past century. Only now, in lieu of these recent events, have we decided to use it once more.”
Kaene stood, and lightly laid his hand on the sphere.

”Rakdos is an ancient being. He has been undead for at least two centuries, possibly even more. I had thought him dead as no news of him had surfaced for some time. As one can expect, my compatriots and I make it our business to know all that occurs on this world of ours. In life, Rakdos was once an…”agent” of our temple, performing services for us of a rather delicate nature. However, he was granted access once before to the Sphere, and learned of Arcanaloth and the stories I have told you. He fell quickly from our order, dedicating himself to the cause of the exiled one, and disappeared for quite some time. It seems now that he has discovered that which I have long feared, and now seeks to restore his unholy patron to power. We cannot let this happen. YOU cannot let this happen. The fate of the world hangs in the balance, and it is no coincidence that you have come here on this day. You have been chosen to prevent Rakdos’s apocalyptic quest from bearing fruit.”
Kaene paused, and quivered slightly. He sat down slowly, a tired look on his face.

”Destiny has picked you. But the choice is yours, I await your answer friends.”
((OOC: Actually Philo, you’re still dead, will deal with you next update…so sorry. Uh…info dump. Main group answer, react, what have you. Other group, you killed the bandits and are close to the supposed camp, do what you will. Also, I very tired.))

Iskanna raises an eyebrow at Chancer, whose arrival seems rather suspicious, at least to her. Or maybe she was being paranoid again. She never knew.

Iskanna raises her hand to her mouth, thinking over the battle and her comrade's strength. Apparently she didn't prepare the best spells for their combination, but that would have to wait until the next day to remedy.

"You're very good at crowd control." Iskanna says appreciatively at Toby.

She places the bow back over her shoulder, where it stays with her backpack. The bizarre thing about that is that the bow, backpack, and her skin colour, a woody tone, are the only colours of her attire, which consists mainly of a rather unique gown. This gown appears to be made up of two halves, one which is made of a white silk, with black embroidery while the other is exactly the same, but inverted, with black silk and white embroidery. The two halves meet in the middle, separated distinctively along a seam that went from the point in the v collar line to the middle slit in the full-length skirt. Through this slit can be seen an underskirt of alternating white and black panels. In the back, the gown's two halves intertwine, blurring the distinction between the two as they merge and separate. The white silk half is on Iskanna's right side, the black on the left, which also happens to be the side she draws her bow with. The gown has relatively long and wide sleeves, the bottoms of which come past her fingertips when her arms are at her sides. The embroidered pattern in the dress is an interlay of vines and flowers and stars. The dress' waist on Iskanna is quite small, considering that she is a full grown woman, and she seems unnaturally light.

Iskanna fidgets, putting a lock of her long black hair behind her ear. "We might be close, but in which direction should we go?" She asks, "They attacked from ahead, but that doesn't necessarily mean that their base is in that direction..."

"You're very good at crowd control."

The words broke Toby free of the thought drifting through his mind. "I do what I can," he replied with a smile and a wink, his wrinkled features crinkling easily along the laugh lines etched into his skin. "Don't let this old face fool you, young lady, I'm as spry as a man half my age." Casually shouldering his shield, he quickly searched the fallen men, looking for any sign of who they were or where they had come from, as well as any coin they might have from previous victims.

"...and a good thing, too," he called over his shoulder, waving a hand in Chancer's general direction," not like that one was much help in a fight." He tossed another wink Iskanna's way, blue eyes twinkling mischievously, "now don't get me wrong here, not all men are fighters, and far be it from me to call a man a coward for trying to save his own skin, but come my age, you see things a mite differently. Ain't like my skin has much value these days except maybe it's make a passable pair of boots. I'll look after the skin of lovely young ladies, it seems a bit more worth saving to me."

That was Toby's way - rugged, lighthearted most of the time, and often rather more harsh than would be polite if he wasn't quick with a smile and a laugh to take the sting away... at least when people were watching. Sometimes, as he stood watch in the night, ever alert, sleepless, it was plain that Toby had lived a harsh life, and his memories pained him more often than not.

He was clearly man advanced in years, long white hair and the wrinkles of a long life on the road readily attested to that, but he was in fine physical shape. He was tireless and relentless, standing watch every night until long after everyone else slept and yet rising before the sun each morning. He seemed to always wear his armor, and never so much as shifted the weight of the shield slung over his shoulder on a long march, his marching feet as steady and unceasing as the tides.

He had not spoken of his past, and in fact rarely spoke of himself at all except in reference to his years and how they compared to thse around him, but he would listen at great length to anyone who cared to speak. He seemed to share deeply in the feelings of those around him, their hopes and dreams becoming his own. He would laugh with their happiness and mourn with their sorrows, always ready to lend an ear. He added little to most conversations beyond a friendly smile or a soft pat on the shoulder, but it often seemed more than enough.

When asked, he always insisted that his life was little different from that of most people, and that if it seemed interesting in comparison, that was all an illusion, and would say no more on the subject. His interest, it seemed, lie far from his own troubled past.

Kaene’s tale did not resonate with Raen. Though it was likely her lack of faith, or commitment to any faith, Raen did not feel like her trust could so easily be put into this man and his toy. Seeing the orb was not a great revelation and despite the fact that she knew the power of the gods and their will, it was difficult to register whether this was in fact happening or if it was just some paranoid old man with a shiny glass ball.

“Nice bedtime story. But say we agree to tracking Rakdos, the vampire who did kill someone here, and say we find him, with his multitude of collected artifacts, and lets even suppose that we through his minions and guards and defenses so that we can maybe try and kill him. What the hells are we going to do then?” Raen said. “And what does that thing even do?”

[Post-explanation]

“So, if I understood this whole story, Rakdos needs this thing here along with the other major divine artifacts to break this seal, correct? Then if he’s missing one of the pieces, won’t the whole deal just not work?” said Raen. “Why don’t we just destroy the shiny thing and be done with it? If it doesn’t exist, Rakdos would be missing the piece or source of Magnagoth’s will and wouldn’t be able to break the seal, right?”

“I guess the real question is: should I stay or should I go? I know if I stay there will be trouble, and if I go there will probably be double. I wish you’d just let me know if I should stay or should I just go?”

((Vil you bugger.))