Thursday, November 5
Isles of the Damned: Part 1c – The Isle of Undeath
A very peculiar tableau unfolded before them: in the southwestern corner of the room, the lower half of a pallid corpse was sticking out of a hole in the floor. A zombie was slowly jumping up and down on the corpse, assisted by two brethren, who were attempting to force down the lifeless form by prodding it with their swords. Three more zombies stood before them, patiently waiting for their turn with a body of their own.
The zombies whipped their heads around with looks of what could almost be mistaken for shame passing over their twisted miens. But the look faded to their customary grimace, and the grunts of effort changed to low moans of menace.
“I don’t have time for this,” said Sebastian. “Incendiaries globus!”
The room was ablaze with flames.
“I’m not sure,” said Beldin, “but I think one of the zombies fell down the hole.”
A door on the other side of the room burst open as a patrol of ghouls came charging in.
“More ghouls,” sighed Vlad. He held Grungronazharr before him as if to ward off the ghouls by its mere sight alone.
The lead ghoul, wearing chain mail, smiled a wicked, toothsome grin…
That was promptly blasted off its skull by another of Sebastian’s fireballs.
Beldin was busy with his back to the door, heels dug in. “I can’t keep this up all day you know!” more
posted by Michael Tresca at 6:40 AM
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