Jul 10, 2026 11:20 am
"Secure all openings!" Kazzak's voice carries through the fog as Antonius hears the heavy timber bar drop into place across the back door. The relentless pounding continues regardless, each hollow thud confirming that the barricade is holding—for now.
At the front of the house, the crash of another impact answers it.
The shutters Antonius had only moments before closed shudder violently beneath the fists of the undead. Rotten hands hammered against the timber with slow, relentless determination, each blow sending splinters and dust drifting into the room.
Antonius eases the front door open no more than a hand's breadth, the light upon his shield spilling into a wall of swirling grey. He strains to pierce the magical fog, hoping to glimpse the undead assailing the house, but the mist swallows everything beyond the threshold. There is no shape to strike, no corpse to condemn—only the relentless, hollow pounding somewhere beyond the veil.
He lets the door fall shut once more and calls through the farmhouse, "Kazzak! I have the other door, but I can't see it. The fog is too thick—I cannot bring Wee Jas's judgment upon what I cannot see."
Another violent blow rattles the shutters.
Antonius moves immediately to the window, planting his feet and pressing his shield and shoulder firmly against the wooden shutters as they shudder beneath the zombie's assault. Final Measure remains gripped in his free hand, ready for the instant the barricade gives way. Each impact reverberates through the timber into his body, but the cleric remains steadfast, silently offering himself as the last barrier between the restless dead and those sheltering within, giving a silently prayed that its walls would hold until dawn.
At the front of the house, the crash of another impact answers it.
The shutters Antonius had only moments before closed shudder violently beneath the fists of the undead. Rotten hands hammered against the timber with slow, relentless determination, each blow sending splinters and dust drifting into the room.
Antonius eases the front door open no more than a hand's breadth, the light upon his shield spilling into a wall of swirling grey. He strains to pierce the magical fog, hoping to glimpse the undead assailing the house, but the mist swallows everything beyond the threshold. There is no shape to strike, no corpse to condemn—only the relentless, hollow pounding somewhere beyond the veil.
He lets the door fall shut once more and calls through the farmhouse, "Kazzak! I have the other door, but I can't see it. The fog is too thick—I cannot bring Wee Jas's judgment upon what I cannot see."
Another violent blow rattles the shutters.
Antonius moves immediately to the window, planting his feet and pressing his shield and shoulder firmly against the wooden shutters as they shudder beneath the zombie's assault. Final Measure remains gripped in his free hand, ready for the instant the barricade gives way. Each impact reverberates through the timber into his body, but the cleric remains steadfast, silently offering himself as the last barrier between the restless dead and those sheltering within, giving a silently prayed that its walls would hold until dawn.
Last edited July 12, 2026 7:48 pm
Rolls
Antonius Block: Toll the Dead - (1d12)
(2) = 2
