Dark Moon Over Kahl

"I see nothing like a pile of pots to shoot, they must not bury cooks in this graveyard." Norin coughs slightly, before reaching down and stabbing the torch base into the ground. Reaching into his pocket he withdraws the cloth bandage, and kneeling on the ground he starts to wrap the bandage around the tip of an arrow.

"So plan B, set one on fire." cutting off the rest of the bandage with his dagger, he stands up dusting off his legs. Looking over at Lywn,

"Sounds good?"

“Well it involves setting an unliving bastard on fire; I’m not going to say I disagree with that notion. By all means, doubt you happen to hit anyone I used to know.” Lwyn replies as she plucks another torch out of the sling and uses the one she’s holding to light it before holding them out to her sides, scowling.

“If enough of them gather I’ll sling some oil on them and let the flames do the rest.” the monk adds as she crouches slightly, waiting.

"Fair enough", stringing his bow he leans over to light his arrow with his torch. Quickly falling into an well balanced stance, he takes a shot at the first shambling mound he sees.

Like a comet it flies towards its mark.

(F'Twang! Attack:20, Damage:8+fire)

The arrow whizzes through the air and solidly thwacks the zombie right in the center of its chest, interrupting its bored gait and lackadaisical staring off into the distance. Once it hits, the firey bandage wound about the shaft ignites the tattered clothes on the rotting shambler, and it's a fiery ball of bright light in short order. Being dead, it doesn't reach so much to the pain as to the impact and the light, flailing about dumbly as it tries to discern where the arrow came from.

The light attracts the attention of several other rotters in the graveyard, and they start to congregate towards the flaming one. Whether or not they know he's not the target is up for debate at the moment; they are, after all, really dumb dead things - until they start to shift their course and go lumbering more towards the fence line.

“Nice shot. Lwyn mutters as she watches the corpses shamble towards Norin’s latest victim. With the rotters much too far for the monk to do much, she opts to unburden herself a little and plants one torch in the ground as she uses her now free hand to unsling the torch sling from about her neck. She plucks her torch back up and looks towards the rotters shambling towards the gate before looking at Norin once more, taking a deep breath.

“Alright, that got them to at least flock to a general area. I’ll grab their attention and when they start to funnel after me…” She taps the cask with her foot. “Give them a coating of this and I’ll throw a torch on them.” She starts moving off before she’s given a proper response, a torch held in each hand and out to her sides. After a few steps she bolts towards the nearby group and whistles loudly, waving her torches about.

Lwyn snorts and closes the gap between the zombie horde and herself easily before skidding to a stop and whirling about before the torches are brought about and WIELDED, who that’s clever. With a snorts she lashes out with her left arm, looking to bash a rotter across the face with the flaming end of the torch, whistling loudly the entire time.

Attack: 13 | Damage: 7 ))

The improvised weapon catches the closest shambler square in the face, singing its flesh and sending burning embers scattering all over the dirt path as it hits. Needless to say it stumbles in quasi-shock, while its friends decide that Lwyn looks like a wonderful target to practice their hoarding and beating upon. Being the stiff and awkward creatures that they are, only those closest even get a chance to take a swing, and the rest have to weave and stumble around too many headstones to charge.

Thankfully, the first lunge is so off-target that it almost takes out a headstone behind the elf, and the second hit glances harmlessly off of her shoulder, doing little more than reminding her she still has a sense of touch. Saying she has their attention is an understatement as they all start to crowd up on her!

Norin, dropping his bow and snatching up the keg of oil heads towards the fray. While he runs he reaches in to the bag Lywn handed him and pulls out a vial of holy water. He hurls the vial into the horde, hoping to buy him some time to open the keg, and for Lywn to not get all mauled-up.

(After consulting the 4th book of armaments, Attack most surrounded zombie: 17 Damage: A sizzlin 6)

Norin's bottle smashes into one of the assembled creatures, glass shattering noisily and peppering the rest of the flock with small shards. The more impressive part is when the water within splashes everything within five feet - likely including Lwyn, but at best she'd just be misted slightly - and the sizzling begins. The creature that took the brunt of the hit lets out quite the growly noise as its flesh bubbles and burns audibly, with an odd herbal scent in the air as the blessed stuff disperses, and every other critter there experiences a lesser but still noticeable crawl of the flesh.

At first, Lwyn thinks she’s been misted by oil and *almost* freaks, but the scent hits her and she sighs softly before remembering there’s a bit of a horde in front of her. She plants her feet and steps forward before swiping her left-handed torch at another of the rotters before hop-skipping a few feet away to create some distance and move back towards Norin. A glance towards the sky is followed by a brief look at her lantern, the monk visibly frowning.

Attack: 12 | Damage: 6 ))

Lwyn's expert swinging with a weapon she isn't trained to use - nor are many people, really - is actually working in her favor, thanks to the idiots she's chosen to swing at. As she smashes the unlucky one in the head, its ratty hair catches on fire and its eyes roll back as it collapses into the dirt, fire starting to sizzle along its scalp along with the nasty scent of singed follicles.

The horde is more than happy to follow her, however. The first zombie struck with a flaming arrow suddenly stops running and smashes to the ground, forming a tiny pile with the second flaming corpse; both burn merrily as something goes wrong with the both of them, smoldering away. Not a pleasant smell, the burnt flesh. At the same time, the rest of the undead try their best to chase Lwyn down, yet all of them get a chance to smack her for daring to run, before they follow.

Only one of the slowbies gets to lay its hands on the elf, and it's such a pathetic strike that it's hardly worth mentioning. As they run after her as best they can, another one trips over the pile and rolls a few feet, clawing the ground as it tries to make it back to its feet. They really are bad at attacking.

(Lwyn takes...two whole damage! Zombies are entering squares next to her if possible, so probably all of 5-10 feet away from Norin.)

Norin tears off the cork of the keg with a vengeance, and shouts at Lywn. "Get out of the way!" He trys to keep an eye out for an opening to drench the hordes with slick shimmering oil.

(Norin readys an action to hurl oil on the zombies when Lywn is clear.)

“Oh son of a bi-…” Lwyn peers over as Norin calls for her to scram and she blinks rapidly before letting his words sink in. With that she swings about wildly at the zombies in more or less an attempt to deter them instead of hit them before planting her feet and throwing herself back and away from them, hopefully creating enough distance for Norin to safely throw the oil without bathing her with it. In the same instance one of the torches she's wielding is cocked back, prepared for flight.

Tumble: 22! Lwyn readies an action and prepares to peg some poor bastard with a torch!))

Seeing Lywn leap out of the way, Norin lunges forward hurling the oil onto the group of confused zombies.

(Here iz ze oil! Attack:21)

As the zombies are creamed (by oil), Lwyn winds up properly and pitches the torch since she knows it’s not going to just bounce off some undead louts skull like a ball off a wall.

FLAME ON! Attack: 10 ))

While the torch doesn't strike a zombie, it's easily within bounds to land in the now-puddle of oil that splashes over the rotters, as well as the ground around them. The fire springs up across its shimmering surface in a near-instant, engulfing them all in merry reddish flames that jump towards the sky, starting to incinerate their tattered clothing and what little else they have. Their first instincts are to try and smack the fire out, but they're too coated to make it stop; they all seem to be singing up at a very nice rate, and it's up to the pair to either speed things along or just let them burn out in their confused state of being.

After flinging the oil, Norin hustles back to his bow, noticing out the corner of his eye the fine blaze Lywn has started. Skidding to a stop he snatches up his bow and quiver.

"You alright?" he shouts at Lywn as the fire grows.

(Picked up object from ground)

Lwyn snorts as she brushes a stray ember away before tossing a ‘thumbs up’ in Norin’s direction, grinning like a rogue that’s just picked someone’s purse.

“Just peachy! Toss me that potion of bull... something; I forgot what the lout said.” She calls back, winding her arms up and cracking her knuckles. “Oh, how much oil do we have left?” She adds before looking at the torch still in her grasp before turning about and hurling it at a nearby tree. Someone has a very firm grasp on how fire works.

Attack: 17 ))

Norin tosses Lywn the request potion. "You should probably be careful with those torches, dont need to cause needless fire." Norin looks around and surveys the scene.

"Well this seems to be a good start."

The torch cartwheels through the air and strikes the closest bare tree without an issue, sparking and throwing more ashes and embers about in a small cloud, getting tangled up in its lower branches. It takes all of no time for the thing to start crackling noisily, fire creeping over its twigs like tinder - because they are, really.

The zombies flail and smash into one another as the fire seems to overload what little sense they have left, until they all end up collapsed in a smoking heap of rotten, burnt flesh. Further in, the two downed zombies from before have started to go out, but not before igniting a few of the wooden grave markers still left standing. Fire isn't spreading much, but it's more than enough to discourage undead presence; the mausoleum seems fine, though.

"You two really know how to burn up a graveyard." The paladin calls from her lookout point, snorting derisively. "Shame we have to do stuff like this just to stay in one piece."

“There isn’t anyone I know buried here – still a shame but hey, survival!” Lwyn calls back as she catches the tossed potion deftly, tucking it into her sash as she starts towards the blazing remains of the zombies, her goal clearly the mausoleum that happens to on the other side of said smoldering pile.

“Probably going to be a whole horde of vampires in here or something, watch.” She states to Norin as she fiddles with her lamp, grumbling to herself the entire while.

Norin nods in bemused agreement as he dusts off his bow. "Even if there are we have the holy power of a paladin to shield us from their evil. Shield us by being several yards behind us." Norin chuckled, "I will take what I can get however."

He starts to follow Lywn into the Mausoleum.