The Enemy Within Revisited

Ep 15 - The Ritual Foiled

A Smiting We Will Go...

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Listen to Episode 15 of the podcast here

Cast:
Gustav the Minstrel (aka Davy White)
Falco the Ratcatcher (aka Michael Morgan)
Smof the Ogre Maneater (aka Sedrick Galamonte)
Yorgon the Sigmarite Warrior Priest (aka Jack Roye) (Played this session by Shane)
Jean the Bretonnian Knight (aka Vin Rampal) (Played this session by Michael Morgan)

The recounting of this dark night is not perfect or complete. I fear that by including too much detail some power will be given back to the darkness that was already so close to overwhelming us that night.

Jorgen, suddenly looking very sober and taking on a terrible aspect rushed the door and slammed his warhammer into the thick timber. The wood was no match for Imperial steel and the boards gave way. Rushing forward we realized just how close to crisis the town was. Crates had been cleared to the sides and the floor had been marked with patterns that refused to come into focus and made our eyes scream. Every brush with this deepest evil makes one feel so small. The power trying to get through…. let’s leave it at that, lest I lose control over this quill.

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With Jorgen’s roar we could see the cowled men turn in confusion. They were standing in a circle with the largest, Tuegen we presumed at the time, standing in the middle. I stood stunned for across the circle was the spitting image of myself. What a terrible two weeks this truly has been. Not once but twice has my likeness been borrowed. That I should be so comely that the very gods would use it to play with the fates. I watched in horror as my own voice boomed out and gave orders to our most loyal Ogre, Smof. As we lost our impetus for a moment we were rushed by the pair of thugs standing lookout in the shadows a little ways a way.

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After that things become a confusing series of moments and it is impossible for me to be certain of the order of events. Both the warrior-priest and myself were laid into by the thugs. I was most certainly doomed, having been caught flat footed except for the vicious intervention of Little Gustav. While he was being savaged I managed to get some solid strikes in, though I was not successful in putting him down.

I did see Jorgen charge into the make-shift temple, throwing the man on him to the side. His hammer had taken on a fierce glow and blurred into an arc that passed through one of the masked man’s head. Sigmar’s wrath is a glorious thing to witness and I do not lie when I say I was glad to be there. Smof could be heard bellowing and there was the terrible crashing of wood being hurled and torn apart.

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Jean, Falco, and myself quickly laid the thugs out and poured into the room to help our comrades in this desperate battle. Upon entering the room I could feel my body go into revolt. It was a most hideous feeling but I could feel the ring and those unseeable marks call to my body and lighting every nerve. I felt most alive and full of vigour. To lose control of ones own body like that so easily is most disheartening. We really are things of such minor consequence. Mere playthings of things beyond our control.

We heard a shout and from the back of the warehouse two more guards entered. I don’t think they expected anything close to what was happening in that building. Smof still trying to wring the poor fellow caught a blow straight to his gut plate. A second strike from the side would get through his guard as well. They might as well have been hitting him with eels for all the good their weapons were doing against his huge frame. The Bretonnian as well was proving to be a frustrating target. I thought then that maybe things would truly go in our favour.

It was at that moment that some sorcery revealed itself and Smof was briefly engulfed by the most unnatural flame. Sickly green and the most vibrant blue licked about him but I think it’s fury paled to the roar emitted by the great ogre

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Jorgen had driven his foe to his knees, the wide eyes visible from under the hood. We really were taking the fight to them Jean and Jorgen relentlessly pommeling. I myself had slashed one of the traitors with a gallant strike from behind.

At this time Jorgen, began to fall back chanting to Sigmar and by my own mortal soul Sigmar heard. At that time, across the circle the Daemon threw a dreadful force that squealed through reality. I saw a shimmering shield flash round Smof and the very energy just summoned was repelled and turned back on it’s very caller. The Hammer protects.

At this point the cultists began to break. Teugen ran screaming from the ritual his nerve broken. We fought our separate battles, Smof sticking the shapeshifter with a deadly looking dagger. The thing’s terror was visible as the blade pierced it’s flesh. However, during all this we failed to notice the oily smoke coalescing within the large pentacle into some shape that defied all that was sane. Someone screamed.

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by Davy White (aka Gustav)

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