[GM Post]

Another series of explosions, incomparable to the previous ones, rocked the fort yet again. The mercenaries, the zombies, and Ragnar himself was caught dead center amidst the blast, not even the slightest errant scream could be heard from them. Then, as the remaining acidic fog dissipated, the still combat-capable members of the party charged back in. Jazdia at the helm, closely followed by Veronica and Chounan, back to the room desolated by repeated indiscriminate magic.

[b][color=ed1c24]"Rangvald? Jotnar? Off to meet the Ironhand, I see."[/color][/b] As the dust settled Ragnar's figure emerged, clad in baleful crimson aura from head to toe. The explosion seemed to barely rattled him as he got up to his feet, sparing only one glance at the fellow northlanders torn to shreds nearby. [b][color=ed1c24]"Felt that one! You're all that's left, hm. Bring it on!"[/color][/b]

Axe raised, Ragnar the Red charged forth like a rabid beast, lopsided gait barely seemed to inconvenience the brute.

*****

Above, Asevor went unhindered toward his room... at least, until he got close enough that his necklace reacted to the presence. Taking a glance at the trinket, he frowned at the undeath influence nearby as he slowed and paused on the corridor. A druid and a necromancer, among other things. The most annoying of spellcasters if they're spared just the slightest room. Seems that another purge was in order.

Crooked fingers began tracing the construct, Koriloth's working seeing yet another use. Perhaps he should pay the eccentric a visit after this business was done - maybe there's a new variation of the construct that Asevor could trade for.