"Ah, right," the priestess recalled, her words indicative of apology but her expression quite the opposite. She seemed almost absent-minded. "Stitchenstein's creatures..." she trailed off, and gave a glance at Gaul's skeletal form up and down before continuing, "As a necromancer, he's quite capable of raising the dead. He conjures all manner of unholy things, be them human remains or that of the forest fauna. What's worse, he takes pleasure in infusing them with various macabre contraptions. Their bodies are twisted into new forms, mangled or not, and given weaponry that is often simply grafted to their skin."
An all-too close cry in the air had instantly set Fran on edge, and she held her flamberge at waist-level. It was clearly inhuman, and had some hint of mechanization -crackled, synthesized, almost. "Ready yourself...?" she paused, "Did I ever catch your name? I am Head Priestess Fran Meilleur of the Helsann Avery Church. May we find success with one another." Her words were surprisingly calm for the situation. The rain began to pick up as shuffling forms approached from beyond the town gate. Raindrops pattered on their hairless or otherwise skinless forms. As they came closer, it was evident what they were; tortured souls nailed and screwed with all manner of equipment, stitched together in some areas, and crackling with tiny jolts of electricity in some places.
Rusted blades of all kinds sprouted from their twisted skin, or were chain and locked to their hands, unable to be dropped by any means. They moaned and groaned with synthesized voices, as if computerized, hot breath escaping their rotting mouths. Among them, a four-legged abomination, an amalgamation of human body parts and some unknown monster for a head, and a collection of metal machines upon its arms that looked as if they belonged to a mantis.
It's jangling sounds with each step were defeated only by the gravelly and deep booming of its voice as it skittered towards Fran, Gaul, and his minions.
The old man shook his head disappointingly, long beard sliding along his lap as he did so. "Direction? Mmm... It changes from time to time. Poor Fran can only react to her gut instinct and intercept them if she is wrong minutes later. I'm afraid you'll simply have to keep a lookout," the mayor stated. He laughed before responding to Ekho's question, taking the near-insult in stride. Being so old he had very little spite in his heart, and choose to instead let it be dominated by humor and happiness for what short time he had left.
"Dying? Most certainly. At this age, there's no doubt. But do not fret. Everyone's time comes. I'm expecting mine by dinner time tonight," he laughed heartily, and then promptly took another drink of water. "If you have no questions-" he was cut off by a familiar sound. Monstrous cries outside and in the distance caught his ear, and surely that o the champions. He turned to an expression of worry and practically shooed them out of the room.
"They're here! Go! Hurry!" he stressed.
Disciple Cain
Haha
