The group of robed figures enters through the creaking gate, their horde of minions surrounding them. Leading the way is another one of the quadrupedal types that still have rotting flesh clinging to their hideous form. It is followed by two larger quadrupeds, these ones purely skeletal, displaying vicious spikes all over their back and sharp fangs and claws.
Then the column of robed men marches in, seven strong. They wear masks, now that I can have a good look at them. All the masks feature a set of curved horns flanking their face, but the exact designs differ. Some display demonic snarls, some more humanoid expressions, while three of them have an identical skull motif covering their faces.
The column is flanked by five humanoid undead, though they stand another head or two taller than even the tallest of the robed men, and the amount of limbs does not quite match up as they each have four arms, holding wicked looking scimitars.
The rear is brought up by the largest of their monstrosities, a hulking beast that barely fits through the rather large door. Propped up by six legs, the creature's bulbous body of flesh constantly shifts, almost as if its form was not set. Largely, it resembles a bear, apparently, whatever that is.
They enter and almost immediately halt, while the robed men converge and begin a heated discussion in hushed tones. What are we whispering about, fellas?
“Right you maggots, Master Vardock has declared me the leader of this squad. Now listen to my orders. The three of us” the skull-masked one indicates himself and the two fellow skull-wearing individuals, “shall coordinate the puppets. The Golem consumes a lot of power, so we will only bring it to bear if we are forced to. The hound will follow you and your commands, Richter. Use your skills to lead the way and identify dangers for us. The bone beasts are yours, Samantha. Keep an eye on Richter, but most of all, secure our flanks. You two… do what you do best.”
After pointing to the two individuals with snarling masks in turn and receiving nods in turn, they turn towards the two with humanoid faces and give them a shrug. Those two nod as well and wordlessly produce a wand and a tome, respectively, brandishing them like weapons.
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The one addressed as Richter leads on into the dark and empty room, the “hound” by his side. He is holding a shortsword in one hand now, with no indication when he drew it or where he drew it from.
As soon as he crosses an invisible threshold, it is time for the show to begin.
With a flash, the lights turn on, bathing the entire party of gloomy figures in some much needed color. They close their eyes in confusion as they all shy away from the room, and amidst their cries of confusion I activate the room's theme.
Dazed and reeling by the sudden assault on not only their eyes but also their ears, as the chatter of the crowd that now fills the hall picks up in volume rapidly, the intruders fall back.
Hidden amongst the illusory mannequins, several of my monsters lie in wait. Athea is there, her dagger hidden in her palm as she blends in with a group of chattering mannequins. The two doppelgangers are hiding in the little room that serves as a ticket office normally, waiting for a chance to slip into the enemy's ranks and cause some confusion. Several Sprites, Puck among them, flit overhead, near invisible as they get ready to weave their magic. The human rogue, Larissa, is also in the room, skulking through the crowd, her blades readied.
The cultists recover themselves and the two with humanoid masks throw some blasts of energy at the crowd, one made up of coagulated darkness and one of solidified light. Seeing them from my dungeon sight is quite the experience, considering that I see the true projectiles hurtling through the illusion and impacting the far wall, but also the impacts upon the illusory crowd and the fake damage done. A mannequin is seared by light, quickly burning to nought but ash, while another shrivels up, the wood graying and decaying. The crowd is sent into a panic at this, the density of bodies increasing instead of decreasing as more and more rays of energy are sent at them and the fake mannequins cry and scramble over one another in panic.
I am briefly worried that a stray ray might hit some of our allies, but they wisely position themselves away from the center, and move away from where the spellcasters are aiming their implements, unimpeded by the crowd since they are not targets of the effect.
Quickly realizing that no retaliation is coming forth and seeing the less than stellar results they achieve with their attempts to “thin out the herd” as it were, the cultists assault quickly ceases, however. The cultists are going to have to come up with a different strategy than this, I fear.