Lair of the Lamb session six:

Raucous Caucus in re Diaboli

They crawled on through the

"Correct this Juxtaposing" said the dead-head to the cultist-smith

When suddn'ly Kurt Hammer, he saw it like a vision:
Spake a mummied head to him,
"Correct this Juxt'position"

Now many moon-rooms the party puzzled (And some real moons as well) Just what that word might mean And how just they might tell

Which key to use, upon this lock Which 'rangement of the limb-piles Might be a neat solution That gives them loot real simp-iles

But afore they tried scant two layouts (Bods assembl'd within? bods piled without?) An ethereal clock gave out a chime Quoth the Underworld: you're outta time

The Ghoulies marched in two by two Gerdith and Melina too Clad in plate, matching and bright With halberds in their claws held tight

They smell their prey, they see their light The torch in Tom's hand burning bright

They'll charge on in, give 'em all a fright Peas'nts shan't put up much a fight

Now Battie's whet their appetite They'll dine well on the rest tonight

Gywn runs a hand over the body of the ballista. Her fingers trace engraved letters spelling out 'Conroy'.
She never got to fire one of these back in the army, though she'd watched it done. The closest she got was firing a crossbow. The principles are similar, though a crossbow is to this thing what a hound is to an ox. Someone cares about Conroy. There are signs of wear on the ballista, of use, but it's freshly polished, all its bolts tightened and rust-free, its string healthy. Not a hint of rot. Maybe they've been kept dry, or maybe the owner has made replacements from sinew they've found down here - Gwyn stops running her hand over the spring-strings. In any case, the Ballista is taut and ready to fire, though there's only one bolt. Little Gerdith", she's called.

Her eyes glance up as her party-mates come jogging into the room, hissing that they're coming, that the ghouls are coming, get ready, is it ready to fire? Ok, you stand there, you stand there, Tom stand in the back with the light, get ready -

Gwyn abides the rush of hurried chaos that has intruded into her chamber. She can't speak common, and Gerdith and Conroy don't have hands to sign, but she likes to think that they understand some of her intent as she gently places the bolt into the guiding channel and wraps a finger around the trigger. Hello, Gerdith. Are you ready to go on an adventure?

And then, to her left, a huge fucking worm like a half-foot-diameter hosepipe slithers out of the wall.

LANTERN WORM LANTERN WORM DOESN'T MATTER HOW MUCH YOU SQUIRM

At its tip, where a face might be, a conical light shines forth. The searchlight slides around the room before zeroing in on

THAT'S A NICE LIGHT YOU'VE GOT I'LL EAT IT THANKS A LOT

SO LOOOOOONG, I'VE BEEN THE LANTERN WORM