Tinnitus
It had been like stepping into a different world the moment they passed the gates of the Courtyard. Ambrose tread carefully, making sure none of his teammates slipped and fell into the muck. Swamp encroached on the pathway and the hedges were twisted and gnarled. Nature had reached out to begin reclaiming what had been rightfully hers in the first place. The pathways and fountains, once vibrant and beautiful, were overgrown and reeked, coated with unknown substances. Here and there, the path was splashed with what Ambrose could only assume was dried blood. In the distance, they could suddenly hear it. The buzzing of insects. Sullivan's dog bared his teeth, knowing that whatever emmitted this inhuman buzzing was not benign. Then, the creatures were upon them. Mosquitoes, though unlike any kind of mosquito they had ever seen before. These were large, over half the size of their bodies. A few hunched individuals shambled after them, dressed in traditional noble's garb. Their clothes were stained with blood, and their heads obscured from view by massive, frightening tick-like beasts with tendrils dipped in blood. The flagellum wiggled hungrily in the direction of the small party.
"Inhuman monsters!" Mourad exclaimed, holding his skull aloft. The eyes of the skull began to glow as he chanted, "Am'yoghn ktah myep ngorhem!" He shouted, one of the nobly dressed shamblers surrounded by a red light and backed off, squealing in pain and agony. It reached up to grab the bug on it's head, screeching. Ambrose took that chance of momentary weakness to slice it's bug - and head - clean off of it's shoulders with his sickle. The body collapsed to the ground, twitching. Sullivan's dog was barking madly, jumping and trying to catch one of the mosquitoes that was dive-bombing at Sullivan's head. The houndsmaster barely dodged the long, thick proboscis. Marcas rushed forth to defend him with his shield, trying to whack away one of the mosquitoes, but missing as well.
"Hey, Marcas, gimme a boost, will you?" Ambrose shouted back towards him before breaking out into a run towards him, strumming a short chord on his lute before grasping it around the neck with both hands. It took Marcas a moment to figure out what Ambrose was up to, before holding his shield up at an angle. The jester jumped onto his shield and Marcas pushed with all his might, shoving Ambrose into the air. "Air mail!" He shouted, and hit the large mosquito with the body of his lute. There was a loud cracking noise, and the mosquito shot through the air with a shriek, hitting a hedge and becoming immobile. "Home run! HEH HEH HEH HEH!" He cackled as he landed.
"Brody, look out!" Sullivan called, pointing behind him as he knelt.
"Huh?" Ambrose spun around, just as he noticed the second mosquito charging at him. The proboscis pierced right through his shoulder, ignoring both leather and cloth in the way. "AHHH!" He screamed in horror, as the mosquito latched onto him, it's blood sac becoming engorged within a few seconds. A tentacle appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and slipped violently around the mosquito, crushing it in it's eldritch grip. blood and gore sprayed all over the jester's costume. He was happy that he was wearing a mask. The man-at-arms must have dealt with the last assailant, because they all rushed over to make sure Ambrose was okay. He was on the floor, now, dizzy and weak.
"Are you going to be alright, son?" Marcas asked, reaching down to help Ambrose to his feet. It was a bit of a struggle, but he got there.
"Y-yeah... I'll be fine. Just a little stressed out. I mean, they might have broken my lute." He held up the instrument and twirled it around. "Oh no, it's fine, not to worry."
"Here, let me help you with that wound." Mourad offered.