The Last War — Legacy Forums — Strolen's Citadel

Re: The Last War

#681

Holly struggled further with the bindings around her legs. But each time she tried to pull them away they seemed to tighten around her ankles. Holly looked to the door and saw a small inch of bright light coming from the hallway on the other side. She heared the angry grunts of the troll outside "No you must leave here at once" Shouted Holly apparetly to no one in particular. some may of thought she was losing her mind but others would understand she was trying to warn someone.

Re: The Last War

#682

"I will not strike you down so long as you cower in your stolen throne, Belzar. Stand and face me like a man." The King said, his face was livid with anger. "Draw your blade if you have a shred of honor left inside that husk you reside in."

Re: The Last War

#683

"Bravo, your Highness," sneered Lord Belzar, "That is an inspiring speech. Divine right of Kings and all that. Honorable swordplay. Surely you spent all night a-pacing to get it right."

"But where were you when your miserable subjects suffered? When that greedy fool Malik sucked at the marrow of their pitiful bones? Your city is a festering pit compared to Palaten when it was ruled by your brother and better."

"Even this little stripling" he said, nodding at Holly as she squirmed in the net, "...would rule as well. Better yet, methinks, under my careful "guidance"."

He looked across at the splintering door as an axe blade struck through it and was then withdrawn. "But, if you'll excuse me for JUST an instant, I believe someone is knocking."

Re: The Last War

#684

Grumple raised the axe for a decisive blow, when, suddenly, the door disappeared! "Huh? Wha?" he grumbled and looked in. Grumple saw things inside.

A man in robes stood nearby, with a throne behind him. Grumple didn't care about the man in robes. There was an iron grate dividing the room, and a man at the far end dressed in black metal. Grumple didn't care about black metal man.

There was Hol-lee on the floor in a net. Now, THAT, Grumple cared about. Grumple burst in to save Hol-lee.

Unfortunately, Grumple didn't see the big egg thing, and tripped over it with a clatter of chain mail. His axe slid across the floor beside Holly. At that instant, a large fishing net fell over him. Grumple rolled and struggled with the net.

Black metal man called out from across the room. "Well, well. It's the troll! And right on time. You could have just knocked, you know. Voramis, wrap up the creature. It's my holiday present. Along with the girl."

Re: The Last War

#685

Voramis circled carefully around the translucent shell covering Rory and Baldwin. He was mindful of the sword that was encased within; could FEEL the light and heat that hungered to slice into him, to burn him, to shred his consciousness.

"Is this how the demon Greshellalion felt before the Desecrator of the Unholies cut out his hearts?" the spider collective wondered. Ordinary swords would do little to him, but Voramis wondered if he could survive for long against such an enchanted weapon as Final Judgement.

Thus preoccupied, he pulled off a glove, made of the thinnest black leather, and held the exposed hand over the troll. Silk poured out of his arm, billowing down copiously over the netted creature, adding to the binding.

-------------

As you might imagine, this did little to soothe the agitated troll. Very little. Grumple struck out with a flailing kick that knocked over the little black man, who fell upon the net. Then, Grumple got one hand through the net around the little black man's throat. It collapsed instantly. The clothing came apart. Spiders poured out of his neck hole!

They crawled like a furry ball over Grumple's face and started squirting sticky web-stuff in his eyes and mouth. This made Grumple mad. So Grumple did what Grumple does best.

Grumple ate them.

Swooped a big fuzzy handful through the net into his mouth and stuffed them in. Chewed them as best he could into a gooey brown mass, then swallowed them. They squirped out between his teeth and stuck in his throat, so Grumple had to fumble in his tunic for a loaf of bread to shove in his mouth under the netting and choke everything down.

(Fortunately, Grumple just happened to have one. More than One, actually. At least, uh, three. One never knows when one may need to devour zillions of spiders in a hurry, as I'm sure you would know.)

It all took some doing, eating unfriendly spiders in a net on the floor with only one hand loose and all, but hey, when you've got talent (and good looks), you've got it all.

With his free hand, Grumple slapped the partly-empty clothes on the back. Another huge ball of spiders fell out. Grumple ate them, too. A horrible hissing, squealing sound burned into his mind, but Grumple wasn't paying attention to that.

Instead, a song the little girl used to sing long ago ran through Grumple's head.

It is strange what you remember, sometimes.

"There was an old lady that swallowed a spider,..."

Re: The Last War

#686

(OOC - what is going on with Belzar and the King? Tantus wants to help Grumple!)

Re: The Last War

#687

Baldwin drifted.

His consciousness drifted to and fro, unfettered by responsiblity and decision, free of the demands of leadership. It was peaceful. Although somewhere in the inky silence in which he floated was the nagging preception...the feeling that there was something that he had to do. The inkling of danger...

It wafted past his being evading his senses. Unconscious, his brow furrowed in agitation. Then the old familiar voice returned, speaking to every fiber of his being...

"wake up..."

Re: The Last War

#688

Odat Stumbled into the room. Through the fog that clouded his mind he knew that he had to do something. He just couldn't wrap his mind around what he could do. The problem was imperceptably large. The man in the black was the bad guy... The bad guy was bad.

Odat needed to...wait...what was that thought again. His mind struggled to consume another piece of the puzzle. Odat needed to stop the bad guy. That was it. Odat needed to stop the bad guy, but there was a gate between him and the Bad...wait...what was that thought. The Bad guy was bad. That was it.

Odat had been standing in his drunken stupor for some time after the door had come down when he came up with an ingenious idea. He picked up a rock.

Wait...why was he holding a rock...he was supposed to throw it...but why was he throwing a rock...he was throwing a rock because...Wait, what was that thought...the Bad guy was bad...He was supposed to throw a rock...what was the connection...everything was so hard.

After several moments of standing there with a rock, his mind grasping at the simplest of reasoning, and unable to maintain even that line of thought, he still didn't know why he was throwing it, or even what he was throwing it at, just that he was supposed to throw it for some reason

Odat finally gave up and threw the rock. In truth, it was one of the large bricks in the wall, and too large to pass through even that large Gate. The boulder however, rather than smashing into the gate and falling off, hit with enough force to break the corners of the boulder off and travel right on through towards Belzar who was otherwise occupied in his dispute with the King.

The boulder connected solidly with Belzar's chest, sending him through the air, in a deafening crash against the wall that cracked the stone behind him.

This was hard work. Odat needed a drink...

(Belzar's Move)

Re: The Last War

#689

OCC: I've tried to make it clear that Belzar is sort of community property. I laid down some thoughts, but I recognize that it is very difficult matter to carry out a good one-on-one fight scene when you must wait for another player to respond after each sentence or two. SO, you folks are really, really smart, and if you need to move Belzar around and do stuff in character, I don't mind. I would ask only that you don't kill him (or Kraggis) since I think they're interesting. That's just me.

IC: Lord Belzar was startled, to say the least, by a large brick that flew across the room and hit him squarely. By the black horde! How did that man do it? The summoner prepared to respond in kind, but paused. He was feeling poorly, and had been using magical forces rapidly over the past hour. The poor feeling bothered him most. It had been years since he had felt so weak; many, many years; and not nearly enough. He had to focus.

That was difficult. The scream from Voramis was unsettling. Belzar saw the living carpet of spiders abandon the flimsy clothing and scurry away through the portcullis and off into dark corners. Voramis would have to take care of himself.

Belzar needed to take care of himself as well. The troll was the key. And Miss Mayleaf. He could ignore the King, the drunk, the other intruders for now, but the troll... the timing would be critical.

Re: The Last War

#690

One. Summon to hand the vermillion lance of the lamprey, from his darkest treasure horde.

Two. One step to the left, then a jump onto the inscribed circle of runes on the floor. The symbols he had prepared only a short time ago. The mysterious patterns ignited in a burst of light where Belzar touched down... and he instantly disappeared.

Three. Reappear without pause on similar floor markings at the other end of the divided Keep. Right between the troll -- who was dangerously close to getting free of the net -- and the mysterious shell over the girl's friends. One fast step, then,

Four. The key... Belzar stabbed with the lance as hard as he could into the body of the troll. The monster roared deafeningly, but already Belzar was back on the markings on the floor and disappeared. Gone.

Only the lance shaft clattered to the floor to mark the spot where the summoner had been. The head of the insidious weapon was where Belzar had planted it... jammed into the center of Grumple's ribs, next to his still-beating heart.

The roar of pain ended, and there was a moment's silence as Grumple drew a ragged breath -- it was then everyone realized that Lord Belzar was no longer in the room. He had fled, for now.

Re: The Last War

#691

"wake up..."

Baldwin opened his eyes. He was ripped from the comfortable place. Final Judgment stung in his hand. Hot leatherbound handle electric with wanting. Evil was close. There was a moment of disorientation. Floor? Ceiling? Milk white took his vision with shadows dancing beyond. Rory lay next to him. Something was wrong. He tried to move. Could not. Seized by the closeness of his brother's spell. Claustrophobic. Slow the breath.

"Rory!" He touched his brother, mindful of the left leg that was obviously injured but shot thru with glowing with veins of the same milky stuff that served as their prision.

"Rory! Wake up!" No sound escaped the protective shell. Rory stirred...

Re: The Last War

#692

Infinitely far away, where there was neither time nor place, light nor dark, up nor down; Balfors Belzar floated.

Floated where all silence was heard, all sound was silent. No smell, no taste, no feeling, but all were there to be sensed nonetheless. Without age nor rank; totally and utterly alone, but tied to all planes of existence at once; he paused here before moving on.

The nexus, where all things began, and all things touched at their tangents. The one point in common but owned by none.

Belzar reflected, as he always did. He had opened a portal with youth and strength hundreds of years ago, some-where time had meaning. As he had been taught, before he excelled all summoning masters known before him. The portal had brought him here, where "here" meant nothing, nowhen, nowhere.

He experienced the doors, rather than saw them. Untold thousands, millions, greater by far than the stars on a clear night. They floated near and far, above, beside, and beneath, in the creamy distance. Familiar doors. Fantastic doors. Unimaginable doors. Of all sizes and shapes. Where they had come from and where they went was unknown to anyone. Only the most ancient tomes had spoken of this place, and that only in vague, dreamy rhymes. The verses floating on the scrolls.

But Balfors Belzar had found it. The nexus. It was the source of his power, for it made possible the summoning. Anything he could mark he could bring through here to where he was, with proper preparation. Ripping ANYTHING through more than time and space to hand, to use.

Sometimes he saw things at the nexus. Things that may be living or not. Moving far away; sometimes near by. Tiny and near? Sometimes. Huge and far? Sometimes. He could only judge them by the doors they entered and exited. Some doors were so large that when he neared them, they seemed large enough to swallow a planet. Or more. Sometimes much more, beyond any scale, beyond all reason. It was enough to drive you mad.

But Balfors Belzar was not mad. He sometimes willed himself near one or more, but did not enter any that were not familiar. The danger was beyond belief. Somehow he knew which were of his home world, and that was enough for him. Those he used, he marked with his mind. There were other marks on some doors as well. He recognized only a few of those marks, a tiny mental picture of the most powerful summoners and demons he had met, and sometimes defeated.

A malicious presence was growing. The keepers. Formless, but deadly; seeking life. They noticed those who tarried in the nexus. He had seen them once absorb an unbelievably powerful entity of sun-like energy. Balfors Belzar had no wish to contest such beings. Time (?) to go.

He willed himself to a nondescript door that floated nowhere. Here. He put forth his will and it opened. And shut behind him.

Lord Belzar stepped out from the symbols on the floor, into the secret cavern where he would be safe to rest, and to plan his next move.

Re: The Last War

#693

Baldwin felt compelled to touch Final Judgment to the white surface surrounding he and his brother. There was a sucking sound as it dissapeared seeming to be pulled into the sword itself. Free of confinement, Baldwin stood on wobbly legs. He looked about the room for the Shambler and Belzar. Little was left of the Shambler and Belzar was nowhere to be seen. He looked about to ensure his companions were alright. Rory was unconscious and his leg was shot through with white glowing viens of unknown orgin. To Baldwin it seemed whatever it was, was helping mend the leg so he left it and his brother alone.

"GRUMPLE!"

Grumple was in bad shape, worse than Baldwin had ever seen. It looked as if there were a few loaves of bread seasoned with spiders stuffed into his mouth and he had suffered a nearly mortal wound from the broken lance that still protruded from his chest. The wound could yet be mortal. Blood flowed.

"Where's Arthur?" Baldwin glanced about...

Re: The Last War

#694

Belzar relaxed in the vast cavern far, far away, feeling the health flowing from the troll across the spectral aethers to his own body.

"Limitless health, from the limitless fount bubbling up from a fast-healing troll! I should have done this centuries ago." he chuckled to himself, lying on a soft couch, sipping a rare wine. He glanced at his arm. The wound had already closed and the scar tissue was fading before his eyes.

"There is nothing like a Troll in Thrall! Hmmm, where did I hear that before? No matter. Soon, I'll be restored. Then, I'll get that brat for Melgrittzigym."

Re: The Last War

#695

With Baldwin's help, Grumple got to his feet, and out of the net. He staggered over to Hol-lee and pulled off her fetters as well. "Grumple! Are you all right?" she cried out, as she steadied his form.

"Grumple hurt... here." He pointed at the center of his chest. He poked his finger through the hole in the chain mail under his left armpit where the metal point had penetrated, and pulled on the broken bit of ebony wood.

"ARRRGH!" the troll moaned, but gritted his teeth again and yanked harder. "ARRRRRRGH-GRAZZIX!" louder... but the barbed obsidian head of the lance happily let go of its wooden shaft, and remained inside beside Grumple's heart.

It had found its new home, and it wasn't going anywhere.

Grumple sat down heavily and stared at the broken piece of lance shaft in his hand.

Re: The Last War

#696

Arthur, of course, was still outside the castle absorbed in his book. It was fascinating. The concepts were fresh, and the methods ingenious. Whoever had written this book was at least a Grand-Master Mage. The wealth of knowledge was stunning, and truly, Arthur admired the author of the book.

Arthur was not sure that he agreed with the way that the writer saw the world. It was very nihilistic. Still, Arthur did think that the writer was accurate on a few points. Certainly, there was a lot of evil in the world, and people deserved worse punishments for their crimes than the legal system allowed, but this man's views were way out of proportion to all reason. It was hard to ignore the dark picture that this book painted about it's author.

Hawever, despite the dark tone, the book was mesmerizing. It was a completely new way of thinking, and Arthur was utterly absorbed by it. Or almost utterly. Deep beneath the surface, in the deepest depths of his heart, he was angry and hurt. Angry because Baldwin had persuaded Kethal and the others to leave him out here, and hurt because Kethal had let him.

Re: The Last War

#697

OOC: What's the status on the King. Is he still in the room?

Re: The Last War

#698

The King glowered at the spot where the usurper had been, at his chance to avenge his slain kinsman, and rival - the King of Palaten. Belzar had taken the yellow road and run away with his tail between his legs. He turned to face the band of heroes who had entered the room to challenge Belzar. He sheathed his sword and looked at them, seemingly bearing the weight of the entire castle of Halbad on his old shoulders. His face was drawn and thin and the stains on his royal robes made him look more the tattered.

"He has escaped...again." The King said. He looked down at Grumple, at the blood flowing freely from the wound. "I do not know the design of his plans, but I do know that Belzar has bound this troll to him. I would thwart his plans at any crossing. Damar, bring me the kingsfoil clippings." He commanded.

Damar looked at a loss for action...

Re: The Last War

#699

Holly knealt by Grumple and left on hand lingering on the trolls knee. This was terrible they should of left then none of this would of happened. Belzar wouldn't be getting at Grumple, Rory wouldn't be hurt, Baldwin would be better and she wouldn't have any more to worry about. Holly sighed and looked around the room at the throne Belzar had been sat in. He tormented her tremendously. Bringing her fathers throne to this place and him sitting it just made her mad. "We have to get out of here. We have to get that spear head out of Grumple and then we must leave" Holly turned and looked at the throne again. She walked over to it the metal gate had dissapered by now. Holly walked right in front of it and fell to her knees. Her fathers form seemed to shadow in the seat. Holly bowed deeply and then stood up. she turned back to the others "What are you waiting for. The king has given you an order Do it." Holly sighed again and sat on the floor her back pressed up against the wall and her face in her hands.

Re: The Last War

#700

Grumple staggered over to the smouldering heap of vegetation in the corner. It was withered, shriveled, with the leaf edges singed brown, and several nasty gashes oozing syrupy sap that congealed into a brown puddle around it. Grumple reached out and touched the woody mass with surprising tenderness.

"At-ta?" he growled, then lowered his voice to a sonorous vibration that reverberated into the chests of those who felt, rather than heard, the words.

"?" the troll rumbled, and pounded on a prominent tree-trunk for good measure. Then he sat down on the floor, and coughed heavily while clutching his chest.

The shambler twitched a few leaves, and then in deep tones that could only be felt, responded. Grumple stopped coughing for a minute to listen, then spoke again. This went back and forth a few times between the old acquaintances.

Grumple nodded. He knew then what he had to do if he made it but the shambler didn't. Atta-Freema-Vernus asked Grumple to care for his pet Venus Fly-Traps back in the Sog Lands. They always were hungry at the end of the warm time and needed to store up strength for the cold.

And in exchange, should the end turn out differently, At-ta had promised to root Grumple's body deep into the rich, dark soil by the bridge outside Palaten -- where in a world filled with men, a troll might find peace.

Having thus gotten their worldly affairs in order, both collapsed in their respective heaps; the troll leaning against the sturdy bog-shambler. Grumple satisfied himself with one more look at his friend Hol-lee, who stood there safe and healthy... as Grumple's friends should always be but to his shame, seldom remained. Then, his eyes closed and he began snoring loudly; the reverberations of which rattled the various trunks of the bog-shambler (and pretty much everything else in the Keep).

Re: The Last War

#701

The King was held rapt by the bizarre exchange between the troll and the heap of foliage, but was released by the sudden grating rasp of Grumple's snoring. Damar was still standing in one place, staring now defiantly at the King. "I have forsaken my oath of fealty to thee, King. I now serve Mayleaf and no other." Damar said. "You lost my alliegance when you slew the holy man."

"Do not be so righteous with me, Inquisitor. My handiwork ended his pain. Do no think yourself so lofty." He said, now looking over the mass of the bog shambler. Sure enough, half a dozen fronds of kingsfoil sprouted along its top, or what was its top at the moment. "My actions were impulsive and wrong. I will atone for them later." he took a handful of the fronds, each almost a foot long, and cut them free from the shambler. He hoped that compared to the smoldering gashes in its hide, the loss of a few leaves would be of no consequence.

"It is the divine right of a King to rule." The King said, "And there are two things above all others that mark an annointed king over a usurper. The first is the bond between a King and his Kingdom. Should the land suffer, so shall the king. The dead have made me weak, and my senses at times addled. For this I can only seek forgiveness and atonement. The second is the power to heal, though I know of no Kings who used this power to heal anything other than a virtuous knight or damsel on death's door. Myself I have done it only one time and that was on you, Holly." He said.

"I doubt very much if you remember but your father and you had come to visit. I think you were perhaps five at the time, if that old. A destrier, one of my own horses lashed out at you, kicking you quite squarely in the chest. I used the power then, to mend the ribs and your punctured lung." He heaved a deep sigh. "I can only hope that I can do something for him." The King said.

He knelt by Grumple's side, his beard and mustaches blowing in the gale of Grumple's snores. He put part of a frond in his mouth and chewed it. After a second he took the damp wad of plant fibers and placed it into the wound around the spear point. "After a bit, the kingsfoil should cause the swelling to reduce and make the weapon easier to remove. Belzar has enchanted it that I cannot touch it myself."

Re: The Last War

#702

Holly thought back dusting off memorys long forgotten. Holly looked deep inside herself. A tall black horse whinnie. scared by something. The hind legs kicking backwards. Holly flying through the air pain clutching at her stomach. She landed in a heap. five years old she didn't cry but tears off pain ran down her cheeks. The memory was coming clear more defined. The horse had been freightened by something but Holly didnt know what. Holly couldn't catch her breath. She wheezed heavily as the rib stuck in her lung threating to fill it with blood and suffocate her. The blood gurgled up into her throat and she coughed. Blood splattered on the floor. Her father had run over to her and was stroking her neat blonde hair now in a strange tangle of knots and dust. The King of Palaten had walked over calm as anything and placed his hands on her ribs. Holly winced as more pain shot through her body. The memory faded slightly and she snapped back to reality "I remember. The horse had been scared of something! I was trying to get rid of it when it lashed out at me. I could've died if it wasn't for you" She looked down at the floor "I thank you but sometimes i wish i had!" Holly stood up and walked over to the King. "You were always a good king but you killed one of our friends. In one we should kill you for what you have done. But i will not for you are my family. but i can not stop any of the others from doing it. But i do say this to them if you decide it must be done then think know that he is trying to save another of our lives."

Re: The Last War

#703

As the scarlet flames crackled outside the gates of Halbad's castle, evening wore on into night. Many of the town's populace had joined in with the Legion troops dancing around the fires, and a surprising amount of previously "destroyed" alcoholic beverages had somehow turned up for public consumption. So many excited men and women were there now that the girls who had been tied up were released or just slipped out of their bonds and ran away. Nobody missed them. There were plenty of willing participants available for whatever came to mind. In sum, a staggering display of public drunkeness and debauchery -- or just an excellent party, depending upon your point of view.

Cheers went up whenever "Centurion" Fellstrom showed his face to the crowd from the balcony of the manor house. However, each time he looked out, his frown grew deeper.

"Where the H*** are you, Belzar?" he groused for the 30th time. He turned and went back into the plush inner room to sit down again... but was surprised to find Lord Belzar reclining upon the couch he had just left, holding up the general's sword to the brightly burning oil light.

The dark lord was wearing green robes trimmed with spotless ermine, glistening white like the purest driven snow. However, Fellstrom noticed this did not completely cover the close-fitting black plate-mail armour which showed beneath the outer garment.

"A fine sword," said the summoner, as he examined the gilded runes scribed deeply in the hardened steel blade. "Your gift, was it not, from Emperor Arctrus Ankyrus? He still favors you, Flavius... ...as long as you produce results."

"I might say the same for you, wizard. But your untoward summoning of those little devils killed dozens of my men, and not for good reason. Why was warning not given? I would have pulled them back from the city to safety."

"DO YOU THINK THAT SUMMONING THE BLACK WIND IS LIKE ORDERING UP A PLATTER OF SWEETMEATS?!!" the wizard shouted; the cords in his neck showing beneath the black chain mail hood that was pulled back under the ermine collar. "I saved you hundreds of soldiers by ending the fight for Halbad in one fell swoop!!"

"Settle yourself, Balfors. Settle. Emperor Ankyrus has given us orders to carry out. We should work together. To mutual advantage." Fellstrom watched carefully until the summoner relaxed somewhat.

"Yes, Flavius. To mutual advantage." Belzar flicked the sword to the Centurion, who knew where it would appear and caught it by the hilt. The Legion's commander sheathed it with a fluid motion.

"By the way," said Belzar, "the King of Halbad seems to have found some steel in his backbone after all. And his impetuous niece is within the castle as well. If your men get to them before I do, tell them I want these two alive, and not damaged any more than necessary."

"Aye, Balfors!" Fellstrom laughed darkly. "Now, let me hear your plan to overrun Castle Halbad."

Re: The Last War

#704

OOC: I posted after Scras and it dissappeared somehow. I'm a little vexed right now. Don't know what happened.

Re: The Last War

#705

OOC:yeah, me too. Whats up with that.

Re: The Last War

#706

OCC: Nobody check out the lost posts thread. Strolen has recovered the lost posts.

Re: The Last War

#707

OOC: For what it's worth Strolen's the man. Here's my post, retrieved by socereous means unknown to those not of the inner circle of power.

IC: Baldwin looked at Grumple's fallen form, concern creased his rugged features. His thoughts were with his brother as well. Rory looked to be sleeping peacefully and his leg looked better. Baldwin turned to the King and tried to make his tone respectful, although truth be told his brother was far better at the diplomacy speaking to monarchs required. But alas he felt he had to try.

"Your majesty, what do you intend to do to defeat the legion and dispell them from your city?" He turned slightly away, with a grimace. That hadn't come out at all as he intended. It wasn't the man's fault. He ran his hand thru his hair. What do you know of Belzar and how can we defeat him?" That too came out as if he were asking a second to give him a report. Baldwin was beginning to think he should've kept his mouth shut. What would Rory say?

"How can we help?" This from Rory who, awake, looked up at the group with owlish eyes, looking extremely fatigued. He rubbed at his leg which showed no signs of the luminesece and displayed pink skin that was very much intact. He threw Holly a wink. "Who's got food?"

Re: The Last War

#708

OCC: Lost posts? Must be black magic. Lots of that around.

No, really, if you want me to back out something I wrote and then you insert your post, I'm all for it. I have more fun reading the great stuff you write than anything. Generally, I copy my latest post to MS Word before clicking on the "Post" button, since I've lost a number myself. Just don't copy back to Strolen unless you have to, since the formatting codes don't import well.

Also, if you need a complete file of this thread in Word, I have one. I keep it up to date. (You would need to sent me your EMail in a PM, since I don't want my address "harvested" by the accursed spamming web-crawler bots.) My file is a whole lot faster than trying to scroll back through Strolen to find out something that we wrote months ago.

Re: The Last War

#709

Kethal wasn't very good with healing, but she knew a little. She casted a simple spell to detect the metal within an area. It would tell her the status of the spear lodged in grumples chest.

It wasn't good. The spear was actually inside his heart. Grumples heart was, miraculously, stillbeating, beating around the spear head, pushing blood out as fast as it was pushing blood through. What was worse, was that the barbed spear was firmly lodged in the heart of grumple, and pulling it might mean, would probably mean, pulling out his heart as well, swelling or no swelling. Kethal could also feel the evil of the spear. she could not be sure, but the spear was probably protected from holy magic.

It was evident that there was no more help inside the castle for the troll, and Kethal was nervous in these catacombs anyway. After a quick spell, she carefully, so very carefully, she lifted the troll. It was hard. The creature weighed a considerable amount.

Kethal swore that she would never understand these people. They treated the troll like an ally, yet they talked about politics while he died on the ground. She understood necessity, but ignoring the death of an ally hardly qualified. If nothing else, even if she could not find healing in time, she could get him out of this place, this stone labrynth that trapped the soul.

Everything in balance. With less repect for these people as she had once had, and a little contempt, she left the room with the troll.

Re: The Last War

#710

Deep below the feet of Messer's Pipkin and Altergast, deep, deep below them and many, many others within Castle Halbad... a very different conversation was unfolding.

Lord Belzar and General Fellstrom stood in a winding and perfectly circular underground tunnel carved in the stone, confronted by an enormous warrior in heavy plate and chain mail which barred their way. The warrior stood easily 7 feet tall, with shoulders a yard wide if they were an inch. His helmet obscured his face and nearly brushed the roof of the tunnel, and strangely, instead of a sword or spear, he held an enormous... Shovel across his mighty chest.

Fellstrom hissed to the dark lord, "Bones of Baal! I thought you said you wanted me to meet your 'Little Friend'. Where did this colossus come from?"

Belzar whispered, "Indeed I did, Flavius. There he is, back there, behind the giant. It's a package deal. They're inseparable."

The general continued, "Did these two dig this tunnel to the walls of the castle overnight? Even with a spade such as that! How is it possible? We stand in solid stone!"

Belzar nudged him. "Be still. The mole men have their ways. I do not understand how they do it, but if you want something dug, nobody digs like the legendary Graandu people. Silence! They are timid. He approaches."

Re: The Last War

#711

OCC: Nobody, you read minds. Even at this distance. Perfect post.

IC: Thus carried aloft, Grumple snored on, rivaling the sonic output of a brass band engaged in playing a spirited March; or at least that of an excellent party.

The latter, of course, was going on outside the gates of Castle Halbad. Nearly all the guard inside the castle watched from the ramparts and parapets, wistfully sighing at the sights they beheld down below illuminated by the roaring firelights. No one noticed the armoured woman behind them in the darkness below carrying a snoring troll.

"Why don' the king throw a party fer us?" grumbled Brendan Pipkin, from the third tower, to no one in particular. He shifted his bow to the other hand and stared down.

"Cuz somebodys got to watch for The Enemy, stupid. You get useless as dog dung when you're drunk." replied Cormac Altergast, standing nearby.

"It-ud be good, y'know, for morale and all, right?" continued Pipkin...
Then, "By Saint Logan's Holy Aura! Look at what that woman is doin'!! Is that possible??"

"I'da never believed it if you'da tol me, Pip." said Altergast. "An' Saint Logans got NUTHIN' to do wit' it. Shuddup `n' watch."

Indeed, they watched. Squirming about uneasily, both men continued to stare down into the darkness at the party.

Re: The Last War

#712

As the two men stared into the underground gloom, a tiny but brilliant blue flame was seen approaching from the total darkness of the yawning black tunnel. It came from a plain metallic staff held by a diminutive figure barely 4 feet tall. He waddled up silently behind the guard with the shovel who stood without any hint of motion.

The mole-man was dressed in thick brown robes with a high collar, and only his head, hands, and feet showed. The head had no apparent neck, and was nestled deep within the collar. This head was covered with a fine gray fur and the little fellow wore a thick pair of spectacles held on with a strap. The tip of his thick nose was pink and hairless, with several bumps and protrusions.

His hands were huge for his size, and appeared powerful. They were like shovels, with sharp metallic claws protruding from soft leather gloves. His feet were likewise proportioned, barefoot, and covered with the same gray fur as his head.

He turned and squeaked rapidly in some unrecognizable language to the warrior, then turned to Belzar and Fellstrom. "Greetings, greetings, General. I am oolooGonio Klaatu and oolooGonia Endera. Master Belzar, I have examined, examined the foundations of the castle above. In accordance with our agreement, our agreement, I am prepared to commence the final dig."

"In 9.23 of your hours, the mining will be complete, be complete, and the western wall of the castle will suddenly collapse outward. Prepare your troops."

He looked up at the astonished face of Centurion Fellstrom. Fellstrom tried to look into his eyes but could not see through the thick glass of the mole man's goggles.

Klaatu looked thoughtful for a moment, then he spoke in his thin voice once more. "That would be... would be one hour past dawn on the surface. Now, be off. I have work to do."

Re: The Last War

#713

Rory stood, testing the weight of his newly healed leg. It tingled a little as if from lack of circulation but other than that it seemed to be fine. Baldwin nodded at his brother who set off after Kethal. Baldwin followed. They had to find a way to heal Grumple. "Where the hell is Arthur?" Baldin grumbled...

OOC: Nobody, lemme know if you're plans for Kethal will be hampered by the brother's presence and I'll edit this post.

Re: The Last War

#714

Back at the manor-home, Centurion Fellstrom tried to make sense of what he had seen.

"Balfors. Before you go, "off" somewhere again, like you always do, tell me about this Grandoo guy."

"No. It's Graandu. Graa-aan-du." corrected Lord Belzar. "The mythical 'mole men'. Ever suspected, seldom seen."

"Here is the short version. Nobody knows much about them. An ancient race. They live underground, and can dig like nobody else. Most of what the Dwarves know about mining and smelting they learned from the Graandu. Have you heard of Mithryl-metal?" Fellstrom nodded.

"Well," continued Belzar. "Graandu consider it to be inferior to their better castings. Your sword, please." Fellstrom unsheathed it and looked at it. The finest sword he had ever held, bar none, even before the Emperor had enchanted it.

Belzar took the sword. "See this little mark at the base of the hilt? That's a Graandu mark. One of them made it, long ago. That is why it can slice stone, and why you have to use that diamond-studded sharpening stone to hone it. They use no visible ornamentation. They can't see it, and don't care anyway. They don't care about gold, or jewels, or wealth, although they have access to all they can dig up. They know everything about the underground world. Uncanny sense of smell. Some other senses I can't quite determine."

"Some say they are alchemists, some say they are clerics. Some ancient texts mention necromancy in secret places. I think they are all these things, more or less."

"So how did you find this Gra-an-du guy? He had a long name. What is the agreement he mentioned down there that you made with him?" questioned the general.

"Oh. Yes. That." replied Belzar. "Call him "Klaatu." He was living near the surface, in a cave. I searched long for one of these mole men... you know I always like to have resources available. From what little I have learned from him, he is not welcome by his own people. Fraternized with humans and dwarves too much. He lives on the surface with that animated statue. Yes, it's solid metal. Easily a ton. He never goes anywhere without it."

"Don't try to fight it, Flavius. It's unstoppable. I've seen it in combat. 6 armed orcs and a fully armoured heavy hog-rider all smashed like ground meat. But, even though I managed to mark the statue while the mole man wasn't looking, I have been unable to summon it. So, there is a life force inside which I cannot command."

"Klaatu wanted some sort of magical staff of healing. I've heard of it, but don't know where it is. I think he's desperate to get it, so I told him I would help him. He's quite gullible, and trusts me completely." Belzar grinned wickedly when he said that.

"Now, general, go tell your troops to be ready to assault the castle in the morning."

Re: The Last War

#715

OCC: Sorry for the long posts. Its introductory stuff. Obviously, I like Klaatu and "the animated statue" a lot, and wanted to bring you up to speed. So, don't kill them off, please. Thanks!

Re: The Last War

#716

Klaatu looked at the fading light where Belzar and Fellstrom had disappeared from the underground tunnel. The huge armoured warrior turned toward the little mole-man and looked down at him, and then put his metal gauntlet on Klaatu's shoulder.

Klaatu looked up and spoke rapidly to the towering form, in the Graandu language of almost ultrasonic squeals and squeaks. ""

Klaatu turned back to the tunnel that disappeared in the darkness under the castle's west wall.

""

Re: The Last War

#717

OOC: No, your characters are not only welcome, they are encouraged to join. In fact, if you want, you can feel free to assume that they followed after.

Also, sorry for any spelling and grammer mistakes. I don't have time to proof read right now.

IC:Kethal followed her steps out of the castle, literally. Instead of simply leaving the castle, she followed the path in, but in reverse. It was the nature of the spell she had cast. It was a spell to find the pathway out. Unfortunately, it was only able to backtrack the exact way that had been travelled by the castle, so that it was somewhat cumbersome indoors (where several stops might be made before reaching a location) and completely useless if a wall had collapsed or a door had been sealed. Kethal did not have the ability to use divining magic, which almost exclusive to clerics and other divine spellcasters.

So, Kethal stopped by the torture room, walked into the room, followed her steps around the room, and then followed them back out again. A silent prayer later, she was headed to the secret tunnel.

Kethal moved the door open very carefully, and stepped out into the sanguine darkness that had now enveloped the world around them. As soon as her feet entered the open space, she breathed a very long awaited sigh of relief. She was out inj the open again. Well, not out in the open exactly, but it was a far cry better then being locked inside that prison that these people called a building.

Two gaurds stood not far off, but they were drunk and distracted, and Kethal, not having time for them, slipped by easily, even with the troll...

Re: The Last War

#718

Arthur heard the door opening before he saw them from his hiding place. He jumped to his feet, letting the magical booklight cantrip vanish from sight. As he looked from his spot, he saw Kethal, folowed by Baldwin and Rory.

Immediately, and covertly, he pulled them to the side. "Where have you been. I have been looking for you all day" He spoke to Kethal.

"There isn't time Arthur. He needs healing, badly."

Arthurs thought process stopped dead in his tracks. He wanted to talk to Kethal, to tell her that he had waited tirelessly out here for them, to converse with her. To touch her.

But he needed to heal the creature, even if it was a troll. Human or not, it was dying, and deep inside Arthur, a part of him would be dying too unless he did something.

Ironic that a troll would infest his dreams if he failed, but true, and now Arthur had a new priority

"Put him down, and hold him down. this will be tricky"

A moment later, Arthur was pondering over what to do. This was beyond even his skill. Vital organs were different from the rest of the body when healing was concerned. They were much harder. The spear, while causeing grumples problem, would also kill him if it were removed. If the spear was pulled out, then all of the blood would pump out through the hole in his heart, and grumple would not heal, because no blood (if you could really call it that) was moving through.

Worse, the spear had infected the region with a taint that prevented magic from touching it. Arthur could bypass the taint, but not with the spear in grumple, and then it would take some time. Time that was not there.

Arthur looked at the situation dumbstruck for a moment, hopelessness and despair on his face. Arthur would have to sit and watch as this creature died...

"Thats it!" came his hushed voice over the sounds of parties and orgies.

Immediately he began flipping through his book, and an moments he was at the page he wanted. He studied it carefully for a moment, then looked at grumple, then back at the page. Quickly, he placed the book, page open on the ground.

"You will have to trust me" he said in a quiet voice. It was unclear who he was talking to.

As Arthur channeled, Baldwin could feel the heat of his sword through it's sheath...

Re: The Last War

#719

Grumple slipped in and out of consciousness; just as the brightly coloured butterfly flits from flower to flower, gently lapping up the nectars, gathering strength for the long migration ahead, while spreading the life-giving pollens from flower to flower that they, too, might be fertilized and grow their seed beneath the warmth of the summer sun.

Even so, in his dreams, Grumple snapped up butterflies and flowers alike, swallowing them whole, branches, stumps, roots, and all. Some dirt and rocks, too. (Really good dirt. The really dirty kind. All in all, a very satisfying dream. Expecially the part about gobbling down all the butterflies.)

Luckily, even though they were holding him down, Arthur and Kethal managed to keep their distance from the unconscious troll's business end as he snapped his fantastically powerful jaws in the air, snoring to beat the band.

Careful! You could lose an arm that way, you know.

Re: The Last War

#720

Exactly 12.32 feet below the bottom of the foundations of the western castle wall, and about 50 feet below the surface of the ground, the mining continued.

Klaatu was tucked behind the protective carapace of the Verm's head, nestled under the thick natural armour of the monster, controlling it with tiny nudges of his needle sharp fingernails. The Verm was 8 feet in diameter and 72 feet from rounded head to rounded tail, with incredibly thick and strong teeth/studs, and without any hint of arms or legs. Its head-carapace folded open like the hungry jaws of a dragon, and the fantastically powerful creature drove its head forward with tons of strength into the solid shale base under the castle walls. Then, the body stiffened and swelled rhythmically, forcing the head into the rock, twisting off huge chunks with a violent shake, and swallowing them whole. Continuously, the rippling action of the steely muscles within its throat and belly ground the shale into oily dust.

"" squeaked the mole man to himself as he guided the juggernaut through the rock, leaving a long open tube behind. Braandu, the armoured warrior, dutifully clumped along after them, and shoveled up the craggy excrement given off by the Verm; carrying it as quickly as he could manage and dumping it down a fissure further back. Some of the rock waste was melted, and still sizzled from the heat generated by the process. The glow of the molten mass cast a hellish red glow -- however faint -- in the total darkness of the subterranian tunnel.

Every now and then Klaatu would stop the beast, and lift a gloved hand to the ceiling above. The teeth-rattling rumbling of the dig would be silenced for a few moments. In the deafening silence that followed, the mole-man would strike a round ring of thin metal against the rock, and listen acutely to the vibrations, turning his furry head this way and that. Then, he would press his bulbous nose into the surface of the shale and pick up trace currents from above to double-check the instrument's reading.

Satisfied, the mole man prodded the Verm to proceed. " he squeaked. Dig! Deep inside, he was joyous. This was what he was created to do. Dig! Only 4.13 surface hours to go, and then to collect his reward!