Adventurers-Upon-Return · Legacy archive
Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#401"No one ties me up! YOU HEAR THAT WIZARD?! NO ONE!" Dujek screamed when the ball was finally taken out of his mouth. Working his hardest to calm his anger and trying to block himself from sight of as much of the room as possible, he began the incantations for the bone locking spell, anything to keep the wonderful Inspector from shooting Talia again.
You were right, Koschei, I shouldn't be here.
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#402"I can understand the temperament of such educated men," Vee said, It was not a lie either, there was no shortage of wizards and mechanists in Nimz who were very particular about etiquette and manners above all things. "I would like to present myself to your master, and offer him my services." Vee said as he produced the smooth blue ioun stone from his pocket.
"I think I have a suitable gift to placate his outrage, I didn't exactly use the front door. Stay here for the moment and take care of your lady."
(OOC - Bluff check with Donovan, Vee is trying to be very sincere, he doesnt want any nasty hijinks from the charm. For rest, see PM) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#403Henge looked at the giant running and shook his staff at him.
Turning, he said, "Need help do you? If not, climb we must before either its nerve it finds or friends it brings."
Henge helped the glass man to the vine, dutifully waiting to ensnare anyone who would pass through those doors. "Come Returner, justice you will want, but punish the master before the dog you punish."
Henge also began to climb the vines, more deftly than one would expect. He waves for the Returner to follow him.
"Oh pretty this view is. Things to be said for having stone temples with pretty windows. Ready are we to buzz away?" .... Then Undead Monks we now be. Find the Evil One and Kill him we do. Clean Up later. Do we follow the pattern's plan? Good."
The Chapel Men carefully exited the loft.. moving quietly but openly.. appearing to be three undead zombie monks just going about their business. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#404Curse that half-ogre! Curse his bones can't he just follow simple instructions?
Alzamus' thoughts were dark and dire as the invisible mage stared balefully at Vorodon. "But he is under my control at least, so he is neutralized!" he mumbled and then his eyes fell upon the screaming man.
"No one ties me up! YOU HEAR THAT WIZARD?! NO ONE!"
Then the man began casting a spell, one the enchanter did not recognize. It was time to act!
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Dujek prepared his bone locking spell when he suddenly heard the voice of the wizard once again. "SARACH!" it yelled and a bolt of pure light and energy suddenly materialized out of thin air, thudding into Dujek a fraction of a second later. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#405"The princess fell down, and she lost her crown, and the goat laughed all day." Talia frowned. That didn't seem right. She started trying it again.
"What's wrong, Talia? Why're you so interested in that dumb rhyme?"
She frowned, as a whisp of memory came to her. Illos talking to her, when they were children. Her concentration faltered. She had to get the rhyme right because... because...
"That rhyme doesn't mean anything, it's just something the grownups say to make the babies laugh. We're too old for baby stuff like that."
Talia sniffed. She'd been hiding behind one of the wagons, crying a little, and saying the nursery rhyme over and over again. "But Xyn was making fun of me, saying I couldn't say it right."
"Oh, what do you care what Xyn thinks? He's just mad that you beat him when you were racing the other day. He don't know nothing."
"I guess... It is awful silly..." She sniffed again, then smiled a little at him.
Illos grinned at her. "Told ya." His face lit up. "Oh! I got something to show you!" He dug into his pockets, and finally pulled out a smooth blue stone, with a silver loop attatched to one end, then handed to her.
"What is it?"
"It's a jewelly bit," he said, sounding important. "I found it in one of the trunks. Mama it used to be hers, but she didn't wear it anymore, so I could have it."
"It's pretty." Talia turned it over, inspecting it. She'd never seen anything quite like it. It seemed to shimmer. "How come she didn't wear it anymore?"
"I dunno. Maybe she just didn't want to."
Talia nodded. She'd stopped crying completely, distracted by the stone. "So she just let you have it?"
"Mmm. You can have it, Talia."
"Really? But you're never gonna find another shiny like this." She looked up from it, searching her friend's face.
He blushed, and shrugged awkwardly. "It's supposed to be for girls. Boys don't wear things like that." He looked down a little self-consciously. "Besides. This way, you'll have a token from me, so I can help you even when I'm not here."
She laughed. "You're funny!" But she considered for a moment, then reached up and undid one of the gold earrings she'd gotten her last name-day. She carefully threaded the loop on the stone over the earring, then put it back on. "There! Now I'll have it always." Then she took her other earring off and handed it to Illos. "And now you've got a token from me, in case people pick on you!"
He stammered a little as he carefully put the earring in his own ear. "Aw... you're 'barrassing me..." But she could tell he was pleased.
Talia shook her head. What... what had she been doing? She didn't really remember. There was a swifty fading memory from her childhood. The blue stone Illos had given her when they were small, and that she still wore. Something to do with that. That was all.
She felt the blood trickling down her shoulder before she felt the pain. While she had been dreaming, she'd evidently gotten shot. Her head snapped up, automatically scanning for threats. It took her a couple of seconds to process what she saw. Aerex was reloading his crossbow... and it was pointing at her. That was his bolt in her shoulder. Everything rushed back then, and she remembered. The wizard! He had something to do with this, but she didn't see him. But he must've done something to Aerex, and probably her, given her befuddled state.
She lunged at the inspector, hoping she'd be able to tackle him before he reloaded. He wasn't himself right now, and could hurt himself, or her, or someone else without meaning to. She was pretty sure she could hold him.
(OOC: I suppose a grapple check is necessary, aiming to grab Aerex, pinning his arms to his sides and not getting either of them shot in the process.) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#406"What was going on?" thought Kadarin as feverish images flew through his thoughts. He was here to do something, but whatever it was escaped him. My that fire was pretty, though it smelled bad. Maybe I need to take a shower. Too dark for rain, and cold. Maybe snow.
What is with the snow anyway? Why does water get whiter when it gets cold? It doesn't always though - Ice can be clear. Like Glass. Moruz likes glass - glass on his weapons, glass on his armor. Wounder if he uses glass utencils. Perhaps he lives in a glass house - and should avoid throwing rocks.
The Giant throws rocks. Big rocks. The monastary was on a big rock. Hate to see the giant that could throw that. Why is Dujeck screaming? Why did he stop? I didn't throw lighting this time - its not _my_ fault it had to fork into two bolts and fry the thumper. He would have killed us both otherwise. Poor Dujek -so many want to kill him.
My uncle dissappeared. Wonder where he went - he's fast.
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#407Aerex felt strangely giddy as his arrow struck Talia's shoulder. Time slowed as it buried itself in flesh and bone. "Funny. I should feel bad," he said aloud.
"Why?" Captain Therond asked, looking closely at Talia's wound. "I thought you were saving her."
"I was. I am." A wave of rage suddenly overcame him. "It's his fault!" Aerex screamed. "He has no business with her! That bastard thief doesn't deserve her!"
Jorgan shook his head. "Aerex, you can't blame everyone else for your problems. That's always been your trouble, hasn't it?"
"What?!" Aerex shouted. "How can you say that, Jorgan? How many times have I saved your ass?"
"That's not the point, Aerex," Jorgan said. He stepped around Kadarin, who seemed to be moving impossibly slow. "Every promotion you miss, every crim that gets away - It always seems to be someone else's fault."
Aerex started to protest, but Thorond interrupted him with a guffaw. "Ha! That's an understatement, Realgar." He turned from Talia, his arms folded and a pleased look on his face. "Nothing's ever your fault, Matare. Aethelstan, Blarchtmir? You only pretend to feel guilty about them, don't you?"
The inspector shivered. "No," he whispered.
Jorgan slowly nodded. "You know it's true, Aerex," he said sadly. "You still blame-"
"NO!" Aerex screamed. "You don't know what I think, what I feel!"
Captain Thorond snorted. "You're a damn punk, Matare." He turned to Jorgan. "You know he even blamed his thieving street rat family on his career failure? Criminal scum."
"They're not scum!" Aerex fumed, his face red as fire.
"If they're not scum," Vee said, a sadisitc smile on his face, "what's that make me?"
Aerex began to speak, but Keykold stepped aside to reveal Talia charging at him full speed. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#408Knocking aside an overturned bench, Vorodon paused near one of the hall’s oaken tables, its bright wood now scorching from the web magic’s burning residue. Dujek hadn’t followed him as he’d hoped he would: Instead, the necromancer had taken cover behind another table. Clearly furious, the pale man hurled invectives at the invisible Alzamus, his erstwhile captor. As he began to chant the throat-burning syllables of his necromancy, bright bolts of eldritch power tore into him, blasting him to the floor!
“Gora’am’s Tussk'n!” swore the angry half-breed warrior as he saw his friend fall. “Wizard Alzamus: Go! Go now! No more spell fight! Vorodon help friends make vess… calm more! Friends no mad with no here!”
He didn’t have the healing skill to aid poor Dujek, so Vorodon continued his scramble among the burning debris to aid his other companions. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#409The Tower
--Vee stalked his way downwards; spiraling along the same contours he had earlier ascended. The rogue was silent, and near invisible as he wound his way slowly toward the ground floor. He had bade the addled bard remain with the unconscious woman and did not await a reply.
--Donovan stood for a moment in a daze, while Lazanne lay prone on the spartan bed, softened with goose feathers, her breathing ragged and shallow. For a moment he simply stared at the departing intruder.
Suddenly, the bard heard a sound near the window and whipped his head around to look. An osprey, the same one that had earlier taken Donovan’s note in its talon, and flew from the stone keep, was now back, settling down on the window’s stone sill. Blood and ichor covered the raptor’s talons and cruel, jutting, fishhook beak.
Donovan stared at his avian saviour and Jjuldae, druid of the People of the Stone Soul, inheritor of the Old Ones curse, passed on from the Albino Werewolf, stared back, attempting to gauge the bard’s intentions.
One second Jjuldae the osprey eyed the bard, and the next second, without warning, the bird dropped to the stone floor from the window, in an awkward, palsied lunge. Yellow-green bile and vomit oozed from the osprey’s beak, and its wings now thrashed against the floor. The poor creature looked like a fly that had been pinned to the ground with an invisible pincer.
--Fyrfyrion disengaged, wrenching its invisible claws from the osprey’s back and struggling to rise through the air, heading directly toward the painting of Alzamus and disappearing into the very wall, unseen to Donovan and Jjuldae, who was now, a bloody, naked human man, lying in a puddle of blood, vomit, and greenish, foul-smelling goo.
Donovan could only stare at the osprey, as it flailed about on the floor, and then quite suddenly transformed into a vulture-faced, crimson-painted man. The bard had heard of such creatures.
The Dining Hall (Full House)
The four shrouded, blood and dirt-encrusted monks entered the foyer from another staircase, guided by the one proper monk of their group, and made their way toward the light and commotion. Nearing the open doors they glanced upon the scene…Henge hummed nervously.
Kocshei proceeded to guide his master’s the necromantic spell. Alzamus was now unseen to all except the mysterious lizard. Dujek yelled at the top of his lungs, cursing the man who had him hog-tied and gagged, only moments earlier.
There! He is there! Near the stair exit! And a worthy foe this blackheart, by the by, if I do say so myself. If you die, I may lend him my services. The lizard hopped up and down extending one scraggly-clawed limb toward the invisible target. Dujek chanted and cast, but his initial success or lack thereof was unknown to the recently freed mage.
--Vorodon ran across the hall, pleading and reasoning with the unseen adversary. He could not help Dujek, but the half-ogre had spied his other companions now, as the fires subsided, and they needed his help, the behemoth thought as he ran, Alzamus was right; they had gone mad.
Running by the strangely mesmerized Kadarin, Vorodon made his way toward the other two companions. The half-ogre was just yards behind the Insecter, who was slowly and deliberately notching another arrow in his bow, when he witnessed the lithe Bladedancer barreling into the little man, tackling him nimbly, and knocking the bow from his grasp. Stunned, Aerex wiggled free and went for his bow once more, while Talia, her mind now clear and lucid once more, surveyed the room, trying to spot the invisible mage.
--Dujek suddenly screamed, as several bolts of magical force slammed into his torso, as Koschei scrambled to avoid being hit as well. Grunts of anguish escaped the necromancer’s throat, as a greenish smoke rose from his chest. Dujek collapsed to the floor momentarily.
--As if all the chaos was not enough, a huge, gray figure unexpectedly appeared in the doorway of the dining hall. Grilgrull the giant had arrived. He was closest to Talia, Aerex, and Vorodon, but for a moment, the giant did not act, simply staring upon the scene in confusion. Much to his chagrin, the stone giant now spotted the “undead monk brigade” entering the hall from the opposite side.
“Master! Where are you?” the giant screamed, more confused than frightened.
Magic Missile on Dujek leaves him with 1 hp remaining. Alzamus on the other hand, was successfully targeted with Koschei’s ‘vision’ and help, BUT, the mage made his save from Dujek’s limb-freeze spell. (Drats! :P). Vorodon and Talia win iniative, as do the newly arrived Moruz, Aeth, and Henge. Aerex and Kadarin are still in throes of confusion, and Vee will descend to the hall within 2 rounds.
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#410Flipping a table on its side, Dujek hid behind it, digging through his clothes and grabbing out his two remaining bottles of firebrew.
"Koschei, can you find him again?" He yelled as his lit the two and got ready to throw them.
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#411Talia cursed in Romani as Aerex slipped away. She could tell, he still wasn't himself. "Wake up, you imbécile vitreux-observé! We have enough problems without him setting us to fighting amongst each other!" She tried to put a knee on his wrist to keep him from getting his weapon again. Vorodon was enough of a problem. As she did so, she scanned the room. The wizard was invisible, she'd figured that out. But with all the smoke and soot in the room, maybe she could use it to spot him. Either from it settling on him, or a "clean" space where the smoke avoided him.
She was still looking around when she caught sight of what appeared to be a legion of the dead, back to life. She recognized Moruz and the monk that had brought them here, and... "Les ancêtres honorés, me protègent contre des âmes d'unquiet!" Aeth was here too, and this was just getting bad. She didn't have time for this. Hopefully the angered dead would be more concerened with the wizard, because she couldn't reach the blood charms she kept with her, and she wasn't even sure she had the right ones.
(OOC: Try to pin Aerex again, spot check to see if she can find an "empty" space where the wizard is) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#412Vorodon stared in horror at the agitated behemoth that approached. Strange greenish light flickered across the beast’s skin, but it looked otherwise undamaged as it lumbered forward, plaintively calling for its master. With his friends somehow driven mad as they were, it would surely crush them! He had to draw the thing away, even if he got himself killed doing it!
There was no time for cunning; he had to deal with the moronic creature immediately! Yanking one of his heavy, leather-vaned darts from the quiver, he hurled his missile at the hulking menace! “Dumb for rock! For no smart but UGLY! Dumb for ROCK!” taunted the half-breed warrior unintelligibly as he turned and fled toward the distant staircase. Heaving another of his grim weapons at the thing, he hoped that it would be stupid enough to follow: Let the brute try to battle him in the stairway’s claustrophobic shadows! -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#413Emerging from the dimly-lit foyer, Aethelstan felt the darkness move within him. The hall before them no longer resembled a monastery, but rather some strange hell, where madness and death held sway. The remains of a massive tangle of blackened strands, like some sort of gigantic spider’s web, occupied the center of the chamber. Engulfed in flames, little remained of the strange web, but the revenant could make out scorched bodies slumped in what was left of the webbing.
To one side, Aethelstan’s strangely distorted senses could make out Dujek, huddling for cover behind an overturned table. As he watched, the necromancer threw a flask at some unseen target, and as it hit, it exploded into flames! He could briefly make out some sort of human figure, a man bellowing in agony as the burning liquid scorched his flesh.
This must be the unseen menace that he had sensed back at the chapel! With an eldritch gesture, the revenant monk summoned forth Darkness, drawing it around the wizard like a tenebrous, clinging cloak. The darkness of the grave boiled up around the man, swathing him like a physical thing, thick with a tomb-like chill.
Lurching forward, Aethelstan, the Hand of Andur, cried out in his anger! In the hollow tones of the sepulcher, his voice echoed through the hall. “Blasphemer! Thou hast deluded thyself that Judgment would find thee not! Fool! Andur’s Justice will not be denied! Thy doom is at hand!”
(OOC: He cast darkness, and Uncle Alzamus blew the save, per a discussion with Muro. Moving up, Aeth hopes to flank the man, on the opposite side from Dujek.) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#414The hair on the back of Vee's neck prickled, his skin felt too tight. He wasnt sure if it was the sounds coming from the great hall or the smell. The sounds were certainly novel, Voro bellowing, gypsy cursing (that would be Talia, he thought) as well as various other sounds. Perhaps it was the smell...after a second he decided it was certainly the smell. Not many civilized folk know that human flesh has a very unique odor, and the scent that drifted from the hall was both one of rotten corpses and burnt flesh. There was no telling what sort of hell he was moving into, and certainly no reason to become hasty and get himself overly embroiled in it.
The handle of his dagger felt solid and comforting in his hand, he didnt feel like risking a shot with the crossbow and the hallway was too small to really get a good swing with the whip. No, it was what other rogues like Vallance referred to as wet work. Most training said to strike low into the torso and then following with a hard stroke upwards. This generally made a mess of the back muscles as well as puncturing kidneys, liver, and whatever else the knife was long enough to reach. Vallance had mentioned a more brutal style of aiming high and slashing through the neck, cutting blood vessels and other vitals to the head, all academic of course.
Vee chose instead what in Nimz was called the Naskin Technique. He held the dagger with the blade parallel with the ground, edges to the side. Most folk didn't have the sense to know that a vertical knife generally was too wide to pass between the ribs easily, but held on it's side, even the thickest blade could easily pass between the ribs. Blade ready in his right hand, Vee braced his left palm against the pommel of the weapon, there would be one strike, one chance to take the wizard off guard. If he was lucky, the blade would puncture the heart and bring a swift and what was said to be a painless death. If not, he might end up adding to the smell of burnt flesh and death.
It would be such a shame to die. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#415Donovan looked over his shoulder at Lazanne. Her breathing was shallow, but she was fine. He turned back to the man lying on the floor. He didn’t look to good.
“Ta cree dooie ny share na kione croutagh” he huffed, drawing his herb bag off his shoulder. Picking one of Alzamus’ robes, he covered the man. “Ya look a bit worn there, "brother bird", and a bit odd if you ask me” he chuckled as he watched the slow change from bird to man.
For the first time in weeks his heart was light and untroubled. His hands moved expertly and effortlessly, quickly mixing several common herbs and grinding them with the small mortar and pestle. A smile grew on his face. But this smile was different, it was natural. Neither forced nor one of crafty design, this expression was one of genuine pleasure.
He could stop it all. No more suffering, no more death. And the price was small in the grand scheme of things. Three more lives would need to be snuffed out, no more, no less.
He took the now powdered herbs and poured them into the flask of spirits. Swirling the mixture he stood and watched the man lying on the floor where his "brother" once was.
Eshyn lhieys marish moddee, irrys eh marish jarganyn.
The wind tore into his mind, cutting him to his very soul.
“Damn it Mother! I know what must be done!” He set the flask down beside the bed and pulled out parchment and quill. He wrote furiously, taking little time to be poetic.
Please see my body buried properly, I’d hate to roam this place.
And bury the girl as well, she didn’t deserve this.
Give this ring to the ogrish fellow, as penance for my failure to assist him in his time of need.
As all must die in their time, this is mine.
I hope you all will remember me well, even though we never really met.
I am sorry I failed you and hope my sacrifice helped you in some small way.
Donovan
He pulled the gold ring from his finger and placed the scrolled note through it. He carefully placed it into the druid’s hand. He moved quickly to the bed side and picked up the flask.
Forcing the sleeping girl to swallow, he fed her the mixture. “There will be no pain, child. But you more than anyone know this must be done.” He stood up strait and took a deep breath.
“Fyrfyrion” he bellowed as loud as he could “Fyrfyrion come and see what gift I have for you!” Moments passed.
“Always scheming, our busy little Donovan!" A low hissing voice came from behind him. “What have you for Fyrfyrion?”
Donovan grinned, maniacal and mad. “I have what you most desire, fiend. I have Lazanne.” He turned slowly, looking at the quasit. He was gruesome and disgusting in Donovan’s eyes. He was one of the three though, so he must be careful. A slight misstep might ruin the plan. “Come close, fiend, and feel her last breath escape her lips” he cooed “this is what you asked, is it not?”
Donovan stood over the girl, a fine dagger glinting in the moonlight. “Come share this with me, my fiendish friend. We can blame the druid” he motioned to the man lying on the floor.
“So sssoft. So delicate…” the quasit was whispering, drool dripping from his lips. “You must kill the master's pet for me…I will tell the master you are innocent.”
Donovan leaned in towards the girl, Fyrfyrion perched and looking over his shoulder. He knew the girl would feel nothing, he had already seen to that. He placed the point of the dagger above her heart.
She is no innocent! Eshyn lhieys marish moddee, irrys eh marish jarganyn! She is as guilty as I am!
He plunged the dagger into her breast all the way to the hilt. The fiend cackled on his shoulder “…our good little Donovan…we owe him a boon, we do…” the quasit sputtered between chuckles.
Donovan reached his hand slowly over his shoulder seeming to want to pet the fiend. With a shriek Fyrfyrion bit down hard on Donovan’s hand. His smile grew broader, more insane. He grabbed hold of Fyrfyrion’s lower jaw and swung him against the wall. A fountain of blood sprang from Lazanne’s chest as he pulled the dagger loose and drove it into the quasit’s midsection.
“I may not be able to betray Alzamus, but killing the two of you will hurt him nonetheless!” Donovan looked at the creature with wild eyes as he moved towards the window, a firm grip on the thing’s lower jaw with his bloody hand.
The mage’s familiar shrieked loudly as Donovan placed one foot on the window sill. A cold and emotionless calm was on his face as he stepped fully onto the ledge. He knew when the familiar died the mage would suffer pain near unbearable. He wished there were another way, but from the sounds echoing up the stairway, he knew he had no choice. He would have to be one of the three.
“I only hope that someone remembers me….”
Donovan knew the fiend would hit the ground first...and he would fall squarely on top of him, finishing the job if the impact failed to kill. This was the only way. A single tear ran down Donovan's cheek.
Gripping both the dagger and the jaw of the mage’s familiar he dove headlong to his death, only a whisper could be heard from his lips. “I will be there soon Mother…”
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Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#416Henge did not like what he saw. The giant, obviously having taken the long way, just arrived as they did. This was not the plan. Nor was the globe of darkness that engulfed the Evil.
Henge tugged upon the sleeve of the Sand Warrior. He was desperately trying to take in the situation. Henge pointed to the giant with his staff. Then, a heart beat later, the scream began. Then, the run.
Well it seemed like a run. Henge was wildly gyrating his left arm and capering about, appearing to be mishapen. He dragged his staff with his "dead" right arm. It bounced with him behind him. He made a straight line towards the giant.
The Scream. It was the sound of some animal dying.. or perhaps the sound of several animals dying or perhaps a flock of quails mating (Failed never to amaze Hengre that such a beautiful bird with song lovely could sound like a scary thing while sexing). Lungs strong had he. Singing off the echo of the hills had given him a voice most loud. Served him now it did. Praise the Pattern of Life for all its wisdom, as these little things random in life everyday would make such a combination most synergic.
A few prancing steps later.. he focused again.
With all the noise, he hoped that the Sand Warrior was following him... to say something appropriately scary to help him distract, and hopefully drive away, The Giant. The last anything they needed not was for The Giant to attack or ask the Evil what to do. If chase it, they could, back into the snaring vines - Or the room out of at least. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#417Alzamus' Last Gleaming
A voice called out to the befuddled giant, its tone reassuring, imperative and demanding.
“I am here my child, my ferocious beast, but I am in hiding, cloaked by my powerful, unstoppable magic! Kill them Grilgrull! Slay these foul assassins that dare invade our halls! Show the evil-doers how the hammer of righteousness smites the unworthy! KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!”
Immediately a low chant erupted from the unnatural darkness on the other side of the now vandalized feast chamber, far from where the Adventurers-upon-Return had entered. The volume and pitch of the debonair mage’s voice slowly rose in intensity as Alzamus invoked the powers of the icy wastes of hell, causing the hackles to rise on all those present that still had the ability to feel anything. The unseen mage imperatively chanted his dread incantation as he inched towards the corner of the room. Suddenly, like the tendrils of some wispy ghost, or perhaps like the claws of a hungry elemental, frost crept up the walls of the feast chamber, surrounding the source of the sinister chant. As if with slow deliberation – each moment seeming like an eternity, a cluster of densely packed, scintillating crystalline icicles materialized. Each icicle floated horizontally, the hell-spawned bolts numbering nearly one hundred. The missiles’ lengths were close to that of ballista iron spears, their tips coated in some unknown liquid, yielding a coruscating watery sheen. For a fragment of a second these ominous harbingers of death and destruction hovered there in utter silence, suspended in mid air, before they suddenly whipped into motion, their speed reaching terminal velocity.
Meanwhile the frost had outlined the invisible shape of Alzamus now emerging from the darkness, a thin caking forming on his otherwise unseen features. There stood the frosted outline of the grand mage, in the corner of the feast chamber, close to an exit stairwell leading down into the mines. Then, a scant second after the spell had finished, without checking whether anyone survived the wreckage and ruin, the outline of the wizard could be seen, speedily levitating down the stairs, his cloak fluttering in his wake! -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#418CHAOS, Part I of III
It was a close call but Talia managed to pin Aerex to the floor, long enough for the inspector’s facial features to suddenly change, as he struggled to throw her off. His clouded eyes turned momentarily lucid, but then just as quickly, his countenance changed once more, and suddenly tears streamed from his eyes. Just as Talia thought that the effects of the mage’s insidious magic on Matare had subsided, the inspector jumped up, with a powerful burst of adrenaline, and bounded without warning across the dining hall, ripping his saber free in the process, heading for the closest exit, the same one he had earlier entered, and the same one where Grilgrull now stood, blocking the double doors, temporarily baffled at the unfolding scene.
“Death to all of Jantir’s enemies! Death to giants, death to all foes, and death to friends who chose to be enemies!” he screamed incomprehensibly at the top of his lungs, as he swung his blade to and fro, not caring whose flesh was on the other end of his outstretched sword.
The stunned Giant, who had suddenly heard his master’s anguished, furious voice, echoing across the hall, was a moment too late in blocking the pesky, oncoming Aerex, and unexpectedly, Matare’s saber was swiftly buried deep inside the addled giant’s gut, just a inch or two above his groin. For a moment Grilgrull simply stared at his own reddening midsection, then swung with all his strength at the inspector, sending him hurtling a dozen feet away, and toward the center of the great room. Landing awkwardly, Aerex was now clumped into a fetal ball on the floor, his ‘confusion’ trumped by a severe concussion and broken bones.
For her part, Talia withdrew her steel fan, and prepared for the stone giant’s onslaught. She had only moments ago, spied a strange “draft” of thick, candle smoke moving in a peculiar, unnatural direction across the room. Was this the invisible wizard? she momentarily pondered, but the Bladedancer had little time to worry about the horrid mage, she had bigger problems now.
“I am here my child, my ferocious beast, but I am in hiding, cloaked by my powerful, unstoppable magic! Kill them Grilgrull! Slay these foul assassins that dare invade our halls! Show the evildoers how the hammer of righteousness smites the unworthy! KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!
The giant heard and complied, a look of rage now crossing his stolid features. Ignoring the foot and a half of steel stuck in his gut, Grilgrull advanced on the closest adversary to him…Talia.
The bladedancer spun out of the giant’s way easily enough, dancing or feinting; with her unique martial techniques it was difficult to tell the difference. Sidestepping the charging hulk, she was now several feet behind the giant, steel fan brandished, a look of wrath in her eyes.
Just then a missile, hurled with an almost uncanny force, struck the giant in his ample forehead, like the saber had moments earlier, the massive dart dug deeply into the creature’s skull, imbedding itself in his cranium semi-permanently.
Grilgrull hesitated in his advance. For a second he stood, staring straight ahead, trying to identify foes. His clouded vision now showed him two ogres, both hopping up and down, and raining unintelligible insults at the giant. Grilgrull screamed like he had never screamed before, and rushed at both ogres in a murderous frenzy.
The giant’s desperate yell nearly deafened the gathered combatants, but then another sickly sound could be heard as well. Loping along like some leprous psychotic was Henge, gnarled staff swinging, and a look of lunacy on his features. The druid headed directly for the giant, and while only moments earlier, Grilgrull would have hesitated in fear, the now berserk giant, merely yelled louder, drowning out the wounded animal noises coming from Henge, and clapped his hands so hard against the druid’s head, that Talia, who was watching the exchange, could swear that Henge’s head was squashed like a melon.
Henge stood still, then slid down to the cold, stone floor. His hearing was gone, and several of his facial bones had shattered…a humming rang in the druid’s ears now, as he curled up on the floor, looking much like Aerex, but the humming was involuntary now.
Aerex took 10 points of damage. I am not sure what that leaves him with…but what a brave (but confused) soul he is! Henge has taken 15 points of damage! Fear not, he lives! He is a 4th level druid. Henge has 7 left.
Part II of the same sequence is next! No need for anyone to post, just yet. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#419CHAOS, Part II
Two things happened next.
As soon as Grilgrull smashed Henge’s head between his two massive palms, sending the druid crashing down to the floor, like an animate marionette struck inanimate once more, Talia’s fan sliced a long, deep ridge across the giant’s backside. Grilgrull moaned in pain, but ignored the woman who was attempting to eviscerate the huge beast’s kidneys, for coming at the giant now, was Moruz…the fearless, silent, focused killer. The desert warrior had followed the druid’s mad rush, and as soon as Henge sank to the cold stone, Moruz was upon the giant, leapfrogging Henge’s slumped form, and impaling the giant’s bandaged and scarf-wrapped throat with his wicked ouzala, from the considerable momentum of his running start.
The giant roared, nearly choking on the blood surging up into his mouth from his arteries.
Grabbing the ouzala with both hands, Grilgrull snapped it in two, as if the weapon was a fragile twig. The blade, the barbs, and a foot of laurel, however, remained sticking out of the giant’s blood-gushing neck.
Moruz was tossed aside like yet another twig, landing hard against the longtable, twenty feet away, smashing the oak with his body...a single, pain-filled grunt escaping his lips.
--Grilgrull gurgled up blood and ran toward the biggest, meatiest target he could see…the half-ogre Vorodon. Noticing that his antics were working, despite the myriad distractions the stone giant was facing, Vorodon whooped, hollered, and backed his beefy form into the narrowing stairwell behind him. Another dart took flight, but this one sailed past the giant.
--Kadarin meanwhile, alone and forgotten near the center of the room, ceased his hypnotic stare, and roused his mind. His thoughts were now clear once more. He must kill everyone, the young mage reasoned to himself. Everyone! He would kill everyone, and show his uncle once and for all, that he was no sniveling coward, but a mighty mage in the making!
Knowing of no force as impressive as his unpredictable wand, Kadarin withdrew the baton from his pouch, aimed toward the center of the room, and unleashed the Wand of Wonder’s twisted magicks.
Suddenly, unseen by most even as he sat there, Kadarin vanished.
Moruz takes 8 points of damage. Kadarin turns invisible, but is still confused, this time with a “kill em’ all” outlook on life. The giant has taken his good share of damage too now, btw.
Next up…Part III (Dujek, Alzamus, Aethelstan, Vee) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#420Chaos, Part III
for my next trick, I will simply copy/paste a passage of AG’s and a passage of Wulf’s, not because I am lazy, but because they have both summed things up nicely already (as far as the scene). Interspersed and following those copy/pastes are further additions.
Meanwhile, a few seconds ago, now, and a few seconds later…
--To one side, Aethelstan’s strangely distorted senses could make out Dujek, huddling for cover behind an overturned table. As he watched, the necromancer threw a flask at some unseen target, and as it hit, it exploded into flames! He could briefly make out some sort of human figure, a man bellowing in agony as the burning liquid scorched his flesh.
Alzamus takes 9 points of damage from Dujek’s Molotov cocktail. It was a direct hit, burning and melting parts of the wizard’s chest and neck. Bits of glass are imbedded in Alzamus’ scalp. I rolled a spellcheck however, and Alzamus can proceed with his vile spell without failure
This must be the unseen menace that he had sensed back at the chapel! With an eldritch gesture, the revenant monk summoned forth Darkness, drawing it around the wizard like a tenebrous, clinging cloak. The darkness of the grave boiled up around the man, swathing him like a physical thing, thick with a tomb-like chill.
-- Immediately a low chant erupted from the unnatural darkness on the other side of the now vandalized feast chamber, far from where the Adventurers-upon-Return had entered. The volume and pitch of the debonair mage’s voice slowly rose in intensity as Alzamus invoked the powers of the icy wastes of hell, causing the hackles to rise on all those present that still had the ability to feel anything. The unseen mage imperatively chanted his dread incantation as he inched towards the corner of the room. Suddenly, like the tendrils of some wispy ghost, or perhaps like the claws of a hungry elemental, frost crept up the walls of the feast chamber, surrounding the source of the sinister chant. As if with slow deliberation – each moment seeming like an eternity, a cluster of densely packed, scintillating crystalline icicles materialized. Each icicle floated horizontally, the hell-spawned bolts numbering nearly one hundred. The missiles’ lengths were close to that of ballista iron spears, their tips coated in some unknown liquid, yielding a coruscating watery sheen. For a fragment of a second these ominous harbingers of death and destruction hovered there in utter silence, suspended in mid air, before they suddenly whipped into motion, their speed reaching terminal velocity.
Meanwhile the frost had outlined the invisible shape of Alzamus now emerging from the darkness, a thin caking forming on his otherwise unseen features. There stood the frosted outline of the grand mage, in the corner of the feast chamber, close to an exit stairwell leading down into the mines. Then, a scant second after the spell had finished, without checking whether anyone survived the wreckage and ruin, the outline of the wizard could be seen, speedily levitating down the stairs, his cloak fluttering in his wake!
--Vee had finally reached the tower stairwell, dagger in hand, hidden in shadow, and for the first time gazed upon the carnage and chaos of the dining hall. He was still behind a stone, curving wall of the far stair, but he could now see what was transpiring. All of the bizarre, individual scenes and visions were trumped for Keykold, by a great storm of ice spears that had suddenly erupted across the chamber. Vee paled, he could do nothing else, as he watched frost javelins, crash around the hall, impaling his companions and smashing against the walls. This was utter pandemonium.
But the rogue was not as addled as he thought he would be. The nightmarish scene before him, did not dull his senses as it might have years ago.
Two other things Vee spied in horror, as he watched the ice storm destroy the room. One was an outline of the obvious adversary, the wizard, levitating down the stairs of the far hall, the other, was a swathe of darkness that had remained behind. The darkness seemed to take on a humanoid form as it hovered and lurked, oblivious to the great icy shards around it that were bombarding the room into oblivion.
No one saw Vee, but Vee saw all…all that there was to see now, however, was the ice storm, destroying the Adventurers-Upon-Return.
I’m sorry, you’re all dead. Well, not all. Vee is fine; Dujek (MIRACULOUSLY!!) is okay because the table kept the ice shards from slicing through him. Voro is alive because he had backed up out of the hall into (yet a third) staircase, trying to entice Grilgrull to follow. Numerous shards lance Grilgrull. The giant drops dead. Aethelstan was obliterated (?). He was in Alzamus’ line of fire. Talia managed to dive out the double doors, leading into the dining hall, as the icicles hovered. (18 Dex baby!). Henge lives! (though he is mighty hurt). Aerex, Moruz, and Kadarin were obliterated (I will spare you the gruesome details)
--Dujek cowered behind the wooden table as rock-hard icicles speared and crashed loudly against the oak. The words...Dujek could recognize those words. The wizard's words sounded....familiar.
hmmmm. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#421As soon as she could, Talia got to her feet and checked to be sure the danger was past. It was, but the damage was done. For a moment, she looked around, at the others. They were laying like broken dolls in various heaps on the floor. She closed her eyes. "Not again. Not ever, ever again." She was deathly calm when she opened her eyes, but there was something strange this time. Something burned in her eyes, and had anyone been around to see it, they would have been shocked at the raw killing fury there. There had only been one other time in her life when the lux de morte, the death-fire, burned in her eyes.
The last time she had looked at the world through eyes like that, men had died.
She said nothing, simply looked around, trying to spot the wizard who was the cause of this. She saw what looked like him disappearing down the stairs, and a patch of darkness in the room. The wizard wouldn't get away from her. Gypsies didn't forget, and they didn't forgive. If she had to spend the rest of her life doing so, he would die. But first things first, she wanted to make sure that he hadn't left anything nasty to come up behind her. Her fan came out, and she strode across the room, slashing at the darkness. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#422Henge fell to the floor, not because his brains were sloshed about, which they were.. but that had never bothered him before. Really he fell so he would not be hit immediately again when the giant realized he was still alive. To the Forces of Nature he prayed...
Henge simply cures light and awaits for the opportunity to stick his staff in the a "cavity best left unexplored" of the giants (from under or behind.. since he is walking over and past me). -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#423Vorodon looked out at the carnage before him. He didn't have the first aid skill to tell if any of his friends were alive, much less find a way to help them.
Pulling out his axe, Voro stepped up to the fallen giant and dashed his skull open. He had been a worthy, if stupid, opponent. Voro could at least honor him for that. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#424Breaking into tombs was usually a clinical exercise in patience, with ample time to detail and disarm traps, often with assistants standing with torches, and others about to offer their advice. When things went wrong, the only decisions to make were along the lines of what to do with the bodies and to determine what went wrong. This screaming carnage of melting ice, fire, and the hot rancid stink of giant and blood was completely different. Things had gone straight to hell here, and it couldn't all be laid at the wizards feet, their own actions had been as much help to their foe as his obvisouly potent magics. How many to be buried?
(more pending PM from DM) -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#425End Game
*believe it or not, there WAS some rolling involved*
--Dujek watched in full crouch, still behind the upturned table, as the half-ogre gashed and bashed the wound-riddled, motionless, stone giant’s skull. Few could pull of ‘gash’ and ‘bash’ in one stroke, Dujek found himself pondering, but Vorodon was one of those few.
--Slowly, addled now beyond even the magicks of the vile wizard, Kadarin stirred, a shard of ice exiting his bloody chest and evaporating from existence. The young mage managed to raise his head and look around the dining hall, with bleary, pinkish eyes. Only Kadarin could know what thoughts now coursed through his normally benevolent and analytical mind.
--Talia sprinted across the room in meaningful, efficient strides, steel bird of irrevocable kisses, Loiha had once named Talia’s unique weapon of choice, leading the way. Slashing through the darkness, pooling and hovering in one corner of the chamber, the Bladedancer disappeared from view.
--Henge quickly ‘fixed’ his severely damaged cranium, the patterns appearing once more, like linear waves and quixotic blueprints. All was well with the druid, though a dull, aching pain hammered against his neck and temples. Spinning (quite gracefully for his age) onto his back, the beekeeper upturned his crooked staff and braced himself for a rampaging giant to run over him. None came. Quickly, Henge sprung up, spat out a few teeth and gazed upon a scene of “melting” icicles, dead and wounded companions, and a nebulae of darkness, not conforming to the “patterns” in one corner of the great chamber.
The druid, frozen in time for a moment, peered deeply into the dark, palpable recess, and gently began to hum. Somewhere within the umbral clot, Alzamus the Fair stared back, having momentarily caught sight of Henge despite the gray-black miasma. For the first time in the melee, Wizard and Beekeeper looked upon each other.
["http://www.content.loudeye.com/scripts/hurl.exe?clipid=012764401010006900&cid=600109"]
--Suddenly, all went black for Alzamus, for slicing through the air, in a wild, but uncannily successful arc, was the steel bird of irrevocable kisses. Talia’s weapon had connected, as the bladedancer came swiftly into the ebon muck, cutting a horizontal line along the wizard’s eyes. To say that Alzamus’ eyeballs burst, would be an insult to Talia’s fan. Instead, the enchanter’s eyes were each sliced in half, like hard-boiled eggs against the pressure of a slashing razor. The bridge of his nose was wet with cartilage, and a delayed but gruesome groan escaped the wizard’s mouth.
The groan was followed by a terrible scream, the likes of which could not seem possible for a mortal man to emulate. Alzamus writhed just as suddenly, and clutched his sides, as if a great, invisible vice was breaking his ribs.
“Fyrrrrffyrrrrrrrrrion!!!! Donov--” the wizard lamented, black blood, trickling down the soulless, empty cavities, where once were eyes.
--That was all the sound the silent stalker had needed. Distracted (severely!) by Talia’s blinding rampage, the wizard failed to see Aethelstan, the coffer corpse, Andur’s Revenant, lock his cold, talon-like fingers around the suddenly exposed throat of the mage. Aethelstan had entered the darkness as well, and spoke now, in a slow, steady, voice…the voice of thirty grave-sent monks…the voice of St. Senren. As he spoke, he squeezed, and slowly Alzamus began to feel his life force ebb away.
--Yet, Alzamus did not yet give up all hope. There were contingencies in place. Slowly, but steadily a strange, ebon form separated from the darkness, like an amoeba and proceeded to coalesce into a new shape. A huge, grotesque, fly-like creature, nay a chasme demon, the same chasme demon that had slain his father, decades ago, now advanced on Henge. No one else could see this terrifying monstrosity, for it existed only for the beekeeper, but exist it did, and slowly, ebon mandibles clacking without sound, it advanced, covering Henge in its depraved embrace.
Phantasmal Killer, contingency spell, deal with it Moon
Alzamus stared through empty eye sockets, as Aethelstan’s bony appendages clutched and constricted the mage’s throat. The undead priest spoke on, his words like hushed hoarfrosts from the grave. Suddenly, Alzamus opened his mouth to breathe, but instead he chose to speak…or warble, in some ancient, misbegotten tongue. Somehow despite his utter blindness, and the fact that Aethelstan was close to permanently silencing the wizard, crushing his windpipe, Alzamus chanted on…or was it some hex, some deathbed curse?! It was almost as if the wizard’s jaw and mouth functioned on their own, ignoring the terrible pressure the coffer corpse was generating with his strangulation.
like bloody Rasputin, he will not die! Contingencies
Halfway way through his painful, choked litany, Alzamus suddenly coughed, and spurt of viscous, quickly blackening blood shot forth from his mouth, splashing Aethelstan’s already fearsome visage in turn. For a moment, the wizard tilted his head up toward the ceiling, silent now, as if telepathically calling down some malevolent, ancient god into servitude, then, quite simply, his head slumped forward and down, clacking against the bones of Aethelstan’s Fingers of Justice, which had now managed to begin crunching the few remaining bones in the wizard’s less than scrawny neck.
--A third figure was responsible for the killing blow however. Unseen, Vee Keykold, the original Adventurer-Upon-Return, the rogue and scholar, with the occasional disposition of one of Nimz’ famed, emotionless assasins, had snuck up right behind the mage, scant seconds after Talia’s swift attack, and Aethelstan’s methodically cruel embrace, Keykold had succeeded with his own strike, the blade entering cleanly, and with sufficient force, to travel up through the nape of the wizard’s neck and bury itself deep into the soft, pink brain matter of the skull.
"Lazanne--" the wizard managed to whisper, despite the incredible odds agianst it.
Alzamus was dead…but there were contingencies in place.
--Tirron was dead. Unbeknownst to all, the hysterical monk suffered a heart attack during his earlier verbal assault upon entering the dining chamber, Aethelstan, his avenging angel, in tow.
--Meanwhile, on opposites sides of the great hall, Moruz and Aerex stirred. The inspector’s madness had gone away, along with his recent memory, and the killing ice-shards that had rained from overhead only moments ago.
Moruz rose slowly and gingerly from behind the table.
“Fiati!” he spoke.
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#426Hana to mishi
yuki wa kino zo
moto no mizu
Vee whispered as the blade of his dagger slid free from the punctured cranium of the now dead and twitching wizard. The deed was done, and yet completion still seemed distant...
(OOC - spot check, what is left on the field to deal with?)
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#427His hands still clenched grimly around the villain’s throat, the Hand of Andur felt the man’s pulse race faster as his body shuddered with the impact of the warriors’ blades. Liquid warmth ran across his dead hands, invisible in the tomb-like blackness. As his hands remorselessly squeezed the wizard’s throat, he could feel Alzamus’ pulse weaken and falter, then die away altogether. It was done.
Releasing his grip on the man’s throat, Aethelstan stepped away from the body. He could feel the blood on his hands, like a toxin burning into his soul. He could feel his breath draining out of him, as if in slaying the wizard whose evil had called him back into the world, he had slain something within himself.
“'Tis done,” he heard his dead voice hiss. “The blasphemer hath fallen! This night, the Scales of Andur shall measure his heart’s worth: The nethermost pits await his coming.” With an unwitnessed gesture of dismissal, Aethelstan banished the Stygian darkness around them.
“Talia! Vee! It doth lighten my heart to witness that ye art both yet quick! When I arose, called by Justice’s need, I were afeared that the darkness had claimed thy spirits, for I thought that little else could have prevented thee from ensuring my safe return to consecrated ground. Wherefore dost thou be come to this fell place?” the revenant asked concernedly.
Ashen faced, the gypsy stepped back, retreating in mute horror from her decaying comrade's dead voice. “Talia, thou lookest most pale! Art thou injured?” inquired Aethelstan.
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#428Talia stumbled backwards, away from Aethelstan as he spoke. Her enemy was dead, meaning she wasn't focusing only on revenge anymore. How does one respond to the spirit of the dead? I can't remember! Politely, one would think. "N-no. I'm f-fine, thank you." Her hand went into her pocket, coming out with the blood charms. She'd plaited the hair tied around each one, making a fine silvery cord with small rolled brownish papers woven into it. She held it in front of her, hoping that it would work. She didn't know if she'd made one for whoever had killed Aethelstan, but it might help.
Meanwhile, she'd puzzled out something else he'd said. "C-consecrated ground? Wh-why would I d-do that? Gypsies d-don't-" She stopped. Clearly, the funeral customs of the dead monk's religion were different than gypsy customs. "'m sorry." She was still backing away. The spirit world had never been something she felt comfortable messing with, and to have part of it here, right in front of her, was a little much.
She glanced around, looking for a way out. Then she saw that the room didn't look the way it had a moment ago. The ice was gone, and the others... Were they okay? Or was this another spirit illusion? "What just-? I don't..." It was too much. Too much, too fast, too confusing. She just gave up and retreated backwards into her own mind. For the first time in her whole life, she fainted silently to the floor. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#429So cold, Aerex thought as the last of his life drained away, an icy spear driving through his chest. The world darkened around him. It's just so cold...
Matare woke suddenly, gasping and coughing. He sat up, quickly searching the area around him. Where was he? What happened? A huge stone hall, stained glass, a monk lying unconscious or dead a few yards away from him. Yes, the monk. The monastery! He had spied the wizard in the hall, snuck in with his bow... Beyond that, Aerex couldn't remember. Even sneaking up the monastery stairs seemed a decade ago. He looked around. A battle had taken place, that much was certain. A huge giant - yes, the same giant Voro had persuaded - lie apparently dead, gashes in its stomach and neck. Kadarin was nearby, looking at least as confused as he was. Mouse too was there, unconscious but still breathing. But where...?
"Talia?" he said with uncertainty, his throat feeling strangely parched. Slowly Aerex stood. He turned, searching, until his eyes caught her in the hall with someone. The inspector gripped his rapier tightly, just in case there were more surprises. Wet crimson dripped from the blade; the question of its owner briefly passed through Aerex's mind. He squinted, walking slowly forward. Who was that? "Hello?" he called out. The figure looked to him and gave a small smile. "Oh, Aethelstan," Aerex said, relieved.
...Aethelstan?!
As Talia slid onto the stone floor, Aerex rushed towards them. There was a lot of investigating to do. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#430The Revelation of Aethelstan did not sit well with the Nimzian rogue. Was this the final reward for the faithful? Vee felt a shudder pass through him, it seemed like ages ago that they had left Aethelstan with the mirrors over his eyes, it seemed an eternity ago. Since then he had seen another decent cleric meet a similarly gruesome end, swallowed by a stone floor. It seemed that the gods didnt even look after their own...
"Its...good to see you, Aeth...." Vee said. This was his first meeting with a real revenant, so he wasnt quite sure of the proper etiquette. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#431Kadarin's mind echoed with the screams of remembered pain even as the illusion faded. The enchanted insanity left Kadarin's mind as well, though it's presense and passage would not go unmarked.
Deaths cold hand had gripped him, even for a few moments.
Becoming aware of his surroundings after a period of violent shivering, Kadarin looked around the room. He saw the blackened figures of the two he had webbed, Voro extricating himself from the dead giant - a mountain of carnage, and an odd scene with Vee, Talia and .... Aethelstan?
My, have the lines between the living and dead have been drawn close this day...
His uncle was dead as well. Freedom! Though not loved by his familiy, he was respected and would be missed. What had driven him to the edge? He had enough influence to have obtained this monstary without the bloodbath it had be seized with. What had happened?
Picking himself up, Kadarin moved towards the corpse of his uncle. Partly to convince himself of his passing, and to see if his Uncles spellbook was in the offing....
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#432Rising from his spot behind the table Dujek looked unto the standing Aethelstan.
Dujek was back on the river again, the mists were everywhere, concealing anything that was more than a stone's throw away. The gnolls, and the battle. Kadarin beside him, chanting, and the gnolls falling. Running and the feel of gnoll blood on his hands, and darkness.
"Master! Greet the god's plaything."
"A-Aeth," Dujek stuttered out. "Thanks for dealing with him." -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#433Aethelstan stiffened as he watched his comrades’ reactions to his unexpected presence. “Alas! I have affrighted you! Be afeared not, for I am shrouded within this uncomely shell by the holy power of Andur: My corse did fall in ground unhallowed, in peril most dire of rising as undead, a cruel creature of death’s malice, and yet, a spirit of light did grant me power to tame this darkness! I was called forth to deliver Andur’s justice upon those who transgress against the righteous, to protect the weak and the downtrodden. Defenders of the right, such as you are, have nothing to fear from my power, for I have become the Hand of Andur.” As he finished his soliloquy, the undead monastic poured water from a nearby flagon on his withered hands, wiping them clean on a rag.
He began to move silently among the fallen, seeking the few that had been wounded, rather than killed. As he worked, his chill touch carefully checking for injuries and separating the living from the dead, he was struck by the evil power of the sinister wizard’s twisted mind magic. The deceiving illusions of the evil wizard had struck down as many as had fallen from other causes.
As Aethelstan worked, he could see a lumbering warrior, probably some sort of overgrown half-orc, wandering familiarly among his former companions, a figure of slovenly menace. Radiating a violent stupidity, the bulky warrior seemed confused. Aethelstan considered asking what the hulking creature was doing with the party, but decided that he really didn’t want to know. Eventually the figure wandered off, heading down some stairs.
"T'will be a blessing to see the last of THAT one," thought Aethelstan. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#434You're selfish, little Talia.
"I know. I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry. You can be selfish sometimes, as long as it doesn't get out of hand. Just be careful.
"I am careful."
That's twice now, little Talia, back to back. The death-fire is dangerous. It could kill you, if you let it come out again. Your duty to the caravan is finished, and your new friends are sil-tola.
"So? I'm etrai-tola now."
There are other caravans.
"I don't want to join any of them."
You don't want to join them, or you've made a new one?
"What does it matter either way?"
...
"Well?"
I suppose it is to be expected of your father's blood.
Waking up wasn't exactly fun. Talia's head ached a little, she felt exhausted, and her injuries had hit the annoyingly painful stage. But at least she'd figured out that the thing with the ice must have been an illusion. Maybe she'd be lucky, and the restless dead wasn't there either. Just in case, she was still holding onto the blood charms.
She'd just wait here, she supposed, until the others decided what they wanted to do. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#435Vee wiped the blade of his dagger clean on the robes of the now slain wizard. Somewhere in the carnage had been a formidable intellect, enough to capture the monastary once and lay all sorts of traps. But it had not been enough, not been enough to stop the Adventurers-Upon-Return. Vee sheathed the dagger in the top of his boot and decided to leave the mess of the main hall to scout the wizard's personal chambers again. Now that the brutal and ugly part was done, it was time to claim the spoils of battle.
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#436As Vee stepped away, Kadarin began to check his dead Uncle's body, looking almost deperately for his spellbook.
No mage would leave such undefended! Hopefully his arrogance was such that.. rolling him over Ah, there!
"Like he would trust anything other then himself to defend it..."
From inside the robes, Kadarin produced the deceptively small spellbook.
Wait, what was this? A ring? And there appears something odd about the cloak.
Pocketing the ring, Kadarin peeled off the cloak, punctured in places and blood wiped on it in others. I think I should check these out!
The cuts aren't too bad - a good tailor should be able to fix them...
-
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#437In the Glass Works Beneath the Monastery
Guttering torchlight cast dancing on the walls of the narrow, winding stairwell as Aerex Matare and Vorodon carefully descended into the tunnels. Beneath the charnel house that had been a place of worship, they quested, vainly hoping to find survivors of Alzamus’ incomprehensible vendetta against the innocent monks that had dwelt there.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the torchlight revealed a shadowy corridor with barrels neatly stored to one side. Darker areas on the floor revealed where several containers had apparently been recently removed. Something nagged at the back of the Inspector’s mind: Something was wrong here. Instinctively he froze, gesturing to the clumsily shambling warrior behind him to wait while he examined the hallway opening ahead of them.
It took only a few seconds for the cautious investigator to realize what was bothering him. The barrels had been recently moved, the layer of dust that covered them disturbed by handprints and wiped away in spots. The barrels had been moved, but why?
Scanning the area carefully, Aerex was able to make out a dark wire stretching across the hallway, nearly invisible in the shadowy illumination. Tracing its path with nearly inexhaustible patience, he found that it vanished into a crack in one of the aged columns supporting the tunnel. At the top of the column, his trained eyes made out how the roof supports had been tampered with. The barrels forced anyone in the hallway to pass directly beneath the trapped ceiling.
“What do we got here?” he whispered. “The guy that done this job didn’t care about details. He counted on shadows to keep anyone from noticing the way the roof was weakened. Sloppy work.” Finding a few chips of stone and a bent nail on the floor nearby, Aerex carefully jammed them into the cracked support, then cut the trip wire. “There,” he whispered. “That oughtta’ take care of THAT trap!”
Past the corridor, a large room waited, partitioned off by a curtain of patched leather. A chill breeze whispered to them as they took in the vast chamber. The room was dominated by a cluster of massive kilns, each beehive-shaped structure feeding into a large central chimney of stained and discolored brickwork. Large cauldrons of strangely glazed ceramic were placed near the kilns’ small openings, each filled with the cracked remains of the molten glass that had once served the monastery’s artisans. Racks of odd glassblowing tools had been knocked about the room, their careful symmetry destroyed by whatever battle had occurred within the chamber. Dark stains of pooled blood and shattered fragments of glass told the lost monks’ tale: A desperate stand against a foe as implacable as it was unexpected, the massive power of the stone giant crushing all that stood before it.
To one side of the workroom, a vaulted chamber awaited the pair. Within, wooden shelves held dozens of intricate works of the glassblowers’ art. Near the center of the small chamber, a glass statue stood upon a pedestal of black marble, the name “Jon Tamalare” engraved upon the base.
“That’ll keep,” commented Aerex, and they explored further.
Reaching the far end of the chamber of kilns, Vorodon suddenly lunged forward, lifting a metal object from where it lay next to a pool of dried blood. It was the head of a battle axe, its haft shattered, the metal strips that once protected the wood now bent by some massive blow. Rust-filled glyphs were visible on the poorly-maintained weapon, glyphs Vorodon recognized: The sign of the Ducal Guard, the unit that he and Bross had once served in. “Bross keep axe. Favorite, but for he no never clean good.” He muttered, a quiet anger rising in him.
A trail of blood led from the axe to a stout door on one side of the chamber, its iron-shod oak locked securely. Two blows from his axe were all it took to destroy the portal’s iron lock and the massive warrior kicked the door open. A small storeroom was revealed, where a flabby and disheveled man blinked dazedly in the sudden torchlight. Drawing his torn velvet robes around himself, the man began to bluster and rant. “What is THIS? Has that maniac found some new minions to torment me further? He will pay for this mistreatment! You will see; Professor Agaroy Zelmundt is no one to trifle with! I am well known in Jantir! The Empire will not stand for its citizens…”
The pedant’s ravings were cut short as Vorodon, spotting a huddled form within the chamber, coldly shoved him into the wall. “Vorodon no want know. Move!” Behind the pompous scholar, a bulky form lay huddled in one corner of the room. Vorodon recognized his old friend Bross, lying in a pool of dried blood. The Volgottir’s mottled skin was pale and waxen, his arm bent at a strange angle.
The professor stood there dumbly as Vorodon gently touched his friend’s brow. With a care that belied his massive, clumsy strength, he pulled a bit of fabric from his pouch, the gift of Maegla. His massive fingers gently tied the favor to his friend’s blood-encrusted wrist. The dead half-ogre had been struck by one of the stone giant’s missiles; jagged bone protruded from his shattered arm. Vorodon could see how the artery had been severed. Apparently, Bross had been too injured to stop the bleeding. Looking at the professor, he could see that the man was uninjured. “You Immerial Dignittery Bross es’corrt?”
“Yes… I was with him,” the scholar answered truculently.
“Dignittery know lot? Rofess’r?” the massive warrior asked as he rose menacingly and stepped slowly toward the man.
“I fail to see why I should answer the questions of…” the professor began, but was cut short by Vorodon’s hand clamping onto his windpipe.
“Dignittery know Tornikett? Know helf friend? Know stof blooding?” the Volgottir growled, his muscles bulging as he lifted the pedant off the ground by the throat, his vision colored with fury. The useless Imperial! He could have saved Bross’ life if he’d tried!
“Vorodon! Stop it! He was in the dark! Let him go!” Aerex interjected, grabbing the massive warrior’s arm. “He couldn’t see!”
As his friend’s objections sank in, he slowly released the pompous scholar’s throat. The man stumbled back, hoarsely objecting. “Keep away from me, you monster!” Waving his arms wildly, the man gestured to Aerex. “You saw him attack me! Keep that thing away from me.”
Despite his intervention to save the man, Aerex could tell that the storeroom shouldn’t have been entirely dark. Light from the workroom’s fires would have come in under the door, providing some dim illumination. Despite his misgivings, Aerex couldn’t let Vorodon just murder the man like that. It wouldn’t be right.
Sensing that the irate academic was about to launch another tirade, Aerex spoke quickly to head him off. “Professor, the wizard’s dead. We was looking for Bross, the guard that was escorting you. Vorodon here’s an old friend of his. You’d oughtta come upstairs with us; I think one of the guys with us is a friend of yours.”
They headed back toward the stairway as Vorodon began to smash the other doors in the area. Several monks trapped within staggered into the torchlight, pale and shaken, but Vorodon hardly cared. As his axe tirelessly demolished the stout portals, his mind was elsewhere.
Vorodon would soon return to Ganse. -
Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)
#438The giant warrior moved with silent purpose as he reached the monastery’s great hall once more. The place had become the hub of frenetic activity as the survivors of the earlier carnage stumbled around, seeking their bearings. Some of Vorodon’s companions were searching the building, seeking the wizard’s other unwilling allies, while others bandaged the wounded or conversed quietly among themselves.
Vorodon didn’t understand where the undead thing that had joined with them had come from. Apparently, it was somehow related to the order of monks that dwelt in the isolated stronghold, but it had come from another place, “Bringing the Justice of Andur,” as it said in its hollow, dead voice. He hadn’t heard of anything like it: Just looking at it made a chill run down his spine.
There was much to be done. The monks were glad to let him help clear the corpses from the great hall, taking them to a frigid storeroom near the chapel, where they would be prepared for interment. Even he wasn’t strong enough to deal with the stone giant’s remains alone, however. That carcass required the labor of six men to drag it out of the hall and into the frigid courtyard.
After dealing with the bodies, Vorodon cleaned himself up. The human insistence on cleaning themselves after hauling around corpses seemed foolish to the hill warrior, but while in this human place, he knew it was best to satisfy their customs. If he didn’t they would certainly take offense when he tried to use their kitchen.
Strangely, the monks seemed uncomfortable at the prospect of Vorodon’s cooking. Perhaps they feared the odd ingredients and bizarre spices for which hill folk cooking was rightly notorious, but Vorodon wasn’t worried. He knew that everyone liked Uncle Orvall’s pork pie recipe, made with honey, cinnamon, clove, and other spices. Still, it was probably a good thing that the monks left him alone to cook. They’d have wondered where he got the fresh meat.
Vorodon hoped the wolves would be the first to find the wizard’s body, lying shattered at the base of the cliff where he had heaved it. It looked to be a hard winter, and the poor beasts could use the extra food.