Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II) — Legacy Forums

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#201

Little was said between Moruz and Jjuldae during their travels, although Moruz was not insulted by his company - it was an extra pair of eyes to spot danger, and a second mind to offer different perspective.
The great storm of ice beat against the glass shifter, and he found that even behind his cloak he was freezing - completely unused to such extreme cold, he was shivering, although trying to hide it. Moruz spotted Jjuldae's interest in the snow, and soon spotted the tracks the druid had found. Grimacing pointedly, he peered across the landscape whilst speaking in a raised voice to be heard over the storm, "I have not yet slept, and we should find shelter until this storm abates. However, I would much rather avoid that giant altogether - the way the sheep herder spoke of it; it makes me... uneasy. Can you spot any suitable shelter apart from the direction of those footprints?" Moruz's gaze landed on the enormous appendages of stone through the haze of the snowstorm ahead. There may be no other way...

[[Hmm... some sort of spot check for nearby shelter through the storm, eh?]]

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#202

{GM- spot check for shelter amongst the rocks?}

Jjuldae had used to sleep naked in the high terraces of the fjords during the winter rains. He was no stranger to cold. Yet this cold was sharper, more angry, a stabbing icicle chill-pain rather than the seeping poison that cold usually is.
"You are not made for these climes, I see," Jjuldae commented tersely. "Keep your eyes out for a gap in the rocks- even the smallest void can be the doorway into a larger space in the Earth. However, this may not be the right kind of rock for such caverns. The Old Ones fashioned the earth, each kind of stone to each kind of stone, so that they lie in layers and gaps, amidst each other, and a follower of the Old Ways is mindful of this. Even stone has a story to tell." His fingers lightly brushed the roughened surface of a canyon wall beside him.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#203

There was something about this place that set Talia on edge. She was towards the back of the group, dividing her time between peering around the others and scanning the horizon. It might just be that the crazed shepherd had made her nervous, it might be the possibility of going down into that tunnel. She sighed in relief when Vee spoke. "I agree, let's not meddle with this. Don't we have... things we need to be doing?" Climbing down into that tomb was not an attractive idea.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#204

Onruldt’s Oubliette

And so, as the companions milled about above the tomb’s vertical entrance, watchful and hesitant, Vorodon held the thick rope, which had moments ago, lowered the portly dwarven priest deep inside the oubliette. In fact, Vorodon suddenly felt the rope slack, as Glordren safely reached the floor of the chamber.

The half-ogre peered below, attempting to track the dwarf’s movements and hear his muted voice. “Nothing to eat for me!”, Vorodon thought he had just heard.

--Glordren spoke in a calm, reassuring voice, as if the proper tone would keep evil spirits at bay.

The shrunken, dusty Prince spoke silence in return to the priest of Emrissa.

Suddenly a soft ‘crack’ briefly startled Glordren, as inexplicably, Onruldt’s forearm, cracked and fell to the floor, as if the once proud dwarven smith was a leper in advanced throes of the dreaded disease.

The pathetic grimy limb lay a few feet from the arm of the throne. It landed in such a way, that one bony finger was now outstretched, pointing toward the huge anvil in front of the throne.

For a moment, Glordren now mildly spooked, thought he noticed the turtle-shell shield on the opposite wall tilt slightly, but remain on its hook.

--Meanwhile above, Keykold looked to the horizon, and spotted what looked to be a pack of white wolves, still hundreds of feet away, but their forms unmistakable. The creatures seemed to be circling widely. There were a dozen or so of them. Had the bleating and recently butchered sheep attracted them? Vee supposed that it had.

A mild snow began to fall.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#205

Moruz and Jjuldae

Jjuldae and Moruz slowly made their way in the storm, until the druid pointed a pale finger toward a particular mushroomed shaped rock ahead. Approaching the hill-sized stone, the pair sat and crouched away from the blowing wind, a wide aperture in the towering hoodoo, partially covering their heads, and two sides of their near frost-burned bodies from the incessant snow. The wind howled like a thousand wolves.

Snow and ice burned Moruz’s face, as he shivered despite the partial cover. He looked to the fragile, emaciated druid, and saw him staring out stoically into the cold. Moruz was still thinking about the ‘wisdom of the stone’ lesson, the mysterious druid had just provided, when a new thought occurred to the Ouzquin Dremorix. He needed sleep. He was pushing his body hard these last few days.

Before Moruz began to doze off, he hoped that he was indeed falling asleep, not freezing to death, his body ‘warming’ in deception, immediately before the final freeze. He had heard of men dying in this way. Even in some parts of the Black Serpent Desert, from which he hailed, Moruz knew of rare cold-snaps, that surprised travelers at night, sometimes freezing them in place by morning.

Jjuldae was seemingly immune to the cold, the desert warrior reasoned with only a mild tinge of envy.

Surely that must be snow, thought Moruz, as he suddenly spotted what looked to be downy white feathers on the druid’s sleeve. Couldn’t be feathers, Moruz convinced himself, as he leaned against the stone and rested.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#206

Vorodon witnessed the distant wolves’ approach with a dark sense of foreboding. The oubliette would have to wait. He called down to Glordren, deep in the pit, “Holliss come! Whide Holliss! Come for rope quick now top! No Good!”

The massive warrior made sure that the rope was tied off to the spike, then snugged his helm more solidly onto his head. Trouble was coming, he could feel it!

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#207

Talia snapped her fans open at Vorodon's shout, then looked to see the threat. Wolves could be bad; a few they could handle, but a large pack could be a problem. She looked carefully at the giant stone over the tomb. If they had to, maybe they could climb it, and gain some protection. At any rate, she was glad to have a present threat that didn't involve going down that tiny shaft.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#208

"Where would we be without sometihng wanting to eat us." Vee said as he limbered his crossbow. He propped the repeating crossbow against his pack, ready to raise when the time was right. His Nimzian crossbow seemed to have more range and accuracy, so he might get to nail a wolf or two before switching over to the shorter ranged and faster firing repeater. It would be interesting to make some sort of repeating crossbow that could have both range and accuracy as well as a high rate of fire. It was a puzzle of levers, wheels and gears that he had to banish from his mind as he prepared the weapon to fire. The nagging question he had was which way he would go if things went badly, up the rock, or down the hole...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#209

"Hold out there, will you?" Glordren called to his friends on the surface. "Will be joining you soon!"

To the Smith-prince he turned, adding: "My friends seem to be in danger, and I'd be no good a dwarf to abandon them. If you allow, I will... lend your mace, as to aid them better, and return on a later day, to return it to you, and use it to bring glory and justice to dwarves. Here, this..." Glordren cut a thin braid from his beard and knit it swiftly in to the tapestry. "A sing of my thanks, prince."

With these words, he grabbed the mallet and shield, surprisingly unmarred by the tooth of time, much unlike the prince's form, and strode towards the rope.

"Fear not! Glordren's coming to your aid!" he called, as he ascended the lofty heights (surface, to you humans).

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#210

Aerex knocked an arrow onto his bow and watched carefully the surrounding canines. "This is the last time we use sheep as lockpicks..." he muttered under his breath. Having been born and raised in an urban environment, Aerex had never really experienced the threat of the great outdoors. "This should be a learning experience," he thought aloud.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#211

The Half-Ogre started muttering about Holliss or some such monstrousity, and Dujek looked up from the hole, which he assumed was warmer than up here. Looking out into the area around them, Dujek saw the wolves circling them.

What do you say? Let's go give them a healthy meal of sheep guts.

"Vorodon, how far do you think you could throw these sheep guts?" He asked as he made a sort of a sling out of the oilcloth, something to hold it while it was thrown, but not after. "Because, I think that the wolves might just like to eat them."

OOC: IF/When Wulf takes the guts from me, I cast the Animate Body Parts spell and let him throw the guts to the hungry wolves.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#212

Ropes, Wolves, and Scimitars

Talia eyed the wolves with trepidation. The beasts seemed to be nearing slowly, flankers shielding a contingent of larger beasts in the center of the hoary pack. As the wolves drew closer something became evident. Three of four of the lupines were strapped and harnessed dragging what appeared to be a toboggan, laden in white fur wolf pelts. A figure, motionless, was lying upon the downy pelts, horizontally on its back. A white shawl covered the face and body entirely, though it certainly looked human in shape and build. It was difficult to tell whether or not the figure was asleep or dead, but it was lying perfectly still as the wolves neared the group. As they approached, the pack slowed, and began to circle again. It was obvious quickly that the creatures’ body language did not speak of aggression. The wolves seemed to be milling about, and awaiting something. A few lead beasts began staring at the companions, as only wolves could stare.

Meanwhile below, Glordren seized the turtle shield and mallet off the wall and screaming up to Vorodon, ran to center of the murky chamber, grabbing the rope again, waiting now for the half-ogre to give him a “tug”. As he did so, the remaining weapon, the scimitar, silently rose from its hook, and hovered, slowly moving in Glordren’s direction. Vorodon meanwhile was peering down the shaft from above, getting ready to heave the iron-boned dwarven priest skyward, as Dujek, now suddenly animated and agitated at the wolf pack's approach, was addressing the half-ogre, and flailing his bony arms around, trying to get Vorodon's attention.

It was Vorodon, who first spotted the curved sword below, as if possessed by a ghost, moving noiselessly, now only a dozen feet from the dwarf’s back, and on the same level as his bearded head. Glordren yelled out again, staring up at the Volgottor, wondering what that look was on the half-ogre’s face, and what in Emrissa's name the behemoth was waiting for.

Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#213

"Perhaps they want us to intern it below, assuming whoever it is is dead?" Kadarin was shivering, not just from the cold.
Having spent most of his life in cities, the wolves were an unsetting reminder of the power of the wilderness (or near wildness, he had never heard of harnessed wolves).

In hands he held the dry remnents of rose petals, figuring his sleep spell would serve best should the wolves become hostile.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#214

Unaware of Glordren's peril, Vee instead was watching the travois and it's cargo. finding such a thing seemed unnatural. For a fleeting moment he thought of Aethelstan, riding cold and dead on the sledge, a sort of funeral procession. though no theologian, Vee was sure that wolves were not sacred or important to Senren or the Senrenites. Something was very odd about this. Crossbow still at the ready, vee called out to the Sledgerider.

"Hallo there! be you friend or foe?" He shouted.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#215

Behind Glordren, Vorodon could see that one of the weapons hanging on the wall of the strange dwarven crypt had silently risen to unholy life! The Smith-Prince’s scimitar moved ominously closer, swinging up to claim vengeance against the desecrator of the Smith-Prince’s last resting place.

Dujek was trying to get the mighty half-breed to pick up his loosely wrapped package of entrails, but that scheme had to wait: The others would have to deal with the wolves without Vorodon’s aid.

“Look Back! Sword!” he yelled down into the hole, and bent down to yank a massive stone from the frigid ground. Javelins would never work to destroy the suddenly animated blade, but a solid strike from the massive chunk of limestone might! With a grunt of effort, Vorodon heaved his lichen-encrusted projectile down into the pit.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#216

"What sort of dwarf uses a scimitar anyway! That weapon be elven! Ptoee!"

What sort of ancestor spirit was it who did not want to aid his cousins in reclaiming their homes, honor and glory, not to mention wealth and self-respect? Surely Onruldt must have been a less-than exemplary dwarf.

Swinging on the rope, Glordren swung more heftily, propelling himself with a hefty push of his legs fro mthe wall, and sought to strike the Evil Scimitar (of Floating and Sneaky Backstabbing, apparently) down with the turtle shield, to batter it away.

"Stop throwing rocks, Voro, I'm not hungry, and pull faster!"

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#217

Stopping his incantations in response to Vee's query, Dujek looked up from the guts at the wolves, seeing the pallet dragging behind the wolves. The man, woman... thing, looked dead. Nothing should be able to survive up here in this {Insert Random Curse Here} frozen wilderness.

Kneeling down over his toys, his rapidly cooling prize, he changed his mind on what he'd need to do. They weren't aggressive right now, but if man is the "highest" of the beasts, then what might these things do on a moment's notice. Remembering something he'd heard once about their sense of smell Dujek smiled. Crouched over the entrails he began mumbling the incantations, readying a spell that would put the stench of the most putrid mass grave in the noise of the wolves.

OOC: If things start to get sticky whilst I'm am far away from Strolens, Dujek'll cast that and then do the "immobilize joints" stunt that he did with the werewolf if any of these real wolves get near him. See you guys on monday.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#218

Moruz and Jjuldae

The snow kept coming, not having the courtesy of pausing while Moruz and Jjuldae slept. It was only several hours before dawn, when Moruz woke up suddenly. He glanced at the sleeping druid’s form. Jjuldae, as usual, seemed oblivious to the weather, curled up, his back to the warrior. The two companions were spending the night inside a kind of lean-to, a craggy curved rock, which formed a two-walled cave, more akin to an alcove, than cave, in essence.

While at least they could block the howling wind and snow from their backs, the elements still managed to flail and punish them. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Moruz cursed the weather, and this endless white ice, falling from the pregnant skies as it was. This was not something the desert warrior was used to.

Moruz blinked his eyes, and looked out into the raging snowstorm. Suddenly, a figure that had been there the whole time, registered in the warrior’s bleary eyes. Hanging upside down, only a dozen feet away from the back of the half-cave, against which Moruz leaned, was a head! A large, stone-like visage leered at the pair, silently, unobtrusively.

Moruz froze, not that he was moving prior to this bizarre vision, but now his weary, cold, muscles were tense and contracted.

Apparently, (for this could be no other creature, Moruz thought), the stone giant whose tracks the pair had spied earlier, was now staring at the sleeping travelers! It seemed obvious to Moruz, that the creature had climbed the rock-face of the stony recess, crawled along the upper lip, and had now dipped his head below, ten feet up, and merely ten feet away from Moruz and the sleeping Jjuldae.

Upside down, the giant’s expression was unreadable, but Moruz still took a second to marvel at the huge, gray head. It must be attached to a body at least ten feet tall, Moruz thought nervously.

The warrior knew one thing. For whatever reason, the giant merely stared, it was not yet aware apparently, that Moruz’ eyes were open slits, but the warrior knew nonetheless. Moruz would have to hope whatever action he took next didn’t lead to his immediate and irrevocable death. He suddenly knew what those gnolls must have felt like when going up against the nine foot tall Moruz, back near the bandit camp.

For his part, the giant merely leered, as if he was a giant spider, eyeing two trapped flies inside its web.

Jjuldae slept peacefully, downy white feathers, falling off him in tufts. Time seemed to stand still for Moruz.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#219

Dancing Blades, White Wolves, and Vile Stenches.

The large stone came plummeting down the shaft, into the murky crypt, though Glordren managed to deftly avoid it, as did the seemingly sentient scimitar now hunting the dwarven priest.

The rock dropped with a heavy thud, sending a cloud of dust into the already barely breathable air of the tomb.

Glordren turned and faced the odd, curved blade, a weapon no self-respecting dwarf would have deigned to use in melee.

The Scimitar wasn’t interested in Glordren’s musings however, and came swiftly at the bearded tomb-raider, ready to slice his head clean off his shoulders.

Turning just in time, Glordren blocked a downward stroke of the sentient, dancing blade with his newly acquired turtle shield. The “clang” was audible to Vorodon from sixty feet above.

Neither the shield nor the scimitar seemed damaged by the violent exchange, and the sword swiftly reared back, like an angered cobra, hovering a few feet above Glordren’s head, measuring its next strike.

In a prolonged battle of magical steel against flesh and bone, Glordren knew he would lose eventually. The blade, unlike the dwarf, would never tire.

Glordren spied the hanging rope, and dared to look up again. The blade was dancing only a few feet from the rope, seemingly waiting to choose the exact moment of its next plunging attack.

How strong was this half-ogre Glordren wondered?

--Vorodon did his best to peer upon the scene from above, but between the distance, angle, and the vile machinations of Dujek’s necromantic castings, only a few feet away, not to mention a pack of white wolves milling about, the half-ogre couldn’t be sure what was happening below.

Suddenly, an epically vile stench, reminding Vorodon of the emissions of the dreaded Musk Bear, a creature of the half-ogre’s homeland, assaulted and insulted his nostrils.

Dujek the bony mage, his dislocated jaw swinging to and fro as he chanted, adding to the macabre scene, was ankle deep in sheep gut, flailing his arms like spidery limbs, dancing in the gently falling snow. Quite suddenly the other companions nearly retched, as a thoroughly vile odor settled on the area.

The wolves reacted quite predictably, perhaps surprising the companions, who weren’t taking these white lupines for granted after having already fought a werewolf, nary a week ago.

As the wolves smelled the necromancer’s foul magic, several began sneezing harshly, shaking their heads, and otherwise trying to expel the pungent reek from their nostrils and mouths. Several yelped, and finally, thoroughly revolted, the pack began to withdraw, Travois and all, seeming corpse in tow, retreating into the snow-swirling drifts of the hinterland’s terrain. In a matter of minutes, they were gone, again becoming shadows against the snow, hundreds of feet away.

Perhaps the wolves and travois were mysteries best left unsolved, Vee thought, as the rogue turned again to the tomb-hole in the snow.

Everyone, Vee, Aerex, Talia, Kadarin, and Vorodon were disgusted by the stench.

Dujek stood and grinned, his casting now complete.

--Meanwhile below, Glordren had bigger problems.

The scimitar snaked downward again, and this time bypassed Glordren’s shield, slicing into the dwarf’s shoulder, cutting easily through the mail, and sending a quick, violent spurt of blood from the priest’s arm.

Glordren winced. The scimitar backed away again, measuring...waiting to strike….again.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#220

Echoing up from the bottom of the narrow shaft, Vorodon could hear the dwarf priest's involuntary cry of pain as the ancient blade pierced his armor. The dwarf would get cut to ribbons if Voro tried to bring him up!

Drawing his battle axe, the behemoth swiftly wrapped the rope around it, hoping the friction of the rope would delay his fall. After making sure the axe's braided lanyard was wrapped firmly in his grip, he jumped into the shaft, plummeting down as his weapon slid rapidly along the hempen line.

"Dran Ou Falka’an!" The battle cry of his ancestors rang out as he plunged down into the darkness. He fought back a grunt of pain as he glanced off of the ragged edges of the crypt's dome. Spun around by the impact, the Half-Ogre began to lose control of his fall! He could feel himself swinging erratically down into the dome's yawning gulf as his spin unwound the rope from his axe's wooden haft.

His axe coming loose from the line, Vorodon fell the last few feet, flopping down onto the waiting throne of the dwarven Smith-Prince with a sickening crunch of ancient, dried bone. Onruldt's remaining arm embraced the massive warrior as his husk was crushed underneath in a cloud of disintegrating armor and shattering bone.
Note: According to Faelan's Guide to the Border Tongues, Dran Ou Falka’an can be loosely translated as "Don't make me come downstairs!" but is more literally translated as "I'm coming for dinner". There is a reason why few researchers choose to study the Volgotoi dialects...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#221

Talia staggered backwards, trying not to choke on the stench. Her eyes stung, and she felt a little dizzy. She tried to shake it off and peered down into the hole. She could see a little, and it looked like Vorodon and Glordren were having a hard time of it. There was a fight going on down there, judging by the sounds.

She was a good fighter, and could handle pretty much any opponent she'd yet faced. But she wasn't going down there unless she had to. She hated closed places. Any place small and dark made it hard for her to breathe.

She was breathing shallowly, trying to ignore the stench. It made her sick. It also made her a little dizzy, and fouled her balance. Her foot slipped near the edge of the hole, and she stumbled, trying to recover. She flailed, trying to re-balance. She was going to fall, she was going to topple into that tiny little black hole... She half-shrieked as she pitched forward, her foot sliding in the loose dirt.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#222

Aerex bit back the taste of bile in his mouth, swallowing hard. "Blach!" he groaned. He turned to the maniacally grinning Dujek. "Never... do that again," Aerex growled. As he turned again to the tomb, he caught the last hairs on Vorodon's head as the beastly man lept into the sepulcher. The constable rushed to the mouth of the cave and looked in, helpless to stop the enchanted blade. As Vorodon's bulk smashed into the Smith-Prince's remains, Aerex's heart dropped and a sickening feeling came over his stomach. Either Dujek's spell was still wearing off, or something bad was about to happen.

Feeling someone nearby, Aerex turned to see Talia peering into the rift as well. He started to open his mouth when, with a foul look on her face, the gypsy warrior slipped and toppled into the tomb with a cry. Aerex blinked in surprise. "Hey!" he heard himself exclaim. A sudden, instinctual protective sense overcame his rational thought, and before he realized it Aerex was leaping into the grave after her.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#223

The massive warrior tried to stagger to his feet, stunned after his clumsy descent. As he gathered his wits, he realized that others were plummeting into the hole after him. "Oh Nooo!" cried Vorodon as he saw his companions tumble into the sepulcher.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#224

((OOC: got roll from Muro))

Reflex took over as Talia fell. She twisted in midair, giving her a little more control over the dive. She caught herself on the rope just long enough that she was able to turn the fall into a tumble. She'd feel it later, but she didn't care right now. She rolled to her feet, breathing harshly. Her eyes darted around the small room in panic. It seemed to press in on her, sucking all the air out of her.

Glordren was fighting an animated sword. If she could focus on a threat, it would keep the paralyzing fear away. Her fans were suddenly in her hands, and she lunged at the sword. Steel flashed as she attacked the magical sword. There was a hysterical fury in her movements, making her seem faster than she really was. She had to fight, had to force herself not to think of the tiny space she was in. If she thought about it, she would die.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#225

Oh, by the blighted sand of Lazkru... tell me i'm seeing things! But Moruz knew his eyesight well - what he was peering at could mean trouble...
Moving only his eyes, the glass shifter peered for his weapon - there! The ouzala was resting against the stone wall four feet away. But then... A stone giant, the shephard had said... Moruz knew the sharp but brittle glass would have little effect against such a thing. His sickle? Just as ineffective, he imagined...
But then he paused to ponder - This beast was watching ever since he awoke... how much longer had it been watching whilst they slumbered? No doubt it has had ample time to attack and kill the two humans while they slept; why didn't it?
Another moment of pondering caused him to wonder whether or not these giants were intelligent - could they be reasoned with? There weren't any stone giants in the great desert, but Moruz had encountered the aptly-named Sun Giants several times in the shifting sands: The Sun Giants revered the great ball which was the sun, and stayed in its light always, never seeking shade during the day. They were a brutal, warlike people, but they could be communicated with. Some had even set up a trade of glass for leather-goods between the Ouzquin Dremorix and the Sun Giants.
But it was a big chance to take - too big for Moruz to risk taking for now. Making as little movement as possible, Moruz shifted his lower elbow to jab into the back of Jjuldae. Whilst doing this he whispered in a voice so low he could barely hear it himself - hopefully Jjuldae could make it out; "Make no movement... We have company..."
Moruz's heart was racing... Did the giant see? Did the giant hear?

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#226

The sounds of battle rang from down in the Smith-Prince's tomb. Given the choice between fighting wolves or a magic sword, Vee decided he would rather face wolves. Those could bleed, and die. He wasn't terribly sure about how to fight a sword, no vitals to hit, no head to remove. His crossbow suddenly seemed quite useless at the moment. He pulled the ioun stone from his pocket, feeling it's smooth blue surface.

For a moment the macabre thought of clsoing the door flitted through his mind, to better keep the enchanted sword from coming up and trying to hack them to pieces. He shook it away and tossed the stone down to Glordren, or whoever was close enough to grab it. It might be enough to keep the injured dwarf alive, or some other members of the party alive long enough to break the sword and get the others out.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#227

Stumbling to his feet and spitting dust, Glordren knew that without confrontation, he was not going to get out of here.

"You want to kirll me, eh, Onruldt? That will have ter wait! Fer now, feel the powarr of the sun!"
Glordren reached deep inside, into a store of inner gold, as his teacher called the well where spiritual energy from above mingled with the power of the soul, a well the acolytes filled meditating in the sun while surrounded by circles of polished holy coins.

"Vanish spirit, vanish bone, vanquished Onruldt on his throne!
Foul spirits of the tapestry - begone what never meant to be!"

Glordren called out in a full, resolute voice, letting pulsating waves of light stream forth from his body, filling the dark tomb and driving foth shadow and Onruldt's dark will.

(OOC: turn undead. Sun priests get a Greater Turning in 3rd Ed - if it is so here too, then joy! Also, I regenerate one of my hit points)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#228

Oubliette

Glordren chanted at the top of his lungs, attempting to exorcise whatever evil presence inhabited this old-beyond-old hole in the ground.

He completed his epiphany, avoiding the dancing blade the entire time, while glaring peripherally at the seated Prince. Glordren could swear Onruldt was now smiling, which only further infuriated the dwarven priest.

Pausing to witness the effects of his Turning, Glordren almost jumped himself, when the humongous torso of Vorodon appeared in mid air suddenly, and still holding rope in one meaty hand, came plummeting down crashing into Onruldt and his throne, completely and irrevocably crushing the mummified Smith-Prince.

Moments later, with a war cry the minotuar's of the Great Escarpment would be proud of, the Bladedancer came flying down as well, avoiding the now somewhat comical body of the slumped and momentarily stunned half-ogre.

Next came Inspector Aerex, the first Adventurer-Upon-Return Glordren had met back in Ganse. The diminutive man fell fearlessly, avoiding major damage as he slumped to the floor with an audible groan.

Was this the cavalry? thought Glordren. He had heard the term used by the human soldiers of his homeland. They were all crazy, the dwarf thought, but found himself grinning, despite his wound and predicament.

Talia was up on her feet immediately, hurling herself like a rabid leopard, toward the deadly, dancing steel blade, just as Glordren managed to block another strike with his nifty new turtle shield.

The Bladedancer was a study in agility and fury, as she matched the uncanny speed of the scimitar, slamming her fans against the flawlessly-edged blade.

Vorodon made a move to rise, but just then another stone, a small one, or something else, falling once more from above, struck the might half-ogre, directly on his temple, sending black clouds into Vorodon's eyes. The behemoth staggered and sat on his backside again. Onruldt's arm was in his lap.

Aerex spotted Vee's opal, now lying innocently on the floor of the tomb, a few feet from the half-ogre.

The Investigator was calculated in his approach. He first quickly studied the chamber, he now found himself in, noting the throne, Onruldt, or the dust that once was Onruldt, before Vorodon's plunge, as well as the three empty weapon hooks on the wall, the weird anvil near the throne, and the macabre, and somewhat revolting, tapestry of the moth-eaten dwarven beards.

After several minutes of pitched "battle" with the scimitar, led by Talia's untiring assault, Glordren's cursing, and flailing, and finally with help from Vorodon and Aerex, the sword suddenly lunged (one could say almost in desperation), missing Glordren once more, and sinking its blade deep into Vorodon's side. Instinctively, the half-ogre, grabbed the hilt and pommel with his powerful grip, and held it in place, blood gushing down his sides in rivers.

Aerex couldnt believe his eyes. The Half-ogre was using his prodigious strength to keep the weapon wedged inside his own torso, while the scimitar, wriggled like a snake, trying to dislodge itself, and fly once more from Vorodon's meaty flesh!

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#229

Meanwhile, a dozen leagues North and West

Moruz nudged Jjuldae, but the druid would not wake. This troubled Moruz greatly, as Jjuldae was a notoriously lite sleeper, even once claiming that if one followed the Old Ways, one would often find that sleep was unnecessary.

The giant heard the warrior move, slight, as Moruz's movements were. Or perhaps he had smelled the difference between someone asleep or awake, Moruz could not be sure.

"GGGGGAAAAA--OOOOOOooooooo!", the giant screamed suddenly, stunning Moruz, and more importantly, (and disturbingly), still not waking the druid from his slumber.

Moruz did not have time to ponder Jjuldae's fate. He only knew one thing. He was on his own...again.

Swiftly, like a circus acrobat, the giant swung his body around, flipped, and landed on his feet, right side up, now staring at Moruz, from only a dozen feet away, at the lip entance of the semi-cavern.

"GGGGGGAAAAA-OOOOOOoooooo!" the giant roard again in his bizarre sing-song voice, which sounded to Moruz, like the sound of pebbles rubbing together...thousands of pebbles.

The giant leered, and suddenly smashed the overhang of the cave with two powerful strikes of his stony, thick muscled arms. Rock and snow came plummeting in droves in front of the seemingly unaffected giant, partially closing off the entrance to the hidey-hole. Moruz could now only see the giant from the waist up.

Moruz stared. Was the giant trying to bury him inside?

Jjuldae slept, more and more feathers accumulating around his motionless body. The druid looked peaceful.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#230

Vorodon regretted his impulsive grab at the vicious animated weapon almost immediately; even with his arm locked to hold it still, he could feel the thing trying to saw at him, twisting in the wound. This couldn’t go on for long! The powerful half-breed could feel his strength draining as the scimitar erratically jerked in his hands.

“Glordren Reest! Helfs!” hissed the warrior, through clenched teeth. He knelt down to push the terrible weapon against the ornate anvil of the Smith-Prince, gripping its hilt tightly as he braced the blade against the ancient work-hardened steel. Planting his gauntleted fist onto the blade to pin it in place, his strained voice could barely be heard as he croaked “Bre-akh Sword!”

(OOC: Time to see if Voro can hold the thing in place long enough…)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#231

Back north-west...
Muroz cursed beneath his breath. He didn't want to die miles from any desert, with snow and rock surrounding him! "Wait, stop!" The glass shifter yelled at the stone giant as it screamed and smashed its hands into the roof, causing a partial collapse of the cavern. Moruz stumbled back a pace and nearly tripped over Jjuldae - What... how was the druid still sleeping!? Moruz offered the druid a boot in the ribs with his heel in attempts to jolt the man awake - and what on earth were those feathers, anyway? Quickly, Moruz snagged his gear.
The only way out of the small cave was past that giant - and that also meant traversing over the new rubble. Moruz quickly weighed up his options... and decided.
What of Jjuldae, though? Well, if both of them were trapped beneath rock, there would be nobody to dig them out! Moruz took a second to drag the comatose druid back a ways - to an area of the small cavern which seemed more stable - and then he snagged an iron spike out from his pack and charged.
Just before Moruz reached the start of the fallen rubble, he leapt in the air with both hands clutching his iron spike tightly - piercing end out front - and let fate guide his course...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#232

Jjuldae of the Crimson Throat felt warm and dry. He seemed to be surrounded by amniotic fluid or slick fur, and rolled in a world of soft light.
Somewhere far away, in the bottom of a blank universe, his own voice said: "You are freezing to death on cold stones."
Nonsense, the druid thought. The Old Ways defend me.
The leaden voice replied: "You are too weak to sustain the Old Ways. You have been torn limb from limb by a beast of the Old Ones and dragged to travel beyond your own stamina. You have not the will to warm yourself."

For a split second, the druid's eye flickered open. White and grey, the sound of cascading pebbles, and shouting. Now a dull brown cosmos, drifting before his unconscious sight.
"Wake up. You must get moving to warm yourself. You will be crushed."
I am still alive and I am warm. It is comfortable. I want to stay warm.
"You are not warm. You think you are warm. This is the death-of-chill which strikes men in the winter."
I do not have the death-of-chill. Be silent.

The crimson-painted druid moaned and jerked, tossing at his feathered cloak. A great figure of stone eyed him like a predator.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#233

Somewhat taken aback by the course of events, Kadarin was relived to see the wolves go, I'll bet there will be trouble though.

Kadarin did not quite understand the lure of Necromancy. Why truck with dead things when one could summon bright elemental fire? Magic was about wonder. Necromancy was about horror.

Ah well, to each their own.

Looking down into the pit, Kadarin saw the half-ogre playing living-sheath for the animated sword. I could try to shrink it, but I may get the half-ogre instead he thought. The same for Sharga's Strands (web). Best keep a look out up here.

But there was still the smell....

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#234

Glordren was one angry dwarf - not only were his buttocks almost forfeit, but those of his allies also, due to chance and his over-enthusiasm. And Onruldt was a jerk alright. He'd curse his remains back into the stone age alright.

Seeing Vorodon wrestle the cursed elvish sword to the anvil, the dwarf saw his chance. His eyebrows and beard bristling, grinding teeth and clenching fists, he raised the mace above his head, catching a stray ray of light from above. "Strong as iron and heavy as gold ye be when the evil you pound, and hot as the wrathful sun!"
The mace glowed in response, and sent shadows dancing across the cursed tomb. "Coming right up!" Glordren bellowed as he struck the cursed piece of (weak elven sissy) iron that tried to pass for a sword with all his might.

(edit: of course I regenerate 1 hp)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#235

Swordbreakers

--Vorodon briefly wondered which of his inner organs the scimitar seemed to be tickling, as waves of pain assaulted the half-ogre’s normally stoic nerve endings. The sword kept fighting to exit the flesh it now found itself stuck in, and as it did so, it only tore and exacerbated Vorodon’s wound further. The Half-Ogre felt faint, as he gritted his teeth and held down the foul animate weapon, against the ancient anvil.

--Aerex and Talia could only watch now. The Bladedancer actually got the best of the scimitar during her brief but furious attack, matching, and even surpassing the dancing blade’s speed. Aerex, mesmerized for a few seconds, as he watched Talia battle the unnatural spirit, moments earlier, now found himself thinking again about the silver haired beauty, even as he himself, helplessly watched Glordren and Vorodon wrestle with the scimitar. Aerex cursed under his breath, strange, romantic thoughts, centering on Talia, always crept up on the Inspector at the most inopportune times.

Needless to say, Aerex got a quick, passing visual of the two of them, Talia and he…lovers of course…righting every wrong Jantir had to offer…together.

--Glordren smashed with the strength of his entire clan guiding his stroke. Spittle flew from the dwarf’s beard, spraying Vorodon’s anguished face, but the half-ogre didn’t seem to mind, having other, more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

--The sound of Glordren’s strike resounded greatly, even in this decrepit, earthen, sound-eating chamber, deep below the ground. Even Kadarin and Vee heard the sound of metal pounding metal…and stone. Dujek was still busy cursing the long-gone wolves, listening to words of purring encouragement from Koschei the familiar.

--Back down below, the sounds of battle and shouting subsided.

Glordren stood still with a wide, childish grin creasing his flaxen whiskers. The mace had shattered the blade near its hilt, several pieces scattering from the anvil across the grimy stone floor. The scimitar was…dead, and more importantly; its pieces were motionless and ruined.

Familiar silence returned, the familiar silence the Adventurers-Upon-Return were now used to, after vanquishing a foe. Vorodon however, was still in quite a bit of discomfort, as he pulled a piece of loose metal from his solar plexus.

The tomb was still, soundlessly mocking the troupe. Would they go on exploring its savage mysteries or ascend back into the light?

--It was Dujek, who spotted another figure on the horizon. It seemed these hinterlands had their fair share of travelers, the necromancer thought. Pointing and making a gurgling sound for Keykold and Kadarin’s benefit, the trio turned to look at the approaching form. It was a man, dressed in a simple gray woolen robe, staggering, and even at this distance, Vee could spot the reddened snow around the slow moving monk.

It had to be a monk Kadarin thought, a shaved head, a plain robe, and then there were those rumors of a glass-workers monastery nearby.

The man approached, spied the companions, and began a lament

“Lo, I have seen nary a soul in twin days. Who are you to be traveling in this snowstorm?"

Without awaiting a reply, the man slumped to his knees in the snow and went on, somewhat oblivious of his heavily bleeding temple.

“Are ye friends of Cazulun?” he moaned, mentioning the bourgeois kingdoms north, beyond the Great Escarpment. “The monastery is destroyed, and a foul presence resides there...some brothers yet live...Will you help?” his last words came softly, as the man collapsed face first into the snow.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#236

Stone Giants, Ospreys, and Iron Spikes

--“MAN…BIRD…WIZARD!!” the Stone Giant shouted, using common for the first time. It sounded more like stones grinding on stones. Strangely, Moruz thought, as he began his suicidal run toward the creature, and possible, but improbable freedom, the Giant seemed to not be looking at Moruz now, but behind him.

Moruz had not an inkling of what the giant could possible have meant as he steeled himself, and charged directly at his ten foot opponent, fearless, as the Ozquin Dremorix always seemed to be, iron spike in clenched fist, willing his half-frozen legs forward, despite the overwhelming odds.

--Jjuldae’s body felt abnormal; there was no other way of describing the feeling, as he awoke from his murky slumber.

The druid took in the form of the gray-skinned giant fifteen feet away, and as he did, the giant was staring at him in turn, a bewildered look upon his craggy face.

Jjuldae felt strong, yet…there was something wrong. The druid tried to scramble up, but fell, or rather stumbled, and in that same moment Jjuldae came upon a horrid realization. He had no arms, and was covered in feathers, his cloak cast aside! Where his mouth should have been, was now a hooked, vicious beak, and not even this humble storyteller would dare guess what was going through the druid’s mind. Men have been known to go insane from less shocking revelations.

Gathering his wits as best he could, Jjuldae stared anew, as he now noticed that the desert warrior was charging the half-buried cave entrance, his back to the druid. Moruz seemed to be running directly at the stone giant. There was no recalling him, Jjuldae thought grimly, as he continued to watch the scene unfold, slipping again awkwardly as he did, as the ground of the cave where Jjuldae had slept was now covered in a sickly sheen of goopy fluid, not unlike birth water.

--As Moruz charged, he took a second to consider the Stone Giant’s three words, and why not, there was not much else to think about when you were charging an earthen mound, attempting to catapult yourself off it, lodge an iron spike into the flesh of a Stone Giant, hoping to hurdle him in the process. As plans went, this one was a doozy.

Man, the giant got that right…Bird? Moruz hadn’t even taken off yet…Wizard? This last one stumped the desert warrior, though strangely he made a mental note, was this giant particularly fearful of wizards?

Seconds passed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Moruz leapt with a thunderous roar of his own and propelled himself up and into the massive form of the surprised giant.

Perhaps it was the surprise factor of the brazen, foolish feat. Perhaps it was whatever had caught the giant’s attention behind Moruz. Whichever it was, the desert warrior cared not. All he cared about was sinking the iron fang into the rock-hard flesh of the beast, as he temporarily took flight.

The chain of events unfolded quite quickly. Moruz missed his intended target, the giant’s head, and instead slipped further down and sunk the iron spike into the creature’s upper throat, his momentum slamming him against the rock-hard body of the giant chest in the process. The throat…a soft spot if ever there was one on a giant mad of stony flesh. At precisely the same moment, as Moruz tried to further hurl himself to the side and away from the creature, the giant grabbed one of Moruz’ legs, squeezing the tendons, as if they were strings on a lute.

Moruz winced in pain as he began to slide down the giant, gravity once again taking over. As he sank, his leg burning with an unimaginable pain, the iron spike, imbedded as it was, slid further down the giant’s throat as well.

The behemoth’s eyes bulged in horror, and thick, orange-red blood gushed from his neck like a fountain. A deafening gurgle escaped the creature’s lipless mouth, and he thrashed about, still clutching Moruz by his leg. A moment later, the giant, who could no longer bear the pain of his ripped throat, let go of the desert warrior suddenly, his hand going instinctively to his own throat, attempting to slow the fountain of blood. His other, huge hand swung violently at the desert warrior’s head, smashing Moruz into temporary oblivion, and sending him flying a dozen feet away from the now rampaging giant, into a deep, slushy mound of virgin white snow. Moruz’ left eyeball popped clear out of its socket in the process, with a feint, wet sound, and proceeded to land a dozen feet away in a snowy pillow of its own.

Moruz felt as though Death was finally summoning him to stand before Axtrami’s Judgment, but just as quickly, he realized that his own thought process meant that he was still somehow alive. The desert warrior felt a warm, trickle of …something, oozing down his left eye socket, and freezing on his cheek….but he lived.

The giant meanwhile, unbeknownst to Moruz for the time being, took off running into yet another direction, heading north, his shouts echoing like thunder in the snowstorm, lamenting the extraordinary pain the giant himself now felt. The creature left a wide bloody trail in its wake.

--Jjuldae heard the awful sounds, and saw the desert warrior crash into the giant, but he could not see the horrid outcome of the bizarre confrontation. Once more, the druid staggered forth from the cave, and called out now to the warrior….

”KKWAAaaahhh…HHAaapktrgr….AUUK..Auuukk” the white osprey shrieked, and flew from the half-buried entrance of the cave, into the snow-peppered sky.

A single, doughy, snowflake landed on Moruz’ erstwhile eyeball, lying as it was in the fresh snow, buoyed by its lightness. The snowflake melted and melded into the glassy, quickly freezing, lump.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#237

Talia was silent for a split second, as Glordren dealt with the magic sword. Then the small room seemed to press in on her, and she shrieked. She dropped her fans and lunged blindly for the rope, trying to scramble up to the air and light. She had to get out of there. She slipped before she got more than a couple of feet up, but didn't notice the rope scraping the skin off of her hands. She was having trouble breathing.

The wagon had tipped through a soft spot in the earth, wedging itself into a narrow cleft. Talia was pinned between it and the rock; her head hurt and she could barely breathe. "Mama! Mama, I'm scared!" Her mother was under one of the wheels, alarmingly still. Talia was crying. "Mama, get up!" She couldn't see the sky. She tried pushing the wagon away, but she was only four, and very small. She couldn't even shift it.

She tried squirming out, crying in pain as the rock tore up her back. She only got a few inches before the wagon settled, pressing against her chest and making it impossible to move, almost impossible to breathe. "Granpapa! Ma-Master Konos! He... Help!" She didn't even have the strength to cry any more. "Mama... please..."

She couldn't let the hysteria take over, had to force it down so she could get out. She was climbing the rope as fast as she could, but the painful way her chest was constricted made it difficult. She forced herself to breathe. She was whimpering a little without realizing it. The sky looked so far away...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#238

Agony. Sharp, jarring pain wracked Moruz's entire left side, and he dry-gagged involuntarily, though he did not scream out. Suddenly, Moruz went colder than the snow he was laying in, and he darted both hands up to his forehead. Now, the strong-willed Ouzquin Dremorix DID whimper faintly; as his circlet came apart in two separate pieces in his hands. Shakily, he lowered the circlet down into view, and visibly shuddered at the sight - the crack in his glass circlet ran along the centre, but circled around the indentation of the egg-shaped orb - it was still intact, and it looked undamaged! Moruz plucked the orb out and discarded the remains of the circlet.
Moruz was bolstered by this - The body can heal. Glass would not ... but wait! The giant! Moruz pushed himself up in the snow, rose to his feet, and promptly collapsed as his left leg - the one the giant had clutched - shuddered uncontrollably under his weight and gave in, causing the warrior to fall onto his back.
Aaah... let it come... thought mostly inert, Moruz raised his left hand to cover his now-empty eye cavity, and felt along the ground with his right hand, which fell onto the blood-drenched spike - it must have been wrenched out as the man went flying - and clutched it tightly, point-up. If he was to die, he was to do it with the silent fury of the desert.

But nothing came. There was only the fading screams of the beast, an Osprey flying overhead, then silence. Moruz lay there for some time, the Snow slowly leeching the warmth from his body. The glass shifter found his mind wandering - So, this is the return to the Great Shifting Sands. Not a glorious sandstorm blowing itself out with its own fury. More like the puddle of water, slowly ebbing away as it is drawn to the sky by the unrelenting sun... Is this how it ends, Axtrami? In a wasteland of ice and rock, the sky baring its teeth at me? Moruz's lips actually curled into a grin, So be it. But wait! He wasn't alone! Where was that lazy druid!? Had he been crushed by stone, or was he alright?
With an effort, Moruz tried to push himself up again... Success! His leg, while sore, was walkable, and his body did not pulse quite so much with pain. Making a point not to look over to where his eye lay, the glass shifter stumbled over to the cave - the rubble which the giant had caused was now covered in an orange-red blood. Moruz peered into the former alcove and saw only shedded feathers and a strange goo. What the...?
Abruptly, the Ouzquin Dremorix remembered the osprey which had flown ahead, and now his gaze rose to the sky as he searched for the bird.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#239

Upon seeing the bloody figure stumbling through the snow, Vee went to the hatch to shout for Glordren, but instead found Talia wild-eyed and clawing at the sides of the tunnel as she made her ascent. Time to be dashing, Vee thought, as he thrust his arm down to help pull her out of the dark hole. Once free of the hole (and likely in his arms) Vee shouted down, "Cleric! Heal thyself. There are wounded above!"

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#240

"Take that, cursed sword of futile backstabbing! Cursed be thy maker, cursed he who told you to kill!"
Glordren picked a few shards of the scimitar out of his beard. Their magic gone, they were rusting already, turing to dust soon thereafter. "See? Crappy job. Elven."

Vorodon was tumbling like a birch in the wind, close to falling, yet still upright. "Want a blessing, chap?" Glordren asked the gravity-challenged giant, then laid his glowing hand upon his flank, where the wicked wound lay, spewing blood. "Lady mine, this man has yet to earn a lot coin, and many is the coin he hasn't yet seen! May your golden light do him well!" (Cure Trivial Wounds >1 hp< to staunch bleeding).

From upwards, he heard the voice of Valadaar: "...healing! Priest!..." were the words he could make out. "Coming, coming!" He uttered under his beard, the words passing through the thicket of his beard like a low rumbling. "Just like my brothers! All fun and games, until one cuts himself! Then they come running!"

(and, of course, I recover 1 hp)