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

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#241

Dujek, seeing that Vee was dealing with Talia, jogged over to the monk and scrounged around for some dollor powder. Mixing it up with some water from his waterskin he held it out to the monk.

"Here, this'll help you some. It sure isn't cleric's magic, but it'll help with the headache."

What's he about, we wonder? Don't we Koschei?

"I don't... Haven't been in Calazun in ages, but we're a ragged bunch a vagabonds, and between the lot of us, would be liable to help you. One could assume at least."

The monestary is possesed? That's where the druid and Muroz went. Gods be d**ned if I have to climb up a mountain only to find them alive and well and enjoying the spoils of an abandoned monastery.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#242

Looks like I need to sit with healer and learn a bit of the trade thought Kadarin ruefully as he watched the necromancer fumble with the Dollor powder.

Finding out about the foul presence at the monstary would be nice, but based on the groups luck so far, quite unlikely
Again, it seemed best to keep watch.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#243

An hour later, the companions were gathered under the evening sky, above the hole which led to the Oubliette. The snow had subsided, but the sky was still white, forecasting more snow. The ground was covered with a foot and half of the endless white stuff, preventing speedy travel to say the least.

--Talia had somewhat recovered form her panic attack. She was now quiet and withdrawn again, casting an ever nervous eye around the landscape. Vee had helped her, but she could now see that Inspector Aerex, was casting an unpleasant sidelong glance at Keykold. Did the small, clever man have a crush on her? She knew the signs.

--Dujek, with his dollor powder and kind words and eventually Glordren, with "Emrissa's Touch", tended to the mysterious monk, who finally recovered enough to speak again.

He tells the companions of the horrid, Night of Stone & Glass, nary a week ago it was, when a cruel, foreign, wizard had come upon the humble monastery with a Stone Giant thrall in tow, and ravaged the monks and their glassworks. Many were killed, and some escaped into the hinterlands, but alas, the cruel winter, and the stone giant, hunting down some of the escapees, proved too much for most.

He announces himself as Tirron, a glass-blower and tender of the oil vats, back in the monastery. Tirron goes on to say that he was one of the lucky few who escaped and got this far, but finally, his wound overcame him. He was heading north and east, to the foothills of the Great Escarpment, where he claims is the home of the hermit-druid, Henge, an ancient, wizened bee-keeper, who knows all there is to know...or so claims Tirron, and he had decided to seek out the druid for council. But now, he says, he has found you...and by St. Senren's Fire! May Heroes you be! (he says hopefully) as he drifts off to sleep by the fire from exhaustion, which Vorodon had hastily built up once more.

--Kadarin and Mouse were by the fire as well. Mouse was showing the mage strange hand movements, and Kadarin was imitating them. It seemed as if the two were practicing something...

The night came, and with it, the snow. The blizzard began again.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#244

Aerex shivered under his cloak, wrapping it tighter around him. Jantir never gets this cold, he thought grumpily. That was not the only thing angering him, however.

The constable cast another glare at Vee Keykold. When they first met, Aerex distrusted him. After their encounter with the undead halflings, Aerex was thankful, perhaps even appreciative. Now? Now Aerex hated him. No, loathed him. So cocky, so arrogant! But then, blaming the thief fixed nothing. Aerex should have been quicker down there, when Talia was panicking. He'd have to learn to think a lot quicker on his feet if he was ever going to -

To what? Aerex cut himself short. What exactly was he planning on doing? Was he really planning at all? If he wanted to regain his constabulary respect again, hanging around gypsy women was hardly the quickest path. What an ass, his subconscious complained. Yes, that was harsh. It was hardly Talia's fault where she came from. Besides, did he really want to go back to work as a connie again anyway? After his betrayal in Jantir, and the corruption witnessed in Ganse, he wasn't so sure. Was the law all that just? Did it really protect the innocent? After the incident with the rogue officer, Aerex thought that perhaps, just maybe, living beyond the law was the only way to bring about real justice...

The shivering constable grunted aloud. Too much thinking. Leaping into that hole, with all the bizzare items in the tomb and the surprise of the glass monk, must have been throwing his head off. Damn fool treasure hunters, raiding tombs with caution to the wind. I'll probably die before I hit 30, he thought grimly.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#245

...Elsewhere, North and West

“d**n my luck” he grumbled under his breath.

Donovan looked up, surveying his surroundings again. The dust in what was left of the room still floated about, mingled with the lightly falling snow.
One wall was completely crumbled…and he knew somewhere beneath was the young lute player who had recently joined the troupe of minstrels.
“Barely a dozen summers” he though ruefully, spitting a bit of blood on the floor. His mouth hurt, the small cut on his lip stinging badly.
He stood up slowly, rolling a piece of broken mortar from his fingertips.

I need to get out of this!

He kicked a small stone and watched it skitter across the floor. It stopped with a meaty thud against a large pile of crumbled wall.
He knew what it was.
He walked slowly over to where the stone hit. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes.

Llugh give me strength…

He bent low, slowly opening his eyes. Lying beneath the dust and debris was exactly what he expected, the delicate hand of a young and talented minstrel whose life was cut short far too soon. He slowly stood and turned on his heel, moving purposefully towards the archway where a heavy oaken door once hung.

I’ll find a way…I’ll regain my freedom…and then…then there will be a reckoning… by the Gods I swear it!

Donovan stopped and leaned hard against the archway. Knowing his life would be forfeit if he rebelled; he steadied himself and forced a convincing smile to play across his face. He knew the cruel demeanor of his “benefactor”. One false move, one threat, even the slightest hint of dissention would earn him an early death and a shallow grave…if any grave at all.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, knowing the harsh reality of his precarious predicament. The field was his very life and the goal was freedom, but this day it was no game. This time it was deadly serious.
He moved through the door and into the main chapel, steady and sure-footed. He drew his rebec and bow from his belt, tightening one of the keys and plucking the strings deftly.

A shepherd is a respectable career…

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#246

Talia huddled under her cloak, away from the others. She was ashamed of herself, losing control like that. She was stronger than that. It was the fall that had shaken her up so badly; it was always worse if she didn't choose to go into a small enclosed space. But still, she'd made a fool of herself in front of everyone. Shrieking like a little girl, really, that was inexcusable.

A thought occured to her, and she swallowed uncomfortably. She'd dropped her fans. "Um... My fans... I dropped them. I... I can't go back down there again." She flushed, trying to hide her face. This was humiliating. Probably her ancestors getting back at her for panicking. "Can one of you...?"

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#247

"Seeing as the possessed sword has been dealt with, I'll fetch your fans." Vee said, standing and stretching. The warmth from the fire was nice, but it didnt far from the pile of branches and embers. He had fancied going down in the hole and getting a look at what was left of Onruldt's tomb. "Maybe there is some stuff left down there that wasn't broken, find out why Old Ronny was so upset about someone touching his stuff."

It was certainly half true, he did want to get a look down in the tomb. His benefactor, Lady Gemma had always told him, "Look with your eyes, not with your hands. Well not with your hands unless you're asked too." He swore that the woman was half devil. Aside from getting down in out of the wind, it certainly wouldn't hurt his chances with Talia fetching back her fans without looking as puppy-struck as the Inspector. Vee didn't look at the Jantirian as he made his way to the hole, but he knew that from now on he would either leave chasing Talia to the inspector or keep a very close eye on the man. There were three things in this world that a Keykold can't say no to; a bottle of wine, a fine woman, and a game of dice...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#248

"So, sounds like a hostile takeover if there ever was one, right boys?" Glordren voiced his thoughts, sitting besides the monk, who was already drifting off to dreamland. "It pains me to know that our Treefriend and mister Glasstingle journeyed off to slay the giant alone... they will be smoshed and crushed! The impatience of yer kind! And as you night sight ain't worth a dime... a devaluated Nostrian dime at that! ... we have to wait 'till morn. Know what? Get ready to move out at the crack of dawn, have all packed up, and roast some of the sheep meat - will you do that, grrl?" Glordren patted Talia on the shoulder, and easy task as she was sitting "it wil take yer mind off things!" More to himself, he added: "Who would have thought a stupid floating sword would scare her so?"

"As for me, I'm gonna watch out for Vee down tharr, no need fer a second sword to come floating after him when he's alone!"

(I should be full by know, having all of my glorious 9 hp)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#249

Earlier that day at the monastery

Slow footsteps could be heard shuffling through the snow on the upper floor of the ruined monastery. One by one the forty year old wizard shoved his beige leather boots through the snow whilst thinking about past and present. He must have been very pretty in his youth, and despite his receding hairline and growing paunch, he was still good looking. But at the moment his thoughts were grave and his mood somber.

They were tears of happiness, yet tears of grief. She was a mystery to him. After all his charms and all his persuasions, she still loved that fool of a boy. Sure, she slept with him in his bed now, but her nights were full of tears and he could do naught to stop them. Her body was his to command but, it seemed, her emotions were not. For some reason, without quite realizing why, he had brought along the peasant boy. His simple mind had proved far easier to command, and he was little more than a mindless stag now, his thoughts reserved strictly for the elderly matron Mazoma, whom the wizard had brought along from his brief stay in Ganse.

The footsteps of the young girl could be heard, lingering behind him, like the respectful servant he had instructed her to be. Yet she cried even now, and as they neared the main hall, the raunchy cries of Galod, the boy fool, made her burst into tears.

Will she never stop? Will she never realize her place is here with me and by my side?

Annoyed the wizard picked up speed. “Stay” he barked to Lazanne, the beautiful young woman stopping dead in her tracks. With furious determination he burst through the door to the main hall.

“Oh, stop it! Stop it now!”

The idea had been his, to utterly humiliate her and make her resent her former fiancée, but the only one getting hurt was her, and it seemed her tears had no end. The wizard, Alzamus, raged visibly and the glamorous couple climbed down from the main table, their heads hung low in shame.

Much like a dog disobeying his master, afraid to be left out at night.

The obese, elderly woman, Mazoma, pulled her huge, left breast up, freeing the pearl necklace that had become strapped under it during their frivolous adventure. Meanwhile the love struck boy buckled up his belt and fell dramatically to one knee, declaring his undying loyalty and further scattering the silver platters they had knocked off the table earlier.

With a sigh the wizard turned to leave the room, but before exiting he looked one last time upon the heavily painted lady.

“Madame Mazoma, I am convinced there is a young bard somewhere around here, and I think you love him now! Don’t you agree?”

“My heart is his to command, Master!”

The wizard grinned at those words, and as he left the room, it was the boy’s turn to cry.
Magic had its uses.

********************

Present time

Lazanne, elegantly dressed in her evening gown, poured yet another bucket of hot water into the bathing barrel. She flashed a smile at him, and Alzamus reached for her, his hand caressing her back, sensually sliding the back of his hand down her spine, the other softly removing hair from her face, so he could see her better. He could drown in those eyes, and she smiled back at him with adoration. In moments like these, he was truly happy. His eyes met hers once more, and when she bent down to kiss him, he nearly fainted. Their lips met and the next minute passed all too sudden. Leaning back she looked him deep in the eyes.

“I lov…”

She was interrupted by a booming voice, shouting in panic.

“MASTER! HURT! PAIN! HELP!”

The voice belonged to the Giant whom the wizard had sent hunting the night before. Without bothering with clothing, Alzamus slipped out of the barrel and ran to the window. Not far below was the giant, one hand around his own neck, blood freely oozing between the fingers. Picking up the porcelain miniature he had made of the giant, the wizard nearly shrieked with hysteria.

“How did this come about? What happened?”

“MAN! BIRD! WIZARD!” the Giant shrieked in reply.

And on that note the wizard acted, for there were traps to be laid and giants to help. Slipping into his red silken robes and donning his velour and fur cape, he issued orders. Now he was in his element and like a spider he spun his web. Nothing would dislodge him from his newfound home.

Nothing and no one.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#250

Aerex's eyes blazed involuntarily and he felt blood rush to his face. Every Jantiri colloquial swear word he ever knew immidiately lept to his tongue; he had to bite his lip - hard - to keep the stream of curses from flowing. Keykold knew, oh how he knew. The thief didn't even wait a quarter beat after Talia made her request to run off. He bit his lip harder.

The constable quickly stood and threw back his cloak. "D**nable thief'll probably get hisself killed, I'll go down there," he said in a breath as he rushed off after Vee; he would have knocked Glorden over if not for the dwarf's great bulk. It took great effort to resist the urge to tackle Keykold and beat him with his own boot.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#251

. . . And Moruz saw nothing. Whether it was his imagination, or Jjuldae had somehow warped into a bird, the sky was now empty. The druid was gone. For now.

Time was of the essence, however - every second that the warrior healed, so did the stone giant. Moruz took one final glance around the area to check for any gear the giant may have dropped, offered his fallen eyeball another glance - it was half-covered in snow, now. Moruz considered taking that organ for a second; someone may be able to reattach it. But no - it was a lesson, and it was to be left where it was.
Swilling a pouch of dollor powder around in his mouth with a sip of water, Moruz gathered his belongings, and began following the morbid, crimson road.

((Mmm, checking for items on the ground, taking some dollor powder, and beginning his treck towards the monestary and the giant. Yeah, so he's semi-suicidal, what of it!? :p Hopefully that osprey will show up before he gets scrambled and fried by giants and wizards!))

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#252

"Morning, good. Just don't wake me till then."

Koschei, I don't have a good feeling about this, and if I was trying to take over a monestary I know I'd hunt down fleeing monks if at all possible. If you sit watch for the first and last thirds of the night I'll let you sleep on the hike.

Fine softskin. I'll wake you when it's your watch.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#253

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#254

Talia had been sitting, thinking (well, brooding, really). She wanted to get started as early as they could, and was actually considering suggesting that they should push through the night, although she was honest enough to know it was because she didn't want to spend any more time around that damned hole than she had to. And she'd have to figure out what to do about Aerex and Vee, before they came to blows.

Then all hell broke loose. Concern overrode her good sense and she lunged to help Vorodon haul the others up, although she was careful not to get close enough that she would fall again. Vee and Aerex looked scared and shaken, but unhurt. She was glad for that. But Glordren wasn't with them, and she didn't see him. "Where's the dwarf?" I don't need an angry spirit following me around, I'm sure I have enough as it is.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#255

Yes, yes, I am here to be an NPC. SE: This post is for you, and impacts you slightly. Can you weave into mine?

Henge truged on. The wind was blowing cold daggers through his warm cloak and clothes. The weather was getting worse faster than he would of predicted. The first trail might be obliterated, but the second.. well that was too easy. Still another gust of wind brought with it a patch of snow from a nearby tree. He shook off the new wet snow.

"Fool am I," Henged muttered to himself as he was want to do, as being a hermit did not lend itself to hearing a human voice. He was torn about all this tracking. Return to the cottage, should he. There, sit infront of the fire and contemplate the universe he should. Yet that nagging bit of about Stewardship came back to him. His place in the order of things was it. So he pressed on. Henge recongized not the maker of the first trail, other than it was big and large. It made enough noise in its passing that he came to see what it was. He was too late for that. But the second meant some trouble for someone. That trouble was sealed by the third.

The three skeins of fate... They were following the first trail, which wove in the contours of the land they did. He would take the high deer trail, that would let him make up some time, perhaps catch up with the periodically bleeding human. Perhaps in time to save him from the many feet of the third trail.

Henge made good time as the wind relented slightly. He would be in the August Hollow soon. He heard the low noises of the wolf pack. He knew they were going to trap the unweary second trail in the hollow. It was what he would of done had he been the pack leader. (Cunning that one was. Admirable. If only some nobles were as smart and as proper as he.) Press on he would. Break the trap somehow he must.

SE Weave a post in here. Our friends will be closing upon you.

Comming to the rise, he knew what he needed to do. Simple so, it was. He worked his voice some, getting it deeper or rougher. Then he made a winter bear call. While most bears slept through the winter white, a few crazed one would awaken and prowl the glittering blanket of snow. And Grumpy they were, dangerous it made them.

From his hiding place he saw the pack leader pause. Henge spit some, then made the call again.. louder this time. He called to his peoples, and they ran to retreat. Regroup most likely, attack again with proper plan.

End of weave probably, as you might incorporate the last two in your post.

Henge stepped out from his hiding place. The wind swirled snow and his cloak. Look like much he did not. Ragged his clothing was. Yet so garbbed, nobody could see his wall eye, wild hair, or slightly pearshaped body, under all these winter clothes and cloaks. "Quickly go we must. Spook easy they do, but return in greater numbers and courage they will." He motioned with his hand. "Henge I am, Hermit I bee. bee. bee. bee." He looks at Muroz. "In shape not are you to fight them, especially after dripping the drop of liquid life now and again. Come with me. Warmth, food, healing. Questions I answer will I on the way."

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#256

(OOC - implant after entering the tomb, but before Glordren sinks into the stone)

Rather than fight Aerex for the fans, Vee let the Inspector have them without incident. 'Don't go on so, Vee." Gemma had told him once, what seemed like years ago. "I see you follow me like a lovesick puppy. Puppies are for petting, be a man. They are good for so much more." While Aerex claimed his prizes Vee made to inspect the inside of the tomb. It would do no good to claim interest in the tomb, only to bolt out a second later with Talia's fans. Patience was the key.

(OOC - Glordren sinks in the stone)

"Time to play the caution card, eh, Inspector?" Vee said, a bit a black comedy to cover the emotional shock of seeing a stone floor eat someone. He had seen less magical traps in action, and at least with Glordren there had been no blood, no severed limbs, no sprays of blood. "If I knew you were that excited about fetching Talia's fans I would have let you." Vee said as they emerged from the deathpit, just loud enough for the others to hear.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#257

It had been a long half-hour. The snow was difficult to traverse, but no more so than the waves of sand which he had spent his entire life weaving over, but coupled with the strained leg from the giants grasp and the slow droplets of blood which occasionally slipped past Moruz's left hand and fell from his empty socket to the ground, it was an arduous and slow journey. Finally, Moruz peaked the top of a small rise and found himself walking downwards into a snowy hollow. Injured but unrelenting, the warrior continued his slow pace... until from out of the bushes some thirty feet ahead, a winter hare darted out, fleeing into the distance in fear.
But Moruz was too far away to have spooked the creature! Moruz paused in his walking and peered around cautiously, no longer the hunter. He smelled them at the same time he saw them - not dissimilar to the smell of the wild jackal, the wolves were. There was five, in total - A large, aged alpha male, a younger male almost old enough to find its own pack, and three females of varying build and age. No longer bothing to even conceal themselves, the wolves parted from the foilage and prowled into the hollow. Moruz's lips quirked into a rueful smile, and he plucked his Ouzala from his back, no longer even bothering to cover his broken eye. He was going to die - he knew. He might take one or two down, but in the current state he was? He would be ripped to shreds.
The lips on the alpha wolf's mouth curled back as it began to snarl, but at that moment a peculiar sound of another foreign animal echoed from the shrubs some dozen feet away and the wolves paused, as though reconsidering their actions. A second, louder rumble of fury caused the wolves to slink off in the opposite direction - not exactly running, but certainly not wishing to stay around.

"Xanati!!" Moruz cursed, and turned to face the direction of the new threat - By Axtrami, would the world cease this toying and just end it already!? At this point, however, a heavily-garbed, ragged-clothed man stepped out and began speaking as though posessed;

Henge stepped out from his hiding place. The wind swirled snow and his cloak. Look like much he did not. Ragged his clothing was. Yet so garbbed, nobody could see his wall eye, wild hair, or slightly pearshaped body, under all these winter clothes and cloaks. "Quickly go we must. Spook easy they do, but return in greater numbers and courage they will." He motioned with his hand. "Henge I am, Hermit I bee. bee. bee. bee." He looks at Muroz. "In shape not are you to fight them, especially after dripping the drop of liquid life now and again. Come with me. Warmth, food, healing. Questions I answer will I on the way."
Moruz blinked at the odd man as his mind raced to piece together the fragmented speech - By the sands, this language was hard enough to understand without its users mixing-and-matching to their hearts desire! Finally, as he pieced together the words, he nodded and - without any words of his own - motioned tiredly for this Henge to lead the way.

Gods... he was tired!

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#258

The trip was silent, which somewhat disappointed Henge. Just short of his cottage, he stopped. There was no trudging footsteps behind him. A few yards behind the stranger was just standing there, verging on falling over. "Oh no. Sleep or Final Sleep not, do you yet." He turned about and helped guide him to the cottage. He opened the first door and pushed the stranger in. Upon entering he closed the door. He shucked his out cloak and pulled the first layer off his stranger. Snow falling from the garments as he did it, he opened the inner door of the tiny room. It opened to a spartan space. It was blessedly warm from a tiny firestove in the center. The scent there was pleasant that assailed the nose was sweet and smokey. Candles were everywhere, but only a fraction were lit, giving a dim glow to the room. Every wall was lined with shelves of crocks upon crocks.

"Warm slowly, too much or too fast can be bad for you." Henge pulled a chair up near the warm stove. He began to putter about gathering things from various crocks around the room. "Sweet, he he he he," he said while continuing to putter. Without looking at his guest he rambled, "Go on. Take off the wet. Restore the warmth of life you must. Access the wounds I should need to; unless final sleep you want."

He began to dab the wounds first with water, but then with an amber liquid. "Everything in its place, everything to the order," he muttered to no one but The Gods. He pulled out some somewhat clean bandages, "Place I will."

"Name you have? Voice? Quiet you are. Hear the humm of the spirit's wings with you about, one could," he continued while working.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#259

"Moruz." The Ouzquin Dremorix shared his name shortly, offering the addled man that, at least. The threat of the 'final sleep' as Henge so quaintly addressed it, was getting further and further away as Moruz's body warmed up once more. Moruz was resting back in a rather comfortable - if plain - chair, his good eye closed while Henge probed and prodded about his empty socket. His mirror-barbed Ouzala was rested against the wall of the plain hut several feet away - one of the few spaces of wall which did not contain crockery, the glass shifter mused.
With warmth, rest and comfort, Moruz reflected on just what he was doing out in the snow - he was about to attempt to hunt down that Stone giant by himself, when just hours before he had lost his eye to the beast he was chasing... Moruz. You are a fool.

Finally, Henge had wrapped a bandage over Moruz's empty socket, and the glass shifter opened his good eye and sat up. It took some verbal probing, but Henge - warped sentence structure and all - managed to pry bits of information on Moruz's recent journey, and before long, the glass shifter found himself sharing his last month with the peculiar man; beginning with the encounter with the Xaren in Ganse, moving onwards to explain the encounter with the fearsome 'Red Hatchet' and his Flind companion before glossing over the illusion and prisoners found in the cave. Skipping past the entire boating adventure, Moruz explained the situation with the ghouls and the loss of the naively innocent priest of St. Senren. Leaving out the rest, Moruz told Henge of his splitting (With Jjuldae the druid) with the group and his journey to the glass monestary which was interrupted by a stone giant. One flying-spike menouvre and loss of an eye later, and here he was.
"Now, I still need to find my way to the monestary. As soon as I am fit to travel, you will be free of me. Henge - what do you do out here in the middle of nothingness?"

Idly blinking several times, the Ouzquin Dremorix considered - the blood-soaked trail he was following? It was heading in the same direction as where the shephard said the Monestary was...

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#260

Vee scrambled up after Aerex, but suddenly paused on the cusp of the portal, making an quick decision. Glordren was dead, but the tomb had still not given up its secrets. This vexed Keykold. Why should the dwarf die for naught.

Vorodon was breathing heavily, Talia was inquiring as to the dwarf's whereabouts, and the wounded monk was awake again, conversing with Kadarin in hushed tones near the fire.

"If I knew you were that excited about fetching Talia's fans I would have let you."

Aerex muttered something in reply, but Vee had not heard the inspector's words. Instead he dove down again, rapelling along the earthen walls with rope and natural skill.

Vee heard other voices above, his companions called out to him, but the rogue was already out of earshot.

Landing gingerly, he once more found himself inside the murky confines of the crypt, not far from where Glordren had sunk into oblivion.

Vee inhaled the musty smell, and squinted his eyes as he looked around. He was in his element now.

The tapestry of beards ruffled gently, but that was probably due to the draft coming from above.

The walls would not speak to Keykold, but the rogue had ways of making the stone around him "talk." It was now just him and the oubliette.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#261

Aerex could only stand staring, blankly, jaw agape. "Just... gone..." he said, almost in a whisper. The just ones always seemed to disappear. First Aethelstan, now the dwarf Sir Glorden Blarchtmir. It did not pay to be a cleric; the gods called their servants home far too quickly.

Silently and with steady hand, Aerex returned the fans to Talia. Was it worth it? a voice mocked in his head. Had he simply let Vee go ahead and retrieve them, Glorden might not have followed, and he might not have been... swallowed so. Their deaths now lay more heavily on him than he cared to admit.

And now Vee, the wayward rogue and loot enthusiast, was leaping down into the accursed tomb that had already claimed two casualties, one wounded and one dead. Aerex still hated Keykold. But he wasn't about to let the bastard get himself killed. Well, at least not before he could get his hands on the thief.

"I'm going after him," Aerex stated. In a breath, he scaled down the walls.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#262

Great elevation and frozen air slicing amongst his contrail feathers. He felt the air beating fitfully against his warm inner feathers as he dove amongst the currents of the sky. He opened his hooked beak and screamed satisfaction to the world below. The air so dry, so unlike the fjords and wet forests, but the openness of this strange flightplace intoxicated him.
But avian thoughts were uneasy. His atavistic trail of identification was interrupted by strange anomalies as it attempted to describe concepts vastly alien to ospreykind. Food. Roost. Hard-smooth-flat-two-legger. (his mental process could not apply names to the idea of Moruz which flitted through his brain) big-rock-two-legger-danger.
The puzzled bird settled itself upon a stone ridge, to stare down upon the pass. Something was beating inside his small mind, something larger than himself. He could not possibly encompass what it might be.
The osprey clucked in confusion, hopping on his gnarled claws.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#263

"Kobold-Stoopid!" The condemning words of Great-Uncle Morgamott rang in his memories as Vorodon watched his friends descend into the pit of death once more. "Morgamott would have had a few choice things to say this time," reflected Vorodon. He watched the rope sway gently as his two allies crept down it.

"Glordren's down there... I did everything I could, but it wasn't enough... It wasn't enough!" thought the disheartened goliath. "And now, Vee and the Insecter follow him." Death weighed heavily on his mind. How could he protect his friends from magic, when all he bore was honest steel? Magic was treacherous...

He looked at the others near the death pit. They, too, seemed to have mixed emotions. After a few moments, Vorodon made up his mind.

"Vorodon make happen friends no more die! Vorodon go down... you now see. Fohllet...Place of Death... feed no more!"

Grasping the rope, he swung down once more, lowering himself carefully into the sinister abyss before he could change his mind.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#264

Dujek was barely asleep when the stupid lizard woke him.

The hole, it feeds. Your friends go in it, and it hungers for blood. Koschei murmered into his mind.

Opening his eyes, Dujek looked towards the hole, with Vorodon, trusting Vorodon, climbing down the hole, and the dwarf, Vee, and the Inspector nowhere to be seen. Getting up, Dujek followed Voro down.

Stay up here, Koschei, you're guard duty time isn't over, and if anything starts happening up there I want to know about it so that we don't climb out into a trap.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#265

Most people's hearts would be fluttering in their chests at a time like this, but Vee had seen magical traps before, and mechanical ones that made vanishing into a stone floor look like a mercy. Part of his mind knew that Glordren likely hadnt suffered long, passing out before dying of asphyxiation. He remembered seeing his first Manzikirt type trap in the seventh vault at Nimz; a thing of hidden weights and resetting springs. It had taken the explorer three days to die, left there hanging from half a dozen silvery barbs and when he finally collapsed, the change in tension caused the barbs to reset into their alcoves, tearing his corpse to pieces in the process.

Vee eyed his surroundings as he inched down his rope to the bottom.

(OOC - spot check, check for traps)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#266

Talia froze for a moment, standing stock still. Glordren was gone, and it was all her fault. Her face hardened as the others went back down. "Get back up here," she said shortly. "Whatever spirits live down there, obviously they want to be left alone, and they have more power in barrows than almost anywhere else. And don't bring back any souveniers; spirits get angry when people take what is theirs." She tucked her fans into her belt, then started gathering her things. "We should go, we have something to look into after all." She retreated into herself, concentrating on getting the group away from that nasty hole in the ground before something worse happened.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#267

"Now, I still need to find my way to the monestary. As soon as I am fit to travel, you will be free of me. Henge - what do you do out here in the middle of nothingness?"

"Nothing is Nothing, know I. Touched by the Divine was I. Seeing the wonderous pattern of all in fleeting instance. Every since then, years beyond your years I tell you, I have attempted to see it all again. Bits and Pieces, now and again, the pattern touches me. Huberis men have, attempting to be free of the natural pattern of the universe, the dance cosmic, the flow of the way!, The Expression of the Grand Year! The! Beat! Of! The! Divine! Song!, THE!" He was shouting then. He stopped. He cleared his voice. "Crazy men are to live so. Ignoring the simple patterns that are there. The ignorance most crushing, avoid it I do by avoiding large numbers of lumbering souls."

He tidied a bit. Then continued. "Now I find the pattern in the way of season and the knowing animals. Animals most knowing are bees. Bees. Bees. Orderly pattern of lives. The Buzz of their lives is the song of the pattern. In their order, they produce the ambrosa honey, the most holy of foods. They need a keeper, like Men need Gods. Keeper am I. We all get what we want, and want for nothing, in harmony with the divine. "

He took a big breath. He puttered a bit more. Almost randomly, he plopped some long simmering honey porriage in a bowl that was to Moruz's left. Eat, you need the strength if any chance you have against this stone thing. He stared at Moruz, tapping a foot. He waited until he started to eat.

"Take you to your death, if that is what the pattern needs, the monestary we will go as soon as the storm ends. Warmer clothes I have for the journey."

He cocked an knowing eye at Morus; the other staring at the wall. "Not wish to die? Time it may not be." he put down his own bowl.

"Guide you I would. If you blindly follow the expected path, die you will. The creature is too great. While death is nothing to fear, it is not as pleasant as we might think it. Think and plan and follow the cosmic dance, the way will be with you. Find your path in the dance and the cosmic will preserve you. Feel for the opportunity, waiting for your chance to cut into that conflict dance between you and stone beast, choose your time to strike and what weapon that will present itself, then victorious over this thing not of the pattern you will be. "

Henge took the measure of the Morus. By some secret criteria, he seemed to pass.

"Now let me look at your wounds once more, just to check the work. Busy one must be. The humm of our activities are as comforting to the Gods as a warm blanket is to us."

Muro, I would of cast a best healing, in the last sequence. I sort of implied it, but.. now I am making sure. If I think I will have a chance to recover before the storm ends, I will throw all the slots and heal my warrior here.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#268

Keykold scanned the tomb quickly, looking over the unsettled remains of Onruldt. There was little else to be found, aside from broken sword pieces, an anvil certainly to large to move easily, and there wasn't much on the walls other than a tapestry made of woven beards. The dwarves could be nasty in life, and in death doubly so. Vee scowled, this was not much of a burial chamber, it seemed more like a trap. He sighed, half the party had started back into the pit and he could just hear Talia nagging on about something.

"I'm coming back up." Vee shouted and exited the tomb. Once out, he looked at the others, but mostly at Aerex. "The next time we find a tomb or a dungeon or something else like that underground, how about you let me do what I'm good at Inspector? Or do you plan to follow on my heels everywhere I go? I know what I'm about looking for traps."

Vee paused as he walked back to the meager camp. "Are you concerned that I might steal something, or are you trying to impress Talia?" He sat next to the fire. "Near as I can tell, there was a Liquid Stone Trap in the tomb, and Glordren triggered it when he landed. when exploring a barrow, haste makes corpses. Now we are again without a cleric. Perhaps Tristan was the wisest when he took his own path and left our merry band. Aethelstan is dead, Glordren is gone..."

Vee wished he had a bottle of some spirits at that moment.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#269

A strange palpable friction seemed to be developing between the two rogues, Talia noted glumly. This wasnt good.

At least her common sense warnings seemed to have an effect on the tomb raiders, she thought, as she eyed her retrieved fans.

The monk from the abandoned monastery had meanwhile spilled his tale in full to Kadarin and Mouse, not that the little albino boy was listening.

Vorodon was most miffed of all. For the half-ogre, climbing in and out of perilous tombs in the ground, and traversing vertical shafts, wasnt quite as easy as it was for Aerex and Vee. The giant was the last one out, a look of wroth on his features, huffing and puffing as he climbed out.

With the morning, the companions decided to finally head out, leaving the inexplicably frustrating oubliette to its own devices. The tomb had claimed one of their own, and there was nothing to do now, except leave. Frustration and snippy moods rang high now, but eventually Kadarin mentioned the monk again, and a few of the companions spirits brightened somewhat once more. A heroic quest, lay not more than two days travel north and west.

And of course there was the missing Moruz and Jjuldae.

Breaking their two day camp, the adventurers gathered their belongings and with the monk in tow as a guide, headed out into the unforgiving snows.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#270

Meanwhile, in the monastery's main hall...

Baase y derrey voddey, Mays y voddey elley.

Donovan heard his mother’s sweet voice carried lightly upon the wind.
He knew the truth was that she had died three winters past , but it was her voice nonetheless.

“Ta keeayll ommidjys ny sloo my t’ee ec dooinney creeney dy reayll” he said under his breath as he slipped the rebec back onto his belt. He quickly sprinted for the door when his ears were assailed by the booming voice of a giant, obviously distraught. The now empty halls of the monastery amplified the sound, though the words were still unclear.
He turned and rushed for the source of the sound.

Ta aile meeley jannoo bry millish.

He stopped short of the archway and took a deep, ragged breath. Calming his racing heart he stepped through the arch. No doubt the giant had a bit of a time running down the monks that managed to flee, and he was sure the old wizard would be in a right foul mood very soon. He had to be careful now, else he end like the others…still and cold as the grave.
He walked on towards the rooms the magus took for his own, hoping to glean a little more information as to the gurgling sounds the giant was making.

A few short paces down the corridor Donovan realized he was making a mistake. If the old mage saw him he’d be dead for sure. “Goll thie yn ghoayr dy hirrey ollan.” He mumbled to himself, almost laughing.

The wind whispered through the tall broken windows in the monastery’s main hall.

Shass er e chione hene.

“I must be loosing my mind” he said to himself, tugging on his earlobe “I’m not hearing a voice….just a wise wind.”

He stood for a moment, pondering the wind. The words so far rang true in his mind, they were well known advice and sound council. He looked about the room, trying to find something he didn’t know was there. After a few moments he realized what is was he sought. There at the back of the room was a door that led to the furnaces, an area filled with heat and places to make oneself scarce.

He rushed for the door smiling, giving a silent thanks to the monks for what he suspected to be a sizable collection of materials and supplies they most likely stored there.

Now, if he could just avoid the mage until help arrived…

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#271

Inside the Monastery

Glass was everywhere, glass and stone. The two mixed poorly when the latter was used to smash the former, Donovan half-mused as he wandered the near-empty halls, crunching, you guessed it, glass, underfoot as he shambled.

The Stone Giant had really gone to work on the monastery, he thought, as he neared a door. Alzamus, the vile intruder on this peaceful place, was not a fan of art apparently, but music; the thoroughly evil wizard loved his music. It was the only reason Donovan was still alive.

As Donovan mused, lost in melancholy, but with a hidden fire still burning deep inside, he heard more glass breaking underfoot behind him, and suddenly turned to see Mazoma approaching the bard.

The sweaty, kohl-painted woman had large exaggerated features, a large aquiline nose, full lips, bright red, and those eyes, full moons of sage and lavender. She was big-boned to be sure, but everything was proportionate and comely. Her greatest feature to be sure, was a huge, heaving bosom, which rose and dipped with the woman’s heavy breathing. A string of opulent pearls hung about her neck, though the pearls were of poor quality.

As she neared, Donovan caught her musky scent, and spied her Cheshire cat grin.

“Hallo’ luv.” She purred, huskily. “Tonight you will sing for Alzamus when he dines. But now, luv, you have time to play with Mazoma.” The woman reached out her thick hand and caressed the bard’s neck and chest.

Donovan knew women like this. They were usually the ones found deflowering young virgin boys in the various villages of his homeland.

He cursed beneath his breath, for if she had not come upon him this moment, he was steeling himself to open the door, and descend below the monastery to survey the Glassworks. He was going to be ready to use whatever was at his disposal, in order to gain his freedom…or better yet…his retribution.

Somewhere distant, Donovan could hear the cry of an osprey, piercing the night.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#272

Henge and Moruz

Moruz looked out into the blinding snow with his one good eye. As the pair trudged through the endlessly white terrain, Moruz found himself growing angrier by the minute. His fingers he could do without, the toe was meaningless, but his now empty left socket impaired his vision, and more importantly, his puissant skills.

Moruz glanced over at his strange companion. The hermit seemed oblivious to discomfort and pain, making his way blissfully through the snowdrifts. Always anticipating the proper path correctly.

The Beekeeper had healed and nurtured the desert warrior in his snowbound hovel. For this, Moruz was grateful.

They had spent a full day or maybe closer to two, Moruz could not be sure, waiting out the storm, while Henge buzzed about, nursing the warrior and flitting about his cabin, teaching Moruz philosophies he had never heard before, in all his travels. It was obvious to Moruz though, that this peculiar man had achieved some state of gnosis with the natural world around him, of this, Moruz could be sure.

Could he then not pluck some floating eye in need of a host from these invisible “Fluttering Patterns” of his, Moruz mused, annoyed with himself for feeling this way. The druid had done nothing but help the wounded warrior, from the moment he had stumbled upon him, and truth be told, saved his life.

Moruz sighed, and kept his head down, as he determinedly tried to keep pace with Henge. For his part, Henge mumbled and hummed, and led Moruz north.

They had traveled the better part of the day, pausing briefly to dine on dry cakes and honey, then began again, and now as dusk neared once more, Moruz decided to speak further to the druid.

“Henge—“ he began, but the druid had already paused and was now extending his arm and pointing a finger, causing the warrior swallow his own words. The druid was showing the warrior something in the distance.

Several hundred yards away, as the hills and crags began to thrust upward, jagged reminders of the Great Escarpment’s proximity, Moruz stared at the particular crag the druid had spied.

Somehwere in the coming night, an osprey flew its course.

[http://perso.orange.fr/revue.shakti/stmaig4.jpg]

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#273

Moruz had decided that he would add a glass eye to the list of things he wanted to craft once they found the monestary. Perhaps he could find some sort of spellcrafter who could weave some magick to make it able to see - he had heard of things similar to that before.
His thoughts turned to Henge, momentarily - the strange man had healed him both magically and with warmth, comfort and bandages, and now was leading him to the monestary with the intention of helping; and the strange fellow barely even knew the glass shifter! Truly, this man was more of an oddity even then the other outlanders; but Moruz found himself enjoying the Beekeepers cheerful demeanor and buzzing words - not that he understood half of what he said.

And now, the monestary jutted up through the trees in the distance. The ancient, stone-walled building looked regal; unattainable, sitting up there as though a hawk peering down at its prey.
Moruz had almost forgotten the possible threat of a nearby stone giant as he peered up at this building - inside there was a monestary of people who worked with glass. It would be good to see the level of skill they had attained in the outlands.
"Lets keep moving..." Moruz began walking again and waved a hand to beckon the druid.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#274

Where once the massive stone had promised shelter from the frigid winds of the waste, it now served as a reminder of death’s presence, a monument to… oblivion. Vorodon considered the grim monolith. If he’d had the power, he would have destroyed it. As it was he just wanted to leave the place as soon as possible.

An idea struck the hulking warrior. Drawing an iron spike from his pack, he walked through the snow to the massive monument. With a rock as a hammer, he began to carve runes into the stone above the Smith-Prince’s inscription, child-like carvings to remember the cleric:
Undrr LiEs DwaV Groldren
He DYY heR Wenn
Tri hellP Fren
He Tri GUD
The clouds promised more snow soon. If they didn’t get to better shelter, a day of sleet could leave the little party frozen and sick. The wearied myrmidon packed up his equipment, carefully coiling the sturdy rope… the rope that had failed Glordren. It was time to leave.

“Weather bad soon. Not good.” he commented. “Vorodon no want for see Deathrock more. We go.”

The rocky landscape promised nothing but misery as he set out through the snow. Hopefully Moruz and the druid would be waiting for them before they reached the monastery the old monk had mentioned. Hopefully, they would soon be out of this bleak wasteland….

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#275

The frigid wind wrapped the traveler’s robes around his legs as he trudged north through the frozen wasteland. His sandaled feet were clumsy, frozen in the slushy snow, but he didn’t let it affect him. The Need was there, relentlessly calling him, a strange destiny driving him forward.

Spotting one of the ubiquitous scrub plants that clung to life in the rocky waste, the traveler noticed it still had a few withered leaves clinging to its thorny branches. Pausing briefly, he gently took a few of them. Healing herbs might be needed, if the road ahead was as grim as he feared it would be.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#276

Talia was grimly silent as they travelled. She was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep her mind off of recent events. She hadn't known Glordren very well, but he hadn't deserved the end that had come to him. And once again, they were without reliable healing magic. All because she had acted like a scared little girl about a stupid hole in the ground. There was nothing she could do about it now, except maybe figuring out a way to placate angry spirits. Her time was better used trying to formulate a plan for when they reached the monastary, assuming that the others would be willing to listen to her at all now.

And she really had to do something about the way that Aerex and Vee were getting towards each other. When it suited her needs, she didn't object to men fighting over her; in fact, she often encouraged it. But now, when the group needed to work well together and when they were both her friends, it was unwelcome. If she had to, she'd put an end to it herself. One way or another.

"This monastary. Didn't Moruz say something about a glassworks at a monastary? We might be running into him sooner than we thought."

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#277

"it would be nice for us to find some familiar faces instead of loosing them." Vee said dourly. Aethelstan came to mind first, he had really liked the fresh-faced young priest, but now he would likely never be more than a footnote in some monastary book of records. He also thought of the young man who had treid to attack the xaren with a mallet, and the look of shock on his face when he suddenly found himself quite dead. Twice he himself had stood ready to join the Black Parade, once with Red Hatchet and his throwing axes, the second time a nameless guard and a heavy crossbow.

Would he ever become as callous to death as Dujek? The man took a perverse delight in gutting things, perhaps for some sort of spell? Vee hoped it was for a spell, having a sociapath for a traveling companion would be unsettling at best. Professor Von Horn would chide him for being distracted when he should be focused, while the Chaplan at the Greenbow Avenue chapel would have genuflected on the deeds of the dead and commend their souls to the World Above. Gemma would have pinched his bottom and given him one of those kisses that left him feeling hungry for more than just another kiss.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#278

Yesterday Night in Alzamus’ Chambers
The mage laid there between sweaty linen, stroking the now half-sleeping Lazanne through her raven black hair. “If you only knew how much you mean to me, Lazanne” the wizard whispered, emotion thick in his voice.

“If you only KNEW how much you mean to me, Loose-Anne” a baritone mocking voice replied, a lithe, ebony skinned winged monstrosity fading into view by the side of their bed. The creature was no more than three feet tall, its shape humanoid but with wings and claws. It too was stroking Lazanne through her hair, but with dark, long nailed poisonous claws that threatened to burst through her tender skin.

“Fyrfyrion! Leave her be!” Alzamus whispered imperatively, his steely gaze upon the nether fiend. Meanwhile Lazanne twitched in her sleep, the brimstone smell and harsh treatment causing her some discomfort.

The hellish creature stretched its wings to their full length, revealing embedded purple gemstones and yellow lumps of sulfur between the scales. As always when it was angered one of the sulfur crystals caught fire, being devoured by a blue, hellish flame. The resulting smell was horrible, making Lazanne wake with a start. Half a second later the horned familiar faded from sight, an outraged frown evident on his face.

“What IS that smell, my love?” she asked revulsion evident in her voice.

But Alzamus did not reply. All he could hear was her words. “My love…” he said, quoting her words.

Opening the window, the mage felt the full fury of the storm, snow drifting into his tower bedroom. From somewhere far below he heard the haunting song of his new bard, followed by the loud applause and praise of Madame Mazoma. The wizard returned smiling to bed.

“You really must forget that horrible smell!”

**********************
Present Time, in the Mage’s Chambers
While the two adventurers, Moruz and Henge, were watching the monestary, Alzamus languished over his spell books. The four volume crimson tomes were brimming with labyrinthine enchantments and wonderful drawings, yet Alzamus’ thoughts were elsewhere. Lazanne would be in the kitchen, no doubt preparing their evening meal. Stretching his arms and back, the mage threw a crumbled piece of paper into the fireplace, the flames quickly consuming the material.

(OOC: In Muro’s post several days pass while Henge and Moruz are traveling. This post tries to summarize life in the monestary during that time, as well as present another menace to trouble the PCs)

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#279

Dujek plodded on, struggling under the load of the frozen sheep guts. The night had been hard, the wind didn't let up, and the moral was low around the camp as everyone thought about the death of Glordren. Pity that, once again they were without a healer of any reliability, and he'd seemed a good enough man in a fight. But, like all the drarves, he had been distant from Dujek; seeming to always plot about wealth. Wealth passed away, like the lives of those that sought it; but knowlege, and the Art, those lasted.

Re: Adventurers-Upon-Return (Chap II)

#280

The Monastery

Donovan looked at her coldly. This woman was attractive, but he knew better than to fall into her “charms”. The near constant “voice” on the wind drew his thoughts to his mother. He was sure while looking at the woman before him his mother would not approve.
If not for the voices he heard on the wind, or his current state of “employment” he may well have fallen prey to the wench. But now his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Dear lady, I’m sure the thought of bedding other naïve young virgin appeals to you, as it would to most young pups” he gave a wicked grin and stepped back from her “and I mean no disrespect at all in saying this, but although I am young, I am neither naïve nor a virgin.” He walked towards the stairs leading to the outer wall.
“I’d suggest you save your lust for one who wants it…and go fetch me some mead, my throat is rough with the dust in this place. I’ll be on the outer wall trying to enjoy scenery I wager is a far more pleasant sight to my eyes than you. You wouldn’t want your master in a foul mood because I can not sing to my ability, now would you?”

Donovan walked up the stairs, leaving the wench dumb-struck in the great hall.
He smiled to himself, wondering what must be going through her mind right now.

His mind however was on a sound.
The sound of that bird was strange to his ears. Something was different about it, and he had to find out what it was.

He pulled the rebec and bow from his belt once again as he emerged on the top of the outer wall. Drawing the bow across the strings slowly he began a haunting tune.

Hopefully the beast was still close enough to hear his song…