Homecomings (Chap III) — Legacy Forums

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#121

The supernatural swine and Moroth's axe continued their grim work, decimating the undead as they reached the edges of the web. Moroth was clearly tiring, but the huge orc pressed on with his task, even as coagulated gore dripped from his axe and splattered down his massive form.

Elsewhere in the hall, Delsordo seemed to be weakening. The mute grappler's convusions were weaker now, as the dark cleric's poison steadily weakened him. Mouse desperately heaved at the evil man's corpse, untangling a full waterskin from where it lay beneath the acolyte's satchel.

Bringing the skin back to Delsordo, the youth rinsed his fallen comrade's inflamed wounds.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#122

Within the courtyard, riders struggled to bind each others' wounds and secure their prisoners. The butchers' bill was substantial: Several of the men and horses were beyond saving by the time the men came to them. Help came too late for Czolba: He lay strangely at peace on the keep's steps.

Despite their noble upbringing, the sons of Nimz were none too gentle as they cuffed and kicked their prisoners into the center of the courtyard, binding their arms behind them. A few of the prisoners were fortunate enough to be chained: Manacles that they had once used on their prisoners now restrained them. "Bearbaiter" sat among them in abject misery, shivering with reaction as he recovered from the effects of the terrible mist.

As they searched and restrained the bandits, their weapons and other gear was gathered into heaps (even as many coins and trinkets swiftly disappeared into riders' pockets and purses).

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#123

Vee scowled at the bodies of the dead, man and horse alike. The butcher's bill was never cheap, but there a great many more dead mercenaries than dead Nimzians, the crows would feed well. Salleer and Greydahl seemed to have things well in hand, the survivors were being bound and shoved to the center of the plaza. Stripped or their scabby armor and weapons they were a miserable bunch and for most of them, their destination was the gaol at the very best, and most of them would likely find their necks dangling from the noose. Vee turned his attention to Bearbaiter only long enough to recover his whip.

He dashed inside the building, finding Czolba dead and Delsordo under some sort of ill effect. Vee handed Kadarin the vials he had, magnesium phosporus and a third unmarked vial. "If these can be of any help, they are yours." Vee said and left to search for the Professor...

He spared a glance at the gore spattered orc cleaving at the zombies, and then making a quizzical expression at the large pig that seemed to be eating the zombie chunks. The rogue shuddered at the thought.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#124

Since Delsordo appeared in no danger of hurting himself with his convulision, Kadarin moved over to help mouse, effortlessly turning the cleric to free him.

Perhaps he carries the antidote he thought, rummaging through the clerics gear. Perhaps he would simply call upon his dark diety to cure him said another voice in his mind, which he ignored. Where IS it...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#125

Vials and parchment-wrapped bundles spilled forth from the cleric's satchel: Some jars were cryptically marked with sigils of necromantic portent, while other items were clearly spell components. Kadarin quickly set aside a number of items as irrelevant, but recognized the "Pev" rune on several items: It was a common alchemical shorthand for "poisonous", but he didn't recognize all of the other abbreviated markings.

They couldn't all be toxins, he conjectured. Something here had to be an antidote for the poison.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#126

Think! Hmm, do any of these look used? Kadarin went over to the fallen cleric's guantet and took a careful sniff and look at the spikes. Perhaps the poison might be something he'd know...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#127

Feeling helpless looking at the failing grappler, Vee dashed further into the building, searching for the captives, or to discover their fate. If he was lucky, they would still be alive, and if Delsordo was lucky, one of them would know what to do for him.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#128

Dujek made his way over to the convulsing grappler as quickly as his rooster legs would carry him, Koschei perched upon his left shoulder. Examining the shuddering Delsordo, Dujek scrambled to save the man from certain death, applying his skills as best he could. He even cut small slits in the man's meaty thighs and arms to let some blood flow out, in a desperate attempt to slow whichever vile venom was coursing through Delsordo's veins.

first aid check

Duejk looked up momentarily and noticed the alchemical bounty which Kadarin was examining. Noticing a few vials he recognized, he lept up and scrambled over to the mage.

"Kad, lemme see! I think I can find the one we need." he croaked, jaw clacking.

attempts to identify poison antidote from among the vials.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#129

Discoveries
One tiny container after another was checked and rejected as Dujek quickly searched the priest’s trove of pastes and powders. There was a symbol there that he recognized! Although the pasty material was itself unfamiliar, its tiny jar bore the glyph representing poison and a little-used necromantic sigil signifying “against” or “after”. This might be what they sought, the misshapen necromancer conjectured.

Healing Roll: 19

“Here! Smear this into Delsordo’s wounds! Don’t let it touch your skin; in the absence of the toxin, it might be almost as dangerous!” warned Dujek.

A piece of scrap leather (itself of dubious provenance) allowed Mouse to safely scoop the foul-smelling paste onto Delsordo’s scraped cheek. Long moments passed before any change was seen. Bright red discoloration spread across the poisoned grappler’s cheek and followed the lines of his veins down into his torso, but as it spread, his exhausted twitching ceased. The hideous rictus that had seized Delsordo’s features relaxed, leaving the battered mercenary looking strangely young; for a minute it appeared as if he had stopped breathing.

Holding his hand before Delsordo’s mouth, Dujek was able to feel a faint breath. The grappler was unconscious, but lived.

Meanwhile, Vee explored the bowels of the keep. What was once a grand staircase led downward, its rubble-choked steps cleared only enough to allow one man to descend at a time. The once-elegant feast hall at its base had become an abattoir, the workroom of a deranged necromancer. Trestle tables held bodies, cut open and ripe with decay. A desk to one side held stacked texts and parchments, some covered with sketches both illuminating and repugnant.

To one side stood an oaken door, its rotting wood repaired with more care than had been seen elsewhere in the keep. Through a tiny window carved in the oak, Vee could make out more bodies imprisoned beyond it. Clad in scholastic garb, these corpse-pale figures clawed at the door, their fingers shredded down to the bone. A hideous glow was apparent in their yellowed eyes: These were no mere zombies, but more potent undead, their life energies drained by hellish necromantic powers shunned by the sane. There were no survivors here.

From the courtyard, Lance Commander Salleer and Sergeant Greydahl entered the keep. “Gentlemen,” the commander agitatedly announced, “We’ve learned a bit from our “Blackshield” prisoners, and the news is ugly. Thorn, the hunchbacked leader of these depraved scum, lit out of here with his pet necromancer sometime yesterday, leaving a priest of Scarnach named Matreim in charge. This priest, the necromancer’s minion,” he nodded at the fly-covered corpse, “was to secure his master’s possessions, then lead the bandits overland, to rendezvous somewhere near Jantir.

“The leaders were mounted on skeletal steeds, allegedly headed for Jantir.” (Dujek considered what a miserable experience their foes faced, for the bone-jarring gait of undead mounts was infamous among necromantic circles) “I presume they planned to take ship with one of the smuggling vessels that haunt the coast in these parts: They could already be headed for Jantir. Gods curse it! We may never catch them now!” Salleer’s sabre shattered a half-destroyed bench as he paced back and forth in frustration.

Sergeant Greydahl ostentatiously cleared his throat, drawing his commander’s attention away from their lost glories. “Oh, yes. Even worse, Thorn and Theviss had three people with them. Two were hostages: A man from the University named Professor Seriff Femaister, and one of his students, a girl named Geltalia. Apparently, she’s the niece of Baltan, the Lord of Atkinshire.

“The third is the one that really worried me. He was a heavily-armored figure shrouded in robes, a tall man they ordered their men to salute as...

"‘War Leader Haavik.”

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#130

Seeing as Delsorda was no longer so close to death, Kadarin went back to the accursed clerics corpse. Using a scrap of orc armor, he searched the corpse. Things had quieted outside and now was as good a time as any.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#131

Vee checked through the necromancer's laboratory. There were many things that were worthy of Dujek and Kadarin's attention, and even a few that caught his eye. He could almost smell the magic in the place, something dark and sinister beneath the normal is choking stink of rotting meat and decay. He pushed his findings into a spot where the others could check through it when they were done downstairs.

He spared a look at the zombies, their cold eyes and tattered flesh. He felt his heart stick, if he hand't left when he had, he might have been on a dig with a group such as this, and it could have been him in that locked cell. He found a barrel, a quick sniff left his nose burning. it was 0-Grade Fuel oil. The dig team probably used it for lamps and cooking, not much in the way of wood for cook fires in the Judgelands. it would burn hot when he dumped it over into the zombie pen.

He lifted a splint burner, from the looks of things, they were getting ready to leave. That was a good sign, fewer valuables would be hidden. He picked up a tallow dipped splint and slipped it into the burner. He lit the tallow splint from a wall sconce and cupped his hand around the flame until it was steady. With his new light he explored the room, finding a stairwell leading upwards. He headed up the stairs.

(OOC - Search Check the room for traps and loot, then upstairs more search checks.)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#132

Hundreds of insects crawled upon the evil cleric’s corpse, the foul scuttling things drawn with supernatural speed to the fallen acolyte of their demonic patron. The tiny vermin avoided Kadarin’s searching hands however, so he was able to efficiently strip what items of interest the man possessed. He was particularly careful to avoid the vicious spikes upon the priest’s gauntlets, which still dripped gummy, pus-like venom.

The vile priest had worn plate armor of Jantiri manufacture in practically new condition. Once the damaged spaulder was replaced and a few dents were removed, it might fit Delsordo well. His mace was clearly a masterwork of smithcraft, adorned with butterfly motifs and inset with gleaming onyx "eyes" on the creatures' gilt wings.

In his satchel, the man had several interesting items: Three jars of what could only be poison, several more that contained some other noxious ointment, a slip of parchment with silverpoint numbers scrawled across the top, a silver stylus engraved with the arms of the University, some spell components, and a ring bearing the sigil of one of the university’s student brotherhoods. In a tube of birchwood, Kadarin discovered a parchment marked with the spidery glyphs favored by the man’s depraved sect, clearly a magic scroll of some sort. In addition to 112 Nimzian gilt, the acolyte’s purse held 150 archaic Jantiri Golden Eagles, impractically shaped coins seldom seen these days. Three tiny vials held clear liquid with tiny bug parts drifting in them: Each was marked with a sigil that could be interpreted as some variation on the common rune of healing.

On a table at the far end of the hall, the man had left a number of maps and documents. A quick review found that they outlined the bandits’ plans to meet their leaders near Jantir, there to wait until “the others” joined their growing force. One puzzling document referred to the “Eagles’ Regatta” which would somehow deliver “a tonne of treasure” into the mercenary bandits’ hands.

Outside the keep, the grizzled Nimzian sergeant set aside some choice items for the party members. The old campaigner had met warriors who didn’t know enough to loot while they could, and it avoided brawls to just help the poor, clueless rubes. Bearbaiter’s swift sword and fine leather gloves would make nice trophies for the adventurers, and the shabbily-dressed necromancer would certainly benefit from a furred black cloak he found among his prisoner’s effects. A pouch of 40 gold coins would ensure they didn’t lack for drinking money for a few weeks.

Ascending the keep’s narrow back stairwell, Vee found that their foes’ valuables had already been neatly packaged for travel. Inspecting the captured booty, he quickly found some sort of journal, a chronicle outlining the “grlowious victoryees” of the mercenary leader Haavik, written by his devoted servant, the hunchback Thorn. In its meandering text, he learned how Haavik’s fanatical minion had escaped the treacherous mercenary’s disastrous final battle and had sought to rescue his captured master. He had been too late to keep Haavik from facing the righteous justice of Nimz, but had managed to substitute an underling’s body for that of his fallen master. That unfortunate’s remains were burned and scattered to the four winds, instead of the traitor they resembled.

The volume ended soon after Thorn described meeting a Jantiri necromancer, a man who promised to restore the fallen mercenary: Restore him to “possess strenkts such as now liningye manne hat beholden”.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#133

Vee cursed, then cursed again. The foul necromancer really did have Havvik's body. There had been howls of blood and victory after the Nimzians had driven the mercenaries from their city, and Havvik had been killed in battle. They had paraded his corpse around the city, children throwing stones at it adn the women spitting on it. It had been an ugly day, a brutal day, and he himself had even thrown a huck of brick at the mercenary as it passed him by. The rogue's blood boiled, the man would have to be hunted down and killed, again. It had taken months to repair the towers he had broken, and the clocks he had hammered and smelted into shields and axes. He jammed the book into his pocket, and checked the rest to see if anytihng was worth taking, or even mentioning to the others.

He still had the zombies locked in the cell below to deal with, but once they were done, he had every intention of using the fuel oil in the barrels to both burn the zombies and the husk of Sivenwell to boot.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#134

Waiting for Vee to finish his searching, Kadarin approached.

"So whats our next move? My little troop is spent - either dead or wounded with the exception of the orc. If we are going to persue, we are going to need to rest and recover, as my own strength is rather depleated as well. Lets sort out what's worth packing, and cache the rest. Some of this here might be healing, but I'm not sure I'm willing to trust Delsordo's life to them- he saved mine and mouse's for sure."

"And did you find your fellow academics?"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#135

"I did find them, unfortunatley. It seems that thorn used them in his necromantic experiments. It is offensive to my eyes to see them, my brothers and sisters in spirit if not blood done this way. I agree, I have found their belongings in the room above, they are prepared for travel and there is a fair amount of stuff up there. I'm fully versed in the magical arts, I just have a few tricks I've picked up along the way and you might be better equipped to sort through what is valuable and what is trash."

Vee looked back to the ruin. "We do that, let everyone rest and recover. We aren't far from Nimz and we can get a room out on the Fringe cheap and we can rest and recover our strength. If we have things to fence or sell I can take care of that while you and Mouse look after Delsordo."

"After that, Thorn, Havvik's corpse and their captives, Prof. Femaister and Beltan's neice Geltalia. He would like to have my neck stretched by a bit of rope and saving his neice might soften his hatred a bit. As for the Professor, I only know Femaister by reputation, he is a bit of a maverick and firebrand, but has made some good discoveries and stays in the good graces of the University."

"One last thing, if Dujek cannot dispatch the Nimzian dead, there are several barrels of fuel oil. It burns fiercely once lit. It should take care of them and bring down the rest of this accursed place."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#136

"Sounds like a plan. How do your people feel about our recent 'allies'?" Kadarin said quietly, glancing at the orc who was rummaging through his dead 'friends' pockets.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#137

"What are the chances of the charm failing?" Vee asked.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#138

"Over the next few days, minor, but it will not last much more then that, and I currently lack the skill to renew the enchantment."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#139

"Perhaps it would be best if we were to part ways with our greenskined friend while he is still our friend, rather than wait for the charm to fail and have him gut us in our sleep." Vee said with a scowl.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#140

"Yes, that would work. "

"Moroth! Your skills at arms have been most mighty! You are credit to your tribe! Now, we soon will travel to the civilized lands where there may be many who would seek your demise. So I release you to return to your tribe and hope you can seize the chieftanship, for surely your might deserves it."

Kadarin handed the surprised orc a handful of gold from the deceased cleric. (~10gp)

Later

"Dujek - may I read from your book tonight? Your Discerning Enchantments spell will be most useful to me on the morrow!"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#141

As the companions followed the mist-shrouded mountain trail toward Nimz, a column of smoke towered into the sky. The bandits’ oil stores had taken mere minutes to transform the ruined keep into an inferno. Fortunately, none but Vee had been close enough to hear the chilling moans of the building’s undead inmates as the conflagration sent their restless spirits to whatever reward awaited them.

The cavalrymen were disappointed that the Adventurers-Upon-Return couldn’t join them in their triumphant parade through the Clocktower City, but they understood the companions’ urgency. There was much to be done, and hostages traveling ever-further from Nimz’s safe walls. The bodies of Czolba and the frail hippogriff-slain traveler burdened poor Rodney as the uncomplaining mule carried their remains into Nimz.

To the Fringes of the Clocktower City
Widow Hannin’s boarding house (for “honest travelers”) looked much the same as he had last seen it, reflected Vee. An inexpensive haven for scholars and visitors from the hinterlands, the secluded hostel’s peeling paint and battered shutters were a welcome shelter. Unfortunately, Widow Hannin was not so well preserved; a stroke had left her words slurred and her friendly face half dead. A discreet woman, Vee knew he could trust her not to spread tales of his return.

“Young Master... Rake,” the old woman mumbled, noticing the adventurer’s signature on her ledger. “Is good to see ye turn to my lodging. I trust yer journey ha been… profitworth?” Her voice was a mumbled whisper as she clambered up her house’s steep stairs. “Ye still have enemies here, ye ken. The Lord of Atkinshire doesn’t forget, and though his men nay langer seek ye, t’would go ill iff’n ye fell into their laps.” She unlocked the attic chamber’s door, revealing beds piled high with bright quilts.

The companions’ garret room was chilly, its horn window yellowed and cracked, but beyond the open window Vee could make out the tottering clock tower Professor Agaroy Zelmundt had described months earlier, as they rested in the monastery of the glassblowers. Past the tower, the Street of Short awaited, hidden in the city’s perennial mists. Street of Short merchants would surely buy the party’s captured treasures. Beyond the city’s Hippogriff Gate, the herbalist Kellier Yoman could be found there; perhaps he could provide answers to the mystery of the fallen traveler.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#142

A variety of additional weapons and armor, a collection of necromantic documents (still need sorting), a matched set of ivory-inset faldstools, some silver goblets and trenchers engraved with Havvik's claimed heraldry, a set of masterwork lockpicks, a box containing golden and silver parts pried from the university dig's gear, an enchanted ceramic pitcher (never grows warm until emptied), a leather case holding personal documents and letters from the university, a fancy scribe's kit with six different colors of brigt ink and metal-nibbed pens, several sets of courtiers' clothing, the cleric's armor, weapon, and other gear descrivbed earlier, 150' of black silk rope, a (repairable) broken repeating crossbow, 56 bolts in 4 cases, a set of three antique pavises with the arms of an extinct noble house, a pair of embroidered bedsheets (which need laundering), five barrels (which these items were packed in), a painted oaken chest with designs of demons and celestials wrestling, and a shaving kit with a fancy silver mirror. 450 gold pieces

Sitting cross legged on the floor, Vee counted out the coins while Dujek took some time to get acquainted with the necromantic paraphenalia garnered from the ruins of Sivenwell. "That's 150 gold pieces each," Vee said, pushing out the three stacks of coins so that Dujek and Kadarin could account for them to their own satisfaction. "As for the rest, I think a short trip to the Street of Short should take care of the rest," he rubbed his chin and winced at the weeks worth of beard he had grown since leaving the comfortable if dull environs of Ganse. "I know a merchant, Izhan, he should be interested in the faldstools if for nothing else their novelty. I think a silversmith would be willing to pay good coin for the dinnerware. Havvik's device would make them worthless except for being made of silver."

Vee scowled as he pulled out a number of gold and silver gears, weights, and pendulums, taken from the crushed university device. Alone they were scrap, and the rest of the device was still somewhere out near the dig site, smashed to ruin. He pushed the gears and pieces into a seperate stack, adding the leather case of university letters and scribes tools. "These belong to the University, and if there is no argument I would like to return them and tell someone there what happened to Femaister's students and the dig. There might or might not be a reward. I intend to tell the University that I am going to attempt to rescue Femaister." He brushed his hands through his hair and looked at the rest of the things they had gathered. He could give the bedsheets and clothing to Hannin, she could make good use of them, and the crossbow just needed some work.

Vee packed the items he intended to sell into a bundle and discretely made his way to the Street of Short. Perhaps while he was gone Kadarin might find out about Bearbaiter's swift sword.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#143

Kadarin nodded, "That is an okay plan for this stuff - and I'm in agreement over the University items. I may have difficulty descerning the powers of the sword - the ritual calls for a fairly pricey gemstone to do the detailed study. Getting it done elsewhere would take the cost of the stone, plus labour and 'risk', so it's your call if we want to burn that much coinage. Dujeck - does the blade even have a magical aura?"

Later, once all danger seemed to be past, Kadarin sat in his room examining the lead-lined box he was carrying. The old saying "Curiosity Killed the Cat" was formost in his mind, though "Fortune Favours the Bold" loomed close also. He looked at the box, with little demons warring on his shoulders.

Hmm, any signs of magical wards?

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#144

The lead box was a distraction, but Dujek needed a break from his patient sorting and organization of the necromantic writings they had discovered. While they were clearly valuable, one of the notes' authors affected a cramped scrawl that made deciphering his handwriting an ordeal. The task of sorting the hastily-gathered texts would try the patience of a cloistered Nimzian scholastic, much less a necromancer already prone to migranes.

Dujek turned from the piles of parchment and glass vials of dubious material they had recovered. Taking the leaden coffer near the window, he carefully examined it. There were some magical wards, he observed, but not the maledictions against thievery that were found on wealthy women's jewelery boxes. Instead, these signs seemed preservative in nature, intended to keep the contents from tarnishing or spoiling.

On a hunch, he placed the box near bearbaiter's sword and recited an incantation to sense dweomercraft. The sword shimmered with a mild aura of battle magic, probably one of the sharpening charms found on the most common of enchanted weapons. It wasn't worth examining under an identification ritual as its magic wasn't strong enough to be anything unusual.

The lead of the box muffled its magical aura, giving off only the most subtle hints of necromantic preservation.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#145

The Street of Short had been repaved in the years since Vee had last wandered its shops and adjoining Gristram Market. It almost looked reputable, even if antique bas-reliefs still immortalized the squint-eyed wool merchant “Short”, peering myopically from building corners and the remarkably ugly “Short Fountain”.

In the shadow of the Hippogriff Gate squatted the apothecary of Kellier Yoman, bundles of imported spices, Holobuscan cloth, latten Jantiri cups and flasks, brightly-colored Ouzquin beads, and even more exotic items cluttering its shelves and cabinets. Yoman, the shop’s proprietor, could be seen haggling with one of his customers, his unnerving stare and fat, cracked lips giving him the air of a businesslike toad.

They could deal with him later, reflected Vee. He had other business to address first.

The taciturn merchant Izhan grew uncharacteristically enthusiastic when he saw the folding stools Vee had brought. Their dickering went so swiftly that Vee suspected he had underestimated the faldstools’ true worth. Still, 55 gold pieces was a handsome sum for such oddments, so he didn’t question his good fortune for long. Izhan might want the old pavises they had found as well, although Vee dreaded lugging the cumbersome shields through the market crowds.

Gripp the Silversmith was less accommodating; the man seemed convinced that Havvik’s tableware had been stolen from some noble’s collection. Vee could tell he was a typical Short Street merchant, grasping and ruthless when it came to business. In the end, they settled on 20 gold for the lot, even though the silver would fetch 5 times that amount once the smith removed Havvik’s ill-omened heraldry.

Finally, Vee allowed himself to approach the true objective of his day’s activity. The time-battered clock tower of Professor Zelmundt loomed high above, its dark stone exterior pierced at regular intervals by shuttered windows and openings for fanciful clockwork decorations, intricate devices that whirled and moved in elaborate choreography when wound up on the city’s feast days. While most of the temperamental ornaments had been packed away, a pair of canvas-shrouded decorations remained, depicting the legend of Caelus and the Hydra. When engaged, the animated figures presumably whirled and banged into each other, a model of the tale’s climactic battle. Vee wondered what song the clockwork ornaments played once wound up.

The tower’s stout door was locked, but the building’s porch had clearly been cleaned in Professor Zelmundt’s absence.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#146

Kadarin looked again at the lead box. What secrets lay within. A decison made.

"Dujek, I am going to try and open it. I'd suggest leaving this room in case something untoward happens, but thats your choice of course. I'm resolved to finding out what is inside. Mouse - that goes for you too."

Kadarin paused, waiting for Dujek's response.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#147

WOO!! :P

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#148

"As you will." Dujek rasped, looking up from his own study of the box. Grabbing it off the table he walked over to where Kadarin was, "But one thing first, I want Delsordo here. He knows more of this than he's shared." Writing a quick summons to Delsordo on a scrap of paper, Dujek handed it to Koschei, the lizard running out of the room.

Waiting for Delsordo's arrival, Dujek turned his malformed eyes on Mouse, "I'd suggest you leave, child. I'm no longer a novice in my art, nor have I been for many years, and in that time I've learned restraint, and patience." Looking briefly at Kadarin, Dujek continued, "It's said that only through experience can we learn anything, but I've had many experiences that, would I have the chance, I'd much rather never'd had. This box reminds me far too much of many of them, the mystery, the anticipation, and unholy draw of power, or merely the quest for knowledge."

Grinning as he waits for Delsordo's arrival, Dujek sat down opposite of Kadarin. Placing the box between them so that none could avoid looking upon its fell beauty.

"The counsel is ignored, and the game begins anew, Koschei."

A life for a life, such is the way it must be.

PM'd Wulf a couple of days ago, asking for Delsordo to explain this, don't know if he hasn't seen it or what, but I'd very much like to know what it is exactly that Del knows about this particular box...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#149

"Well, if there is additional information to be had before I take this path, I am most eager to hear it.

And yes, there are experiences all of us would rather avoid. And most of those were not of our own choosing. "

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#150

The two mages looked around in confusion, finding themselves in a chamber they had never seen before. Outside, the rooftops of an unfamiliar town could be seen through the dingy room's open window. Nothing here was familiar, save the people present: Dujek, Kadarin, and Delsordo. Even more alarming, the spells Dujek and Kadarin had prepared seemed to have been erased from their minds! Their magical powers hadn't been discharged, they sensed intuitively, but had been wiped clean, as a rag wipes a chalkboard.

Dujek recovered first from the disorienting magical effect that had embraced them. He could see that Delsordo had picked up the leaden box and was closing it, his expression ashen. Small parchment-wrapped bundles were visible inside the box.

"Master," communicated Dujek's reptilian familiar, "What did you mammals do this time?"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#151

"Well, oops might not be sufficent for this one..."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#152

Vee let himself into Zelmundt's hidden tower to claim the cache of notes the legendary and cantankerous scholar had compiled. He would have time to pour over the notes on the trip to Jantir, to hunt after Havvik and Geltalia. He gathered the notes into a non-descript satchel and left the tower, locking the doors behind him as he left. No reason to leave the place open. Loaded with coin and the notes, Vee returned to Widow Hannin's boarding house. There was loot to split, and plans to be laid.

(OOC - no idea what he will see, and I strive to be less tardy!!!)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#153

Some Time Earlier...

After her dear husband, Hakkar, had passed away, Widow Hannin's life hadn't been easy. There were plenty of people who thought they could take advantage of a lonely old woman, but she had kept her integrity and managed to pull through. Integrity could be a cold companion, but it was the only companion she had.

Looking across her desk at her grim-faced visitor, the widow composed her unresponsive features into a mask of benevolent ignorance. "Gods bless ye sir, I ha'n't seen that Keykold fella' in years. Sure'n I have some young bucks that dweel'n beneat' my roof, but I run an honest house! I'll ne' keep scoundrels here!"

Ignoring her, the man tore the ledger out of the widow's hands. As his grimy finger traced the recent entries, he turned to a lanky man in the doorway. "Jirie, she's only let out three rooms in the last few days," then turned back toward the widow. "We'll be no trouble, madam. It should only take a few minutes to satisfy our employer's curiosity."

The pair headed up the stairs, the Atkinshire brooches on their cloaks gleaming dully.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#154

In the mysterious room, the mystified mages looked at each other in bafflement. The place seemed ordinary enough, but none of them had ever seen it before. Delsordo seemed frustrated: The mute warrior was trying to communicate, but his limited repertoire of gestures didn’t give him the signs he needed.

Suddenly, Mouse rushed into the room, slamming the door and throwing its bolt. The nervous young man was also eager to be understood. Gesticulating wildly, he twice made a sign the others recognized as “enemy”. Pointing to the door, the boy moved behind Delsordo.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#155

"Whatever it is you're trying to explain, do it with a sword out facing the door." Dujek grumbled as he backed up. Dropping his pack, he started digging through it, searching for some of the more virulent of the poisons they'd gotten from the cleric.

(OOC: Do I run the risk of poisoning myself when I apply poisons in 1/2e?)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#156

Kadarin stepped over and grabbed the lead box from Delsordo. Void of spells, and having nothing to call a decent weapon, he would at least see what was inside the box, or use it as a club at least. What is inside!!!

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#157

Delsordo clearly didn't want to hand back the box, but he made no effort to stop the insistent mage. Pulling the box from him, Kadarin flipped it open, revealing four small bundles wrapped in damp parchment. An unfamiliar scent wafted from the container as he opened it, reminiscent of forest lichens.

Pulling one of the bundles open, a clot of dark, mossy material was revealed within. Before Kadarin could investigate further, the room's door was savagely kicked open. Two cloaked men stood in the narrow hallway outside: The first was a tall, sunburned man clutching a short sword, while the other intruder was a grim-looking rogue with a nasty scar along his hairline. The shorter man's ear was a cauliflower mass of scarred tissue, half-hidden beneath his disheveled hair.

The shorter man's voice sounded much like a dog's growl as he gestured with his longsword. "Where is Vee Keykold? Tell me quick, or I'll...." A confused expression briefly crossed the man's face, soon overcome by a look of guarded paranoia.

"Who are you? Where am I? You look like magicians; what did you do to me?" the man asked, his angry voice growing fearful.

A soft noise escaped the mossy package, like a gentle sigh.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#158

Something was odd about these contents...

Whatever they were seemed to befuddle one's mind. Spores? No matter, the situation at hand demanded attention.

"We have done nothing to you," a pause, "yet. " Kadarin emphasizing the 'yet'. "As for this Vee, I do not know of this person, but he seems popular - you are not the first to come seeking him this day. However, I am quite unhappy with your intrusion and would like you to leave. Now.", Kadarin said while rubbing his ring in a pointed manner.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#159

*Dujek growls*

OOC: :D not much I can think of doing. Kad already threatened them, and I'm still looking for a poison in my bag...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#160

Ever the rogue, Vee made for the stairs leading up to the room that he and the others shared. The Duke's ears were more open than he expected and he would have to make some apologies, both to the Widow Hannin and to Dujek, and Kadarin. He slunk to the side of stairs, doing his best to remain unnoticed, hiding among the bric-a-brac shoved in that corner and the shuffle of patrons through the common room. He tilted his head to listen, there were no sounds of fighting, and if the men didnt find him there was no reason for them to get physical. If they did, well, he had learned some tricks from the last time he quarreled with the Duke's men.

(OOC - hide in shadows and Listen check)