Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe] — Legacy Forums

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#361

Thorgir witnessed the spectacle, half terrified by it, though doing his best to contain it.

His own village shamans spoke a good tale, but never did anything resembling this. Their spirits were humble and quiet compared to these ones.

Somnak's kin-slaying did not surprise Thorgir - such things were not unknown in his clan - and especially after see what else Somnak was capable of. That did not bother him though - violence or the threat of violence was of little concern to Thorgir. Trafficking in the world of spirits did, though this smelled more of the realm of gods than that of sorcery.

In any case, he would be damned if he would ask for a reading.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#362

Melior strolled from the healing room with Meleana, and settled down with the cyclops' book, his own spell book, a quill, and an inkpot, and attempted to settle down to copy some spells. The blasted half-orc, however, presented further interruptions. Of course, he was interrupting because of magic, so Melior finished the line he was on and looked up.

Apparently, Somnak had daddy issues. Or was it mommy issues? That seemed to be the gist of the spirit's message: that Somnak was to choose a side. But it was largely irrelevant. What was important was that he would get the wording on Mirror Image right.

He quickly finished penning in the spells, and looked at Somnak. He looked... Shaken. Perhaps it would be best to get his mind off things. So thinking, Melior stood, and approached him.

"I know you do not respect me. Of course, I do not understand why, but that is beyond the point. I have two things to say to you, Somnak. The first of these is that the spirits are wrong. You do not have to choose between being a human and being an orc. You can also choose being both. You are trapped between world, fully accepted in neither. So why not accept that fate, the one your father brought on you by conceiving you outside of species?"

Melior paused, until the moment was right to say his other thing. "And second... Who has the 'neglected loins' now, eh?"

For the neglected loins comment, see page 5, reply 114 on this here topic.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#363

While going through the motions, Kismet dispatched the other clumsy guardian with ease, only to withdraw about a foot of the previously shining blade from the wreckage.
Did 12 damage, failed weapon breakage roll.
"I may have been severely misled on the quality of dwarf-forged swords, I see. Also, on a related note, a certain weapon-smith will hang, if I ever make it back."
She picked out the rest of the broken blade from the crumbled statue, and wrapped it in an oiled cloth, adding over her shoulder: "You may want to hand me a knife of yours, brigand, seeing that I am disarmed. I would advise against stabbing my back, though - you never know how well monsters bleed, and I can wring your neck with my bare hands, too.

She turned around, to see whether the shady fellow was still present, straightening her 'hair'; some of the tendrils wrapped around the rest to tie them into a ponytail.
"I am Lumina Kismet, a valkyrie of king Isambard Karellion of Brandburg, here on a royal errand. Do not interfere, but feel free to follow, in case you feel safer in my presence."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#364

Further down the hall.

"Yes, Balthazar, I know. He sent them, He's always hated us. Get your brothers, we must protect Pookie and the others."

Bob stopped talking, cocking his head to the side as the floating eye made unintelligable noises.

"Yes Balthazar, you're right, as always. They will burn, and we will finally be free."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#365

His head was spinning, and his vision clouded. Ardhalas felt sick, drained to the core of his being.

"It will be a while before I do another reading", he said in a shaken whisper, then buckled over to his left, dry heaving.

The archer-mage collected his precious cards, letting his fingers glide over their surface, an old habit of his. The cards were cold, lifeless, and he knew they had been spent. It would be a good while before he could use them again. Not like he felt like doing another reading anyway.

Ardhalas gasped in shock as he came upon the Queen of the Forest. Elethandra had changed, where she formerly appeared like a wise ghostly queen, she now had the appearance of a raging Banshee, forlorn and lost in a forest.

A shudder went down his spine. What was this place? With these alien in-betweens between elves and orcs, with the deck changing rapidly from one day to another, with Elves with alien eyes, and a Cyclopean who could cast spells!

Ardhalas struggled to make sense of it all, and stood up.

"I need to be alone for little while. Don't worry about me, I will be nearby", he said as he departed camp.

Ardhalas walked around a corner, and a couple of feet more, until he found a suitable place in a shadowy corner. There he stood absolutely still, letting the cloak conceal his presence.

"This is not my homeworld. This is some alternate reality... But they know of Azul........ Like he is a... legend? And the female speaks my tongue.... But find it strange that I do too... They are like fumbling children, grasping at the straws of myth... But for me... For me that myth is recent history..."

The chill of realization tingled through his entire body, and the elf drifted off into thoughts.

"...And in the end you will realize the full extent of your exile..."

The Prince's last words echoed in his ears.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#366

Silence. Somnak's eyes are closed. He is shaking.

Melior came over to the Half-Orc, Offering his 'sagely' advice - as well as a report on his sexual conquest.

Still Somnak sat, eyes closed, shaking.

Ardhalas stood, walking away shakily from the group after the prophetic event.

Somnak sat, eyes closed. His fists were in balls, and his sharp nails dug deep rents in his wrist, trickling blood to the floor.

The party meandered around him, resting, chatting, searching, taking stock of their gear. Somnak sat where he was.
Within his head, he played the scene just witnessed over in his head.

“You *are* chained by the call of your tainted blood! The blood taint from your mother’s pinkish loins, not mine! Do you not see?"
Yes... yes. He saw that now. It was her blood that made him weak. It was also her blood from which these doubts arose!

When you slew me and took your rightful place in the clan, you carried on a tradition that has stretched back to Azul the Creator! Know this, doubting one, you were born for purpose. You are to lead, and to lead you must hunt and must kill, for how else can a true leader act?
Yes. One must show ruthlessness and the steel will required to do what it takes. Doubt rots one away from within. It must be cast away!

"Conquer your mewling weakness, son. You did it once when you slew me. Be what you are! Your mother's soft influence is the only thing which holds you back!”
Be. What you are.
I am Somnak. He thought; though he did not realize he said it aloud, too. Keeper of the Spirits. Conduit to those now lost. Kinslayer. I am Somnak. I channel the Demon's Dance. I inspire. I terrify. I follow the call of the drums and the wails of the dead.

I am Somnak. When the Elves of Elithra encroached on our lands, I overcame them. When the Bronze Dwarves poured from the ground like roaches and burned down the huts of my tribe, I rallied my kin. When the Humans from Durmsgard put a price on Orcish heads and led to the extermination of our tribe, I alone survived. I represent my kin. I represent the restless departed. The sound of drums pounded within the Half-Orc's head, *Da-Rum, Pa-Thum, Da-Rum, Pa-Thum!*
"You shall know your enemy always more than skin-deep" Within his head, the spirits named themselves to him "I am Krogath. I am Muk'tlor. I am Jarik the Heavy-Handed. I am Ordeth. I am Sly Ramlin. I am Gammrick of the wastes. I am Taklic. I am Azul. I am Somnak." He said, and opened his eyes.

Somnak looked down to his wrists - the force of his clenching had left deep marks in his skin - they would probably leave trailing scars there. No matter. He stood, his eyes showing a clarity and acceptance that he had up till now never held. He walked to Melior to offer a belated reply to his comments.

"Why not accept my fate? Yes. I accept my fate - it is clear to me. I thought there were only three paths: Accept the Orcish blood and be slain by all who rise against me. Or reject the call of my blood and choose a life of frailty - where I lack the strength to survive in this world and will end up slain. Or, as you say Accept that I am both and end up tearing myself apart as my body rejects itself. All paths lead to death." The Half-Orc paused, his gaze unfocused. "There is a fourth path. Feed on my Blood and use it to thrust myself to greatness. Overcome those who will rise against me. and climb the bodies to the pinnacle. Yes. It is clear. I have been fighting who I am. Instead of letting my blood rule me, I should rule my blood."

Somnak let out a chuckle, "And congratulations on your conquest, Elf. Mind your appendage doesn't fall off from the swamp-rot you've no doubt contracted."

Finally, Somnak sought out Ardhalas. He had a question he desired an answer to. The Half-Orc walked down the hall the Elf had entered, but could not spot him due to his cloak. "" Somnak spoke to the emptiness in Orcish, ""

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#367

As purpose began to burn within Somnak's eyes, as he shook off the fear and self-loathing, the priestess could feel it, even as she prayed. For a moment, she looked up, at both half orc-and elf and she simply smiled, the expression as dark as her ebony skin. It pleased her - If he could be tutored to embrace the anger, to control and to own it, it would be a grand bonfire before her lord, and glorious in the change it would wreak in this world.

So too, she felt the doubt creeping into the elf, the shock, that touch of despair as he disappeared. She would have to be careful with that one. The timing would have to be right. But yes, the potential was there. The currents ran deep, under great pressure. Pressed wrong, he would crumble. Pressed right, the geyser of passion would reach to the skies. Yes. Her lord had been right to send her here...

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#368

His face bore an expression of utter defeat, his eyes empty of life.

"...Ardhalas? Where are you?"

The elf came to his senses, shook his head to clear his thoughts, then opened his eyes.

Somnak, the Azul Spiritcaller, was there, a few feet away, heading away, further into the corridors.

Ardhalas stepped out of the shadows and called to Somnak from behind. "I am here, Somnak", he spoke in guttural Azul, his words adapted to the dialect in which Somnak spoke.

"What can you tell me?", the Half-Orc asked, his words thick with emotion.

"About what?", Ardhalas replied. He hadn't heard any of the questions that Somnak had asked to the shadows. Not because he couldn't hear, but because he was so lost in his own thoughts, he had quit registering anything for a few minutes.

Somnak explained his questions, and Ardhalas spoke for half an hour, the Azul listening in. The Elf of the First Empire did not display the usual disdain of orcs that was common in this new age, rather the Orcs were the shameful enemy, the ruin brought about by their own lust for power. In the first empire, the fall of Azul was seen as a failing of the Imperial war machinery, rather than a betrayal. And the slaying of Elethandra was the singlemost disgraceful event to ever blooden the history of the High King and his royal house.

"What we did to Azul... to His mother... It is something my people always will have to answer for", he stated as a matter-of-fact.

Ardhalas showed Somnak Elethandra's card, the Elven Banshee screaming forlorn in a dark forest, skeletal remains at her feet.

"This is Elethandra, the mother that Azul lost. The reason for his curse. You were the Elves of Elemore once. The Spirit-forge was in your city, and the reason why the High King laid siege to it. Azul oversaw the construction of Spirit-Blades there, and the Council of Seers dwelled at the Court of Elethandra."

Ardhalas paused for a couple of seconds, studying the Orc.

"The Azul are attuned to spirits. You always have been, and the most powerful of your champions were always guided by their ancestors, even back when you were Elves, like me.", Ardhalas spoke as much to the shadows, as to Somnak. "I have fought many an Azul, it is true. But whenever we fought any with your abilities... Screaming with rage, sometimes even aided by ghostly spectres whose blades stilled the hearts of our elven warriors... When facing such a foe, even our Battlemages were often overwhelmed.", Ardhalas was lost in history now. "We used the Spirit-Blades forged by your ancestor to stop them, for the Spirit-Blades have an soothing effect on the departed. It is said that some of the most powerful seers of Elemore heard the screams of the dead so often, and so loudly, they often went insane. That is why Elethandra, the Undying Queen, ordered the construction of the Soul Forge. To create these blades, who gave the Elven Seers a way to control these spirits, to shut them out when need be"

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#369

As the elf explained things to the half-orc, the priestess divided her time between praying and listening, uncommenting, until she was struck by an idea, until she was inspired by her prayers. She stood, silently, walking out of the door, back to where the jelly they had fought still laid. With one toe, she nudged the corpse, and spoke at last, her tone uncompromisingly arrogant and imperious. "Get up." And move, it did, its once vinegar smell turning sour, its clear "flesh" tinted a milky white. "Guard." Her hands gestured to the door frame they had torn down, and as it settled into place as a door once more, she settled in too, closing those firey red eyes, safe enough at the moment to sleep. At least its fight would cause enough disturbance to rouse her.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#370

Somnak sat silent while he listened to the story told of Azul, Elethrandra and the creation of the Orcs. When Ardhalas was finished, he spoke. "Of elven blood, no more, Elf. The orcs are more than that, now." He paused, "Your kin may be ashamed of us, but that very shame is an insult: I ask you to find a single full-blooded orc who is ashamed of what he is. Such a task is impossible."

The half-orc studied the card of the banshee queen as Ardhalas showed it to him, and frowned. He could almost hear the despairing wail in the recesses of his mind, and felt an odd pang of regret and sorrow. "The spirits, yes; they tear at my skull and gibber madness into my mind. The waking world tempers them but being cut off, Such as before..." Somnak stood and stretched, weary now. "These spirit blades... Do you know of any that still exist? I need control, and it sounds as though they are the what lies at the end of my path."

Somnak felt a wave of tiredness wash over him; he needed rest. The reanimated stunjelly appeared at the door at that moment, causing the Half-Orc to yelp in surprise, but he was quickly calmed upon seeing the ominous black-skinned priestess calmly directing it. This one was someone to keep an eye on...
after the answer, Somnak will go have a rest if he can.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#371

Ardhalas returned to his corner outside the party's resting chamber. He took up position in the shadowy corner again, and enveloped himself in his elven cloak.

He needed time to think, but not to despair, like he had.

No, all his years in the field had taught him the value of scouts, and he intended to be one.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#372

Meleana laid reclined, resting her head on her hand and was feeling rather bored, the little divination with pictures show had ended rather abruptly, Melior had once again stuck his nose in a book, which irked her greatly. Human suitors at least had the wit to properly court and entertain her, were all elven males like this? Speaking of elven males, Ardhalas just returned. Perhaps some competition would spark a little more interest in Melior, she smiled and got up, then sauntered over to the dour scarred elf.

< "Ardhalas? Be thee awake? I wish to converse." > Even for her elven eyes it took a second to spot him in the gloom, she sat down shoulder to shoulder, and rubbed up a little extra against him for it was rather chilly away from the fire.

< "This tassel thee found, I may have an idea how such a thing could be used to all us advantage..." > Meleana proceeded to explain her plan, any further minions found could mayhaps be fooled by the disguise, but she held no such illusions about the watching egg.

After having spoken a while, Meleana was reminded of the differences between them, he told her about his empire and how he seemingly travelled through time to get here. It made little sense to Meleana, but she knew her kind weren't natives to this jungle isle, and at one Point, generations ago, they must have travelled here from elsewhere. No doubt having become shipwrecked like the rest of this lot, in that they were alike, they were both exiled, but it was all she had ever known growing up. That sparked a thought in her she hadn't had time to consider until now, but in her belongings...Yes, as she dug through her backpack, she found the disintegrated old tome, what the jungle moisture hadn't done to the book, age had almost finished, but there were still some pages where you could make out the symbols.

< "Could thee take a gander at this? It's written in ancient elven, but I fear deciphering the symbols was a skill we lost throughout our exile on this isle. It is the only link I have to my ancestor's past." >

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#373

The Thaur (Captain) of the Haulor (Outguard) listened well to what the young elfling had to say.

Her suggested use of the tassel made sense, and when she picked out the musty old tome, he gasped in surprise.

"This is the journal of an elf of high station", he gasped, letting his spidery fingers run over it like he was wont to do. With delicate fingers he careully opened the tome, and immediately one of the first pages cracked and disintegrated into withered bits of mouldy paper.

"This... This is a tome made of the finest paper from the bark of the Evertree. These pages last for thousands and thousands of years...", Ardhalas choked on his own words. After a quick break he turned over a leaf, and started reading aloud.

"[illegible text]... and Meletha ordered me to take the children and flee. We have lived on Styrytha since our flight from the Empire 6000 years ago. All of our dreams, all of our hope is left behind now that Sartios is preparing to attack us. What hope can our people have when facing foes such as he? [more illegible text]"

Ardhalas looked up at Meleana . "This is amazing, Meleana... This here is the tale of a highborn elf, and from what I just read, it seems he was with a group of elves that was on the run from the First Empire" Ardhalas turned over a couple of more leaves.

"[...] Tranquil is the most beautiful Elven city I have ever seen, ever known, and to see it burn from where I stand at the helm of our ship breaks my heart. The stars are out tonight, and the sign of the manticore dominates the night sky. The night is now filled with the mournful song of our people, for the mage-fire of Silysion died a couple of minutes ago. I have no doubt that our most powerful wielder of the arcane is now dead, and with him the hope that Tranquil can be defended. Sartios has forced our hand, and we now set sail to a small group of islands far to the west. It is my hope that we can one day come back and reclaim the Shrine, and the relics of the circle which we buried beneath the roots of the elder tree. In particular the loss of the Scroll of Sul-Minae is devastating, as it is the most holy relic of our order and contains the scriptures of our goddess herself. Yes, we shall most certainly return!" - Meldor D'rel, Hierophant of Tranquil. Octauws, 45th day after the rise of the Manticore. Year 17321 in the calendar of the First Empire"

Once more the elf looked up at Meleana, noticing how focused she seemed.

"It seems that this here is written by one of your ancestors, Meleana. And a hierophant of the Druids nonetheless.", with those words, Ardhalas continued reading. He did not comment on the fact that he had been exiled in year 1404, for he had already realized that he had been propelled into the future. 1000 years or 10.000 years really did not matter. "[...] There is a strange pyramid on this island. The primitives living here seem innocent enough, and my druids have taken a liking to them. We shall herd them like we herd the rest of the wildlife here. In the meantime I plan on conducting an expedition into that pyramid. The rest of these islands are like some savage garden, and while that pleases us, we need to know more. If this pyramid poses some kind of threat to us, it might hinder our return to Tranquil. 23 years have passed already and [...]"

Ardhalas slammed the book together. There was many more pages to be read, but it seemed pretty clear to him now.

"So, your druidic circle was forced to flee first the Empire, then their rebuilt city by the name of Tranquil. In the end they stranded here, on this island, and by the look of it, your hierophant did not make it out of this pyramid alive" And that is quite troubling. Our Druidic Hierophants were as powerful as they come, and to imagine something besting one such as him... In here...

No, Ardhalas was not pleased with these revelations.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#374

So much had seemingly transpired since the death of the Seneschal...

The new arrival, the elf who had himself hurled through time and space to get here, was now spent, and returned to brooding, swathed in his cloak. In a little over an hour, Ardhalas had laid bare Somnak's soul for the Spiritcaller's benefit, and now had likewise unraveled the mystery of Meleana's ancient tome, much to her enlightenment.

Now Meleana was fingering her magic tassle and concocting some plan...

Melior pored over his words of magic. Somnak was resting and muttering in a half-sleep. Brin was sleeping perfectly still. Her animated door guardian, the milky-white creature of gel, was ably doing its job, which was to act like a door and deterrence for anyone or anything attempting to surprise the group from beyond the unexplored long hallway.

Thorgir was done resting, and sat there pensively looking around at his bizarre companions. Thorgir was ready for action. He kept an eye on the unnatural creature the obsidian-haired priestess had revived to do her will, as well. Thorgir didn't trust it, and was ready to sink his blade into its goo once more, if it "misbehaved" in any way.

All was quiet once more.

As Ardhalas stood there silently he could suddenly hear...something. Something coming...

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

Meanwhile, an unusual pairing had occurred in the great statuary room not far away...

The cooperative vanquishing of the Caryatids established a certain bond between the two, though they could not be any more different. Lumori the mysterious thief, had sealed the temporary truce, by offering the Lumina his Qullan blade, the vicious looking long-sword with an unnatural edge.

After Lumori assured Kismet that he indeed had no idea of how to find the "master of this place", the two hesitantly set out from the vast chamber of statues. There was little else they could do. Not being one to over-share, or offer too many details, Lumori vaguely mentioned that he was himself lost in this place, and that he had been part of a larger "force", a group which had recently breached the pyramid, and "hunted" a certain cyclops, called the Seneschal.

The Lumina, in turn, briefly described her mission to the thief, who's ears perked up at hearing of the "The Eye-of-the-Mountain", a great gemstone the Lumina was hunting down for her "King".

And so the two exited the statuary and found themselves in yet another corridor, and then another, until at last Lumori pushed in yet another purplish knob on a random wall...

An opening in the wall, revealed this time something neither of the two had ever seen before. A moving staircase.

After Lumori checked for traps, the pair stepped on to the moving steps hesitantly, and twenty seconds later found themselves on a new level of the Pyramid. Here another wall opened up, and suddenly, they appeared beside the dead-end cul-de-sac of the twin doors, marked "Rejuvenation Chamber" and Vapor Chamber".

Thorgir's eyes opened wide and he leapt up ready for anything, then squinted his eyes past the bizarre, thrice-tailed creature before him, and spied the thief.

"Lumori!" He half-shouted. One of his two original shipwrecked companions had returned. Alive! And with some monster in tow...

For her part, the Lumina readied her new blade, as she stared at the collection of elves, barbarians, half-orcs, and what was that strange white-haired, black-skinned woman?

They were suddenly eight strong, all these mismatched adventurers, assuming they could get along...

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#375

Down the hall and around a corner, in an unmarked room in a ship that shouldn't be, our brave hero addressed his followers in a hushed and conspiratorial tone...

"Alex, you and Balthazar are leading the two shock teams. I want you and your team to keep this new one busy while Balthazar's team takes targets of opportunity. The mission is dangerous, and I'd understand if you wanted to backout, however you need to think of Kasandra and Pookie, pregnant as they are I fear they may be unable to defend themselves in the battle to come." Bob paused, digging under the rags he used as a bed until he pulled out a ratty old coat, "but fear not my brave comrade, for we shall prevail against this, and the children shall know the feel of sunlight on their eyes."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#376

Meleana paced around the room, thinking. All her life, she had wondered about her ancestors. Never had she imagined that they too had been druids, but it made a lot of sense. The traditions passed down to her, had all been elven. The few humans who had claimed the title in the past had all been trained by elves. Now that she knew her people's place of origin it didn't do much to quench her flaming lust for knowledge, rather it stoked the fire. Did Tranquil still stand, or had it fallen just like the First Empire... She surprised even herself with these ponderings, perhaps that was what had been missing all along. A purpose other than to lounge around the Island year after year.

She stopped in front of the mimicked doorway and considered, was the drow so concearned? Supposedly this hierophant, her ancestor had been very mighty indeed, he or she had entered this same temple before her, and yet perished. Perhaps she had been taking this too lightly... She crouched down and prepared a spell, just in case.

I'm casting fire trap near the mimic doorway.

As she finished tracking the outline of her charcoal circle, the human shouted something, she looked up to see a squid-monster in armor walk towards them. Meleana drew her scimitars and was about to call about, when she saw another human enter behind the thing, that one had been with the group before, what was going on here? She looked at the others for confirmation on how to handle this. She circled the room to get back to Melior, maybe he could make sense of it. She kept her scimitars at the ready.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#377

Melior told Meleana simply.

Testing the ink to make sure it was dried, Melior closed his spellbook, as well as the cyclop's, and placed both in the pockets of his robes.

Melior the Mighty Magician approached the doorway, taking care not the trip its defenses. He opened the faux-door, and said to those approaching, "Where have you been, Lumori?" Melior asked, "And who is this that you've seen fit to bring along?"

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#378

Where her new-found blade had been at the ready while they skulked through the misshapen corridors of the pyramid, Kismet stepped forth, for she was not one to let others talk for her, resting its tip against the floor. Her mane unfurled and shone lightly, granting her an air of flame hidden behind her shoulders broad.
"I am Kismet, needing no name of family, titled 'Lumina', 'tis what I am"
she bowed;
"my liege is his Majesty Isambard Karellion of Brandburg, Propugnator of justice and Warden of Man, Custodian of Civilization and the Legacy of Lohengrin",
with this, she raised a hand, and motes of light formed a coat of arms in detail, shining silver, a mighty fort of sapphire, surrounded by countless flames, yet touched by none, three silver falcons charging above.
Her display was practiced, and ever fanned resolve within her, as she reminisced of days of more mundane service, as a herald, where the coat of arms would bear instant recognition and respect, and acted as it very much so should, in this foreign wilderness where no road ever led.

The emblazoned shield was replaced as the motes dispersed, to gather once more in the shape of the western lands, where in the northwest, on isles and coasts, Brandburg thrust the torch of civilization into the untamed wilderness, its progress over a thousand years, shown by a luminous tide of flickering gold against the blue of unclaimed land.
She was especially proud of this one, and a smiled as she recalled how the king, hosting snobbish southern slobs, who had never stood at the front of war, yet dared to call themselves kings, had called her to display their conquest. Back then, she had even added little flames when her sovereign told of valiant battles.

"I am but one of his valkyries, yet know that my will and word are his,
to retrieve what was stolen, I come to claim a much precious piece.
This I speak, in the name of the crown, with nothing that my heart would hide.
I would offer my blade and enlist your aid, for our goals may well coincide."

With that, she let the motes of light return to darkness, out of sight, slowly sink into the ground, until their new purpose was found.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#379

"A Valkarie? ", not how Thorgir had imagined. "To kill the great evil, save this one's sister, and to perform well for the spirits that look down is my goal."

Thorgir stood up. "And too long we have sat. It is time."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#380

Ardhalas spied the spectacle from the shades of the corridor.

"Golem... ", he whispered, then returned to his silent vigilance.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#381

Lumori

As the pair entered, though he'd never admit it to a soul, the human thief was rather relieved to see that all of his companions (such as they were) were still alive and in their proper configurations. Except for that damned elf, who immediately started badgering him. Lumori opened his mouth to fire off a scathing remark, but the mage was saved by Kismet. The opportunity lost, Lumori instead wandered over to Thorgir and Somnak to get a quick summary of what had happened since their separation.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#382

At the flashing lights, Brin simply arched one white eyebrow, before she shrugged, the heavy leather of her armor rising and falling atop slender shoulders. Far be it for her to judge the form of another, not since had been god-touched. Her low voice was full of a terrible focus, as she finally spoke. "I am Brin, servant of Lord Atarkuhl. He has commanded me to slay the master of this false temple. I will succeed, and I care not about anything you might take from the wreckage."

She spent but a moment securing her ceremonial knife, her armor, and her weapons. She was prepared, though it seemed that the charcoal spell would need undone before they could pass it.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#383

Thorgir had called them to action, and as the group gathered their belongings, Ardhalas entered the vapor room once again.
He pulled some levers, then shoved the gas nozzle into his wineskin, refilling it with precious fumes as best he could. He was done just as his companions continued down the corridor, further into the pyramid, and the Thaur took up position at the rear, guarding them from attacks from behind.

OOC: Ardhalas has refilled his wineskin, resetting the countdown back to 48 hours. He regularly turns around and is wary of attacks from the rear. He is also studying their surroundings, trying to find secret doors and all that.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#384

Somnak filled Lumori in about the bloody battle with the Seneschal - as evidenced by the copious amounts of now dried blood spattered all over the half-orc. He gave more than one shifty glance at the strange, thrice tailed newcomer, but said nothing. When the time to move on arrived, he kept to the middle of the pack, keeping his eyes out for any dangers that may be around. While they walked, he hammered a haunting rhythm on his drum to inspire his companions and ward off the silence: the time for stealth was surely over, as by now the Watching Egg must surely know of their presence.
+1 to ally rolls. Possible Confusion to foes once in range.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#385

Kismet could do little about her hair swaying to the rhythm of the drum - sometimes, it had a mind of its own.
Instead, she reached towards her wounded flesh.
"Mother, you made me for a purpose - please, help my failing flesh to stay fit for it."
Cure Light Wounds, 3 HP back.

They were on the move again, and Kismet joined, falling in between the ranks as she would in an unfamiliar military unit.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#386

Lumori

Having been filled in to the chaos his companions had been subjected to in his absence, Lumori took the scout position at the far front of the party, well outside the blast range should anything hit them or him. His stealth, though hard-won through experience instead of innate like the elves, was exactly what they needed as the group ventured further into the pyramid.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#387

Meleana walked in the middle behind the orc. Or as she put it, the thoughtless pig-man who was stupidly banging his drum ruining any chance they had at taking the enemy by some remnant of surprise. She had half a mind to poke a hole in that drum. There remained one option though, the prisoner routine. It was however very risky, and she wasn't sure there was much of a point to it. Better to let Melior's "dogs of war" take the brunt of whatever remained and use the confusion to save her sister. The tassel was better served another day, she decided and cast a spell in preparation.

Barkskin on myself.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#388

Meleana removed the firetrap, but not because the "drow" had mentioned it. She didn't remove the spell, until Melior commented that he was indeed impressed with both the spell itself, and with her charcoal etchings...

Lumori led the way, skulking down the white-walled passageway. Though his eyes and ears were strained to detect the slightest movement or noise, it was quiet aside from Somnak’s rhythmic drum beat.

The other companions followed at a distance.

The hallway was approximately ten feet wide.

Brin stalked silently, while Ardhalas casts his elven eyes over whatever the human thief might miss.

With his helm donned, Thorgir had entered a whole new world. As he followed the thief he spied some scrawling along one of the walls. An arrow pointed further down the hallway and he could discern the words, “Gravity Chamber”. He knew what chamber meant, the first word didn’t mean anything to him.

(ooc: This is kind of like how I picture the marching order (if looked at from above, with the party headed “up-page” :P If not, speak up.)

Lumori
Thorgir, Ardhalas, Brin
Kismet, Somnak
Melior, Meleana

Suddenly Lumori paused, and held up a hand.

Ahead was more silence, but the thief was sure he had just heard *something*. Looking down the hallway he could now make several observations.

Forty feet down the corridor, he could see twin doors on the left-side wall. Seventy feet down, he noticed that the corridor reached a terminus, then turned right at a ninety-degree angle.

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

This new sound infuriated Bob. He was used to silence and only occasional explosions. His "family" however, seemed to enjoy the drumming, as Pookie and Kassandra were now bobbing to the beat.

Ten of his colleagues were now in position, with Pookie, Kassandra, and their bodyguard of four, behind Bob. He waited with his finger on the trigger. It was nearly go time.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#389

Seeing that Lumori had heard something, and remembering what had occured with the Qullan, Melior decided to give the thief the benefit of the doubt. He pulled back his sleeves and did some quick finger-warming exercises in preparation for the casting of magic. Hmm... Maybe a quick fireball before the enemy gets here, followed by a slow and a hail of magic missiles...

Of course, Melior thought to himself, if it was resistant somehow to his new favorite spell, then perhaps opening with the slow and then simply going with missiles... Ah, what the hell. No matter what was around the corner, Melior knew his genius would be more than capable of dealing with it quickly and effeciently- far more so than these fools would be capable of, with their crude attempts at combat through hitting things with sticks.

Of course, Meleana wasn't a fool. Everyone else was.

"Shall we prepare for ambush?" Asked Melior in a whisper. "Lumori, do we have time to prepare our battleground? If, of course, there actually is something?"

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#390

Lumori

Too far ahead to hear Melior's whisper, Lumori gestured for the party to stay put, then inched forward towards the double-doors, listening as hard as he could for any repeat of what he had heard a moment prior.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#391

A flick of the dark skinned human's wrist, and the death jelly began the ponderous project of slurming out to take point, or at least to be where it would be the first to be struck by a frontal attack. Without knowing anything of the enemy, there were few spell she could prepare, though the though of a simple blessing of focused anger came to Brin's mind for the moment. It was unlikely they would appreciate it, but it might just help if it appeared needed.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#392

Bob stuck his head around the corner and shot at the weird milky thing; screaming all the while, "CHAAAAARGE!!!!"

(03:34:59) Minion: Pariah rolls 1d20 and gets 18

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#393

Too far ahead to hear Melior's whisper, Lumori gestured for the party to stay put, then inched forward towards the double-doors, listening as hard as he could for any repeat of what he had heard a moment prior.

Both are marked with squiggles...and feature purple knobs for easy opening.

(ooc: a successful 'hear noise' check...Lumori can hear some sort of unidentifiable garbled sounds coming from inside both rooms. a successful 'read languages check..both doors are marked with squiggles which Lumori reads as "Teleportation Chamber" and "Activity Room".)

A searing ray of light hits and burns the jelly's flesh suddenly, and it writhes from the pain, despite its undeath. (ooc: 14 points of damage to jelly)

From around a corner suddenly steps forth a man in loincloth and coat. The ray that burns the jelly seems to have come from some sort of small weapon in his hand. He is bearded and his head is a mess of braids and dreadlocks. A look of proud insanity gleams in his eyes.

Beside him, an image of madness. Six floating balls of red, rubbery flesh, with two popping eye-stalks and obscene mouths filled with countless fish-like teeth. They each feature two clawed feet as well. The red globes advance at Lumori with surprising speed. Two of the balls are larger than the other four, and lead, while the two bigger ones make bizarre bubbling noises.

The man fires, yells something in some language, and ducks back immediately behind the ninety-degree corner in the tunnel again, leaving the six red floating eye-stalked balls of rubber to lead the charge.

(initiative, red balls of doom, roll a 4)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#394

"Yaargh!" roared Thorgir, releasing some of his unease and frustration as he charged the flying red things. "Fry the wizard, elf!"

Roll of 11 on dice, hitting AC 1. Damage, if hit = 6+ 5 or 11, +2 for bless/drums?

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#395

Thorgir charged in defense of Lumori, sticking his blade into one of the red, garbling spheres.

His strike was successful. Perhaps too successful, as the red sphere exploded in Thorgir's face, as soon as his sword punctured the rubbery flesh!

Thorgir's hair stands on end, and some sulfur-reeking goo now covers on his face.

(ooc: Thorgir takes 3 points of damage. http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#396

"With pleasure, barbarian!" Melior called back, and then, to himself, "there's nothing like the feel of a new spell."

His wiry elven fingers flew through the complex motions, while his mouth uttered the incantation: within mere moments of his jaw closing, a streak of a vibrant orange shot forth, dodging over Thorgir's shoulder, and emitted a low roar as it exploded within the enemy ranks.

Melior smiled, and repeated his earlier words. "With pleasure."

Melior casts fireball! Was there any doubt whatsoever? Anyway, I aim for just behind these foul monsters so that its unlikely for Thorgir to get hit but that the monsters are all within blast radius. Damage is a 1d6 per monstrosity hit, I believe.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#397

Ardhalas reacted without thinking, his fingers a blur as they plucked arrows from the quiver and let them fly. Both arrows hit, one for the first creature, another for the second. A second after his arrows had bit deep into the flesh of the floating eye-things, Melior's flames incinerated the corridor.

OOC:
(17:17:21) Minion: Ancient_Gamer rolls 1d20 and gets 12.
(17:17:26) Minion: Ancient_Gamer rolls 1d20 and gets 14.
(17:17:46) Minion: Ancient_Gamer rolls 1d6 and gets 1 +3 damage (+1 Elven, +1 Bless, +1 Drum) = 4 damage from the first arrow
(17:17:56) Minion: Ancient_Gamer rolls 1d6 and gets 5 +3 damage (+1 Elven, +1 Bless, +1 Drum) = 8 damage from the second arrow

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#398

Two shafts from Ardhalas bow sped through the corridor faster than anyone could think, and just like that...

http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html
http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html

Two more obnoxious red spheres explode, spewing gas and goo everywhere, though this time collateral damage is avoided by Thorgir and Lumori...

Then suddenly, a rolling ball of flames erupts down the hallway, courtesy of Melior, exploding the remaining three gorbels, and lighting up the scene.

http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html http://soundbible.com/1793-Flashbang.html

(ooc: Thorgir and Lumori take incidental damage from the roaring flames of the fireball (5 points dam respectively). No collateral PC damage is taken from the fireballed three gorbels. Bob is safe behind his corner.

Lumori, his hair singed, ducks into the 'Activity Room.' As soon as he opens the doors, he is greeted by the site of five red spheres, their mouths chomping hungrily, and burping up odious fumes. They swarm the thief, attempting to jump on various parts of his anatomy...(next round).

-------

Bob wailed in agony. He was unhurt, but just lost Pookie, Kassandra, and their bodyguards. "Fight fire with fire! Fight fire with fire!" He told himself, psyching himself up, then unstrapping his heavy artillery once more steps around the corner, as soon as the flames die down.

"You killed Pookie!" he shouts in a language only he understands (and Thorgir) and aims a huge unidentifiable weapon at all those still in the corridor.

(Initiative (once Meleana, Somnak, and Brin have acted): Bob rolls 5. Gorbels V. Lumori only (for this round), roll a 4)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#399

The undead Stunjelly squirmed, hissed, and died.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#400

As soon as the madman stepped out from the corner again, Meleana ran up, flung up her hand, clawed the air and shouted her spell.
< "Yeouch-Matho-Malaboomba!" >

Casting Summon Insects on Bob. (19:36:37) Minion: Gossamer rolls 1d100 and gets 23. Giant Ants? Please say Giant Ants! :P

And then I don't remember if it was another d100, (19:37:35) Minion: Gossamer rolls 1d100 and gets 67.

Duration 5 Rounds during which Bob can't do jack and no saving throw. Hehehehe. :twisted: