Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe] — Legacy Forums

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#321

Staring in chock at the deception, Meleana grew angered. She had defended that wretched one-eye?! Sure, it had been an honest mistake, she didn't recognize all humans in the village, how could she, they were plentiful and short lived, still it irked her. She threw out her hand and called for the forces of nature, though this was an unnatural place, it was still situated on the ground, and soon enough vines and branches broke forth from the floor and wrapped themselves around the clever beast. Thorns biting into his flesh, vines moving like a snake, constricting and holding him in place.

I cast Entangle.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#322

With an urgency born of a hundred battles, Ardhalas plucked two new arrows from ŧhe quiver. He had witnessed first hand what enemy spellcasters could do, hence the Outguard's Standing Rule; if it chants, if it casts, then it dies first.

His troubled allies had charged the one-eyed monstrosity, so he aimed high, for the cyclops was taller than any partymember.

ooc: thaco 14, but perhaps -2 or something for aiming high? roll 1 = 19, roll 2 = 12. damage is 4+1 and 1+1.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#323

Lumori

Witless imbecile. I should have painted his innards across that lift when I had the chance. Never one to cover for fools, Lumori was especially in no state of mind to care about what the onrushing Lumina was going to do to his companion. In lieu of yelling or otherwise drawing attention to himself, the thief instead slunk around the statues, attempting to find a good vantage from which he could unleash a flurry of blood.

Using his luckless companion as a distraction and bait, Lumori attempts to get behind Kismet so he can backstab her from the shadows. Necessary rolls, oh GM?

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#324

Lumori and the Lumina

(ooc: i'd recommend a 'hide-in-shadows'/'move silently' combo ftw). PC vs PC, so exciting! :D

Kismet's flamberge ended Yurhak's life before he could even add a gurgle, as she painted him many shades of red.

Myhak screamed, "Brother!", and charged the alien female with his spear. In moments it would all be over for Myhak as well.

Lumori took this time to skulk and disappear amidst the shadows of the myriad statues...

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the combatants, twin sword-wielding, stone statues of nubile, nude women, silently stepped from their pedestals on the other side of the vast chamber.

(ooc: technically, i will assume Myhak is destroyed with Kismet's next attack, so now initiative between Lumori and the Lumina. If Lumori succeeds in his rolls, his next attack could be a back-stab for double dam. If Kismet wins, she would still have to locate the thief somehow.)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#325

(ooc: Melior spell-crafting reveals a Slow spell about to be cast. The gas was being pumped through the malleable, steel-like sleeves from inside the walls of the chamber. He can't easily identify the gas from casual observation.)

Once again, like back in the village, the Seneschal receives the brunt of the companions assault.

As Thorgir prepared to attack once more, his world goes suddenly silent, courtesy of Brin, further adding to the chaos. The half-orc, finally free of the entangling inorganic tubes, snarls (silently!) and rises to attack anew.

Melior's Magnificent Missiles strike the cyclops unerringly, once more causing him anguish. But now Melior is silenced as well.

Then Meleana of the Jungle casts her spell, and an eruption of vines, thorns, and spikes entangle the cyclops, as he howls (silently!) in frustration, his single eye, blood-shot and teary.

But finally the Seneschal manages to cast his spell, and suddenly, Melior, Somnak, Thorgir, find themselves in some sort of magical, invisible morass, an almost dream-like sequence of events, as their limbs react in slow motion, despite their brain's urging.

Thorgir particularly, slowed and silenced, was a bit discombobulated.

That left Brin, Ardhalas, and Meleana on the outside of the chamber, unslowed.

Like clockwork, two more arrows fire from Ardhalas' bow, striking at the neck and shoulder of the d**nable beast, who rages now in pain (silently!), temporarily detained by Meleana's floral trap.

(ooc: 14 points damage done to cyclops. Initiative for all. Cyclops rolls a 5. Ardhalas, Brin, and Meleana can attack freely if initiative is won. Melior, Somnak, and Thorgir are slowed. The cyclops saves with a 15 vs entangle however, and is not slowed by 50% due to the spell. The cyclops is however, under effects of the Silence spell, due to Thorgir's proximity. Phew, that's a mouthful. :))

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#326

"Come forth, vile minion, and show me the way to this place's master!" Kismet bellowed as the assailants fell apart in pieces, the first peasant cleaved from shoulder to hip, the other bereft of his head and raised arms. Puddles of carmine rapidly spread, and were as swiftly devoured by the porous floor.

"He holds my king's rightful due! Step forth, and be spared - or skulk and die. I have foes to waste, not time."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#327

The Half-Orc and his silent companions had ripped a steel door of its hinges, and now stormed madly into the rejuvenation chamber, which was occupied by a one eyed giant of a man.

The all to familiar sound of chanting had spurred Ardhalas into action, and he had already sent 4 arrows at the creature. All his missiles had hit their mark, as Ardhalas knew they would, but now his allies fumbled about inside the chamber, reeling about like drunken men.

I have to do everything myself, Ardhalas thought smugly.

The all too familiar hiss of gas sounded from the room, and their One-Eyed foe had somehow slowed the hapless would-be slayers. Now their reactions seemed like the movements of the rainbow slugs he had silently observed as a child, and the Cyclops was like the Crimsonbeak Bird, come to swallow them whole.

It is all up to me now, Ardhalas thought, and reached for two new arrows.

His haste was great, and he moved like fluid, dropping into a crouch, but one of the arrows got stuck in the quiver, and as he pulled the arrows out, the rest of the quiver followed.
It was raining elven missiles. Not on the enemy, but onto the floor, and in his confusion, Ardhalas dropped his bow, trying to stop the arrows somehow.

He could feel his cheeks reddening, could feel the burning flame of shame as it spread over his face.

"Oh... Oh, what a mess. I... eh...", he said as he picked up his bow and two arrows.

OOC: Even though the Cyclops won initiative, I post first. It doesn't matter, Ardhalas fumbled his attack roll and spends the first attack dropping the bow, the next attack picking it up again. So... I rolled a 10 initiative and fumbled my attack. At least I didn't kill any of you guys. That is the Cyclops Job. :p

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#328

The cyclops was enraged beyond reason now. He moved his lips to cast but no sound came forth. Screaming silently, he lunged at the "coming" Thorgir. To Ardhalas, Meleana, and Brin, it all appeared surreal, as the cyclops barreled into the slow-motioned barbarian. Somehow in its hysteric rage, the first clawed fist sailed wide of Thorgir, but the second collided with his temple, sending the barbarian reeling in slow motion, as blood and saliva erupted from his head. The cyclops now bared his huge teeth in a maniacal grin. He would bite Thorgir's face next. The Seneschal was in full-blown berserk mode.

The former Outguard commander swore under his breath at his rarest of misses. He would not miss again.

(ooc: (14:25:53) Minion: Murometz rolls 2d20 and gets 7,13. Minion: Murometz rolls 1d8 and gets 8. So 8+1, 9 points of damage to Thorgir. And now everyone else attacks)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#329

Melior cursed vibrantly and loudly about the uselessness of clerics and silence spells. Of course, with that thrice-d**ned spell of that thrice-cursed cleric still in effect, only the cyclops could understand what he was saying, and only then if he could read lips.

He did pause his cursing of that d**ned daughter of a drunkard to curse the cyclops for slow spells, but not as much as the aforementioned daughter; Melior could understand using magic to inhibit your enemies. What he could not understand is that female fiend's friendly fire. d**n her!

Now he was reduced to physical combat, made all the worse because of the slow spell. And with Ardhalas either being a clumsy buffoon or hiding his cowardice, Thorgir getting his butt kicked, and Somnak... Doing whatever idiocy half-orcs do, Melior was the last person capable of offense.

Well, there was Meleana. And Brin, if she removed her head from her a** and focused on, say, the ENEMY???

Melior sighed into the silence, and drew out his dagger. He raised it much-too-slowly, mentally corrected his form, and threw it as the cyclops.

(15:02:42) Minion: caesar193 rolls 1d20 and gets 9. Miss

Naturally, it had to sail above the cyclops head. Of course, this wouldn't have happened if, say, Melior could use Magic Missile. But no, Brin had apparently decided that stopping their most powerful ally from aiding in the combat was a good thing.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#330

Once again, Meleana called upon her innate druidic powers, pointed towards the cyclops and cast...

Insect Swarm.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#331

And just like that, twin dog-sized ants, came crawling from some passageway, and dutifully entered the healing chamber, which at this moment was anything but.

The ants made for the cyclops' legs, their mandibles clacking viciously. The Seneschal paused, as he attempted to eat Thorgir's face, and opened his mouth to scream again. No sound came. He then began thrashing his legs in a frenzy, losing his grip on Thorgir, as the ants attacked.

(ooc: Murometz rolls 2d20 and gets 7,18. One of the ants misses, but the other's mandibles sink into the cyclops' thigh. 4 points damage. The cyclops tries to get rid of the ants. Brin's attack to go.)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#332

From Brin's point of view, silencing a moron that didn't have the intelligence or wisdom to step backwards from the conflict, and out of the area of silence? Feature, not a bug. It was easy enough for her to move swiftly, focusing her rage into a palpable mass of darkness that shot out from her hands, though far wide of it's mark...

(18:10:10) Minion: Siren_no_Orakio rolls 1d10 and gets 1.
Spirit hammer cast, aaaaand:
(18:14:36) Minion: Siren_no_Orakio rolls 1d20 and gets 1.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#333

(ooc: I just realized that the Seneschal can do nothing but fend off the two giant ants next round. Someone kill him. Put the poor cyclops out of his misery! You all attack again

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#334

L, K

"...I have foes to waste, not time."

she whirled about, intently looking for movement from the hiding one, amidst the endless statuary. But all was still. At least he was not so foolish as to engage her, as his compatriots had, but why wouldn't he answer her? Did he think her a monster?

Suddenly she spies movement peripherally, but its not the skulker.

Awkwardly making their way towards her from the opposite hall, with an eerie, silent gait, are two marble statues of naked human women. Their nubile forms nearly achieve perfection of sculpted artistry. Each one wields a wicked-looking curving longsword, but no emotion shows in either one's lifeless eyes.

--

Lumori sees them as well, as he silently makes his way amidst the shadows of the room. But they do not see him.

(ooc: Initiative. Caryatid Columns roll 6)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#335

Shame still burning on his cheeks, Ardhalas once again trained his arrows at the chest and shoulders of the now raging Cyclops... And in spite of trembling fingers, he let his arrows fly!

OOC: THAC0 14. First attack: 7, Second attack: 18. I take it for granted I miss on the first, the second does 4+1 = 5 damage

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#336

Somnak finally untangled himself from the tubes, rearing up. He dropped his iron spike and turned to face the Cyclops. A magical tingling washed over him and he found himself moving at a slothful pace.
In his rage, Somnak raised his face up and roared to to the roof, only for the sound of his scream to be suddenly cut off mid-yell!

What had happened!? A magical silence had come over the room; Brin's spell had taken effect.
But there was no peace in the silence for Somnak. Within his head, the spirits that raged within raised their voices to a cacophony of screams that overwhelmed his senses. For the first time, the party saw a look of abject terror come upon the Half-Orc's face. His Ancestors... He could hear them screaming of their deaths and torment in the afterlife!

Somnak began clawing at his own head and flailing about! His movements were slothful; like wading through water, but the actions were obviously frantic. Without the constant hullabaloo the living world made, Somnak's tormenting spirits had free reign to barrage his mind with their wails.

Eventually, one voice raised up before all others; that of his Orcish father. "Roulkh Saarl'kiln hil'rok, Somnak" it spoke. "You are weak! This is not the Orc I raised! What happened to the Somnak of the great skirmish of Slarn!?" Where is my son that slew the elves of Elithra outpost the stole their women!? You seek to change your ways, my Son, but an Orc you will always be! What happened to the demonic fury of the Orc of Tainted blood, who rose to reapect within the clan? What happened to the Orc who slew his own father in glorious combat - my proudest day was the day you took my head and proved your place in our tribe! You cannot fight the blood, Somnak. Let the blood speak for you and fight! FIGHT!! KILL!!"

Somnak screamed a silent scream and pulled out his Qullan Sword, hefting it with both hands and swinging with all his fury at the neck of the Seneschal; spittle was frothing at his mouth and his eyes were unfocused as his Orcish blood took over once more.

Attack roll: 19
Damage, 1d8 +3, +3 str bonus.
= 8!!!
14 dmg. Suck it, Seneschal!

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#337

Ardhalas' shaft pierced the cyclops' mid-section, sinking deep. The monster and false priest is studded with arrows and broken shafts now...

Raging on a level only another orc might comprehend, Somnak swims through the morass, and cleaves the cyclops' head clean off its muscle-knotted neck, sending the one-eyed sphere flying through the air, and smashing against a wall. Despite the slow-motion strike, the head flew real-speed, making for a weird visual. The Seneschal's head rolled around a bit, and finally settled with its malignant eye staring straight up.

The Seneschal was no more, and once more Thorgir was covered in blood head to foot.

Meleana's ants clacked their mandibles a few times and vanished.

All was quiet except for some seeping gas, still pumping through the chamber, courtesy of the severed tentacle.

(ooc: rolled...Somnak's Qullan blade blunts down to +2/+2 :()

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#338

The cyclops was slain! But Somnak did not stop there. He booted the headless corpse over to the ground and plunged his Qullan sword into its chest, straining his muscles and still roaring silently! He cleaved the humanoid's midsection open from neck to groin and then flung his sword violently away from him, it hammering into the wall outside of the wall of silence with a loud clattering. The furious Half-orc sunk to his knees and grabbed the cyclopses flesh where he had torn it open and pulled with all his might! The force of it opened up the rib cage, exposing the beast's failing heart, but Somnak kept pulling. Finally, his prize tore free: a sizable chunk of the cyclops's skin tore away from its body.

blood soaked the Orcish warrior's entire body, and he reveled in it. Still on his knees, Somnak clawed his fingers into the flesh of the Cyclops and dropped his head into the opened cavity, fangs chewing as he feasted on the raw, warm meat of the kill. The voices in his head cheered a frenzied accolade as insanity overwhelmed the Orc. In the odd silence of the room, the Half-Orc turned to his bestial roots. in front of his own companions, he feasted.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#339

Thorgir was a mass of frustration, assailed by sorcery by foe and friend alike.

He turned away from the grotesque spectacle that Somnak was engaging in.
It seemed a little excessive, but then again he was no orc.

His jaw smarted from where the thing had punched him. He counted his teeth with his tongue, and found happily that all were still present and accounted for.

He wondered how long the sorcerous silence would enshroud him - not being able to hear put him on edge, almost as if he were partially blind.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#340

As the cyclops died, so did the silence, the spiteful enchantment fading away and filling the air with the damp, sickening sounds of the half-orc eating. The rage, the bloodlust, this was something the dark priestess could approve of. Though, she had made her own promises. Drawing her sacrificial knife, she waited patiently for the orc to finish. She had intentions for the heart ... to char it in offering to her god, and perhaps take a little nibble herself. As she waited, though, she looked about, frowning at the hissing gas.

"If we can put this room back in order, it might be useful to us. The healing here is beyond what I can yet perform."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#341

Lumori

The shadows hid him decently, but it was well-trained light feet that kept the scuffle of footsteps from giving him away to Kismet as he edged closer to her backside for a deadly strike. Likely that was the only reason the statues did not notice him either. Clarity slid through the bloodlust raging in his being.

You can kill the female later, assuming she survives. She might attack you, afterwards. Those statues will. Nodding slightly to himself in determination, Lumori silently made his way back around the unmoving statues to get behind the pair that were in motion. Then with a burst of speed, he lunged forward and planted both knives right in the back of the nearest Caryatid. Disappointingly, no blood coated his knives and hands. He growled in frustration.

Init: (21:37:23) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d10 and gets 5.
Attack: (22:12:45) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d20 and gets 19. So...close...
Damage: (22:18:44) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 2d4 and gets 1,3. 4*2 = 8 damage total
Weapon Break #1: (22:24:50) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d100 and gets 32. Safe!
Weapon Break #2: (22:24:56) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d100 and gets 100. Safe!

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#342

The sound returned to the area, drowning out the gibbering screams and cackles of the spirits within Somnak's head, and slowly, he regained control of himself. He pulled away from the corpse of the Cyclops and stumbled back a couple of steps (allowing room for Brin to move in); shock registering on his face as sanity returned to him. He was bloodied from head to toe with the kill, and the corpse was massacred almost beyond recognition.

He turned to glance at his companions, studying their expressions. First, he rested his eyes on Brin. "The silence..." He said, his voice unusually quiet and unsteady for the Half-orc, "It is torment to me."

His gaze turned then to Meleana, becoming hard as iron. No words were passed, but the expression was clear: He blamed her for pitying the villager and allowing the Seneschal to heal. Yes, she had no way of knowing that it was the Cyclops, but Somnak's blame had already been cast.

To Thorgir, his eyes were steady; he knew the large man would hold no disgust for the way he had acted. The man was a true warrior, and knows, like Somnak, that madness is normality in the heat of battle.

To Melior, his gaze was proud and without remorse. He knew the Elf thought of Somnak as something of a savage, and though there was more to Somnak than that, he enjoyed affirming the notion that the Half-Orc was little more than a dangerous beast.

To Ardhalas, though, Somnak's gaze could not be met. Child of Azul, this Elf had called him. It hearkened back to Myths and Legends passed down, warped and retold in the Orcish tribes. Tales of the fallen Prince Azul, who sealed a pact with a demon and created the Shadow Orcs - a notorious sect of orcs, known for their Brutality and Savagery. Somnak had been fighting long and hard to break free of his Orcish infamy brought upon by his half-blood. But this most recent act by him only affirmed that his heritage ran strong through him.

A flash of shame flushed over his face, before he replaced it with pensiveness. Somnak went to the hall and slumped down to sit against the wall; for the first time in this place, waiting patiently for his companions to finish doing what they desired in the Rejuvenation room. Subconsciously, he eyed the Qullan blade he had thrown all the way out here earlier - he could not bear to pick it up again.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#343

K,L

Lumori's blades were of fine enough stock, and they sank deeply into the ensorcelled marble. His knives caused spider-web bursts to appear on the caryatid's column's smooth stony skin, and he knew he did damage. Silently and effortlessly, the naked statue whirled around and swung across in a long arc with her long-sword, which was now made of steel and no longer stone. But Lumori ducked low, more agile than any animated statue, and the stone-woman missed her mark. (ooc: C.C. rolled a 6 on attack roll)

The other statue, identical to the first, raised her sword against Kismet by default. Her soulless eyes of jet-flakes met the Lumina's...

(ooc: unfortunately Lumori's 8 points of damage becomes 4, due to his weapons being non-magical.)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#344

The Elf's nerves had ceased playing their tricks on his fingers, and with trained precision he picked up the remaining arrows, and slung the quiver back in place.
While the dark skinned beauty led Thorgir in an attempt to repair the rejuvenation chamber and the Azul engorged himself with the blood of the fallen, Ardhalas did as he had always done after battle; he searched the fallen, and reprieved them of their belongings.

"It is time for answers, I think", Ardhalas said, his mihtril gleaming like the silvery scales of the Tharkfish. He found an old tome, covered with leather, with much blood and stranger things on it.
He tried to wipe off the blood on the book by scraping the cover against the wall, but was only partially successful. Then he found a toe-ring partially hidden by mucus, sweat and blood. It had grown into the toe itself, so Ardhalas unceremoniously cut the toe off and cleaned it with a piece of cloth from the Cyclopean robe. Searching further he found that the robe of the Cyclops had been totally ruined, cut into a thousand pieces, then shredded by the mighty rage of Somnak. But he took the belt tassle off, and was able to salvage three of the six arrows he had fired.

"I offer the peace of the bonfire, and invoke the treaty of Suthras", he said in a clear voice, as if it was only natural that they understood what he meant.

Looking at Melior, noticing his hungry stare at the spellbook, he spoke once more.

"We need answers, and i need spells. I shall study the contents of this here tome, then I give it to you, for study and for emergency use".

Ardhalas had already cleaned out a little corner, and he sat gently down, closing his eyes in meditation.

"First I shall identify what manner of items this one eyed monstrosity carried, then I shall read our fates, and, the gods willing, mayhaps divine some answers that will guide us towards our destiny"

OOC: First copy select spells using the helmet of reading languages, then cast detect and identify, then rememorize spells. Later, Bob and PCs willing, Ardhalas shall perform a prophetic reading of the gathered party members. Soooo.... I need answers. What spells are there in the tome, what kind of magic items are there (if any).

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#345

Giant ants! More than she had hoped for, now the others could see her worth! But the triumph turned to disgust as the battle abruptly ended in slaughter and worse still! Meleana turned away from the scene in disgust, dimissing her ants.

When the pig-man had stopped gorging, Meleana turned back and met his gaze. She silently mouthed monster and didn't like how he looked at her, she held her hands on the pommels of her scimitars and half pulled them out when he stepped forward, but he seemingly had no interest in her after all. What had she allied herself with, were these any better than the watching egg? She didn't know, but she suddenly knew with certainty that it would be better for her village if some of these brutes never returned from the pyramid.

As Ardhalas called for a bonfire, Meleana sat down with Melior, seeking comfort. It was hard vying for his attention as he chiefly had eyes for the newly found spellbook, she pulled on his arm like a child. < "What is that....thing?" > She whispered and indicated towards Somnak.
< "Are you sure we can trust it? It seems little more than a wild animal. You said they were better than the quallan, yet this one feeds on two-legged flesh just as they do. I don't feel safe with them, Melior." >
She complained as her boa encased them both in a friendly embrace as it ventured onto Melior's shoulders.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#346

Shit, points for Melior, thought Thorgir as it seemed the druidess had shifted from the new elf back to the old. Or perhaps she was simply playing both. The new elf was certainly far less 'delicate'.

He saw the looks between her and Somnak and shrugged. He knew how that sort of thing ended.

Thorgir was many things, and the problem with the infernal machine appeared fairly simple. The pipe was cut, so the pipe could be un-cut. The scraps of robe, still damp with blood, would serve and Thorgir simply lashed the pipes together. He put the thoughts of what magic the machine might have in it away and thought of it as purely a physical operation.

He knew that sinew and leather would do a better job than the scraps of robe, but rough as he was, he could not bring himself quite to that level.

"Anyone have Tallow or cording? "

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#347

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#348

Ha! There he was, the dark-clad man, assailing targets far more suitable than his addled brethren.
The blood spattered across Kismet's countenance was slowly devoured by her skin, making once more room for the light within to shine forth.

A split second, she evaluated whether to join the rogue's battle, only to realize that the guardians would follow her after his death, perhaps distracting her from the treasure's keeper. "Lejonet fran Norden!" she intoned, as the knights of Brandburg had for hundreds of years, warning all who stood before them about the nature of their foe.
Ignoring the statue obviously aware of her, she threw herself against the caryatid battling the brigand, her armored shoulder crashing against its back, followed by a boot's kick and strike of the flamberge.

Can't roll for s**t, rolled 4 to hit, could connect only if its AC is 8 or worse.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#349

It was like striking, well, stone. Kismet's first swing with her flamberge glanced off the animated statue, sending sparks flying. The statue whirled once more to face its new assailant, while the other swung her blade at the moving Lumina, striking her shoulder-blade. Kismet felt the warm, wetness ooze from her flesh, even as she re-positioned herself to attack again.

(ooc:Minion: Murometz rolls 1d20 and gets 18. Minion: Murometz rolls 2d4 and gets 2,4. 6 points of damage to Kismet. Initiative for both Lumori and Kismet. C.C.'s roll a 7.)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#350

For the first time since the village feast, the companions rest...

Ardhalas looked up from his scrying of the cyclops' possessions with a thin smile. His work was complete. He now closes his eyes once more and begins to meditate, re-charging his magical potency. When he wakes, he will cast from his mysterious deck of prophecy.

Somnak sits a bit away from the others, gripped by a melancholy reverie. He sits beside the entrance of the next corridor, from which he had ripped free the metal hatch earlier. A draft blows down from this unexplored tunnel, and Somnak gets a whiff of sulfur on the breeze. For a moment, he does a double-take down the hallway. For a second there, he thinks he sees a floating red ball, hovering in the tunnel ahead, some distance away. When he looks again, there is nothing down the long, eerie hall. Perhaps his mind was still playing tricks on him after his soul-drenching rage, he postulates and sighs.

At Brin's urging, and with various "ingredients" they salvage from everyone's "equipment", Thorgir works on fixing the pipe. (ooc: Need some sort of simple roll here val, like a successful int check, or a "plumbers touch" roll or something :P If successful, everyone can take turns "rejuvenating")

Meleana and Melior sat in quiet conversation. Her boa was wrapped around both of them now, like a serpentine scarf, not really keeping them warm, but keeping warm itself.

All was quiet, as the companions recuperated.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#351

"It would seem to be fixed, whatever _it_ is. Brin, I would commune with your lord rather than subject myself to such sorcery as this, but the rest of you seem far more - accustomed - to such strangeness."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#352

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#353

Kismet & Lumori

(ooc: Echo rolled a party initiative and lost)

The battle raged on...

The Caryatid that struck her once already, swung again, but this time Kismet's flamberge met the statue's steel-sword blade against blade, and another shower of sparks erupted. (Murometz rolls 1d20 and gets 13.)

Meanwhile the other column attempted to skewer the lizard-like Lumori, as he darted from statue to statue, and danced around the attacking woman of stone with his knives. (ooc:Murometz rolls 1d20 and gets 2. Feck!). But she missed, as Lumori ducked down for another thrust with his daggers...

(ooc: you two attack now)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#354

"Nice moves, brigand" Kismet lauded Lumori's strike, only to feel the blade of the neglected caryatid pass through her shoulder.
Were the foes alive, she'd delight in punishing them for such a daring act. It was a pity the stone women were bloodless, unfeeling!

She swerved with a roar reminiscent of the fire emblazoned upon her shield, fury reflected in her narrowed eyes, all-consuming star-fire of the soul. Reaching deep inside into the fount of power that sustained her, the armored amazon brought the weight of her shield smattering across the caryatid's blissfully oblivious features, following with a feral strike against the exposed neck of the swaying statue.

An explosion of white dust erupted from the pulverized marble, the head rolling off into a corner, leaving the decapitated guardian swerving.
Rolled a critical hit, for 24 damage.

Not gloating nor resting, Kismet continued her motion, grabbing the headless adversary by its slender legs, and bringing it in a wide arc against its sister, stone clattering against stone, the lifeless statue crumbling to debris upon impact, its twitching limbs strewn to the corners - except for the leg, which Kismet threw against the still standing caryatid's face, breaking off its delicate nose.
11 damage to the other stone-cold hussy

Still the automaton advanced, and Kismet picked up her sword in a backwards roll.

"I guess it still does not have enough?"

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#355

Ardhalas laughed as Meleana pulled Melior into a private chamber, and threw the belt tassel at her as she did so.

"Tie him up, maiden of the festivities!", he said in High Elven, knowing that only she and Melior would understand.

"Oh, and the item is magical and will enable you to change appearance into that of another person, or humanoid if you want. It is your chance to be an orc, Meleana!"

Meleana catched the tassel and left with Melior. Ardhalas was sure she didn't appreciate his humor, but it was a friendly gesture nonetheless. She had the frailty of innocense about her, and Ardhalas feared she would break down if not tended. Certainly a tryst with Melior would do her good, and perhaps the Elven lovers would find some solace and sanctuary in there, away from the Azul brute and his sinister companions.

The hours passed and he studied and meditated, memorized and wrote down spells. The lizardfinger pen was dipped in the Orthsnail inkwell time and time again, as he copied the One-Eyed Mage's spells over to his own spellbook.

It seemed as the lovemaking would never end, and Ardhalas arched an eyebrow in surprise over Meliors stamina and prowess. But the sounds also brought back memories, and Ardhalas fell into thoughts of happier days, and how he had chased a laughing Meleilé through the meadow, and they fell into a bundle in the grass. He could clearly see her eyes, how they fixed upon him, and he started banging his head slowly into the stone wall behind him.

Thud... Thud... Thud... Thud...

Tears were running down his cheeks until they hit his facial brand, then they trickled down the scar and dripped down on his cloak.

Ardhalas abruptly rose, wiping his tears with the end of the cloak, then approached Somnak, the Azul Warrior.

"Mighty Child of Azul, I bring you this item of power! This ... ring, that I found on our vanquished foe, it is of a protective nature and will surely deflect many a sword blow from your innards!"

Ardhalas ceremoniously placed the ring in Somnak's open palm, then headed over to Thorgir. "Thorgir, noble creature, you said earlier that you wanted the helm. Well... Here it is. It is an item of understanding, and it will make you understand all languages as if they were your native tongue!"

Then he walked over to Melior's backpack and dropped the blood-smeared spellbook beside it.
Facing Brin, he smiled. "Seems like you and me will have to wait our turn", he said.

*******************
The Reading
The lovemaking was less intense now, and Ardhalas thought he heard Melior's content snoring.

"I have so many questions...", he stated. "And I guess you have too"

And with that, the Elf picked a deck of wooden cards from his lizardskin pouch. The cards were painted a crimson-grey color, a rorschach pattern on the back of each card. A musty smell of age, blood and iron assailed the nostrils of the partymembers, and as Somnak walked over, Ardhalas looked him in the eye.

"Child of Azul, do you care for fate? Do you want to the consult the spirits, and get one answer from them this night?"

Looking grim, a haunted expression on his face, the half-orc sat down without a word, and drew a card from the deck.

"Put it down on the ground", Ardhalas instructed softly, and Somnak gently laid it down, backside up. There was a slight trembling in the room, and a loud crack from beneath the card. A crack in the stonework, about 6 inches long, had erupted from where he put down the card. Slightly unnerved, and staring accusingly at the fissure, Somnak spoke, as if addressing some unseen spirits.

"Is there hope for me? Or am I chained by the call of my tainted blood."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#356

It was with a brutal swiftness that the priestess carved the heart from the cyclops, smiling wickedly as she hefted its weight in her tiny black hand. It would make a worthy sacrifice to her lord and master. A few brief words in the ancient tongue of ceremony, and it was aflame in her hands. "Deus in corde offero tibi, ut nostra in! Dirigendum affectus animo, ut nos inflammet eos et virtus!"
More difficult for her to dig out, due to the... messy rearrangement of the creature's innards was its gall bladder. The bile would be useful of its own accord.

To Somnak, first, she would minister, as he addressed her in trembling tones of the silence. Not in the common tongue, but in the harsh, gutteral tones of modern orcish. ""

Turning then to the machinery, she produced the tallow, stripping it away from the wick of a candle to seal up the pipery. A simple enough matter, but it was strange, and she feared that they might miss something whose purpose they did not understand. The helm of transliteration would be of some help, to be certain, but it was work fraught with some level of uncertainty almost regardless of what she might read from the system itself. And then, work completed, it was time to minister to Thorgir's body. "If such ministrations you would have, then kneel." Placing her hands upon him again, she began to intone the prayers, aloud and in common this time. "Lord of passions, we plead of you - As you grant to us purity of purpose, grant us wholeness of body to fulfill that purpose!" Once more, the rage filled her hands, driving the warrior's body to heal itself with unnatural swiftness, no matter the pain it might cause..
7 hp healed total across two castings.

While the timing of the elves was perhaps poor, at some level, the priestess approved. Her god would sup well tonight upon the passions from this small group, it would seem... "I did not come here for sorcerous treasures, but to fulfill the will of my lord. That is sufficient" Any other proposition, she fully (and willfully) ignored.

TO fill the spare moments, she knelt herself, and began to pray.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#357

Lumori

Knives were not the most effective weapon in a sword-fight, and especially not when your opponent is made of stone. But Lumori managed, using the immobile statues surrounding the double-duo of combatants to as much advantage as he could. He feinted a few times, but his few attempts to nick his opponent ended in a grind of metal on stone and no damage of note.

The thief watched as Kismet fell into a berserker-like combination of attacks, tearing the Caryatid he'd been fighting with to bits. No, knife fighting was definitely not something worthwhile when fighting statues. They didn't even bleed! What point is there in the back and forth parry and riposte if your opponent doesn't even feel the thirst that comes from losing too much blood? Frustrated, the thief lashed out at the remaining statue, stabbing away as he had the first time, instead of the bleeding-cuts that characterized his normal knife fighting.

Attack: (23:53:21) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d20 and gets 13.
Damage (if successful): (23:58:05) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 2d4 and gets 4,2. 6 total, 3 after DR.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#358

The chamber door opened with a hiss. Out stepped the two elves, refreshed and smiling.
Meleana took center stage, unashamed, revelling in the attention. Especially from Ardhalas. She ran her fingers through her hair and stretched, showing off her curvaceous body. She wanted him to want her. This was just the kind of confidence boost she needed with the battle coming up.

Normally she would have drawn the courtship out for weeks or even months, but she well knew that these could be her last hours alive, and time was of the essence. She needed to claim Melior as hers, in case he fell in battle, at least now she would hopefully have his seed. But if she died, well, there was no point planning for that in either case. Though she would have someone save her sister no matter what, and she wasn't planning on dying in either case.

She smilingly locked arms with Melior and walked to the others, presenting her latest conquest.

She looked at the tassel she had received. A magical means to diguise yourself. There was some potential there, she decided. Perhaps an opportunity would present itself.

Seeing the wooden deck with pictures on it, Meleana sat down to watch what the scarred elf and the pig-man was up to. It looked like magic was afoot...

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#359

(ooc: Written with AG's sagely guidance, guiding me! :))

Somnak looked up hesitantly at Ardhalas from the crack in the stone below the card. The Thaur of the Haulor nodded ever so slightly and lowered his lids, as if to reassure the half-orc…

Ardhalas started speaking, "It is the knight of war...", when suddenly a cold wind burst from the fissure in the floor, followed abruptly by a slow smoke, which began to seep from the crack. Somnak flipped the card, and a knight in bloodied armor was painted on it, his sword covered in entrails, one of his eyes pierced by an arrow. Somnak had to look twice; it was almost as if he could see the blood still running down along the rim of the knight's helmet.

Meleana's eyes widened as she watched from a distance…

The smoke seemed to fill the hallway, though did not burn their eyes or nostrils. Nay, it was the Spirit-Smoke which hung in the air around them now.
Ardhalas opened his eyes then, and Somnak noticed they were milked over…

The Elf began to speak in a voice that was not his own.

“Are you a weakling, Somnak the Azul? Are you a weakling that sits like an old woman, alone in shadows, pondering your worth? You are a creature of War! The call to battle sang in your veins, long before your mother pressed you out on the wooden cottage floor in your home village…

“You are destined for great things…” Ardhalas trailed off, and the Spirit-Smoke now clouded the entire chamber.

Suddenly Somnak could see through the smoke. The orc village! Where he was raised. Where he was taught the Hunt. Where he was bonded with the spirits of the Great Race!
He saw the witch then! The old crone who had haunted and taunted him with her prophecies. She cackled as she saw Somnak in turn, cackled and spat in his direction. But he was not here to see the witch, no. He was to meet the Knight of War!

Ardhalas began speaking again, once more with voices that were not his own. This time an eerie child’s voice…and then another voice began speaking, at the same time as the child spoke, and after a short while several voices spoke through Ardhalas at once.

"You are our witness"
"Shield of our people"
"Voice of our fallen"
" Father-slayer!"
"Somnak Half-Blood"

The witch held something in her lap, and as Somnak peered closer, his heart racing and threatening to explode form his body, he could see it was his father’s head.

The eyes in the head opened then.

"Is there hope for me? Or am I chained by the call of my tainted blood."

“You ask that?! ” His father's voice raged.

“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?

"Your fate was sealed when you were conceived. Think you that one can choose? Nay, you suspect the truth of things."

“Know this, spawn of my loins; patricide is a curse among the humans and elves, but not among us! 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?

"You were marked by the ancestors, born with a caul, and so spirits sought you out. Do you not understand why?! Do you not listen to them when you pound your drums? When you dance with your demons? When you drink your enemies steaming blood?"

"You were born to kill and to inspire those who kill. And more, you were born to lead our kind to new victory!"

"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!”

The head paused in its speech, and the cackling hag holding it, howled in glee, staring at Somnak with penetrating eyes. “He needs proof!” she hisses at the head.

Somnak sat motionless, his head pounding. He was biting his tongue and tasting his own warm blood as his father spoke.

Then his father added mysteriously,

“You shall know your enemy always more than skin-deep. You will always know what it takes to slay any foe henceforth.”

“You are free to choose Somnak. And yet you are not. And yet, you already have. You are chained by the weaknesses of your mother. Break free! Live to kill! And others shall follow you! And Azul shall rise again!”

With that the eyes of the head closed, and the witch tosses it into a nearby bonfire! His father's head explodes in a shower of blood, flame, and ash.

---

The smoke clears in the hallway and chamber, and Ardhalas lets out a scream suddenly, as the conduit that allowed the spirits to speak through the elf, close again. His milky eyes clear and he sits back against the wall, depleted and drenched with perspiration.

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

(ooc: The reading was a "strong" one, and as a "boon of proof" to his question, Somnak can now "know" the nature of any enemy and any foe he faces in battle. In game-terms, he can have intimate knowledge of any adversary's abilities and powers, going forward.)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#360

Meanwhile not so far away

Swirls of stone-dust danced around the chamber now, after the Lumina had wrecked the first statue. Between her pummeling of the second with the first, and Lumori chipping away at the flecks of stone with his fury-filled knives, the second Caryatid now sported a web of cracks along her normally smoothed skin. Her current lack of a nose, marred her flawless appearence as well.

Fortunately for the Caryatid, it knew not vanity nor fear. Only her mission. The silent statue swung her sword once more, attempting to decapitate one interloper or the other. It cared not which.

(ooc: Murometz rolls 1d20 and gets 3. Oh for @!#$'s sake! You two attack. I smell PC victory...)