Guardians of the Citadel — Legacy Forums

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#281

Thom Mell, for that was the man's name, refused of course to be left behind, and managed to somehow acquire a third horse, while the three companions were preparing.

Astride his new mount, an unimpressive nag, he led the largest horse toward Mystic, and the other, a gray speckled beast toward Silveressa. Naturally, the man hoped that his saviors were expert riders. Myst looked up from his chain net, muscles glistening with sweat, and silently hoped the same.

Lucky felt his hackles rising. The hunt. He could not smell the troll at the moment, but the quarry was known, and if it was indeed two miles away, the wolf's snout would fill with troll stench soon enough.

"Let us ride!" Thom Mell yelled and turned his mount toward the gate.

At that moment, Silveressa's sharp elven eyes scanned back toward the castle absentmindedly, and she spied a figure on the outside of the castle's central tower, perilously perched sixty feet or higher over the moat!

Tusserk! What the hell was he doing?!

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#282

"Bloody hell," She cursed softly, shaking her head and briefly debating riding to castle in an attempt to assist Tusserk, the rational side of herself quickly deciding by the time she reached the castle the events in motion would have resolved themselves one way or another and the three of them, (assuming she could signal Lucky in time) would stand little chance storming a castle successfully.

She shook her head and sighed, quickly nudging her horse after Mystic and the Thom, her feeling of obligation to the man who recently purchased all of their troll hunting equipment and was depending on them to rescue his wife and friends pushing her to continue her current course of action.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#283

Taking advantage of the brief chaos, and the guards having two enemies to deal with, Valadaar sprinted to the exit of the room, looking for shadows or other concealment.

Not the front door, that's the first place they would look. He just needed to find an unattended, unbarred window to get out. He had to trust to this body's skills for that.

Assuming he didn't get shot...

Have blindfighting, so will seek the Dark wherever possible..

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#284

A-Team Intro High Quality

Thom, Sil, and Mystic rode like the wind. To his pleasant surprise, Mystic found that his new body (or mind was it?) was perfectly capable of handling a horse. Lucky had little trouble keeping pace, considering the dire-wolf had a good head start on the riders.

Bounding ahead across the ragged, rill-studded terrain, was not fun, but the horses seemed accustomed to the treacherous ground.

Two miles turned into three miles, but at last, Lucky could sense...troll. The dire-wolf paused, nostrils flaring. For a moment the wolf simply inhaled the breeze, then saw something up ahead. Sixty yards at most away. It took a second to figure out what was happening. Lucky gazed upon some creature of nightmare, rising from the very ground, as if sprouting from the dirt. Perhaps emerging from a root cellar? A tunnel? Lucky hesitated (who wouldn't) and studied the figure.

The green horror rose, shook itself off, and like Lucky, started sniffing the air. It then peered at the wolf with its hellish, yellow eyes.

A huge, moss-green humanoid with misshapen over-large features and dirt-matted, turgid, flesh stood squinting at Lucky. Grotesque in every way, humpbacked, stooped, and covered in ocher boils, oozing black sap, all in a nine foot tall package of gangly legs, arms, and stone-like sinew. Its nose stretched a foot long and hung downward, as if from the strain of its own weight. A small toadstool mushroom sprouted from the noses tip.

Disturbingly, the troll was holding a babe, a human child no more than four years of age. The monster held the child by an ankle with one arm, the body dangling dangerously, yet alive. The babe was crying loudly.

Mystic, Sil, and Thom were not far behind Lucky. Their horses snorted and slowed as they smelled troll as well.

"Nooooooo!" Thom Mell cried as he neared, "Willem!!!" The grief-addled merchant charged his mount at the troll. The troll just stood and stared at the new group's approach.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#285

Lucky lowered himself to the ground and powered forward, quickly glancing around for other hidden dangers as he easily by passing the nag Thom was riding, Silveressa's arrow hissing over his head to bury itself to the feathers in the trolls arm, severing its vargus nerve and causing it to drop the child.

With a slight adjustment of angle Lucky pushed himself into a sliding rush and grasping the child's tunic in his jaws, letting his momentum and furred bulkpull the child from the dirt as he rushed past the creature and stopped a dozen yards away to gently deposit the child under a tree and snarl challengingly at the troll, hoping to entice it into pursuit.

From behind him he heard Silveressa call out "Mystic! do a Ride by net toss and I'll light it up!"

Perception roll to spot any other hidden trolls/minions: Minion: Lady_Wolf rolls 1d20 and gets 6. +/- any GM bonus/penalty

Leaping child rescue: Minion: Lady_Wolf rolls 1d20 and gets 13. +/- any GM bonus/penalty

Rolling under Charisma to challenge/anger troll Lady_Wolf rolls 1d20 and gets 3. +/- any GM bonus/penalty

Silveressas's roll for arrow shot- Minion: Silveressa rolls 1d20 and gets 13. +4 bonus = 17
Arrow Damage Silveressa rolls 1d6 and gets 6 +1 bonus = 7

The previous post was written by Lady Wolf and Silveressa in chat then posted here.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#286

edited it entirely
Briefly hesitating, Echo nodded, and whispered to the old man: "If anyone becomes suspicious, tell them I bound you with spells."
Then, the priestess stormed down the stairs - there was no way she could get back to the others or at that treacherous piece of pork.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#287

Mystic hesitated momentarily, taking in the scene before him. It all felt just so unreal.

At Sil's command, he charged forward swinging the net as best he could, only to watch it go wide.

(11:49:35) Minion: MysticMoon rullar 1d20 och får 6.

"Dammit! What do I do now?!"

He wheeled his horse about, back toward the net for a second try, hoping beyond hope that the troll would continue to be occupied by Lucky.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#288

"Try again!" She called to mystic, digging her heels into the horses flank and charging forward flinging the torch as the animal reached full gallop a grin parting her elvish lips as the flaming projectile hammered solidly into the monsters body.

(15:27:55) Minion: Silveressa rolls 1d20 and gets 20. (nat 20's are critical hits right?)

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#289

Val could not help but be impressed with his own speed and agility. It came so easy, so natural, he was a panther!

The sound of a crossbow bolt thudding into the table above him, its point inches from his face, brought him quickly back to reality. He dove for the exit, and another bolt just missed him, clanging off the stone wall. Val sprinted down a corridor without any idea where it may lead...

He came to a fork, more corridors, he picked one and ran, but not before melding into the shadows the periodic torch wall-sconces were casting about the hallway.

Suddenly he froze in his tracks. Twenty feet up ahead was a small moving squadron of guards. Six of them. He was not noticed yet, their backs to him. One of the guards yelled, "She's in the privy! There is no way out! Do not let her speak, she has magic. Shoot to kill!" And they turned left down yet another passage.

Only feet away from where he stood, Val spied a window in the hall. It led out to where else...the moat, about sixty feet below.

Moments ago meanwhile, back in the council chamber, two crossbow bolts flew at Tusserk. The first one missed the monk somehow flying out past him and arching into the moat below. The second bolt however, sunk deep into his left shoulder, and the monk could not help but grunt from its impact. No pain at first, but then a few seconds later, it came. Mind-numbing pain. The bolt was stuck deep in his flesh. Getting it out would be problematic. Assuming he lived to remove it of course...

It took all of his concentration to hang on to the wall without falling, as Tusserk kept climbing and wincing. the pain was intense.

At the same time the bolt had struck Tusserk, the monk's erstwhile spinning spear ricocheting from the window, had brought down the charging castellan. The man collapsed as he ran, the flying spear catching him in the groin. He let out a scream and then moaned, rolling around on the cold stone, his long-axe dropping from his grip.

"Aaaaaargghh! Kill him! Kill him!" He screamed, clutching his privates with both hands. There was blood...

Two guards ran to the window to look up (and down), as they reloaded their crossbows.

The other two guards ran from the hall in pursuit of the thief.

Tusserk grimaced and climbed, and at last he reached another window. Glancing inside he could see old men sitting at a long-table scribing scrolls by candlelight. They did not notice Tusserk at first, their heads buried in their work.

(Rolled last night in chat for bolts...19,5,3,5...5 damage. You guys are lucky only 1 bolt hit. We'll eschew initiative at this point. Your turns. Careful Tusserk, more bolts about to be shot upward at you. You have 2 HPs left I believe :))

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#290

Lucky glanced back briefly, keeping himself comfortably ahead of the troll, Mystic's miss with the net making him growl in frustration, the follow up hit with the flaming torch hopefully slowing the creature and giving them time for a second coordinated assault. He shot a glance over to the man and his child, hoping they had the good sense to get clear of the fight and stand around gawking where they would be easier and more inviting targets for the monstrosity.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#291

"Whenever you start thinking that you know what a troll will do, that is the time to retire."
~Orfeltd Wicknose, captain of the Gnomish troll-slayers brigade.

Many things happened at once...

With her desperate lunge coinciding with Silverresa's perfect arrow shot, ripping through the troll's moss-green arm, Lucky managed to get the screaming child away from the monster, depositing him beside a gnarled dwarf-birch. He then fearlessly turned back toward the troll a mere dozen yards away, baring his sizable fangs.

Not far behind Lucky, came the charging Thom Mell and Mystic, riding down the troll from parallel angles. Mystic's mighty toss of the chain-net fell short however, and the warrior quickly turned his horse to retrieve it. He was successful, as the Troll was momentarily preoccupied with the antics of Thom Mell.

This type of stuff usually gets left out of heroic sagas, but there he was, the desperate father, charging the troll head on. About thirty feet away, Mell's horse buckled, hitting a sharp stone awkwardly with her hoof, and suddenly both horse and Thom went crashing downward and toward the troll, the horse breaking ankles, the rider tossed into the dirt a dozen feet away from the malnourished hulk.

The troll stared at Thom, who was writhing in pain from broken bones on the ground. The troll looked almost cruelly amused...

Amusement turned suddenly into pain however, when Sil's flaming torch smashed directly into the troll's face.

Fire. Agony. The troll made an awful, indescribable sound just then, and swatted at its own face. The torch had melted one of the troll's eyes! (and the toadstool on its nose).

The troll raged, for what else can be expected of a troll beseeched by foes from all sides?

It picked the closest target, the unfortunate writhing Thom, and in moments tore Thom's leg from his body, after first stepping on his head, with a sickening crunch of skull.

Thom's horse moaned in agony unable to rise, a dozen yards away.

Having quickly finished with brave Thom Mell, the troll turned to Lucky, still brandishing Mell's leg, and sized up the giant wolf.

(Okay rolled but on phone not in chat. You'll have to trust me. The troll attacked Thom--you're welcome-- :P and hit all three times. Thom bye-bye. Good warning for the rest of you at least about bad-ass troll attacks. Sil, your "crit" in this case is double damage (that was some torch :P). I rolled a 4, so 8 points of damage, half of it unregeneratable, due to fire in face. You also did 7 with your arrow (another nice shot), so 15 DAM total so far in one round. Not bad. Now initiative, I rolled a 5. Please do 1 group roll. 1d10, lower the better, high dex helps! Lucky's intidimate/piss him off roll, worked actually, so Lucky is definitely troll's next "target".)

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#292

Well, now he knew where Echo was. He fled from five, he wasn't going to confront 6, even if he might be able to get one for free. Sorry echo, lets hope your god really looks out for you.

Some additional chaos might help though. Val cast about for something large and flammable,while listening for any guards. Surely they would check the likely exits and secure the drawbridge.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#293

Shifting his frame quickly into the window in an effort to hide and of his lower fleshy bits from the crossbow bolts, Tusserk kept his eyes on the scribes as he dropped softly to the floor. Moving as silently as possible so as to not disturb the old men as they scribbled, he made his way to the door but not before snatching the first loose scroll he could get his hands on and stuffing it into his belt. Easing the door open slightly, Tusserk looked towards the hinged side to see if a guard was waiting outside.

Figured that to slip in and across the room would use these skills, unless you want a DEX roll
Move Silently: 15%
Hide in Shadows: 10%
(04:37:17) Minion: Tusserk rolls 1d20 and gets 11.
(04:37:24) Minion: Tusserk rolls 1d100 and gets 8.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#294

Silveressa winced at the sudden and disturbing end Thom was confronted with, using the moment of demise and distraction to quickly dismount form the horse and aim the make shift flamer at the troll, closing slowly as she tensed for the spray, "Hey, toadstool face!" She called out, getting the trolls and attention and giving a uneasy look of fear as she noticed it's missing eye and it locked it's hate filled gaze upon her, but at least it was looking in the right direction now.

With a push she dropped to one knee, pressing the bottom handle of the bellows against her other knee and pressing her weight onto the topmost handle, the spray of oil a thick stream as she angled it to hit not only the blazing torch but bathed the troll in its contents as well, trusting she was giving Mystic ample time for a second netting.

(00:47:32) Minion: Silveressa rolls 1d20 and gets 20. (Tusserk, PoisonAlchemist and Murometz were in chat for the roll)

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#295

Saemurn gazed at Echo for a few more seconds, with a strangely remote yet hopeful look, then turned to go, but not before squeezing a crumbled parchment into Echo's hand. Sagetongue nodded at Echo's suggestion.

Echo could hear the guards on the other side of the wall but had no way of knowing Sagetongue's ultimate fate.

The elven priestess continued down the staircase, her thoughts her own. She eventually reached a landing and a moist corridor leading onwards. She figured that she had descended about seventy feet. Continuing down the stone tunnel accompanied by a chorus of dripping water, she finally came to what looked like a sluice gate. Only trickles of water however snaked by her toes now. Trying the rusty gate she found that it opened easily, and another tunnel stretched before her.

A few minutes later, Echo emerged from a damp earthen hole, and felt the cold evening breeze upon his face. Her face. It was all still a bit confusing.

The Four Ways and One. The "One" obviously meant dying. What were the other Four ways into Morena's domain? And also, had he remembered to fill the cat's bowl back home before leaving? Some thoughts came unbidden.

He was once more beyond the castle and town, a good two hundred feet away from the wall. Dusk settled over the pockmarked, treacherous rills of the Lands of the Petty Lords.

Echo uncurled the parchment Saemurn had given him. It was obviously written in haste, but when did the old man have the chance?

"Our Lady sleeps with the eels. Dunsen is a snake. He plots with Webber but plans on betraying him as well. There is no heir. The Roddens are no more. Dunsen seeks the Lady's key. She must have transferred it to her decoy, suspecting treachery. Go forth from this place. Coldmoat is doomed."

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#296

Tusserk breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the scroll room, the agony in his shoulder a grim reassurance the wound wasn't immediately fatal, recalling from his training critical injuries often didn't hurt at all for quite some time. Taking a breath he shouldered open a near by door, ready for a quick take down if necessary, and sighing in relief when he found the room, a scribes quarters by the looks of it, to be thankfully free of occupants.

Wasting little time he quickly slid the deadbolt to the door in place and busied himself with making a quick compress bandage with some strips of blanket, breaking the wooden bolt haft with a gasp of pain, but deciding to leave the head and a few inches of shaft within the wound to prevent blood loss. A quick search of the room revealed a small chest with a couple spare changes of clothing, a straw bed with chamber pot underneath, several candles, and a simple wooden table and chair, the stone floor decidedly cold in the damp weather.

He took a few breaths to calm himself as a plan formed within his mind, one that would hopefully get him out of the castle with a minimum of conflict and create enough of a distraction for his companions to more readily escape as well. After taking a moment to change to pull a spare set of the scribes robes over his body he bent and with one hand he dragged the bed into the center of the room, upending the table and stacking it on top, followed by the chair.

With a grimace of disgust he dunked the woolen blanket into the contents of the chamber pot and dropped it back onto the bed, knowing the damp and now filthy wool would create a nauseatingly foul smelling smoke. With a final check to ensure his makeshift bandage was holding he lit several candles, sliding them underneath the cot where they would quickly set the makeshift bonfire ablaze.

Shouldn't cause too much damage with a stone floor, but the smoke and smell will look serious enough. He thought silently to himself, unbarring the door and waiting for the bundle to properly catch and being belching forth copious amounts of smoke and fire. He opened the door and continued to wait, letting the smoke pour into the corridor and flood the immediate surroundings before taking a breath and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Fire! Fire! Get out while you can! Run for your lives!" He poised himself to quickly blend in with the rest of the scribes who he expected to fill the corridor in panic any second now, planning to follow them out of the castle and lose himself in the ensuring bedlam, the makeshift distraction hopefully drawing most of the guardsmen to the source of the blaze and clearing the route to Echo and Valadaar to escape.

The preceding was written by Silveressa, posting as Tusserk with his permission.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#297

As if on cue, he now heard the groaning gears of the drawbridge being raised.

There was nothing immediately flamm---then Val noticed the tapestry hanging on the wall. Gray and old, it blended into the stone around it, and went on for over a dozen feet along the corridor wall.

Sounds were coming from all over to the thief's ears. It seemed that there were guards everywhere, just not where he was standing at this precise moment.

Approaching the tapestry looking to set it on fire, he hesitated for a brief moment as something caught the corner of his eye. It was a particular scene on the tapestry. Some lordly noble of yesteryear, opening some black-iron vault in what could only be described as some dungeon in the castle's bowels, with an over large black key. The tapestry itself he considered, must have been at least two centuries old.

He fingered his key.

Turning the corner of the corridor at that second, late to the rousing of the guards because he could not find his helm, came a running man in chain mail. In lieu of a crossbow he wielded a glaive.

"H--halt." He shouted breathlessly as he noticed Val quite by accident.

The window was one quick dive away.

Both men stared at each other for a second. "Kill them all!" They heard a feint, muted voice from somewhere in the castle.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#298

The troll looked like he was about to actually leap at Lucky head on, fearless were the trolls, when Silveressa's voice rang out. The troll turned briefly...

"Yaga-Ruhm! Shiggraa Bha-daa-raag!! The troll suddenly screamed. Too bad Dozus wasn't around, troll was one of the languages scrawled on his character sheet.

She didn't know why she knew, but somehow Silveressa understood the "Shiggraa" part of the troll's no doubt eloquent speech. It meant "elf".

The flames from her bellows doused the monster though, just as it turned to lunge at Lucky once more.

The troll burned and howled in ear-shattering decibels.

With an insane leap, the kind of leap the Hulk was fond of making in the Avenger movies, the now burning troll slammed into Lucky...

...but not before Mystic's flying chain-net slammed into the creature in mid air!

The now burning, chain-netted troll bit into Lucky at the same exact moment that the dire-wolf sunk her jaws into the troll's burning, putrid flesh. The troll squeezed the wolf's rib-cage as the two primeval titans rolled on the ground, in a burning, growling, spectacle.

For a moment Sil and Mystic could do nothing but stare, but suddenly wriggling free of the troll and the chain-net, Lucky emerged from the gruesome battle, and staggered toward Silveressa.

The dire-wolf was slicked with black blood and his fur smoked in places! A deep wound could be seen on his flank and neck. Lucky's tongue hung low and the wolf's breath was labored.

The troll struggled beneath the net, slowly rising, then collapsed again.

(Ok, that was kinda how I translated Lucky and troll's simo initiative, with Sil getting first attack, and Myst the last. Let me know if there's issues with the sequence :P. Rolled a bunch. Lucky bit troll hard, 8 DAM, Sil's homemade flamethrower did 7 as well. Myst's net did 5 and pinned it to the ground momentarily. The troll is actually "dead" at the moment ;) Troll did get in his attack in though. Three of three hits succeeded on Lucky for a staggering 19 DAM! Lucky also took 2 DAM from fire. Hope all that made sense. Initiative not necessary. Your move. Troll still wriggling a bit...)

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#299

Lucky whined feebly, eyeing Silveressa with a tired and pain expression before collapsing at her feet in exhaustion; "Next time someone else can play bait." He growled, a feeling of deeper satisfaction at saving the life of the child helping to soothe the pain of his injuries. He cast a curious eye towards the wailing child, wondering briefly if the kid had any surviving family or they now were his, (or was it a her?) new parents?

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#300

Carly! She shouted, quickly rushing over to cradle his head and assess his injuries before digging into her pack and retrieving her healers kit, using her canteen to splash water over the burns and quickly wrap a bandage around the worst of the injuries while keeping an eye on the still burning and twitching troll. A moment later as the flames began to die out she stepped closer to the trolls corpse, toeing it over and noticing a golden nipple ring adorning the body.

With a grimace of revulsion she knelt down and ripped it free with a gloved hand, slipping it into her pocket and checking the remains for anything else of value before leaving it to smolder in both peace and pieces. "Mystic, please help me build a litter for Lucky we can use our horses to drag him back to the inn, hopefully Echo and rest are waiting for us there, I told them to rendezvous with us at the inn closest to the city gate." She reminded him, the tortured sounds of Thoms crippled horse drawing her attention as the child continued it's bawling.

"This is why I wish I had my Glock," She whispered softly, standing up and notching an arrow, stepping over to the horse and administering a mercy shot to the base of its skull, a pang of regret that she couldn't offer it the painless oblivion of a hollow point bullet quickly disappearing as the wind briefly shifted bringing with it the stench of burning troll, and unfortunately more familiar, and cloying scent of burning human flesh.

She closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, pushing memories of her time in the military from her thoughts, and focusing instead on the present, the here and now, a technique that had served her well in the past, and this time the present held more than enough to occupy her thoughts until the memories the smell had awoken slumbered once more.

Slinging the bow over her back she went over and knelt next to the child, putting on her most reassuring smile and speaking in a soft voice, taking care to place her body between the young boy (girl?) and the sight of their fathers blackened and mutilated corpse. "Shhh, shhh, you're safe now, the monsters gone." She soothed him, reaching out to gently gather him in her arms and stand, pressing his face into her shoulder as she turned to spare him the gruesome sight.

"I'm-" Her voice caught in her throat as she struggled briefly with the name to give him, continuing after an awkward silence of several seconds. "I'm Silveressa Mourning Wolf, my friends are Mystic and Lucky, can you tell me your name?" She kept her voice soft and reassuring, carrying him swiftly over to where Lucky lay and taking a deep breath to calm herself, the post battle adrenaline ebb making her feel suddenly weak and shaky.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#301

"You know your liege is a traitor and murderer, right?" said Valadaar non-nonchalantly, "How bout you keep going and there won't need to be blood."

Even an he said it his hand gripped the hilt of his broadsword. Let him back down, thought valadaar, though he also was mentally charting the path the sword would follow through the guard's throat. There was no way he was jumping into the water...

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#302

Spiderheart paused and peered ahead into the dusk.

The hair. Yes.

"Well met, Elven lady." He said out loud.

Echo turned to see to a tall, thin, bald man dressed in gray robes, which fluttered in the evening breeze all about him. Beneath hairless brows, his eyes were the color of jade. His ears betrayed the obvious. He was no elf, but elven blood flowed through him. In his hand he held a a smooth wooden quarter staff, that looked almost laminated.

"I am called Spiderheart." He said evenly. "You have been in my dreams of late. So, I went out to find you."

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#303

The glaive-wielding, helm-less guard actually stood there deep in thought, as he panted. He seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil, constipation, or both.

He was taking way too long for Val's tastes to make a decision, when finally the guard nodded and sprinted away, past the thief.

Alone again. For the moment. He heard someone yell "Fire!"...somewhere. Above or below he couldn't tell.

Were these stone walls hollow for goodness sake?

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#304

"A hearty 'well met' to you as well. I hope the dreams were pleasant, then? Mine tend to be ... strange, even at the best of times."
Echo was still in a light, cautious stance, ready to defend, looking around.
Spiderheart. Echo had let several spiders lodge for free at his house, following the rationale that a spider was a far more pleasant cohabitant than a swarm of mosquitoes.

"Let's abscond, for the would-be lord of this castle is no friend of elves, but rather keen on pointing his pudgy fingers and yelling 'Kill!' While we go, you can tell me what these dreams portended and portrayed, and what you would have of me. And if you know of the swamp elves and of the other holds, tell me a bit as well."
They walked inconspicuously, low to the ground, Echo on the look-out for signs of any of the rest of the band. If they were not to be found, Echo would head towards the village - the rest had seemed so eager on battling the troll, at least their fates would be known.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#305

Hollow? An odd thought. Secret doors? Val looked around even more intensely. Swimming was out, and going out the front door was out. Flying was never in, so... Maybe an escape tunnel?
It was that or die, and Val didn't really want see if that would get him to the real world. He was really afraid of eternity.

So down was his only option. So he looked and listened. Fire goes up anyway....

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#306

"They have been anything but pleasant, m'lady. I dreamt of immortality and the death of magic."

He said this evenly, as if describing what he had eaten for breakfast that morning. With that he fell into lockstep with Echo, as the two figures made way across the gloomy terrain, evening close at hand.

Spiderheart could not help steal occasional glances at Echo's carrot-orange locks as they traveled. "So rare" he'd mutter. "So beautiful."

"Mine is an order that rarely interacts with outsiders. I am from the Hidden Monastery of the Soulmarsh Vast. But my dreams tend to manifest and become reality, so I went to your brethren, the elves of the swamp, to share with them what I had seen. They in turn have bidden me to find you, and so hear I am..."

"...And you m'lady figure quite prominently in my dreams as well, I'm afraid."

He was going to say more, when the duo spotted something ahead. A thin stream of smoke was rising from the ground several hundred feet ahead of them. They could hear feint unidentifiable sounds coming from that same direction.

Spiderheart looked to the horizon, studying the colors of the setting sun.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#307

Val exhaled and began taking in the castle corridor with a new eye...

A minute later he had discovered a discolored section of wall behind the ancient tapestry he had earlier noticed. Quickly examining the contours, the thief ran his long fingers along the wall and...

He heard a weird sound and the stone wall slid sideways a few agonizing feet. A secret chamber?! The opening released a wave of musty air. Peering inside, Valadaar could make out stone stairs, and unlit torch sconces along the walls of the descent.

Seconds later he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of approaching men.

"Where did the other one go?"

"It makes little difference. They are both trapped inside. The drawbridge has been raised and not a splash has yet been heard. Keep looking!"

With that, the sound of clanging armored guardsmen drew even closer. They were about to turn the corner.

Entering the door-behind-the-tapestry, Val paused. He could go left or right along very narrow corridors along the wall, or go down the foreboding stone stairs, licked with moisture.

No wonder there were echoes everywhere in Coldmoat castle.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#308

He was five years of age. And fortunately, Nature had gifted him that near-mystical mechanism all young children seem to have. The inability to process great tragedy fully, and the ability to cope and persevere with it, despite the horror of what he had just experienced.

"I am--Willem Mell." He said to Sil obligingly, and then stared at Lucky, even managing a smile in between sobs. "Big doggy" he added. He reached his little hand out toward the wounded dire-wolf and touched his nose. "Should be wet and cold, mother always says."

Meanwhile, Mystic was staring inside a hole in the ground and shaking his head. Whatever was down there, could not be a pleasant sight, based on the warrior's facial expression. He looked over at the child, and shook his head again.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#309

"Fire! Fire! Get out while you can! Run for your lives!"

Tusserk did not have to wait long. The door to the Scribing Chamber opened, and out poured forth confused, robed and hooded scribes, some still clutching scrolls, manuscripts, ink pots, and quills. The robed and hooded Tusserk joined waddling penguins as the group all headed down the corridor, proceeding down a long staircase, and into a rather large hall, where Clodo Dunsen and a squad of guardsmen waited.

The castellan was seated and a clerical type was fawning over him, examining the damage that had been done to the Dunsen's groin. Saemurn Sagetongue stood solmenly beside Clodo, silent as ever, a far-away look in his eyes.

"It is healed mi'lord, but---" the cleric managed.

"But what!?" snapped Clodo menacingly at the frail healer, "Wait, never mind" he added, temporarily sparing the relieved looking man the unenviable task of having to deliver some bad news...

The castellan was suddenly interested in those who were descending the stair in a rush.

"A fire? Imbeciles! My attacker has caused a distraction no doubt!"

"Castel--Mi'lord," One of the scribes doffed his hood and addressed Dunsen, catching himself on the proper address. "The hallway fills with smoke, it is imperative that the scrolls and manuscripts be saved--"

"Do not tell me what is imperative, ink-finger!" Clodo moaned as a new wave of pain washed over him. He adjusted his bony arse on the seat.

"Pass this way on your way out", Clodo said his pale, dead eyes squinting, "I want Sagetongue here to make sure you are all--accounted for."

With that Clodo went back to moaning and rubbing his forehead. "Oh and for the rest of you" he concluded, addressing his guards, "Find the three interlopers and kill them! And see to this fire." he added almost absent-mindedly.

The scribes meanwhile began ambling by in single file, past Sagetongue, who was dutifully standing vigil by the exit, two guards with him. As the scribes went by, they were asked to remove their hoods, one at a time. Sagetongue would study the man briefly, then nod, and one scribe would be allowed to leave, his place in line taken by a new one. Tusserk was the fourth of seven scribes in line.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#310

Echo could make out a few familiar figures in the distance. Unless another group in these parts had a dire-wolf in tow. Highly doubtful.

Spiderheart droned on, "Mi'lady, I have been asked to escort you and your fellows to the Soulmarsh Vast. You see, your goddess is no more. Vanished. And with her disappearance, the elves of the Soulmarsh can neither cast magic nor...die. In my dreams, I have felt the passing of the Lady. And I have seen you in her stead. Are those your companions up ahead?" Spiderheart suddenly added, "I have seen them as well..."

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#311

Lucky panted painfully at the childs touch, licking his hand softly, before gesturing with his muzzle for Silveressa to move him away before he noticed the extent of Lucky's injuries and began to cry anew.

A few moments later after Silveressa had taken a short distance away he let forth a mournful anguished howl as the scent of Echo reached his nose, the clerics healing touch promising a relief from the pain that washed over him in waves, gesturing with his nose towards the approaching figures, trusting in Silveressa and Mystic to inform the cleric of what had recently transpired.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#312

With the secret door closed, it became as dark as a tomb. Carefully, Valadaar waited for the guards to walk away, listening for multiple pairs of feet. Once he was satisfied they were gone, he fumbled through his pack and used on of his pints of oil as a crude oil lamp. Bit of rope, small hole punched in the oil flask's cork, let the oil soak. Light with tinderbox. There we go. No shade so it was little better than a candle, but it would have to do for now.

And, he could throw it if he had to.

Now, to the left he went.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#313

Silveressa nodded as the boy told her his name, tucking the wedding ring the took from Thoms charred body in her breast pocket, the inscription mentioning a Marcie, hopefully the woman still lived. "Do you have a a mother Will, or any uncles or grand parents?" She kept her voice gentle and reassuring, privately hoping he wasn't an orphan, his treatment of Lucky bringing a smile to her lips, Lucky howl a few moments later causing her to nearly drop the boy in surprise.

"Lucky!" She shouted, about to continue her admonishment when she noticed the distant figures he was pointing to, her keen Elvish vision recognizing Echo nearly instantly.
"Wonderful, I hope Echo still has healing prayers available," she said quietly, sitting the child down and giving Mystic a nod. "I guess the litter won;t be necessary, assuming Echo can heal Lucky enough for him to walk."

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#314

Walking forward as each scribe is assessed by the old man, Tusserk reached up to push his hood back so that his braid was still covered by the cloth bunched on his shoulders. His forearm dragging the sleeve across his face to hopefully wipe away any of the sweat on his skin from the pain in his shoulder. He kept his left arm bent to hold the pilfered scroll in place to hide the bulge of the broken crossbow bolt that pressed out against the robe.

Hoping that his silhouette was no longer recognizable to the castellan, he hunched slightly as he shuffled forward while praying silently that his face was drained of enough color due to his wound to not be recognized by the guards as he waited for the old man to either nod or let him go or blow his cover.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#315

"Hello, everybody - I see you fared better than us. The castellan betrayed us - the boys must have gotten over-eager, or called him out to his face. I was *so* close to braining the fool, and sending him off for judgment."
The cleric paused.
No more?
Huh. That was a short acquaintance with the divine.
Echo reached out to pet the wolf: "Hey there, fur ball. Let's see what we can do."
This would be a good way to test whether my powers still work. Damn, I hope I don't get nerfed.
(13:46:44) Cure Light Wounds. Minion: EchoMirage rolls 1d8 and gets 8.
"There, there, stay with us."
The hound gave a happy woof. "See? The doggie is better."

Echo then turned to the rest of the band: "So, whose half-brained idea was it to run off to fight the troll alone? We could have used a little help with one runty usurper - and you with the troll. This was close. Regardless, Tusserk and Val are unaccounted for - let's wait and see whether they find a way back until dark."

"I also brought an Enpeasea along."
"Everybody, this is Spiderheart. Finding spiders to be entirely according to my gothic sensibilities, I trust his words that we're welcome with the Swamp Elves. Apparently, there's also a monastery, and I wouldn't mind a safe haven or base of operations."
'Leave the whole 'replacing dead goddess' thing aside for now' he thought. 'Though, it's quite the career step up from level one cleric.'

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#316

Mystic nodded at Sil, but had no words to describe what he was seeing so Sil walked over and glanced down into the earthen hole herself.

The body of a young man no more than twenty was lying eviscerated from throat to navel, viscera and organs exposed, some missing, his arms and legs extended like Leonardo's Vitruvian Man.

A cow's head, purple tongue out and swollen, flies buzzing about its shredded neck cavity and eyes, added a bovine touch to the gruesome scene.

A fat man, both arms missing, no doubt torn from their sockets, lay face down in the earth.

And lastly a middle-aged woman, her eyes open and staring up to the heavens for salvation. She was chewed up, would be the best way of describing it, and at that very moment, some horrid green *thing*, a miniature version of the raging troll above, no greater in size than a chimp, a baby troll, was gnawing on her arm in near ecstasy, oblivious to being watched from above. A second baby troll(!) was lifting the cow's head and trying it on for size, attempting to don the head like a helmet.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#317

Left he went. The corridor was not quite a corridor, but rather a crawl space. One could make one's way upright, but would have trouble scratching one's nose, having to squeeze an arm up the wall to do so. Not for fat people this.

The passageway went on, and once more Valadaar heard sounds through the wall. Nothing interesting. More guards. He went on. Luckily for him he wasn't claustrophobic. Eventually he came to another staircase descending into the darkness. The tight passageway ended in a terminus going forward. Here the wall was discolored once more, and a rusty, iron lever extended at eye level.

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#318

Silveressa stared in shock, the combination of sight and smell momentarily freezing her into a state of revulsion and morbid fascination as she processed the unsettling details of the horrific sight before her, a part of her mind throwing up, recoiling form the scene before her, Echo's words to Lucky pulling her attention from the sickening sight.

She reached out a hand and gently placed it on mystics chest, pushing him backwards away from the nauseating sight before kneeling and fishing around in her bag for a second torch and wringing the last drizzle of oil from the bellows flame thrower into the pit, accenting it with the torch and shuddering at the unearthly screeches the troll babies made as they burned.

"Now I know how Mc Ready felt in The Thing." She said softly, swallowing a surge of bile and focusing her attention on Echo as he spoke. "Thom begged us for help," She thumbed a gloved hand towards the smoking remains of the man intermixed with charred troll. "If we hadn't helped his son would be worm food by now, so I'll take the win where I can get it." She sighed and pushed the recent horrific images further from her mind. "Can you give his father some last rites? Along with some other poor wretches in the fire pit, they deserve some peace in death at the very least."

She nodded at Echo's comment of a the others and monastery, giving the new arrival a friendly nod and looking back towards town while taking a breath, "Before I left the castle I told everyone if we got split up to rendezvous at the inn closest to the city gates, assuming they listened we should find them there, after regrouping we can head for the monastery unless someone has a good reason for us not to."

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#319

Tusserk held his breath. Well, no, he was a monk, he rather controlled his breathing...

Saemurn nodded as three scribes stepped by him for examination.

"And try not to let the next one escape if you do happen to spot one of them. Glamoured an old fool by batting her elven eyes, did she?" Clodo sarcastically prattled in Saemurn's direction, then called for more wine.

Tusserk stepped up...

"I am saddled with an incompetent adviser who cannot speak." Clodo went on, now full of steam, mainly talking to himself. "No wonder the Roddens don't last. Maybe I should have *you* thrown to the eels, eh, Saemurn? More wine!"

Saemurn studied Tusserk, betraying no emotion. Three seconds seemed like a half hour to the monk, then almost imperceptibly, Saemurn nodded his grand ol' bearded head. Tusserk issued forth a tiny fart of relief...all that breath control.

He did not look back or even sideways, as he made his way across the drawbridge, not too quickly, almost out now.

And then he was. Out. Back in market square. Alive and well. No, not so well, he decided, as he felt a fresh batch of moisture in his armpit. It wasn't sweat. It was blood from his wound. Well, at least he had a scroll of...something. The dollars to donuts bet would be that there was nothing of importance on the parchment. He'd read it later.

Now to find the others...

Re: Guardians of the Citadel

#320

The smell of flesh, human, bovine, and troll, was overpowering. Even Lucky snorted her nostrils, though the wolf felt less pain now, soothed by the elven whispers of the elven priestess.

Baby trolls squealed as they burned. The sound was almost as unpleasant as the stench.

Spiderheart stood there quietly some distance away from the hole, studying the lot of them, one at a time.

"The ranger, the dire-wolf, the tattooed warrior, the carrot-haired priestess..." he whispered ever so quietly under his breath. "Three are missing..."