Dark Lands: The prison of death

1. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #41

   OOC: Uh....Well, I don't really know what to do.

2. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #42

   From the man in plate comes only the simplest response. "You may call me Searren." Oddly, this rogue's gallery of allies isn't really making him feel any better about having something large and raspy bearing down on him. "This whole place needs to burn."

3. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #43

   Andimia also shifts her attention to the man lying on the ground. Her curiosity gets the best of her as she notices the dagger. She kneels next to Tarquin to get a better look. The dagger seems to call to her, the white glow entices her ::She reaches out a hand to touch it……::
   
   Ooc: (this would be a good time for somebody to stop her)

4. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #44

   OOC: Why? We don't know what it does. Our GM has gone AWOL.

5. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #45

   ooc: (that is the point, we don't know what it does, and that is what I'm playing off of)

6. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #46

   (OOC: If the GM don't show up soon, we'll simply go on without him. We may not be going for the story he wants, but that's his problem. Cap, find a way to join the throng, I guess.)
   
   Jade grabbed the other woman's hand. "That might not be such a good idea." She'd sometimes seen the results of handling magical artifacts indescriminately. She wished that things would quiet down; the echoes were starting to hurt her sensitive ears. But she had a pretty good idea of which passage the shuffling thing was coming down now, and she would probably be able to see it soon.

7. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #47

   (OCC: Ah, if there isn't a GM, then I suppose he can't mind me joining...)
   
   Crystal sculptures of flame lined and arched over the doorway. The massive stone slab that served as the floor was circular and floated on a bath of roiling magma. Cracks rippled around it, making the floor quite unstable. Deeply engraved upon the rock was the Guardian crest. Through the crest, magma ran, hot and fluid. The whole effect was that of a blood channel running through a sword. The stone slab moved slightly with the movement of the roiling lava. Circling the whole room was a series of black granite pillars, each one carved out so that lava twined around like orange vines, except these vines sprouted fire, not leaves. Scorched from the heat, the heavy limestone walls were almost black in color, partially coated with ash. It created an almost ethereal aspect, as if the walls were not there at all.
   
   Tras advanced cautiously, his dark brown eyes darting towards sudden movements that the fire and lava made. The air was stiff with heat, stifling and taking a breath was like sipping on boiling tea. There was no one to be seen. Tras relaxed slightly, loosing his hold on his weapons. Dangling from his right hand was an eight inch blade, its gleaming surface pounded out from various metal alloys. Instead of being a straight blade, it was slightly curved, and the blood channel ran through on both sides, engraved like a dragon’s eye. In the man’s other hand was a blade of similar nature except it was over three and a half feet, lightweight but extremely sharp.
   
   Sweat was slowly pooling and dripping down his body. It did not help that he was wearing heavy plated armor. Several more steps and he was at the center of the ring of fire. A column of fire suddenly shot out of the blistered rock, sending streams of sparks and rubble into the air. Tras jumped back in surprise, flinging his weapons up in a defensive posture. To his surprise, instead of meeting an enemy’s blade, his weapons met nothing of substance. The rapier Vyre went cleaving through the fire column and his short hunting knife whistled in the stark air. Laughter rang out, seeming to ride in the hot atmosphere and as Tras staggered to his feet, leather boots blackened from the ash and his armor slowly beginning to heat, the fires around him seemed to leap into the air. The knight glanced about in fury and frustration at an enemy that would not show himself.
   
   Fine. The mage won’t show himself, I’ll force him to!
   
   Tras was an anti-mage. Most are born with a spark of magic. Tras was born with a spark of un-magic. Antimagic can be a powerful thing in a world that relies heavily on it. In one swift motion Tras sheathed Vyre and the knife and threw out his hands. Uncontrolled antimagic shot out in one raw shock wave. Tras felt the fire blackened stone beneath his feet begin to crumble and he realized to his horror that he was standing in the middle of a huge spell, which was now collapsing. The laughter that had sounded before was returned, louder and more malicious than ever. An orb dropped in front of him and he grabbed it, even as the ground beneath him split, sending splashes of magma onto the stone around him. As soon as his gauntlets touched the inky black orb, an undulating rhythm filled his head and in the next instant the heat became unbearable. Then there was nothing.
   
   Tras awoke in darkness, a dank smell curling around his nose as he tried to sit up. His entire body was sore and his armor had not helped that very much. His head was still undulating and he couldn’t seem to see very clearly. Figures in the distance started moving towards him, shadows in the flickering light. He stood uncertainly then backed away, still shaking his head, trying to clear it.

8. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #48

   help me how to train i am a newbie

9. Dark Lands: The prison of death

   #49

   Andimia flinched, then blinked as if being released from a trance. She shook her head and then stood up and stepped back. Standing in silence she realized that her curiosity almost got her in trouble again. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.� She tightened the bandage on her left hand and listened to the strange shuffling echo throughout the cavern.

10. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #50

    OOC: train for what?

11. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #51

    (OOC: Hope Warlock doesn't mind me putting some touches of my own in his prison)
    Coal Dog shivered, and hugged himself.
    "It's so damn cold in here!" he said aloud to no-one in particular.
    The damp and chill tunnel gave way to a large circular chamber, with a curious zig-zag pattern on the floor.
    The island man walked out onto the floor and gazed about, bewildered. This room seemed a dead end.
    He walked in a circuit around the chamber twice, absently scratching his head.
    He traced the zig-zag pattern with his fingers.
    He struck the floor with his sword.
    Nothing.
    Sitting against the wall, Coal Dog spat irritatedly, stretched his arms, tried to remember how he had got to this cold, dark, damp place so unlike his sunny, tropical home.
    A sudden loud crash broke his reverie, as the floor of the chamber sank several inches, and then several feet.
    Coal Dog leapt to his feet with a shout of astonishment, and then was deposited solidly on his head as the room sank yet again.
    Then, he was tumbling, tumbling through a swirling wind tunnel, a gaping void of blackness.
    
    As Coal Dog came to, he was sliding down some sort of smooth iron chute towards a very bright light. Coal Dog's eyes popped wide in yet more astonishment as he flew at high speeds out of the chute and landed painfully in the midst of a croud of dour looking individuals, namely, a black cloaked, sinister man, a very, very short woman, a corpse clutching a dagger, a man in red and bronze armor, and a rogueish looking woman with a large bump on her forehead.
    "Well, hello!" Coal Dog said cheerily. "Why the long faces?"
    
    (OOC: Andimia, am I correct in assuming your character looks "rogueish"? You never really described her.)

12. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #52

    ooc: rogueish could work ::points at avitar then points at the "greetings traveller" thread with her name on it:: sorry I should have added more in this thread ::looks at her first post:: :oops:
    
    ic: Andimia curiously studies this new person then notices that he is staring at the lump on her head. Suddelnly conscientious of it she turns away.

13. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #53

    OOC: The lump is from when you ran into the wall. Remember that?

14. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #54

    ((Welcome, J dog. What do you need training with?))
    
    Tarquins lips curl into a mirthless smile from beneath his hood at Saerrens words, but he says nothing, turning now to study his surroundings. He does not offer any suggestion to the new woman to not touch the glowing dagger, but he does give a fraction of a nod as Jade speaks.
    He blinks, then shifts back a half a pace as the new arrival 'drops' in on them, peering down at this... pirate... The emotionless smile apon his lips drops, now, inverting into an obvious frown of distate, and he simply shakes his head. This place was really beginning to irritate him - people dropping in from all places. How was he expected to take control of this situation if he had so many things happening at once!?
    Finally, Tarquin releases a sigh from the back of his throat and tears his gaze from this new person to peer through the darkness once more. He speaks in a derogatory manner, obviously adressing the man who asked a question, and his voice is released, as always, in his rasping, broken whisper. "You have no idea, do you?" He exhales once more, saying little else - he was tiring of explaining the predicament. He will let someone else do it, this time.

15. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #55

    "Who's there? Speak!"
    
    There was no answer and as he rubbed his eyes, the shadows parted, slightly, to reveal nothing more than a set of long stalagmites, dark and slimy. Mocking him. Tras gave a bitter laugh and in a short stroke pulled Vyre from its sheath. The rapier glinted dully in the half light and with that set, Tras advanced through the darkness. He seemed to be in a twisting tunnel with no branchings off or anything else. Just a long winding tunnel. Minutes slowly dragged by and time seemed to take a long breath as Tras continued to walk cautiously forward.
    
    Around a narrow bend, one that forced him to squeeze through, scraping his armor against the grimy rock. He paused a moment to inspect the damage to his chest plate when he glanced up. And froze. I hear voices. Multiple voices. Straightening, Tras stood motionless, trying to determine where the sounds were coming from. It was then that he realized there was finally a branching off in the path. Six different ways to go, to be exact. And only one of them contained the people that were making the noises. Tras groaned and shoved his rapier into the ground, point first, then leaned on it with a clink of armor, still listening. Finally, his dirty face brightened a little.
    
    "Well, if I can't find them, I'll wait here and see if they come out to me. The voices do seem to be getting louder. And this place mayhaps will lead them to me."
    
    With this in mind, Tras leaned back against the rock wall behind him and waited, rapier still stuck point first in the ground in front of him. Tras tried to scan his surroundings, but there was nothing to see. Just six dark openings and a lot of black rock. The voices continued to grow louder, but it seemed to be taking a long time for the bodies of the voices to appear. He felt his eyelids growing heavy and his head drooping. I can't...I can't fall...aslee... Tras slumped to one side as his body relaxed into needed sleep.

16. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #56

    Andimia turns towards the darkness, listening to the shuffling that is headed in their direction. “Ummm… I don’t think we have time to explain everything to you. All that you need to know is that this place is dangerous and there is only one way out.� The rogue becomes even more nervous, but tries not to let it show. The fact that nobody, especially herself, has any control over anything makes her want to run and hide in the shadows, but there could be even more danger waiting there. She nervously fidgets with her bandage, not removing her gaze from the direction of the noise.

17. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #57

    As the sound of a man exiting from a chute wooshes behind Searren, it is with a faint hiss and not-nearly-so-faint clatter that he spins, ready to draw and strike in a single motion. "Flames! At this rate, I begin to believe we've been funneled into something's feeding bin!" Worse, when is the gate to the food trough going to open? His emerald eyes spend a moment taking this newcomer in, before he says, "Perhaps we should stop waiting here, and look for that noise. No use in being caught here, and it will probably be to the advantage of whatever's making that awful noise."

18. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #58

    Jade looked up at the pirate, then looked down the hallway behind him, green eyes narrowing. "Sir, I'm thinkin' you should step away from that particular hallway, seein' as how you're not likely to like what's coming down it." She moved to the side slightly, and shot a bolt past him at the approaching shuffling thing. She should have been able to see it clearly by now, but the light was treacherous.
    
    (OOC: Hope that small liberty's okay, Cap.)

19. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #59

    OOC: Uh-oh...

20. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #60

    ::waits for someone to take charge as leadership isn't a characteristic she possesses::

21. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #61

    ((Uh... If the DM doesnt show up soon, how about letting someone else become DM temporarily? At least until the original one comes back? That way we can at least get this RP continued, and if Warlock comes back and doesnt like how its going, he can just correct it...?))

22. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #62

    ooc: who wants to be the new DM? NOT IT!

23. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #63

    ((Lol. I'd do it, but I've never DM'd before so I'd suck ^_^ Wouldnt know what to do.))

24. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #64

    (OOC: Shadow, use OOC posts. I'll be the GM, if it's allright.)

25. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #65

    ooc: Bleh -_- sorry - I use the (( )) to indicate its ooc ^^; But i'll use OOC: from now on.
    And I have nothing wrong with you bieng GM. Will you keep your character in as well?

26. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #66

    OOC: Sure. But what does Ria have to say about this?

27. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #67

    (OOC: Sorry about not posting for a while. S'okay with me if you GM, Cap. Just be prepared to turn it back over to Warlock if he ever comes back. But he doesn't get to change anything that's all ready happened.)

28. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #68

    (OOC: Then lets keep on rolling.)

29. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #69

    Andimia peers into the darkness, but no matter how hard she strains her eyes she can't make out the figure shuffling towards them. She draws her swords, tensing, ready for anything.

30. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #70

    ((OOC: Let's get this show on the road))
    
    "Shark's teeth!" Coal Dog exclaimed, leaping up as Jade's bolt shot past his face. "Watch your arrows, woman!"
    The shuffling sound became apparent to his ears and he whirled to face the darkness. A whisper of metal sounded as he slashed his sword from his sheath, revealing its long, curved blade of some glittering white-gold metal.
    "I'll assume that that thing was what you were just firing at, yeah?"

31. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #71

    Tarquin takes a single step back as the woman releases a bolt into the darkness, and he awaits for any sound to register whether said bolt hit or miss. All the same, the man decides that whatever is up that passage-way does not sound like something he wishes to meet unprepared. With a brief glance to the others in view, Tarquins' hellish gaze flares brightly beneath his hood, and he shifts his right hand to one side slightly, extending his fingers in a cupping motion. A faint flicker of fire would burn into life within that cupped hand, and would quickly grow in both intensity, heat and size, until perhaps the size of a soccer-ball. Seemedly defying gravity, it floats there, an inch from the skin of the mans palm, and not singeing the mans clothes as he has shifted his hand to the side. Although this would seem akin to any average fireball, the others may notice a faint, evermoving trail of darkness snaking its way around these flames. This addition to the spell would simply cause any creature the ball hits temporary blindness - a small failsafe in case a beast holds resistance to fire. Of course, due to the light this fireball gives off, the cavern they are in at the moment would become visible with an eerie, crimson glow, and perhaps whatever creature is stalking towards them would be within light as well. Tarquin simply holds this flame in the position it is in, not yet moving to hurl it towards whatever monstrosity is coming to them. The mage's eyes would slip narrow slightly at the effort of this seemedly simple spell - Sure, such a common spell wouldnt cause much tiredness in even an aspiring mage, but one must take into account the fact that just before he had arrived here, Tarquin had made an extremely powerful artefact - powerful enough to allow teleportation into this place from anywhere on the surface world. Of course, if any of the other people knew about magic, and saw the mans tiredness, they may be curious as to why such an... well... arrogant arch-mage would be so weak after such a small conjuration. But then, this is up to the others to notice, should they wish.

32. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #72

    Coal Dog backed away from the entrance of the hallway as the man...No, sorceror summoned up a ball of flames.
    His eyes narrowed and he sheathed his sword, crossing the index and middle fingers of both his hands in a double-X, a sign against evil.
    "Sorcery!" he spat, glaring at the evil-looking Tarquin.

33. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #73

    Jade might have said something to the pirate, but she was overtaken by a short fit of sneezing. She glared at Tarquin. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to tone it down a little." The smell of his magic was unpleasant enough when it wasn't in use; it was twice as bad when it was active. She moved to the other side of the chamber, where the smell wasn't as strong. All these strange and ill-mixed smells were starting to get on her nerves.

34. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #74

    Tarquins lips simply curl into a faint, silent sneer at the pirates actions and words, and he shifts his gaze to peer at the pirate, speaking in his broken, ragged whisper "Yes... Do you have a problem with it, whelp?" Hm, seems he doesnt take kindly to the mans 'blasphemous' tone about what Tarquins life is centered on. His gaze shifts to Jade, though, as she sneezes and speaks, and he simply gives a faint, mirthless chuckle. "Your discomfort means my safety, woman. What would YOU do?" A brow quirks between that hood, but the mans gaze now once again turns to study the area where that hissing sound is from. Dispite the womans comment, the fireball remains in his hand, same intensity. Well, seems he wasnt gaining any friends from this. But then, Tarquin had relenquished any want for friends a long time ago. Not wishing to wait any longer for the beast to get closer, the man lobs the fireball in an underhanded throw towards the direction it is coming from. He wishes to see what damage he can do to it before it gets close enough for him to run out of options.

35. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #75

    The shadowy hallway exploded with light and noise, as the fireball detonated against the shuffling creature. But when the light cleared, and the noise faded, smoke billowed from the hallway, and after a long pause, shuffling.
    Coal Dog once again drew his blade and muttered a prayer to some souther sea-god as he prepared to meet this beast.
    From the darkness, an odious scent issued, and the shuffling was accentuated by crackles and pops, and soft rattlings, as if something was attempting to speak but could only rattle air through itself.
    The thing lurched into the room with a swirling cloud of ash, a charred hulking form barely recognizable as a humanoid form. Its arms dragged on the floor, long tentacular fingers slapping against the stones, and its legs were almost comically short in comparison. However, there was nothing comical about the charred wreckage of a face, snarling incomprehensibly in the blasted remnants of a skull. Graying brains, still glimmering with sparks of magical flame, spilled from the back of the mishapen skull, and great bloody holes replaced eyes above an unnatural maw with an unfortunate jumble of random teeth, fangs, and tusks.
    The burned monster stumbled forth, and, attempting to raise its crumbling limbs, roared silently, ash and smoke pouring from its tattered lungs in result.
    "Shark's teeth..." said Coal Dog, mouth hung wide.

36. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #76

    As the thing shambled into view, Jade was already letting another arrow fly. It was all she could do to keep from gagging. The sheer stench of either the thing or the dark magics that had brought it into being was nigh overwhelming. As she reloaded, she said with deceptive calm, "Would the rest of you kindly lend us a hand?"

37. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #77

    Coal Dog dashed forward, sword whirling over his head, only to be slapped backward by the creature's mighty paw.
    He flew past the rest, smacking into the wall, and landing with a groan.
    "Not...my...day..." he muttered with a small humorless grin.

38. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #78

    Tarquin simply takes a single step back, smiling slightly, though without emotion at the sight of the charred figure. Due to the fact the fireball had struck and therefore - for the most part - flickered out, the magicial light which was filling the cavern would once again fail, creating the dim atmosphere once again. He does not conjure another fireball, nor any other form of magic for the moment, allowing himself a brief respite as he silently allows the others to do what they could. His lips do curl wider slightly into a smirk as that 'blasphemous' pirate is struck and flung away.

39. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #79

    Shortly behind Coal Dog is Searren, the knight drawing his blade even as he charges. Polished to a silvery sheen, and deeply engraved with golden runes, whatever magics may lie in the blade are dormant as the gold-armored man takes a broad, flat slash, attempting to take advantage of it's motion to slap the pirate away. As he slashes, his harsh voice bellows out, "BURN!"

40. Dark Lands: The prison of death

    #80

    Coal Dog lurched weakly to his feet.
    "All about flames, that one."
    He shook his head. Before the other's eyes, he slowly straightened, and a twisted limb righted itself with a sharp popping noise.
    "All good. Have at thee, demon!" he shouted, picking up his gold-colored sword and rushing to help Searren.

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