The Vale RP
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| Author | Topic: The Vale RP |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Wednesday, January 2 2008 13:34
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The new blade gleamed in his eyes, sparks shot out from the hilt into his fingers as they closed around it. Jeran lifted the resurrected weapon over his head and knew in an instant that he had found himself again. Yet there was still a lingering emptiness, a hunger, regret. This weapon was magnificent indeed, yet it was still hollow compared to Ravvijac. My weapon forged by the gods! No wonder then that parting with it is so painful, such a weapon must even posses a rudimentary awareness of its own to have been in the presence of such beings! The thoughts raced through his mind, yet he stilled them. He turned to his companions; everything seemed different now, or rather the same. Things moved ever so slightly slower, as if he was operating under a very light hasting spell. Also his vision was more acute and perceptive, he could see spiders moving on the edge of his vision as clearly as if he was directing his full attention to them, and he no longer felt the gnawing fatigue he had been experiencing since his rescue. “Gentlemen” he said, feeling rather more rational now he had his grip on a proper weapon “It seems to me that before we do anything, we prepare. We need to take stock of our abilities, strategy and supplies. Also I think we need to know exactly what it is we intend to do, I don't intend to just rush off on some revenge-inspired quest that will get us all killed" -------------------- "Fear that which mortality has rejected" -Galvin Magnus Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Wednesday, January 2 2008 14:47
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Chapter 9 -1 Ivanhoe fondled the Anama inflicted chip in his ear. He lacked any proper plans, his thoughts recently dependent on that of Jeran's. The sword shaped hole in the floor failed to provide any answers, and instead he diverted his attention towards Jeran. "The weapon at my side frightens inexperienced warriors, the scabbard provides a defensive bonus. However, after the swords recreation it also appears to provide minor regeneration powers." Ivanhoe glanced at Dazzle whose necromantic face bore no expression. Ivanhoe pondered for several seconds and continued speaking. "I am a blademaster, but such talent is accompanied by other things. I am a proven mason, and I also am adroit in the field of mechanics. Having encountered siege twice before, I possess skill in tactics and leadership. However, more importantly in this case, I used to be a member of the Anama. I know their jurisprudence and inner workings, something that would be of advantage in our scenario. I also know first circle healing prayers, and I recently picked up the control foes prayer. Enough about me, time to conjure our endemic." Ivanhoe squirmed in his mithril mail, "For the Anama to deliver such violence I suspect that some chaotic event has occurred at their lands. I believe we should head towards the Vale, but having not been there in years my knowledge is lacking. However I will accept any plans from Dazzle, as he can apparently see beyond our abilities." Ivanhoe reclaimed his seat and waited for Jeran and Dazzle to reply. -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Wednesday, January 2 2008 15:18
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“As you can see” Said Jeran, relaxing somewhat into the monolog “My physique is unique among men. My colouration is an unknown and my bone structure is markedly lighter and stronger then most humans. I am also innately skilled with forging and blade-mastery. I have survived in the wilds for years before starting my journey and as far as I can tell, have the ability to absorb and release naturally occurring magic on command” He pondered for a few seconds, wondering whether or not to tell Ivanhoe just how far the ability extended and its most recent repercussion. He decided against it. “What of your weapon?” Inquired Ivanhoe, staring at the Ravvijac lesser with interest. “The original Ravvijac I, or rather I though possible divine intervention forged from a quantity of powerful magical ore which I and some others had stolen from the Anama sometime before my self-imposed exile; it seems to posses some kind of magical absorption field much like my own body does. Over the years it absorbed enough to actually gain a rudimentary awareness of its own, allowing me to draw upon its power when I need to bolster my own defences” “That probably explains why it was taken in the first place” mused Ivanhoe “A weapon such as that might even have been capable of injuring a god, no wonder he took it” “I just want it back” Snapped Jeran standing upright, annoyed once more “I’ve said my bit” -------------------- "Fear that which mortality has rejected" -Galvin Magnus Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Wednesday, January 2 2008 15:30
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A thickly robed figure ran down a long, dark tunnel towards a faint, misty light. Sweat beaded on her face, and she glanced around her as if expecting an attack. Chitters and odd clacking noises sounded around her, echoing ominously. Her torch illuminated only a small circle around her, and her maps were rendered stained and unreadable by the moisture of the caves. A trail of blood drops ticked her path upon the stone. A loud moan forced her to whirl around, robes billowing, a dim nimbus of flame forming around her free hand. A wave of her torch, a gleam of pale flesh, and fire lashed in the darkness. A louder chorus of moans, and a pattering of feet on stone. She whirled and lurched her way towards the tunnel end, coughing blood. A chittering blur flew past her ear, slashing wildly. Gasping, she started and fell heavily against the side of the cave. As she tried to rise, a shambling monstrous mutation of a human came into the dimming aura of the torch. She reached within her cloak and withdrew an elaborately runed dagger, glowing brightly and humming loudly. She rose unsteadily and pushed herself at the. . . thing. They both collapsed in a bloody writhing heap. A hundred miniature arms on its torso clawed through the heavy robes and slashed at her flesh. Flailing wildly with the dagger, she hacked into its side, but when she attempted to wrench it out, it had healed over the wound and she could not. With a deafening roar, it wrenched her into its whirling maw. -------------------------------------------------- At the monastery, Munigant's writhing stopped for half a moment, and he screamed with pain-filled words. "She failed! The dagger is taken! A. . . god has- surfaced!" With a gasp, he collapsed back into a chaotic ball of guts and smoke. -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 13:03
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It walked away really angry. And he was worried that people would lock him up somewhere. But then he heard someone. "Wait, people. I will keep an eye on him. Come, It," he said. It followed the man to a room that apparently the man had gotten. "Hello, It. I guess I should introduce myself. I am the High Priest of Iffy," the man said when they were in the room. It was seriously annoyed. "I am well aware of what happened. But think about it! If it wasn't for the almighty Iffy, you wouldn't be here!" It shrugged. The idiot had a point. "And Iffy spoke to me in a dream", the man continued. "He told me to bring you the Sword of Iffy" When It got a confused look on his face, the man said, "Oh, many of the gods have forged a weapon. And a lot of them got help from Excalibur, of course." The man then took a sword and gave it to It. The sword was magnificent. "And Iffy is the god of baked goods, and, well (he then whispered) and stupidity. So, of course, the inner core is composed of Iffy's muffiny goodness!" It swung the sword a few times. It was light, and it felt as if the sword...was made for him. "The sword was made for you. This is a way of Iffy saying sorry. Oh, and sorry but I have to follow you everywhere since I promised people..." It then felt a shake. -------------------- Don't judge a sentence until you know all the words. Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again Muffins n' Hell: The End is Near I like this image Not in your shed -We are sort of done. Helpful criticism is welcome. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Be grateful you have your unsellabe trowels -Goldenking Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7252
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 16:51
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In Dazzle's Castle... Both men looked intently on Dazzle. "What is it?" asked Dazzle. "How about you boney?" Jeran said. "Even when we first met, you haven't told much about yourself." "Does it matter? All you need to know is that I have been alive since the birth of man." Dazzle answered. "Let us move to much more pressing matters." Both Jeran and Ivanhoe nodded silently. "I think both of you know the condition of the Vale. I need not to expound on that, but, the group that were sent to try to fix the problem has reached an unexpected halt, courtesy of the Anama." said Dazzle. "So you want us to go to them?" Jeran inquired. "Yes, at some point you two must go join them, a little bit of firepower won't hurt. But. If I may request." "What is it?" Jeran asked. "I request that you both go first to the Chapel of the Fallen Might." Dazzle said. "To those heretic mongrels of necromongers!?" Ivanhoe said in disgust. Dazzled looked intently at Ivanhoe. "Yes, I request you to go to those heretic mongrels of necromongers." "Bah! My patience with dealing with the damned has ran out on you, Dazzle. Why do you want us to go there?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "There is a certain artifact there. It's called On-...I'm beginning to sound like some barkeep who gives out a random quest to make fun of a greenhorn adventurer." Dazzle said, making a coughing noise that barely resembles a chuckle. "We have no time for your sense of humor lich." Ivanhoe said, clearly annoyed. Jeran, on the other hand, chuckled silently. "What is this artifact's name and what does it do?" asked Ivanhoe, clearly vexed. "It's name is the Glass Onion. I do not know the exact details but I know it is one of the key to revive the Creator. Mind you, there still some things left unclear to one like me." Dazzle said. "Revive the Creator?" Jeran asked. "Yes, and I fear, reviving the Creator is the only way to stop Ahonar's madness." answered Dazzle. "So, what say you Ivanhoe and Jeran?" "You know what my answer is boney." replied Jeran. "If it is needed. I shall deal with the foul." replied Ivanhoe. "Ah. So it is settled then. To the chapel we will go." Dazzle stated. "We?" Jeran asked, somewhat surprised. "Yes. The current prophet there is an old acquaintance of mine." Dazzle said. "Is there any problem?" "None. Yet." Jeran said, feinting a threat. "How about you Ivanhoe?" asked Dazzle. Ivanhoe just shrugged. Dazzle raised and waved both his hands in the air in a most arcane-like fashion. A portal appeared, showing the ghastly chapel on the other side. "Well, then. Shall we?" Dazzle asked as he hovered to the portal. Jeran walked next. Ivanhoe took his time. Clearly he doesn't want to do dealings with the damned but he was bothered by another subject. "The lich. Is it that powerful that he can create portals with ease?" Ivanhoe shrugged but was alert then he entered the portal. In the Chapel of the Fallen Might... Munignant was ever still the same. His guts fell again and again. Balls of smoke emanated. But the sweet, sweet ecstasy of pain. Oh, how it was filling. But the prophet sensed something. He momentarily forced himself to stop. "Visitors. Attend to them. Bring them here." said Munignant, reverting back to his previous state of pain and joy. A few monks went to the gate to greet the visitors. In the fields surrounding the Chapel... Dazzle, Jeran, and Ivanhoe appeared in front of the gates of the chapel, finding it close. "No reception? That's a bit bad for new converts." Jeran said, chuckling while looking at Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe didn't mind him but was clearly annoyed. Dazzle remained silent. The gates swung open in front of the group. "Ah, here we go." Dazzle said, hovering inside. Jeran and Ivanhoe followed him. Inside the Chapel... "The prophet Mu-" Dazzle cut the monk off, continuing to hover on. "Munignant, Nalyd's prohpet, masochist extraordinaire . Yes, I know where his quarters are." Jeran and Ivanhoe followed Dazzle silently, the latter clearly uncomfortable. After walking the eerie halls of the castle, Dazzle stopped in front of an ornately designed door, with a plaque reading, "Chambers of the Prophet, Munignant." As they went inside the prophet's quarter, Ivanhoe suddenly has the urge to not look at the writhing mass. "Dazzle, it has been a long time. Monks, leave us" The writhing mass said. The monks did what the prophet told. "Yes, yes it is, Munignant." Dazzle replied. Munignant writhed at the ecstasy he was feeling. Dazzle looked at him intently, then at the wound. "What's with him?" whispered Jeran. "A wound. Normally he can regenerate wounds at a rate, but this one." Dazzle whispered back. Ivanhoe entered the room again, but soon got the feeling of going out again. Jeran followed him. Jeran snickered at him. "Hey holy boy! Don't have the guts?" Jeran teased. "Quiet, knave." Ivanhoe said sitting down on the floor. "Tell me Munignant. Was he the one who did this?" Dazzle asked. "Yes. And...the.." Munignant suddenly stopped speaking and returned to his most pleasurable writhing, with the guts spilling. Jeran entered the room again. "What now?" he whispered. "It seems nothing can be done until the prophet is healed. His wound is far too great to regenerated and healed easily. I can help with some of my Necromantic magic but we may need another healer." Dazzle said. "Holy boy?" Jeran asked. "Yes. Call him." Dazzle said. "But..." Jeran laughed. "He doesn't have the guts! Get it? Guts?" Jeran chuckled loudly and then promptly stopped when he saw Dazzle looking at him with no expression. "Fine then..." "Better." Dazzle muttered. He then walked up to the prophet to see the full extent of the wound. It was a gaping, deep, and downright wicked. It was made in such a way that the prophet cannot regenerate it. Only one being can do it. Ahonar. Or perhaps a servant of Ahonar. Nonetheless, they have to heal it for the prophet to function properly. Jeran entered the room snickering with a blind-folded Ivanhoe. Dazzle looked at them intently. "What? You said to bring him in." Dazzle took off the blindfold. Ivanhoe saw Munignant, in all his goreful state, and started to not feel well. "Unfocused magic is the least we need now." Dazzle said to Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe clearly disoriented, forced himself to do the task, positioning himself beside the prophet. Dazzle went to his side, dark light emanating from his hands. Black tendrils coalesced and floated to the wound of Munignant. It went straight for the injured organs of the prophet and tried to heal it. Some of the monks came to see what is happening. It was all silent. "This will not do. I can heal him in an extent, but, there is a part of him that needs some flesh for it to heal completely." Dazzle said, breaking the silence. "We can sacrifice one of our limbs for the prophet if needed." one of the monks said. "Do so. Make haste monks." Dazzle said. Ivanhoe was clearly really, really disoriented. As the monks went outside the room, a gurgling sound rang out. Ivanhoe has relieved what has been left of the meal he has taken, still containing a hefty amount of meat and flesh. Ivanhoe then passed out. The monks stopped to see what happened. "That'll do. I hope you don't mind using animal parts in healing your prophet." Dazzle said, continuing his work. The tendrils separated the bile from the meat. They then merged the meat with the organs, shaping it to what is needed. After about an hour, Dazzle finished his gruesome task. "That took longer than I expected. Even so, I am not sure of the results. Monks!" Dazzle said. "Attend to your prophet. Inform us when something happens." The monks nodded. The group exited, with Jeran dragging the still unconscious Ivanhoe. At the main hall, Jeran assisted Ivanhoe on the couch that laid. Dazzle just stood, or more likely, hovered at the ground. Ivanhoe began to wake up. "What happened?" Ivanhoe asked. "You, my friend, have healed the prophet!" Jeran said, slapping Ivanhoe at the back. "I did?" Ivanhoe asked. "Well, you puked and passed out. But your puke helped." Jeran said, rubbing Ivanhoe's back. Dark chants began to echo around the chapel. "What are they doing?" Ivanhoe asked Dazzle. "They are attending to their prophet." Dazzle answered. "I thought he was healed." Ivanhoe said, reclining his back against the couch. "No, he has not yet fully healed, though I have healed him so that the more lethal wounds are healed. But it is still up to the prophet and his followers to get the final result. "So, what do we do now?" Jeran asked. "We wait." -------------------- Humans fight to enter insanity. You ain't evil until you hear this! Looking for group to slaughter the world.. Posts: 732 | Registered: Saturday, June 24 2006 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 16:51
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Once again, Vlad woke up in a place he didn’t expect. He was back on the skyship with Trinculo. “Whew, I had the best dream ever. There was this hot young adventurer woman, she was totally all up ons. She wanted me so badly. Damn, I forget what happened after that…” “Hmm, that might have been a dream, master. I found these on you in the inn.” The Least handed Vlad the note and coins from Fi. “I must say I’m astounded that someone you met actually seems to have not hated you.” “Sweet, free money.” Vlad pocketed the coins and threw the note away. “My sexual prowess is well known among the womankind. I wish I had a coin for every time a whore paid me for sex. Oh, wait, I guess I do.” Vlad let out a creepy chuckle. Trinculo doubted Vlad’s words, but then again, one never knew for sure. “Well, Clarence, how did I get here?” “I carried you, master. We Least can carry many times our body weight and-“ “Yawn! Boring!” As if the conversation wasn’t ended abruptly enough, the skyship rumbled as it came to a landing. The dozens of adventurers moved towards the exit in anticipation. They had arrived at their destination. -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 17:28
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“That’s it? That’s the Chapel of Fallen Might?” The Chapel was tiny. A small dot in the middle of a vast wasteland. Sort of run down, too. No one would ever guess one of the most powerful objects in the world was within. One of the more learned adventurers stepped forward, “Don’t judge it by it’s outward appearance. This building is Vogelian. Lets go inside.” Once inside, the adventurers were baffled to discover that the building was, in fact, massive. The tiny structure outside must have been an illusion, for the main hall right inside the doorway was as huge as the most grand of cathedrals. Truly the building was Vogelian. Once everyone was inside, they began to discuss strategy. Most of them assumed the place was abandoned, and so they were surprised when they were approached by a monk in black robes. “Ah, adventurers. You have arrived. The Prophet will-“ Vlad ran forward and stabbed the monk in the stomach with one of his metal spikes. When he tried to gurgle some last words Vlad shoved another spike into his chest. The monk slumped over, dead. “Woohoo! First kill is mine!” The learned adventurer stepped forward, “You idiot! That was a servant of the Prophet of Nalyd! They are on side! They want to fix the Vale was well!” “How the hell was I supposed to know that?” “We went over all of this! Didn’t you pay attention during the briefing?” Vlad said ‘yes’ but was undermined when Trinculo said ‘no’ at the exact same time. Belinda smiled, she should never have doubted Ahonar’s choice to employ Vlad. The learned adventurer was furious, “There are miles and miles of catacombs beneath this chapel! We needed that monk to guide us to the Glass Onion! You ruined everyth-” The adventurer was silenced as Vlad cast a dumbfound spell on him. “Not so smart now, are you?” The X-High Priest stood up on a pew and faced the other adventurers. “Alright, look here. I’m taking control of this expedition. Any objections? Good. It seems we have a bit of exploring to do. We shall split up into groups of six adventurers, old school style. My group will be me, Trinculo, hot priestess, that huge guy over there with the fearsome armor, that modestly cute archer there, and the archmage. Now lets get down there and kill anything that moves!” Rahona folded his arms and looked to Belinda. She and her God had best be in different groups, to give the Anama a greater chance at finding the Onion first. Belinda approached Vlad, “Uh, perhaps instead of having all the most powerful people in your group, we should split them up, you know, so we have a better chance at finding the Onion.” “No.” “What? Come on. I, uh, don’t like the way the archmage is looking at me…” Vlad noted Rahona’s sly expression, “Whatever. Archmage Whatsyourface, you’re out of my group, we’ll take… that guy over there in the red shirt instead. Now, can we finally get started or was there something else you wanted to whine about?” Belinda looked to Rahona, who nodded. She smiled and turned to Vlad, “Everything is as it should be, let us begin.” -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Warrior
Member # 12481
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 17:49
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"I should probably head back to Manarina and report my failure..." Fi mused, though the prospect didn't appeal to her one iota. She had managed to slip out of the inn without It seeing her, judging by the fact that she'd made it back to the docks on her own without him following her. She approached a large, burly man with gnarled hands and a massive ginger beard, who was bellowing orders to everyone around him. As he paused to draw breath, she spoke. "Excuse me, sir... which is the fastest boat to Manarina?" she asked, schooling her voice and features to a strictly businesslike demeanour. The huge man chose to ignore it, however, and eyed her with open lust. "Well, now... I'm going to Manarina meself. Lemme finish loadin and I'll take ye wherever ye needs ta go - free of charge!" he said in his rough approximation of a lusty whisper. "I doubt that you could take me anywhere I want to go. I need to get to Manarina, the faster the better - and don't pretend I carry these for decoration," Fi snapped, indicating her weapons. "Now, kindly answer my question. Which of these is the fastest ship to Manarina?" -------------------- Third generation geek and heathen! Posts: 93 | Registered: Tuesday, December 11 2007 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 17:53
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Ivanhoe attempted to mentally shut out the noxious smell. Having failed, Ivanhoe removed himself from the room. While doing so he stumbled over several gaps in the floor. Jeran snickered silently, but Ivanhoe didn't express agitation. Ivanhoe ducked under several discolored cobwebs. He noticed the arcane structural design of the walls. However, the torches made themselves more evident than anything. The torch shafts were solid bone, which harbored bright magical lights. Ivanhoe stalked down the hallway, keeping a firm grasp on Excalibur's hilt. A monk materialized out of the darkness, causing Ivanhoe to thrust himself backwards so violently he slammed to the ground. The monk exploded with laughter, an ability Ivanhoe thought they could not possess. "You're holy boy aren't you?" the monk shouted. Ivanhoe frowned from his awkward viewpoint on the cold stone floor, "Do not address me as holy boy. I am Ivanhoe le Fay, leader of..." Ivanhoe squirmed uncomfortably, "What is the matter with this place." "This is a temple of Nalyd. The Glass Onion was recently stolen by some being." Ivanhoe seemed unimpressed, he got up and ran back to Jeran and Dazzle. "We're looking for a Glass Onion," Ivanhoe said. "We already knew that," Jeran and Dazzle said unanimously. "Oh," replied Ivanhoe, clearly embarrassed. -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 18:01
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It was quite surprised when he went into the chapel. But he grumbled when he and the High Priest of Stupid Iffy ended up in the same group as Ahonar. It would have no chance if It faced him, but he must remain in the group. Their group started walking... -------------------- Don't judge a sentence until you know all the words. Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again Muffins n' Hell: The End is Near I like this image Not in your shed -We are sort of done. Helpful criticism is welcome. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Be grateful you have your unsellabe trowels -Goldenking Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 19:09
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Muningant's vision suddenly stopped spawning hallucinations. His hearing returned to normal levels, and his sense of touch started to return to areas other than his stomach. He could smell something other than rotting guts and ichorous blood. His eyes opened, revealing the voids within. He sat up, and explored his healed abdomen. Another scar, but what was one more? Sitting up, his thoughts stopped wandering. His focus returned. The ever-peaceful and silent monks filed slowly out. His memories began to return. "Dazzle. . . was here. Is here. The Onion. . . taken. Yes, I have seen it. Others. . . wait." He mumbled things to this effect until he rose from the black blood-drenched bed and his cloak of smoky "fabric" returned. Going to the chamber door, he paused and pulled the sacrificial dagger out of his thigh, where it had been wedged. Tucking it into his robe, he opened the door and greeted the lich in a weak hissing voice, paying no attention to the human near him. "Dazzle, my old friend. Ever have you helped return my sorrow to Nalyd. Doubtless, you come for the Onion, yes?" -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 6785
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written Thursday, January 3 2008 20:43
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Halfast wasn't sure that it was safe not to be in Vlad's group. At least going with him would insure that he could always stay behind him, that being the safest spot. Being in another group he ran the risk of meeting up with Vlad and getting attacked by accident. The Archmage Rahona group was probably the next safest. Anyone that could kill a city of Anam ought to be able to protect him from Vlad's stupidity. Halfast would just have to stay near him and watch for approaching disaster. This was not how he wanted to spend his remaining years. Posts: 4643 | Registered: Friday, February 10 2006 08:00 |
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Warrior
Member # 12481
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written Friday, January 4 2008 03:54
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Something in her manner seemed to impress upon the lout that upsetting Fi would be unwise. "Th' next boat that goes directly t' Manarina don't leave for a few hours. Like, 5 or 6 hours. We'll make our way there but we stop all over th' place fer cargo and th' like, so's we takes a long time..." he rumbled. Fi raised an eyebrow, smirked and sketched a bow. "Well, thank you. I'll be off then..." she declared, moving with alacrity away from the docks. She meandered through the city for a time, before seeing the annoyingly familiar figure of It still following the old man around; however, he wasn't shouting about anything this time. Curiousity got the better of her; she decided to follow so she could see how the old man had managed to get It to shut up. -------------------- Third generation geek and heathen! Posts: 93 | Registered: Tuesday, December 11 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Friday, January 4 2008 07:08
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Unheeding of the various Monks around them Jeran let his eyes wander, exploring the dark chapel. It did not feel particularly evil in any one sense, in fact it felt more comforting then Dazzle’s castle had. He also felt more energized then he had before, this place was saturated with dark magic from the many sacrifices and the recent activity so his body responded by letting down the barriers and allowing his senses to roam. There was a small explosion behind his eyes as his mental probe suddenly hit something so hard the recoil caused his nose to burst. Spitting blood, swearing with pain and trying to withdraw himself back into his body Jeran shouted aloud, causing the group to turn on him in surprise. Ignoring the pain and managing to clear his throat Jeran spoke in something approaching a voice. “AH...Ahonars here!!” He spat “What? Who Ivanhoe gasped, then remembered himself and uttered a healing prayer, Jeran’s nose stopped bleeding and his throat cleared instantly. “Ahonar is here! Inside the chapel” Jeran shouted, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “And others, many others” “Can you tell who they were?” Inquired Dazzle “One priest, maybe two, one almost as powerful as the prophet here” “That’s all you can tell?” Asked Dazzle again, careful to keep any potentially misinterpreted emotion from his voice “Yes, there may well be more. But Ahonar is definitely among them, I’d recognize his aura a mile away!” “Then we must prepare ourselves or escape” Ivanhoe said. “They seek the onion” Munigant whispered “And they’re not going to get it! Not this time” Snarled Jeran. He drew his weapon in one fluid movement “I’m done running from that bastard” -------------------- "Fear that which mortality has rejected" -Galvin Magnus Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Friday, January 4 2008 09:55
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It, the stupid high priest of Iffy, Ahonar, and the rest in their group had already walked what seemed miles. But It didn't care. It and Ahonar (Though Ahonar pretended to be tired) weren't tired at all. But the others called for a rest. It announced that he would walk around a bit. He went through a passage and found someone familiar. Suddenly he remembered something. When the gods were deciding on whether or not his design would do, there was someone next to him...a female version of him. Apparently they both survived and were cast down into different places. And he noticed that right now, she had...something. He wasn't sure what the item was. It asked, "I think I know you...and what is that you are holding?" He waited for her to respond. -------------------- Don't judge a sentence until you know all the words. Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again Muffins n' Hell: The End is Near I like this image Not in your shed -We are sort of done. Helpful criticism is welcome. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Be grateful you have your unsellabe trowels -Goldenking Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Friday, January 4 2008 11:13
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Ivanhoe withdrew his sword, illuminating the room. "I'm with you Jeran, Dazzle would you care to join us?" Ivanhoe followed Jeran's lead, he could hear voices around the corner, but left the decision up to Jeran. Ivanhoe wasn't to worried about Dazzle, he could certainly catch up when he wanted. -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Friday, January 4 2008 12:20
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Jeran strode down the halls, uncaring about who should hear him. His Mithril armour made no sound and its reflective surface made him seem as little more then an oddly shaped shadow. Rounding a corner he found himself in the main hall, the sound of his targets painfully obvious to his acute hearing. He mentally reserved a small portion of his magical power to the Ravvijac Lesser that he was pleased to find accepted to stored power easily. Much more at home in the dark halls of the chapel then elsewhere Jeran could already feel the magic stir within his frame, in this environment he would have considerably more resources to call upon, if not necessarily more power. The alien footfalls were near now and he risked a glance round the corner of the pillar he had hid himself against. A band of about a dozen or so adventurers were working their way cautiously across the floor about twenty metres from his hiding place. A hand descended on his shoulder and if he had not known absolutely who it was, they would probably have lost it. “Don’t bloody scare me like that” He hissed at Ivanhoe. “Sorry” his friend whispered “How many of them?” Jeran didn’t bother to ask how he knew. “Around a dozen, mostly fighters with a mage leading them” “Got a plan?” “Yes. Stay here” Not bothering to wait for a response Jeran slipped away from Ivanhoe across the floor, now he was stealthy, slinking from pillar to pillar as his targets neared. The adventurers were no amateurs, keeping a close eye on all points of the building, one was even pointing a crossbow at the roof as if expecting monks to descend upon them from above. A two-man-strong guard of archer and swordsman took up the rear. Jeran decided to start with those. The two men never knew what hit them; Jeran simply caused the darkness to congeal around them like a choking mist before slitting their throats with the archer’s own dagger. It had happened so fast that neither man had had the chance to cry out. The main body of enemies didn’t even look back. The mage died next, the dagger whistling out of the darkness to bury itself full length in her chest. The commotion caused by this sudden catastrophe was perfect. Two men died as they whirled around try to identify the attacker, their heads removed from their bodies by one devastating sweep of the dark blade. His presence revealed Jeran dropped all pretence of stealth and charged the leading warrior, his long-sword shattering under the impact of Jeran’s blow and losing most of his torso in the same movement. The crossbow man managed to get a shot off which Jeran was forced to deflect at the last instant with a magical shield, then he to died. The final four took one look at the devastation he had caused and his apparent invincibility against their weapons and ran. Jeran plucked a sling-stone from one of the corpses and with the aid of magic sent it though their heads as they fled. The final one protected by a helmet was merely stunned by the missile. Jeran paused for a moment to inspect his work and delivered a sharp blow with a mailed fist to the final adventurer, checking afterwards to make sure she was unconscious. “A pity” he said to her, overcome by a sense of melodrama “always has to be the girl that lives” “Keep her alive” he called to Ivanhoe “This was only the first instalment” Before the other man could answer he had darted deeper into the chapel, seeking out his next batch of enemies. -------------------- "Fear that which mortality has rejected" -Galvin Magnus Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Friday, January 4 2008 12:40
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Ivanhoe sheathed his sword for the purpose of concealment. He contorted himself into a niche in the wall, constricting his breathing to undetectable levels. Several iron clad mace bearers entered his peripheral vision. Ivanhoe ceased movement altogether waiting for them to pass. After a short duration of time his target came into view. Ivanhoe leaped out, slaying two priests in one strike. A mage several yards behind him volleyed a fire bolt towards him. Ivanhoe riposted the blow, swinging the ball of flame towards the several warriors rushing him. The warriors screaming, as they were seared to death. Ivanhoe threw the now scalding hot Excalibur towards the mage. The blow obliterated the man's pelvis. Ivanhoe sprinted towards his weapon, avoiding several arrows directed towards him. Ivanhoe picked up a dead mans shield and charged. However, just before the Excalibur dealt a blow do one of his foes, Jeran appeared from nowhere and slew them. "You just had to do that, didn't you?" Ivanhoe asked. Ivanhoe tossed the bloody shield he was holding at a bony torch. The torch didn't respond. "Eh, I was bored. You know, I've never seen a control foes spell." Jeran replied. "That takes all the fun out of it. Anyways, my prayer energy is exhausted from healing that prophet or whatever you call it." Ivanhoe skulked further into the chapel. He thought he heard Jeran behind him, but the ancient hallways could probably echo footsteps from anywhere in the chapel. -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Friday, January 4 2008 13:26
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Munigant sent out a mental call to all of the monks in the Chapel. "This is the Prophet Munigant. We are under attack by a large band of adventurers searching for the Onion. They entered through the main door and are traveling in groups of six. The god Ahonar in the guise of the Archmage Rahona is with one of the groups. Seal all of the holy artifacts and block the exits. I will hunt them down." The sound of rustling robes and clattering sandals filled the hallways as the monks moved as one. Vocal and telepathic call rang sharply throughout the complex as Munigant tracked the slight emanations of pain that come with every movement coming from the usually deserted catacombs. The first group he came across was ripped to pieces by stone tentacles stretching from the walls and floor. The second was immolated in great gouts of acidic gas. Tracking the third party was difficult, as only four members were left. Their heads were impaled from behind. Coming upon the fourth, Munigant found Dazzle's pet humans. "Greetings, allies. How have you fared against these invaders?" -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Friday, January 4 2008 13:34
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Ivanhoe hesitated, "We have easily disposed of them. I feel that some greater power is at hand, we must proceed with caution." -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Friday, January 4 2008 13:44
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A short trail of bodies marked Jeran’s passage deeper into the chapel. He had recharged himself through the energy potions stolen from the mages he had encountered. Twice he had been forced to kill the six-strong groups with magic, draining him badly. Now he was down to the last pair, both elixirs. He had been moderately impressed by Ivanhoe’s performance and now shadowed a pair of archers who had gotten separated from their group minutes before a well-placed fireball had obliterated it. Both were tall and lithe men, probably brothers by the look of them, wearing matching suits of studded leather armour. Like a cat pouncing on a rat Jeran was on them. An armoured palm clapped one man senseless as the other whirled to face him, arrow half-notched to the longbow he gripped. Jeran simply moved an arrows-length forward and allowed it to break against his armour. The man drew his dagger and lunged, Jeran let it bounce off his breast-plate before sizing his attackers arm in a locking grip. He pulled him close; making sure the man could see his dark skin and savage expression. “Were is Ahonar” He snarled. “Ahnoa…Ahonar?” Gibbered the man. Jeran realised with annoyance the man didn’t know what he talking about. “Your leader!” He snapped, now to annoyed to appear anymore unearthly then he already was. “The h…High priest of TM w...went below with the best fighters” The man stuttered. Jeran knew he wasn’t going to get more out of him. Knocking him out with a called blow to the temples Jeran dropped the archer and sank back into the shadows, making his way downwards to the crypts. When the call went out, Jeran reported his status then simply switched off from the ethernal realm, his target now clear in his mind. -------------------- "Fear that which mortality has rejected" -Galvin Magnus Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Friday, January 4 2008 13:58
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After slaying a few more invaders, Ivanhoe took refuge in nondescript room. A body lay on the opposite, still breathing. Ivanhoe tossed a bucket of murky water toward the man, which provoked him to waking up. "I already told you," he panicked, "Vlad went below with the fighters." Ivanhoe unsheathed his sword, causing the man to become even more frightened. "I don't like slaying people. Now who is this Vlad?" asked Ivanhoe, etching marks into the ground. "He..he's the high priest of...TM." the man replied rapidly. Ivanhoe frowned. During his times with the Anama, Ivanhoe paid little attention the the Spiderweb Pantheon. However, he had sufficient knowledge of TM. Ivanhoe prodded the ground with additional etchings, "Now, tell me, where is a fountain." The man simply pointed in the direction. Ivanhoe walked cautiously in that direction. Sure enough there was a fountain. He quickly washed the blood from his sword, as the liquid had obscured its brilliance. Ivanhoe heard Jeran in the distance. Based on the man's reaction, Ivanhoe guessed Jeran had already grasped a hold of him. Ivanhoe ran towards the sound of Jeran, if they were going to deal with a priest of TM Jeran would certainly need help. -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Friday, January 4 2008 14:26
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After a good few hours of searching, Belinda began to suspect they were getting nowhere. These twisting black halls were all identical, and with Vlad leading them, she was pretty sure they would never find the Glass Onion. “Uh, Vlad, perhaps we should have taken that last left…” “Nonsense, right is always right.” “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. All we’re going to accomplish going right all the time is going in a big circle. Have you ever even explored a dungeon before?” “Hey, don’t talk to me like that. I’ll kill you, you know.” Trinculo spoke up, “My master is correct, actually. Hugging the right wall will assure that we will see most of the dungeon. Eventually we have to-“ Trinculo fell silent when someone stepped on a shifting stone on the floor. A trap had been set off and a spear flew out of the wall towards the group. It was headed strait for Belinda, the only one in the group capable of healing. Knowing this all too well, the huge armored warrior moved forward at impossible speeds and deflected the bolt at the last second with his massive halberd, an impressive show of skill. “Woah! Nice one, big guy.” Vlad laughed and began moving forward again. “Hold on, you old fool!” The warrior spoke, “There are probably more traps in this hall. We must be getting close to the Onion.” “Yeah, well, what do you suggest we do? Can anyone here work with traps?” No one responded, Trinculo put his face in his palm, “Oh, I knew we should have put together a more balanced group.” “Pfff, you guys have zero problem solving skills. Give me a second.” Vlad looked around at his fellow adventurers, trying to decide who was the most expendable, eventually settling on the one with the red shirt. “You, with the red shirt!” “It’s really more of an orange-“ “Too late.” Vlad grabbed the man and threw him forward. He hit many, many trapped panels as he stumbled through the hallway off balance. All manner of spears, darts, fire, and acid traps were set off, and by the time he reached the other side, there was really not that much left of him. He fell to the ground in an unrecognizable heap. “See, problem solved. That guy turned out to be far more useful than I thought he would be.” The others with Vlad all looked on in horror, except for the armored warrior, who nodded his head, smiled, and moved forward. The group passed through the trapped halls without further incident. Unfortunately for everyone else in all of Rune, Vlad’s group reached the room containing the Glass Onion first. “Well, that was fast.” Vlad noted. The prize was before them! A beautiful glowing, onion-shaped carved crystal containing all the powers of the Creator himself. It was in the middle of a dark and shadowy chamber on top of a pile of fresh bones, still pink from the flesh that once clung to them. Tainted light barely lit the room from dusty stained glass windows. There were also bits of black cloth everywhere from the followers of Nalyd that had made several attempts to reclaim the Onion and paid with their lives. There was a quite clicking noise coming from the shadows, but the adventurers paid it no heed. -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Friday, January 4 2008 14:39
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When Ivanhoe finally caught up with Jeran, he was dead silent. Jeran signaled impatiently, obviously attempting to make Ivanhoe cease his noisy activity. Ivanhoe approached slowly. Off in the distance was a high priest carrying a glass onion. Since they couldn't speak, Ivanhoe waited for Jeran to make a move. Gee, Maybe I should take lead for once, Ivanhoe thought. Ivanhoe withdrew the Excalibur from its scabbard. It's brilliance definitely caught the attention of the high priest several hundred feet away. Meanwhile Jeran expressed a look displaying the thought of "You moron, what in the heck are you doing?" [ Friday, January 04, 2008 14:42: Message edited by: Excalibur ] -------------------- I dub thee... Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
