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The Dead of Knight

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Rothgar hears Darius' breaking down behind him and just grits his teeth in frustration.

"Strap a pair on you beardless coward and fight for your life or is that bow on your back just for show and picking up the ladies!"


"Great," he thinks to himself. "That's two people useless in a fight. At least the blue skinned lass has a spine. Let's hope she didn't waste all her magic upstairs. I hope that half-orc is as mean as she looks or we're as good as dead. Time to do this the old fashioned way I guess, by myself."


Rothgar slides his grip down the haft of the waraxe and grips it right below the head and he moves to yank it out of the floor where it was driven by his last missed attack. So focused on freeing his weapon and the cowardice of his companion, he fails to notice the ghoul lunging for him. Just as its foul mouth is about to tear into his forearm, the axe pulls free and Rothgar uses the momentum to drive the spiked head of the axe up into the jaw of the ghoul in a viscious uppercut, sending bits of bone, teeth and blood spraying. A resounding crash echoes through the room, reminiscent of hammer striking anvil and the ghoul is lit up by the same violet flames now licking along the head of Rothgar's waraxe. The ghoul's eyes roll back into its head and it staggers on its feet, but remains standing.


Rothgar doesn't even notice the results as he presses his attack. With the axe free, he loosens his grip and allows the axe to slide into its more natural position before pivoting clockwise, bringing the axe to bear on the remaining two undead. His swing fueled by vengence, it tears through the ghoul to his left dropping it into an expanding pool of its own ichor. Again you hear the clash of hammer on anvil as the fury of Rothgar's blows seem fueled by the forges of his ancestors. The momentum from the swing brings Rothgar to stand over the newly dead ghoul. With a final swing, Rothgar drives his blade deep into the thigh of the ghast as the flames from his axe envelop the creature and yet another crash of hammer on anvil echoes through the otherwise silent inn.


Panting from his exertion, Rothgar manages to hear the Ghast's comments about 'Strix' and he files it away for future use, knowing now who ordered the assault on this hearth.


"Now that your friends have been dealt with," Rothgar pants. "You're next."


[Full Round Action: Whirlwind Attack vs all three undead. Misc Action: 5ft step to D6.]

[Full Round Action: Whirlwind Attack vs all three undead. Misc Action: 5ft step to B6.]

[insert Continuity Edit for Action Sequence]

Edited by Qwyksilver
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Kurith feeling a bit brushed off by Rothgar fumes to herself for a moment, but the fumes ignite and the exhilaration of combat fuels a burning fire that grows within her. Then she decide to show the dwarf that she too can roll with the best of them. Seeing that Rothgar has stepped back after only causing a small wound on the creature directly ahead and leaving an opening for her to occupy, she secures her grip on her dual waraxes and flies into a screaming blood frenzy while moving forward and brushes past Rothgar, nearly knocking him aside. There is a great stench but she manages to keep her composure and sets her target on the creature directly ahead of her. Just then, arcane energy, in the form of two pure white shards of light slam into the ghast ahead of her. The creature is injured but only mildly as it prepares to meet Kurith ATTACK.


Kurith mighty blow cuts through the ghast arm as it tried to deflect the blow to no avail, then continues on as it separates the ghast head from its shoulder. It’s body sprays putrid blood even as it collapses to the floor, where a pool of blackened blood forms around it beneath the fog.


Even as Kurith watches the ghast fall, she brings her other arm about in an arc attempting to do the same to the remaining creature on her right, but the creature just lurches back in time as the waraxe passes within inches of it neck, but cleanly where its neck had just been.


The ghoul jumps at the missed attack and bites Kurith on her right arm but releases quickly enough doing minimal damage as she shrugs the creature off her. Whatever Kurith may have heard of these undead, the effect of its bite seem not to be having any effect on her.


With the battle nearly at its end those nearby hear the hushed voice of Darius, ghoul.., ghoul.., ghoul…



Kurith damage spoiler:

2 point of damage from ghoul bite


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Rothgar attacks the one remaining ghoul and is pretty sure he has killed it, but is waiting for confirmation from a voice on high before he goes and makes this more interesting to read.



Rothgar killed the Ghoul and scans the room for more threats and sees nothing through the fog, but he's really tired so he will make this look prettier tomorrow, but at least you all know what happened :poke:


And he'll probably say something about the wound burning and some smartarsed comment to Darius about the path to the bathroom being clear if he needs to clean himself.

Edited by Qwyksilver
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Darius is five years old again. At least, he is in his mind. As Kurith, Rothgar, and Tempest engage the ghouls and ghast, a memory resurfaces from the ranger's subconscious, causing him to confront something that was long forgotten.


"Darius, get a move on!" a gruff voice says.

"Yes, da," comes the reply as young Darius hurries to catch up to his father, Cale.


The elder Gamor leads them farther and farther into the wood, his long, powerful strides forcing his son into a trot to keep up. The two are out on Darius' first hunt, something that both take very seriously. The boy hasn't once stopped to ask how far they will go, or complained that he is tired and hungry, even though his legs ache and his belly rumbles.


He gazes up at his father, and wonders if he will ever be so large and imposing. Cale is tall and broad-shouldered, like his father and brothers. A broad nose sits in the middle of his square-jawed face, accompanying his piercing grey eyes. Cale Gamor's gaze is something to behold if you are a five-year old, skinny boy and you get caught with your hand in the apple barrel.


While he is looking up at his father, Darius trips on a tree root and falls flat on his face. His father hears the commotion, and stops to help the boy up.

"Got to watch where you're going, son," Cale says, kindness in his deep voice. "If I bring you back with too many scratches, your mother will skin me alive." He laughs at this last, and so does Darius, as he pictures his small, slender mother attacking his father.


"Look. We've almost caught up to the stag. These tracks are only a couple of hours old," Cale says, pointing. "Let's go!"


They continue their trek through the woods, Cale stopping occasionally to point out some bit of woodcraft to his son. Darius drinks in the knowledge, eager to learn to read the wilderness as his father can. Hours later, they are crouched behind a fallen log in a clearing, watching the stag as he drinks from a small pool. Cale draws back his bow, and slows his breathing down, concentrating on the shot.


Neither boy, man, nor stag sense the danger around them. Death walks on cat's paws into the clearing, and just as Cale is loosing his arrow, a clawed hand on a decayed arm rakes down his back. He screams, and his shot goes awry, startling the stag into darting through the brush.


Darius turns to see a thing he had hoped never to see. The stories were too horrifying to allow him to think for a second that things like this were real. He is too terrified to scream, and all the only sound the can make through his trembling lips is one word.




"Darius! Run boy! RUUUN!" His father shouts as he rises up and draws the huge sword at his back. He swings it in a deadly arc, cleaving the rotted head from its rotted shoulders. Darius dares to feel triumph in his naive heart.


Then the rest attack.


They come swarming out of the brush surrounding the small clearing, snarling mass of claws and teeth attached to rotten, sloughing flesh. Darius scrambles away, finding shelter in the hollow log. He hears the battle rage outside, the cries of both his father and the ghouls seeming like thunder to the frightened boy's ears.


The sounds of the fighting abruptly end in a flash of white light and a crack of thunder. Darius peeks his head out and sees a man dressed in what appears to be a mixture of leaves, bark, and animal skins kneeling over his bleeding and broken father. Tears well up in the boy's eyes at the sight.


"Fear not, child, you father will live, I arrived in time. Sleep now, all will be well soon." the man says without turning around. Darius has never felt less like sleeping in his life, but a sudden drowsiness comes over him, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.


When he wakes, he is back at home, and the man is gone. His mother tells him that the man was a Druid, and his name was Maximillian. He had healed most of his father's wounds, but told her that the scars would never fade, and one of his legs would never be whole again. He was right.





Darius remembers all this in flashes as he sits, helpless and dazed on the floor of the Irongullets' secret room. He remembers, and rage begins to fill him. A blind anger that burns through the fear and helplessness. He stands up and throws down the rod, drawing his sword. The same sword that cut down so many ghouls all those years ago. Once again, he repeats the only word he has spoken in the last several moments. This time though, it is not a feeble, mumbled thing of a weak and frightened child. It is the roar of a battlecry.




He charges into the next room, not noticing anyone who may be in his way, the rage in his veins fueling him.

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Kurith is able to recall almost nothing of her battle with the ghast except for the smell of its breath, the sting of the other ghoul's bite, and the heavy taste of metal which still lingers in her mouth now that both ghouls and ghast lie dead before her. That is how it always was after such a fight. Slowly she becomes aware of the subsiding pounding in her ears and the fatigue in her arms and legs. She runs her hand up her right arm and finds where the ghoul bit her. It stings, but mildlin in comparison to those she had already sustained. She brings her left hand up to her face and examines the blood on her fingertips curiously. It has only just occurred to her that the metallic taste in her mouth--the taste of copper, is in fact the taste of orc blood.


From behind, she hears Darius' voice, only this time it is not the voice of panic but rather the warcry of a man bent on vengeance. In spite of how strange Darius' looks charging through the banquet room bent over and swinging his sword wildly like a bent-over old man angrily wielding his crutch, Kurith dares not interfere.


As he nears the doorway to the main room, she steps aside and allows him to run right past her in his blind wrath.


"DARIUS! THERE'S NONE LEFT!", Kurith shouts at the enraged human as though he might just as likely attack the next creature he sees whether it be friend or foe.


She gestures to the pile of corpses now barely visible beneath the wavering fog. "Don't trip.", she adds, but only loudly enough to be heard by herself or maybe somebody next to her.

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Rothgar hears the sound of steel being drawn and Darius' battle cry as he thunders towards the conference room door. A sneer marks his visage as Rothgar starts, "Save your bravado you worthless piece of..."


And then he notices that Darius's face, though contorted with rage, has empty eyes. Rothgar assumes a defensive stance and slowly backs away from Darius' mad swinging, hoping the gore covering him does not suggest a target to insane woodsman.


What kind of lunacy have I found myself in? Rothgar wonders. I'm surrounded by vile creatures and the first living being I meet is a raving madman. If only this was some sick and twisted prank by Thor and Bell.


Rothgar grimaces in pain as the wound from the Ghoul continues to burn, the sensation slowly creeping up his arm towards his heart. Rothgar examines his wound more closely. The bite is jagged and raw where the small hunk of flesh was torn out and already the edges appear to have taken on a pale, dusky hue.


I need the services of a healer. Fast. This wound has already started to fester, and I fear what will happen if it remains untreated.


[standard Action: Total Defense (+6 AC; 5+ ranks in Tumble). Move Action: Move Silently to B3. Misc Actions, nominate Darius for Dodge. Current AC vs Darius = 27, all others 26.]

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As he nears the doorway to the main room, she steps aside and allows him to run right past her in his blind wrath.


"DARIUS! THERE'S NONE LEFT!", Kurith shouts at the enraged human....



The half-orc's voice burns through the red fog surrounding Darius' mind, and the ranger stops to look around. He sees Kurith eying him cautiously. Rothgar's defensive stance brings a realization as to how insane he must look right now. a deep breath calms him somewhat, and he looks at his companions with a sheepish grin.


"Sorry about that. Old memories and whatnot came back to punch me square in the brain, an' I panicked for a minute. Won't happen again," he says to them. Spying the pile of corpses, he walks over to them. "Might as well make sure, though," he says as he gives the dead bodies a couple of extra whacks.


When he is satisfied that the things are dead, he looks at the dwarf. "Now, Rothgar, whaddya say we try an' open that crate now?"

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Kurith watches Darius hacking at the corpses with a degree of admiration in spite of the fact that he had fled the fight moments earlier.


"Maybe they stay down this time.", she quips ruefully as she steps past Darius, making it a point to kick the ghast in the spot she calculates most likely to be its reproductive organs if indeed it can be said to have such things.


Hearing Darius mention a crate, Kurith recalls the tiny secret room which probably has not yet yielded all of its loot.


Turning to Rothgar, Kurith asks loudly,"Where you dwarfs keep the good healin' draught?"

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As Darius whacks at the unmoving corpses of undead, spurts of blood fly this way and that way. It is an eerie scene as the ranger exacts years of bent-up emotions on the lifeless corpses. When he turns to speak to the others a small amount of blood and gore speckles his face.


As the pair of questions are put to Rothgar he can only hope that there is something useful in one of the crates that may contain curative means. But as to opening the crate with the well made lock, that’s another matter all together.


The main tavern room is now quite once more and gives the sensation of being in a graveyard, except that the bodies here haven’t been buried which adds to the dread of the room.


But what of Tempest, she was left alone inside the hidden room, from which she hasn’t appeared since the battle ended or been heard of since her last spell was cast. Could it be that whatever effected Eligos has now effected her too?



Kurith DC15 INT Check

you already know it’s a good chance that Thor or Bellrose will likely have the key to the lock on them and you recall Tempest mentioning helping to carry a dwarf down into the Underdark, and you last recall seeing Bellrose behind the bar with Brundha

Read upon Successful Check or Spoiler


Rothgar DC15 INT Check

you recall from reading the ledger that many items were allocated aside for “Staff of Kerrigan expedition”, you figure another of Thor’s schemes, which included several healing potions as well.

Read upon Successful Check or Spoiler


Rothgar DC15 INT Check

you recall from reading the ledger the mentioning of a Keg with some curative means

Read upon Successful Check or Spoiler


Everyone DC20 INT Check

you know or figure that Thor is a crafty SOB. You realize that the lock is only half the problem and is meant to give someone a false sense of security once it has been removed. The ledger stated it was trapped and by Moradin beard you can bet that it is so.

Read upon Successful Check or Spoiler

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With Darius' stomping and ranting and raving, Tempest concludes that it is best to stay with the secret room for the moment. She stows her wand again, now that the immediate danger seems to be passed. As she hears normal conversation resume between Darius, Rothgar and Kurith, she emerges from the secret room with a jar in one hand and a vial in the other. "I'd advise against messing with that crate, Darius," she says as she enters the banquet room. "If the cargo is as valuable and dangerous as Rothgar's readings from the ledger seem to indicate, then there are likely to be both magical as well as mundane traps guarding it," she pauses and hands the vial to Kurith, having heard her request for healing. She continues, "and while I am not above helping myself to whatever resources may currently be available to survive this gods-forsaken night, it would seem that the crate will likely be more trouble than it is worth. I prefer to stick to the things that are easily available," she concludes as she moves to Rothgar's side. She looks over his wounds, shrugs slightly as she is unable to assess the severity of them, and hands him the jar anyway. "Try not to use it all up. That stuff is powerful and valuable... and from the Irongullet's stash," she adds with a sly grin.





[Vial given to Kurith is Potion of Cure Light Wounds from the bag. Heal check DC15 (5+2=7) fails, so Tempest is unsure of how badly Rothgar is injured, but she hands him a jar of Keoghtom's Ointment based on how much he screamed like a little girl during combat and the amount of blood on his neck.]


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Rothgar thanks the blueskinned lady for the ointment. "I've barely had time to tend to my wounds from these two hobgoblins here and the goblin in the conference room before I took these new ones. This will most certainly help. Sadly, I fear this bite," Rothgar raises his arm to show the wound, "has already begun to fester and without a Healer, our best hope is to pray for Fate to be kind to me else I may become one of those foul beasts."


Rothgar pauses for a second to judge the response of his new companions with that news.


"And your assessment of the Irongullets' cunning is likely accurate. I would not be surprised if there is far more than a mere padlock protecting that crate. If it's important enough for Thor to comment so strongly about, I have no doubts there are multiple levels of protection in that crate including some very unpleasant traps. I have some skills removing them, but I seriously doubt that I could bypass something of Thor's devious cunning."


"Thank you for your honesty in revealing you had these items." Rothgar pulls out the ledger and flips through the pages. "It seems there might be another item that has restorative powers. Did anyone happen to recall if there was a keg or cask in the store room of Dwarven spirits? If so, we may find a few draughts to improve our situation quite readily."


Rothgar walks back towards the store room, pausing for a second to viciously kick the ghoul that infected him.

"May your black soul never find happiness and suffer eternally in whatever hell you're sent to."

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Kurith eyes the vial with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, recalling the effects the last potion she drank had upon her. After a few moments of examining the entire night's scenario in her disorganized mind, she comes to the conclusion that if the dwarves had wanted her dead, she would have already been dead hours ago.


"Sembuh!", Kurith says, hoisting the vial as though proposing a toast. She then drinks down the potion in a single swallow. She pauses for moment longer and then sniffs at the empty vial.


"Tastes like water.", she mutters with a shrug and then starts toward the bar in the main hall in search of something with a bit more flavour and a bit less fire to it. She is scratching at the freshly-healed wound on her arm.


"THE RUDDY DOG'S BOLLOCKS! WHERE'S THE GOOD STUFF AT!", Kurith rants as she prowls through what little of Thor's bottled stock the ghouls and zombies have not already smashed to the floor.


Unrequited and still itching, Kurith stomps back into the smaller banquet room with half a crockery jar full of something honey-coloured.


"Tastes like rainwater.. every bit of it!"


She offers the crock jar to Rothgar and impatiently awaits an explanation.




(for those who speak orcish)


Sembuh = to recover from ill-health


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"I think, Rothgar, that you will find the contents of that small container more than equal to the task, if your wound is in fact infected. It is more than just a simple healing salve; it also carries the power to banish poisons from the system and even cure diseases." Tempest grabs one of the few remaining unbroken chairs from its side on the floor, rights it, and sits down to examine her own wounds. Deciding that they remain inconsequential for the moment, she looks back at the others and adds, "there are several other items from the Irongullet's stash that I've added to my inventory, mostly minor healing items as well."



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As you move behind the bar you come across two bodies and are able to determine whom they are. One is the dwarf whom recently you would have enjoyed taking your sap to just for good measure, he is the younger of the two Irongullet brothers named Bellrose. The other is easily enough discernable from her golden braided hair as Brundha. Both lay on the floor unresponsive in what appears the same deep sleep that Eligos is in.


Wanting something other than dwarven ale you ignore the four large brewery keg against the wall as you hope to help yourself to one of the many different dwarven rums stored in the colored bottles you spotted earlier that evening. But the night’s luck holds true as all of the bottles on the rack have been smashed. Moving toward the other end of the bar you spot a crockery jar along the bottom that catches your attention. Also on the floor are two other crates, the larger of the two is opened, a quick peek revealed it contained several waterskins or wineskins, most likely they were being unpacked to be stored in the cabinet below the bar.




“how the hell am I suppose to know what that stuff is and what’s its suppose to taste like” he says as he grabs the crockery jar from Kurith. Rothgar gives Kurith a quick glance then sticks his finger into the honey-colored contents. It’s a rather thick substance, much like real honey as it clings to his finger. After tasting it he spits it back out “aye, bland whatever it is”. Giving Kurith a questioning look he ask “what’cha ya thinking there?”




The rangers brows turn inward a bit as he hears what both Rothgar and Tempest say about the crate, but he can’t seem to shake a feeling that he wants to know what’s inside that crate which has drawn his attention.




As the others are preoccupied you run through the items from the backpack in your mind.


Tempest DC15 Listen Check

you hear some scuffling about coming from somewhere on the upper floor, you recall that earlier something had been moving about up there as well before you and Kurith descended back down into the hidden room.

Read upon Successful check or Spoiler

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"Don't nothin' taste right. That ain't all's wrong neither. Ain't even cold no more.. an' the healin' draught ain't right neither." Kurith pauses briefly for having reminded herself of the itching which she had tried to put out of her mind.


"Somethin's ALL wrong in here. ", Kurith says for all to hear. "Let's jus' get what we need an' get outta here."


That said, she starts toward the little hidden room for one last time to see what remains that is worth stealing.

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