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Lorderl

The Dead of Knight

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Kurith charges into the banquet room and sees Darius sitting on the floor. His clothes are still smoking and there is a faint smell of burnt hair lingering about him. "I'm okay. Got the crate open, too.", he says to her with surprising calm.

 

"Uh-huh... that kinda thing happen to me all the time.", she says to him with a laugh, "So..what'dya find?", she asks him.

 

Kurith reaches out a hand for Darius to take and pull himself up onto his feet again.

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"Thanks, Kurith," Darius says as he takes the barbarian's hand and finishes hauling himself up. "But I'm not sure yet, let's find out together, shall we?" he finishes, gesturing toward the crate.

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Group…

Anyone peering inside the crate will see layers of burned hay (packing material) filled within. The inner walls of the crate are scorched and the charred and partially ash remains of what was a magnificent but strange looking folding bow, a seared quiver and a few arrows who’s fletching still have some dying embers rest inside. The smell of burnt wood confronts your senses as wisps of smoke swirl upward.

 

Anyone observing the crate, DC20 Spot or Search check

you note that the outside of the crate show no signs of fire damage and isn’t even warm to the touch

Read Upon Successful Check or Spoiler

 

 

Game note: please PM (preferred) or post in OOC intended next action if it involves the crate in anyway

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Kurith looks at the smouldering mess at her feet.

 

"Oh s***.", she mutters with empathy for the Ranger who had, along with everbody else, risked his life to find out what was in that crate.

 

While she is in the room, she decides to start going through the other piles of stuff still lying about and maybe find something that had been overlooked. She no longer cares whether or not Rothgar or anybody else percieves it as 'looting'. In her opinion, they deserved to be ramsacked and robbed for the hell she and her friends have been through.

 

_____

 

Spot check >>

 

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"No!" Darius cries as he sees the charred remains of the bow. This is what was calling to him, telling him that he must open the crate. This is what they were almost killed over, and now....it's ruined. He reaches in, trying to tell himself that his eyes are deceiving him, that all the pain was not wasted.

 

He grabs the charred bow and quiver and lifts them out to inspect them more closely. At that point, he notices something else. "The crate is not damaged at all. Strange," he mutters aloud before turning his attention to the ruined weapon in his hands.

 

 

 

 

Spot check: 1d20(20) +11 =31.

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Kurith…

Grabbing the sack off the table Kurith begin dumping things into it, after several items have been thrown in she looks and finds that she can add even more, she repeats this until the tables contents have been cleared. It would seem that she’s found one of those magical Bags of Holding (type I, so I’m guessing everything on the table will fit). The only other visible items that weren’t on the table are a pair of boots (medium size) alongside the table and a iron shod wooden rod on the floor laying besides Eligos (at this point Eligos doesn’t look so good). Those items are easily visible without a search.

 

As a thorough searching of the room will take some 20 minutes it’ll be roughly 12:30am by the time Kurith is done.

 

After searching high and low, mostly low since it’s a 5ft high ceiling, the only thing that remotely catches Kurith attention now that most of the wavering fog is gone, is that the bottom stacked keg barrel has already been tapped (meaning there’s a nozzle of sorts in place to draw its contents), thus making the barrel ridiculously low to be of practical use.

 

 

Darius…

As the half-orc enjoys the treasure trove, Darius heart sinks upon seeing the ruined bow and quiver. But once he has drawn them from the crate they're appearance is restored, and a mighty greatbow rest in the rangers hands. Looking into the crate Darius sees the same ruined bow and quiver, of which must obviously be an illusion.

 

Anyone, DC22 Will save to see the Illusion for what it is, just an illusion :blink:::D:

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With most of the room's loose contents now in the bag, Kurith explains her actions.

 

"Needed more room if we all gonna sleep the night in here.", she says in a low monotone voice which characterizes her 'ain't the one you wanna argue with today' personna. The properties of the bag are a surprise to her. She had initially started by filling her pockets with the coins and gems; those items she calculated to be of the hightest value. It was by accident that she discovered that the bag could hold much more than it seemed capable of holding, and that it seemed not to get much heavier as it should have.

 

Kurith is temporarily possessed by a strange urge to further investigate the bag's seemingly bottomlessn nature. When Darius is not looking, she leans forward and pullis the sack up partially over her head. Even before she can dare open her eyes to see what the bag's interior might reveal to her half-orc eyes, a new but not-entirely-upleasant sense of disorientation overcomes her and she nearly stumbles in her dizziness. She pulls her head back out of the sack and hopes that Darius did not see.

 

She looks at him holding the new unruined greatbow in his hands. "Where'd you find that'un?", she asks, feeling as if she must have overlooked it in her searching.

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"It was in the crate," Darius says in a offhand way. He seems to be mesmerized by the bow in his hand. It can't be, just.... can't be.

 

A few deft movements, careful of the low ceiling, and the bow is unfolded. It is glorious. The ranger runs his hand along it reverently, shaking his head and muttering to himself, eyes wide in wonder. The wood is uncracked, unblemished, and shined to a high polish. Metal adorns both tips that is untarnished and perfect. Clear gems shaped to look like dragon heads gleam on both ends of the grip, they might be diamonds. A moment ago, he was mourning the loss of what he intuited to be a great weapon, now he realizes that the loss of this weapon may well have been one of the greater tragedies in the history of the world.

 

His voice is shaky and soft as he begins to speak, but grows stronger toward the end of his tale.

 

"This is the Bow of Etheglias, an elven druid of great power. Larry told me the story one night after he had a few too many ales in this bar in Ashabenford. Years ago, the grove that was protected by Etheglias was destroyed by an undead dragon. Seeking justice and revenge, the druid sought the help of each type of good dragon - gold, silver, bronze, brass, and copper - in the forging of a weapon that would help in the destruction of not just the dragon that had wronged him, but all evil dragons. He obtained a single scale from each dragon, and worked each seamlessly into the crafting of a bow, this bow. Darkwood shod with adamantine, and rare gems of unknown origin comprised the rest of the materials he used. The string is said to be unbreakable, some say it is unicorn's hair.

 

A gathering of powerful members of the order took place at the site of the ruined grove, and a strange and ancient druidic ritual was performed upon the completion of the bow. According to the legend, Etheglias actually took the form of a dragon, that changed its hue randomly from one metallic dragon to the next. When the ritual was finished, Etheglias was gone, vanished completely. Some think that his spirit actually resides inside the bow, and celebrates each time it is used to destroy an evil dragon."

 

When the story is finished, the spell upon Darius seems to be broken, and he looks at Kurith. "And now it's in my hands."

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Tempest rounds the corner to the secret room as Darius finishes the story, opens her mouth to speak, then decides better of it. Once her spell has finished cleaning an area off, she sits down, pulls a book from her backpack and begins studying in silence.

 

 

[Memorize Read Magic with my free 0-level slot.]

 

 

~v

Edited by Shakandara

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Kurith listens to Darius as he tells her all about his new acquisition. One detail in particular make an impressions on her thoughts, and when he finishes speaking, she asks him about it.

 

"It's made by dragons? I think my axe was too..or it killed a dragon...or both. It's almost like I was there, but I wasn't. That happened back in the time b'fore men. I remember a dwarf..and a orc. Yeah..it was the dwarf an' orc that made it They was the only ones not killed by a white dragon. They was smiths, and they made it together an' I can't read all what's on the handle... but them's orc runes. I know some of 'em, but not enuff. I don't hafta read it anyway. It gave me its name when I found it, an' it sez it'll gimme more when it's the right time.

 

She looks over the surface of the axe's head for a moment, but the bright outline of a dragon no longer shows. She stands. She decides not to interrupt Tempest, who had entered the room moments before but had gone straight to reading in her book.

 

"I'm gonna close the door...an' it's gonna be dark.". The latter words she directs toward Tempest. "Who hasta use the thunderjugs?"

 

Once any last-minute duties are dealt with, Kurith takes a quick glance to be sure the hidden door-opener in the main room has remained hidden. She then closes the door, selects a corner as far away from the reposed Eligos as possible, and arranges herself a place to sleep.

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"No, it wasn't made by dragons," Darius explains. "It was made by a druid. But he had draconic help in that they each gave him a scale to use in its construction."

 

He also sets himself up in a corner for some much needed rest.

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Kurith…

Before calling it a night you size up the boots alongside the table against the sole of your own worn boots. Being a half-orc your foot is a tad bigger but you guesstimate that it close enough. You toss aside your old boots as you note that these other boots look like average traveling boots, but they’re in good shape, though obviously not new. The boots are a little snug, but you figure given a day or two you’d break them in, besides they in better shape than your old ones.

 

 

Group…

Finding the most comfortable spot that you can make for yourselves, you all settle down for the night in your own way. Rothgar’s body is laid besides Eligos, with his waraxe propped up against him.

 

Once asleep, you all face horror’s brought on by the Effluvium. While there are no ill effects after the morning has arrived, you are relieved when your eye’s open. It would seem that because you initial resisted the Effluvium that it can not bind you to it’s effects as it has done to those whom have not waken.

 

All characters heal normally for a nights rest. Time is roughly 8:30am – 9:00am

 

Feel free to include a nightmare experience as part of your post

 

 

Morning...

Darius…

When you awaken you find that you are able to see quite easily inside what should be a dark room, for a moment you believe there’s a light source but the oil lamp is sitting where you last left it, still unlit. You look about the room and note that the trapdoor and hidden door are both still sealed.

 

 

Kurith...

You may or may not note that by morning, the traveling boots fit quite nicely without any discomfort.

 

 

PM’s going out after this post for Darius and Kurith, concerning items or game relate effects, so you may want to hold on posting till you get the PM.

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Tempest completes her study, and seeing that the others are now finished with their duties, she goes and retrieves the various potions and ointments she had laid out before combat, replacing them within her bandoleer. Returning to the secret room, she closes the panel, then steps inside and shuts the door behind her. Sitting back down, she pulls the scrolls out and turns her attention to deciphering them as the others settle down to sleep. She utters the words, "rivelare la magia" and begins to study each parchment in turn, keeping a wary eye out for any glyphs or symbols. With the parchments deciphered, she sets aside the 6 she cannot use to pass to Darius when he awakens.

 

After returning the remaining scrolls to her case, Tempest removes a rosewood and bronze wand from her backpack, then lays out the unknown items that have been recovered that she suspects may be magical. With a flick of the wrist and the words, "mostrare magia," she concentrates over the items.

 

~v

 

 

[Decipher scrolls of Haste, Bless, Cure Light Wounds, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds, Lesser Restoration and Remove Blindness/Deafness. Use Wand of Detect Magic; 1st round - presence or absence of magic (presence), 2nd round - number of auras and strength of the strongest, 3rd & subsequent rounds - Spellcraft check DC15 + 1/2 caster level of item to decipher school.]

 

Edited by Shakandara

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Kurith runs through the dark tunnel which the dwarves had made long ago when the mountains still belonged to them. The ancient shaft was arrow-straignt and its walls had been chiselled to appear as smooth as the surface of a frozen lake. The passage had not seemed so steep when she was descending it, but now that she is running for her life, she notices the incline more. She looks left and right for the intersecting tunnel which she should have reached by now, but does not see it in the near distance. She continues running as the yelping and the clanging of goblin armour grows louder behind her, but her legs are short and her young body not yet accustomed to running such long distances without rest.

 

'We will have you', she hears one of them shouting above the cacophony

 

She keeps running. Up ahead of her she sees a smaller rough-hewn hole in the left wall of the main shaft. It is not the one she entered the shaft through. That one had been square and on the opposite wall, or at least that is what she remembers. Two arrows fly past her ears. She runs for the jagged opening, but once there discoveres that what she believed to be an escape route is in fact only a jagged and narrow passage which angles sharply back toward the direction whence Kurith had been running, and which is only wide and tall enough to accomodate a small child or a goblin of average stature. The tunnel stops abruptly at a rockfall. Kurith is trapped.

 

'We will find you, Kurith', she hears a voice call, but the voice echoes as though from a distance.

 

Kurith digs at the rockslide with her small hands, but to no avail. She then tries to dig with her sword, which is in fact only a rusty dagger which hangs by its handle from a leather thong worn round her neck. The dagger proves as useless as her fingernails against the rockslide.

 

'Kuuuuuuuuuuriiiiiiiiittthhhh', more voices sing in unison, echoing all around her, though unseen.

 

She can do nothing but wait for them, armed just with her dagger and protected only by the bearskin cloak and leg-wraps which her mother had dressed her in before she had foolishly wandered off to a place where she ought not have wandered off to. She squats amidst the fallen rocks and pulls her knees to her chin and her cloak over her head, hoping that her persuers will somehow overlook her. She waits, clutching the small runestone her mother gave to her and trying not to cry. The voices soon stop. Kurith slowly pulls her cloak from over her head. She is no longer in a tunnel, but in a small circular hut covered in animal hides. She is no longer a small child, and she is freezing cold.

 

'Kurith,... come this way.', a distorted but distinctly femanine voice calls to her.

 

She follows the voice. Outside the shelter it is still snowing. Kurith looks down and sees that the snow all around the shelter is stained deep red. There are thousands of tracks leading in all directions, but no sign of any other beings, living or dead.

 

'We will find you Kurith. Where will you hide now?', howls the wind as though it carries a thousand fell voices.

 

Kurith begins to run again, only this time she does not tire so easily. She has no food nor waterskin, and only an axe to fight with, but she knows she cannot remain where she is, or -they- will find her again.

 

 

'Kurith, where did you hide?', asks the motherly voice again, but is immediately joined by a chorus of echoing tormentors. ''Where will you hide now? Where now? Where now?', they chant in uinson.

 

Kurith runs faster. Her long plaitted hair flies out behind her like the tail of a horse. Her feet are no longer clad in wraps, but in heavy boots of hide lined with thick fur. She does not know where she is running to, nor does she know what she is running from. The wind dies down and the voices are silenced. Kurith stops and takes a quick glance rearward, and when she turns forward again, the tracks of a solitary pair of small shoes becomes evident to her where before there had been only driven snow. She resumes her run and soon she is able to see a single dark anomaly moving lugubriously toward the darkening horizon. Kurith easily closes the distance between herself and the small creature, who does not seem to know or care that it is being followed. It staggers ahead of her as though it is drunk or wounded, and then it falls forward into the snow. Kurith approaches the helpless creature and bends down to see if it lives. Its feet are shod in little green shoes with open toes. Its hooded cloak is made of sack-cloth. It was whimpering.

 

'......help me?'

 

Kurith drops her axe, only it is no longer an axe but a sap. She rolls the helpless being over. Its pale blue gnomish eyes look up at her and pierce her dream-veiled memory with their icy stare. Kurith recognizes those eyes...that painted face..those locks of hair matted with blood ...that old brown tow-sack stained deep red,.. the poor working-girl's cheeks and lips gone corpse-palid.

 

'Itzz yourz turn now, Kurithsz', speaks a voice from close behind.

 

Kurith turns to face Irenda, only it takes a moment for Kurith to recognize her old employer. It looks as if somebody has taken a knife and cut her face from one ear straight across the tip of her puglike nose and to the spot where her other ear had once been. The lower part of her face has been pulled away from her skull and now hangs beneath her bony jaw like a macabre sort of collar. Irenda is holding a large ebon-handled dagger of the sort Kurith does not readily recognize, but the shape of its blade and red stones set in its hilt tell Kurith that it is some sort of ceremonial weapon. Irenda grips the dagger with both hands and raises it high over her head. Kurith retreats a full step backward and is about to break and run away when she feels something being pulled over her head. It is a large sack, already wet and warm with blood. Kurith remembers the gnome girl's name. It was Petulia. Kurith had watched her die. And now it was her turn. She writhed and punched and tore at the sack trying to free herself. She could hear the fabric tearing. Her hand reached through the hole and struck something hard and wooden.

 

Kurith wakes up. There is a new hole beneath the arm of her shirt, and the knuckles of her left hand throb. She summizes that it was one of the table's legs that her hand had struck. She looks across from where she is sitting and sees Tempest staring over an array of wands and other items. Kurith recognizes the stoic facial expression of a magic user trying to sustain a spell. Kurith watches her for a long time with a barbarian's distrust as she tries to piece together the relationship between the strange mist, the deathlike sleep that it caused, and the nighmarish onslought of undead creatures that arrived with it. She wishes Darius was awake to talk to her, but he is still very much in need of healing and rest so she does not wake him.

 

"Tempus?", she whispers to the lady. "B'fore, when you was up there in the floor...", Kurith indicates by pointing toward the trapdoor. "... didja have one o' those bad dreams?"

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"No! I don't wanna wax the beehive....." Darius mumbles as he wakes from strange dreams. He yawns and stretches a bit before looking around at his companions, noticing that he can see them quite well in the dark without any source of illumination. "Morning all," he says when he sees that the other two are awake.

 

"Funny. I can see in the dark now. Did you perhaps cast a spell on me, Tempest?" He pushes himself up into a more comfortable sitting position and rummages in his pack for some rations. Finding an apple and some stale bread, he begins to have a meager breakfast, and offers some to his companions. "I was thinking that before we leave, we should find a source of water in case there isn't any on the surface. I mean, we really don't know how bad things are up there, do we? Everything could be scorched to the ground, or changed into desert, or .... anything, really."

 

He takes a swig from his waterskin, as if to emphasize his point, but really because he is thirsty. "And what are we going to do with all the bodies down here? Eligos is beginning to look horrid, and we can't leave them all to be re-animated, if there's a necromancer about, anyway. By the way, do either one of you have any curatives you could spare me? I feel rather awful just now."

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