Solvistania Elghreah |
"Chops has been paralyzed by the fell and I cannot do anything for him. We need to wait for the venom to run its course. Plus we are not going to carry his bulk up this hole there."
Solvistania sees another female half elf reach over and say to Alia, get back here, we need to find Montague.
Eyvindr the Proud |
In High Elven, to Sky'tor:
"So, is there anything else of interest on the other side?" calls the man-bear in rusty, but surprisingly fluent High Elven. "It seems they've called for a rest here. Would you be able to stay where you are, Sky'tor, and keep watch over the door? I don't imagine that would be very comfortable, but..."
Once the elder Dorn receives a reply from Sky, he will move to the back of the line and wander another 15 feet or so into the unnatural darkness, before sitting down with his back against a wall. He will then keep a silent, solitary watch on the passage from which the party came.
Perception: 18 + 6 = 24 (26 vs. Fell).
Chops the Defender Dworg |
During his paralysis, Chops moans fitfully in his slumber, jerking as if he were wrestling some terrible enemy. He groans, jerks, and spasms. What is going on in his head?
“What is this?” the huge, ancient orc asked. “You are of my kin?” The orc, old beyond the years of any orc anyone has ever seen, because they don’t die of natural causes, studied the young dworg intensely and very closely. Their noses were almost touching. “What kind of orc are you?” The old orc, despite his apparent age, effortlessly lifted Chops off the ground with one hand, holding him close to his face.
“What is your name son?”
“Chops.”
“You’re real name!” With his other hand, the orc grasped Chops by the skull, releasing the hand which had grabbed Chops shirtfront, and lets him dangle from the large, outstretched hand. “Durathoin? What kind of name is that for an orc? He spat into the young dworg’s face. “I see you carry the axe of a dwarf. Show me, my young kin, how you use it.”
At this, the old orc released the dworg to fall to the ground and takes up a fighting stance. “Son, you had better show me proud, despite the taint of the runty mountain dwellers. Attack!” Chops charged the large orc with the urutuk raised to strike, but at the last second, as the orc brings his verdatch to bear, Chops jabbed his knuckles into the muscles above the knee, then sidestepped and swung his axe at the flank of the orc. The orc stumbled a bit, but then swung his great sword, catching Chops in the shoulder. Chops scrambled back about twenty feet from his attacker.
“What was that?” the elder orc asked flexing his leg, then laughed in a grinding roar. “Oh, I get it. That was supposed to slow me down?” Then the orc charged the distance, verdatch held high, and leaped at Chops with a powerful kick against the his chest, which knocked the dworg off his feat, supine on the earth. For a second, Chops laid there, trying to force air into his punished lungs. “That’s how an orc fights! Get up!”
And Chops did get up. And they fought. The old orc, breaking down every one of Chops’ weak attacks. Slowly the young dworg learned the new skills and feats that will carry him through battles. The battle seemed timeless to the dworg, with the orc constantly berating him and beating him. Yet Chops didn’t tire and his wounds didn’t hinder him. Finally, the old orc stopped the battle. Chops saw that the orc wasn’t looking at him anymore, but to another figure, which lumbered out of the fiery mists.
“Oh how my race has fallen,” the old orc whispered. “To mate with dwarves instead of our succulent kind. You should be ashamed, young kin.” the newcomer was also an orc. This one younger, and covered in scars of battle. Both arms were covered in the markings of his kills. “Durathoin, meet your father. Show him what you have learned.”
With this Chops screamed with rage. The orc that had taken his mother and made her a pariah. The orc who infected his bloodline with its fowl taint. Now was his chance to show the orc who planted the seed for his life, to pay for his misdeeds. The new orc grunted as Chops charged in with a flying kick of his own. A snapping sound was heard as the ribs of the orc cracked under the weight of the dworg, concentrated in his boot. Then Chops lifted his dwarven urutuk high in both hands, and with a powerful blow, cleaved the skull off of his father.
I suppose since nightflier's computer is down and Chops is layed out, this week is going to be dry; so I decided to enter Chop's dream which take effect when he reaches 2nd lvl.
Ilona Ebonblade |
After Sky climbs back I lona throws down her pack and gear, laying her bedroll down and stripping out of her armor amusedly aware of the reactions of her allies to her figure. Pulling a nightshirt over her head she sets herself up to go to sleep.
"I still say it's kind of colddown here," she says with a grin.
nightflier |
I'm at a friend's house so I have just a few minutes to post. Chops, since your character is down and I'm on a business trip and without internet, you can use this time to recreate your character in a way that we discussed. Since I am not available, I would appreciate if others could help you. When I come back, I'm gonna assume that the whole day has passed and that all of you are at full hit and spell points.
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
"I still say it's kind of colddown here," she says with a grin.
Ragnar, after looking away blushing while she changed, is seemingly oblivious to the insinuation. He quickly hands Ilona the blanket from his bed roll without thought or expression. It is a massive thing, woven from something thick and sinfully soft. The outside is a smooth, rich purple. The inside is pure white with the same black tower pattern he bears on his pennant. It is trimmed in golden runes stitched in gold. It looks and feels like it belongs on a kings bed.
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
Guys, I'm very affected by this volcanic ash cloud from Island, so I don't know when will I get back to regular posting.
we're in downtime right now anyway. we should be able to kill time with character interaction. Let us know when everything blows over.
Ilona Ebonblade |
Ilona Ebonblade wrote:Ragnar, after looking away blushing while she changed, is seemingly oblivious to the insinuation. He quickly hands Ilona the blanket from his bed roll without thought or expression. It is a massive thing, woven from something thick and sinfully soft. The outside is a smooth, rich purple. The inside is pure white with the same black tower pattern he bears on his pennant. It is trimmed in golden runes stitched in gold. It looks and feels like it belongs on a kings bed.
"I still say it's kind of colddown here," she says with a grin.
Ilona looks at Ragnar in a mixture of amusement and surprise, a slow grin spreading across her face. She leans over and gives Ragnar a kiss on the cheek.
"You are just too adorable for words, somebody did a great job with you."
Looking at the blanket in obvious awe she whispers her thanks and curls up in its warmth, closing her eyes.
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
Ilona looks at Ragnar in a mixture of amusement and surprise, a slow grin spreading across her face. She leans over and gives Ragnar a kiss on the cheek."You are just too adorable for words, somebody did a great job with you."
Ragnar blinks in surprise, says nothing, turns several shades of red and seems about as paralyzed as Chops. Eventually, after she closes her eyes, he turns away and goes to sit next to his fallen comrade and begins shakily whittling on the same small figurine he had been carving earlier.
In the distance, strange noises fade in and out, like echoes off distant stone. They sound like children singing and dancing, as if in the darkness somewhere there is a festival.
Solvistania Elghreah |
Solvistania, sleeping next to Chops on the ground, awakens for a moment by one of Chops gyrations. Wondering what personal demons are fueling this conflict, she wraps herself more tightly in her blanket, and lays one arm on Chops chest. After this, his movements accelerate for a moment, then seem to subside. She first glances at Ilona for a moment, then Ragnar, thinking She could be like the mother I never had, she loves with such passion. Such fire. Ragnar, you are one of many conflicts, many voices tearing you apart. I must help you keep you together, my friend. She then drift back to sleep, allowing Chops warmth to chase the shadows in her mind away.
Chops the Defender Dworg |
Some time during the night, Chops' paralysis wears off. He feels a light touch on his chest, but can barely open his eyes. Although he has been still for these hours, he has not rested. He now realizes that it is Solvistania's hand resting on his chest. Still groggy, he puts one arm around her in a protective embrace and snuggles her closer before he passes out once again, this time in a real sleep.
Eyvindr the Proud |
The black bird sits on Eyvindr's shoulder staring into the oppressive darkness at the still forms of the group. It cants it's head at Ilona.
"Ok, so maybe it's not all your fault..." it says to it's perch.
"Whether it is completely my fault or not is irrelevant, Muni," grumbles Eyvindr to the bird. The elder Dorn is completely invisible in the supernatural darkness, a short distance behind the main party. "You know that the stories of the deeds of our ancestors are the only thing left now that gives us the will to live."
Gilian |
The black bird sits on Eyvindr's shoulder staring into the oppressive darkness at the still forms of the group. It cants it's head at Ilona.
"Ok, so maybe it's not all your fault..." it says to it's perch.
From her couch, Gilian watches the interplay developing with a smiled. Not so different from what happened in my village, she thinks before drifting into sleep.
When she wakes up, as most of the others are still asleep, she spots the lone figure of Eyvindr, still standing watch.
That's not possible, he is still not sleeping! Something must be wrong with him. I'll check on him later, she thinks.
Eyvindr the Proud |
Ragnar Death-Speaker wrote:"Whether it is completely my fault or not is irrelevant, Muni," grumbles Eyvindr to the bird. The elder Dorn is completely invisible in the supernatural darkness, a short distance behind the main party. "You know that the stories of the deeds of our ancestors are the only thing left now that gives us the will to live."The black bird sits on Eyvindr's shoulder staring into the oppressive darkness at the still forms of the group. It cants it's head at Ilona.
"Ok, so maybe it's not all your fault..." it says to it's perch.
Whether Eyvindr completely missed the thrust of Muni's latest remark, or whether he chose to ignore it, is difficult to determine. The man-bear pulls his knees up and rests his head on them, looking back down the tunnel rather than toward his companions...
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
"Whether it is completely my fault or not is irrelevant, Muni," grumbles Eyvindr to the bird. The elder Dorn is completely invisible in the supernatural darkness, a short distance behind the main party. "You know that the stories of the deeds of our ancestors are the only thing left now that gives us the will to live."
"Yeah, that's what I mean. Stories are good and all, they give ya a place to start. What did Hugi call it? Frame of... reference. I think. Anyway, it gives ya somethin' to aspire to, but that ain't enough. I been watchin' people a long time. They do a lot of stupid stuff, but never as stupid as when they got nothin' real to fight for except a bunch of stories and beliefs based on somethin' other people told 'em when they were kids."
The bird ruffles his feathers for warmth.
"They need somethin' real, but he ain't had nothin' real since he was 'bout nine summers. After that it was all just followin' you through that nightmare and tryin' not to die. Sure he got older, but there's a lot of him that never grew up. The stories might be the only thing left that give you the will to live, but he's never had that problem. His will to live has always come from wanting to make you proud. You respect the stories, so he thinks he's got to be like 'em."
One dark wing stretches as the bird starts preening.
"Now he's out in the world with more to worry about than just you, the curse and a few thousand Fell. Every time somethin' he don't understand happens he asks hisself what the heroes would do, and then that's what he tries. Some things ain't covered in the stories though. At least not the ones you tell a kid. That girl there? She's startin' to make him ask questions he ain't never asked before. Never had to. He's had everything pent up for so long, she might end up gettin' more than she expects. That there was the second time in as many days that she got under his skin. You ever see that happen before? I haven't, and payin' attention's my damn job. Hugi's supposed to be the one who figgures it all out, but he ain't here, so we gotta do it ourselves, or at least hold down the fort 'til he shows up."
The bird finally seems to run out of words and settle down.
"But I suppose that's what you do, ain't it? You hold."
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
"Quiet, Muni," grumbles Eyvindr quietly. "Your concern is well received, but this is neither the time nor the place for it. Our business is our own, and not meant for the ears of others. I shall look after Ragnar in the way I deem best...."
"Yeah, yeah." The bird says settling down. "Ain't like anyone ever listens to the bird anyway. I'll quit interrupting your important brooding."
nightflier |
The room was obviously some kind of storage long time ago. There are signs of battle and now that you have entered the room, it seems obvious that those stone doors were not part of original build. Broken pottery and rat bones are everywhere. On a closer look, mixed among the remains of huge rats are broken spear tips, crossbow bolts and axe heads. On the far wall there are rotten remains of wooden door. With each step towards it you feel stronger emanations of evil and each new step is heavy as lead.
nightflier |
Perception 1d20+5
Knowledge (Shadow) 1d20+5
nightflier |
Perception 1d20+7
Knowledge, Arcana 1d20+9
nightflier |
Perception: 1d20+10
nightflier |
Solvistania Elghreah |
Solvistania, after waking, actually felt better than she has in, well a very long time, certainly since before she left the Elvish lands. Time and time again, she found herself looking at Chops, and feeling ...unusual about it. Funny, staring at things and people never bothered her before.
But after entering the dark room, with the echoes of the past burned on the walls, she feels faint, nearly overcome by a growing sense of dread and despair, and nearly collapses due to the strain.
Her eyes wide with terror, she whispers,"This place...tainted with darkness...we must flee! Certain doom waits for us here!"
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
Muni comes back from a short scouting trip through the stone door and lands on Ragnar's shoulder.
"So, you lot aren't the only humans down here. There's a Dorn down the hall in one of the cells. Might have been asleep, not visibly armed, dressed in rags. Don't think he saw me. Looks like there have been more people around lately too."
Chops the Defender Dworg |
Chops picks up the piece of cloth decorated with the skull and shows it to Solvistania and Ragnar. "This is the skull of Izrador, on dwarven robes. These dwarves may have been Odrun, servants of the Dark One and therefore no kin of mine. This place is evil"
Suddenly Solvistania whispers, ""This place...tainted with darkness...we must flee! Certain doom waits for us here!"
Chops responds, "What do you sense?" Then Muni flies in and makes his statement.
Chops looks to the group, but says to Ragnar and Eyvindr, "We need to check on this brother of yours. Damn the evil."
Ragnar Death-Speaker |
Looking at Solvistania, Ilona flashes an outpouring of sympathy. A moment later the expression is replaced by one of iron resolve. Sh nods at Chop's words drawing her black bladed verdatch.
"Let's not keep 'em waiting shall we?"
Ragnar nods. "Agreed."
Without another word he turns to the lead the party into the prison.
Chops the Defender Dworg |
"Weird, yes and even though he may not be a friend of ours yet, he still may be a prisoner of Shadow. I cannot abide leaving him behind. If he means us ill, then we can always kill him later."
He smiles as Illona draws her big verdatch. He draws his urutuk and clangs it against her blade, then turns to follow Ragnar.