Piter puts away his sword, pulls out his crowbar and says, "This may help."
Levering the crowbar under the lid, he waits for Kur'Plugh to join in and then pushes with all his strength, wary of something jumping him from within the casket.
Strength: (Plus whatever a crowbar adds?)
Kur'Plugh Chants a few words and everyone's muscule bulge with a strength that augments their natural abilities.
then with the other two, the lid opens up, fort save from all three DC 16 vs Disease.
Kur'Plugh helps coughs a bit at the smell [ooc] FORT save
The creature remains resting in peace, it is old lizard bones indeed. They remind you slightly of a monk, as the simple outfit that has remained in good form for years, the scarf is what tipped you Carrack that this could be a relation to you.
Asking if it was Cakkarack in the crypt seemed crazy, even to the addled necromancer, so he pushes his pet aside and stands on the very tips of he toes to gain a better vantage point as to what might be inside.
The others move back coughing and sputtering, which never bodes well.
Cakkarak's coughs, trying to avoid inhaling anymore of the tomb dust. making sure that the heavy lid is going to fall over, Cakkarak, concentrates on expelling the dust from his lungs. He had taken several steps away and breathes out slowly, forcing the air out of his lungs.
At the sight of the bones, the monk freezes, even his heart seems to stop, frozen in his chest. Cautiously, as if expecting the bones to leap up and attack, Cakkarak moves forward. His cold, green eyes were wide as he drank in the sight of the bones. Leaning closer to the corpse, Cakkarak inspects the horns.
While it is insanity to think that this somehow may be the monk, part of him was considering the possibility. If the bones where his, then the left horn would be slightly shorter and have a slight inwards curve. It was the horn that a his teacher had broken off with a rather casual backhand. When his horn regrew, it had grown slightly different the his right horn, giving his horns the pincer like appearance. His eyes then move to the long scarf and simple robes that the body wore.
Cakkarak carefully begins to remove the simple monks clothing and the scarf. Placing the bones back carefully, Cakkarak looks at the inside of the sarcophagus as he tries to figure out if the corpse was his or not.
"Alright. We should open the rest of these up. If, and I stress word ,if, these are our bodies, I would think that we knew about us coming here," Cakkarak says slowly. "Otherwise, the gods have taken to really messing with our heads. Anyway, if these are our corpses, I would think that we might have left ourselves a clue. Or something." The monk narrows his eyes slightly as he looks at the other sarcophagi. "And I really want to know if these are our bodies. I would normally say that would be completely crazy and impossible. Lately, I am not so sure. Perhaps I have lost my mind after all."
"I would not touch it if I were you...." suggests Piter.
Fort save (+2 vs. Disease, Disease Resistance(3))
He watches the Iksar study his dead double, and wonders about the other caskets. Before opening them up, he would like to hear Cakkarak's opinion on the Iksar body.
Choosing his words carefully, he asks, "You know your race better than any of us. Does this one, in some way, resemble you? Can you tell how it died?"
Loki moves close enough to try to answers Piter's question about how the iksar died.
Heal:
The Iksar body died from wounds accrued over a lifetime, well into advanced age, this corpse has a similar style of horns as Cakkarak.
In Short order the group removes the lids off all of the sarcophagi and you see the bones of for lack of words, yourselves. Advanced age on all of the bones is evident, for each see to bear similar wounds, Kur'Plugh takes the crowbar from Piter and removes the lids after a few more spells, increasing the Ogre's already powerful frame.
A journal is found in Loki's tomb, in it there is a note about the groups' final resting place from over 1000 years ago. The ritual is designed to bring the party's souls back to Norrath in the event that the Shissar have started to make their way back into Norrath. It seems that you have fought against the Shissar before, and left certain weapons and other items for you, well hidden from prying eyes and hands in Luclin.
Loki is cloaked head to foot in robes the colour of damp ashes, with a face almost invisible, for it is ever carefully concealed within the shadow of his broad hood. This drawn cowl hides the necromancer's reaction, as he and his skeletal minion stand a silent watch over the fallen Teir'dal.
With mouth agape he rails against the information before him.
Loki absently runs his fingers over his left wrist, shattered by his mother decades before, a wound that could be seen on the corpse as well.
Cyan eyes dissect the journal, flaying every paragraph and torturing ever syllable. The writing was in his own perfectly-controlled hand. The necromancer runs his fingers along the journal, seemingly written for their own use, if that paradox made any sense. Had they left this journal so that their later selves could pick it up to find the weapons, and other items, to continue the fight against the eternal Shissar?
Something nags him and at first he cannot place his finger upon it, but finally it comes to light as he considers the bodies, wondering how they could survive over 1000 years without turning to dust. They were not perfectly sealed, that could be seen by the obvious rot that stole the flesh from their bones. He scours his mind for precedent for each in an attempt to rectify his doubts and also to understand the truth of the powder that had emanated from the graves.
Heal:
He wonders if he could harness that powder as a weapon against his foes. Wielding pestilence was like breathing for those trained in necromancy.
At a loss Loki turns to subtlety measure the other's reactions.
"Has anyone developed the frame of reference to understand what is happening?"
Piter laughs a slightly insane laugh as he learns that the body before him is a much later version of himself.
"Frame of reference? I suppose this all means that we are in a future room of sarcophagi. Perhaps that b#%$+~$ crazy wizard was here, and that's how he knew about the future. It opens up many confusing possibilities and paradoxes, doesn't it?
What is in the journal?"
He searches 'his' casket for a journal of his own, or anything else of interest.
"Well, I am fairly certain that this is my corpse. The left horn on the skull and mine are a match. Their is a healed break in the left leg where mine was broken," the monk points at the horn and femur. "Also same with the two bones in my tail that have been broken over the course of my training."
Aiding the ogre, not that he really needed the help, Cakkarak looks at the different bodies. Then he looks at each of the others as if comparing the two.
"Perhaps we travel back in time? Or were once alive long ago?" a frown finds it's way to the monks scaled face. As he thinks, he replaces his own scarf with the one his corpse was wearing. After a moment or two of consideration, the monk strips his worn and battered clothing off. The iskar dresses in the ancient monk's outfit. The black fabric had a slight shimmer to it, suggesting that it was silk. The cloth itself was lined with a dark green. Dressed, he tugs his battered longcoat back on and picks up his pack.
"Well, it appears my dead self keep in excellent shape, for the robes fit as if they were just measured for me." Cakkarak says, as close to joking as the iskar had seemed capable off. As to the clothing and the journal you found on your body, preserved through magic perhaps? Possibly fine craftsmenship? Although, that seems somewhat unlikely due to the bodies. Maybe it's a trick the older you knew? I am interested in the fact that the dead four of us seemed to travel together as well. That is..., fascinating to me. I had thought we where thrown together by the winds of Fate. It seems that assumption was mistaken."
"What do the rest of you think?"
"I think the gods toy with us," says Piter, "and I don't like it. Further, I choose not to believe my fate is predetermined. If there is some kind of time shifting going on, perhaps two or more possible fates await us. I doubt there is anyone on Norrath who knows the truth of that with certainty."
"Hmmm, well, I doubt any of us are interesting enough for the gods to take note of," Cakkarak ponders as he looks at the old bones. "Not that I know a lot about magic, but I have never actually heard of any kind of magic that would move one around in time."
Cakkarak falls silent for a few minutes. The iskar frowns slightly as he furiously rolls the problem over in his mind. It didn't seem like some sort of elaborate trick or trap. And even if it was, who would bother doing such a thing. If they had enough money to this, they would have just killed them a few dozen times.
"Perhaps..., perhaps we arranged this long ago ourselves," the monk says slowly. "Aided by some kind of magic to resurrect us. Maybe something went wrong with it, and we lacked our full, or any, memories."
The iskar shrugs his shoulders.
"I have not a clue. Plenty of ideas and theories, but nothing that feels right. Or close to sane, for that matter," Cakkarak says with a slight shake of his head.
Right now I'm sure I am feeling confused, conflicted even, this was a possibility that I had foreseen, but had hoped that it would never be, for the power that I once welded will have to go through the process of discovering it all over again. My traveling companions and I had discussed this over great length, this would be the best course of action, rather then letting someone else wage our war, we would do it again. While this tomb has no chance of perfectly persevering our physical bodies, there is no way that I know of in my consider power to bypass time itself.
I'd say trust me, but then again there are many times where I don't trust at all. The robes of Cakkarak will last as long as the magics will hold, the enchanter made sure of that, she knew the price of failure. As will the robes on my body, Piter will find in a secret compartment a suit of armor that should still be in excellent condition. Kur'Plugh will as well, time will might bleed some of the extra effects of the armor, but the tombs that we built in Luclin will refresh the magics instilled. I couldn't take the risk of others finding it so I have keyed the journal to glow blue when you have reached one of the tombs that we built. More information will be inside.
Perhaps this time we will be able to get my goal of killing the god of madness and take his power for our own.
It was dizzying to consider that he was looking at himself a thousand years in the past. It was suggestive that he found a means of traveling through time. Conceptually is was too enigmatic to even pretend like he had its full measure. He was dead, yet alive and hear, but not.
They battled foes that saw the future, and lived forever.
Were they not doomed to simply fail once again...
Their bodies had been buried, and had died of advanced age. Considering how short the others lived and how long he was destined to, he imagined that past he had made the arrangements for the others, and had joined them well over a century later.
Loki lovingly rubs his fingers across his own skull, wondering if the dead version of him had the same aspirations to unseat Innoruuk, saddened that it seemed to foretell that he would fail at his pan-ultimate goal.
Cakkarak takes a few minutes to organize, well, his own bones. It doesn't take the meticulous monk that long. After he finishes, he folds up his tattered clothes and puts the small bundle of clothing in the sarcophagus, away from his bones. The monk finishes, looking at his bones was almost beyond him. The injures to the ancient bones that he recognized, were too similar to be a coincidence. It was his body.
"Alright Loki, you've had your eyes locked on what I am assuming is your own book, what have you learned?" Cakkarak asks the necromancer. "My mind is afire with curiosity. These ancient bones are ours correct? We left these things for ourselves, yes? For what purpose?" the monk asks. "Tell me that the mage who fireballed himself wasn't lying."
Running his fingers almost lovingly along the grain of the journal, as he had the dusty and spiderwebbed tome, the necromancer shows a deep reverence for the written word.
Loki stares at the book as he speaks to the others, "It is in my own hand."
After that he recites the words verbatim so the others were apprised of what he knew.
The Teir'dal flips through the rest of the journal, as he had the tome, in search of more information.
Once the others have digested the words, and he has completed a reconnoiter of the journal, he strips the body and dons the magical robes.
"It is obvious that this is my body, none other would have such fine taste in fabric."
There is nothing more to be gleamed form your bodies there is now only one path to take: To the gate. You all know that you will have much to discuss about the whole situation. Loki: your heal check tells you that this is a disease that takes a week to fully start the process, it attacks your Constitution. In order to make it more effective you would have to start refining it into a poison, alas the lack of a lab and a lot more ingredients will make this very difficult without a rouge or an expert craftier of poisons. You can harvest the powder by grinding up the bones and perhaps take it to someone who knows a thing or two about poisons.
If the bodies had not died of old age, he could get them resurrected. The thought of what would happen if the spell was cast lingered upon his mind as he moved on whilst brushing pieces of his own rotten flesh from his robes.
It was an interested day, of that Loki was positive.
Cakkarak nods as Loki confirms what he had suspected. That theses ancient bones were indeed their own. He looks back at the sarcophagi, and the dusty contents back in. The dark elf goes back to hunting through his ancient journal. A short time later he changes robes. The monk guesses that Loki was well and truly convinced that what they found was true. A ghost of a grin dances across his scaled face at the necromancers comment when puts on his robes. Cakkarak looks over at Kur'Plugh and nods.
"Let's seal these back up. It feels odd to leave my own corpse exposed like this. Especially after robbing myself." The iskar's light tone is suggestive of him joking. But it is hard to tell with Cakkarak.
Finished with entombing his bones, Cakkarak adjusts his new scarf, which was more or less a longer strip of silk from his new/ancient Monk's Robe.
"So, I believe all that is left is for us to enter the portal to Luclin," Cakkarak says, looking at the swirling energies of the magical portal. "I must say that it feels a little odd. This continuing a war that we can't really remember." The monk shakes his head. "Well, seeing as how we can't really go backwards, it seems we go through the portal. For we have a war to win, and immortal Shissar to teach the meaning of fear." Cakkarak eyes are practically burning at the thought of the Shissar still living.
After going through the door that was lit up, and resealing your bodies back up, the portal beckons, along with the creature. It looks pretty beaten up, as it seems that the fall didn't do it any good, it's back is to you, and there will be a surprise round that the evil group will get. A way to focus the fear, the frustration that has been building since finding your bodies lying in wait for you to rediscover.
Loki: you have an sudden thought along with trying to revive your bodies, something tells you that if the bodies hadn't died of old age; then the spell would kill your current form, or nothing would happen since you are already alive, the spell might fizzle.
There was nothing of sentimentality in how Loki handles the bones. They are devoid of meaning and are simply the sloughed off tissue left behind once the truth of the being had moved along. This pragmatism does not stop the necromancer from covering the corpse with his old robes, and also to leave a copper coin within the tomb.
If their travels and travails through time continued, then he would be interested in the state of these items should this not be the last time he is present when the tombs are cracked open again.
Scratching his chin Loki glances down at his own hands and notices the soulbound ring on his finger, then his cyan masses of vitreous body flit to the same ring on the corpse. Such an item would never come off...
Information drawn in he departs while musing upon it.
Loki (40/40 hit points, 56/80 mana) is shaken free of his contemplative stance by the drachnid-like creature. It had waved off his spells as if they were nothing atop the surface, but that was all he had at his disposal in this place.
Firstly he orders his pet to rip into this unholy thing, while he tosses a single spell (Poison Bolt, Fort save vs. DC 20 for half damage), hoping to fully capitalize upon its weakness, and feeling less comfortable about his world since his protective magics (minor shielding) had long since faded.
Probing the surround, the Teir'dal searches for any sign of Lilith.
Piter sees the strange creature and tries his best to chop off a body part. He immediately starts his hissing, percussive chant, and feel buoyed by its magic.
Attack:
Damage:
Active Buffs:
+ 3 STR Talisman of the beast (50 min total, not sure how much left)
Chant of Battle, +1 to Str, Dex, AC (active while performing)
AC 22
(HP: 60/61, Mana: 17/18)
Cakkarak's cold reptilian gaze narrows as the spider thing comes into view. His toes barely had time to make any noise as the iskar runs with a smooth liquid grace. Leaping into the air at the last moment, Cakkarak slams his foot into the back of the monster.
Kur'Plugh charges forward, smashing the creature with his large great club
The creature spins around unnaturally quick and stabs at Kur'Plugh almost as if it knew the ogre and wanted him dead. Loki your effect with poison bolt is largely ignored, although your pet's attack seems to effect it.
Cakkarak, this creature's hide almost feels like punching a wall of stone. While your attack connects it shrugs off some of the damage from it. Piter your arm vibrates from the shock of hitting it, while you feel like you had just swung and connect to a creature wear some kind of armor. Your blow is effective but it seems like not all of it went through. Even Kur'Plugh's blow while he struck to winches as the shock of connecting with it's exoskeleton.
The creature lurches, it seems to be having trouble with moving and attacking at the same time, half of it's legs have been broken off from the fall, along with many of it's ribs. You all notice that the reason why it had it's back to you and the fact that it was so easy to hit was due to the fact that it was dissolving Lilith's body. A soup of human flesh, gear, and other organs is on the floor. Cue party
Almost bouncing off the abomination, Cakkarak calmly regains his balance as he lands. Fear clawed at his mind. This vile thing had survived a fall from a near untold height. His eyes widen as the dark-elf-spider shifts it's broken form and he spies the pile of liquidy flesh and gear that used to be Lilith. The iskar refuses to let the shudder creep up his spine.
Instead, he redoubles his efforts to put this monster down for good. Shifting over a few feet to flank with the others, Cakkarak narrows his focus to the moster in front of him. The iskar lashes out in a blur of motion. After delivering several palm strikes, the monk leaps straight into the air. Spinning his frame about, Cakkarak's foot slices through the air, seeking the side of the thing's head. Given what it had done to the cleric, Cakkarak didn't want his foot that close to it's mouth.
Loki leaves his pet to attack the thing, forgoing the liberal application of useless spells, he simply turns invisible to undead and tries to discern what they are fighting, whilst he backs away.
Monster Lore (Undead):
Loki: As best as you can tell, it looks like someone used two different undead creatures, and somehow managed to put them together, then enhanced the bejesus out of it. Now the trick will be to figure out how who ever did this managed to get it to spew acid in a steady name... and what to call it; in case you ever see one again.
The party rally's and the creature finally falls for good, the portal lights up and activates as the creature finally stops moving.
Loki approaches the creature, being careful to avoid areas where its acid might be a danger, and carefully searches it for valuables. As he does this he looks about the area, especially where Lilith might have dropped something.
Once content that the group has not left anything behind he moves to be the second person through the portal.
Piter looks at the dead creature with interest. Something for the songbooks, he figures. He takes off a piece of leg, club sized, and cleans it off, putting it in his pack.
"Is it just me, or do any of you feel you're in over your head?" he laughs.
Looking down at the fallen monster, Cakkarak shakes his head.
"I have felt that since we dropped into this particular rabbit hole. Still," the iskar pauses and looks around. "unless we plan on filling our sarcophagi with our current bodies, it looks like we have but one direction in which to go."
Walking up to the portal, Cakkarak looks it's strange energies, colors twisting in upon themselves. The monk raises his hands almost touching the portal. He could feel the magic, pulsing like invisible waves against his blackish-green scales.
After making sure they had everything, and that nothing of Lilith's survived. Including a part of her body that might still be solid enough to resurrect the cleric made it through the acid bath. Not that he was really holding his breath on that front. The abomination's acid seemed particularly potent.
"See you on the other side," the iskar comments as he walks into the portal.
An expert eye plays across the undead monstrosity's quiescent form, wondering what could be learned for his own castings.
Spellcraft:
There is a bit too much interest in his voice, "It is an amalgam of undead flesh."
Loki whispers, his eyes flitting back and forth between the Amalgam and the portal, "Are either of you knowledgeable about Luclin and its denizens?"
For all he knew the Amalgam was native to Luclin, and was commonplace as well.
"I'm afraid I know little of that world, Loki. It's time to learn, I suppose," says Piter as he heads toward the portal. "Coming?"
Bardic Knowledge for Luclin:
Bardic Knowledge for Amalgam:
Saving all over you from taking a lot of acid damage, this creature has nothing, in fact it starts to melt from the acid fused with it's blood. Lilith's kit and gear were melted, if not destroyed on impact.
Piter: You know that the Val'Shir people moved there for a time and that horses seemed to be in large supply on Luclin.
Cakkarak: the magic in the portal feels somehow familiar to your touch, a warm calming sensation enters you body, like you had just finished meditating for hours after a long sparring match. When you walk though you feel as if a small part of you has somehow realigned with your soul. DING for Level 7!
Somehow you know that one of the tombs that were built by you lies on the other side.
Everyone follows the monk into the portal, DINGS for level 7 and the hidden kernel of the first Tomb that lies behind the portal.
Nalun Hatewielder:
After spending some time on the run, you had stumbled along a portal, to Luclin, while it was a better chance at surviving, you also had your orders, if you had ever wanted to return to your homeland you would need the idol. However once arriving in Luclin, tracking down the location of the idol was proving to be challenging to say the least.
Finally after years of just getting by and a few false leads you had managed to track down a possible location. Lady Luck and you had not been speaking for quite some time, most of the time you had been calling her foul names when it seemed that things went south for you.
Spending time in Shadow Haven and avoiding being turned into a vampyre has been the most difficult part of living here. As you had been traveling towards the rumor and location of an tomb whose name had been lost to the ages. A group of vampyres had started to chase you down, you managed to kill a number of them but on your 'tactical re-positioning' you stepped on a pressure plate and fell into a chute, that took you miles away.
The last thing you remember before smacking your face onto a stalagite, was that at least you would live for another day.
TENEBRIS ANIMA
For a second there is a jerk as if your body is being suddenly pulled forward at such a speed to move you off your feet. For a brief moment you stop and see an orb made of complete blackness, swallowing all light. You know this as the Nexus, then you are off again, a voice seems to be heard in your mind, Welcome home . The voice has a slight metallic undertone to it, and the strange nagging feeling that you know that voice from somewhere and can't seem to place it.
You feel weightless for many moments, then sensations start to come back to you. The smell of a cave, with an air flow of some kind, along with the still breathing form of another dark elf. Blood has dried on the figure, than the heavy intake of breath of someone who is just starting to wake up from a forced slumber hits your ears.
Glancing behind you, the portal is now, no longer active. For the time being you will not have a way back to Norrath.
Nalun
Your body stirs, you can tell that something has changed in the air around you, a wave of magical light enters the area. Your eyes start to open and you are having a bit of trouble focusing with your vision. You also have the dull ache from the impact with a natural occurring rock, that you had managed to smack with your face.
You do managed to make out an Ogre, a human, an Iksar, and another Dark elf.
Uhg, gah. Ouch. Nalun comes up from his stupor with a start. He remembers his prior activity and scans the area carefully for his enemies.
Nalun notices the other beings and recognizing a teirdal among them calls out in Dark Speech.
Kith! Where do you hail from?
Piter steps through the portal and looks around, observing the kind of place he is in, and everything (and everyone) within.
He sees one person, a Tier'Dal awakening from a nasty fall, and hears him speaking his own tongue to Loki. He continues to look, inspecting the Tier'Dal's clothing and equipment, while listening for any discussion resembling common.
Contrails of dark smoke lazily rise from the necromancer's dusty robes. He remains frozen in position down on one knee for the space of three heart pumps before lifting his cowled head, his handsome face remaining in shadow, permitting cyan eyes a moment's reprieve to draw in surroundings most foreign.
There was an exhilarating, yet excruciating, lack of control in the means of magical conveyance. One day he would wield magics far beyond that which brought him to the moon. Luclin. Never had he imagined he would come to this distant place.
Slowly finding his feet Loki cocks his cowled head as he takes in the information around him, finally falling coldly on the wounds of the Teir'dal across from him, searching for mortal injuries only, then drawing in information from body posture and speech as to his intent.
Heal:
Sense Motive:
A slight frown tugs at the corner of his mouth when the necromancer realizes that his pet had been destroyed in the transportation.
Loki speaks in the Teir'dal tongue, immediately translating both sides of the conversation for the others afterward, "Hail, and well met. Innoruuk's dark blessing to you..." There is acid burning the edges of his words when he speaks of the Prince of Hate, but he tries his best to hide his jealousy that any creature, even a god, was above him.
Introductions are provided:
Loki was but a commoner, but who would doubt that he was a noble, for a necromancer was the elite apex predator of Teir'dal society.
The expert way he says both the ogre and iksar's names and titles shows how far the Teir'dal has progressed in learning each of their languages.
Leaning forward the slight cock of the head, and raise of his eyebrows can be seen by Nalun, for the cleric's ultravision easily destroys the veil of darkness cast by the necromancer's voluminous cowl.
In the common tongue Nalun says...
Well met to you. You have traveled to the Nexus, how was this accomplished and what is your purpose?
In Dark Speech he continues to Loki
Are you Christanos' creature? or are you something else?
Conversations were a back and forth of non-verbal cues and reactive encouragement.
Loki provides none of those. He merely stands stock still impassively staring at the Teir'dal across from him as he waits for the cleric to introduce himself and perhaps answer some of his own questions, so that a simulacrum of trust could be formed.
"We're here on a diplomatic mission, to help form a bond between the good citizens of Luclin and the various peoples of Norrath, represented by us four. And yourself?" says Piter.
Bluff
Cakkarak's cold green eyes narrow as he looks at the newcomer.
"What is this nexus and what is Cristano's creature?" the iskar almost demands, still speaking quietly. They didn't know what else might be in here with them. His words came out in clipped common, almost as if he was biting the words out. It was also clear the monk had at least a basic understanding of the Teir'dal tongue when he repeats Christano's creature in the dark elves language. "And who are you?"
While the iskar appears to be clam, tattered longcoat drapping his frame over the black, silken robes that he wore, Cakkarak was watching and waiting. His green reptilian eyes watched the newcomer closely, looking for the slightest hint of spellcasting. If the dark elf begun to cast, Cakkarak would be close enough to make that degree of concentration very difficult.
Nalun edges away from the foursome slightly.
In Dark Speech he continues to Loki
Why are you traveling with these con'bluth, outsiders? You wear the robes of an arcanist, who was your master? What house are you allied with?
Is this Teir'dal a prisoner? What do these con'bluth want with one of the Race?
Nalun glances at the human and responds in heavily accented common
My house wishes me to be on this place
Nalun's nervousness is evident by his constantly searching eyes.
Nexus? Perhaps this was the core of Luclin, or the means of conveyance about the moon. Either way this creature had information that they had yet to ascertain on their own. There was potential value to this moon-bound dark elf...
You had to admire the chutzpah of this lone Teir'dal, standing resolute in the face of overwhelming odds. Then again he might simply be addled.
Pearl-white teeth flash from 'neath the cowl.
There would be no deception fashioned from the stuff of words. Loki had kept his part of the bargain. Cakkarak had the core fragments of the Dark Speech. As such everything that spills from his gaping maw is in the common tongue.
"Queen Cristianos Thex is a blood ally of The Dead. All Teir'dal necromancers and knights of the shadows swear her fealty for she is an ally of my master Wraith Xon Quexill."
It was a good thing that Loki had not gotten around to teaching Cakkarak defamatory language, or else the iksar would likely be feasting on the newcomers face for the way he was speaking of them.
"I travel the road with those that share my destination, and each and every one of Tenebris Anima has shown their mettle time and again."
Brushing some of the dirt away from his shoulders, realizing that it had a head start of a millennium to coat it, he frowns and gives up.
"I would know how I speak with traveler."
Nalun responds to the cowled teir'dal in his broken common.
He didn't claim a house. Interesting, could he be an outcast also?
You know of this place? It is called Nexus. It focuses....energy for arcanists and acts as a beacon for their magicks. I have ventured through this place. I am heading for...a tomb to recover an item for the Grandmaster of the Arcanists Guild
Before more pleasantries could be exchanged, you all hear some shuffling of feat, looking farther behind the newcomer, you see a pale skinned human, with a slight bestial gate landing from a ledge onto the ground floor. Those of you with Ultravision can see enlarged canine teeth dripping with Ichor, " The black skinned one has lead us to more food brothers and sisters. Let us give them the embrace of eternity."
It seems that Nalun didn't escape from all of the vampryes, roll for initiative.
Closing his eyes the young Teir'dal rolls his head back a few inches and scours his memories for what he had learned of the second of Norrath's moons, the ringed moon, that remained perpetually hidden from mortal eyes.
If rumours hold any validity it was the erudite wizard Al'Kabor that created the rift that opened up travel to Luclin via magic dating back to the Combine Empire. One half of Luclin was perpetually in the light, while the other ever in the darkness, and it is the elder city of Shar Vahl, the home of the exiled Kerran called Vah Shir, that is nestled in the darkness. There was another account of a waypoint of the moon. A city, deep under the surface, populated by humans and humanoids. This was the "Nexus" this stranger spoke of, he is sure of it.
Loki finds a wall to lean against, permitting this nameless stranger to interact with the others, for the "con'bluth" were the linchpin in whether this union was even a possibility. In the interim he drinks in information from his surroundings, including the arrival of the unexpected vampyres.
Undead visitors within his first few minutes of arriving in a new place; could Luclin get any better?
Loki dissects when he should be reacting, perhaps this is why he moves so slow. Luckily it is his norm to remain invisible to the undead at all times while awake (invisibility vs. undead at will).
Initiative:
Time for the nameless to prove his mettle.
Xsa'us Dhamvires inbal zhu'lect Nalun cries in his native tongue as he prepares to defend himself
There are more coming. Many more