Noticing the stirring in the water, and hearing Ragnar, Chops maintains his grip on the dwarf, and perches himself on Soroks shoulders.
"Giddy-up my dworsey!"
Noticing the stirring in the water, and hearing Ragnar, Chops maintains his grip on the dwarf, and perches himself on Soroks shoulders.
"Giddy-up my dworsey!"
|
A great slow thoughts of an alien mind brush against your soul - and the soul shivers and draws back, knowing that it doesn't stand a chance against the thing that raises from the lightless abyss. A terrible cold will bears down on you and you find yourself unable to move or to think. A fragment of a thought reaches you, but that is all you can comprehend. Your brains struggle to translate alien ideas into concept that you understand.
"So, you are those that my creche-mates chose to guide us to the stars?" Amusement. "You are week. You are dying. You are week. Week." Scorn. "You bear the seeds of us inside you. Does that make you us?" Unbelief. "Do you think that you are equal to us? You are nothing. Not even a speck of dust in the void between the stars." Pause. "Yes. You must become more like us. You must be know as our servants." Resolution. "I will make you our representatives to that crecheling that you call Witch Queen. She is known to me. I have felt her dreams. I will make you known as our servant-spawn. I will give you gifts..."
A terrible spasm of pain engulfs you, almost to the point of your muscles snapping and your bones breaking. After eternity of torment, it passes. And you remain changed.
Chops manages to maintain his perch on the dwarf's shoulder, despite the muscle contractions and the burning on his wrist. One second he was making one of his eve of battle jokes, the next he was pulled into that strange dream with the condescending creatures. His head snaps up in sudden realization, then he looks at the blue tattoo on his wrist. What the...protection rune?? Those goons out there are ignoring us but the herald won't let us be on standby for long.
He makes a fist and points it towards Solvistania. The blue rune glows a soft light as his eyes squint in concentration. Suddenly Solvistania feels a comfortable warmth caress her body accompanied by the musk scent of her dworg lover. She feels his protection wash over her. Even the water of the lake seems less biting, maybe even inviting and warm.
"I dun magic!"
+1 deflection bonus to AC and a +1 resistance bonus on saves. Additionally, the subject takes only half damage from all wounds and attacks...
Ω˜qw q
Solvistania wakes slowly, a feeling of disorientation coming over her. As she rises to her feet, she feels...strange. Details seem to be in sharper focus, the ebb and flow of the magical currents of Aeryth. She could almost see it...
When she hears Durathoin cast a spell on her...a spell?? she stares at him as if he had grown a third head. Still, she does give him a smile, seeing his love for her radiating from him, as the magic radiates from him enveloping her. Her secondary brain processes the current flowing from him, and she realizes this is a powerful shielding spell. Its effects comfort her and bring a sense of contentment.
"Yes, my love...now we need to leave this place quickly, before the Herald's forces regroup."
Taking a second to process everything, Duncan stares at Chop's gloving wrist directed towards Solvistania, still confused, for his telepathic conversation with Sorrow was virtually cut off by the Aboleths. With his next breath, he feels a burning sensation in his chest, and as he exhales he realizes that he could add more to his breath, a destructive force to annihilate enemies. Despite the desire to let it out, he manages to suppress the urge for fear of attracting attention of their enemies. Then once again seeing faint glow of the Lann's Stone, he remembers the call of Dracarys.
"Let us flee, then",he says seeing approval on the faces of his companions.
Sorok came back to himself. The pain that had wracked his entire body had been unlike anything he had felt before, his skin looked as though it had been dried out and heated for all of his years, it was tight against his bones and rough like untanned leather, it now felt like sandstone.
Despite the unnatural transformation the Dwarf had managed to keep his feet under him and still stood tall with Chops on his shoulders. Feeling a slight annoyance at his now slightly loose fitting armor, he tightens his grip on axe and shield and rumbles...
"Bah, I'm fer fighten this ou'."
Ilona stops singing the power of her song continuing to ring throughout the chamber bolstering her companions. She shudders, a motion alluring in its vulnerability making one wish to provide comfort.
"Either way we have to fight our way out, if we can avoid having to fight aour way in we should take it."
As she glances back over her shoulder the light catches her eyes...her deep crimson eyes that seem infinite in depth.
Duncan feels a blush taking over his face.
"What do you think?", he asks, a bit uncomfortably
"Bah, I'm fer fighten this ou'."
"I'm with'ya. That herald is coming for us regardless. This is the place to take him out," Chops growls into the dwarf's ear. The blue tattoo on his wrist flickers again and flashes as Chops realizes that there is still more juice to be gained from the mysterious mark.
No harm in asking. Almost all the girls I remember being liked flowers. Try starting there.
"We know not what lies ahead and we have already expended energies to make this place defensible. Gilian, what say you?"
Solvistania scans the battlefield, mentally counting the number of combatants. She speaks quietly, "Any position, no matter how well-defended, can be overrrun by sheer numbers." She glances at the Dornish king "It is the Shadows's way, is it not?"
She leaves the meaning of her words plain...Retreat
Solvistania scans the battlefield, mentally counting the number of combatants. She speaks quietly, "Any position, no matter how well-defended, can be overrrun by sheer numbers." She glances at the Dornish king "It is the Shadows's way, is it not?"
She leaves the meaning of her words plain...Retreat
"I agree, we should let them fight and escape through this tunnel. If we can reach the nexus, we'll be in a better position."
"I agree, we should let them fight and escape through this tunnel. If we can reach the nexus, we'll be in a better position."Solvistania scans the battlefield, mentally counting the number of combatants. She speaks quietly, "Any position, no matter how well-defended, can be overrrun by sheer numbers." She glances at the Dornish king "It is the Shadows's way, is it not?"
She leaves the meaning of her words plain...Retreat
Sorok mulled over his companions words as he stared at the combative armies. Memmories of his earliest years of battle coming back to him, he had seen how the Dwarven holdfasts defended themselves and were eventually overrun. They had fallen not because of a lack of terrain knowledge, not due to any lack of arms and armor, not because of a lack of their warriors ferocity and experience in battle. The Dwarves had boxed themselves into their holdfasts, isolated they were content to build their wall and kill the enemy as they came. Almost completely forgoing any sort of offensive tactics at all. They had simply allowed their enemy to probe their defenses, weaken their numbers and tighten the circle around them and slowly bled them out, while in response the Dwarves simply waited to die.
I can' le' tha' happen."No!" Sorok rumbled. "If we leave now, we're allowin' them t' replenish their strength'n numbers when th' fightin' ends, then they'll overrun us, nexus or no'. If we're 'ere we can take th' mos' advantage o' th' fightin. Neither side can focus on us righ' now, we wai' 'ere till fightin's thickest then we'll be makin sure th' Herald don' escape. We withdraw t' the tunnel if things get bad."
"Lady Solvistania has the truth of our situation. And if we engage any enemy, we will most likely lose our retreat route. And when it gets bad, it will be too late to do ought else save die with valor. But not now, Sorok. We have a deeper and more important purpose, and the end of the purpose lies down that tunnel. I understand that you would like to in a way take vengeance on our foes, and those that occupy the halls of your ancestors, but not now. Maybe one day we will destroy Skull king. But now it is our responsibility to find the Sleeper, and that is why we must go, not out of cowardice. And though powerful together, we must not be arrogant. Besides, Lady Gilian is our leader, and she has made her decision." Duncan's voice is determined, and it is clear that he considers the matter closed with Gilian's vote.
|
|
"There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to cut a path through them, and odds are we'll have to before we leave here, but not now. Better when they've battered each other and we have what we came here for. We need to go before they stop consuming each others' attention."
Lyj recovers the flickering torch from the ground from where he dropped it during the spasm a moment ago, nursing it's embers back to life. His eyes flick from one party member to the next, not offering a contribution of his own to the argument.
At the words of his companions Sorok scowls, but nods his head in agreenment. "Righ', I'll cover our retrea'."
At the words of his companions Sorok scowls, but nods his head in agreenment. "Righ', I'll cover our retrea'."
"Right on top of ya'!" Chops agrees with the dwarf, maintaining his perch and keeping an eye out for anything that comes after them.
"I'll take the lead then. On me. Ilona, Ragnar, you flank the party, and poke over my shoulder anything that tries to stop us. The rest of you in the middle."
I hope they don't think I'm declaring myself the leader, but someone must assume combat command and lead the way.
Feeling driven both by the call of Dracarys and their ultimate goal, Duncan starts running down the path towards the tunnel, Sorrow held at ready, prepared to strike at any one who tries to stand in their way, glancing behind every couple steps to make sure taht nobody is attacking from rear or at their flanks.
Ragnar nods and moves with Duncan, loping along side at an easy pace.
|
|
The party moves away from the water and the silent alien shape still swimming in the depths. Slimy trail left by the huge plant-like mound of tendrils is enough to illuminate the path that leads away from the shores of the underground lake and presumably towards the end of that particular cavern. The battle left behind rages even more. Two sides seem to be evenly matched and it is hard to guess how long will it last.
Very soon after leaving the lake waters, party approaches the large entrance to the next cavern...
|
|
"Mushroom guy comin' up! Armed, and in a cloud o' yuck. Doesn't look like somethin' you wanna breathe!"