"Oh, and does anybody have any tindertwigs?"
Forrest nods in agreement
" Aye, we should scout out the next Puriri grove to see if it is as infested as this one. If so, we may be wise to avoid them as we move on, and conserve our strength for the source of this evil. Magnun, how far away do you estimate the next grove to be?"
Magnun, how far away do you estimate the next grove to be?
From his vantage point, gorging up in the boughs of the mighty Puriri Magnun estimates the distance to be only around a few kilometres, not a long march but if the bush is dense with this all-entangling supplejack, it could take a while to bash through.
"Mayhaps the crafty ones among us - Idris, Magnin, maybe you too, Neville, Forrest - those who can slip through the woods unseen, should scout the trail a few hours ahead this day. Anything we can learn about our enemy before we face them head-to-head could be the difference between life and death."
Teedum looks up from the struggling and squealing Tapir, he has a firm look set in his small piggish eyes. Pulling a dagger from his belt he quickly sticks the beast in the side of the neck, and with a effortless flick of the wrist opens its throat like it was a perfumed envelope. The tapir makes an awful shriek which quickly fades to a bubbling gurgle as its eyes bulge from its head and its lifeblood pumps incessantly out onto the grass infront of Kimi, who stares stony faced at the knife in Teedums gore drenched fist.
He releases the beast and it flops to the ground to quiver its last, he wipes the dagger on his black Gi and strides purposefully up to the cleric Norkrung."Look here Cleric, we're out in the middle of this bush because my men, and my mate have been hauled off by some diabolical bellsprouts who care not for the wellbeing of hard working 'jacks. You saw that bloke back aways, strung up and tortured for no reason other than to amuse some lonely sick b!tch." He flicks the knife about in his hand as if barely containg his irritation. "We know time is against us, you know what this c*nt has been doing to our mates, you seen what happened to Donovan, and you saw him die, in my arms." Quicker than a sassed rattler Teedums hand snaps up to grab Alvaster by the chin, his rough hand like a vice on the clerics mandibles. "And you want to fanny about, performing your depraved, perverted experiments on this fat stupid pig, this f*cking hooplehead! What f*cking use is this b!tch gonna be when she's all better eh? You want her to grow us some kumaras here, so we can wait till winter when the mandrakes dont grow too fast? She should be f*cken dead, not Donovan. She can f*cken die here and do us a favour and stop slowing us down. In fact I'll crush her head like an eggshell, save you the hassle!"
Teedum releases his rough hand from Alvasters puss and takes a step back to straighten out his outfit, look about the wide eyed faces and settle himself to some degree. But like a well shaken bottle of Dwarven Beer, he struggles to contain himself.
"You may be a big hero to the ignorant folk back in town," He jabs his finger in the air towards the cleric, "due to some delusional song that heralds the praises of you and that disgusting peck you call kin. But birds will sing Norkrung, and I know what really happened to you back in that hellhole. You f*cked about and that boy was carved up by those Kobs', and because of that his sister went and shived the half-eye, and cause of THAT she had her body broken in that cell, every last thing she had taken away from her, by those f*cken animals! A fate worse than death..." He pauses to catch his breath, his face red and shoulders heaving. He looks briefly to Kimi whose eyes bug from her head in horror.
"You c*nts can stay here all you like, but Im following those creatures back to wherever they're spawning from, Im gonna save Nigel from being used,like this, by some frostcunted B!tch!" He puffs and steps back, hesitating a moment before walking over to the now still Tapir and proceeding to butcher it with mechanical efficiency.
Once again he looks up, with bloodied knife in hand. "You want my advice I say the most use this c*nt could be would be as bait. We let 'em take her, and follow 'em back. Easy."
During Boss Teedums vitriolic monologue, Alvaster's ass twitches like a dying tapir as he notices a strange flutter of movement from the stomach of the Lady laid low...
Alvaster keeps his silence and holds Teedum's gaze throughout this tirade, a fierce frown on his face. He leans back away when the brute grabs his face and peers down his noselessness at him, mouth smushed but still defiant.
Once it is evident that the crew boss has said his piece, Alvaster releases a long breath and his stance loosens noticeably.
He begins speaking in an exaggeratedly patient tone that becomes more strained with passion as he continues.
"Look, Teedum. Every decision to act, or not to act, has consequences, and those consequences have consequences, and you can follow the whole chain ad nauseum but what's the fukken point. A man draws the odds as best he can and does whatever makes sense, and f*ck hindsight, what matters is what you know when you make the decision."
"So what do we know. This woman, I can save. With my help and another day's rest, she will definitely live. If we move today, she almost certainly dies - for what? A vanishingly small edge to the vanishingly small chance that we'll find your man and he hasn't been... 'taken up' already. But THIS woman..."
He gestures towards her and glances over. Notices the abnormal movement in the woman's torso.
"Oh sh!t."
Rushes over to take a look.
Magnun had been chewing berries like pop-corn, watching the alpha males butting heads like a pair of horny aurochs bulls.
He was unenthusiastic about gallivanting through the Darkwood in a smaller, squishier scouting party with the plan of finding some jolly green giant who, he was only too sure, would be more than happy to make jelly out of two archers and a light-weight sorcerer. Scouting was all good if there was support to call in, and healing on-line. This plan of splitting up didn’t sound good, not at all.
In truth, it was six of one whether they waited or charged ahead.
The woman was unlikely to be of any use to them whatever happened; she didn’t seem the sort who could give weighty intelligence as to the location, strengths and weaknesses of the bad dudes--perhaps that was unfair profiling--and even that depended on communicating with her. It seemed unlikely she was literate, and short of invasive surgery there was no ready source of tongues. Nonetheless, it would be crass to leave her to die.
On the other hand, Nigel was probably rooted anyway. Magnun had little doubt that he was beyond saving. There seemed no particular hurry in catching him up, except to appease Teedum, and storming through the woods had led to problems. Nonetheless, Teedum was a valuable ally, and a dangerous enemy; Magnun did not want to be the one to break the bad news to him. He was formulating how to put this, perhaps:
“Gentlemen. I think we need to be honest about what is happening here. It seems, when we consider Nigel and those others who have been taken, that this mission has become a matter of revenge rather than of rescue, and that if we are to serve them best we need to remember that revenge is best served cold…”
For this to work at all, Teedum would need to be calm, or at least not already raging. He seemed unlikely to calmly accept that Nigel had gone. He certainly wasn’t going to wait by idly while a bunch of elves tip-toed through the woods to find out what was happening, and his anger could well be a hazard to the party as it went.
Perhaps some suitably blokey humour would clear the air?
Events intrude, however; it looks like our in-patient is about to go all Alien on our arses. Magnun will ready an electric ray, ready to nail whatever nasty opts to make its way out through the caesarean exit. Perhaps it is simply that the tongue is disagreeing with her, but Mr Argos is not taking chances. If things settle for invalid, however, and the brouhaha looks set to start again, he will interrupt the warring parties, something along the lines of:
“My good men! Plainly there is a flaw in Alvaster’s plan--it would leave you two alone together to get up to Calistria knows what antics! As like as not you’d be at each others’ throats by the time we’d got back… No! We must move or stay together--at least until you good lads can find a room!”
Forrest has had about a gutsfull of Teedum. Suggesting leaving the defenselessness woman as bait is as immoral an act as he has ever heard. His lack of respect for his companions is beyond the pale. Had they not rushed forward into the unknown to find this man's lover?
Perhaps it is time to give him a piece of his mind....
Before he can act, reality intervenes, he keeps his mouth shut, for now at least, and hurries over to help Alvaster as best he can.
Alvaster has an idea:
Get one of you guys to catch a couple of woodland creatures for him (rat, possum, possibly a keruru would work).
Stash a bottle of moonshine in a handy body cavity and rig up a simple mechanism to open or smash the bottle and a switch to strike a tindertwig (which can be thrown remotely via Mage Hand).
Animate them suckers.
Next time we're fighting wooden or wicker baddies Alvaster can send the critters to clamber up on them, smash the bottle to give them a dousing and then somebody can throw the switch with Mage Hand.
And if the fiddly bits don't work hopefully we'll at least have a baddy covered in accelerant, Forrest and Idris could maybe prep some fire arrows (soak some bandages in moonshine and wrap them around the arrowhead?)
Anyway he hasn't explained this concept in game yet, kind of busy right now... laying it out for consideration between players though.
As Alvaster is chewing him out, Teedum guts and butchers the Tapir with effortless speed, his pink steaming face betrays no emotion. He soon dismantles the beast into haunches and begins to prepare the firepit, refusing to meet the Clerics gaze even for a moment.
But that gaze is soon diverted as a tickle in his minds eye causes him to suddenly glance over his shoulder and spot his comatose patient's belly heave and writhe in an unnatural fashion.
"Oh Sh!t!"
The peasant woman soon begins to cough and splutter, and she rolls onto her side clutching at her guts. It would appear her magically induced slumber has concluded and she begins to wail piteously as she realises there's something amiss with her innards...
Now. as best as he can make it out, that's where Magnun would guess the tongue has gone. He's unsure of the exact nature of the preservation that has been placed on it, but it seems that it might be disagreeing with her.
Does this stomach movement look like the woman has eaten something unpleasant, and could perhaps vomit it up if induced, or does it look like some nasty greebly is lodged in her innards and is trying to get out?
He's got Heal 4, and Knowledge Arcana 6...
Alvaster turns white-faced.
"Dread Lord flense my bones, not again...!" he mutters.
"It must be the tongue," he tells Magnun, "I botched the attachment but the damn quickening took anyway. I can break the spell with a touch, but how can I touch the damn thing when it's INSIDE her?!"
His mind races.
"I see three options. First, induce vomiting. Second, surgery. Effective, but high risk. I can get to the tongue but I don't know if I can keep her alive afterwards. Third - do nothing - she's in pain but maybe in time she'll pass the tongue, or digest it or something."
"Lord Velsharoon, guide this fool's fuddled mind!"
Alvaster casts Guidance on himself
Guided Heal check to determine best option...
Velsaharoon finds this extraordianary situation most hilarious and the only answer Alvaster recieves from his foul god is the distant echo of cackling laughter
Velsaharoon finds this extraordianary situation most hilarious and the only answer Alvaster recieves from his foul god is the distant echo of cackling laughter
Alvaster is frozen in inaction for a few more seconds then suddenly his eyes widen.
"But of course," he mutters rapidly, "the tongue is effectively an independent undead entity! And that means - I can subdue it to my will!"
A roiling gray nimbus flares around Alvaster's head and his voice booms as he speaks.
"Unruly tongue, harken to thy master! Be thou still!"
Alvaster expends a Channel to COMMAND UNDEAD!
That gross old tongue has a Will Save of +2, vs. the DC of 15 to resist Alvaster's power
The Peasant woman wails loudly and her cries echo throughout the forest, as she pauses to catch her breath, her gurgling stomach is to be heard ululating like water escaping down a drain.
She convulses for a few seconds and retches piteously, again she heaves but this time vomits up a morass of yellow bile. She chokes and it is apparent between her fingers that the thing inside her stomach is still writhing in rebellion to Alvaster's magic.
The unholy nimbus flares again.
"O, insolent muscle! O, glabrous wretch! I am your fate, and I say to you: BE STILL."
But when he returns...
There is a rustling among the undergrowth and Alvaster steps back into plain view. Though he left but moment before, he now looks noticeably drawn and weary, more like one who'd been awake three days than three hours. But calm.
He clears his throat.
"Friends, with Teedum... <cough>, slain, I think we are grown in merit, but reduced in strength," he announces, his voice husky. "So I have scrounged a little strength to fill the gap."
The risen manticore slouches forth from the underbrush behind him, ponderous and without grace, lurching from one side to another with each step, long strands of bloody drool hanging from its slack-jawed mouth. It halts next to the cleric.
He takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and exhales slowly. Looks up and takes in the scene.
"Where is the ranger? Absconded AGAIN? We must needs resume the trail! To track the vegetable evil to its source, just as we discussed! Move up carefully, take the measure of our enemy - disrupt them if we can - fall back and return in strength should their forces prove overwhelming."
He notes the stunned regard of his companions and scowls, looking about.
"What? What has changed. There is one less monster in the forest." He motions a hand towards Teedum's corpse dismissively. "Others abound. The need is clear, our purpose holds."
"Magnun?"
He twitches an eyebrow at the marid-man.
"Unlike you to let a dead man retain the benefit of his property?" He prods Teedum with the toe of his boot.
He blinks a couple of times and doubt flashes briefly across mien.
"I apologise, that was ill-spoken. But anything of use should be recovered. These are hard days, and I wonder if there are harder yet ahead."
"Where is Kimmi...?" he mutters to himself. Frowns.
PLAY REPORT 15/5/13
While the peasant woman lay wailing at the feet of out noble adventurers, Boss Teedum sat chastised tending to his roasting Tapir. A sleep spell was readied as an anasthetic for the woman so Alvaster could retrieve his necro-tongue from her belly.
As she slipped off into a state of unconciousness, her wailing subsided. Yet still an eerie shrieking could be heard echoing throughout the forest, the adventurers looked about in vain, till Magnun spotted a capering hawk, tumbling and falling in the air, no doubt ranger Idris's pet pouakai. As his eyes adjusted he was also to notice two other shapes looming closer, borne through the skies on devilish black wings.
The party quickly ducked to cover around the Puriri grove, and with a vile swoosh and snap of leather wings two Womanticores appeared to circle the area. One crashed down next to the smoking tapir and shrieked horribly. Its feminine face contorted in a bestial sneer, it raised its rattling tail of spikes and let loose a volley. The elf Forrest, managed to deter a spike with his hat brim but another thudded palpably into his arm. Alvaster was not so lucky and took two of the brutal bone spikes to either knee.
The party responded by loosing a volley of arrows and magic missiles from all directions, and while most found their mark in the beast, it seemed to shrug off the wounds.
Then the second Womanticore landed amidst the grove and sniffing about noticed the prone woman lying defenceless. It took her head in its jaws and with a sickening crunch began to devour her.
Alvaster snuck through the undergrowth, healing himself and preparing to unleash a shambling horror from his robe of bones. Forrest became distracted by an errant cicada and fumbling with his bow, knocked himself silly for 6 seconds or so. Magnun continued to slink through the shrub, firing off wild argon missiles of force energy, buffeting the monsters with powerful damage.
Across the grove, Teedum whispered words of encouragement to young ranger Kimi, then ran across to leap onto the Womanticore attacking Alvaster and Forrest. With one hand gripping the mane of the ferocious beast, he struggled to keep it from firing another volley of its terrible spikes.
The second Womanticore then flapped its massive wings and took to the air with the peasants corpse inits slavering maw. The other Womanticore reared and threw Teedum to the ground before laying into him with its jagged jaws. Teedum struggled in the bite but as he wrenched away the flesh and muscle was stripped from his left arm, and he was flung to the ground in a shower of blood. Alvaster took this moment to summon a fearsome Plague Ogre Zombie, which looked about, saw the nearest potential victim being the prostrate Teedum it rushed and laid into him with a powerful kick which crunched Teedums body through the log he was laying against. Teedum weakly reached up to grab at the abomination but seemed out of the fight for the moment.
Around the grove the adventurers continued to pummel the manticores with arrow and missile, most finding their marks, but also most being shrugged off by the beasts.
The womanticore in flight, seeing the fearsome Zombie threatening its companion, dropped the corpse which crashed in a heap and ejected the necro-tongue whihc slithered off into the undergrowth. The Womanticore leveled its tail and sent a barrage of spikes into the zombie, causing greivous damage. The Wounded Womanticore slashed at the zombie, shredding its arm from the socket and taking it to the very edge of unlife. At that moment Alvaster steeped from the shrub, and from cover of a puriri channeled the energy of his foul god to boost the power of his revolting thrall.
The zombie kept up the fight but was soon dispatched by the vicious claws of the wounded Womanticore, whereupon it exploded in a putrid cloud of gore, covering the still form of Teedum in its noxious ichor.
Alvaster clutched at his icon of Velsharoon and summoned its ethereal hammer to further harry the monsters.
As the Beast continued to be pummeled by arrows & missiles from the bushes they took to the air, one swooping down to retrieve the womans corpse and the other, weakly flapped to the sky, spilling its blood across the blue Puriri leaves.
Not to be denied their prey, the party stepped from cover to further shower the escaping beasts with arrows. Alvasters glowing spectral hammer flew up to deliver the death blow to the wounded Manticore and it fell from the sky in a mangled heap. Forrests arrow flew true and striking the other Womanticore, it stumbled in the air, once again dropping the peasant woman into the forest canopy before it escaped over the horizon.
Then, Alvaster looked upon the gurgling form of Boss Teedum, his nemesis, and realised an irresistable chance for revenge. Tentatiively he approached through the carnage to stand over his form. Kimi also rushed up in hopes Alvaster was to heal the Boss. But lo, the cleric discharged an unholy surge of power into his foe, who shook, wracked in agony, but remained alive. Kimi, realising what was afoot grappled at the cleric but was pushed aside, to roll into the smouldering firepit.
Alvaster, now exasperated at the fortitude of the man who lay helpless before him, discharged another surge of unlife, which sparked visibly along his nervous system and crackled from his eyeballs. Teedum suddenly awoke and to the horror of Norkrun, understood the clerics actions. He grabbed Alvaster by the throat and managed to lift himself from the log, hissing through clenched teeth and emanating such hatred from his bulging eyes. After a final heartbeat, his grip loosened, Boss Neville Teedums eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back DEAD
Ranger Idris found this perfect moment to come puffing up the trail and be aprehended by Forrest, who demanded to know where the ranger had been. He fumbled with excuses then spotted Alvaster despatching Boss Teedum, to which Idris took incredulous exception.
Kimi looked on in horror, and as the blood drained from her face she rushed off to the south, sobbing. Idris shoved Forrest aside and rushed after his daughter...
"What? What has changed. There is one less monster in the forest."
A degree of color returns to Forrest's face at this
"Some might say we have swapped one monster for another..."
He blinks a couple of times and doubt flashes briefly across mien.
"I apologise, that was ill-spoken. But anything of use should be recovered. These are hard days,...
Forrest sneers
" If you mean what you say, why not raise the fellow as your zombie minion? There would be a certain irony in him being in your thrall, Yes? It might also serve as a reminder of what you have done, what you become..."
Sighing he turns to Idris
" I fear this jaunt has become an ordeal. Ranger, tell them what you know of the glade. I am low on ammunition and low on patience. Let us get to the root of the matter. What is our next move?"
Magnun has much to ponder.
While briefly overcome by a certain horror at Alvaster’s cold-blooded murder, enough has happened that that seems neither here nor there.
“It is done.” Magnun pauses. “As we look on this with the drums of battle still beating in our ears it is best to remember that our quickest judgements are often most false. We all know what happened; the rights and wrongs of it will be clear in the fullness of time.”
Magnun turns and looks down at Teedum. “This c*nt was a total a*sehole, there's no denying that, but we will miss a dangerous ally who surely had balls of steel. There are monsters aplenty in these woods, and we will need whatever strength we can get." He looks back to Alvaster, who has exacerbated his predicament with his reckless actions. "We are weaker than we were, and it was ill that made it so.” Here he pauses again.
“Still.” Now, in a softer voice, addressing Alvaster but loud enough that Forrest can hear: “It is done, and it cannot be undone. Your undead beast better be useful, for it has some big boots to fill.” Here he kicks the boot of Teedum, and turns to Forrest:
“If we are to succeed in our mission--if, indeed, we are to return from these accursed woods at all--we will need to work together. We can save the inquisitions for a time and place where our mission, our lives, and the life a little girl are not on the line.
“I have arrows, Forrest, if you have patience.” Magnun pulls a bunch of arrows out of his pack and passes them to the elf.
“I have arrows, Forrest, if you have patience.” Magnun pulls a bunch of arrows out of his pack and passes them to the elf.
“I have arrows, Forrest, if you have patience.” Magnun pulls a bunch of arrows out of his pack and passes them to the elf.
Forrest takes the proffered arrows gratefully and sighs.
"Thank you Magnun. I apologize for my harsh words just now. I am tired, wounded and have not seen a bath in over a week"
Perhaps lacking the wisdom to pause in his callous behaviour, Magnun will press on.
“To business then. Alvaster is right; whatever layer of Hell Teedum has been taken to, he will not miss what he is carrying now, while our needs are many, and no doubt some of what he carries will mean something to his... loved ones… if such he ever had.”
At this, Magnun will start a search of the corpse. He will also do a Detect Magic, making sure to investigate Teedum’s staff as well.
“To business then. Alvaster is right; whatever layer of Hell Teedum has been taken to, he will not miss what he is carrying now, while our needs are many, and no doubt some of what he carries will mean something to his... loved ones… if such he ever had.”
Magnun casts his hand over the ruined corpse of Teedum, his fingers crackle with argon sparks and several pieces of the corpses inventory burn into the dervish's minds eye.
He squats down to inspect, and is immediatly aware of how rapidly Teedums body is deteriorating, no doubt due to the violet coloured gore expelled by the exploded zombie. Pulling his jerkin up to cover his mouth, he is still provided no succour from the disgusting stench.
Neville had seemed to travel light, no backpack or pouch, only several bottles at his belt, one now no more than shattered shards of green glass.
The others:
- One green bottle has a picture of an owl branded into the cork
- The other is a larger round bottle of bluish glass, with an "X" carved into the cork... it doesnt take a seasoned adventurer to know that this is a cure moderate pot
Also on his belt is
- A masterwork dagger
- "The Big Feller" A +1 enchanted Ax, "Nigel Isolde" is burnt into the handle in small delicate writing
Gleaming from among the purple muck is Nevilles studded bracers,
- Bracers of Armour +2
and a intricate looking bronze ring. No doubt a relic from his military past.
- Ring of Protection +1
As Magnun goes to remove the ring, the flesh of the finger sloughs off into his hand. Almost before your eyes the once virile form of Boss Neville Teedum begins to shrivel and decay in the vile ooze, his face already expressing outrage in death, seems to contort in furious anger as it putrefies amidst the necromantic slime.
The Sorcerous rogue steps away and gags from the stench, flicking away slime from his fingers and wiping them on the grass, all the while greedily sucking in fresh air.
Nearby, lying away from the corpse, is Neville's pole. Picking it up, Magnun is surprised by its weight, or rather lack of. It seems perfectly balanced and easy to wield.
- Teedums Mwk Darkwood Quarterstaff
A degree of color returns to Forrest's face at this
"Some might say we have swapped one monster for another..."
Alvaster levels a flat look at the city-elf.
"You are disconcerted, Forrest! Understandable, and yet...? I saw you shed no tears for the river-men we slaughtered at the cathouse. So I take it that you have no special place in your heart for thugs."His tone is cold as he continues.
"Perhaps then, you mislike the way the job was done. That I betrayed him. A coward's tactics. A weakling's tactics."
"But I think I know more of betrayal than you."
He unknots the rag behind his head and unwinds it from his face. It clings briefly to the wet, puckered sockets in his ruined face - the red-raw sinuses, exposed, glisten in the daylight.
His voice trembles, under bare restraint. A finger stabs in accusation at dead form of Teedum.
"This DOG'S master, the villain, Kreed, bid him do this to me and he did it gladly. Laughing. With a song in his heart. And why? Because I saved Kreed's son from certain death, when he - in his wealth and power, with all his men - could not. And this was the coin in which I was paid."
His hand shivers near the ghastly wet absence.
"THAT was betrayal. THIS is justice. I come from Absalom, where the powerful buy their justice. And the weak - we seize it where we may."
He starts knotting the rag up across his nose once more.
"But if you prefer the rich man's justice, friend Forrest" - his voice softer, calmer now - "you may betray me in turn, when we are back in Woodenhead. You have only to toddle up the Falcon's Crest and tell Kreed what I have done. But if you would see TRUE justice wrought, for me and all the goodfolk of Woodenhead - then Neville Teedum died from a manticore's bite. As we all saw."
He starts knotting the rag up across his nose once more.
"But if you prefer the rich man's justice, friend Forrest" - his voice softer, calmer now - "you may betray me in turn, when we are back in Woodenhead. You have only to toddle up the Falcon's Crest and tell Kreed what I have done. But if you would see TRUE justice wrought, for me and all the goodfolk of Woodenhead - then Neville Teedum died from a manticore's bite. As we all saw."
Forrest grimaces at Alvaster's tirade
"You misrepresent me, friend. I do not deny your cause for revenge against this vile brute was just but I cannot in good conscience condone the manner in which you exacted it"
He sighs and his shoulders sag
"You need not fear betrayal from me, I will not speak of this again. We are brothers after all..."
The elf looks up and directs an icy glare at the necromancer
"I will say but one more thing on this matter my friend: Many journeys down the path of darkness have started thusly: A momentary loss of reason, a sudden urge for revenge, the ends always justifying the means..."
"You claim to hold your dark god at arms length, friend, but I fear he draws you ever closer..."
Forrest tilts his head quizzically
"One other thing, I do not TODDLE anywhere and I have no intention to in the future! What an outrageous thing to say!"
Play Report 23/5/13
Before too long Idris once more emerged from the undergrowth, Kimi just behind him looking well sullen.
The ranger explained that nearby was an Ancient Elven sanctuary, while probably not the source of the mandrakes, undoubtably a place of great magic and solace.
He tried then to take his leave due to his sulking daughter, but was soon convinced to accompany the party at least as far as the sanctuary.
The adventurers gathered up what valuables Teedum had and then left, following the sporadic line of blue-leaved Puriris up into rockier highlands of the forest. Nevilles decomposing corpse was left as fodder for the rats and possums.
For some hours they traipsed through the undergrowth, passing gradually larger and larger Puriris, until they were halted by a massive cliff, at the foot of which was thus far the biggest Blue-leaved tree they had yet seen. Idris drew attention to a small gaggle of mandrakes, which stood around the base of the tree, swaying in the wind and seemingly unhostile.
Closer inspection confirmed the fact that the mandrakes were somehow thralls to either the tree or the ambient magic that seemed so prevalent.
Forrest felt a rising sense of belonging rising in his heart, being a city raised elf, he's thus far unfamiliar with the traditional ways of the elder folk, and was blissed out by the tree, and before too long discovered a elven rune on the cliff face which he pondered over while the enthusiastic and electrically hyperactive half-elf Magnun donned Alvasters spider climb slippers and dashed up the cliff face to discover a dark opening some 100ft up.
Not to be outdone, Forrest soon concluded that the rune was of an ancient Elven type, and on speaking it aloud the rockface seemed to melt outward to form a zigzagging staircase up to the aforementioned ledge.
Alvaster followed the rest of the group up to the ledge with his Zombanticore flapping lazily behind him.
On entering the dark cavern, the group was confronted by an ancient statue, an Elf woman with Butterfly wings. No doubt, it was concluded, a primitive effigy of the great god Desna.
The rest of the cavern reached back another few hundred feet, lit by crevasses above which the late sun shone through. There was many delicate mosses and ferns growing throughout the grotto that they noticed as they proceeded along toward a far opening which was also well lit by the fading daylight.
Stepping through the opening, the party was amazed at the sight of a grove of towering Darkwood giants, growing from a lake teeming with frogs, teals, kotuku and koura. All around was life teeming in this safe haven, protected on all sides by rocky walls which only the tallest Darkwoods surpassed in height.
Up amongst the branches of the trees it became apparent that there was several fine buildings scattered about, obviously elven by their exotic architecture. Though it seemed due to the abundant ivy and wild plant growth that the place was long abandoned.
One of the huge Darkwoods had fallen in its old age to crash into the pond, on its descent it had taken with it the main bridge up to the settlement. But without hesitation and with eager curiosity Forrest used his magicks to fasten a length of rope to the balistrade of the nearest platform and with the inherent grace of his kind he dashed along the line to building above.
His mirth was shortlived though, as his entry aroused a being of ethereal menace, a whirling vortex which blew across the room towards him. With a knee jerk reaction he vanished from sight and retreated to a nearby overgrown passage.
Hollering at the others, warning them of the hostile guardian, they quickly followed him to deal with the problem. Magnun shimmied along the rope with ease and Alvaster reluctantly leapt onto the back of his Zombanticore and flew to a nearby tree to assess the situation.
Magnun, being at one with the forces of lightning and storm, attempted to parley with the mysterious entity, but his peaceful approach fell on deaf ears and he was buffeted with several palpable clouts...
Play report 28 May 2013
As if possessed by some greater being, Alvaster utilised his Hand of the Acolyte skill to send his short spear hurtling towards the whirling elemental. With a flash of light the spear shot true and it seemed now that this being was vulnerable to physical hits. The spear flew back to the Clerics hand with a zap of battleship grey energy emanating from its tip.
Commanding his thrall, the Zombie Womanticore, to zoom down on undead wings and flank the Elemental, Alvaster was dismayed to see it instead crash against the side of the elven pagoda, clinging barely to the edge of the balcony with its fell talons.
Incensed by its palpable wounding, the ethereal spirit spun itself into a terrifying vortex, catching the Elf Forrest up inits vaccuum and dashing him against the walls causing him bodily injuries.
Magnun feared for the safety of his companion, but trusting wholly in his innate magical abilities he let loose more magical argon missiles which smashed into the creatures whirlwind form, illuminating the spinning Forrest within.
Struggling to their aid came Idris and Kimi Eavewalker, along the fixed rope up to the pagoda.
Fearing the exhaustion of his magic, Alvaster decided to take a risk and attempt to cause fear on the elemental, knowing not wether a being such as this was vulnerable to such spells. Sure enough, the sillouhette of a cackling, crowned skull appeared within the vortex and Forrest was ungracefully ejected from the maelstrom as the elemental fled from its sorcerous fear.
The party now had time to gather their wits, and arrange themselves in defence, as no doubt the creature was sure to return for its vengeance.
A shrill whistling was to be heard as the thing soon buffeted its way back into the pagoda riding at the head of a fierce gale.
The party let loose a fearsome volley of arrows and missiles, all of which struck the essence of the being, causing flash after flash as the elemental took grevious damage.
The young jilted Ranger, Kimi, took to one knee, and whispering to herself words of encouragement, aimed along the sights of the fine repeating crossbow, and let loose a bolt which struck true, exploding the wisp with a fartlike pop.
As she celebrated her victory, Alvaster took Idris aside and grilled him about the elementals presence...
"Ranger Idris, I understand its your nature to be withdrawn and aloof...but at what stage were you going to tell us that this so called peaceful sanctuary was infact home to spinning guardians such as this?!"
Idris remained distant and calm in his response, "Friend Alvaster, this is a place of great inherent magic, and though it remains unseen to all but those who know how to look for it, its magic reverberates like a beacon through the planes. And it is by the gods will that some beings are attracted to its power, like a bee to a sunflower."
Alvaster clenched his fist at the rangers insipid metaphors but turned away and sighed deeply.
The party then saw to each others wounds, the dust stirred up by the elemental caused Magnun to sneeze as he quaffed his cure pot and he spilt most of it down the front of his tunic, causing some much needed laughter from the others.
As they utilised their wands and curative magics, they were surprised that the spells seemed heightened and more powerful, no doubt due to the enchanted nature of their surrounds.
They soon looked to the overgrown, bird shaped building nearby, across an overgrown bridge, as a decent and safe place to rest for the night.
The sun was setting over distant hills, and the tops of the majestic darkwoods around them were illuminated beautifully, lending credence again to the beauty of this ancient Elven place.
Before retiring, Magnun decided to quickly sweep the area that they had despatched the elemental. As soon as he cast his Detect Magic he felt a prickly sensation all over his body, and almost immediatly his attention was drawn to a curios glowing circlet amongst the silt of the puddle in the centre of the room. Using the late Teedum's staff he picked the trinket out of the muck for a closer inspection.
Using his knowledge of magical arts he attempted to identify the thing and experienced as he did a strange vision, of a great Atua meditating beneath a giant puriri tree. The Atua's eyes opened to stare directly into Magnun as the demigod skin suddenly turned hard like that of the bark of a tree.
Magnun regained his awareness of the pagoda and realised he had found The band of Tane Mahuta which granted the wearer Barkskin 3 times a day.
After a supper of dry rations, the group settled in for a kip, while the Zomanticore kept watch.
They slept soundly and dreamt lucidly of cavorting with spirits and gods. When they awoke each felt more rejuvenated and sprightly than they did the previous day...except for Alvaster, who felt like hammered sh!t.
Sleep comes easy to Magnun, who has exhausted much of his magical reserves. He feels strangely comforted here, but cannot decide whether this is more likely due to this being an enchanted place of the elves, or because of his brush with the Plane of Air. His dreams are garbled, a mess of elves singing and dancing, whirlwinds, silk tents, castles built on clouds.
Nonetheless, it is the Djinn which give most to him. Voices speak to him of the great Plane of Air, and its relationship with the other planes. Everyone speaks in riddles. Magnun has had such dreams before; they have prophetic properties, although they also deceive.
Most striking amongst these dreams feature a discovery about the air itself. It would appear that the air is made of stuff, and if he speaks to the air and caresses it just so, mighty webs will coalesce out of it, binding those within.
Also amongst these dreams comes another vision; this time a mighty Djinn reaches down to him and says a word; a small lightning bolt leaps from the out-stretched finger, infusing Magnun with life. Magnun memorises this word and gesture.
The enchanted hoards of the great Djinn Lord abound for moments; amongst them are staffs and amulets of power. The djinn aorund him are keen to show their knowledge of these things, and the general workings of magic.
Magnun, through his dreams, comes to realise that magic has a life and it speaks to him, in its little way, most acutely through the air. His attunement to the world has escalated; behind all things there is magic, the sentience of the air, and it speaks to him of what is happening. Most peculiarly, he has come to understand the very magic in words themselves...
Alvaster’s dream is half-memory.
He is sitting atop the fifteen-foot wall that surrounds the Pauper’s Boneyard in Absalom, a lunch of rye bread and sausage laid out on an unfolded cloth beside him as he dangles his feet over the edge.
Below in the Boneyard, dead ones shamble to and fro, their dull eyes fixed upon him with idiot hunger. Alvaster takes a bite of the sausage, then breaks off a small piece and flicks it down among the lazars. He watches with interest as one or two clamber after the scrap of flesh.
(Just as it was in life, those many years ago. And yet in the dream… the sausage is the colour of off-cream, and spotted with puckered nodules like the fat, wrinkled skin of a relaxed human knuckle – some detached part of him, the observer who knows he is dreaming, sees this and is disgusted, but dream-Alvaster munches away regardless)
”Ho there, friend!”
Alvaster turns to look and sees a short, pot-bellied man walking along the wall towards him. A man of later years, with a fringe of pale wispy hair that floats around his smile-lined face like a halo. The spry old cove approaches at a fair pace, affecting the exaggerated balance of a tight-rope walker. And then he is there, sitting beside Alvaster.
”Ah! Interesting that you chose this spot to meet me! I might even say… revealing!”
The genial codger smirks and winks at Alvaster.
”Got your nose back too I see! I’d not thought you a vain man, but, well, I suppose I can hardly talk, eh!” The fellow looks down at his belly and pats it self-consciously. He is wearing a waist-coat of good black velvet, fastened with little loops of fine-wrought golden chain.
”Yes, my lord”, says Alvaster, though he has no sense that he chose these words. He raises one hand to his face and feels a fleeting flush of joy when he finds that it is whole.
”You’ve done well, my boy! Here you go, have a swig of this, eh? ”
The man produces a silver flask and unscrews the cap, offering it to Alvaster.
”What is it, lord?”
”It’s RUM, lad!” he croons, ”drink up!”
Alvaster takes a swig and passes it back. Though dreaming, he tastes it quite distinctly – warm, sweet, rich and mellow.
The old cove takes the flask back and takes a long pull, ending the swig with a satisfied gasp.
A few seconds silence. Alvaster notices that the pallid, half-eaten slack-knuckled sausage-thing is crawling away along the wall like an inch-worm.
”That was finely done, boy,” the old man murmurs.
Alvaster looks at him quizzically.
The old man inclines his head. Down in Boneyard – one of the shamblers is the corpse of Neville Teedum. It opens its mouth, moans, and a bright gold coin falls out, and burrows into the earth under its own power.
”Your revenge,” the old man says brightly, ”was well taken. See how it things get easier? Did I not tell you so?”
He claps Alvaster on the shoulder. His palm is warm and firm. Pride surges in Alvaster’s heart. He feels a bit misty-eyed. But why, shouts the watcher in the corner of his mind, the Engineer - why, why?
Alvaster got extra spell slots at Levels 2 and 3!
Alvaster got +1 rank in Knowledge: Religion!
Alvaster gained “Necrotic Aura” – he has +1 to saves vs. Necromancy and negative energy!
Alvaster gained “Profane Conduit” - +1 to the DC of his channels! (re-skinned “Sacred Conduit”)
”And that trick you tried with the tongue?” the fellow chuckles. ”Terrible botch job, of course, but ingenious, quite ingenious! You are coming along in leaps and bounds!”
”Oh, that poor old sow of a woman! With the wretched thing tumbling away in her stomach! Oh tee hee hee!” the codger laughs, wiping away a tear of mirth.
Alvaster got +2 ranks in Heal!
He proffers the rum again. ”Hmmm?”
Alvaster takes a couple more gulps and hands back the flask. Still delicious.
”Splendid, splendid…” the man trails off.
Alvaster hears the distant cry of an hawk, somewhere overhead.
”There is... one thing, I should tell you. While we have this time together.”
His voice a little somber now. His eyes sad, gleaming with sympathy. Sympathy for the cleric, Alvaster Norkrüng.
”The marid-man who travels with you. You must watch that one.”
”Magnun Argos, lord? But why?”
”He covets your crown. The time may come…”
”My lord! He is a friend, easy of manner, quick to the defence of his allies. He has aided me more than once, and more - UNDERSTOOD me, where others only judged. A boon companion, lord!”
”But what do you know of him really?” the man sighs, grabbing up Alvaster’s rye bread and tearing off a hunk. ”I forget how young you are. Let me tell you something that all must learn,” he mumbles as he chews. ”Those who are easy of manner, who speak sweet words, lavish you with favours, make you feel like a grandee… those who seem to offer much and take nothing in return? Trust them not. Theirs is the slow poison and the hidden blade. When the time of taking comes, they take it all. They are the ones who will end you.”
”My lord…?”
The old fellow’s eyebrows raise and he regards the cleric with a sad smile. He nods, and puts a fatherly arm around the cleric’s shoulders.
”That’s how it is.” he whispers. And with uncanny strength, heaves Alvaster forward, to clutch uselessly at the gaping air, and down, down to the hungry dead in the Boneyard below.
---------------
Alvaster got +1 rank in Sense Motive!
The sensation of falling jerks Alvaster awake. He feels woozy, gritty-eyed and feverish, with a thumping headache. His fingers trace his face – he feels the lack there – and he reaches with aching bones for the waterskin.
"Curse me," says Alvaster, "I'm sick."
Could he have contracted Filth Fever from the woman? Or perhaps kneeling in the muck of the Zombie...?
He fetches out his mirror and examines the whites of his eyes, and then pokes out his tongue, eyeing the colour of its scummy coating.
Attempts to diagnose himself...
Alvaster examines the Brown skin peeling painfully off his tongue, making it resemble a saussie from last weekends BBQ.
Judging by that and the ominous gurgling from his nethers, he concludes this to be a bad case of FILTH FEVER!
Alvaster fossicks around in his pack and produces a clove of garlic. He sits cross-legged for a while, glumly chewing garlic while massage his lymph nodes.
Heal check to Treat Disease - grants a +4 to next Save vs. Disease if it exceeds the disease's DC
Magnun moves away from Alvaster...