Search Posts
Learnur waits quietly for a response from the strangers on the other side of the door. Call me crazy, but if I were attacked in this room and had to retreat, I damn sure wouldn't flee further into the dungeon. And with a rod that operates Nethys knows what in your possesion? Something is definately rotten in Absalom!
", the first room of the dungeon and we've already stumbled into a puzzle. Better scan the area with a divination for magical auras, we don't wanna run into any traps!" Learnur exclaims looking around suspiciously. Speaking words of magic and gesturing in an arcane manner Learnur approaches the altar. With his arm extended and the palm of his hand facing the center of the room, Learnur focuses his concentration on the trio of rods for several seconds, then turns in a circle scanning for magical resonance.
"Careful Vilman, that device could be some sort of trap." As Learnur warns his trusted ally, he too examines the mechanism.
"Before we make our final approach, let me make some last minute preparations." Learnur immediately begins rifling through the various pockets and pouches of his explorers outfit as if he has misplaced something. "Now what in the nine hells did I do with those blasted contraptions?" Suddenly he draws forth two metal rod-sized lengths of black frame with coiled springs and several small belts and buckles affixed to them. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he begins strapping the devices to his forearms. "I've always believed in the philosophy; it's better to have a wand and not need one, than need a wand and not have one." Tightening the final buckle of his spring-loaded wrist sheaths in to place, Learnur produces two wands from his Pathfinder Pouch, one a stout bolt of steel with rivets running along its length, the other a transparent baton of green glass. slightly straining against the pressure of the springs, Learnur slots the wands in to place with a distinctive click.
"I suggest we bolster ourselves magically if at all possible, who knows what could be waiting for us just inside the halls entrance." Learnur retrieves yet two more wands, this time an iron shod black spike and a pearly white crooked stick with gold rings spaced evenly along its surface. He speaks a word of magic and waves the black spike in a circular pattern about his form.
"That should do it for me. You guys ready?" Waiting for a reply from his fellow party members Learnur stowes his recently used wand of Mage Armor back in his Pathfinder Pouch.
"Hop on Jack ol' boy, it would be an honor and a pleasure to have you astride my steed." Learnur says while guiding his horse in the direction of the pint-sized marksman. It's good to hear he accepts my handicap. Never the less our abilities do compliment one another and from a tactical standpoint having a rifleman watching your back is always a plus.
The sound of clapping is heard and suddenly the source is revealed as the magic of Learnurs vanish spell fades. Still mounted and unscathed the young pathfinder sheaths his rapier as he surveys the battlefield. "Is everyone ok? Let us tend to our wounds quickly. You never know, more desert hazards could be waiting right around the next dune!" Learnur draws a slender white wand made of ashwood from the small leather pathfinder pouch at his waist. "I can heal minor scrapes and bruises if anyone is injured." "I must say, I'm not much of a skilled combatant when it comes to wielding weapons and such. In fact, my words are my weapons, and I hope they did not fall upon deaf ears this day. I am somewhat knowledgeable when it comes to identifying a creatures strengths and weaknesses, and if I can, I'll point them out to you in battle. Sometimes the mind is sharper than the blade and I fear my swordarm is better served wielding the pen."
As the horseback travel from Sothis to the parched dunes is fairly uneventful for the first few days, Learnur takes this time to make small talk with his fellow agents. Always curious, he asks questions about their families and friends, their goals and motivations, and of course who their favorite Pathfinder is, "Mine is The Master of Scrolls, Kreighton Shane". With conversations blooming and everyone getting to know one another, its obvious that Learnur is indeed the type of person who wants everyone to get along and he often attempts to quell minor differences amongst the party with astute diplomacy. On the third day of travel Learnur spends several hours dilligently scribing passages from his previously published works contained in the Pathfinder Chronicles. During this time Learnur becomes distant and distracted as he focuses his attention on recalling the authored passages from memory alone. OOC:
On the fourth day, in the morning before the party mounts up for travel, Learnur produces four scrolls of yellowed parchment and presents one to each of the party members. "These are passages from my previous works. They could come in handy in the next few days, after that the ink fades and they will become illegible. If you read the passage, it will give you a brief insight on all things survival related."
"Your suspicions are likely correct, although I must say in the several years I've worked for the Society I have never had the pleasure to work with Captin Balentiir. It does seem he has provided for our group handsomely, doesn't it?" Learnur stands and gently returns his dusty chronicle to his haversack. "Well gents, I'm ready when you are. Day or night, it matters not, the road beckons and I must answer its call."
"I could of sworn I read something about the Hall of Seven Scepters in my Pathfinder Chronicle, let me see if I can find it!" With a look of excitement Learnur draws forth a dusty tome from his haversack. Immediately he begins pouring over pages of script searching for the correct passage that contained the necessary historical knowledge.
|
