Search Posts
"Capital!" exclaims Luke in response to Eislar's self identification. "That takes care of that then." Luke turns to Shawn and Algrim, "But there's still the matter of acquiring some additional muscle to aid in our task -- perhaps we might seek out the local watering hole, whatever that might be, to see what travelers or others might be persuaded to join our cause?"
Luke surveys the mostly depressing visage from the partial concealment provided by the hood his voluminous, black cloak. His lips are joined in a slight grimace. "I can but concur. "
Aye, let’s fetch this Vicar and see if we can hire anyone to replace the oath breakers who ran off,” the dwarf agreed and got the cart ready for travel. ”Are ye gonna stay up on the roof or will ye be coming with?” "Oh, I fully intend to join you -- I think I may need to find some additional... associates to assist me with the carrying out of my... chosen trade." Luke gazes down hesitantly, then slowly makes his way back to terra firma.
The strange man seems immediately more comfortable now that he is walking on the soft ground again. "Well," he gestures with his right hand in a demonstrative sign, pointing with his outstretched palm towards the road, "there's no time like the present, and the trip to Hartgrove shouldn't take us too long if the old lady's true to her word."
If she saw your climbing abilities she might not be that enthusiastic about climbing out, the dwarf brooded. He took a second and responded, ”If they be willing to climb out, so be it.” "Rudwilla is suggesting we can pick up a local cleric in the nearby village of Hartgrove that's up the left fork where we turned to go to her hut at the lake. If we can go get Eislar Haman, priest of the Light, and bring him back here, that may be the best approach. It won't take long to get to the village -- also, it occurs to me we should perhaps arrange for some additional muscle for the next leg of this expedition. Maybe we kind find some enterprising travelers or local mercenaries to assist us in our quest?"
After hearing Luke’s report the dwarf shrugged, ”Looks like we be having to deal with these creatures. Sean’s plan be sound and I can be driving the cart.” "What if we just hand a rope down to Rudwilla and her apprentice -- we can get them out without having to deal with the mummies." Luke turns back to muffled voice from within, "What's that then?" He listens for a moment, then turns again to Algrim, "Rudwilla says she wouldn't advise getting too near to the mummies and that she's happy to try to climb out or just communicate through the window. She says her apprentice had a horrible fright that seemed like something more than ordinary jitters from encountering them, and the witch thinks the mummies might have some kind of supernatural ability to induce fear."
Shawn looks up at the window and slowly nods acceptance. "I hope one of you is a climber. I'm not. But I can hold the other end of the rope on the other side of the building, if it's long enough."
"Not a problem," quips the mysterious blonde man, "I'll be right back." Luke begins to expertly scale the wall... almost as if he's... done something like this... many, many times before...
Then, Luke suddenly loses his balance on the slippery stone and goes hurling to the ground, slightly bruising himself as he falls.
His pride as well as his bottom hurt, he tries again,
And falls again
Then, his pride thoroughly injured, he tries yet again, this time going much slower,
Luke finally manages to surmount the second story and peer through the stained glass. He exclaims, "Hey there's an old lady and a young woman in there -- I wonder if the old one is the very same Rudwilla we are seeking?" He begins to tap on the glass, "Hey there, are you both all right? There's some kind of mummies gathered in your front hall here." The muffled sound that replies to Luke seems to reflect that the inhabitants of the strange structure are indeed aware of the strange undead lurking right outside the door to the inner rooms.
"I can furnish you a rope." He turns to Algrim, "I agree with your plan, dwarf -- we should at least climb up and see what can be detected from that vantage before trying to force our way through the undead."
"Well, let me tell you, Sir Ashler, that if we open that door again, I'm backing up quite a bit -- I don't want to risk getting bit by those things. I've heard they can have gangrenous teeth and nails that cause virulent infections in the wounds of their victims, even if they're lucky enough to get away -- that that'll kill you just as dead as being eaten alive by the unliving." Hey what's this?" Luke points out a small note on the door, which reads, in slightly haphazard letters, "STAY OUT!" The structure has windows with stained glass set into the second story tier level of the building, near the beginning of the domed roof. It might be possible to climb up and break one of the windows. There are no other evident doors.
"I vote we keep it closed myself," quips Luke, "and maybe go ahead and find a helpful wizard to cast flake strike and really blow this place up from orbit." He looks reflectively off and then frowns and says seriously, "It's the only way to be sure." Shawn and Algrim both have a peculiar feeling they've heard something like this turn of phrase before... in another time... in another place...
”Aye, for me too,” the dwarf nodded in agreement. The clopping of the horses hooves and creaking of the wagon’s wheels are the only noises heard for a few minutes before Algrim offered, ”Let me be telling ye of stories of dwarven ale so strong your grandchildren will be born drunk.” Luke's right eyebrow arches in an exceptionally pointed curve at the Dwarf's offer. "That sounds... positively alarming."/b] He seems to consider the matter, pursing his lips and rubbing his chin with his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers, [b]"but, yes, please do regale us with your tales. I shall, in turn, describe poisons so deadly that merely a drop on the skin was sufficient to kill a grown man. I have had much dealings with such matters in my... particular line of work."
Algrim flicked his wrist and the reigns snapped directing the horses pulling the cart forward, ”Aye, discussion gathers no gems.” Luke nods, "As long as we're all in agreement -- we can continue to Ruwilla's hut."
Literally the previous page:
And look here thar ye - yeez can't go buy here thar from here thar to there over yonder thar unless ye give us somethin tastey for tha' ole boy -- ya know ole Killerz be a big bug but see here thar he got feelins though, and is sure hankering for a good meal this last fortnight here thar -- and one of ye must feed him, and you all there must pick one of yuz or a horse to give up to the old boy Killerz Slaeryz so his tummy don't be rumblin no more and he not be making a racket at night so me and Thunderclap here and mah bruh Terug can sleep when tha' sun goes down under tha' hillz here thar, ya ken?" Luke looks at Zephira with a puzzled expression, "Did you not hear the brute mention it 5 minutes ago while he was addressing us from his aerial steed.?"
"Well, this is a right mess -- we clearly shouldn't have tried to fight the flying brute, but we need to do something now, or they're going to feed the flame haired warrior to their giant insectile guard dog. If we had just given them a horse or run, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I'm not used to such rash action in my professional life -- I hope in the future we can all approach such situations with greater caution. I fear our quest will end in failure if we approach all obstacles with such obvious and blunt methods."
"No, we just took a job. The duchy agreed to placate. That's their business. This thing is trying to steal from us. That's our business, and not one I'm interested in conducting." "Well, I'm personally rather fond of having a quaternity of sound and whole limbs, which this particular flying beastie and its mount might see the end of. I'm with the dwarf -- seems a small enough price to avoid potential injury and delaying our passage on this vital expedition."
He nods, "Distant remnants, sorry leftovers, a pale shadow of what once was -- but, yes, I do believe this to be the case. You saw the statuary that marks our path -- these woods were once a part of the Fire Lords' domain when they were stripped of trees and filled with the camps of the armed host of the scaled tyrants. From the teeming throngs of ogre warriors that once mustered in the war camps of that ancient plain of conflict -- these are a distant remnant. I would not be surprised if there were other small bands of these creatures to be found wandering throughout the Black Talon Forest." "I do not think violence is called for... at the moment." He flashes a wicked smile.
The mysterious blonde haired man cracked an unsettling grin, kicked his riding boar -- prompting it to trot over to Shawn, "That sounds like a good idea to me -- no reason to get in the middle of any unnecessary tussle and hold us up -- we've got a job to do here, and not that much time to do it in." He lowers his voice to whisper, "Also, when we find the witch Rudwilla, perhaps we can get some more information about these ogres, their intentions, and their place of habitation, and perhaps circle back around to... deal with them more completely... with the added advantage of planning and hopefully surprise."
The dense canopy of the Black Talon Forest loomed above, casting a deep and eerie shadow over the forest floor. The trees were tall and ancient, their bark twisted and gnarled, as if they had been alive for centuries. The leaves of the canopy were dark and thick, blocking out most of the sunlight, creating a dim and gloomy atmosphere. The giant eagle hovered in midair, its wings flapping rapidly, like a hummingbird's. The bird was massive, its wingspan stretching almost 20 feet from tip to tip. The feathers on its wings and body were a mix of dark brown and white, with a distinctive white head and tail. Its eyes were sharp and yellow, scanning the area below for prey. The ogre, mounted on the giant eagle, glared down at the red-haired woman knight standing below. The woman, a skilled and experienced warrior, stood her ground, her sword and shield at the ready. The two were locked in a staring contest, their eyes locked on each other, neither one willing to back down. The eagle, sensing the tension, let out a screech, flapping its wings nervously. The ogre, however, paid it no heed, his focus solely on the woman before him. The woman, for her part, didn't flinch, her eyes never leaving the ogre's. Luke Slade, the blond, green-eyed assassin, stood in the middle of a dense forest, his sword drawn and ready for battle. He coughed loudly, a subtle signal to grab Zephira's attention. Zephira's head snapped around, her eyes scanning the crowd, trying to locate the source of the sound. The ogre, startled by the sudden interruption, turned his gaze to Luke. He was tall and lean, with a chiseled jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into the soul. He leaned in close, his breath hot against the ear of Zephira, and began to speak in a low whisper. Luke took a deep breath before continuing, "Time without years, the red dragon kings, the Lords of Flame, held power over the entire continent. Their rule was absolute, and they had a vast army of ogres to enforce their will. The war between the red dragon lords and their ogre armies and the elves had been raging for centuries. The red dragon lords, powerful and fierce creatures, had long coveted the lush lands and abundant resources of the elven kingdom. They had raised armies of brutish ogres, creatures known for their strength and ferocity, and set out to conquer and claim the territory for themselves. The elves, however, were not so easily defeated. They were a proud and ancient people, skilled in the arts of magic and combat. They had fought the dragon lords and their ogre minions for generations, defending their land and their people with all the strength and determination they could muster. The war was brutal and merciless, with both sides suffering heavy casualties. The dragon lords, with their powerful fire breath and massive wings, rained destruction from above, while the ogres, wielding massive clubs and swords, charged into battle on the ground. The elves, meanwhile, used their magic to summon powerful elemental forces and to create deadly illusions, as well as using their archers and swordsmen to strike back at their foes. The tide of the war ebbed and flowed, with neither side gaining a clear advantage. But as the years passed, the elves began to gain the upper hand. They had developed powerful new spells and tactics, and their warriors had grown more skilled and experienced. Finally, after decades of fighting, the elves emerged victorious. The dragon lords and their ogre armies were driven back, and the elven kingdom was saved. But the cost of the war was high, with countless lives lost and much of the land left scarred and devastated. Despite their victory, the elves could not forget the horrors of the war. They remembered the dragon lords and their ogre hordes, and knew that they would always be a threat, lurking just beyond their borders. They vowed to remain vigilant, to always be ready to defend their land and their people from any who would seek to harm them. The war was over, but the memories of it would live on, forever etched in the minds of the elves, as a reminder of the sacrifices they had made to protect their home."
Luke Slade was a skilled assassin, known for his stealth and precision. He was a master of the shadows, and he moved through the dark forest like a ghost. His target was deep within the forest, and he had chosen a unique method of transportation to reach it. Luke had tamed a large Ussuri Boar, a beast known for its ferocity and strength. The beast was a formidable sight, with dark, shaggy hair covering its massive body. Its head was large and round, with a pair of small eyes that seemed to gleam with intelligence. The nose was wide, and the snout was covered with coarse hair. The most striking feature of the boar was the white band that extended from the corners of its mouth to its ears. This stark contrast against the dark hair made it stand out among the other wild boars in the forest. It was a majestic creature, and it was clear that it was the ruler of the forest. The Ussuri Boar had a broken tusk on its left side, which gave it a fierce and intimidating appearance. The broken tusk was a result of a battle with another boar, a fight it had won, but not without taking a wound. The boar had learned to adapt to its injury and still used it to defend itself when needed. The boar moved with a sense of purpose and confidence, its head held high as it scanned the forest for food. Its keen sense of smell led it to a patch of ripe berries, and it rooted through the bushes, eating its fill. It was a powerful and efficient eater, devouring everything in its path. As the boar finished its meal, it let out a loud, deep grunt. It was a warning to all the other animals in the forest. The boar was adorned with a riding harness of black leather. The harness was a work of art, crafted with precision and skill. It was made of thick, black leather, with steel spikes adorning the straps. The leather was soft to the touch, but it was strong enough to withstand the rough terrain of the forest. The harness was designed to fit snugly around the boar's body, allowing the rider to sit comfortably on its back. The straps were adjustable, ensuring a perfect fit for the boar. The steel spikes gleamed in the sunlight, adding a menacing edge to the already intimidating creature. The chest plate of the harness was made of steel and was decorated with intricate designs. The steel was polished to a mirror-like finish, adding to the overall aesthetic of the harness. The chest plate was secured with thick leather straps that were buckled tight around the boar's chest. The reins were also made of black leather, and they were attached to the harness with steel rings. The reins were long enough for the rider to have full control over the boar, but not so long that they would get in the way. The rider could easily guide the boar with a light touch of the reins. Overall, the harness was a perfect blend of form and function. It was not only practical, but it also added to the overall appearance of the riding boar, making it an even more imposing creature. It was a symbol of the bond between the boar and the rider, a partnership forged through trust and respect. Luke rode the boar into the forest, his body pressed close to the beast's back. The boar moved with a sense of purpose, its head held high as it scanned the forest for any potential dangers. Luke was one with the boar, and they moved as one through the dense underbrush. As they rode deeper into the forest, the light faded, and the shadows grew longer. Luke was at home in the darkness, and he moved with ease through the trees. The boar was silent, its hooves making no sound on the forest floor. They were like two hunters, stalking their prey.
Luke decides to buck the trend and procures a boar instead of a horse. The strange choice of mount startles his companions somewhat, but seems to be in line for the standard behavior of this strange man.
"My mind and heart," interjects Luke, "are prepared for the journey, but I am unsure of a mount -- given Sir Jelmark's comments, does everyone have the means to procure a fast-enough form of transport?"
Luke's eyes grow wide at the sudden change in their circumstances. He has never not loved money.
"Feeding goblins instead of killing them? That just seems... wrong, somehow. But if it will put gold in the purse..." Arrock says, with a look of distaste slowly morphing into resignation. Luke smiles, "You must learn, friend, to embrace a wider understanding of the world. In my time, I have become happy to accept true coin to kill, feed, bathe, wed, or burry goblins or their greater kin as the need may arise."
Luke's ears perk up at the mention of a secretive mission, "A matter of some delicacy you say? I am always eager for intrigue.. lead on gentle sir, and I shall assuredly follow,"
Luke wakes up early, as usual ready to seek out new adventures at the town hall of Griffondale. All told, things had gone fairly well for him since arriving in town -- he seemed to have found some new friends, or at least temporary travel companions. And that was all for the good. His story about the dangers of the roads of the northern part of the Duchy were not entirely fantabulous -- there was a kernel of truth to them, just no the truth he had averred to the assemblage of travelers in the common room of the Telltale Tavern the previous evening. No -- Luke was in quite a bit of danger not from any random brigands or goblins or their near kin, but rather agents of the L'Triel assassins guild known as the Nightbanes. He had been forced to make a speedy exit from the city after he had failed to execute his hit on the Armando, youngest son of the Fiorentino Merchant Clan. His vengeful patriarch, Salvatore, and contracted, Nightbanes a rival guild to Luke's own guild -- the Venomblades -- to hunt down the unsuccessful assassin. The Master Assassin of the Venomblades had advised Luke to make himself scare for... a good while until the whole matter had blown over. And so, here he was, exploring the hinterlands of the Grand Duchy of Mulcrow for the first time in his life. Already, he missed the sounds and sights and pleasures of the great port city of L'Triel... but not enough to risk his life and limb to retain their comforts. No, he would do as the Master Assassin of his guild had advised and make himself scare for an extended period. Trouble had not ceased to follow him on his departure from the gate of L'Triel... no, he had been hounded by the agents of the Venomblades from town to town as he made his way along the lonely northern roads of the Grand Duchy, always staying only a step or two ahead of his pursuers. He believed he had managed to lose his hunters in the twisted network of crossroads that wound through the Black Forest, but it would take a while yet to be sure. Still, he had contrived a new identity -- Luke Slade, putting aside his given name of Velxe Saeru in order to better hide his identity while he evaded reprisal from the vengeful patriarch of the Fiorentino Merchant Clan. Luke got up early and checked to make sure there were no signs of pursuit. Then he washed and dressed. He quickly made his way to the town hall, seeking the company of the travelers he had met the previous evening.
Luke pauses to consider the question, then replies in a measured tone, "Hm... I not know swift-footed Hermes by the name you mention, but perhaps both are simply masks of one and the same god? Truly, who can say what the true nature of the immortals are, friend?" "In regards to your question regarding the roads -- I do not know the reputation of the northern ways, but my recent experience has taught me, whatever the common wisdom might be, they are not safe for lone travelers such as myself in these days. You speak wisely -- perhaps tomorrow we should try to find a representative of the Duke to whom we might voice our concerns, and perhaps receive a valuable contract to clear the roads of goblins and other threats."
Arrock took a sip of his wine and gave an approving nod to Feagan, then turned away to his table. He stopped in his tracks. Was it possible that his object of flirtation had, in less than two minutes, suddenly begun flirting with someone else? He debated continuing on in and having a clash of flirtations with the newcomer, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. He took a long, bracing draught of his wine, then realized he'd drunk almost the entire flagon in his sudden bad mood. Well, at least I have a second mug all to myself now..., he thought as he turned around and headed back to the bar. While working on drink number two, he heard an interestingly hued young woman bring up one of the few topics that interested him more than romance. "Pardon me, folks, but did I hear you talking about.... adventure?" he said, leaning in. Luke pulls back his long, black cape over his shoulders, and takes a seat at the table with Shawn, Arrock, Zephira, Alexandria, Ali, and Algrim. He takes an unoccupied seat from another table and pushes it between Arrock and Shawn. Then, he begins to address the assembled company with a friendly but serious tone, "By the light of He Who Guides all wanderers -- swift-footed Hermes of the Numberless Paths and Uncounted Roads, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have reached the safety of Griffondale before nightfall." "I do not know how recently any of you have traveled the northern roads of the Grand Duchy, but of late they become dangerous for a lone traveler such as myself. Indeed, I just made a long journey from the bustling port city of L'Triel, jewel of the Gemfire Coast and First Light of the Sea of Evariel. I would have you know, fellow travelers -- my path along the Duke's Road was not uncontested. During my travels, I have been forced to flee several times from roving bands of vicious goblins and hobgoblins -- some say their bugbear kin have driven them into the lowlands to prey upon the unsuspecting inhabitants of these sparsely-populated regions of the Grandy Duchy of Mulcrow." "But now I have found safety in the light and warmth of this gracious establishment, and I hope to find dependable company so that I will no longer have to face the dangers of the open road alone."
With a smooth, fluid motion, a new visitor swung the door open of the Telltale Tavern and stepped inside, his long black cape billowing behind him like a shadow. Night had already fallen, and by this later hour the inside of the Telltale Tavern was dimly lit, though it was still brightened by the sounds of laughter and conversation. The silence that descended upon the common room was almost palpable, a heavy weight that seemed to press down on everyone present. The laughter and conversations that had filled the air only moments before had died away, replaced by a tense, expectant hush. As the man with the long black cape made his way through the crowd, heads turned and eyes followed, drawn in by his commanding presence. He strode towards the bar, his cape sweeping behind him. The room was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of the long black cape as the man approached. He moved with a smooth, almost predatory grace, his feet barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. The man standing before the patrons of the Telltale Tavern was a sight to behold. His muscular frame was perfectly chiseled, his broad chest tapering down to a narrow waist and powerful legs. His blonde hair was cropped short, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face and the piercing green eyes that seemed to look right through the crowd. His skin was pale and smooth, almost ethereal in its perfection, and seemed to glow softly in the dim light. As he moved, those observing him could not help but be struck by the grace and fluidity of his movements. Luke seemed to exude a palpable air of confidence and strength with every step. His long black cape flowed behind him like a wave of darkness, its rich fabric seeming to absorb the light around it. His eyes were dark and piercing, and there was an air of power and confidence about him that was both intimidating and alluring. The long black cape flowed behind Luke like a wave of living darkness, its rich fabric a shade deeper than the shadows that seemed to follow closely wherever it went. The cape was made of a luxurious satin material, with a glossy sheen that seemed to absorb the light around it. The interior was lined with a soft, velvety material that felt warm and inviting to the touch. Luke's cape was secured at the neck with a simple clasp, a small but elegant detail that added a touch of sophistication to the garment. It also featured a hood that could be pulled up over the head, casting a mysterious and alluring shadow over the wearer's face. As the Luke moved, the cape seemed to dance behind him, the fabric flowing and rippling in a way that was almost mesmerizing. It was a garment that commanded attention and exuded a sense of power and confidence, making its wearer seem larger than life. As the man approached, it was impossible not to notice the wickedly curved sickle hanging from his leather belt. The hooked blade glinted in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the worn and weathered leather of the belt. The handle was made of wood, smooth and worn from years of use, and it seemed to sit comfortable at the man's hip. Beneath Luke's cape, his spidersilk armor glimmered in the dim light of the tavern, its shimmering fabric seeming to almost glow with an otherworldly glow. The armor was made of a delicate, yet strong material that was woven from the silk of giant spiders, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The armor itself was lightweight and flexible, allowing the wearer to move freely and comfortably. It was also surprisingly durable, able to withstand blows that would have shattered lesser materials. The armor was tailored to fit the wearer's body perfectly, hugging their curves and contours like a second skin. The spidersilk armor was also imbued with magical properties, enhancing the wearer's strength and agility and protecting them from harm. It was a rare and coveted item, prized by those who knew its true value. Luke walked with a confident, purposeful stride, his movements smooth and efficient. He greeted the travelers with a friendly smile and a nod, his deep voice carrying across the room. "Good evening to you all," he said, his words laced with a hint of a foreign accent. "I have traveled a far way, alone, and am eager to sit down, enjoy some company, and share stories of the road before I settle in for the night. My name is Luke Slade, and I have traveled from the great city of L'Triel to see the countryside of this fair land. May I join your company?" |
