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Pondering the thief's idea, "Your plan has merit, Dargon. Let us see how it plays out." "Now that we are all—temporarily—unchained, might I ask: does anyone see anything of use beyond the cells? A ring of keys, a blade carelessly set aside, perhaps even a coil of rope or... dare I dream, a whip?" "Nor have I, Posh. And Dargon is right, soon you will have more options. Soon."
The second time Dargon tries to pick his manacles you hear "Are you sleeping?" from the other side of the door. On the third attempt the locks open. Morthos' attention is drawn to the Changeling as she speaks before it cuts back to the cell door. "An excellent plan, Rendylyn, but it appears we've little time. Dargon, quickly, let us move. Remember, the one who possesses the horn is yours to end as you will. We will take care of the other one," he offers calmly, before moving himself to his designated spot, working to make his imprisonment believable. Just before he returned to the wall, Morthos placed the black blade in the back of his britches.
"That plan sounds good, but that door is out of range for my hex. I'll have to move forward quickly when the time comes. What do we use for a signal?" Looking over at Treesa, Morthos says in a matter-of-fact tone, "Simple, Treesa, I shall tell you." As his thoughts return to the task at hand, Freedom will soon be ours. I am coming for you, pathetic King, and Hell is coming with me.
Morthos moves up near Dargon, narrowing his eyes. "Anything, Dargon?" he asks, taking a moment to listen himself.
Nodding, "If they do come, and we are compromised, then I shall concentrate on the one with the horn."
Once he's freed from the irons, "Well done, Dargon. And the blade from the veil will have to suffice for now." Morthos straightens himself proper, rubs his wrists for just a moment to alleviate some of the soreness, and pushes his long, black hair behind him. Then moving over to the gnome, "I will need one of the blades, Posh. At least until I can acquire a better one." Calmly taking the veil, he removes one of the daggers before returning the scarf to Posh. He then waits for Dargon to finish with the others. When the rogue finally makes it to Posh, Morthos notices he seems to be having difficulty. He looks back to the cell door time and again as Dargon's lack of success eats at the clock. It is possible we may have to leave Posh behind. If it wasn't due to the fact that it will take all of us to escape this place...
Morthos watches the guards leave before cutting his attention toward the rogue. "You might as well continue your endeavor, Dargon. We've little other options." Then turning his attention to the gnome, "Unless there is something else within the scarf that you have found to be more useful, Posh."
Narrowing his eyes, They are attacking him. Interesting. Maybe he is not a spy for the pathetic king. If they continue, he will soon be unconscious. That does us ill. It will take all of us to escape. "Young one, hold off taunting the pathetic guards just for the time being. Your revenge will come soon enough, I guarantee it," he says plainly, completely unconcerned about the guard standing right there. He then calmly looks toward the guard, "You would do well to retire for the night and go home to your family if you have one, lowly guard. You will not receive such an offer again," he states matter-of-factly.
Morthos slowly raises his head, peering toward the cell entrance, wondering if the guard will enter and accept the monk's challenge. This will be interesting if the challenge is accepted. We shall learn a lot.
Morthos remains quiet as the others converse, listening thoroughly while clearly buried in thought. The young one is no doubt a follower of the pathetic gods of the pathetic king. I believe he has been purposely placed here to thwart our plans. With his continued impulsive, thoughtless, impatient actions that are bound to get us eliminated, there is no doubt that they knew Asmodeus would aid us in our time of need. So they placed him in here with us. His thoughts refusing to betray him whatsoever as he sports a look that says absolutely nothing, Morthos gives a slight 'Hmph' and thinks, Brilliant. Well done, pathetic king, well done. But we are not dead yet. It'll take more than a a young fool to put an end to us. Treesa hears the 'Kid' spewing nonsense and listens for any response from the guards. Hearing nothing she harshly whispers, "Are you trying to call the guards and end the one chance that we might have!?!" Yes. Yes, he is, he thinks matter-of-factly. "Patience will release us. Making noise will get us all nothing but death!" She speaks common sense, yet the infiltrator/betrayer refuses to listen. As expected. ”I’m a witch. Pity I can’t hex your mouth shut!” Truly a pity it is.
"Extract them as you will, Posh." Morthos responds. "We've only to gain from it."
Once Rendylyn was locked back up, and after the guards left; Dargon grimaced when the bestial voice yelled he was hungry. Wonder what he eats? he remarked and squirmed against the bracers that held his arms, trying to slip his wrists out of the manacles that held him. Angling curiously toward the sound of the creature, he looks back to Dargon and says, "I would gather... anything," in a matter-of-fact tone. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Morthos looks calmly over at Rendylyn as she is returned and listens in. After she finishes explaining what she has acquired, "Perfect. It is exactly what is needed. I would suggest you simply 'act' to take the weapons and/or tools, and they form within your hand."
Listening intently to the conversation, Morthos slowly cuts his attention toward Treesa when she finishes, studying her intently for a moment. Somewhere, extremely deep down inside the stone-cold exterior of this man, who has only known pain his entire life, a tiny spark of something is felt. An odd feeling. I wonder what that was? It's almost like... I don't know. I don't think I like it. Probably poison of some kind. It is of no concern. My internal system will destroy it, and I will survive. Turning his focus to Posh, "Her words are utter perfection. Just like her beauty," he says, sounding as if he's simply reading facts from a book. "You would do well to heed them, Posh. I find your lack of faith ... disturbing." Morthos then returns to watching the cell door, awaiting Rendylyn's return.
Morthos raises a curious eyebrow and turns his focus in the direction of the gnome. He stares with narrowed eyes as if trying to discern something about him. Unable to come to a solid conclusion, "These guards? Is that to whom you refer?" Still working on deducing Posh's level of reasoning, Morthos finds himself at a loss. "Have you been drugged, Posh?" he asks, completely serious. "These guards are no more than underpaid watchmen who are only here because they lack any real talent to succeed at anything in their small, pathetic lives. Whoever it is that's compelling you to speak in such a way, or whoever it was that drugged you, should be executed for such ridiculous information." Morthos returns his attention to the cell bars. "Time is on our side. We will have what is needed when the time comes." Lowering his head as he returns to his mind palace, Because I am Morthos of Talingarde, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.
Narrowing his eyes, Interesting. Morthos then turns his attention toward the west. A grin spreads on Dargon's face. She's ensorcelled the guards. Be ready. ...oh, and they've been drinking, so they will be careless. After a second Dargon says, Did you hear that noise? "Yes. That is also interesting. Another prisoner, perhaps? Either that or a creature they may decide to feed us to. It is either/or," he says plainly in a tone of complete unconcern.
Then chuckled under his breath. Does Morthos Glower? it still looks pretty dark in here
"Uhh, fine. Which one of you is Morthos?" Shaking his head and rolling his eyes in irritation at the impatient kid who seems to spend more time complaining than anything else, It will take all of us to escape. Unfortunately, he will also be needed, Morthos finally responds with, "I am Morthos." His voice sounding barely audible to the monk, seeing how they are manacled on opposite ends of the cell from each other.
Unmoving as usual, "Her time is not at end yet, Posh. That day will arrive at a different time that is not of her choosing." He then slowly turns his gaze upon the gnome, "But trust me when I tell you that this is just the beginning... for us ALL," he finishes, sounding quite cryptic. One could potentially determine that he's a prophet, or possibly just flat-out mad(The latter more so than the former, most likely). Either that or he possesses confidence at an insane extreme level, which may very well lead back to considering him 'flat-out mad'.
As the conversation continues, Morthos rarely budges except to work a slight kink out every now and again. He does raise his head upon hearing Blackerly's voice and watches what transpires. A visitor? Interesting. As soon as Blackerly and the guards take their leave with Rendylyn in tow, Morthos simply says, "And so it begins." Calmly turning his focus to the others, "Our time is near. Prepare yourselves." And with that, Morthos returns to waiting. Soon. It won't be long now. And do not worry, my dear, Asmodeus's plan is already in play, and YOU are its catalyst. And as that thought crosses his mind... ...a wicked grin forms.
The tall, pale man hanging limp within his chains, his face aimed at the floor, his long dark hair - all dirty and unkempt - flowing downward and covering his visage, hangs loosely. One may wonder if he's already dead with his lack of reaction to... well... anything. He doesn't move, doesn't respond to any questions, nor does he flinch when the young prisoner attempts to break the manacles. It is not until the one called 'Tressa' says something that catches his attention. Slowly raising his head, he looks calmly over at "The Kid" and says, "She's correct," in a tone that is firm and smooth, and somewhat deep. "Patience is what is required currently. Your time for leaving a 'trail of dead guards' will come, I promise you. Because they will most definitely make a mistake. They've already made a mistake and they have yet to realize it. They've given us three days." Morthos looks toward the bars of the cell through narrowed eyes before, "Fools. All of them. Time is on OUR side, and they will learn that soon enough." Morthos then returns to staring at the floor, awaiting the moment that he knows will come. The moment freedom is at hand. And when it does come, I will be coming for you, pathetic King.
Morthos relieves the dead paladin of his longsword and sheathes it. He also snags the potion. "That armor could prove quite useful. And seeing how he is no longer in need of it..." Morthos rises and looks over at Timeon. "Yes, Timeon, what is it that you want? Think on Demian's question while you remove the paladin's armor and carry it. If you comply, I will allow to live. If you do not, well, I gather I will have to kill you for your insolence." He tells him plainly.
"Be wise, Timeon. Let not the dead paladin fool you into believing in any of his tenets. You see where it got him." He explains in a matter-of-fact manner.
Cutting his vision toward the item around the dead paladin's neck, "Yes... the amulet. Let us not forget that," he says as he reaches over and takes it.
Morthos looks over at Demian with a raised eyebrow before cutting his focus to Timeon, wondering if the elf's words will have any effect on the boy. "Timeon, I'm going to need you to step away from the pompous fool. We need to confiscate anything of use upon him. And just to be clear, I am not asking." He states clearly and calmly while sporting a look of complete confidence.
Assuming the squire wisely moves away, Morthos will inspect the armor and the sword, and anything else of significance upon the paladin.
As the sword aims straight for his face, Morthos manages to just angle his head to avoid a nasty slice from the paladin. "A well-placed attack, fool. Unfortunately for you, not well-placed enough." Morthos swings again at the surrounded warrior of light.
"You are outnumbered, fool. It is only a matter of time before death overtakes you." Morthos strikes again at the paladin.
Morthos heads in the opposite direction Barnabas traveled, setting up a flank for himself with the undead and striking at the holy warrior.
As he keeps his focus directly upon his enemy, "Yes, let's not. It would be an utter shame to do so."
Narrowing his eyes as he stares daggers at Balin, "No, Timeon, I am not a necromancer. Far from it. But that's the least of your concerns, boy." Morthos confidently steps inside, all the while staring hard at Balin. "As for you, Sir Balin," the venom in his tone obvious, "the only justice that will be done on this day is our revenge upon you, fool!" Looking back at his undead
Morthos looks to Demian and simply nods before moving over to the sleeping undead and giving it a kick awake. "Rise, fool. I've use for you and the others." Morthos moves to the door and removes the key hanging from the peg before turning his attention toward his minions. "You three, keep your axes ready and stand by the door while I open it." When the zombies make it to the door, Morthos unlocks it and slowly opens it, the creaking echoing loudly within the hallway.
"You two! Attack that one!" he commands, pointing in the direction of the newly risen undead, having them return to the area they just left. Morthos then turns his focus upon the one nearest him. "Let us see if I can bring another to our side." His eyes glow a deep red once again as he concentrates to gain control over the Draugr.
Morthos looks back at the newest one and cuts his focus to his recently acquired 'followers'. "You two! Kill that one!" he commands, motioning toward the latest undead to rise. He returns his attention to the undead in front of him, "Agreed, Lady Sophia," takes a step to set up flanking for Barnabas, and strikes!
Seeing another Draugr rise, Morthos rolls his eyes in frustration before making his way next to Eowithe, and striking at the undead creature, hoping to take it down.
Noticing two of them seem to have succumbed to his innate gift, "Excellent. Now, you two, attack that one," he instructs his newest followers, motioning them toward the latest risen zombie.
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Looking around at the three undead with his typically calm demeanor, "Interesting. It appears you were right, Demian. They now 'rise once more to threaten' us. So be it." Morthos concentrates upon the one with red eyes before slowly turning his focus on the other two, his own eyes gleaming a deep red as he does.
Undead Mastery info: As a standard action, a graveknight can attempt to bend any undead creature within 50 feet to its will. The targeted undead must succeed at a Will save or fall under the graveknight’s control. This control is permanent for unintelligent undead; an undead with an Intelligence score is allowed an additional save every day to break free from the graveknight’s control. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by the same graveknight’s undead mastery for 24 hours. A graveknight can control 5 Hit Dice of undead creatures for every Hit Die it has. If the graveknight exceeds this number, the excess from earlier uses of the ability becomes uncontrolled, as per animate dead.
Morthos follows along after the others, keeping a careful eye on the coffins as they move past.
Looking back, "Timeon? I just assumed he died. Hm. Pity." Morthos turns his attention back toward the room, returning to the task at hand.
After reading the inscription, "We may yet have to deal with the dead. Shall we?" Morthos proceeds to open the door and look within.
"Morthos," Demian says with an amused smile on his face, "seeing that look on your face made it quite necessary"
Raising an eyebrow, Morthos refrains from responding and simply follows after the elf.
Staring stoically at the elf for several moments, "Yes, I see," he finally responds, the annoyance in his tone obvious. "After you then, Demian. And please spare us your theatrics, I assure you they are ill-necessary," he says in a matter-of-fact manner.
Raising an eyebrow, "I take it the darkness is not a hindrance for you, Demian, simply by your explanation of what lies within. Very well, what is your plan?" As he awaits to hear the elf's plan, a look of revelation falls upon him. "Hold a moment. Just to be perfectly clear, did you say 'drowned men' to rise? As in those that are deceased?"
Turning a curious eye toward the elf, "A gift from Asmodeus perhaps? One that will serve you well. Accept it for what it is, Demian. I believe it to be best not to question it." Leading the way down the corridor, he reads the inscription aloud and ponders it a moment. "Hm. Interesting. Let us proceed." Morthos opens the door and looks within.
Morthos steps aside and calmly watches the boulder pass by him, smash the goblin, and then create an entirely new path as it destroys the wall. Raising an eyebrow as he stares upon the opening, "Well, that was fortuitous. It appears the 'trap' has found us an alternate path. Well done, Barnabas." He then turns his attention to them all, "Shall we?" he asks, preparing to lead the way through the newly discovered hallway.
Accepting the amulet from the squire, he stores it within his pack. "Now that that is settled, let us be off." And with that, Morthos heads toward the exit.
Morthos looks to Timeon and motions with a nod toward the jewel, awaiting for him to retrieve it.
Raising an eyebrow as he stares hard at the goblin, "And it's that simple, hm? I do not believe you, creature. While I may not be able to tell whether or not you are lying, it matters little. I may not know the Cardinal well, but I know of his ilk. Nothing gained within these tests is as simple as that. Regardless, answer the question asked of you, creature, and be quick about it. We've wasted enough time upon you and my patience wears thin."
Raising an eyebrow at the goblin, Morthos slowly looks at Demian before turning his focus back to the goblin. "Well, creature, I will give you a moment to tell us if that is the right answer. But I will inform you right now, it is of little concern to me because we've no time for these foolish games of yours. What purpose do you serve within this room and why are you chained to the floor? And I pray the answer to my first question is not to ask us inane questions that we are forced to answer in order to continue," he says flatly, although, one may find the antipaladin's tone possessing a slight bit of irritation towards it all.
Morthos rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and sighs heavily in irritation at Demian, wondering if there's a room in here that might be tricky enough to "accidentally" remove the elf permanently. With a stone-like expression upon seeing Eowithe once again, "I thought you captured and killed, Eowithe. Apparently not. Although, it would have been preferable if you would've bathed first before returning to us." Looking her up and down, Morthos can only shake his head at the sight of her. "Well, it's a moot issue now. Once we are victorious with these tests, though, you can clean up afterward." Turning his attention back to the door, "'Suffer not the fool. Stupidity is our faith's cardinal sin.' Hm. Let us open the door and see what awaits us." Morthos proceeds to do just that.
Morthos stares blankly at Demian, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head and sighing. He then proceeds to remove the object that obstructs the exit. Once done, he looks back to Demian, saying flatly, "And my name is Morthos," before heading through the door.
Calmly looking around at the others a moment, Morthos turns his gaze upon the giant snake and simply responds, "Very well." The antipaladin then takes his leave barring any sudden action by the others.
Morthos moves into flanking position with the elemental and continues the assault, hoping to be able to take this one down and finally deal with the large one.
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Morthos continues the assault, wondering how these cobras could be melted down into an excellent weapon.
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Raising an eyebrow at Sophia's remark, Morthos keeps his focus upon the cobra and hopes to connect with his blade this time.
"Umm...the uhh..the eyes just opened." Demian says as he moves over to Morthos. "Good. It won't be long until we are forced to destroy that one then," he states with confidence, even though he can't hit anything.
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