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I like the new concepts, and am here and ready as ever!
I'll be keeping an eye. Don't rush it, man. Grief is a process, take all the time you need. If you decide to come back, I'll be here.
Thoughts, prayers, and general good feelings to you and your family, brother. It was a lot of fun.
Wolfric's shoulders slump and he slowly turns, a pained expression on his face. "This whole endeavor is completely b+!!+!~s." He sighs. "I apologize Andross. I am uncomfortable around you, and your...unique position makes you, at best, a thorn in my side in terms of my oath to Pharasma. That being said, you have done nothing to deserve my ire. Please forgive me." His expression hardens as he looks to Bolest. "You, on the other hand, I do not like. You are too smooth by half, and your aura is...inconsistent. I am resigned to the need for your talents, but I am not obligated to suffer your japes and false piety. I urge you to watch your step. I have been known to lose my temper from time to time when pressed to hard." Rick holds up a hand to silence the Oracle. "Save your polished defense. I am not interested." The Ustalavian seizes the nearest shovel. "Let's get this cleared."
A flash of realization washes over the Paladin. Was that the barbed pentangle!? Rick stands too fast and winces on his injured ankle. Two quick strides bring him to Bolest. "Your patron is the God-Fiend!? Rick spins back to the collapsed tunnel in frustration. Gods above of course it is!" He whirls back, his surcoat flinging out on all sides. Finger pointed accusingly inches from Bolest's face, Rick snarls. "You can dispense your lies, son of darkness. My first look at you rings true now: evil through and through. One misdeed. One wrong step and I will smite you down and pray the Lady hold your soul in testate 'til the end of days!" The fuming warrior points to Andross. "That goes for you too!" Wolfric stalks some feet away from the rubble strewn entry. He keeps his back to the group and seems to tremble with rage, but in truth the tremble is less of rage and more of pain twinged shame and embarrassment. When will you learn to control your feelings Rick? Where is my Anya now to tell me I am a fool?
Rick drags himself free of the loose rubble and limps back a safe distance. "Damn rocks fell right on my ankle." The Paladin sets a hand to the symbol on his breastplate and mutters a quick prayer. "Not this day. Not yet."
"That's better." Rick looks to Bolest. "I thank you for your healing, I just felt we could use a bit more."
"I sense no evil hereabouts. We are safe unless some trap evades my notice."
Wolfric casts his judging eye over the uncovered entrance.
Robotic in his efforts and movements over the past several minutes, Rick continues his stiff, resigned assistance: something heavy clearly on his mind.
Wolfric chuckles. "I did play Demetrius in Howls from Shudderwood once, but that's before I got married." The big man's wistful tone dives into despair at the mention of his wife. "I don't think I could handle that play now..."
"I wouldn't have pegged you for the singing kind. " Wolfric says to Marcum. "You sing well. I wonder you did not end up in Oppara."
Rick follows Marcum closely, and detects evil on the central mound.
Wolfric laughs at Bromen's question. "My thoughts exactly, Bromen. We may have our hands full watching everyone's backs." As an after thought, he adds, "This is all well over my head, so please, let me know if you need me to do something and I will help. Otherwise it's best to stay out of your way, I think."
"That's what I think too, Kheti, but I am not the expert in these matters." "Just be careful, and don't do anything drastic until we know more."
"So how is it here then?"
Rick slowly unlimbers the shield from his back and slides his arm into the straps. His hand on the war hammer at his belt, the paladin speaks. "Hold!" he hisses in a loud whisper. "These mounds are constructed of flesh. Be on your guard." "Vampire. What do you know of these strange constructions?"
Wolfric shrugs. "I doubt we'll get more than we have. We might as well try to beat some of the competition."
"I will stand by silently, Marcum, but I will not lie if asked directly. If these terms are unacceptable, I will await you all here." Wolfric's eye are apologetic, but his mouth is set and determined.
"Knowledge of what we ae to face would be a boon..."
"I am as ready as my purse allows. Let's be off, the sooner begun, the sooner done."
I actually work with Bolest and my access is also banned. However, I am working off site and will still have access til mid January or so. After that, I'll be on my phone too.
"Loathe though I am to say it, I think you ought to give it to the shadowy mister Nositel as my hands will likely be otherwise occupied."
Gazing out at the island, Rick asks "Anyone care to wager on how long we can go before steel is drawn?"
Rick flushes with new ebarasment, but composes himself quickly. "I.." He stammers then smiles. "I am sorry for misunderstanding. In truth, I really could use a drink about now." Wolfric takes the drink and finds a seat on an unoccupied barrel. "I dare say you may have had my hands off with that first strike had you used you edge. I have never seen such speed from such a careful man." He sips a bit too much whiskey and coughs a bit on the exhale.
Wolfric's faces pales at Marcum's stiff reply. "No! I am sorry, Marcum. I meant 'thank you for agreeing to spar,' I did not intend to imply you lacked skill." Rick slaps a hand to his face in embarrassment. Well done, oaf. Your best shot at a friend in years and you insult him. Typical. When offered whiskey, Rick says formally. "No thank you sir. perhaps when I am more worthy of your honor, I will change my mind. Excuse me." Rick turns to leave, intending to find the darkest hole in this ship and silently berate himself.
Slapping the first strike away with his off-hand, Rick spins to match Marcum allowing his armor to deflect the second strike. Facing the man from Absalom once more, Sir Wolfric salutes with his blade, then sheathes it. "You fight well: a tad flashy for my tastes...still." The big man shrugs and massages his bruised wrists. "I must confess, I underestimated you." Wolfric nods his respect, then smiles. "But I dare say the size of our blades may have changed the outcome in a more deadly contest." "Thank you for humoring me."
Stepping to the right to capitalize on the wild attack, Rick slams the flat of his sword into Marcum's chest.
Two stiff slaps land, one on each wrist, and Rick winces with the pain of it. Too disciplined to recoil, the paladin ripostes bringing the pommel down on the investigator's right shoulder...
...but Marcum is too quick, and Rick's wrists hurt far more that he will let show.
Rick smiles. I am really starting to like this man. He takes Marcum's hand and shakes it firmly. "That seems fair to me." the paladin hesitates a moment then continues speaking while looking out across the water. "You know, I've known some men like you: the sort with knowledge of this and that and at least some skill in every field. And each one of them, without fail, lacked all kindness and humility. Until now that is." Realizing he's gotten a bit too sappy and sentimental, Wolfric slaps Marcum on the back and strides more toward the center of the deck. "Now, what say you try to prove that rapier quicker than your mind?" Rick draws his sword and stands waiting, blade held high.
Wolfric looks up and smiles to see Marcum. "I have only managed to uncover my weapons from beneath the grime of travel." Rick stands, his armor bright and shinning in the starlight. "I am no sleuth, Marcum: I'm sure you already know that." "About this Numerian machine, what do you think it could be? Will it hinder us or prevent our leaving?"
How often you end up whisked up in an adventure you neither sought or desired? You are are unlucky man Wolfric Paxton. True enough, but there's nothing for it. Fate is fate, I may as well prepare. Rick, who had to this point been gazing numbly across the expanse of blackening water, shakes himself and walks to an out of the way corner and takes a seat. From his pack he removes whetstone, oil, and cloth and sets to cleaning and preparing his weapons and armor for the trials ahead.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Rick looks to Andross. "Apologies. but have you any rings left? I quite forgot the necklace I wear, and I fear a second may strain my neck." Ring hands back the medallion and retrieves a ring instead. "Thank you. I am ready."
I always wear one, but mainly because it is proof against blood-sucking villains like you're supposed to be. :)
I already have one on :)
Wolfric accepts the medallion passively, his mind obviously far, far away.
"How is this possible?" Wolfric' voice is a hoarse whisper dripping with amazement. Was I too soon to condemn my Anya?
Rick, satisfied and more than a little intrigued, descends the ladder and gazes into the vampires soul.
"Is this the vampire?" Wolfric asks Valsin who nods. Peering into the trap door, Wolfric addresses Andross. "Hear me vampire. I have been assured of your fidelity, so I will not destroy you on sight, but you should know that you now invite a paladin of Pharasma into your lair. Do not doubt that I will end you at the slightest provocation for I cannot suffer the undead on this world. However, I may be able to suffer a cursed man doing his best to help good survive. Do we understand each other?"
I'm happy with these. Also, FYI for when we actually meet the vampire. Rick's armor counts as a strongly presented holy symbol. Sorry Andross.
Bromen's echo of Bolest's thoughts ring truer with the knight, but Wolfric remains stoic, not willing to show the chinks in his armor to the prying Chelaxian.
Wolfric returns Valsin's stare, unmoved. When he is gone, the knight falls into his own mind. How am I to reconcile this meeting? Pharasma, guide me. His words of judgement for deeds not state of being fit perfectly into the Lady's word, but he is undead...
Rick bites back harsh words, takes a few sharp breaths through his nose, then speaks slowly: his jaw clenched. "I can bring myself to overlook this heinous situation for now, but I will warn him and so I am warning you: if this threat is abated and I survive it, I will have to come back to seek out this vampire and send him to a final rest." "And no." the paladin snaps at Bolest, his true anger showing now. "Pharasma is not interested in redemption. The undead should return to death. No exceptions." He holds up a finger at the fetchling. "You dance on my patience, sir and I cannot be sure I'll be fast enough to catch you when you wear a hole in the dance floor."
"First a lich and now a vampire? Honestly sir, are you quite sure you've chosen your desired candidates wisely? My order requires me to destroy the undead in every form I find them. I do so dispassionately, and with great efficiency. Is there no one else to assist us, because I feel I really must protest."
Wolfric furrows his brow. "Reason with Acererak? Surely our prime directive should be to destroy such an abomination?" Realizing his tone borders on indignation, Rick quickly adds, "Milord?"
Wolfric nods to Marcum. "I have never faced a Lich myself, but your information is correct. Practically, we should avoid the Lich until we can recover and destroy the phylactery, but Pharasma will expect that it is destroyed." Rick breathes a heavy sigh. "This will be no easy task, but I will do my utmost to keep you all safe. My skill set lends itself particularly well to fighting not only the undead, but Demons, Devils, and other fiends. I have been tested by many such creatures, but I feel we are fated to face far worse than what I have delt with thus far." Shaking his head, Wolfric summarizes the knowledge gained so far. "Alright. We know that teleportation and summoning will not serve us well. We know the island is riddled with fortificaions and tombs, likely warded in one or more ways. And best of all, we know that a highly intelligent, hopelessly insane, wierdly altruistic lich rules the whole place." "What else should we know, and how can we prepare better than we currently have?"
Not having any sand handy, Wolfric rinses his hands with water from his waterskin then scours them thoroughly with his whetstone. Hoping that will help, he sets to reading the scrolls.
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