T’lainya surveyed the scene before her, silently judging the situation. She saw Yshania's sorrow and Scayde's confusion, Gwally's protectiveness and Tashara’s resentment. She could feel the enmity from the succubus, as well as the conflicting new emotions the tanar’ri was feeling. The priestess stepped forward; she stared straight into Nova’s eyes. Her stormy eyes fixed upon the gold and crimson orbs of the succubus. Nova could see the anger and wariness, but she saw something else, not fear or hatred but sorrow.
The priestess took a slow breath and began to speak. “I do not pretend to know what bond Tashara seems to feel with you tanar’ri, nor what connection you have with her brother. I do know that you are a creature of the abyss, created from the essence of evil. You are not a dweller on this plane with free will to choose your way. I think that you have suffered…indeed I know this, torments that we could not imagine. However your very nature requires you to feed off the lifeblood and souls of other sentient beings. This I abhor. I believe that you will betray us if it suits you. You have given your word, but I do not trust this. You have shown us no reason to trust you and you cannot swear on Torm.”
T’lainya paused for a moment. Nova started to speak and the priestess held up her hand.
“Let me continue. I think that perhaps you have your own reason for this battle and that you may be of use. But I will also warn you. If you betray us by action or by inaction, then I will send thee back to the abyss with no qualms.”
Seeing the look on Novas face she added, “I am not the only one who knows the ritual and spell of banishment.”
Novas eyes flashed the dark red of anger. “You threaten me?”
T’lainya said calmly “As you threatened us.”
She looked at Tashara, staring silently. She touched her holy symbol, the silver crescent flashing angrily. T’lainya turned without a word and joined Yshania.
The Order of the Dark Flame: Book 5. (story, no spam)
Anger flashed in Nova’s eyes. Bright crimson glowed in the dim light of the caverns. These creatures would threaten her with stealing her freedom and sending her back to the Abyss for no reason other than her race. How dare they call her evil when they would so easily inflict this on one who had offered only help.
“I see my estimations of you were correct Priestess. You are formidable. Either as friend or foe, you are not one to be taken lightly. I will not waist my time or yours trying to convince you of my intentions. But if I may, a word to one so young from one whom has lived for a very long time. Never discount the power of free will. I do not believe we are prisoner to our nature...rather we create our natures through the choices we make.
You are right in saying that I would betray you if it suited me. Just as I now offer to betray my God through delivering his creature into your hands. It suits me. It suits me well. I do not owe my allegiance to any other than myself. It would be of assistance to me if we fought together...But I am willing to fight alone. We remain, none-the-less on the same side, by virtue of a common enemy. Do not threaten me with your banishment spell. You have enough enemies in the dark caves without making another. I told you. I mean you no harm. Threats only offer to shift my view on that. Though I am amused by your arrogance. You would do well in the Abyss.”
Nova looked up to the Druid standing behind the women.
Gwalchmai. I believe that is your name. Is it not? I see you wear the skin of my kin.
I would point out to you that I do not wear the hide of your kind. Look closely into your own hearts and reflect on what, or who is evil...and ask yourselves if you are truly so fit to judge one who has only recently come among you, and means you no harm.
To answer your question, I know only what I observed when this creature was battled once in a past incarnation by a band of Paladins of Torm. In that incarnation the creature had reached proportions of more than 90’ across, It rolled over the countryside devouring and digesting anything that stood in its path. Tendrils of snapping maws darted from it snatching and biting anything it could reach. Tentacles sprouted from its surface membranes, some supporting the stalk of a hideous eye. It could shoot out a tentacle from any part of its mass, including from its inside and enter the victim by any orifice taking control of the victim‘s body and mind. It was a mass of slimy, stinking, putrid rot. It could absorb the mind and will of any victim it come in contact with. Once trapped on its surface a creature was literally digested alive. It would cast off armies, which confused its attackers with cacophonous gibberings, striking them helpless in its path. It is the essence of evil.
That is what I know of its strengths, but equally important, I think you should know of some of its weaknesses. For one thing...It casts no spells. It can however enter the mind of a victim forcing them to cast spells by its design. It relies on direct contact in battle. It does have the ability to hurl objects and missiles. In its smaller form, less than 30 feet, it is susceptible to fire, but in its larger form it is susceptible to cold. The best thing you can do is stay out of its reach.”
Nova looked back to each of the members of the party.
“I have heard your decisions. I have offered you what assistance I can leave you with. I wish you all well. Perhaps we shall meet again in battle or after.”
With that Nova spread her wings and with a powerful thrust lifted herself to the heights of the cavern.
“Fight well Dark Flames. We serve Justice today !”
With that she disappeared down the tunnel that lay ahead.
“I see my estimations of you were correct Priestess. You are formidable. Either as friend or foe, you are not one to be taken lightly. I will not waist my time or yours trying to convince you of my intentions. But if I may, a word to one so young from one whom has lived for a very long time. Never discount the power of free will. I do not believe we are prisoner to our nature...rather we create our natures through the choices we make.
You are right in saying that I would betray you if it suited me. Just as I now offer to betray my God through delivering his creature into your hands. It suits me. It suits me well. I do not owe my allegiance to any other than myself. It would be of assistance to me if we fought together...But I am willing to fight alone. We remain, none-the-less on the same side, by virtue of a common enemy. Do not threaten me with your banishment spell. You have enough enemies in the dark caves without making another. I told you. I mean you no harm. Threats only offer to shift my view on that. Though I am amused by your arrogance. You would do well in the Abyss.”
Nova looked up to the Druid standing behind the women.
Gwalchmai. I believe that is your name. Is it not? I see you wear the skin of my kin.
I would point out to you that I do not wear the hide of your kind. Look closely into your own hearts and reflect on what, or who is evil...and ask yourselves if you are truly so fit to judge one who has only recently come among you, and means you no harm.
To answer your question, I know only what I observed when this creature was battled once in a past incarnation by a band of Paladins of Torm. In that incarnation the creature had reached proportions of more than 90’ across, It rolled over the countryside devouring and digesting anything that stood in its path. Tendrils of snapping maws darted from it snatching and biting anything it could reach. Tentacles sprouted from its surface membranes, some supporting the stalk of a hideous eye. It could shoot out a tentacle from any part of its mass, including from its inside and enter the victim by any orifice taking control of the victim‘s body and mind. It was a mass of slimy, stinking, putrid rot. It could absorb the mind and will of any victim it come in contact with. Once trapped on its surface a creature was literally digested alive. It would cast off armies, which confused its attackers with cacophonous gibberings, striking them helpless in its path. It is the essence of evil.
That is what I know of its strengths, but equally important, I think you should know of some of its weaknesses. For one thing...It casts no spells. It can however enter the mind of a victim forcing them to cast spells by its design. It relies on direct contact in battle. It does have the ability to hurl objects and missiles. In its smaller form, less than 30 feet, it is susceptible to fire, but in its larger form it is susceptible to cold. The best thing you can do is stay out of its reach.”
Nova looked back to each of the members of the party.
“I have heard your decisions. I have offered you what assistance I can leave you with. I wish you all well. Perhaps we shall meet again in battle or after.”
With that Nova spread her wings and with a powerful thrust lifted herself to the heights of the cavern.
“Fight well Dark Flames. We serve Justice today !”
With that she disappeared down the tunnel that lay ahead.
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
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Galuf the Dwarf
- Posts: 3160
- Joined: Wed May 07, 2003 11:00 am
- Location: Connecticut, a place of open land, hills, forests,
- Contact:
Galuf was not in a pleasant situation to say the least. The young dwarf lay unconnected from the underground world around him, exhausted from the mysterious flaming fury that had surged to life hours before, and from the many wounds he had recieved in his valiant escape from the Duergar citadel. Now, with few chances to save himself from his latest predicament, his life - at the hand of a savage pack of Hook Horrors - could be little more than forfit.
The large, part-bird part-insect looking beasts warily advanced upon their prey, clicking and chattering to each other, each gloating of what part of this meal they would have. For their somewhat large size, their near-skeletal builds had trouble making a sound as long as they kept their movements on the uneven terrain careful. The prey of these beings often never knew they would be attacked by them until it was too late. Their final steps, though, would prove to be a surprise to say the least.
As they closed the distance between themselves and the unconcsious dwarf, the entire cavern grew even more silent and dark than it already was. The air grew still, but then filled with varying waves of temperature as clouds of fog began to billow forth from the ground around the dwarf, ranging from chilling cold to steaming hot as waves of the ground fog met the Hook Horrors. Suddenly, an eerie conflagration of red, yellow, and green light filled the area, and one of the greatest horrors to any being of the material plane thrust into view.
A gigantic demon, draped in shadowy darkness and writhing in foul smoke that even a certain dwarf that barely began to come to his senses could smell. The infernal being, gouted here and there on its blood red skin with dwindling blue and red flames, snarled and gnashed its razor-sharp teeth, flapping its giant, batlike wings and scraping its curled horns against the stone cavern ceiling in fury as it tore its way into the area. The Balor was obviously looking for a confrontation, clawing at the air around the subterrainean creatures with its massive clawed hands. The Balor's roars echoed throughout the cavernous area, rattling against stone like any deafening explosion ever heard by any being on Toril. The Hook Horrors, terrified to ever see such a more malevolent and powerful being than themselves, suddenly ran for their lives, not wishing to test the mettle of a great demonic prescence.
As Galuf, still weary from his ordeal with the Duergar, opened his eyes to the Underdark around him, he gaped in horror at the sight around him, the Balor that stood before him. He hoisted himself to his feat, fearing so much for his life, and wondering whether to either fight or take flight deeper into the cavernous complex. However, he was relieved the find that the demon was little more than a dwindling image in less than a minute after his abrupt awakening from his rest from exhaustion. The cavern returned to normal, with no more chilling and searing fog, and the cavern barely brightening as the truth of the area came into view.
Before Galuf stood a gray-skinned Gnome in dark gray robes; a Deep Gnome, as certain surface races called them. Words struggled to come to the tired dwarf's mouth as he looked at his pint-sized savior. He could not doubt, though, that the Deep Gnome was a illusionist of much skill and wit, capable of crafting most ingenious images through a lore of imagery and arcane power. However, he also saw a hint of light regret in the gnome's eyes, perhaps that he should have come sooner than he did. But why did he come anyways? How did he know he was here? Did the gods mandate this? Galuf decided to finally express his gratitude through the only way he thought of: language, and in Goblin, for starters.
After about a minute of saying his thanks in the tongue of an obvious enemy of either of their peoples, Galuf got a reply that he did not expect, in fluent Common tongue, though accented.
"You give me far too much honor than I would wish for, good sir dwarf. My name is Galdervan."
The large, part-bird part-insect looking beasts warily advanced upon their prey, clicking and chattering to each other, each gloating of what part of this meal they would have. For their somewhat large size, their near-skeletal builds had trouble making a sound as long as they kept their movements on the uneven terrain careful. The prey of these beings often never knew they would be attacked by them until it was too late. Their final steps, though, would prove to be a surprise to say the least.
As they closed the distance between themselves and the unconcsious dwarf, the entire cavern grew even more silent and dark than it already was. The air grew still, but then filled with varying waves of temperature as clouds of fog began to billow forth from the ground around the dwarf, ranging from chilling cold to steaming hot as waves of the ground fog met the Hook Horrors. Suddenly, an eerie conflagration of red, yellow, and green light filled the area, and one of the greatest horrors to any being of the material plane thrust into view.
A gigantic demon, draped in shadowy darkness and writhing in foul smoke that even a certain dwarf that barely began to come to his senses could smell. The infernal being, gouted here and there on its blood red skin with dwindling blue and red flames, snarled and gnashed its razor-sharp teeth, flapping its giant, batlike wings and scraping its curled horns against the stone cavern ceiling in fury as it tore its way into the area. The Balor was obviously looking for a confrontation, clawing at the air around the subterrainean creatures with its massive clawed hands. The Balor's roars echoed throughout the cavernous area, rattling against stone like any deafening explosion ever heard by any being on Toril. The Hook Horrors, terrified to ever see such a more malevolent and powerful being than themselves, suddenly ran for their lives, not wishing to test the mettle of a great demonic prescence.
As Galuf, still weary from his ordeal with the Duergar, opened his eyes to the Underdark around him, he gaped in horror at the sight around him, the Balor that stood before him. He hoisted himself to his feat, fearing so much for his life, and wondering whether to either fight or take flight deeper into the cavernous complex. However, he was relieved the find that the demon was little more than a dwindling image in less than a minute after his abrupt awakening from his rest from exhaustion. The cavern returned to normal, with no more chilling and searing fog, and the cavern barely brightening as the truth of the area came into view.
Before Galuf stood a gray-skinned Gnome in dark gray robes; a Deep Gnome, as certain surface races called them. Words struggled to come to the tired dwarf's mouth as he looked at his pint-sized savior. He could not doubt, though, that the Deep Gnome was a illusionist of much skill and wit, capable of crafting most ingenious images through a lore of imagery and arcane power. However, he also saw a hint of light regret in the gnome's eyes, perhaps that he should have come sooner than he did. But why did he come anyways? How did he know he was here? Did the gods mandate this? Galuf decided to finally express his gratitude through the only way he thought of: language, and in Goblin, for starters.
After about a minute of saying his thanks in the tongue of an obvious enemy of either of their peoples, Galuf got a reply that he did not expect, in fluent Common tongue, though accented.
"You give me far too much honor than I would wish for, good sir dwarf. My name is Galdervan."
Dungeon Crawl Inc.: It's the most fun you can have without 3 midgets and a whip! Character stats made by your's truly!
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Yshania
- Posts: 8572
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: Some Girls Wander By Mistake
- Contact:
With or without us the druid summarised as her eyes followed the succubus out of the chamber. As much as the thought riled her, she sought Simbul out of the shadows
“What do you know of this creature and her intentions?” Yshania asked, her voice low
“You know so little that you should ask!” the haughty mage exclaimed “oh druid, your apparent innocence is an embarrassment to you and your kind” Yshania bristled at the derision
“I seek no definition!” she growled “I ask of you your thoughts! What do you sense, Simbul?” the mages name was hissed through gritted teeth “What did you see within her? She knew you were prying!” she dropped her voice “Each of us here have stepped forward and raised our doubts” Yshania looked towards T’lainya and Scayde, and then to Gwalchmai who was seemingly wrestling with the words Nova had spoken against the gift from the beautiful and innocent Vivien and, for a moment, Yshania felt his loss. “Do we all not carry a shadow?” she asked, turning back to the mage “Even the purest among us, our dear Vivien, you sought to break down and fault.” Simbul remained aloof and unperturbed. “are we so low that we are unworthy of your sharing?”
“And where is Vivien now?” Simbul asked, her voice level and only slightly accusing “I am not here to babysit your egos” she continued, matter of fact, as she lowered herself to the ground “the purpose of our interactions so far has been to prove your worthiness for this battle ahead. You and I have already spoken, and I am decided, I know the likely outcome for you already. Go away now, Yshania, and prepare yourself!”
“I would know your plans for me!” Yshania demanded, somewhat dismayed. Simbul turned back and levelled her gaze
“Oh! I have no plans for you druid!” the mage almost laughed, almost… “You are determining your own fate by your misspent passions. Far be it for me to intervene”
“I…where?...” someone here will die, and you will be instrumental, my child. Only an echo of Mael’s voice now, now that he was lost to her
“Far be it for me to intervene” the mage repeated before turning her back
Yshania returned to T’lainya, Scayde and the hapless Bloodstalker, lost in thought now
“What do you know of this creature and her intentions?” Yshania asked, her voice low
“You know so little that you should ask!” the haughty mage exclaimed “oh druid, your apparent innocence is an embarrassment to you and your kind” Yshania bristled at the derision
“I seek no definition!” she growled “I ask of you your thoughts! What do you sense, Simbul?” the mages name was hissed through gritted teeth “What did you see within her? She knew you were prying!” she dropped her voice “Each of us here have stepped forward and raised our doubts” Yshania looked towards T’lainya and Scayde, and then to Gwalchmai who was seemingly wrestling with the words Nova had spoken against the gift from the beautiful and innocent Vivien and, for a moment, Yshania felt his loss. “Do we all not carry a shadow?” she asked, turning back to the mage “Even the purest among us, our dear Vivien, you sought to break down and fault.” Simbul remained aloof and unperturbed. “are we so low that we are unworthy of your sharing?”
“And where is Vivien now?” Simbul asked, her voice level and only slightly accusing “I am not here to babysit your egos” she continued, matter of fact, as she lowered herself to the ground “the purpose of our interactions so far has been to prove your worthiness for this battle ahead. You and I have already spoken, and I am decided, I know the likely outcome for you already. Go away now, Yshania, and prepare yourself!”
“I would know your plans for me!” Yshania demanded, somewhat dismayed. Simbul turned back and levelled her gaze
“Oh! I have no plans for you druid!” the mage almost laughed, almost… “You are determining your own fate by your misspent passions. Far be it for me to intervene”
“I…where?...” someone here will die, and you will be instrumental, my child. Only an echo of Mael’s voice now, now that he was lost to her
“Far be it for me to intervene” the mage repeated before turning her back
Yshania returned to T’lainya, Scayde and the hapless Bloodstalker, lost in thought now
Parachute for sale, like new! Never opened!
Guinness, black goes with everything.
Guinness, black goes with everything.
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dragon wench
- Posts: 19609
- Joined: Tue Apr 24, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: The maelstrom where chaos merges with lucidity
- Contact:
Dragon Wench listened to the verdicts given by her friends in silence. Despite her determination to remain calm, she gritted her teeth and glowered darkly into the ever-present shadows. Perhaps it was her tendency towards chaos, but she had never fully understood the importance of alignment. Intuition alone guided her trust in others...
An irritated exchange between Yshania and Simbul drew her attention, and it was almost with wry amusement that she observed what had become a frequent occurrance.
As Simbul continued to berate her friend she swept Dragon Wench into her piercing, eagle-like gaze. As was usual, Dragon Wench felt her scalp prickle uncomfortably beneath the old crone's scrutiny. Annoyed, her expression mutinous, she returned the stare, while wondering when the ancient hag would actually reveal what she knew to be true. Truth be told, Dragon Wench, in fact, held Simbul in deep regard and was somewhat in awe of her. Simbul's use of magic was beyond anything Dragon Wench had ever seen. She did not so much weave energy as somehow become a part of its fabric...
However, after spending several hours defending her sanity and outlining their present need for powerful allies like Nova, Dragon Wench was exhausted and in no mood for Simbul's imperious manner.
Just as she was about to confront the older mage, a bone-chilling mist started to envelop the area. Within the grasping, icy shrouds long crimson fingers reached forwards... Further off the lurching clatter of armor and bone echoed against the cavern's stone walls.
With rapidity, she drew her sword while shouting an alarm.
"Undead!!!"
An irritated exchange between Yshania and Simbul drew her attention, and it was almost with wry amusement that she observed what had become a frequent occurrance.
As Simbul continued to berate her friend she swept Dragon Wench into her piercing, eagle-like gaze. As was usual, Dragon Wench felt her scalp prickle uncomfortably beneath the old crone's scrutiny. Annoyed, her expression mutinous, she returned the stare, while wondering when the ancient hag would actually reveal what she knew to be true. Truth be told, Dragon Wench, in fact, held Simbul in deep regard and was somewhat in awe of her. Simbul's use of magic was beyond anything Dragon Wench had ever seen. She did not so much weave energy as somehow become a part of its fabric...
However, after spending several hours defending her sanity and outlining their present need for powerful allies like Nova, Dragon Wench was exhausted and in no mood for Simbul's imperious manner.
Just as she was about to confront the older mage, a bone-chilling mist started to envelop the area. Within the grasping, icy shrouds long crimson fingers reached forwards... Further off the lurching clatter of armor and bone echoed against the cavern's stone walls.
With rapidity, she drew her sword while shouting an alarm.
"Undead!!!"
Spoiler
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Spoiler
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Tashara’s shout of alarm startled Scayde from her musings about the recent events. Jerking her head about she saw a horde of armed and festooned skeletal warriors clatter into the chamber as if they were materializing from the very walls that surrounded them.
Her attention returned to the bound and helpless Bloodstalker. He could not even defend himself tied as he wsa to the rock.
Quickly she reached into her boot to retrieve the 14” Bowie knife and with a hurried motion sliced through the pigging string binding his feet. A hard yank on the rope and the slipknot fell away freeing the ranger form his confinement.
“Bloodstalker, I don’t know what you are high on, but see those skeletons? They’re the bad guys...Don’t get confused ! ”
With that she grabbed her rifle and ran to higher ground where her sniper's skills would be most effective.
Her attention returned to the bound and helpless Bloodstalker. He could not even defend himself tied as he wsa to the rock.
Quickly she reached into her boot to retrieve the 14” Bowie knife and with a hurried motion sliced through the pigging string binding his feet. A hard yank on the rope and the slipknot fell away freeing the ranger form his confinement.
“Bloodstalker, I don’t know what you are high on, but see those skeletons? They’re the bad guys...Don’t get confused ! ”
With that she grabbed her rifle and ran to higher ground where her sniper's skills would be most effective.
Scayde Moody
(Pronounced Shayde)
The virtue of self sacrifice is the lie perpetuated by the weak to enslave the strong
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
Gwalchmai watched as the succubus – Nova – flew away into the darkness. A part of his mind noted the most pleasing way the muscles in her back and buttocks undulated as she pumped her great wings. Another part of his mind was recovering from momentary confusion when she had described the Abomination as having “Tentacles that sprouted from its surface membranes.” He could have sworn she had said “testicles” . . . .
But mostly his mind was occupied by her comment on his bracers. He felt no remorse for the acid-toothed demon that attacked him and his friends, and such a creature was not deserving of even the slightest respect in death. That its hide was useful for magical armor reflected that quintessential aspect of Nature that abhorred waste. No, he felt no qualms about wearing the skin of another being.
His reflections were interrupted by an alarm cry of “Undead!” Gwalchmai instantly ran to regroup. He suddenly felt bone-tired, the long hours in the trackless caverns weighing upon him mightily. He hoped that the clerics could dispel this newest threat quickly.
But mostly his mind was occupied by her comment on his bracers. He felt no remorse for the acid-toothed demon that attacked him and his friends, and such a creature was not deserving of even the slightest respect in death. That its hide was useful for magical armor reflected that quintessential aspect of Nature that abhorred waste. No, he felt no qualms about wearing the skin of another being.
His reflections were interrupted by an alarm cry of “Undead!” Gwalchmai instantly ran to regroup. He suddenly felt bone-tired, the long hours in the trackless caverns weighing upon him mightily. He hoped that the clerics could dispel this newest threat quickly.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
As Yshania returned to the company of T’lainya, Scayde, and Bloodstalker, Simbul heard a voice slightly behind her say, “You’re being a little hard on her, aren’t you?” Without the extraordinary perception that her magics afforded her, Simbul would have been unaware that Thantor had joined them some time ago. With a last thoughtful look at Yshania, she turned to face him. “The angst quotient had dropped precipitously. I thought it would be beneficial to ratchet it back up a few notches.” Thantor said nothing but continue to fix her with a piercing look. She sighed, then frowned. “I am hard on her. I am hard on all of them. Whether they are aware of it or not, the battle with the Abomination will not begin when we cross into its lair. The battle began as soon as we enter this piece of hell. The oppressive, chaotic nature of these tunnels is not an accident, nor are the reactions your companions are having, especially Tashara. They are an intentional, hostile attacks – as hostile as any spell or blade. Unlike your companions, however, I do not see this experience as something to be endured but rather embraced. It is the only way they will be free of their demons.”
“Isn’t that my job?” There was a hint of a smile but the seriousness in Thantor’s eyes conveyed that he had not shifted from his concern about Simbul’s harshness.
“Hundreds of years ago, I embraced a style similar to your own – empathic, sensitive. People died... people that I cared for died... because I didn’t push hard enough.”
“And did you allow your humanity to die with them?”
The question went unanswered as Dragon Wench’s shout of, “Undead!” reverberated off the dank, musty walls. Cleric and mage turned instantly, looking for the source of the threat. Finding it, a bright flash burst from the direction of Simbul as simultaneously her body took on a rigid, stony appearance and shimmering, multi-colored rays of light, interspersed with vivid orb-like missiles, burst from her finger tips. As his inherent loathing of such creatures rose like bile in his throat, Thantor bit off the tight words of prayer that called down the wrath of his goddess upon the blasphemy that had risen up against them. The two zombies closest to them exploded in a rain of putrid flesh, while other undead turned and attempted to shamble away. Out of the corner of his eye, Thantor caught a quick hand gesture from Simbul as a funnel of glitzy, Las Vegas-colored neon struck Bloodstalker full in the face. “Simbul! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?? You know what effect magic…”
“Relax, Thantor. It isn’t a spell. It is a demographic.”
“A demographic?”
“Yes, a psychosocial construct that is used to entrance adolescents and other gullible individuals into buying massive quantities of sweat-shop constructed consumables. It is more possession than magic. I used the 18-to-34 demographic on him which, while not a perfect solution to Syrup o’ Dsney, should at least head him in the right direction for these action sequences.” Thantor could see that Bloodstalker was already ripping off his shirt, pounding his chest, and shouting, “Mickey!!! You killed Mickey!!! It ends tonight, MAGGOTS!!!”
Further conversation was impossible as the horde descended upon them in force.
“Isn’t that my job?” There was a hint of a smile but the seriousness in Thantor’s eyes conveyed that he had not shifted from his concern about Simbul’s harshness.
“Hundreds of years ago, I embraced a style similar to your own – empathic, sensitive. People died... people that I cared for died... because I didn’t push hard enough.”
“And did you allow your humanity to die with them?”
The question went unanswered as Dragon Wench’s shout of, “Undead!” reverberated off the dank, musty walls. Cleric and mage turned instantly, looking for the source of the threat. Finding it, a bright flash burst from the direction of Simbul as simultaneously her body took on a rigid, stony appearance and shimmering, multi-colored rays of light, interspersed with vivid orb-like missiles, burst from her finger tips. As his inherent loathing of such creatures rose like bile in his throat, Thantor bit off the tight words of prayer that called down the wrath of his goddess upon the blasphemy that had risen up against them. The two zombies closest to them exploded in a rain of putrid flesh, while other undead turned and attempted to shamble away. Out of the corner of his eye, Thantor caught a quick hand gesture from Simbul as a funnel of glitzy, Las Vegas-colored neon struck Bloodstalker full in the face. “Simbul! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?? You know what effect magic…”
“Relax, Thantor. It isn’t a spell. It is a demographic.”
“A demographic?”
“Yes, a psychosocial construct that is used to entrance adolescents and other gullible individuals into buying massive quantities of sweat-shop constructed consumables. It is more possession than magic. I used the 18-to-34 demographic on him which, while not a perfect solution to Syrup o’ Dsney, should at least head him in the right direction for these action sequences.” Thantor could see that Bloodstalker was already ripping off his shirt, pounding his chest, and shouting, “Mickey!!! You killed Mickey!!! It ends tonight, MAGGOTS!!!”
Further conversation was impossible as the horde descended upon them in force.
Those who will play with kitties must expect to be scratched.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
Many are cold; few are frozen.
Absence is to love what wind is to fire... it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
Gwalchmai smiled and made a mental note:
My Life as an Adventurer
by Gwalchmai Freewalker
Notes and Ideas
Never leave home without a good cleric by your side. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a zombie or skeleton self-immolate in a cloud of dust. The Cleric's usefulness against undead hoards far outweigh the drawbacks of their sanctimonious and myopic lecturing.
My Life as an Adventurer
by Gwalchmai Freewalker
Notes and Ideas
Never leave home without a good cleric by your side. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a zombie or skeleton self-immolate in a cloud of dust. The Cleric's usefulness against undead hoards far outweigh the drawbacks of their sanctimonious and myopic lecturing.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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dragon wench
- Posts: 19609
- Joined: Tue Apr 24, 2001 10:00 pm
- Location: The maelstrom where chaos merges with lucidity
- Contact:
Dragon Wench was almost relieved at this sudden appearance of undead. Still rankled because of the doubts expressed by her companions, she welcomed the chance to unleash simmering frustrations. Turning on her heel, she sent forth from her fingertips blazing twin bursts of roiling flame towards the nearest cluster of mists and skeletons. Nearly instantly, the stench of scorched bone enveloped the cavern. Perhaps it was not as impressive as the magic and special abilities possessed by clerics, but nonetheless there was something satisfying about being able to destroy large numbers of undead with a single blast of fire.
The scraping clatter of bone against dust sent her spinning again. Vacant eye sockets leered menacingly... the skeleton warrior raised its sword... Dragon Wench quickly unsheathed her own blade. In a swift arcing motion, she sliced through corroded armour and bone. The sound evoked crunching snow.. and the snap of fire.. time stopped.. and her eyes blurred. Again and again she drove the lethal blade against ancient steel... until finally a voice by her side whispered... "It's dead..." Scayde had crept cautiously towards the fight and flash of melee, hoping to contribute any help required...
Dragon Wench glanced about.. and then saw the heap of bones at her feet. She met Scayde's eye and tried to smile, then scanned the cavern. Another group of undead threatened from a darkened passage to the left. In silence she waited, carefully timing the moment... Her expression somewhat grim, she voiced the incantation that rose unbidden... orange and gold sparkles flickered in the gloom... and then somehow projected forward.. to eclipse into a resounding fiery detonation amidst the advancing horde.....
The scraping clatter of bone against dust sent her spinning again. Vacant eye sockets leered menacingly... the skeleton warrior raised its sword... Dragon Wench quickly unsheathed her own blade. In a swift arcing motion, she sliced through corroded armour and bone. The sound evoked crunching snow.. and the snap of fire.. time stopped.. and her eyes blurred. Again and again she drove the lethal blade against ancient steel... until finally a voice by her side whispered... "It's dead..." Scayde had crept cautiously towards the fight and flash of melee, hoping to contribute any help required...
Dragon Wench glanced about.. and then saw the heap of bones at her feet. She met Scayde's eye and tried to smile, then scanned the cavern. Another group of undead threatened from a darkened passage to the left. In silence she waited, carefully timing the moment... Her expression somewhat grim, she voiced the incantation that rose unbidden... orange and gold sparkles flickered in the gloom... and then somehow projected forward.. to eclipse into a resounding fiery detonation amidst the advancing horde.....
Spoiler
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Spoiler
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
- Contact:
Skeletal bones popped and sizzled as Dragon Wench’s inferno roared through the column of undead soldiers. Gwalchmai smiled with satisfaction. His friend’s spell had decimated the ranks ably, and Nippy seemed to be enjoying cracking the few remaining skulls. But the ease with which the Dark Flames had dispatched this latest attack begged a number of questions. Why were wave after wave of enemies being thrown at them, yet with adequate time between attacks for them to recover? Why hadn’t the Drow, who were clearly directing the attacks, try to finish them off in one massive assault? Why always send lackeys?
Gwalchmai eyed the passage that he knew led to their ultimate target: The Abomination. The attacks seemed to serve as a delaying tactic to prevent the Dark Flames from going down that tunnel. Paradoxically, Gwalchmai felt that he and his friends were only too happy to delay the final confrontation as well. Thantor’s account of the Abomination was horrifying, and the legends of Moander’s Avatar that Jenna had recounted were no less reassuring.
He felt it was about time to do something, and a little recognizance seemed just the thing. Gwalchmai wished that Aqua-Chan were still around, she would be better at this than he. Still, he pulled the looted Drow cloak around him and approached the passage. He kept close to the wall and came to a place where the passage turned to the left, evidentially opening up into a wide gallery beyond. Peeking around the corner, he could see the gallery was about 15 feet wide and about 40 feet long, ending in an arched doorway. He guessed that the Abomination would not be far beyond that doorway. The gallery appeared empty, its floor dimly lit by luminescent rocks along the base of the walls. The ceiling had numerous stalactites but was otherwise bathed in blackness, and he couldn’t tell how high it was.
Cautiously, he stepped into the gallery. He had scarce taken a step when he felt a hard jerk on his right shoulder that spun him around and back into the passage from which he had just come.
Gwalchmai eyed the passage that he knew led to their ultimate target: The Abomination. The attacks seemed to serve as a delaying tactic to prevent the Dark Flames from going down that tunnel. Paradoxically, Gwalchmai felt that he and his friends were only too happy to delay the final confrontation as well. Thantor’s account of the Abomination was horrifying, and the legends of Moander’s Avatar that Jenna had recounted were no less reassuring.
He felt it was about time to do something, and a little recognizance seemed just the thing. Gwalchmai wished that Aqua-Chan were still around, she would be better at this than he. Still, he pulled the looted Drow cloak around him and approached the passage. He kept close to the wall and came to a place where the passage turned to the left, evidentially opening up into a wide gallery beyond. Peeking around the corner, he could see the gallery was about 15 feet wide and about 40 feet long, ending in an arched doorway. He guessed that the Abomination would not be far beyond that doorway. The gallery appeared empty, its floor dimly lit by luminescent rocks along the base of the walls. The ceiling had numerous stalactites but was otherwise bathed in blackness, and he couldn’t tell how high it was.
Cautiously, he stepped into the gallery. He had scarce taken a step when he felt a hard jerk on his right shoulder that spun him around and back into the passage from which he had just come.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
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The look in the Captain’s eye was enough to tell the marksman that he had just made a fatal mistake. The Captain calmly floated toward the marksman and enumerated his mistakes using the silent hand language of the Drow. The marksman had fired before the order was given. The marksman had fired when only one enemy was present, springing the ambush too soon. Worst of all, the marksman had missed the enemy’s heart.
The dozen other Drow who levitated among the stalactites busied themselves by checking their hand crossbows and quivers of bolts. They ostensibly ignored the exchange between the Captain and their fellow who had fired the premature bolt, but they all watched out of the corner of their eyes.
Nervously, the doomed marksman ran a hand through his silver-white hair that had been blackened with soot. He frantically signing his argument that the poisoned bolt would surely kill the human before his comrades could be alerted.
The Captain dismissed this excuse with a look. The penalty for disobedience was known to all, and he relished dealing this punishment. His dark blade in one hand, he bade the poor marksman to lift his chin. To the marksman’s credit, he kept his prayers to Lolth silent as the Captain slowly inserted the dirk into the marksman’s aorta.
The dozen other Drow who levitated among the stalactites busied themselves by checking their hand crossbows and quivers of bolts. They ostensibly ignored the exchange between the Captain and their fellow who had fired the premature bolt, but they all watched out of the corner of their eyes.
Nervously, the doomed marksman ran a hand through his silver-white hair that had been blackened with soot. He frantically signing his argument that the poisoned bolt would surely kill the human before his comrades could be alerted.
The Captain dismissed this excuse with a look. The penalty for disobedience was known to all, and he relished dealing this punishment. His dark blade in one hand, he bade the poor marksman to lift his chin. To the marksman’s credit, he kept his prayers to Lolth silent as the Captain slowly inserted the dirk into the marksman’s aorta.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
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Gwalchami spun back against the rock wall, wondering who had pulled him back. He was astonished to find no one, and was at first surprised to find the bolt shaft protruding from his shoulder. Then the pain registered, washing over him in a great, dull throb. Catching his breath, he looked again at the shaft. It was black, with greasy black fungus ribbing as fletching. He could feel the burning beginning to course through his bloodstream, indicating the presence of poison. Judging from the intensity of the burning, the poison was extremely virulent. Gwalchmai didn’t feel weakened or sick from the poison, indicating that it was organic, to which Gwalchmai was immune. A benefit of being a druid. He guessed it was possibly Bebilith poison.
Clearly he had stepped into a Drow ambush, and the bolt had been fired from above, among the stalactites. He knew he had to act quickly before they could reconfigure their attack. He knew just what to do. Ignoring the bolt in his shoulder, he stepped back into the gallery, focused on the center of the ceiling, and began casting his spell.
Clearly he had stepped into a Drow ambush, and the bolt had been fired from above, among the stalactites. He knew he had to act quickly before they could reconfigure their attack. He knew just what to do. Ignoring the bolt in his shoulder, he stepped back into the gallery, focused on the center of the ceiling, and began casting his spell.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
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The Drow saw the human re-emerge and saw him moving his arms and chanting softly. They dared not fire until the Captain gave the order, but the Captain was too involved in the slow murder of the marksman who had disobeyed him. The Captain didn’t see his subordinate’s frantic signing. Instead, he was fascinated by how blood from a levitating victim continued to levitate, forming large, undulating blobs of garish red. Finally, he saw one of his men gesturing wildly. The grin on his face instantly dropped when he saw the human. He shouted to his men, “You fools! F---. . . . . .”
The Sunburst exploded directly in front of the Captain. Searing heat boiled his skin and incredible pain stabbed at him through his eyes. He and many of his men were permanently blinded by the blast, and the rest were temporarily blinded.
The Sunburst exploded directly in front of the Captain. Searing heat boiled his skin and incredible pain stabbed at him through his eyes. He and many of his men were permanently blinded by the blast, and the rest were temporarily blinded.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
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Gwalchmai whispered quick prayers to Eldath and Silvanus, grateful that no other crossbow bolts had shot from the darkness while he had been casting. Judging from the screams after his Sunburst spell, he had been right to guess that there were several Drow in the shadows of the ceiling. “Well, I messed up their plans a little,” he muttered grimly.
Now he ran back to his companions to tell them of the ambush, and to get someone to help pull the bolt from his shoulder so he could heal himself. His arm had started to throb, and the burning of the wound had intensified. Within sight of the Dark Flames, he suddenly stumbled and fell. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. “There must have been an inorganic component to that poison,” he thought, as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
Now he ran back to his companions to tell them of the ambush, and to get someone to help pull the bolt from his shoulder so he could heal himself. His arm had started to throb, and the burning of the wound had intensified. Within sight of the Dark Flames, he suddenly stumbled and fell. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. “There must have been an inorganic component to that poison,” he thought, as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
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The Captain’s anger effectively numbed him to the pain of his blistering skin and blinded eyes. He was infuriated that the ambush had been so completely foiled by just one, stinking human. Below him, on the floor of the gallery, he could hear one of his marksmen whimpering out loud, obviously in pain. But the pain of the soldier did not matter. The man’s cries were a dishonor to his House.
The Captain floated down, following the sound of the man’s sobbing. As he drew near, the smell of burned flesh was clearly apparent. Wordlessly, he drew his ebony short sword and plunged it deep into the man’s abdomen. He twisted the sword once and withdrew it. The man gurgled one last time, then fell silent.
“Sir?” a voice sounded just behind the Captain’s right shoulder.
“Report, Sergeant.”
“Six of the men are completely blind. I and three others can see only spots, but should recover given time. Other wounds are relatively minor. However, we have no regenerative potions.” The Sergeant shifted uncomfortably.
“Such potions are at a premium in these dark times.”
“Sir, perhaps we can make it back to our clerics? Perhaps they can help us?”
“I doubt they could. Their power is greatly diminished with Lolth’s disappearance. Nor would they be inclined to help us, considering our failure here.” The Captain felt like stabbing something else. “The Matron Mother will not be happy at all.”
The Sergeant suddenly cursed vehemently. “Damn those Dark Flames! Why can’t they function with discipline? They scatter and run around without order, yet they’ve resisted every attack! How can that be? Damn them to the Abyss!”
“Their unpredictability must be their strength,” The Captain said thoughtfully, then was silent for a moment, contemplating a new idea. “Perhaps we can be just as unpredictable. Logically, we should retreat, blinded and wounded as we are. Yet our lives are forfeit as soon as the Matron Mother learns of our failure, so why not press the attack now?”
“Blind?”
“We can even those odds.”
The Captain floated down, following the sound of the man’s sobbing. As he drew near, the smell of burned flesh was clearly apparent. Wordlessly, he drew his ebony short sword and plunged it deep into the man’s abdomen. He twisted the sword once and withdrew it. The man gurgled one last time, then fell silent.
“Sir?” a voice sounded just behind the Captain’s right shoulder.
“Report, Sergeant.”
“Six of the men are completely blind. I and three others can see only spots, but should recover given time. Other wounds are relatively minor. However, we have no regenerative potions.” The Sergeant shifted uncomfortably.
“Such potions are at a premium in these dark times.”
“Sir, perhaps we can make it back to our clerics? Perhaps they can help us?”
“I doubt they could. Their power is greatly diminished with Lolth’s disappearance. Nor would they be inclined to help us, considering our failure here.” The Captain felt like stabbing something else. “The Matron Mother will not be happy at all.”
The Sergeant suddenly cursed vehemently. “Damn those Dark Flames! Why can’t they function with discipline? They scatter and run around without order, yet they’ve resisted every attack! How can that be? Damn them to the Abyss!”
“Their unpredictability must be their strength,” The Captain said thoughtfully, then was silent for a moment, contemplating a new idea. “Perhaps we can be just as unpredictable. Logically, we should retreat, blinded and wounded as we are. Yet our lives are forfeit as soon as the Matron Mother learns of our failure, so why not press the attack now?”
“Blind?”
“We can even those odds.”
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
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Gwalchmai
- Posts: 6252
- Joined: Wed May 09, 2001 11:00 am
- Location: This Quintessence of Dust
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Scayde was the first to see Gwalchmai stumble back into the cavern, but the rest of the Dark Flames soon joined her. Scayde did her best to catch the heavy druid as he collapsed, slowly lowering him to the ground. “Oh, Sugar. What have you been up to?” she said as she spotted the crossbow bolt protruding from his shoulder. She reached out to gingerly touch the bolt.
“C-careful,” Gwalchmai muttered, “there’s poison.” Scayde snatched her hand back and looked curiously at the black shaft.
“I know an incantation that can slow the poison,” Thantor intoned, “but it will require striping the patient naked and several buckets of pine sap.”
“Nu-… No thanks!” Gwalchmai said weakly, “I’d rather die.” He had begun to shiver and sweat profusely.
“We’ve got to do something!” Dragon Wench said, worry evident on her face. She could see Gwalchmai sweating profusely.
“Mouth-to-mouth?” Bloodstalker offered unhelpfully.
“Are you volunteering?”
“Not with him foaming at the mouth like that.” Bloodstalker caught Dragon Wench eyeing him suspiciously and hastened to add, “Not that I would any other time, either….”
“Poison?” T’lainya asked as she approached. “I can take care of that, but the bolt will have to be removed first.”
Scayde had already put on a pair of heavy leather gloves and was examining the wound. “We’ll have to push the arrow through to the other side to get it out. Luckily, it hasn’t struck bone.”
“Do it,” Gwalchmai whispered, already gritting his teeth against the pain. He actually didn’t think it would hurt too much, since his whole right shoulder had gone quite numb. He was wrong.
Scayde broke off the fletched end of the bolt, than deftly shoved the short arrow through and out the back of Gwalchmai’s shoulder. He groaned and arched his back with the pain, feebly jerking his legs. Blood pumped from the fresh wound, soiling Scayde’s skirt. She urgently began trying to bind the wound with a couple of folded neckerchiefs, but the blood kept coming.
T’lainya gently touched Scayde’s shoulder. “Let me take over now.”
Seeing T’lainya preparing to chant the several healing spells that would be required, Nippy breathed a little easier and took a moment to relax. His gaze fell on Bloodstalker, who was also looking at him, though his eyes were narrowed with thought. Somehow, this reminded Nippy that there was more to worry about than a wounded friend. How had Gwalchmai been wounded in the first place? Bloodstalker and Nippy came to the same conclusion at the same instant, and both moved toward the passage from which Gwalchmai had come.
The warriors took only three steps, when a dark form emerged from the passage. The man stumbled a bit, but continued toward the group, the fingertips of one hand lightly brushing the wall, while the other hand grasped a short sword.
“Hold!” Nippy cried at the dark man. The man stopped at the sound, then instantly knelt down. Nippy thought at first that the man was surrendering, but instead the Drow slapped the stone of the floor, and summoned the Darkness that the dark elves knew so well. Instantly, Nippy and the others were enveloped in blackness so thick that they couldn’t see their own hands in front of their faces.
“C-careful,” Gwalchmai muttered, “there’s poison.” Scayde snatched her hand back and looked curiously at the black shaft.
“I know an incantation that can slow the poison,” Thantor intoned, “but it will require striping the patient naked and several buckets of pine sap.”
“Nu-… No thanks!” Gwalchmai said weakly, “I’d rather die.” He had begun to shiver and sweat profusely.
“We’ve got to do something!” Dragon Wench said, worry evident on her face. She could see Gwalchmai sweating profusely.
“Mouth-to-mouth?” Bloodstalker offered unhelpfully.
“Are you volunteering?”
“Not with him foaming at the mouth like that.” Bloodstalker caught Dragon Wench eyeing him suspiciously and hastened to add, “Not that I would any other time, either….”
“Poison?” T’lainya asked as she approached. “I can take care of that, but the bolt will have to be removed first.”
Scayde had already put on a pair of heavy leather gloves and was examining the wound. “We’ll have to push the arrow through to the other side to get it out. Luckily, it hasn’t struck bone.”
“Do it,” Gwalchmai whispered, already gritting his teeth against the pain. He actually didn’t think it would hurt too much, since his whole right shoulder had gone quite numb. He was wrong.
Scayde broke off the fletched end of the bolt, than deftly shoved the short arrow through and out the back of Gwalchmai’s shoulder. He groaned and arched his back with the pain, feebly jerking his legs. Blood pumped from the fresh wound, soiling Scayde’s skirt. She urgently began trying to bind the wound with a couple of folded neckerchiefs, but the blood kept coming.
T’lainya gently touched Scayde’s shoulder. “Let me take over now.”
Seeing T’lainya preparing to chant the several healing spells that would be required, Nippy breathed a little easier and took a moment to relax. His gaze fell on Bloodstalker, who was also looking at him, though his eyes were narrowed with thought. Somehow, this reminded Nippy that there was more to worry about than a wounded friend. How had Gwalchmai been wounded in the first place? Bloodstalker and Nippy came to the same conclusion at the same instant, and both moved toward the passage from which Gwalchmai had come.
The warriors took only three steps, when a dark form emerged from the passage. The man stumbled a bit, but continued toward the group, the fingertips of one hand lightly brushing the wall, while the other hand grasped a short sword.
“Hold!” Nippy cried at the dark man. The man stopped at the sound, then instantly knelt down. Nippy thought at first that the man was surrendering, but instead the Drow slapped the stone of the floor, and summoned the Darkness that the dark elves knew so well. Instantly, Nippy and the others were enveloped in blackness so thick that they couldn’t see their own hands in front of their faces.
That there; exactly the kinda diversion we coulda used.
Darkness. Pitch black and empty, Nippy groped for his ethereal blade again, feeling its power spark through his finger tips. The soft padding of foot falls broke the silence and then nothing. Suddenly, the keen whistle of a blade cutting air broke through the dank atmosphere of the cavern. He span to his left, away from Bloodstalker. The only thing that saved him were reactions honed through practice, but he still had a long gash across his bicep from the near lethal blow.
He continued his spiral around and dropped to his knees. He kicked out his left leg and span on the spot. He heard a grunt and then a landing, but he felt no contact from the sweep, the target had jumped over the outstretched leg.
The enemy clearly had the advantage over the Paladin, and Nippy had no doubt that although he was trained in blind-fighting, it was rudimentary and hadn't involved blade-play. He had to rely on unarmed combat. He stood and dropped the blade again, balancing on the balls of his feet, his legs spread slightly apart to aid movement.
He heard the blade and the soft expulsion of air as the Drow's slashed out. He stepped into the blow and felt the Dark Elf's arm and blade rap around his back. He grabbed hold of his neck and tried to head butt his opponent but he ducked down and barely missed the strike. He raised his knee and drove it deep into its chest, winding it.
He heard the vicious thud more than he felt it; and then the pain came. The blow suddenly burned into his back like an inferno. He fell to his knees and gasped in pain. He rolled to his right and heard the dull impact of the mace crashing into stone.
"Torm give me strength..." He whispered.
He continued his spiral around and dropped to his knees. He kicked out his left leg and span on the spot. He heard a grunt and then a landing, but he felt no contact from the sweep, the target had jumped over the outstretched leg.
The enemy clearly had the advantage over the Paladin, and Nippy had no doubt that although he was trained in blind-fighting, it was rudimentary and hadn't involved blade-play. He had to rely on unarmed combat. He stood and dropped the blade again, balancing on the balls of his feet, his legs spread slightly apart to aid movement.
He heard the blade and the soft expulsion of air as the Drow's slashed out. He stepped into the blow and felt the Dark Elf's arm and blade rap around his back. He grabbed hold of his neck and tried to head butt his opponent but he ducked down and barely missed the strike. He raised his knee and drove it deep into its chest, winding it.
He heard the vicious thud more than he felt it; and then the pain came. The blow suddenly burned into his back like an inferno. He fell to his knees and gasped in pain. He rolled to his right and heard the dull impact of the mace crashing into stone.
"Torm give me strength..." He whispered.
Perverteer Paladin
She was irretrievably lost.
Besides the sound of her own boots against the wet stone floor, all was silent in the dark shafts of the level. There were no Drow; no spiders; no allies. Nothing. Nothing but a stupid child who could only blame herself.
She was scared. Scared out of her mind in a dark tunnel with just her Shadow Bow and her thoughts. In the end, that was about all she could ever trust to always be there for her. Her blade didn’t judge her based merely on race, and it had always been there to help when she needed it. It was now her only companion.
Who was she to take fate - to take Nature- into her own hands? Of course life wouldn’t be so easily fixed by slaying a single beast, or a thousands beasts. It wouldn’t matter, because she was still strange among her peers, and there was no changing that.
So why not accept it, she asked herself. Why not embrace her heritage, and thank the gods for her gift of life?
Why? Because she hated who she was. That’s why.
”That’s why, you bastards!” she screamed viciously into the void of the halls, and it seemed to echo on forever. Soon her thoughts would drive her mad. They would eventually become too much to bear, and she would succumb to insanity if left alone with them to long.
Maybe that was why Aquamarachan Calligo wanted to belong, or at least feel wanted. As many tormented souls throughout the realms that she had seen - slaves that had literally lost all sanity from the punishments and training by the Drow - she did not want to become like them. Those people became empty shells: the only thing holding them to their identities was the memories that those around them had. Other than that, what were they? What was she? Would she forget who she was, and ultimately be forgotten as well?
There were those with struggles worse than hers. Every person faces their own demons through their life. AC imagined some members of the Dark Flame were doing such right now. Theirs were torturous lives, she had learned. Things would not bode well for them, nor for her.
She realized at that point that she was nothing. She had barely seen the world as she was too busy trying to hide from it. A life of oppression lead to her ignorance of how the realms fared against catastrophes: had she been paying attention, maybe she would have learned something about survival.
The realm was in danger of being destroyed by the Abomination. It was a powerful creature that would eventually take complete control if not stopped. It would taint this world with corruption and evil, and destroy everything that the once-safe place had. Once it gained the upper hand and the people knew there was no stopping the creature, it would win. There wouldn’t even be hope left, and that would be the end.
The situation was frighteningly similar to her own mind. The Abomination was everything dark and frightening and seemingly undefeatable. It was the madness inside of her, and if she gave into it and lost all hope of fighting it, she would ultimately lose herself to it. She would have to fight that dark horizon, come good or bad, but she would never be ready.
She was irretrievably lost, and the more she wandered the more hopeless it became.
Besides the sound of her own boots against the wet stone floor, all was silent in the dark shafts of the level. There were no Drow; no spiders; no allies. Nothing. Nothing but a stupid child who could only blame herself.
She was scared. Scared out of her mind in a dark tunnel with just her Shadow Bow and her thoughts. In the end, that was about all she could ever trust to always be there for her. Her blade didn’t judge her based merely on race, and it had always been there to help when she needed it. It was now her only companion.
Who was she to take fate - to take Nature- into her own hands? Of course life wouldn’t be so easily fixed by slaying a single beast, or a thousands beasts. It wouldn’t matter, because she was still strange among her peers, and there was no changing that.
So why not accept it, she asked herself. Why not embrace her heritage, and thank the gods for her gift of life?
Why? Because she hated who she was. That’s why.
”That’s why, you bastards!” she screamed viciously into the void of the halls, and it seemed to echo on forever. Soon her thoughts would drive her mad. They would eventually become too much to bear, and she would succumb to insanity if left alone with them to long.
Maybe that was why Aquamarachan Calligo wanted to belong, or at least feel wanted. As many tormented souls throughout the realms that she had seen - slaves that had literally lost all sanity from the punishments and training by the Drow - she did not want to become like them. Those people became empty shells: the only thing holding them to their identities was the memories that those around them had. Other than that, what were they? What was she? Would she forget who she was, and ultimately be forgotten as well?
There were those with struggles worse than hers. Every person faces their own demons through their life. AC imagined some members of the Dark Flame were doing such right now. Theirs were torturous lives, she had learned. Things would not bode well for them, nor for her.
She realized at that point that she was nothing. She had barely seen the world as she was too busy trying to hide from it. A life of oppression lead to her ignorance of how the realms fared against catastrophes: had she been paying attention, maybe she would have learned something about survival.
The realm was in danger of being destroyed by the Abomination. It was a powerful creature that would eventually take complete control if not stopped. It would taint this world with corruption and evil, and destroy everything that the once-safe place had. Once it gained the upper hand and the people knew there was no stopping the creature, it would win. There wouldn’t even be hope left, and that would be the end.
The situation was frighteningly similar to her own mind. The Abomination was everything dark and frightening and seemingly undefeatable. It was the madness inside of her, and if she gave into it and lost all hope of fighting it, she would ultimately lose herself to it. She would have to fight that dark horizon, come good or bad, but she would never be ready.
She was irretrievably lost, and the more she wandered the more hopeless it became.
"There are worse things in the world than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess." - Zevran