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And here begins the story...

I awaken trapped in a small cage, barely large enough to contain my sprawled body. Pain was the first feeling I became aware of. A deep ache settled within my bones, not of a physical means, but one of strong magic. Trying to maintain my balance as I attempted to stand was not easy, and I found myself holding the bars for support. My eyes were unable to provide me with clear images. Probably a good thing from the smell, the mildew and mold were doing very little to mask the unmistakable aroma of not quite fresh corpses. So I am in some disgusting dungeon and from the sounds of voices I was not alone. My mood does nothing to improve when I am able to recognize them as the little fink Imoen and my all so noble charge Piradon, a Ranger who tries to downplay his own destiny.

My Headmaster had managed to somehow persuade Piradon that a mage of high standing would surely be a great help to his quests. Of course he knew of a another fine mage, as he was just too entangled with the political affairs to be gone from his seat at The Rock. What he told me was that Piradon was a power all his own and that The Rock was very interested in trying to explore and eventually exploit. Some child of one of the gods, with powers no mortal could reasonably hope to attain. I don’t really see the benefits of traveling around sleeping in bug infested beds or worse on the ground in the hopes of learning some secrete that Piradon is not even aware of. Not when we could wait and watch from the background has we usually do. As First Mage of the Wilders of Amn however, I was bound to follow the directives from the Head Mages at The Rock. The Rock is a massive mound of boulders placed and shaped by the Five Forces of Magic, Earth, Fire, Water, Air and Death. Controlled by the Heads, the boulders were organized into a five-pointed star atop a hollowed column where their powers could be focused inwards and down to those of us below. The Wilders of Amn are a small band consisting of no more than twenty- five members at any one time. The Five Heads had four members each but there was no real way to distinguish one of us from any other. As a First Mage I was next to assume The Rock when my Head would meet his demise trying to bend the Five Forces, as all Heads eventually do. The power of the magic can and does slip beyond the control of Wilders sometimes to devastating effects. It’s the price we are all willing to pay to try increase our impact on the world.

So here I am listening to Imoen and Piradon trying to figure out if they want that mental midget Minsc and the elf Harper. Personally I’d leave them both to their deaths but Piradon had opened my cage door so I say nothing. After being informed of the situation, that a powerful elven mage was trying to take from my charge what The Rock wanted, I was glad they were coming along. The Rock tries to be subtle whenever possible, so facing a mage as direct as this own could prove more difficult than the worth. Having some people up front to absorb the damage will make my life last longer. Convincing Piradon that those of us that cast spells need to spend time preparing and to rest was foremost in my mind. I was not about to try to escape this dungeon without the help of mine own power. Imoen was, of course, afraid of being caught again. That just told me she was still a immature little girl more worried of her imaginations than what we will certainly face ahead. Dead bodies on the floor, shadow thieves horribly twisted, their mouths open in the last scream of their lives. Another corner, with a corridor into a room, with some large object set in the middle. Sparks could be seen running along its edges, and then a blast of sound and a bolt of lightening struck out across the room. Appearing in the wake was some bat like creature that Minsc had little trouble beating into submission. Damn little thief does have good eyes at least, as Imoen does see a wall switch that cuts off the energy to the pedestal in the center. My dagger never leaves its sheath, as I prefer it.

To Be Continued...

[ 08-22-2001: Message edited by: Drako ]

And the story of Kalinner, First Mage Wilders of Amn continues...

The room continues foreword into a decent sized cavern loaded with stalactites and stalagmites, with the occasional drips of water that were heard striking the floor. Imoen tracks for traps ahead, ducking around the jutting pieces of rock formations, carefully scouting out the advance of our mixed band of adventurers. I notice the tale-tell sign of a creature transporting into the back of the cavern, nearby where two man-made hallways appear and split off in different directions. I don’t pay to much attention, as the creature appears and only questions us with a strange riddle or something. Piradon apparently says the right thing I guess, because the creature leaves without a fight. I bemoan the fact of leaving a potential enemy alive; no one listens to me though. Deep in my own thoughts of how stupid I was for being here I stumble past where Imoen has cleared. To pay me for my inattentiveness an arrow creases my pack and narrowly misses anything important, like my body. A group of goblins tries to assail us. Ignoring the shouts of Minsc, how he and Boo are coming, I place my feet firmly. Three of them come rushing forward, supported from the rear by two short bows. Patience, being my second strongest virtue behind my modesty, kept me from immediately destroying them for their mistake of being born and around me at this particular moment. So I waited until the three goblins thought they had an easy kill before them. Then casting one of my favorite nasty spells, I laugh in their faces. A funnel of magically chilled air ripped them into little frozen chunks of flesh and ice. The two goblins with the bows faired no better from the Cone of Cold rushing their way. Panic crossed their hideous faces after seeing the others quick death and then they too were gone. One became an ice statue and the other some creatures’ future lunch. I hoped the Piradon, the so called Chlid of Bhaal, was worth the embarresment of fighting mere goblins.

Since the goblins came from the eastern corridor we continue that way until we reach an intersection, doors on either side of us or a passageway ahead. Piradon and Jaheira talk briefly about where to go, while Imoen and I talk of spells and components. She isn’t very well versed but that was probably because of the thief in her. The decision is made to go right. Without wasting another moment Minsc kicks open the door, ruining any chance of surprise, that dolt. Another bat thing knocks out Jaheira before Piradon shoots an arrow that pierces both wing and body. This leaves it flapping helplessly under the boot heal of Minsc. The guy way not be the smartest, but I like how he handles the harsh stuff. Piradon takes a moment to try to explain to Minsc how a team fights together. I don't know why he even bothered, only the rodent appeared to understand what he was trying to say. Closer inspection inside the door reveals a round room; chests and tables fill the walls and one large table is prominently displayed in the middle. Next to the table is the absolute foulest smelling golem in all the realms. A quick chat was all any one could stand. It informed us that the golem might have a way out of this dungeon. I hoped it wasn’t where the golem picked up its lovely odor from. Needing to bring him some key, we check the tables and chest within the room. No key, but a few spells to memorize and more weapons for the group that provides a small uplifting to the spirits. The door across from this one had yet another bat creature. Perhaps I should take the time to look at its dead corpse, and to try and determine what it really is. With five of us against it, it goes down incredibly fast. A trap that was on the crate, as Imoen sees and dismantles it, hurts no one. She says there is a staff of the smoothest wood, and capped with metel at the ends inside. Imoen hands it to me for a closer look. One glance tells me it is not a staff of ordinary means and I place it in my pack as every one else crowds around these glass containers along the walls. I may have to travel with Piradon to ensure the Wilders can watch and learn from him, but I was damned if I wouldn't profit as much as possible from this venture. When I approach the others I notice the strange creatures trapped inside the glass cells. Piradon jumps only slightly when one of the things tries to speak to him. Not liking the looks of a small warped thing trying to communicate, I step to the back and look through my bag for any special tricks I might be able to use.

To be continued...

[ 08-23-2001: Message edited by: Drako ]

And the story of Kalinner, First Mage, Wilders of Amn continues...


More goblins. Two packs tried to come at us, again with axes and bows. Piradon matched them shot for shot even though there were twice as many of the goblin archers than us. Jaheira and Minsc seem to get along well up front together, as they bash their way through the ever increasing wash of goblin blood, innards and what might be called brains, if goblins were to have any. I stay in the background mostly, not wanting to get the smell of goblin juice on my beautiful robe. The corridor splits and come together again with a few doors. The first door contains another room with golems, Piradon nearly frothing at the mouth at the site of them. They don’t attack immediately and we’re able to shut the door before Piradon succeeded in his attempts to do violence to them. The idea of fighting only when necessary is luckily present among the majority of the band. Imoen steps towards the other door, listening for sounds on the other side. Cracking it open, She motions Minsc to lead the charge. I’m sure Imoen wanted a rousing approach considering the care she was taking, but she must not have remember who it was she was asking. Without even voicing a ‘Why Me’, Minsc shoulders Imoen aside and crashes into the room, bellowing for evil to fall on his sword, or some such foolishness. Unfortunately for Minsc there was no evil waiting to open its belly on his sword. Only another one of those damn glass cells, with a creature in obvious pain. I don’t usually mind watching a good torture session, but this was even beyond my means. I silently agree, can’t have the band thinking I’m soft, when Piradon decides to help the creature end its life. The scarce objects along the walls do turn up a healing potion and the table carried the gem key, or whatnot for ‘Old Smelly, the golem who would open our escape from this sickening local.

The next door brought the first real fight yet. I even had to cast a spell or two to help out. Bat things and goblins both this time, hiding amongst the racks and selves of books. Nearly every turn around a shelf seemed to harbor another of those excrements.
Some were shooting fire from their rancid mouths, another that threw dust into the air. Dust that settled quickly, seemingly straight for the eyes of those who happened to be nearby. I was preparing to cast a slow spell when a goblin lurches in my direction, swinging a rusty and dull axe, still covered with whom or whatever was unlucky enough to feel its brutal touch. Keeping my composure and concentration with it actually swinging, and missing!, was done only because of the training in the Wild Arts. I was able to finish the casting and draw my dagger before the creature could recover from the momentum of its last swing, one that had brought it completely of balance. I parry a few more strikes, all the while moving back towards Jaheira. She swings her scimitar underneath the shield of the goblin facing her, as it drops the shield to cover she quickly rushes forward, using her shield as a club and crushing its arm and neck. I pivot around her causing the goblin harassing me to turn into her scimitars deadly arc. A second later and she is using her boot to prevent the head from moving, as she wrenches the bloody blade out of it. Then there is only the sound of heavy breathing. Imoen starts to feel the pain of a wound as the shock begins to wear off. She wasn’t well off, having been caught between two of the bat guys. Jaheira calmly talked to her as she began her chants to her god. A few seconds later and Imoen was up and about, being her usual whiny self.

To Be Continued...

And the Story of Kalinner: The First Mage Wilders of Amn continues...

A search of the shelves provids more potions of healing and a few others types that would supply enhancements of some sort. I don’t do much with potions and didn’t bother to closely examine them. Unless the potion directly affects my abilities as a spell caster I didn’t want them taking up space in my bag. Piradon makes the decision to try to escape the dungeon instead of further advancement, wanting to try to avoid any unnecessary risks. I had hoped to find a few more trinkets of a magical nature but figured larger things were ahead. We back track to the golem, who uses the key we had acquired. Piradon stays outside the room, not wanting to have anything to do with actually approaching a golem of any sort without trying to exterminate it. It was my guess that Piradon cared more for the destruction of golems than his own safety, a bit I wasn’t very familiar with. Something about his past that still overwhelmed him whenever he faced one. He mentions nothing when we give the key to the golem and I do not ask. Activating the golem falls to Minsc, as he doesn’t complain about the smell. The golem immediately goes about the task we have assigned.

We follow closely, yet certainly at a safe distance from it. Another couple of goblins died trying to block our path, providing little to deter us. It is through a door at the end of a long hall we watch the golem dash ahead. It goes quite fast and I lose sight of it beyond the doorway. Jaheira traveled farther ahead of me and suddenly stops, a look of repugnance on her exquisite face. As a fellow elf we shared much of our racial heritage, yet I knew my quest for personal power would prevent us from being anything other than fellow adventurers. A true shame that it is that way. It was upon the staircase, which was now in my view that I was able to see what caused Jaheira’s expression to alter. A tentacle was trying to reach over the stair well and grasp at Jaheira. Its tip widening into a sort of grasping paw, it searched for the source of food that it hoped Jaheira would soon become. Minsc decides the direct approach would be most effective and leaps through the door and down the stairs, brandishing both war hammer and mace. He takes a swipe from one of the creatures other four or five tentacles. It was hard to count them as they weaved and ungulated back and forth, trying to find a place to strike Minsc again before turning to Jaheira, as she too engaged it. Imoen and Piradon stayed above the fray, using bows and arrows they pillaged from dead goblins. I couldn’t walk around them, this preventing me from being able to assist other then a quick Magic Missile, which seemed to enrage the creature more than harm it. Still the wounds were starting to develop upon its body. Minsc continued to swing away but the affects of the creatures’ blow were slowing his attacks and occasionally causing him to wince in discomfort at some inner pain he was enduring. He was unable to avoid another hit, a solid knock across the head that left Minsc sagging. Piradon slings his bow over his shoulder and bounds down the stairs three at a time. Before he reached the bottom he had his two-handed sword above his head, poised to fall. The odds where against the monster, and the dead body we left behind was the proof.

It left behind a sort of miniature wand, perhaps one of lightening, but obviously not currently usable. A few chests supply extra arrows and even a Helmet of Infravision, which Piradon now wears on his head. He gives Minsc his old battered helm that he gratefully accepts. A quick view reveals that the doorway to the north off of this room leads back to the library. That left one door going east. Imoen unlocks it and we proceed to go onwards. Walking over more goblin bodies, we draw near a door of apparent craftsmanship. It opens, after careful inspection, into a lavish sitting room, completely furnished in well-made lounges and chairs. A couple of steps in and Imoen notices a small lift in one of the rugs. Flashing her palm back to us we were warned of her suspicions and we cut short our movements. A few moments of close observation reveals several more little inconsistencies to Imoen. She promptly goes about checking and finally removing three different traps, all in separate locations, a cabinet, chest, and along the floor. The band rejoices at what appears to be a great find of equipment and spells. Another helmet was found, of some great fighter whom Piradan recognized and he claimed it as his own. Minsc then traded his helm to Jaheira, since she already possessed the infravision ability. And for me there was a necklace providing me with another spot to store the necessary forms of power. I was now able to recall an extra spell of the second class. Every ounce of power I can contain is one less my enemies can acquire.

To be Continued...

[ 08-26-2001: Message edited by: Drako ]

:: sigh :: Nevermind...

[ 08-28-2001: Message edited by: rapier ]

Personally i have found these stories entertaining, what i have read of them.

Pretty cool. You're really have a lot of detail.

And the Story of Kalinner, First Mage Wilders of Amn continues...

While the room was quite elegant, the two exits coming off at either side of us were jagged, rough cut caverns chiseled from stone. Imoen quietly disappeared into the dark recess of rock formations and I lose sight of her as she was beginning to scout the northern cavern. I continue to look over the statue we had just recovered, trying to equate its value to us or at least to me. The others wait for Imoen to return from her expedition into the unknown, Jaheira resetting her helm and tightening the straps to her shield. Piradon was reloading his quivers, stocking two regularly, and the third he fills with enchanted arrows. A quick check of his bowstring seems to please him, and he finishes his battle preparations. Imoen returns, stepping from the shadows, and tells us of yet more goblins. There is something else though, she says, in the back of the room sits a round disk standing on edge. She had approached it carefully but noticed it try to draw for magical energy and she decided a close inspection while surrounded by goblins probably wasn’t too intelligent. A quick discussion about where the goblins were situated in the cavern and Piradon forms a fast strike plan. Minsc and Jaheira rush the first line of goblins and drive for the archers, planning on cutting them down before they could shoot. The goblins from the first line fell back, on what they thought was the exposed rear of Minsc and Jaheira. It is at this moment that Piradon, Imoen and begrudgingly, myself engage those goblins from their now weakened positions. It is over to much to quickly, goblins never a satisfying encounter.

Now that I had a clear view of the disk Imoen saw, I was able to determine its nature as a portal to another space, perhaps even time or dimension. One was never able to truly know until one actually uses the portal. It was currently defunct, obviously needing a key or spell to activate it. This was the closest we’ve come to an exit and it doesn’t work, how frustrating!! The conclusion is made to continue exploring, hopefully finding the way to the surface. We go towards the southern cavern, a huge hole of an opening into the stone earth. Imoen again goes ahead but returns quite hastily, blabbering about some beautiful female creatures, possibly nymphs of a sort. Piradon recognizes them as Dryads and they notice him as well. They beckon us over to them, Minsc being vigilant for once, wonders if we should go. Piradon assures us that Dryads rarely do harm to those who do no harm to them. I can admit to the fact that they are very pleasurable to look at, if nothing else. They enthrall us with stories of capture and slavery, forced to do the most unspeakably foul labors and to pleasure at their tormentors every whim. It is asked of us if we might rescue them by carrying their seeds, to be replanted in the Dryad communities. We can find the seeds on our captors’ blacksmiths, a group of gray dwarfs, evil cousins of the Dwarven Clans. Piradon practically trips over his tongue trying to express his willingness. I’m not so happy to be spoken for and say so to Piradon. He tries to remind me as to who the leader of this band was. I go for none of it, but I do so silently, not wanting to be ostracized any farther.

While Piradon and I were discussing the arrangements, Imoen had followed the cavern back to its end. There, beyond a bend, was a glorious sleeping chamber. Imoen had already noticed traps and had warned us of how far was safe to tread. Yet when we crossed the threshold of the room, before a trap could injure any of us, an alarm sounds out. Expecting an attack at any moment the band urges Imoen to undo all the traps, the room providing an excellent place of defense. The traps cleared, we prepare an ambush of our own for whomever is coming, with summoned monsters and a few defensive spells. Imoen isn’t as good at placing traps as removing them but she does a fair job of it, putting two traps down nearby. We hear crashes echoing throughout the cavern, sounding like an entire battalion of goblins. Our luck isn’t that good, as two stone golems appear around the bend in the cavern. Upon seeing us they cast a haste spell on themselves and charge ahead. Piradon looses all plans of strategy and drops his bow. Drawing his two-handed sword he shrieks at the top of his lungs. I have never seen someone lose control so easily, that is until Minsc sees Piradon risk life and limb. A berserker Minsc can be, his eyes bulge from their sockets, his shoulders heaving with anger as he stalks the golems like certain prey. The two of them completely engage the two golems, allowing the summons to fill in the voids around them. Soon the golems were being attacked from all sides. Imoen and I are casting whatever spells we think might help. Jaheira starts darting in and out of small openings, trying to attack where she could do the most harm. It is almost enough to prevent them from attacking themselves, but a golems hand would inevitably fall upon one of the soldiers. Once it was Piradon who took a mighty blow. If not for his rage he may have lost his grip on his sword, but he was enraged, and nothing was going to stop him from demolishing these two golems. Minscs’ mace and war-hammer were causing large rents in the golems bodies. Soon the overwhelming intensity wore the golems down and they could no longer continue the fight. There were animal parts splattered all around, a couple of the summons had paid the ultimate price.

To Be Continued...

The Story of Kalinner, First Mage, Wilders of Amn contines...
After defeating the golems, Jaheira once again had to treat a few wounds. Unfortunately, I had to include myself into the group of needy individuals, but I was last to receive care. Not that I’m complaining but surely the Mage is an important part to keep up and ready to cover the band. Of course they all know I wouldn’t really care too much about the band and so they made me wait.

The Dryads had given us an idea where their seeds may be but no one recognized being in the location they were describing. Certainly no one remembered fighting any Duerger, who the Dryads believed were holding the seeds for their master, Irenicus. We had the portal key, we could just leave and see the sun, breathe the air, and eat, drink and be marry. But my head was the only one who contained that thought, everyone else prepared to go back to the library, or whatever that room used to be. Taking steps further into the dungeon did nothing to improve my sour demeanor, which was threatening to become much more permanent. Down the corridor we went and into the sewer room, out the side door and up another corridor.

The bodies of the goblins and bats were still warm, the blood congealed along the cracks in the floor, pooled in deeper areas. Besides the two doors we already went through there was only one other direction to go. We go what I presume is north, around two right corners and then we run into them. Fat and extremely dirty they our surprised to see us not break our momentum and start getting downright cruel. Their leader tries unconvincingly to scare us into backing down. What he doesn’t know is that both Imoen and I are hidden behind the others and about to let loose spells to both weaken and confuse them. I decide that my tantrum about who heals who and when to be the type of thing to complain outside of battle. No need to risk my own life to prove my point.

Piradon lobs arrows right and left, inflicting serious wounds to the few Duerger with crossbows. Minsc can think only one thought when fighting, go straight ahead and try to cause major damage, which he succeeds in doing. With Jaheira covering his back to prevent any of them from trying to flank him and attack the weakest part of his scale mail, Minsc becomes an object of complete demolition. Arms, swords and sheilds all are batted aside, his mace finding collarbones, necks and heads, whatever provides a solid satisfying crunch to Minscs’ ears. A bolt from a crossbow hits Piradon in the forearm, causing him to drop the arrow that was in his hand. A small smirk crosses Piradons lips as he calls upon his archer training to focus and release the pain and allow his arrow to fly straight and true to the most sensitive parts of his enemy. A moment later, I couldn’t see the individual arrows only their results, the Duerger was clutching three arrow shafts protruding from his body, his mouth working wordlessly as he knees collapsed and he pitches forward dead. It is then that I notice their magic user. I could see him trying to stop Minsc, the multiple images of him confusing Minsc and stalling his attacks. I took this opportunity to test myself against another mage; never having gone full bore during my training. A Remove Magic later and I had his attention, at least long enough for him to turn and see the Agannazar’s Scorcher twisting towards him, curling his hairs a moment before the pure flame strike him. Not much of a test but the sounds he made as his clothes and the flesh burned was a pleasant high-pitched moan, one I’ll try to remember the next time I go to sleep.

To Be Continued...