Swamp Trek III: The Search for Ter-raen

Trouvere

Explorer

• Oct 26, 2009

• #51

[sblock=OOC]There was a lot going on the moment the door was opened. With two wolf skeletons and a skeletal troll blocking his line of sight, I think it's reasonable that Gildrim didn't notice the urn. The troll would tend to draw attention away from anything behind it.[/sblock]

 

log in or register to remove this ad

Scott DeWar

Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure

• Oct 26, 2009

• #52

Karl listens to the account, acting like he is distracted by the cup of tea, but clearly curious what is beyond the troll at the opening of the crypt.

 

R

Richard Rawen

First Post

• Oct 26, 2009

• #53

Richard listens raptly attentive. His hand strays to the pommel of his sword, and grips tightly when the account relates the fallen comrades.
There's no look of a fight in him though, just a sad frustration... as if he is sharing in Gildrim's loss.
Hearing the end of the tale the fighters hand releases his grip and his shoulders relax, though his face betrays a sadness at Gildrim's tale.[sblock=ooc]Richard's reaction is mostly sub-conscious, a sharp look at his hand on his sword will bring a flush of embarassment to his cheeks and he'll fold his arms in front of him.[/sblock]

 

J

jkason

First Post

• Oct 26, 2009

• #54

Weel Naxel, human cleric

Weel listens intently, fascinated by the adventure--and eventual tragedy--unfolding. And then at the mention of Karm, it finally hits him. His face goes ashen.

"I met him," the cleric whispers. "He was to come with me to the Bazaar, but he was lost in the transition and ... Phyrah watch over his soul."

At this point, he realizes he's been thinking aloud again (however quietly), and promptly clamps his mouth shut.

 

covaithe

Explorer

• Oct 27, 2009

• #55

Alvar Thorne listens intently to the tale, his jaw clenching more and more firmly as it continues. When it is done, he sits back in his chair, a large, well-padded thing of wood and fine leather. For a moment, he doesn't speak, but when he does, his voice is unperturbed. "Well! I'd not believe a word of the tale, were it not for the good priest's truth magic. Grasshopper men? A slime demon? But I'm bound by my word, and you'll get your pay. Now, show me this painting."

 

Trouvere

Explorer

• Oct 27, 2009

• #56

Gildrim digs in his pack, pulls out a six inch round portrait of a woman, and hands it over.

"When does the spell wear off? Don't ask me why I picked this one over any of the others until the spell wears off," he says.

 

covaithe

Explorer

• Oct 28, 2009

• #57

"What? Why not?" Alvar asks suspiciously.

"The spell has ended," Father Euston says. The announcement is hardly necessary; the spell's preternatural clarity has faded away.

"Dammit!" Alvar slams his fist down on the desk, causing paperweights and inkwells to dance precariously. "Sorry, Father. Well, can't be helped, I suppose." He stares at the portrait for a long moment, eyes searching her features. "Yes, I see it," he says eventually. "Well, you say there were others? Go on, then. Why this one?" His tone makes it clear that he is prepared to disbelieve what you answer.

 

Trouvere

Explorer

• Oct 28, 2009

• #58

"Because - acause," says Gildrim, testing the air, metaphorically. "Acause ay th'... th' prood bearin' an' noble line ay th' jaw, an' the air ay accuistomed commaund, whit ye can see in th' likeness an' in yer ain coontenance."

"It wis th' smawest an aw. Ah'd nae hae managed tae cairy th' ithers throu th' watter."

 

covaithe

Explorer

• Oct 28, 2009

• #59

"Ha! Noble line of the jaw, eh? Haha! The smallest, eh? So there are others... Well. Fewtrell?" Thorne's face cracks in a mercurial grin before he bellows for his aide, who comes rushing in with a bulging velvet bag. Thorne takes the bag and tosses it to Gildrim. It clinks in a rather satisfying fashion as he catches it.

"Now. It seems I have some family property that has been infested with vermin and undead. What do you suggest I do about it, Gildrim?"

 

Trouvere

Explorer

• Oct 28, 2009

• #60

"It's a hoose ay ill omen," Gildrim says, echoing Ter-raen's refrain. "Hou did th' undeid come tae be doon in th' laich room? Mebbe yer forefaithers left thaim thaur, an' mebbe they didnae, but Ah wadnae spread th' news ay whit wis foond thaur tae tay mony ears."

"Thaur's nae livin' thaur noo, even if ye haed a scowe an' guid relations wi' th' lizardfowk. But if ye're still wantin' th' Urn, aw mair portraiture, weel... Ah'd leuk for a fellae wi' a strang swuird arm, an' a adventur-seekin' priest, an' a... perfaissional treisur seeker."

Gildrim punctuates each suggestion with a jerk of his head at his companions.