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Der Kluge's Wilderlands Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="reddist" data-source="post: 3034215" data-attributes="member: 5212"><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The skeletal minions come easily to Cyridon’s command. Theros and I help Balderk to his unsteady feet, and we find Chath cowering in the shadows of the cavern. Beyond the tomb filled with sarcophagi, we find another room set aside for the dark warrior. A stone altar to Bhaal stands atop a small dias, and the entire room has dark, evil aura to it. Theros looks sick just standing in here. The wight’s sarcophagus stands open (of course), and inside we find several leather pouches that had been entombed with the corpse when it was put to rest. Not quite as impressive as the Ogre’s loot, but respectable nonetheless. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Cyridon somehow manages to gain complete control over the four remaining skeletons. With their aid we manage to carry the bulk of the loot back to the temples of Amantir and Torm. There I make a couple of travois so we can continue to clean out items from the abandoned temple and drag it all back to Pentolus’ old tower. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Here I feel I have to remark upon the oddity of seeing four skeletons, recently intent on killing me, strapped to sleds made of tree branches and vines, hauling around piles of centuries old weapons and armor. Funny how we adjust to things seemingly unworldly and spectacular, and make them mundane, just to cope. Cyridon seems perfectly at ease, if not unduly excited, with his new minions, and Theros, whom I thought would bear the most vehemence against such creatures, strolls idly alongside the pale, hooded death cleric, chatting amiably.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The knight seems to have retreated into himself again, perhaps wrestling with his geas. He hasn’t spoken much since our last foray into the temple under the hill. Brought low by both the ogre and the dark wight, only to be saved at the last moment, either by Theros or myself, might weigh heavily on a man of his supposed prowess.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Chath seems to bear no animosity or ill-will at all. His former companions are dead no less than a week and he’s already attached himself to us like flies on dung. I fear there will be no ridding of ourselves from him now.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">I ponder these things over the cooking fire, outside of our “new” tower. Apparently old Pentolus “gave” it to us, as he and his crew no longer have use for it. Already Cyridon and Theros are arguing over how to divide the floors, so each can have space for whatever arcane research they want to commit. Listening to them, I think they have forgotten that “us” includes Balderk and myself… we seem to be housed to the stables and cellar already, if not forgotten about entirely.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The dark ebon armor the wight was wearing rouses both interest and a certain amout of greed, I think, in Cryidon. It radiates evil, emblazoned as it is with unholy symbols of hatred and fear. I see him try to struggle into it, obviously inexperienced with armor so heavy. The humor at watching him wrestle with the heavy metal is balanced by the unease I feel at his desire for it. He finally gets it over his head and frees his arms from the tangles of buckles and straps, but he stands hunched over, not used to the weight. Thankfully, after trying to move around in it for a while, he takes it off and tosses it into pile of items we intend to get rid of.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Included in that pile are a number of small statuettes, Bhaal, all of them. Gold, sure, but who will buy such items? Even at the festival, we would have a hard time unloading them. Though what bothers me even more is the very presence of Bhaal. Rune-carved doors, amulets, statuettes, even an altar. What went on in these old temples? What’s going on there now? We still have not uncovered the source of the Blood Fountain, and I’m not sure I want to.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Haven’t seen any “bandits” either. I’m beginning to think that was a ruse the death cleric used to get me out here.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="reddist, post: 3034215, member: 5212"] [SIZE=3][FONT=Century Gothic]The skeletal minions come easily to Cyridon’s command. Theros and I help Balderk to his unsteady feet, and we find Chath cowering in the shadows of the cavern. Beyond the tomb filled with sarcophagi, we find another room set aside for the dark warrior. A stone altar to Bhaal stands atop a small dias, and the entire room has dark, evil aura to it. Theros looks sick just standing in here. The wight’s sarcophagus stands open (of course), and inside we find several leather pouches that had been entombed with the corpse when it was put to rest. Not quite as impressive as the Ogre’s loot, but respectable nonetheless. Cyridon somehow manages to gain complete control over the four remaining skeletons. With their aid we manage to carry the bulk of the loot back to the temples of Amantir and Torm. There I make a couple of travois so we can continue to clean out items from the abandoned temple and drag it all back to Pentolus’ old tower. Here I feel I have to remark upon the oddity of seeing four skeletons, recently intent on killing me, strapped to sleds made of tree branches and vines, hauling around piles of centuries old weapons and armor. Funny how we adjust to things seemingly unworldly and spectacular, and make them mundane, just to cope. Cyridon seems perfectly at ease, if not unduly excited, with his new minions, and Theros, whom I thought would bear the most vehemence against such creatures, strolls idly alongside the pale, hooded death cleric, chatting amiably. The knight seems to have retreated into himself again, perhaps wrestling with his geas. He hasn’t spoken much since our last foray into the temple under the hill. Brought low by both the ogre and the dark wight, only to be saved at the last moment, either by Theros or myself, might weigh heavily on a man of his supposed prowess. Chath seems to bear no animosity or ill-will at all. His former companions are dead no less than a week and he’s already attached himself to us like flies on dung. I fear there will be no ridding of ourselves from him now. I ponder these things over the cooking fire, outside of our “new” tower. Apparently old Pentolus “gave” it to us, as he and his crew no longer have use for it. Already Cyridon and Theros are arguing over how to divide the floors, so each can have space for whatever arcane research they want to commit. Listening to them, I think they have forgotten that “us” includes Balderk and myself… we seem to be housed to the stables and cellar already, if not forgotten about entirely. The dark ebon armor the wight was wearing rouses both interest and a certain amout of greed, I think, in Cryidon. It radiates evil, emblazoned as it is with unholy symbols of hatred and fear. I see him try to struggle into it, obviously inexperienced with armor so heavy. The humor at watching him wrestle with the heavy metal is balanced by the unease I feel at his desire for it. He finally gets it over his head and frees his arms from the tangles of buckles and straps, but he stands hunched over, not used to the weight. Thankfully, after trying to move around in it for a while, he takes it off and tosses it into pile of items we intend to get rid of. Included in that pile are a number of small statuettes, Bhaal, all of them. Gold, sure, but who will buy such items? Even at the festival, we would have a hard time unloading them. Though what bothers me even more is the very presence of Bhaal. Rune-carved doors, amulets, statuettes, even an altar. What went on in these old temples? What’s going on there now? We still have not uncovered the source of the Blood Fountain, and I’m not sure I want to. Haven’t seen any “bandits” either. I’m beginning to think that was a ruse the death cleric used to get me out here.[/FONT][/SIZE] [/QUOTE]
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