DF's "The Slaying Stone" 4e
Inspiratorium
First Post
Mathariel watches the wolves with a wary eye as they flee. When he is certain that they don't plan to return, he checks the spots where the wolves had bitten him. Bruised, but no open wounds; their fangs hadn't penetrated his chainmail. "Ugly creatures, those things. Are the rest of you unharmed?" he asks, breathing heavily as he cleans off his sword and sheathes it. "If so, we may want to get inside before more show up," he raises his shield above his head again, and stares ahead at the figure in the doorway.
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DistractingFlare
First Post
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Phaezen
First Post
Banmarden turns to Mathariel then down at his own wounds "Nothing serious" the Wilden reports. He them moves to the corpses of he wolves and kneels before them, examining them. "The circle is complete for these though, I wonder what drove them to attack"
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DistractingFlare
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Inspiratorium
First Post
Mathariel nods, still watching the doorway. He can't help but wonder -- how long had she been standing there watching? "Let's not waste any time then," he says as he begins walking towards the tower, making sure to step around the dead wolves as he does.
DistractingFlare
First Post
You find your way across the bridge and into narrow stone tower. A set of spiral stairs winds its way up three stories until you come to a doorway. From inside the room, an old woman in the robes of a courtly wizard beckons you toward a roaring fire and a ring of comfortable-looking chairs. Bookshelves inhabited by large, dusty tomes line the wall of the sitting room, and a rug made from wolf-pelts covers much of the floor.
The woman has set out a table and a pot of stew and gestures toward it. "Come in and eat. Make yourselves comfortable. I trust the wolves didn't give you trouble? They can be such a nuisance." Without waiting for a reply, she scoops a large helping of stew into a bowl and offers it to Mathariel.
"I've been keeping an eye on all of you, you know. A friend and I are in need of some young swordhands to make an expedition."
As if summoned, another figure enters the room from behind you, presumably having emerged from one of the many locked doors you passed on your way in. "Greetings. I am Kiris Alkirk, last of the Kiris line." Kiris is a man in his mid-forties, dressed in the finery of a noble. He looks down his long, hooked nose at you as if you were soldiers of his court.
The woman has set out a table and a pot of stew and gestures toward it. "Come in and eat. Make yourselves comfortable. I trust the wolves didn't give you trouble? They can be such a nuisance." Without waiting for a reply, she scoops a large helping of stew into a bowl and offers it to Mathariel.
"I've been keeping an eye on all of you, you know. A friend and I are in need of some young swordhands to make an expedition."
As if summoned, another figure enters the room from behind you, presumably having emerged from one of the many locked doors you passed on your way in. "Greetings. I am Kiris Alkirk, last of the Kiris line." Kiris is a man in his mid-forties, dressed in the finery of a noble. He looks down his long, hooked nose at you as if you were soldiers of his court.
Inspiratorium
First Post
The eladrin takes off his wet traveling cloak and drapes it over his shoulder, and takes the bowl with a nod of thanks. Hot food was more than welcome after all that travel in the rain. Well, I suppose that's a good use for them, he thinks, noting the rug.
Mathariel puts the bowl down on the table and turns to Kiris with a small bow. "Greetings, Kiris Alkirk and Treona, I am Mathariel of the Lynwood house, missionary of the Feywild, and cleric of Ioun." The noble seemed important from the way he dressed and the way he introduced himself. Perhaps Mathariel had heard of the Kiris line before in his studies, he was almost certain of it.
Mathariel puts the bowl down on the table and turns to Kiris with a small bow. "Greetings, Kiris Alkirk and Treona, I am Mathariel of the Lynwood house, missionary of the Feywild, and cleric of Ioun." The noble seemed important from the way he dressed and the way he introduced himself. Perhaps Mathariel had heard of the Kiris line before in his studies, he was almost certain of it.
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