Dwimmermount IC:

[Leif]

Yrel, Elf Magic-User / Thief

"Yes, I dabble in the arcane arts, as well as stealth and a smattering of other skills."

Yrel's sheet

 

[Binder Fred]

Hand on chest, breathe in: "Vind- ar." (He's been practicing, that word in particular, for hours on end.)

 

[Imperialus]

The evening wears long as you plan your next move. Most of the locals, including the guards seem to be treating Gargrim, Climent, Vindar and Peiter with a certain degree of deference, though you're not sure if it's respect for having been among the first to breech Dwimmermounts ancient halls, or concern for you sanity given than you are planning on going back in. Gargrim's state of mind over the past few days certainly doesn't seem to have helped matters.

You spend a few more days preparing to move. When you ask Sister Emilesse about the possibility of buying potions of healing she says that while she cannot brew them herself, she has two on hand, which she is willing to part with for 400 GP each. That said, she is willing to give them to you in exchange for the saintly fingerbone you found within the dungeon.

Vindar, at some point during your recovery you receive a letter from your aunt. Your cousin, who serves in Adamas' garrison has apparently gone missing. He was sent on a patrol with a half dozen others into the Aldleigh Forest to investigate reports of a band of Goblin brigands but they have not returned in several days. The despot has done nothing in response as of yet so she is hoping that if the letter finds you able you might return to Adamas and investigate. Of course, the letter is now nearly 4 days old, and it will take you at least as long to return to Adamas yourself so it is possible that by the time you make your way back the situation will have resolved itself one way or another anyhow.

The next morning dawns as you prepare to abandon the comforts of the Passwatch Inn and get ready to depart on another dangerous excursion.

 

[Binder Fred]

When it's time to go that first night, Vindar clasps Gargrim on the shoulder, smiling. "This is g-g-gggGood-d!" Gargrim seems to be feeling much better. And that alone is a cause for happiness.

And some gratitude for the two that caused it!

--

A day later Vindar stares through that letter, wondering if the usurper-gods are angry with him for not believing in them any more. He hardly remembers his younger cousin, or that he had an aunt. (Truth be told, most of his life before the accident is a blur of mixed-up memories, inconsistent and vague).

His thin hands slowly crumble the cheap paper of the letter, balling it into a smaller and smaller version of itself... Then he throws it behind him, hoping it catches on fire when it hits the cobble.

He has a new life now, a new purpose... (Vindar looks towards the mount)

One life is nothing.

When you ask Sister Emilesse about the possibility of buying potions of healing she says that while she cannot brew them herself, she has two on hand, which she is willing to part with for 400 GP each. That said, she is willing to give them to you in exchange for the saintly fingerbone you found within the dungeon.

The relic will help survive in there, reasonably writes back the crippled man -- surely she sees that? (Slowly tracing out chalk letters, the tip of his tongue lodged between his teeth...Flipping the board over Cheaper potions? Make ourselves???

 

[Deuce Traveler]

Gargrim has a very hard week. Staying mostly sober is difficult enough, but he actually has to study while they prepare for the next expedition. He only gets through because of the happy thoughts he gets when he thinks he can slay orcs in bloodier and quicker ways than before.

OOC: What benefits should I add to Gargrim's character sheet after he studies the manual.

 

[Imperialus]

Upon seeing Vindar's note Sister Emilesse nods and says. "You are right, it may prove useful, but nonetheless it is a sacred relic of my faith so I would be remiss not to ask for its return. That said, while I cannot give these potions away I would be willing to give them to you for 100 gold pieces each, provided you repay the balance when you return. In spite of the death of Peiter, I believe that Tyche favors you, and I wish you support your expedition as much as I can.

You finish making your final preparations and once again make the long trek up to the red doors. You find them just as you left them over a week ago. Pushing open the doors you see the stairwell down into the oppressive darkness below and the dank air rushes up to meet you.

OOC: Through studying the manual and practicing its techniques with Vindar and Robert you each gain 500 XP.

 

[Deuce Traveler]

Gargrim states, "Alright, let's get ourselves to where we first met those orcs." He takes the lead with a mace in hand.

 

[Binder Fred]

Upon seeing Vindar's note Sister Emilesse nods and says. "[...] I believe that Tyche favors you, and I wish you support your expedition as much as I can.

Vindar nods back thoughtfully. He hasn't slept well last night, running-away dreams mixing with the constant, low-level pain from a limb that isn't there anymore -- a dark forest, scratching branches as he ran, and ran, and died...

As for the relic though: he taps the typhonian markings on the box.

Tyche? Not Typhon? eventually ask the chalky words on the slate.

Not Thurm? is the thought in his head.


OOC: I'll put down 100 gp for one of the two healing potions, please. If anybody cares to buy some holy water, that might be a good thing too, since the Typhon Fists were wiped out by four-armed skeletons on the first floor?

 

[Imperialus]

Emiliesse shakes her head. "It's somewhat hard to say who exactly the bone belonged to at first, but any artifacts such as this are sought after by all of the sects within the great church.

At any rate, you are able to return to the site of the battle without issue. Other than the blood stains marring the floor you wouldn't know that a fight occurred there. The bodies have all been moved.

 

[Binder Fred]

Vindar sighs, dragging the edge of his shield over the red metal of the Doors as they go past. This is a mistake. He's not ready for this. Maybe he never will.

The crippled man now wears a second-hand coat of overlapping plates that fit snuggly over dull mail. Chain coif. Brand new helmet. Midgrim's boss shield is in his left hand, orc spear in his right, used heavily for balance.

The refurbished thulian officer's sword at his waist.

Klyman's stained pack on his back...

He looks back often, at the shrinking light of the entrance.

I'm going to die in here.

I'm sorry aunt Lynn.

Maybe he could have done some good, if...

Then he scoffs at his own cowardice: 8 days later? Alone? Not a chance in hell.

And yet... (The light of the entrance disappears). Maybe his cousin's life hadn't been the only point.

I'm not ready for this.

--

And yet, despite his various misgivings:

you are able to return to the site of the battle without issue. Other than the blood stains marring the floor you wouldn't know that a fight occurred there. The bodies have all been moved.

Vindar sighs again: they are in it now.

Leaning on his spear to take the weight off his peg, the newborn paladin points to the various ways out of here, his question plain: which way now? Vengeance, conquest or exploration?