In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)

[Funeris]

Chapter 11: The Abbey of Sin Continued

Well here's what happens next....

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An unhallowed aura poured from the doorway like the driving currents of a flooded river. Tobias stood unmoving, waiting. Magnus shrank back momentarily, the taint slicing into his skin and clawing at his heart.

Ahead of him, Tobias allowed his senses to stretch outward his second sight kicking in easily, hungrily almost. The entrance to the room was shrouded in the diffuse stain of corruption. A foul breeze assaulted their noses, the faint lingering scent of death. Tobias was uncertain his companions could feel the suffering he sensed, the evil.

The paladin spun, sword waving directly toward Magnus. The mage’s eyes opened wide and he tumbled backward barely dodging the edge of the greatsword. Tobias had been too slow.

A sickly, slithering shadow pooled out of the ground. Its intangible claws rent bloody wounds along the mage. The embrace was full of pain, loss, and death.

Tobias easily pivoted the arc of his blade, readjusting for the shade’s new position. The blade danced in and through the shadow. A harsh squeal erupted in all of the Heroes’ minds. Magnus’ hands tightened even more around his ears. Coldness gripped his limbs.

The undead crept away from the mage, flinging its insubstantial form at the paladin. Tobias stepped toward the doorway avoiding the attack and his companions’ ranged weapons. The specter ignored the arrows, pursuing its prey relentlessly.

The sword darted into the shadow’s heart and the shriek echoed within their consciousness again. The dark form seeped downward through the earth. Tobias returned his glare to within the entrance. A soft grating sound behind the fighter-paladin marked the mage scrabbling to his feet.

“What the f*ck?!” Magnus screamed. “That was reckless!! I could’ve been seriously hurt.” Fitz quietly tended the wizard’s wounds, silently shaking his head.

Tobias remained as still and noiseless as a statue, eyes closed and his sixth sense alert. He had not heard Magnus’ whining. He did not respond.

Motega stalked up beside Tobias. Quiety, the Rornman hissed, “What do you sense?”

Tobias’ sword danced straight out, piercing the re-emerging specter through its center. Like smoke, the shadow split into billowing wisps of pitch-black air, rising upward and vanishing.

“Death,” Tobias remarked as he paced into the room. The other Heroes followed. “I need this room searched,” he commanded. Motega gave a quick glance over the room and shrugged.

Magnus leaned cautiously inside, “Are there any more of those beasts in here?”

“No mage. I don’t sense any. But there is something…else. I can feel it in my bones.” Sighing, the paladin twisted to the mage. “I’m sorry about your wounds. I was trying to protect you.”

“Apology accepted.” The typical beaming smile returned to the mage’s face.

“Look at this.” Motega’s voice came from a sparsely furnished corner of the storeroom. He shifted a large, decomposing wooden barrel. Carved into the floor was a recessed trap door. The Rorn checked it over for traps as they all gathered nearby.

“Looks clear to me.” Motega lifted the door open. Twenty feet below the opening, a worked stone floor led away from the passage. Motega gently pressed on the metal ladder embedded within the stone walls. “Looks safe to me.” Then the Rorn descended.

“Wait for me, Mo’,” Tobias shouted as he hastened to follow the Rorn down the rabbit hole.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 11: The Abbey of Sin concluded.

Fitz sighed. A longing for his own home amongst the Weedsea was calling him. A home amongst the flock, other followers of Ceria, he thought. Yet, here he was, traveling once more to Dun Moor, a major center of the Church of Qwynna Pru. Qwynna Pru was, as had to be within the cosmic irony of the universe, Ceria’s adversary. What did I do to deserve this?

The Cerian priest observed his comrades. All were dirty and worn from hard battles fought. Only Tobias and Magnus seemed to have the energy to continue. Even Motega looked drained and introspective. Meanwhile the paladin’s eyes carried that unmistakable gleam of vengeance. Magnus, conversely, seemed to radiate arcane energy. The mage was growing too quickly in power. If the young mage were not careful, those abilities would surely corrupt. Fitz was certain.

Perhaps that is why you’ve sent me here, concluded the priest silently. Which should I watch over more carefully: the power-hungry mage, or the vengeance-filled warrior?

Fitz bowed is head in quiet prayer. Give me the strength, Goddess of the Harvest, to fulfill your will. We will return for the undead, I swear it upon my own soul. But we needed to rest. Magnus and Tobias surely would have led us to our deaths in that pit of decay. Fitz could not be sure his prayers were even heard anymore. Tobias had been enigmatic about the realm of the dead. The paladin actually seemed afraid, although for himself or for his friends, Fitz could not discern.

Tobias was probably still angry with the priest. Tobias, like any good paladin would, charged into the shadowy tunnels after the undead. This was after Magnus had foolishly, no carelessly, read the words carved above the doorway. The priest had only been halfway down the ladder at that point. If he was on the ground with the others, he may have prevented it.

Such is life, though. Magnus read the foreign inscription. The door opened. The foul creatures attacked. And Tobias plunged into battle. Why does my life seem like a constant, vicious cycle?

The priest sighed again. Only through sheer force of will or the lack of divine healing, he really wasn’t sure which, Fitz had persuaded the warrior and mage to leave the undead for another day. Magnus closed the door, sealing the undead within their crypts, and the Heroes had left.

Now, the party was slogging through the rough, heat-blasted terrain to return to Dun Moor. Fitz turned his eyes to the scenery, hoping the barren landscape would erase his feeling of ill content.

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Motega pulled up and stared, intently, at the sky. A thin wisp of white smoke was gently falling toward the party, almost as if it was a feather of mist. No wind blew across the barren fields or the distant forests, and the few clouds dotting the sky moved in an unparallel manner. During the split-second moment the Rornman spotted the descending fog, his bow was drawn. The Rorn barked for the rest of the company to ready weapons.

Magnus slipped behind a rock and readied a spell as Fitz hefted his scythe and Tobias moved forward to stand near Motega. All eyes focused on the mist as it dropped into the field, just off the path. The fog shifted and coalesced into a humanoid form. Motega released an arrow that impotently passed through without harm.

The mist solidified, slowly and suddenly - to the party’s utter astonishment – into a diminutive form. The figure stepped forward.

A halfling. A woman.

She is dressed in a white cloak with baggy, gray pantaloons. Her face is emotionless, her eyes intent. She scans each of Hero, noting the amazed expressions, then gracefully bows.

"You have made an enemy, men."

Tobias scowled. "You are our enemy, then?" The paladin dropped his bow and drew the greatsword in the blink of an eye.

"Not I, no. Put away your weapons; I am beyond your power to harm."

Something in her voice caused the Heroes to believe her. They relaxed their weapons, if not their guard. Fitz stepped cautiously forward. "What is it you want from us, halfling?"

"You killed a Culite brother. This much is known. While he did not hold much power, he did hold much promise. Other stronger members of his black order favored him. They have marked you as their enemies."

Magnus listened intently, and the spoke, "What order to you speak of? His church?"

"Yes," she nodded. "The Church of Cula Vak. You should be wary, now, for their reach is great and their determination steadfast. They will answer blood for blood, as they already have."

The Cerian priest frowned. "Say what you mean."

"Your druid friend - she is dead, burnt in Rhelm. You might have saved her, but you did not. You made a hard choice, and we are in a time where hard choices must be made. You have garnered the interest of my own order."

"And what is your order?"

"That is not for me to answer, at this time. Suffice to say that enemies of the Culties are friends of ours. And we mark you as our friends, for now."

Motega spit. "Friends do not deal in riddles with other friends. If you wished to warn us, you have done so, and may go. You have told us nothing we did not already know."

The halfling studied the Rornman for a silent moment. "Then I will offer you something that, perhaps, you do not know. The Culite you killed was based in Minetown, west of here, on the coast. The black brothers are very, very interested in that small village - and we do not know why. Yet."

"Good luck finding out," Tobias mumbled. "We have other matters to attend."

"Perhaps," she responded. "But your lives are already at risk. I think it would be...prudent...to learn all you can of your enemy."

Fitz rubbed his chin in thought. "You just floated down here like a cloud - a windwalk spell, I believe. That is a powerful divine boon. Surely you have the capability to discover the secrets in Minetown on your own."

"I do, but I have other matters to attend. There are many threats to my order that we know about, and we are few. We cannot chase after mysteries - not at this time."

"How do we know you do not work for the Culties?"

The halfling’s eyes flickered with anger. "Never would I work with them. You can trust me, or not. It is of no matter to me. I was told to warn you, and deliver the message that I have spoken. My task is done."

"Ah..." Magnus moved forward. "What is to be our reward?"

The halfling glared at the young spellcaster. "Information. It is more valuable than gold or magic, now. It may well save your life."

Tobias nodded, a smug grin on his face, "Then begin with a down payment. You have told us nothing important-"

"I have told you what may save your life. Do you not count that as important?"

"Not really, no." The paladin laughed a little.

"Then go to Minetown. Find why the Culites are interested in the place. Do this, and you will be rewarded."

"With more...information?" Motega barely hid his disdain.

"Yes, and more, perhaps."

"Who do we seek in Minetown? Where do we go? I am not in favor of blindly walking into a village infested by Culites without any more information than you have provided." Magnus too, grew irritated with the prospective of being paid with information.

"There is a tavern there - the Whore's Nag. The owner is Wembly Burrfoot, a halfling like myself. He may have more information for you, or he may not. It is, if nothing else, a start."

"And little else," Tobias added. "When will we see you again?"

"You may not. I do not know the minds of my superiors."

"What is your name?" Fitz questioned.

"I am a messenger; my name is unimportant."

Motega grinned. "We have ways of finding information."

"I am not a cur to be hanged form the battlements of Castle Llyndofare, gentlemen – if I may call you such. And yes, I know about that. And even more I know about the lot of you. I must confess I questioned my superiors when they stated they thought you may be important to our cause."

"Go then," Fitz uttered, "and we shall discuss what you have said."

The halfling nodded and, instantly, melted and reformed into a shapeless cloud. Within minutes, the cloud rose above the party and flew southward, disappearing amidst the other patches of whiteness in the azure skies.

 

[Funeris]

Yup Yup. Finally updated. For those of you that don't read my other SH thread (the homebrewed game I DM), my internet connection is having problems. That combined with a lot of other crap has kept me from updating.

Now, for those of you that are curious...the above portion of text (within the quote box) is actually Destan's writing. I have changed verb tense, and added a bit here...or there...but its still his original writing. Since he seems content to slip into obscurity with his own thread, I hereby present the above text to all the Destan fans the world over

That all being said, how would you like the actual quote Destan sent us preceding the above email? What's that?? You can't answer because this is a post and not truly a conversation? Ok, I'll give it to you anyway.

Fellas, not to railroad you here, but I'm gonna post a little encounter and just assume you guys don't attack (for once).

Yup..that was the man himself. I think sometimes, in hindsight, we may have annoyed him slightly.

 

[Funeris]

So...is anyone (aside from Yeti) still reading this thread?

 

[Greg Dickens]

I for one am still reading, obviously only when you Update. You do a great job now post .

 

[OaxacanWarrior]

So...is anyone (aside from Yeti) still reading this thread?

I'm still here too. I'm also reading your other SH, Blade of Phoee (sp?). Keep up the posting!

 

[Funeris]

Well I'm glad I still have readers.

And as long as there are readers...I'll keep updating. Look for an update...lets say Sunday-ish.

~Fune

 

[Tirlanolir]

Funeris, I'm a lurker. But I'm still reading, too! Keep up the good work!

 

[Funeris]

Interlude: Leadership

Gentle, calming wisps of fire leapt upward. A light smoke drifted into the warm summer sunset carrying the scrumptious scent of roasted meat into the southeastern breeze. A small copse of trees sighed in the minimal gusts, its leaves fluttering briskly.

High above, the white fluff of clouds departed across the heavens toward their eventual destination beyond the horizon. Their interplay among the rapidly shifting hues of the sky mimicked a lackadaisical battle. Large, slow palls gobbled the swifter yet immensely smaller clouds. Predators and prey warred upon the background of a chameleon azure vault.

Beneath this battle, more wars were fought. Winged predators dive-bombed their eternal nemeses, their food-sources. Some rested on branches, watching their prey with wary and hungry eyes. Other’s focused their sight downward, into the hypnotizing dance of fire and the four large creatures stretched out around its light. The voracious beasts sang in the emerging twilight, welcoming darkness and the end to another natural day.

The four large beasts lying idly upon the ground were on the lowest warring plane of the natural world. The wars in heaven were slow, grueling and never-ending. But as the layers of turmoil were peeled away the amount of battles increased and death occurred more rapidly. The final, lowest plane of war was the most brutal of all. Lives were lost everyday, quickly and without warning. Sometimes, the lives were tossed away, pointless wastes in a pointless and unending war.

Pinpricks of light burst through the deep blue shaded vault, chasing the martial clouds to the horizon. The eyes of the four beasts upon the ground watched the war, not even realizing the cosmic metaphor that played out before their eyes. Understanding was present in their minds, but danced at the edges just beyond an imaginary line of comprehension. And so, they interpreted beauty and felt wonder; cheap and imaginary facades that covered harsh reality.

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Motega sat up, twilight had fallen complete. Above in the heavens, the distant light of stars fell toward the Valus faintly lighting the area. Overbearingly, the campfire cast its angry shades of red toward the twilight. Wherever the light of stars fell upon the foliage, the fiery reds devoured the silver sheen.

“We need to talk,” the Rornman grunted quietly. His eyes stared now through the light foliage, beyond which lay the solid walls of Dun Moor. “About what happened in the Abbey,” he added for clarification.

When none of the others spoke, Motega continued. “I have welcomed you all into my family. Every family even our own needs a strong leader. Back home, this was my father. Here, my father holds no claim. This leader must be one of us. Otherwise, all that will happen is more of what we experienced in the Abbey.

“We will go at each other’s throats, no better than animals in the wild. I cannot hold this place of leadership. I am an Outsider. I will always be treated as such within Rhelm. A leader must be chosen.” The Rornman stood, fire and shadow casting strange shadows across his face. “It is the only way we will live. Dark times are coming. If one of us does not hold the power, for good or naught, to declare a final decision, we will all fall.”

Fitz coughed. “I agree with Rorn. And although I am a Rhelmsman, I hail from the Weedsea. I am practically from an outsider as well. I could never fulfill the role.” The priest turned his attention back toward the sun-baked grass, his hands twirling the blades aimlessly.

“Well, uh,” Magnus now spoke up, “I’d be more comfortable in an advisory capacity. I don’t think I’d be taken seriously. I am after all nearly the youngest here. Warriors are listened to in Rhelm, not mages.” Magnus turned his attention toward Tobias. “That leaves you, Paladin.”

Tobias shifted to a crouch in front of the fire. “If I accept this position of leadership, my commands will need to be followed exactly.” The paladin turned his eye toward the cleric. Fitz did not match the gaze. “I may be the youngest, but as the mage said, Rhelmsmen respect warriors. I will have no problems representing our group. When we’re in battle however, if and when I give an order, it will be followed. If I chase a foe, that foe must be taken. I cannot afford, we cannot afford, to have any dissension.

“Are we agreed?” The paladin had stood, righteousness again flaring behind his eyes.

A terse nod or mumble from each member noted acceptance of the terms. Fitz’s face flushed slightly but the devouring light of the campfire hid the hue. Tobias walked a short distance from the campfire to bed down for the night.

 

[Funeris]

The way its gonna go down....

Okay folks...I supplied a sunday update as I promised (just like the good paladin I am )

I entitled it an interlude because we're about to skip a bunch of stuff....

What you're going to miss:
1. We returned to Dun Moor...and gave Lady Erigal the horns of Uzukiel (the only part of his body that didn't turn to ash after he died). She was disgusted and didn't want them.
2. We traveled back to Llyndofare via Marchford. Marchford, as you'll remember, was destroyed (more or less). We find a bunch of the King's (actually the Lord of Dun Beric's) men trying to rebuild Marchford.
3. The Mayor is still in Marchford (he was one of the few to survive...along with the captain). Tobias tries to intimidate the Captain (who's been a complete f**cker)...and manages to fail horribly (2,3,2 on the rolls) and the Captain basically call's him a little girl.
4. The Heroes set up an information chain between themselves, Oggut (the barkeep) and the Mayor of Marchford...because Culites have been asking about the Heroes in and about Marchford.
5. A strange mushroom is found in Marchford....and the Heroes couldn't figure out what it did. Tobias tests it (by eating it)...goes blind for a split-second before feeling alright..
6. The Heroes head to Llyndofare and then west to the Caves just north of Dun Moor.
7. The Heroes clear out the caves (Magnus the Mad-Mage throws his first ever fireball). They find the caves did connect to the tunnels under Llyndofare but that the connection has been collapsed. Magnus ruthlessly interrogated a dark elf....with a fireball...and we heard more of prophecies and doom...about the creatures of the Underdark rising to rule the world (we've heard this before).
8. After we cleared the caves...we headed north to Andoric's Stepps...to pick up horses and gear....
9. Then, we headed to the Abbey...that's probably where I'm going to pick it back up. The party returns to the Abbey to clear out the undead. Our intent after that is to head to Minetown to see what was up with the Floating Halfling Nun's (TM) threats of enemies in Minetown. That's probably one of the greatest moments in the Heroes of Marchford's history....after that we'll hit the downward spiral into the end....

The reason I'm skipping so much is that its a lot of seemingly redundant information...and I'm ready to get back into the action of it. We were all pulling our hair out here...trying to figure out what was going on...and trying to ignore Destan's Floating Halfling Nun (TM) plot thread....

We always figured if we followed any obvious plot thread he laid out there that we'd all be wiped out in a blaze of glory...and fought as hard as we could our "destinies" as it were...so...with the next update....you'll see us give up and embrace our fates