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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6898368" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>INTERLUDE: FULL MOON RISING</strong></p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 10 September 2016</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>"Are you sure about this?" asked Castillan, stepping out of the Vistani wagon in his undergarments.</p><p></p><p>"It be our best course of action, given th' timeframe," replied Ingebold. "Now climb up into th' mule wagon like a good lad."</p><p></p><p>Castillan complied, climbing into the back of the flat, wooden wagon the dwarven cleric generally drove. The two mules, Franco and Tantrum, were tethered nearby and contentedly eating grass by the roadside where the group had opted to set up camp for the evening.</p><p></p><p>"Now give me yer leg," commanded Ingebold, taking Castillan's left foot and tying it securely with a sturdy rope. Once satisfied with its tightness, she pulled the length of it through the spokes of the right rear wagon wheel, wrapped it around a few spokes for good measure, then passed the rope beneath the wagon and did the same using the left rear wagon wheel, before passing it back up onto the back of the wagon, where she tied the loose end around Castillan's right ankle and pulled it tight.</p><p></p><p>"Ouch!" complained Castillan, his legs now spread wide and bound in place.</p><p></p><p>"I'm surprised at your griping," teased Finoula. "I'm sure you've paid good money in the past to be tied up like this."</p><p></p><p>Binkadink approached with a glass vial and extended his <em>gnomish stilt-boots</em> so he could pass it to Castillan over the side of the wagon before the elf's hands were bound as well. The bounder took the flask from the gnome, who marveled it had been many months since he'd last seen Castillan without the twin <em>gloves of storing</em> that usually kept his blades from view. "What's this?" the bounder asked, before upending the contents and drinking it down in one swig. He made a face at the taste, then guessed, "One of your uncle's concoctions?"</p><p></p><p>"No," answered Binkadink. "He got it from an acquaintance of his -- it's poison."</p><p></p><p>"What?" gasped Castillan, as Finoula bound his left hand tightly with another length of rope. It followed a similar course as the rope binding his legs: through the spokes of the right front wagon wheel, under the wagon, through the spokes of the left front wagon wheel, and then over to the bounder's right wrist, which Finoula was even now starting to wrap with the loose end of the rope. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"</p><p></p><p>"Nothing so sinister," replied Binkadink. "It's liquefied insanity mist -- it'll just dull your senses for a bit. With any luck, you won't instinctively try to ward off the effects of Ingebold's spell."</p><p></p><p>"Yes, none of that," scolded the cleric. "I kin only cast th' spell so many times, an' each time ye try t' fight it, that's that much less 'f a chance we'll be havin' fer a successful outcome."</p><p></p><p>"Yes, ma'am," Castillan answered, lowering his head back down against the wood of the wagon, now that he was tightly bound in a spread-eagled fashion. Already, his mind was getting fuzzy and it was getting harder to speak. "Howm...how much longer?" he asked.</p><p></p><p>Ingebold cast her glance at the twilight sky. "Not much longer now," she reassured him.</p><p></p><p>"You think this work?" asked Gilbert, ambling up now that it was almost time.</p><p></p><p>"It'll work -- ye're th' one who came up with th' process," answered Ingebold.</p><p></p><p>"You got spells ready?" Gilbert prompted. "Remember, if first spell fail, start casting second one right away. We probably don't have time for you to cast it as many times as you have stored in head."</p><p></p><p>"I know what I'm doin'," chided Ingebold, shooing the irritating wizard away. "Why don't you worry about what ye'll be doin', instead of pesterin' me?"</p><p></p><p>"I know what I be doing," replied Gilbert. "I have <em>Evard's black tentacles</em> spell all ready to go."</p><p></p><p>"And I know what I'll be doing," added Darrien, taking a silver arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the <em>Arachnibow</em>.</p><p></p><p>"I'm sure it won't come to that," said Finoula hopefully.</p><p></p><p>As the sun set and the sky grew darker, Ingebold stepped up to the front of the wagon and looked back at Castillan, spread-eagled before her, his head by her feet. "I'm sure Moradin will understand me use of this spell," she said, then cast a <em>bestow curse</em> spell on the already dazed bounder, forcing his mind and willpower to recede even further.</p><p></p><p>The first rays of Luna crept over the tree line and cast their wan light upon the group of adventurers. Castillan tensed, then bucked under his restraints as a spasm of pain shook his frame. Without a moment's hesitation, Ingebold began the words to her first <em>remove curse</em> spell. It was the one with the best chance of success, as this casting would strip away the <em>bestow curse</em> she had just cast upon Castillan; any further castings wouldn't have the additional chance of success provided by his further addled state of mind. But the cleric needn't have worried; the group had taken all of the precautions they could think of, and the spell was a success. Just as a light fur started sprouting from the nearly-naked bounder's flesh, it suddenly halted its growth and began receding as quickly as it had grown. Castillan's head slumped to the right as he lost consciousness from the ordeal.</p><p></p><p>"Squentiffick blastulong!" suggested Aithanar, pulling at the ropes of his brother's left wrist. Castillan was untied, and then left where he was in the back of the wagon. Aithanar threw a blanket over his brother's body so he wouldn't be cold during the night.</p><p></p><p>"He'll likely be out th' night long," commented Ingebold.</p><p></p><p>"Well, that's one way to get out of patrol duty," commented Darrien, stowing away his silver arrow and glad that it hadn't been needed after all.</p><p></p><p>"I'll take the first shift," offered up Finoula.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>Unconscious, Castillan did what elves almost never do at night, since they enter a trance rather than sleep -- he dreamed. In his dream, he was running through a dark forest, pursued by an enormous, ravening wolf. The bounder raced between trees and leaped over rocks, but the wolf not only kept pace with him, it was slowly gaining on him. And then the impossible happened: the sure-footed elf, capable of running straight up a wall or leaping from one rooftop to another without breaking a sweat, tripped over a root and went tumbling headfirst onto the forest floor. Hastily, he flipped over onto his back, snapping his fingers to bring forth the short sword stored in his magical glove -- only to find he was no longer wearing either of his gloves. Nor his leather armor, now that he noticed it.</p><p></p><p>The wolf loomed above him, its mouth open in hunger and drool spilling over its black lips. Castillan instinctively knew that if the wolf got a bite of him, his life would be over.</p><p></p><p>And then, in the near-darkness of the dream-forest, a light came blazing forth. At its touch, the ends of the wolf's fur began to singe and the creature backed off, howling in pain. With one last, evil look of pure hatred in Castillan's direction, the beast loped off, away from the light to be swallowed up in the darkness of the forest.</p><p></p><p>Castillan turned toward the light, instinctively raising his had to block out the worst of it. It was the hammer-and-anvil holy symbol of Moradin, chief god of the dwarves, which had driven off the massive wolf.</p><p></p><p>Bathed in Moradin's light, Castillan dropped back against the forest floor. It had an earthy smell, the scent of growing things, of life. It was restful here, Castillan decided, as consciousness drifted from him in the dream world of his imagination.</p><p></p><p>And in the morning, when Castillan awoke, he no longer had the taint of wolven lycanthropy running through his veins. Furthermore, the bite mark he had received from the werewolf Andrei - which had failed to heal over despite numerous curative spells cast upon the bounder since - was now completely gone.</p><p></p><p>Castillan smiled. Today was going to be a good day.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>T-Shirt Worn: Still the green dragon T-shirt, as it was still the same session.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6898368, member: 508"] [b]INTERLUDE: FULL MOON RISING[/b] Game Session Date: 10 September 2016 - - - "Are you sure about this?" asked Castillan, stepping out of the Vistani wagon in his undergarments. "It be our best course of action, given th' timeframe," replied Ingebold. "Now climb up into th' mule wagon like a good lad." Castillan complied, climbing into the back of the flat, wooden wagon the dwarven cleric generally drove. The two mules, Franco and Tantrum, were tethered nearby and contentedly eating grass by the roadside where the group had opted to set up camp for the evening. "Now give me yer leg," commanded Ingebold, taking Castillan's left foot and tying it securely with a sturdy rope. Once satisfied with its tightness, she pulled the length of it through the spokes of the right rear wagon wheel, wrapped it around a few spokes for good measure, then passed the rope beneath the wagon and did the same using the left rear wagon wheel, before passing it back up onto the back of the wagon, where she tied the loose end around Castillan's right ankle and pulled it tight. "Ouch!" complained Castillan, his legs now spread wide and bound in place. "I'm surprised at your griping," teased Finoula. "I'm sure you've paid good money in the past to be tied up like this." Binkadink approached with a glass vial and extended his [i]gnomish stilt-boots[/i] so he could pass it to Castillan over the side of the wagon before the elf's hands were bound as well. The bounder took the flask from the gnome, who marveled it had been many months since he'd last seen Castillan without the twin [i]gloves of storing[/i] that usually kept his blades from view. "What's this?" the bounder asked, before upending the contents and drinking it down in one swig. He made a face at the taste, then guessed, "One of your uncle's concoctions?" "No," answered Binkadink. "He got it from an acquaintance of his -- it's poison." "What?" gasped Castillan, as Finoula bound his left hand tightly with another length of rope. It followed a similar course as the rope binding his legs: through the spokes of the right front wagon wheel, under the wagon, through the spokes of the left front wagon wheel, and then over to the bounder's right wrist, which Finoula was even now starting to wrap with the loose end of the rope. "What are you trying to do, kill me?" "Nothing so sinister," replied Binkadink. "It's liquefied insanity mist -- it'll just dull your senses for a bit. With any luck, you won't instinctively try to ward off the effects of Ingebold's spell." "Yes, none of that," scolded the cleric. "I kin only cast th' spell so many times, an' each time ye try t' fight it, that's that much less 'f a chance we'll be havin' fer a successful outcome." "Yes, ma'am," Castillan answered, lowering his head back down against the wood of the wagon, now that he was tightly bound in a spread-eagled fashion. Already, his mind was getting fuzzy and it was getting harder to speak. "Howm...how much longer?" he asked. Ingebold cast her glance at the twilight sky. "Not much longer now," she reassured him. "You think this work?" asked Gilbert, ambling up now that it was almost time. "It'll work -- ye're th' one who came up with th' process," answered Ingebold. "You got spells ready?" Gilbert prompted. "Remember, if first spell fail, start casting second one right away. We probably don't have time for you to cast it as many times as you have stored in head." "I know what I'm doin'," chided Ingebold, shooing the irritating wizard away. "Why don't you worry about what ye'll be doin', instead of pesterin' me?" "I know what I be doing," replied Gilbert. "I have [i]Evard's black tentacles[/i] spell all ready to go." "And I know what I'll be doing," added Darrien, taking a silver arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the [i]Arachnibow[/i]. "I'm sure it won't come to that," said Finoula hopefully. As the sun set and the sky grew darker, Ingebold stepped up to the front of the wagon and looked back at Castillan, spread-eagled before her, his head by her feet. "I'm sure Moradin will understand me use of this spell," she said, then cast a [i]bestow curse[/i] spell on the already dazed bounder, forcing his mind and willpower to recede even further. The first rays of Luna crept over the tree line and cast their wan light upon the group of adventurers. Castillan tensed, then bucked under his restraints as a spasm of pain shook his frame. Without a moment's hesitation, Ingebold began the words to her first [i]remove curse[/i] spell. It was the one with the best chance of success, as this casting would strip away the [i]bestow curse[/i] she had just cast upon Castillan; any further castings wouldn't have the additional chance of success provided by his further addled state of mind. But the cleric needn't have worried; the group had taken all of the precautions they could think of, and the spell was a success. Just as a light fur started sprouting from the nearly-naked bounder's flesh, it suddenly halted its growth and began receding as quickly as it had grown. Castillan's head slumped to the right as he lost consciousness from the ordeal. "Squentiffick blastulong!" suggested Aithanar, pulling at the ropes of his brother's left wrist. Castillan was untied, and then left where he was in the back of the wagon. Aithanar threw a blanket over his brother's body so he wouldn't be cold during the night. "He'll likely be out th' night long," commented Ingebold. "Well, that's one way to get out of patrol duty," commented Darrien, stowing away his silver arrow and glad that it hadn't been needed after all. "I'll take the first shift," offered up Finoula. - - - Unconscious, Castillan did what elves almost never do at night, since they enter a trance rather than sleep -- he dreamed. In his dream, he was running through a dark forest, pursued by an enormous, ravening wolf. The bounder raced between trees and leaped over rocks, but the wolf not only kept pace with him, it was slowly gaining on him. And then the impossible happened: the sure-footed elf, capable of running straight up a wall or leaping from one rooftop to another without breaking a sweat, tripped over a root and went tumbling headfirst onto the forest floor. Hastily, he flipped over onto his back, snapping his fingers to bring forth the short sword stored in his magical glove -- only to find he was no longer wearing either of his gloves. Nor his leather armor, now that he noticed it. The wolf loomed above him, its mouth open in hunger and drool spilling over its black lips. Castillan instinctively knew that if the wolf got a bite of him, his life would be over. And then, in the near-darkness of the dream-forest, a light came blazing forth. At its touch, the ends of the wolf's fur began to singe and the creature backed off, howling in pain. With one last, evil look of pure hatred in Castillan's direction, the beast loped off, away from the light to be swallowed up in the darkness of the forest. Castillan turned toward the light, instinctively raising his had to block out the worst of it. It was the hammer-and-anvil holy symbol of Moradin, chief god of the dwarves, which had driven off the massive wolf. Bathed in Moradin's light, Castillan dropped back against the forest floor. It had an earthy smell, the scent of growing things, of life. It was restful here, Castillan decided, as consciousness drifted from him in the dream world of his imagination. And in the morning, when Castillan awoke, he no longer had the taint of wolven lycanthropy running through his veins. Furthermore, the bite mark he had received from the werewolf Andrei - which had failed to heal over despite numerous curative spells cast upon the bounder since - was now completely gone. Castillan smiled. Today was going to be a good day. - - - T-Shirt Worn: Still the green dragon T-shirt, as it was still the same session. [/QUOTE]
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