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The Swordlands - updated 28th May; The Hanged Man
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<blockquote data-quote="Mathew_Freeman" data-source="post: 4757561" data-attributes="member: 1846"><p><strong>The Doorway to Hell</strong></p><p></p><p>Karl had been working hard on the imposing stone door at the back of the Hall of Thruthgelmir. Several times he had almost given up, as it seemed that every time he opened a section of the lock, some bizarre illogical counter-measure would activate and the lock would get more complex, not less. Still, he had persevered, and finally his patience was rewarded as the door swung open to reveal a descending stone spiral staircase.</p><p></p><p>Gleefully calling to the others, Karl conjured a magical light and peered down. The tight curve of the stairs meant he couldn’t see far, but as his companions approached, buckling on armour and weapons, the Gnome had a sudden, brilliant idea. Grabbing the now-cleaned skull of Prince Kindrbode, he clambered inside and hurled himself down the steps, bouncing, clattering and tumbling all the way. About half-way down it did occour to him that perhaps there was no bottom and he’d simply spin on through all eternity, or that he finish in a dreadful thud against a harsh wall, but instead the stairwell opened into a room and the skull skittered across the floor before coming to rest.</p><p></p><p>Karl clambered out, staggered, looked around blearily and was violently sick.</p><p></p><p>A few minutes later the rest of the group, having run down the stairs trying to keep up, arrived, lit by Sigurd’s own magelight. The room they found themselves in was clearly Prince Kindrbode’s bedroom – a filthy, refuse-strewn mess. In one corner a mattress, crawling with bugs, and in another a few scattered clothes. The stench was appalling and there appeared to be nothing of value except for an exit through the north wall. It was swiftly taken advantage of.</p><p></p><p>Giant-sized footprints lead further into the caves underground, finishing at a junction with a river. The water was tinged red, and Aengus speculated that this was water from the River of Knives, still stained with the rust from the iron deposits. With no other option, the party continue to follow the river, and after half an hour of walking a distant light emerged. The light of day penetrated weakly into the cave, along with a tremendous low rumbling roar.</p><p></p><p>Blinking in the sudden light, the companions emerged to a great vision of Nothing. They were stood on a small ledge, partway down a huge cliff. Above them, they could see jutting rocks and the high edge of the cliff, and ahead of them clouds, mist and spray disappearing into a grey bleakness lit only with the occasional rumble of thunder and far-distant flash of lightning. Below and to the sides the cliff extended to the edge of vision with nothing but a narrow ledge as a way down. Roping themselves together, they began to move down.</p><p></p><p>The journey was slow, monotonous and dangerous. Jutting rocks wore at the ropes, the path was slippery with water and occasionally other waterfalls shot from the cliff with great force, arcing off into the mist below. A cold wind blew and as the hours passed they took more and more time sheltering in small caves against the weather. Some caves extended further back into the wall, and it became apparent through the days of their journey that there were evidence of workings in the stone. Each layer showed more ancient work than the last, firstly appearing hundreds of years old, then millennia. There were rooms and hallways, maybe even evidence of long-gone cities.</p><p></p><p>Sigurd explained her theory as they walked, that each civilization had built on the work of those previously, striving ever upwards to escape the depths they had started from. Moving inside the cliff and following the pathways, climbs and slides down the group continued.</p><p></p><p>Aengus stopped suddenly at one point, smiled grimly, then continued walking.</p><p></p><p>“What was that?” asked Thunder. “You looked as though you’d seen a ghost.”</p><p></p><p>“Not exactly,” replied the Eladrin. “It’s just… I can feel my kin are getting closer. Or me, closer to them.”</p><p></p><p>“Hang on a minute,” said Iben. “I thought Eladrin came from the Feyworld, not from miles underground in dank caverns.”</p><p></p><p>“About that,” Aengus said. “I suppose this would be a good time to tell you that only my mother was an Eladrin…”</p><p></p><p><span style="color: orange">Note: This came as a bit of a shock, as you can imagine. Martin, who plays Aengus, had been dropping some hints for some time that he wasn't all he appeared to be, but to find out he's half-Drow was a bit unsettling.</span></p><p><span style="color: orange"></span></p><p><span style="color: orange">Next time: The party finally meets some other intelligent life down here!</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mathew_Freeman, post: 4757561, member: 1846"] [b]The Doorway to Hell[/b] Karl had been working hard on the imposing stone door at the back of the Hall of Thruthgelmir. Several times he had almost given up, as it seemed that every time he opened a section of the lock, some bizarre illogical counter-measure would activate and the lock would get more complex, not less. Still, he had persevered, and finally his patience was rewarded as the door swung open to reveal a descending stone spiral staircase. Gleefully calling to the others, Karl conjured a magical light and peered down. The tight curve of the stairs meant he couldn’t see far, but as his companions approached, buckling on armour and weapons, the Gnome had a sudden, brilliant idea. Grabbing the now-cleaned skull of Prince Kindrbode, he clambered inside and hurled himself down the steps, bouncing, clattering and tumbling all the way. About half-way down it did occour to him that perhaps there was no bottom and he’d simply spin on through all eternity, or that he finish in a dreadful thud against a harsh wall, but instead the stairwell opened into a room and the skull skittered across the floor before coming to rest. Karl clambered out, staggered, looked around blearily and was violently sick. A few minutes later the rest of the group, having run down the stairs trying to keep up, arrived, lit by Sigurd’s own magelight. The room they found themselves in was clearly Prince Kindrbode’s bedroom – a filthy, refuse-strewn mess. In one corner a mattress, crawling with bugs, and in another a few scattered clothes. The stench was appalling and there appeared to be nothing of value except for an exit through the north wall. It was swiftly taken advantage of. Giant-sized footprints lead further into the caves underground, finishing at a junction with a river. The water was tinged red, and Aengus speculated that this was water from the River of Knives, still stained with the rust from the iron deposits. With no other option, the party continue to follow the river, and after half an hour of walking a distant light emerged. The light of day penetrated weakly into the cave, along with a tremendous low rumbling roar. Blinking in the sudden light, the companions emerged to a great vision of Nothing. They were stood on a small ledge, partway down a huge cliff. Above them, they could see jutting rocks and the high edge of the cliff, and ahead of them clouds, mist and spray disappearing into a grey bleakness lit only with the occasional rumble of thunder and far-distant flash of lightning. Below and to the sides the cliff extended to the edge of vision with nothing but a narrow ledge as a way down. Roping themselves together, they began to move down. The journey was slow, monotonous and dangerous. Jutting rocks wore at the ropes, the path was slippery with water and occasionally other waterfalls shot from the cliff with great force, arcing off into the mist below. A cold wind blew and as the hours passed they took more and more time sheltering in small caves against the weather. Some caves extended further back into the wall, and it became apparent through the days of their journey that there were evidence of workings in the stone. Each layer showed more ancient work than the last, firstly appearing hundreds of years old, then millennia. There were rooms and hallways, maybe even evidence of long-gone cities. Sigurd explained her theory as they walked, that each civilization had built on the work of those previously, striving ever upwards to escape the depths they had started from. Moving inside the cliff and following the pathways, climbs and slides down the group continued. Aengus stopped suddenly at one point, smiled grimly, then continued walking. “What was that?” asked Thunder. “You looked as though you’d seen a ghost.” “Not exactly,” replied the Eladrin. “It’s just… I can feel my kin are getting closer. Or me, closer to them.” “Hang on a minute,” said Iben. “I thought Eladrin came from the Feyworld, not from miles underground in dank caverns.” “About that,” Aengus said. “I suppose this would be a good time to tell you that only my mother was an Eladrin…” [color=orange]Note: This came as a bit of a shock, as you can imagine. Martin, who plays Aengus, had been dropping some hints for some time that he wasn't all he appeared to be, but to find out he's half-Drow was a bit unsettling. Next time: The party finally meets some other intelligent life down here![/color] [/QUOTE]
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