Phyrric Legacy - Shackled City IC Thread
- Thread starter Malvoisin
- Start date
Malvoisin
First Post
As the party settles in to rest in the lab, Dowlee agrees to cast Detect Magic on the various items the group has collected.
She prays, and then examines the dark cloak, the vial of liquid, and the gray bag. The dark cloak does not radiate any magical aura...it seems that whatever shadowy abilities the dark creepers have stem from themselves, and not from their cloaks. The other items, however, do detect as magical. The liquid vial radiates a strong aura of transmutation, while the gray bag has a faint aura of conjuration about it. (OOC: Let me know if you want to experiment further with these items, make spellcraft checks, etc.)
Flannad gathers the extra blades and proceeds to jam them under the three secret doors, to avoid any unexpected visitors. He then gets to work rigging some glassware to provide a makeshift alarm at each door. Arak and Liracor cautiously backtrack to make sure the doors they through are closed. Once they safely return, the alchemists' table is pushed over to block the tunnel entrance.
With all these preparations made, the party settles in to rest. Each one takes a watch period, except Remen, who, everyone agrees, needs the sleep. While the experience is uncomfortable, and somewhat disquieting (your eyes keep playing across the dead skulk or piles of rags, as though expeciting them to rise again), it is ultimately uneventful. The party has rested well enough to recover from the previous day's rigors.
(OOC: Spells, psionic power points, and rage uses are recovered. Everyone at less than full strength regains 2 hp.)
Okay, it's a new day! Where is the party headed?
She prays, and then examines the dark cloak, the vial of liquid, and the gray bag. The dark cloak does not radiate any magical aura...it seems that whatever shadowy abilities the dark creepers have stem from themselves, and not from their cloaks. The other items, however, do detect as magical. The liquid vial radiates a strong aura of transmutation, while the gray bag has a faint aura of conjuration about it. (OOC: Let me know if you want to experiment further with these items, make spellcraft checks, etc.)
Flannad gathers the extra blades and proceeds to jam them under the three secret doors, to avoid any unexpected visitors. He then gets to work rigging some glassware to provide a makeshift alarm at each door. Arak and Liracor cautiously backtrack to make sure the doors they through are closed. Once they safely return, the alchemists' table is pushed over to block the tunnel entrance.
With all these preparations made, the party settles in to rest. Each one takes a watch period, except Remen, who, everyone agrees, needs the sleep. While the experience is uncomfortable, and somewhat disquieting (your eyes keep playing across the dead skulk or piles of rags, as though expeciting them to rise again), it is ultimately uneventful. The party has rested well enough to recover from the previous day's rigors.
(OOC: Spells, psionic power points, and rage uses are recovered. Everyone at less than full strength regains 2 hp.)
Okay, it's a new day! Where is the party headed?
Attachments
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
The rest was uncomfortable for Jon. While Dowlee had created water, Jon refused any food given to him as his companions needed it more than he. He, in fact, needed neither, but did not feel it was the appropriate time to broach the subject. In addition, he knew he was going to have to 'feign' sleep as it was not natural for him anymore, but no one really seemed to pay attention---his meditation was close enough for them.
In the night, in his meditation, he usually found solace from the Voices. It was usually just the crystal gems of his thoughts. But not tonight. Tonight, the Voices impinged, reminding him of all the violence of the day. He kept on seeing Flannad and Liracor fall again and again, felt the knife of the dark one in his back. It made him sick. The Voices taunted him, taunted his weakness. It was enough to almost drive him mad. Mad enough to cry "ENOUGH!" at the latest incarnation of the dark one in his dream, enough to see it burst into flames by the power of his mind alone! Jon was stunned, but he knew it was his doing.
At that very moment, the Voices sang in ululation, but Jon ran from them. Ran until the dark one was there once again, once again with the knife. He did not want to burn it again, did not want to give into the violence of the Voices. But a dark side of him, a dark shadow, whispered that there was another way. Desperate for any way to stop it, Jon listened, and threw the Voices at the killer like a knife. It struck it in the head, and Jon felt its will collapse, its thoughts become Jon's, its very self laid bare before his thoughts. It horrified him, yet it was disturbingly pleasing....
Sickened and yet well rested, Jon startled himself out of his reverie. No one seemed to notice. He hoped they did not. He immediately shut away the Voices, but he knew they were still there---and that they were waiting for him.
~~~~
A bruised Jon approaches the others. "We are still hurt, and could little stand a battle." He points at the even more bruised Remen. "Some of us more than others. While we must get the children, there is little we can do in this state. I know Mistress Downlee can tend to some of our wounds, but is that enough? The path on the map is clear, we should try that other 'Z' door, though with the 'U' key we could search that near room for healing supplies. But, we have little chance to survive another encounter in this state."
In the night, in his meditation, he usually found solace from the Voices. It was usually just the crystal gems of his thoughts. But not tonight. Tonight, the Voices impinged, reminding him of all the violence of the day. He kept on seeing Flannad and Liracor fall again and again, felt the knife of the dark one in his back. It made him sick. The Voices taunted him, taunted his weakness. It was enough to almost drive him mad. Mad enough to cry "ENOUGH!" at the latest incarnation of the dark one in his dream, enough to see it burst into flames by the power of his mind alone! Jon was stunned, but he knew it was his doing.
At that very moment, the Voices sang in ululation, but Jon ran from them. Ran until the dark one was there once again, once again with the knife. He did not want to burn it again, did not want to give into the violence of the Voices. But a dark side of him, a dark shadow, whispered that there was another way. Desperate for any way to stop it, Jon listened, and threw the Voices at the killer like a knife. It struck it in the head, and Jon felt its will collapse, its thoughts become Jon's, its very self laid bare before his thoughts. It horrified him, yet it was disturbingly pleasing....
Sickened and yet well rested, Jon startled himself out of his reverie. No one seemed to notice. He hoped they did not. He immediately shut away the Voices, but he knew they were still there---and that they were waiting for him.
~~~~
A bruised Jon approaches the others. "We are still hurt, and could little stand a battle." He points at the even more bruised Remen. "Some of us more than others. While we must get the children, there is little we can do in this state. I know Mistress Downlee can tend to some of our wounds, but is that enough? The path on the map is clear, we should try that other 'Z' door, though with the 'U' key we could search that near room for healing supplies. But, we have little chance to survive another encounter in this state."
Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
"I can do a little to help with the wounds as well. I fear that if we leave now, we might as well abandon the children, and that I will not do."
Land Outcast
Explorer
Dreams of the hunt, as always, beneath Cauldron... but in this new dream he wasn't running alone...
Remen starts stretching as much as he can, but is stopped midway and curls back into normal position, wracked by intense pain. He decides that stretching isn't the best idea then, and starts standing up... to his surprise he has to help himself with his still-unsheathed scimitar.
Once he is back up, coughing a little blood, he declares "we must go on"
Remen starts stretching as much as he can, but is stopped midway and curls back into normal position, wracked by intense pain. He decides that stretching isn't the best idea then, and starts standing up... to his surprise he has to help himself with his still-unsheathed scimitar.
Once he is back up, coughing a little blood, he declares "we must go on"
Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
((OOC: Arak can now lay on hands to bring folks up six hit points, if nothing else. Do we have any more potions left?))
Flannad rises from his uncomfortable sleep. After a quick meal of trail rations from his pack, the young gnome listens to what the others have to say. "I say we try the southern 'Z' door. The children are why we are here... and delaying it more would be pointless."
Whichever way the party decides, Flannad will resume his scouting role, and remind the others of the pit trap when they get to it.
Whichever way the party decides, Flannad will resume his scouting role, and remind the others of the pit trap when they get to it.
Similar Threads
