(Adventure) The Monestary of Saint Feragon <Judge:Macbeth>

[nimisgod]

"Not that I have anything against heroics, but I'm sure my ghost would be troubled every time uncle Mort said 'pointless' before it in the stories... And if the situation downstairs is mostly contained, we may want to finish searching the upper levels for possible allies or bases to work from."

Sir Ishmael nodded at Kirin's words, in understanding but not necessarily agreement. Luck and providence had indeed saved him from injury thus far. Who truly knew when fickle fate would turn her back upon him?

Nevertheless, the fate of the monks troubled him to the point of distraction. Each second wasted could be the end of whatever monk remained alive and uncorrupted. Yet, if Sir Ishmael and his companions fell here, what purpose toward the greater good would it solve?

Nay, given his own choice, Sir Ishmael would push ahead as far as he could to save the monks, even to the point of foolishness. Unfortunately, he could not speak for the rest of the party. Nay, he would not and could not subject them to the rigors that his Code required him to do. "Responsibility to your companions", Sir Mazan always pounded into the halfling's thick skull.

Aye. His duty was to protect them as well as protect the monks. And he would not drag them to what Kirin called "heroics" nor tempt them to do so just for his own sake. He was in great doubt of his influence in the group, but he was content to give them protection for the moment.

Was he fence-sitting? Perhaps. He preferred to think of it as following the dictates of the majority. Sir Ishmael kept quiet, ready to accept whatever the group wanted to do as a whole.

 

[Uriel]

OoC:Are we all updated now?

 

[Aranel]

Aranel had grown bored, for creatures with short lives they sure did waste a lot of it arguing amongst themselves. She had drawn her rapier edged towards the wall. "While you discuss tactics...I will scout ahead for us." she called softly not planning to go too far, mostly aiming to check there was nothing listening in on them, no traps ahead or ambushes. She could be informed of the plan when the Dwarves had grasped it. Tactics were no good without information to base them upon...

 

[Uriel]

OoC:Hehehe, elf for supper...I mean, ahem. :|
Folks, heal now or forever hold your Potions, er...you know what I mean.

IC

Aranel inched forward along the room as the others get settled as to what they wanted to do and how they wanted to proceed.
At the far side of the room (with Rurik and Sturm not too fat behind), the young Elf pauses, Listening, hearing a distinct sound other than the Drummng. It sounded like chanting...

 

[Aranel]

Her green eyes closed as she focussed on the voices ahead, trying to distinguish a few, to get a rough idea of how many there may be. There may have been some not chanting too...not saying anything but chanting usually meant some form of magic and creatures with magic hell-bent on ones destruction were often a lot more dangerous than creatures hell bent on ones destruction waving a sword.

Swords for instance, couldn't open portals into the Abyss or to any other plane of the not-so-nice.

At least none she'd come across had...

((Listen))

 

[Uriel]

((Listen))

Aranel makes out no voices other than those raised in Chanting. A her estimate, there were at least a score of voices...maybe two dozen.

 

[dpdx]

Rurik turns to look at the priestess with the seriousness of a hallowing. Softly, he begins.

"Er, no, of course not, Kirin. Tactics're welcome, too. Would yer like I should hold 'em down first so you c'n splash 'em with the holy water? It seemed ter work on that dead bad guy we made for yer back 'ere, I'm think'n it's worth a shot!

But seriously, I tell yer what: I'll bet yer this 'ere axe offa my bloody dead stump ter be mourned later agin' a hunnerd a' yer clean, livin' gold tha' our tactics're just as effectivelike agin' the vexin' feral menace as the dancin' lights and ghost sounds, miss. Are ye up ta takin' that wager? The way I sees it, we got a big-pile-o'-dead-bad-guys 'ead start, but if yer so sure we're fixin' ta be dead, that ought not ter be much o' a problem, eh? Ye'd 'ave all the ex-ferals ye'd managed ter get back through yer sage and noble lecturin'!

Yer got a lot ter say ter people, I's noticin', from the comfort of yer freshly-cleaned-out plannin' area. Mind ye remember how that area came ter be, I'm just sayin'. An' alls I's sayin' afore was dun hit me with them lights, I'd hate ter stand there dumbfounded an' droolin'. It cramps me swing."

Rurik turns back toward the upcoming fray, briefly. Columbo-like ("an' another thing"), he turns back toward the priestess, a finger raised from his stubby little shield hand.

"An' please be quicker with the healin', lest ye actually have ter fight some o' 'em yerdurnself. I's fixin' ta die back there a coupla piles ago, bein' front an' center once again, ya know."

 

[nimisgod]

Sir Ishmael was quick to step between Rurik and Kirin in an attempt to stem the approaching conflict. T'was almost impulsive of the halfling to try to bring some peace to what he perceived was a division within the party but then, he tended to be such in less than calm moments.

"Please, friend Rurik, Lady Kirin, calm thine tempers. Remember that we are allies together in this dangerous place. Our survival depends on our cooperation and mutual respect for one another's differences in ways. If thou must have anger, I pray thee, send it forth against the abominations that haunt this place and not against each other.

Both of thine abilities and talents are indispensible to the party. Could we not compromise so that both of thine, preferences toward the handling of this venture are met?"

 

[Uriel]

OoC:If you folks didn't see in the discussion thread, Im off for a week of gencon West, see you all monday.

 

[dpdx]

Rurik looks at Sir Ishmael with respect, and listens.

"Oh, I'm thinkin' we got an unnerstandin', now. But thanks anyhow. I 'preciate the words o' wisdom."

Rurik then turns to Sturm, and speaks softly and excitedly (in Dwarven). "Dawg, can you believe the mouth on that gnome? Is there a soul in this room she hasn't chastised? I say -one- thing: I'd rather not get hit with the spells, could you please keep me out of the area of effect, you know? And it's like I soiled the altar or something. Dawg, I haven't had forgemasters that hardass!

Haven't we been team players? Didn't we almost die back there? Who's the melee sponges, dawg? Huh?

I wonder if the priests back home can make me Chainmail of Lecture Resistance. I'm serious, yo! That last one damn near peeled the skin off my horns!"

Rurik arches an eyebrow, and turns back to the fray, waiting for the plan to finalize and the go signal to be given.