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<blockquote data-quote="Mahiro Satsu" data-source="post: 304623" data-attributes="member: 4970"><p>Episode III <strong>The Corpsecoil</strong> part 2</p><p></p><p>“I’m letting him out,” says Bronn.</p><p></p><p>“You can’t!” says Daziel.</p><p></p><p>“What if he’s trapped in there for a good reason?” asks Van Dyksun.</p><p></p><p>Saeita Nevi, still shaken by their encounter with the spirits of the dead, says nothing.</p><p></p><p>Ignoring all protests, Bronn and Velm (in a rare show of solidarity) smash the yellow gem.</p><p></p><p>The man in armor is suddenly sprawled upon the ground.</p><p></p><p>He stands slowly, and introduces himself as Temuel Khiv, a holy warrior of Tempus. As the tread the (now) well-known path back to Eveningstar, Temuel tells them his story (see above), and is horrified to learn that he has been trapped in the yellow gem for almost 200 years.</p><p></p><p>By midday the fog has burned off.</p><p></p><p>Headed down the trail, the Company approaches the Killing Keep…</p><p></p><p>In a grove of spruces just north of the Killing Keep, a gray squirrel chatters and screeches on a branch above Van Dyksun.</p><p></p><p>“Hey,” Van calls back to the others, “does anyone know if the squirrels are aggressive around here?”</p><p></p><p>The squirrel seems highly agitated.</p><p></p><p>Bronn laughs. “Come on, ranger, it’s a squirrel, for Mystra’s sake. Can’t you talk to it?”</p><p></p><p>Van shrugs. He scans the trail ahead, barely missing a hint of movement along a high ridge...</p><p></p><p>The Company reaches the wide point of Starwater Gorge, where the ruins of the Killing Keep are huddled against one wall, behind two crumbling walls and gatehouses.</p><p></p><p>Screechh! Tikka-tee-tikka! Scronch! The squirrel appears again, nearly leaping end over end in an attempt to do...something.</p><p></p><p>A woman’s voice, hoarse and ragged, echoes from the Killing Keep: “Help!”</p><p></p><p>The companions are instantly alert. “Someone’s in trouble,” says Temuel Khiv.</p><p></p><p>“You go investigate,” says Daziel. “I want to see what this squirrel’s problem is.” She and Saeita crouch over the agitated rodent.</p><p></p><p>The Company—Van Dyksun, Bronn Spellforger, Velm, Corwyn Black and Temuel Khiv—move off toward the forbidding walls of Rivior’s Keep.</p><p></p><p>The squirrel begins scratching at the dirt. Letters appear.</p><p></p><p>“What are you trying to tell us?” asks Daziel.</p><p></p><p>The squirrel manages, with great difficulty, to spell out FIND THE STONE TOOTH.</p><p></p><p>“Where?”</p><p></p><p>NORTH.</p><p></p><p>Just then the clash of metal on metal is heard from the Keep—Velm’s battle cry to Clanggeddin, Temuel Khiv’s bellicose roar, Corwyn Black’s wail: “The dead! They walk!”—with a glance at each other, Saeita Neví and Daziel run toward the Keep.</p><p></p><p>The Company of the Wolf passes through the first gatehouse to find a pair of tuskers waiting for them, and they charge...only to find that Risen corpses emerge from the inner bailey to hem them in. Add to that the fact that the area into which they have been drawn is tainted somehow: the air tastes flat and stale, somehow oily, and send shivers of despair down their spines. The inspiring presence of Temuel Khiv only partially wards off the fell influence. And worst of all: one of the corpses has a crossbow bolt through its throat—it is the Banite sorceror killed by Bronn at the southeast gatehouse.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly Kizzaf, the Red Wizard they thought was in custody at the Enclave, springs up from behind the battlements, atop the inner wall. “Time to die,” she gloats, in a ragged and hoarse voice, firing a crossbow down into the melee.</p><p></p><p>Bronn speaks words of magic, and swallows a live spider.</p><p></p><p>A swirling cloud of multihued energy emerges from the inner bailey. “Give up the map, and perhaps the Lord Bane will hear your pleas for mercy,” sneers a voice from within the vortex.</p><p></p><p>The battle continues, as Van Dyksun and Corwyn Black receive terrible wounds. A blue-skinned corpse with one hideously misshapen claw speeds into battle; the risen body of the Cleric slain at the southeast gatehouse, now somehow imbued with the evil of the Black Tyrant. Strikes from his claws elicit despairing curses from Velm—the creature’s blows seem to sap his skills and make him clumsy on his feet, filling him with unnatural cold...</p><p></p><p>The swirling vortex approaches Temuel Khiv, and a priest of Bane appears within the cloud, in the moment that he brings a heavy black flail over his helm in a deadly arc.</p><p></p><p>Crack-splush!</p><p></p><p>The flail sunders Temuel Khiv’s helm and drops him to the ground. From within the lacquered black helmet of the “Claw of Bane” comes a peal of mocking laughter.</p><p></p><p>Corwyn grabs the near-fallen Van Dyksun and attempts to flee.</p><p></p><p>Bronn climbs to the top of the wall, and readies his club. He and Kizzaf circle, she firing bolts stubbornly as the club swings close and closer, until finally Bronn is able to stave in her skull.</p><p></p><p>“We are leaving!” screams Corwyn.</p><p></p><p>“Cowards!” shouts Velm Trueforger. “My cousin is in there!”</p><p></p><p>Just then Daziel and Saeita Neví arrive at the gates. “Selûne commands you...begone!!!” The walking dead flee into the Keep with groans of fear and loathing. Only the Clawed Corpse and the Banite cleric remain.</p><p></p><p>With a few profane words, a red lash of energy extends from one of the Banite’s black gauntlets.</p><p></p><p>The battle is fierce and bloody. It seems to last until all are struggling for breath, exhausted with parrying and swinging their weapons at the Clawed Corpse, which shrugs off strikes as an oilcloth sheds water. At last, The Claw of Bane and his monstrous ally lie dead between the crumbling towers of the gatehouse.</p><p></p><p>And alas...so does Temuel Khiv, his noble brow split and spilling his lifeblood upon the soil.</p><p></p><p>A pyre is built, and Daziel hacks in rage at the corpses of the evil ones. The Claw of Bane, Kizzaf and the Clawed Corpse are piled upon the gathered kindling and set alight. “They’ll not plague us again,” says Daziel through gritted teeth.</p><p></p><p>Bronn glares at those who attempted to flee, and says almost nothing.</p><p></p><p>And what of the squirrel? Someone got to it while the battle raged...it has been crushed by a heavy boot. It gives a last twitch, and dies...and instantly ‘morphs into the dead body of an old wrinkled longbeard in dusty and tattered traveling clothes. In his rucksack is a small leather tome, which Bronn snatches away.</p><p></p><p>“Can’t you even respect the dead?” cries Daziel. “I’m beginning to think Velm was right about you, Spellforger.”</p><p></p><p>Bronn glares at her, and at all of them. “You’d foolishly give away everything we find, if I wasn’t here to stop you.”</p><p></p><p>“Let’s not fight,” pleads Van Dyksun. “We need to reach Eveningstar alive, after all.”</p><p></p><p>Victorious, alive, yet burdened by ill-will and heavy hearts, the Company of the Wolf sets off on the trail to Eveningstar.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mahiro Satsu, post: 304623, member: 4970"] Episode III [b]The Corpsecoil[/b] part 2 “I’m letting him out,” says Bronn. “You can’t!” says Daziel. “What if he’s trapped in there for a good reason?” asks Van Dyksun. Saeita Nevi, still shaken by their encounter with the spirits of the dead, says nothing. Ignoring all protests, Bronn and Velm (in a rare show of solidarity) smash the yellow gem. The man in armor is suddenly sprawled upon the ground. He stands slowly, and introduces himself as Temuel Khiv, a holy warrior of Tempus. As the tread the (now) well-known path back to Eveningstar, Temuel tells them his story (see above), and is horrified to learn that he has been trapped in the yellow gem for almost 200 years. By midday the fog has burned off. Headed down the trail, the Company approaches the Killing Keep… In a grove of spruces just north of the Killing Keep, a gray squirrel chatters and screeches on a branch above Van Dyksun. “Hey,” Van calls back to the others, “does anyone know if the squirrels are aggressive around here?” The squirrel seems highly agitated. Bronn laughs. “Come on, ranger, it’s a squirrel, for Mystra’s sake. Can’t you talk to it?” Van shrugs. He scans the trail ahead, barely missing a hint of movement along a high ridge... The Company reaches the wide point of Starwater Gorge, where the ruins of the Killing Keep are huddled against one wall, behind two crumbling walls and gatehouses. Screechh! Tikka-tee-tikka! Scronch! The squirrel appears again, nearly leaping end over end in an attempt to do...something. A woman’s voice, hoarse and ragged, echoes from the Killing Keep: “Help!” The companions are instantly alert. “Someone’s in trouble,” says Temuel Khiv. “You go investigate,” says Daziel. “I want to see what this squirrel’s problem is.” She and Saeita crouch over the agitated rodent. The Company—Van Dyksun, Bronn Spellforger, Velm, Corwyn Black and Temuel Khiv—move off toward the forbidding walls of Rivior’s Keep. The squirrel begins scratching at the dirt. Letters appear. “What are you trying to tell us?” asks Daziel. The squirrel manages, with great difficulty, to spell out FIND THE STONE TOOTH. “Where?” NORTH. Just then the clash of metal on metal is heard from the Keep—Velm’s battle cry to Clanggeddin, Temuel Khiv’s bellicose roar, Corwyn Black’s wail: “The dead! They walk!”—with a glance at each other, Saeita Neví and Daziel run toward the Keep. The Company of the Wolf passes through the first gatehouse to find a pair of tuskers waiting for them, and they charge...only to find that Risen corpses emerge from the inner bailey to hem them in. Add to that the fact that the area into which they have been drawn is tainted somehow: the air tastes flat and stale, somehow oily, and send shivers of despair down their spines. The inspiring presence of Temuel Khiv only partially wards off the fell influence. And worst of all: one of the corpses has a crossbow bolt through its throat—it is the Banite sorceror killed by Bronn at the southeast gatehouse. Suddenly Kizzaf, the Red Wizard they thought was in custody at the Enclave, springs up from behind the battlements, atop the inner wall. “Time to die,” she gloats, in a ragged and hoarse voice, firing a crossbow down into the melee. Bronn speaks words of magic, and swallows a live spider. A swirling cloud of multihued energy emerges from the inner bailey. “Give up the map, and perhaps the Lord Bane will hear your pleas for mercy,” sneers a voice from within the vortex. The battle continues, as Van Dyksun and Corwyn Black receive terrible wounds. A blue-skinned corpse with one hideously misshapen claw speeds into battle; the risen body of the Cleric slain at the southeast gatehouse, now somehow imbued with the evil of the Black Tyrant. Strikes from his claws elicit despairing curses from Velm—the creature’s blows seem to sap his skills and make him clumsy on his feet, filling him with unnatural cold... The swirling vortex approaches Temuel Khiv, and a priest of Bane appears within the cloud, in the moment that he brings a heavy black flail over his helm in a deadly arc. Crack-splush! The flail sunders Temuel Khiv’s helm and drops him to the ground. From within the lacquered black helmet of the “Claw of Bane” comes a peal of mocking laughter. Corwyn grabs the near-fallen Van Dyksun and attempts to flee. Bronn climbs to the top of the wall, and readies his club. He and Kizzaf circle, she firing bolts stubbornly as the club swings close and closer, until finally Bronn is able to stave in her skull. “We are leaving!” screams Corwyn. “Cowards!” shouts Velm Trueforger. “My cousin is in there!” Just then Daziel and Saeita Neví arrive at the gates. “Selûne commands you...begone!!!” The walking dead flee into the Keep with groans of fear and loathing. Only the Clawed Corpse and the Banite cleric remain. With a few profane words, a red lash of energy extends from one of the Banite’s black gauntlets. The battle is fierce and bloody. It seems to last until all are struggling for breath, exhausted with parrying and swinging their weapons at the Clawed Corpse, which shrugs off strikes as an oilcloth sheds water. At last, The Claw of Bane and his monstrous ally lie dead between the crumbling towers of the gatehouse. And alas...so does Temuel Khiv, his noble brow split and spilling his lifeblood upon the soil. A pyre is built, and Daziel hacks in rage at the corpses of the evil ones. The Claw of Bane, Kizzaf and the Clawed Corpse are piled upon the gathered kindling and set alight. “They’ll not plague us again,” says Daziel through gritted teeth. Bronn glares at those who attempted to flee, and says almost nothing. And what of the squirrel? Someone got to it while the battle raged...it has been crushed by a heavy boot. It gives a last twitch, and dies...and instantly ‘morphs into the dead body of an old wrinkled longbeard in dusty and tattered traveling clothes. In his rucksack is a small leather tome, which Bronn snatches away. “Can’t you even respect the dead?” cries Daziel. “I’m beginning to think Velm was right about you, Spellforger.” Bronn glares at her, and at all of them. “You’d foolishly give away everything we find, if I wasn’t here to stop you.” “Let’s not fight,” pleads Van Dyksun. “We need to reach Eveningstar alive, after all.” Victorious, alive, yet burdened by ill-will and heavy hearts, the Company of the Wolf sets off on the trail to Eveningstar. [/QUOTE]
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