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<blockquote data-quote="Mahiro Satsu" data-source="post: 304626" data-attributes="member: 4970"><p>Episode III <strong>The Corpsecoil</strong> part 3</p><p></p><p>9, 10, 11 Eleasias—In Eveningstar, the Company regains their health and hones their skills in training. Bronn uses magicks of Identification to discern what the dweomered items do. At the House of Morning, the legendary Temuel Khiv (known to “Trueservant” and Myrkyr of Lathander only through stories of long ago) is raised before he can enter the Gates to the Final Battlefield where General Tempus awaits: his quest is not yet finished. Bronn goes to the shore of the Starwater and summons a familiar: the toad called Wolf.</p><p></p><p>12 Eleasias—In the high chamber of Tessaril’s Tower, the Company meets with Lady Winter, and agrees to mount another journey to the Haunted Halls, this time to deal with the kobold threat once and for all. Temuel Khiv agrees to join them. “The Corpsecoil—Ruathgrym—still dwells in the Gorge...I can feel his presence.” They learn that Kizzaf escaped from the Thayan Enclave only a few days earlier...</p><p></p><p>13 Eleasias—The sun burns hot upon the green fields and bushy hedgerows. </p><p></p><p>The Gorge is pale gray in the distance, rambling steadily from beyond the treeline to the misty fastnesses of the Stormhorns, their white caps only barely visible in the north. But in town the sun is bright and the apple trees are in full green cloaks studded with red. </p><p></p><p>The Company—now including the diminutive Wolf in Bronn’s pocket, and a cart drawn by the pony Velm has affectionately named Bronn—sets out early for the Halls, and marches until noon along the scorpion-infested trail.</p><p></p><p>Inside the musty and lichen-encrusted Halls, the party makes their way to the old barracks. They’ve decided to proceed toward those welcoming statues Daziel saw, but first Van suggests, “Let’s spike shut the doors to the kobolds’ ambush point.”</p><p></p><p>Corwyn volunteers. Everyone takes up positions around the arched opening as Corwyn scans the barracks. “Nothing in there,” he says.</p><p></p><p>He takes the spikes, and his hammer, and enters the barracks.</p><p></p><p>“Aaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeee--!!!” Corwyn staggers back, covered in bright green filth that melts his bloody hands and half of his face, an acrid mist rising from the wounds.</p><p></p><p>They try to wipe it off—it dissolves the cloth. Daziel is without a Cure disease prayer. Bronn states boldly, “We must use fire.” Grabbing a torch, he ignites the slime and cauterizes the wound…emitting a whimper of agony, Corwyn Black slides the floor. Nothing in his days of smithing weapons at the forge has prepared him for this.</p><p></p><p>Daziel heals the wounds, but it will be many days until Corwyn truly regains his hale and hearty vigor. An agreement is reached that the green slime will act as a natural safeguard against the kobolds coming or going by that route.</p><p></p><p>At the welcoming statues, both of bronze and gesturing to the bronze vault, the Company halts, debating the merits of simply opening the doors. “I have been here,” says Temuel Khiv. “The statues hold out bolts of lightning to anyone who opens the portal.”</p><p></p><p>The party spends a while trying to figure out how to toss two grappling hooks so that they remain hooked onto the huge bronze pull rings, without touching the doors.</p><p></p><p>After long minutes of this, Daziel cries out, “Enough of this! Fortune favors the bold!” She reaches out to grasp the pull ring—</p><p></p><p>“Wait!” cries Spellforger. “I have an idea. One needs a mage’s hand for this.” </p><p></p><p>He speaks an Artful word and moves a hand, and one by one the grappling hooks drift to the pull rings and attach themselves. With a sharp tug they open, blocking the lightning’s path and assuring safe passage.</p><p></p><p>In the passage beyond they discover a deadly house of traps, the corpse of Estrel (of the Band of Twilight) recently murdered as part of a ritual, and Rivior’s grand throne room with it’s mildewed tapestries, chest upon the throne, and its moving painting upon the southern wall depicting elves and men at war.</p><p></p><p>The Company does battle with skeletons that appear out of nowhere, and when Daziel turns them away they seem to flee toward a hall of pillars and vanish into thin air. Doors, pillars, rubble strewn about, halls blocked by falls of stone—even the ceiling of the pillared hall seems about to fall in despite Velm and Bronn’s assurances that it will not.</p><p></p><p>And always that distant click click click-click click from far away, and a deranged chuckle or groan from somewhere in the near darkness.</p><p></p><p>A six-hundred-pound stone block slides from the ceiling, crushing Daziel nearly to death, and the Company decides that they’ve seen enough of pillars. Besides, the others have opened a chest in the stone cellar, and released a cloud of potent sleep gas, and the sickly Corwyn Black is fully unconscious. No amount of shaking rouses him.</p><p></p><p>Through a secret door they discover the opposite side of the kobold’s ambush point, and receive a volley of bolts from the yapping “demon imps,” answering with a flask of alchemist’s fire.</p><p></p><p>They spike the door shut.</p><p></p><p>Back in the throne room, Saeita investigates the chest—it abruptly sprouts a pseudopod and swings at her. With a yelp she ducks, and the lid of the chest splits open to reveal a wide square red mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth. It uses another tendril to push open a secret panel behind it, and with the sandpaper growl of “Ee-Chutaa,” it slips away.</p><p></p><p>Through one of the throne room’s doors a scorched black room is found, with a tangle of scorched rags and a stone warhammer at the center. Slimy footprints disappear beyond the southern wall.</p><p></p><p>When the secret door is open, revealing a slimy staircase descending steeply into the dark, that crawling shiver goes down the neck of Temuel Khiv. “He is here,” says Sir Khiv, “the Corpsecoil is here.”</p><p></p><p>A trip step halfway down is spotted, averting a nasty fall into rusty sword blades. Corwyn sleeps peacefully in the scorched room.</p><p></p><p>In the Undercrypt, three dusty stone coffins line the far wall. Skeletons instantly spring to the attack, their bones slithering together and reforming as they are struck. One cloth-wrapped apparition rises from the center coffin, and is taken to pieces by the precise arrows of Van Dyksun and the spells of Bronn.</p><p></p><p>But from the third coffin rises another cloth-wrapped form, taller, dust sifting through its yellowed wrappings. In its gaunt and dessicated face, a malevolent intelligence seems to rest in its pale jade eyes. “Temuel,” it breathes, “you should not have come.”</p><p></p><p>“Your time is done, Ruathgrym,” replies Temuel, drawing from its sheath the Blood Point.</p><p></p><p>The battle rages fiercely, with the Company hammering away at the foul Corpsecoil from all sides. Bronn grants to his toad familiar a spell of combustion, and Wolf hops slowly across the chamber toward the unsuspecting Corpsecoil…</p><p></p><p>The Corpsecoil moans in fear now, as the blades of the Company wear away his foully-extended life. Gurgling, it hits the floor with a thud.</p><p></p><p>The Company cheers. At that precise moment, the toad hops through Temuel’s legs and touches the dusty cloth-wrapped corpse.</p><p></p><p>Whhhhhooooooooosssshhhhhhhhh!!! Ruathgrym bursts into cleansing flame.</p><p></p><p>Another cheer goes up from the Company.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mahiro Satsu, post: 304626, member: 4970"] Episode III [b]The Corpsecoil[/b] part 3 9, 10, 11 Eleasias—In Eveningstar, the Company regains their health and hones their skills in training. Bronn uses magicks of Identification to discern what the dweomered items do. At the House of Morning, the legendary Temuel Khiv (known to “Trueservant” and Myrkyr of Lathander only through stories of long ago) is raised before he can enter the Gates to the Final Battlefield where General Tempus awaits: his quest is not yet finished. Bronn goes to the shore of the Starwater and summons a familiar: the toad called Wolf. 12 Eleasias—In the high chamber of Tessaril’s Tower, the Company meets with Lady Winter, and agrees to mount another journey to the Haunted Halls, this time to deal with the kobold threat once and for all. Temuel Khiv agrees to join them. “The Corpsecoil—Ruathgrym—still dwells in the Gorge...I can feel his presence.” They learn that Kizzaf escaped from the Thayan Enclave only a few days earlier... 13 Eleasias—The sun burns hot upon the green fields and bushy hedgerows. The Gorge is pale gray in the distance, rambling steadily from beyond the treeline to the misty fastnesses of the Stormhorns, their white caps only barely visible in the north. But in town the sun is bright and the apple trees are in full green cloaks studded with red. The Company—now including the diminutive Wolf in Bronn’s pocket, and a cart drawn by the pony Velm has affectionately named Bronn—sets out early for the Halls, and marches until noon along the scorpion-infested trail. Inside the musty and lichen-encrusted Halls, the party makes their way to the old barracks. They’ve decided to proceed toward those welcoming statues Daziel saw, but first Van suggests, “Let’s spike shut the doors to the kobolds’ ambush point.” Corwyn volunteers. Everyone takes up positions around the arched opening as Corwyn scans the barracks. “Nothing in there,” he says. He takes the spikes, and his hammer, and enters the barracks. “Aaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeee--!!!” Corwyn staggers back, covered in bright green filth that melts his bloody hands and half of his face, an acrid mist rising from the wounds. They try to wipe it off—it dissolves the cloth. Daziel is without a Cure disease prayer. Bronn states boldly, “We must use fire.” Grabbing a torch, he ignites the slime and cauterizes the wound…emitting a whimper of agony, Corwyn Black slides the floor. Nothing in his days of smithing weapons at the forge has prepared him for this. Daziel heals the wounds, but it will be many days until Corwyn truly regains his hale and hearty vigor. An agreement is reached that the green slime will act as a natural safeguard against the kobolds coming or going by that route. At the welcoming statues, both of bronze and gesturing to the bronze vault, the Company halts, debating the merits of simply opening the doors. “I have been here,” says Temuel Khiv. “The statues hold out bolts of lightning to anyone who opens the portal.” The party spends a while trying to figure out how to toss two grappling hooks so that they remain hooked onto the huge bronze pull rings, without touching the doors. After long minutes of this, Daziel cries out, “Enough of this! Fortune favors the bold!” She reaches out to grasp the pull ring— “Wait!” cries Spellforger. “I have an idea. One needs a mage’s hand for this.” He speaks an Artful word and moves a hand, and one by one the grappling hooks drift to the pull rings and attach themselves. With a sharp tug they open, blocking the lightning’s path and assuring safe passage. In the passage beyond they discover a deadly house of traps, the corpse of Estrel (of the Band of Twilight) recently murdered as part of a ritual, and Rivior’s grand throne room with it’s mildewed tapestries, chest upon the throne, and its moving painting upon the southern wall depicting elves and men at war. The Company does battle with skeletons that appear out of nowhere, and when Daziel turns them away they seem to flee toward a hall of pillars and vanish into thin air. Doors, pillars, rubble strewn about, halls blocked by falls of stone—even the ceiling of the pillared hall seems about to fall in despite Velm and Bronn’s assurances that it will not. And always that distant click click click-click click from far away, and a deranged chuckle or groan from somewhere in the near darkness. A six-hundred-pound stone block slides from the ceiling, crushing Daziel nearly to death, and the Company decides that they’ve seen enough of pillars. Besides, the others have opened a chest in the stone cellar, and released a cloud of potent sleep gas, and the sickly Corwyn Black is fully unconscious. No amount of shaking rouses him. Through a secret door they discover the opposite side of the kobold’s ambush point, and receive a volley of bolts from the yapping “demon imps,” answering with a flask of alchemist’s fire. They spike the door shut. Back in the throne room, Saeita investigates the chest—it abruptly sprouts a pseudopod and swings at her. With a yelp she ducks, and the lid of the chest splits open to reveal a wide square red mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth. It uses another tendril to push open a secret panel behind it, and with the sandpaper growl of “Ee-Chutaa,” it slips away. Through one of the throne room’s doors a scorched black room is found, with a tangle of scorched rags and a stone warhammer at the center. Slimy footprints disappear beyond the southern wall. When the secret door is open, revealing a slimy staircase descending steeply into the dark, that crawling shiver goes down the neck of Temuel Khiv. “He is here,” says Sir Khiv, “the Corpsecoil is here.” A trip step halfway down is spotted, averting a nasty fall into rusty sword blades. Corwyn sleeps peacefully in the scorched room. In the Undercrypt, three dusty stone coffins line the far wall. Skeletons instantly spring to the attack, their bones slithering together and reforming as they are struck. One cloth-wrapped apparition rises from the center coffin, and is taken to pieces by the precise arrows of Van Dyksun and the spells of Bronn. But from the third coffin rises another cloth-wrapped form, taller, dust sifting through its yellowed wrappings. In its gaunt and dessicated face, a malevolent intelligence seems to rest in its pale jade eyes. “Temuel,” it breathes, “you should not have come.” “Your time is done, Ruathgrym,” replies Temuel, drawing from its sheath the Blood Point. The battle rages fiercely, with the Company hammering away at the foul Corpsecoil from all sides. Bronn grants to his toad familiar a spell of combustion, and Wolf hops slowly across the chamber toward the unsuspecting Corpsecoil… The Corpsecoil moans in fear now, as the blades of the Company wear away his foully-extended life. Gurgling, it hits the floor with a thud. The Company cheers. At that precise moment, the toad hops through Temuel’s legs and touches the dusty cloth-wrapped corpse. Whhhhhooooooooosssshhhhhhhhh!!! Ruathgrym bursts into cleansing flame. Another cheer goes up from the Company. [/QUOTE]
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