Al-Qarin: Into the Desert (3-1-24)
TaranTheWanderer
Legend
I got word that EN is slowly plugging away at the next update, but I have yet to get anything to proof-read. Darned RL stuff always getting in the way!
In the mean-time, I can field any questions about the campaign if anyone has any. Maybe it'll movtivate him
In the mean-time, I can field any questions about the campaign if anyone has any. Maybe it'll movtivate him
EternalNewbie
Explorer
Another drop fell.
“That can't be good,” Gorak growled. “We'd better put a stop to that right quick.
“Anybody got a bucket?” Shayla asked with a grim smile.
“I don't think it's going to be that simple,” Geoff replied, an inscrutable look on his face. Cupping his hand, he held it out and caught the next drop. Despite his clenched fingers, the drop squeezed through and followed the other into the statue's mouth. Several more followed, each finding its way to the same place, while the pool overhead continued to grow.
“Well, somebody better figure something out,” Shayla muttered. “Because I'm guessing that the real fun is going to start when that thing gets full up.”
It was hardly noticeable but the falling blood was starting to gather within, turning the crystal a pale pink. Khalid didn't need a divination to tell him that they were in the presence of powerful magic. He could feel it all around them, like the dull throb of a rotting tooth, writhing its way into this thoughts. The others were clearly just as affected.
“As scary as that hunk of stone is,” Azarek rasped, “in about a minute, we're going to have more immediate concerns.” To prove his point, a dull thud echoed down the hall followed quickly by a second and third, spurring them into action. Gorak began to chant, his skin becoming thick and rough, while Shayla pulled out a scroll and spoke the triggering word, surrounding herself with glowing bands of armour. Khalid hesitated for a minute before moving up beside Azarek. Pulling out a small diamond from his belt, he knelt down and crushed it with the hilt of his dagger. Chanting, he gathered up the dust in his hand, and exhaling with the final word of the spell, blew it over Azarek. The diamond swirled around him briefly, coating his flesh. His craggy features seemed to harden, becoming even more angular and pronounced.
Khalid held up his hand and interrupted the question. “A spell similar to that of Gorak's, only your skin will be as hard as diamond.
Azarek ran his hand across the edge of his bastard sword, eliciting nothing more than a gravelly screech. “Nice,” he growled.
“Indeed,” Khalid said. “But remember it is only your skin that has hardened. The shock of a powerful blow may still pass through your body and bruise the organs within.” Rejoining the others, he took up his spot along the back wall. On his left was Shayla, almost in the corner. To his right were the rangers, Geoff and another ranger, a young man, barely old enough to shave, stood behind the alter, with the other further down along the wall. Geoff, unlike the other two, didn't have his bow out, and was simply standing, staring at the ceiling, his eyes focused on the falling blood.
Azarek stepped up to the door, angled slightly off to the side so as not to be directly in the line of fire. Crouching slightly behind his shield, he let the tip of his sword rest on the stone. Gorak moved over to the wall in the middle of the room behind him.
A few seconds later they heard the crash of shattered stone falling down the stairs, and Orc voices flooded the hall. Azarek shifted his weight onto his back foot, and raised his sword. The room shuddered with a mechanical grinding sound, causing the older ranger to grin wickedly. “That oughta slow em down a bit.” The Orcish war cries became screams of agony and surprise.
An orc entered from the tunnel, charging forward at a dead run, a wicked iron axe held high over his head. Before he could strike, Azarek stepped forward with his shield, stopping him in his tracks with a bone jarring impact. Lashing out with his blade, he hacked a deep wound into the Orcs arm, trying to drive him backwards and block the doorway. The orc, shaking off the wound, held his ground, allowing another to force his way into the room.
Gorak's thick growl drowned out Shayla's melodious voice as they both began to cast. The older ranger drew back his bowstring and fired, but fear of hitting Azarek caused him to miss wide. Khalid held back, waiting for a better opportunity to unleash his depleted arsenal of spells and was dismayed to see that the younger ranger was frozen in place, cowering in fear in the face of the growing onslaught. More concerning was Geoff, who still had not drawn a weapon. He stood transfixed by the thickening stream of blood, a pensive, almost serene expression on his face.
Shayla completed her spell, flicking a handful of magical darts at the wounded orc. Jerking backward under the impact, the orc collapsed as the last dart pierced his eye, killing him instantly. Her attack barely bought Azarek enough time to turn his attention to the other orc when the fallen one was replaced by another howling warrior. Trying to stem the tide, Gorak finished chanting, conjuring up a globe of pure flame and rolling it into the passageway.
A shouted command from down the hall caused the two Orcs battling Azarek to shift their positions, fanning out on either side of him as they battered at him with their weapons, somewhat ineffectually thanks to Khalid's magic.
From his vantage point almost directly opposite the tunnel, Khalid saw the next threat emerge into the ruddy glow of Gorak's spell. The Orc's face, painted bone white, was streaked with blood. He was almost naked, save for a thick leather harness festooned with daggers that crisscrossed his chest. In each hand was a long serrated knife, the teeth thick with gore. Sprinting down the hall, he leapt head first over the flaming barrier. He hit the ground in a roll, tumbling under Azarek's slash and, barely breaking stride, he was back on his feet, charging forward at a dead run.
Realizing somewhat belatedly that his choice of position left much to be desired, Khalid backpedalled, shrieking out the words to a spell. His timing was perfect. The Orc, only a few feet away, took the full force of his spell directly in the face. The explosion of colours that erupted from his hands overwhelmed the Orc, rendering him senseless. With vacant eyes, the orc stumbled past Khalid, smashing face first into the wall. Staggering backwards, his nose shattered, the blades tumbled from his hands and clattered to the ground.
“Geoff, help me!” Khalid pleaded, trying to jar him loose from the catatonic fascination that held him motionless. For all its theatrics, the spell he cast was a minor one and had bought him a few seconds reprieve at best. When the confusion passed, Khalid had no doubt who would bear the brunt of his rage. But even his peril wasn't enough to rouse Geoff. The older range however, heard the cry and tossed aside his bow, pushing past Geoff. Unsheathing a pair of short swords as he moved, he drove both blades up to their hilt in the stunned Orc's stomach.
More Orcs pushed their way into the room, ignoring the burns they suffered jumping over Gorak's spell. The unfortunate one closest to Shayla barely saw the inside of the room before she cut him down with a flurry of razor sharp discs of pure force. Gorak broke into another chant finishing with a snap of his fingers that caused his right hand to burst into flame. Drawing back, he pitched a burning missile at one of the Orcs, wounding him badly. Azarek continued his relentless onslaught, abandoning his defence to Khalid's magic and slashing wildly at his opponents.
Thinking to buy them a brief reprieve from the pressing horde, Khalid began to cast, angling a tiny golden spark past Azarek and down the length of the passage. The spell detonated with a silent flash, briefly chasing away the darkness. Howls of rage echoed through the chamber, indicating that more than a few succumbed to the blinding effects of his magic. Despite his success the sheer number of glowing, dust covered Orcs that jammed the tunnel did little to improve his morale. Seeing no immediate opportunity to help, Khalid took a step towards Geoff to grab and shake sense into him, when he nodded once, and looked around, seeming to see the battle for the first time. “I understand,” in response to an unheard question. Then, he began to sing.
It seemed ludicrous under the circumstances but Geoff's voice, a deep rolling baritone at odds with his rough and craggy appearance, filled the room, drowning out the sounds of battle. The words of his song evoked images of cool glades and running streams; rustling branches and shining meadows. A tiny pinprick of golden light materialized in front of him, above the statue. He raised his hands up slowly, in time with the rising swell of his voice and the light expanded, forming a glittering bowl that captured the stream of falling blood. Extending his hands above his head, Geoff turned his face up towards the ceiling. The bowl continued to grow, flooding the room with a glow akin to sunlight and forming a barrier that covered the entire ceiling, trapping the blood and preventing it from reaching the statue.
Khalid felt his spirit soar and for the first time, began to believe they might yet survive the ordeal. The Orcs, shaken by a ritual more powerful than their own, quailed beneath the light. Azarek seized the advantage and bashed aside his opponent's feeble defence, nearly decapitating him with a brutal slash. Gorak and Shayla continued their furious attack, driving the Orcs back into the mouth of the tunnel.
The painted orc beside him, shocked free of the magical confusion by the agony of his wounds, pulled a knife from the bandolier on his chest. Even mortally wounded, he struggled with the ranger, managing to stab him in the neck with his blade. The ranger jerked back, pulling his swords free, causing the orc to groan and sink to his knees. He lashed out again, but the orc managed to feebly parry his blows, taking another wound but denying the killing blow.
Blinded Orcs, staggering over the flaming orb, stumbled into the room only to be cut down in the crossfire from Shayla and Gorak. Azarek kept his opponents at bay but was unable to score a telling blow, while the Orcs in turn were frustrated by his heavy plate and hardened skin. The ranger at his right continued to struggle with the orc, taking another wound to the thigh, before running the edge of his blade across his throat, leaving him to die gasping in a pool of blood. Abandoning his bow, he moved up to support Azarek and prevent the Orcs from surrounding him.
Still seeing no need to intervene, Khalid watched Azarek and the ranger systematically demolish the lead orc; one of them would faint to draw his defence while the other stepped in to strike. A flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. The young ranger, obviously heartened by Geoff's singing, was finally joining the battle. Khalid turned to extoll him into action as the look of fear melted away, replaced with a vicious sneer.
But he wasn't looking at the Orcs, Khalid realized in horror.
He was looking at Geoff.
“NO” Khalid screamed as the young man lunged forward, burying his dagger to the hilt in Geoff's armpit, just above his armour. Geoff sagged forward, slumping over the statue. The traitor pulled out his knife and readied for another strike.
AZAREK! Help Geoff!
At Khalid's mental shout, Azarek spun around on his heel, taking a blow to the back of the head that without his magical protection would have broken his neck. Instantly recognizing the danger, he charged across the room. Diving over the statue, he tackled the ranger and dragged him to the ground before he could strike again. Gorak, flicking another flaming missile down the hall, looked over his shoulder and, seeing Geoff fall, started towards him.
Pushing himself upright, Geoff struggled to continue his hymn, managing a few more words before he took a breath and began to choke on blood from a punctured lung. Gasping, he fell forward again, his lifeblood washing over the stone orc and flowing into its mouth.
And then, the light went out.
“That can't be good,” Gorak growled. “We'd better put a stop to that right quick.
“Anybody got a bucket?” Shayla asked with a grim smile.
“I don't think it's going to be that simple,” Geoff replied, an inscrutable look on his face. Cupping his hand, he held it out and caught the next drop. Despite his clenched fingers, the drop squeezed through and followed the other into the statue's mouth. Several more followed, each finding its way to the same place, while the pool overhead continued to grow.
“Well, somebody better figure something out,” Shayla muttered. “Because I'm guessing that the real fun is going to start when that thing gets full up.”
It was hardly noticeable but the falling blood was starting to gather within, turning the crystal a pale pink. Khalid didn't need a divination to tell him that they were in the presence of powerful magic. He could feel it all around them, like the dull throb of a rotting tooth, writhing its way into this thoughts. The others were clearly just as affected.
“As scary as that hunk of stone is,” Azarek rasped, “in about a minute, we're going to have more immediate concerns.” To prove his point, a dull thud echoed down the hall followed quickly by a second and third, spurring them into action. Gorak began to chant, his skin becoming thick and rough, while Shayla pulled out a scroll and spoke the triggering word, surrounding herself with glowing bands of armour. Khalid hesitated for a minute before moving up beside Azarek. Pulling out a small diamond from his belt, he knelt down and crushed it with the hilt of his dagger. Chanting, he gathered up the dust in his hand, and exhaling with the final word of the spell, blew it over Azarek. The diamond swirled around him briefly, coating his flesh. His craggy features seemed to harden, becoming even more angular and pronounced.
Khalid held up his hand and interrupted the question. “A spell similar to that of Gorak's, only your skin will be as hard as diamond.
Azarek ran his hand across the edge of his bastard sword, eliciting nothing more than a gravelly screech. “Nice,” he growled.
“Indeed,” Khalid said. “But remember it is only your skin that has hardened. The shock of a powerful blow may still pass through your body and bruise the organs within.” Rejoining the others, he took up his spot along the back wall. On his left was Shayla, almost in the corner. To his right were the rangers, Geoff and another ranger, a young man, barely old enough to shave, stood behind the alter, with the other further down along the wall. Geoff, unlike the other two, didn't have his bow out, and was simply standing, staring at the ceiling, his eyes focused on the falling blood.
Azarek stepped up to the door, angled slightly off to the side so as not to be directly in the line of fire. Crouching slightly behind his shield, he let the tip of his sword rest on the stone. Gorak moved over to the wall in the middle of the room behind him.
A few seconds later they heard the crash of shattered stone falling down the stairs, and Orc voices flooded the hall. Azarek shifted his weight onto his back foot, and raised his sword. The room shuddered with a mechanical grinding sound, causing the older ranger to grin wickedly. “That oughta slow em down a bit.” The Orcish war cries became screams of agony and surprise.
An orc entered from the tunnel, charging forward at a dead run, a wicked iron axe held high over his head. Before he could strike, Azarek stepped forward with his shield, stopping him in his tracks with a bone jarring impact. Lashing out with his blade, he hacked a deep wound into the Orcs arm, trying to drive him backwards and block the doorway. The orc, shaking off the wound, held his ground, allowing another to force his way into the room.
Gorak's thick growl drowned out Shayla's melodious voice as they both began to cast. The older ranger drew back his bowstring and fired, but fear of hitting Azarek caused him to miss wide. Khalid held back, waiting for a better opportunity to unleash his depleted arsenal of spells and was dismayed to see that the younger ranger was frozen in place, cowering in fear in the face of the growing onslaught. More concerning was Geoff, who still had not drawn a weapon. He stood transfixed by the thickening stream of blood, a pensive, almost serene expression on his face.
Shayla completed her spell, flicking a handful of magical darts at the wounded orc. Jerking backward under the impact, the orc collapsed as the last dart pierced his eye, killing him instantly. Her attack barely bought Azarek enough time to turn his attention to the other orc when the fallen one was replaced by another howling warrior. Trying to stem the tide, Gorak finished chanting, conjuring up a globe of pure flame and rolling it into the passageway.
A shouted command from down the hall caused the two Orcs battling Azarek to shift their positions, fanning out on either side of him as they battered at him with their weapons, somewhat ineffectually thanks to Khalid's magic.
From his vantage point almost directly opposite the tunnel, Khalid saw the next threat emerge into the ruddy glow of Gorak's spell. The Orc's face, painted bone white, was streaked with blood. He was almost naked, save for a thick leather harness festooned with daggers that crisscrossed his chest. In each hand was a long serrated knife, the teeth thick with gore. Sprinting down the hall, he leapt head first over the flaming barrier. He hit the ground in a roll, tumbling under Azarek's slash and, barely breaking stride, he was back on his feet, charging forward at a dead run.
Realizing somewhat belatedly that his choice of position left much to be desired, Khalid backpedalled, shrieking out the words to a spell. His timing was perfect. The Orc, only a few feet away, took the full force of his spell directly in the face. The explosion of colours that erupted from his hands overwhelmed the Orc, rendering him senseless. With vacant eyes, the orc stumbled past Khalid, smashing face first into the wall. Staggering backwards, his nose shattered, the blades tumbled from his hands and clattered to the ground.
“Geoff, help me!” Khalid pleaded, trying to jar him loose from the catatonic fascination that held him motionless. For all its theatrics, the spell he cast was a minor one and had bought him a few seconds reprieve at best. When the confusion passed, Khalid had no doubt who would bear the brunt of his rage. But even his peril wasn't enough to rouse Geoff. The older range however, heard the cry and tossed aside his bow, pushing past Geoff. Unsheathing a pair of short swords as he moved, he drove both blades up to their hilt in the stunned Orc's stomach.
More Orcs pushed their way into the room, ignoring the burns they suffered jumping over Gorak's spell. The unfortunate one closest to Shayla barely saw the inside of the room before she cut him down with a flurry of razor sharp discs of pure force. Gorak broke into another chant finishing with a snap of his fingers that caused his right hand to burst into flame. Drawing back, he pitched a burning missile at one of the Orcs, wounding him badly. Azarek continued his relentless onslaught, abandoning his defence to Khalid's magic and slashing wildly at his opponents.
Thinking to buy them a brief reprieve from the pressing horde, Khalid began to cast, angling a tiny golden spark past Azarek and down the length of the passage. The spell detonated with a silent flash, briefly chasing away the darkness. Howls of rage echoed through the chamber, indicating that more than a few succumbed to the blinding effects of his magic. Despite his success the sheer number of glowing, dust covered Orcs that jammed the tunnel did little to improve his morale. Seeing no immediate opportunity to help, Khalid took a step towards Geoff to grab and shake sense into him, when he nodded once, and looked around, seeming to see the battle for the first time. “I understand,” in response to an unheard question. Then, he began to sing.
It seemed ludicrous under the circumstances but Geoff's voice, a deep rolling baritone at odds with his rough and craggy appearance, filled the room, drowning out the sounds of battle. The words of his song evoked images of cool glades and running streams; rustling branches and shining meadows. A tiny pinprick of golden light materialized in front of him, above the statue. He raised his hands up slowly, in time with the rising swell of his voice and the light expanded, forming a glittering bowl that captured the stream of falling blood. Extending his hands above his head, Geoff turned his face up towards the ceiling. The bowl continued to grow, flooding the room with a glow akin to sunlight and forming a barrier that covered the entire ceiling, trapping the blood and preventing it from reaching the statue.
Khalid felt his spirit soar and for the first time, began to believe they might yet survive the ordeal. The Orcs, shaken by a ritual more powerful than their own, quailed beneath the light. Azarek seized the advantage and bashed aside his opponent's feeble defence, nearly decapitating him with a brutal slash. Gorak and Shayla continued their furious attack, driving the Orcs back into the mouth of the tunnel.
The painted orc beside him, shocked free of the magical confusion by the agony of his wounds, pulled a knife from the bandolier on his chest. Even mortally wounded, he struggled with the ranger, managing to stab him in the neck with his blade. The ranger jerked back, pulling his swords free, causing the orc to groan and sink to his knees. He lashed out again, but the orc managed to feebly parry his blows, taking another wound but denying the killing blow.
Blinded Orcs, staggering over the flaming orb, stumbled into the room only to be cut down in the crossfire from Shayla and Gorak. Azarek kept his opponents at bay but was unable to score a telling blow, while the Orcs in turn were frustrated by his heavy plate and hardened skin. The ranger at his right continued to struggle with the orc, taking another wound to the thigh, before running the edge of his blade across his throat, leaving him to die gasping in a pool of blood. Abandoning his bow, he moved up to support Azarek and prevent the Orcs from surrounding him.
Still seeing no need to intervene, Khalid watched Azarek and the ranger systematically demolish the lead orc; one of them would faint to draw his defence while the other stepped in to strike. A flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. The young ranger, obviously heartened by Geoff's singing, was finally joining the battle. Khalid turned to extoll him into action as the look of fear melted away, replaced with a vicious sneer.
But he wasn't looking at the Orcs, Khalid realized in horror.
He was looking at Geoff.
“NO” Khalid screamed as the young man lunged forward, burying his dagger to the hilt in Geoff's armpit, just above his armour. Geoff sagged forward, slumping over the statue. The traitor pulled out his knife and readied for another strike.
AZAREK! Help Geoff!
At Khalid's mental shout, Azarek spun around on his heel, taking a blow to the back of the head that without his magical protection would have broken his neck. Instantly recognizing the danger, he charged across the room. Diving over the statue, he tackled the ranger and dragged him to the ground before he could strike again. Gorak, flicking another flaming missile down the hall, looked over his shoulder and, seeing Geoff fall, started towards him.
Pushing himself upright, Geoff struggled to continue his hymn, managing a few more words before he took a breath and began to choke on blood from a punctured lung. Gasping, he fell forward again, his lifeblood washing over the stone orc and flowing into its mouth.
And then, the light went out.
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