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"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 302287" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 11: Skeletons in the Closet</strong></p><p></p><p>"Malak," Karak began, helping to steady his brother. "Aye, finally all that prayin' seems ta've worked as ye were able ta stop tha golem's 'ere."</p><p>The two dwarves eyed the unmoving statues suspiciously, each expecting the constructs to reanimate at any moment.</p><p>"Twasn't me, chalak," the Battleguard admitted. He could taste blood in the back of his throat. "Though mayhap tha Silver Queen had her hand in it."</p><p>Karak said nothing to this, but looked intently at the sharp blade of his axe. His gaze shifted between the weapon and the stone creatures while his brother got out his healing kit.</p><p>"I say we take a quick look see at tha rest of tha monastery what we have nae searched," the blonde dwarf said.</p><p>Malak swallowed back the coppery taste of his own blood and scowled up at his brother. Karak was leaning on his war axe, his eyes still warily studying the two statues for any signs of movement and Malak nodded.</p><p>"I'll be ready in a moment," the Battleguard replied and got about the business of patching himself up.</p><p>Malak could call on his Goddess to heal his brother if need be. And were there another Battleguard present the two clerics could heal each other with impunity. But the strictures of his faith prohibited Malak from using Shaharizod's healing graces on himself. Such tenants had long ago produced a strong tradition of mundane healing amongst initiate Battleguards, and few left the training hall without a healing kit and the knowledge of how best to use it. Malak was no exception.</p><p>He produced a vial of henbane paste and smeared a dollop on a strip of mutton jerky from his rations. He put the jerky in his mouth and began to chew, letting the bitter-tasting anesthetic trickle down his throat. He could feel the numbing affects almost at once and the taste of the medicine - while not pleasant - masked the metallic taste of blood. The medicine would only last a few hours, but he could take a tincture of adder's tongue when he bedded down for the night that would speed the healing process further.</p><p>He put away his supplies, picked up Arngrim's lantern and got to his feet.</p><p>"I be ready," he told Karak and his brother nodded.</p><p>"From now onward, ye'll check tha door as ye 'ave been, then I go in, an' ye watch behind," the warrior said hauling his axe up into a defensive position.</p><p></p><p>They went first to the only door they hadn't yet opened along the length of the hallway. It was situated at the far end of the hall in the left-hand wall, opposite the door by which they had exited the library. Beside it, set into the very end of the hall was a door that opened onto the balcony; wind howled around the jam, and the door itself rattled with the force of the storm outside.</p><p>Malak performed his check on the door they had chosen then stepped back, holding their light source high. Karak opened the door, and braced himself, but nothing sprang from the darkness. He saw some loose sheets of parchment fluttering in the breeze from the door leading out. There was a loose stack of them on a small table between the door and the narrow bed. One by one, they went tumbling on the wind, but other than that movement, the room was still.</p><p>The place had clearly once been the room of someone important in the monastery. Although it lacked any ornamentation, the furniture of the room was obviously of good quality, and the cold floor - which was bare everywhere else in the monastery - was covered with woven carpets to keep out the chill.</p><p>Karak took a few steps into the room and grabbed at the sheets of fluttering parchment. They were covered with horizontal lines of human runes, but the oil lamp on the tabletop had cracked from the cold and leaked oil onto the stack. Only one sheet remained legible and the warrior handed it to his brother while he continued his search of the place.</p><p>The parchment seemed to Malak to be a page from a diary written in a forceful hand using a stick of charcoal.</p><p>He cleared his throat and read the note aloud:</p><p></p><p>"Starday, the 18th of Fireseek, 1268 AE</p><p>I know him for who he is... Merikka have mercy on my soul, for it is I who have brought this curse upon our house. Thus it is up to me to save us... those who are still alive... whether it is the light or the heat of it he fears I ken nae, but my trap shall give him plenty of both tonight."</p><p></p><p>Malak did some quick translations of dates from human to dwarvish and grimaced.</p><p>"Almost a year ago ta tha day, me chalak," he told Karak. "What do ye make o' it?"</p><p>The larger dwarf harrumphed.</p><p>"Nae time ta worry on that jus' now," he added, rattling the small locked drawer in the table. "Me thinks it ta be near midnight an' I propose we open tha top door 'fore then. We'll think on tha clues once we've searched tha place from helm ta boots."</p><p></p><p>"That'll nae hold back an angry kobold," Malak chuckled at the flimsy barricade that Karak had erected in front of the doorway at the bottom of the narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. A goodly portion of his improvised obstruction consisted of the very door that had been wrenched off its hinges in the first place.</p><p>Karak scowled at his brother and placed the last piece of wood on the barricade.</p><p>"'Tis nae meant ta hold back anythin' at all," he told the Battleguard. "I only build it so that if'n somethin' comes down we'll know 'bout it by them havin' ta crash through tha door."</p><p>The Battleguard had to admit that it made a fair bit of sense.</p><p>"Now let's hurry on," the warrior added. "We've one more door ta go through 'fore we tackle tha room upstairs."</p><p></p><p>As usual, Malak found no traps on the door. Karak opened it and his brother shown the lantern light into the chamber beyond.</p><p>The room looked like it was a workshop of sorts. A large loom stood in the left rear corner still threaded with coarse fibers of the sort used in the making of monk's habits. A workbench and several wood working tools filled the other part of the room. A half-finished chair of the sort they had seen elsewhere in the monastery lay atop the workbench amidst a drift of wood shavings. Four bony figures were sprawled on the floor. Three of them seemed to have gone down fighting while the last skeleton lay crumpled in a corner grinning merrily at its dead friends.</p><p>Karak had time to see this much before the piles of bones rose up into menacing skeletal assailants.</p><p>"Watch me back," he growled to Malak and the skeletons were upon him.</p><p>Standing as he was in the doorway, he presented a target to only three of the skeletons. The fourth hung back behind the others, waving its arms madly above its head. The other three slashed and clawed at Karak with their fingers curled into bony hooks. The sound of bone clattering against metal filled the dwarves' ears as the warrior's platemail deflected the skeletons' attacks. Only two blows found their marks - one on his right shin and the other on his left shoulder.</p><p>They were too close for Karak to swing the war axe effectively. He brought the butt end of the weapon down against the knee of the skeleton on his left and was pleased to see the lower half of its leg fall away. Its kneecap pinged off the doorframe and the skeleton fell over backward, shattering into several hundred pieces.</p><p>Of course, this victory allowed the fourth skeleton an opportunity to move in for the attack. As it did so, the dwarf spun his axe around and brought it upward. The weapon cleaved through the skeleton's pelvis. Its right leg fell to the side, but for a moment, the skeleton hopped about on its left leg before it toppled and broke apart on the floor.</p><p>He allowed the upward momentum from his attack to bring the haft of the axe upward. He meant to strike the jaw of the skeleton on his right, but the axe blade struck the lintel above his head and he missed his target entirely.</p><p>His other two opponents wasted no time mourning the loss of their compatriot; they slashed at Karak with unabated fury. His mail saved him from the worst of it, but the bony fingers managed to somehow find their way beneath the armor on his left thigh and right bicep.</p><p>As he struggled to free his embedded weapon, the skeleton he'd been aiming for raked its claws across his abdomen.</p><p>He bellowed in pain and pulled the axe free with a mighty tug. The wide blade of the weapon shattered the skeleton's right thighbone, causing the undead thing to collapse into a pile on the floor.</p><p>Unperturbed, the last skeleton struck outward at his opponent. Its fingers clawed open a wound on Karak's right shoulder; the dwarf could feel blood flowing hotly beneath his armor.</p><p>He swung his axe upward, cleaving through the skeleton's left shoulder. Its left arm fell to the floor, but it slashed at Karak with its right. His downswing finished the undead thing by separating its head neatly from its body. It collapsed atop him in a shower of loose bones.</p><p>Breathing heavily, Karak backed onto the landing.</p><p>"Are ye alright, chalak?" he asked the Battleguard between pants.</p><p>"Are ye?" Malak asked in turn and Karak grunted.</p><p>"'Tis nothin' a dwarf kinna handle," he said with a sardonic smile.</p><p>In truth, while none of the blows had been particularly damaging, the cumulative affect had taken a toll. He was bleeding from a half-dozen scratches</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 302287, member: 2323"] [b]Part 11: Skeletons in the Closet[/b] "Malak," Karak began, helping to steady his brother. "Aye, finally all that prayin' seems ta've worked as ye were able ta stop tha golem's 'ere." The two dwarves eyed the unmoving statues suspiciously, each expecting the constructs to reanimate at any moment. "Twasn't me, chalak," the Battleguard admitted. He could taste blood in the back of his throat. "Though mayhap tha Silver Queen had her hand in it." Karak said nothing to this, but looked intently at the sharp blade of his axe. His gaze shifted between the weapon and the stone creatures while his brother got out his healing kit. "I say we take a quick look see at tha rest of tha monastery what we have nae searched," the blonde dwarf said. Malak swallowed back the coppery taste of his own blood and scowled up at his brother. Karak was leaning on his war axe, his eyes still warily studying the two statues for any signs of movement and Malak nodded. "I'll be ready in a moment," the Battleguard replied and got about the business of patching himself up. Malak could call on his Goddess to heal his brother if need be. And were there another Battleguard present the two clerics could heal each other with impunity. But the strictures of his faith prohibited Malak from using Shaharizod's healing graces on himself. Such tenants had long ago produced a strong tradition of mundane healing amongst initiate Battleguards, and few left the training hall without a healing kit and the knowledge of how best to use it. Malak was no exception. He produced a vial of henbane paste and smeared a dollop on a strip of mutton jerky from his rations. He put the jerky in his mouth and began to chew, letting the bitter-tasting anesthetic trickle down his throat. He could feel the numbing affects almost at once and the taste of the medicine - while not pleasant - masked the metallic taste of blood. The medicine would only last a few hours, but he could take a tincture of adder's tongue when he bedded down for the night that would speed the healing process further. He put away his supplies, picked up Arngrim's lantern and got to his feet. "I be ready," he told Karak and his brother nodded. "From now onward, ye'll check tha door as ye 'ave been, then I go in, an' ye watch behind," the warrior said hauling his axe up into a defensive position. They went first to the only door they hadn't yet opened along the length of the hallway. It was situated at the far end of the hall in the left-hand wall, opposite the door by which they had exited the library. Beside it, set into the very end of the hall was a door that opened onto the balcony; wind howled around the jam, and the door itself rattled with the force of the storm outside. Malak performed his check on the door they had chosen then stepped back, holding their light source high. Karak opened the door, and braced himself, but nothing sprang from the darkness. He saw some loose sheets of parchment fluttering in the breeze from the door leading out. There was a loose stack of them on a small table between the door and the narrow bed. One by one, they went tumbling on the wind, but other than that movement, the room was still. The place had clearly once been the room of someone important in the monastery. Although it lacked any ornamentation, the furniture of the room was obviously of good quality, and the cold floor - which was bare everywhere else in the monastery - was covered with woven carpets to keep out the chill. Karak took a few steps into the room and grabbed at the sheets of fluttering parchment. They were covered with horizontal lines of human runes, but the oil lamp on the tabletop had cracked from the cold and leaked oil onto the stack. Only one sheet remained legible and the warrior handed it to his brother while he continued his search of the place. The parchment seemed to Malak to be a page from a diary written in a forceful hand using a stick of charcoal. He cleared his throat and read the note aloud: "Starday, the 18th of Fireseek, 1268 AE I know him for who he is... Merikka have mercy on my soul, for it is I who have brought this curse upon our house. Thus it is up to me to save us... those who are still alive... whether it is the light or the heat of it he fears I ken nae, but my trap shall give him plenty of both tonight." Malak did some quick translations of dates from human to dwarvish and grimaced. "Almost a year ago ta tha day, me chalak," he told Karak. "What do ye make o' it?" The larger dwarf harrumphed. "Nae time ta worry on that jus' now," he added, rattling the small locked drawer in the table. "Me thinks it ta be near midnight an' I propose we open tha top door 'fore then. We'll think on tha clues once we've searched tha place from helm ta boots." "That'll nae hold back an angry kobold," Malak chuckled at the flimsy barricade that Karak had erected in front of the doorway at the bottom of the narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. A goodly portion of his improvised obstruction consisted of the very door that had been wrenched off its hinges in the first place. Karak scowled at his brother and placed the last piece of wood on the barricade. "'Tis nae meant ta hold back anythin' at all," he told the Battleguard. "I only build it so that if'n somethin' comes down we'll know 'bout it by them havin' ta crash through tha door." The Battleguard had to admit that it made a fair bit of sense. "Now let's hurry on," the warrior added. "We've one more door ta go through 'fore we tackle tha room upstairs." As usual, Malak found no traps on the door. Karak opened it and his brother shown the lantern light into the chamber beyond. The room looked like it was a workshop of sorts. A large loom stood in the left rear corner still threaded with coarse fibers of the sort used in the making of monk's habits. A workbench and several wood working tools filled the other part of the room. A half-finished chair of the sort they had seen elsewhere in the monastery lay atop the workbench amidst a drift of wood shavings. Four bony figures were sprawled on the floor. Three of them seemed to have gone down fighting while the last skeleton lay crumpled in a corner grinning merrily at its dead friends. Karak had time to see this much before the piles of bones rose up into menacing skeletal assailants. "Watch me back," he growled to Malak and the skeletons were upon him. Standing as he was in the doorway, he presented a target to only three of the skeletons. The fourth hung back behind the others, waving its arms madly above its head. The other three slashed and clawed at Karak with their fingers curled into bony hooks. The sound of bone clattering against metal filled the dwarves' ears as the warrior's platemail deflected the skeletons' attacks. Only two blows found their marks - one on his right shin and the other on his left shoulder. They were too close for Karak to swing the war axe effectively. He brought the butt end of the weapon down against the knee of the skeleton on his left and was pleased to see the lower half of its leg fall away. Its kneecap pinged off the doorframe and the skeleton fell over backward, shattering into several hundred pieces. Of course, this victory allowed the fourth skeleton an opportunity to move in for the attack. As it did so, the dwarf spun his axe around and brought it upward. The weapon cleaved through the skeleton's pelvis. Its right leg fell to the side, but for a moment, the skeleton hopped about on its left leg before it toppled and broke apart on the floor. He allowed the upward momentum from his attack to bring the haft of the axe upward. He meant to strike the jaw of the skeleton on his right, but the axe blade struck the lintel above his head and he missed his target entirely. His other two opponents wasted no time mourning the loss of their compatriot; they slashed at Karak with unabated fury. His mail saved him from the worst of it, but the bony fingers managed to somehow find their way beneath the armor on his left thigh and right bicep. As he struggled to free his embedded weapon, the skeleton he'd been aiming for raked its claws across his abdomen. He bellowed in pain and pulled the axe free with a mighty tug. The wide blade of the weapon shattered the skeleton's right thighbone, causing the undead thing to collapse into a pile on the floor. Unperturbed, the last skeleton struck outward at his opponent. Its fingers clawed open a wound on Karak's right shoulder; the dwarf could feel blood flowing hotly beneath his armor. He swung his axe upward, cleaving through the skeleton's left shoulder. Its left arm fell to the floor, but it slashed at Karak with its right. His downswing finished the undead thing by separating its head neatly from its body. It collapsed atop him in a shower of loose bones. Breathing heavily, Karak backed onto the landing. "Are ye alright, chalak?" he asked the Battleguard between pants. "Are ye?" Malak asked in turn and Karak grunted. "'Tis nothin' a dwarf kinna handle," he said with a sardonic smile. In truth, while none of the blows had been particularly damaging, the cumulative affect had taken a toll. He was bleeding from a half-dozen scratches [/QUOTE]
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