Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 304501" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 13: The Lord of the Manor</strong></p><p></p><p>"What, by Grungi's beard, is that?!" Karak growled. He gripped his war axe tightly, wringing his hands nervously around the handle. "I nae be likin' tha sound o' that, chalak."</p><p>"Whate'er it be is about ta make itself known," Malak said with a note of apprehension.</p><p>"If'n we stay here an' let it come ta us," Karak planned, "then at least we know tha battleground we be fightin' on. 'Cept this infernal ceilin' be so low it be impossible for a dwarf ta swing an axe o'er 'is head."</p><p>"Which is it, chalak?" the Battleguard asked. "Stay or advance?"</p><p>The goat's wailing was a horrible sound. They could hear the animal's hooves stamping against the stone floor of the foyer. It sounded near panic.</p><p>"What say you, we advance slowly - I ta tha fore ye ta tha rear? But 'ave yer claymore at tha ready," Karak suggested, and turned to catch his brother's acknowledgement. Malak was bowed in prayer and for a moment, Karak thought about chiding him. He quickly caught himself, however; this was a time for prayer if ever there was one. </p><p>Malak had been concerned about his brother's condition for a while now, Karak had taken a number of minor blows, none too serious unto themselves, but their cumulative effect was getting more serious than Karak would let him see. Now, with this 'unknown' letting itself free, he thought it to be the best time to go about asking Shaharizod for a healing hand -</p><p>"O' Queen of Silver, 'tis I yer humble servant, beggin' for yer hand in repairin' Karak's injuries." the Battleguard prayed. "His wounds 'ave grown more serious with each foe's lashin' weapon, and many a blow 'e has taken ta shield me from 'arm. We face an uncertain moment ahead and would be greatly humbled by yer greatness ta see 'im enter this time free o' his wounds."</p><p>Malak felt the tiniest spark of Shaharizod's power fill him and he stood. Karak saw the moonlight spilling from his brother's eyes, saw glittering silver drip from his brother's hands and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Malak laid his hands upon Karak's chest and the warrior felt a tingling warmth travel through his body to each of his injuries. It passed quickly, but left an invigorating strength in its wake.</p><p>Karak was somewhat ashamed of the pang of jealousy he felt at his brother's connection to the divine.</p><p>The Silver Queen's power left Malak and the light drained from his eyes. He looked at his brother and nodded.</p><p>"Me chalak, ye lead and I will follow," he said. "But best ye remember: I have a weapon and I can handle it. Ye needn't take all tha blows ta protect me."</p><p>He pulled a torch and a tindertwig from his pack and struck the twig against the tunnel wall. It hissed and burst into a very bright white flame. He touched it to the torch and the brand caught, flooding the furnace room with a warm glow.</p><p>"If'n fire and light be o' any use in protectin' us, we best take every measure possible," Malak said, handing the lit torch to Karak and repeating the process.</p><p>Karak fumbled his shield and warhammer from his back, replacing them with his war axe. He could carry the torch in his shield hand and swing the hammer with the other. The war axe was a two-handed weapon, so he'd have no place to carry a torch if he wielded it in combat.</p><p>"Aye, ye may be on ta somethin' here, chalak," Karak agreed with a smile. "I will lead ta tha front, ye ta tha rear and advance slowly out o' this room and upstairs."</p><p>Malak, who carried his own torch in his shield hand and their lantern in his other, nodded. Like Karak his own weapon of choice (at least now that his scimitar had been destroyed) was two-handed. He planned to set down the lantern at the first sign of the thing that had spooked Arngrim's goat so badly, possibly hurl his torch and drop his shield before drawing the claymore and going toe-to-toe beside his brother.</p><p></p><p>They made it to the kitchen before the goat's terrified bleats ended in a wet grunt. The sighing sound they had heard earlier had grown to a roar. The sound was all the more horrible now that the goat's cries of fear had stopped.</p><p>It took them only a few moments to race from the kitchen into the entryway, and they arrived in time to see the goat's broken body go sailing across the room, slam into the wall beside the front door and fall to the floor in a boneless heap.</p><p>Then their eyes were drawn to the thing beside the stairs. It looked like a tall, emaciated man dressed in the rags of a monk's habit. But no living man ever looked the way it did. Its withered flesh was the color of snow and black veins were clearly visible through its translucent skin. Its fingers ended in razor sharp claws that glittered like icicles. Fanglike teeth fill its snarling mouth and its eyes were empty sockets as black as the pit of Anvil's Echo in the lost delve Azul-Varn. Two pinpricks of malevolent light the color of witchfire flickered coldly within those black sockets.</p><p>A swirling mass of wind and ice crystals whipped around its body, holding it a half-foot of the ground. It made no sound other than the sound of the winds that surrounded it, as it started moving toward them.</p><p>Karak had been cold since they left the warmth of Dwurheim, but the cold that he could feel coming off this thing was glacial. He began to shiver as soon as it moved within weapon's reach.</p><p>He didn't let the opportunity to strike go by, however, and he swung the warhammer at the thing. The steel hammerhead thudded into the creature's left bicep and it howled. Or rather its mouth opened in the action of howling but no sound other than the swirling wind reached their ears.</p><p>Malak put down the lantern and switched the torch to his right hand.</p><p>The ice-cold creature reached out to Karak, its arms spread, and before the dwarf could do anything, it had him in its grip. One hand clamped down on his right bicep, the other locked onto his left, and he couldn't feel anything but a numbing cold sinking into his bones.</p><p>Malak came at the thing's back and swung his torch like a club. The firebrand struck one of the creature's pale, withered legs and it let go of Karak immediately, whirling on the Battleguard with unnatural speed. It swiped at the dwarf with bony hands, trying to grapple him as it had done to his brother, but Malak was able to thwart the attacks with his shield.</p><p>Karak could feel nothing. His arms were nerveless and threatened to drop his hammer, torch and shield. An unthinkable coldness has sunk into his very bones. The chattering of his own teeth was maddening. It was the sort of attack that would have likely paralyzed one of the lesser races, but Karak was a dwarf, by Clangeddin's axe!</p><p>He staggered forward and swung his warhammer, but the chill made the blow clumsy and he missed entirely. He recovered quickly, however and brought the weapon around again, delivering a solid blow to the thing's leg in virtually the same spot that Malak had burned it with his torch. The creature swayed in the air and turned on the source of its pain.</p><p>As soon as it spun, the Battleguard struck it across the back of the head with his torch.</p><p>Only Karak was in a position to see the look of pain and rage that twisted the thing's features, but it made the dwarf feel heartened that they were causing it injury. It took one more half-hearted swing at the warrior before it turned and glided across the foyer, its feet never once touching the floor. As it approached, the front door swung open of its own accord and the thing fled out into the savage storm that still held the monastery in its grip.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 304501, member: 2323"] [b]Part 13: The Lord of the Manor[/b] "What, by Grungi's beard, is that?!" Karak growled. He gripped his war axe tightly, wringing his hands nervously around the handle. "I nae be likin' tha sound o' that, chalak." "Whate'er it be is about ta make itself known," Malak said with a note of apprehension. "If'n we stay here an' let it come ta us," Karak planned, "then at least we know tha battleground we be fightin' on. 'Cept this infernal ceilin' be so low it be impossible for a dwarf ta swing an axe o'er 'is head." "Which is it, chalak?" the Battleguard asked. "Stay or advance?" The goat's wailing was a horrible sound. They could hear the animal's hooves stamping against the stone floor of the foyer. It sounded near panic. "What say you, we advance slowly - I ta tha fore ye ta tha rear? But 'ave yer claymore at tha ready," Karak suggested, and turned to catch his brother's acknowledgement. Malak was bowed in prayer and for a moment, Karak thought about chiding him. He quickly caught himself, however; this was a time for prayer if ever there was one. Malak had been concerned about his brother's condition for a while now, Karak had taken a number of minor blows, none too serious unto themselves, but their cumulative effect was getting more serious than Karak would let him see. Now, with this 'unknown' letting itself free, he thought it to be the best time to go about asking Shaharizod for a healing hand - "O' Queen of Silver, 'tis I yer humble servant, beggin' for yer hand in repairin' Karak's injuries." the Battleguard prayed. "His wounds 'ave grown more serious with each foe's lashin' weapon, and many a blow 'e has taken ta shield me from 'arm. We face an uncertain moment ahead and would be greatly humbled by yer greatness ta see 'im enter this time free o' his wounds." Malak felt the tiniest spark of Shaharizod's power fill him and he stood. Karak saw the moonlight spilling from his brother's eyes, saw glittering silver drip from his brother's hands and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Malak laid his hands upon Karak's chest and the warrior felt a tingling warmth travel through his body to each of his injuries. It passed quickly, but left an invigorating strength in its wake. Karak was somewhat ashamed of the pang of jealousy he felt at his brother's connection to the divine. The Silver Queen's power left Malak and the light drained from his eyes. He looked at his brother and nodded. "Me chalak, ye lead and I will follow," he said. "But best ye remember: I have a weapon and I can handle it. Ye needn't take all tha blows ta protect me." He pulled a torch and a tindertwig from his pack and struck the twig against the tunnel wall. It hissed and burst into a very bright white flame. He touched it to the torch and the brand caught, flooding the furnace room with a warm glow. "If'n fire and light be o' any use in protectin' us, we best take every measure possible," Malak said, handing the lit torch to Karak and repeating the process. Karak fumbled his shield and warhammer from his back, replacing them with his war axe. He could carry the torch in his shield hand and swing the hammer with the other. The war axe was a two-handed weapon, so he'd have no place to carry a torch if he wielded it in combat. "Aye, ye may be on ta somethin' here, chalak," Karak agreed with a smile. "I will lead ta tha front, ye ta tha rear and advance slowly out o' this room and upstairs." Malak, who carried his own torch in his shield hand and their lantern in his other, nodded. Like Karak his own weapon of choice (at least now that his scimitar had been destroyed) was two-handed. He planned to set down the lantern at the first sign of the thing that had spooked Arngrim's goat so badly, possibly hurl his torch and drop his shield before drawing the claymore and going toe-to-toe beside his brother. They made it to the kitchen before the goat's terrified bleats ended in a wet grunt. The sighing sound they had heard earlier had grown to a roar. The sound was all the more horrible now that the goat's cries of fear had stopped. It took them only a few moments to race from the kitchen into the entryway, and they arrived in time to see the goat's broken body go sailing across the room, slam into the wall beside the front door and fall to the floor in a boneless heap. Then their eyes were drawn to the thing beside the stairs. It looked like a tall, emaciated man dressed in the rags of a monk's habit. But no living man ever looked the way it did. Its withered flesh was the color of snow and black veins were clearly visible through its translucent skin. Its fingers ended in razor sharp claws that glittered like icicles. Fanglike teeth fill its snarling mouth and its eyes were empty sockets as black as the pit of Anvil's Echo in the lost delve Azul-Varn. Two pinpricks of malevolent light the color of witchfire flickered coldly within those black sockets. A swirling mass of wind and ice crystals whipped around its body, holding it a half-foot of the ground. It made no sound other than the sound of the winds that surrounded it, as it started moving toward them. Karak had been cold since they left the warmth of Dwurheim, but the cold that he could feel coming off this thing was glacial. He began to shiver as soon as it moved within weapon's reach. He didn't let the opportunity to strike go by, however, and he swung the warhammer at the thing. The steel hammerhead thudded into the creature's left bicep and it howled. Or rather its mouth opened in the action of howling but no sound other than the swirling wind reached their ears. Malak put down the lantern and switched the torch to his right hand. The ice-cold creature reached out to Karak, its arms spread, and before the dwarf could do anything, it had him in its grip. One hand clamped down on his right bicep, the other locked onto his left, and he couldn't feel anything but a numbing cold sinking into his bones. Malak came at the thing's back and swung his torch like a club. The firebrand struck one of the creature's pale, withered legs and it let go of Karak immediately, whirling on the Battleguard with unnatural speed. It swiped at the dwarf with bony hands, trying to grapple him as it had done to his brother, but Malak was able to thwart the attacks with his shield. Karak could feel nothing. His arms were nerveless and threatened to drop his hammer, torch and shield. An unthinkable coldness has sunk into his very bones. The chattering of his own teeth was maddening. It was the sort of attack that would have likely paralyzed one of the lesser races, but Karak was a dwarf, by Clangeddin's axe! He staggered forward and swung his warhammer, but the chill made the blow clumsy and he missed entirely. He recovered quickly, however and brought the weapon around again, delivering a solid blow to the thing's leg in virtually the same spot that Malak had burned it with his torch. The creature swayed in the air and turned on the source of its pain. As soon as it spun, the Battleguard struck it across the back of the head with his torch. Only Karak was in a position to see the look of pain and rage that twisted the thing's features, but it made the dwarf feel heartened that they were causing it injury. It took one more half-hearted swing at the warrior before it turned and glided across the foyer, its feet never once touching the floor. As it approached, the front door swung open of its own accord and the thing fled out into the savage storm that still held the monastery in its grip. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
Top