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"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 306503" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 14: Fire!</strong></p><p></p><p>The brothers stood and stared at each other in awe for just a moment. Whatever had just fled the monastery was now outside in the storm, but for some reason neither of them took much comfort in that fact. Malak rushed to the front door and threw himself against it. It slammed closed, holding back the storm's fury for the time being.</p><p>"Ch-chalak, th-that was a c-c-close one 'ere," Karak stammered, his armor rattling and clinking as he shivered. "Me arms are like c-cold st-t-teel after a l-long day a 'hammerin' at tha f-forge."</p><p>Malak removed the healing kit from his pack once again.</p><p>"Are ye' needin' any o' this me chalak?" he asked, holding up the satchel.</p><p>Karak shook his head. He looked down at his numbed arms and could clearly see the creature's bony handprints etched in frost on both his upper vambraces. It reminded him of the mark he'd seen tattooed into the face of the corpse in the library.</p><p>"S-seems ye had tha right idea with tha f-fire," Karak added. "I guess me little ch-chalak can handle himself in a f-fight, eh? I guess all that p-prayin's nae made ye t-t-too soft."</p><p>"As I was sayin' before, chalak, I-" Malak started to say when the warhammer slipped from his brother's nerveless fingers and clanged against the stone floor.</p><p>"Are ye sure ye need nae healin'?" the Battleguard asked as he stooped to pick up the fallen weapon.</p><p>"N-nae," the warrior said again. "An' n-next t-time ye lay yer hands o' m-moonbeams on me, m-might ye give me a warnin'! I ab-bout j-jumped out o' m-me armor."</p><p>"We need fire, Karak. And nae just ta warm yer bones," Malak asserted. "That's tha best chance we got against this thing."</p><p>"Ag-g-greed," Karak chattered.</p><p>"If'n it means burnin' this forsaken place ta tha ground, well then, I say we've done it a favor. Ain't nothin' 'ere but evil and death," the cleric continued. "What say we pile up whate'er wood we can find - doors, chairs, tables, everythin' what burns - right 'ere in tha middle o' this floor and set it ta blaze? When daylight comes I dinna think we'd ought ta stay 'ere a moment longer."</p><p>Malak turned to scan the room for wooden objects that could be carried to the center of the room and Karak just sputtered, "Let's s-see what comes with th-tha day."</p><p></p><p>There was nothing worth burning in the foyer, and Malak hauled the broken furniture from the dining room and piled it in the center of the room. Using the woven straw mats from the idol chamber as kindling he was able to set the jumbled pile ablaze. Once it was burning well enough, the Battleguard left his brother huddled beside it and went to offer a prayer of thanks to Shaharizod for her healing.</p><p>The Silver Queen offered no further guidance to her disciple however, and when the cleric returned to the entrychamber, he found Karak staring forlornly at the bloody remains of their pack goat. It lay heaped against the wall like a discarded fur-covered rag.</p><p>"Tha poor goat," the warrior intoned solemnly.</p><p>"Aye," Malak agreed. He went to the remains and stripped off what gear seemed recoverable - tents and bedrolls, the last of their firewood, and some other miscellaneous gear. As he dragged the supplies to the fireside, he found Karak stripping off his armor.</p><p>"What are ye supposin' it be?" the warrior asked and Malak knew what he meant.</p><p>"I dunno," the Battleguard confessed. Certain types of undead were easy to distinguish. Others - like this thing - were not so easily categorized.</p><p>"I ken this," Karak said, "that thing was nae a mortal creature."</p><p>"Aye," Malak agreed. "That much seems plain."</p><p>"Did ye see it float though? That was might impressive." Karak seemed genuinely impressed with the creature from a purely martial standpoint. He had stripped down to his undertunic and as he rubbed his arms to get the blood flowing, he seemed to be going over and over the battle in his mind. "It had a rudimentary way to fight, but it was sure effective." </p><p>"I wonder what it be doin' now out in tha snow," he added after a pause.</p><p>"Neodig knows," Malak breathed, casting his eye at the front door and shuddering.</p><p>"Say, chalak, do ye think that was what met our unfortunate guide out there?" Karak suggested. "It be seemin' that tha cold dinna effect it."</p><p>"Aye," the Battleguard agreed. "'Tis heat what does tha trick."</p><p>"Me thinks, like cold metal what meets tha fires o' tha forge too quickly, if'n we douse tha thing in heat, me thinks it'll crack," Karak said, shaking his clenched fist for emphasis. "What say ye we look for more oil as we saw in tha library, chalak?" </p><p>"If'n it burns, we can use it." Malak replied.</p><p>"I have but one flask o' oil in me gear," the warrior said, tossing the metal flask to his brother. "I wou' like ta find some rags, dip them in oil, wrap it round me hammer, light it and have a flamin' hammer head. Then, when ere we strike it shall affect it doubly."</p><p>"Aye," Malak agreed, nodding his head approvingly. "That might be a useful plan indeed - if'n we find more oil."</p><p>Karak flexed his arms. Feeling had returned to them completely thanks to the warmth of the fire, and there seemed to be no lasting damage. He grinned and began donning his mail shirt.</p><p>"Let's look about for some more oil, 'fore this thing returns," he said. "And then I fear I'll be needin' some sleep."</p><p></p><p>They searched until they were too tired to search any more. In one of the cupboards under the stairs in the kitchen they found eight sealed earthenware jugs containing cooking oil. There was perhaps a quart of oil in each jug. On its own, the oil didn't burn well, but it flared to life when they poured a tiny bit on the existing fire in the entryhall.</p><p>Malak's henbane paste analgesic had worn off by this time, and a dull ache had begun to spread through his chest from the golem's blow. He took a swig of adder's tongue tincture to aid the healing process and a single dose of Quilarri for the pain and stared at Karak.</p><p>It would likely be sunup in a few hours at which point the two of them would have been without sleep for a full day. It was unclear which would admit the greater need for sleep: Karak had suffered more injuries, but Malak would be unable to seek divine aid without his mind properly rested.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 306503, member: 2323"] [b]Part 14: Fire![/b] The brothers stood and stared at each other in awe for just a moment. Whatever had just fled the monastery was now outside in the storm, but for some reason neither of them took much comfort in that fact. Malak rushed to the front door and threw himself against it. It slammed closed, holding back the storm's fury for the time being. "Ch-chalak, th-that was a c-c-close one 'ere," Karak stammered, his armor rattling and clinking as he shivered. "Me arms are like c-cold st-t-teel after a l-long day a 'hammerin' at tha f-forge." Malak removed the healing kit from his pack once again. "Are ye' needin' any o' this me chalak?" he asked, holding up the satchel. Karak shook his head. He looked down at his numbed arms and could clearly see the creature's bony handprints etched in frost on both his upper vambraces. It reminded him of the mark he'd seen tattooed into the face of the corpse in the library. "S-seems ye had tha right idea with tha f-fire," Karak added. "I guess me little ch-chalak can handle himself in a f-fight, eh? I guess all that p-prayin's nae made ye t-t-too soft." "As I was sayin' before, chalak, I-" Malak started to say when the warhammer slipped from his brother's nerveless fingers and clanged against the stone floor. "Are ye sure ye need nae healin'?" the Battleguard asked as he stooped to pick up the fallen weapon. "N-nae," the warrior said again. "An' n-next t-time ye lay yer hands o' m-moonbeams on me, m-might ye give me a warnin'! I ab-bout j-jumped out o' m-me armor." "We need fire, Karak. And nae just ta warm yer bones," Malak asserted. "That's tha best chance we got against this thing." "Ag-g-greed," Karak chattered. "If'n it means burnin' this forsaken place ta tha ground, well then, I say we've done it a favor. Ain't nothin' 'ere but evil and death," the cleric continued. "What say we pile up whate'er wood we can find - doors, chairs, tables, everythin' what burns - right 'ere in tha middle o' this floor and set it ta blaze? When daylight comes I dinna think we'd ought ta stay 'ere a moment longer." Malak turned to scan the room for wooden objects that could be carried to the center of the room and Karak just sputtered, "Let's s-see what comes with th-tha day." There was nothing worth burning in the foyer, and Malak hauled the broken furniture from the dining room and piled it in the center of the room. Using the woven straw mats from the idol chamber as kindling he was able to set the jumbled pile ablaze. Once it was burning well enough, the Battleguard left his brother huddled beside it and went to offer a prayer of thanks to Shaharizod for her healing. The Silver Queen offered no further guidance to her disciple however, and when the cleric returned to the entrychamber, he found Karak staring forlornly at the bloody remains of their pack goat. It lay heaped against the wall like a discarded fur-covered rag. "Tha poor goat," the warrior intoned solemnly. "Aye," Malak agreed. He went to the remains and stripped off what gear seemed recoverable - tents and bedrolls, the last of their firewood, and some other miscellaneous gear. As he dragged the supplies to the fireside, he found Karak stripping off his armor. "What are ye supposin' it be?" the warrior asked and Malak knew what he meant. "I dunno," the Battleguard confessed. Certain types of undead were easy to distinguish. Others - like this thing - were not so easily categorized. "I ken this," Karak said, "that thing was nae a mortal creature." "Aye," Malak agreed. "That much seems plain." "Did ye see it float though? That was might impressive." Karak seemed genuinely impressed with the creature from a purely martial standpoint. He had stripped down to his undertunic and as he rubbed his arms to get the blood flowing, he seemed to be going over and over the battle in his mind. "It had a rudimentary way to fight, but it was sure effective." "I wonder what it be doin' now out in tha snow," he added after a pause. "Neodig knows," Malak breathed, casting his eye at the front door and shuddering. "Say, chalak, do ye think that was what met our unfortunate guide out there?" Karak suggested. "It be seemin' that tha cold dinna effect it." "Aye," the Battleguard agreed. "'Tis heat what does tha trick." "Me thinks, like cold metal what meets tha fires o' tha forge too quickly, if'n we douse tha thing in heat, me thinks it'll crack," Karak said, shaking his clenched fist for emphasis. "What say ye we look for more oil as we saw in tha library, chalak?" "If'n it burns, we can use it." Malak replied. "I have but one flask o' oil in me gear," the warrior said, tossing the metal flask to his brother. "I wou' like ta find some rags, dip them in oil, wrap it round me hammer, light it and have a flamin' hammer head. Then, when ere we strike it shall affect it doubly." "Aye," Malak agreed, nodding his head approvingly. "That might be a useful plan indeed - if'n we find more oil." Karak flexed his arms. Feeling had returned to them completely thanks to the warmth of the fire, and there seemed to be no lasting damage. He grinned and began donning his mail shirt. "Let's look about for some more oil, 'fore this thing returns," he said. "And then I fear I'll be needin' some sleep." They searched until they were too tired to search any more. In one of the cupboards under the stairs in the kitchen they found eight sealed earthenware jugs containing cooking oil. There was perhaps a quart of oil in each jug. On its own, the oil didn't burn well, but it flared to life when they poured a tiny bit on the existing fire in the entryhall. Malak's henbane paste analgesic had worn off by this time, and a dull ache had begun to spread through his chest from the golem's blow. He took a swig of adder's tongue tincture to aid the healing process and a single dose of Quilarri for the pain and stared at Karak. It would likely be sunup in a few hours at which point the two of them would have been without sleep for a full day. It was unclear which would admit the greater need for sleep: Karak had suffered more injuries, but Malak would be unable to seek divine aid without his mind properly rested. [/QUOTE]
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