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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Lord_Raven88
First Post
Eluvan said:
"Do not think that we are blind to you avarice, first and foremost you seek to pilliage the baubles of our creator for yourself." gazing at his companions "While I'm not against taking our creators possesion's, I do mind the fact that you intend to lay claim to these items without sharing them with the rest of your brethren"
obitalfreak said:
"A more important question is why are we different from the other mindless skeletons, either we were created differently from the others, or something happened during the animation process, which allowed something of our former selves to be retained"
"I believe the latter to be true, this could be verified of course if the robed one would lower himself to the task of viewing our creator's tomes, if our sentience is indeed the result of an accident then it would be nice to know if our 'condition' is permanent or whether or not our reason fade with time"
"You may call be me Scorn by the way, I seem to be a divine follower of Nurkal"
orbitalfreak
Explorer
Lord_Raven88 said:
"Also a good idea. My name is Averey, and I am a devotee to the natural world. My newly-acquired ... companion, here, I shall name... Barnes."
"That would be quaint to watch," retorts one skeleton. Raising himself from behind the desk, the near white skeleton adjusts a black cap on his head. His glowing magenta eyes can be seen once he lowers his bony arms. Looking down, he sees what he instantly knows is his own gear, but he doesn't immediately understand why he knows this. Slinging a belt pouch over his shoulder, he then lifts and cocks a light crossbow.Eluvan said:
Looking across at those already inspecting their master's possessions, he asks, "Any of you bothered to think that maybe those that killed him might still be around?"
<cough> "Thought not. Too busy throwing around what little weight you have."
"C'mon lazy bones," he says as he gives a collapsed skeleton next to him a shove in the shoulder. "Up and at 'em."
"Joe's the name," he says. "Coughin' Joe. Well, at least it is the name you can use for me," he adds with what you suppose might be a grin on a fleshed creature.
Telamar Desdevlien
*creak*
"By Corellon what is that?"
*creak* *shuffle* *cough*
And then a voice like death "Joe's the name"
The figure lies upon its back on a hard surface, it cracks an eyelid (an unnoticed cyan glow spills from its face) and slowly turns its head "They must have put something over my eyes" it thinks as its vision seems to swim before it "It's as though I am looking through a blue filter" it wonders to itself.
"UNDEAD" its mind screams as it takes in an unusual scene, 4 skeletons standing around the body of slumped human. As it looks it sees other skeletons rising from platforms "What sort of a hell have I awoken in?" it thinks to itself as it tries to lie as still as it possibly can so as not to alert the undead to the fact that it is conscious.
Taking his chance the elf warrior rolls deftly off the heavy slab and lands in a squat. Its eyes alight upon a pile of equipment hidden below the slab and it realises that its sword is in the pile "Correllon shines upon me this day" it thinks with a feral grin as it reaches out, its hands finding the hilt of his elven blade, its eyes never leaving the skeletons that had killed the old man.
Suddenly, with the familiar weight of its blade in hand, the elf warrior leaps to its feet "By the hand of Corellon's servant shall ye return to the ground you undead filth" it screams as it leaps towards its opponents.
It brings its sword around into the ready position as it warily advances, glancing down it ..."Huh! What the hell! Who is carrying my sword? That's a skeleton's - oh no"
"CORELLON WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME' the elf warrior cries out as its sword drops from its lifeless hands and clatters to the ground at its bony feet.
*creak*
"By Corellon what is that?"
*creak* *shuffle* *cough*
And then a voice like death "Joe's the name"
The figure lies upon its back on a hard surface, it cracks an eyelid (an unnoticed cyan glow spills from its face) and slowly turns its head "They must have put something over my eyes" it thinks as its vision seems to swim before it "It's as though I am looking through a blue filter" it wonders to itself.
"UNDEAD" its mind screams as it takes in an unusual scene, 4 skeletons standing around the body of slumped human. As it looks it sees other skeletons rising from platforms "What sort of a hell have I awoken in?" it thinks to itself as it tries to lie as still as it possibly can so as not to alert the undead to the fact that it is conscious.
Taking his chance the elf warrior rolls deftly off the heavy slab and lands in a squat. Its eyes alight upon a pile of equipment hidden below the slab and it realises that its sword is in the pile "Correllon shines upon me this day" it thinks with a feral grin as it reaches out, its hands finding the hilt of his elven blade, its eyes never leaving the skeletons that had killed the old man.
Suddenly, with the familiar weight of its blade in hand, the elf warrior leaps to its feet "By the hand of Corellon's servant shall ye return to the ground you undead filth" it screams as it leaps towards its opponents.
It brings its sword around into the ready position as it warily advances, glancing down it ..."Huh! What the hell! Who is carrying my sword? That's a skeleton's - oh no"
"CORELLON WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME' the elf warrior cries out as its sword drops from its lifeless hands and clatters to the ground at its bony feet.
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Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
A bone white skeleton with shocking red hair raises himself from the table into a sitting position, then leans back so that his spine rests against the wall the table is against. Casually, he leans over and picks up the nearby composite bow and arrow quiver that laid against his table and inspects them.
"Not the greatest set, but they'll do," he thinks to himself as he slowly strokes some of the feathers on the arrows.
He lets the argument in from of him run its course for a few moments, then hops off the table and begins getting his equipment together. As he faces away from the party and ties his cloak on he says loudly to no one in particular, "I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."
"Not the greatest set, but they'll do," he thinks to himself as he slowly strokes some of the feathers on the arrows.
He lets the argument in from of him run its course for a few moments, then hops off the table and begins getting his equipment together. As he faces away from the party and ties his cloak on he says loudly to no one in particular, "I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."
Li Shenron
Legend
The skeleton in rags rises from the cold table and grabs its equipment from underneath. No thoughts in its mind, as it seemed to follow some pre-programmed orders, then it stands up motionless.
"...and not all books pertain to arcane mysteries..."
"...I seem to be a divine follower of Nurkal..."
...My newly-acquired ... companion, here, I shall name... "
"...That would be quaint to watch..."
"...WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME..."
"...I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."
Sound and light fade in like shapes approaching from a fog, and somehow at some point, the skeleton is sentient. But it is a sentience that has little similar to that of a mortal, for its thoughts are as blurred as shadows and yet burning like a pit of tar.
The shapes can be identified with no mistakes: a few skeletons in front of it are talking, perhaps even discussing something of certainly no importance, how can anything be important in undeath?
The skeleton still stands motionless, observing the scene. It should be scared, but there's no fear. There is no feeling whatsoever, neither spiritual nor physical, except an underlying sense of hatred towards something it cannot yet discern. Finally, it understands, without even having to look at itself: it feels little weight on its feet, no heat in its body, no touch of the vest, no taste in its mouth. "I... have become dust."
The red eyes slightly shift their gaze towards the dead man on the central slab, the reason of the hatred inside becomes clear, but so becomes the lack of chance of putting it to rest, now that the master is dead, and hatred can only turn towards all those who still live.
The attention goes back to the other skeletons, which seem to have already noticed that the one with red eyes is awake in the same way they are.
"Then my name shall be Dust."
"...and not all books pertain to arcane mysteries..."
"...I seem to be a divine follower of Nurkal..."
...My newly-acquired ... companion, here, I shall name... "
"...That would be quaint to watch..."
"...WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME..."
"...I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."
Sound and light fade in like shapes approaching from a fog, and somehow at some point, the skeleton is sentient. But it is a sentience that has little similar to that of a mortal, for its thoughts are as blurred as shadows and yet burning like a pit of tar.
The shapes can be identified with no mistakes: a few skeletons in front of it are talking, perhaps even discussing something of certainly no importance, how can anything be important in undeath?
The skeleton still stands motionless, observing the scene. It should be scared, but there's no fear. There is no feeling whatsoever, neither spiritual nor physical, except an underlying sense of hatred towards something it cannot yet discern. Finally, it understands, without even having to look at itself: it feels little weight on its feet, no heat in its body, no touch of the vest, no taste in its mouth. "I... have become dust."
The red eyes slightly shift their gaze towards the dead man on the central slab, the reason of the hatred inside becomes clear, but so becomes the lack of chance of putting it to rest, now that the master is dead, and hatred can only turn towards all those who still live.
The attention goes back to the other skeletons, which seem to have already noticed that the one with red eyes is awake in the same way they are.
"Then my name shall be Dust."
Eluvan
First Post
Ilsthyr senses the way the wind is blowing and internally changes his plans, though he gives no outward sign.
"I lay claim to nothing," he says patiently to Scorn. "I intend to study these, but I cannot, of course, study them all in their entirety at the present moment, so I intend to keep them safe in the meanwhile. After all, as has been pointed out, who can say whether the perpetrator of this act is still lurking nearby and how powerful he, she or it may be? We may need to depart hastily, and then you shall be glad I had the foresight to secure what we may need to make sense of all this."
That said he first takes care to secure the remaining books and then, assuming that there is no more interference, he steps back and takes in the fact that numerous other skeletons now seem to have awoken. He derives immense amusement and glee from the theatrics of the elven warrior, but puts it aside as probably impolitic to express at this moment.
"My name is Ilsthyr," he announces softly. "I realise that the circumstances in which we find ourselves are less than ideal, and that is apt to cause friction. But if I may offer a word of counsel... it would be unwise to linger here much longer. Far better to find out where this place is and whether we are in immediate danger. We can then secure ourselves or move to a better location, and from there we can begin to think about the next step and, if need be, we can discuss further any issues anybody might have with my custodianship of our creator's tomes."
"I lay claim to nothing," he says patiently to Scorn. "I intend to study these, but I cannot, of course, study them all in their entirety at the present moment, so I intend to keep them safe in the meanwhile. After all, as has been pointed out, who can say whether the perpetrator of this act is still lurking nearby and how powerful he, she or it may be? We may need to depart hastily, and then you shall be glad I had the foresight to secure what we may need to make sense of all this."
That said he first takes care to secure the remaining books and then, assuming that there is no more interference, he steps back and takes in the fact that numerous other skeletons now seem to have awoken. He derives immense amusement and glee from the theatrics of the elven warrior, but puts it aside as probably impolitic to express at this moment.
"My name is Ilsthyr," he announces softly. "I realise that the circumstances in which we find ourselves are less than ideal, and that is apt to cause friction. But if I may offer a word of counsel... it would be unwise to linger here much longer. Far better to find out where this place is and whether we are in immediate danger. We can then secure ourselves or move to a better location, and from there we can begin to think about the next step and, if need be, we can discuss further any issues anybody might have with my custodianship of our creator's tomes."
Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
"Whoever brought us to life is dead, and unlike us, he doesn't look to be better off for it. Burn the books, keep them, leave them... I care not. We owe nothing to this dry, empty husk," the skeleton says while pointing with an arrow to the dead man. "You may call me Treweye, Ilsthyr. Somehow my name slides swiftly into my mind. And I see the wisdom in your actions and words. We should be off."
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