industrygothica
Adventurer
Lyllie steps to the side, trying not to get caught under anyone's sword.
|
D&D 5E [IC] THE CURSE OF AMBERSTAR
- Thread starter Archon Basileus
- Start date
Archon Basileus
First Post
At first, the heroes can't uncover much of what's inhabiting the chamber. There's too much fog to allow any clear, direct insight. Harfik's goggles remove the partial difficulties brought up by darkness, just as much the keen sight of the others, but that isn't enough. The heroes must rely on their other senses to understand what goes around.
With careful steps and watchful stances, they move, trying to uncover the source of the noises.
HARFIK
[Well... a few things.
]
Seeing that any attempts at visual contact are futile, the monk focuses instead on his other senses. Listening carefully, he begins to discern the sound of small paws against the lime-covered floor. Tiny, skilled hands tap their little claws against the pavement, scattering in all directions as the heroes advance. Up above, the tattering of wings flaunt, here and there, the presence of a few bats, sluggish as expected. As Harfik sees the first fungi on the floor he realizes this has become a banquet hall for such small creatures. The small things sprout, much like little redcap mushrooms would, all around the baths, becoming larger as they advance.
Harfik's mind is not at ease, though. He knows there's something more. He focuses on the distant reaches of the room, trying to determine its approximate size, and there, on the edges of the plane they now occupy, he captures the faint vibration of light steps. Someone - a group, most likely - wants to remain hidden under the blanket of blindness provided by the steam in the room...
Harfik focuses even more. The room around him - at least, as far as he can see - holds no secrets to his keen senses. This was, in fact, a holy place, once. Remnants of old perfume are still visible on the stained floor, and the arabesques that decorate the borders of the pools are still quite visible. He can almost simulate in his own mind the slow, solemn pace of people placing incense around the room as naked bodies met the warm waters, cleaning themselves for a meeting with their lords. Many servants and officiants must have been necessary, and many must have sought aid in here, for the sounds of copious amounts of water still fill the room, around. Now that it is abandoned, though, the old impressions of purity and perfection have been left to rot, feeding other lifeforms as time went by. A strange sensation pervades the monk as he considers the noises and the environment. He feels as though if they were invading a private, reclusive place, one that should have been left alone long ago... Somehow, entering the are it still feels like... Sacrilege.
These thoughts are suddenly set aside, though, as the feeling of something lurking much, much closer to them assaults the monk's senses. Harfik struggles with a hint of impending urgency, as if something was already too close to be avoided...
LYLLIE
There's still no answer from the beasts, just the murmur heard by the gnome, moments before. These creatures are afraid, it seems. Truly afraid. Lyllie sees all around the mushrooms the marks of small jaws and claws. Some of the things are left behind, half-eaten, as the creatures vanish into the fog. The mists twirl around the heroes as they advance, still weary of surrendering their secrets.
Soon enough, Lyllie notices a strange sight: amidst some of the mushrooms, the dried-off carcass of what was once a big rat lies. Surprisingly enough, he seems dehydrated, even though the vaporous clouds wouldn't allow a corpse to remain there in such a state. Not two steps beyond, she finds two others, sharing the same fate. Their general disposition seems to suggest they've struggled to flee, but fell to weakness midway.
Glancing at Harfik's face, she realizes he detected something. Soon afterwards, she overhears the same faint noises he just heard, going around the edges of the room. By the time she listens to the muffled sounds, she recognizes something far worse. She has felt it before, several times, particularly during her most delicate 'experiments'. Her second nature beckons, giving her that cold sensation of barriers being broken, pushed aside. She feels as she felt once, long ago, after the disaster of Glitterdale, as the dead sought to rise and their spirits wished to return to the shroud that divides the planes of existence... Something roars at the gates, and her heart races.
AANZU
Aanzu's trained eyes widen as he focuses on the irregular flow of the mists, trying to find a pattern. At first, he sees nothing, but a second glance, more attentive, makes him vaguely discern a humanoid shape within the white mass ahead of him. The thin creature holds no consistent shape, looking as if it mingled with the mists. It moves a few steps away from the draconian, gesturing as if to call him forward. He almost sees a clearing within the area, where the humanoid might finally reveal its slim shape entirely.
Right by Aanzu's side, the giantess continues her slow path, having noticed the movement as well... Aanzu feels the weight of his foreign manners against Embla's reclusive life, as she seems to play an undeclared match against the prince.
ICOSA
Once the door gets shut, Icosa feels as if he's placed within the belly of a giant machine. Others might not pay attention to it, but he suddenly feels as if the walls house several hidden contraptions. No sound comes from them, and no movement is apparent, but the very feeling remains. The heat in the room, for example, is not natural. Somehow, Icosa knows that Mount Amberilan does not house such natural springs. A heat source must be below them, either magical or mechanical in nature. For a second, it is almost as if Icosa could feel the beating heart of this source below him, but such impressions were not lasting, not as lasting as the signal he captured above ground, some time ago. Within the walls, though, a growing sensation of danger pervades him, like a memory he cannot reach. Had he a heart, he'd feel it skip, as people do when close to faint from stress or weakness. To him, such a sensation can only be translated as the slightest interference upon his vision, lightly blurred by trickles that occasionaly appear. It is not enough to disturb his perception, but he's quick to notice it.
THULWAR
Thulwar feels the same way Icosa does about this place, particularly after dealing with the door contraption. For the little thing to work, he knows, several other mechanisms would have to be hidden within the side walls. From then on, there's nothing to stop the architects of this place to do the same everywhere else. And if the Teraphim actually did it with their arcane science, then it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that more awaited. Such ways were inexpensive to those that mastered it. Magic would cost so much more, that being one of his main arguments as he once debated the nature of his experiments before his sovereign - facing the obvious opposition of gnomish mage houses, as usual.
The definitive proof of is suspicions certainly lie within the walls, though. And, at least for the time being, their insides remain beyond reach, as more pressing concerns present themselves to the heroes.
EVERYONE
Both Thulwar and Icosa suddenly notice it: the room was never meant to be lit by fire. The darkness that surrounds the heroes - quickly overruled by their dark senses - is being sustained on purpose. They glance, through the mists and into the edges of the pools, what would be better described as artificial lights. They no longer glow, though, probably serving, in the past, to cause an impression, as they'd illuminate the waters from below, guiding the faithful towards the purifying streams.
Soon enough, as the heroes tread within the offering hall, a strange sensation waves over all of them. It is as if an echo crossed the room, louder than the sounds of water and the unseen watchers, bringing their bodies to turn suddenly cold. The child in Embla's arms contorts itself, moaning in fear, and the prisoner that Tink just released shivers and curls himself. Harfik sees the creature's reaction - anyone could - but the monk understands something lies beyond that fearful posture. The goblin's face betrays his knowledge. A quick glance at Embla tells the monk the very same thing: she knows more about this place than she has let out, but it is not as if she deliberately drove them here. She is as surprised as the rest, and something about these halls called out a memory within both natives, greenskin and giantess.
Lyllie doesn't notice such subtle reactions, but she understands the message, loud and clear. The undead trail here. This is a place of death, and she recognizes it. The dereliction of this place isn't mere carelessness. Something happened here to make a once holy place into the site of profanities. And the dead know.
Aanzu's keen senses recognize the danger behind the gestures and subtle movements coming from the mists. They're like the snake in the desert, ever so watchful, trying hard to entice the enemy before attacking. He has no doubt, and as soon as he realizes it, the motioning emptiness turns its attention towards the giantess.
[Given the thick fog in the room, all slots are considered heavily obscured. Perception is possible through the use of other senses. @Greenmtn, I'm considering all of your advantages to secret rolls, no worries! Sorry if my posting 'pace' gave you a wrong impression! I'm keeping all the rules in mind, even though sometimes I post only shreds of them, lol. Also, everytime you don't specify something, I'll assume the most natural course of things will take place - the goblin remains restrained till Thulwar commands him to be released - as @Neurotic did a few posts ago; the miners follow the group, despite their fears; and so on. Right now, the same's worth for Yttrian.]
[Ok, something's up, and you grasped it! I'm constantly reading the sheets again, so I can adapt the descriptions to the particular talents and backgrounds of each character. I get the rolls you make - or the secret ones I make - and give them a description befitting the nature and tastes of each character. Please, let me know if I got each of your creations right, or if I got stranded mid-way. As far as it goes, I'm tring to include human interactions as far as possible for Harfik - given his 'diplomatic' background. As @Greenmtn describes him, he'd be exquisite at reading people's intentions, so part of his reactions might as well come from it. I try to meet the exact opposite reaction in Lyllie's lines. Since she perceived the situation with a bit less intensity than Harfik, I figured she'd probably be concerned with the beasts and the environment - things she can read a lot easier, as well as more comfortably - and so I let her perception work from Harfik's moves - that attentive posture one gets when trying to listen to something beyond immediate noise. For Thulwar and Icosa, obviously the scientific nature would be more pronounced, and I've added a tone to each description - Thulwar is certainly more technical, perceiving mechanical devices from the possibility of having them working, almost dialoguing with the engineer that conceived a contraption. Icosa would be far more intuitive, since he might be affacted by the same phenomena that interacts with machines - or at least I assume he might! For Aanzu, I focused on the extensive potential consequences of 'danger sense', imagining that the advantages given by the trait would pull his attention towards the menacing nature of the surrounding area. The NPCs are also reacting according to the background descriptions (from history and ideals to objectives). Please, let me know what you guys thing of it - and of the story, of course - here or in the OOC thread!]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
With careful steps and watchful stances, they move, trying to uncover the source of the noises.
HARFIK
[Well... a few things.
]Seeing that any attempts at visual contact are futile, the monk focuses instead on his other senses. Listening carefully, he begins to discern the sound of small paws against the lime-covered floor. Tiny, skilled hands tap their little claws against the pavement, scattering in all directions as the heroes advance. Up above, the tattering of wings flaunt, here and there, the presence of a few bats, sluggish as expected. As Harfik sees the first fungi on the floor he realizes this has become a banquet hall for such small creatures. The small things sprout, much like little redcap mushrooms would, all around the baths, becoming larger as they advance.
Harfik's mind is not at ease, though. He knows there's something more. He focuses on the distant reaches of the room, trying to determine its approximate size, and there, on the edges of the plane they now occupy, he captures the faint vibration of light steps. Someone - a group, most likely - wants to remain hidden under the blanket of blindness provided by the steam in the room...
Harfik focuses even more. The room around him - at least, as far as he can see - holds no secrets to his keen senses. This was, in fact, a holy place, once. Remnants of old perfume are still visible on the stained floor, and the arabesques that decorate the borders of the pools are still quite visible. He can almost simulate in his own mind the slow, solemn pace of people placing incense around the room as naked bodies met the warm waters, cleaning themselves for a meeting with their lords. Many servants and officiants must have been necessary, and many must have sought aid in here, for the sounds of copious amounts of water still fill the room, around. Now that it is abandoned, though, the old impressions of purity and perfection have been left to rot, feeding other lifeforms as time went by. A strange sensation pervades the monk as he considers the noises and the environment. He feels as though if they were invading a private, reclusive place, one that should have been left alone long ago... Somehow, entering the are it still feels like... Sacrilege.
These thoughts are suddenly set aside, though, as the feeling of something lurking much, much closer to them assaults the monk's senses. Harfik struggles with a hint of impending urgency, as if something was already too close to be avoided...
LYLLIE
There's still no answer from the beasts, just the murmur heard by the gnome, moments before. These creatures are afraid, it seems. Truly afraid. Lyllie sees all around the mushrooms the marks of small jaws and claws. Some of the things are left behind, half-eaten, as the creatures vanish into the fog. The mists twirl around the heroes as they advance, still weary of surrendering their secrets.
Soon enough, Lyllie notices a strange sight: amidst some of the mushrooms, the dried-off carcass of what was once a big rat lies. Surprisingly enough, he seems dehydrated, even though the vaporous clouds wouldn't allow a corpse to remain there in such a state. Not two steps beyond, she finds two others, sharing the same fate. Their general disposition seems to suggest they've struggled to flee, but fell to weakness midway.
Glancing at Harfik's face, she realizes he detected something. Soon afterwards, she overhears the same faint noises he just heard, going around the edges of the room. By the time she listens to the muffled sounds, she recognizes something far worse. She has felt it before, several times, particularly during her most delicate 'experiments'. Her second nature beckons, giving her that cold sensation of barriers being broken, pushed aside. She feels as she felt once, long ago, after the disaster of Glitterdale, as the dead sought to rise and their spirits wished to return to the shroud that divides the planes of existence... Something roars at the gates, and her heart races.
AANZU
Aanzu's trained eyes widen as he focuses on the irregular flow of the mists, trying to find a pattern. At first, he sees nothing, but a second glance, more attentive, makes him vaguely discern a humanoid shape within the white mass ahead of him. The thin creature holds no consistent shape, looking as if it mingled with the mists. It moves a few steps away from the draconian, gesturing as if to call him forward. He almost sees a clearing within the area, where the humanoid might finally reveal its slim shape entirely.
Right by Aanzu's side, the giantess continues her slow path, having noticed the movement as well... Aanzu feels the weight of his foreign manners against Embla's reclusive life, as she seems to play an undeclared match against the prince.
ICOSA
Once the door gets shut, Icosa feels as if he's placed within the belly of a giant machine. Others might not pay attention to it, but he suddenly feels as if the walls house several hidden contraptions. No sound comes from them, and no movement is apparent, but the very feeling remains. The heat in the room, for example, is not natural. Somehow, Icosa knows that Mount Amberilan does not house such natural springs. A heat source must be below them, either magical or mechanical in nature. For a second, it is almost as if Icosa could feel the beating heart of this source below him, but such impressions were not lasting, not as lasting as the signal he captured above ground, some time ago. Within the walls, though, a growing sensation of danger pervades him, like a memory he cannot reach. Had he a heart, he'd feel it skip, as people do when close to faint from stress or weakness. To him, such a sensation can only be translated as the slightest interference upon his vision, lightly blurred by trickles that occasionaly appear. It is not enough to disturb his perception, but he's quick to notice it.
THULWAR
Thulwar feels the same way Icosa does about this place, particularly after dealing with the door contraption. For the little thing to work, he knows, several other mechanisms would have to be hidden within the side walls. From then on, there's nothing to stop the architects of this place to do the same everywhere else. And if the Teraphim actually did it with their arcane science, then it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that more awaited. Such ways were inexpensive to those that mastered it. Magic would cost so much more, that being one of his main arguments as he once debated the nature of his experiments before his sovereign - facing the obvious opposition of gnomish mage houses, as usual.
The definitive proof of is suspicions certainly lie within the walls, though. And, at least for the time being, their insides remain beyond reach, as more pressing concerns present themselves to the heroes.
EVERYONE
Both Thulwar and Icosa suddenly notice it: the room was never meant to be lit by fire. The darkness that surrounds the heroes - quickly overruled by their dark senses - is being sustained on purpose. They glance, through the mists and into the edges of the pools, what would be better described as artificial lights. They no longer glow, though, probably serving, in the past, to cause an impression, as they'd illuminate the waters from below, guiding the faithful towards the purifying streams.
Soon enough, as the heroes tread within the offering hall, a strange sensation waves over all of them. It is as if an echo crossed the room, louder than the sounds of water and the unseen watchers, bringing their bodies to turn suddenly cold. The child in Embla's arms contorts itself, moaning in fear, and the prisoner that Tink just released shivers and curls himself. Harfik sees the creature's reaction - anyone could - but the monk understands something lies beyond that fearful posture. The goblin's face betrays his knowledge. A quick glance at Embla tells the monk the very same thing: she knows more about this place than she has let out, but it is not as if she deliberately drove them here. She is as surprised as the rest, and something about these halls called out a memory within both natives, greenskin and giantess.
Lyllie doesn't notice such subtle reactions, but she understands the message, loud and clear. The undead trail here. This is a place of death, and she recognizes it. The dereliction of this place isn't mere carelessness. Something happened here to make a once holy place into the site of profanities. And the dead know.
Aanzu's keen senses recognize the danger behind the gestures and subtle movements coming from the mists. They're like the snake in the desert, ever so watchful, trying hard to entice the enemy before attacking. He has no doubt, and as soon as he realizes it, the motioning emptiness turns its attention towards the giantess.
[Given the thick fog in the room, all slots are considered heavily obscured. Perception is possible through the use of other senses. @Greenmtn, I'm considering all of your advantages to secret rolls, no worries! Sorry if my posting 'pace' gave you a wrong impression! I'm keeping all the rules in mind, even though sometimes I post only shreds of them, lol. Also, everytime you don't specify something, I'll assume the most natural course of things will take place - the goblin remains restrained till Thulwar commands him to be released - as @Neurotic did a few posts ago; the miners follow the group, despite their fears; and so on. Right now, the same's worth for Yttrian.]
[Ok, something's up, and you grasped it! I'm constantly reading the sheets again, so I can adapt the descriptions to the particular talents and backgrounds of each character. I get the rolls you make - or the secret ones I make - and give them a description befitting the nature and tastes of each character. Please, let me know if I got each of your creations right, or if I got stranded mid-way. As far as it goes, I'm tring to include human interactions as far as possible for Harfik - given his 'diplomatic' background. As @Greenmtn describes him, he'd be exquisite at reading people's intentions, so part of his reactions might as well come from it. I try to meet the exact opposite reaction in Lyllie's lines. Since she perceived the situation with a bit less intensity than Harfik, I figured she'd probably be concerned with the beasts and the environment - things she can read a lot easier, as well as more comfortably - and so I let her perception work from Harfik's moves - that attentive posture one gets when trying to listen to something beyond immediate noise. For Thulwar and Icosa, obviously the scientific nature would be more pronounced, and I've added a tone to each description - Thulwar is certainly more technical, perceiving mechanical devices from the possibility of having them working, almost dialoguing with the engineer that conceived a contraption. Icosa would be far more intuitive, since he might be affacted by the same phenomena that interacts with machines - or at least I assume he might! For Aanzu, I focused on the extensive potential consequences of 'danger sense', imagining that the advantages given by the trait would pull his attention towards the menacing nature of the surrounding area. The NPCs are also reacting according to the background descriptions (from history and ideals to objectives). Please, let me know what you guys thing of it - and of the story, of course - here or in the OOC thread!]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
Last edited:
industrygothica
Adventurer
"The dead walk here," Lyllie whispers. "And they are hungry." The gnome taps her staff on the ground, and it glows for the briefest of moments with a sickly yellow-green iridescence, and then the light winks out into the black.
|
JustinCase
the magical equivalent to the number zero
Aanzu realizes that the giantess has somehow decided that this is to be a contest between them. Before he can correct her, however, he notices a humanoid shape within the mists, beckoning in the way that a serpent would lure prey to its hungry mouth.
Almost unconsciously the dragonborn nods to Lyllie's words, more human than his usual draconic aloofness. The dead walk here, and they are hungry. Yes, the dead are hungry. But so was he.
Without warning, Aanzu opens his jaws and spits forth a thunderous bolt of lightning, igniting tiny sparks in the moist atmosphere as it rushes towards the strange and insubstantial creature lurking in the mists.
He waits to see what happens to it before taking any other actions, instead hoping to lure the being towards them.
Almost unconsciously the dragonborn nods to Lyllie's words, more human than his usual draconic aloofness. The dead walk here, and they are hungry. Yes, the dead are hungry. But so was he.
Without warning, Aanzu opens his jaws and spits forth a thunderous bolt of lightning, igniting tiny sparks in the moist atmosphere as it rushes towards the strange and insubstantial creature lurking in the mists.
He waits to see what happens to it before taking any other actions, instead hoping to lure the being towards them.
|
Neurotic
I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
"What I would give to be able to study the inner workings of this place." he muses
"Tink, guard! Lyllie, stand close."
The alchemist prepares some red, slightly glowing vial. "This is damp place, but I prepared fire, just in case. It might clear up the fog some. And undead generally fear fire."
"Tink, guard! Lyllie, stand close."
The alchemist prepares some red, slightly glowing vial. "This is damp place, but I prepared fire, just in case. It might clear up the fog some. And undead generally fear fire."
"There is...an energy source below us," Icosa muses. "It's heating this room, though I cannot say if the heating is accidental or intentional. I'm also...detecting..." he pauses, then continues, "...mechanisms within the walls. Exact nature is unknown, but they may be dangerous. I recommend..."
He breaks off then, as the others start discharging energy or casting spells or shouting orders.
"...caution."
The armored frame of the warforged turned then, putting his back to his allies and facing out into the threatening unknowns within the mist.
He breaks off then, as the others start discharging energy or casting spells or shouting orders.
"...caution."
The armored frame of the warforged turned then, putting his back to his allies and facing out into the threatening unknowns within the mist.
Harfik Human Monk
Harfik lightly steps to adjust his body to face the dark ominous shape at all times. "We are not that which causes fear here."
As Aanzu lets loose his attack Harfik takes a half step back, his spear now in front of him drawing small circles in the mist, his empty hand close to his heart his stance wide and low ready for what ever comes.
Harfik lightly steps to adjust his body to face the dark ominous shape at all times. "We are not that which causes fear here."
As Aanzu lets loose his attack Harfik takes a half step back, his spear now in front of him drawing small circles in the mist, his empty hand close to his heart his stance wide and low ready for what ever comes.
Archon Basileus
First Post
[Yeah, initiative everyone, heheh. 'They' have a score of 8... And by they I mean the fog-man. Embla gets 22.]
Aanzu's reach is more than enough to strike the creature. The fog twists once more, as a cryptic moan comes from it. Sounds of pain and fear rise and a vaguely human image finally manifests itself, cowering under the power of the attack. The entity has the bearings of a tall, well-bred human being, dressed in what once were fine red robes. In his chest, a golden, decorated pectoral plate adorns what was once a set of ritual clothes. Nonetheless, circumstances have made it torn, just as much as the man inside them. His frail body and sunken features are as much of a wreck as his torn silks and his dented jewels. In his hand, an old, curved golden sword still hangs, ready to split herbs and animals. Blood has gathered all over the blade, though, reaching the hilt as well as his hands, going black as time went by.
The man is curved, hiding his face in fear and shame. He trembles and sobs, his voice echoing through the myst-filled halls in solitude. "Pleeeeaaase... Stop...." - he begs, still not facing Aanzu or the giantess or any other hero before him.
AANZU
Aanzu's strike must've nearly killed the frail man. Clearly, he is a priest. Odds are he got stuck in here while he crossed these halls. Weak, of course, and foolish, but quite harmless. A typical human.
A second after the burst that led him to reveal himself, other steps are heard. Three others - another man and two women - appear around the heroes, once more a few steps away. They reveal themselves as far as the mysts allow them. Their clothes are similar to those of the curved man, and they hold blades that bear the same nature, even the same blackened stains upon them. They, too, moan and plead.
"Whyyyy...?" - says a female voice, her face nearly in tears.
"Stop.... stop...." - another repeats, his torn robes dragging through the floor.
Four harmless human figures - and nothing else - are now terrified of the prince.
HARFIK
Keeping his stance, the monk controls his lance with precision and grace. He sees the man curling around himself, bent away from Aanzu. A second later, one of the four priests appears, walking towards him. It's the pleading woman. She speaks to Aanzu, but looks at Harfik, apparently asking for his protection.
Seeing the monk's cautious posture, she decides not to move, but her sadness still reaches him with pleading, vacant eyes.
Ah, fated woman! Harfik saw his share of liars during his life, and yours is a face that lies... There's no doubt in Harfik's mind, these are the faces of madmen, even madder than those he met in the pits, doomed to die or to kill. They've been taken, and whatever dragged their sanity left deep scars. At first, the monk shrivers as he faces her, and soon he understands why: despite the heavy apron the woman drags, despite the fear of the moment, despite the vapours that fill the room, leaving his own forehead soaked... She does not sweat. Not a single drop of sweat.
THULWAR
The small sage glances the other male priest, his robes dragging more than the others'. He marches in a curved posture, as if afraid to be the target of even further agressions. His eyes are old and wise, it seems, and he begs not with fear, but with sadness. The blade he bears in one of his hands is matched by the incenser on the other, and the mysts it produces are easily lost amidst the fog that surrounds them all.
He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out with great effort...
ICOSA
Gun up, Icosa studies the sudden visitors. Their moves are frail and irregular, as if demanding a great deal of concentration, but their steps are surprisingly light, flowing unimpeded through the irregular floor. Icosa studies them further, realizing they aren't affected by the thick vapours or by the heat that falls over his own companions...
LYLLIE
The gnome does not second-guess her own conclusions. Tore clothes, dried blood, the light steps, the sly pleas, the false tears... She can feel it, as she can feel them grasping the heroes, step by step. They're patient and smart, she knows, for they're the manifestations of old feelings and old lives. An eternity of march wouldn't stop them, as long as it gave them the chance to dress once more the garments of life...
Before she can warn them, their true nature becomes apparent. They reveal their stratagem, probably sensing the impending danger of discovery! They rise, floating a few inches above the floor, crying and moaning! Lyllie heard it so many times, this sick symphony of death and jealousy! So many times she tried to uncover hidden stories through their voices and their broken existences! But always, always, they resented her, even in her half-living state!
Damn ghosts!
EVERYONE
The creatures rise their voices, empty eyes and decaying visages! Their bodies cover themselves with the marks of death, rotting away clothes and flesh! Bone exposes, and silks are rotten away! They become the very image of loss and sorrow, and hate rises from them, as if the wanted to take revenge on AAnzu's actions! Several cries jon theirs' on the mysts, their origins still unseen, and the heroes behold with dread and disgust the translucid shapes of the apparitions!
[Ok, you may roll your actions in order of initiative, as usual! But, before you do that, please, give me a WIS resistance test - DC 13 Failure means the character is frightened for a minute. Remember, five or more on a failure takes age away, so... Be careful! Also, give me ONE TEST PER CHARACTER, not one per ghost! It'd make little sense to roll one by one, as far as I understand it.]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
Aanzu's reach is more than enough to strike the creature. The fog twists once more, as a cryptic moan comes from it. Sounds of pain and fear rise and a vaguely human image finally manifests itself, cowering under the power of the attack. The entity has the bearings of a tall, well-bred human being, dressed in what once were fine red robes. In his chest, a golden, decorated pectoral plate adorns what was once a set of ritual clothes. Nonetheless, circumstances have made it torn, just as much as the man inside them. His frail body and sunken features are as much of a wreck as his torn silks and his dented jewels. In his hand, an old, curved golden sword still hangs, ready to split herbs and animals. Blood has gathered all over the blade, though, reaching the hilt as well as his hands, going black as time went by.
The man is curved, hiding his face in fear and shame. He trembles and sobs, his voice echoing through the myst-filled halls in solitude. "Pleeeeaaase... Stop...." - he begs, still not facing Aanzu or the giantess or any other hero before him.
AANZU
Aanzu's strike must've nearly killed the frail man. Clearly, he is a priest. Odds are he got stuck in here while he crossed these halls. Weak, of course, and foolish, but quite harmless. A typical human.
A second after the burst that led him to reveal himself, other steps are heard. Three others - another man and two women - appear around the heroes, once more a few steps away. They reveal themselves as far as the mysts allow them. Their clothes are similar to those of the curved man, and they hold blades that bear the same nature, even the same blackened stains upon them. They, too, moan and plead.
"Whyyyy...?" - says a female voice, her face nearly in tears.
"Stop.... stop...." - another repeats, his torn robes dragging through the floor.
Four harmless human figures - and nothing else - are now terrified of the prince.
HARFIK
Keeping his stance, the monk controls his lance with precision and grace. He sees the man curling around himself, bent away from Aanzu. A second later, one of the four priests appears, walking towards him. It's the pleading woman. She speaks to Aanzu, but looks at Harfik, apparently asking for his protection.
Seeing the monk's cautious posture, she decides not to move, but her sadness still reaches him with pleading, vacant eyes.
Ah, fated woman! Harfik saw his share of liars during his life, and yours is a face that lies... There's no doubt in Harfik's mind, these are the faces of madmen, even madder than those he met in the pits, doomed to die or to kill. They've been taken, and whatever dragged their sanity left deep scars. At first, the monk shrivers as he faces her, and soon he understands why: despite the heavy apron the woman drags, despite the fear of the moment, despite the vapours that fill the room, leaving his own forehead soaked... She does not sweat. Not a single drop of sweat.
THULWAR
The small sage glances the other male priest, his robes dragging more than the others'. He marches in a curved posture, as if afraid to be the target of even further agressions. His eyes are old and wise, it seems, and he begs not with fear, but with sadness. The blade he bears in one of his hands is matched by the incenser on the other, and the mysts it produces are easily lost amidst the fog that surrounds them all.
He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out with great effort...
ICOSA
Gun up, Icosa studies the sudden visitors. Their moves are frail and irregular, as if demanding a great deal of concentration, but their steps are surprisingly light, flowing unimpeded through the irregular floor. Icosa studies them further, realizing they aren't affected by the thick vapours or by the heat that falls over his own companions...
LYLLIE
The gnome does not second-guess her own conclusions. Tore clothes, dried blood, the light steps, the sly pleas, the false tears... She can feel it, as she can feel them grasping the heroes, step by step. They're patient and smart, she knows, for they're the manifestations of old feelings and old lives. An eternity of march wouldn't stop them, as long as it gave them the chance to dress once more the garments of life...
Before she can warn them, their true nature becomes apparent. They reveal their stratagem, probably sensing the impending danger of discovery! They rise, floating a few inches above the floor, crying and moaning! Lyllie heard it so many times, this sick symphony of death and jealousy! So many times she tried to uncover hidden stories through their voices and their broken existences! But always, always, they resented her, even in her half-living state!
Damn ghosts!
EVERYONE
The creatures rise their voices, empty eyes and decaying visages! Their bodies cover themselves with the marks of death, rotting away clothes and flesh! Bone exposes, and silks are rotten away! They become the very image of loss and sorrow, and hate rises from them, as if the wanted to take revenge on AAnzu's actions! Several cries jon theirs' on the mysts, their origins still unseen, and the heroes behold with dread and disgust the translucid shapes of the apparitions!
[Ok, you may roll your actions in order of initiative, as usual! But, before you do that, please, give me a WIS resistance test - DC 13 Failure means the character is frightened for a minute. Remember, five or more on a failure takes age away, so... Be careful! Also, give me ONE TEST PER CHARACTER, not one per ghost! It'd make little sense to roll one by one, as far as I understand it.]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
Harfik Human Monk
"Tormented ones. What keeps you here?" Harfik asks, Stalling to get an idea of how many are in the shadows and wondering if there is enough left to get any information out of them. Fully believing not only that they will have to destroy these beings to leave the room alive, but also well aware that prior to Aanzu's attack, they only saw one.... Do those that die here join the tormented? If so how many would be raiders, armed with gods only know what will swarm us. Harfiks heart pounds as he becomes visibly concerned, his normally calm, still hands shake visibly.
Harfik has seen terrible punishments, things he was only able to deal with by knowing that following his ways would help him reach a final death that would end the suffering... but not being allowed that release, tormented for eternity....
[/ooc]
"Tormented ones. What keeps you here?" Harfik asks, Stalling to get an idea of how many are in the shadows and wondering if there is enough left to get any information out of them. Fully believing not only that they will have to destroy these beings to leave the room alive, but also well aware that prior to Aanzu's attack, they only saw one.... Do those that die here join the tormented? If so how many would be raiders, armed with gods only know what will swarm us. Harfiks heart pounds as he becomes visibly concerned, his normally calm, still hands shake visibly.
Harfik has seen terrible punishments, things he was only able to deal with by knowing that following his ways would help him reach a final death that would end the suffering... but not being allowed that release, tormented for eternity....
|
[/ooc]
Archon Basileus
First Post
HARFIK
Harfik's controlled countenance seems to be at a loss for the time being. No answer follows his question, and the presence of the decadent enemies holds a cold grasp on his soul. Still, Harfik knows enough to realize something rather different stirs beyond their sight. Heavier steps, desperate to stay undetected. The monk understands that not all enemies in this room are dead... But how could the living walk among these... abominations?
[Description is perfect, man! As far as I understand, Harfik would translate his fear more as a mental overload and less as desperation, just as you described! Effects are the same as described at the PHB - disadvantage at ability checks and attack rolls on the presence of these ghosts and inability to approach them willingly.]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
Harfik's controlled countenance seems to be at a loss for the time being. No answer follows his question, and the presence of the decadent enemies holds a cold grasp on his soul. Still, Harfik knows enough to realize something rather different stirs beyond their sight. Heavier steps, desperate to stay undetected. The monk understands that not all enemies in this room are dead... But how could the living walk among these... abominations?
[Description is perfect, man! As far as I understand, Harfik would translate his fear more as a mental overload and less as desperation, just as you described! Effects are the same as described at the PHB - disadvantage at ability checks and attack rolls on the presence of these ghosts and inability to approach them willingly.]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]
Similar Threads
