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In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)
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<blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 1285961" data-attributes="member: 6294"><p><strong>Kull's 9th Report - Part 4</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="color: Silver">Leading the others on, I entered a room where a number of slaves cowered against a wall, manacled together in a long line. Only one of the group stood tall, a wiry human with dusky skin and a taciturn nature. He gave his name as Jav, and professed to be a follower of the teachings of Wee Jas. On hearing this, Gnorric was all for releasing him on the spot, but I had no wish to encumber myself with a liability, and demanded first to know what use he could be to us. After all, finding him as a prisoner of the enemy was hardly an encouraging sign.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">By way of answer, he slipped easily out of the manacles, tossing them on the ground before him. He then explained that he had not already escaped only because there had been no way past the three zombie ogres without fighting them: a task he could not manage alone. As I myself could not have stood against all three without aid, I could not fault his reasons. Accordingly, I allowed him to join us, while sending the other captives back out of the catacombs via the route we had taken.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">It would be remiss of me not to mention that the speed and grace with which this 'Jav' moves - and a flash of henna on his wrists - makes me suspect that he is more than he appears. I believe he may even be an aspirant to the order of the Grey Messengers. While I have little love for the cults of the death goddess, they are times when the skills of such people are necessary, and if my supposition is correct, he may come in time to put those skills to Our Lord's use.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">Before allowing them to depart, I bade the prisoners tell me what they could of the remainder of the catacombs, and how they had been brought here. It emerged that they were mostly villagers from Newtemple, who had been kidnapped from their homes by the supposed priests and set to work mining. Apparently the priests were searching for some kind of lost artefact - doubtless this was what led them to concoct that ridiculous story about the 'Hand of Pelor' - and were using the villagers as slaves to this end. The prisoners were also able to tell me that the priests' human appearance was only an illusion - beneath this they were actually some kind of foul cat-people.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">Armed with some knowledge of what lay ahead, and knowing that the enemy had already used arcane magic, I protected myself from fire - which I have found to be the most common weapon of wizards - and led the way forward.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">Soon, I arrived at a four-way intersection. One route led back the way I had come, while each of the other three led to a small chamber. In each chamber stood one of the supposed Pelorites, doubtless seeking to catch us in a cross-fire.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">As far as it went, this was a reasonable plan - unfortunately for the 'priests', it did not go anywhere near far enough. Without other troops to protect them, and having chosen to fight in a location where there zombies were too large to manoeuvre, there was nothing to prevent us from charging forward to engage them. It was arrogance, nothing more. Even something as simple as a pit trap would have offered some protection.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">It was true that the creatures were very hard to strike: the two I slew seemed to know my attacks as soon as I did, slipping aside of many blows. Even when my flail did land on one of them, it seemed to have little impact, as if they were somehow resistant to the blows. But as anyone who has fought skeletons would know, few things are immune to all weapons. When I saw their resistance to the flail, I tried striking them with the spiked gauntlets on my hands, and these pierced satisfyingly deep into their flesh.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">When it saw that both of its companions had fallen, the last of the creatures attempted to turn me from my task, claiming that without the protection of its kind, the folk of Newtemple would soon be massacred by the invading humanoids. Perhaps it truly expected this sophistry to stay my hand. If so, then at least it did not have to bear its disappointment for long: within the minute, it lay dead at my feet.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">With the threat of these cat-creatures destroyed, I returned to the surface and ordered the townsfolk to make ready to leave as soon as it was light. Initially, there was some resistance, but when I made it clear that their choices were to go and live, or stay and die, they became much more amenable.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">It was a hard task to get them all aboard the ship, and I had to throw many unnecessary items into the sea, before it could be accomplished. Refugees will try to take the most useless of items, and I insisted that only food, clothes, weapons - of which they had none - and easily portable valuables were to come aboard.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">After a few days' sailing, we returned to Saltmarsh, where the Pelorites handed over the reward they had promised. I intend now to organise an expedition to Mellin. While this will not directly progress my investigation of the rise of the swamp, it will allow me to acquire a number of supplies that I require. Our Lord has seen fit to grant me access to some of his more potent blessings, and the rituals for these require certain materials that cannot be acquired in a small village such as Saltmarsh. A journey to Mellin will also allow me to learn more of the war effort.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">I will report again upon my return from Mellin.</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">In Hextor's Name,</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver">Kull Redfist</span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Capellan, post: 1285961, member: 6294"] [b]Kull's 9th Report - Part 4[/b] [COLOR=Silver]Leading the others on, I entered a room where a number of slaves cowered against a wall, manacled together in a long line. Only one of the group stood tall, a wiry human with dusky skin and a taciturn nature. He gave his name as Jav, and professed to be a follower of the teachings of Wee Jas. On hearing this, Gnorric was all for releasing him on the spot, but I had no wish to encumber myself with a liability, and demanded first to know what use he could be to us. After all, finding him as a prisoner of the enemy was hardly an encouraging sign. By way of answer, he slipped easily out of the manacles, tossing them on the ground before him. He then explained that he had not already escaped only because there had been no way past the three zombie ogres without fighting them: a task he could not manage alone. As I myself could not have stood against all three without aid, I could not fault his reasons. Accordingly, I allowed him to join us, while sending the other captives back out of the catacombs via the route we had taken. It would be remiss of me not to mention that the speed and grace with which this 'Jav' moves - and a flash of henna on his wrists - makes me suspect that he is more than he appears. I believe he may even be an aspirant to the order of the Grey Messengers. While I have little love for the cults of the death goddess, they are times when the skills of such people are necessary, and if my supposition is correct, he may come in time to put those skills to Our Lord's use. Before allowing them to depart, I bade the prisoners tell me what they could of the remainder of the catacombs, and how they had been brought here. It emerged that they were mostly villagers from Newtemple, who had been kidnapped from their homes by the supposed priests and set to work mining. Apparently the priests were searching for some kind of lost artefact - doubtless this was what led them to concoct that ridiculous story about the 'Hand of Pelor' - and were using the villagers as slaves to this end. The prisoners were also able to tell me that the priests' human appearance was only an illusion - beneath this they were actually some kind of foul cat-people. Armed with some knowledge of what lay ahead, and knowing that the enemy had already used arcane magic, I protected myself from fire - which I have found to be the most common weapon of wizards - and led the way forward. Soon, I arrived at a four-way intersection. One route led back the way I had come, while each of the other three led to a small chamber. In each chamber stood one of the supposed Pelorites, doubtless seeking to catch us in a cross-fire. As far as it went, this was a reasonable plan - unfortunately for the 'priests', it did not go anywhere near far enough. Without other troops to protect them, and having chosen to fight in a location where there zombies were too large to manoeuvre, there was nothing to prevent us from charging forward to engage them. It was arrogance, nothing more. Even something as simple as a pit trap would have offered some protection. It was true that the creatures were very hard to strike: the two I slew seemed to know my attacks as soon as I did, slipping aside of many blows. Even when my flail did land on one of them, it seemed to have little impact, as if they were somehow resistant to the blows. But as anyone who has fought skeletons would know, few things are immune to all weapons. When I saw their resistance to the flail, I tried striking them with the spiked gauntlets on my hands, and these pierced satisfyingly deep into their flesh. When it saw that both of its companions had fallen, the last of the creatures attempted to turn me from my task, claiming that without the protection of its kind, the folk of Newtemple would soon be massacred by the invading humanoids. Perhaps it truly expected this sophistry to stay my hand. If so, then at least it did not have to bear its disappointment for long: within the minute, it lay dead at my feet. With the threat of these cat-creatures destroyed, I returned to the surface and ordered the townsfolk to make ready to leave as soon as it was light. Initially, there was some resistance, but when I made it clear that their choices were to go and live, or stay and die, they became much more amenable. It was a hard task to get them all aboard the ship, and I had to throw many unnecessary items into the sea, before it could be accomplished. Refugees will try to take the most useless of items, and I insisted that only food, clothes, weapons - of which they had none - and easily portable valuables were to come aboard. After a few days' sailing, we returned to Saltmarsh, where the Pelorites handed over the reward they had promised. I intend now to organise an expedition to Mellin. While this will not directly progress my investigation of the rise of the swamp, it will allow me to acquire a number of supplies that I require. Our Lord has seen fit to grant me access to some of his more potent blessings, and the rituals for these require certain materials that cannot be acquired in a small village such as Saltmarsh. A journey to Mellin will also allow me to learn more of the war effort. I will report again upon my return from Mellin. In Hextor's Name, Kull Redfist [/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)
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