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Story Hour
In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)
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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 650112" data-attributes="member: 2292"><p><em><strong>Zalich's Log, Entry Three</strong></em></p><p></p><p>Warmth. Most people forget the simple luxury of warmth until it's taken from them. It's a foolish thing to do, something I've rarely forgotten since the incident with the ice-flow and the silver arrow. Once we got the furnace started, I could feel my toes for the first time in hours - a luxury I reveled in, let me tell you.</p><p></p><p>Let me tell you something about adventurers though - they're never content to leave something alone. If there's a lever to be pulled or a ruin to poke around in, they're none to keen to wait a while before they run riot trying to stick thier noses into trouble. </p><p></p><p>We were warm, we had wounded, and to be honest there little magic I'd memorized for the day that could be useful to our situation, so I was more than happy to barricade myself in the kitchen until dawn, at the least, or the storm was over, at the latest. In the morning, there was a far greater selection of useful spells I'd recorded for just this sort of situtation, including several cantrips for drying our fire-wood and keeping us warm. Unfortunately, every other concscious and hearty survivor was part of this adventuring plague and decided to explore the upper levels.</p><p></p><p>Why I tailed along for this is beyond me. There were walking dead up there, in small numbers, but the rag-tag group of survivors had no real knowledge of tactics. No sooner had they opened the door to a room and spotted and walking skeleton than they charged forward, virtually bursting through the doorframes in an effort to swing their swords through skeletal ribs. It happened again and again, door after door, until both Brodnak and Kull numbered among our seriously wounded, and several of the others bore gashes and bruises. With my small size, I knew there was little point trying to join in the rush, and what spells I have are designed to be fired from ship to ship - without the interferance of a dozen bodies between me and my target.</p><p></p><p>Tactically sound, these stranger are. I shudder to think what may happen should we run into a pack of ravenous kobolds. I find myself wishing for the well-trained crew of the Silver Arrow again and again as the day wore on.</p><p></p><p>Back to the kitchen it was, then. We set up a rudimentry camp and I cooked another meal (thank the gods that at least I had the foresite to grab a meal or twelve before fleeing the ship).</p><p></p><p>The folly of exploring the upper levels was revealed fairly quickly. After nightfall, there was the sound of something hammering at the front doors.</p><p></p><p>Those of us who were unwounded went to investigate, concerned that anything would be out in the snow-storm that raged outside. I crept along the hallway with the druid, while the two female warriors circled around through the statue room.</p><p></p><p>By the time we'd reached the entry-hall, the creatures had already broken through. They looked like men - albeit northlander barbarians - but their skin was deathly pale and they were seemingly unconcerned by the piles of snow and frost that clung to them. I called out a greeting, hoping against hope they might give us some clue of our location or at least avoid combat. No such luck. They mumbled something in a foreign tongue and lurched forward, weapons at the ready.</p><p></p><p>That was all I needed. I fired off a quick spell I'd been taught, draining the strength of one of the creatures. Initially I'd been taught it to disable the strongest line-men during a bording, but it worked just as well here. The creature roared, then my companions fell upon them. It was a furious battle, far worse than anything we'd engaged in on the upper levels, but the open space of the entry hall made things infinately easier. Troylin proved a very, very able fighter should her oppenent be even slightly distracted, and the ability to flank our enemies proved a sound enough tactic that you'd think the others would get the message and remember it for later combat. I'm not known for my skill with club, although I've had some training, but even I struck a magnificent blow that killed the beast my magic had weakened. Everything flew by in a manner of seconds, and by the end both the frost-men were dead and we had sustained only a few wounds. Kull hobbled into the room in the wake of the fight, seemingly unhappy that he missed the melee, but he seemed strangely impressed by our victory. He's an odd one, that cleric. Grim and unbending, but without the unrelenting cruelty and desire for personal glory I associate with most of his church.</p><p></p><p>A quick examination of their bodies provided little treasure (Both Troilan and Jillian were searching the bodies before they'd even struck the floor), but it did reveal sharp teeth on our attackers. Sharp, obviously filed teeth. I'd read about such things before, usually in tribes of cannibals, and reported it to the others. A grim mood fell over everyone at the thought, although either Brodnack or one of the half-orcs made an ill-timed comment about joining their preference should I food not hold out. </p><p></p><p>I was green at the thought, and seriously considered incapacitating the guilty party while they slept for the greater good of the group, but it's probably just as well given what happened next. Gods, there are some dangerous things in this world, and for some reason they always show up just when you're trying to sleep...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="arwink, post: 650112, member: 2292"] [i][b]Zalich's Log, Entry Three[/b][/i][b][/b] Warmth. Most people forget the simple luxury of warmth until it's taken from them. It's a foolish thing to do, something I've rarely forgotten since the incident with the ice-flow and the silver arrow. Once we got the furnace started, I could feel my toes for the first time in hours - a luxury I reveled in, let me tell you. Let me tell you something about adventurers though - they're never content to leave something alone. If there's a lever to be pulled or a ruin to poke around in, they're none to keen to wait a while before they run riot trying to stick thier noses into trouble. We were warm, we had wounded, and to be honest there little magic I'd memorized for the day that could be useful to our situation, so I was more than happy to barricade myself in the kitchen until dawn, at the least, or the storm was over, at the latest. In the morning, there was a far greater selection of useful spells I'd recorded for just this sort of situtation, including several cantrips for drying our fire-wood and keeping us warm. Unfortunately, every other concscious and hearty survivor was part of this adventuring plague and decided to explore the upper levels. Why I tailed along for this is beyond me. There were walking dead up there, in small numbers, but the rag-tag group of survivors had no real knowledge of tactics. No sooner had they opened the door to a room and spotted and walking skeleton than they charged forward, virtually bursting through the doorframes in an effort to swing their swords through skeletal ribs. It happened again and again, door after door, until both Brodnak and Kull numbered among our seriously wounded, and several of the others bore gashes and bruises. With my small size, I knew there was little point trying to join in the rush, and what spells I have are designed to be fired from ship to ship - without the interferance of a dozen bodies between me and my target. Tactically sound, these stranger are. I shudder to think what may happen should we run into a pack of ravenous kobolds. I find myself wishing for the well-trained crew of the Silver Arrow again and again as the day wore on. Back to the kitchen it was, then. We set up a rudimentry camp and I cooked another meal (thank the gods that at least I had the foresite to grab a meal or twelve before fleeing the ship). The folly of exploring the upper levels was revealed fairly quickly. After nightfall, there was the sound of something hammering at the front doors. Those of us who were unwounded went to investigate, concerned that anything would be out in the snow-storm that raged outside. I crept along the hallway with the druid, while the two female warriors circled around through the statue room. By the time we'd reached the entry-hall, the creatures had already broken through. They looked like men - albeit northlander barbarians - but their skin was deathly pale and they were seemingly unconcerned by the piles of snow and frost that clung to them. I called out a greeting, hoping against hope they might give us some clue of our location or at least avoid combat. No such luck. They mumbled something in a foreign tongue and lurched forward, weapons at the ready. That was all I needed. I fired off a quick spell I'd been taught, draining the strength of one of the creatures. Initially I'd been taught it to disable the strongest line-men during a bording, but it worked just as well here. The creature roared, then my companions fell upon them. It was a furious battle, far worse than anything we'd engaged in on the upper levels, but the open space of the entry hall made things infinately easier. Troylin proved a very, very able fighter should her oppenent be even slightly distracted, and the ability to flank our enemies proved a sound enough tactic that you'd think the others would get the message and remember it for later combat. I'm not known for my skill with club, although I've had some training, but even I struck a magnificent blow that killed the beast my magic had weakened. Everything flew by in a manner of seconds, and by the end both the frost-men were dead and we had sustained only a few wounds. Kull hobbled into the room in the wake of the fight, seemingly unhappy that he missed the melee, but he seemed strangely impressed by our victory. He's an odd one, that cleric. Grim and unbending, but without the unrelenting cruelty and desire for personal glory I associate with most of his church. A quick examination of their bodies provided little treasure (Both Troilan and Jillian were searching the bodies before they'd even struck the floor), but it did reveal sharp teeth on our attackers. Sharp, obviously filed teeth. I'd read about such things before, usually in tribes of cannibals, and reported it to the others. A grim mood fell over everyone at the thought, although either Brodnack or one of the half-orcs made an ill-timed comment about joining their preference should I food not hold out. I was green at the thought, and seriously considered incapacitating the guilty party while they slept for the greater good of the group, but it's probably just as well given what happened next. Gods, there are some dangerous things in this world, and for some reason they always show up just when you're trying to sleep... [/QUOTE]
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In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)
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