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[Iron Kingdoms] The Age of Rust.
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<blockquote data-quote="Dirigible" data-source="post: 1389527" data-attributes="member: 12631"><p><strong>Kneecap & Eyvind</strong></p><p></p><p>Somehow, you manage to ignore the struggling and the screaming from behind you, and the two most physically diverse members of the band edge forward, peering into the room ahead.</p><p></p><p>Bulky round shapes fill the L-shaped chamber ahead, man-sized casks with heavy, angular letters carved into them - the two closest are 'HRM' and 'BMM'. The wooden bands of the casks seem to be straining, as if whatever was inside was roiling and trying to seep out... in the torchlight, dark red liquid oozes from the seams in the vessels, tricking thickly to the packed earth floor.</p><p></p><p>Of course, it's probably just red wine.</p><p></p><p>Probably.</p><p></p><p><strong>Gavyn & Tyra</strong> </p><p></p><p>Try as you might, you can't recall anything about the undead from your teachings. However, the old Morrowan (Morrowite?) prohibition against sloth and laziness tickles at the forefront of your mind, for some reason.</p><p></p><p><em>(OOC: Trying to use K: Religion to find out about undead is pretty much ineffective. IK has Creature Lore for that).</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Dark</strong></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><em>A little further... a little further...</em> there!</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Your scrawny arms strain, joints screaming in protest as the choking cloth enfolds you, squeezing and strangling. Just as the pressure spots start to form in front of your eyes, your sooty fingers manage to touch the cold iron of the Cryxian dirk... with an agonizing wrench, you force your hand forward and grip the weapon.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Grave-cold shroud-cloth locks tighter around you, air whoosing out of your lungs to be lost in the stinking warp and weave, but you flip the blade in your hand and scream an invocation to the Red Lady, muffled though it is, and plunge the knife upwards, infusing it with hellflames...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>All</strong></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The wraith shrieks as a six-inch, X-shaped blade, wreathed in flame gouges out of it's body. You can see Dark still struggling within the choking phantasm, but he seems to have been able to start to cut himself free...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><em>(OOC: Dark has 20 rounds left, but has seriously wounded the wraith)</em></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dirigible, post: 1389527, member: 12631"] [b]Kneecap & Eyvind[/b] Somehow, you manage to ignore the struggling and the screaming from behind you, and the two most physically diverse members of the band edge forward, peering into the room ahead. Bulky round shapes fill the L-shaped chamber ahead, man-sized casks with heavy, angular letters carved into them - the two closest are 'HRM' and 'BMM'. The wooden bands of the casks seem to be straining, as if whatever was inside was roiling and trying to seep out... in the torchlight, dark red liquid oozes from the seams in the vessels, tricking thickly to the packed earth floor. Of course, it's probably just red wine. Probably. [b]Gavyn & Tyra[/b] Try as you might, you can't recall anything about the undead from your teachings. However, the old Morrowan (Morrowite?) prohibition against sloth and laziness tickles at the forefront of your mind, for some reason. [i](OOC: Trying to use K: Religion to find out about undead is pretty much ineffective. IK has Creature Lore for that). [b]Dark[/b] [i]A little further... a little further...[/i] there! Your scrawny arms strain, joints screaming in protest as the choking cloth enfolds you, squeezing and strangling. Just as the pressure spots start to form in front of your eyes, your sooty fingers manage to touch the cold iron of the Cryxian dirk... with an agonizing wrench, you force your hand forward and grip the weapon. Grave-cold shroud-cloth locks tighter around you, air whoosing out of your lungs to be lost in the stinking warp and weave, but you flip the blade in your hand and scream an invocation to the Red Lady, muffled though it is, and plunge the knife upwards, infusing it with hellflames... [b]All[/b] The wraith shrieks as a six-inch, X-shaped blade, wreathed in flame gouges out of it's body. You can see Dark still struggling within the choking phantasm, but he seems to have been able to start to cut himself free... [i](OOC: Dark has 20 rounds left, but has seriously wounded the wraith)[/i][/i] [/QUOTE]
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