Stahrl, Valurel, and Brian all tear their gazes from the charging orcs at concern for their comrades. Behind them in the darkness, the three Heroes can see a ten-foot depression in the center of the ancestor ring, dust and ash rising at its recent collapse. At the bottom, Aislinn and Kaela scramble to their feet, dazed at their sudden fall. On the far side from Stahrl, Valurel, and Brian a dark opening gaps wide at the bottom of the depression, a fetid stench emanating from the hole. Turning, they see the orcs rapidly closing the distance to their prey.
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Midnight: A Lost Faith's Shadow. Book 1, The Awakening. Chapter 1, The Charge
- Thread starter Hrothgar
- Start date
Ranger Rick
First Post
OOC: How far down are they? Can we take off a shirt and they grab that?
Another Way
Reznik's shadowy eyes pierced the darkness into the pit where Kaela and Aislinn fell. He knew the orcs were close behind them and gaining. Running would prove fruitless. But there, in the darkness amidst the stench of death was a large gap. He put his hand on Starhl's shoulder and pointed at the gap, "There, in the pit."
Reznik jumps into the pit, joining Kaela and Aislinn in the stench filled darkness. He gazes into the gap, looking for Fell or anything else that hides in the darkness.
OOC:
Jump: +5
Tumble: +8
Spot: +4
Reznik's shadowy eyes pierced the darkness into the pit where Kaela and Aislinn fell. He knew the orcs were close behind them and gaining. Running would prove fruitless. But there, in the darkness amidst the stench of death was a large gap. He put his hand on Starhl's shoulder and pointed at the gap, "There, in the pit."
Reznik jumps into the pit, joining Kaela and Aislinn in the stench filled darkness. He gazes into the gap, looking for Fell or anything else that hides in the darkness.
OOC:
Jump: +5
Tumble: +8
Spot: +4
Toric_Arthendain
Explorer
"Go in hole, no more time!" Valurel growls in the darkness on the edge of the pit. He will keep his eyes on the approaching Orcs, waiting until everyone else has descended into the pit and starts into the gap before he himself jumps into the pit and follows them in. Just as he jumps in, he'll take one last look back to see how much time they have before the Orcs reach the pit.
Jon Rane
The stones had called him. How? Jon did not know or really care in these dreary Northlands. The stones spoke and Jon heeded their call. He had already spent two days at this stone ring, a Dornish ancestor ring from the looks of it, with its scorched stones and ash center. He had seen no living being, although a Dorn town must be nearby; the ancestor ring had seen use within the past few months.
Since arriving, Jon had heard the voices. Voices from the past. Voices of the Lost. Speaking to him of the strife and pain in the north. Against the Shadow. The Lost seemed to know him, to call him by a name he could almost recognize, but not truly grasp. The whispers came and went over the past two days, tormenting Jon with their import. She has returned. She has heard our tales. She knows of your sacrifice at the Fortress Wall those many years ago. Protect Her Chosen, for she is means to your end.
Night had finally fallen on the second day, cooling the land from the abnormal heat of the summer day. Overhead, dark clouds massed and lightning flashed, painting the grasslands and the forest to the west in streaks of white and black. On this night, unlike the others, a faint green halo had appeared over the stone ring. Would the riddles of the voices be revealed?
Jon's reverie was broken by the blat of an black orc horn, its low rumble carried to Jon on a strong wind. Orcs! And they were near! Peering out from behind a stone, Jon could make out a rag-tag group scrabbling up the slow rise into the stone ring and turning to defend themselves. Behind them, pouring out of the forest, dozens of orcs snarled and roared, brandishing their cruel vardatches, eager to claim their prey.
The Heroes of Caft
Reznik peers into the tunnel, its entrance clogged with stone and ash. A bolt of lightning reveals it drops straight down six feet before widening and gaining height as it travels east, its further reaches lost in darkness. Nothing moves within the tunnel, although Reznik's senses reel at the smell that emanates from the opening. Descending into the hole, Reznik waits to assist any others who would follow.
Aislinn clings to Kaela as they approach the cave mouth, her fingers biting deeply into Kaela's arm. She's...here. Aislinn says in awe, her shaking and sobbing stopping abruptly. Kaela wastes little time, lithely descending into the hole with Reznik's assistance before turning to help Aislinn down. Starhl quickly follows, angered at fleeing the orcs like a rabbit run to ground. Brian stands outside the tunnel waiting for Aislinn to be lowered, but prepared to fight. On the edge of the depression, Valurel scouts the grasslands, his keen eyes piercing the darkness. The massive orcs charge up the low rise to the stone ring, their metal armor creaking and ringing in the darkness. Howls of bloodlust go up. Their prey is near. In a few seconds, the orcs will be here.
OOC: I know Kaela's, Reznik's, Starhl's and Valurel's intentions. What would the rest of you do?![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
The stones had called him. How? Jon did not know or really care in these dreary Northlands. The stones spoke and Jon heeded their call. He had already spent two days at this stone ring, a Dornish ancestor ring from the looks of it, with its scorched stones and ash center. He had seen no living being, although a Dorn town must be nearby; the ancestor ring had seen use within the past few months.
Since arriving, Jon had heard the voices. Voices from the past. Voices of the Lost. Speaking to him of the strife and pain in the north. Against the Shadow. The Lost seemed to know him, to call him by a name he could almost recognize, but not truly grasp. The whispers came and went over the past two days, tormenting Jon with their import. She has returned. She has heard our tales. She knows of your sacrifice at the Fortress Wall those many years ago. Protect Her Chosen, for she is means to your end.
Night had finally fallen on the second day, cooling the land from the abnormal heat of the summer day. Overhead, dark clouds massed and lightning flashed, painting the grasslands and the forest to the west in streaks of white and black. On this night, unlike the others, a faint green halo had appeared over the stone ring. Would the riddles of the voices be revealed?
Jon's reverie was broken by the blat of an black orc horn, its low rumble carried to Jon on a strong wind. Orcs! And they were near! Peering out from behind a stone, Jon could make out a rag-tag group scrabbling up the slow rise into the stone ring and turning to defend themselves. Behind them, pouring out of the forest, dozens of orcs snarled and roared, brandishing their cruel vardatches, eager to claim their prey.
The Heroes of Caft
Reznik peers into the tunnel, its entrance clogged with stone and ash. A bolt of lightning reveals it drops straight down six feet before widening and gaining height as it travels east, its further reaches lost in darkness. Nothing moves within the tunnel, although Reznik's senses reel at the smell that emanates from the opening. Descending into the hole, Reznik waits to assist any others who would follow.
Aislinn clings to Kaela as they approach the cave mouth, her fingers biting deeply into Kaela's arm. She's...here. Aislinn says in awe, her shaking and sobbing stopping abruptly. Kaela wastes little time, lithely descending into the hole with Reznik's assistance before turning to help Aislinn down. Starhl quickly follows, angered at fleeing the orcs like a rabbit run to ground. Brian stands outside the tunnel waiting for Aislinn to be lowered, but prepared to fight. On the edge of the depression, Valurel scouts the grasslands, his keen eyes piercing the darkness. The massive orcs charge up the low rise to the stone ring, their metal armor creaking and ringing in the darkness. Howls of bloodlust go up. Their prey is near. In a few seconds, the orcs will be here.
OOC: I know Kaela's, Reznik's, Starhl's and Valurel's intentions. What would the rest of you do?
Last edited:
Dirigible
Explorer
Jon Rane
A drop of water drizzled down his neck, moistening the collar of his coat unpleasantly.
"I'm cold, wet and hungry," Jon groused at the grim evening, tucked up under the thick multi-layered canvas and wool of the bedroll he had acquired from the gnomes of the Starlit Maiden.
"No, my mistake... I was cold, wet and hungry yesterday. Now, I'm freezing, soaked and starving..."
What am I doing here? he lamented privately. Following a funny feeling is a bad way to take the fight to the enemy. Seems to be a good way to avoid them, though... haven't seen so much as a trace of a orc or a priest sine I got here. Which is odd, since they broke through here when I was commanding... Jon suddenly stopped, his indigo eyes staring blankly into the night. Slowly and deliberately, she shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memories he never earned. I've never led an army... I've never been here. You're not my mind... Whatever else he had failed to achieve sitting here in the miserable dankness of the North, he had certainly got to know the Old Man better.
Hardly a welcome development.
He sat for a while longer, the hardness of the monolith seeming to soak into his back, making his spine stiff. Slowly, his head nodded, the brown curls of his hair brushing his chest.
She is here... the returned one. Islen... Ailing... Island....
Jon's head snapped up, a pale green aurora lighting his features.
"Eh? What in the Witch's name...?" He gave a low whistle. I'd better pack up my gear. We're moving. Mechanically, Jon rolled up his bedroll with practised precision, and hung it from the sling on his back. Stooping to retrieve his oaken cudgel, he sidled out from behind the standing stone towards the ragged band.
"I'd say well met, but you seem to have brought uninvited guests..." Jon announced as he approached.
A drop of water drizzled down his neck, moistening the collar of his coat unpleasantly.
"I'm cold, wet and hungry," Jon groused at the grim evening, tucked up under the thick multi-layered canvas and wool of the bedroll he had acquired from the gnomes of the Starlit Maiden.
"No, my mistake... I was cold, wet and hungry yesterday. Now, I'm freezing, soaked and starving..."
What am I doing here? he lamented privately. Following a funny feeling is a bad way to take the fight to the enemy. Seems to be a good way to avoid them, though... haven't seen so much as a trace of a orc or a priest sine I got here. Which is odd, since they broke through here when I was commanding... Jon suddenly stopped, his indigo eyes staring blankly into the night. Slowly and deliberately, she shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memories he never earned. I've never led an army... I've never been here. You're not my mind... Whatever else he had failed to achieve sitting here in the miserable dankness of the North, he had certainly got to know the Old Man better.
Hardly a welcome development.
He sat for a while longer, the hardness of the monolith seeming to soak into his back, making his spine stiff. Slowly, his head nodded, the brown curls of his hair brushing his chest.
She is here... the returned one. Islen... Ailing... Island....
Jon's head snapped up, a pale green aurora lighting his features.
"Eh? What in the Witch's name...?" He gave a low whistle. I'd better pack up my gear. We're moving. Mechanically, Jon rolled up his bedroll with practised precision, and hung it from the sling on his back. Stooping to retrieve his oaken cudgel, he sidled out from behind the standing stone towards the ragged band.
"I'd say well met, but you seem to have brought uninvited guests..." Jon announced as he approached.
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Ranger Rick
First Post
Brian is laying on the ground at the rim and is about to see if he could get the others up, but seeing everyone go into the pit, Brian swings his legs around and drops in feet first.
