Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!
- Thread starter Enkhidu
- Start date
Black Bard
First Post
A nice battle indeed... But, sadly for our little demon buddy, it was rather short... It was nothing like a great day for freedom...
The cast...That will be tough...But first I must see Burning Saddles...Maybe I could use some of the actors then...
The cast...That will be tough...But first I must see Burning Saddles...Maybe I could use some of the actors then...
Black Bard
First Post
Saddles...
Err...Burning Saddles is just another movie...Yeah, that's it!!! Another movie!! From John Carpenter!!! No?? Ok, I quit...
Err...Burning Saddles is just another movie...Yeah, that's it!!! Another movie!! From John Carpenter!!! No?? Ok, I quit...
Enk&D'Shai
First Post
"Let Sleeping Dragon's Lie," or "This Ain't No Sleeping Beauty!" - Part 3
Colt 45
Tomato Sauce
Ground Beef
WonderBread
Handi-Snacks
Chocolate Twizzlers
$240 Worth a Puddin'
Kethcup
Triscuits
Aluminum Foil (in case of werewolves)
Cheetos
Oreos
Frozen Pizzas
Pizza Rolls
Cabbage Rolls
Dinner Rolls
Fruity Pebbles
Pickles
Moose-Tracks Ice Cream
Catsup
Five
Eggs
Milk (2%)
Chocolate Milk
Tip of the day (never forget your grocery list)
Apple Juice
Orange Juice
Orange Julius
Crispy Creme Donuts
Po. Tay. Toes.
Lima Beans
Spaghettios
Macaroni and Cheese (whatever is on sale)
Rumplemintz
Boone's Strawberry Hill
Little Debbies Snack Cakes
Remember, only 17 days left until the contest is over - get your entries in soon!
*****
"Let Sleeping Dragon's Lie," or "This Ain't No Sleeping Beauty!" - Part 3: Electric Booga...lee?
It hadn’t taken long for Ander to attach a pair of ropes on the far side of the pit; he had simply used his magic boots to jump across and give the all-clear signal. It was, however, taking Pack a long time to work up the nerve to use the rope bridge they had hastily built.
It wasn’t that the bard was afraid of falling – quite the contrary, Pack considered himself an excellent climber – what scared him was what they might meet on the other side. What if there are more of those demons? I mean devils – Aurora said their actually called devils, or at least that type of thing is.
Pack watched as his companions crossed the rope bridge into the chamber beyond, and how the light on the other side gave them all a sickly hue. Theo might have needed to look green, after all, he was still suffering from whatever poison the devilish imp had carried, but it just made the others look creepy. As he watched them search the unseen corners of the room, he imagined them being ambushed by more of the red skinned demons, no devils, they’re devils. Then he imagined himself being attacked by the imps.
Moments later he stood in the green glow of the chamber beyond the pit, surrounded by his companions. The bard took a moment to take in his surroundings, oblivious to the fact that everyone else seemed deep in discussion.
The room itself was plain, but the green-flamed torch that burned in a sconce cast eerie shadows across the walls making the room appear more sinister than Pack knew it actually was. The only object in the room, other than the bard and his friends, was a large sarcophagus, intricately designed using gold inlays to depict a great battle between humans and a sky full of fire breathing dragons wrapping around the stone coffin. Although he couldn’t see the top, the young bard knew it must be a magnificent piece of work: a giant replica of a dragon’s head curved over the lid as if keeping watch over its inhabitant for all time and gold plated claws latched the lid closed onto the pedestal body.
Pack stared at the beautiful artwork and let his hands trace the patterns as his imagination conjured up stories of the epic battles waged in gold and granite before him. Knights spun round on their armored chargers lowering their lances to charge brimstone-wreathed dragons as they reared up towards the sky in preparation to release fiery death. The scene played over and over in his head creating a kaleidoscope of heroes, villains, and damsels in distress and as such it went almost unnoticed to the bard that Ashrem and Ander had begun unlatching the great clawed clasps.
“What are you doing?” Pack sputtered as he regained his composure.
“We’ve found a light breeze coming from a crack in the sarcophagus, so we think that the passage leading under the goblins starts here.” Ander said as he unlatched the final claw and assumed a position opposite Theo and Ashrem to lift the giant lid.
“But…” The halfling floundered, somewhat at a loss for words, and silently watched as the large warriors lifted the stone top.
“I agree Pack.” Aurora said and Pack felt a comforting hand pat his head pushing his cap down over his eyes in a playful gesture. “But we have come too far to turn back now and Theo has agreed to perform burial rites again if needed.”
“Okay lads… lean it on the lip… that’ll make it easier to put back up if we need to.” Theo grunted through gritted teeth as the three labored to move the heavy lid off the coffin. They finally angled it so that the top of the lid rested against the side of the sarcophagus like a makeshift ramp. The stone lid fell with a final thud and the group stepped back trying to regain their breath.
“Whew, that was much heavier than it looked. Well, let’s see what we got.”
“Wait!” Pack yelled, jumping between Ander and the stone casket. “Don’t touch anything! I think these pictures on the lid are really words! I couldn’t see them when it was still on top but now that I see them I think they say something! See! See! The sun means life and..”
Pack could feel his heart racing as he recognized the symbols from a scroll of ancient writings he had come across while studying with Sir Thadius. His mentor had informed the young bard that such pictograms were used by cults and churches in a time before writing became common; each sect would have vastly different meanings for similar symbols. Even now, a few shadowy organizations used it as a form of code.
“I think it says that this is a priest that was buried alive for breaking the code or law of this church, but he is still held in honor,” Pack stated as he traced the symbols one more time to make sure that he understood their meaning.
“Like Meepo being sentenced to death even though he was honored for his bravery?” Pack could only shrug at the sorceress’ question, though the similarity between the story written in pictures before him and the laws of the kobold clan did seem to have similarities. Nothing is lost in history, which cannot be regained, he reminded himself before turning away from the runes.
A sudden gasp erupted from the open sarcophagus, as if lungs were breathing air for the first time after being trapped underwater, and Pack shrieked as the coffin’s occupant sat up and opened its eyes, staring straight at the young bard. The halfling cringed and backed away at the sight of the monster, whose wild eyes and heavy grunts alerted the bard that the beast before him was still alive and not some undead abomination.
Long white hair hid the creature’s features, but Pack could tell that it was once human; though now its face was locked in a permanent grimace of pain and putrid sores covered its body. The monster’s hands were misshapen, almost as if they had been broken only to be healed and broken again and again until the fingers were crooked and elongated with nails that curved down to end in points sharpened by constant scraping.
Ander was the first of the group to react by bringing his quarterstaff across hard against the creatures face, snapping its head back in a gush of blood. Ashrem followed with a backhand swipe that brought his sword around from scabbard to swing in a lightning fast motion that laid open the soft flesh in the creature’s neck.
With an enraged growl the mutant priest vaulted from the coffin, nearly landing on the halfling. Pack scurried further into the corner, his eyes never leaving the fearsome thing that roared above him. The creature stopped and stood, pulling itself to its full height; from his position, Pack could hear the sickening snaps as bones and muscles cracked and popped into place. When the monster finished stretching, it stood with its head nearly scraping the ceiling, its longs arms keeping everyone in the room within reach of its massive claws.
For a moment everyone in the room froze as the creature pulled its hands before its face, almost as if it was seeing itself for the first time: briefly the bard saw confusion in the monster’s face. Pack pitied the creature and he wondered what the priest had done to deserve such a horrible fate. The creature took a confused step forward like he was lost and searching for answers, but then Pack saw its eyes fix on Theo and a burning anger returned to its gray orbs.
“Ooohh Buuuuurrrrd Mueeee!” the mutant groaned. Pack noticed that the large gash Ashrem had opened in its neck was no longer there, nor was the creature’s nose bleeding anymore.
“Oooouuu Buuuurrriiiddd Meeee!” it screamed again; this time its howls sounded more like words than its previous guttural growls.
“Theo, it thinks you’re the priest that buried it alive!” Pack yelled finally piecing the creature’s words together, but the halfling knew that his words were lost in the mutant priest’s roar as it charged the clueless cleric. The halfling could only watch helplessly as the beast bore down on his friend.
Theo deflected the creature’s first blow with his shield; however, the sheer power of the strike combined with the priest’s weakened state due to the Imp’s poisons drove him right into the mutant’s second strike which ripped through his chain shirt and pinned him against the wall. Only Aurora’s magical missiles saved Theo as the blue darts blazed into the creature’s chest, the pain from the barrage causing it to lose its hold. Ander and Ashrem seized the opening and began a frontal assault on the large foe that drove it back away from the bleeding cleric.
Pack bit his lip. He knew that if he didn’t get to Theo soon the aged cleric would die, but he also knew that in order to get to Theo he would have to rush right through the fight. With a quick breath, he rushed forward to help his friend.
The halfling ducked and weaved through the tangle of legs as man, feloine, and beast fought in a deadly circle just above his knitted cap. Pack scurried forward when he spied an opening, made when Meepo joined the fray by leaping from the makeshift ramp with his spear outstretched. The shaft plunged into the creature’s back while the kobold yelled at the top of his lungs. “Meepo Missile!”
The opening was short lived: just when Pack thought he was clear, the halfling felt a stinging pain in his side that bowled him over and sent him sprawling back towards the sarcophagus. Using his momentum, Pack managed to roll underneath the lid that Meepo had used for his launching point. From there, the bard watched as the trio of Meepo, Ash and Ander pounded on the mutant priest while Aurora sent her magical bolts streaking between them.
Pack could feel blood running down his leg and he knew that he was hurt badly, but not as badly as Theo. The battle still raged before him, but now more legs and feet were added in as Meepo applied his poking and prodding spear to the mix of swords thrusts, claw swipes, and staff blows. The display made the whole scene seem more like an intricate dance than a full-blown fight to the death. A dance! Just like the end of Festival Dance where I tumble through the dancers while I play my pipes! I can do this!
“Here I come, Theo!” Pack yelled as he tucked and rolled out of his hiding space. The Ballad of Talbin’s Tower played in his head as the bard allowed his muscles to weave him through trouble just as if the Great End of Festival Dance loomed above his head instead of a monster that would swipe it off. A final skip and cartwheel brought the halfling safely to the wounded priest’s aid.
Pack peeled Theo’s arm off his wound and gazed down at the gash that leaked blood down the cleric’s side. The sight of the open wound caused the halfling to nearly swoon, but the aged cleric’s dazed eyes and slight smile fueled the bard on. “I’m sorry if this offends you Zuras, but Theo needs help.”
Clasping his hands together to help him concentrate, Pack began his mimic of Theo’s healing prayer. As before, the bard could feel the power build up; but he was still unsure how to release it. Desperate, Pack began repeating the words in the prayer like a chorus, desperately trying not to lose the spell. Faster and faster he repeated the words until it seemed that the power within them would tear him apart, but then the words seemed to take on a rhythm of their own, different from the sacred hymn. In an instant Pack realized that it was not his hands that would distribute the healing power: it was his voice.
The excited halfling let loose, opening up his voice to the power of this new song whose words no longer resembled any spoken language, but more a harmonic chant of sounds and rhythms. When he felt the magic stop he started again, rasping until his voice and lungs could take it no longer, but by then Theo’s wound had nearly closed and color had begun to return to his pale face.
With Theo healed, Pack turned his attention back to the battle: even though his friends outnumbered the misshapen man-beast, it appeared that it had the advantage over the four warriors with its long arms and unnaturally fast healing. Already the halfling could see that Ashrem was wearing down and that both Ander and Meepo were covered in fresh scraps and scratches. How can we defeat this thing?
“Fire!” Theo gasped trying to rise to his feet, and Pack wondered if had spoken his question aloud or if the priest had somehow read his mind. Before he could ponder further, Theo grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, his weak voice whispering in his ear. “The dragon priest is caught between life and death. Only by cremating him can we free his soul. Pack, you have to tell them. Set him free…”
“Ander, we need to burn him! Theo says the only way to free his soul is to burn him!” Pack yelled, his hoarse voice barely cutting through the din of combat.
“Throw me your torch, Pack.” The woodsman growled back without taking his eyes off his opponent.
“I can’t! It’s on the other side of the room where I left it when I was trying to read the pictures!” The halfling’s eyes suddenly lit up as an idea came to him. “Aurora, remember when you said at the campfire how your dragons got really hot when you tried to hold them in place? Try that now!”
The sorceress met his gaze for a moment from across the battlefield, a blank stare on her face: then Pack saw signs of recognition. The red-haired mage took a deep breath and began her summoning.
Pack held his breath as the blue missiles leapt from Aurora’s fingertips. The twin dragon heads started to fly forward but then stopped and began to spin, fighting against the sorceress’ will to hold them back. Aurora strained against the magic, and the bard could see the concentration in her furrowed brow. Pack watched closely as the missiles began to rotate faster and faster but still the sorceress held them back, until finally they blurred into a halfling-sized ball of sparks and blue flame.
Pack caught his breath just as Aurora seemed to lose her hold on the magic and the flaming sphere sped forward, rolling right into the misshapen priest, setting it aflame as it engulfed its body. The dragon priest screamed and tried to run but Aurora’s outstretched finger rolled the ball with it, burning the creature as it moved.
Ander, Ashrem, and a staggering Theo seized the opportunity and began a new assault against the creature, trying to keep it trapped in Aurora’s flaming spell, while Meepo and Pack merely watched mesmerized by the flickering azure flames. By the time the spell died, the former dragon priest was no more than a charred pile of smoking ash.
Pack suddenly felt very tired and the halfling realized that he had never tended to his own wound, now throbbing with pain as his excitement faded. The bard pulled a healing draught free from his pack, pulling the stopper as he did so, and slide against the wall to rest his tired legs.
Around him the bard could see Theo slapping away Ander’s attempts to point out the clerics own wounds while the priest tried to heal the woodsman and the feloine. He also saw Meepo’s excited form dancing back and forth between the charred remains of the dragon priest and an exhausted Aurora, trying to get the young sorceress to repeat the spell that she had just cast. Pack giggled to himself at the sight of the kobold’s antics, complete with crackling fire noise effects and mock dragon breath that released only spittle and dry air.
As he drank his own vial of magical vitality, the bard knew that whatever confronted them down below had better watch out: We’re heroes now, and heroes don’t die easy...
*****
Next Time:
On Deadly Ground," or, "Fire Down Below!"
Colt 45
Tomato Sauce
Ground Beef
WonderBread
Handi-Snacks
Chocolate Twizzlers
$240 Worth a Puddin'
Kethcup
Triscuits
Aluminum Foil (in case of werewolves)
Cheetos
Oreos
Frozen Pizzas
Pizza Rolls
Cabbage Rolls
Dinner Rolls
Fruity Pebbles
Pickles
Moose-Tracks Ice Cream
Catsup
Five
Eggs
Milk (2%)
Chocolate Milk
Tip of the day (never forget your grocery list)
Apple Juice
Orange Juice
Orange Julius
Crispy Creme Donuts
Po. Tay. Toes.
Lima Beans
Spaghettios
Macaroni and Cheese (whatever is on sale)
Rumplemintz
Boone's Strawberry Hill
Little Debbies Snack Cakes
Remember, only 17 days left until the contest is over - get your entries in soon!
*****
"Let Sleeping Dragon's Lie," or "This Ain't No Sleeping Beauty!" - Part 3: Electric Booga...lee?
It hadn’t taken long for Ander to attach a pair of ropes on the far side of the pit; he had simply used his magic boots to jump across and give the all-clear signal. It was, however, taking Pack a long time to work up the nerve to use the rope bridge they had hastily built.
It wasn’t that the bard was afraid of falling – quite the contrary, Pack considered himself an excellent climber – what scared him was what they might meet on the other side. What if there are more of those demons? I mean devils – Aurora said their actually called devils, or at least that type of thing is.
Pack watched as his companions crossed the rope bridge into the chamber beyond, and how the light on the other side gave them all a sickly hue. Theo might have needed to look green, after all, he was still suffering from whatever poison the devilish imp had carried, but it just made the others look creepy. As he watched them search the unseen corners of the room, he imagined them being ambushed by more of the red skinned demons, no devils, they’re devils. Then he imagined himself being attacked by the imps.
Moments later he stood in the green glow of the chamber beyond the pit, surrounded by his companions. The bard took a moment to take in his surroundings, oblivious to the fact that everyone else seemed deep in discussion.
The room itself was plain, but the green-flamed torch that burned in a sconce cast eerie shadows across the walls making the room appear more sinister than Pack knew it actually was. The only object in the room, other than the bard and his friends, was a large sarcophagus, intricately designed using gold inlays to depict a great battle between humans and a sky full of fire breathing dragons wrapping around the stone coffin. Although he couldn’t see the top, the young bard knew it must be a magnificent piece of work: a giant replica of a dragon’s head curved over the lid as if keeping watch over its inhabitant for all time and gold plated claws latched the lid closed onto the pedestal body.
Pack stared at the beautiful artwork and let his hands trace the patterns as his imagination conjured up stories of the epic battles waged in gold and granite before him. Knights spun round on their armored chargers lowering their lances to charge brimstone-wreathed dragons as they reared up towards the sky in preparation to release fiery death. The scene played over and over in his head creating a kaleidoscope of heroes, villains, and damsels in distress and as such it went almost unnoticed to the bard that Ashrem and Ander had begun unlatching the great clawed clasps.
“What are you doing?” Pack sputtered as he regained his composure.
“We’ve found a light breeze coming from a crack in the sarcophagus, so we think that the passage leading under the goblins starts here.” Ander said as he unlatched the final claw and assumed a position opposite Theo and Ashrem to lift the giant lid.
“But…” The halfling floundered, somewhat at a loss for words, and silently watched as the large warriors lifted the stone top.
“I agree Pack.” Aurora said and Pack felt a comforting hand pat his head pushing his cap down over his eyes in a playful gesture. “But we have come too far to turn back now and Theo has agreed to perform burial rites again if needed.”
“Okay lads… lean it on the lip… that’ll make it easier to put back up if we need to.” Theo grunted through gritted teeth as the three labored to move the heavy lid off the coffin. They finally angled it so that the top of the lid rested against the side of the sarcophagus like a makeshift ramp. The stone lid fell with a final thud and the group stepped back trying to regain their breath.
“Whew, that was much heavier than it looked. Well, let’s see what we got.”
“Wait!” Pack yelled, jumping between Ander and the stone casket. “Don’t touch anything! I think these pictures on the lid are really words! I couldn’t see them when it was still on top but now that I see them I think they say something! See! See! The sun means life and..”
Pack could feel his heart racing as he recognized the symbols from a scroll of ancient writings he had come across while studying with Sir Thadius. His mentor had informed the young bard that such pictograms were used by cults and churches in a time before writing became common; each sect would have vastly different meanings for similar symbols. Even now, a few shadowy organizations used it as a form of code.
“I think it says that this is a priest that was buried alive for breaking the code or law of this church, but he is still held in honor,” Pack stated as he traced the symbols one more time to make sure that he understood their meaning.
“Like Meepo being sentenced to death even though he was honored for his bravery?” Pack could only shrug at the sorceress’ question, though the similarity between the story written in pictures before him and the laws of the kobold clan did seem to have similarities. Nothing is lost in history, which cannot be regained, he reminded himself before turning away from the runes.
A sudden gasp erupted from the open sarcophagus, as if lungs were breathing air for the first time after being trapped underwater, and Pack shrieked as the coffin’s occupant sat up and opened its eyes, staring straight at the young bard. The halfling cringed and backed away at the sight of the monster, whose wild eyes and heavy grunts alerted the bard that the beast before him was still alive and not some undead abomination.
Long white hair hid the creature’s features, but Pack could tell that it was once human; though now its face was locked in a permanent grimace of pain and putrid sores covered its body. The monster’s hands were misshapen, almost as if they had been broken only to be healed and broken again and again until the fingers were crooked and elongated with nails that curved down to end in points sharpened by constant scraping.
Ander was the first of the group to react by bringing his quarterstaff across hard against the creatures face, snapping its head back in a gush of blood. Ashrem followed with a backhand swipe that brought his sword around from scabbard to swing in a lightning fast motion that laid open the soft flesh in the creature’s neck.
With an enraged growl the mutant priest vaulted from the coffin, nearly landing on the halfling. Pack scurried further into the corner, his eyes never leaving the fearsome thing that roared above him. The creature stopped and stood, pulling itself to its full height; from his position, Pack could hear the sickening snaps as bones and muscles cracked and popped into place. When the monster finished stretching, it stood with its head nearly scraping the ceiling, its longs arms keeping everyone in the room within reach of its massive claws.
For a moment everyone in the room froze as the creature pulled its hands before its face, almost as if it was seeing itself for the first time: briefly the bard saw confusion in the monster’s face. Pack pitied the creature and he wondered what the priest had done to deserve such a horrible fate. The creature took a confused step forward like he was lost and searching for answers, but then Pack saw its eyes fix on Theo and a burning anger returned to its gray orbs.
“Ooohh Buuuuurrrrd Mueeee!” the mutant groaned. Pack noticed that the large gash Ashrem had opened in its neck was no longer there, nor was the creature’s nose bleeding anymore.
“Oooouuu Buuuurrriiiddd Meeee!” it screamed again; this time its howls sounded more like words than its previous guttural growls.
“Theo, it thinks you’re the priest that buried it alive!” Pack yelled finally piecing the creature’s words together, but the halfling knew that his words were lost in the mutant priest’s roar as it charged the clueless cleric. The halfling could only watch helplessly as the beast bore down on his friend.
Theo deflected the creature’s first blow with his shield; however, the sheer power of the strike combined with the priest’s weakened state due to the Imp’s poisons drove him right into the mutant’s second strike which ripped through his chain shirt and pinned him against the wall. Only Aurora’s magical missiles saved Theo as the blue darts blazed into the creature’s chest, the pain from the barrage causing it to lose its hold. Ander and Ashrem seized the opening and began a frontal assault on the large foe that drove it back away from the bleeding cleric.
Pack bit his lip. He knew that if he didn’t get to Theo soon the aged cleric would die, but he also knew that in order to get to Theo he would have to rush right through the fight. With a quick breath, he rushed forward to help his friend.
The halfling ducked and weaved through the tangle of legs as man, feloine, and beast fought in a deadly circle just above his knitted cap. Pack scurried forward when he spied an opening, made when Meepo joined the fray by leaping from the makeshift ramp with his spear outstretched. The shaft plunged into the creature’s back while the kobold yelled at the top of his lungs. “Meepo Missile!”
The opening was short lived: just when Pack thought he was clear, the halfling felt a stinging pain in his side that bowled him over and sent him sprawling back towards the sarcophagus. Using his momentum, Pack managed to roll underneath the lid that Meepo had used for his launching point. From there, the bard watched as the trio of Meepo, Ash and Ander pounded on the mutant priest while Aurora sent her magical bolts streaking between them.
Pack could feel blood running down his leg and he knew that he was hurt badly, but not as badly as Theo. The battle still raged before him, but now more legs and feet were added in as Meepo applied his poking and prodding spear to the mix of swords thrusts, claw swipes, and staff blows. The display made the whole scene seem more like an intricate dance than a full-blown fight to the death. A dance! Just like the end of Festival Dance where I tumble through the dancers while I play my pipes! I can do this!
“Here I come, Theo!” Pack yelled as he tucked and rolled out of his hiding space. The Ballad of Talbin’s Tower played in his head as the bard allowed his muscles to weave him through trouble just as if the Great End of Festival Dance loomed above his head instead of a monster that would swipe it off. A final skip and cartwheel brought the halfling safely to the wounded priest’s aid.
Pack peeled Theo’s arm off his wound and gazed down at the gash that leaked blood down the cleric’s side. The sight of the open wound caused the halfling to nearly swoon, but the aged cleric’s dazed eyes and slight smile fueled the bard on. “I’m sorry if this offends you Zuras, but Theo needs help.”
Clasping his hands together to help him concentrate, Pack began his mimic of Theo’s healing prayer. As before, the bard could feel the power build up; but he was still unsure how to release it. Desperate, Pack began repeating the words in the prayer like a chorus, desperately trying not to lose the spell. Faster and faster he repeated the words until it seemed that the power within them would tear him apart, but then the words seemed to take on a rhythm of their own, different from the sacred hymn. In an instant Pack realized that it was not his hands that would distribute the healing power: it was his voice.
The excited halfling let loose, opening up his voice to the power of this new song whose words no longer resembled any spoken language, but more a harmonic chant of sounds and rhythms. When he felt the magic stop he started again, rasping until his voice and lungs could take it no longer, but by then Theo’s wound had nearly closed and color had begun to return to his pale face.
With Theo healed, Pack turned his attention back to the battle: even though his friends outnumbered the misshapen man-beast, it appeared that it had the advantage over the four warriors with its long arms and unnaturally fast healing. Already the halfling could see that Ashrem was wearing down and that both Ander and Meepo were covered in fresh scraps and scratches. How can we defeat this thing?
“Fire!” Theo gasped trying to rise to his feet, and Pack wondered if had spoken his question aloud or if the priest had somehow read his mind. Before he could ponder further, Theo grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, his weak voice whispering in his ear. “The dragon priest is caught between life and death. Only by cremating him can we free his soul. Pack, you have to tell them. Set him free…”
“Ander, we need to burn him! Theo says the only way to free his soul is to burn him!” Pack yelled, his hoarse voice barely cutting through the din of combat.
“Throw me your torch, Pack.” The woodsman growled back without taking his eyes off his opponent.
“I can’t! It’s on the other side of the room where I left it when I was trying to read the pictures!” The halfling’s eyes suddenly lit up as an idea came to him. “Aurora, remember when you said at the campfire how your dragons got really hot when you tried to hold them in place? Try that now!”
The sorceress met his gaze for a moment from across the battlefield, a blank stare on her face: then Pack saw signs of recognition. The red-haired mage took a deep breath and began her summoning.
Pack held his breath as the blue missiles leapt from Aurora’s fingertips. The twin dragon heads started to fly forward but then stopped and began to spin, fighting against the sorceress’ will to hold them back. Aurora strained against the magic, and the bard could see the concentration in her furrowed brow. Pack watched closely as the missiles began to rotate faster and faster but still the sorceress held them back, until finally they blurred into a halfling-sized ball of sparks and blue flame.
Pack caught his breath just as Aurora seemed to lose her hold on the magic and the flaming sphere sped forward, rolling right into the misshapen priest, setting it aflame as it engulfed its body. The dragon priest screamed and tried to run but Aurora’s outstretched finger rolled the ball with it, burning the creature as it moved.
Ander, Ashrem, and a staggering Theo seized the opportunity and began a new assault against the creature, trying to keep it trapped in Aurora’s flaming spell, while Meepo and Pack merely watched mesmerized by the flickering azure flames. By the time the spell died, the former dragon priest was no more than a charred pile of smoking ash.
Pack suddenly felt very tired and the halfling realized that he had never tended to his own wound, now throbbing with pain as his excitement faded. The bard pulled a healing draught free from his pack, pulling the stopper as he did so, and slide against the wall to rest his tired legs.
Around him the bard could see Theo slapping away Ander’s attempts to point out the clerics own wounds while the priest tried to heal the woodsman and the feloine. He also saw Meepo’s excited form dancing back and forth between the charred remains of the dragon priest and an exhausted Aurora, trying to get the young sorceress to repeat the spell that she had just cast. Pack giggled to himself at the sight of the kobold’s antics, complete with crackling fire noise effects and mock dragon breath that released only spittle and dry air.
As he drank his own vial of magical vitality, the bard knew that whatever confronted them down below had better watch out: We’re heroes now, and heroes don’t die easy...
*****
Next Time:
On Deadly Ground," or, "Fire Down Below!"
Bubbalicious
First Post
Ashy said:Excellent!! The exposition of the bard's path in life was excellent and I LOVED Pack's translation into the clerical realm - wonderful!!!!
Translation?!?! I cast one healing spell and now I'm a friggin' do-gooder priest? And a priest of Zuras no less? He's a little heavy-handed for my tastes what with all that lightning and thunder and smiting and stuff! I'm an artist baby!!! If we had a cleric who'd stay in back where he belongs instead of running headlong into pits and arrow traps and wyvern nests and troll break dance circles then I wouldn't have to waste my talent on mundane tasks like stopping bleeding and reattaching fingers and birthin' babies! I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies Miz Scarlett!!! (Whoops, rambled into the wrong story!) Anyway, I would like to make a statement for the record: I did not have clerical relations with that woman!
There, I hope that clears things up a bit!!!
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Bubbalicious said:
I seem to recall another "Bubba" who said something similar...(I hope you aren't going to blame this whole thing on some vast "Wyvern Wing" conspiracy)
I never considered that Pack might be going Cleric (not that there's anything wrong with that) until Ashy mentioned it. I just figured that CLW was one of your Bard spells.
Long Live the Arcane Healers! (Probably longer than Theo at the rate he's going)
Ashy
First Post
LOL!!
Actually, I was talking about manner in which the casting of the spell was explained - it was different than a clerical spell - it had a bardish patina on it, as if Pack tried to cast a clerical spell but found that he could not, instead he improvised and cast a bardic version of it!
Actually, I was talking about manner in which the casting of the spell was explained - it was different than a clerical spell - it had a bardish patina on it, as if Pack tried to cast a clerical spell but found that he could not, instead he improvised and cast a bardic version of it!
