Jon Potter
First Post
Funeris said:
Yeah? Ledare's player didn't think so.
Actually, none of the players thought so, come to think of it.
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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Yeah? Ledare's player didn't think so.
Actually, none of the players thought so, come to think of it.
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #322] A Fallen Soldier
Shock slammed into Karak as he beheld the devastation wrought by the skeletal warrior's spiteful act, and it knocked him out of his rage immediately. He hardly seemed to notice the lethargy that always followed his frenzied state, but it pulled at his limbs, making his armor feel heavy and every movement an effort. He ignored it and pulled one of the healing sticks from his belt.
"Ah... Morier," the dwarf muttered as he stepped up to the fallen albino. "It seems ye fall just when I be gettin' to like ye. I'd say that was some fine disarmament you did there. I can nae say I could have done it alone. Despite being a faeire elf, you were a brave warrier." Saying thus, he channeled a bit of the wand's healing energy into Morier's body and was happy to see the worst of the elf's terrific burns slough off, revealing healthy - if a trifle pale - skin beneath.
Morier groaned and started to stir, but Karak placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stay low and act dead, white one," he whispered. "Nae sense makin' yerself a target."
In Morier's present condition, acting dead wasn't proving to be a problem.
At the other end of the corridor, Feln dispatched the last of their opposition with frightening speed and efficiency. For a heartbeat, the large hallway was silent. Then Feln was in motion again. He'd seen the flash of light - they all had - when the undead creature's fireball had detonated, but in the silence that followed, there was no way of telling what had transpired beyond the Resilient Sphere.
"Huzair!" the half-ogre bellowed, gesturing in the sphere's general direction. "Can you bring down that spell?" The wizard looked at him as if he were insane.
"That is a spell of the 8th Circle! I am a Magus of the 2nd Circle, so obviously I can't do a damned thing about it!" Huzair snapped back even as he began to cast.
All Feln understood of the mage's reply was the part about being powerless to help. So he scanned the hall quickly and formulated a new plan. "Huzair, Lela," he barked. "We need to move. Heal up and let's go!"
"Give me a minute..." Huzair grumbled as he used Detect Magic to scan their fallen foes. A dagger, a ring and a potion vial on the Plaguebringer glowed with potency.
Still lying flat out on the floor, Morier watched as Karak moved over toward Ledare. The Janissary was splayed out on her back, and the eldritch warrior could see that she didn't stir when Karak touched her with the healing wand. But that's all he had time for before the enemy's reinforcements arrived.
"By Aphyx's bloody blade!" a gruff voice hissed and Karak turned to face the doorway. There stood three men, each armed with bastard sword and dagger, although none was clad in more than the soft leathers typically worn beneath heavier armor. The two in the rear were young, probably not much older than twenty years, but the man in the center was clearly more seasoned, his face lined from weather and experience. It was he who was talking.
"You slew the death knight! You slew Blackheart?!" his gaze flicked back and forth between the skeletal warrior and Karak.
"Aye!" the dwarf agreed, defiantly. "An' I'll do the same to ye if ye''ve a taste for crossed blades." This gave the man pause, and one of the two youths actually took a step back as if ready to flee. But the leader was better trained and he could tell that Karak, was bluffing. The bloodstains and sooty smears that marred the dwarf's platemail were testament to the beating he'd already taken. And there was a weariness about him that, while it didn't show in his resolute stare, was clearly manifest in the way he carried himself.
"I think not," the man said after a moment's study and motioned for the youths to take up flanking positions. "I think you'll throw down your sword and I'll march you helpless back to Deathshead. It should be amusing to see what Melengar does to you when he finds out you slew his favored knight of old." The man grinned darkly at the imagined torture. "Now drop your sword."
"Never," Karak spat back, settling himself into a defensive stance in front of Ledare's body. And the battle was joined.
The youth on Karak's left stepped onto the dwarf's flank and slashed with his bastard sword, but Karak raised his shield and turned the blade aside. When he raised the shield, the veteran charged in and drove the point of his own sword into the gap in the armor beneath Karak's shield arm. The dwarf bellowed in pain and brought his longsword slashing up across the veteran's torso. He tried to bring the blade back down across the throat of the youth to his right, but the lad was took quick for the tired dwarf and he avoided the stroke with ease even as he moved into position. His bastard sword came down at an awkward angle, skittering harmlessly off Karak's shoulder guard.
The other youth slashed again with his sword, but this time Karak dodged the blow entirely. The stabbing thrust from the boy's dagger, too found nothing but air. Their leader slashed with his bastard sword and dagger, but both attacks were foiled by the dwarf's heavy armor. Karak, however, had no such difficulties.
His sword thrust opened a bloody wound on the veteran's shoulder and then severed a vital artery in the man's throat as Karak pulled it back. The shocked warrior fell to the ground, his lifeblood fountaining outward from his ruined neck.
That was enough for the two younger fighters. They turned tail and ran out the same door they'd come in by. The darkness outside soon swallowed them and Karak sighed with relief.
Several moment's later, Feln, Lela and Huzair rushed into the room by the same door that Blackheart had used to get behind the VQS. They found Morier and Karak sitting beside Ledare's burned body. The dwarf was praying.
"Oh... Lass it seems this time you came to my aid and it be your last. But I will tell you this, I will find the Priestess of Flor and bring her home. Whether it be her or just be her spirit, I will do it. I know it be your wish," he said to the corpse before turning his head to the heavens and continuing.
"Shaharizod, that be a foul end to a foul beast that took two of my companions down like that. I shall always be reminded of the cruelty of chaos, and I vow to you now I will continue to fight Aphyx with your blessed guidance!" Karak finished, his words growing stronger and with more conviction as he spoke the vow over the earthly remains of the last member of a group that had set out one morning many moonsdances past to fetch some supplies from a hospital in Barnacus...
Shock slammed into Karak as he beheld the devastation wrought by the skeletal warrior's spiteful act, and it knocked him out of his rage immediately. He hardly seemed to notice the lethargy that always followed his frenzied state, but it pulled at his limbs, making his armor feel heavy and every movement an effort. He ignored it and pulled one of the healing sticks from his belt.
"Ah... Morier," the dwarf muttered as he stepped up to the fallen albino. "It seems ye fall just when I be gettin' to like ye. I'd say that was some fine disarmament you did there. I can nae say I could have done it alone. Despite being a faeire elf, you were a brave warrier." Saying thus, he channeled a bit of the wand's healing energy into Morier's body and was happy to see the worst of the elf's terrific burns slough off, revealing healthy - if a trifle pale - skin beneath.
Morier groaned and started to stir, but Karak placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stay low and act dead, white one," he whispered. "Nae sense makin' yerself a target."
In Morier's present condition, acting dead wasn't proving to be a problem.
At the other end of the corridor, Feln dispatched the last of their opposition with frightening speed and efficiency. For a heartbeat, the large hallway was silent. Then Feln was in motion again. He'd seen the flash of light - they all had - when the undead creature's fireball had detonated, but in the silence that followed, there was no way of telling what had transpired beyond the Resilient Sphere.
"Huzair!" the half-ogre bellowed, gesturing in the sphere's general direction. "Can you bring down that spell?" The wizard looked at him as if he were insane.
"That is a spell of the 8th Circle! I am a Magus of the 2nd Circle, so obviously I can't do a damned thing about it!" Huzair snapped back even as he began to cast.
All Feln understood of the mage's reply was the part about being powerless to help. So he scanned the hall quickly and formulated a new plan. "Huzair, Lela," he barked. "We need to move. Heal up and let's go!"
"Give me a minute..." Huzair grumbled as he used Detect Magic to scan their fallen foes. A dagger, a ring and a potion vial on the Plaguebringer glowed with potency.
Still lying flat out on the floor, Morier watched as Karak moved over toward Ledare. The Janissary was splayed out on her back, and the eldritch warrior could see that she didn't stir when Karak touched her with the healing wand. But that's all he had time for before the enemy's reinforcements arrived.
"By Aphyx's bloody blade!" a gruff voice hissed and Karak turned to face the doorway. There stood three men, each armed with bastard sword and dagger, although none was clad in more than the soft leathers typically worn beneath heavier armor. The two in the rear were young, probably not much older than twenty years, but the man in the center was clearly more seasoned, his face lined from weather and experience. It was he who was talking.
"You slew the death knight! You slew Blackheart?!" his gaze flicked back and forth between the skeletal warrior and Karak.
"Aye!" the dwarf agreed, defiantly. "An' I'll do the same to ye if ye''ve a taste for crossed blades." This gave the man pause, and one of the two youths actually took a step back as if ready to flee. But the leader was better trained and he could tell that Karak, was bluffing. The bloodstains and sooty smears that marred the dwarf's platemail were testament to the beating he'd already taken. And there was a weariness about him that, while it didn't show in his resolute stare, was clearly manifest in the way he carried himself.
"I think not," the man said after a moment's study and motioned for the youths to take up flanking positions. "I think you'll throw down your sword and I'll march you helpless back to Deathshead. It should be amusing to see what Melengar does to you when he finds out you slew his favored knight of old." The man grinned darkly at the imagined torture. "Now drop your sword."
"Never," Karak spat back, settling himself into a defensive stance in front of Ledare's body. And the battle was joined.
The youth on Karak's left stepped onto the dwarf's flank and slashed with his bastard sword, but Karak raised his shield and turned the blade aside. When he raised the shield, the veteran charged in and drove the point of his own sword into the gap in the armor beneath Karak's shield arm. The dwarf bellowed in pain and brought his longsword slashing up across the veteran's torso. He tried to bring the blade back down across the throat of the youth to his right, but the lad was took quick for the tired dwarf and he avoided the stroke with ease even as he moved into position. His bastard sword came down at an awkward angle, skittering harmlessly off Karak's shoulder guard.
The other youth slashed again with his sword, but this time Karak dodged the blow entirely. The stabbing thrust from the boy's dagger, too found nothing but air. Their leader slashed with his bastard sword and dagger, but both attacks were foiled by the dwarf's heavy armor. Karak, however, had no such difficulties.
His sword thrust opened a bloody wound on the veteran's shoulder and then severed a vital artery in the man's throat as Karak pulled it back. The shocked warrior fell to the ground, his lifeblood fountaining outward from his ruined neck.
That was enough for the two younger fighters. They turned tail and ran out the same door they'd come in by. The darkness outside soon swallowed them and Karak sighed with relief.
Several moment's later, Feln, Lela and Huzair rushed into the room by the same door that Blackheart had used to get behind the VQS. They found Morier and Karak sitting beside Ledare's burned body. The dwarf was praying.
"Oh... Lass it seems this time you came to my aid and it be your last. But I will tell you this, I will find the Priestess of Flor and bring her home. Whether it be her or just be her spirit, I will do it. I know it be your wish," he said to the corpse before turning his head to the heavens and continuing.
"Shaharizod, that be a foul end to a foul beast that took two of my companions down like that. I shall always be reminded of the cruelty of chaos, and I vow to you now I will continue to fight Aphyx with your blessed guidance!" Karak finished, his words growing stronger and with more conviction as he spoke the vow over the earthly remains of the last member of a group that had set out one morning many moonsdances past to fetch some supplies from a hospital in Barnacus...
Jon Potter
First Post
Funeris said:
It really was! I'm glad that some of the early npcs (like Sir Brin, for instance) got to make another appearance while there was still a PC to recognize them. There's now no solid connection to where the campaign started; Karak has a tenuous connection to Barnacus, but that's it.
Fortunately, Ledare's player made a special point of sharing the backstory with the rest of the group on more than one occassion, so it's easy to fudge player v. character knowledge of the plot so far.
But I'll admit to hesitating. I almost didn't have Blackheart use his fireball so that Ledare could survive. The ground zero fireball was a cheap shot and fitting for a minion of evil, though. And in the end, if I'd pulled my punch there, it would have cheapened every other character death in the game.
I won't say I'm glad Ledare's dead, but I am glad that I killed her.
Kristeneve
First Post
Let it be said that within two weeks of posting my first remarks on Jon's story hour, my character of seven years bites the big one. It is small comfort that she died at the DM's hand. If my new character is short-lived following this post, I assure you that you'll never hear from me again. 
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #323] Shamalin
"Oh, gods!! Morier, you look awful! Karak?!? What happened? The Janissary..," Feln began but his voice trailed off. On his shoulder, Lela piped up.
"She's dead?" the faen asked and tears began to roll down her tiny cheeks. Huzair said nothing, his attention fixed on something shiny in his hands.
"Karak, can't you heal her?" Feln asked. "I see you fight with your healer abilities, and you wish you did not have them... but Ledare needs it." Karak sighed into his beard and shook his head.
"The Lass... when the Demon was in its death throes it seemed to cast off some infernal chaos fire ball. I never seen the likes of it," the dwarf explained. "I know that bringing back Ledare be beyond my powers. I think it even be beyond Malak's powers."
"I don't know how we will progress without her," Feln muttered and Karak looked him in the eye.
"Feln, I tell you this: I be nae done yet. I think we should carry her back to town and see what the Priestess of Flor can do for her," he said. "Her spirit is strong and she be strongly linked with her goddess now as a neophyte holy warrior. Maybe it be easier to bring her back. I do nae know how much time we have, but it may nae be longer than a few days."
"We must bring her back!" the half-ogre nodded. "I will carry her to where ever they can bring her soul back!"
"We all feel for the loss of Ledare," Morier groaned, weakly pushing himself to his knees. Karak helped the eldritch warrior drag himself the rest of the way to his feet. "Her leadership, her sense of calm, and her grace under pressure were all qualities that cannot be understated. It is commendable that in the face of the odds against her, her service to the King and to Flor were forever without waver." Morier bowed his head in referent silence and so did the others.
All except Huzair who instead took a moment to light up a cigar. Once it was going properly, he clapped his hands together. The resulting sound was startlingly loud in the entryway. "Grieve later, people. We have work to do," he said, earning some angry glances from the others. He didn't notice as he looked sadly down at Ledare's scorched body. "It figures chaos would destroy roses and spare a pair of thorns."
Karak harrumphed and Lela stamped her little foot on Feln's shoulder.
"Why are you so mean?" she demanded, her hands balled into tiny fists. Huzair blew smoke in her direction and waved off the question.
"Morier knows I am glad he is okay... and the dwarf too," he explained. "It's just that I'm sorry to see two lovely ladies struck down."
"We all will miss Ledare," Morier grumbled, staring darkly at the wizard.
"Aye, her loss will be long and hard. That be for sure," Karak added. "She be the orginal founding member of this little band of companions, I know that. I cannot even think of the next day without her and her leadership and her kind ways. But now is not the time to ponder that loss. I won't say good bye until we know it's goodbye."
"That being said, I think her loss changes our mission," Morier put in. "We've not the King's call to answer to any more, nor that of Flor. We came to this place out of her loyalty as a Florian and her pledge to find the girl, Shamalin. At the present, we're individually and collectively weakened by what we have faced already, and to put ourselves in further peril for what seems a lost cause would be foolhardy."
"Aye, we can leave this manor as soon as we have dispatched the evil that resides herein and find the priestess or her remains," Karak argued, his face resolute. "Ledare may be gone, but I still remain. And for as long as I be standin' here, I will finish this mission."
"Karak..," Morier started but the dwarf pressed on.
"Flor and Shaharizod be sisters and I do nae mean to leave this mission untended to," he stated flatly. Morier sighed.
"I have been given a gift from the Seers of the Grove, a gift which enables us to get to the very heart of the evil that now crushes the Realms," the albino pleaded. " It is in our best interest and the best interest of all of those around us to use that gift while I am still here. I have tasted death today... and it has served to strengthen my resolve to follow the pull toward making Dridana whole." Now it was Karak's turn to sigh, and the dwarf's face softened a bit as he did so.
"I do nae know what trials you went through in the grove. I'll give you that. But evil does not only reside at the end of your compass," the battered warrior said, waving his sword around to encompass everything around them. "The plague of chaos surrounds us, and this evil manor represents it here and now. I will not leave it alone. I won't, I say!"
"And I say we return the bodies of the Florians to the temple in Floxen and seek their aid in our recovery," Morier challenged. "And then we begin the task of ending this evil for good!"
"If that be the way ye feel, I'll nae stop ye," Karak said with a sad shake of his head. "But I swore an oath over Ledare's body that I'd find this Shamalin or what remains of her and see her returned to the temple o' Flor. And I'll nae break me vow." Again the eldritch warrior sighed expansively.
"There is an old story that applies here, Karak. You'll forgive me as I translate it through three tongues," Morier responded and began recounting his parable. "The fool and the wise man awoke one morning to find that both were plagued by bees invading their houses. In both cases, the swarm had made their hive in a branch that hung directly above the side door. The fool chased down each and every bee and was stung a thousand times before he rid himself of the pests three moonsdances later. The wise man used a single stone to knock down the hive and was rid of the pests before supper."
Karak looked at the albino for a moment and then nodded. "You see. That's the problem with you elves; you have faerie skin. Bee stings do nae hurt a dwarf."
"And if the bees are already swarming, who's the fool?" Huzair asked Morier. "I hate to see what happened at the Festival in Relfren. I will never eat Emerald Cheese again, I know that much."
"What are you talking-" Morier started but Huzair cut him off.
"We ignored that and you will have that on your conscience from here on. We turned down a plea for help. I can live with it, though I wanted to help," Huzair said somewhat unconvincingly."My point is: we cant' leave this alone. We now have two comrades dead. We cannot let their lives be lost for nothing." And before Morier could argue further, Karak turned to the others.
"We need to sweep this place to make sure our enemies have either surrendered or been killed. Huzair, that means not killing those that have surrendered. And, I be nae so old to miss seeing you picked up the other end of that communicatin' ring ye took off Brin." The dwarf pointed at the circlet that Huzair was turning over in his long-fingered hands. "I suggest you give it to Feln and he and Lela go down this hall to points we have not seen and stay in contact with us."
"Not more than fifteen minutes, mind," he told the half-ogre. "Get the layout of the manor. Look for the girl or the other man that was mentioned: Melengar. I do nae think there are anymore baddies about but you never know." Feln nodded and plucked the ring out of Huzair's hands.
"I will stay here with Morier and Huzair," Karak finished. "We will sweep and search this area and guard Ledare's body. Once ye've found the girl, we'll move out."
Virtually the first door Feln opened in his random search of rooms yielded results... but he was unprepared for what he found. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The slaughterhouse stench of sweat, blood, waste, and fear struck him full in the face like a solid thing. He heard Lela make a gagging noise on his shoulder and he made a shushing sound in response. An irregular drip-drip-dripping echoed around inside the large room which was L-shaped with six doors opening off it in addition to the one by which Feln entered. At the far end, a vast open fireplace pierced the wall, connecting this room with the dining hall he'd spied earlier. There was no fire burning, but a layer of hot coals lent the room a ruddy, hellish glow that reminded Feln at once of the first test he'd faced in the Grove of Renewal. There were two enormous iron pots suspended over the coals and their contents bubbled merrily.
Feln moved quickly and silently to the first door and opened it. The room beyond was some sort of private bath. A large brass tub dominated the center of the room, accompanying a wardrobe and wooden bench. It had been converted into an abattoir, however. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls almost to the ceiling with dark splotches. There was something that might have been a gnome or a halfling shackled to the tub, but there wasn't really enough of it left to identify more than that.
Feln closed the door quickly when he heard Lela start to hyperventilate in his ear. He placed a comforting hand up against the faerie. "Perhaps you should go and wait by the door," he suggested and the sound of his voice brought an echo of movement from a door behind him.
He slipped at once into action and stealthily approached the door in question. It stood to the left of an open cistern that was the source of the dripping water sound. He pressed his ear against the door and heard a soft mewling beyond and the clink of metal on metal.
Pushing the door open, he peered inside. A naked and barely conscious figure was curled up on the stone floor beside the large brass tub. A manacle ran from the woman's left ankle to the thick clawed foot of the tub, linking them like prisoners on a chain gang. Feln could see the deep cuts that ran the length of her face and all down her arms and legs. She flinched reflexively and moaned as he stepped into the room, raising her battered arms to shield her face. The tips of her fingers were raw and bloodied - the nails visibly splintered. The places on her body which weren't crusted brown with dried blood were purplish-black from severe bruising. Her hair had been shorn so close to her head that even her ears were mangled and torn.
If this was indeed the red haired half-elf, Shamalin, they'd been seeking he had no immediate way of knowing. He brought the Ring of Communication to his lips and whispered, "I found someone. A woman. Could be Shamalin."
At the sound of the name, the woman raised her eyes slightly to behold her newest tormenter. She waited a moment for him to begin his torture before turning her face away and begging, "Leave me."
"Oh, gods!! Morier, you look awful! Karak?!? What happened? The Janissary..," Feln began but his voice trailed off. On his shoulder, Lela piped up.
"She's dead?" the faen asked and tears began to roll down her tiny cheeks. Huzair said nothing, his attention fixed on something shiny in his hands.
"Karak, can't you heal her?" Feln asked. "I see you fight with your healer abilities, and you wish you did not have them... but Ledare needs it." Karak sighed into his beard and shook his head.
"The Lass... when the Demon was in its death throes it seemed to cast off some infernal chaos fire ball. I never seen the likes of it," the dwarf explained. "I know that bringing back Ledare be beyond my powers. I think it even be beyond Malak's powers."
"I don't know how we will progress without her," Feln muttered and Karak looked him in the eye.
"Feln, I tell you this: I be nae done yet. I think we should carry her back to town and see what the Priestess of Flor can do for her," he said. "Her spirit is strong and she be strongly linked with her goddess now as a neophyte holy warrior. Maybe it be easier to bring her back. I do nae know how much time we have, but it may nae be longer than a few days."
"We must bring her back!" the half-ogre nodded. "I will carry her to where ever they can bring her soul back!"
"We all feel for the loss of Ledare," Morier groaned, weakly pushing himself to his knees. Karak helped the eldritch warrior drag himself the rest of the way to his feet. "Her leadership, her sense of calm, and her grace under pressure were all qualities that cannot be understated. It is commendable that in the face of the odds against her, her service to the King and to Flor were forever without waver." Morier bowed his head in referent silence and so did the others.
All except Huzair who instead took a moment to light up a cigar. Once it was going properly, he clapped his hands together. The resulting sound was startlingly loud in the entryway. "Grieve later, people. We have work to do," he said, earning some angry glances from the others. He didn't notice as he looked sadly down at Ledare's scorched body. "It figures chaos would destroy roses and spare a pair of thorns."
Karak harrumphed and Lela stamped her little foot on Feln's shoulder.
"Why are you so mean?" she demanded, her hands balled into tiny fists. Huzair blew smoke in her direction and waved off the question.
"Morier knows I am glad he is okay... and the dwarf too," he explained. "It's just that I'm sorry to see two lovely ladies struck down."
"We all will miss Ledare," Morier grumbled, staring darkly at the wizard.
"Aye, her loss will be long and hard. That be for sure," Karak added. "She be the orginal founding member of this little band of companions, I know that. I cannot even think of the next day without her and her leadership and her kind ways. But now is not the time to ponder that loss. I won't say good bye until we know it's goodbye."
"That being said, I think her loss changes our mission," Morier put in. "We've not the King's call to answer to any more, nor that of Flor. We came to this place out of her loyalty as a Florian and her pledge to find the girl, Shamalin. At the present, we're individually and collectively weakened by what we have faced already, and to put ourselves in further peril for what seems a lost cause would be foolhardy."
"Aye, we can leave this manor as soon as we have dispatched the evil that resides herein and find the priestess or her remains," Karak argued, his face resolute. "Ledare may be gone, but I still remain. And for as long as I be standin' here, I will finish this mission."
"Karak..," Morier started but the dwarf pressed on.
"Flor and Shaharizod be sisters and I do nae mean to leave this mission untended to," he stated flatly. Morier sighed.
"I have been given a gift from the Seers of the Grove, a gift which enables us to get to the very heart of the evil that now crushes the Realms," the albino pleaded. " It is in our best interest and the best interest of all of those around us to use that gift while I am still here. I have tasted death today... and it has served to strengthen my resolve to follow the pull toward making Dridana whole." Now it was Karak's turn to sigh, and the dwarf's face softened a bit as he did so.
"I do nae know what trials you went through in the grove. I'll give you that. But evil does not only reside at the end of your compass," the battered warrior said, waving his sword around to encompass everything around them. "The plague of chaos surrounds us, and this evil manor represents it here and now. I will not leave it alone. I won't, I say!"
"And I say we return the bodies of the Florians to the temple in Floxen and seek their aid in our recovery," Morier challenged. "And then we begin the task of ending this evil for good!"
"If that be the way ye feel, I'll nae stop ye," Karak said with a sad shake of his head. "But I swore an oath over Ledare's body that I'd find this Shamalin or what remains of her and see her returned to the temple o' Flor. And I'll nae break me vow." Again the eldritch warrior sighed expansively.
"There is an old story that applies here, Karak. You'll forgive me as I translate it through three tongues," Morier responded and began recounting his parable. "The fool and the wise man awoke one morning to find that both were plagued by bees invading their houses. In both cases, the swarm had made their hive in a branch that hung directly above the side door. The fool chased down each and every bee and was stung a thousand times before he rid himself of the pests three moonsdances later. The wise man used a single stone to knock down the hive and was rid of the pests before supper."
Karak looked at the albino for a moment and then nodded. "You see. That's the problem with you elves; you have faerie skin. Bee stings do nae hurt a dwarf."
"And if the bees are already swarming, who's the fool?" Huzair asked Morier. "I hate to see what happened at the Festival in Relfren. I will never eat Emerald Cheese again, I know that much."
"What are you talking-" Morier started but Huzair cut him off.
"We ignored that and you will have that on your conscience from here on. We turned down a plea for help. I can live with it, though I wanted to help," Huzair said somewhat unconvincingly."My point is: we cant' leave this alone. We now have two comrades dead. We cannot let their lives be lost for nothing." And before Morier could argue further, Karak turned to the others.
"We need to sweep this place to make sure our enemies have either surrendered or been killed. Huzair, that means not killing those that have surrendered. And, I be nae so old to miss seeing you picked up the other end of that communicatin' ring ye took off Brin." The dwarf pointed at the circlet that Huzair was turning over in his long-fingered hands. "I suggest you give it to Feln and he and Lela go down this hall to points we have not seen and stay in contact with us."
"Not more than fifteen minutes, mind," he told the half-ogre. "Get the layout of the manor. Look for the girl or the other man that was mentioned: Melengar. I do nae think there are anymore baddies about but you never know." Feln nodded and plucked the ring out of Huzair's hands.
"I will stay here with Morier and Huzair," Karak finished. "We will sweep and search this area and guard Ledare's body. Once ye've found the girl, we'll move out."
Virtually the first door Feln opened in his random search of rooms yielded results... but he was unprepared for what he found. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The slaughterhouse stench of sweat, blood, waste, and fear struck him full in the face like a solid thing. He heard Lela make a gagging noise on his shoulder and he made a shushing sound in response. An irregular drip-drip-dripping echoed around inside the large room which was L-shaped with six doors opening off it in addition to the one by which Feln entered. At the far end, a vast open fireplace pierced the wall, connecting this room with the dining hall he'd spied earlier. There was no fire burning, but a layer of hot coals lent the room a ruddy, hellish glow that reminded Feln at once of the first test he'd faced in the Grove of Renewal. There were two enormous iron pots suspended over the coals and their contents bubbled merrily.
Feln moved quickly and silently to the first door and opened it. The room beyond was some sort of private bath. A large brass tub dominated the center of the room, accompanying a wardrobe and wooden bench. It had been converted into an abattoir, however. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls almost to the ceiling with dark splotches. There was something that might have been a gnome or a halfling shackled to the tub, but there wasn't really enough of it left to identify more than that.
Feln closed the door quickly when he heard Lela start to hyperventilate in his ear. He placed a comforting hand up against the faerie. "Perhaps you should go and wait by the door," he suggested and the sound of his voice brought an echo of movement from a door behind him.
He slipped at once into action and stealthily approached the door in question. It stood to the left of an open cistern that was the source of the dripping water sound. He pressed his ear against the door and heard a soft mewling beyond and the clink of metal on metal.
Pushing the door open, he peered inside. A naked and barely conscious figure was curled up on the stone floor beside the large brass tub. A manacle ran from the woman's left ankle to the thick clawed foot of the tub, linking them like prisoners on a chain gang. Feln could see the deep cuts that ran the length of her face and all down her arms and legs. She flinched reflexively and moaned as he stepped into the room, raising her battered arms to shield her face. The tips of her fingers were raw and bloodied - the nails visibly splintered. The places on her body which weren't crusted brown with dried blood were purplish-black from severe bruising. Her hair had been shorn so close to her head that even her ears were mangled and torn.
If this was indeed the red haired half-elf, Shamalin, they'd been seeking he had no immediate way of knowing. He brought the Ring of Communication to his lips and whispered, "I found someone. A woman. Could be Shamalin."
At the sound of the name, the woman raised her eyes slightly to behold her newest tormenter. She waited a moment for him to begin his torture before turning her face away and begging, "Leave me."
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Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Aw shucks...... here I was thinking this might be the "Ogre alarm" ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Are we talking cult here? Or is this some kind of perverse hemophiliac paradise?
Are we talking cult here? Or is this some kind of perverse hemophiliac paradise?
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