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The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 2658705" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>[PLAIN][Realms #324] Return to Floxen[/PLAIN]</strong></p><p></p><p>Morier opened his mouth to voice his persistent assertion that they should follow the "pulls" in his head and not allow themselves to get sidetracked. But Karak protested first.</p><p></p><p>"I do nae know about that, lassie," the dwarf said. "We've taken quite a beatin' 'ereabouts..." His voice trailed off as he looked at Ledare's burned corpse. He sighed into his beard and looked up at Shamalin. "But at least we've found ye. Ledare's last fight nae be for nought. I know she will be glad to know that we have rescued ye from yer fate."</p><p></p><p>"Ledare was... a follower of Lady Mercy?" Shamalin asked, gesturing at but not quite looking at the body.</p><p></p><p>"Aye!" the dwarf agreed. "She walked the path of the holy warrior. She called it-"</p><p></p><p>"Faithful Daughter," the wounded half-elf interjected. "Holy warriors of Flor are called Faithful Sons and Daughter."</p><p></p><p>"It was because of her that we came here," Huzair told her as he pinched the cherry off his cigar, saving the rest for another time. "Well that and the dwarf's magic axe."</p><p></p><p>Shamalin looked confused and Morier explained, "Priestess Mellona in Floxen asked us to look for you. Karak, here was promised an enchanted axe if we accepted the quest. Ledare, being who she was, accepted without promise of reward."</p><p></p><p>While Shamalin considered this, Huzair produced a steel flask from his pack and tossed it to Karak. "Here, by the way!" he said. "It's <em>Oil of Magic Weapon</em>. I found it one of the bodies." The dwarf looked at the vial and shook his head.</p><p></p><p>"If I'd had this when facin' Blackheart - then we'd've seen something!" he mused. "The lass, there'd still be alive, that be sure."</p><p></p><p>Huzair turned quickly away and snapped, "I can't loot bodies we haven't killed yet!"</p><p></p><p>"True enough, wizard!" Karak said and pocketed the <em>Oil</em>. "Which reminds me; we have found nothing else here except the bodies we dispatched. I say we are here. It is now. Let's sweep the manor, and be gone. There may be tools of chaos we can destroy or captured items to recover that can aid us in the fight against Aphyx." He spit and the gobbet of phlegm splattered on the wrapped bundle that was the Death Knight's mace.</p><p></p><p>"I don't think we have the firepower to get involved in much battle," Morier argued and Karak nodded.</p><p></p><p>"I have one more thing to say about yer bees, White One," the dwarf said, looking at Morier. "I know that once the bee hive be knocked down you elves like to retreat to the safety of your forests. But I say, now that the bee hive be knocked down, it is time to gather the honey. If there be any bees along the way... well... we'll just skewer them." He rested his longsword across his broad shoulder and grinned.</p><p></p><p>Morier sighed. "This manor isn't the bee's nest, for sure... this is merely a bee in the great scheme of things, my friend."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>They encountered no further resistance in the the manor. It looked as if the Aphyx-worshipers had established themselves in the place several weeks previous, putting the entire household to the sword and taking the place for themselves. They found a defiled shrine to Garjarven, god of travelers, behind some barred double doors and many ransacked rooms throughout the manor. Any valuables had been stripped from the place and been redistributed amongst the soldiers.</p><p></p><p>One room that must have been a library judging by the empty shelves had been converted to a shrine to Aphyx. Whatever horrors had been practiced there to please the dark goddess could only be guessed at. Karak took more than a little pleasure in invoking Shaharizod's <em>Divine Favor</em> and smashing the blood-encrusted altar to bits with his warhammer.</p><p></p><p>It was near dawn by the time they'd thoroughly swept through the place, but despite their weariness no one wanted to sleep within the manor itself or in the ghost town below. They retrieved their horses and pressed on with their shackled prisoner (the man who had been knocked unconscious by Lela's <em>Dust of Greater Slumber </em>at the start of the battle in the hall) until they could go no further. At noon on Sunday, they set up camp on a windy hilltop and slept the sleep of the righteous.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 2658705, member: 2323"] [b][PLAIN][Realms #324] Return to Floxen[/PLAIN][/b] Morier opened his mouth to voice his persistent assertion that they should follow the "pulls" in his head and not allow themselves to get sidetracked. But Karak protested first. "I do nae know about that, lassie," the dwarf said. "We've taken quite a beatin' 'ereabouts..." His voice trailed off as he looked at Ledare's burned corpse. He sighed into his beard and looked up at Shamalin. "But at least we've found ye. Ledare's last fight nae be for nought. I know she will be glad to know that we have rescued ye from yer fate." "Ledare was... a follower of Lady Mercy?" Shamalin asked, gesturing at but not quite looking at the body. "Aye!" the dwarf agreed. "She walked the path of the holy warrior. She called it-" "Faithful Daughter," the wounded half-elf interjected. "Holy warriors of Flor are called Faithful Sons and Daughter." "It was because of her that we came here," Huzair told her as he pinched the cherry off his cigar, saving the rest for another time. "Well that and the dwarf's magic axe." Shamalin looked confused and Morier explained, "Priestess Mellona in Floxen asked us to look for you. Karak, here was promised an enchanted axe if we accepted the quest. Ledare, being who she was, accepted without promise of reward." While Shamalin considered this, Huzair produced a steel flask from his pack and tossed it to Karak. "Here, by the way!" he said. "It's [i]Oil of Magic Weapon[/i]. I found it one of the bodies." The dwarf looked at the vial and shook his head. "If I'd had this when facin' Blackheart - then we'd've seen something!" he mused. "The lass, there'd still be alive, that be sure." Huzair turned quickly away and snapped, "I can't loot bodies we haven't killed yet!" "True enough, wizard!" Karak said and pocketed the [i]Oil[/i]. "Which reminds me; we have found nothing else here except the bodies we dispatched. I say we are here. It is now. Let's sweep the manor, and be gone. There may be tools of chaos we can destroy or captured items to recover that can aid us in the fight against Aphyx." He spit and the gobbet of phlegm splattered on the wrapped bundle that was the Death Knight's mace. "I don't think we have the firepower to get involved in much battle," Morier argued and Karak nodded. "I have one more thing to say about yer bees, White One," the dwarf said, looking at Morier. "I know that once the bee hive be knocked down you elves like to retreat to the safety of your forests. But I say, now that the bee hive be knocked down, it is time to gather the honey. If there be any bees along the way... well... we'll just skewer them." He rested his longsword across his broad shoulder and grinned. Morier sighed. "This manor isn't the bee's nest, for sure... this is merely a bee in the great scheme of things, my friend." They encountered no further resistance in the the manor. It looked as if the Aphyx-worshipers had established themselves in the place several weeks previous, putting the entire household to the sword and taking the place for themselves. They found a defiled shrine to Garjarven, god of travelers, behind some barred double doors and many ransacked rooms throughout the manor. Any valuables had been stripped from the place and been redistributed amongst the soldiers. One room that must have been a library judging by the empty shelves had been converted to a shrine to Aphyx. Whatever horrors had been practiced there to please the dark goddess could only be guessed at. Karak took more than a little pleasure in invoking Shaharizod's [i]Divine Favor[/i] and smashing the blood-encrusted altar to bits with his warhammer. It was near dawn by the time they'd thoroughly swept through the place, but despite their weariness no one wanted to sleep within the manor itself or in the ghost town below. They retrieved their horses and pressed on with their shackled prisoner (the man who had been knocked unconscious by Lela's [i]Dust of Greater Slumber [/i]at the start of the battle in the hall) until they could go no further. At noon on Sunday, they set up camp on a windy hilltop and slept the sleep of the righteous. [/QUOTE]
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