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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 2717658" data-attributes="member: 2323">They answered Melonna's urgent summons and found her in the temple's healing hall. She looked drawn, her red-rimmed eyes surrounded by dark circles; a few wispy strands of gray hair had come free of the crown of woven daisies that she wore and hung loosely across her face. She and several of the other priestesses were crowded around one of the curtained beds, but she drew herself reluctantly away from the patient laying there at the VQS' approach."You have brought a great evil to Flor's house," the high priestess hissed as she met them. Her eyes darted around, nervously searching for any unwanted listeners who might be within earshot."What do you mean?" Morier asked, although he thought he knew already. Melonna shook her head in response and started to turn."Not here," she whispered, casting her concerned gaze on the patient in the bed and motioning for them to follow toward the door at the rear of the main hall. As they passed, several of them caught sight of the maiden lying beneath the bleached white coverlet. She appeared drained of vitality, looking more like a living corpse than a girl in her teens.Melonna was obviously weary and she sagged against her desk for a moment before speaking. "The mace," she said finally, confirming Morier's suspicions. "It's extremely powerful and evil beyond... beyond anything I have encountered before.""We dinna find it in the happiest o' places, lass," Karak sighed. "I'm nae surprised that the thing be tainted.""I don't think you understand, good dwarf," Melonna corrected. "It's not tainted; it is taint.""Huh?" Hiuzair asked, drawing a cigar from his pocket. "What's that supposed to mean?""Please don't smoke in here," the cleric chastised and Huzair rolled his eyes in disgust. He returned the cigar to its hiding place and Melonna went on. "The mace is pure - if such a word can be used to describe it - divine evil given form. It's not a weapon forged so much as it is an extension of the Rot Queen's dark power. Poor Beorna came in accidental contact with it and was... drained. It almost killed her.""I'm sorry, Matron Melonna," Morier apologized. "We should not have brought this evil to you.""No. Here is exactly where you should have brought it!" the cleric countered. "Such an implement of evil cannot be left lying around for just anyone to stumble upon.""Is there any way to make it safe?" Feln asked, tightening his fists as if imagining the haft of the weapon in his hands."Not that we know of," the cleric replied. "Nothing we've tried seems to injure it. We've sent messengers to Widdershin seeking a means to unmake the thing, but it will be several weeks before they return. In the meantime, we will keep it secured in the vaults beneath this temple."After leaving the tired high priestess, the VQS retreated to the cramped private room that had been set aside more-or-less exclusively for their use in the back of the Shining Lantern. A tray of foamy tankards had been brought in and left on a sideboard near the door as was the usual practice. Huzair and Karak each took two of the steins before settling into hard wooden chairs. Feln eschewed the ale and paced back and forth in the small room."The cleric overstates the danger of the mace," he said, driving his fist into the palm of his opposite hand. "I could over come it! I know I could!"Karak sputtered over his mug of ale, sending specks of foamy head across the tabletop. “What in the nine dwarven hells are you talkin' about? Are ye figurin' on using that black mace?""I thought I might," Feln snapped back and Karak shook his head."Why I can nae believe it! That weapon's gotta be cursed for sure. And evil besides!" the dwarf grunted. "Why it took the stuffin' right outta Morier there. I never thought an albino elf could turn more white than 'e did when that wicked thing hit ’im in the chest. And ye're thinkin’ of using it? Shaharizod’s beard! It ain't right, I tell you. It ain't right.”The dwarf took a pull off his mug and then slammed it down on the table. “And another thing: I won't stand for it, and Ledare would not either!" Karak thundered. "As I sit here before ye, and on her grave, I won't allow that cursed weapon to be used in our midst!”"Dwarf, let's be clear on who chooses my weapons," Feln growled back, leaning in toward Karak. "It's me!"Huzair pushed himself back from the looming confrontation and drew a wand from his sleeve. "If you think I am going to let some assassin use a weapon that could make him turn on all of us, you are mistaken," the mage said once he was in a good tactical position to use his wand. "Ogre, you have no understanding of what magic power this thing has. It will possess you eventually. I will not let that happen."Feln turned to regard Huzair and bared his fangs menacingly. The intimidation tactic seemed to have no effect on Huzair at all. The wizard was either supremely confident or completely drunk. It was tough to tell which."What simpleton thinks he can handle the dark powers of Aphyx?" the mage went on. "Gods! The death knight wiped out half our party and if it were not for Morier's excellent decision to disarm Blackheart, I think there would have been four funerals... if not actually seven! And I know Shamalin would not be here now. Come on! Stand up for me, Morier! You know I am correct on this one." Huzair turned to look at the eldritch warrior and Morier sighed. He turned reluctantly toward Feln."As much as I hate to say it, and as difficult a time as he is having saying it in a sensible manner, Huzair does have a point," Morier told him. "This thing should be destroyed or placed somewhere under protection so that it never again becomes a tool of evil. I don't think that Melonna would let you have it even if we all thought it was a good idea."The half-ogre grunted noncommittally and Morier turned his attention on the wizard. "I think Feln gets what you're saying, Huzair," he explained. "And I'd put that wand away before we have to spend a day looking for someone to remove it from wherever Feln decides to stuff it." Huzair shot the half-ogre a reproachful glance as he slipped the wand back into its wrist sheathe."I'd like to see him try," he muttered as he returned his attention to his ale.Karak drained his first and started in on his second. “While we're talkin' on it, I know you all been sayin’ behind your backs that I should use the black plate of that chaos knight I dispatched. But I do nae like that one bit," the dwarf growled, wagging a thick finger at the others. "Why, who knows what evil runs amok in that thing? See, you ‘ummies an' faeries an' half-bloods do nae know a thing or two about armor and weapons. It takes spirit to make those weapons. It takes life force. Just ask Balazaar. He’ll tell ya. So I do nae know if I wish to wear the black armor from a chaos knight.”"I guess I don't blame you," Morier said with a nod as Karak upended his mug and slurped down the entire thing. "I'm not sure I'd want to be reminded of Blackheart every time I put my armor on either."“Now, now, I know you must be thinkin’: well, he be wearin' Sir Brin’s armor, now what is the difference?” Karak went on as if he hadn't heard Morier's comments. The dwarf motioned for another tankard from the tray. “Well, I’ll tell ye. The difference is, I killed Sir Brin in hand-to-hand combat - one warrior to another. I, as the victor, am entitled by dwarven rights to his weapons and armor. But that black chaos knight be a different matter. I do suspect he be more demon than mortal. More the very stuff of chaos than naught. He died a wicked death of magick. That was no honorable fight an' would be nae an honor for me to wear it. I tell ya.”He drank deeply of the offered ale and then reached beneath the table, pulling his massive war axe into view.. “Now, as I was sayin' before, it takes life and spirit to put magic into a weapon. Let me tell you how I started with this ‘ere beloved war axe," the dwarf's eyes grew misty with nostalgia. "Why, I remember the morne... It was bright and sunny on the mountain 'fore I descended the elevator shaft to the bottom o' the mine, and I knew this would be a good day...”Karak's ale-fueled tale rambled on, the teller oblivious to whether anyone listened to it or not.The next day, while Morier and Feln returned to the manor at Miller's Pond with Demetrius, Karak once again sought the help of Balazaar. He found the bald dwarf in his improvised work room, stroking his deeply-cleft chin and reading a thick book bound in leather. He looked up as Karak entered, waving his war axe."Well, runesmith, I have given it over to a lot of thinkin'," he announced. "I have made counsel with myself, with Shaharizod, and with me chalak.""And what is it you wish of Balazaar, the mighty dwarven wizard?" the mage asked, closing his grimoire."This 'ere axe's been with me for a long time, as you know. I have raised it up from ore and forged it with sweat and fire," Karak explained, turning the weapon in his hands and studying the blade like a lover's face. "It has slain orcs, goblins, and chaos filth. I have oiled it and cleansed it from orc blood." He sighed, laying the weapon atop Balazaar's workbench."I miss my twin brother like it was yesterday - and it seems to me like it was just yesterday - when he and I roamed the halls of the fallen monk monastary in the Thunder Mountains," Karak said. His tone was somber; his voice seemed robbed of its thunder. "We barely survived that cold adventure, but what a time we 'ad. I have this buckler and these boots from that place, and I think it only fittin' that my blade be given a magick to remind me o' that time. I choose the Frost rune.""A good choice," Balazaar told him. "And one that my mighty powers can provide for the gold you have offered.""Now I got another questions for ye," Karak said with a nod. "One o' my companions has this crazy idea that they can take the fallen Chaos Knight's mace and destroy it.""Bloody idiot," Balazaar snorted. "Melonna's already consulted me on the matter of the mace.""I say they'd easier destroy a mountain. I do nae believe they can just destroy it," the warrior nodded. "Can such a thing be destroyed?""Surely it can be destroyed. Everything can be destroyed!" Balazaar harrumphed. "Of course, its unmaking may require a blow from Moradin's hammer, or being tossed into a Sphere of Annihilation. In other words: no simple matter.""What do ye recommend we do with it?" Karak asked. "I say we just got a tool of chaos we should lock it away from the enemy nice and tight. What say you?""There is a certain dwarven sensibility in that," the mage admitted. "And, until such time as we actually learn the exact method by which the mace may be destroyed that seems the best course of action."Karak nodded in reply, adding, "And when can you have me axe ready? I do feel as if the White Elf grows impatient with all this waiting." Balazzar harrumphed at that."Elves," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Tell your pale friend it'll be four days."</blockquote>

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