Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 2971385" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Realms #349] The Workshop[/PLAIN]The severed head thudded wetly against the far wall and slid to the floor; once again silence settled on the chamber broken only by the panting breaths of the heroes. Karak clanked wearily against the wall, sighing into his beard.As Morier darted out into the corridor after the fleeing creature, Shamalin's eyes locked on the figure lying still upon the cold stone floor. He was covered in blood from the wounds the creature had opened through his armor. Silently, she moved to him, but paused before calling forth her healing abilities. His was the god of death and dying. What exchanges were taking place between them now, she wondered. What would his inclinations be in such a moment? What of her own, were the tables turned? She knew that answer.No. With a sudden flair of anger, she reached out to pull him back to this life. No. If Flor deemed her worthy, she would make the choice for him. The greatest work was still to be done; this had been only the beginning. She turned and regarded each of the Order in turn. If it took everything she had, they would face the rest together.Ayremac awakened, eyes popping wide, hand feeling blindly around him for his weapon. Shamalin pressed her hands against his breastplate - mindful of the spikes - and said softly, "Lie still. I'm not quite finished."The holy warrior sighed and eyed the room, smiling weakly. "Huzair, don't get too close," he grinned. "Your propensity to fall prone in battle seems contagious"Huzair's mouth snapped open, ready to spout something caustic but he caught himself. "Oh, you are joking," he said realizing the Officer's intent. "Yeah. Right. Heh heh." He sneered sarcastically at the fallen man and began casting some spells on himself."Where is my weapon?" Ayremac asked, looking around."Here, lad," Karak replied, forcing himself to his feet. He extended the weapon haft to Ayremac's hand. "I borrowed it for a bit once ye fell.""You should have buffed before combat," Huzair told the man. "It is the reason I am still drawing breath. That's the second time buffing with a False Life has saved my life... as well as Shamalin's divine intervention. Thanks.""You're welcome," she said, simply.After a few moments Morier returned to report that the slow-moving creature had somehow managed to vanish - most likely fleeing to the Ethereal Plane. Once everyone was gathered, Shamalin and Ayremac worked together to quickly bring the party back to some semblance of health. They healed injuries while Morier repaired both Karak's waraxe and his own damaged sword."Does everyone agree we move forward?" Ayremac asked, looking around at the group and registering nods of assent. "Karak, Morier, you take lead. Lela and I will support as opportunities arise and move to the rear if more monsters approach from that direction. Shamalin and Huzair, you will support from a distance; aid the others. And Huzair, don't be afraid to cast a buff on someone.""Me? Afraid to cast a buff? What do I look like? Morier?" the mage smirked and Morier flashed him a scathing look as he took a position at the door.The room beyond the door was cramped and seemed to be a mage's workroom, filled with counters and paraphernalia of a wizardly sort. Racks of vials and jars predominated, but there was an archway filled with glowing green mist in the wall to the left. Both Morier and Karak recognized the arch as a portal like those they'd seen elsewhere in their quest, but no one could pay it much attention once their eyes fell upon the horror before them. In a pool of congealing fluid on a table in the center of the room lay the severed head and raw spine of an elven child. Its hair and eyebrows had been rudely shorn and its pallid scalp partially painted with the same disconcerting runes that they had seen previously. The smell of chemical preservative was very strong in this tight space."What sort of twisted place is this?" Ayremac groaned, pressing a hand to his mouth to keep himself from gagging. Before anyone could answer, the eyes of the severed head snapped grotesquely open and its mouth parted releasing a shriek such as none of them had ever heard. It was like the cry of a damned soul and it went on and on impossibly, echoing and re-echoing off the walls of the chamber and out into the corridors beyond.</blockquote>

Verification