Myth and Legend
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Valley of the Dead: Chapter 2 "Home of the sleepless"
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Myth and Legend
First Post
The procession goes slowly - they ride two by two in a long file, paladins and clerics of Lathadner up front, adventurers in the middle, sell-swords at the back and a group under Lazarus's second in command - a holy warrior named Galen of the Seven Lakes, has now taken the rearguard. The sky is sulky and grey, the sun is nowhere to be seen and a brisk wind bites trough the clothes, promising harsher cold and more miserable weather up in the mountains where the valley's door is said to be. Apart from the clinking of armour and the soft thumping of horse shoes against the still damp countryside road, not much else can be heard.
Up in the very front of the column, Ferviel rides next to Lazarus and the two converse softly. The leader of the paladins has his helm hanging from his saddle, and his encrusted golden armour shines brightly and vividly next to Ferviel's armour made of a homogenous white-grey metal. Four pairs of men ride between the leaders of this holy Crusade and the pair of Geryk and Zinerath. Ferviel had known Geryk, such information as his past was common knowledge in the hierarchy of the Temple. "Watch your lad and make sure he doesn't do mischief." was all that the older cleric had said, giving little heed to the young "boy" that traveled with the sullen Radiant Servant of Lathander, a sight already ironical enough without the addition of one such as Zinerath.
So far their ride has been awkwardly silent, and there is not much promise of interesting conversations to come, at lest until the army stops to make camp. Right behind the two rides Rufus Veran - first in the column of the mercenaries and sell-swords. Not that this is anything to be particularly proud of. Next to him rides an enigmatic, foreign looking woman with almond shaped eyes that could melt a man's soul if he were to gaze in them too long.
Since the woman had been forced several times to reject the advances of various mercenaries and other riff-raff, she had no time to talk to her companion, whom in turn repulsed any other would-be suitors just by virtue of possessing arms as thick as a regular man's leg. Before Rufus has the time to check her knowledge of the Common tongue of Muirlane, Ferviel breaks off from the head of the column and rides back. The Dawnbringer addresses Geryk with his raspy voice, while he falls in line next to him, but he talks loud enough for the couple behind them to hear:
"Lathander bless you Dawnbringer Geryк." - Ferviel mutters that as if he's stating that the weather is miserable. As ever, Ferviel seems to be the very opposite of what a normal cleric of Lathander should look or act like. In that regard, he seems to be a more surly but less sullen version of Geryk.
"I had sent a scouting party ahead - a vanguard. They had Adelaide Swiftblade with them, as well as an Elven Incantatrix to support them with magic, and a Half-Orc and a Halfling that both seemed to know what they're doing. They have not returned yet."
The cleric spits and pats his horse when the animal whinnies and tries to shy away from Zinerath, who is walking between him and Geryk.
"You should go and investigate - it is time a servant of the Lord of Morning to make a personal involvement. Take your... boy - Ferviel growls that last word. - and also two from the mercenary companies. The foreign woman behind you is an arcanist but she has refused to be enrolled in the mercenary lists."
Ferviel glances over his mail clad shoulder and forces a grin aimed at Mei-Ying.
"You said the path to your emperor takes you trough the Valley eh? Well here's your chance to make sure we even get to the gates in one peace. Geryk will need one of your kind to help him. And you - he looks at Rufus. - I'm not sure what your motivation was in all of this, Galen was the one to bring you in. He told me you know which end of the sword to hold, aye? Go with them, and make sure the rescuing party actually manages to rescue someone! I don't need two groups of corpses to resurrect."
Ferviel sounds somewhat annoyed and tired, and he grips the handle of his mace, but does not remove it from its holster. He then rides closer to Zinerath and whispers something to him.
[sblock=Zinerath, others need to beat a DC 20 listen check]"I can see past your tricks, fiend! Don't think for a moment to make trouble for this endeavor, or I will personally send you back to meet whatever hell-spawn fathered you! Geryk put what is left of his name on the line for you, and he is the only reason you've been allowed to join this group! Remember - these people are your allies. I want none of their blood on your claws, and If I so much as get a whiff of treason from you..." [/sblock]
He makes an ominous gesture with his mail clad glove pointing towards an image embroidered on his mount's barding. It depicts a dark humanoid shape being burned by an intense yellow ray shooting down from the sun.
Before he leaves, Ferviel turns back and smiles at Geryk. His smile never reaches his eyes however. "Make sure to avoid any liches, if present. You are hardly a group suited for the slaying of such beings. But you probably already know this don't you."
Ferviel rides back to the front of the line and leans to talk to Lazarus.
Thok is about to charge at the big undead thing. Well at least he guesses it's undead - it can't really be anything else. As if by chance, he decides to throw a quick glance behind his shoulder, to see if the small-man and the elf with the hard name that sounds like Orc in a well are there.
He is surprised to find that both are gone, the doors of the barn are wide open, and the group of zombies and that big thing are making their way towards him with haste (which isn't very fast for a zombie). The big thing doesn't seem slow at all however, and only luck has it that it stops and starts pounding at Adelaide's corpse - possibly to make sure she's dead. Several slashes can be seen across its arms, it seems the female paladin managed to wound the thing.
Thok has never been one for prudence, but somehow he thinks that the disgrace of retreating would hurt far less then being eaten by zombies. And the other two ran away first, so him running after them doesn't really count as running away.
Up in the very front of the column, Ferviel rides next to Lazarus and the two converse softly. The leader of the paladins has his helm hanging from his saddle, and his encrusted golden armour shines brightly and vividly next to Ferviel's armour made of a homogenous white-grey metal. Four pairs of men ride between the leaders of this holy Crusade and the pair of Geryk and Zinerath. Ferviel had known Geryk, such information as his past was common knowledge in the hierarchy of the Temple. "Watch your lad and make sure he doesn't do mischief." was all that the older cleric had said, giving little heed to the young "boy" that traveled with the sullen Radiant Servant of Lathander, a sight already ironical enough without the addition of one such as Zinerath.
So far their ride has been awkwardly silent, and there is not much promise of interesting conversations to come, at lest until the army stops to make camp. Right behind the two rides Rufus Veran - first in the column of the mercenaries and sell-swords. Not that this is anything to be particularly proud of. Next to him rides an enigmatic, foreign looking woman with almond shaped eyes that could melt a man's soul if he were to gaze in them too long.
Since the woman had been forced several times to reject the advances of various mercenaries and other riff-raff, she had no time to talk to her companion, whom in turn repulsed any other would-be suitors just by virtue of possessing arms as thick as a regular man's leg. Before Rufus has the time to check her knowledge of the Common tongue of Muirlane, Ferviel breaks off from the head of the column and rides back. The Dawnbringer addresses Geryk with his raspy voice, while he falls in line next to him, but he talks loud enough for the couple behind them to hear:
"Lathander bless you Dawnbringer Geryк." - Ferviel mutters that as if he's stating that the weather is miserable. As ever, Ferviel seems to be the very opposite of what a normal cleric of Lathander should look or act like. In that regard, he seems to be a more surly but less sullen version of Geryk.
"I had sent a scouting party ahead - a vanguard. They had Adelaide Swiftblade with them, as well as an Elven Incantatrix to support them with magic, and a Half-Orc and a Halfling that both seemed to know what they're doing. They have not returned yet."
The cleric spits and pats his horse when the animal whinnies and tries to shy away from Zinerath, who is walking between him and Geryk.
"You should go and investigate - it is time a servant of the Lord of Morning to make a personal involvement. Take your... boy - Ferviel growls that last word. - and also two from the mercenary companies. The foreign woman behind you is an arcanist but she has refused to be enrolled in the mercenary lists."
Ferviel glances over his mail clad shoulder and forces a grin aimed at Mei-Ying.
"You said the path to your emperor takes you trough the Valley eh? Well here's your chance to make sure we even get to the gates in one peace. Geryk will need one of your kind to help him. And you - he looks at Rufus. - I'm not sure what your motivation was in all of this, Galen was the one to bring you in. He told me you know which end of the sword to hold, aye? Go with them, and make sure the rescuing party actually manages to rescue someone! I don't need two groups of corpses to resurrect."
Ferviel sounds somewhat annoyed and tired, and he grips the handle of his mace, but does not remove it from its holster. He then rides closer to Zinerath and whispers something to him.
[sblock=Zinerath, others need to beat a DC 20 listen check]"I can see past your tricks, fiend! Don't think for a moment to make trouble for this endeavor, or I will personally send you back to meet whatever hell-spawn fathered you! Geryk put what is left of his name on the line for you, and he is the only reason you've been allowed to join this group! Remember - these people are your allies. I want none of their blood on your claws, and If I so much as get a whiff of treason from you..." [/sblock]
He makes an ominous gesture with his mail clad glove pointing towards an image embroidered on his mount's barding. It depicts a dark humanoid shape being burned by an intense yellow ray shooting down from the sun.
Before he leaves, Ferviel turns back and smiles at Geryk. His smile never reaches his eyes however. "Make sure to avoid any liches, if present. You are hardly a group suited for the slaying of such beings. But you probably already know this don't you."
Ferviel rides back to the front of the line and leans to talk to Lazarus.
***
Thok is about to charge at the big undead thing. Well at least he guesses it's undead - it can't really be anything else. As if by chance, he decides to throw a quick glance behind his shoulder, to see if the small-man and the elf with the hard name that sounds like Orc in a well are there.
He is surprised to find that both are gone, the doors of the barn are wide open, and the group of zombies and that big thing are making their way towards him with haste (which isn't very fast for a zombie). The big thing doesn't seem slow at all however, and only luck has it that it stops and starts pounding at Adelaide's corpse - possibly to make sure she's dead. Several slashes can be seen across its arms, it seems the female paladin managed to wound the thing.
Thok has never been one for prudence, but somehow he thinks that the disgrace of retreating would hurt far less then being eaten by zombies. And the other two ran away first, so him running after them doesn't really count as running away.
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Voda Vosa
First Post
At the scream of "Cowards! Come back and fight!" Thok runs away, holding the sword over his broad shoulders. The blade goes up and down, hitting the armor, as the hulk of Thok makes his way to a prudent distance form the barn. Then it hits him. Mentally, Thok tries to remember if he has the means to produce fire quickly.
Dragonwriter
First Post
Rufus grins. "A good story, Dawnbringer - that's what I want. Something to tell the grandchildren when I'm old and retired."
The blond-haired young man rolls his shoulders and looks at the other three he has apparently been assigned to work with. "Name's Rufus. Rufus Veran, swordsman and storyteller, at your service," he proclaims with a slight bow to all three.
The blond-haired young man rolls his shoulders and looks at the other three he has apparently been assigned to work with. "Name's Rufus. Rufus Veran, swordsman and storyteller, at your service," he proclaims with a slight bow to all three.
Scotley
Hero
Geryk rides with little comment but the occasional nod. He rides with visor up revealing a haggard face with red rimmed eyes and lank black hair starting to gray. His gear is exceptional, but the man himself seems somewhat wan and tired. He places a calming hand on Zinerath's shoulder a couple of times at the more harsh and insulting of the comments yet shows little reaction. His features darken as he seems to overhear the quiet yet harsh words whispered to Zinerath. A greater gloom and silence settles over him. However, when Ferviel makes his parting comment about Liches, the Radiant Servant starts as if slapped. He mutters what might be a curse or a prayer under his breath and turns away from the departing escort to look somewhat blankly at the group which will continue on.
He stirs himself with some apparent effort to respond to Rufus, "Well met Rufus, I am Geryk Lavrynt, humble servant of the Morninglord, may he bless our endeavor." He sighs, "Let us pray that we have more need of storyteller than swordsman and that the ending of the tale is a happy one." The well used weapons and somewhat battered armor and the hunted look in the young priests face gone old before his time speak of his own familiarity with war. He turns to his young companion to give him a chance to speak.
He stirs himself with some apparent effort to respond to Rufus, "Well met Rufus, I am Geryk Lavrynt, humble servant of the Morninglord, may he bless our endeavor." He sighs, "Let us pray that we have more need of storyteller than swordsman and that the ending of the tale is a happy one." The well used weapons and somewhat battered armor and the hunted look in the young priests face gone old before his time speak of his own familiarity with war. He turns to his young companion to give him a chance to speak.
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The foreign woman with the unusually shaped eyes guides her mount closer to the others so she won't have to raise her voice when she speaks
"I am Mei-Ying," she introduces in quiet, calm tones. Her cheeks color a bit, embarassed to leave out the courtesy remarks and honorifics, but knowing that the barbarians of these lands were unaccustomed to being afforded such honors. They could be surly about it at times. Even so, she bowed halfway over in the saddle, unable to deny them SOME proper greeting.
"I walk through the shadows that block the path between the One, and the All. My will becomes the will of the world."
She paused, then added for the barbarians, "I cast spells."
"I am Mei-Ying," she introduces in quiet, calm tones. Her cheeks color a bit, embarassed to leave out the courtesy remarks and honorifics, but knowing that the barbarians of these lands were unaccustomed to being afforded such honors. They could be surly about it at times. Even so, she bowed halfway over in the saddle, unable to deny them SOME proper greeting.
"I walk through the shadows that block the path between the One, and the All. My will becomes the will of the world."
She paused, then added for the barbarians, "I cast spells."
Dragonwriter
First Post
Rufus raises an eyebrow as he catches a bit of Ferviel's words, but makes no comment on it. He shrugs, still smiling, at Geryk's words. "Really, good priest, without some good fights, where would the story find its interest in the hearts of the young? The harder the fight, the sweeter the victory and the better the tale!
"And that's an interesting explanation, miss. I thought vague and flowery words were more suited to my domain," he says with a joking smile. "Though I definitely like the sound of that phrase - 'my will becomes the will of the world' has a very nice ring to it. Sounds like something Marduran, the fourth High Wizard of Lokenvale, would say. You know, some say he bore dragon's blood in his veins, or that he was a dragon himself. And it's whispered he sired many bastard children during his reign. Much-loved, aye, that he was," the storyteller stage-whispers to all around with a wink.
"And that's an interesting explanation, miss. I thought vague and flowery words were more suited to my domain," he says with a joking smile. "Though I definitely like the sound of that phrase - 'my will becomes the will of the world' has a very nice ring to it. Sounds like something Marduran, the fourth High Wizard of Lokenvale, would say. You know, some say he bore dragon's blood in his veins, or that he was a dragon himself. And it's whispered he sired many bastard children during his reign. Much-loved, aye, that he was," the storyteller stage-whispers to all around with a wink.
Scotley
Hero
Without thinking, Geryk attempts to return Mei-Ying's bow, but such a thing is simply not possible wearing heavy armor. He manages to nod and rock forward a bit in the saddle. "Well met good lady, may the blessings of Lathandar be upon you and your house." Even as his greeting is warm a frown still comes to his face at her words. "An interesting phrase indeed. Some might say you tread upon the purview of the Gods with such a philosophy. Perhaps our journey will give us opportunity to discuss the finer points." He turns to the storyteller. "I must tell you that all hard won victories are not sweet." Realizing he is being maudlin he forces a smile onto his face. "But this is a new dawn for all of us."
[FONT="]Zinerath, previously unresponsive, tilted his hooded head up and towards Rufus.
The shad of the hood ebbed and allowed light to reach his lower face as an overly toothy and devilish grin appeared on his face and conquered the area that sat between he tips of four horns, which curved, presumably from the back of his head, all the way around to his cheeks. A set of gleaming crimson orbs looked fixedly through Rufus’s eyes with glee. He intended no threat and seemed utterly impervious to Ferviel’s earlier mannerism.
“I do like good fights!” he chirped happily while closing his eyes and grinning with[/FONT][FONT="] pleasure[/FONT][FONT="], before sneaking his right eye ever so slightly open, the action betrayed by the crimson glow that escaped the slit of his eyelid. “I’d like to ask you a question about the type of story you want to make later!” he said gleefully.
Zinerath opened his eyes and turned his gaze to Mei-Ying [/FONT][FONT="]as something, or things, started to disturb the back of his cloak beneath his pack, as if fidgeting about uncomfortably. His gaze darted briefly towards his pack while his cloak was disturbed.
“Where are my manners, my name is Zinerath Woesbane; ask the people here, and I think most here would agree, my name cries of irony.” He spoke, while trying to keep up his same chirping tone as his left shoulder tensed backwards in irritation; he looked towards Mei-Yling and Rufus in turn momentary
He grimaced and tilted towards left gazed at his backpack, and reached his right hand around to lift the left strap of his pack before whatever was fidgeting before, flourished briefly and then settled down[/FONT][FONT="].
[sblock=20DC spot check]At the edge a leathery wing briefly escaped the cloak as he lifted the side of the pack before darting back within the folds of cloth right before he let his pack back down[/sblock]
He let down his backpack and turned back to Mei-Ying as he
“So, happens when you walk towards the all, and what dos your will decree?” he asked with a reinvigorated chirp.[/FONT]
The shad of the hood ebbed and allowed light to reach his lower face as an overly toothy and devilish grin appeared on his face and conquered the area that sat between he tips of four horns, which curved, presumably from the back of his head, all the way around to his cheeks. A set of gleaming crimson orbs looked fixedly through Rufus’s eyes with glee. He intended no threat and seemed utterly impervious to Ferviel’s earlier mannerism.
“I do like good fights!” he chirped happily while closing his eyes and grinning with[/FONT][FONT="] pleasure[/FONT][FONT="], before sneaking his right eye ever so slightly open, the action betrayed by the crimson glow that escaped the slit of his eyelid. “I’d like to ask you a question about the type of story you want to make later!” he said gleefully.
Zinerath opened his eyes and turned his gaze to Mei-Ying [/FONT][FONT="]as something, or things, started to disturb the back of his cloak beneath his pack, as if fidgeting about uncomfortably. His gaze darted briefly towards his pack while his cloak was disturbed.
“Where are my manners, my name is Zinerath Woesbane; ask the people here, and I think most here would agree, my name cries of irony.” He spoke, while trying to keep up his same chirping tone as his left shoulder tensed backwards in irritation; he looked towards Mei-Yling and Rufus in turn momentary
He grimaced and tilted towards left gazed at his backpack, and reached his right hand around to lift the left strap of his pack before whatever was fidgeting before, flourished briefly and then settled down[/FONT][FONT="].
[sblock=20DC spot check]At the edge a leathery wing briefly escaped the cloak as he lifted the side of the pack before darting back within the folds of cloth right before he let his pack back down[/sblock]
He let down his backpack and turned back to Mei-Ying as he
“So, happens when you walk towards the all, and what dos your will decree?” he asked with a reinvigorated chirp.[/FONT]
