spyscribe
First Post
Part the One-Hundred Twenty-First
In which: we finally put an end to the longest tease in the history of this thread.
The man raises his head. He is not Anvil. His eyes widen when he sees the party. “You… You must be the friends of the Justicar. He said you would save us! Bless you. Bless you all, in Kettenek’s name!”
“Who are you?” Lira asks.
“I am Cyrus Vaaldershen.”
“Save you from what?” Thatch puts in as he helps Cyrus into Anvil’s discarded cloak.
“From that prison. The mirror.”
“How did you happen to be in the mirror?” Eva wants to know.
“It was Petros,” Cyrus shudders, “he forced me to look into the glass, and I’ve been trapped there ever since.”
“Why would Petros do something like that?’ the party members want to know.
“He’s power mad! He will crush anyone who stands in his way!”
Eva and Thatch exchange a look of concern. Chi’i didn’t say anything about “power mad” when she mentioned Petros. Of course, she might not have known about the prison mirror in his basement.
“How long have you been in the mirror?” Lira demands, stopping Cyrus before he goes into a full-fledged rant.
“More than two years.” He shudders.
“Has anyone been there longer than you have?” Lira waits intently for Cryus’ answer.
“I… I am not certain. But there are others in that mirror. Individuals of terrible darkness, that must not be freed.”
###
Satisfied that Anvil is in no immediate peril, the party conducts a more thorough search of Petros’ study, hoping to find some method to how the prisoners are connected to specific command words. Cyrus makes himself decent for mixed company.
The party is able to locate an amulet that radiates a faint abjuration aura and a number of scrolls, but nothing immediately useful. Eventually, the party members are forced to conclude that the only thing to do is start reading off command words and hope that they find Anvil sooner rather than later. At least, they reason, they will be able to deal with whatever Petros has captured in his mirror one at a time.
Since it seems as good a logic as any that prisoners are linked to command words in the order in which they were imprisoned, Lira starts reading the “anterium” command words one at a time starting from the bottom of the list.
“Fultees,” she pronounces in a strong, clear voice.
Nothing happens.
“Zeenees…. Sarees… Yeldees… Voltees.” None of them have any effect.
Lira takes a deep breath. Cyrus had mentioned that there were eight prisoners, plus Anvil. The next command word is the ninth one down on the list. Whether or not Anvil appears, something should happen. Thatch stands, sword ready. The rest of the party is also prepared to strike on a moment’s notice.
“Potees.”
The time, the mirror once again extrudes out of its frame. When it returns to its position, Anvil stands before it. Stark naked.
Annika covers her eyes. So does Eva, though she peeks. Reyu stares at them, unclear as to why the humans are bothered.
Anvil stands tall.
Cyrus who had been on his knees in the corner, thanking Kettenek effusively for his sudden deliverance from captivity, leaps up, clasping Anvil on the shoulder.
“You have been saved! I knew you would rescue us!”
(Says Lira, “Hey!”)
He attempts to pull Anvil off to one side, “Pray with me brother!”
Anvil, gently but firmly, puts the man off. “In a moment.”
As Anvil dresses he tells the other party members about his experiences in the mirror. “…I do not know that everything trapped in that mirror is evil. Some merely seemed mad. But one was certainly a demon.”
“Sorry we didn’t break the mirror now?” Eva asks Thatch. The fighter has the grace to look embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Kiara starts trying other doors. Finding the one next to Petros’ study locked, she tries the next one.
This one opens. Kiara looks for a second, then calls out, “Guys! You should come see this.”
###
The rest of the party—except for Anvil, who is still getting dressed—crowds into the doorway behind Kiara.
The room could not look more like a wizard’s workshop if it tried. There’s a desk covered in candle stumps and discarded pieces of vellum, a workbench cluttered with various arcane-looking odds and ends, even a skeleton shackled to one wall.
Lira starts. Although it’s hard to tell for sure, since the skeleton doesn’t have eyes, she’d swear it was looking at her.
Lira turns back to the skeleton. It’s most certainly is looking at her. And as soon as it sees that it has her attention it pulls away from the wall, shaking its chains with violent intensity, and clacking its teeth with enough intensity to make its entire skull vibrate.
It takes her a second to realize that it is pleading to be released.
“It must be from the town,” Kiara is saying. “Or the farms. I mean, I hope it is, ‘cause if it isn’t, then it means there’s another bunch of animated skeletons around somewhere.”
Thatch’s eyes are wide as saucers. “What are we going to do?”
Lira looks back over her shoulder to Anvil.
“Err… do you want to turn this thing or should I?” she asks.
Anvil waves her on. “Do it. You should practice.”
Apparently liking her odds of not getting arrested or killed for turning a chained skeleton in a locked basement—even if that basement is technically in the Sovereignty—Lira holds out her holy symbol and attempts to direct the divine energy of Ehkt.
“Go!” she says. “Foul… er… thing. Back to the ground…” the golden light which had begun to coalesce around her holy symbol starts to sputter and she concludes rather lamely: “from whence you came?”
The skeleton, unturned, clacks its teeth desperately, tugging at the chains in an attempt to get free.
Everyone looks at Lira.
“It’s my first time,” she says, a trifle defensively. “And I figured out the whole command word thing, didn’t I?”
But Cyrus roughly pushes past the gathered party members. “In the Lord’s name…” he says, outraged. “What abomination is this? A creature of undeath, shackled in captivity?”
“Um,” Thatch says, “looks like.”
“This must not be!” Cyrus declares. Then, oddly, he addresses the skeleton directly. “Calm yourself. We will free you, that we may follow together in the footsteps of your Lord and ours—” And he moves to unfasten the shackles that bind the undead abomination to the wall.
(And on that note: have a great holiday weekend everyone!)
In which: we finally put an end to the longest tease in the history of this thread.
The man raises his head. He is not Anvil. His eyes widen when he sees the party. “You… You must be the friends of the Justicar. He said you would save us! Bless you. Bless you all, in Kettenek’s name!”
“Who are you?” Lira asks.
“I am Cyrus Vaaldershen.”
“Save you from what?” Thatch puts in as he helps Cyrus into Anvil’s discarded cloak.
“From that prison. The mirror.”
“How did you happen to be in the mirror?” Eva wants to know.
“It was Petros,” Cyrus shudders, “he forced me to look into the glass, and I’ve been trapped there ever since.”
“Why would Petros do something like that?’ the party members want to know.
“He’s power mad! He will crush anyone who stands in his way!”
Eva and Thatch exchange a look of concern. Chi’i didn’t say anything about “power mad” when she mentioned Petros. Of course, she might not have known about the prison mirror in his basement.
“How long have you been in the mirror?” Lira demands, stopping Cyrus before he goes into a full-fledged rant.
“More than two years.” He shudders.
“Has anyone been there longer than you have?” Lira waits intently for Cryus’ answer.
“I… I am not certain. But there are others in that mirror. Individuals of terrible darkness, that must not be freed.”
###
Satisfied that Anvil is in no immediate peril, the party conducts a more thorough search of Petros’ study, hoping to find some method to how the prisoners are connected to specific command words. Cyrus makes himself decent for mixed company.
The party is able to locate an amulet that radiates a faint abjuration aura and a number of scrolls, but nothing immediately useful. Eventually, the party members are forced to conclude that the only thing to do is start reading off command words and hope that they find Anvil sooner rather than later. At least, they reason, they will be able to deal with whatever Petros has captured in his mirror one at a time.
Since it seems as good a logic as any that prisoners are linked to command words in the order in which they were imprisoned, Lira starts reading the “anterium” command words one at a time starting from the bottom of the list.
“Fultees,” she pronounces in a strong, clear voice.
Nothing happens.
“Zeenees…. Sarees… Yeldees… Voltees.” None of them have any effect.
Lira takes a deep breath. Cyrus had mentioned that there were eight prisoners, plus Anvil. The next command word is the ninth one down on the list. Whether or not Anvil appears, something should happen. Thatch stands, sword ready. The rest of the party is also prepared to strike on a moment’s notice.
“Potees.”
The time, the mirror once again extrudes out of its frame. When it returns to its position, Anvil stands before it. Stark naked.
Annika covers her eyes. So does Eva, though she peeks. Reyu stares at them, unclear as to why the humans are bothered.
Anvil stands tall.
Cyrus who had been on his knees in the corner, thanking Kettenek effusively for his sudden deliverance from captivity, leaps up, clasping Anvil on the shoulder.
“You have been saved! I knew you would rescue us!”
(Says Lira, “Hey!”)
He attempts to pull Anvil off to one side, “Pray with me brother!”
Anvil, gently but firmly, puts the man off. “In a moment.”
As Anvil dresses he tells the other party members about his experiences in the mirror. “…I do not know that everything trapped in that mirror is evil. Some merely seemed mad. But one was certainly a demon.”
“Sorry we didn’t break the mirror now?” Eva asks Thatch. The fighter has the grace to look embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Kiara starts trying other doors. Finding the one next to Petros’ study locked, she tries the next one.
This one opens. Kiara looks for a second, then calls out, “Guys! You should come see this.”
###
The rest of the party—except for Anvil, who is still getting dressed—crowds into the doorway behind Kiara.
The room could not look more like a wizard’s workshop if it tried. There’s a desk covered in candle stumps and discarded pieces of vellum, a workbench cluttered with various arcane-looking odds and ends, even a skeleton shackled to one wall.
Lira starts. Although it’s hard to tell for sure, since the skeleton doesn’t have eyes, she’d swear it was looking at her.
Lira turns back to the skeleton. It’s most certainly is looking at her. And as soon as it sees that it has her attention it pulls away from the wall, shaking its chains with violent intensity, and clacking its teeth with enough intensity to make its entire skull vibrate.
It takes her a second to realize that it is pleading to be released.
“It must be from the town,” Kiara is saying. “Or the farms. I mean, I hope it is, ‘cause if it isn’t, then it means there’s another bunch of animated skeletons around somewhere.”
Thatch’s eyes are wide as saucers. “What are we going to do?”
Lira looks back over her shoulder to Anvil.
“Err… do you want to turn this thing or should I?” she asks.
Anvil waves her on. “Do it. You should practice.”
Apparently liking her odds of not getting arrested or killed for turning a chained skeleton in a locked basement—even if that basement is technically in the Sovereignty—Lira holds out her holy symbol and attempts to direct the divine energy of Ehkt.
“Go!” she says. “Foul… er… thing. Back to the ground…” the golden light which had begun to coalesce around her holy symbol starts to sputter and she concludes rather lamely: “from whence you came?”
The skeleton, unturned, clacks its teeth desperately, tugging at the chains in an attempt to get free.
Everyone looks at Lira.
“It’s my first time,” she says, a trifle defensively. “And I figured out the whole command word thing, didn’t I?”
But Cyrus roughly pushes past the gathered party members. “In the Lord’s name…” he says, outraged. “What abomination is this? A creature of undeath, shackled in captivity?”
“Um,” Thatch says, “looks like.”
“This must not be!” Cyrus declares. Then, oddly, he addresses the skeleton directly. “Calm yourself. We will free you, that we may follow together in the footsteps of your Lord and ours—” And he moves to unfasten the shackles that bind the undead abomination to the wall.
(And on that note: have a great holiday weekend everyone!)
