# Valley of the Dead: Chapter 2 "Home of the sleepless"



## Myth and Legend (Oct 12, 2010)

Chapter 1 can be found here.

With the fast approaching dawn the majority of the adventurers had  gathered in the Temple to Lathander. Much to Lórquelië's dismay she had  received a smile and a generic reassurance by the Paladin, who then had  gotten up and started attending to his men.

Kye and Thok had said their farewells to Merry, the girl with a face  showing deep thought at Thok's words about the encounter with the Lady.  She promised she would see them off later in the day, when the other  serving wench would come to take her place.

Herriman and Alevyth had made their way out, each in their own time, as  well as Latham and his escort. Not much trust could be seen amongst this  group, which was why they were spread out in the spacious ceremonial  hall of the Temple.

The people gathered here were a colourful lot, young and old, armed and  armored as well as ragged and gripping sticks and rusty swords. Bran  Bloodmane was waiting outside the Temple's door, eating a piece of  freshly baked bread and leaning against Lobri's massive body.

The Dwarves from last night's bloody fight came wobbling in as well,  Bolgrim and the others still reeking of sour ale, puke and with stubs  growing on their broad chins. They dragged their feet and looked  apathetically with murky, bloodshot eyes. It seemed that every loud  noise made them flinch, and one man, still in his shirt, was wobbling on  his feet despite the sun already breaking the edge of the horizon to  the east.

The Paladins were all well groomed, with polished arms, fresh and eager  and lined perfectly alongside Lazarus. Ferviel was sitting on the side,  making himself look busy with a silver and gold pitcher filled with what  one could assume was holy water.

*"Greetings with the morning's vigor and blessings be upon you comrades.*  - Lazarus's voice booms trough the hall. His gold encrusted platemail  is especially bright now that the morning sun's rays come trough the  tall, arched windows. - *Today we set off  on our most holy quest to rid this town of the looming threat of undead  that plagues it's pious and good people. We will ride at the seventh  bell, those who lack mounts will be walking behind the main column,  followed by the baggage train. Should you need arms or armour report to  my second in command, Galen* - he points towards a warrior clad in crimson red full plate armour - *now  those of you who wish, you can stay for the morning prayer. The rest of  you, remember we leave at seventh bell, from the square in front of  this very Temple."
*
Ferviel makes his way down trough the benches and the gathered crowd,  nudging Kye and Thok, as well as Latham and Keht towards the side. *"Well i know you are a half-decent Wizard smartarse* - he addressees Latham with a gruff voice and a slight smile on his face. - *and you Orc boy you seem to be good with the sword. Kye right* - he pats the man on the shoulder with his armour clad hand. - *you're a Helmite so I can trust you know how to use that sword strapped to your hip as well."
*
Ferviel pauses and waits for a group of mercenaries to pas by, as they  are headed towards the door with darkened faces and sleepy eyes.

*"So then, you lot are the best we've got that's not part of Lazarus's  men. He wants us to ride out in a parade fashion, but that's just for  show. Once we're outside the city limits we'll need a vanguard, and i'd  rather send you then Lazarus's nobles..."*

Ferviel's words freeze in his mouth as an irritated looking, doll faced  female Paladin joins them, all gold curls and anger. She seems to be  dragging a pretty looking lad alongside as well. *"I'm sorry master  Ferviel but apparently I'm part of the vanguard as well, and I seem to  be missing one of the two men who enlisted yesterday. Still, we are  joining. Lazarus's orders. This is Alevyth Bawler, a warrior of Ilmater  and Helm."

*Ferviel nods and rubs his chin, looking around the room. *"We need someone who is stealthy, to scout the way, least you get eaten because you are looking at the flowers."* He states matter-of-factly.

"There was a Halfing attempting to trail me last  night, although i have doubts as to his aptitude in hiding. But at  least he is not clanging in metal armour, which seems to be the  predominant fashion around here. - Latham's apathetic voice shows just how impressed he is with this whole ordeal. - he is standing next to the door. The one with the obviously magical cloak."

Ferviel looks at Latham with a sour face but nods and makes his way  towards the Halfling, pushing some would be adventurers out of his way  as he does.

*"You there, big guy.* - he addressees him with a grin. - *how good are you at avoiding the eyes of others? Particularly those who would like to feast on your flesh?"*

Meanwhile Lazarus signals Lórquelië and leans down from the podium, his breath giving the scent of cinnamon. *"Miss  Coranarya, I would ask for your services. While this force is to be  reckoned with while deployed in the field, the undead rarely wish to  abide by the laws of war. A small group will be sent out to scout the  way and make sure we are safe to proceed. They are currently being  gathered by Dawnbringer Ferviel over there* - he points towards the small group on the side of the right row of benches. - *and  I should think they are the best Angelwatch has to offer, else Ferviel  would not have placed his trust to them. I have sent one of my  leutenants - Lady Adelaide Swiftblade, to accompany them and provide her  skill with the sword. Perhaps you could join them as well, and grant  them the aid of your arcane magic?"

*[sblock]Sensalar is missing. Please decide what you will do with his  equipment. He was in the room with Kye, Thok and Herriman, and Alevyth  knows him from last night. So those are the ones who have a saying in  this matter. Also, welcome to Chapter 2!  [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Oct 12, 2010)

Thok scratches his chin absent mindly, as the "shiny tin men" as he calls them, discuss of tactics and logistics. 
If he has a spare moment, he'll approach the dwarves. *
"Hello. Thok expects to fight side by side with you soon"* the half orc says, unceremoniously cutting through introductions and salutations.


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## HolyMan (Oct 12, 2010)

*"Thy trust will not be misplaced in us Dawnbringer," *Kye says with a hint of excitement. *"The Hand of Helm and The Great Warrior Thok will take on thee Hosts of the Dead and be triumphant!"*

[sblock=OOC]Sensalar Kye didn't know, so he would let someone else deal with his personal effects. If asked he will help carry some things his ACP can't get any worse.  [/sblock]

[sblock=stats]
Hit Points: 81
Armor Class: 23, Touch AC: 11, Flat-footed: 22
Initiative modifier: +1
Fortitude save: +7
Reflex save: +4
Will save: +9
BAB: +6/+1
Grapple check: +8
Speed: 20 feet


Concentration + 6 
Diplomacy + 20
Knowledge (History) +6
Knowledge (Arcana) + 3 
Knowledge (The Planes) + 3
Knowledge (Religion) + 8 
Listen + 3
Sense Motive + 10
Spellcraft + 6 

*Prepared spells:*
0 level: Create Water, Detect Magic, Mending, Purify Food and Drink, Read Magic, *OPEN SLOT*
1 level: Bless, Cure Light Wounds(1d8+5), Divine Favor, Shield of Faith, *OPEN SLOT* d= Enlarge Person
2 level: Bull's Strength, Spiritual Weapon, *OPEN SLOT*, *OPEN SLOT*, *OPEN SLOT* d= Bull's Strength
3 level: Invisiblity Purge, Dispel Magic, *OPEN SLOT*, *OPEN SLOT* d= Protection from Energy
4 level: Divine Power,* OPEN SLOT* d= Spell Immunity
5 level: *OPEN SLOT*, d= Spell Resistance

*ABILITIES:*
Turn Undead: 11/11
Feat of Strength: 1/1
Protective Ward: 1/1

*ITEMS:*
Metamagic Rod(extended,lesser) 3/3
Scroll-divination(cstrlvl7)
Potions:
-- Remove Curse
-- Levitate [/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Oct 13, 2010)

Bolgrim raises his bloodshot eyes and looks at the towering Half Orc. He notices the new greatsword strapped to his back. *"Yer breath stinks like the backside of a horse, Orc man!* - the Dwarf bares his teeth and builds up a nasty spit in his throat, but an angry look from Ferviel stops him abruptly. - *Yar fightin' be good. Makes you feel alive! Fightin', wenches an' ale - ain't nothin' else worth livin' fer! Ye got yerself a nice lookin' sword there."* Bolgrim remarks as he scratches the back of his neck, a dirt and muck sticking beneath his fingernails.

Adelaide smiles at Kye and extends her arm, her golden chainmail ringing with the motion. *"I am Adelaide Swiftblade, third in command for the Order of Aster. Pleased to make your acquaintance. It seems that two followers of the Ever Vigilant One have chosen to aid us, I am glad we can stand united against a common foe."*

[sblock]Ferviel nodded to Kye before he went off to talk to Herriman.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Oct 13, 2010)

*"You can say my breath smells like Bolgrim then."* States Thok raising an eyebrow. As the dwarf mentions his sword, Thok says *"Yes, the man from the tavern gave it to me, I told him the orc god would kill him if he didn't. Worked out well."* Thok gives a toothy smile.


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## Dragonwriter (Oct 13, 2010)

Herriman rolls his eyes. Walking over to the group, he says flatly, "Paranoid mage," before looking up to Ferviel, his next statement holding palpable sarcasm. "And it seem human wit knows no bounds. Nevertheless, I am adept at remaining undetected. And destroying undead abominations."


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## Theroc (Oct 13, 2010)

Alevyth had met with Adelaide and followed her quietly to the church as they prepared, looking slightly nervous as it was mentioned another follower of the Vigilant One was present.  He was not accustomed to dealing with those of a Church, and was concerned that his behaviour would be unacceptable to such peoples.  Such tension would not be preferable.

He smiled at the others as he stood at the ready.  He wasn't sure what exactly to do or say at the moment.  He was still soothing his injured confidence by losing consciousness while doing the Vigilant One's work.


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## HolyMan (Oct 13, 2010)

*"Ah I have heard of thy good works thy order has done."* Kye replies taking the Dawnlord's arm in greeting. *"Fighting men, aherm. I mean warriors such as thee are what thy city needs to escape the thrall of evil."*


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## Malachei (Oct 14, 2010)

Lórquelië had declined the offered bed. Instead, she knelt cross-legged in the large, dark hall, her eyes closed, and her thoughts far, far away. She had not expected much aid from the human, but the Paladin’s knowing, yet tacit smile was irritating to her. At last, her senses closed, and her mind opened, wandered, a bird’s flight over the dark green, dense forests, the light glades with grass still touched by autumn’s dew and the silvery lakes reflecting the moon in their crystal clear essence. The air is cool and fresh and full of clarity. White mists caress her steps, gently swirling wherever she sets foot. She takes in the air with deep breaths, full of memory of the summer fading. Her face shows on the lake’s surface, playfully moving with the slow and steady rythm of ist shore. Wondering, she looks down at herself, her eyes seeking. She sees joy echoing, and she can feel life. Her heart flies, elevated, and she almost trembles, closing her eyes, breathing deeply, relishing the moment, feeling her own heart beat, and the echo. Then she feels the cold. Whirling around, she senses the shadow before her eyes open. Her hand raises, her spirit reaches out for the arcane...

„... arcane magic?“ the words resound in her mind. _The shadow..._ – her eyes slits of anger, her voice a snapping „What?“ as she rises. No, Lórquelië Coranarya was not used to being called _Miss_ by anyone, least a mortal man, but the ire’s source was born within herself.

She takes a moment to regain her calm, overlooking the strange assembly. After a long pause, she states „Very well, then.“ Her nod towards the Paladin is not reaching an implied bow, as she walks over to the group with a long, graceful stride. She halts to stand slightly off, an apparition in her white silken robes, whose layers are still flying from her swift arrival. Her amber eyes travel the other volunteers, her gaze stalling on the halfling and then locking, almost staring at the sight of the half-orc. Finally, she looks away into the dark, as she introduces herself with a frozen voice "Lórquelië Coranarya."


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## Voda Vosa (Oct 14, 2010)

Thok hears the woman's voice introducing herself, apparently to anyone in particular, as he finished laughing with the dwarves. Turning to Lórquelië, he smiles, before sticking a finger into his chest. *"I'm Thok. Thok great warrior."* he simply states, a phrase that is said so often that drills through Kye's skull every time Thok says it.


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## Myth and Legend (Oct 18, 2010)

*"HAR HAR - ya good one thar Orc man!"* - Bolgrim bellows and punches Thok in the shoulder with no ill intent apparent. *"Yer God? Dun be careful if that's ol' Gruumsh. That one eyed bastard wud kill us all if he could. And drag ye in the pits with 'em."
*
Meanwhile Ferviel observes the newly formed group, while a pouting Adelaide regards Kye with a piercing stare. It seems she is touchy on the male - female subject. She instead turns towards the pale Elven maiden that recently joined the group and addresses her: *"Lady Coranarya, it seems you were Lazarus's hidden trump card. We knew one of your order would be forthcoming, but not for a few more days. It usually takes a bit for all the arguing to end."*
Ferviel turns towards the now empty altar and the flickering fires before Lathander's Holy Symbol and makes a face, clasping his hands together and bowing to the group in a true priestly manner, almost unbefitting his rough character.
*
"Well ok then, I'm off to do Lathander's work.* - states the Dawnbringer with a pleased look on his face. - *get to know each other. It helps. You are free to do as you wish 'till seventh bell. Then come for the pretty parade. It'll help boost the people's mood. And* - he looks at Thok, Alevyth and Latham in particuler -* don't start any trouble."*

[sblock]Last minute opportunity to shop and roleplay. I'll post the departure sequence if you don't have anything to add. Let me know in the OOC[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Oct 18, 2010)

*"Yes, God killed Thok in dream. Not a good God, Thok thinks."* the half orc says and shrugs

*OOC: Do we have gold to spend? I thought I only had the sword.*


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## Malachei (Nov 2, 2010)

„I presumed as much,“ the elf offers coldly, as she evades the orc’s gaze. Carefully, her long and slender fingers fasten a brooch of silvery metal in place, keeping her robes locked in its grasp. _Now what is next, a kobold paladin? Children in chain shirts?_ she thinks, as she surveys the party. _Unpleasant, most unpleasant, indeed._ Perhaps the slightest wrinkle on her nose is an indicator of her puzzlement, or a certain restraint on allowing the proximity of an orc. 

After a while, she asks, rather nondescript, and to noone in particular, but in the general direction of the group, „And what brings you here?“ 

Silvery reflections of the church candles dance on her dark hair, and her voice echoes in the dark. As she looks back over her shoulder, her expression is questioning, and her mind is full of doubt, _But I cannot be mistaken... this must be the right way..._


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 2, 2010)

The peculiar halfling shrugs. "What brings anyone here? Anyways, call me Herriman," he says, voice flat and distant. His mind wanders and wonders a little as his eyes scan the crowd of people. An old, supposedly-dormant, part of him starts evaluating which ones would likely be easy pickings and actually worthwhile...


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 3, 2010)

*"Thok's here following destiny. Thok's path crossed with many people, now Thok protects them by killing undead. Yeah. Oh, wait... if they already dead, how Thok kills them again?"* His head full of questions, the half orc paralyses in confusion.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 3, 2010)

There is not much to do for the group until the Paladins pack their belongings and are ready to march out of Angelwatch. The sun is already an hour past zenith, and Ferviel had blessed everyone with the Noon Prayers of his God. The host now stands assembled, armour gleaming in the bright and clear fall day, gold and gems glittering, hinting at the might and riches of the church of Lathander.

A noisy crowd has now assembled at the Temple Square and alongside the Eastern Road that leads out of the city and towards the Valley. The roar of thousands of throats hums like a swarm of angry bees, while the Angelwatch Cirty Watch and Lord Balar's sworn swords keep the common folk a respectable distance from the gathered holy warriors and mercenaries.

The sight is awe inducing and splendid, a throng of mail clad Paladins and Clerics, equipped with shining gold plate and silvery chain, with the Dawning Sun engraved on their chests and shields. Behind them, a multitude of colourful and unique individuals, some with leather armour, others in plain grabs or even those in silken robes fit for royalty - they are like patches next to the homogeneous fabric of the followers of the Morninglord.

The group is arrayed in a neat fashion - four riders per row, with no end in sight to the column. Leading the parade is Lazarus Trimenheim, proud and stalwart on his white mount, his golden helmet resting beneath his left arm as he surveys the cheering crowds and waves occasionally. Next to the Paladin is Dawnbringer Ferviel, riding an orange spotted brown mare, the Cleric now giving blessings in the sign of Lathander to the peasantry and forcing a smile almost convincingly.

Behind them the rows continue on and on, until right behind the main group of the holy warriors and right before the mercenary companies, the unusual scouting party is situated. Fervial had given them their mission - they were to disassemble from the parade structure as soon as they left town, and were to ride ahead and scout until they reached the Lychgate some six miles North-East of Angelwatch.

Kye rides with Thok, Alevyth and Herriman right behind Lórquelië, Adelaide, Latham and Keht.

The procession advances slowly trough the street, the horses hooves clanking across the still damp pavement, the autumn sun's rays too weak to dissipate last night's rain. The Paladins were nice enough to provide horses for the group. Not before Ferviel reminded them that scouts needed mounts to be effective, of course. This seemed to annoy Adelaide even further, despite her having possession of her own fine black stallion.

Somewhere on the right, as the group passes trough town and with the Eastern Gate already in sight, Thok and Kye can see Merry and Jill on the side, waving two pieces of white cloth and throwing flower petals at the passing warriors. In fact the peasantry here is quite jubilant and is cheering loudly, throwing wild flowers and petals at the crusaders.

Suddenly, without warning, the frame of a small little girl, no older than four or five, scurries past the line of City Watchmen and yells at the passers by (this is in fact, Jill for those who've met her).
*
"YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIEEEEEEEEEE! DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"* She shrieks with a horrid voice, louder than even the cheering crowd. High pitched and chilling, this voice echoes in the narrow cobblestone street and startles some of the horses, while the girl glares at the passing army with milky white eyes, pointing a tiny finger. *"YOU WILL DIE ALL AND MAGGOTS WILL EAT YOUR FLESH! ALL OF YOU! DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAAAAAAD!"* She froths at the mouth as she screams with a wicked voice, much too loud for a little girl her age and size.

The guardsmen seem stumped and sit there for a moment, dumbfounded. Some of the paladins eye the girl with concern, others even place their hands on the hilts of their weapons. Adelaide turns to her right and blinks with surprise, while Merry tries to squirm past the guards and retrieve her sister.


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 3, 2010)

Thok frowns after understanding dawns in his mind. *"This be no Jill, this be angry dead witch speaking through her!"* the half orc proclaims, and dismounts. He approaches purposefully towards the young girl.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 10, 2010)

Thok dismounts and approaches the little girl. Meanwhile Merry convinces the guards to let her trough and she pull Jill back in to the crowd. When the Half Orc finally reaches them, Jill smiles broadly and hugs his leg, her little arms barely long enough to wrap around the appendage of the muscular Barbarian.

*"Hi Thokey! *- she yells, overcoming the cheering crowd. She seems to be her regular self, but Thok notices her holding Tatters in her hand. - *I think this is a good name for you. It's not as scary as Thok."* Jill declares, while her sister eyes her with a mixture of fear and confusion in her eyes.

Meanwhile the procession continues slowly trough the narrow streets of the town. Up in the sky, clouds can be seen rushing across the clear autumn dome of azure silk and cotton.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 10, 2010)

_That might be worth more investigation. But later,_ Herriman thinks, riding by on whatever animal was given to him, for the purpose of this parade.

The halfling keeps an eye on the crowd and the goings-on, but remains relaxed.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 16, 2010)

Soon Thok joins back the slow moving procession with a puzzled look on his face. The street eventually reaches the gate and Lazarus signals the Hornbearer, who sounds a large brass instrument, polished to a vivid shine, and the army proceeds to gallop out of Angelwatch, accompanied by numerous bells ringing in the distance and cheering crowds alongside the gate and outside the dry moat.

In less then a few minutes, once the town starts sinking in the horizon, a signal is given and the army assumes regular pace - the galloping was just for the sake of appearances, and obviously now Lazarus wants to conserve the animals' endurance.

Soon, Ferviel breaks off the head of the column and rides back to where the scouting group is. *"Time to go boys and girls - *he speaks with his gruff voice, earning a cold look from Adelaide's emerald eyes.* - the Valley has only one entrance, called the Lychgate. You'll know it when you see it. It's approximately six miles North-East from this position, there is an old cobblestone road that leads to it, although it's overgrown at times. Open your eyes and ears and signal us in case any trouble is spotted. Don't try to play heroes and monsters when an army can back you up. Unless you're stupid, which you ain't."*

Ferviel seems very serious as he rides back to the head of the line. The Angelwatch fields and green pastures cover the surrounding landscape, with a mixed forest darkening the edge of where the eye can see to the North.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 16, 2010)

Herriman rolls his eyes as the Dawnbringer speaks. _Oh, yes, of course. Like Thok and the mage will listen?_ The halfling trots his pony away, his form becoming quickly hazy and indistinct, even in the short distance between him and the others.

[sblock=OOC]
2 Essentia in Embrace of Shadow - 20% miss chance and Hide In Plain Sight.
3 Essentia in Crystal Helm - +3 Deflection bonus to AC.
3 Essentia in Armguards of Disruption - melee touch to deal 3d6 damage to undead.
[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Nov 17, 2010)

Lórquelië had kept slightly apart from the main body, taking a path aside. Carefully, she avoided the proximity of human bodies. Mustering the military procession and its members had alienated her even more. _Men seem so strange. Impulsive, yet disciplined. Childlike._ She shuddered. 

She cannot help but roll her eyes at the Dawnbringer's bluntness and lack of etiquette. _What grace is given to me, let it pass to him_, she recalls a famous elven poem. As her mouth forms the slightest hint of sarcasm, her eyes meet the halfling's.

Instantly, the elf's countenance becomes expressionless again. Seemingly wearied, she closes her eyes, and she feels the cold, and inside the cold, an even deeper, darker chill. Shivering, her mind probes, and soon embraces the familiar warmth of the arcane power. Her voice is but a whisper. "Anga collo."

[sblock=OOC]
Cast mage armor. Then extend.
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 17, 2010)

*"Thok feels chilly."* The half orc mutters, lost in his own thoughts. He pats his horse in the back.* "Thok likes horses, noble beasts."*
Of course he compltly ignored the warnings and advices from the leader of the scouting company. Thok was Thok, he made things his own way. Of course these "not so dead" things were dangerous; everything in this damn world was dangerous, even a drunk dwarf in a tavern. But Thok was also dangerous. In his mind, the barbarian thought that as long as his "dangerousness" was greater than that of his foes, he'll be alright.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 18, 2010)

Adelaide rides silently alongside the boy Alevyth, the Elven Wizardress, the now barely visible Halfling and Half-Orc warrior of simple methods, while eying the lead and steel clouds above with contempt and wrapping a green shoal around her neck with abrupt movement.

*"Too bad Ferviel had other tasks for the Helmite and that Wizard. And that  Aasimar, who's ancestor is famous enough for Lazarus to have heard of him, I am loathe to lose men so easily."*

Her voice is stern but also a hint of disappointment seeps trough it. It seems she is talking mostly to herself, not expecting an answer. The group is silent for the most part - unlikely allies in a time of danger. The hooves of the horses echo on the old cobblestone path, as the last birds who are yet to fly south for the winter sing from the nearby bushes and scrawny trees.  The grass here has specks of yellow sprinkled across the green, and some of the leaves have began falling, although still most of the landscape was painted in shades of green.

It doesn't take long for the scouting party to loose sight of the army behind them, the Chirche's forces moving slowly but steadily like a methodical avalanche of steel. And gold.

The road curves alongside the fields and in and out of small glens, with nothing but birds and small wildlife keeping the adventurers company. Some two miles down, the group spots a rather large farmhouse in the distance. The chimney is smoking but no people can be seen on the outside, however the corral door is swinging open and a heard of cows have spread out, most running away from the building.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 18, 2010)

"Yes. Too bad," Herriman agrees, though for other reasons. _I'll have to find that wizard again. Quite the inconvenience._

As the group spots the smoking farmhouse, Herriman sighs. "That is never a good sign. Miss Coranarya, can you signal the army from here? They should be alerted forthwith."


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## Malachei (Nov 18, 2010)

_Wind in my hair, runs through the valley, a laughter so fair, a kick in my belly... _ Lórquelië had been riding quietly, lost in thought. 

As Herriman speaks to her, the elf blinks, as if waking from a dream, or a memory long gone. She gives a cold smile, as she sternly remarks "I am not a carrier pigeon, young man."

As she notices the smoking chimney, she wonders aloud "Either they fell asleep with the fire burning, or something must have caught them by surprise." Then she pauses, looks at the halfling, and suggests "Will you lead the way, please?"


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 18, 2010)

Herriman raises an eyebrow slightly, though he doesn't turn around. "Not even a cantrip? A light-based signal would do. Our orders were to signal if any trouble is spotted, and I believe that situation below qualifies. And if you really don't have such a simple spell ready, it may be a good idea to prepare one in the future, as long as we are acting as scouts."

The halfling urges his pony forward a few more steps, trying to make out any more details.

"Otherwise, I believe one of the paladins should report back."


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## Malachei (Nov 19, 2010)

The white silk gently falls, as Lórquelië dismounts. "The horses need to be leashed" she states. Looking in the direction of the farmhouse, she says "I will send a signal to the army, but we should have more than farm animals running wild."

Then she closes her eyes, delving deeply inside, her spirit focusing and forming. "Macil lumbo," she utters, as she holds two small blades in her hand. An instant later, a whirling mass of blades appears, each the same silvery grey, circling the elf and pointing in the direction she faces.

[sblock=OOC]

Cloud of Knives. Then persist.

Leashing the horses assumes we have closed in a bit. We'd might know the right distance by the reaction of our horses. I assume what causes the cows tp panic, might affect the horses, as well -- and at least Lórquelië would probably not be able to make her ride check if the horse shies. We'd also not want the horses to be far away when we enter the farmhouse, so appr. 60 ft. would be a good distance, I guess -- but Lórquelië will leave that for the scout or the more martial characters to decide.

[sblock=Current Status]

With persisted and active spells.

Active Spells:
* = Persisted
(X) = Extended
Mage Armor (X), Detect Magic*, Shield*, Nightshield*, Detect Undead*, See Invisibility*, Dragonskin*, Reverse Arrows*, Cloud of Knives*

Abilities (used/daily uses)
Metamagic Effect: 9/11
Abjupt Jaunt: 0/8

[sblock=Spells Prepared (Current Status)]

_ = Conjuration (DC +3)
* = Persistable
Spells in Yellow are persisted daily. Cloud of Knives is persisted as soon as it is feasible.
Normally active spells (in addition to persisted spells): Mage Armor, Heart of Earth

– 0 – (4+1 – DC 18)
Acid Splash, Dancing Lights, Detect Magic*, Light, Message 

– 1 – (6+1 – DC 19)
Mage Armor, Shield*, Protection from Evil, Grease, Nightshield* (SC), Detect Undead*, Lesser Orb of Sound (SC)

– 2 – (6+1 – DC 20)
Glitterdust (3), Cloud of Knives* (PHB2), See Invisibility*, Rope Trick, Greater Alarm (SC)

– 3 – (5+1 – DC 21)
Phantom Steed, Dispel Magic, Blacklight (SC), Dragonskin* (SC), Unluck (SC), Reverse Arrows* (SC)

– 4 – (4+1 – DC 22)
Black Tentacles, Ray Deflection* (SC), Heart of Earth* (CM), Defenestrating Sphere (SC), Orb of Force (SC)

[/sblock]

*Speed:* 30 feet

*Armor Class:* 22 = 10 + 0 [dexterity] + 4 [shield/spell] + 4 [armor/spell] + 4 [natural/spell]
*Touch AC:* 14
*Flat-footed:* 22

*Hit Points (current/max):* 48/48

*Character Level:* *9* (including LA +1)
*Caster Level:* *8*

*Initiative modifier:* + 4 = 0 [dexterity] + 4 [feat]
*Fortitude save:* + 5 = 2 [base] + 2 [constitution] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] -1 [flaw]
*Reflex save:* + 4 = 2 [base] + 0 [dexterity] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell]
*Will save:* + 12 = 9 [base] -1 [wisdom] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] +2 [feat]

[sblock=Special]
Out of bright light:
o Charisma +2
o Speed +5 ft.
o +1 Deflection AC
o +1 Luck bonus to saves
o Hide/MS +2
o Listen/Spot +1
o Shadesight (Sp): Darkvision 60 ft. Can see normally through any darkness effect, but not through fog, invisibility, obscurement, and so on. 
o Shadow Image (Sp) 3/day, as mirror image, 1d4 images, plus one image per three levels
[/sblock]

[/sblock]

[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 19, 2010)

As the metallic blades appear out of thin air around the Elf, Adelaide dismounts and pets her mare across the muzzle.

*"You don't seem to be taking chances."* she remarks, nodding at the blades who eerily follow Lorqulie's stare.

Thok jumps off his own mount, almost tipping the beast over with the weight of his muscular body. The animal patiently waits, only moving it's ears and sniffing around a patch of sweetgrass below.

*"You make butter knives. Good for when there is butter to put on bread."* the Half Orc Barbarian states plainly as he extends his finger, poking one of the floating blades. He then unsheathes a viscous looking black blade and swings it around as if to feel the weight and balance. *"This is Thok sword. It be good for killing. Not so much for butter."*

Adelaide regards the blade with curiosity but refrains from commenting. The group ties the horses on a nearby fence which encircles a large field of what used to be wheat, but is now only stumps and straws, waiting to vanish beneath the advancing winter snow. There is a dirt road, still muddy from the overnight rain, which leads towards the farmhouse. The cattle are already scattered and the farm is desolate as far as the group can tell.

Herriman doesn't see anything interesting or suspicious.

The farm is a two story building, with a stone foundation and brick walls. It has several large windows and a front door that seems to be closed. The group is some two hundred feet from the building.

[sblock]Everyone Listen checks. What actions do you take?[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 19, 2010)

Herriman rolls his eyes as Thok speaks. The halfling quickly dismounts, form still hazy as he takes a few steps toward the farmhouse. "We have a few options... I'd much prefer to know the situation, rather than an out-and-out frontal assault. If you can manage a few minutes of self-control, I can investigate a bit. Of course, there's also the possibility we have already been seen, if what is out here is not mindless."

Herriman cracks his knuckles casually and light blue sparks dance along his forearms.

[sblock=EDIT OOC]
Move 10 feet closer to the buildings. Keep essentia as-is.
[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Nov 19, 2010)

"I am no gambler," Lórquelié replies Adelaide. Despite the half-orc's earlier comments, the stern elf seems surprised at Thok's uncivilized humor, as she actually turns to the big man, staring at him for a moment. Then she turns back to the house, her dark hair flying back tauntingly. 

"We will not have much time," she answers Herriman, without looking at the halfling. "If you want to go on your own, be quick." 

Taking a deep breath, she bows, her hand extending to touch the ground. With a grave, hollow voice, from far away, she speaks, "Hón Cemen." 

[sblock=OOC]

Cast Heart of Earth. Then extend.

Obviously, Lórquelië hears nothing (and I already hate this dice roller on my first roll with it)

[sblock=Current Status]

With persisted and active spells.

Active Spells:
* = Persisted
(X) = Extended
Mage Armor (X), Detect Magic*, Shield*, Nightshield*, Detect Undead*, See Invisibility*, Dragonskin*, Reverse Arrows*, Cloud of Knives*, Heart of Earth (X)

Abilities (used/daily uses)
Metamagic Effect: 10/11
Abjupt Jaunt: 0/8

[sblock=Spells Prepared (Current Status)]

_ = Conjuration (DC +3)
* = Persistable
Spells in Yellow are persisted daily. Cloud of Knives is persisted as soon as it is feasible.
Normally active spells (in addition to persisted spells): Mage Armor, Heart of Earth

– 0 – (4+1 – DC 18)
Acid Splash, Dancing Lights, Detect Magic*, Light, Message 

– 1 – (6+1 – DC 19)
Mage Armor, Shield*, Protection from Evil, Grease, Nightshield* (SC), Detect Undead*, Lesser Orb of Sound (SC)

– 2 – (6+1 – DC 20)
Glitterdust (3), Cloud of Knives* (PHB2), See Invisibility*, Rope Trick, Greater Alarm (SC)

– 3 – (5+1 – DC 21)
Phantom Steed, Dispel Magic, Blacklight (SC), Dragonskin* (SC), Unluck (SC), Reverse Arrows* (SC)

– 4 – (4+1 – DC 22)
Black Tentacles, Ray Deflection* (SC), Heart of Earth* (CM), Defenestrating Sphere (SC), Orb of Force (SC)

[/sblock]

*Speed:* 30 feet

*Armor Class:* 22 = 10 + 0 [dexterity] + 4 [shield/spell] + 4 [armor/spell] + 4 [natural/spell]
*Touch AC:* 14
*Flat-footed:* 22

*Hit Points (current/max (temp.)):* 64/48 (64)

*Character Level:* *9* (including LA +1)
*Caster Level:* *8*

*Initiative modifier:* + 4 = 0 [dexterity] + 4 [feat]
*Fortitude save:* + 5 = 2 [base] + 2 [constitution] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] -1 [flaw]
*Reflex save:* + 4 = 2 [base] + 0 [dexterity] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell]
*Will save:* + 12 = 9 [base] -1 [wisdom] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] +2 [feat]

[sblock=Special]
Out of bright light:
o Charisma +2
o Speed +5 ft.
o +1 Deflection AC
o +1 Luck bonus to saves
o Hide/MS +2
o Listen/Spot +1
o Shadesight (Sp): Darkvision 60 ft. Can see normally through any darkness effect, but not through fog, invisibility, obscurement, and so on. 
o Shadow Image (Sp) 3/day, as mirror image, 1d4 images, plus one image per three levels
[/sblock]

[/sblock]




[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 23, 2010)

*"Go, we wait here. Scream if you frightened or attacked, Thok will burst in and kill enemies."* the half orc states. Apparently, a red dragon could be hiding under the bed, and he would defeat it with one blow, should Herriman scream.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 23, 2010)

The Wizard hears nothing spare the heavy breathing of the large Half-Orc next to her, and the Halfling scout can make out nothing suspicious, save the mooing of some distressed cows. Ten feet further the situation is the same, although the picturesque farmstead seems eerily quiet for early noon.

Adelaide draws her blade and urges the others:* "We go together and investigate - the chance of being ambushed lessens the more sets of eyes and ears we have. I would not like it if we made the army force march to this position and find nothing. There has been an influx of refugees from the outer settlements near Angelwatch since Bran's little tour of the severed zombie heads."*

Adelaide's sword is thin, long and with a wavy blade, almost complimenting her gold curls.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 23, 2010)

"Orc-kin, the only thing capable of scaring me is your lack of intelligence. And vocabulary."

As Adelaide draws her sword, Herriman rolls his eyes again. "If you insist... Just be quiet. If there's anything there, we might be able to come upon them unawares and thereby lessen any threats to you."

The halfling sets straight for the farmhouse, keeping an eye out for any cover he can use.

[sblock=OOC]
Herriman will be moving stealthily, using Hide (and Hide In Plain Sight, courtesy of his concealment) and Move Silently. +20 and +23, respectively. As I'm not entirely sure how many checks would be necessary, I'm leaving you to roll them, Myth.
[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Nov 23, 2010)

The elf, in turn, rolls her eyes at the halfling's comment. She seems on the verge of saying something, but then just shakes her head. She blinks several times in the rhythm of the half-orc's breath until she focuses on the house and simply ignores the sound. "Now let us be quick, and quiet, like the whispering wind passing the summer leaves, caressing them, but not letting them fall," she speaks, her voice a whisper carrying a foreign, melodic tone. 

[sblock=OOC]

Lórquelië follows Herriman with 20 ft. distance.

[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 23, 2010)

Thok snorts at the little's comments about his lack of proper conversation.* "Words are cheap coin in a world dominated by the blade. Hows that?"* he barks, as he pushes the halfling a side, shortening the distance that separates him from the barn.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 23, 2010)

The group approaches the farm, some stealthily, others - not so much. The windows are shut and iron bars cover the two ones on the first floor. The door is shut as well, and barred when Adelaide tries opening it. *"I don't think it's locked, so much as completely blocked from the inside."* she muses as she looks around, sword in hand.
*
"I will go check the barn, maybe there is a second way inside. Someone should check out back, or the second floor windows if you can get to them." *the female Paladin whispers as she heads out towards the barn to the side, her mail clad feet making noise despite her best efforts.


[sblock]The barn is a wide wooden windowless building, one story only and it's east side is right on the house's westernmost wall. There is a circular corral on the west side of the barn, currently empty. You can also see some other wooden shacks to the side and further behind the main house, they are warded off with a wooden fence. There are two windows on the first floor and two on the second one, and the group is currently facing the south side of the establishment, where the main entrance is. [/sblock]


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## Malachei (Nov 24, 2010)

There is something about Adelaide's plan that rouses unease in Lórquelië. _A tendency for heroics,_ she notes, _and a desire to lead._ As the paladin departs, and Thok charges towards the building, the elf gracefully lifts her robe with one hand, following the others. She walks next to the halfling, and mutters, "Tempers flaring before battle bring flickering fortunes." When the half-orc and the halfling are about to enter the building, she stays a little behind.

[sblock=OOC]

Lórquelië looks for invisible, magic, undead.

[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 30, 2010)

*"Thok checks up" *And the barbarian sets for the second floor. He moves next to the wall, and attempts some climbing (20). He'll peek through the glasses once at the needed high.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 1, 2010)

As the half-orc idiot shoves him aside, Herriman considers running him through from behind. _It would be a simple matter. The rapier would easily pass up through his ribs, if I angled it just right..._ He shakes his head sharply and glares ahead, but merely to air. _No. I left such things behind, years ago. Not going back there._

Herriman looks sidelong at the caster as she mumbles, apparently to him. "And spouting odd proverbs brings confusion," he responds flatly before moving closer to the farmhouse. Once he concurs with the paladin's statement, he moves to the windows, examining if he might be able to remove the bars or fit through them. He looks over his shoulder at the mage again. "You know any spells of flight? Or to help me fit through these bars? Likely something slippery... If I can get in the house quietly, I can remove the bar at the door and you can get in faster."


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## Malachei (Dec 2, 2010)

Lórquelië looks startled at the halfling's comment, and makes the stern face of a parent, as she tries an understanding look, which does nothing to warm her cold voice, "We reap what we sow, as the farmers say," and she takes a deep breath. _Little more than children they are. Full of exaggeration, naiveté, impulse... ...and intensity... ...and life..._

Her voice strained, she continues, "I suppose you have never traveled with wizards before. I am not your scrollcase, although I doubt you'd have much use for that," _would they be able to read?_ "but pertaining your question, yes, indeed, I could make the bars slippery. If you feel that is the adequate style, so be it." and with a sigh, she reaches deep into her robes, and brings forth some creamy substance, at which she frowns.

[sblock=OOC]

Lórquelië will cast _grease_, if that is Herriman's preferred approach
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 2, 2010)

Thok tries climbing the surface, the edges of the red bricks cutting the tips of his fingers, and dry mortar sticking beneath his long fingernails. It seems he could almost scale the wall, but the Barbarian's chain shirt constricts his movements too much. He manages not to fall, but he can't make it past several feet up, despite his huffing and puffing.

Meanwhile as the Grease spell covers the bars in an abundant amount of yellow, lard-like substance, thick to the touch and not entirely merciful on the nose, Herriman manages to slip with ease between two bars, albeit at the cost of soiling his clothes and armour. There is almost no space for him to move in between the iron bars and the actual window. The glass has been covered with a wooden lid from the inside, but the lock on the window seems old and of poor craftsmanship.

Up in the sky the autumn sun still shines with a bright glow, and despite the brisk wind that moves the grass and leaves about, the day remains warm. A cow that has regained some bravery has returned to a large stone tub filled with water, and is now drinking cautiously while it's ears are moving around with rapid motions.

The house itself remains quiet, and on the far left Adelaide enters the barn, sword in hand.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 2, 2010)

Thok decides that he's done playing and climbs the wall like an orangutan, cleaving his hands in the open spaces.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 2, 2010)

"Ah, yes, the old farmer's saying. Believe me, I am still reaping what I set to seed many years ago." The halfling waits as the spell is cast. He gives a short "Thank you," without bothering to turn his head.

With the help of the slime, Herriman slips through the bars. He starts to wriggle into a better position and pull his lockpicking tools out, even as he mentally rearranges the soul energy he has bound up around him. A brief glow seeps from him and the halfling is completely visible again, no strange wavering of form. But the gloves on his hands seem a darker shade of black, if that were possible, as he sets to the lock.

[sblock=OOC]
Changing Essentia, then attempting Open Lock.
Remove 2 from Embrace of Shadow and 1 from Armguards. Place all 3 in Theft Gloves.
Take 10 on Open Lock with a bonus of 19 (4 ranks +5 Dex +2 circumstance/tools +8 insight).

And somehow, that wasn't on my sheet... I need to go fix it. 
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 2, 2010)

With the power of his Half-Orcish stubbornness, Thok manages to reach a  second story window. It doesn't look secure or well fortified - just  four square pieces of glass separated by thin planks. The glass is of  low craftsmanship and skewers the view a lot, and there are a pair of  white curtains behind.

The Barbarian peeks behind the window as he pulls his muscular body, and  he sees a toppled wardrobe with it's doors swung open and clothes  spilled around. The view is black and white, as the room is very dark  and Thok's eyes adjust and make use of his father's Orcish blood and the  ability to see in the dark that comes with it. There seem to be black  splashes across the walls, and toppled furniture scattered about, white  sheets and nightgowns contrasting with the rest of the room.

Herriman manages to pick the lock, being slowed down not by the  complexity of the mechanism (which to him is naught but a trifle) but  rather by the rusty parts inside it. The lock opens with a loud click  and the Halfling jumps down on the wooden floor, silent as a cat.

He finds himself in a dark room, the other windows sealed shut with similar lids as well. The beams of light, coming from the way he entered,  illuminate his surroundings like a mirrored oil lamp. This appears to  be a dining room, but the door towards a dark hallway in front of the  Halfling gapes half-open and there are obvious signs of a struggle. The  table cloth has been pulled down off the massive wooden table, and it  has dragged what appears to be the lunch of a large family down on the  floor in a chaotic mess of soup, bread, vegetables and broken clay mugs  and plates.

There are marks carved in the planks on the floor, resembling nail scratches, as well as  spots of dark crimson liberally splashed about the room, as if a mad painter had gone on a frenzy. The air is filled with a strong smell of wet  iron, but nothing can be heard, except Thok's climbing of the wall  outside.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 3, 2010)

Thok comments to the ones down. *"Problems. The room is messed up"* He pushes the window open and climbs in. He searches the room, ready to jump at any kind of monstrosity with his sword.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 3, 2010)

The halfling merely looks around the room, noting what details he can see in the poor light from the window. _Hopefully the racket that fool makes will distract anything else that might be in here._

After a few seconds of stillness and mental categorizing, he cautiously picks his way to the hallway, then tries to find his way to the front door, based on where he entered. Another flash of his eyes makes him hazy and solidifies the crystal helm a little more.

[sblock=OOC]
Change essentia back to this:
2 in Embrace (20% Concealment, Hide in Plain Sight)
3 in Armguards (Touch for 3d6 damage to undead)
3 in Helm (+3 Deflection to AC)

Current AC 24 (Flat-footed 19); Init +9; Spot +8 and Listen +15

Also, using Move Silently to cross the room and on my way to the door.
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 8, 2010)

Thok finds nothing of interest in the room, apart from the blood that now soaks the limed walls and wooden floor. He removes the fallen wardrobe making some noise, and enters the second story corridor. There are three doors on his right and two on his left, and his orcish eyes adjust quickly to the lack of illmination, and pick up a glimpse of a shadowy being moving towards the other end of the corridor, where it descends in a staircase to the first floor. It quickly vanishes from sight however.


***​

To Herriman's keen hearing, the Half-Orc's heavy feet and him dragging a piece of furniture upstairs is like the ringing of the Angelwatch Cathedrals' bells. The Halfling makes for the dark corridor and cautiously stares in the darkness, waiting for hies eyes to adjust. The Corridor extends further down and ends with a staircase leading to the second floor. There are two doors to the right and two to the left, all closed. There is also the front door immediately to Herriman's left, placed in a tight vestibule and barred with a thick square beam. 

An ominous dark stain leads to the second door to the right, and right next to it a humanoid shape stands still, with a hunched back and it's left shoulder much higher than the right one. It doesn't seem to notice the well hidden Halfling, but Herriman lacks the necessary tools to see clearly in the almost pitch-black corridor, and so he cannot make out any specifics about the creature. The air here is stale and painted with the irony scent of fresh blood as well as the gagging stench of rotting flesh.

Suddenly, some vague dark shape silently flies down the staircase and towards Herriman. It's uncertain what it is exactly, but it floats effortlessly and blends with the darkness of the ceiling. It darts towards the Halfling and circles around his position for a bit, as if it has heard him but not seen him. Hearing the noise the Half Orc makes upstairs it suddenly bolts upward, going right trough the beams supporting the second floor. As far as Herrmian can tell, he has remained undetected.



***​

Outside the Elven Conjurer waits patiently, and the breeze and sunshine warn her of no dangers. Perhaps she can, however, make out some noise apart from the cow grazing near by and the wind swooshing in the grass. She moves her elongated Elven ears and manages to pick up a muffled sound coming from the barn, as if someone was trying to yell but they were gagged and behind a wooden wall.

[sblock]Listen check for Lórquelië was made without the Racial bonus which I remembered afterward. That's why I want all skills with their relevant modifiers listed in the RG . Also, tell me if you guys need a map (I can draw one if you have trouble orientating. Herriman was heard but not spotted, the thing flew upward because there was an easier target to find (Thok). The other figure remains oblivious to the Halfling, however he has a choice. He can yell (he knows Thok is upstairs and the spectre would be upon him) to warn the Half Orc but give his position away, or he can keep quiet (and Thok gets surprise round-ed).[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 9, 2010)

Herriman's old ways of stealth, trickery and backstabbing make him hesitate to warn the half-orc. The brute was moronic, crude and hardly an ally. Ally... _Damn... Ally, not patsy._ Herriman shouts out "Orc-kin! Wall-passer going for you!"

The halfling then turns his attention to the humanoid shape in the corridor with him. _Fight, run, defend, or door..._ He makes for the door and tries to lift the beam, his small frame working at it like a child might. "A little sunlight ought to just brighten your day."

[sblock=OOC]
Change essentia, of course. Remove the 3 from Embrace of Shadow and put them into Strongheart Vest (so any ability damage I take is reduced by 4). I think I'm okay without a map. For now, at least.

AC 24 (Touch 18, Flat-footed 19), HP 90/90. Init +9.
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 10, 2010)

Thok can hear the Halfling shouting from the first floor and has the time to prepare himself.

Meanwhile, Herriman slides the beam sideways and down, it seems to have a simple rail like mechanism easing the movement. Luckily for the Halfling, as he goes in the narrow vestibule he places himself away from the immediate danger of being overrun by the dark shape.

The creature moves towards the lad as he opens the door and the outside daylight breaks trough the darkness inside, but not really reaching past a few feet down the corridor. 

Herriman turns to face the creature, which drags it's right foot as it moves, slowly but methodically towards him. It appears to be a severely decomposed corpse of a middle aged man, his eyes yellow and with pale irises, his mouth twisted in a crooked grin and with long nails that have dried blood stuck beneath them. He is dressed in torn and rotten clothes and smells of fresh earth and decaying flesh.

The creature, which Herriman can now clearly identify as a Zombie, slowly staggers close to the Halfing but is unable to attack him with its stiff and constricted movement. It simply moans as it staggers for a moment as it bumps in the edge of the vestibule entrance.

[sblock]Action / readied action for Thok. There is no surprise round but he does get the jump on the spectre attacking him. Actions for the other two PCs s well please. [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 10, 2010)

Herriman's bracers start to shine, throwing blue-white sparks from his fingers as the incarnum feels his intent to destroy the undead thing. He takes a quick jab with his left hand, merely seeking to make contact and let the energy of his bound souls do the rest. After the strike, he rolls away from the entrance.

[sblock=OOC]
Swift for essentia change. Standard attack against the Zombie, then Move away with Tumble.

AC 24 (Touch 18) HP 90/90
Essentia: 3 in Armguards of Disruption (3d6 damage w/melee touch); 3 in Crystal Helm (+3 Deflection to AC, attacks considered Force effects); 2 in Strongheart Vest (any ability damage is reduced by 3).
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 11, 2010)

The Halfling's touch releases the accumulated energy with a bright blue flash, and it burns a hole the size of a melon right trough the zobmies' chest. The Undead being staggers for a moment but with a gurgling sounds it moves once more towards Herriman, who has managed to quickly retreat outside next to the Elven Wizard, with the mangled and rotten man slowly wobbling behind him.

[sblock]I assume you Tumble outside and not inside and past the zombie's square right? Also, make sure you apply your Armor Check penalty to your skills (Tumble included). If you have done it already then sorry  [/sblock]


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## Malachei (Dec 14, 2010)

Lórquelië steps aside, as Herriman rolls out of the entrance. She is about to say something, when she notices the undead following the halfling. The elf's face darkens, and she utters a curse in her native tongue. With a swift movement of her arm, she causes one of the levitating blades surrounding her to fly at the corpse. She then takes a few steps back to keep the zombie at a distance and calls out "Beria dan del-um!", and throws silver dust in the air.

[sblock=OOC]

Attack 1d20+16, damage 1d6+2 (piercing) as a free action.
Single move away from the zombie
Cast protection from evil. 

Edit:
(Myth, please roll / assign initiative for me as you wish. I'll update the character information (spells active etc.), when I can post regularly again. And pls ignore the second attack roll, it is redundant)
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 15, 2010)

The dagger plunges right inside the zombie's pale right eye with a  disgusting sound and an even more disgusting jet of yellow pus that  darts out from the impact wound. The Elf moves some thirty feet away from the undead being before casting her spell.

The zombie staggers for a moment but is not really affected that much by the pointy object lodged in it's head. Revealing it's yellow teeth the rotted corpse manages to muster what little dexterity it still possesses and with a few staggering steps it charges at the Elven lass. It lashes out with it's arm, the stench of decay and death overwhelming Lórquelië's fragile nose, but not before the Wizard nimbly jumps out of the way.

[sblock]The zombie was alerted. No initative was necessary because Herriman did not engage combat but rather went to unblock the door. The first round the zombie used to walk up to the door. Herriman took his action and moved away, and regardless of what your Wizard would have rolled she still gets an action.

I assume you moved your full speed away from the door, as did Herriman. The zombie followed and was in your face (since you were closer to the door, Herriman already having rolled out and away from it). So now you are 30 ft. away from the entrance but within charging distance. So it charges at Lórquelië.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 15, 2010)

Thok's ears tickle at the halfling's warning. He has fought spectres before. He has defeated spectres before. This one was just another pebble on the road. The half orc readied his sword for the incoming menace

[sblock=Actions]
_Readied full attack:
27 and 20 vs AC for 23 and 23 respectively_
Which were the stats for Thok's new sword? I can't seem to find them.
[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 15, 2010)

Herriman purses his lips as the zombie goes after the spellcaster, rather than its original foe. Nevertheless, the halfling quickly takes a spot behind the undead menace. His bracers send more blue-white sparks to his fingers, dancing across the open space between his hands and reaching out for the undead. With a glare at the thing, Herriman plunges another finger-first thrust at its back.

[sblock=OOC]
Follow the zombie (I'm assuming it isn't too far away for a single move; if it is, charge) and attack with Armguards.

AC 24 (Touch 18) HP 90/90
Essentia: 3 in Armguards of Disruption (3d6 damage to undead w/melee touch); 3 in Crystal Helm (+3 Deflection to AC, attacks considered Force effects); 2 in Strongheart Vest (any ability damage is reduced by 3).
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 16, 2010)

The Halfling nimbly runs towards the undead, the thing single mindedly fixated on it's target and not even reacting, until a child-sized finger pokes it's back. A silent flash of blue energy illuminates Herriman's determined face, and in an instant a large hole burns trough the decayed flesh, like a spider web caught in a flame.

The undead wretch moans with a gurgling sound as it's torso snaps off it's abdomen, the second large hole proving more than what the putrid flesh can support. The body collapses, with jets of rotten bodily fluids, stale black blood and yellow pus darting forward and splashing across Herriman's and Lórquelië's clothes.

Meanwhile Thok raises his viscous black greatsword and waits for the spectre, his senses keen and sharp. Due to his ferocity and orcish blood he is not pray to be hunted in the dark, but a dangerous adversary to those would be stalkers.

True to Herriman's warning, a vaguely shaped form raises from the floor and immediately darts forward. Thok takes two swings and both hit the incorporeal creature, tearing it's form like old rags.

[sblock]Thok's new sword is here. Both your attacks hit the AC of 15, and you hit the incorporeal thing (really good luck with the rolls for a guy with no ghost touch weapon!) Please use the ENWorld integrated dice roller it's better than IC and its easier to reference and track. Also, I'm not sure how you are getting that +17 to damage? If you could double check that.. Also tell me if you enter rage and keep track of your daily rage uses and the expiration of your current one if you use one. I expect you to roll two damage rolls based on if you rage or not.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 16, 2010)

_The 17 comes from the 12 +5 from power attack. Note that Attack bonus has been reduced 5 points also. Still not raging. Will use EW roller if you prefer it._


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## Malachei (Dec 16, 2010)

With a swift, elegant motion of her hand, the elf disappears and evades the undead creature's charge. Almost the same instant, her own ghastly form appears nearby, her white silken robe flowing like an apparition.

Seeing the zombie drop to the ground and its animated state ended, she halts. Her eye-lids half-closed, she reaches out... and senses a deeper darkness, a stronger hate, a more unnatural spirit close. "Quickly!" she urges the halfling to follow, as she steps inside the gloomy building. As she enters, her form seems to waver, and tiny, pearly stars reflect on her dark hair. Then she seems to reflect off herself, her mirrored form appearing multiplied, fourfold in fact.

[sblock=OOC]

Abrupt jaunt 10 ft. sideways, out of zombie's path
Single move into the building
Activate Shadow Image

(Pls irgnore the second d20 roll, I forgot to add the +4. So I pressed the back button in my browser (and did not see the result, of course, because I was still in making the post), but it seems to have kept both rolls. So this should be Ini 5, then, of course.)

[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 16, 2010)

Herriman wipes some of the necro-gore from his shirt, looking at the re-dead corpse with a contemptuous gaze. He flexes his fingers, almost seeming spider-like with the motion. As the elf steps to the door, ordering him along, he calmly says, "The orc-kin had warning of the wall-passer. He should be fine. You can check on him if you want, but I'm going to find the paladin." The halfling quickly trots to the barn, senses straining for any sign of the holy crusader.

[sblock=OOC]
Double-move in the direction of the barn. Listen/Spot are attached to the roll, of course.

AC 24 (Touch 18) HP 90/90
Essentia: 3 in Armguards of Disruption (3d6 damage to undead w/melee touch); 3 in Crystal Helm (+3 Deflection to AC, attacks considered Force effects); 2 in Strongheart Vest (any ability damage is reduced by 3).
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 17, 2010)

The shade approaches but the black Orcish blade shreds it in two swift  strikes. The spirit silently shimmers and disappears without leaving a  trace.

Herriman can see nothing of interest but he can hear low gurgling sounds coming from the barn, alongside shuffling and moaning.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 17, 2010)

Satisfied, Thok walks down the stairs to find the elven woman. *"Thok cut the spirit in halves"* he says, proud.* "Are there more enemies around for Thok to defeat?"*


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 17, 2010)

Herriman frowns, eyes flashing blue again. "Sounds like more zombies," he mutters as he grows indistinct to sight again. The halfling cautiously makes his way closer to the barn, keeping under cover and alert all the time.

[sblock=OOC]
Switch 2 essentia from Strongheart Vest to Embrace of Shadow, granting 20% concealment/miss chance and Hide In Plain Sight. Then move closer to the barn, going around to the main door, if no other entrance (for a halfling) is visible.

AC 24 (Touch 18) HP 90/90
Essentia: 3 in Armguards of Disruption (3d6 damage to undead w/melee touch); 3 in Crystal Helm (+3 Deflection to AC, attacks considered Force effects); 2 in Embrace of Shadow class feature (20% miss chance against Herriman, Hide In Plain Sight).
[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Dec 20, 2010)

About to rush up the stairs, the elf is surprised to hear Thok's calm voice. The half-orc warrior must have finished the enemy quickly _as with most of his kin, he does fight better than he speaks -- or reads, for that matter._

"Come down! There may yet be more work for you," she calls out with a light voice, grasps her flowing robes, and turns to follow Herriman.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 20, 2010)

*"Thok follows." *replies the half orc and rushes behind the elven wizard.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 18, 2011)

The group approaches the barn, it's wooden door ominously creaking with the light spring breeze. The sweet sickening smell of decayed flesh fills the nostrils of the three as they enter the dimly lit building.

A gruesome picture appears before them - Adelaide, the pretty female Paladin lays prostrate on the floor, blood gushing from the places where large chunks of flesh have been clawed or bitten off. The wound on her neck seems fatal and her eyes stare at the ceiling, showing her final moment of terror, her arm - broken as if were a twig and her exquisite longsword discarded several feet from her body. Around her, a group of five lurching cadavres moan and stagger, while mindlessly continuing to wail against the already lifeless servant of Lathander. A sixth zombie corpse lies beheaded on the floor next to the double doors of the barn.

What is even more frightening, however, is the large dark shape of a strange creature, dwarfing the zombies around it. It appears as a brawny, muscular giant although it bears no resemblance to any actual kind of giant-kin. It's flesh is spotted with patches of brown rot and yellow pus, and it's eyes are milky white and completely crossed. It snarls at it's new found enemies and alerts the lesser undead around it.

[sblock=Map]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





Key: Z circles = Zombies, X circle = decapitated zombie (dead), the 10 ft sqare is the unknown Undead monster, the blue square is Adelaide's corpse, the yellow circle in the back is a pile of hay, the grey boxes on the right are cabinets and the brown boxes on both sides are horse pens.[/sblock]

[sblock]Roll initative! The situation is such: the barn is forty feet wide by fifty feet deep. There are empty spaces for horses on both sides, and piles of hay in the back. There is an attic, accessible trough two ladders and hatches, one immediately to your left and the other one on the far end of the building.

Twenty feet from you there are five zombies around Adelaide's body, and behind them there is a Large sized Undead creature. Knowledge: Religion to identify it.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 18, 2011)

Herriman shakes his head at the sight of the slain paladin. _She was no slouch as a soldier. A shame to perish so. But it certainly speaks to the danger of these things._ The halfling settles into a defensive stance as the incarnum wreathed around him sparks and crackles in response to the undead.

[sblock=OOC]
I'll start off with a Total Defense. See how these things fight/how hard they hit. And the Religion check...

AC 30 (Touch 24) HP 90/90
Essentia: 3 in Armguards of Disruption (3d6 damage to undead w/melee touch); 3 in Crystal Helm (+3 Deflection to AC, attacks considered Force effects); 2 in Embrace of Shadow class feature (20% miss chance against Herriman, Hide In Plain Sight).
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Jan 18, 2011)

Thok, as usual, charges the huge undead, raging for the lost of the lady paladin. *"RRRRARRRGGG!!!"
*

_23 vs AC for 24 dmg. Crap, two 1s on the damage roll..._


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 18, 2011)

[sblock]Neither Herriman nor Lórquelië can tell what that thing is. It's obviously large and Undead, but that's about it. You do recognize the Zombies as such though.[/sblock]

[sblock=Thok]Roll initative please. Also use the built-in die roller from ENworld please  Also, note the map in my earlier post[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Jan 18, 2011)

Lórquelië tensed as she approached the barn. _The darkness… the cold…_ Her pulse ran swiftly, sending the familiar sound of its beat to her eaers, and through her mind. _Du-dum … Du-dum…_ 

The elf freezes as she sees the paladin. Wide-eyed, she takes a step back, muttering ”The darkness…” Her hands trembling, she bites her lip and instinctively sends one of the knives at the beast, shouting, ”I’ve come to bring the light!” Not hesitating for an instant, the elven wizard raises her voice, and calls out ”Mistë Alcarë”, as she hurls a silvery dust at the creature. 



[sblock=OOC]

Initiative (1d20+4=17)

Knowledge (Religion). (1d20+19=27)

Knife (1d20+16=28, 1d6+2=4) → From Cloud of Knives.

(I've made these before the post. If you wish, I'll use the forum roller from now on (although I think it lacks in style)).

Cast Glitterdust, centered right in the middle (between A and Z, i.e. D/E 5). The Will save is DC 23.

Move one step back, as long as I still have shady surrounding and line of sight & line of effect.


[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 19, 2011)

placeholder


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 13, 2011)

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.


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 14, 2011)

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.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 14, 2011)

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.


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## Scotley (Nov 15, 2011)

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.


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## Shayuri (Nov 15, 2011)

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."


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 15, 2011)

_Give Shayuri some XP for "I cast spells" please! I'm laughing hard on that!_


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 15, 2011)

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.


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## Scotley (Nov 15, 2011)

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."


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## Zerith (Nov 19, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]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=&quot] pleasure[/FONT][FONT=&quot], 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=&quot]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=&quot].
[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]


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## Shayuri (Nov 21, 2011)

Mei-Ying's eyes, almost slitted at rest, widened at Geryk's comment about treading on the purview of the gods. Not insulted or afraid, but rather...startled, and even pleased.

"Yes! You are the first of your countrymen who has understood me."

Zinerath accosts her then and she diverts her attention to the eldritch being she'd ridden with to this valley. She knew little of him, save that the company priest hadn't liked him. Enough to earn some modicum of respect, then.

"What happens? A strange question. What I want to happen, of course. What would be the point, otherwise?"


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 21, 2011)

Ferviel turns back from his saddle, holding the reigns with his left hand and gesturing with his right as if to ask what's going on. Then points towards the South-East and yells: "HAVING A TEA PARTY BACK THERE? THE POINT OF A RESCUING PARTY IS TO GO AND RESCUE THINGS!"

He then shakes his head and turns forward, while all the startled clergy and paladins of Lathander look about with surprise. Lazarus turns back in turn, and smiles apologetically at the newly formed group. Somewhere from the line of mercenaries snickering can be heard.


***​
Thok decides to get away from the barn, least these undead prove to be more cunning than rocks. And rocks can be dangerous if they fall on you.

He makes his way trough the damp grass, green and yellow sprinkled about, as autumn has made it's arrival known. The half-orcs' keen vision makes out a shape, huddled in the distance, beneath a tree. He approaches to see the elven woman whimpering, her head between her legs. She seems to be muttering something.

[sblock=Lórquelië]The last thing the elven Incantatrix saw was the unveiled face of a ghostly female shape, who looked like a young girl dressed in a white robe. She had emerged from the ground right between Lórquelië and Thok. Herriman had been to the left of the elf, but then...

She found herself alone, enclosed in the burial chamber of a freshly closed tomb. Eerie green candles shed cold light around her, showcasing the damp stone walls and the still open stone sarcophagus.

The Elf got up, and noticed as in a haze that she was with child, her belly full and ripe. It made her slow and sluggish, and she leaned on the edge of the sarcophagus. Inside, she saw her lover - pale, unmoving, a husk where once a man had been. Death was all around her, in the air, in the corpse of her beloved. Inside her.

The contractions started, and searing pain tore trough her insides. Lórquelië grasped her belly and slid on the ground, her back against the cold granite of the sarcophagus. Pain and death, and a screaming child an age after that.

She opened her eyes - the baby was grey, rotten, its' flesh coming off in big, putrid chunks as she attempted to lift it up. It screamed with a frenzy, both eyes oozing yellow pus. It bit her fingers and she screamed, as the abomination that had come out of her womb started chewing off her index finger. Then she could scream no more, as a hand reached out from above her and grabbed her throat, choking her with monstrous strength, the black nails diving deep in the delicate pale skin...[/sblock]

Lórquelië wakes up, huddled and her cheeks covered in tears. She had been leaning against a pine tree, and the first thing she sees is Thok's toothy grin inches away from her face.


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## Scotley (Nov 21, 2011)

"The gods know it pains me to admit it, but Ferviel may actually be right about something." He gives a wave to Lazarus and leads the little group off to the South-East, pointedly ignoring the humor from the departing group. "Unless one of you has something better to offer, I suggest we move in the direction suggested by Ferviel for the rest of the day and upon the morrow I will will seek some divine guidance in getting closer those we seek."


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 21, 2011)

Rufus shouts back "Only a priest would think to waste a day such as this with drinking tea!" with a grin on his face and humor in his voice. He gives Geryk a nod and falls into line. "Aye, the crotchety bugger's got a point. Let's get a move on."

The young man smiles as he follows along, seeming perfectly at ease.


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## Zerith (Nov 21, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath Grinned at her answer “Dos something come from on high? Dos the earth split and devour your enemies at your while? Can you form a spare of fire in your hands with an utterance?” he chirped yet more before he added one last thing “Or is your will more discreet? Could you, perha-“ he nearly asked before being cut off mid-word by Ferviel’s rather uncouth shout. Zinerath grinned with mischief before giving out a blatantly delayed, playful, yelp.
“Eeep! Right away your most loudness!”[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]he panicked in Celestial, before leaping over the heads of Rufus, Geryk, and their horses, with a flap of wings.
when he landed he started speeding off, briefly, to get beyond shouting distance of Fervil before the meanie had a chance to respond, he would have given a warhorse a run for it's money if one tried to over take him.
[/FONT]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 22, 2011)

*"So you here crying under tree? Thok had to fight nasty no-deads by himself! You flee, little halfling flee, human girl dies! All leaves Thok alone to face no deads!"* Thok bellows, his voice booming and making the leaves on the tee shake, as he lifts the woman from the ground. *"Now stop crying! Crying is for the WEAK!"* was Thok's attempt at counsel. He holds Lórquelië by her arms, dropping her only if he knows the elf is able to stand by her own.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 22, 2011)

Thok can remember Peth, the Gnome, and the tin-man Kye who fought the White Lady with him. Both had similar reactions to seeing her face. Only Thok and Jill had been unaffected.


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 22, 2011)

Thok scratches his head. *"You seen the ghost witch?" *Thok denies with his head. *"Too weak. Too weak to fight ghost witch. Only Thok, brave warrior could fight it."* he purposefuly omits mentioning that Jill, an almost in dippers girl also found the valour to fight off the spectre.


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## Malachei (Nov 22, 2011)

All sound was muted, and all light had faded from Lórquelië’s world, a shimmer of white and then darkness, bleak darkness. Then suddenly, warmth, and with it, pain. But her body’s pain was nothing compared to her mind. She wanted to stop her mind from outpacing her, she wanted to call it back, hinder her inner knowledge from tainting the holy moment with bitter foreboding. She thought she could not stand it. And then, her heart broke, and her mind was just another vessel left behind. 

A still cry was firmly engraved on her face, as the orc approached. It was for the first time that he saw the noldorin not in control. Her well-kept manners and her straight stance had departed, opening a window to the soul within: a soul in perpetual pain. Her hand gripped a piece of cloth, her fingers opening and closing in spasms. The orc stepped closer, and an echo of a wail faded away.

. . .

She looks up, but her gaze avoids the others’, and trails off into nowhere. There is something strange in her eyes, however, both broken and adamant, fiery and cold as ice. Her lips move, but her voice is but a whisper in the wind, ”The shadow.”


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## Shayuri (Nov 22, 2011)

Zerith said:


> [FONT=&quot]Zinerath Grinned at her answer “Dos something come from on high? Dos the earth split and devour your enemies at your while? Can you form a spare of fire in your hands with an utterance?” he chirped yet more before he added one last thing “Or is your will more discreet? Could you, perha-“ he nearly asked before being cut off mid-word by Ferviel’s rather uncouth shout. Zinerath grinned with mischief before giving out a blatantly delayed, playful, yelp.
> “Eeep! Right away your most loudness!”[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]he panicked in Celestial, before leaping over the heads of Rufus, Geryk, and their horses, with a flap of wings.
> when he landed he started speeding off, briefly, to get beyond shouting distance of Fervil before the meanie had a chance to respond, he would have given a warhorse a run for it's money if one tried to over take him.
> [/FONT]




Mei-Ying watched the strange, mutated man as he loped away, his questions unanswered.

"You will see," she murmured. 

The sorceress turned her horse to head in the direction they'd been given, and set out at a brisk trot. She knew the path of her destiny...if not the end point.


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## Scotley (Nov 26, 2011)

Geryk manages a wan half smile for Zinerath's youthful exuberance, but his eyes linger on the exotic Sorceress as he nudges his own mount to greater speed. Worry lines crease his forehead as he considers her words.


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 29, 2011)

The group travels for about an hour, making good headway when detached from the much slower moving column of the main army. Keeping their eyes and ears open, the adventurers discover nothing sinister or out of the ordinary. The landscape is a bit sullen, there aren't many birds flying about, the grass is growing yellow, the trees have already started shedding their leaves, but no monsters or undead seem to be lurking in the bushes and hedges. It's simply a scenic route and the familiar views and smells of late autumn.

Quite abruptly, Angelwatch's main paved road turns into a muddy rural pathway - it seems not many trade caravans are going West and past the valley, the merchants instead preferring to take the longer but more civilized and presumably safer southern trade route.

The party travels quickly and awkwardly silent, except for the occasional whinnying of a horse. The only sign of human habitation is the low wooden fence guarding a field to the right of the road. A few more minutes pass, before the group is greeted by a pair of cows, grazing at the side of the road. When the animals hear the group approach, they raise their heads and skittishly move to the side - they seem unnerved, and there isn't anyone attending to them.

Further in the distance, a couple can be seen - a large male and a delicate female, the woman sitting on the ground, her back next to a tree. Further down and to the side of the road, a farmhouse and a large barn can be spotted, both seemingly abandoned.


***

Both Thok and Lórquelië can see a group of riders appriaching, all of whom seem to be detached from the army.They are riding down the same road their own scouting party had taken not but an hour ago.


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 29, 2011)

Thok just stares at the elf.* "You have to let it go, bad awake dreams, only that. Ghost witch does that sort of things."* He kneels next to the elven maid and grabs her, lifting her from her slumbering position. He keeps her standing, passing his arm under hers. *"We need to go now, ugly no dead are nearby, no safe place to rest."* As he was about to leave, Thok notices the riders. He rises his thick arm, and waves at them.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 29, 2011)

Rufus trots his horse forward a bit and waves back to the big man. He calls out, voice rich and booming out here in the open, "Ho there! Are you the scouts Ferviel sent out earlier?"


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## Shayuri (Nov 29, 2011)

"Well that was a quick and easy rescue," Mei-Ying mentions softly. She reined her horse in, letting Rufus go out ahead a horse length or so. Her eyes flicked around the scene...the tree, the barn...

"I wonder what they encountered that we had to come out and find them."


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 29, 2011)

*"Yes. I am Thok, brave warrior. And this is... the elf."* Thok shakes the still dazed elf. *"Name is too hard. The lady paladin that came with is dead. Zombie ate her head. Gnome that came with us gone too, also halfling gone. Kye gone too. All them too cowards. Thok brave, he stays."* Thok's voice is harsh and accented, guttural; obviously his mother tongue is orc.* "Still some zombies in the barn. Thok left alone in there, went back to see what happened. Paladin lady probably zombie food by now"*


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## Zerith (Nov 29, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath, who had been walking behind Geryk’s mount, picked up his own pace while humming to himself amusedly. ‘blood for ichor!’ he thought to himself.
He walked to towards the two, outpasing and pasing Rufus, until there was no more need to yell and he could get a decent look at the, verbally challenged, half-orc.
He shot Thok a [/FONT][FONT=&quot]mischievous[/FONT][FONT=&quot] smile, grinned broadly and asked while looking around for a barn“Meaning!” he began in a orcin yip before adding “It is time to destroy the undead, yes?” he grunted energetically in orcish with a short and giddy hop forwards.

His grin broadened, bordering on the manic, and he whipped a hand up and backwards, into his pack, and then effortlessly yanked out a very keen looking scythe. “Ready!” he proclaimed ecstatically in common while whipping the bottom of the scythe's shaft onto the ground as if it were simply a walking stick and he was  going for no more than a pleasant walk. He looked about once more and, assuming he saw a barn he would point to it, ask“That one?” happily in orcish. If his suspicion was authenticated, he would then make swift strides towards it, but make sure to stop before he was in any danger of being charged by the barn's ocupents


he saw no need to even note the death of the paladin, it had happened, and that was that, no more could be done about it, if she was turned to undeath, then that would simply mean one more thing to batter senseless, while singing.[/FONT]


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 30, 2011)

Rufus chuckles and shakes his head as the strange young demon-child dashes ahead. He looks over his shoulder at Geryk with a hint of a smile. "He's your charge, yes? I can see now why you look so weary."

He urges his horse further forward. "Well Thok, I'm Rufus. I'll let the others introduce themselves, far be it from me to do such a thing when we barely met an hour ago. But we were sent here to find your group, give you a hand, and get back to the main column."

The blond human looses a large blade from its sheath on his back and pulls it free, letting it rest on his lap as one hand remains on the reins of his horse. "And I think whatever you found needs to be dispatched forthwith. What say the rest of you? Deal with it, then get back to our dear Dawnbringer?"


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 30, 2011)

Thok blinks in amusement as the little devil speaks orc. The half orc is surprisingly fluent in his own idiom (and not an idiot at all).* "I would suggest waiting for the rest of us young demon, there are more than just a few zombies. And other types of undead too, more powerful, more...intelligent ones. There's also a white spectre stalking the land, the elf is under it's spell. My will is too strong for the ghost, but alas, even the elven spell-singer is shaken but the terrible sight of the monster."* he replies in the guttural bark-like language. He then addresses the man speaking to him. 
*"Thok happy to know we not forgotten. But Thok advices, ghost witch haunts this land, makes people afraid, messes with minds. Thok very brave, not afraid. But elf lady in bad shape, others also got affected. There's also powerful no dead man in the barn. Thok all in for a good battle, but not keen on turning into zombie food."* despite that, Thok grabs a quite wicked looking dark blade, that seems to long for blood. A perhaps too dark of a weapon for a good hearted man like Thok, or so it seems.


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## Zerith (Nov 30, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]“What gave me way?!?” he asked in a sarcastic pouting yap while leaning far backwards, allowing his hood to simply fall off from the top of his head; he nearly leaned back too far, but with a brief flapping of four wings he then leaned deeply forwards into a bow he sent his two left wings  forwards while bending his left arm beneath his head, his right wings lifted out of the way of his burdened right arm dramatically while he sent his  right arm, still holding the scythe, backwards, the blade coming to rest behind him.

“Zinerath Woesbane, at your service.” He politely stated in a courtly manner before abrutly returning to his over energetic self.
Before a reply could be given he immediately stood back up, he breathed in deeply and then let out a satisfied sigh of relief as he then stretched his fists skywards let his wings do the same. “Finally!” he then yipped with great relief as his wings came to rest beside his pack but continued to shrug and reposition themselves to relive pent up stiffness.
His grin grew cattish and his crimson eyes closed contently shut while he leaned  left and right  into the more active due of wings. [/FONT]


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## Myth and Legend (Nov 30, 2011)

[sblock]FYI the Incantatrix is not [_cowering_] any more [/sblock]


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## Shayuri (Nov 30, 2011)

"The undead will hide here until the main force passes," Mei-Ying proclaims as she guides her mount forward to join the palaver. "Then they will emerge and harry the soldiers and supply men in the back ranks. By the time word reahes the priests at the front, great damge wll have been wrought. Unless we eliminate them."

"Someone should press on though, and reach the main force so they know what to do should the rest of us fail."


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 2, 2011)

[sblock=map of the area] 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			








[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Dec 2, 2011)

The elven woman rises, the wind playing with her white dress of finest silk. She was unlike most other elves you had seen. She is taller, more regal than others of the fair folk, but her grace is bitter, carried out with hesitation and reluctance. Her gaze does not halt when passing the orc warrior, and neither does it pause to greet the newcomers. She speaks to the wind, "Lórquelië Coranarya." she says, and adds, "of the Order Sublime," and then she nods, perhaps a small courtesy in greeting, or perhaps to confirm herself that this is the real world, and this is her speaking. 

[sblock=Myth]

I think the Order Sublime would be a good title for the Incantatrices. Perhaps you want to allow somebody roll Knowledge Arcana on it.

[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 2, 2011)

*"Thok no charging like crazed dwarf in there. Thok smart. Thok says we make plan. Burning down barn with zommbies inside will be good plan, let them burn, if they come out, Thok slays them one by one. No hurties for us. Thok smart."* the barbarian says, rising an inquisitive clawed finger.


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## Shayuri (Dec 2, 2011)

"I am Mei-Ying," the exotic sorceress answers the elf. "It is good to see survivors. Thok's account is of a harrowing ambush. I agree that we should end the hungry ghosts. I could easily set the barn aflame, and perhaps thin them out at the same time."


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## Scotley (Dec 2, 2011)

The priest dismounts. "Well met Thok, Lórquelië. I am Geryk, Servant of Lathandar. Are either of you in need of healing?" He glance over them for wounds. "If we are to go into battle with the undead it should be at full strength." He makes minor adjustments to his armor and shield to ready them for battle. 

[sblock=Myth]Sorry for the slow posting. I've been having a lot of trouble getting ENWorld to load the last few days.[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Dec 2, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]“Mei, you give no credit were commonsense is enough!” Zinerath chirped happily, amused that none have, yet, noted objecton to working with a devil child. “One, now _two_, parties have been sent ahead, one as a scout, and one as a recuing party.” He began grinningly.
“The main force _might_ have blundered ahead without checking for blatant sources of ambush if only the relatively unaware scouting force failed to return, but for a second party that is on guard and believing it’s heading into ambush, or at least serious threat, to simply vanish?” he chimed knowingly, smugly while leaning towards Mei-Ying with a broad grin."they would either come to examine this area in force or find an alternative route.” He winked and added “to do otherwise is either folly or stupidity on their part.” Zinerath sighed, he was about to make an explanation.

“We travel from a host of Paladins and other holy warriors, proud and self-sure or not, they will now allow such a blatantly dangerous area to go unpurged before they risk they, duly noted, venerable and vital supply line to the unknown threat.” Zinerath trailed on while looking at his hands, boring himself as he continued “Given what Thok has told us there is little for the main force to lose if we vanish without reporting to them, it will just force them to react more powerfully, they will either rip the surround apart and remove any threat that we have and haven’t yet seen, or give it a wide birth and go around any possible threat altogether.” He spoke, nearly nodding off before being suddenly invigorated at the ebb of this monologue and the flow of another.
“Aged wood dos not a strong wall make, simply baring the door will not hold them long, and the walls will likely give way long before the supporting timbers if lit from the outside, and if the undead bother to break down the door, or a wall, more than one or two will flood out.” he chirped on happily, as if he was presenting good news all the while. He again reached into his pack with both hands, after leaning his scythe against his shoulder, and pull out several flaks, and some flint and steal; his face was positively giddy. It took no genus to surmise what were in the flasks
“So, I’m going to zip on top of that barn, _create a window_ in the roof, and look in…” Zinerath spoke with enthusiasm and a burning psychotic glint in his eyes as he mentioned _creating a window_. He had been fighting the urge to unleash want and destruction for, in his mind, for far too long.

He swiftly turned to face the barn fully, away from Geryk, away, unleashed a anticipating glance to the barn. He grinned wickedly, closed his eyes, and then let his grin fade into a coy smile before looking the cleric in eyes “…Set fire to the _inside_ of it!” he then proclaimed while attempting to hold back a maniacal laugh, and failing badly. Grinning like a crazed demon, he started glancing about and the party “Who has a torch they don’t care about!?!” he asked in growing anticipation, wings flared up and twitching, and ready to scale the barn the very moment he gets his hands on the object in question, giving pause only to place everything, but his scythe, into his pack, wave to Geryk long enough to give him a chance to speak, and then bolt off onto the  barn unless he had something to add, the would give him cause to not leap onto the barn, cleave hole in its roof and then start flinging flakes of oil into it and then setting it all on fire with a lite torch.

[sblock=OoC]How tall is the barn anyways? 
And sorry if I mad any misshaps with this post, it's very lat, night night ^^; [sblock][/FONT]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 2, 2011)

Rufus shrugs. "If you want to set fire to the place, I have a feeling the former owners won't mind. But I do feel the need to mention this: a burning zombie is still just as functional as a zombie-not-on-fire, with the added annoyance for us of flaming undead fists and a terrible stench. I don't know about you, but I for one don't look forward to starting a day with the smell of burning, rotting flesh. Bad omen. Mind you, I'll still be right there with you, blade ready to hack into their putrescent bodies, but there are more... olfactory-pleasing methods than setting them on fire."

He dismounts as he speaks and tries to secure his horse to a tree or bush, if one is nearby and available.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 2, 2011)

Thok gets close to the priest, and whispers. *"That thing crazy. Why you bring him?"* he asks, addressing the half fiend, evidently loosing his mind over setting fire to things. 
He then addresses Rufus.* "Thok thought zombies will burnt down like lumber..."*


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## Zerith (Dec 3, 2011)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath was, disappointed, he was expecting to get a torch in short order. His grin closed  and turned into a slightly perturbed, if still hopeful, smile; he had not yet given up on the idea of burning the structure, and any undead in side, down into cinders. “EveryOne ALways WANTs to spOil mY fUn…” He pouted beneath his breath in abyssal while he, reluctantly, replaced the flasks, Flint and steel into his pack and Thork talked.[/FONT]


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## Scotley (Dec 3, 2011)

"Be not discouraged my young friend. Let the light of Lathandar do what it may first and you may vent your desire for exercise on those who persist." He takes up an odd mace that begins to glow with a pale blue light and a very old symbol of Lathandar. 

"I have been granted some power to destroy the undead. Open the doors and I will call destruction down upon those that emerge. The darkest of them may well require your blades and magic as well."


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## Shayuri (Dec 5, 2011)

Mei-Ying was a little taken aback by the sheer amount of verbiage coming from the affronted man-devil, but she quickly regained her composure, letting it wash over her as the ocean washed over tidal rocks. 

"Then go," she urged. "Open the doors and let what waits inside out. I'll not call on fire before you're clear."


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 6, 2011)

Upon closer inspection, the doors of the barn are as Thok had left them - semi open, two massive timber gates on rusty hinges. The barn itself lacks windows, and the walls are made of tightly nailed planks, worn by the weather on the outside. The structure is about 20 feet tall at a glance.

[sblock=Listen check DC 25]Quiet moaning, girgling sounds and heavy footsteps can be heard from inside the barn.[/sblock]

[sblock]Zerith, if you could please leave the typeface as Verdana? It's been proven that Verdana is the easiest typeface to read. That seriff typeface you use, and the small size, make it horror for me to read your posts  [/sblock]


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## Scotley (Dec 6, 2011)

Geryk takes up a position opposite the doors about 20' out where the path turns to run directly toward the doors. "Don't seem inclined to wander about do they? Perhaps they don't care for the daylight?" 

OOC: [sblock=?]I'm not sure how I managed to roll 5d20 instead of 1d20+5, but I appear to have gotten 5 natural 20's so I guess Geryk heard the sounds... I don't suppose I can save some of those until the fight starts? ;-) [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 7, 2011)

Thok prepares his sword, and seems ready to charge in and slice heads off. His fangs are visible and he has a savage expression on his face.

_How is 5x20= 60? You rolled a 9, a 10, a 12 a 9 and a 20_


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## Scotley (Dec 7, 2011)

Voda Vosa said:


> Thok prepares his sword, and seems ready to charge in and slice heads off. His fangs are visible and he has a savage expression on his face.
> 
> _How is 5x20= 60? You rolled a 9, a 10, a 12 a 9 and a 20_




[sblock=VV]You're right. My browser is doing some very strange things while ENWorld is running so slow. When I looked I only got twenties, but 60 is obviously only an average of 12. I am at a loss. Maybe I just need to get more sleep.  [/sblock]


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## Zerith (Dec 8, 2011)

Zinerath was growing weary of tactical preparations that were devolving into little more than simply opening the barn's gate and then waiting to be charged. He wanted to get to the action. "[FONT=&quot]♪With doom we come, to the barn, with doom we come with doom we come![FONT=&quot]♫[/FONT]"[/FONT] he chirped happily and lowly in the tongue of devils to himself as he hastened towards the barn, he stopped to the side and in front of Geryk

Seemingly stopping short of the doors, Zinerath grinned heartily, imagining the destruction that was about to unleashed,  while leaning his scythe against his shoulder and shouting “I aM NiGH!” commandingly and with gleeful vigor in the chaotic tongue of demons, as wisps of black mist breathed between his  fanged teeth before he then reached at the gates. His arms shot towards the door with the seemingly futile gesture before he attempted to attempt to slam the doors fully while sparing no force; he then intended to grab his scythe and slay the first abomination that stepped past the threshold

[sblock=OoC] Activating whirling frenzy and 1 of his 3 daily uses of his great reach bracers :3
Also, he is either 15’ or 10’ away from the doors, depending on how far he has to be to open them with a 15’ reach ^_^[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 9, 2011)

The doors open, the well oiled hinges providing no great obstacle for the devil child. The inside of the barn is dimly light, and the pungent odor of decaying flesh fills the nostrils immediately. A group of walking dead growl and are bent over the rent body of what appears to be a pale, delicate human female, her blue eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, her curly blond hair drenched in blood that has already turned black and thick.

A shattered longsword lies nearby, pieces scattered about the barn, and a zombie has been cut in two trough the waist in the middle of the room.

Behind the group looms a hulking figure, large and imposing, and currently occupied by searching a nearby horse pen. They all seem sluggish, espeically the cadavers.

[sblock]roll initative!

Rough estimation of the pack of zombies (5 of them) and the Large thing (the map is outdated as none of you are actually inside the barn, but it works.






[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Dec 9, 2011)

Geryk presents the old ornate symbol of Lathandar boldly and announces, "May the pure light of Lathandar lay you to rest." 

[sblock=OOC]19 hit dice of undead up to 13th level destroyed. Closest first. [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 9, 2011)

Rufus clenches the hilt of his large blade, grip tightening. His lip curls back in revulsion. He raises his blade high above his head in a reckless-but-ready stance as he cautiously approaches the zombies. "Mind the big thing in the back... 'Twould be best to lure it out and surround it, I think. After dealing with the other zombies."

[sblock=OOC]
Swift action to go to Punishing Stance. Move next to Zinerath. Ready attack against first foe to come into reach (standard 5-ft reach).
Attack is +13 for 2d6+8+1d6 (PS).

AC 16 (-2 due to PS), HP 121/121
Readied Maneuvers: Tactical Strike, Iron Heart Surge, White Raven Tactics, Leading the Attack.
[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Dec 9, 2011)

Zinerath springed backwards, be hide Geryk, with a set of wing beats before then bursting forwards and propelling himself upwards towards the zenith of the barn, directly above the doors, grabbed hold of the roof, whipped himself around and perched himself on top of the barn; he then stood, hunched over and looking down over the barn door. He Grinned and breathed in deeply in anticipation. 
[sblock=OoC] Readied action, activate great reach bracers and power attack (5) on anything that advances into an area that he would threaten with the enhanced reach(only a large or larger creature could enter his 15’ potential reach at this point T_T)

fallowed up by an attack of opportunity, as normal, if the creature then move in his newly enlarged threatened area.[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Dec 12, 2011)

The noble elf is shocked by the winged devil's sight, even more so than by the dark ones. Her gaze moves from Thok, over to the priest of Lathander. How could a servant of the holy light be in league with such an abomination? But this had to wait. 

"Sûl Alagos!", Lórquelië cries as she calls the storm. Her hands whirl in a twisting move, and a gust flies past the companions.

[sblock=OOC]

Casting Defenestrating Sphere.

If the Zombies are still blocking the way, she hurls it at one of them who blocks the path to the big one. Fort DC 22 or fall prone, another DC 22 Fort save or be hurled 1d8 x 10 feet into the air, suffering adequate falling damage.

If the Zombies are turned or out of the way, the Sphere attacks the big one (no risk of falling prone or be hurled).
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 12, 2011)

Thok Burst into the barn. His eyes search for the large undead. It was his target, it was his prey. It was dead. Or dead again. *"THOK!!!" * shouts his battlecry, and charges in. His blade becomes a whirlwind of devastating cuts.

_Thok enters in rage, gaining +4STR and CON (+18 hp) and +2 will saves -2 AC (total AC now= 16). He attacks whatever is in front of him first. if he drops something he'll make a cleave attack._


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## Shayuri (Dec 13, 2011)

Mei-Ying moves so that she has a clear line of sight into the barn, but otherwise simply casts a simple protection spell, adding a layer of magical power to the wards already in place around her.

(Casting Shield for a phat AC of 30.)


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 14, 2011)

Rufus acts quickly and positions himself with a readied blade in hands before most others could react. A heartbeat later, the Radiant Servant  displays an elaborate and well made holy symbol to Lathander and channels the Morninglord's power trough himself.

A bright yellow radiance beams out of Geryk's eyes, mouth and skin, and a brilliant wave, seemingly composed of the sun rays that shine trough the cloudy sky during a summer afternoon, washes over his allies and the undead abominations in front of him.

Upon contact with the Zombies, the energy turns them to dust in an instant, leaving naught but a fine grey powder in their place. The large greature growls with a deep, grunting voice, and braces it self for an instant, but it seems to be unaffected by the energy touching it's grey, rotted skin.

The demonic boy laughs with a maniacal grin in his eye and in an instant, propels himself upon the top of the barn.

Meanwhile, the Elven Incantatrix produces a small grey pearl from her pouch and casts a spell, summoning a cloudy gray sphere of whirling air and howling wind that heads straight for the giant undead. It hits the creature with a force that would have swept a smaller being clean off the floor, but the brute is indomitable. The lashing winds manage to peel some of it's rotted flesh off however, though that seems to be far from what is needed to harm the thing.

The brute doesn't seem happy with the pelting and harrassement it has received, and it charges madly at Rufus. The Warblade is ready for it and welcomes it with a ligtning fast stab trough the gut, but it presses on. From above, Zinerath just barely manages to plunge his scythe in the creature's massive, bulging neck. It shrugs off the wounds however, and bites off some meat from Rufus's shoulder, chomping viciously, it's jaw having the strength of vice.

The exotic sorceress bolsters her defences and observes the battle.

The Half-Orc barbarian charges in to aid Rufus, but his sword glances off the side of the creature, it's skin proving tougher than what is expected of such pale, puffy and rotted flesh. The shoulder guards and armbands it possesses help it evade the blow as well.

[sblock=Initiative Order*Rufus* (25)
*Geryk* (21)
*Zinerath* (20)
*Lórquelië* (16)
*Large Undead* (11)
*Mei-Ying* (9)
*Thok* (5)
*Zombies* (1)[/sblock]

[sblock]For future combat - I want at-a-glance stat blocks for your characters when in combat. Ability scores, saves, active buffs, spells remaining, maneuvers remaining, how much PA you have on, how many AOOs you can make etc. Thank you 

Note Geryk's Aura of Warding for your Will saves if you are within 10 ft. of him.

The Incantatrix has to list the focus for her spell in her items (costs 100 gp.) and any other foci or expensive material components. Also, other equipment would be useful for her.

Rufus gets hit for 24 damage but manages to connect. Zinerath barely hits, Thok barely misses.

So Rufus is in front of the barn, Zinerath on top. Geryk has line of effect towards the door, so he is some 30-40 feet behind tops. Where are the casters standing? I'll update the map. I want to know where everyone is and what they are looking at.[/sblock]

[sblock=DMs notes]Round 1. Large creature - 38 damage.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 15, 2011)

Rufus shouts in pain as the jaws clamp down on his shoulder. He struggles and shoves the thing off of him, the wound bleeding profusely. He sidesteps and shifts his feet and body, adopting a more cautious and opportunistic stance. Then his large blade flicks out towards the monster's face as he shouts, "Someone, pair with me on its other side!"

[sblock=OOC]
5-ft step whichever way will get me to a Flanking position faster. Swift to go to Tactics of the Wolf stance (+3 damage for whoever flanks with me). Then Tactical Strike - if it hits, allies adjacent to the target get a free 5-ft step.

Hm... and it seems I forgot to choose my Bard spells. I'll get to work on that...

AC 18 HP 97/121
F +9, R +9, W+4 (+1 vs sleep or paralysis)
STR 20, DEX 14, CON 18, INT 10, WIS 10, CHA 14
AoOs: 1/round; Bardic Music: 0/2 used
Readied Maneuvers: Tactical Strike, Iron Heart Surge, White Raven Tactics, Leading the Attack
Stance: Tactics of the Wolf
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 15, 2011)

Thok is even more furious when the giant blob of rotten flesh evades his cuts. He takes another set of attacks. The blade connects this time, leaving a huge gash in the creature's abdomen, spilling it's rotten organs. As the creature tries to understand what happened, Thok rises the sword and then sinks it in the left shoulder. The black blade sinks several inches, before Thok jerks it out. The blade is held up again, as the half orc gathers strength for the next blow. *"Thok great warrior!"*

_Second attack is 22 vs AC, forgot to add the attack bonus._


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## Scotley (Dec 15, 2011)

Geryk utters a brief prayer for divine power and calls forth a beam of _Searing Light. 
_ The ray of sunlight lances forth from Geryk's palm to strike the large undead searing its flesh. Geryk's eyes flash to Rufus for a moment trying to gauge how badly he is hurt.

[sblock=M&L]If the undead is particularly vulnerable to sunlight the damage should be 9d8 or an additional 9 damage on average if that is easier. Thx[/sblock]

[sblock=Mini Stat block] Is this what you had in mind? 
+2 to will saves 10' radius--Aura of Warding

Strength 14 (+2),Dexterity 12 (+1),Constitution 12 (+1),Intelligence 12 (+1),Wisdom 20 (+5) (+2 level) (+2 Periapt),Charisma 15 (+2)

Armor Class: 25 = 10 + 9 [armor] +3[shield] + 1 [dexterity]+1[feat—heavy armor optimization]+1[Ring of Protection]
Touch AC: 12
Flat-footed: 21

Caster Level: 9
Spell DC: 10 + Spell Level + 4 (wis)

Initiative modifier: + 1 = + 1 [dexterity]
Fortitude save: + 8 = 6 [base] + 1 [constitution]+1[armor]
Reflex save: + 5 = 3 [base] + 1 [dexterity] +1[armor]
Will save: + 13 = 6 [base] + 5 [wisdom] +2 [moral: aura of warding—radiant servant su]
Attack (handheld): +8 = 6 [base] + 2 [strength]
Attack (missile): +11 = 6 [base] + 5 [wisdom—zen archery feat]
Grapple check: +8 = 6 [base] + 2 [strength] 

0 6, 1st 5+d, 2nd 5+d, 3rd 4+d, 4th 3+d, 5th 2+d
0 Detect Magic x2, Guidance, Mending, Light x2
1st Disrupt Undead (d), Shield of Faith, Protection from Evil, Bless, Updraft (sc), Impede (comp champ)
2nd Heat Metal (d), Spiritual Weapon, Sound Burst, Hold Person, Bear's Endurance, Aid
3rd Searing Light (d), Dispel Magic, Stone Shape, Prayer,  Searing Light 
4th Fire Shield (d), Healing Spirit (ph2), Restoration, Panacea (sc), Divine Might
5th Flame Strike (d), Righteous Might, Zone of Revelation (sc)
[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Dec 16, 2011)

“Faster Fast!!” Zinerath Cackled Commandingly in Infernal with a breath of foul black mist and a dim crimson glow flaring in his giddy eyes. Then, in an instant, Zinerath swooped down and landed near the brute and began laying into the beast with twisted delight.
 he stood with his scythe coiled back and tensed, he was savoring the moment before the fury he was about to unleash. “Heh!” he grinned before, finally, attacking.

[sblock=OoC] Swift action, command activation, move to the flanking postion with Rufus
Note: while moving in this way Zinerath is not subject to AoO, but is limited to half his normal movement.
Note2: do to the size of the beast,  and Zinerath’s position, Zinerath can get to any position around the undead thing that dos not require him to move through it and can flank it from the sides ;3

Full round action: full attack on the undead thing, with power attack 5 and an extra attack from Whirling Frenzy.


AC 22 HP 116/116
F +15, R +8, W-2
STR 18, DEX 18, CON 16, INT 16, WIS 10, CHA 12
AoOs: 1/round
Whirling Frenzy: 3rd of 7 rounds
Frenzy: Ready

PS; it's not wise to annoy Zinerath, he can do this twice per around [/sblock]


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## Malachei (Dec 20, 2011)

Lórquelië curses, as the large creature crushes into their ranks. Swiftly, she directs the cone of air against the creature again, and also sends another knife towards it. Then, she hurls a silvery dust upwards, and speaks, "Lith Silivren." Suddenly, a silvery dust of particles rains down on and around the large creature.

[sblock=OOC]

Standard action: Cast Glitterdust, Will DC 22 or blinded.
Move action: Hurl Defenestrating Sphere
Free action: Send Knife

If the large creature is already destroyed, she'll send Sphere and/or Knife at another target, if there are any left.

[/sblock]

[sblock=Current Status]

With persisted and active spells.

Active Spells:
* = Persisted
(X) = Extended
Mage Armor (X), Detect Magic*, Shield*, Nightshield*, Detect Undead*, See Invisibility*, Dragonskin*, Reverse Arrows*, Cloud of Knives*, Heart of Earth (X), Prot. from Evil, Defenestrating Sphere

Abilities (used/daily uses)
Metamagic Effect: 10/11
Abjupt Jaunt: 1/8

[sblock=Spells Prepared (Current Status)]

_ = Conjuration (DC +3)
* = Persistable
Spells in Yellow are persisted daily. Cloud of Knives is persisted as soon as it is feasible.
Normally active spells (in addition to persisted spells): Mage Armor, Heart of Earth

– 0 – (4+1 – DC 18)
Acid Splash, Dancing Lights, Detect Magic*, Light, Message 

– 1 – (6+1 – DC 19)
Mage Armor, Shield*, Protection from Evil, Grease, Nightshield* (SC), Detect Undead*, Lesser Orb of Sound (SC)

– 2 – (6+1 – DC 20)
Glitterdust (21), Cloud of Knives* (PHB2), See Invisibility*, Rope Trick, Greater Alarm (SC)

– 3 – (5+1 – DC 21)
Phantom Steed, Dispel Magic, Blacklight (SC), Dragonskin* (SC), Unluck (SC), Reverse Arrows* (SC)

– 4 – (4+1 – DC 22)
Black Tentacles, Ray Deflection* (SC), Heart of Earth* (CM), Defenestrating Sphere (SC), Orb of Force (SC)

[/sblock]

*Speed:* 30 feet

*Armor Class:* 22 = 10 + 0 [dexterity] + 4 [shield/spell] + 4 [armor/spell] + 4 [natural/spell]
*Touch AC:* 14
*Flat-footed:* 22

*Hit Points (current/max):* 48/48 (plus 16 temp. HP from Heart of Earth)

*Character Level:* *9* (including LA +1)
*Caster Level:* *8*

*Initiative modifier:* + 4 = 0 [dexterity] + 4 [feat]
*Fortitude save:* + 5 = 2 [base] + 2 [constitution] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] -1 [flaw]
*Reflex save:* + 4 = 2 [base] + 0 [dexterity] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell]
*Will save:* + 12 = 9 [base] -1 [wisdom] + 0 [item] + 2 [spell] +2 [feat]

*BAB* +3

[sblock=Special]
Out of bright light:
o Charisma +2
o Speed +5 ft.
o +1 Deflection AC
o +1 Luck bonus to saves
o Hide/MS +2
o Listen/Spot +1
o Shadesight (Sp): Darkvision 60 ft. Can see normally through any darkness effect, but not through fog, invisibility, obscurement, and so on. 
o Shadow Image (Sp) 3/day, as mirror image, 1d4 images, plus one image per three levels (uses: 1/3)
[/sblock]

[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Dec 23, 2011)

Rufus' sword flashes with blinding speed and cleaves off two fingers from the monster's oversized hands. it grunts disapprovingly and regards the fallen appendages with a sheepish, milky-white stare.

The cleric of Lathander releases a blast of what appears to be intense sunlight from his open palm as he declares the spell in an eloquent form of high-tongue. The bolt of light melts half of the creature's head off like butter, leaving a deformed left half of its face with a stupefied look (if it is possible for half a face to express such an emotion)

Next is Zinerath who somehow manages to appear instantly behind the large beast and follows trough after Rufus with viscous attacks. The demonic child seems possessed with unstoppable battle lust, and his thin arms reveal unnatural strength that manages to sink the scythe deep inside the creature's back and almost tears trough it's gut. Seeing his two hits connect, Zinnerath gets eager and carelessly throws the third attack at a massive brass shoulder plate of archaic design, which surprisingly manges to deflect his sharp steel weapon.

Without pause, the Elven Inantatrix contuses casting her spells with a cold, methodical precision. The whirlwind spell hits the monster once again, cleaving off more skin and flesh, and the second knife she sends at it firmly lodges itself in the creature's chest, causing black blood and pus to ooze out.

Her new spell covers one side of the creature wtih glittering golden coloured particles, and due to it's size she manages to cast it without harming either Rufus, Thok or Zinerath, though it barely reaches their positions. The spell completely covers the one good eye the creature has, thus blinding it completely.

It wails mindlessly at Rufus, attempting to bite and claw at him regardless of being nearly destroyed and unable to see. It manages to bite off a bit of flesh even with half it's jaw missing, and it's left arm leaves a deep claw mark against the man's chest.

However then is when Thok steps in and with one terrifying blow he cleaves off the creature's leg from under it, toppling it to the ground as if it were a piece of timber. The fell energies animating it leave the undead husk and it remains a large mound of decayed flesh and unusable pieces of armour.

The exotic sorceress sits quietly and observes the whole battle, but just as everyone is about to relax, the two female spellcasters feel the cold touch of death brazing against their delicate necks. From the ground behind them, silently and unannounced, two shadowy beings about six feet tall emerge and strike swiftly, and then abruptly they sink back into the ground. One targets the elven Wizard, the other targets the human sorceress.

It appears the creatures have used the time of the fight to move underground and target the spellcasters!

[sblock]How does Zinerath move as a swift action?

Rufus takes 26 damage.

Also, for some reason I messed up the die rolls for the incorporeal things completely and I couldn't cancel them. There's only two ghostly enemies. So just use attack #1 and #2, ignore the rest. These are incorporeal touch attacks. Both miss I believe. They end their turns underground. Lorquelle's enemy hits for 9, Mei-Yuing's hits for 11. If they do connect, I'll roll the damage (still need a statblock from Shayuri)

You may roll Knowledge: Religion to see if your PCs know what these things are.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 23, 2011)

Thok rises his sword, and growls a battle-cry of victory. *"THOK WINS!"*
As the spellcasters warn the front liners about the ghostly threats, he turns, and seeing the newfound enemies, charges backwards. Spinning his head around and round he searches for the ghosts, ready to strike at moment's notice.* "Near Thok! Everyone, Near Thok, to cover females and children."* it is obvious a phrase he has used before, in his time living with his tribe. It's uncertain which child is he referring to. 

_Thok positions himself adjacent to both spellcasters, and Ready action: full attack against enemies getting into reach.Second hit is critical hit, although these are undead._


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## Scotley (Dec 23, 2011)

Geryk raises his symbol to Lathandar once more and awaits the return of the shadowy figures underground. 

OOC: Holding action to Turn Undead as soon as the shadows return from the ground.


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## Zerith (Dec 23, 2011)

“[FONT=&quot]♪[/FONT]Down down to goblin town, dow-“ Zinerath was singing in the song’s native tongue with glee, he sundered flesh and sent ichor flying as he cleaved into the thing with great satisfaction; then the attempted to pulverize the thing through its armor; apparently the armor was sturdy enough to withstand his strike he sighed with a pout, then coiled his scythe and grined widly enough to make his ancestors proud, he watched it fall down to Thok, who struck what seemed to be its Achilles ankle: it’s leg.

Zinerath watched the massive ghoul fell down, motionless. He was, honestly, annoyed; The fight was too short and he did not even get to be the one to _re_kill it! Or anything else for that matter!
He started to look about with a frown and then saw the ghosts rise from the earth, take a go at the ladies, and then flew back into the earth. His face went blank and his eyes shot open.

That was not good; Zinerath had no answer for them.
He did not like not having the option to murder things that wanted to murder him, or someone he knew for that matter; this said he did notice they went after the _arcane_ casters, meaning they were threats to whatever the ghost, things, were. Alternatively it meant they were threats that could be dealt with, unlike Geryk who might have been a threat that was simply too powerful to deal with as long as the arcane casters were around, either way what he was about to do was the same.
He burst past the party, not caring that while doing so he trampled the remains  of the unholy thing and did not exactly do so in a peasant matter; he stopped behind Lórquelië “Geryk, coming over!” he shouted over to the cleric before simply plowing into the elf, fully intending to push her next to the relative safety next to Geryk.


[sblock=OoC]Zinerath can do so do to his Horizon Walker, once per day use though. Page 86 of the Magic Item Compendium 
it’s main role is an escape item: leap attack onto a mage, quick squishy squishy,  swift action away for 30’ movement without getting AoOed to death
His AC to touch is only 13 though :/

Moving next to Lórquelië and then bull rushing her next to Greyk
[might consider auto failing the saves and just letting him move her next to the cleric who melts undead instead of staying next to the half orc who can’t defend both sides of either caster at once :3]


AC 22 HP 116/116
[13 touch AC]
F +15, R +8, W-2
STR 18, DEX 18, CON 16, INT 16, WIS 10, CHA 12
AoOs: 1/round
Whirling Frenzy: 4th of 7 rounds
Frenzy: Ready[/sblock]


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## Shayuri (Dec 25, 2011)

Mei-Ying's face hardly twitched, even as she instinctively recoiled from the spectral slash of ghostly fingers. The movement was enough to interpose her arcane barriers, and the spirit's strike stopped short of her, erupting into a flash of colored light as its essence battled with her spells...and lost.

She took a step back from where the spirit had come forth and closed her eyes, bringing her hands to chest level and facing them palm to palm a few inches apart.

_"I reject the chaos of the world,"_ she said in an odd, singsongy voice. Also strange was that her mouth's movements did not match what she was saying...as if her actual voice was being changed from what it was really saying to something more understandable. _"I pierce the falsehoods set to lead me astray. Only one who walks at the eye of the storm may grasp the wind in her hand. Only the soul in balance may mold the spirit into armor and shield...and sword."_

Something was swirling between the palms of her hands. Something invisible, except in how it deflected the dust that floated there. Something like a sphere, about the size of an orange. And judging on how the dust was whipped into a rotating cloud around it...it was spinning quickly.

Mei-Ying's eyes snapped open, and she scanned the battlefield narrowly, waiting for a ghost to again appear.

(Readying action to cast Force Orb on the first ghostie I see.)


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 5, 2012)

Rufus gasps and shouts as another chunk is taken from his flesh by the undead creature. He wrenches free as blood flows from his wounds, then sees Thok cut it down. He gives the warrior a nod, then gets closer to where the mages were surprised by incorporeal foes. The swordsman raises his blade, waiting for one to rise...

[sblock=OOC]
Full Attack. If necessary, 5-ft step to flank with someone. If flanking not possible, remove 2 from both attack rolls and 3 from the damage rolls. EDIT: Didn't notice the big monster got finished off at first. So different action was necessary...

Move to where the undead came from, Ready to Attack first to pop up in reach. Attack at -2, damage at -3 (again, missed the big monster falling and rolled for it).

AC 18 HP 71/121
F +9, R +9, W+4 (+1 vs sleep or paralysis)
STR 20, DEX 14, CON 18, INT 10, WIS 10, CHA 14
AoOs: 1/round; Bardic Music: 0/2 used
Readied Maneuvers: Tactical Strike, Iron Heart Surge, White Raven Tactics, Leading the Attack
Stance: Tactics of the Wolf
[/sblock]


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## Malachei (Jan 7, 2012)

Lórquelië turns to face the shadowy enemy whose grasp has missed her. She feels the cold entering her body, and her hand trembles, as she raises it to meet the foe. "Rhach helch dúath", she calls out, "Curse the cold death", as she prepares to battle the dark evils.

When the demonchild rushes into Lórquelië, he is surprised to find her so easy to move, even lighter than her frail stature would indicate. His force sends her to the ground, roughly. As she turns to face her attacker, her knives form a circle that hovers in the air, all points directed at the tiefling. Instinctively and without hesitation, she sends one of them in his direction, but it stops a foot in front of his face and with a gesture of her hand, falls to the ground. "Raug!", she calls out, "Demon!", and her large, amber eyes turn into cold slits.

After she has caught her breath again, she rises, straightens her silk cloak and hesitates, perhaps wondering where to find her foe. 

[sblock=OOC]

Lórquelië has Prot. from Evil active, as well as Shield and Mage Armor, giving her an AC 20 against incorporeal touch.

She readies an action to cast Orb of Force should an incorporeal enemy come at her.

[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Jan 7, 2012)

Geryk extends a hand to help the fallen Elf. "I must apologize for my young companion's over exuberance." The exasperation in his voice clearly adds 'again' to his words. But there is little time for niceties and his eyes scan the area for any sign of the implacable foes.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 10, 2012)

Rufus approaches Mei-Yuin and readies his blade, protecting the serene sorceress despite his shoulder being drenched in blood. One shady being plunges silently out of the earth, quick as a flash, but is met with a swift slash by the warblade's enchanted sword. The weapon cuts a clear line trough the dark shape and nearly tears it in half as if it were a rag. However the ephemeral form quickly rejuvenates back to it's original shape and the creature regards the pair of humans with blank, soulless eyes.

As the second shape emerges near Geryk and Lórquelie the priest produces his Holy Symbol and a bright flash of golden light washes over the beings as he calls forth the power of his deity. The wave of light silently smashes against the incorporeal forms and they shimmer, the beings turning their backs to the cleric in what appears to be panic, strange as it seems.

Pause.


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## Scotley (Jan 10, 2012)

Geryk attempts to blast the undead into dust even as he watches them to determine their nature. His own nature is not to suffer such being to endure in this realm. 

OOC: GTU and Knowledge Religion.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 11, 2012)

The yellow light bursts forth and vanquishes the creatures silently and irreversibly, before they have the time to duck back into the ground.

Suddenly, the group finds themselves in a quiet and still yard with only the barn door slowly moving back and forth because of the light breeze that has sprung up. The stench of the large rotted carcass of the slain creature fills the nostrils uninvited, reminding one of decayed meat and rotted eggs combined.

The scenery would not be so gruesome, if the broken body of the pretty female paladin did not lay still in sight, further inside the spacious barn.

The main army is still several hours away from reaching this farm, and no immediate threats can be observed by the party.

[sblock=Knowledge: Relligion]Geryk successfully identifies the two shadowy beings as Greater Shadows. He knows that they are incorporeal undead and that they are commonly considered strong spirits and are encountered exclusively as solitary manifestations.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 12, 2012)

Rufus keeps his greatsword raised and ready for a moment, breathing heavily. When it seems no more foes arise to plague him, he sighs and ends up burying his sword's point in the ground and leaning against it. The blond man regards his viciously-wounded and bloodied shoulder with a simple "Ow."

He wipes one hand against his brow and looks around. "Geryk, got any divine blessings for healing wounds? Or restoring several pounds of flesh?"


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## Scotley (Jan 12, 2012)

"My apologies Rufus, I was distracted by the strange things happening here. My experience with greater shadows such as those just vanquished is that they are usually singular. To find a pair seemingly working in conjunction with these other corporeal undead is a thing I've never heard or read of much less experienced. The oddity of encounter has left me quite flummoxed." He produces a wand and says a brief prayer which soon produces a warm glow that spreads from Rufus' chest to his extremities closing wounds and soothing pain as it flows. He turns his attention to the other combatants. 

OOC: Anyone else? 

[sblock=Rufus] Lessor Vigor fast healing 1 for 11 rounds. How serious are your injuries? [/sblock]


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## Shayuri (Jan 12, 2012)

Mei-Ying closes her hands together, producing a brief puff of force that expands outward, rustling grass and clothing and hair.

"We should see to the body," she suggests, "To make sure it does not rise again, and so her next of kin can be notified."


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 12, 2012)

Rufus stretches and gives a half-smile as his wounded shoulder stops bleeding. "Oh, I understand. Not every day we see... things like that. Though what with heading for the valley, it's likely we'll see more of such."

He purses his lips as the subject of the slain paladin is broached again. "The only ways I know of to be sure she doesn't rise involve dismemberment or burning her body, neither of which is a particularly respectful act, especially considering she was a paladin. Other than that, divine magic of the right sort, or so I've heard. I say we set her body on one of the horses and carry her back to the column. Sounded like she was a favored soldier and we should honor and respect her sacrifice."

[sblock=OOC]
That thing did a pretty good job of turning me into a chew toy. Took 50 damage, reduced to 39 after the first Lesser Vigor finishes up with me.
[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Jan 12, 2012)

Geryk sees that Rufus' wounds are quite serious. And he performs more healing magic. He also calls upon the power of the wand again. He then uses yet another wand. "These wounds are most stubborn. I hope you are wrong about encountering similar foes."

He turns his attention to the Paladin's body. "We should return her to the column with all haste. I believe we have completed the mission we were assigned and that we should get new orders. He glances at the structure. It would be remiss not to look inside, however." 

OOC: Give up Stone Shape for Cure Serious and another Vigor, Lesser for 11. Cure Light Wounds from wand.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 12, 2012)

[sblock]Kindly keep track of your charges in the RG.[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Jan 12, 2012)

Myth and Legend said:


> [sblock]Kindly keep track of your charges in the RG.[/sblock]




[sblock=M&L]Way ahead of you boss. Updated spell list and charges just after I posted.[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Jan 12, 2012)

Zinerath’s charge ground to a halt near Geryk; he almost had a moment to debate if he had even hit her before he noticed a dagger flying towards his face. 

Crimson eyes first narrowed until nothing but a glowing slit remained as the tiefling squinted at the blear of motion before his eye burst opened with realization, he batted at the knife while he also recoiled to avoid the projectile. “What!?!” he yelped as he fell backwards and struck the end of the knife’s handle with his scythe’s shaft, it wobbled through the air still keen to strike him in dead center, he knelled and dropped with a panicked flap of wings to avoid the projectile’s path, and he did, he dropped swiftly and it would have simply whizzed past, but then the thing, that was flying by magic in the first place, turned midair, adjusted to strike him square in the face, and then came to an abrupt, stone cold, halt, in front and above his head.

While the knife came to a relatively graceful halt, Zinerath, on the other hand, was spared such a dignity; he was already kneeling awkwardly and leaning back deeply, and had lost any resemblance of balance, much less grace, his wing fluttered about uselessly as he struggled to correct himself but only succeeded in flailing about like a ninny before falling onto his back, while kneeling. The knife then dropped and landed between his left horns, getting stuck in the ground between them as if to pin him in place. The elf then called out.

Zinerath , after coming to a complete and humiliating halt, rolled onto his feet, he got up in time to see Geryk apologizing to the elf, on his beneath, for moving her towards safety… after she accosted him with a flying knife for his trouble.

This annoyed him, greatly.

He grumbled and murmured  beneath his breath and trotted by towards the remains of the undead hulk; ichor dripped off his cloths and he soon stood over the remains of the fallen goliath; he smiled, he just found his stress relief Zinerath propelled one boot, harshly, onto the remaining half of the thing’s head, hooked his scythe around it’s neck and his smile stretched into devilish grin.
He pulled and listened and felt as the scythe cut and ripped and pulverized its way through the flesh, bone and marrow.
He breathed out vigorously as the black mist streamed through his teeth.

while he would have had to admit it would have been more satisfying if it was still moving, he was not going to let that spoil his fun for the next moment.
He hoped around its resently freed half a head, stood on its chest and right shoulder, and then drove the head back into the barn as if an oversized, misshapen, golf ball. Before he started to, yet again, sing to himself.
He then hooked the scythe under the remains yet again before cleaving its entire arm off as he had the head a moment before.

He then  set himself towards the things one good leg and drove the shaft into its knee and caused it to produce a glorious crunch, sundering the leg.
He then, with great glee, took to the task of shredding the remains exuberantly.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 12, 2012)

When there is no more Negative Enregy animating the undead hulk, the remains begin to rapidly decompose. Ripping up holes in the body allows for putrid vapors and splashes of yellow pus and rotted bodily fluids to spill outward with abundance. If the stench had been unpleasant before, right now it became nauseating.

A mixture of rotted innards, black and nearly cauterized blood squirting from an oversized liver turned black and all manner of yellow and brown muck of unknown but certainly unpleasant origins cover Zinerath's hands right up to the shoulders, and bits of rotted flesh get underneath his nails and stick across his garments and some even land on his face. 

The head he throws rolls inside the barn and waves the fine zombie dust from the floor and stops next to Adelaide's corpse.

[sblock]Zinerath: Roll a Fort save (DC 15) or be Nauseated for 2d4 rounds.

Thok, Rufus and Geryk: same roll, DC 10

Lórquelië and Mei-Yuin roll for DC 8

To avoid further rolls get yourselves at least 50 feet from the thing and wait for the stench to dissipate (about 10 minutes since there is a breeze).[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Jan 13, 2012)

That was… new… Zinerath was now properly covered in filth; it even soaked through his gloves and it got on his teeth and in his mouth. He was feeling a tad nippish before the fight, not anymore.

It was very unpleasant. 

He spat out a spoonful of black and yellow goo, greatly distressed, and cursed in Abyssal, Celestial, and half a dozen other tongues in protest to the stench and taste that was just forced on him while he surveyed himself and started to shack his arms and wings, to get the looser gunk off of himself, while still holding the scythe in his right hand, before stomping away from the barn in a fit, not caring if he did or did not make a further mess of the undead remains as he so while trembling a vaguely contained rage while he started to breath more deeply.

OoC: +15 at level 9, Zinerath’s fort save is just plain silly!


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## Malachei (Jan 13, 2012)

Lórquelië searched for words, then simply gave Geryk a nod for helping her up. She turned in rage to face the tiefling, but could not help but look confused at the demonchild's struggle. _Its wings..._ she thought, _leathery, batlike..._ She looked at him for a moment, then calmly said, "Keep your distance."

As the battle seems over, she turns towards the priest, and whispers, "The demonchild, why in all the Seldarines' name did you bring IT?" She shakes her head in disbelief, and takes a step forward to where the shadows had been last. Here, she touches the ground and sighs. "We may want to take a closer look at the house," she suggests to the others.


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## Zerith (Jan 13, 2012)

Zinerath wanted a bath; he partially coated in undead ichor and sprayed with it where it was not a solid coating.
“How was I supposed to know it would do… _That!_” Zinerath protested to no one in particular with great annoyance in a mixture of Draconic, Orcish and Goblin, very much agitated from the less then pleasant experience of being coated in the foul smelling goo before trailing off into celestial “Where is a down poor when you need one…” he complained whiningly while looking around as the glow in his eyes ebbed to nothing but a simple crimson hue.
He came to a halt, and panted briefly while he leaned on the staff to ketch his breath, as his burst of energy caught up to him. He sighed and then asked “dos anyone know were a river is?” in a pathetic blending of humility and agitation while flicking his lower left wing, freeing it of yet more gunk.

OoC: You still haz 8 dc fort save to make ;3


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## Shayuri (Jan 13, 2012)

Mei Ying watches the spectacle with Zinerath attacking the corpse for a moment; her only reaction being to move discretely upwind a bit.

However, at the suggestion that the house be checked, she looks up and nods a little too quickly, eager to be away from Zinerath's mess.

"I will check the house," she offered. Then she paused to see who else would volunteer.


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 13, 2012)

"Sweet merciful gods!" Rufus coughs out around a quick gagging motion. He backs away from the source of the putrid stench rapidly. "Didn't I voice a preference to _not_ start the morning with stench so awful I won't eat for a week?"

He coughs again and nods to the strange sorceress. "I'll go with. Anything to get further away from that horrid stink."


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## Scotley (Jan 13, 2012)

Geryk falls back from the unpleasant smell. "Zinerath you must learn foresight!"  He raises a hand to cover his nose and mouth. "We certainly should inspect the house, but I believe it best we wait a bit for the smell to subside in the barn."


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 13, 2012)

[sblock]Voda is on vacation until the end of the month, assume Thok follows along. I'll NPC him if needed.

There is no rain now, but last night there was quite a downpour and the grass is still wet.

The undead corpse is in front of the barn door, partially blocking the path towards Adelaide's body. The entrance to the House is facing the south and it's a good 80 or so feet from there, so it's not like you can't go in.[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Jan 13, 2012)

OOC: Post above edited to reflect my new understanding of the layout. I thought there was only one building. Thanks M&L


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 14, 2012)

The group enters the house, Lórquelië and Thok both had explored the main dining room and Thok had been upstairs in the corridor. The interior is as they had left it - it appears that a struggle took place, and probably during dining. The heavy oaken table is tipped over, the food on the ground spilled, the wooden bowels and spoons scattered.

The walls have claw markings on them, and cupboards have been ripped out of the walls or tipped. It appears that the door had been barred from the inside but Thok shares the story of how he climbed upstairs, slayed a ghost similar to the ones Geryk destroyed just now, and came down to open the door. He mentions a Halfing who had managed to squeeze trough the iron bars of the dining room's window, but he is not clear on who he was or what happened to him.

As of now, the inside of the house grows progressively darker and those without means to see in low light conditions can barely make their way without tripping in the scattered furniture. Thok, being a half-orc, can see fine and tells them he doesn't see any enemies in the room or the corridor behind it.

The corridor itself has two doors on the right side and one on the left, and ends with a staircase that leads to upstairs. The floor is wooden, with the planks giving the occasional creaking sound as one walks over them. By counting the chairs and bowls on the ground, one could estimate that this household had at least six people living in it.


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## Scotley (Jan 14, 2012)

Geryk takes out another wand and calls forth its power. A golden glow begins to emanate from from him lighting an area 30' around brightly and casting dim light twice that far. Slipping the wand away in its sheath he suggests trying one of the doors. "Could the inhabitants of this house have been some of the poor unfortunates in the barn? Beastly." 

OOC: Light of Mercuria duration 30 min. or until he uses it to blast undead.


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## Zerith (Jan 15, 2012)

Zinerath was getting used to being covered, even if he was not enjoying it; being fatigued from the fight did not exactly make him enjoy it any further.
he moved to door closest to him, readied his weapon, just in case, and then, if the door was closed, opened it with his boot  before moving into the room to investigate.

OoC: he has 60' dark vision, btw :3


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## Shayuri (Jan 15, 2012)

"Most likely," Mei-Ying opines as she cautiously trails after some of the doughtier members of the group. "Undeath strikes like a plague. First one...then everyone in a house. It can take whole villages if left unchecked."


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 15, 2012)

With everyone still behind, the demon child rushes forward and kicks open the first door on the right. It turns out to be a children's bedroom. It has two small cots and a baby carriage, all empty. The window is barred with iron bars, but light shines trough it otherwise. The room shows no signs of a struggle, apart from some woolen blankets that have been thrown to the floor. There is a wooden figurine of a knight on on one of the beds and a rag doll on the other.

The furniture is modest - a wardrobe, two small dressers and a flower pot that has a blooming red crescent plant in it.

[sblock]The corridor:

.._
.._
..[]
..[]
()[]()
..[]
..[]
..[]() < you are here
..[]

[/sblock]​


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## Scotley (Jan 15, 2012)

Geryk enters and utters a small prayer in a sorrowful voice for the lost children. He picks up the blankets and places them on a bed to be sure nothing is underneath.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 15, 2012)

There is nothing beneath the blankets. They are sized for children and are thus unsuitable for adults.


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## Scotley (Jan 15, 2012)

Geryk places the blankets reverently on the beds and suggests inspecting the next room. "What else might this house of horrors hold."


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## Shayuri (Jan 16, 2012)

"Nothing too horrible yet," Mei-Ying remarked. "Maybe they were all forced to move to the barn for some reason. One more door to check, then we move on."

She gave Zinerath, who appeared to have taken on the mantle of 'door-kicker-downer,' an expectant look.


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## Zerith (Jan 17, 2012)

Zintherath was starting to get used to the whole ‘covered in stinky undead gunk’ thing and was geting back to his unusual self, he peaked over to Mei-Ying, grinned, and then went over to the door and, politely, opened it, but assuming that the door would not open it, he would break it down, with an open palm.
He would then , while holding his scythe in his left hand, bow and usher her into the room with his right, before going to the apposing door, sundering it to pieces violently with his scythe, and then searching the room.


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 20, 2012)

[sblock][MENTION=38657]Malachei[/MENTION] [MENTION=54988]Dragonwriter[/MENTION] ring ring[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 20, 2012)

Rufus helps with the search, but doesn't expect to find much else here. 

[sblock=OOC]
Take 10 on Search for an 18 in each room.
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 21, 2012)

Rufus searches the children's bedroom quickly. He doesn't find anything of worth in the children's "treasure hoard" - a wooden sword, a helmet fashioned from an old tin pot, a half finished embroidery of a meadow with the sun shining over it are all the belongings the children had hidden away in a chest below one of the beds.

Next to the other bed he finds a piece of flat, grey rock, like one would find at the bottom of a rapid stream. It's the size of a man's palm, and it seems to have been used as a canvas. A set of eyes have been drawn with white chalk, watching from what appears to be darkness around. It is a somewhat disturbing drawing for a child to make.

The door opposite  of the children's bedroom and a bit further down the hallway is a room used as a toolshed, with a door on the other end of the small room that leads to the barn. The toolshed holds nothing of note apart from farming implements, two saddles, a woodcutter's axe and a hunting knife of obviously mundane quality.

Zinerath's thin arms covered with wiry muscle, hold deep reserves of unexpected strength. His scythe flashes and tears the toolshed's door to splinters with a loud crack. A second hit dislodges the remaining pieces of wood from the hinges and sends them flying across the room.

Going back to the corridor and across it lies the final third door and to the left is the staircase that goes up. The door across the hall is barred, and it takes Zinerath several minutes to break it open as it is a bit thicker than the other one and it had a thick wooden beam reinforcing it from the inside.

The room beyond reveals a horrid image - this once was the master bedroom it seems. There is a wide, two person bed on the right, a barred window and a dresser with a mirror across the room, something of a luxury for common farm folk. Here the group discovers the inhabitants of this household, lying dead and lifeless with pale skin and unblinking eyes. A brown haired woman still clutches a baby's corpse close to her chest, both frozen in death as if this were a grim painting. The father, the little girl and her brother all lay scattered about the room, still and empty, the remains simply reduced to hollow husks of what used to be vigorous bodies.

The little girl lies stiff and staring at the ceiling, she has auburn  hair and blue eyes. She appears to be wearing a medallion around her  neck. The little boy is brown haired and brown eyed, lying on his side  with the cudgel in his hand.

The father used to be a strong man, obviously having been used to the life of a  serf who toils for his liege-lord. He has a thin wedding band on one  finger, which matches with his wife's. The father's corpse still clutches a rusty longsword.

The family seems to have had barricaded itself in side the room and nothing had been able to break in until Zinerath came with his scythe. They appear to show no wounds or blood. Searching the room reveals a loose plank in the floor, where a small sack of gold lays hidden, as well as the Decree of Serfdom for this land and the house, signed and sealed by Baron James Balar of Angelwatch Shire.

[sblock]You find 34 gold, 22 silver and 56 copper pieces in the bag.[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Jan 21, 2012)

Geryk kneels and anoints each of the fallen family members with a bit of holy water drawing the symbol of Lathandar with it on their foreheads. "We much bury them properly lest they join the unquiet dead here about." He picks up the deed. "I suppose we should return this to their liege, Baron James Balar, and report to him what has happened." 

He takes a moment to examine the medallion around the little girls neck and the stone with the chalk eyes in more detail.

[sblock=skills]
Appraise + 1 = + 1 [Int] 
Knowledge (History)* +6 = 5 [base] + 1 [Int]
Knowledge (Arcana)* + 3 = 2 [base] + 1 [Int]
Knowledge (The Planes)* + 3 = 2 [base] + 1 [Int]
Knowledge (Religion)* + 10 = 9 [base] + 1 [Int]
[/sblock]


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## Shayuri (Jan 21, 2012)

"Too late for that, I suspect," Mei-Ying says softly...even her stoicism cannot completely shield her from the tragedy that hangs thick in this room. "These were slain by the shadows, I think...we already put them to rest."

She glances at the papers, and when they're read aloud she scowls. "Baron Balar, housing his people in a place like this. The high blood of your land has no sense of its place, or its duties."


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## Malachei (Jan 22, 2012)

"Little is the care the human lords exert for their kin," the elf speaks. She had been a little behind, following the others almost soundlessly, except for the occasional movement of her silk robes. While wandering through the house and the area, Lórquelië closes her eyes and turns, as if wanting to take in her surroundings with an inner eye.

"What cursed existence they had become, is banished now, by the deed of Geryk. But what evil spirit has turned them into twisted reflections of their former selves?"

[sblock=OOC]

Lórquelië has Detect Magic active (persistent), she will use it from time to time.

[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Jan 23, 2012)

Zinerath was, entirely, unmoved by the scene, he looked at them boredly as his grin gradually faded as the others searched the room. He gauged their expressions and it perplexed him; the hulk, its lesser kin, and the ghostly specters were show no empathy, but the mere farmhands who had not been subjugated and forcibly risen were shown reverence. This had happened with before, even with Geryk, but it perplexed Zinerath all the same.

He pulled his left lip back and up while rolling his eyes in annoyance; he was going to recall this later if the elf, or one of the others, gave him any grief latter. He breathed out through his nose with an annoyed sigh as he approached the bed and plucked off the blanket, walked over to the father, and draped it over the corps, taking care to make sure the head, and face, was entirely veiled, he then went back to the bed and repeated the process, covering both the boy and girl with the over sheet and then the mother and infant with the under sheet. He did so carefully, making sure the gunk on his hands did not get on or otherwise touch the bodies, and with purpose, but lacked any remorse, or feelings of any kind, towards the dead; it was a task entirely relatable to  making a bed to him, and making a bed for someone, or ones, who no longer cared at that.

It was annoying, but it was something Geryk would likely appreciate him to do, and that made it worth doing for those who could not see hear or feel.
  Once he finished the task he then looked at the room once more, and settled on the mirror, he gaged its size, anything larger than a small window he would take note, if it was a full length mirror he would keep his eyes on it and makes sure it was at least two arms reach away.  Before asking, any of the casters in general “Do we know if that is cursed or otherwise enchanted?” while pointing at the mirror, _if_ it was full length.
If the mirror was small enough that he did not much care about it he would, hesitantly, turn from it and leave the room before searching the grounds for a shovel and then survey the area for a cliché spot for some graves, before setting to work digging them, he was already filthy, he might as well be filthy, sweaty, and dirty.


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## Shayuri (Jan 30, 2012)

Mei-Ying shakes her head. "I didn't sense any magic on it," she says.

"We should return quickly. They need to know the dangers their scouts will face."


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## Scotley (Jan 30, 2012)

"Agreed, this is a serious matter and should be passed up the chain of command. I would also be curious to know what else the patrol might have seen out here."


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## Myth and Legend (Jan 30, 2012)

After careful studying and recollection the Cleric can't adequately pinpoint the nature of the girl's amulet, but he does recall that this symbol might have been mentioned in a book on ancient extinct cults.

[sblock]Do you bury the girl with the amulet or do you take it off her corpse?[/sblock]

The group has some trouble in digging proper graves, as the earth is sticky and clay like after last night's showers. By the time the remains of the farmers have been laid to rest the sun is already heading towards the hills that hide Angtelwatch and its walls from view.

Riding back to the army doesn't take long, as they have progressed along the main road and have just passed the junction with the dirt path that leads to the unfortunate farmer family and their residence. 

The group rides towards the head of the column, Adelaide's lifeless cadaver tied to her horse (who had been hiding nearby and was not hard to locate). The sight causes whispers and comments from the riders, and several representatives of Lathander's Temple ride to meet the scouting party.

"Lathander be merciful, what has happened!" the warrior clad in red and white - Galen of the Seven Lakes, shouts with distress as he approaches the group and briefly touches Adelaide's back with sorrow written on his face.

"Who has done this! And why was this allowed to happen! ANSWER NOW!"

He shouts, raising the attention of everyone who is close by.


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## Scotley (Jan 30, 2012)

[sblock=M&L]It was my intent to take the amulet and the stone with the face. However, in re-reading my post I see that I did not state so explicitly. If you'll pardon the oversight I would like to have them with us.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 30, 2012)

Rufus halts and holds up a hand, open-palmed, to the distressed warrior. "Please calm yourself, milord. When we found the scouting party, they had been set upon by undead at a small farmhouse up ahead. This young woman was already slain by the time we got there. The half-orc and the elven woman know more about what happened, but from what they've said, there was little that could be done. The undead are once again destroyed and the murdered family laid to rest," he explains in a calm voice.


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## Shayuri (Jan 31, 2012)

"The undead in the barn were in number, and powerful...some of them unclean spirits...others cloaked in the flesh of the dead," Mei-Ying said without rancor, greeting the priest's rage with unflinching calm. "Future scouting parties should be larger and prepared for greater danger as we progress through the Valley."


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## Zerith (Jan 31, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath, never bothering with a horse in the first place, had tasked himself with guiding the horse by the rains as they traveled, he was tired, from the fight, and his clothing was still covered in filth of both the natural and the  unnatural verities and had taken back to his hood and cloak since they started traveling; when they were confronted he let go of the reins and stepped aside while nudging the horse forwards before stepping to the side and behind the rearmost horse of the parties horses  [/FONT]


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## Scotley (Jan 31, 2012)

"We encountered both Greater Shadows and a Ghoul of larger size than I have ever before encountered as well as a host of lesser undead which I put down with the power of Lathandar."


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## Voda Vosa (Jan 31, 2012)

Thok remains in contemplating and respectfulness silence while the party scrutinizes the house, retrieves the bodies and buries them.
The ride back is pleasent, even with the stench of the gore covered demon lad and the corpse of the lady paladin. Thok twitched his nose from time to time, but that was all he did about that. Perhaps it made him remember the clan wars he had fought, the stench of the dead in the battlefield, the corpses smashed beneath the heavy orc iron boots. 
As Sevenlakes makes a scene, and Rufus points out at him, Thok speaks up, with a voice so thick and booming that even the trained warhorses puffed and unsettled upon hearing it.
*"Thok!" *he pounds his chest with his clawed hand. *"Great warrior. Thok saved elf, and others, who were cowards and run away. But good girl in armor was dead when Thok reached the not-dead. She was bold, and stupid, won't hear Thok advise, and now is dead. She was nice though."* the crude truth escaping from Thok's mouth was like a mace hitting the red clad warrior in the head.


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 1, 2012)

The man is clad in full plate and wields a shield, all made of an alloy that gives off a crimson gleam. Seven blue ovals on a green field are depicted on the coat of arms on his shield and breastplate, likely related to his house's name.

He approaches and removes his steel gauntlets, touching a lock of hair as he regards the lifeless body strapped to the saddle. He warily glances at the silent demon child but responds to Rufus, Geryk and Me-Yuing.

"A barn you say. A farmhouse then? Attacked by the undead... And Adelaide... How did she die? Where is her sword?"

It is then that Thok speaks, and galen turns to face him, wide-eyed with anger and with an expression of shock on his face.

"Stupid! You - he pauses and breathes out, regarding Rufus's damaged armour and Zinerath's clearly worn state. - hm. Perhaps I should allow you leniency as you seem to lack the necessary skill in speaking the Common tongue of Muirlane. Yes indeed, she was... "_nice"_ and a good woman. A true paladin of Lathander, one who was following in both her father's footsteps and those of Lazarus. She was eager to prove herself and bold beyond reason. Peace be upon her."

Galen pauses and remounts his horse. The column had slowly been passing by, and more and more people who used to know the fallen paladin started to flock around them. The commotion was noted, even as conversations started humming about, and several different warriors or clerics asked the adventurers of what transpired, and how they were unable to aid Adelaide. More and more people mentioned Ferviel and a means to revive her back to life trough Lathander's favor. It doesn't take long for the Dawnbringer to ride back to the group, accompanied by Lazarus Trimenheim, the leader of this mission.

"Well, crap on a shiny stick! - mumbles the cleric of Lathadner as he regards the scene. His face resembles that of a man who is used to eating sour food and now tasted something even he found appalling. - Some scouting mission! Lazardus, if I may, we should pitch camp. It's getting dark and a perimeter must be set."

The paladin clad in golden plate regards the scene with is blue eyes, his face carved of stone but yet with a hint of sorrow and disappointment creeping in his gaze.

"Indeed Dawnbringer." - he turns towards the distraught warrior - "Galen - ride to the captains and let them know that we are stopping our march for today. Find a suitable location on elevated ground that is at least two hundred yards from anything larger than a shrub. See to the tents and make sure that a perimeter is established - torches, bells, stakes around the stables, the armoury and the provisions! The scouting parties will assemble in my tent as soon as they have tended to their tents, mounts and gear. You have two hours."

Ferviel sighs and dismounts his destrier. He approaches Adelaide's body and examines her wounds. "She has been rent asunder - bitten in the neck, and her chest opened up by claws. If I didn't know better I'd have said a bear did this. What in Lathander's holy name did you find?"

"Ghouls and Shadows is what Geryk said." Galen says dryly as he mounts his steed. He doesn't seem too impressed with the creatures.

"If a Ghoul did this then I'm the bloody Princess." Ferviel responds and looks at his fellow cleric. "Help me get her down, and tell me everything that happened. The rest of you - come with me, brother Tobias will see that your mounts and tents are attended to. You - he regards Zinerath with a penetrating gaze. - You need that filth washed off you. Step away from the others."


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 1, 2012)

Thok smiled inside, as the crimson clad warrior ran out of words, knowing he, Thok, was right. Thok is indeed a great warrior, and an intelligent one.

*"It was a big Ghoul."* Thok declared, rising his hand a few inches above his own towering stature. Then with a rised eyebrow he adds *"You not bloody enough, nor feminine to be Bloody Princess."*


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## Zerith (Feb 2, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath smirked at the half orks closing comment, the like the blunt fellow’s mind set. Then the hawk nosed cleric made yet an other jab and order for him, Zinerath felt like
“Then I’ll return once I’m cleaned myself!” Zinerath chirped happily with a weary grin before sidestepping around ‘the other’s, and then cutting across almost directly under Ferviel’s nose, peaked a crimson eyed, gleeful glance at the cleric and whispered
“yet, we both know I’ll never be _cleansed_ to your liking.” in a blitzing grinning celestial breath as he walked swiftly past.

He then left to hind a stream, or other source of relatively clean, and expendable water; after doing so he would, in order, make sure none was around, and it was safe, clean his weapon, his cloths, and then himself before dressing and returning to the others, more than likely, dripping wet and smelling like _nature_: a noteworthy improvement but an odor that would persist just long enough to ruffle Ferviel’s feathers while being able to call the cleric a hypocrite if the old crow spoke about it.

He doubted Ferviel would bite  on the obvious bait, but he all but knew the old man’s reactions would be amusing![/FONT]


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## Scotley (Feb 2, 2012)

"You would have to have seen the undead to appreciate their unusual nature. I've more than a little experience with such foes and I have never before seen _greater_ shadows working in pairs. The ghoul was bigger than your horse. No ordinary foe. Adelaide died valiantly fighting an unexpectedly fierce foe, Lathandar rest her soul."


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 3, 2012)

"Stop, you crud covered child!" Ferviel grumbles as Zinerath removes himself from the vicinity of the group. "I have no time to wait for you to take baths. A quick wash will have to do."

Without saying anything more, he states. "Great Lord of the Morning, provide us with refreshing water!" as he waves his hand with an outstretched palm. In an instant, water appears above Zinerath's head and further from him, above the meadow to the side. Some of the mercenaries and paladins exclaim in amazement, as the water starts falling, as if a heavy downpour was pouring from the heavens.

"There. Now, Geryk, Greater Shadows you say? They have always been solitary yes. But Ghouls can't inflict such heavy wounds nor rend trough mail. Their most effective weapon is the paralysis they inflict upon the victim. This thing mauled Adelaide like a beast of the wilds."

Ferviel examines Adeliade's wound once more and declares. "Help me bring her over, my tent should be pitched by the time we get to the campsite. There are some things I want to tell you away from the ears of others."

[sblock=spellcraft DC 16]Ferviel casts Create Water.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 3, 2012)

"A normal Ghoul can't inflict those wounds, but this one was the size of an ogre. I can personally attest to the sharpness of its teeth," Rufus says with a slight grimace.

He quickly joins in to assist in transporting the slain paladin a bit further.


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## Zerith (Feb 4, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath stopped dead in his tracks when ordered to stop and made a sharp about face and began to chirp out a comment, but was cut off, and was half annoyed, by being drenched but at the same time, he was _not_ going to pass up the opportunity to get the unholy filth off himself; and if the cleric was going to get aggravated at seeing him without his hood up, we was only complying.

In the swiftest blinking of an eye, Zinerath throw back his hood and cloak with his hands and wings respectively before  going through the motions of vigorously whipping off the loser material from his hair and face while arching his wings back and forth to  rinse each side of each wing; when he felt that they were properly rinsed we would fold two behind his back before awkwardly cupping the other to catch the water for momentary use.
 after briefly washing his head, he would move onto  his over clothing and finally to his cloak if there was time, and if there was additional time, he revisit his hair and face to get them properly clean.

After the ‘rain’ gave out he would  then tend to his gloves,  taking them off and droping them into one of his wings, before briskly cleaning them off in the cupped water, and then inverting them to do the same to the inside, before then washing his hands in the water cupped in his other wing. He would then turn the gloves right side out and replace them before  then letting the water fall to the ground with a splash

“Thank you!” he would then chime  in the holy tongue while wringing out his cloak with a gleeful grin before rising his hood and finding, that it retained water quite well, and soaked his head, a drizzle  ran down across his brow and around his nose; he went cross-eyed as he looked at it in confusion, annoyance, and finally in amusement as he shrugged  before again nearing the party.

[sblock=OoC] I’m shocked none of the mages have taken to blasting the stink off of him with a spell given one of the catnips they can use :3[/sblock][/FONT]


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## Shayuri (Feb 4, 2012)

Mei-Ying nods to Ferviel, though she hasn't done much to help carrying the erstwhile paladin besides stand nearby and look disaffected. She does, however, trail after those doing the actual work and go towards Ferviel's tent to hear what more he has to say.

Beneath the mask of her face though, her mind struggled to maintain her equanimity. Confronted by irrefutable evidence of the power of their foes, the commanders continued to fuel internal division? They even went so far as to intimate doubt in their scout's stories? What was the PURPOSE of sending scouts who's testimony you would then refuse to accept? In the lands of the Empire, such officers would be...they would have been... 

She sighed. The odds were great that such men would have been tolerated, as long as they were of a powerful clan, or had a high ranking father. The Jade Legion conquered as much by overwhelming force as tactical brilliance. It was possible these men were of that kind...holding position not because of their sound battlefield judgment, but because of their rank in the Church that had sponsored this foray.

If so, she hoped that the Church's god really was looking out for them...because they'd be likely to need it before the end.

[sblock=OOC]He never asked. [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 6, 2012)

Thok shrugs. With his massive clawed hand, the half orc grabs the paladin by her stiff arm and swings her on his shoulder. It was a motion he had used before, when transporting female prisoners to.. well... his chambers. The fact that this time it was a slain paladin didn't seem to throw his move off balance, it seemed perfectly executed, with the apparent ease that only practice gives.


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## Scotley (Feb 7, 2012)

Geryk follows along with Ferviel providing a reverential escort to Thok's more pedestrian moving of the Paladin. "I would hear what you have to say and tell you more besides. The scene at the house was quite unnatural and disturbing," he says in a voice low enough to reach only the ears of Ferviel and his own companions.


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 10, 2012)

Ferviel nods to his fellow cleric of Lathander and leads the group over to where his tent has been raised. It falls outside the would-be main campsite as it it will still take several hours for it to be erected and secured. It is somewhat a solemn procession, apart from comments by the paladins of how disrespectful it is for their fallen comrade to be carried by a half-orc sellsword.

Ferviel had snapped at one of them _"I don't see you carrying her body so shut it you pompous arse!"_ The paladin had flushed bright-read but he had decided to stay his tongue, but whether because of Fervial outranking him in the church or because the middle-aged priest is one of the more infamous and renown heroes of Muirlane is unknown.

[sblock]For those who are from the country a DC0 Knowledge: Local or History will give you that Ferviel's name has been spoken of throughout Muirlane and in his younger days he has been very active in combating serious threats especially of the undead variety. His decision to drop the life of a wandering champion of Lathander and head the church of Lathander in Angelwach came about seven-eight years ago. For more specific details Knowledge checks will be needed.[/sblock]

The tent is spacious but modest. The furnishings are sturdy and suited for a campaign on the road. There is a bedroll directly on the ground, a small altar to Lathander and a large chest made of what appears to be solid Adamantine directly from the entrance. Next to the altar there are a foldable wooden table and chair with some papers and an ink pot on the table.

"Wait for a moment." The cleric tells Thok as he goes and retrieves a blanket from his bedroll. He spreads it over the grass covered ground and gestures to the half-orc to lay the body down. He does so, and Ferviel rummages trough his spell component pouch and produces a handful of clear gemstones.

"Now, before I bring the girl back, let me give you the reality of it. And don't you go flappin' your yaps around - this is for your ears alone!"

Ferviel looks at each member of the group - the enigmatic and aloof eastern woman, the reserved elven spellcaster from an Order Lazarus had requested aid from personally, the bulky half-orc warrior who had proven true to this otherwise quite human cause, the cleric of Lathander who had a well known past in the temple, the drenched and twitchy demonic child and the charismatic warrior who was in need of some new armour, missing a chunk of mail at his shoulder.

"There were others before you. First there was that band I hired and sent over to scout the Valley itself. I knew they couldn't get in you see, but somehow they managed to disappear. There was an obnoxious wizard, who disappeared last night. There was also a halfling who I see you haven't returned, dead or alive, so he has gone missing too.

Families have gone missing, and travelers. Entire caravans even. All was attributed to the Valley, but it's not that simple. I settled here years ago, knowing that the Valley of the Dead was in close proximity to Angelwatch. It's an old thing, older than Muirlane itself. It was here when the first settlers came to found Angelwatch atop some forsaken ruins. It's always had undead trouble, aye, that's why I came here. But I did my duty well - I smote and smote and smote some more, until no dead would step an inch outside the gatehouse. That's when I petitioned the church for the Lychgate to be built"

Ferviel clears his throat and positions himself on the ground, taking an aluminum plate from a leather backpack near his bedroll and placing the diamonds inside.

"It's an artifact of Lathander - blessed by Him personally. It's sealed from the outside and no man, beast, undead or anything can go trough it from the other side. And nothing has - until recently. Truth be told I have prayed to my lord Lathander for a vision but the answers were, as you could imagine, uncertain. Gods rarely speak plainly and even rarer is for them to appear in a frank manner before their faithful. What I do know is that something smells here, worse then the snatch of a Careshean whore."

Ferviel takes out his mace and proceeds to break the diamonds he had produced into finer particles, and continues to talk.

"The Lychgate is intact, I've made sure well before the Order of Aster came to act all heroic and prance about in their golden armours. So whatever the bloody hells is happening, the answer is not what everyone thinks. Since the Valley has undead in it everyone's go-to reaction is_ "If there's toruble, the Valley must be the source of it."_ Well I tell you right now that I don't know what's going on, but caution and vigil must be used. And smarts. And Lathander fill my arse with fire, but apart form Lazarus the rest of this lot are as blind and narrow as starved bats!"

Ferviel pauses, and gathers the diamond dust in one end of the bowl and looks around. Seeing as how no fire would be filling anything of his at the moment, he continues:

"So, most of these paladins and other such holy warriors if you will, are here for the sake of being holy and being recognized as warriors. Ain't one third of them that has even seen anything scarier than a skeleton or zombie. The mercs, well most of them are worse - they don't care for being holy or honourable, they only care for the deep pockets of Lathander's Temple. Not that I don't know you lot are the same, but at least from the lists and scouting you seem the most capable."

Ferviel mumbles something that sounds like _"As if that's reassuring"_ but he continues in a strong voice immediately after:

"So then, we have green boys, pompous fops, narrow minded zealots, a few good men like Lazarus and Galen, myself and you lot. So since I'm joint leader of this bloody farce, I have to rely on you to get to the bottom of what's really going on. That farm was attacked by undead that could easily take out a village on their own. I ain't never encountered Greater Shadows around the Valley. Not that there probably aren't some _somewhere_ but there have been none since my coming here up until we slammed the Lychgate shut. Someone or something is making a show - that such formidable undead would appear right on our path makes me think that someone wants the Valley assaulted"

Ferviel pauses while he positions a holy symbol of Lathander made of gold on Adelaide's forehead and readies the diamond dust and some holy water.

"What's going to happen is that this slow moving force will eventually get to the Lychgate. Knowing Lazarus, we'll probably set up a fortified camp close to it, he will make me open it and then we will send the bulk of the force inside. That's going to be fun - a whole bunch of green or untrustworthy men, some girls" he regards Adelaide with pity "and me and Lazarus, going inside what I know to be severely undead infested lands. All that while the bloody gate stays open for whatever or whoever wants it to be so!"

Ferviel pauses and opens some holy tome, and positions himself next to the paladin's corpse.

"So, can I count on you to find out what in the bloody nine is going on?"

[sblock]  @Voda Vosa   @Malachei   @Dragonwriter   @Shayuri   @Zerith   @Scotley  wow... I was working until 9.30 PM on a Friday night.. But that made my desire to plunge into the wonderful world of DnD all the more intense  [/sblock]


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## Scotley (Feb 11, 2012)

"By the grace of Lathander we will." He watches the preparations with interest. The divine might of Lathander at work was always a joy to watch. "We may have little enough to share so far, but here it is. The family seemed to know something was trying to get them. They were all barricaded in the master bedroom upstairs. Nothing had broken in yet they were all dead lifeless husks unmarked by claw or sword. I suspect the shadows got them. Anyway, one of the children had drawn on this rock." He presents the rock with the image of the eyes watching from the darkness. "Something may have been watching them for some time or perhaps it is merely a child's fancy, but something about it disturbed me." He also brings out the necklace with the strange amulet on it. "Do you know what this represents? One of the children was wearing it. It seemed familiar, but I could not place it."


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 11, 2012)

Rufus smiles uneasily, shrugs, and nods. "Aye, I suppose we can at least give it a go... But, speaking for myself here, I'm a warrior and a storyteller, not a conspiracy-hunter. Though I suppose the tale of breaking whatever evil is seeking to manipulate these events would make a grand story... I'm game, but not promising any sort of results on this matter."


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## Zerith (Feb 11, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath grew a tortured grin when Ferviel mentioned he could ‘bring the girl back’ before it was torn asunder by a grimace.
His brows crunched down, he backed to the rare of the group and shrank, as if to cower; a brief and silent, but harsh, sound forced it way through clenched teeth and quivering jaw. His eyes darted down and away while they filled with great and inwardly bent venom. 
His quaking poster ebbed lower and his hood fell over his face, obscuring it fully, as he recalled that which he could not forget nor forgive as his poster withered further.

Looked towards the ritual as the diamonds were crushed, he nearly had the will to leave the shadowy shell of his heavy and drenched cloak to dare a request of the veteran cleric as the began to lift an outreaching hand, but fisted it tightly and let it drop back into the darkest recesses of the cloak’s shadows before it reached the light of the tent.[/FONT]


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 12, 2012)

*"Ok"* is the short answer from Thok. Although he seemed not very bright, the task of ensuring the safety of the area itself was withing Thok's expectations. Granted, battling undead until your arms fall apart would have been more fun that pursing clues and finding some hidden necromancer or whatever, but whatever works!


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## Shayuri (Feb 12, 2012)

Mei-Ying's eyebrows lifted as she perceived that underneath Ferviel's admirable perception and grasp of the situation ran a deep current of cynicism. It was perhaps inevitable, she reflected, as Ferviel was not merely a holy man but also a warrior. From her time among the monks, she remembered vividly that all of the old ones, all the Masters, who knew practices and techniques that would kill with a touch and pierce the hardest armor...they were all men of peace, even pacifists. She had often wondered at how men who trained as warriors could become so. Ferviel was a hint of an answer. A life of war made you like the great monks...who had found peace within...or like Ferviel, who no longer believed in peace.

It was a little sad, but nothing she had the power to change.

As for the current situation, it seemed simple enough. A magic barrier sealed most of the undead in the valley. Now it seemed something was trying to goad them...the only ones able to open the barrier...into removing it.

"Anything that can command undead like that will be powerful," she remarks. "beings of power sometimes find it difficult to hide, if one knows how to look. I believe we will have to return to the farm to pick up the trail."


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 13, 2012)

The cleric looks at the group with a solemn expression and retorts with his usual gruff voice.

"Going back to the farm is pointless and anyone straying from the camp after dark is dangerous. Don't mistake my meaning - your main task is still the security of this force and the participation in the expedition to the Valley. I might even be wrong, the dead things might have found another way to leave the Valley, who knows... I just wanted you all to be on your guard and to be wary of deceit. I want to know what's going on and stop people from disappearing and turning up dead. Dark nercromancers don't bother me over much unless they mess with the simple folk. We haven't had any around here though - the Baron's men and the various Temples would be too meddlesome for such pursuits of magical study."

He looks at the stone and the amulet and scratches his short blond hair. "I've no idea what that stone is but it looks too eerie for a child to draw on her own. The amulet, I think I might have something on it but you'll have to leave it here and I'll have to consult some books. It will take time, and that's something I don't have in abundance right now."

Ferviel nods as he produces his own holy symbol made of gold and begins chanting, while sprinkling the diamond dust on the dead body:

"Lathander, Lord of Morning, God of the Sun, Bringer of Light, Patron of Youth, Father of Redemption, I call upon Thee to return this woman, Adelaide Swiftblade, back to us, so that she may yet walk her path and serve her purpose, so that she may know the joy of many more mornings to come and so that she may spread thine own radiance amongst her fellow men."

As he chants, bright light erupts from his eyes and palms, much like the one that came from Geryk when he smote the undead. This light however, seems to move as if it were mist blown by the wind, or strips of silk floating trough the air. It brushes Adelaide and covers her, returning colour to her cheeks and lifting her body a few inches from the ground. The paladin's back twists in an abrupt arch and she wheezes in a breath of air as her eyes stare blankly at the ceiling of the tent.

Ferviel stops his chanting, the light fades and there is no trace of the diamonds. Adelaide looks about with confusion, her cheeks a bit hollow, her eyes with dark bags underneath them, but otherwise alive and of seemingly sound health.

"Wh... what is going on?" She looks about with confusion. "Dawnbringer Ferviel. And... Thok? Wh... where am I? Who are the rest of you?"

Ferviel sighs and gets up. "You're lucky I know your father, girl. Now lay still, your wounds are still dire." He produces a wand from a satchel on his belt and blue light washes over his hands and onto Adelaide. He turns to face the group.

"You lot, how prepared are you for another van mission tomorrow? I have some trinkets with me - emptied most of the worthy items from my stores and from the merchants in Angelwatch. Lathander's Temple is rich, if nothing else. Anyone need anything? I don't want any more corpses hauled back to me."

[sblock=spellcraft DC 20]Ferviel casts Raise Dead.[/sblock]

[sblock=spellcraft DC 18]Ferviel casts Vigor from a wand.[/sblock]

[sblock=OOC]@Voda Vosa   @Malachei   @Dragonwriter   @Shayuri   @Zerith   @Scotley *update.* Where the hell is Malachei.. :/[/sblock]


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## Zerith (Feb 13, 2012)

Zinerath continued with his meek manner until a moment after Ferviel had finished speaking, he mumbled something beneath his breath and then straitened back out again, reclaiming is full, merger, stature and returning to his old, if tired, self; his lower face was again meet by light and he gave a chirpily, weary answer. “I could do with a rest, a _proper_ bath, and something to dry off with, but aside from that, I’m ready to butcher another…” he spoke as if he was talking about playing some kind of child’s game, that he just so happened to enjoy, a little too much, but his sentence stalled for a moment as he strove to find the right words, he did not want to come off as rude; he _was_ going to say ‘Paladin slayer’ but the woman had just gotten over a rather dire case of dead. He raised his right hand to his chin in thought for a moment; inadvertently showing the shadowy vestige of his wings as the dim crimson of his eyes wandered to hers.

“… Undead hulk.” He chimed after a very brief delay before lowering his hand from his chin and darting his eyes back to Ferviel’s, Zinerath’s own then narrowed and then his brown hoooked down and scrunched  together with anxiety while his lip pulled back in a similar manner into a slight frown, he trembled for a moment, and then cast his eyes downwards in defeat before making an about face and leaving the confines of  Ferviel’s tent stopping outside of it, in sight and well within hearing distance.


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 13, 2012)

*"You can undo death? Thok impressed." *The half orc muttered as the man recited the spell. He gave a step back, as the spell made effect, but as the young paladin raised and addressed him, Thok gave a few steps forward. He loved his name. *"Thok, yes. Thok glad you ..."* the orkish warrior strugles with the common. *"..good-not-dead now. Thok and these destroyed the bad-not-dead in your honour. It might have been little anticipated."*

Thok gives a look at Ferviel, *"Thok could take a looky, perhaps something to protect Thok against bad-not-deads"*


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 13, 2012)

Rufus watches the ritual intently. When Adelaide rises again and begins asking questions, he smiles. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Lady Paladin. Name's Rufus."

He faces Ferviel and shrugs. "I'm up for more tomorrow. Any of your trinkets capable of warding off Shadows and the like, or mitigating their touch?"


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## Zerith (Feb 14, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath looked upwards at the rapidly darkening sky before he spat beneath his breath “ideal reflections are worthless.” Before returning to the tent and again looking Ferviel in the eye.
[FONT=&quot] his lip tugged momentarily to the side in a twitch before his face become bare of any notable emotion[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] “I do not like the idea of having to face more shadows, or other apparitions, that can’t be harmed by my weapons, do you have anything that can reliably smite such undead?  I’d prefer something I can wield with both hands; perhaps something with some weight like a Greataxe or Falchion?” he asked flatly, he would not have denied that his true preference was fore another scythe, but he doubted the cleric would have a ghost slaying scythe on hand.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][/FONT]​


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## Shayuri (Feb 14, 2012)

"I have not seen many objects of power in these lands," Mei-Ying said curiously. "I'm not entirely sure which among your collection would suit me best. If I might have a chance to briefly inspect them before deciding?"


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## Scotley (Feb 14, 2012)

"Anything you could spare would be put to good use. There are several crystals that enhance weapons or armor which could aid our cause, anything that might help with divination could help us with that mystery. I would very much have like to have been able to speak to the dead at the farm in hope of finding more answers. I knew a priest many years ago who had a belt of priestly might which both protected him from harm and enhanced his strength in battle. There are rods which could enhance my spell casting in a variety of ways that could benefit us."


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## Malachei (Feb 15, 2012)

Lórquelië remained silent. The neutral expression of the noble elf did not betray the turmoil that was inside her. There was something here that  felt familiar, in a bad way. The thought hurt her, and her hand was clenched, unable to extend itself. When she saw the cleric return their comrade from the lands beyond, Lórquelië felt in part sadness, and in part hope. _For my kind, death is not the solution_, she thought.

She brought herself to agree with the orc warrior, and chime in, "Indeed, impressed, as well." The orc who called himself Thok had risen in her eyes, perhaps because he had fought bravely, or perhaps because they had a demon-child in their small band now, and _orcish blood was the lesser of two evils._

Turning to the paladin, she calmly spoke, "I am glad that you return, and have your seven heavens wait for you. Coming back must be a sacrifice, I understand, and I thank you for it." Paladins and their heroic deeds... perhaps they were so eager to take risks because they firmly believed that the world that awaited them beyond was so much more pleasant than the one we had to cope with here. The Noldorin shrugged. That was no concern to her, and her people, whose custom was to retreat to the fabled lands of Everaska.

Turning to the others, she added, "A lesson we learn is to stay close. We could have saved her if we had." It was as much directed to the reckless paladin, and just to make sure, she whispered, "Be more careful next time."

..........

When Ferviel steered talk to the tasks at hand, Lórquelië listened carefully. She did not know about military tactics of men, but what would an orc and a demon-child know about planning, and strategy? She had seen the impulsive nature that was in them, from their blood. She could not help but wonder what the Dawnbringer thought when he looked at this little band. "So, Dawnbringer, we are the vanguard, I presume?"

[sblock=OOC]

I'll talk about items in my next post, I felt it somewhat... ungrateful... to experience raise dead and a magic item bargain in one post.

[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 15, 2012)

Ferviel nods and starts rummaging trough his chest. "Eh, I have a bills of purchase from Roland and Germa but my personal stores are not categorized. I have Bags of Holding stuffed with trinkets I've collected over the years. Best put them to use now, I meant to equip those who are of worth from the start. The Temple will compensate me anyway."

Ferviel rummages trough his pockets and hands Mei-Yin and Lórquelië  a detailed scroll with prices and purchased equipment listed.

[sblock]The scroll details nearly the whole inventory of what one would assume can be found in a town the size of Angelwatch. See the OOC thread for details.[/sblock]

"Let me see what I can find for you boys. Geryk since you're a member of the Temple I'm holding you responsible for the items I bestow on the group. If they turn up sold instead of put to use it's on your head, got it?" The cleric starts rummaging trough the adamantine chest.

Adelaide's wounds begin closing, aided by Ferviel's magic. She still seems confused about her situation.

"I...I died? - she blushes and clenches her fist. - Thank you for retrieving my body, truly. I owe you a debt. And to you Dawnbringer, I am sincerely grateful for bringing me from the afterlife. I have a chance to redeem my honour now!"

She seems frustrated but determined. She smiles at Rufus and her cheeks redden even more. Then Lórquelië passes her comment and the paladin lights up bright-red and casts her eyes downward.

While still going trough the chest, Ferviel speaks.

"Yeah, you are the vanguard. You two are the only arcanists we have right now, Geryk is the next in rank after me as far as clergy goes and the lads with the swords have proven to be good at swinging them I suppose. Galen chose them, I don't know. Well I've seen the half-orc swing a blade at Bolgirm and live to tell the tale, so that's something at least."

He then pauses and turns back.

"Crap! Bolgrim and his boys are at the rear and haven't reported yet. Let's get you your gear, I need to check why they have not reported yet!"


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## Scotley (Feb 15, 2012)

"I will be happy to keep account of the items, but there are better ways to make money that what we are doing here. I think if any of us were just looking for profit we'd have long sense sought greener pastures." 

Geryk grabs his gear and prepares to depart.

"How far back was Bolgrim? If the rear of the expedition has been compromised Angelwatch itself may be in peril."


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## Malachei (Feb 15, 2012)

Lórquelië nodded, "I thank you, Dawnbringer. Fear not, as Geryk spoke, this cause is connected to us, and we are bound to it." She paused, grabbing her horse's reins and then added, "And generosity, though more than welcome, has to wait if lives are in danger. We shall investigate the rearguard first."


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 15, 2012)

*"Thok thanks for stuff. Thok hopes to destroy lots of bad-not-dead with their aid."* the warrior thanks the high priest, with a fist on his chest. Hearing about the dwarf, a hint of worry dawns in his face. *"Dwarf in danger? Dwarf great warrior, as great as Thok, we check."*


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## Shayuri (Feb 16, 2012)

Mei-Ying nods and folds the list, slipping it into one of her pouches. She then climbs up onto her horse.

"It is a wise leader who treasures the lives of his command above material things. We will return with news."

And with that she set off towards the rear of the army, though at a gait that would be easy for the others to catch up to.


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 18, 2012)

Rufus shrugs and hauls at his pack, making it a little more comfortable between his shoulders. "Aye, best check post-haste. 'Twouldn't do to have us all literally bit on the arse for our negligence," he declares with a wry chuckle.


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 18, 2012)

Ferviel takes a few minutes, searching trough various bags and containers, returning retrieved items, setting some aside, then searching once more.

He grunts approvingly and hands Rufus and Thok two suits of armour. One is a suit of matte, grey coloured steel mail. It glows eerily with a dim green light. The other one is a suit of half-plate that looks particularly clean and bright - in fact, it almost seems to shine with its own light.

"Use em' well, they'll protect you. Here, I'll give something to make them better. This is from me."

He hands Thok and Rufus several glass bottles filled with a blue substance that glows with magic. Some glow more brightly then others.

The Cleric then sizes up Zinnerath and grunts, but returns to his chest and in a minute he produces a halberd, glowing with the ever familiar blue glow of magical enchantments.

"This is a good weapon - it's one of the Golden Guard's Halberds of Redemption. There's more of them around Muirlane but this was the only one I could find on short notice. Galen didn't want it, his sword is better he says. Don't - Ferviel shakes his finger at Zinnerath - break it!"

The cleric regards Geryk for a moment and rubs his chin. "Talking to the dead you say. Well I must admit for all my years as a cleric of Lathander, accepted amongst the Radiant Servants, I've never thought of talking to them. Little good will it do to you though. Zombies and skeleltons are as dumb as the dirt they rose from, and shadows and ghosts can't speak.

The only undead thing I've ever decided to take interest in and not smite immediately is the White Lady. She seems to have knowledge and sentience beyond that of a regular banshee. She's never spoken to me however, and I doubt I want to hear her wail haha!" The priest chuckles as he regards his own belt, adorned with yet another sunrise of Lathander  made of rose, red, and yellow gems.

"A belt. Well I can give you my old one, I got this one enchanted last year and it's much better. Let me see If I can find it here... somewhere."

He returns to his chest and after a moment produces a belt with a holy symbol of Lathander on it.

"Here you go, use it well Dawnbringer. I have nothing that will let you speak with the dead. As for Divination, I'll give you a pair of scrolls that will aid you with the necessary magical ceremony for contacting our Lord Lathander. As for the rods - I have rods of metamagic. I also have some other items you might want, but that will have to wait. Let's be off!"


[sblock=Items]*Ghost Touch, Light Fortification Chainmail +1*
*
Ghost Touch, Commander (MiC) Half-Plate +1*

He gives you two oils of *Magic vestment +4* and five oils of *Magic vestment +1*

The Halberd of Redemption is not a special item or artifact - they are  standard issue enchanted weapons. Knowledge rolls or asking will reveal  more information on who they were made for. This one (and most of the  other standard issue ones) is a 

*+2 Ghost Touch, Undead Bane Halberd*

Ferviel's old belt:

*Belt of Priestly Might (MiC)* combined with a *Belt of Battle (MiC) *in one item.

He hands Geryk two *scrolls of Commune*.[/sblock]

Upon exiting his tent you see that a good deal of time has passed. The sun has already set on the horizon and it's already dark outside. In the darkness, the glow of the magical items is more apparent - especially the auras around Ferviel and the new equipment he gave the party. Ferviel's eyes glow wtih a blue-green hue.

"I can see in the dark, but apart from he half-orc and the elf I think the rest of you are in need of help. Hold on."

He produces a wand and casts a spell from it - a mix of blue and yellow energy creeps up his arm and jolts at a nearby cavalry standard depicting Lathander's holy symbol. It immediately bursts with bright light, as if day has dawned around it. Ferviel grabs the standard and locks it in the slot at his saddle.

He then turns towards a silent, robed figure waiting patiently near his tent. It appears to be a man clad in red and white robes, with the top of his head shaved.

"Brother Tobias, please see to the tents for the vanguard and also let Lazarus know we are checking on the rear before we go to him."

The man bows silently and enters the tent, while the group rides off. You attract a fair amount of attention, with a bubble of light around your horses spreading out for 120 feet, and with Ferviel riding at the head of your column. It seems that some have already went to erect the campsite and you can see torches flickering in the distance, light gleaming off the occasional white tent, and the sounds of shouting and hammering can be heard. The camp seems around 800 yards to your north (you have been traveling east from Angelwatch and are now retracing your steps back)

Some of the riders, at least those who are less organized or have neglected to bring tents and mounts, are still along the road and occasional mercenary companies have decided to light cooking fires at random spots in the meadow between the road and the main camp.

"Hah, Lazarus will have their hides, bloody idiots! Everyone will have to camp together. If anything, the man knows his war and discipline. Now, listen, this flag will serve as a pivot. If you are injured, return back to my destrier an grab a potion from my saddle pouch. Draw the enemy in the light if you can."

The hooves thunder in the night, the horses running well with the guidance of the now magically enchanted standard. Crickets can still be heard, despite the autumn chill that has set in, and the grass rustles with the wind that arises from the north. Up in the sky, you can see the bright constellations sprinkled across the pitch black sky dome.

Suddenly, you hear voices. Many of them, shouting in unison, gruff and deep. In a few moments it becomes clear that this isn't shouting but... singing?

"... AND SO A LADY CAME TA ME, CAME TA ME, CAME TA ME,
AND SO I MADE HER BARE HER KNEE, BARE HER KNEE, BARE HER KNEE,
_
"I AM BRIMMIR OF MOUNTAINS RED!"_ I SAID AS I PICKED HER UP,
_"I KNOW - THAT'S WHY I'M IN YOUR BED!" _SHE LAUGHED AS I FELT HER CUP!_"

_Thundering, drunken laughter can be heard from down the road. The groups soon encounters a party of several dwarves, walking towards them, some covered with stains of dried blood, one with a keg of what appears to be ale, tied to his back, all of them grasping filled tankards, and the last two dragging something behind them, tied with ropes.

"Let's do _"The Headsman's Axe"_ again Bolgrim!" shouts one of the dwarves, a stocky, muscular fellow dressed only in a linen shirt. He laughs as he speaks, and drools ale on his black beard.

[sblock=Spellcraft DC = 18]Ferviel casts Daylight from a wand.[/sblock]

[sblock=Notification for update]@Voda Vosa   @Malachei   @Dragonwriter   @Shayuri   @Zerith   @Scotley [/sblock]


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## Zerith (Feb 19, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath whistled with a broad grin and sarcastically playful innocence after taking the weapon gleefully when told not to break it; he, yet again, opted not to take a mount and simply hustled behind them… while feeling the burn.
He was feeling tired, more tired than he thought he was and he was having some, mild, difficulties in keeping up, he did not  think he could push himself into a full run, but for the time being he did not see the need to do so.

He was breathing deeply by the time the party could clearly hear the dwarves singing.
It was not much of a secret, but Zinerath had a great fondness of song, any kind of song, and of language, they were singing and the odds were they knew dwarven; that they were dragging something behind them only made things more interesting.
He hustled towards them  further, he would have given a shout but he decided to give the cleric a chance to talk instead,  he was a bit out of breath anyways
[/FONT]


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 19, 2012)

"Now here I thought most dwarven songs were about gold," Rufus says quietly, with a chuckle.

He lets his horse slow a bit and leaves either Thok, who seemed to have a little history with this Bolgrim, or Ferviel handle chatting with the rowdy dwarves.


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## Scotley (Feb 19, 2012)

"Thank you holy father," says Geryk gratefully as he straps on the belt and tucks the scrolls into his case. He looks at the Golden Guard's Halberds of Redemption given to Zerith considering what he knows about such things. They would talk later, but now they must ride. 

He mounts his horse feeling renewed by the power of the belt he feels the speed and strength of a younger man. He rides near the rear of the force close to Zerith worried about his labored breath, but the youth seems to be able to continue.

His anger flares at the sight and sound of the drunken Dwarves, but as he takes in the dried blood he takes a calming breath and waits for more information.


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## Shayuri (Feb 20, 2012)

Though the Path demanded compassion and humility, Mei-Ying couldn't help but feel a stab of revulsion at the sight of the dwarves. They wallowed in excess of drink, tainting their minds and indulging the sin of Gluttony. They didn't even have the presence of thought to clean themselves. They were like children, wailing and soiling themselves without shame or thought of consequence...only unlike children, they did so not from innocence but from negligence.

She pulled up short, face a disapproving mask as she muttered an imprecation in her own language...the words unclear, but the tone unmistakable.


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 22, 2012)

*"Thok knew Bolgrim was fine. Bolgrim and dwarfs great warriors like Thok."* the half orc says, with a toothy grin.


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 24, 2012)

The dwarves stop and one muscular, bearded male steps up. He is clad in an adamantine breastplate and wields a two-handed axe. He has some fresh wounds on his limbs but he seems unbothered, as if he is somehow used to being carved up on a regular basis. 

The scars littering his bare arms and face seem to suggest just that. His nose is a crooked monument to many fists finding their way to the dwarf's face, and a braided red beard and a shaven head give him a look that would make regular highwaymen and mercenaries seem like milkmaids.

He is holding his nasty looking single-edged axe with a long, polished shaft in his left hand, and a full tankard of dark ale in the other.

"BOLGRIM!" Ferviel yells and dismounts. "What is the meaning of such impudence!"

The dwarf looks about confused, as if there is another one going by that name behind him. He doesn't seem thrilled of having Ferviel yelling at him.

"You began drinking without ecclesiastical supervision!" Ferviel shouts and grins. Bolgrim bursts out in laughter, and so do the other dwarves. They laugh with deep, gruff voices and sound like a herd of oxen who have their collective tails being pulled.

"Arh, well sorry Ferviel, but we thought a wee bit of celebration was in order, seeing as how we had a good fight today. The best kind o' fight - one where we live and those who ain't us die. Like this here fella." - he points towards a mound of flesh that is being dragged by two dwarves in the back.

Ferviel nods and walks over there, grabbing a pitcher of ale from the dwarf with the barrel strapped to his back in the process. He whistles and kneels, examining the remains closely.

"Was this the kind of ghoul you fought?" He turns his head and asks the scouting party, and takes a swig of ale while waiting for them to approach and examine the thing. He seems to have stopped smiling and is studying the lifeless mound of flesh.

"Cut it's arms of did you? And the head? Ah, never mind I see it." he remarks and circles the thing from the other side.

"OI ORC MAN! Want some ale?" Bolgrim grins like an idiot at Thok. You can see he is missing a tooth now that he smiles.

"Who's the elven bitch? I thought you greenskins didn't like them pointy eared kind!" He remarks as he points towards Lórquelië loudly and laughs. More laughs follow from behind from the other dwarves.

[sblock=Knowledge: History, Golden Guard] The Golden Guard was a group of mercenaries and adventurers founded and sponsored by King Syradin II The Pious, King of Muirlane from 465 AF to 499 AF. (It is currently 775 AF).

They were tasked with the extermination of undead, outsiders, evil spellcasters and witch covens. The Redeemers were the specific group that focused on putting restless dead to rest in a permanent fashion. They had a wide variety of resources available, many spellcasters and skilled warriors.

The churches of Lathander, Torm, Helm and other various Good aligned deities offered support that was at first rejected by the King. After his death, the leaders of the Golden Guard accepted the sponsorship of these various temples in exchange for gold and assistance with the mass production of high quality magical gear tailor made to combat the various threats each subdivision of the Guard combated.

The Halberd of Redemption is one such item, and it is a weapon usually awarded after one ended his basic service and advanced to the rank of Captain. There are also armours and assorted wondrous items that can be traced to the Golden Guard and the Redeemers in particular.

The Goled Guard does not exist currently. It was dissipated after the Good aligned temples tried to include the worshippers of any Evil aligned deity in the "marked for slaying" portfolio of the group. This sparked a massive conflict in which the clergy from various temples fought trough both indirect and direct means, and the results were such that the Glden Guard was made to cease to exist.

Items from that time can still be found in circulation today and frequently may be purchased in shops or looted from weapon caches, old tombs or the walls of various keeps and temples.[/sblock]

[sblock=Knowledge: Religion,  Golden Guard]The specifics around the meddling of the temples in the affairs of the Golden Guard are generally kept from the populace. Though with good intentions, the temples gradually became the de-facto sponsors and decision makers for the Golden Guard. It did not help that the crown of Muirlane was engaged in war after the death of Syradin II, and as such it could scarcely support such a costly operation.

The Temple of Lathander was primarily linked with the Redeemers and much progress was made in exterminating necromantic cults and pushing back the waves of undead that regularly spawned from the Valley.

It was around that time that Angelwatch could actually flourish into the bustling trading community it is known as today. Though the Temple of Lathander did not openly endorse or require the followers of other religions be persecuted by the Golden Guard, it is rumoured amongst the clergy that the leader of the Temple back then supported a raid on the main establishment of Cyric in Muirlane. Though presumably this was done to slay the vast number of undead servants an guards in Cyric's temple, many of the high priests of Cyric found themselves on the bad end of a Halberd of Redemption or Sun Blade.

Still, much of the work done several hundred years ago is still remembered as a triumph for the Temple of Lathander today and if anyone is willing to reinstate the Golden Guard and the Redeemers in particular, it would be the temple of the Morninglord.[/sblock]

[sblock=Notification for update]@Voda Vosa   @Malachei   @Dragonwriter   @Shayuri   @Zerith   @Scotley [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Feb 24, 2012)

*"Thok does want ale." *Thok replies, dismounting and quickly grabbing the offered tankard. *"Thok see Bolgrim and dwarfs made good battle, Thok told everyone not to worry, but they not believe Thok."* 
As the dwarf points at the elf, Thok shrugs 
*"Orcs don't like anyone but Orcs. But Thok is tolerant."* he says and winks to the dwarf. *"Bolgrim and Thok almost kill one another, but now be friends. See? You tolerant too."*


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## Scotley (Feb 25, 2012)

Geryk's mouth becomes suddenly dry at the smell of the ale, but he restrains himself and examines the fallen ghoul.


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## Myth and Legend (Feb 25, 2012)

This corpse has been severely mauled by what appears to be edged weapons, but upon closer inspection the cleric concludes that it is of an undead that closely resembles the one the group encountered at the farm.


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## Scotley (Feb 25, 2012)

"The body is well and truly mangled, very impressive," Geryk calls to the Dwarves. To Ferviel he responds, "This does appear to be the same sort of undead that savaged the paladin at the farmstead. Are such things common in the valley? It seems I should need a better understanding of the history as well if we are to make sense of what is happening." His hand shaking slightly, Geryk takes a mug of ale as well. "I would hear the tale of your encounter to better understand our foe, for I have never seen its like until this day. Is you gift for storytelling as great as your gift for song Bolgrim?"


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## Zerith (Feb 25, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]When it became clear the dwarfs were no threat Zinerath stowed the shiny weapon in his pack and continued towards the dead, or perhaps better said re-dead, thing while the others talked, assuming the Dwarves stopped pulling it while they had yet more ale with Ferviel, he would take the opportunity to hop on top of the corpse, with the effort of a shallow skip, and then test the give and constancy of the flesh while recalling what he could about earlier one while Geryk spoke. “could be… yet…”  he spoke lowly, almost mumbling to himself while eying the thing up with faint orbs of crimson. He even flared his nostrils to test the odor.

Zinerath thought he might as well speak while the mood was lightened, but made sure to interrupt none when he did so.
“The one we fought decomposed rapidly, but-” He started with a chirp while making sure to keep his  face veiled in shadow “after it fell I dismembered it and it was only then that it started to decompose.” he smirked before turning toward the cleric who had bin showing a less strict side “I assume you can surmise what happened when it did so was very messy, and putrid; so if you want a more definitive answer I could duplicate the circumstances, but I don’t think anyone would be too forgiving of me doing so this close to the camp proper, and I would have to demand a proper bath afterwards.” He continued with a waning but still upbeat tone before adding a last comment to Ferviel. “Also, I don’t know what purpose Bolgrim and kin here have for the thing, or what other uses we may have of the thing, but I do know that if I were to dismember the it then it would likely be fully ruined for any other purpose” after he said his peace to Ferviel he would hop off the hulk, backwards, so as to keep his cloak from betraying his wings and to keep his hood veiling his face securely.

Assuming Ferviel had nothing of weight to tell him, Zinerath would move towards one of the Dwarves who had been taking a back seat before getting chatty with the individual and making small talk about the possibility of learning a few songs, as well as perhaps learning Dwarven itself, and, if necessary, what he would need to do to make it worth the dwarf’s while.

OoC: Assume the second paragraph happened after/some point during M&L’s next post where there is a logical pause that he could use to interject :3[/FONT]


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## Shayuri (Feb 29, 2012)

Mei-Ying turned her attention from the horrible little men and onto the prize they'd dragged back, grateful for a distraction. Immediately she recognized the creature as similar to the one they'd fought, though she was content to let the others say so.

She slipped off her horse, holding her overcoat closed as she did...the last thing she wanted were obnoxious dwarves leering at her. Knowledge of gods and undead was not something every arcanist had here. The monastery had been a holy shrine though, and she'd learned quite a bit.

The sorceress hunkered down near the body and took a close look...even wrinkled her nose and took a whiff of its foul odor, trying to tell if she recognized more about this beast. What made it different, if anything?


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 14, 2012)

Bolgrim laughs and slaps Thok's back as they raise their mugs in salute. The ale is bitter, dark and thick, with a hint of oak, wheat and whatever special ingredients Dwarven brewmeisters add. It is a fine beverage, that is smooth on the throat and leaves one yearning for more.

"Nah, I was so pissed-drunk that time that I thought you fer an orc. I means a real orc. Them's a savage lot, yeah? Lost a cousin to an orc invasion a while back at Marble Gate. But elves - they're a bunch of prancing snobs who talk with long words but do little fer a fella, yeah? And a wench - them's only good fer shaggin' and cookin'. And I don't see either of these two choppin' onions."

The dwarf grins and eyes the two women like so much livestock.

When Geryk speaks, the dwarves all wait for Bolgrim to respond. He reluctantly turns back from the women and approaches the carcass.

"Ain't much ta tell. Bastard came at us outta nowhere. Went for da nearest one. Dumb as dirt tho, and it died quick enough. Bit Ulfrettin in the arm."

A dwarf clad in leather and with a longsword and dagger strapped to his belt waves his hand dismissively. His beard is brown, thick and his eyes are dark and beady in the scarce light.

"I've had worse wounds in a tavern brawl, HAR HAR!" He laughs heartily and the other darves join.

Ferviel seems to be in thought, as he removes himself from the vicinity of the corpse, but not before grabbing Zinnerath by the arm to discourage any dismemberment of the corpse.

"There will be no need for that. This is a Hulking Corpse. They're big, strong and they lack any intelligence or cunning. They're only useful for carnage or shock troops. It's unlikely that two would make their way so far from a sealed Valley. They are not known for subtlety."

Bolgrim regards Zinnerath with curiosity and rests his hand on the hilt of his axe.

"And what manner of beast are ye, boyo?" The dwarf asks with sincere curiosity in his voice. He scratches his broken nose as he observes the demonic child.

Mei-Ying does not recall any information on such undead creatures.

[sblock]The group may chat some more here. When you are ready, you can head back to camp. Don't forget that Lazarus wanted to see you guys before you can turn in for the night. You have tents set up courtesy of the Temple of Lathander, so you may go to them as well.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 14, 2012)

Rufus regards the dead monstrosity with some displeasure. "Hulking Corpse, eh? Aye, the name suits them well," he muses absently.

"If 'tis as you say, Dawnbringer, and these things are such dim brutes, then something certainly is wrong for them to be able to roam so far afield. Any of you any good at tracking? Might be able to follow a trail back to where it got out... or was set free. Though that'll be a moot point if no one is any good at it."


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## Scotley (Mar 15, 2012)

"Alas I have no knowledge of the art of tracking." 

He starts suddenly at something he heard. "Did you say that this thing bit someone? Ulfrettin you say? Let me see that wound." Geryk approaches the Dwarf in question.


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## Zerith (Mar 15, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]Zinerath was a little caught off guard when Ferviel grabbed him by the arm, it was not a reaction he was expecting.
Yet, he was caught even more off guard by Bolgrin, he was asked that phrase several times in the past but it was the first time it was asked without venom and it had the _boyo_, instead of being degendered, Bolgrin acknowledged that he was distinctly not an ‘it’.  He  looked at the dwarf, and blinked with a dumb stuck expression;  an honest, none task related, question, Zinerath was not too use to them. “um…” he mumbled while he recomposed himself from the unexpected question.

He then pondered the question briefly before answering with a tired grin. “The kind that if Lathander had to choose to welcome my either of my most influence forefathers, or the cruelest and most depraved, utterly evil, mortal ever known…” Zinerath paused with a pained sigh and upwardly arching eyebrows before continuing with growing fatigue and regret “Lathander would sweep the sinner of his feet while slamming the gates close on my forefather without hesitation…”

His answer warn on him, his gas drifted downwards and trembled while his fists  balled tightly and his lip found its way between his teeth as his face was contorted into a quivering grimace as he mood and poster sank.
He bite down.

His cloak jerked upwards as four distinct knops did the same beneath it, his lip ripped itself free of his fangs, his arms tensed with raged as his eyes filed with fervor and his face became knotted with ire; his eyes leered at the ground directly beneath his feet. 

Having some mind about him during his anger he chose to turn about face and make some breathing room while he knobs of his wings ebbed lower and let down his cloak

The crimson of his eyes surged briefly while the self-inflicted wounds on his lower lip bleed black ichor and shed a foul and black mist that stank of brimstone while the wound crackled and hissed in violent protest before swiftly closing and leaving not a trace it was ever there save the rapidly thinning mist and the ichor that was still dripping down his chin as the glow in his eyes stared to fade away.
A low, deep and loathing, growling rumble sounded in his throat as he grew a massive, snarling frown that exposed a mouthful of tightly clenched fangs, sheened in black blood.

Once he got what he assumed would be a reasonable distance away he would alleviate hit growing frustration, with spiteful, venomous words spoken softly and harshly in shifting tongues while pointing at the ground, as if pointing at an individual; two words were chief among his remarks and repeated in every tongue he knew, “Damn you.”.[/FONT]


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## Malachei (Mar 18, 2012)

_The company of dwarves..._ 

Not surprisingly, the elf had kept quiet and stayed aloof from the conversation. She had frowned when the bitten dwarf was mentioned, but delighted to see Geryk delve into the matter. 

Now, she stands aside, eying the exit.


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 29, 2012)

Ulfrettin seems to be fine - he has suffered no injury that cannot be remedied by Ferviel's Wand of Lesser Vigor.

Bolgrim eyes the demonic child warily, then bursts into laughter like an idiot and shoves a pint of ale in his clawed hands. He doesn't seem to understand everything Zinnerath said, but the dwarf obviously does not dwell on such things. After a bit of conversing, where some of the dwarves try to make friends with the two women (and fail miserably), everyone sets off.

The two groups head back to the camp in a brisk pace. Without the need for further inspection of the carcass, the men haul it over to the side and leave it as a silent monument to the ever looming threat of undeath around the Valley. By the time they get back, Ferviel's glowing banner has faded away, and you all make your way under the bright silvery glow of the half moon, peeking trough the cloudy night sky.

The small bands of men that had thought to make their camps separately from the main force have apparently been rounded up. In only a few hours, the camp has been transformed and you return to a fortified hilltop, with neatly arranged tents, a fence of sharpened wooden stakes around it, and even a deep ditch in front of that. It is obvious that magic has been used to dig the ditch, as otherwise it would have required a great deal of manual labour.

The party goes to visit Lazarus, who has Adelaide with him. She has told him all that she remembers, and the group and Ferviel add the rest. The leader of the crusading army is deep in thought, and warns you to trust in Ferviel's judgement and be wary of deception. He thanks you, and Adelaide does so again, though she is quite ashamed and rarely lifts her gaze from the ground.

You are instructed to ride out once again, tomorrow at first light, and secure the area around the Lychgate, where the entrance to the Valley lies. This is to be the future main outpost for the army, from which a main expedition will be sent out. With that, and an uncharacteristic "Job well done." from Ferviel, you are allowed the freedom of your evening. 

It appears that every one of you has gotten their own personal tent - you are, by the words of the men around the site, some of the most capable warriors and spellcasters employed in the army, and if it was not so un-paladin like, you would think that some are jealous of your quick rise to the important position of the army vanguard and reconnaissance team.

Certainly, amongst the mercenaries, you are known and some wonder if you are a group of note, or if you serve a larger mercenary company and who your paymaster is. These are all rumors and tidbits going around the camp, that you learn as you make your way to get your food, water, or to inspect the layout of the camp.

At some point the men around the various campfires scurry away back to their tents, not wanting to spend too much time drinking and storytelling when tomorrow may bring a fierce battle upon them. Even Bolgrim's dwarves decide to give in to sleep, though they are the last to do so. The group is relieved of guard duty, that being the burden of Lazarus's men.

You each have a choice. You may go around camp, talking to the others, or join a gathering around a fire pit and drink and eat with the soldiers. You may approach any of the leaders, or your own recently acquired team mates. Sooner or later, you all return to your tents for much needed rest.

You are pleased to find that the tents are quite spacious, sturdy and equipped with sleeping rolls, a chest that can double as a desk or table, and pitchers of water and trail rations.

[sblock]OK if anyone wanted to do any RPing around camp, with your fellow PCs, or anything else, we can add it as a flashback. Just let me know. Also let me know what your character does before he/she goes to sleep.[/sblock]

[sblock=Thok]Thok is undisturbed in his tent. His new sword and armour shine with the familiar blue light of magical weapons. As he settles down to remove his shoes, he can hear the giggling of a little girl, coming from outside his tent.[/sblock]

[sblock=Lórquelië]Lórquelië is likewise left to her privacy, though she receives a complimentary bottle of wine from Lazarus via one of his men.

"From the captian-general." he says, bows and hands her the bottle, wrapped in cloth.[/sblock]

[sblock=Geryk]Geryk is approached by some new converts the faith of Lathander and is asked to dispense blessings, even if they are reluctant to pester him, though they seem eager. They are two men and a woman, of obviously common birth. Out of a mercenary company - "The Bloody Boars", or so they say.[/sblock]

[sblock=Zinnerath ]Zinnerath is left to his own devices, but his tent is conspicuously in plain view of one of the watchmen and a patrol regularly passes by its' entrance. Also, his tent smells of holy incense. A clear flask of water sits invitingly on the chest, right in the middle of the heavy wooden lid.[/sblock]

[sblock=Mei-Ying]Mei-Ying prepares for her rest, when she sees a letter tucked away in her bedroll. 

[sblock=letter]You have come from foreign lands to risk your life in the Valley. I will have words, so that I can give more direction to your purpose. If you agree for me to enter your tent, produce a source of light outside the entrance.[/sblock][/sblock]


[sblock=Rufus]Rufus enters his tent and begins to strip his armaments. When he gets to his shirt, he hears a female voice, coming from a shadowy edge of his tent.

"My my, aren't you a handsome man. Do not reach for your sword, please, I have no ill intent."

The voice belongs to a woman, dressed in a black grab with a crimson sash that goes trough her quite voluptuous breasts, and hooded with a crimson cloak and hood. She slowly raises her hands - pale and delicate, and removes the cover, revealing a face that could make any man melt with the sheer lust it exudes. Even if her features are somehow... feral, and her eyes glow red like charcoals, her beauty is unmatched.

Rufus is certain he did not see her when he entered the tent.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 29, 2012)

Rufus spent some time at one of the nearer campfires, talking amicably with some of the other warriors who had signed on for this grave matter before heading to his tent for the night...

[sblock=Myth]
Rufus lets out a low whistle of mixed surprise and admiration. He coughs slightly and gives a deep bow. "Apologies, lady fair, but your ravishing beauty left me stunned and speechless for a brief moment." He comes out of the bow with a charming smile on his face. "My name is Rufus. How can I be of service to you?"
[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Mar 29, 2012)

[sblock=M&L]Geryk is pleased to be distracted from his gloomy thoughts and provides the requested service to the converts from The Bloody Boars asking them to sit outside his tent. He stands and prays for their success in fighting evil and bringing glory to the Morning Lord. He will sit outside and chat casually with them for a bit about the joys of service and praises them for the wise choice they have made. He asks some questions to determine how much instruction they have had in the ways of the faith and will offer them some advice as needed. OOC: Has Geryk ever heard of the Bloddy Boars. Knowledge History is +6.  

Afterward, he checks in on Zinnerath knowing the insults and slights of the day have been a trial for him.

Finally, he would like to talk with Ferviel about the dangers of the valley and what might be at stake if the gate is open. [/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 29, 2012)

[sblock=Rufus at the campfire]Rufus approached the men, gathered around a nearby campfire. They appeared to be charring meat on the flames and drinking something that looked like wine, but smelled more like vinegar.

The men stopped their conversation for a spell, and looked at the newcomer. They were all plainly dressed, still in their armour and their weapons at their sides. Not particularly clean and not particularly handsome, and most probably - not particularly smart. But like all men of the trade of war, they enjoyed swapping stories over their cups and this is one of the few pleasures they could have in this camp. Naturally, there were no whores following this army of Paladins.[/sblock]

[sblock=Rufus]The woman doesn't relax visibly when Rufus introduces himself. In fact, she had not seemed tense at all. But she smiles, and that smile is so inviting, Rufus almost feels that all the other women he has met thus far, have been naught but sulky fishwives.

Her hair is wavy, raven black and shiny in the silvery moonlight that creeps trough the open flap of his tent. Her skin is pale, delicate and smooth, like a cross between milk and a silk shoal. Her voice is also smooth, and with a low, tender sound, but her words come out somehow strange. For one such as Rufus, who has spent much of his time listening to the tales of the locals of many of the rural areas around Muirlane, he immediately recognizes her accent as one that is archaic and that had not been in use in the past century at least.

"It is truly a brave man that who behaves as a gentleman of honor, even when taken unawares by a stranger in his own tent. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rufus. My name is Vivian, and I apologize for sneaking in uninvited. In my defence, you had not claimed this tent as your own when I entered it." - she throws Rufus a smile and continues abruptly. - "But these are formalities soon forgotten, I am sure."

Vivian smiles again, and runs her fingers trough the back and sides of her head, lifting the great wavy waterfall of black locks and letting it fall on her shoulders once more, rearranged.

"I shall be blunt, as time is of the essence. You are headed for the Valley of the Dead. Such a dreadful name, that. Most nobody remembers the old name any more. But this is besides the point. You are all headed for the Valley, and plan to open the door and enter it. And... How to put it?"

She pauses and purses her red lips for a moment, before continuing with a serious expression:

"You will all be slaughtered." 

She drops the words, and regards Rufus for his reaction, but continues as she nimbly jumps and plops herself atop a wooden chest, tucking her legs beneath her and joining her index fingers before her chest. For a moment, Rufus is about to drown in the sight of the great cleavage, but he swiftly shakes such thoughts from his head.

"Is there any chance for this army to be turned back? For you, and your superiors, to be discouraged from such action?"

Her voice is hopeful and sweet, but there is also a flicker in her eyes. She is not tense, even as she speaks of an upcoming massacre, but it is obvious this issue means a great deal to her.[/sblock]

[sblock=Geryk]The men are named Henry and John, and the woman is named Jemma. Henry is tall, lean and of visible age between thirty and forty. He wears four days' stubble on his chin, at least, and carries a longsword on his belt. He is brown eyed and has a face as common as they get.

John is younger, broader of shoulder and almost as tall. He has dirty blonde hair, grey eyes and carries a mace and a shield. Jemma is a young woman, her hair red as fire, her eyes blue and large. She is not what one would call a beauty. Her face is too broad, her nose too meaty, and her teeth are crooked. But she has a spirit to her, and she laughs frequently. She does not appear to be armed.

"One of our ilk got gutted in the temple square today. Ferviel saved his life, and from a stomach stabbing that I've seen take many a men to the afterlife. When I saw Lathander's energy cure a bag of  such as Marek, I knew that He is truly a good god." 

Henry speaks with a raspy voice, and his companions nod in agreement. Jemma opens her mouth to reveal her teeth, each with it's own direction and idea of where to point to.

"Aye, that he is. You know, I prayed really hard. I means really, really hard. And I think He answered me prayers, glory be ta Him! I didn't see Lathander, no I ain't good enough for such things. But I got a moment of clarity, ya know? What's it called?"

"A revelation." John says solemnly and nods in approval.

"That's right! A revel...netion... What John said! Well I got inspired ta do something with me life. I used ta worship Tymora, in hopes I gets good luck and strike it rich. But no more, I've found a purpose greater than meself, greater than gold!"

They all look to Geryk, as if he will start preaching right then and there. The fervor in their voices and zeal in their eyes is unmistakable to him as a cleric, they have earnestly converted to the faith of the Morninglord.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 29, 2012)

At the campfire, Rufus just chatted, swapped stories, and relaxed for a bit. 

[sblock=Myth]
Rufus's eyes go wide as she so plainly states the army will be slaughtered after opening the gate... and then he has a hard time getting his eyes away from focusing on her body. "Slaughtered? Everyone? How do you know this? But I doubt they can be turned from it... The Paladins and the Church seem pretty focused on this task. Especially as at least some of the undead are roaming beyond the walls of the Valley already. Just this afternoon, two Hulking Brutes (I think they were called) were re-killed. And at least the Dawnbringer thinks more of the undead have broken free and are roaming about."
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 30, 2012)

[sblock=Rufus]Vivian tilts her head and regards the warrior like a predator. She replies, her constant smile vanishing from her face.

"Hulking Corpses I gather. Well I tell you right now, these things cannot leave the Valley themselves. They are usually artificially created, and rarely form from latent negative energy. Even so, I am certain that they cannot have left the Valley. Creatures that are bound to it may never find themselves outside. Those of much higher standing and intellect have tried breaking free, and have failed. Such lowly beasts are not capable of doing so."

She pauses and sighs.

"But that doesn't matter to your leaders and probably matters little for you. You see undead, some farmers die, and you all grab your shiny swords and come on a mission to purge. As far as your question of how I know your doom - what I know, is that there is a hierarchy of sorts, in the Valley, but there is scarcely any central authority to be had. As it stands today, every undead being that is tied to that place is gathered by Robert, though frankly he himself and his two aids will surely be enough to end you all."[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 30, 2012)

[sblock=Myth]
"They can't break free themselves... which is why the Dawnbringer believes these things had help from this side. According to him, some strange things have gone on around here recently. Undead roaming free that shouldn't being the biggest. But, who is this Robert? And why come to me with this information? I'm not exactly a commander of anything but presence and stories."
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Mar 30, 2012)

Thok spends his time talking with the soldiers and with the dwarfs. He has developed a liking on the way Bolgrim and his lads conduct themselves, and a taste for dwarven ale. 

[sblock= A Thok in a Tent]
*"Who be there? Little Jill?"* says Thok, his nosetrils widening as he tries to percieve the scent of the unseen child.
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 30, 2012)

[sblock=Rufus]The woman shakes her head. Her eyes glow with a crimson glow and her features exude a lust that is not human at all.

"No, you mistake my meaning. They cannot come out. Those bound to the Valley are unable to set foot outside it. You..."

She sighs and leans her chin on her palm, looking at Rufus with amazement.

"You really have no idea where you are headed, do you? You think it a game - a jape - a grand adventure? The Valley is death for you and yours! Those who die within its bounderies rise as the unliving soon after, and are forever entrapped in servitude to the grand magics that sustain the place. These same magics prevent the residents from spilling out and overrunning your farmers and peddlers. How else do you think they survived for centuries, before the Temple of Lathander set in and added a second layer of protection with that Artifact blocking the gate? That thing serves to keep others from getting in, more than anything else, though in reality it would have stopped things from going out if that were the only exit."

She regards Rufus and presses her slim index finger to her lips for a moment.

"Robert Trensenth is a lich of impossible power. He is the caretaker for the valley and the only one who has been there since its creation. He is also the only one who can issue commands over every undead that exists as a servant of the Valley and its' magics. That is all I know. In truth, he is an agreeable fellow. But that last group that tried going in, they never stood a chance. I don't think your army will fare any better."

Vivian pauses and gauges Rufus once more. Sitting there, cuddled on the wooden chest, her face like that of a porcelain doll, she is almost divine. Except for the part where she reminds the Warblade of a predator that regards a curiosity that wondered within its' domain.

"As to why I am coming to you - well even a girl like me can hear the talk of the new mercenaries who have been appointed as van for the army. Though stories of your allegiance and the means to which you acquired such a position vary, everyone agrees you are all quite skilled. There was a fellow in your midst I rather liked, but I hear he disappeared this morning while on scouting duty. 

The others in your current company are not the types I would trust to react well to one such as myself, and to the news I bring. Neither will the two of your valiant leaders pay me any heed, but would rather see me undone simply for being what I am. And I am rather fond of my hide."[/sblock]

[sblock=Thok]Thok can smell nothing but the oil, burning in the lamp, and the brisk autumn air outside. Well, he can smell the horses in the stables, but his tent being so close to the animals is a coincidence. Surely.

He hears the giggling again, and the air has become colder now. His breath apparent in the moonlight as he exhales. The sound seems to be coming from outside.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 31, 2012)

[sblock=Myth]
"Bound to the Valley, you say? Now I hadn't heard that... I was under the impression it was more of a prison, built to contain them, rather than mystic shackles. I heard it was ancient, sure, but constructed and enhanced over time." He folds his arms over his chest and a frown creases his features. 

His cheerful nature is considerably muted as he continues, "And you speak of other exits, something the Dawnbringer himself seems to know nothing about. He thinks the wall is weakened or even breached. And he'd destroy you on sight for being what you are... Which would be? You're older than you look, that much is certain. Your accent says so. And your knowledge of the Valley is more extensive than that of anyone I've yet met. So I really have to ask this: what makes you think they'll listen to me? I'm a vagabond," he says, spreading his arms in a gesture of futility. "And my source of information won't speak to them. Ferviel seems about the most open-minded priest I've ever met, but I've got the feeling he'd be damned skeptical about all this. Even my skill with words would be hard-pressed to convince him, I fear. Not without something like proof."
[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (Mar 31, 2012)

[sblock=Rufus]Vivian shakes her head, as if she had already considered this a lost cause but had still placed hope in Rufus.

"You speak truly. And what proof can I bring you? That the whole Valley is being assembled and will pounce on your army, when you go in swinging your swords and you are being lead by a man who has destroyed countless of the thralls that roamed near the entrance, not but two decades ago?

Ferviel may be open minded for a priest, but the only reaction I have seen from him towards an undead being is "smite now, and then also smite later"

She smiles and gets up, and dons her hood once more.

"I would have made a jest of how ill considerate you are to remark on a lady's age. In truth I lack the time. That I am old - you have guessed correctly. I am Vivian Melville, second Vicecountess of Dùn Bhlàthain and if you survive the coming days, I may yet share my story with you. Being the man that you are, I think you shall find it interesting."

She smiles and peeks out of the tent, making sure no one is near.

"As to what I am - I have been given the gift of vampirism, by a man I once knew and whom I thought I had loved. Yet it is impossible for a mere girl to know the difference between love and the enchanting stare of a hunter of the night. But worry not - I shall use naught but mine own charms to secure your favor, Rufus."

Vivian laughs for a moment, and it is all so apparent now, with her deadly beauty and her crimson eyes, not belonging to the frame of a woman barely in her twenties.

"Regarding the other exits - they do exist, and I am  rather proud that I am currently their sole user. Little good will they  do for you, however. In any event, that you shall not be able to convince Ferviel and that Trimenheim man to reconsider their assault is quite possible. That you should nevertheless try, is my advice. If all else fails, remember this: when the time comes, I shall signal you and lead you to safety. Make sure that those who are with you will follow. To stay will mean your deaths, and trust me when I say that you do not want to die once you have crossed the threshold of the Valley. "[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 31, 2012)

[sblock=Myth]
Rufus nods. "Trust, Lady Vivian, that I would not have made the comment lest I thought it would get you to speak more on this matter. And I apologize if I have offended you," he says sincerely, adding a short bow. "I would also hope very much to hear your story some night.

"You are sure you are the only one to use these other exits? No one else could slip by while you were... otherwise occupied? I will make my best attempts to dissuade them without revealing you, but I fear it is a lost cause. This crusade has their focus like a rampaging demon. I'll keep my eyes open for your signal. For what it's worth, may the gods keep you safe, Lady Vivian."
[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Apr 2, 2012)

[sblock=Myth]Geryk is pleased that these simply folk have found wisdom. He speaks a few of his favorite parables. Ones that will appeal to the common folk and talks of better times of traveling and seeing the glory of the Morninglord in many places and in many ways. He attempts to channel their initial zeal into a more lasting faith by sharing with them the blessings of the Morninglord. Such basic priestcraft has not been a part of his life for many years and he finds it refreshing. However, he can't let go of the man he has become and soon he turns the conversation to the events of the day to find out what's been happening. "So tell me of this battle where Marek was wounded."  [/sblock]


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## Zerith (Apr 2, 2012)

Zinerath took the opportunity to get himself, and his things, cleaned of the filth that had been plaguing him; by the time he had finished he was very tired and, while he would have liked to do other things during the early night, he wanted to rest more.
he could feel the darkening rings beneath his eyes weigh on him and he head to his tent, he found it to be, not where he wanted it, not that he much cared by this point.
When he peered into the tent he saw what he instinctively knew to be a flask of holy water, for the demon child to foolishly drink and thus smite himself.
It was _Horribly_ uninventive and even more tired than he was.

Zinerath walked into the tent, took the flask, walked back out, looked calmly to the stars, had a deep drink, in full sight of the guards that his tent was placed in front of, gave a long sigh of refreshment and reentered the tent  and left the flaps open, he knew Geryk well enough to know that he would be checked on.
he also took the opportunity to dime the light in his tent and watch the watchman with dimly glowing crimson eyes.

[sblock=M&M]Latter on, once he was left to his own devices for the night, he would tightly close the flaps of his tent, as if doing so in hastened preparation for an oncoming hurricane beforetaking off his cloak, stuffing part of it into his mouth and then sliding into the bed roll, he closed his eyes and sleep was finding him swiftly, but he never truly wanted it, the nightmare.
Not yet asleep, he already knew what awaited him.

Scenes of hell and of the abyss, he did not like them, but he had seen them for so many years they no longer truly bothered him, or it might have been his heritage that let him withstand the horrors he had to face each night without batting an eye anymore. The thing that hunted his nightmares, it was something new, it was the word why.
It was a word spoken by Ambrose, as Zinerath murdered the man.

Zinerath knew that Ambrose struck him first, but Ambrose was compelled to do so by magic, beyond this, Zinerath no longer knows if the event went as Geryk recalls, where he struck down Ambrose swiftly before moving on, or as it is depicted in his nightmares where Ambrose swiftly recovers his senses, acts only in defense while pleading ith Zinerath to stop while the devil spawned youth only cackles all the higher, all the more merry before being stuck down helpless. Then Geryk calls out for aid and Zinerath, doing what he has always done with a helpless opponent when called, delivered a deathblow and went about his busyness.
Just before the death blow is given, Ambrose always asks why, not in desperation, not in anger, not in shock, just simple wonder, wonder in why something, someone, who was not deemed evil by his god could have such bloodlust. Zinerath walk away and then the loop happens, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, the cycle drums on and on until Zinerath finally awakes with a gut churning screech of a yelp, muffled by his makeshift gag.

Knowing what awaited him, he could feel himself drift off to sleep; yet he took solace in the fact he would awaken long before first light.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Apr 3, 2012)

[sblock= Thok]

The half orc takes his weapon, and naked chested, he bursts out of his tent. The black reflections from the wicked looking blade danced over his sculptural torso, as he moved as silently as possible, approaching the source of the noise.  [/sblock]


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## Shayuri (Apr 3, 2012)

Mei-Ying read the words, then read them again. She considered, and then prepared. Finally, she sent a wisp of magic out of her tent where it flared into a ball of blue-tinged white light that hovered like a giant firefly just outside her tent flap.

Inside, she waited in one of her more formal robes, hands clasped together in oversized sleeves that hung down, and magic seething in her skin and arms. Just in case.

(Casting Dragonskin (fire resistance) and Fists of Stone...because she is a bit concerned about confronting secretive strangers away from the aid of others. )


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## Myth and Legend (Apr 18, 2012)

[sblock=Rufus]"Same to you, good sir. I enjoy conversing with a well mannered man. Such are in short supply here. Either that, or they are paladins."

Vivian smiles, waves goodbye and slips outside silently and with a grace that is certainly inhuman. She melts into the shadows of a nearby tent and the night is once more as it were - brisk, dark and relatively quiet.

[sblock=Listen check DC 14]Rufus can hear the half-orc warrior bellowing outside. He seems to be calling for some woman named Jill.[/sblock][/sblock]

[sblock=Geryk]John and Jemma look at each other with confusion while Henry speaks, his face showing an uncertainty:

"The fight on the town square, where the paladins came to cool everyone off a bit. Some smooth cheeked lad gutted Marek with a knee-blade. They patched him up in the temple, so we thoughts ye knew. But perhaps you ain't from Angelwatch either.... Ser... I mean Father... I mean Dawnbringer Geryk."

They seem to mean well and are making an effort, though such high talk is not something they are suited to.

[sblock=Listen check DC 19]Geryk hears the Half-Orc calling for a woman named Jill.[/sblock][/sblock]

[sblock=Zinerath]The patrol outside sees the demonic child drink the holy water. The taste is good, cool sweet water mixed with leaves of geranium and traces of silver. The men scratch their heads and mutter to one another, but are seemingly relieved and continue on their round.

The boy is sleepy but just as he begins closing his eyes he hears Thok shouting outside, somewhere below his tent. He seems to be calling a woman named Jill[/sblock]

[sblock=Thok]The barbarian goes outside, grasping his black blade, the moonlight shining off his built body. He looks about, but cannot determine the source of the noise - it seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. The horses in the pen directly opposite of his tent seem restless and start whinnying and snorting.

The stable men are alerted and rush to see what's going on, and as soon as they see Thok they comment something about "orc stink" and "frightens the poor beasts" but they remain with the animals.

{Thok may choose to confront them for their words}

Still hearing childish giggling, Thok goes around his tent - it's close to the perimeter of the camp. There, torches push the darkness away at equal intervals and there are sentries stationed further out form the low ditch and palisade.

Suddenly, Thok sees a familiar gloomy figure - white as mist, ethereal and silent, that appears in a small glen far from the safety of the light of the torches. The half-orc has a keen, if black and white, vision at night that allows him to notice the Lady while the watchmen remain oblivious.[/sblock]

[sblock=Mei-Ying]Without much ado, a man appears inside her tent, in a flash of familiar white energy that can only be a Teleportation spell.

The man is middle aged, with a well kept black beard and plain features to his face. He is brown eyed, dressed in a rich red grab that speaks of a spellcaster, but otherwise wears no distinctive jewelry or other notable items.

"Good evening madam. First, let me start by apologizing for this sudden intrusion. In fact, I would not have deemed it necessary but for my fear of not being able to contact you at all once you step into the Valley. I would introduce myself but I would not lie to you and I consider names to be an unecessary burden that could simply complicate matters needlessly."

He speaks in a well measured tone, calm and polite. The only thing betraying him are his eyes, which seem completely dispassionate about the whole matter of niceties and formal introductions.

[sblock=Spellcraft DC 22]He comes in using Greater Teleport[/sblock][/sblock]


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## Malachei (Apr 19, 2012)

At first, Lórquelië did not want to try the wine that was offered to her. _It could be poisoned_. After all, there were dwarves nearby.

She meditated and sank into the cozy state of wandering the most beautiful place on earth: Her own mind.

Her mental images played a colorful performance, full of flowers and trees and joy and laughter. A light blue sky, cloudless, the sun a tender kiss on her skin, the slight breeze playing with her hair. She enjoyed, and she celebrated life. For a moment, she had forgotten the grief, and the dead. Then, a dark spot appeared in the sky. A glimpse of disbelief later, the scenery broke, a dark rip tearing it apart, like a painting cut with a dagger. There was a terrible sound of storm and cries of pain and, in the distance, a sound of breath. 

Her imagination ran from her mind, and like a panicked captive, she tried to escape the maze, searching for the light. But there was no light. Darkness had crept inside the Noldorin's mind, and like a disease, it had spread and it ate at her laughter, her love, and her life.

The shadow had befallen her.


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## Voda Vosa (Apr 19, 2012)

Thok snorts at the words from the stablemen. 

After spotting the Lady, Thok grunts, showing off his tusks. 
*"Men!"* bellowed the barbarian *"Ghost Witch be here! To arms!"* without hesitation, and remembering his previous encounter  with the apparition, Thok blindly moved to engage, forgetting all that the cleric had told him the day before.


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## Zerith (Apr 19, 2012)

Zinerath was so close to getting some sleep, then Thok roared, Zinerath, at this point did not really know, nor care, if he was awake or if it was, finally, a new dream that was going to try something new, he stood up, and had noticed his cloak dangling from his mouth… Yep, we was awake, his dreams always omitted the cloak made gag. He spat it out, grabbed his new weapon and squeezed out of his tent after undoing as few  of the ties on his tent flap as he needed to in order to reasonably get out with the weapon while avoiding becoming snagged on the tent with either his horns or the glowing weapon. Befor moving towards where he herd thok in a hustle, he was quick but by no means hurried.

his hair, still not fully dryed, was frazzled in the manner only a pillow could cause, his eyes beamed off with an annoryed red glow and ere under lined in black rings, his poster was poor and all four wings hung so low that they dragged slightly on the ground as he moved: In Zinerath’s mind one of two things was about to happen, either  Thok stirred him over nothing, and was about to have a long nap outside along with a large lump on his head, or there was something to take his new found frustration on. Either way, he was going to end up hitting something hard, Thok’s further bellowing made him think the latter.

When he arrives to see Thok charging the apparent ghost, Zinerath, with all the hast of a sleep starved and overweight noble dragging his feet to the kitchen for am midnight snack, walked towards it, unafraid and simply very annoyed, he would not run, would not even hustle towards it, he would simply walk towards it in his quick manner, wings dragging in sloth, and prepare to hack at it with the sharp bit of his new helberd.
He would stop apparently short, yawn out “Zih jER KeerPH.” And slash at it with his newly stretched arms. Assuming he then judged it was dealt with, he fully planned to turn about and go back to bed without even asking what was going on.

OoC: he is sleepy :3


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## Shayuri (Apr 21, 2012)

[sblock=GM]Mei-Ying nods, understanding well the potential power of names, and not holding it against him that he was cautious about casual introductions to someone he'd never met...though he seemed to know enough to suggest he'd been scrying, or had spies.

A few subtler things were not lost on her either. He must have known their destination for some time, so for him to appear now suggested that the news was either new to him, or that he had selected this last-minute timing for another reason. In addition, his decision to appear personally was interesting...it implied his message could not be imparted via a Sending, and that he either lacked a means to deliver a letter, or that he did not wish what he'd come to say to be written down and interceptable. It was conceivable that this was not actually the magician he seemed to be, of course...a confederate, perhaps, or simulacrum...but it would be hard to make such an imposter appear via magic without personally accompanying them.

Interesting.

"Please forgive the rude hospitality I am limited to offering here," she said with a bow of her head. "I have only cushions on the ground, and water in a jug, but you are welcome to them if you like."

It would be rude, of course, to simply ask what he'd come to say. She poured the jug into two wooden cups sitting on a low wooden table in the middle of her tent. She then sat on her knees to sip from her cup, opposite the other mage; a clear invitation without saying so.[/sblock]


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## Scotley (Apr 23, 2012)

Seeing he is confusing these poor souls more than he is helping Geryk tells them that he is indeed new to Angelwatch and bids them goodnight as he is very tired.

Hearing the half-orc Geryk goes to see what is amiss.


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## Myth and Legend (May 8, 2012)

Lórquelië's trance has been disturbed rather abruptly. She hears commotion outside, mainly the bellowing of the half-orc warrior. Geryk rushes past her tent towards the sounds, and as she goes out, her keen elven eyes can make out the large, muscular figure of Thok, melting in the darkness outside the camp trenches. He is running, sword in hands, and shouting.

Geryk reaches the palisades in time to see Thok run off in the distance. He is overtaken by a rather spent Zinerath, who drags his feet reluctantly and casually leaps over the sharpened stakes and the ditch. Such a feat of acrobatics seams almost mundane for the child, but it would take Geryk some consideration to attempt at replicating. Or he could go further down, near the stables, where Thok's tent is situated, and exit trough the intended space in the fence.

[sblock=Thok]Meanwhile, Thok shouted his warnings and ran off bravely, to face the White Lady. The guards looked at one another and shrugged. One shouted "What?" but was rebuked with something that sounded like "Orc... drunk... idiot", which promoted laughter from the other human guards.

No one seemed to follow Thok's brave charge. As such, the half-orc ran as fast as he could (within reason) and reached the small glen. The air is chill and a gloomy fog has spread over the damp grass.

The soil below is soft and where the autumn grass has thinned, sticky mud clings to the barbarian's boots in a most annoying manner. No animals seem to be about, and the only scent is that of the aftermath of cold rain, leaves and wet dirt. Thok's senses are keen, his confidence is brimming, his ferocity - unmatched. It is somewhat surprising that the familiar figure of a ghostly woman raises slowly out of the foggy ground. She is silent and still, and just as the half-orc raises his blade and tightens his muscles to leap at her and cleave trough her, she removes her veil.

Had he not faced her horrid visage yesterday, he would have surely flinched at the features that she revealed. The sight of the Lady's face is enough to send any lesser man running in panic, or even to freeze his heart in death. But such things matter little to the brave half-orc. The Lady stares at him, and he stares back, giving her the most evil eye a man from his tribe could muster. Such a look would make any caravan guard or militia man shake in his boots.

It is in this way, perhaps, that their personalities connected. Not clashed, but touched rather. And in an instant, an image appears before Thok's eyes. If she was using some form of mental communication, he felt no evil intent made upon him, that would usher resistance.

The image itself is that of a desolate wasteland, grey and cold as far as the eye could see. Right in front of him, Jill stands, smirking. She has clawed hands and pointy teeth, and not at all the kindly eyes Thok remembers. Strings can be seen, tied to her hands, legs and head. She looks almost like the marionette of travelling artists that frequent the big cities and the village fairs.

Behind her, an icy mountain could be seen - immense, gleaming with a cold shine. Even further back and above, storm clouds gather. And a pair of eyes, narrow, dark and whirling with malice, unlike anything that can be experienced from living beings. These eyes pierce trough Thok, and they make looking upon the Lady's visage seem pleasant.

In an instant, the image is gone. The White Lady raises her hand, as if in a warning. She floats a few inches from the ground, and the tattered edges of her dress meld into the fog. In an instance, her face is veiled once more, only her cold, unliving eyes remain.[/sblock]

[sblock=Mei-Ying]The man smiles, nods and sits himself on the cushions. He does not attempt to drink from her mug or pitcher. "I promise to make for a more pleasant second meeting, should we come to that. Allow me to be frank my lady. I am in the service of an organization. This organization seeks items of power. Artifacts, most all of them. Our mission has been proceeding adequately, but we have reached an impasse. The remaining items are beyond divination, which means they are most likely located within the bounds of the Valley of the Dead and it's protective Mythal."

The man pauses, regards the Sorceress and nods to himself as he continues.

"Since you are an arcanist, I wish to strike a deal with you. I shall provide information on these items. All that I know, I have written down. I am also empowered to bargain for the price of bringing them to us. You must tell me what it is that you require. And naturally, once a deal has been made, a Geas shall be used to... fasten it. What say you?"

He pauses again, and leans back, rubbing his chin. A gleam in his eyes makes itself apparent once again.

Outside, the sorceress can hear the half-orc shouting at someone or something.[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (May 8, 2012)

Rufus watches a little after the strange woman leaves. He gives another low whistle, partly in admiration and partly in regret. The swordsman then continues getting ready to bed down for the night...

EDIT: (Added after Listen check result)

Until he hears the half-orc shouting. With a groan, he pauses in removing his breastplate and returns his sword to his belt before stepping outside and trying to find the madorc.


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## Shayuri (May 8, 2012)

[sblock]Mei-Ying takes her cup and sips from it to give polite excuse as she furiously dissected the mage's statements. She was not a wizard, trained in studies and to have the keen intellect they did, but she knew people fairly well and paid attention to what they did and didn't say. The barbarians often spoke carelessly, she found...revealing more than they meant to, or were aware of. And even a barbarian wizard was still a barbarian. The shrieking half-orc she paid no attention to; he was a barbarian in more senses of the word than she could easily catalogue.

He predicted their second meeting would be more pleasant _should it come to that._ Her success was not assured, obviously...but she suspected there could be a heavily veiled threat in that statement too. At the very least, an assurance that if she did not agree then she was burning this bridge.

His organization sought items of power, most of which _but not all_ were artifacts. Their purpose was unclear. She would need to see if that information was on the bargaining table and what the price was. He was being coy, too, about saying the objects they needed were 'most likely' in the Valley. There were many other possible reasons they resisted divination, and she was sure they were either investigating them, or already had. 

That they were entombed in the Valley was troubling. It was difficult to imagine good coming from artifacts contained there...though the commander had mentioned that an artifact was responsible for the magical ward that bottled its evil up.  Was that one of the ones they sought? How many such things could there _be_ in one place?

_Since you are an arcanist_, he wished to make a deal. That had been interesting. It implied there were others, not arcanists, who had not been given that option. The spies in the camp? They might have 'duties' beyond simply reporting what they saw and heard. And why, she wondered fleetingly, did it make a difference that she was an arcanist? Was that his preference, or his organization's? 

And finally the geas. Mei-Ying did not use much 'mind magic' herself, but she had some passing familiarity with it. The spell he was mentioning was widely known. It did not distinguish between a willing contractee and a victim. If he was prepared to cast it on her, he did not need to bargain. But of course, it would go more smoothly if she was a willing participant. The power of that binding could be overcome by sufficiently powerful magic. At worst, she could choose to die to deny them their prize. No, they wanted her as an ally...but would they settle for a thrall if she denied them?

She sets the cup back down and says, "You ask a great deal of me. Artifacts are not lightly sealed, or lightly guarded...and you need more than one. There is also the opportunity cost, of course. The power to be had by possessing them, given away. And the secrecy of this meeting leads me to believe that I would be sworn to secrecy in this task as well...making potential enemies of my allies."

"As well, the binding you propose enforces me to hold up my side, but places no obligations on you. I respect your caution, but distrust leads to mutual distrust. Thus, what I ask of you I ask be delivered before I pass into the mythal. My compliance will then be magically enforced, and my reward will assist me in carrying out the terms of the bargain...which can only help you as well."

"This then is what I require."

The sorceress held up a hand with a finger raised.

"First, knowledge. What is your organization, and what do they plan to do with this collection of artifacts? Any one such thing can alter the course of history when found. The power of more than one used by a cabal of powerful mages could shake the heavens from the sky...or send the world crashing into the hells."

"Second, for the power you ask from me, I ask for power. In particular, there are objects that release spells when raw magic is focused through them. They are useful to mages like me, if the spells they cast are not ones I have already mastered. Depending on what you have available, or can make in time, I may also need a few spell tablets...scrolls, I think you call them."

"And finally, protection. The dangers of the Valley are ones arcanists are ill-equipped to counter. I need something to shield me from the powers you ask me to confront. Something to keep my life-essence safe from the touch of the undead. I had planned to rely on the divine magic of the others for this, but as this bargain may drive a wedge between us, I can no longer depend on that."

She raised her eyes to meet his and waited for his response.[/sblock]


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## Myth and Legend (May 16, 2012)

[sblock][MENTION=51271]Voda Vosa[/MENTION], [MENTION=99953]Zerith[/MENTION], [MENTION=11520]Scotley[/MENTION], [MENTION=38657]Malachei[/MENTION] [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (May 16, 2012)

Thok lowers his sword, he understood the message the Lady gave him. Probably that was what was beyond the lichgate? Those mountains, those terrible eyes, the dire image of a twisted Jill. But Jill was not beyond that door, Jill was back in town! Might it be that she was possessed? He needed the Big Cleric, as he had named him in his mind, and he needed him now. He smashed his hand on his chest, as a sign o respect and gratitude to the Lady, and turned back, heading purposefully to the "Big Cleric"'s tent.


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## Scotley (May 17, 2012)

Admiring Zinerath's acrobatics, but knowing they were out of the question in heavy armor, Geryk makes for the opening near Thok's tent. He's tired as well, but determined and moves with good speed. "Impetuous boy! Stay within sight of the camp. I'm coming," he shouts toward Zinerath's departing form.


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## Myth and Legend (Jun 1, 2012)

[sblock=Mei-Ying]The man considers Mei-Yuing then displays a coy smile towards the sorceress.

"Truly then, you exceed my expectations. A woman with wit and not just a knack for setting things on fire with her magic. Splendid!"

He clears his throat and looks about, before he starts rummaging in a hidden pocked somewhere in the sleeves of his robe.

"The organization is, as you can imagine, secretive in nature. Members only know of their immediate superior and those immediately below them in the hierarchy. I am called Alfred by most of my contacts and allies, and you may use this name to address me.

I have my suspicions of who are the actual rulers of our organization, but in general our agenda is being hailed as that of the side which ended a great conflict and armed clash that had sprung some time ago between rivalling merchant clans. You see, it's all about the Meteoric metal and who gets to trade and use it."

He pauses, considers the foreign woman and decides to continue.

"These artefacts, they are most, if not all, made out of it. Several times already, in the past decades, we've had rocks falling from the sky, which bring this precious resource to us. It takes in enchantment like a babe takes it's mother's milk and can produce results the likes of which you have never seen in a magic item. Normal items can be made of it, but most all are artefacts. Some items made from this material actually _turn out to be artefacts_ even if the creator was far from one who had the power and knowledge necessary to forge one.

You can then, deduce, that this metal is a commodity which far surpasses any other in importance and value. Apart from souls perhaps. What is even stranger, it cannot be replicated or fabricated using any means available to us. The deities are silent about it or give confusing answers. And it cannot be discerned whence exactly it comes from. We suspect Wildspace, but I at least, have no deeper information.

There is almost nothing a determined group of powerful mages and clerics cannot achieve. Finding out where this metal comes from, and piercing the veil of the Valley are the only stumbling blocks before us. I myself, and I suspect others as well, have been tasked to the gathering of all known items and artefacts created from this material. Some are relatively new, some are old. These rocks have fallen in the past, millennia ago even. Back, when the Valley of the Dead had been the necropolis of a vast capital city, the civilization who lived here had access to this metal and created items from it as well."

He pauses and hands the woman a small, black booklet. Then he resumes his explanation with a calm voice.

"I shall skip the history lessons, for time is not something to be wasted and I doubt you would trust me to take you to a private demiplane where we can talk more at length. Suffice to say the Valley stands sealed by a powerful Mythal now, Epic magic which we cannot breach despite our best efforts. Some items have been... deposited there. Presumably to stay out of our reach. Others we suspect are to be found among the ruins and crypts of long dead emperors and other nobility.

The guardians of this place, now they have given us supreme trouble. So much in fact, that we have been banned from attempting direct actions as agents. Hence me finding you in this most convenient manner.If you would agree to the Geas, you may read the booklet. There you will see all the information we have gathered currently.

As for your price - scrolls can be provided readily. All I need from you is to name the spells in question. The items for spellcasting, now this is something interesting. Would pearls of Power suffice, or had you something more... exotic in mind?

And finally, for protection, I shall find something to shield you from negative energy, though your highest concern must be not the mundane corpses and sprits that walk there, but the Liches and the revived blademasters that have defeated even our field agents."

He pauses and waits for the almond-eyed woman to answer.[/sblock]

Thok turns back, and goes towards the camp, attempting to locate Ferviel's tent. Zinerath casually walks past him, and heads towards the shimmering spirit in the misty glen. The woman turns back to face the demonic child, regards him, and slowly removes her veil. Just as the boy enters his usual battle frenzy and leaps at her to drive his weapon trough her visage, he witnesses the horror below her mask.

[sblock=Zinnerath]The boy finds himself in the lichs' tower. Only this time, he is alone. He hears rumbling outside, shouts and screams, and loud banging on the door.

"He is inside! Get 'em! Kill him! Kill the demon!" Shouting. Anger. A mob, with torches, staves and pitchforks. Zinnerath doesn't understand. He had done nothing wrong. Had he?

He looks down, towards his hands. They are bathed in crimson blood, with entrails still wrapped around his claws. On the floor, he sees the bodies of four children - three girls and a boy, of age between five and eight. Something had disemboweled them and ripped off their limbs.

In a corner, Geryk sits with a massive wound piercing his gut. He spits blood out and waves at Zinnerath. The boy approaches, attempting to help his friend. He smears blood and entrails across Geryk az he attempts to embrace him clumsily.

"Accursed demon! - Geryk wheezes out. - I wish I had never met you. You are nothing but evil! I spit on you! Monster! MONSTER! MONSTER!"

Geryk starts shouting, and men outside begin knocking the door down. Zinnerath gets up, with fear and confusion gripping his heart. He attempts to flee, to reinforce the door. Geryk grips his foot with his mailed fist and grins viciously trough bloodied teeth.

The door flies open, and men come in, armed and ready. A net is trhown over the child, and he is stabbed by spears and hit with staves. Somehow someone manages to gouge out his eye. The pain throbs with searing intensity, and the life starts slowly leaving the boy's battered body...[/sblock]

Zinnerath covers his face, screams and maks his best attempt to run away. Conveniently, this means he runs back towards the camp and cowers, huddled near the ditch within the light of a torch and much to the amusement of the guards. Geryk can see that his condition is beyond normal fear and that he is not perceiving reality at the moment.

Thok makes haste towards Ferviel's tent, but does not find the Cleric. Rufus drags his feet behind the Half-Orc reluctantly, and they pass by Lórquelië's tent. Mey-Ying's lodgings are further down the road.

Ferviel's tent seems to be empty. The camp has been stirred by the shouting and rustling, but it's so dark that only shadows move about. Upon inquiry, it turns out the priest is still in a meeting with Lazarus. The group heads out for the leader's lodgings, and find two paladins standing vigil outside. One man, black haired and black eyed, and pale as snow, hears them out, enters and then returns, bidding them enter.

Ferviel and Lazarus are inside, looking at a map and quietly conversing. The priest has a mug of ale besides him. The paladin a glass of water. Ferviel looks at Thok and his allies and scratches the stubble on his chin.

"What?" he says with his usual gruff voice.

[sblock]Zinnerath is Panicked for 3 rounds. He ends up retreating as far as he can - to the edge of the camp.[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 1, 2012)

Thok walks in, his sword still with him, gleaming dark reflexions with the torch light. He batters a fist to his chest before speaking; probably an old habit from when he was referring to his tribe's elders. *"Dead lady appeared in camp, she called Thok. Thok brave, went to battle witch. But Witch wanted no battle; she wanted tell tale. She... put images in Thok head, Thok think gruffy man should know, he said he liked dead witch, or something. Witch showed big plains, wasted, cold. In front of Thok was Jill, little girl from town, sister of the maid from tavern, you met her, Thok knows. But little Jill has hands with claws larger than of bears, and teeth pointy ones, like a viper. Thok also saw strings, like if little Jill was a puppet, Thok likes puppets. But this was evil puppet. Not good, Thok don't like those puppets, makes Thok have bad dreams, and have to drink and eat until fall asleep. Stomach and head atche after that, not good Thok say." *Thok says, his last few sentences seems to trail off into off-topic conversation. He seems to remember what he was talking about midd sentence *"Oh, and behind Jill, there be big ice mountain, with big storm clouds up above. There, there be eyes, so bad, so scary... Thok be brave enough to see dead witch face and stand still, Thok unfaced. But Thok afraid of those eyes. They be bad."* the half orc finishes his explanation.


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## Scotley (Jun 2, 2012)

"He is accursed with an unnatural fear and his mind is not his own. Can you hear me boy? You are safe now. All that which you perceive is illusion. You are among friends."


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## Zerith (Jun 3, 2012)

[FONT=&quot]OoC: Ooooo! An opportunity for great mischief!  
Also, I hope this is enough to blow through 3 rounds of panic
Also, warning, the sblocks are long ;3XD/OoC

The Reality:
Zinerath had tucked his legs next to his chest and was pulling them in closer with his arms while also wrapping himself up in his own wings; he was blathering incoherently and while muffled. Then he heard Geryk, he shuddered and allowed  a gap to form between his wings, he spied Geryk with an eye that burned crimson with fear and clouded dark confusion, then he  realized who he was looking at, and terror took root.

[sblock=The Perception]Zinerath’s body was in taters, his mortal life flowing away in a torrent, and his very soul was crumbling away under its own weight, and yet he was not dying; he had finally earned his place, the one he never wanted.

He could see and feel his humanity perish as his forefathers, nay, his very heritage, revel in his plight.
He could see and feel his surroundings crumble away he saw the lich’s tower fall once more as the floor gave way beneath him; hell had awaited, and it would wait no longer as the fortress sank into a sea of dark fire.

He fell.

He, somehow, managed to get free of the net as the mod fell along with him, screaming, burning; he did not burn, his wings opened and his decent stopped. A  grin surged over his face, brimming with jolly madness.
The fate he had feared so much, for his entire life, it was no longer so threatening then that it had come to pass! He could almost laugh as he could see the burning bodies of his aggressors fell down all around him, their terror seemed to ease his own.

Then fell the ruin of the children.

He could hear their innocent souls cry out in anguish “Why” his grin faded, and he did not feel like laughing. He then felt a massive weight hanging from his foot; looking down still clenching his foot, there was Geryk, mangled, charred and enraged, dragging Zinerath down long with him, or was it the other way around?
Geryk’s words were not whole, but he thought he could make out a few: accursed, unnatural. Then Zinerath perceived two sentence “Can you hear me boy?” fallowed closely by “You are a~ -f’iend!” Zinerath kicked and squirmed, he even tried to bat Geryk off with one of his wings as he attempted to prevent falling to the increasingly threatening hell below.
Zinerath turned away and noticed there were yet others who had fallen from tower, one fell just in front of his face, he instinctively knew Ambrose’s lifeless face when he saw it and who all fell with the him, he also say the lifeless face’s eyes snap onto his own as the fallen paladin mouthed one word: “Why?” 

Everything seemed to slow down as he felt a deliberate, murderous intent level onto his brow, followed by a familiar, gruff voice that made an angered statement from on high “I Warned _you._” Spoke the voice before blazing beams of light thundered from on high, sundered his form and ruined his wings.

He fell once more.[/sblock]

The Reality
Zinerath grew increasingly panicked by Geryk’s voice and presence, he bated a wing at Geryk, then bucked off the ground and into a rushed  flight that was spent before it be began. He briefly glided over the palisades, and along its length before gliding onto the palisades; two of his wings were ripped and snagged on the tall wooden stakes.
He fell down, his two snagged wings ripped free just before he impacted the ground, where he landed with a thud and a roll as he one again tucked himself into a ball; his wounded wings hissed and crackled as the dark mist raised and started knitting the sounded flesh back together.

[sblock= The Perception] Zinerath hit jagged earth with a sickening crack as the remains of his form crumpled into the ground; he knew should have died outright from the wound, yet, life would not leave his body no matter how weary he grew of it.
Then he heard loud footfalls, something lifted him by the arm before trying to drag him away, he caught a glimpse of it, it was large, winged, had a wealth of horns, and held a length of spiked chains from its other hand. His foot was snagged, impaled, or something else had hold of him. The beast snarled at the resistance, lifted Zinerath skywards and seemingly attempted to rip him in half. Then another pair of footfalls sounded from behind him, he could tell nothing, other than the assumption of the second pair being far heavier. A hand enveloped his head, yanked and then a spin chilling voice roared “MiNe” a split second before he felt himself being cleaved in half by flame and steel.

Then he felt nothingness.[/sblock][/FONT]


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## Scotley (Jun 4, 2012)

"Gods, the fear is worse than I imagined. Give him room and let him gather himself."


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## Shayuri (Jun 20, 2012)

[sblock=Myth & Legend]"Scrolls and pearls will do if that is what can be done," Mei says, "But I'd hoped you might have access to the carved staves. In the Empire, there are ways to carve runes into staves of jade and wood, such that the runes form spell formula. Raw magic sent into the staff then causes the runes to cast a spell, even if the user doesn't know the spell in question. Is that considered exotic here?"

She nods at the warning of liches and undead swordsmen. "I am sure their power is great...but I am more confident of my ability to deal with magic and weapon, as those are threats I have faced before, even if not with the resilience and immortality of the undying. I only need an item to offer protection against that which I have no power over. The rest I can face more...conventionally."[/sblock]


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