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A Frozen Vesper - Intro
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The Scythe
Dec 20, 2016, 6:53:12 PM12/20/16
to
[Introduction]
The city of Montfort prepared for another holiday season. It's people looked forward to the yearly Winter Festival. But little did they know that fate had other plans.
Outside the city, in a warm farm house tucked into a river dell, there lived a young girl. Ttttt was her name. She didn't know it was special to play with the fairies of the field each spring. She only knew they were beautiful as they danced and arranged the seedlings. She didn't realize it was unusual to talk to the summer sylphs as they churned the river with their play. She only knew they were beautiful of face as voice. She had no idea it was strange for a farmer's daughter to tease the autumn gnomes as they fought their annual nut-battles against their enemies, the squirrels. And so she had no idea how terrified her parents would have been to know about her new playmate.
[Admin]
This will be a winter-only thread. It will go until the end of January likely, and certainly no longer than the end of February. I will post daily. Many people in Montfort will perish or survive based on the actions of those in the story.
You can save them.
Things are getting cold very suddenly. If you want to be in it, post your character in the inn.
The city of Montfort prepared for another holiday season. It's people looked forward to the yearly Winter Festival. But little did they know that fate had other plans.
Outside the city, in a warm farm house tucked into a river dell, there lived a young girl. Ttttt was her name. She didn't know it was special to play with the fairies of the field each spring. She only knew they were beautiful as they danced and arranged the seedlings. She didn't realize it was unusual to talk to the summer sylphs as they churned the river with their play. She only knew they were beautiful of face as voice. She had no idea it was strange for a farmer's daughter to tease the autumn gnomes as they fought their annual nut-battles against their enemies, the squirrels. And so she had no idea how terrified her parents would have been to know about her new playmate.
[Admin]
This will be a winter-only thread. It will go until the end of January likely, and certainly no longer than the end of February. I will post daily. Many people in Montfort will perish or survive based on the actions of those in the story.
You can save them.
Things are getting cold very suddenly. If you want to be in it, post your character in the inn.
The Scythe
Dec 20, 2016, 7:16:25 PM12/20/16
to
Correction,
"Elspeth was her name."
"Elspeth was her name."
Janessa V.
Dec 21, 2016, 10:44:25 PM12/21/16
to
[newcomer]
He hated magic. This whole place just reeked of it. It clung to him as he stumped down the night-dark streets of this unfamiliar little backwater. It cloyed in his nostrils and tightened his lungs. But it couldn't be helped now...he was well and truly stranded. Only a fool like Dargroed would try to sail from Hartpoint at this time of year, and the crew had paid for his idiocy. Poor lads. Ah, well, done was done, and at least that pile of such-and-such had paid for his mistake along with all the others. All but Hardig, that is.
But what had it gained him? Now he was stuck here, wherever "here" was, and clearly it wasn't going to be his kind of town. What was so magical about magic, anyway? Didn't these people know what dragonfire could do to a formerly fruitful piece of land, or how long it takes to wash away the poison a mandragora leaves behind? And troll scat? Forget it! Impossibly gooey when fresh and harder than iron when not. And that aside from the fume and stench. Magic. BAH! But the wrack and ruin of many an honest, hard-working husbandman and of no real use to anyone. Except for trouble-makers and darklings.
Nothing for it, though. The bone-deep chill had not quite left him after his harrowing crossing and very narrow escape from a sailor's doom, though mercifully the waters in which their good ship had finally surrendered were far warmer than his native clime; else even he would have succumbed to either wave or weather. Even so, he needed a hot meal and a warm bed, and if he had to get it here, then so be it. One must do what one must do. And he could smell stew and ale even from the street.
Letting his nose guide him, he stumped on until the source hove into view. The delicious smells coming from the inn made his stomach growl loudly. Merry voices drifted forth, and warm yellow light spilled from every window. ~Very well then,~ Hardig thought, silently challenging the unfamiliar place, ~do your worst.~ And he stumped through the door.
He hated magic. This whole place just reeked of it. It clung to him as he stumped down the night-dark streets of this unfamiliar little backwater. It cloyed in his nostrils and tightened his lungs. But it couldn't be helped now...he was well and truly stranded. Only a fool like Dargroed would try to sail from Hartpoint at this time of year, and the crew had paid for his idiocy. Poor lads. Ah, well, done was done, and at least that pile of such-and-such had paid for his mistake along with all the others. All but Hardig, that is.
But what had it gained him? Now he was stuck here, wherever "here" was, and clearly it wasn't going to be his kind of town. What was so magical about magic, anyway? Didn't these people know what dragonfire could do to a formerly fruitful piece of land, or how long it takes to wash away the poison a mandragora leaves behind? And troll scat? Forget it! Impossibly gooey when fresh and harder than iron when not. And that aside from the fume and stench. Magic. BAH! But the wrack and ruin of many an honest, hard-working husbandman and of no real use to anyone. Except for trouble-makers and darklings.
Nothing for it, though. The bone-deep chill had not quite left him after his harrowing crossing and very narrow escape from a sailor's doom, though mercifully the waters in which their good ship had finally surrendered were far warmer than his native clime; else even he would have succumbed to either wave or weather. Even so, he needed a hot meal and a warm bed, and if he had to get it here, then so be it. One must do what one must do. And he could smell stew and ale even from the street.
Letting his nose guide him, he stumped on until the source hove into view. The delicious smells coming from the inn made his stomach growl loudly. Merry voices drifted forth, and warm yellow light spilled from every window. ~Very well then,~ Hardig thought, silently challenging the unfamiliar place, ~do your worst.~ And he stumped through the door.
Jace Draccus
Jan 1, 2017, 6:06:01 AM1/1/17
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[Thasiya]
The elf sat by herself, though the room was far from empty. Some of the locals had stopped by for a drink, a meal, a bit of good cheer, and she was more than content to sit and watch. The food was good, no one was drunk enough to be rowdy yet...
Idly, she flicked her fingers and a small hummingbird composed of pink energy appeared. She smiled as she made it dart to and fro, then took a pull from her tankard. Ah, that was the good stuff. The magical bird, directed by the motion of her finger, alighted on the rim of the drinking vessel and investigated the contents by dipping its long beak in. Then it took off again, wings blurring as it looped and twirled through the air.
Some of the patrons were watching, but not afraid. After all, when the waitress is a ghost and given the kinds of things Montfort had seen, a spot of harmless conjuring was hardly anything to blink at.
"Can you make it do anything else?" a man asked.
"Hmm?" Thasiya looked at him, the hummingbird pausing in midflight. "Well, let's see..."
Lips pursed, she propped her cheek on one hand, elbow on the table, as she considered her creation. After a bit of thought she twirled the firefinger of her free hand, and the bird responded by flying in a tight circle. Faster and faster it went, until it was but a blur, a spinning circle of pink energy.
The circle shrank, growing tighter and tighter, until it suddenly streaked skyward and exploded in a shower of orange and green sparks. These drifted down and faded before they touched anything.
The man smiled, his companions muttered amongst themselves. "Very pretty," he said. "Er, is it gone? Dead?"
"It was never really there. Just a spark of magic given form." As proof, she summoned it again with a flick of her fingers, then caught it in her hand and blew on it so that it faded away again.
The man nodded. "Well, thank you all the same." He raised his mug, then turned back to whatever he and his friends were doing.
Alone in the crowd once more, Thasiya settled back to enjoy her drink.
((Since no one else has joined in yet, I thought I'd throw something together and chuck it in.))
The elf sat by herself, though the room was far from empty. Some of the locals had stopped by for a drink, a meal, a bit of good cheer, and she was more than content to sit and watch. The food was good, no one was drunk enough to be rowdy yet...
Idly, she flicked her fingers and a small hummingbird composed of pink energy appeared. She smiled as she made it dart to and fro, then took a pull from her tankard. Ah, that was the good stuff. The magical bird, directed by the motion of her finger, alighted on the rim of the drinking vessel and investigated the contents by dipping its long beak in. Then it took off again, wings blurring as it looped and twirled through the air.
Some of the patrons were watching, but not afraid. After all, when the waitress is a ghost and given the kinds of things Montfort had seen, a spot of harmless conjuring was hardly anything to blink at.
"Can you make it do anything else?" a man asked.
"Hmm?" Thasiya looked at him, the hummingbird pausing in midflight. "Well, let's see..."
Lips pursed, she propped her cheek on one hand, elbow on the table, as she considered her creation. After a bit of thought she twirled the firefinger of her free hand, and the bird responded by flying in a tight circle. Faster and faster it went, until it was but a blur, a spinning circle of pink energy.
The circle shrank, growing tighter and tighter, until it suddenly streaked skyward and exploded in a shower of orange and green sparks. These drifted down and faded before they touched anything.
The man smiled, his companions muttered amongst themselves. "Very pretty," he said. "Er, is it gone? Dead?"
"It was never really there. Just a spark of magic given form." As proof, she summoned it again with a flick of her fingers, then caught it in her hand and blew on it so that it faded away again.
The man nodded. "Well, thank you all the same." He raised his mug, then turned back to whatever he and his friends were doing.
Alone in the crowd once more, Thasiya settled back to enjoy her drink.
((Since no one else has joined in yet, I thought I'd throw something together and chuck it in.))
The Scythe
Jan 10, 2017, 9:59:09 AM1/10/17
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[Admin]
Woo, man the Christmas season sure gets away with you, doesn't it! So much for a daily post! Ah well, it's still wintertime, so here goes. I'm going to do a daily post, same as what I mentioned before.
--Robert
[Vintner of Greenhaven]
From upstairs came a tall, thin gentleman, dressed in green with silver piping. His eyes and ears marked him as half-elven. He shivered.
"Someone throw a log on the fire!" He called and hugged himself. "Can this winter get any colder?"
He sat down near the fire and rubbed his hands.
"Too cold for the lute, but at least we can have some music!" He grinned. He unslung a tom-tom and began to play slowly, humming a tiny tune.
Looking around, he met eyes with and nodded at everyone in turn.
[At The River Dell]
Elspeth was dressed warmly, and she and the other children were playing in the trees. There had been some light snow, but so far nothing unusual. The little river was still hurrying past.
One of her friends tried to make a snowball, and the effect was dismal. It crumbled.
"I sure wish there was more snow!" said the other girl in passing. It was just a single thought of a child, gone like a breeze. But Elspeth stopped.
"Why can't it snow?" She thought. "There SHOULD be snow, we NEED snow. As her friends went on playing, she stopped, deep in thought.
"Oy, Visp!" she called out finally, in a friendly voice, as one calls to a friend. From right to left, it emerged from behind a tree, stepping from the hidden world into the visible. The creature that answered her was small, only a couple feet tall. And thin it was, with transparent skin, if it's frozen surface could be called skin. It's voice had the tones of falling icicles.
"Elspeth! Good morrow," it tinkled as it trotted to her.
"Good morrow," she answered. "Why can't it snow?" She asked, impatiently.
"It's not time yet," Visp replied. "Soon it will be here."
"But it's already Springtime, and we've been waiting so long!" She said, motioning to her now-distant friends. Visp's icy face crinkled, and if you could have seen it, you would have called it a mischevious grin.
"Are you asking for something?" He said. "Do you want something more than anything else in the world?" It's grin grew and grew. "Very well, do as I do."
Visp put it's palms together, fingers up, and knelt. Elspeth did the same. Then it reached out and wrote in the snow with it's finger.
"Read," it's voice tinkled with mirth.
Elspeth looked down, still on her knees, still hands pressed together.
"Eta visti sepeliet heims patriam." She intoned. With every word the wind picked up more and more, frigid like the highest mountain breeze. Then the final word.....
"Glacies."
In another place, a being of Power stirred, and turned it's head. Waiting, always waiting, always hungry. It reached out across space and time, and answered hear prayer.
The Scythe
Jan 10, 2017, 10:04:35 AM1/10/17
to
[Inn]
[Vintner]
While still drumming, Vintner nodded towards some of the others.
"Welcome, new comer, " He said to the one. "What brings you here?"
"What a beautiful use for magic," he said to the elven lady. "May I presume you are a mage then?"
[Vintner]
While still drumming, Vintner nodded towards some of the others.
"Welcome, new comer, " He said to the one. "What brings you here?"
"What a beautiful use for magic," he said to the elven lady. "May I presume you are a mage then?"
Jace Draccus
Jan 11, 2017, 5:14:55 AM1/11/17
to
She glanced at the man at the door, gave a nod of greeting, then turned her attention to Vintner, a slight smile on her lips.
"A mage? Oh no, nothing nearly so formal." She leaned an elbow on her table and studying the fingernails of her other hand. "Not for lack of trying, of course. My parents were more than happy to send me for schooling, and the thought of being a _mage_, a wizard, was so enthralling to a child..."
She raised her hand and idly traced a finger through the air, glowing symbols forming in the wake. First yellow, then aquamarine, violet, red... But as her hand moved on the trail followed, each of the shapes unravelling one by one.
"I couldn't make sense of it, all the spells and cantrips and rituals. Far easier to just move the magic how I wished, you see? But no one did. Not the teachers, not the other students." She sighed, exhaling a puff of lemon yellow smoke. "After a while, the frustration just became too much, so I left to seek my fortune. And now..."
She stopped, any trace of gaiety fading from her delicate, pointed features. Her brow furrowed as she looked around, casting about as if she'd heard something in the distance. After a moment, lips pursed, she shrugged.
"And now... here I am." She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she no longer felt. "And what of yourself, good sir? A man of music, clearly."
Janessa V.
Jan 12, 2017, 5:42:55 AM1/12/17
to
[Hardig/???]
He scowled at the showy brilliance of the elf maiden's display. Aye, he was definitely in the wrong town. When the shower of sparks burst over the crowd, he glared at the nearest one, as if daring it to fall on him. When it fizzled out without landing, he harrumphed with satisfaction and stumped over to the last empty table. It was in a corner near some dwarven folk, which suited him well. As far as he was concerned, this little backwater could use more no-nonsense folk like that.
He shucked his cloak and tossed it over the back of his chair. It was still stiff with salt, even after the long hours of traveling. He'd lost all his weapons in the drink, but he could amend that problem well enough. It hadn't been worth his life to try to save them. And until then, he could bare-knuckle with the best of them. Let these magic-wielding pansies figure out what to do with a fist in their faces. "Hr! Har har," he chuckled into his beard. That was stiff with salt as well, he realized, and probably needed rebraiding. Ah, well, at least its glorious russet color was unaffected by the brine. The same could not be said of the ruined leather and cloth of the rest of his gear, but that could be amended as well. First things had to come first. "Oy, there," he grunted at a passing maiden bearing a burden of empty trenchers. She looked to be half dwarven herself. "The biggest portion of stew yeh ken manage, lass, if yeh would. And ale." Though gravelly and thrummingly deep, his tone was friendly, and he met her gaze directly. The brown of his eyes was so dark, those who didn't dare meet them too intently often took them for black. They had a way of reflecting even the dimmest light. That twinkle could be dangerous or welcoming, the harbinger of death for some, salvation for others. And though his gaze tended to be sharp and lively, challenging even, there was also a kindness born of longsuffering.
He glanced sidelong at the green-clad minstrel and the magic-wielder. That was a pity, really...he was no bard himself, but he knew what he liked. He hadn't minded the stringy fellow's playing. It was better than nothing, at least. When the maiden began plying her arts again, he grumpily shifted his bulk in his chair to put the two as much out of sight as possible. He folded his thickly-muscled arms across his barrel chest and stretched his legs under the table. They didn't stretch very far...always his people tended to be broad rather than tall, and Hardig could not be said to have broken that particular mold.
The long-awaited stew had arrived. "Ar!" he grunted happily, thumping the table with his fist to show his appreciation. Eagerly he seized the delightfully oversized spoon, scooped up a manly mouthful...
And froze. Something was happening. Something had changed in the wind. He was a man of the north, he knew what blew from the peeks and from the plains, over water and under sky. Something was definitely different. And it sent a chill down his spine. His body remained still, but his eyes darted around the room. Had anyone else sensed it?
The door banged open, carried away on a sudden gust. Over the threshold stepped a woman clad in a light cloak, dark tunic and breaches, and boots of soft leather. Her garb seemed unequal to the weather, but she showed no sign of discomfort. Like Hardig, she was also of average height, though nothing else about her could be described so. She had a mass of dark, silken curls, some piled thickly at the back of her head, more trailing down her back to waist-length. Her movements were fluid and graceful and unhurried, as though she had never been tense in all her life. Her expression was as relaxed, almost blank. But her eyes...they told a much different story. They took in the room, twin pools of a stunning indigo flecked with gold, and though their look was calm and assured, the depth of sadness in them was palpable.
She nodded to the room at large by way of apology and heaved the heavy door to. Though the wind did its best to fight back, she was the victor, and this, too, she made seem so effortless as to be hardly worth noticing.
But someone did notice. Forgetting his foreboding of only moments before, Hardig watched her wend between the tables, looking for a place to sit. He knew he was staring but couldn't help it. He hadn't been this curious about anyone or anything in a good long while. Curiousity was for philosophers, academics, and kittens, not for a northman with survival on his mind. But there was something about this lass that he couldn't define. "Here!" he barked; she was almost past him when he remembered he could talk. He nudged the chair opposite him with his foot, pushing it out from the table. He finished in a more civilized tone (that was still more like a growl), "I'll share with yeh."
She paused, hesitating only a moment before acknowledging with another nod. She took the seat, perching on the edge and holding her back poker-straight. "Thank you," she responded in a soft, sultry tone, then said no more.
He scowled at the showy brilliance of the elf maiden's display. Aye, he was definitely in the wrong town. When the shower of sparks burst over the crowd, he glared at the nearest one, as if daring it to fall on him. When it fizzled out without landing, he harrumphed with satisfaction and stumped over to the last empty table. It was in a corner near some dwarven folk, which suited him well. As far as he was concerned, this little backwater could use more no-nonsense folk like that.
He shucked his cloak and tossed it over the back of his chair. It was still stiff with salt, even after the long hours of traveling. He'd lost all his weapons in the drink, but he could amend that problem well enough. It hadn't been worth his life to try to save them. And until then, he could bare-knuckle with the best of them. Let these magic-wielding pansies figure out what to do with a fist in their faces. "Hr! Har har," he chuckled into his beard. That was stiff with salt as well, he realized, and probably needed rebraiding. Ah, well, at least its glorious russet color was unaffected by the brine. The same could not be said of the ruined leather and cloth of the rest of his gear, but that could be amended as well. First things had to come first. "Oy, there," he grunted at a passing maiden bearing a burden of empty trenchers. She looked to be half dwarven herself. "The biggest portion of stew yeh ken manage, lass, if yeh would. And ale." Though gravelly and thrummingly deep, his tone was friendly, and he met her gaze directly. The brown of his eyes was so dark, those who didn't dare meet them too intently often took them for black. They had a way of reflecting even the dimmest light. That twinkle could be dangerous or welcoming, the harbinger of death for some, salvation for others. And though his gaze tended to be sharp and lively, challenging even, there was also a kindness born of longsuffering.
He glanced sidelong at the green-clad minstrel and the magic-wielder. That was a pity, really...he was no bard himself, but he knew what he liked. He hadn't minded the stringy fellow's playing. It was better than nothing, at least. When the maiden began plying her arts again, he grumpily shifted his bulk in his chair to put the two as much out of sight as possible. He folded his thickly-muscled arms across his barrel chest and stretched his legs under the table. They didn't stretch very far...always his people tended to be broad rather than tall, and Hardig could not be said to have broken that particular mold.
The long-awaited stew had arrived. "Ar!" he grunted happily, thumping the table with his fist to show his appreciation. Eagerly he seized the delightfully oversized spoon, scooped up a manly mouthful...
And froze. Something was happening. Something had changed in the wind. He was a man of the north, he knew what blew from the peeks and from the plains, over water and under sky. Something was definitely different. And it sent a chill down his spine. His body remained still, but his eyes darted around the room. Had anyone else sensed it?
The door banged open, carried away on a sudden gust. Over the threshold stepped a woman clad in a light cloak, dark tunic and breaches, and boots of soft leather. Her garb seemed unequal to the weather, but she showed no sign of discomfort. Like Hardig, she was also of average height, though nothing else about her could be described so. She had a mass of dark, silken curls, some piled thickly at the back of her head, more trailing down her back to waist-length. Her movements were fluid and graceful and unhurried, as though she had never been tense in all her life. Her expression was as relaxed, almost blank. But her eyes...they told a much different story. They took in the room, twin pools of a stunning indigo flecked with gold, and though their look was calm and assured, the depth of sadness in them was palpable.
She nodded to the room at large by way of apology and heaved the heavy door to. Though the wind did its best to fight back, she was the victor, and this, too, she made seem so effortless as to be hardly worth noticing.
But someone did notice. Forgetting his foreboding of only moments before, Hardig watched her wend between the tables, looking for a place to sit. He knew he was staring but couldn't help it. He hadn't been this curious about anyone or anything in a good long while. Curiousity was for philosophers, academics, and kittens, not for a northman with survival on his mind. But there was something about this lass that he couldn't define. "Here!" he barked; she was almost past him when he remembered he could talk. He nudged the chair opposite him with his foot, pushing it out from the table. He finished in a more civilized tone (that was still more like a growl), "I'll share with yeh."
She paused, hesitating only a moment before acknowledging with another nod. She took the seat, perching on the edge and holding her back poker-straight. "Thank you," she responded in a soft, sultry tone, then said no more.
The Scythe
Jan 12, 2017, 11:03:33 AM1/12/17
to
[Admin]
I think we'll do a bit more character chat before getting the adventure started. I'd like to know more about the Northman and the Lady first. Interesting ones for sure. I'm trying to decide if Vintner should try to draw them out much.
Story Note:
Expect oppressive and magical cold to overwhelm Montfort. All the powerful places will be protected enough to withstand it, but it will tax their resources to the point where they can't send out efforts to solve the problem. Since the Inn is fully protected, our heros are available.
Since I don't know the characters, I'm thinking of creating multiple possibilities for victory, Trickery, Negotiations, Magicial Contest, Combat. As they get to know each other more, I'll flesh things out as to which path we follow, but their choices will lead into it too.
[Inn]
Vintner was replying to Thasiya, while absently playing on.
"Well that certainly seems that they could understand your true talents! They could never understand your unique and wonderful nature. As for me, the Lord of Greenhaven and I had a bit of a disagreement..... about his daughter." He sighed in a stage whisper, overly dramatic.
"Ah me, but that was ages ago, in another life. Now I sing for my supper. I am certainly more of a lover than a fighter," he said, and he winked to her and smiled.
After the new lady entered and sat down with the Northman, Vinter performed a flourish of drumming.
"Welcome all, to another evening of music and dinner at the Red Dragon Inn! Hugh has engaged your humble servant, Vintner of Greenhaven to provide entertainment. Would you be so good as to share your names with me? I write songs, you see, and how can I sing songs of your great deeds without your names!? Impossible!" He stood and rose in volume. "Speak and have your deeds be remembered in song and story!" He winked and smiled.
I think we'll do a bit more character chat before getting the adventure started. I'd like to know more about the Northman and the Lady first. Interesting ones for sure. I'm trying to decide if Vintner should try to draw them out much.
Story Note:
Expect oppressive and magical cold to overwhelm Montfort. All the powerful places will be protected enough to withstand it, but it will tax their resources to the point where they can't send out efforts to solve the problem. Since the Inn is fully protected, our heros are available.
Since I don't know the characters, I'm thinking of creating multiple possibilities for victory, Trickery, Negotiations, Magicial Contest, Combat. As they get to know each other more, I'll flesh things out as to which path we follow, but their choices will lead into it too.
[Inn]
Vintner was replying to Thasiya, while absently playing on.
"Well that certainly seems that they could understand your true talents! They could never understand your unique and wonderful nature. As for me, the Lord of Greenhaven and I had a bit of a disagreement..... about his daughter." He sighed in a stage whisper, overly dramatic.
"Ah me, but that was ages ago, in another life. Now I sing for my supper. I am certainly more of a lover than a fighter," he said, and he winked to her and smiled.
After the new lady entered and sat down with the Northman, Vinter performed a flourish of drumming.
"Welcome all, to another evening of music and dinner at the Red Dragon Inn! Hugh has engaged your humble servant, Vintner of Greenhaven to provide entertainment. Would you be so good as to share your names with me? I write songs, you see, and how can I sing songs of your great deeds without your names!? Impossible!" He stood and rose in volume. "Speak and have your deeds be remembered in song and story!" He winked and smiled.
Janessa V.
Jan 12, 2017, 7:22:06 PM1/12/17
to
[Admin]
Sounds great :) Just let me know what you decide; if Vintner is not going to draw them out, we can just as well do it with narration. Hardig is too straight-forward to be very secretive for long. One might even say...blunt? As for the lady, well, we'll see.
As to the quest, Hardig has above-average endurance, but there isn't anything especially magical about him...that he knows of...but the lady is, shall we say, a special kind of hardy.
[Hardig/woman]
As soon as his companion was seated, he turned his attention back to his stew. He somehow wasn't as hungry as he had been before, but it gave him more of an opportunity to observe the lass without openly staring like a landed cod. He shot veiled glances at her as he slurped up his dinner.
The woman sat quietly, her hands at rest in her lap, and took in the variety of patrons. Her face remained placid; if she harbored any particular feelings or opinions about these odd folk, she certainly didn't show it. And when the bard--or Stringbean, as Hardig was already calling the fellow in his mind--arrested all conversation, she turned in her chair, politely giving him her attention.
Hardig hmphed to himself, less-than-half-listening as the others bought into the bard's showmanship, concentrating instead on scraping up the very last of the delicious stew. He still felt odd, being surrounded by all these strangers who were so at home with things he would be happier to be well away from. What would the clans say if they could see the company he was keeping these days? He'd be banned from the Watch for certain.
Well then, they should have stopped that buffoon from setting sail, he decided. He gave his bowl one last, diligent scrape, finally satisfied he had gotten up the last taste, then leaned back with a grunt.
Only to find the room staring at him. Even his all-but-silent companion had turned upon him a look of polite expectation. It seemed his turn had come. These folk were odd indeed.
"Hardig," he grunted. But the silence went on; clearly more was expected. Alright, then. "Son of Havroed, son of Haiden. I'm in the market for a new longsword, if anyone has a mind teh sell." He snatched up his tankard of ale with an air of finality.
His companion remained silent a beat longer, perhaps waiting to see if anyone would offer. But after a moment, she said as softly as ever, "I am Sephra. I am for hire."
Sounds great :) Just let me know what you decide; if Vintner is not going to draw them out, we can just as well do it with narration. Hardig is too straight-forward to be very secretive for long. One might even say...blunt? As for the lady, well, we'll see.
As to the quest, Hardig has above-average endurance, but there isn't anything especially magical about him...that he knows of...but the lady is, shall we say, a special kind of hardy.
[Hardig/woman]
As soon as his companion was seated, he turned his attention back to his stew. He somehow wasn't as hungry as he had been before, but it gave him more of an opportunity to observe the lass without openly staring like a landed cod. He shot veiled glances at her as he slurped up his dinner.
The woman sat quietly, her hands at rest in her lap, and took in the variety of patrons. Her face remained placid; if she harbored any particular feelings or opinions about these odd folk, she certainly didn't show it. And when the bard--or Stringbean, as Hardig was already calling the fellow in his mind--arrested all conversation, she turned in her chair, politely giving him her attention.
Hardig hmphed to himself, less-than-half-listening as the others bought into the bard's showmanship, concentrating instead on scraping up the very last of the delicious stew. He still felt odd, being surrounded by all these strangers who were so at home with things he would be happier to be well away from. What would the clans say if they could see the company he was keeping these days? He'd be banned from the Watch for certain.
Well then, they should have stopped that buffoon from setting sail, he decided. He gave his bowl one last, diligent scrape, finally satisfied he had gotten up the last taste, then leaned back with a grunt.
Only to find the room staring at him. Even his all-but-silent companion had turned upon him a look of polite expectation. It seemed his turn had come. These folk were odd indeed.
"Hardig," he grunted. But the silence went on; clearly more was expected. Alright, then. "Son of Havroed, son of Haiden. I'm in the market for a new longsword, if anyone has a mind teh sell." He snatched up his tankard of ale with an air of finality.
His companion remained silent a beat longer, perhaps waiting to see if anyone would offer. But after a moment, she said as softly as ever, "I am Sephra. I am for hire."
Jace Draccus
Jan 13, 2017, 4:55:23 AM1/13/17
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[Thasiya]
She nodded and smiled politely at Vintner's boasts, fully aware that charm could do much to paper over truth. It was a game she had played from time to time. If she let him talk - which he seemed all too willing to do - she'd get a better gauge on him, on his nature. He might be the amiable near-cad he seemed, or that might be affectation, covering for something else...
And so she sat and watched, quietly drinking. The unease from before, whatever that strange disturbance had been, already began to fade. Montfort had seen its fair share of magical and mystical events, so perhaps it was nothing more than some wizard's experiment gone awry. Nobody else had seemed to notice anything, so she knew it wasn't some physical tremor like an earthquake or the footsteps of a passing giant...
The Northman's demeanour was hard to miss, though he probably thought he hid it well. Some people had all the subtlety of a fist to the face. Whether he disliked elves or clung to ridiculous superstitions about magic, she did not yet know, but perhaps he would bear watching. People like him, the big, brawny, angry ones, usually had an inclination towards violence. Better to be prepared than injured... or dead.
As for his tablemate, who heralded her entrance with cold that almost seeped through the heat Thasiya had wrapped around herself... no clue as yet. She was a cypher. The Northman certainly seemed intent on her, but just why remained to be seen.
When the naming round turned to her, she inclined her head to the side and gave a flourish of her empty hand, forgoing any magical display for once.
"Thasiya. Just Thasiya."
She took another sip from her cup and motioned to the barmaid for a refill. Turning to the other table, she smiled at the Northman and his companion. "Sad to say I have no sword to spare, but I hear that so many travellers pass through here. Perhaps someone left one behind? You could try asking at the bar."
Not that she particularly wanted to help arm a potential brute, but perhaps being seen as helpful might allay him somewhat.
[ADMIN]
I guess I'm up for whatever, we'll see where this goes. I'll follow the lead... and I'm sorry if it seemed I was pushing. I just thought it would be in character that Thasiya might sense something, even if she didn't know what.
Do we have enough characters for what you have in mind? I don't know if anyone else is likely to join in, but that's not an issue.
She nodded and smiled politely at Vintner's boasts, fully aware that charm could do much to paper over truth. It was a game she had played from time to time. If she let him talk - which he seemed all too willing to do - she'd get a better gauge on him, on his nature. He might be the amiable near-cad he seemed, or that might be affectation, covering for something else...
And so she sat and watched, quietly drinking. The unease from before, whatever that strange disturbance had been, already began to fade. Montfort had seen its fair share of magical and mystical events, so perhaps it was nothing more than some wizard's experiment gone awry. Nobody else had seemed to notice anything, so she knew it wasn't some physical tremor like an earthquake or the footsteps of a passing giant...
The Northman's demeanour was hard to miss, though he probably thought he hid it well. Some people had all the subtlety of a fist to the face. Whether he disliked elves or clung to ridiculous superstitions about magic, she did not yet know, but perhaps he would bear watching. People like him, the big, brawny, angry ones, usually had an inclination towards violence. Better to be prepared than injured... or dead.
As for his tablemate, who heralded her entrance with cold that almost seeped through the heat Thasiya had wrapped around herself... no clue as yet. She was a cypher. The Northman certainly seemed intent on her, but just why remained to be seen.
When the naming round turned to her, she inclined her head to the side and gave a flourish of her empty hand, forgoing any magical display for once.
"Thasiya. Just Thasiya."
She took another sip from her cup and motioned to the barmaid for a refill. Turning to the other table, she smiled at the Northman and his companion. "Sad to say I have no sword to spare, but I hear that so many travellers pass through here. Perhaps someone left one behind? You could try asking at the bar."
Not that she particularly wanted to help arm a potential brute, but perhaps being seen as helpful might allay him somewhat.
[ADMIN]
I guess I'm up for whatever, we'll see where this goes. I'll follow the lead... and I'm sorry if it seemed I was pushing. I just thought it would be in character that Thasiya might sense something, even if she didn't know what.
Do we have enough characters for what you have in mind? I don't know if anyone else is likely to join in, but that's not an issue.
Janessa V.
Jan 14, 2017, 5:09:00 PM1/14/17
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[Hardig]
He snorted into his beard. "No one in their right state of mind leaves behind a perfectly good weapon, lass," he answered without quite meeting her gaze. "Not unless it's cursed."
Left behind. Cursed. His own words echoed in his thoughts. Wasn't that what he was? Far from home, forgotten by his kin, with no notion of when or even if he would ever find his way home again? Why hadn't the Clanmeet forbidden this fool's errand? No one could break the curse that hung over the homelands of the north; they had been fighting the same battles for centuries now. And if the Meet was so unwilling to step in, why hadn't they at least insisted on sending lesser men? Who was guarding Eastrush now, Hardig wondered; the mountain clans needed those crops, or their wee ones would starve.
He pushed his thoughts away. Nothing could be done about the past, and any attempt to sail for home was yet far afuture. He would have to make the best of it. And his best needed a good sword. He glanced over to the bar, in spite of his distrust of wielders in general and this sly mink in particular.
He promptly did a rather dramatic doubletake when he finally caught sight of the ghostly barkeep. Well, didn't that just figure nicely, he thought when the initial shock had worn off. "Pass," he grumbled into his beard and slugged back the rest of his ale instead.
[Admin]
No worries, I didn't think you were pushing :) We have a pretty good ensemble, I think, but if you want a couple more characters, I'm fine with that, too. Now that I think about it, Rikkandar might be good for this. He's semi-immortal with certain elemental affinities. I'm good with whatever; my only real hangup is that I don't like to get too explicit. There doesn't seem to be that kind of culture here, anyway :)
He snorted into his beard. "No one in their right state of mind leaves behind a perfectly good weapon, lass," he answered without quite meeting her gaze. "Not unless it's cursed."
Left behind. Cursed. His own words echoed in his thoughts. Wasn't that what he was? Far from home, forgotten by his kin, with no notion of when or even if he would ever find his way home again? Why hadn't the Clanmeet forbidden this fool's errand? No one could break the curse that hung over the homelands of the north; they had been fighting the same battles for centuries now. And if the Meet was so unwilling to step in, why hadn't they at least insisted on sending lesser men? Who was guarding Eastrush now, Hardig wondered; the mountain clans needed those crops, or their wee ones would starve.
He pushed his thoughts away. Nothing could be done about the past, and any attempt to sail for home was yet far afuture. He would have to make the best of it. And his best needed a good sword. He glanced over to the bar, in spite of his distrust of wielders in general and this sly mink in particular.
He promptly did a rather dramatic doubletake when he finally caught sight of the ghostly barkeep. Well, didn't that just figure nicely, he thought when the initial shock had worn off. "Pass," he grumbled into his beard and slugged back the rest of his ale instead.
[Admin]
No worries, I didn't think you were pushing :) We have a pretty good ensemble, I think, but if you want a couple more characters, I'm fine with that, too. Now that I think about it, Rikkandar might be good for this. He's semi-immortal with certain elemental affinities. I'm good with whatever; my only real hangup is that I don't like to get too explicit. There doesn't seem to be that kind of culture here, anyway :)
The Scythe
Jan 17, 2017, 1:00:22 AM1/17/17
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[Admin]
@Jace
No worries, anticipating the magical surge that's coming is fine. It ought to be sending plenty of ripples out. I mainly just need the names of the characters. Super hard to keep typing, "The Man," and "The Lady" <grin> I thought it was cool that Thasiya recognized it actually, and we can play off it it. Feel free to have her react that way to other things that happen too.
How many needed - I'm going to vary it to how many we have and what their powers are, so four will be fine. In fact, I probably need to bring someone else in. Vintner's whole concept is, hmmmmm. I forgot about that. He wasn't joking when he said he's a lover not a fighter. I haven't decided if he can handle a rapier, but he definitely prefers NOT to fight. My whole concept for him is that he stays at the Inn keeping the fires going while OTHER people go on the quests! I definitely need to bring someone else in on this. <wink> you'll see.
@Myself
Woah! It was last Thursday when I posted! Aish! Daily daily daily, here we go!
@Janessa
I think we'll have enough characters. We'll see how this group does.
[Inn - Vintner Greenhaven, and Garan and Finast Gynal]
Vintner nodded to each in turn as they spoke their names.
"Ah, so we have Thasiya as great in magic, as in beauty! Also, we have Hardig the Gruff, and the Sephra, the mysterious! But that is not all, what might your names be?" He motioned to another corner of the room.
In that corner, a great bear of a man was accosting some of the other patrons. His beard was double-braided like a dwarf, and he had been holding out a scroll. "At least ONE of you MUST have seen this woman? Yes" They all were saking their heads, clearly wanting him to leave them alone.
At Vintner's call, the huge man's companion laid a hand on his shoulder, and they both looked over. The two of them made an unusual pair. The tall, bearded one's weapon was a wicked, black, great axe he had set under their table earlier, and his companion was a handsome mage, cloak adorned with sigils. The mage spoke in a clear, strong voice.
"My name is Finast, and this is my brother Garan. We both have our little obsessions that brought us to Montfort," He said with a wry grin, "And you may feel free to sing any songs you know about us, good sir."
Others in the room also introduced themselves, and Vintner continued, even getting Fawn to introduce herself. Finally, he went on.
"Well met to you all, and welcome to this place of warmth and good cheer!"
But it was at that moment that the wind began to howl. A ripple of cold passed through the room from right to left, snuffing the fire and rimming all glass with frost. Chittering sounds were heared outside, with voices and scratchings. At one of the windows something like a visage leered, if it could be called a face, and it's icy claw scratched the window.
Fawn cried out,
"No! It can't be, it can't! The wards! We are protected here!"
Outside, the coldwave had passed through all of Montfort as well, and with it had come creatures. Inhuman things from a frozen plane, and they no love, or warmth.
Most of them went on into the city, cackling and capering, but a group stayed, peering and clawing, unable to reach and freeze out the warmth inside the Inn, but lurking outside.
[Admin]
So there are 10 or so of the things outside. These are ice imps like Visp, who Elspeth was talking to. They've got claws and bites and minor cold and freezing powers. They like to torment and trouble, and aren't all that tough. The assuumption is a fight, but talking or trickery or capture could happen too.
The Scythe
Jan 17, 2017, 1:01:36 AM1/17/17
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[Admin]
Oh yeah, they cannot get in or harm the inn. But that doesn't mean they don't want to or won't try.
Let your imaginations run away with you on things they may do.
Oh yeah, they cannot get in or harm the inn. But that doesn't mean they don't want to or won't try.
Let your imaginations run away with you on things they may do.
The Scythe
Jan 17, 2017, 11:26:07 PM1/17/17
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[Admin]
Daily, daily daily! I'm doing some background stuff to get organized, so not much to post today.
[Outside the Inn and Montfort]
As the coldwave blew through the city, everyone gave a collective shudder. Only the strongest enchantments were able to stop it, and the people in control of those enchantments felt the cold winds of Chaos down to their bones.
The people on the streets stood shocked, almost paralyzed by the sudden cold. As the rime started to form, many of them quickened their paces to get indoors, but even their homes and businesses, warmed by natural fires, were little refuge from it.
Soon after, the creatures came.
Then the screaming began.
Daily, daily daily! I'm doing some background stuff to get organized, so not much to post today.
[Outside the Inn and Montfort]
As the coldwave blew through the city, everyone gave a collective shudder. Only the strongest enchantments were able to stop it, and the people in control of those enchantments felt the cold winds of Chaos down to their bones.
The people on the streets stood shocked, almost paralyzed by the sudden cold. As the rime started to form, many of them quickened their paces to get indoors, but even their homes and businesses, warmed by natural fires, were little refuge from it.
Soon after, the creatures came.
Then the screaming began.
Janessa V.
Jan 18, 2017, 12:53:05 AM1/18/17
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[Sephra/Hardig]
Sephra started at the huge man's words, tension stiffening her whole frame. She slowly turned her head, bringing the mismatched pair into view. She seemed to relax, however, after a few moments' observation. Whoever the giant fellow was looking for, her concern seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come, her manner once again blithe.
Hardig seemed about to comment when the wave of cold stole the words from his mouth. His eyes flicked to the now-dead fire, the expression in them coming alight with the keenness of a hunter sensing prey. He heaved to his feet and sauntered over to the fireplace, kneeling on the hearth and stretching his splayed hand out over the extinguished logs, checking for residual heat. Whatever he discovered made him growl something under his breath.
He glanced up. The things appeared to be everywhere; he could hear them scrabbling in the street, and the sound of there chittering was like icicles scraping the inside of his skull. "All right then, little beasties," he said audibly as he rose to his feet. He grabbed the fire poker and spun it experimentally.
Sephra had also risen to her feet at first sight of the wicked little face in the glass, her head cocked to the side with interest. One sound in particular seemed to catch her attention, and with her slow, easy grace she wandered over to stand several steps in front of the great wooden door. ~Taptaptap~. A short pause. ~Taptaptap~. ~Taptaptap~. She listened intently. After several moments, she observed, "I believe they are knocking." It was, of course, the oldest of the old wisdom that said if you invite something in, the consequences must fall where they may. She added, almost to herself, "But is this foolishness, or cleverness?" She took a step nearer the door in spite of herself.
Then the screaming began. Sephra's head jerked up, and in less than a heartbeat, her one hand was full of what looked to be throwing knives made entirely of ivory and she was marching toward the door, her free hand reaching for the handle.
"Whoa, lass!" Hardig barked out and dashed forward, but whether to restrain her or join her was as yet unclear.
Sephra started at the huge man's words, tension stiffening her whole frame. She slowly turned her head, bringing the mismatched pair into view. She seemed to relax, however, after a few moments' observation. Whoever the giant fellow was looking for, her concern seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come, her manner once again blithe.
Hardig seemed about to comment when the wave of cold stole the words from his mouth. His eyes flicked to the now-dead fire, the expression in them coming alight with the keenness of a hunter sensing prey. He heaved to his feet and sauntered over to the fireplace, kneeling on the hearth and stretching his splayed hand out over the extinguished logs, checking for residual heat. Whatever he discovered made him growl something under his breath.
He glanced up. The things appeared to be everywhere; he could hear them scrabbling in the street, and the sound of there chittering was like icicles scraping the inside of his skull. "All right then, little beasties," he said audibly as he rose to his feet. He grabbed the fire poker and spun it experimentally.
Sephra had also risen to her feet at first sight of the wicked little face in the glass, her head cocked to the side with interest. One sound in particular seemed to catch her attention, and with her slow, easy grace she wandered over to stand several steps in front of the great wooden door. ~Taptaptap~. A short pause. ~Taptaptap~. ~Taptaptap~. She listened intently. After several moments, she observed, "I believe they are knocking." It was, of course, the oldest of the old wisdom that said if you invite something in, the consequences must fall where they may. She added, almost to herself, "But is this foolishness, or cleverness?" She took a step nearer the door in spite of herself.
Then the screaming began. Sephra's head jerked up, and in less than a heartbeat, her one hand was full of what looked to be throwing knives made entirely of ivory and she was marching toward the door, her free hand reaching for the handle.
"Whoa, lass!" Hardig barked out and dashed forward, but whether to restrain her or join her was as yet unclear.
ShadoJohn
Jan 18, 2017, 4:23:10 AM1/18/17
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[Magna]
From the kitchen came a loud clamor and banging of pans. The oven reignited with a substantial Whoosh and a flare of bright light. Suddenly the kitchen door burst open with the force of a dozen angry dwarves. Out from the large dark door marched an angry young woman, only four foot tall, but wielding a cast-iron skillet and a bad attitude.
“What in the blazes of Furna is going on out here!” Magna roared staring down everyone in the inn. She was an unusual sort, being a Dwelf, half dwarf and half elf. She was a handsome full figured lass full of fire, literally, as she threw a small fireball in the hearth. “Fawn, I thought the inn’s wards controlled these bumbling mage antics!”
Not waiting for an answer, Magna marched to the fireplace and restacked the burning logs, wholly unconcerned with getting burned. Hearing a rapid scratching above her head, she turned her amber eyes upward a saw a couple of small dark figures up the chimney.
“Now, you get out of there you nattering pests,” she said threateningly launching two fireballs up the flue. Standing upright, she dusted her hand off on her apron and then tucked a loose lock of bright red hair back behind her slightly pointed ear. “Fawn, I think you got coon problems.”
Magna’s attention strayed again as she noticed Vintner and a few others staring at her and the frosted windows. “When did it get so cold?”
From the kitchen came a loud clamor and banging of pans. The oven reignited with a substantial Whoosh and a flare of bright light. Suddenly the kitchen door burst open with the force of a dozen angry dwarves. Out from the large dark door marched an angry young woman, only four foot tall, but wielding a cast-iron skillet and a bad attitude.
“What in the blazes of Furna is going on out here!” Magna roared staring down everyone in the inn. She was an unusual sort, being a Dwelf, half dwarf and half elf. She was a handsome full figured lass full of fire, literally, as she threw a small fireball in the hearth. “Fawn, I thought the inn’s wards controlled these bumbling mage antics!”
Not waiting for an answer, Magna marched to the fireplace and restacked the burning logs, wholly unconcerned with getting burned. Hearing a rapid scratching above her head, she turned her amber eyes upward a saw a couple of small dark figures up the chimney.
“Now, you get out of there you nattering pests,” she said threateningly launching two fireballs up the flue. Standing upright, she dusted her hand off on her apron and then tucked a loose lock of bright red hair back behind her slightly pointed ear. “Fawn, I think you got coon problems.”
Magna’s attention strayed again as she noticed Vintner and a few others staring at her and the frosted windows. “When did it get so cold?”
ShadoJohn
Jan 18, 2017, 4:32:42 AM1/18/17
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[Last line redo]
Magna’s attention strayed again as she noticed the heavily frosted windows and the commotion at the door. “When did it get so cold?”
Magna’s attention strayed again as she noticed the heavily frosted windows and the commotion at the door. “When did it get so cold?”
Jace Draccus
Jan 18, 2017, 6:33:02 AM1/18/17
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[Thasiya]
She refrained from asking Hardig whether he was in his right mind, since he'd presumably left his sword behind at some point. No point in antagonising him, after all. So she shrugged and leaned back in her chair, watching the room as Vintner made the rounds. When he got to the brothers she cocked her head, curious as to who they sought, but also assessing the mage thoughtfully. True wizard or charlatan? Anyone could put n fancy robes....
Then the wave of cold swept the room, startling her as it snuffed her heat shroud. Her chair thumped and clattered as she leapt to her feet, peering all about. At Fawn's cry, her attention found something to fix on. The wards. She looked up, eyes unfocussing slightly.
"The wards are holding. I think. I've not seen work quite like it before..."
Magna's entrance gave her the opportunity to pull warmth from the fireplace with a flick of her fingers and a twist of the wrist. The air shimmered as she wrapped it around herself, settling it against her skin. That done, she turned her attention to the knocking at the door, and Sephra moving towards it.
"If they get inside, don't strike at them! I'm not sure if the wards will protect them, but we should be alright." Then, under her breath, "I hope..."
Too bad she'd left her sword in her room, but then she was not sure how it would fare against creatures of ice. Still, she had a trick or two to try... but just to be sure she siphoned more warmth from the fireplace as she walked over to stand with Sephra.
[Outside]
A talk, gaunt figure stalked through the streets of Montfort, seeming unbothered by the cold. Eyes shadowed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, face shrouded by a thick scarf piled around his shoulders, he watched as the citizens fled for the warmth and safety of their homes.
"Hmm." A quiet, dry voice, made almost inaudible by the winds. "They seem in a hurry..."
Then a scream reached him. He turned and ran, his long, thin legs slicing through the snow, and found an old woman under attack. The ice creature did not pay him any mind as it slashed at her with one claw-tipped hand, then the other, not even trying to draw blood. Not yet. Its giggling stopped abruptly as a slender hand closed around its throat.
It couldn't choke but it could scream with rage and it did as it wrenched itself around to fling a blast of cold in the face of the assailant. The tall man did not flinch as frost rimed the brim of his hat and began to form icicles. He knocked those aside with his free hand.
"That's not very nice." He flung the imp aside and it flew briefly, thudding hard against a wall. It did not get up again, and he did not check to see if it was dead or just injured as he helped the old lady to her feet. She was unhurt, just shaken, but she pulled together admirably quick. Montforters were made of stern stuff these days.
"You're alright? Good. Hurry home, and be careful!"
She needed no further prompting, but muttered a quick thank you as she gathered her basket and shuffled away. Alone again, the tall man looked about, seeing more of the imps skipping through distant streets, hearing more screams in the distance. None of the creatures seemed to notice him.
He'd heard the city had a guard force, and a college of mages. Hopefully they'd be able to help the people, because he already knew he couldn't be everywhere. There was one place, however...
"The inn. Perhaps someone there will know what is happening."
He started walking, striding swiftly through cold and nearly empty streets, pausing only to toss aside any unfortunate imp that found itself in his path.
[Admin]
Thought I might add this guy, then saw we already had some new additions... but this could still be interesting, so I hope no one minds.
She refrained from asking Hardig whether he was in his right mind, since he'd presumably left his sword behind at some point. No point in antagonising him, after all. So she shrugged and leaned back in her chair, watching the room as Vintner made the rounds. When he got to the brothers she cocked her head, curious as to who they sought, but also assessing the mage thoughtfully. True wizard or charlatan? Anyone could put n fancy robes....
Then the wave of cold swept the room, startling her as it snuffed her heat shroud. Her chair thumped and clattered as she leapt to her feet, peering all about. At Fawn's cry, her attention found something to fix on. The wards. She looked up, eyes unfocussing slightly.
"The wards are holding. I think. I've not seen work quite like it before..."
Magna's entrance gave her the opportunity to pull warmth from the fireplace with a flick of her fingers and a twist of the wrist. The air shimmered as she wrapped it around herself, settling it against her skin. That done, she turned her attention to the knocking at the door, and Sephra moving towards it.
"If they get inside, don't strike at them! I'm not sure if the wards will protect them, but we should be alright." Then, under her breath, "I hope..."
Too bad she'd left her sword in her room, but then she was not sure how it would fare against creatures of ice. Still, she had a trick or two to try... but just to be sure she siphoned more warmth from the fireplace as she walked over to stand with Sephra.
[Outside]
A talk, gaunt figure stalked through the streets of Montfort, seeming unbothered by the cold. Eyes shadowed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, face shrouded by a thick scarf piled around his shoulders, he watched as the citizens fled for the warmth and safety of their homes.
"Hmm." A quiet, dry voice, made almost inaudible by the winds. "They seem in a hurry..."
Then a scream reached him. He turned and ran, his long, thin legs slicing through the snow, and found an old woman under attack. The ice creature did not pay him any mind as it slashed at her with one claw-tipped hand, then the other, not even trying to draw blood. Not yet. Its giggling stopped abruptly as a slender hand closed around its throat.
It couldn't choke but it could scream with rage and it did as it wrenched itself around to fling a blast of cold in the face of the assailant. The tall man did not flinch as frost rimed the brim of his hat and began to form icicles. He knocked those aside with his free hand.
"That's not very nice." He flung the imp aside and it flew briefly, thudding hard against a wall. It did not get up again, and he did not check to see if it was dead or just injured as he helped the old lady to her feet. She was unhurt, just shaken, but she pulled together admirably quick. Montforters were made of stern stuff these days.
"You're alright? Good. Hurry home, and be careful!"
She needed no further prompting, but muttered a quick thank you as she gathered her basket and shuffled away. Alone again, the tall man looked about, seeing more of the imps skipping through distant streets, hearing more screams in the distance. None of the creatures seemed to notice him.
He'd heard the city had a guard force, and a college of mages. Hopefully they'd be able to help the people, because he already knew he couldn't be everywhere. There was one place, however...
"The inn. Perhaps someone there will know what is happening."
He started walking, striding swiftly through cold and nearly empty streets, pausing only to toss aside any unfortunate imp that found itself in his path.
[Admin]
Thought I might add this guy, then saw we already had some new additions... but this could still be interesting, so I hope no one minds.
The Scythe
Jan 18, 2017, 11:52:52 PM1/18/17
to
[Admin]
@Janessa - Nice opener with the tapping being knocking. Let's see if I can find a way to get us outside while still preserving the non-combat options to beat them.
@ShadoJohn - I'd forgotten about the Dwelf family. And of course she's the perfect enemy of these bad guys. Great stuff, and her attitude is wonderful.
@Jace - No worries bringing in another character. We had enough before but the whole thing is plenty scalable, and there are plenty bad guys to go around. We're up to about 7 characters now that'll be in the action. Vintner will not be going outside. That's a lot more than I thought actually, but hey, let's roll. As of last month this Inn was dead, and now it's rockin' So let's party.
[At The Inn - Vintner Greenhaven, Garan and Finast]
Vintner stopped and stared at Magna for a moment.
Recovered, he grinned and winked, "Well you're just a fiery dragonpod popper, now aren't you?"
He set down his tom-tom, and reached to his waist. Not finding a rapier there, he made a great show of picking up a chair and brandishing it.
When the coldwave passed, Finast shuddered. He drew his cloak tight about him. He recoiled from the face in the window.
"It can't be...." he said, schocked.
Garan ignored the cold. It was more a signal to him of enemy magic than anything else. With a demeanor that matched it, he first, very carefully, rolled up his scroll and tucked it away in a waterproof sealed case. Reaching behind their table, he picked up his black axe. Anyone familiar would be able to recognize that dwarven runes ran along it's surface. He turned, and the look on his face said he was ready for the harsh business of war.
Magna's entrance brought things back down a notch.
Then Garan strode to the center of the room, and in a voice used to command, he said,
"Ok, listen up. Outside there are some creatures. But look around. The strength and power is gathered here to beat them. My brother and I will handle getting us out the door. Then the rest of you can follow us out." He stepped to the door with Sephra, Hardig, and Thasiya. He readied his axe and leaned forward. Over his shoulder he said to his brother, "Ok, Fine, open the door!"
Finast recoiled again.
"Are you insane?!" The scritchings and chitterings went on. Whisperings too, like the tinkling of ice falling onto the roof were heard. Garan looked puzzled and turned. He was so used to working with battlemages, he had just assumed. Seeing Finast there, standing by their table, huddled in his cloak, he realized this was probably his twin brother's first fight. He softened a bit, but only just.
"It's ok, Fine, just magic the door. You CAN do that, right?"
The calulated jab was just the thing. Pride stung, the young mage uttered,
"Psh!" in response, and flung back his cloak. Normally the Art was like a romance, or a dance, but this time it was more like an assault. In the air he made the mystic signs for wood and iron, and spoke their true names, and his hands made contact with the door. Though separated by the length of the room, he touched the door's true nature. He touched Door. The strength of the enchantments upon it were of protection and strength and nothing of bars and locks, and so with a tiny flick of his hand he released the Power into it, and the door flew open with a slam.
Inwards.
Five of the creatures were there in the doorway. They were small, thin creatures of ice, like Visp who had tricked Elspeth. They came up to Garan's knee. Literally in the act of scratching and tapping at the door, they paused, claws in the air.
For a few heartbeats, the tableau stood.
There's only one response to surprise in combat, and Garan took it. He charged.
The creatures scattered, and he chased them out into the cold.
[In Montfort]
A family huddled in their bedrooms, parents holding the children. After the cold, they had shut and locked all the shutters and drapes and gathered the family with the blankets. But an attic window banged open, and the Ice Imps were inside. They capered and cackled, and dodged the father's fireplace poker. Leaping to the mantle, one of the imps scratched and scratched, and scratched. Under its arms, between its legs, behind its ears. Handfuls of ice shavings it collected, cupping the pile of them in its hands. Then, with a smile full of malice, and while the others kept the family occupied, it lifted its cupped hands to its mouth and blew gently as on a newly started ember. The ice dust glowed with a blue light, unearthly in radiance.
The opposite of fire.
In a wide arc, the imp turned and blew with it's whole strength, and showered the whole room with the glowing blue imp dust. It settled like snow on the heads and shoulders of the family.
From outside the house, all the ruckus inside faded.
Then, slowly, the door opened.
Out they came: the father, mother, and children. Calmly they walked. Eyes blank. Faces slack. They passed down their street and towards the edge of the city, and the ice imps capered at their feet. And as the powerful of Montfort dealt with their own intruders, many of the other families in the city followed them out into the cold, accompanied by their own imps.
Breathed fog, they did, every one. They were not dressed at all warmly, and the rime began to coat their hair.
[Admin]
Next comes a bit of a game of hide and seek at the inn. I said 10 were at the inn, but feel free to deal with as many as you like. They're scattered now, so you can gang up in groups or divide up. Depending on how you want to handle yours, and what character story you want to explore, you can have a stand-up fight, a magical duel, or an actual hide and seek where the Imps try to torment you with hidden knowledge about your character.
If anyone tries to intervene with the imps and townsfolk, the imps are minor and already explained, and will act similar to the ones at the inn. But I'm thinking the ones at the inn will keep us occupied for a large number to leave the city.
The townsfolk are under a medium-level enchantment from a very strong magical source, since the Imps themselves are very magical. Think the opposite of pixie dust. They won't react and if the enchantment is broken they will be disoriented.
There are way, way too many to all be stopped, so even if you have a powerful character, a lot should still make it out of the city.
For the DragonPod reference, go here:
http://www.dragons-inn.org/Exp/Inn-Details/rdragons-inn.htm
Is on the Dragons-inn site, inn, Historical Details link.
The Scythe
Jan 18, 2017, 11:59:33 PM1/18/17
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[Admin]
Ah, almost forgot. The imps intend harm by way of sprinkling the imp dust on your characters, so I decided that they cannot enter the inn because of the wards.
I assume that if a peaceful one had come to tease or to make verbal trouble, maybe that wouldn't have been the case. But right now these ones are pretty seriously intent on harm.
So even though the door doesn't lock, and even if the find an opening they won't be able to get it. Magna's way of dealing with it was priceless though, and they don't know, so possibly she and Vintner can keep up that kind of active defense.
Ah, almost forgot. The imps intend harm by way of sprinkling the imp dust on your characters, so I decided that they cannot enter the inn because of the wards.
I assume that if a peaceful one had come to tease or to make verbal trouble, maybe that wouldn't have been the case. But right now these ones are pretty seriously intent on harm.
So even though the door doesn't lock, and even if the find an opening they won't be able to get it. Magna's way of dealing with it was priceless though, and they don't know, so possibly she and Vintner can keep up that kind of active defense.
The Scythe
Jan 20, 2017, 12:27:44 AM1/20/17
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[At The Inn - Vintner Greenhaven, Garan and Finast]
Garan ran outside, and the imps scattered. Up the walls, around the corner, behind bushes.
"Stand and fight, curs!" he yelled, with frozen breath.
Finast paused, his anger cooling. He hadn't expected Garan to charge out like that. All his apprentice and journeyman years had been spent in the city of Bairvan, first at the Mage De Veras's tower, and then somewhat among the wealthy clients of the city. Unworldy creatures scrabbling at the door had caught him off guard. A Master he may now be, but THIS?! Impossible!
Vintner started to look for other openings like the fireplace.
"Oy, Magna," he said. "Any smoke holes or cubbies in the kitchen or cellars?" Then he stopped.
Slowly he turned to the general guests, and in a flat tone of voice, said
"Did you all, um, happen to close and latch your windows?"
The other random guests in the in scrambled upstairs, hands on weapons, looking for any openings!
[In Montfort]
Not all of the imps were accosting the townspeople. Some were painting. At least it looked like painting. Having scratched off handfuls of imp dust, several could be seen marking the cobbled streets. They wiped their hands directly on the ground, and the dust soaked right in. It's blue glow stayed visible marking long lines, each a handspan wide. But it was slow going. And some got tired of scratching and scratching and scratching. But they were compelled. Something drove them, made them keep at it.
As one family exited their house, their heavy door swung shut quickly catching an imp and cracking it's leg. The creature cursed and crackled with the sound of breaking ice.
Another imp, fed up with scratching itself, tried to scratch dust from it's neighbor, but the second shoved it off with a hiss. Then they noticed the cracked leg.
Together they advanced on the wounded imp, then leapt, snatching and clawing at it's leg. The ichor that flowed from the broken leg is what they were after, and they scrabbled and clawed. The three tumbled and rolled with the sound of a tipped ice bucket on stone. Sensing weakness, others jumped in, grasping at the essence of the injured one.
Shrieking and cracking, it was pulled to pieces by it's fellows. Now they had more than enough imp dust. At least until the next street over.
ShadoJohn
Jan 20, 2017, 2:52:15 AM1/20/17
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[Magna FireHammer]
Vintner’s flirtation took her off-guard, leaving her dumbfounded. Working part-time in the kitchen, Magna had seen the bard strut around like a musical peacock, being so charming and eloquent, but she never thought that a man’s attention would be directed her way, her being a tiny red haired working dwelf maiden. The very thought made her blush, high heat rushing up her cheeks.
Papa was extremely protective, driving off local boys with an iron hand, and Mama was subtle and coy, but she wasn’t much better. Not that it mattered much, Magna wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, what she truly wanted in her heart of hearts was an adventure the Dragon’s Inn was famous for, and then the boyfriends and life working the forge can come. Nonetheless, getting caught blushing like this was terrifying; Papa was known to suddenly show up for a meal and drink whenever she was on shift, and if not him, Mama would pop in for a visit, or any number of her eleven siblings.
Forcing her attention away, Magna gripped the skillet tighter and focused on the mystery of the frosted windows and the chittering noises beyond. Then Garan stepped forward, sounding like a battlefield commander, filling Magna with an amalgamation of fear, courage, excitement, and confusion. What kind of creatures would attack the inn, and why?
“Why are they going outside? The inn is fortified,” Magna said to Vintner while trying to look in all directions at once. Anger swelled, overpowering her other mixed emotions. “Do they know there is a backdoor?”
Looking down at her right hand, Magna noticed the skillet handle was glowing a dark red. Mama trained her how to draw the energy back in, but it was more difficult as adrenaline rushed through her body, tightening her sizable muscles. Taking a deep breath, the cast-iron skillet darkened as the last of the fat sizzled and danced off the edge.
“Don’t let the fire go out!” Magna ordered Vintner, and then she dashed down the back hallway making sure the rear door was secure.
Thinking the inn was now safe for all the patrons still remaining, Vintner asked about any smoke holes and the cellar. Magna felt another urgent rush of fear and bravery. Dashing back into the kitchen she extinguished the stove flame and slammed shut the flue.
“Vintner, go upstairs and get your sword, and check all the windows. And check the attic too. There are a couple windows up there and a deck door,” Magna commanded seamlessly falling into her daily role of bossy big sister.
“You,” she said pointing to an old man sitting near the fireplace. “Keep that fire going. And everyone, let’s get all these candles relit.”
Unsure whether she closed the cellar door after the afternoon deliveries, she gave the common room a quick sweep of her amber eyes to make sure her orders were being followed, and then dashed for the back hallway and down the stairs to the cellar.
Vintner’s flirtation took her off-guard, leaving her dumbfounded. Working part-time in the kitchen, Magna had seen the bard strut around like a musical peacock, being so charming and eloquent, but she never thought that a man’s attention would be directed her way, her being a tiny red haired working dwelf maiden. The very thought made her blush, high heat rushing up her cheeks.
Papa was extremely protective, driving off local boys with an iron hand, and Mama was subtle and coy, but she wasn’t much better. Not that it mattered much, Magna wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, what she truly wanted in her heart of hearts was an adventure the Dragon’s Inn was famous for, and then the boyfriends and life working the forge can come. Nonetheless, getting caught blushing like this was terrifying; Papa was known to suddenly show up for a meal and drink whenever she was on shift, and if not him, Mama would pop in for a visit, or any number of her eleven siblings.
Forcing her attention away, Magna gripped the skillet tighter and focused on the mystery of the frosted windows and the chittering noises beyond. Then Garan stepped forward, sounding like a battlefield commander, filling Magna with an amalgamation of fear, courage, excitement, and confusion. What kind of creatures would attack the inn, and why?
“Why are they going outside? The inn is fortified,” Magna said to Vintner while trying to look in all directions at once. Anger swelled, overpowering her other mixed emotions. “Do they know there is a backdoor?”
Looking down at her right hand, Magna noticed the skillet handle was glowing a dark red. Mama trained her how to draw the energy back in, but it was more difficult as adrenaline rushed through her body, tightening her sizable muscles. Taking a deep breath, the cast-iron skillet darkened as the last of the fat sizzled and danced off the edge.
“Don’t let the fire go out!” Magna ordered Vintner, and then she dashed down the back hallway making sure the rear door was secure.
Thinking the inn was now safe for all the patrons still remaining, Vintner asked about any smoke holes and the cellar. Magna felt another urgent rush of fear and bravery. Dashing back into the kitchen she extinguished the stove flame and slammed shut the flue.
“Vintner, go upstairs and get your sword, and check all the windows. And check the attic too. There are a couple windows up there and a deck door,” Magna commanded seamlessly falling into her daily role of bossy big sister.
“You,” she said pointing to an old man sitting near the fireplace. “Keep that fire going. And everyone, let’s get all these candles relit.”
Unsure whether she closed the cellar door after the afternoon deliveries, she gave the common room a quick sweep of her amber eyes to make sure her orders were being followed, and then dashed for the back hallway and down the stairs to the cellar.
The Scythe
Jan 20, 2017, 4:17:41 PM1/20/17
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[Admin]
Just like with the normal Inn family (If Hugh and Judy were here) anyone can put words in the mouth and write actions of the other people. Right now we have Fawn, and the other Inn patrons. I assume the other patrons are generally adventurers. Of course, there's also an old man sitting by the fire now too. <grin>
[In The Inn - Vintner Greenhaven, other open characters]
Magna's flurry of activity caught Vintner's attention again. Outside! Backdoor?! Keep the fire going! Go Upstairs! What a firecracker. And was she blushing?
He hadn't noticed her too much before, and he had meant dragonpopper as more of a zinger. But he noticed her, noticing him. Now he noticed her figure as she left.
To the oldster by the fire, he leaned over and put a hand on the old man's shoulder. The man had white hair and was dressed in riding pants and a hunting jacket.
"You look like you've got this under control, eh, Grandfather?" The old hunter straightened up in his chair and gave a strong nod.
"Of course!" he said, feeling good to have the responsibility.
The second floor now had the rest of the patrons hurrying around, and that seemed covered, so Vintner relaxed a bit. Noticing Fawn relighting the candles high on the chandeliers, he went to help her with that next, avoiding the rapier in his room.
[Admin]
@Shadojohn - I like the description of the details of the place. Let's use those.
To frame what we're talking about for the inn, let's use these pictures. So when I say Vintner is relighting the candles, it's the chandeliers in the picture.
For the outside:
http://www.dragons-inn.org/
For the common room:
http://www.dragons-inn.org/inn.html
Just like with the normal Inn family (If Hugh and Judy were here) anyone can put words in the mouth and write actions of the other people. Right now we have Fawn, and the other Inn patrons. I assume the other patrons are generally adventurers. Of course, there's also an old man sitting by the fire now too. <grin>
[In The Inn - Vintner Greenhaven, other open characters]
Magna's flurry of activity caught Vintner's attention again. Outside! Backdoor?! Keep the fire going! Go Upstairs! What a firecracker. And was she blushing?
He hadn't noticed her too much before, and he had meant dragonpopper as more of a zinger. But he noticed her, noticing him. Now he noticed her figure as she left.
To the oldster by the fire, he leaned over and put a hand on the old man's shoulder. The man had white hair and was dressed in riding pants and a hunting jacket.
"You look like you've got this under control, eh, Grandfather?" The old hunter straightened up in his chair and gave a strong nod.
"Of course!" he said, feeling good to have the responsibility.
The second floor now had the rest of the patrons hurrying around, and that seemed covered, so Vintner relaxed a bit. Noticing Fawn relighting the candles high on the chandeliers, he went to help her with that next, avoiding the rapier in his room.
[Admin]
@Shadojohn - I like the description of the details of the place. Let's use those.
To frame what we're talking about for the inn, let's use these pictures. So when I say Vintner is relighting the candles, it's the chandeliers in the picture.
For the outside:
http://www.dragons-inn.org/
For the common room:
http://www.dragons-inn.org/inn.html
Janessa V.
Jan 20, 2017, 7:36:32 PM1/20/17
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[Hardig/Sephra]
Hardig was just drawing even with Sephra when Magda made her entrance. He watched in disbelief, his improvised weapon slowly sinking from guard position, as the little bundle of energy lit up the room. Literally. Did EVERYONE wield around here?
Then the one called Garan came forward. Good; he obviously thought he was in charge, but at least he was a fellow who would choose action over...wait, no, of course...we had to MAGIC the door open. Hmph! How could these two be brothers? By the time Garan dashed out into the street, Hardig was in a serious mood and ready for some serious work. Nothing would clear his mind like a good old fashioned brawl. He dashed out after the great big hulk.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the thin, dark material of Sephra's cloak flick by. He'd almost forgotten the mysterious lass. But his combat instincts told him she would be just fine. Right then, time to find--
**Thump!**
One of the chittering beasties landed square on his shoulders from behind. He ducked forward, rolling the sudden weight onto the ground in front of him. He heard its claws whistle past his ears. The creepy little thing snarled angrily and leaped away before Hardig could seal its fate, scrambling to the top of a sturdy fence and rounding on him.
"Cursed one, cursed one!"
It took a few moments before Hardig even realized the ugly thing was speaking to him. "We know who you are. You have the blood of traitors!"
Hardig ground his teeth together so fiercely, they might have shattered if he hadn't soon stopped to snarl, "WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. SAY??"
* * *
Sephra paused for only a heartbeat. That was all the time it took for her sharp ears to detect the sound of screaming children somewhere in the darkened town. Her head snapped to the left. Yes, it was certainly coming from that direction. With a flicker of motion she was gone, swallowed up by the night.
But to her, it wasn't dark at all. The strange illumination coming from other parts of the town were what she noticed first, but even without it, the night was no more intimidating than high noon.
She was Wereya. She could see just fine.
But it was what she heard next that stoppex her cold.
"Noros is dead."
She whipped around, her superb senses quickly locating the creature dangling from the eaves of one of the houses. "Slain in torment. Couldn't even perform the Rite of Verishar. So sad." And it leered mockingly.
"No. Impossible. You are lying." Her tone was almost as cold as the air. But the horrid little thing just scampered up to the roof and away.
In a single leap Sephra was aloft as well and tearing after it. She would make that filth pay for such lies.
Hardig was just drawing even with Sephra when Magda made her entrance. He watched in disbelief, his improvised weapon slowly sinking from guard position, as the little bundle of energy lit up the room. Literally. Did EVERYONE wield around here?
Then the one called Garan came forward. Good; he obviously thought he was in charge, but at least he was a fellow who would choose action over...wait, no, of course...we had to MAGIC the door open. Hmph! How could these two be brothers? By the time Garan dashed out into the street, Hardig was in a serious mood and ready for some serious work. Nothing would clear his mind like a good old fashioned brawl. He dashed out after the great big hulk.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the thin, dark material of Sephra's cloak flick by. He'd almost forgotten the mysterious lass. But his combat instincts told him she would be just fine. Right then, time to find--
**Thump!**
One of the chittering beasties landed square on his shoulders from behind. He ducked forward, rolling the sudden weight onto the ground in front of him. He heard its claws whistle past his ears. The creepy little thing snarled angrily and leaped away before Hardig could seal its fate, scrambling to the top of a sturdy fence and rounding on him.
"Cursed one, cursed one!"
It took a few moments before Hardig even realized the ugly thing was speaking to him. "We know who you are. You have the blood of traitors!"
Hardig ground his teeth together so fiercely, they might have shattered if he hadn't soon stopped to snarl, "WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. SAY??"
* * *
Sephra paused for only a heartbeat. That was all the time it took for her sharp ears to detect the sound of screaming children somewhere in the darkened town. Her head snapped to the left. Yes, it was certainly coming from that direction. With a flicker of motion she was gone, swallowed up by the night.
But to her, it wasn't dark at all. The strange illumination coming from other parts of the town were what she noticed first, but even without it, the night was no more intimidating than high noon.
She was Wereya. She could see just fine.
But it was what she heard next that stoppex her cold.
"Noros is dead."
She whipped around, her superb senses quickly locating the creature dangling from the eaves of one of the houses. "Slain in torment. Couldn't even perform the Rite of Verishar. So sad." And it leered mockingly.
"No. Impossible. You are lying." Her tone was almost as cold as the air. But the horrid little thing just scampered up to the roof and away.
In a single leap Sephra was aloft as well and tearing after it. She would make that filth pay for such lies.
Janessa V.
Jan 20, 2017, 7:38:56 PM1/20/17
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**Magna** Sorry, the one typo I didn't catch :/
ShadoJohn
Jan 21, 2017, 3:35:10 AM1/21/17
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[Admin] Using the Dragons Inn website as a guide is an excellent idea. However, even their history write up tells of the inn evolving over the years and the array of amenities it came to encompass. Vintner’s mention of a cellar was something I never thought of before, but an inn of that size had to have one, reminding me of old farm houses and restaurants I have seen. Logic dictates there would be a back door, and most likely an attic. The size of it and features I added for a potential creepy vibe.
One more thing: Magna comes from a strong self-sufficient family where she is the 3rd in command and accustomed to leading her equals. However, obviously, just because she orders you to do something you are free to argue or ignore.
[In The Inn – Magna]
Charging down the darkened steps, her feet slapping a rapid tattoo, Magna threw open the cellar door, banging it loudly on one of the several potato bins. The outside door at the far end, in which deliveries were made, was her prime concern. However, the feeble light flickering down the stairs allowed her the briefest of glimpses of dark shapes scurrying for cover.
Hugh & Judy kept a neat and tidy cellar, but vermin were a continual problem. Magna tried to convince herself that’s all the shadows were as she closed the door behind her, in case she was wrong. The cellar was pitch dark, except for the vague light streaming through the open double doors.
“Summer sun, your time is done,” said a strange voice from the open door. Squinting her eyes, Magna could see a couple of odd silhouettes standing just outside the door. They looked to be small statues made of ice, and then they stepped closer, waving the hands about. “Girl of fire, your life is dire. Time of ice and time of snow, the colder and colder you will grow.”
The cast-iron skillet was glowing bright red. Screaming a dwarven war cry, Magna charged across the cellar, throwing long jets of flame through the open doors. Rushing up the short flight of steps to the open door, Magna stood on the top step screaming, and spouting fire, and hammering the hot skillet on anything that moved.
Sometime later, Magna knew not how long, her voice gave out and her head was spinning. She noticed the iron skillet was now cold and severely bent. She turned and tossed it down the steps and then closed and locked the doors behind her. Standing in the pitch dark, Magna created a tiny ball of flame that bounced from candle to candle until they all were lit.
Picking up the bent skillet, Magna tightened her grip; it was time to kill the vermin or more of those strange creatures.
One more thing: Magna comes from a strong self-sufficient family where she is the 3rd in command and accustomed to leading her equals. However, obviously, just because she orders you to do something you are free to argue or ignore.
[In The Inn – Magna]
Charging down the darkened steps, her feet slapping a rapid tattoo, Magna threw open the cellar door, banging it loudly on one of the several potato bins. The outside door at the far end, in which deliveries were made, was her prime concern. However, the feeble light flickering down the stairs allowed her the briefest of glimpses of dark shapes scurrying for cover.
Hugh & Judy kept a neat and tidy cellar, but vermin were a continual problem. Magna tried to convince herself that’s all the shadows were as she closed the door behind her, in case she was wrong. The cellar was pitch dark, except for the vague light streaming through the open double doors.
“Summer sun, your time is done,” said a strange voice from the open door. Squinting her eyes, Magna could see a couple of odd silhouettes standing just outside the door. They looked to be small statues made of ice, and then they stepped closer, waving the hands about. “Girl of fire, your life is dire. Time of ice and time of snow, the colder and colder you will grow.”
The cast-iron skillet was glowing bright red. Screaming a dwarven war cry, Magna charged across the cellar, throwing long jets of flame through the open doors. Rushing up the short flight of steps to the open door, Magna stood on the top step screaming, and spouting fire, and hammering the hot skillet on anything that moved.
Sometime later, Magna knew not how long, her voice gave out and her head was spinning. She noticed the iron skillet was now cold and severely bent. She turned and tossed it down the steps and then closed and locked the doors behind her. Standing in the pitch dark, Magna created a tiny ball of flame that bounced from candle to candle until they all were lit.
Picking up the bent skillet, Magna tightened her grip; it was time to kill the vermin or more of those strange creatures.
The Scythe
Jan 21, 2017, 11:39:24 AM1/21/17
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[admin]
@all - nice. Looks like you guys are cool running them on your own.
I'll start thinking about how to get us back together. Maybe just a day or two real-time of this fight.
How about meeting back up after resolving these.
@ Shadojohn - about the inn, that sounds perfect. I love all that extra detail, and it's right within the spirit of AD-I.
Finast post today.
@all - nice. Looks like you guys are cool running them on your own.
I'll start thinking about how to get us back together. Maybe just a day or two real-time of this fight.
How about meeting back up after resolving these.
@ Shadojohn - about the inn, that sounds perfect. I love all that extra detail, and it's right within the spirit of AD-I.
Finast post today.
ShadoJohn
Jan 21, 2017, 7:25:32 PM1/21/17
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[In The Inn – Magna]
Scrambling about on her hands and knees, Magna brought the skillet down hard on a dark shape. Instead of the metallic clang of another missed swing, this resulted in a meaty squash and the warm splatter of blood.
Magna stood up and stretched her back while she surveyed the cellar for anything she missed. The top of her cotton apron fell, the neck strap torn in two. Dropping the ruined skillet, Magna reached behind and untied the apron, noticing it was dirty and spattered with blood. Finding a clean spot she wiped her face and dabbed a few blood spots on her short dragon leather dress. Pulling a cobweb from the tangle of her hair, Magna could only guess how bad she looked.
Dropping the soiled apron on top the pan, Magna stumbled to the door and closed it behind her. The cellar was secure. A wave of dizziness forced her to halt, bracing herself on the wall. Using too much magic in a short period of time always left her feeling weak and terribly hungry. Now was no exception.
Taking a deep breath to steel her resolve, Magna lumbered up the steps and entered the kitchen. Setting out a serving tray, a large bowl, half a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a spoon, she then ladled out plenty of the cooling stew from the stove.
Without saying a word she exited the kitchen carrying the food laden tray. She noticed that Vintner had things well in control, even though he wasn’t wearing his sword. Putting the matter out of her mind, she sat at the table with the old man tending the fire. Holding the bowl in her hands until the cold stew was steaming, and then she set to an eating frenzy.
Scrambling about on her hands and knees, Magna brought the skillet down hard on a dark shape. Instead of the metallic clang of another missed swing, this resulted in a meaty squash and the warm splatter of blood.
Magna stood up and stretched her back while she surveyed the cellar for anything she missed. The top of her cotton apron fell, the neck strap torn in two. Dropping the ruined skillet, Magna reached behind and untied the apron, noticing it was dirty and spattered with blood. Finding a clean spot she wiped her face and dabbed a few blood spots on her short dragon leather dress. Pulling a cobweb from the tangle of her hair, Magna could only guess how bad she looked.
Dropping the soiled apron on top the pan, Magna stumbled to the door and closed it behind her. The cellar was secure. A wave of dizziness forced her to halt, bracing herself on the wall. Using too much magic in a short period of time always left her feeling weak and terribly hungry. Now was no exception.
Taking a deep breath to steel her resolve, Magna lumbered up the steps and entered the kitchen. Setting out a serving tray, a large bowl, half a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a spoon, she then ladled out plenty of the cooling stew from the stove.
Without saying a word she exited the kitchen carrying the food laden tray. She noticed that Vintner had things well in control, even though he wasn’t wearing his sword. Putting the matter out of her mind, she sat at the table with the old man tending the fire. Holding the bowl in her hands until the cold stew was steaming, and then she set to an eating frenzy.
Jace Draccus
Jan 22, 2017, 2:32:48 AM1/22/17
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[Thasiya]
Everything turned so quickly to chaos. The larger of the brothers burst out of the inn, followed by Hardig... who promptly went berserker after one of the imps, looking as though he was about to tear its throat out with his teeth. Then Sephra, who had seemed so quiet, took off...
The impatience of living a short life, perhaps?
Thasiya stepped to the side as she left the inn, and paused to survey the scene. The cold didn't bother her one bit, not with her thermal shield re-established, but what she saw gave her a different kind of chill. This many imps, and whatever they were doing, here and in Montfort itself... She had to know. Perhaps she could capture one?
An imp leapt at her, claws outstretched, and she knocked it back with a burst of borrowed heat from the fireplace. It shrieked and fell back, tried to scramble away. Thasiya followed, reaching out with fingers curled, giving her hand a twist. A tendril of violet light snapped out, coiled around the creature's ankles. It tripped, then flailed as the binding lifted it into the air, upside down.
"Have I got your attention? Good." She stepped closer, staying out of reach. With her other hand she swirled the rest of the heat in a ring around them to keep the other imps at bay. "What is all this then? Why are you here?"
The imp glared at her. "Tell you nothing!" It gave a sharp-toothed grin. "We know you. Fake. Fool! Failure! You won't stop what comes!"
A slender eyebrow raised. "And what comes, then?"
"You'll see." The shark grin widened. "You can help!"
"Help? I think n -"
The imp blew glittering dust in her face, startling her. Dust? It glittered strangely, clearly magical even without shifting her sight. She staggered back, waving her arms, trying to stir up wind to deflect it. Some of the cloud billowed around her, but the another imp threw more at her, and then the first imp, freed from the ligature with the break in her concentration, leapt on her chest and blew still more directly into her face.
She could feel it working on her, pushing at her conscious mind, trying to suppress her thoughts. Mentally, magically, she struggled against it, tried to retain some grip on herself, but she was slipping away...
[Elsewhere]
At first the imps ignored the thin man, seeking other targets. But as he made his way towards the inn, as he dealt with the few creatures that crossed his path, dispatching them with a cold sort of efficiency by throwing them at walls or twisting necks... they began to notice. Some tried to bar his way, but any that he caught fared no better than the others. Then they tried a different tack and threw fistfuls of some sort of dust at him.
He'd seen them painting with it. Seen them using it on the townsfolk, seen it coating the people that walked, seeming asleep on their feet and uncaring of the cold or their surroundings, towards some distant destination. Whatever the purpose, he figured it would be best to find the source and stop it there. He was not versed in magic, could not be sure he could free the people directly. Even if he could, they were still vulnerable. The imps might attack or encsorcel them again. He couldn't protect everyone.
But the dust apparently had no effect on him, no more than the cold did. He simply brushed it off himself and continued onwards. That did not stop the imps trying, though some tired of the game and went after other targets.
Everything turned so quickly to chaos. The larger of the brothers burst out of the inn, followed by Hardig... who promptly went berserker after one of the imps, looking as though he was about to tear its throat out with his teeth. Then Sephra, who had seemed so quiet, took off...
The impatience of living a short life, perhaps?
Thasiya stepped to the side as she left the inn, and paused to survey the scene. The cold didn't bother her one bit, not with her thermal shield re-established, but what she saw gave her a different kind of chill. This many imps, and whatever they were doing, here and in Montfort itself... She had to know. Perhaps she could capture one?
An imp leapt at her, claws outstretched, and she knocked it back with a burst of borrowed heat from the fireplace. It shrieked and fell back, tried to scramble away. Thasiya followed, reaching out with fingers curled, giving her hand a twist. A tendril of violet light snapped out, coiled around the creature's ankles. It tripped, then flailed as the binding lifted it into the air, upside down.
"Have I got your attention? Good." She stepped closer, staying out of reach. With her other hand she swirled the rest of the heat in a ring around them to keep the other imps at bay. "What is all this then? Why are you here?"
The imp glared at her. "Tell you nothing!" It gave a sharp-toothed grin. "We know you. Fake. Fool! Failure! You won't stop what comes!"
A slender eyebrow raised. "And what comes, then?"
"You'll see." The shark grin widened. "You can help!"
"Help? I think n -"
The imp blew glittering dust in her face, startling her. Dust? It glittered strangely, clearly magical even without shifting her sight. She staggered back, waving her arms, trying to stir up wind to deflect it. Some of the cloud billowed around her, but the another imp threw more at her, and then the first imp, freed from the ligature with the break in her concentration, leapt on her chest and blew still more directly into her face.
She could feel it working on her, pushing at her conscious mind, trying to suppress her thoughts. Mentally, magically, she struggled against it, tried to retain some grip on herself, but she was slipping away...
[Elsewhere]
At first the imps ignored the thin man, seeking other targets. But as he made his way towards the inn, as he dealt with the few creatures that crossed his path, dispatching them with a cold sort of efficiency by throwing them at walls or twisting necks... they began to notice. Some tried to bar his way, but any that he caught fared no better than the others. Then they tried a different tack and threw fistfuls of some sort of dust at him.
He'd seen them painting with it. Seen them using it on the townsfolk, seen it coating the people that walked, seeming asleep on their feet and uncaring of the cold or their surroundings, towards some distant destination. Whatever the purpose, he figured it would be best to find the source and stop it there. He was not versed in magic, could not be sure he could free the people directly. Even if he could, they were still vulnerable. The imps might attack or encsorcel them again. He couldn't protect everyone.
But the dust apparently had no effect on him, no more than the cold did. He simply brushed it off himself and continued onwards. That did not stop the imps trying, though some tired of the game and went after other targets.
The Scythe
Jan 23, 2017, 4:03:06 AM1/23/17
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[The Inn - Finast]
The young Mage was still a bit hot about Garan's jibe, and he followed the rest of the group outside. There he hung back near Thasiya and Hardig. He could feel her casual use of Power and was impressed by her control of heat energy, but filed it away for later.
He turned to help them when they were attacked, but before he could react, he had his own Imp to deal with. The thing came up behind him, claws out, but Finast heard it in time and turned.
As he swung around he made the sign and spoke the true name of Air, and as the creature leapt at him, Finast's thrusting hand caused a gale to lift the creature and fling it, spinning, backwards. It landed tumbling and rolling away.
[Admin]
For Magna, ok so she went through the cellar and closed those old-style cellar doors to the outside right? Cool.
For Thasiya, there is a compulsion to walk to the Bauer Farm and the river dell. That's where all the enchanted townspeople are going. The blue lines on the ground are two things. Some are enchantments. Others are paths. There are blue line-paths-enchantments on the ground at the river dell that are calling to her feet and require an answer. She feels an urge to walk along their curving, arcing paths. But none of them can be seen from the Inn. To far away. A couple miles.
Janessa V.
Jan 24, 2017, 2:43:44 AM1/24/17
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[Hardig]
"Son of traitors, son of darkness!" the imp sang, hopping from slat to slat and back again, heedless of the murderous light burning fiercely in Hardig's eyes. "You'll never wash the stain away, even at the bottom of the deepest sea-eee!" Hardig lunged with his free hand, very much desiring to choke the breath from this demon-spawn with his bare hands, but closed only on empty air. The imp scampered along the fence, back toward the inn. It was only then that Hardig dimly registered the presence of the others. The reminder of where he was and who fought beside him made him nearly breathless with rage. "I AM NO MAGESPAWN!" he roared.
The imp stopped in his tracks, poised with one foot in the air, ready for his next leap. But it wasn't fear that twisted its leering face. It was glee. "The mage didn't do it."
"Yes. He. Did," Hardig ground out, his steps slowly bringing him within striking distance. His wrath made the words come faster. "The ONLY mage native-born to the Northreach, and he cursed us. For hundreds of generations we have bled because of him!" He swung mightily. The imp leapt straight up, but Hardig had anticipated and arched his blow upward. He caught the imp at one of its knees; it spun like a pinwheel before_ crashing to the street with shattering force. Hardig was quick to pin him down with one heavily-booted foot.
The broken creature cackled with what little breath it had left. "Mage not evil. Mage was paying back what blood was spilled."
"You're mad," was all Hardig could think to say as he leaned more weight on his tormentor. The sound was like ice screaming to split apart.
"Where dwarves, Northman? Where dwarves? The stones tell."
With a final ear-splitting crack, the little brute was done.
[Sephra]
Over the peak of the roof and down again, leaping to the next building, then the next, then the next, Sephra and the imp hurtled through the dark.
Only it wasn't so dark. The strange light she had noticed beford was growing brighter. Not only that, but as more streets flashed past, there seemed to be patterns developing. Almost like...
A map? And beyond the light, weren't there shapes moving? Too large to be the imps; definitely headed out of town though. What was happening here? Sephra's pace slackened ever so slightly.
No! She had to know of Noros. She had to know what this vile creature even knew of her people, and how.
It could not be true. So much was at stake.
She would have to put a stop to this. She needed the truth, though how she would get it was yet another conundrum among many. She waited for the imp's next leap, then flicked her wrist. The creature screeched and slammed into the eaves of the next house, Sephra's peculiar throwing knife neatly embedded in the imp's shoulder. It scrabbled frantically with its claws, trying to gain the roof, but Sephra was on him in the next instant, seizing one of the kicking legs and dropping to the ground in the alley with her flailing burden. The imp tried to claw her open, but she drove the point of the blade into the side of the nearest house, pinioning the imp several feet off the ground. He thrashed wildly, and Sephra saw that if she didn't change tactics, the creature would simply tear his own arm off to get away.
Her mind raced, but her tone was cool and collected, "You may want to calm yourself, or your brethren will be the ones to benefit from your lack of foresight."
The imp's kicking gradually slowed. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed.
For several moments Sephra slowly paced before the now-still creature, then continued, "I came here to sell my services..." she caught the imp's gaze, "...to the highest bidder."
A flicker of interest lit the imp's eyes, but it was soon swallowed up by suspicion. "Liar liar, liar liar! Bad kitty!"
Sephra tried not to react, but she was sure the creature saw her start. It even knew her Firstform! Where had these little beasts come from?
"If you know what I am, then you know the power I hold. Speak truly of Noros and I will lend you my services."
"Son of traitors, son of darkness!" the imp sang, hopping from slat to slat and back again, heedless of the murderous light burning fiercely in Hardig's eyes. "You'll never wash the stain away, even at the bottom of the deepest sea-eee!" Hardig lunged with his free hand, very much desiring to choke the breath from this demon-spawn with his bare hands, but closed only on empty air. The imp scampered along the fence, back toward the inn. It was only then that Hardig dimly registered the presence of the others. The reminder of where he was and who fought beside him made him nearly breathless with rage. "I AM NO MAGESPAWN!" he roared.
The imp stopped in his tracks, poised with one foot in the air, ready for his next leap. But it wasn't fear that twisted its leering face. It was glee. "The mage didn't do it."
"Yes. He. Did," Hardig ground out, his steps slowly bringing him within striking distance. His wrath made the words come faster. "The ONLY mage native-born to the Northreach, and he cursed us. For hundreds of generations we have bled because of him!" He swung mightily. The imp leapt straight up, but Hardig had anticipated and arched his blow upward. He caught the imp at one of its knees; it spun like a pinwheel before_ crashing to the street with shattering force. Hardig was quick to pin him down with one heavily-booted foot.
The broken creature cackled with what little breath it had left. "Mage not evil. Mage was paying back what blood was spilled."
"You're mad," was all Hardig could think to say as he leaned more weight on his tormentor. The sound was like ice screaming to split apart.
"Where dwarves, Northman? Where dwarves? The stones tell."
With a final ear-splitting crack, the little brute was done.
[Sephra]
Over the peak of the roof and down again, leaping to the next building, then the next, then the next, Sephra and the imp hurtled through the dark.
Only it wasn't so dark. The strange light she had noticed beford was growing brighter. Not only that, but as more streets flashed past, there seemed to be patterns developing. Almost like...
A map? And beyond the light, weren't there shapes moving? Too large to be the imps; definitely headed out of town though. What was happening here? Sephra's pace slackened ever so slightly.
No! She had to know of Noros. She had to know what this vile creature even knew of her people, and how.
It could not be true. So much was at stake.
She would have to put a stop to this. She needed the truth, though how she would get it was yet another conundrum among many. She waited for the imp's next leap, then flicked her wrist. The creature screeched and slammed into the eaves of the next house, Sephra's peculiar throwing knife neatly embedded in the imp's shoulder. It scrabbled frantically with its claws, trying to gain the roof, but Sephra was on him in the next instant, seizing one of the kicking legs and dropping to the ground in the alley with her flailing burden. The imp tried to claw her open, but she drove the point of the blade into the side of the nearest house, pinioning the imp several feet off the ground. He thrashed wildly, and Sephra saw that if she didn't change tactics, the creature would simply tear his own arm off to get away.
Her mind raced, but her tone was cool and collected, "You may want to calm yourself, or your brethren will be the ones to benefit from your lack of foresight."
The imp's kicking gradually slowed. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed.
For several moments Sephra slowly paced before the now-still creature, then continued, "I came here to sell my services..." she caught the imp's gaze, "...to the highest bidder."
A flicker of interest lit the imp's eyes, but it was soon swallowed up by suspicion. "Liar liar, liar liar! Bad kitty!"
Sephra tried not to react, but she was sure the creature saw her start. It even knew her Firstform! Where had these little beasts come from?
"If you know what I am, then you know the power I hold. Speak truly of Noros and I will lend you my services."
The Scythe
Jan 24, 2017, 3:32:27 AM1/24/17
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[Outside the Inn - Garan]
As the imp dust settled over him, Garan felt a peaceful feeling. It was so nice and cozy here. There was something wrong, something that felt important. Something about his axe. But he just couldn't hold on to the thought.
Ah yes, that's what it was. Over there. There was something over that way that felt so nice. And so he turned and let his feet carry him in tha direction. No hurry. He felt so warm and comfortable.
In the tree the imp giggled, and Garan left his axe in the tree behind him.
[Admin]
Really long day at work today left me brain dead, so just a quick one tonight.
As the imp dust settled over him, Garan felt a peaceful feeling. It was so nice and cozy here. There was something wrong, something that felt important. Something about his axe. But he just couldn't hold on to the thought.
Ah yes, that's what it was. Over there. There was something over that way that felt so nice. And so he turned and let his feet carry him in tha direction. No hurry. He felt so warm and comfortable.
In the tree the imp giggled, and Garan left his axe in the tree behind him.
[Admin]
Really long day at work today left me brain dead, so just a quick one tonight.
Jace Draccus
Jan 24, 2017, 6:36:31 AM1/24/17
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[Thasiya]
Something called to her in the distance, towards the river. She could almost see it, feel the shape of it. A pattern, like a dance...
... like a spell.
An elf should not be so easily taken! Her kind should be resistant to such magics. And yet she found herself yearning to follow the call of that dance, to walk those ways and take those steps....
She couldn't resist, she did not have the magic to fight such a thing.
And still it called to her. And so she followed.
Something called to her in the distance, towards the river. She could almost see it, feel the shape of it. A pattern, like a dance...
... like a spell.
An elf should not be so easily taken! Her kind should be resistant to such magics. And yet she found herself yearning to follow the call of that dance, to walk those ways and take those steps....
She couldn't resist, she did not have the magic to fight such a thing.
And still it called to her. And so she followed.
The Scythe
Jan 24, 2017, 11:50:30 AM1/24/17
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[Inside the Inn - Vintner and other characters]
Vinter and Fawn finished lighting the candles up on the chandelier. His height meant that he could simply reach them by hand, and she appreciated the extra reach.
As far as not going upstairs, it just had not seemed right, taking orders from someone so young. So he had done something else. And as for his sword, he always hesitated when it came to fighting. He avoided his sword as much as possible.
Vintner heard the commotion that Magna and her fight made from the cellar, and hurriedly went to check on her, but when she came out, she looked disheveled and intense, so he let her past without saying a word. He had a look of surprise when he saw the mangled frying pan.
When she came back from the kitchen, he hesitated, unsure of what to say or how to approach her. Sometimes she seemed like a cute, youngling. Other times like an explosion. Finally, he rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Had a little altercation down there, did we?" he said with a wink.
The various other people staying at the inn made a great thumping and bumping upstairs as they searched the second floor for any openings. There were a couple startled shouts, and a slamming of a window. A swordsman came back down.
"Looks like everything's closed and latched up there now. Had a bit of a close call at the window with one of those things. But you need to see this. Something's happening in Montfort."
[Outside the inn - Townspeople]
By now, the first groups of townspeople were reaching the Inn. Here one, then another, then whole families. Their faces dull, vacant. Their feet, plodding.
Whole crowds started to pass along the roads and then there were so many that they passed over any open ground on their way past the inn, out of the city.
Each group had Ice Imps with them, giggling and joking, and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The cold grew deeper. Rime edged their clothing.
Vinter and Fawn finished lighting the candles up on the chandelier. His height meant that he could simply reach them by hand, and she appreciated the extra reach.
As far as not going upstairs, it just had not seemed right, taking orders from someone so young. So he had done something else. And as for his sword, he always hesitated when it came to fighting. He avoided his sword as much as possible.
Vintner heard the commotion that Magna and her fight made from the cellar, and hurriedly went to check on her, but when she came out, she looked disheveled and intense, so he let her past without saying a word. He had a look of surprise when he saw the mangled frying pan.
When she came back from the kitchen, he hesitated, unsure of what to say or how to approach her. Sometimes she seemed like a cute, youngling. Other times like an explosion. Finally, he rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Had a little altercation down there, did we?" he said with a wink.
The various other people staying at the inn made a great thumping and bumping upstairs as they searched the second floor for any openings. There were a couple startled shouts, and a slamming of a window. A swordsman came back down.
"Looks like everything's closed and latched up there now. Had a bit of a close call at the window with one of those things. But you need to see this. Something's happening in Montfort."
[Outside the inn - Townspeople]
By now, the first groups of townspeople were reaching the Inn. Here one, then another, then whole families. Their faces dull, vacant. Their feet, plodding.
Whole crowds started to pass along the roads and then there were so many that they passed over any open ground on their way past the inn, out of the city.
Each group had Ice Imps with them, giggling and joking, and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The cold grew deeper. Rime edged their clothing.
Message has been deleted
ShadoJohn
Jan 25, 2017, 1:41:59 AM1/25/17
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[Forge FireHammer / Dragons Inn – Whack & Magna]
“Now, Whack, you go protect your sister, and never leave her side,” instructed his dwarven father as he secured an axe and a hammer to his back. “She’s probably over doing her magic. She’s going to need your muscle when she gets weak.”
“Dear, don’t stop to fight these things, just run to the inn as fast as you can,” advised his elven mother as she helped him equip a second kite shield. “And both of you stay there until the threat is over.”
“Whack, hold the shields at a point, like a V.”
“I know Pa, I know what to do,” Whack said impatiently. At only sixteen summers, he was a very muscular wide shouldered boy, more closely resembling his dwarven father than his elven mother. His role in the family business was fetching the lumber and ore with his father, a job he enjoyed dearly, that and hunting.
“Ready?” Pa asked his calloused hand ready on the steel door. Whack nodded his head, the door slid open, and he ran out into the night, hearing the door slam shut behind him.
Holding the shields like the prow of a ship, Whack charged up the street, looking over the top as the shields skipped and bumped across the ground. A few of the odd ice-like creatures bounced off his makeshift wedge and he had to weave around some slow moving folk, but Whack didn’t slow down or check his back.
Bursting through the inn’s front door with a terrible din, Whack saw several people jump before he kicked the door closed, one of them was his sister with a handsome man’s hand on her shoulder. He locked eyes with Vintner, sizing up an enemy.
“Whack! What’s wrong?” Magna said blushing again.
“Do you know the city is under attack while this cad gropes you?” Whack said boldly stepping closer. “Pa wouldn’t like this.”
“Now, Whack, you go protect your sister, and never leave her side,” instructed his dwarven father as he secured an axe and a hammer to his back. “She’s probably over doing her magic. She’s going to need your muscle when she gets weak.”
“Dear, don’t stop to fight these things, just run to the inn as fast as you can,” advised his elven mother as she helped him equip a second kite shield. “And both of you stay there until the threat is over.”
“Whack, hold the shields at a point, like a V.”
“I know Pa, I know what to do,” Whack said impatiently. At only sixteen summers, he was a very muscular wide shouldered boy, more closely resembling his dwarven father than his elven mother. His role in the family business was fetching the lumber and ore with his father, a job he enjoyed dearly, that and hunting.
“Ready?” Pa asked his calloused hand ready on the steel door. Whack nodded his head, the door slid open, and he ran out into the night, hearing the door slam shut behind him.
Holding the shields like the prow of a ship, Whack charged up the street, looking over the top as the shields skipped and bumped across the ground. A few of the odd ice-like creatures bounced off his makeshift wedge and he had to weave around some slow moving folk, but Whack didn’t slow down or check his back.
Bursting through the inn’s front door with a terrible din, Whack saw several people jump before he kicked the door closed, one of them was his sister with a handsome man’s hand on her shoulder. He locked eyes with Vintner, sizing up an enemy.
“Whack! What’s wrong?” Magna said blushing again.
“Do you know the city is under attack while this cad gropes you?” Whack said boldly stepping closer. “Pa wouldn’t like this.”
The Scythe
Jan 25, 2017, 3:17:38 AM1/25/17
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[In The Inn - Common Room - Vintner Greenhaven]
With all the activity in and around the inn, the scratchings had gone away. Basically all the Imps had either been run off, had found easier victims, or were engaged by Garan, Finast, Hardig, Sephra, Thasiya and the Mysterious Stranger.
Whack's arrival put the final end to the other imps focusing on the inn by charging past and startling several of them, and running off others.
Vintner grinned and took his hand away.
"You should be proud of your sister, Whack. She's been putting paid to some of these unfriendly beasties. She seems to need some help now though, I'm not sure why. You take over, ok?" he said with a wink.
To defuse things, he turned and began asking Fawn about what other hidden entrances might need to be sealed up.
With all the activity in and around the inn, the scratchings had gone away. Basically all the Imps had either been run off, had found easier victims, or were engaged by Garan, Finast, Hardig, Sephra, Thasiya and the Mysterious Stranger.
Whack's arrival put the final end to the other imps focusing on the inn by charging past and startling several of them, and running off others.
Vintner grinned and took his hand away.
"You should be proud of your sister, Whack. She's been putting paid to some of these unfriendly beasties. She seems to need some help now though, I'm not sure why. You take over, ok?" he said with a wink.
To defuse things, he turned and began asking Fawn about what other hidden entrances might need to be sealed up.
Jace Draccus
Jan 25, 2017, 6:43:43 AM1/25/17
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[The Stranger]
At first the streets seemed empty, all the citizens fled in search of safety. They didn't find it, but the imps found them. More and more bewitched people joined the tall man on the road to the inn. It became easier just to follow the crowd, in a way. The imps seemed more intent on riding their captives than in causing any further trouble.
As they reached the inn itself, he saw signs that the imps had been busy there too. Several people seemed engaged with them, chasing them, and other defenders peered out from the open door.
And ahead...
He increased his stride to catch up to one, a slender elf in adventurer's garb. Grabbing her shoulder he pulled her back. but she didn't even seem to notice. Or see him. She turned away, face blank, as she followed the others.
He tried again, this time giving her a shake and brushing at her shoulders to get the dust off. It must have done some good, as she blinked and looked around, seeming dazed.
"What... where am... Oh, not you again!"
She pulled away, and the thin man let her, folding his arms and glaring at her from under the brim of his hat. "What did you do this time?"
"I? You think I had anything to do with this?" Thasiya waved a hand to encompass the scene, the imps and the possessed people. "I'm flattered that you think I have such power!"
"Not power. Carelessness. You got caught, after all."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I got caught." Every word came out sharp-edged. "I was trying to defend the inn from these creatures!"
"Uh huh." He looked around, surveying the area. "So if you didn't do this, who did?"
"I don't know! Maybe the bard will have some idea." She stopped, brow furrowing. "There was something... I can't remember. Fading like a bad dream..."
"Hmm." He turned away and headed for the inn. Perhaps the bard she mentioned would be more informative. If he wasn't already taken like the townsfolk.
[Thasiya]
She followed, quietly seething. Part of her realised that she owed him at least some gratitude, since he had saved her from... whatever the imps intended. But she resented having to be saved at all. Especially by him.
Movement caught at the corner of her eye, and she turned to see an imp leap out at her, clawed hands full of that annoying dust. Not this time! She thrust both of her own hands toward the beast, fingers twirling, and _yanked_ on the empty air.
The imp stopped in mid-leap, hanging there and looking very confused. It snarled and tried to hurl the powder anyway, only to have it billow against an invisible barrier.
Thasiya grinned, sharp and feral. "Got you."
Feeling more cheerful, she entered the inn, her captive flailing futilely against the air as it floated along behind her.
At first the streets seemed empty, all the citizens fled in search of safety. They didn't find it, but the imps found them. More and more bewitched people joined the tall man on the road to the inn. It became easier just to follow the crowd, in a way. The imps seemed more intent on riding their captives than in causing any further trouble.
As they reached the inn itself, he saw signs that the imps had been busy there too. Several people seemed engaged with them, chasing them, and other defenders peered out from the open door.
And ahead...
He increased his stride to catch up to one, a slender elf in adventurer's garb. Grabbing her shoulder he pulled her back. but she didn't even seem to notice. Or see him. She turned away, face blank, as she followed the others.
He tried again, this time giving her a shake and brushing at her shoulders to get the dust off. It must have done some good, as she blinked and looked around, seeming dazed.
"What... where am... Oh, not you again!"
She pulled away, and the thin man let her, folding his arms and glaring at her from under the brim of his hat. "What did you do this time?"
"I? You think I had anything to do with this?" Thasiya waved a hand to encompass the scene, the imps and the possessed people. "I'm flattered that you think I have such power!"
"Not power. Carelessness. You got caught, after all."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I got caught." Every word came out sharp-edged. "I was trying to defend the inn from these creatures!"
"Uh huh." He looked around, surveying the area. "So if you didn't do this, who did?"
"I don't know! Maybe the bard will have some idea." She stopped, brow furrowing. "There was something... I can't remember. Fading like a bad dream..."
"Hmm." He turned away and headed for the inn. Perhaps the bard she mentioned would be more informative. If he wasn't already taken like the townsfolk.
[Thasiya]
She followed, quietly seething. Part of her realised that she owed him at least some gratitude, since he had saved her from... whatever the imps intended. But she resented having to be saved at all. Especially by him.
Movement caught at the corner of her eye, and she turned to see an imp leap out at her, clawed hands full of that annoying dust. Not this time! She thrust both of her own hands toward the beast, fingers twirling, and _yanked_ on the empty air.
The imp stopped in mid-leap, hanging there and looking very confused. It snarled and tried to hurl the powder anyway, only to have it billow against an invisible barrier.
Thasiya grinned, sharp and feral. "Got you."
Feeling more cheerful, she entered the inn, her captive flailing futilely against the air as it floated along behind her.
ShadoJohn
Jan 25, 2017, 10:01:33 PM1/25/17
to
[In the Inn – Whack & Magna]
“Whack! You big idiot, if it wasn’t for the inn’s wards I burn your big nose! There is nothing going on with Vintner and it would be none of your business if there was.” Magna scolded taking her shield from his right arm and the hammer from his back. “Did you bring my belt?”
“If it isn’t on my back, I don’t got it,” Whack said irritably. Standing a mere four foot seven the mid-teen dwelf nonetheless towered over his big sister; a fact that he repeatedly felt earned him more respect than Magna was willing to show.
“I see you have your belt,” Magna said untying Papa’s knots and slapped her brother’s battle axe into his hand. “And don’t get smart.”
“That isn’t what you always say.”
“Whack … smarten up!” Magna said pointing a burning finger in his face. She tucked her hammer under her dress belt and turned to follow the swordsman upstairs.
“See? I told you,” Whack said with a smirk, proudly caressing of his wispy beard. He picked up the bread from his sister’s platter only to have it snatched away before he could bring it to his mouth. “Hey, I’m hungry!”
“Earn your own food,” Magna said hurrying to catch up with the others. “Come along, Whack. Something is happening.”
“There’s a lot happening, like a bunch of little ice monsters taking over the city.”
“Whack! You big idiot, if it wasn’t for the inn’s wards I burn your big nose! There is nothing going on with Vintner and it would be none of your business if there was.” Magna scolded taking her shield from his right arm and the hammer from his back. “Did you bring my belt?”
“If it isn’t on my back, I don’t got it,” Whack said irritably. Standing a mere four foot seven the mid-teen dwelf nonetheless towered over his big sister; a fact that he repeatedly felt earned him more respect than Magna was willing to show.
“I see you have your belt,” Magna said untying Papa’s knots and slapped her brother’s battle axe into his hand. “And don’t get smart.”
“That isn’t what you always say.”
“Whack … smarten up!” Magna said pointing a burning finger in his face. She tucked her hammer under her dress belt and turned to follow the swordsman upstairs.
“See? I told you,” Whack said with a smirk, proudly caressing of his wispy beard. He picked up the bread from his sister’s platter only to have it snatched away before he could bring it to his mouth. “Hey, I’m hungry!”
“Earn your own food,” Magna said hurrying to catch up with the others. “Come along, Whack. Something is happening.”
“There’s a lot happening, like a bunch of little ice monsters taking over the city.”
Janessa V.
Jan 26, 2017, 3:14:06 AM1/26/17
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[Hardig]
He stared down at the now-silent creature. How had it known who he was? Where he came from? And that was the least of it. What had it meant by the things it had said? If so much had been true, was all true? No, not possible. Corren had been born to power, and he had used it to curse all the Northreach. That much was absolutely true, the history of that curse written in blood. But Corren had left no descendants, thankfully. Who, then, was this supposed betrayer among Hardig's ancestors?
And what did it have to do with the Haevren dwarves? That race had vanished from the Reach many centuries past.
About the same time the curse began, in fact. Hardig stared into the darkness.
[Sephra]
The little fiend eyed her. "You won't. You killed to not be slave anymore."
She shrugged mildly. "It is not slavery if I choose this path. She fixed him in a sharp, steady gaze. He fidgeted vaguely, his wounded shoulder creaking. "But my price for hire is truth. Speak what you know."
Still suspicious, the imp glared stubbornly for a long moment before reluctantly supplying, "Noros gone. Chiefy-weefies gone. Little secrets make big trouble."
"Gone," not "dead." She wondered if the imp was manipulating her still, or if he had indeed let something slip. It was small comfort, either way; if Noros was indeed on the run and the entire Underground exposed, then the doom of her people may at last have come.
But there was still no way to know how much was true. She decided to try one last gambit. "Perhaps, but it takes cleverness and power to keep a secret for even a little while. I am certain a sharp-witted being such as you seem to be has been entrusted with many secrets. About this town, about the people. About what will happen to them..." she trailed off, her tone casual, as if she were disinterested in her own words.
The imp's face lit up. He seemed about to chatter on eagerly, but froze, then pressed his lips--or what passed for them--tightly shut.
"Tricky tricky," he accused sullenly after a long silence. "I said truth. Now you will serve."
She sedately paced away, then back. "That is what I said, and I will honor my word.
The imp's eyes lit up. He scrabbled at the hilt of the knife, his gaze eager, expectant, hungry.
Sephra came near, holding the imp's gaze with her own. "And this is the first service I will render." From thin air, it seemed, another of the small throwing knives appeared in her hand. "I will put a swift end to your miserable, vile existence." Before the imp even had time to be shocked, Sephra had suited actions to words.
"I am Wereya," she told the horrid creature in its very last moments. "I will serve the good, or die."
[Hardig]
So caught up in his reverie was the Northman that he almost didn't notice the movement all around him. By the time he could fix his attention on what was going on, he was all but surrounded by townsfolk on the march. Although clearly this was less a march than a...meander. But where were these people meandering to? And why?
He tightened his grip on the poker, ready to strike the next imp that came near, but then thought better of it. What if the little fiends punished the townsfolk for Hardig's attack? There were just too many as it was, let alone the potential for backlash.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noted some of the defenders filtering back to the inn. And was that elfmage trailing one of the imps behind her? Hmph. Well, if the flashly lass accidentally managed something useful, then so be it. He trudged resolutely back to his new least favorite place in the world.
[Sephra]
Shadows moved across the sickly light spilling into the alley, recalling her attention. She marched toward the street. Everywhere she looked, imps were herding the townsfolk along, giggling and chattering all the way. Where were the others? Even she would not take on so many alone, not with an entire town of innocent bystanders in the way. She would have to get back; perhaps a plan was being devised.
And she intended to be a part of it.
He stared down at the now-silent creature. How had it known who he was? Where he came from? And that was the least of it. What had it meant by the things it had said? If so much had been true, was all true? No, not possible. Corren had been born to power, and he had used it to curse all the Northreach. That much was absolutely true, the history of that curse written in blood. But Corren had left no descendants, thankfully. Who, then, was this supposed betrayer among Hardig's ancestors?
And what did it have to do with the Haevren dwarves? That race had vanished from the Reach many centuries past.
About the same time the curse began, in fact. Hardig stared into the darkness.
[Sephra]
The little fiend eyed her. "You won't. You killed to not be slave anymore."
She shrugged mildly. "It is not slavery if I choose this path. She fixed him in a sharp, steady gaze. He fidgeted vaguely, his wounded shoulder creaking. "But my price for hire is truth. Speak what you know."
Still suspicious, the imp glared stubbornly for a long moment before reluctantly supplying, "Noros gone. Chiefy-weefies gone. Little secrets make big trouble."
"Gone," not "dead." She wondered if the imp was manipulating her still, or if he had indeed let something slip. It was small comfort, either way; if Noros was indeed on the run and the entire Underground exposed, then the doom of her people may at last have come.
But there was still no way to know how much was true. She decided to try one last gambit. "Perhaps, but it takes cleverness and power to keep a secret for even a little while. I am certain a sharp-witted being such as you seem to be has been entrusted with many secrets. About this town, about the people. About what will happen to them..." she trailed off, her tone casual, as if she were disinterested in her own words.
The imp's face lit up. He seemed about to chatter on eagerly, but froze, then pressed his lips--or what passed for them--tightly shut.
"Tricky tricky," he accused sullenly after a long silence. "I said truth. Now you will serve."
She sedately paced away, then back. "That is what I said, and I will honor my word.
The imp's eyes lit up. He scrabbled at the hilt of the knife, his gaze eager, expectant, hungry.
Sephra came near, holding the imp's gaze with her own. "And this is the first service I will render." From thin air, it seemed, another of the small throwing knives appeared in her hand. "I will put a swift end to your miserable, vile existence." Before the imp even had time to be shocked, Sephra had suited actions to words.
"I am Wereya," she told the horrid creature in its very last moments. "I will serve the good, or die."
[Hardig]
So caught up in his reverie was the Northman that he almost didn't notice the movement all around him. By the time he could fix his attention on what was going on, he was all but surrounded by townsfolk on the march. Although clearly this was less a march than a...meander. But where were these people meandering to? And why?
He tightened his grip on the poker, ready to strike the next imp that came near, but then thought better of it. What if the little fiends punished the townsfolk for Hardig's attack? There were just too many as it was, let alone the potential for backlash.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noted some of the defenders filtering back to the inn. And was that elfmage trailing one of the imps behind her? Hmph. Well, if the flashly lass accidentally managed something useful, then so be it. He trudged resolutely back to his new least favorite place in the world.
[Sephra]
Shadows moved across the sickly light spilling into the alley, recalling her attention. She marched toward the street. Everywhere she looked, imps were herding the townsfolk along, giggling and chattering all the way. Where were the others? Even she would not take on so many alone, not with an entire town of innocent bystanders in the way. She would have to get back; perhaps a plan was being devised.
And she intended to be a part of it.
The Scythe
Jan 29, 2017, 2:52:45 AM1/29/17
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[Admin]
Act 2.3, Beat 6, Location: The Inn
A beat is when the main action moves on. Generally it won't happen until everyone has had a chance to post once.
[Vintner and other characters in the Inn]
The Swordsman lead Whack and Magna upstairs. Vintner and Fawn followed. The Swordsman pointed out the window.
"I've never seen anything like this," he said, in shock. "There are hundreds of those littile creatures." And he was right. The scene below was an eerie view.
Fully half of Montfort was streaming through the woods. By now the Inn was surrounded, with lone walkers, couples, and even extended families drifting slowly past the inn. Silently they walked. He showed them across the hall to the windows on the opposite side of the inn. The first groups were disappearing into the trees. Some along the road, but many simply stepping around trees as they went.
The ice imps capered alongside.
Act 2.3, Beat 6, Location: The Inn
A beat is when the main action moves on. Generally it won't happen until everyone has had a chance to post once.
[Vintner and other characters in the Inn]
The Swordsman lead Whack and Magna upstairs. Vintner and Fawn followed. The Swordsman pointed out the window.
"I've never seen anything like this," he said, in shock. "There are hundreds of those littile creatures." And he was right. The scene below was an eerie view.
Fully half of Montfort was streaming through the woods. By now the Inn was surrounded, with lone walkers, couples, and even extended families drifting slowly past the inn. Silently they walked. He showed them across the hall to the windows on the opposite side of the inn. The first groups were disappearing into the trees. Some along the road, but many simply stepping around trees as they went.
The ice imps capered alongside.
The Scythe
Jan 29, 2017, 3:41:45 AM1/29/17
to
[Admin]
Still Act 2.3, Beat 6, Location: The Inn
[Garan and Finast, outside the Inn]
After disposing of the imp, Finast looked around for Garan. He shouted his name. No answer.
So he spread out his search, stepping away into the trees, carefully. This time, when imps came at him, he was prepared. The throw last time had been a rough man-handling in an emergency. It was two of them this time. He made the mystic signs of Air, Wind, and Force, and spoke their true names. One step away from Finast, both imps stopped, stock still. With exquisite, powerful, control, massive wind forces were compressed into tiny areas surrounding the two imps. Any movement at all was met with immediate counter pressure, so that their legs, their arms, any part of them that moved at all was held in it's position.
The Mage recognized the irony of frozen beings, "frozen" in place, but walked grimly on. The two would be trapped for hours and were beneath his notice now.
He called Garan's name, but it brought only more imps. Growing worried for his brother, and angry at being thwarted, Finast drew a quartz crystal from a pouch at his waist. He could feel the throbbing of the stored energy inside. This time it was the names and signs of Heat and Fire, and he took real joy as he drew the energy out of the crystal. With one hand he raised the crystal over his head, and with the other he released a burst of pure Heat in all directions.
The closest of the imps fell to its knees, melting. The others turned to run, screeching and wailing. Only one escaped. The others found their thin legs melting to liquid too quickly. Stumbling, they all succumbed, leaving wet, blue stains on the ground. The ice riming the tree branches over head flashed to steam, and the branches blackened and shriveled.
With grim satisfaction, the young man renewed his search.
He noticed the townspeople now. Seeing they were all headed in the same direction, he hurried ahead of them, searching.
There!
Up ahead, just to the right of the road, he saw Garan walking straight through small branches, heedless. It had to be an enchantment. He reached out with the Power, and there it was. Not a spell, with it's incantations, words, and symbols to channel the Power, but a demonic possession, with the soul of an ice imp wrapping itself around his brother, dulling and damping down the electrical soul functions of Garan's mind. He was almost sleepwalking, actually. And it was connected to something Else. Something powerful, out in the distance. Finast could feel the connection and the pull it had on the imp's soul.
But enough of that. Once he could sense the thing, it was a simple enough matter to dispel the enchantment. Like catching spiderwebs, or string, or thread, hardly seen, only slightly felt, Finast reached up to Garan and took hold of the imp's soul. He channeled the Power into it, and burned it off his brother. Off in the trees, where it had been shadowing Garan, the imp screeched in pain!
Garan stopped. He blinked.
"Wah?" He muttered. He rubbed at his eyes. "Hey, Fine," he said, looking down at his brother. "What...." he said, but Finast cut him off.
"No time for talk now. Let's go get your axe."
At that, Garan gave a wide grin. The two turned and hurried back towards the inn.
Still Act 2.3, Beat 6, Location: The Inn
[Garan and Finast, outside the Inn]
After disposing of the imp, Finast looked around for Garan. He shouted his name. No answer.
So he spread out his search, stepping away into the trees, carefully. This time, when imps came at him, he was prepared. The throw last time had been a rough man-handling in an emergency. It was two of them this time. He made the mystic signs of Air, Wind, and Force, and spoke their true names. One step away from Finast, both imps stopped, stock still. With exquisite, powerful, control, massive wind forces were compressed into tiny areas surrounding the two imps. Any movement at all was met with immediate counter pressure, so that their legs, their arms, any part of them that moved at all was held in it's position.
The Mage recognized the irony of frozen beings, "frozen" in place, but walked grimly on. The two would be trapped for hours and were beneath his notice now.
He called Garan's name, but it brought only more imps. Growing worried for his brother, and angry at being thwarted, Finast drew a quartz crystal from a pouch at his waist. He could feel the throbbing of the stored energy inside. This time it was the names and signs of Heat and Fire, and he took real joy as he drew the energy out of the crystal. With one hand he raised the crystal over his head, and with the other he released a burst of pure Heat in all directions.
The closest of the imps fell to its knees, melting. The others turned to run, screeching and wailing. Only one escaped. The others found their thin legs melting to liquid too quickly. Stumbling, they all succumbed, leaving wet, blue stains on the ground. The ice riming the tree branches over head flashed to steam, and the branches blackened and shriveled.
With grim satisfaction, the young man renewed his search.
He noticed the townspeople now. Seeing they were all headed in the same direction, he hurried ahead of them, searching.
There!
Up ahead, just to the right of the road, he saw Garan walking straight through small branches, heedless. It had to be an enchantment. He reached out with the Power, and there it was. Not a spell, with it's incantations, words, and symbols to channel the Power, but a demonic possession, with the soul of an ice imp wrapping itself around his brother, dulling and damping down the electrical soul functions of Garan's mind. He was almost sleepwalking, actually. And it was connected to something Else. Something powerful, out in the distance. Finast could feel the connection and the pull it had on the imp's soul.
But enough of that. Once he could sense the thing, it was a simple enough matter to dispel the enchantment. Like catching spiderwebs, or string, or thread, hardly seen, only slightly felt, Finast reached up to Garan and took hold of the imp's soul. He channeled the Power into it, and burned it off his brother. Off in the trees, where it had been shadowing Garan, the imp screeched in pain!
Garan stopped. He blinked.
"Wah?" He muttered. He rubbed at his eyes. "Hey, Fine," he said, looking down at his brother. "What...." he said, but Finast cut him off.
"No time for talk now. Let's go get your axe."
At that, Garan gave a wide grin. The two turned and hurried back towards the inn.
Jace Draccus
Jan 29, 2017, 5:04:40 AM1/29/17
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[Thasiya]
She paused at the door to the inn and looked out at the crowd walking past. So many, and she had almost been one of them. But why? To what purpose? They were being called somewhere, she remembered that much, but... she shuddered, remembering how it had felt to be controlled, her will suppressed, that insidious call to... dance?
A burst of power in the distance, then another. She recognised the feel of it, the mage-brother in his fancy robes. Apparently he was good for more than just opening doors. There was something to him after all. That could be a problem, perhaps. Mages were notoriously jealous of their power. Just one of the many lessons she had learned.
A muted screeching caught her attention, and she turned back to her captive. The imp scrabbled at nothing, trying find purchase, something to claw, to grip, but the force that held it was not tangible. Desperately it scratched at its skin, creating a handful of powder that it threw at Thasiya... only to have it hit the invisible, curving wall of the globe that encased it.
"Hopefully you don't need to breathe," the elf murmured. "I'm not sure how much air is in their with you..."
She gave the frantic creature a smug smirk, then made her way to her table from before, taking up her cup again and draining it.
[The Stranger]
He stood beside the door, watching the room from beneath the broad brim of his hat, the scarf still pulled up over his face. The warmth of the room and the cold seeping in through the open door didn't seem to bother him. What he saw, however, did.
The elf was one thing. He knew she had some ability, even a little power, though perhaps not as much of either as she wanted to believe. But apart from her, who else was there here? An old man tending fire, the ghost barmaid (who had taken one look at him and pointedly turned away), a handful of anxious people... the regulars, by the look of them. Locals. A few looked like they might know which end of a weapon to hold, but they had the look of mercs and guards. Good enough against ordinary foes, perhaps, but probably out of their depth dealing with something like this...
He'd caught a glimpse of a half elf and a couple of dwarf kids going upstairs, and there'd been a burly fellow outside... but that was about it.
Not much of a band, but better than trying to go it alone. Maybe.
Leather creaked beneath his clothes as he leaned back against the wall and folded thin arms. He'd wait and see what they planned to do. He could wait. He was patient.
For now.
She paused at the door to the inn and looked out at the crowd walking past. So many, and she had almost been one of them. But why? To what purpose? They were being called somewhere, she remembered that much, but... she shuddered, remembering how it had felt to be controlled, her will suppressed, that insidious call to... dance?
A burst of power in the distance, then another. She recognised the feel of it, the mage-brother in his fancy robes. Apparently he was good for more than just opening doors. There was something to him after all. That could be a problem, perhaps. Mages were notoriously jealous of their power. Just one of the many lessons she had learned.
A muted screeching caught her attention, and she turned back to her captive. The imp scrabbled at nothing, trying find purchase, something to claw, to grip, but the force that held it was not tangible. Desperately it scratched at its skin, creating a handful of powder that it threw at Thasiya... only to have it hit the invisible, curving wall of the globe that encased it.
"Hopefully you don't need to breathe," the elf murmured. "I'm not sure how much air is in their with you..."
She gave the frantic creature a smug smirk, then made her way to her table from before, taking up her cup again and draining it.
[The Stranger]
He stood beside the door, watching the room from beneath the broad brim of his hat, the scarf still pulled up over his face. The warmth of the room and the cold seeping in through the open door didn't seem to bother him. What he saw, however, did.
The elf was one thing. He knew she had some ability, even a little power, though perhaps not as much of either as she wanted to believe. But apart from her, who else was there here? An old man tending fire, the ghost barmaid (who had taken one look at him and pointedly turned away), a handful of anxious people... the regulars, by the look of them. Locals. A few looked like they might know which end of a weapon to hold, but they had the look of mercs and guards. Good enough against ordinary foes, perhaps, but probably out of their depth dealing with something like this...
He'd caught a glimpse of a half elf and a couple of dwarf kids going upstairs, and there'd been a burly fellow outside... but that was about it.
Not much of a band, but better than trying to go it alone. Maybe.
Leather creaked beneath his clothes as he leaned back against the wall and folded thin arms. He'd wait and see what they planned to do. He could wait. He was patient.
For now.
ShadoJohn
Jan 29, 2017, 9:39:29 PM1/29/17
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[In the Inn –Magna & Whack]
She pushed her way to the window, the bottom of which came to her breasts. Magna was shocked to see such a large mass of the little ice creatures and their captives walking among them with no hint of resistance. This is not the Montfort she knew. Her eyes looked towards her brother for explanation.
“I told you they were taking over the city,” Whack said irritatingly.
“Shut up Whack,” Magna snapped, her peripheral vision catching a wave of heat in the near distance. Unable to locate the source, Magna focused on their current situation and the fate of Montfort. Looking down pondered the problem. The hammer tucked uncomfortably behind her dress belt caught her attention. Of all the weapons in Forge FireHammer this is the one she would have chosen, the hammer she used every day on the anvil. Her shield was made by her parents especially for her; they made others as well, such as the one her younger brother now held. But her’s was special, magical. An alloy dome on the front face served to focus and regulate her wild magic, allowing Magna to expel greater flame for a longer period before she felt too drained to continue. She also had her annoying yet faithful brother to back her up.
“We need to fight those things!” Magna blurted out, standing a little taller.
“We would need an army,” Whack objected.
“Whack, we’re in the Dragon’s Inn, the people here are better than an army.”
“But Pa and Ma ordered us to stay here.”
“Whack, stop whining,” Magna said tersely as she turned to the door. “Vintner, come along, you’re good with words.”
“Magna, where are you going?” Whack said hurrying to catch up.
“I saw some of the others coming back in, if Garan is one of them he will know what to do. Otherwise we’ll need Vintner to get things started.”
She pushed her way to the window, the bottom of which came to her breasts. Magna was shocked to see such a large mass of the little ice creatures and their captives walking among them with no hint of resistance. This is not the Montfort she knew. Her eyes looked towards her brother for explanation.
“I told you they were taking over the city,” Whack said irritatingly.
“Shut up Whack,” Magna snapped, her peripheral vision catching a wave of heat in the near distance. Unable to locate the source, Magna focused on their current situation and the fate of Montfort. Looking down pondered the problem. The hammer tucked uncomfortably behind her dress belt caught her attention. Of all the weapons in Forge FireHammer this is the one she would have chosen, the hammer she used every day on the anvil. Her shield was made by her parents especially for her; they made others as well, such as the one her younger brother now held. But her’s was special, magical. An alloy dome on the front face served to focus and regulate her wild magic, allowing Magna to expel greater flame for a longer period before she felt too drained to continue. She also had her annoying yet faithful brother to back her up.
“We need to fight those things!” Magna blurted out, standing a little taller.
“We would need an army,” Whack objected.
“Whack, we’re in the Dragon’s Inn, the people here are better than an army.”
“But Pa and Ma ordered us to stay here.”
“Whack, stop whining,” Magna said tersely as she turned to the door. “Vintner, come along, you’re good with words.”
“Magna, where are you going?” Whack said hurrying to catch up.
“I saw some of the others coming back in, if Garan is one of them he will know what to do. Otherwise we’ll need Vintner to get things started.”
The Scythe
Jan 31, 2017, 2:31:24 AM1/31/17
to
[Admin]
Act 2.3, Beat 7. Location: The Inn
[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and other characters, at the Inn]
Vintner noticed Magna's bosom at the windowsill, and grinned at her bossines, but said nothing. He went downstairs with her and her brother. In the common room, it became very clear to him that several of the group were looking to him for what to do next.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?" He said, raising up his hands, surrendering. "I sing for my supper, that's all. This whole thing is something I'll be most happy to set to music after the fact." He looked around the room.
"I'm sure you all can handle it, and will be so kind as to make sure we all actually HAVE a later," He added, enthusiastically, trying to stay positive.
Outside, the crowds of people and imps were disappearing into the trees.
Garan found his axe, and wrenched it out of the tree. He and Finast arrived at the door to the inn nearly the same time as Hardig and Sephra returned, and Whack and Magna were about to leave. The group gathered just outside the door of the inn, as the last of the townspeople were walking out of sight.
The swordsman had come down also.
"Well, there they go." He said, pointing after them. "That's the way to the river and the Bauer farm. About two miles more or less. Does anyone know what those creatures are?"
Finast nodded.
"I do. They are imps, demons from Chaos. After the Gods formed the world, they found out that the Demons were inside of it. Ever since then they've been enemies of the Gods, fighting to destroy the world and all creation."
"What I can't understand is how they can all be here like this. I mean, I studied how to summon their kind, but only one or two or a time. A mage would need to know the true name of each and every one of them to be able to summon them all. Typically when you've summoned them, you banish them at the end. I've read of mage's tricking them, banishing them, or fighting and destroying them. I'm not sure which would work best here.
And the power I felt when that wave of cold first came through was....."
"Well, it was beyond anything I've felt before, let's put it that way." Emotion started to creep into his voice.
"Fortunately these are just Imps, very minor demons. My main concern is what they eat. Souls are the sustenance of their kind. If we leave the people as their prisoners, their souls will be destroyed, and their bodies will be empty vessels." He paused, unsure how to go on, visibly affected.
Garan spoke.
"It looks like we need to follow them first. Then make a plan on what to do next." He looked around at the group. "Thoughts?"
Act 2.3, Beat 7. Location: The Inn
[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and other characters, at the Inn]
Vintner noticed Magna's bosom at the windowsill, and grinned at her bossines, but said nothing. He went downstairs with her and her brother. In the common room, it became very clear to him that several of the group were looking to him for what to do next.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?" He said, raising up his hands, surrendering. "I sing for my supper, that's all. This whole thing is something I'll be most happy to set to music after the fact." He looked around the room.
"I'm sure you all can handle it, and will be so kind as to make sure we all actually HAVE a later," He added, enthusiastically, trying to stay positive.
Outside, the crowds of people and imps were disappearing into the trees.
Garan found his axe, and wrenched it out of the tree. He and Finast arrived at the door to the inn nearly the same time as Hardig and Sephra returned, and Whack and Magna were about to leave. The group gathered just outside the door of the inn, as the last of the townspeople were walking out of sight.
The swordsman had come down also.
"Well, there they go." He said, pointing after them. "That's the way to the river and the Bauer farm. About two miles more or less. Does anyone know what those creatures are?"
Finast nodded.
"I do. They are imps, demons from Chaos. After the Gods formed the world, they found out that the Demons were inside of it. Ever since then they've been enemies of the Gods, fighting to destroy the world and all creation."
"What I can't understand is how they can all be here like this. I mean, I studied how to summon their kind, but only one or two or a time. A mage would need to know the true name of each and every one of them to be able to summon them all. Typically when you've summoned them, you banish them at the end. I've read of mage's tricking them, banishing them, or fighting and destroying them. I'm not sure which would work best here.
And the power I felt when that wave of cold first came through was....."
"Well, it was beyond anything I've felt before, let's put it that way." Emotion started to creep into his voice.
"Fortunately these are just Imps, very minor demons. My main concern is what they eat. Souls are the sustenance of their kind. If we leave the people as their prisoners, their souls will be destroyed, and their bodies will be empty vessels." He paused, unsure how to go on, visibly affected.
Garan spoke.
"It looks like we need to follow them first. Then make a plan on what to do next." He looked around at the group. "Thoughts?"
Janessa V.
Jan 31, 2017, 9:36:50 AM1/31/17
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[Hardig]
He slipped into the common room behind a few of the regulars, uncharacteristically subdued. Moving along the wall toward the fireplace, he kept the elf with her captured beastie well in view, staring openly as the imp struggled to get free. Hardig tried to quell a sense of satisfaction, seeing the ugly thing hanging there and thrashing. He wasn't very successful.
He had to know how much of what the dead imp had said was true, if any. Back in the Northreach, there was a kind of rock gnome that would sometimes repeat things it had heard or seen while skulking at the edges of the fields or stealing into villages at night, but they couldn't exactly be considered a reliable source of information. Though if Hardig had to be honest with himself, even a grain of truth might be more than he could handle; it would mean his whole life had been a lie, as well as thousands of other lives over hundreds of years. It could, of course, be some sort of manipulation on the part of the greater will driving these little maggots. And oh, yes, there was definitely a greater will at work out there, somewhere. His years of battle against things of dark magic had honed his instincts, and he was sure this attack was only the start. Part of him figured this town should handle its own problems--let their magic wielders prove their worth, if they could--but Hardig wanted the truth. No, he NEEDED the truth. And if he had to go all in to get it, then so be it, mages or no mages.
The captured imp could be just the place to start. He wondered how he could broach the subject with the elf maid. She couldn't have missed his distrust. He had never been a subtle man; he hadn't needed or desired to be. But he also wasn't fool enough to intrude where he hadn't earned the right. He would have to be patient, then, and let the regulars do the leg work. For now.
Also not one of his strong points.
Or perhaps he could try a different tack. He took his gaze from the struggling imp for the first time, searching instead for the ghostly barmaid. There she was, across the room near the Stringbean and a few others. He stumped over, his jaw set with determination. "Oi, lass," he hailed her, his tone still gruff but not particularly unfriendly. "I'm definitely going to need some gear. Do yeh know where I could buy or borrow?"
[Sephra]
Following her own scent trail back to the inn was fairly simple. Not being spotted was difficult. The imps were everywhere, herding the townsfolk along, glorying in their success. She longed to do something about it; who knew what torment and darkness these poor people were to endure? She couldn't bear the thought. She could intervene, she could Change, she could harry the rear guard, save a few perhaps. How satisfying it would be, to crush, to claw, to bite and break, feel their bodies give and shatter beneath her strength.
No, she reminded herself, there were just too many. And even if she could free the captives, they were clearly spelled somehow. She hadn't the first inkling of how to break it, and simply killing the imps could be just as dangerous for the people. The best recourse, at least for now, was to get back as quickly as she could and join up with the others. Unless she was much mistaken, the denizens of the inn would not leave their fellow citizens to suffer without aid.
And if she was mistaken, then she would take matters into her own hands. She hurried back, slipping through the dark like so much smoke and shadow, until finally the inn was in view. She vaulted the fence around the practice yard with ease and strode in the back way to the common room. There was work to be done, and she had every intention of getting to it.
He slipped into the common room behind a few of the regulars, uncharacteristically subdued. Moving along the wall toward the fireplace, he kept the elf with her captured beastie well in view, staring openly as the imp struggled to get free. Hardig tried to quell a sense of satisfaction, seeing the ugly thing hanging there and thrashing. He wasn't very successful.
He had to know how much of what the dead imp had said was true, if any. Back in the Northreach, there was a kind of rock gnome that would sometimes repeat things it had heard or seen while skulking at the edges of the fields or stealing into villages at night, but they couldn't exactly be considered a reliable source of information. Though if Hardig had to be honest with himself, even a grain of truth might be more than he could handle; it would mean his whole life had been a lie, as well as thousands of other lives over hundreds of years. It could, of course, be some sort of manipulation on the part of the greater will driving these little maggots. And oh, yes, there was definitely a greater will at work out there, somewhere. His years of battle against things of dark magic had honed his instincts, and he was sure this attack was only the start. Part of him figured this town should handle its own problems--let their magic wielders prove their worth, if they could--but Hardig wanted the truth. No, he NEEDED the truth. And if he had to go all in to get it, then so be it, mages or no mages.
The captured imp could be just the place to start. He wondered how he could broach the subject with the elf maid. She couldn't have missed his distrust. He had never been a subtle man; he hadn't needed or desired to be. But he also wasn't fool enough to intrude where he hadn't earned the right. He would have to be patient, then, and let the regulars do the leg work. For now.
Also not one of his strong points.
Or perhaps he could try a different tack. He took his gaze from the struggling imp for the first time, searching instead for the ghostly barmaid. There she was, across the room near the Stringbean and a few others. He stumped over, his jaw set with determination. "Oi, lass," he hailed her, his tone still gruff but not particularly unfriendly. "I'm definitely going to need some gear. Do yeh know where I could buy or borrow?"
[Sephra]
Following her own scent trail back to the inn was fairly simple. Not being spotted was difficult. The imps were everywhere, herding the townsfolk along, glorying in their success. She longed to do something about it; who knew what torment and darkness these poor people were to endure? She couldn't bear the thought. She could intervene, she could Change, she could harry the rear guard, save a few perhaps. How satisfying it would be, to crush, to claw, to bite and break, feel their bodies give and shatter beneath her strength.
No, she reminded herself, there were just too many. And even if she could free the captives, they were clearly spelled somehow. She hadn't the first inkling of how to break it, and simply killing the imps could be just as dangerous for the people. The best recourse, at least for now, was to get back as quickly as she could and join up with the others. Unless she was much mistaken, the denizens of the inn would not leave their fellow citizens to suffer without aid.
And if she was mistaken, then she would take matters into her own hands. She hurried back, slipping through the dark like so much smoke and shadow, until finally the inn was in view. She vaulted the fence around the practice yard with ease and strode in the back way to the common room. There was work to be done, and she had every intention of getting to it.
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Janessa V.
Jan 31, 2017, 4:21:39 PM1/31/17
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[Admin]
Whoa! Sorry, no idea why my phone spazzed out and put up all those extra posts! Unless the cat has been playing with it while I'm asleep again...no joke, funny but irritating.
Whoa! Sorry, no idea why my phone spazzed out and put up all those extra posts! Unless the cat has been playing with it while I'm asleep again...no joke, funny but irritating.
ShadoJohn
Jan 31, 2017, 10:33:34 PM1/31/17
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[Magna & Whack]
“We need to burn the imps,” Magna said bluntly.
“We should let them get out of town first, and we need to save the town folk before they turn into imp food,” Whack said correcting his sister. “And Magna, how are we going to do that? Most of us can’t shoot fire from our fingertips, we are limited to torches.”
The pretty little dwelf thought on that for a moment. “One of the rooms off the cellar holds kegs and kegs of some pretty strong spirits. Hugh will be upset if we burn up his stock, but maybe not if we saved Montfort.”
“We need to burn the imps,” Magna said bluntly.
“We should let them get out of town first, and we need to save the town folk before they turn into imp food,” Whack said correcting his sister. “And Magna, how are we going to do that? Most of us can’t shoot fire from our fingertips, we are limited to torches.”
The pretty little dwelf thought on that for a moment. “One of the rooms off the cellar holds kegs and kegs of some pretty strong spirits. Hugh will be upset if we burn up his stock, but maybe not if we saved Montfort.”
The Scythe
Feb 2, 2017, 1:55:32 AM2/2/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and other characters]
The old man by the fireplace piped up to answer Hardig.
"Aye. I be having what ye' need. Fawn, be a good lass and show he where
my old gear be kept. Now ye've got ta be bringing this back, hear? Ive
got a grandson!" He said. Then he was downcast. "Oh, yes. Well.
Hopefully, still..."
Fawn answered Magna.
"I'm sure Hugh would approve.
Garan had similar thoughts as Harding on seeing the floating imp. He
cracked his knuckles.
"Let's see what this one has to say for himself." he said ominously.
[Admin]
Feel free to have Hardig get a normal set of equipment from the Old
Huntsman By The Fire and his old stash. Or better than normal if you want.
The old man by the fireplace piped up to answer Hardig.
"Aye. I be having what ye' need. Fawn, be a good lass and show he where
my old gear be kept. Now ye've got ta be bringing this back, hear? Ive
got a grandson!" He said. Then he was downcast. "Oh, yes. Well.
Hopefully, still..."
Fawn answered Magna.
"I'm sure Hugh would approve.
Garan had similar thoughts as Harding on seeing the floating imp. He
cracked his knuckles.
"Let's see what this one has to say for himself." he said ominously.
[Admin]
Feel free to have Hardig get a normal set of equipment from the Old
Huntsman By The Fire and his old stash. Or better than normal if you want.
Jace Draccus
Feb 2, 2017, 5:09:25 AM2/2/17
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[Thasiya/Stranger]
As the others talked, she half-listened, more intent on her captive and maintaining control. Its struggles strained the forces holding it, and she needed to keep bolstering it here and there, little twists and flicks of her fingers weaving in more energy. Not taking her eyes off the imp she sat in her chair, letting the sphere hover over the table.
The tall stranger moved away from the wall, moved closer, watching her intently, but she didn't even glance at him.
She smiled at Garan as he approached. "Why don't we, hmm?" She shifted her hands around the sphere. "So, little friend, why don't you tell us what you know?"
The imp snarled at her, then smiled nastily. "Can tell them about _you_. Kicked out, yes? Can't cast spells, no no no. Nothing but tricks and shadows. Never be a real mage. Poor little e-"
Thasiya twisted her hands abruptly and the sphere flashed bright red, suddenly hot. The imp shrieked, then hissed and growled as the colour faded. A tinge of pink lingered at the edges, and there was still a noticeable warmth coming from it.
"Save your pity for yourself," she said shortly, then looked at the others. "Does anyone else have any questions? I'm curious how long it might take to slow boil one of these creatures..."
As the others talked, she half-listened, more intent on her captive and maintaining control. Its struggles strained the forces holding it, and she needed to keep bolstering it here and there, little twists and flicks of her fingers weaving in more energy. Not taking her eyes off the imp she sat in her chair, letting the sphere hover over the table.
The tall stranger moved away from the wall, moved closer, watching her intently, but she didn't even glance at him.
She smiled at Garan as he approached. "Why don't we, hmm?" She shifted her hands around the sphere. "So, little friend, why don't you tell us what you know?"
The imp snarled at her, then smiled nastily. "Can tell them about _you_. Kicked out, yes? Can't cast spells, no no no. Nothing but tricks and shadows. Never be a real mage. Poor little e-"
Thasiya twisted her hands abruptly and the sphere flashed bright red, suddenly hot. The imp shrieked, then hissed and growled as the colour faded. A tinge of pink lingered at the edges, and there was still a noticeable warmth coming from it.
"Save your pity for yourself," she said shortly, then looked at the others. "Does anyone else have any questions? I'm curious how long it might take to slow boil one of these creatures..."
ShadoJohn
Feb 3, 2017, 4:55:59 PM2/3/17
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[In the Inn –Magna & Whack]
The dwelf siblings semi-quietly argued by the front door while some of the others interrogated their prisoner at the table.
“We should get a few kegs of the cheap stuff,” Magna argued and commanded at the same time. “They will burn better anyway.”
“Mag, I am not running around who knows where with a bunch of bombs strapped to my back!” Whack argued fervently. “Didn’t you listen to Finast? It sounds like we may be fighting a pretty big mage.”
“We need to save those people!”
“Mag, if ‘We’ start throwing fire balls and fire bombs there will be nobody left to save.”
“Then what do you suggest Whack? The imp lead crowd is nearly out of town.”
“Garan was right, we need to follow them first and see where they are taking everyone. If we can separate the imps from our neighbors, then you can burn the snot out of them and rain fire on their heads.”
Magna’s angry impatient glare softened a little. “When did you get so smart, Whack?”
“The minute you stopped igniting my farts.”
“Maybe I should start again,” she teased melting a lock of his auburn hair. Then turned towards the table, “Thasiya, if you are going to torture that thing, you should take it outside before the inn’s wards lock you in a bubble too. Otherwise we agree that Garan’s plan is best, but if we are following them we better hurry. They’re nearly gone.”
The Scythe
Feb 4, 2017, 3:30:31 AM2/4/17
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[Admin]
Still Act 2.3, Beat 7. Location: The Inn
[Garan and Finast, Vintner Greenhaven, and other characters]
Garan paused a bit.
"We shouldn't torture it. It's not right. We shouldn't stoop to their level."
"I've got an idea," added Finast. "Fawn!" he called. "I'll need all your salt."
The pretty shade tilted her head.
"Salt?" she asked. "How much?"
"All of it," he replied, deadpan.
So Garan, Finast, and Fawn went down the stairs to the cellar, and brought up a large, heavy, burlap sack, and THUMP it went on the ground. Finast sliced it opened, and with handfuls began to pour out trails of it on the ground.
Vintner raised an eyebrow.
"Salt?" he asked, archly.
"No distractions," answered Finast, not looking up. "I'm working." With the salt, he inscribed a circle and triangle on the ground around the location of the imp, including signs and symbols. He left a small section of it undone. Then he inscibed a large circle with more signs and symbols around himself, with another undone section. He looked at Thasiya.
"Ready? On my count release it. One. Two. Three."
As Thasiya released her hold on it, Finast finished both of them. The imp made to bolt for the door, but came up short. Finast sat down cross-legged, folded his arms, and nodded once.
"Good." he said. "Thou art contained." He began chanting, eyes closed, and went on for several minutes. Then his eyes opened, and he smiled.
"Well met, Snilish, Demon of Chaos, servant of Glacies. I compel you to answer." The imp fumed and gurgled. It sounded like clashing storm clouds. But it stayed in the circle.
Finast looked around at the other.
"Ask what you will. It must answer."
Still Act 2.3, Beat 7. Location: The Inn
[Garan and Finast, Vintner Greenhaven, and other characters]
Garan paused a bit.
"We shouldn't torture it. It's not right. We shouldn't stoop to their level."
"I've got an idea," added Finast. "Fawn!" he called. "I'll need all your salt."
The pretty shade tilted her head.
"Salt?" she asked. "How much?"
"All of it," he replied, deadpan.
So Garan, Finast, and Fawn went down the stairs to the cellar, and brought up a large, heavy, burlap sack, and THUMP it went on the ground. Finast sliced it opened, and with handfuls began to pour out trails of it on the ground.
Vintner raised an eyebrow.
"Salt?" he asked, archly.
"No distractions," answered Finast, not looking up. "I'm working." With the salt, he inscribed a circle and triangle on the ground around the location of the imp, including signs and symbols. He left a small section of it undone. Then he inscibed a large circle with more signs and symbols around himself, with another undone section. He looked at Thasiya.
"Ready? On my count release it. One. Two. Three."
As Thasiya released her hold on it, Finast finished both of them. The imp made to bolt for the door, but came up short. Finast sat down cross-legged, folded his arms, and nodded once.
"Good." he said. "Thou art contained." He began chanting, eyes closed, and went on for several minutes. Then his eyes opened, and he smiled.
"Well met, Snilish, Demon of Chaos, servant of Glacies. I compel you to answer." The imp fumed and gurgled. It sounded like clashing storm clouds. But it stayed in the circle.
Finast looked around at the other.
"Ask what you will. It must answer."
The Scythe
Feb 5, 2017, 2:34:40 AM2/5/17
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[Admin]
Daily, Daily, Daily. Only 24 more days until the end, ya'll. I don't know about you, but I feel at the hump. The easiness of writing the story has gone WAY up, since I have it planned out. But I think I've found why I haven't finished them in the past, because when I hit one month in, my interest dropped! Isn't that frustrating?! That's why I promised myself it would end by the end of Februray.
So anyway, we're at the hump of the story, and it WILL reach the end and finish. Finish strong!
Help me get the animo back!
Daily, Daily, Daily. Only 24 more days until the end, ya'll. I don't know about you, but I feel at the hump. The easiness of writing the story has gone WAY up, since I have it planned out. But I think I've found why I haven't finished them in the past, because when I hit one month in, my interest dropped! Isn't that frustrating?! That's why I promised myself it would end by the end of Februray.
So anyway, we're at the hump of the story, and it WILL reach the end and finish. Finish strong!
Help me get the animo back!
Jace Draccus
Feb 5, 2017, 6:30:38 AM2/5/17
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[Thasiya/The Stranger]
The thin man laughed, sharp and dry, at Magna's warning to Thasiya. The elf hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Still far too reckless, too careless.
Thasiya glanced at him, scowling, but she knew Magna spoke the truth. She cast an anxious eye upward, but didn't see any sign of the wards tensing to activate. Still, she'd probably pushed the limits far enough. That blast of heat hadn't been to hurt the imp, only scare it, but anything more would probably bring trouble.
Damn the little dwarf girl for talking sense.
Garan, however, got a narrow glare. Their level, indeed! Did he have any idea how she'd felt, hijacked by the imps?... actually, he might... which made it all the more of a betrayal.
Luckily for him, his brother was the smart one, he actually had a better idea instead of useless moralising. She knew exactly what he was doing as he laid the salt, though she'd never have been able to conduct such a ritual herself. Without needing direction, she levitated the encased imp to the centre of the circle Finast was drawing, then released it at his signal.
Still irritated, she ten folded her arms and sat back to watch.
The thin man ignored the elf's fit of pique now that he was sure she could do no harm. He'd kept back as Finast dreew it, but now he stepped closer and crouched to put himself closer to the imp's level, his skinny limbs folding in a strangely awkward grace. Something glimmered in the shadows where his eyes should be, between the scarf and the brim of his hat.
"Who summoned you to this plane, demon?"
((Admin - I figure with the compulsion of the circle, the imp's not gonna be able to taunt them with secrets unless they ask what it knows about them?))
The thin man laughed, sharp and dry, at Magna's warning to Thasiya. The elf hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Still far too reckless, too careless.
Thasiya glanced at him, scowling, but she knew Magna spoke the truth. She cast an anxious eye upward, but didn't see any sign of the wards tensing to activate. Still, she'd probably pushed the limits far enough. That blast of heat hadn't been to hurt the imp, only scare it, but anything more would probably bring trouble.
Damn the little dwarf girl for talking sense.
Garan, however, got a narrow glare. Their level, indeed! Did he have any idea how she'd felt, hijacked by the imps?... actually, he might... which made it all the more of a betrayal.
Luckily for him, his brother was the smart one, he actually had a better idea instead of useless moralising. She knew exactly what he was doing as he laid the salt, though she'd never have been able to conduct such a ritual herself. Without needing direction, she levitated the encased imp to the centre of the circle Finast was drawing, then released it at his signal.
Still irritated, she ten folded her arms and sat back to watch.
The thin man ignored the elf's fit of pique now that he was sure she could do no harm. He'd kept back as Finast dreew it, but now he stepped closer and crouched to put himself closer to the imp's level, his skinny limbs folding in a strangely awkward grace. Something glimmered in the shadows where his eyes should be, between the scarf and the brim of his hat.
"Who summoned you to this plane, demon?"
((Admin - I figure with the compulsion of the circle, the imp's not gonna be able to taunt them with secrets unless they ask what it knows about them?))
The Scythe
Feb 6, 2017, 3:33:56 AM2/6/17
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[Admin]
Still at Beat 7.
Countdown timer: 22 days left before the story ends
I was thinking it still could taunt, but the things it says now DO have to be truthful. So it can say cutting things, but no longer twist them or play on false fears. True facts that are offensive or painful, on the other hand.... Those are fair game.
No need to wait for one per day. As quickly as possible to get through the interrogation.
[Garan and Finast, Vintner Greenhaven, and other characters]
The imp shied back from the Stranger, hissing, claws up. It's mouth made the sound of clashing icicles, obviously cursing a rejection.
Finast spoke sharply,
"Comply or face punishment!"
The creature glared at both of them in turn, sunken eyes flashing a lightning blue.
"No one summoned me here." The words were like scratching an ice chalkboard. "A girl summoned my Master. My Master opened the way for me."
Still at Beat 7.
Countdown timer: 22 days left before the story ends
I was thinking it still could taunt, but the things it says now DO have to be truthful. So it can say cutting things, but no longer twist them or play on false fears. True facts that are offensive or painful, on the other hand.... Those are fair game.
No need to wait for one per day. As quickly as possible to get through the interrogation.
[Garan and Finast, Vintner Greenhaven, and other characters]
Finast spoke sharply,
"Comply or face punishment!"
The creature glared at both of them in turn, sunken eyes flashing a lightning blue.
"No one summoned me here." The words were like scratching an ice chalkboard. "A girl summoned my Master. My Master opened the way for me."
Jace Draccus
Feb 7, 2017, 4:19:02 AM2/7/17
to
[The Stranger/Thasiya]
The hat cocked to one side, the only indication of surprise at the imp's reaction. Such revulsion was stronger than expected. What did the creature know? Still, a shame to waste it, so he pressed on.
"A girl? You mean a child? And your master is... Glacies?" He paused, considering.
Thasiya gave a snort of suppressed laughter, earning a glare from the tall man, which she ignored. "This Glacies must be extremely weak if a mere child can summon him!"
"Thasiya," the tall man warned, but she waved him off, grinning at the imp. "Lord of Frozen Drizzle and Slush Puddles, I suppose? And here I was, thinking this might be difficult!"
The hat cocked to one side, the only indication of surprise at the imp's reaction. Such revulsion was stronger than expected. What did the creature know? Still, a shame to waste it, so he pressed on.
"A girl? You mean a child? And your master is... Glacies?" He paused, considering.
Thasiya gave a snort of suppressed laughter, earning a glare from the tall man, which she ignored. "This Glacies must be extremely weak if a mere child can summon him!"
"Thasiya," the tall man warned, but she waved him off, grinning at the imp. "Lord of Frozen Drizzle and Slush Puddles, I suppose? And here I was, thinking this might be difficult!"
The Scythe
Feb 8, 2017, 12:44:07 PM2/8/17
to
[Admin]
Still beat 7, 20 days left
[Garan and Finast, Vintner, Other Characters]
The imp hissed at the insult.
"You fools. You food. Your people go to have their tasty souls devoured by my Master. And yours too will delight Glacies."
"A chance to bring our world to yours, and yours to ours? Not just hunting of the souls that fall off the Taskmaster's road, but to come here to the source of souls? A feast well laid for all of us. And wise, cunning Visp, tricksy, gets the girl to call to our Master?" The imps chuckle was like the fall of ice pellets on cobblestone.
"We are not so far from you. And my Master opened the path." The imp breathed in through the flat slits it had where a nose should be.
"I can smell your souls. Even you, dead one" it said, looking at the stranger.
"So many delightful flavors here." It looked around at them all. "And fear, the sweetest of all. We will have you soon enough."
The imp wasn't exaggerating. Several of the other inn guests were visibly horrified. The swordsman was staunch, although affected. The old hunter by the fire as well, kept up a good front. Vintner on the other hand backed up and crossed his arms, blanching.
Garan took control. He stepped forward.
"That's all very good, yes." He looked around. "Any other questions? Otherwise, Fine, let's send this disgusting creature back where it came from.
Finast looked around to see if anyone else had questions, as he prepared to banish the creature back to Chaos.
Still beat 7, 20 days left
[Garan and Finast, Vintner, Other Characters]
The imp hissed at the insult.
"You fools. You food. Your people go to have their tasty souls devoured by my Master. And yours too will delight Glacies."
"A chance to bring our world to yours, and yours to ours? Not just hunting of the souls that fall off the Taskmaster's road, but to come here to the source of souls? A feast well laid for all of us. And wise, cunning Visp, tricksy, gets the girl to call to our Master?" The imps chuckle was like the fall of ice pellets on cobblestone.
"We are not so far from you. And my Master opened the path." The imp breathed in through the flat slits it had where a nose should be.
"I can smell your souls. Even you, dead one" it said, looking at the stranger.
"So many delightful flavors here." It looked around at them all. "And fear, the sweetest of all. We will have you soon enough."
The imp wasn't exaggerating. Several of the other inn guests were visibly horrified. The swordsman was staunch, although affected. The old hunter by the fire as well, kept up a good front. Vintner on the other hand backed up and crossed his arms, blanching.
Garan took control. He stepped forward.
"That's all very good, yes." He looked around. "Any other questions? Otherwise, Fine, let's send this disgusting creature back where it came from.
Finast looked around to see if anyone else had questions, as he prepared to banish the creature back to Chaos.
Janessa V.
Feb 9, 2017, 5:44:40 PM2/9/17
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[Hardig/Sephra]
"What happened to the little girl?" a voice asked from the back of the crowd. It was almost unrecognisable as Hardig's. The hot rage he'd aimed at the imp outside had chilled to a cold, calm fury, the blaze of his eyes now a freezing glare to rival the power of the enemy. After gathering up the old man's offered gear, Hardig had hurried back to the common room, pulling it all on as he came and pausing only to pay due respect to his benefactor, to hear the interrogation. He had waited toward the back until now, but at mention of this--horror--making use of the innocent, he could remain silent no longer. "Where do we find her?"
"And how do we seal up the pathway?" Sephra added softly from a little behind Hardig and to his right. She also had remained off to the side while Finast and the others had their way with the creature. But now she worked her way forward with Hardig beside, awaiting the little demon's answer.
"What happened to the little girl?" a voice asked from the back of the crowd. It was almost unrecognisable as Hardig's. The hot rage he'd aimed at the imp outside had chilled to a cold, calm fury, the blaze of his eyes now a freezing glare to rival the power of the enemy. After gathering up the old man's offered gear, Hardig had hurried back to the common room, pulling it all on as he came and pausing only to pay due respect to his benefactor, to hear the interrogation. He had waited toward the back until now, but at mention of this--horror--making use of the innocent, he could remain silent no longer. "Where do we find her?"
"And how do we seal up the pathway?" Sephra added softly from a little behind Hardig and to his right. She also had remained off to the side while Finast and the others had their way with the creature. But now she worked her way forward with Hardig beside, awaiting the little demon's answer.
The Scythe
Feb 10, 2017, 1:57:24 AM2/10/17
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[Admin]
Beat 8, 19 days left
[Garan and Finast, Vintner, Other Characters]
When Hardig asked,
"What happened to the little girl?" the imp answered,
"Glacies took her to be the touchstone. Now she is in the river."
"Where do we find her?"
"You find her at the river, by the house with the wheel."
And when Sephra asked,
"And how do we seal up the pathway?" It answered,
"Weaken it by removing the blue soul paths." It grinned wickedly. "Then kill her."
The mage's lip curled in disgust.
"Begone!" he called, and clapped three times. On the third clap, the imp seemed to stretch 'away' and then was gone. A puff of air replaced it, so dry and cold as to sting the throat of any who breathed it in. He stood up and stretched.
He smiled at Thasiya "Good work with capturing the thing. You have talent, for certain. But why did you use only your bare Power, and not apply other, outside energy to keep it trapped?"
To the group as a whole, he said,
"When it said 'Touchstone', I think it meant 'Anchor' It can't know ships and sailing, at all."
The swordsman spoke up.
"It must mean the Millhouse. It's at the Bauer Farm, right next to the river."
Finast spoke again
"This is really and truly bad. Glacies is not a mage. It is not a person. Glacies is one of the Greater Demons." He shook his head.
"This is not going to go well. Not at all.
Garan broke in.
"One thing at a time. We know what's going on over there. We know they're vulnerable to fire. And being banished. The longer we wait, the more souls they'll destroy. Gather whatever you need quickly, and let's go. Meet outside" He made to go up to his room to get his armor, haversack, and heavy cloak.
[Admin]
One quick post each, if you want, to show getting ready, and to get whatever wine casks, or other prep work they want to take with them. Then onwards.
Beat 8, 19 days left
[Garan and Finast, Vintner, Other Characters]
"What happened to the little girl?" the imp answered,
"Glacies took her to be the touchstone. Now she is in the river."
"Where do we find her?"
And when Sephra asked,
"And how do we seal up the pathway?" It answered,
"Weaken it by removing the blue soul paths." It grinned wickedly. "Then kill her."
The mage's lip curled in disgust.
"Begone!" he called, and clapped three times. On the third clap, the imp seemed to stretch 'away' and then was gone. A puff of air replaced it, so dry and cold as to sting the throat of any who breathed it in. He stood up and stretched.
He smiled at Thasiya "Good work with capturing the thing. You have talent, for certain. But why did you use only your bare Power, and not apply other, outside energy to keep it trapped?"
To the group as a whole, he said,
"When it said 'Touchstone', I think it meant 'Anchor' It can't know ships and sailing, at all."
The swordsman spoke up.
"It must mean the Millhouse. It's at the Bauer Farm, right next to the river."
Finast spoke again
"This is really and truly bad. Glacies is not a mage. It is not a person. Glacies is one of the Greater Demons." He shook his head.
"This is not going to go well. Not at all.
Garan broke in.
"One thing at a time. We know what's going on over there. We know they're vulnerable to fire. And being banished. The longer we wait, the more souls they'll destroy. Gather whatever you need quickly, and let's go. Meet outside" He made to go up to his room to get his armor, haversack, and heavy cloak.
[Admin]
One quick post each, if you want, to show getting ready, and to get whatever wine casks, or other prep work they want to take with them. Then onwards.
Janessa V.
Feb 12, 2017, 4:48:29 AM2/12/17
to
[Hargid/Sephra]
Hardig watched everyone scatter and calmly made some final adjustments to the hastily-donned gear. It was more a habit than a necessity, however; the crosshatch weave of the leather hauberk fit perfectly, seeming to cradle his ribs as if it were made for him. His arms and shoulders, while well protected, enjoyed full range of motion. The over-the-shoulder draw of the longsword was just as he preferred, and the straps of the kite shield couldn't have fit more snugly if they'd been made just yesterday. It was no shock, though; the runes running the edges of the shield and adorning the bloodgroove of the sword bespoke dwarven make, and in his long and storied experience, there were no better arms to be had. He didn't recognize the script, though, and the shield was curiously plain, aside from the runes. Further study was definitely warranted, if time allowed.
And he survived.
One last thing to check...yes, they were still there, tucked safely at the small of his back, a few odds and ends he'd brought from home that he'd managed to hang on to through it all. Considering what they now faced, he was more glad than ever that he hadn't lost quite everything to the roiling sea.
While he finished up, Sephra wandered away, her expression and graceful movements as placid as ever. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her go up to Fawn for a quick word, then wait patiently for the ghostly maiden to return with a few small sacks and a leather pack. Sephra nodded her thanks and in a few smoothe motions, the contents were stowed and the pack was in place. He locked gazes with her across the room, flicking his to the door and back again. She nodded with a small, here-we-go smile and angled toward him.
Time to go to work.
Hardig watched everyone scatter and calmly made some final adjustments to the hastily-donned gear. It was more a habit than a necessity, however; the crosshatch weave of the leather hauberk fit perfectly, seeming to cradle his ribs as if it were made for him. His arms and shoulders, while well protected, enjoyed full range of motion. The over-the-shoulder draw of the longsword was just as he preferred, and the straps of the kite shield couldn't have fit more snugly if they'd been made just yesterday. It was no shock, though; the runes running the edges of the shield and adorning the bloodgroove of the sword bespoke dwarven make, and in his long and storied experience, there were no better arms to be had. He didn't recognize the script, though, and the shield was curiously plain, aside from the runes. Further study was definitely warranted, if time allowed.
And he survived.
One last thing to check...yes, they were still there, tucked safely at the small of his back, a few odds and ends he'd brought from home that he'd managed to hang on to through it all. Considering what they now faced, he was more glad than ever that he hadn't lost quite everything to the roiling sea.
While he finished up, Sephra wandered away, her expression and graceful movements as placid as ever. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her go up to Fawn for a quick word, then wait patiently for the ghostly maiden to return with a few small sacks and a leather pack. Sephra nodded her thanks and in a few smoothe motions, the contents were stowed and the pack was in place. He locked gazes with her across the room, flicking his to the door and back again. She nodded with a small, here-we-go smile and angled toward him.
Time to go to work.
Jace Draccus
Feb 12, 2017, 6:27:41 AM2/12/17
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[Thasiya/The Stranger]
The elf scowled at the space where the imp had been. Blue soul paths... that stirred something, not quite a memory, more of a feeling, something at the edge of her consciousness...
Something from when the imps possessed her.
Between that, and the failure of her gambit to trick the imp, she was not in a good mood. Not that she would ever admit as much out loud.
That did not keep her voice from being sharp and almost as cold as the imp when she spoke to Finast. "I don't know what you mean."
She didn't, either. That force bubble had barely used any of her own power, it had been woven from ambient energy drawn in from all around. Besides that, she'd never really been all that good with magical theory, one of the reasons she had left the mage academies...
Chewing on her lip, she listened as the others discussed and explained things. A greater demon. Wonderful. She definitely didn't have the power to take on something like that. Perhaps she should find somewhere else to be...
Glancing at the thin man, she knew he would never allow that. She sighed, then went upstairs to get her sword and gear. This whole affair had simply ruined everything...
As for the thin man, he had no need to gather or assemble anything, so he simply stood to one side, arms folded, watching as the others prepared. Knowing that they would be facing a greater demon didn't scare him, exactly, but he could not think how they might prevail...
Unless... who did he know that might be in Montfort... and were they free of the imps' control....
The elf scowled at the space where the imp had been. Blue soul paths... that stirred something, not quite a memory, more of a feeling, something at the edge of her consciousness...
Something from when the imps possessed her.
Between that, and the failure of her gambit to trick the imp, she was not in a good mood. Not that she would ever admit as much out loud.
That did not keep her voice from being sharp and almost as cold as the imp when she spoke to Finast. "I don't know what you mean."
She didn't, either. That force bubble had barely used any of her own power, it had been woven from ambient energy drawn in from all around. Besides that, she'd never really been all that good with magical theory, one of the reasons she had left the mage academies...
Chewing on her lip, she listened as the others discussed and explained things. A greater demon. Wonderful. She definitely didn't have the power to take on something like that. Perhaps she should find somewhere else to be...
Glancing at the thin man, she knew he would never allow that. She sighed, then went upstairs to get her sword and gear. This whole affair had simply ruined everything...
As for the thin man, he had no need to gather or assemble anything, so he simply stood to one side, arms folded, watching as the others prepared. Knowing that they would be facing a greater demon didn't scare him, exactly, but he could not think how they might prevail...
Unless... who did he know that might be in Montfort... and were they free of the imps' control....
ShadoJohn
Feb 14, 2017, 12:59:09 AM2/14/17
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[In the Inn – Magna & Whack]
Magna rolled her eyes, tapped her foot, and repeatedly looked out the front door. “This is taking too long.”
“Patience, Mag,” Whack scolded, observing the imp’s questioning. “Magic takes a little while.”
“Whack, what do you know about magic?” Magna replied angrily with a flash of flame in her hand. “We need to get down to the cellar; you need to be able to throw fire too.”
“No Mag, I told you -”
“Shut up, Whack! Follow me,” Magna ordered leading the way to the cellar. Whack for his part, wordlessly followed his bossy big sister.
Off the main cellar the small dwelf lead her younger yet larger brother to the room Hugh stored bottles and wooden casks of booze. Wrapping bottles in cloth see Magna filled his rucksack and tied others to his belt. Whack examined all the bottles tied to him apprehensively. “Mag, I don’t like this. One spark and I’m instant bonfire.”
“Oh, you’d be a bigger fire than that,” she said leading her bother out of the cellar, closing the door behind them. Magna then giggled at Whacks worried expression. “Stay behind me and we will be ok.”
Leading the way up the stairs and out the front door, the tiny red haired woman approached Garan boldly. “We need to kill those things and we have to stop wasting time.”
The Scythe
Feb 16, 2017, 11:44:50 AM2/16/17
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[Admin]
Act 3, Beat 9, 12 days left
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
The Swordsman, and other patrons of the inn followed Whack and Magna and got the rest of the alcohol from the cellar. Wine casks, bottles, snifters. They carried it in whatever sacks and bags and straps they could find.
Vintner was there too, gathering. He brought up several of the casks to the common room. Then he paused and looked down at his waist. He still had avoided getting his rapier. But the old oaths and fueds and fears needed to be forgotten.
"This isn't back then, these are not those times," He thought to himself. He looked around at everyone else getting ready to save the townspeople. And he made a decision that would change his life once again, and change his course. He headed upstairs to get his rapier.
Garan stopped him on the way.
"You're a bard, right?" he said, in his gravelly voice. "If you have any horns or drums, or anything that can be heard over the noise of battle, bring it." Vintner nodded, voiceless.
Magna then came up to Garan, and gave him that piece of her mind. He looked down, the huge bear of a man towering over the Dwelf maiden. Boldness! He liked that.
"Are you related to Jagar, of Jagar's Free Company? Mercenary Commander? You have the same spirit. And I agree. It's time to go. Let's get everyone outside."
Vintner returned from upstairs with his swordbelt and rapier on his waist, wearing his heavy, bright green, winter cloak, a hunting horn hung under his arm, and a large single drum slung on his back. He looked at Magna.
"Ready?" he said nervously.
Finast noticed Thasiya's cold reaction to his comment.
"Sorry, it just looked like you were spending lots of effort on it." He smiled to try to take the sting out of it. "I'd love to talk to you some time about where you studied, and what you've learned. You obviously are very talented in the Art.
Finast also looked at the salt all over the floor. He shrugged. No time for that now. Rather than cleaning it, he kicked it and spread it around, disbursing the effect. Then he threw on his heavy grey traveling cloak. It too had the signs and sigils done in silver around it's borders.
The whole group gathered outside the Inn. Fawn wished them all luck as they went out, meeting their gazes one by one for encouragement.
Garan looked eastwards to the woods and the dirt road heading to the Bauer farm.
"Let's go."
[Admin]
For this beat, feel free to post another one if you want. I'm not going to wait for all characters though. No need on the uneventful trip through the woods. If I can I'll post beat 10 immediately to get everyone to the Bauer farm. Possibly again today. (crosses fingers)
Act 3, Beat 9, 12 days left
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
The Swordsman, and other patrons of the inn followed Whack and Magna and got the rest of the alcohol from the cellar. Wine casks, bottles, snifters. They carried it in whatever sacks and bags and straps they could find.
Vintner was there too, gathering. He brought up several of the casks to the common room. Then he paused and looked down at his waist. He still had avoided getting his rapier. But the old oaths and fueds and fears needed to be forgotten.
"This isn't back then, these are not those times," He thought to himself. He looked around at everyone else getting ready to save the townspeople. And he made a decision that would change his life once again, and change his course. He headed upstairs to get his rapier.
Garan stopped him on the way.
"You're a bard, right?" he said, in his gravelly voice. "If you have any horns or drums, or anything that can be heard over the noise of battle, bring it." Vintner nodded, voiceless.
Magna then came up to Garan, and gave him that piece of her mind. He looked down, the huge bear of a man towering over the Dwelf maiden. Boldness! He liked that.
"Are you related to Jagar, of Jagar's Free Company? Mercenary Commander? You have the same spirit. And I agree. It's time to go. Let's get everyone outside."
Vintner returned from upstairs with his swordbelt and rapier on his waist, wearing his heavy, bright green, winter cloak, a hunting horn hung under his arm, and a large single drum slung on his back. He looked at Magna.
"Ready?" he said nervously.
Finast noticed Thasiya's cold reaction to his comment.
"Sorry, it just looked like you were spending lots of effort on it." He smiled to try to take the sting out of it. "I'd love to talk to you some time about where you studied, and what you've learned. You obviously are very talented in the Art.
Finast also looked at the salt all over the floor. He shrugged. No time for that now. Rather than cleaning it, he kicked it and spread it around, disbursing the effect. Then he threw on his heavy grey traveling cloak. It too had the signs and sigils done in silver around it's borders.
The whole group gathered outside the Inn. Fawn wished them all luck as they went out, meeting their gazes one by one for encouragement.
Garan looked eastwards to the woods and the dirt road heading to the Bauer farm.
"Let's go."
[Admin]
For this beat, feel free to post another one if you want. I'm not going to wait for all characters though. No need on the uneventful trip through the woods. If I can I'll post beat 10 immediately to get everyone to the Bauer farm. Possibly again today. (crosses fingers)
Jace Draccus
Feb 19, 2017, 5:16:56 AM2/19/17
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[Stranger/Thasiya]
After some thought, the thin man asked Fawn for a piece of paper and a pencil. She frowned at him, but found what he asked for. After some hasty scribbling, he took one of the younger townsfolk aside and told him where the note needed to be delivered.
"You mean the big place with the tree?" the lad said. "Sure, I've seen it. Kinda weird."
The hat dipped in a brief nod. "Just give the note to whoever answers the door, if anyone does. And watch out for the imps. With luck most of them are gone already, but best to be careful."
"They won't catch me! I'm a fast runner!" The young man tucked the note into his shirt and left, breaking into a run as soon as he was out the door.
That done, the stranger took a couple of the extra casks that were being brought up and secured them to his back.
Thasiya, meanwhile, had come down the stairs with her gear strapped to her back, a sabre at her side. She eyed the preparations and gave a soft sigh.
"What a waste of good beverages..."
After some thought, the thin man asked Fawn for a piece of paper and a pencil. She frowned at him, but found what he asked for. After some hasty scribbling, he took one of the younger townsfolk aside and told him where the note needed to be delivered.
"You mean the big place with the tree?" the lad said. "Sure, I've seen it. Kinda weird."
The hat dipped in a brief nod. "Just give the note to whoever answers the door, if anyone does. And watch out for the imps. With luck most of them are gone already, but best to be careful."
"They won't catch me! I'm a fast runner!" The young man tucked the note into his shirt and left, breaking into a run as soon as he was out the door.
That done, the stranger took a couple of the extra casks that were being brought up and secured them to his back.
Thasiya, meanwhile, had come down the stairs with her gear strapped to her back, a sabre at her side. She eyed the preparations and gave a soft sigh.
"What a waste of good beverages..."
The Scythe
Feb 22, 2017, 1:08:35 PM2/22/17
to
[Admin]
Beat 10, 6 days left, location, The forest, east of Montfort
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
Garan surveyed the group. They looked generally ready. They weren't actually his troops, so he didn't do his usual headcount.
He looked around, meeting their gazes, and nodding at them in encouragement.
"Alright,let's head out." He looked at the swordsman. "You lead the way."
The swordsman nodded and stepped off.
Finast wrapped himself in his heavy traveling cloak, against the cold, and walked with Garan.
Vintner hesitated. This whole thing was just too much. As the group moved on, he looked around, tempted to just vanish when they left. But after a couple minutes, Garan looked back to check on the whole group, and saw Vintner standing there.
"Bard, come on!" he called, motioning. Spurred, Vintner trotted up to the group.
They headed east along the dirt road, on the lookout for the imps.
There, near the inn, forgotten, was the imp Finast had trapped. It was still stuck there, facing west towards Montfort, as the group faded into the woods behind it.
Beat 10, 6 days left, location, The forest, east of Montfort
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
He looked around, meeting their gazes, and nodding at them in encouragement.
"Alright,let's head out." He looked at the swordsman. "You lead the way."
The swordsman nodded and stepped off.
Finast wrapped himself in his heavy traveling cloak, against the cold, and walked with Garan.
Vintner hesitated. This whole thing was just too much. As the group moved on, he looked around, tempted to just vanish when they left. But after a couple minutes, Garan looked back to check on the whole group, and saw Vintner standing there.
"Bard, come on!" he called, motioning. Spurred, Vintner trotted up to the group.
They headed east along the dirt road, on the lookout for the imps.
There, near the inn, forgotten, was the imp Finast had trapped. It was still stuck there, facing west towards Montfort, as the group faded into the woods behind it.
ShadoJohn
Feb 23, 2017, 2:03:30 AM2/23/17
to
[Magna & Whack]
“Don’t lag behind, Vintner,” Magna barked as she jogged past the bard.
Whack looked the half elf up and down as he passed. “Don’t let her scare you, sir. There is always room for another chicken in the hen house,” he said with a mischievous grin. Hiking his heavy rucksack higher on his wide shoulders, Whack hurried his pace to catch up to his sister.
With a deep thump a fireball launched from the dome on Magna’s shield, an instant later an icy creature disappeared with a high pitched squeal. She craned her round face up the the bear of a man near her. “They are watching us, Garan.”
“Don’t lag behind, Vintner,” Magna barked as she jogged past the bard.
Whack looked the half elf up and down as he passed. “Don’t let her scare you, sir. There is always room for another chicken in the hen house,” he said with a mischievous grin. Hiking his heavy rucksack higher on his wide shoulders, Whack hurried his pace to catch up to his sister.
With a deep thump a fireball launched from the dome on Magna’s shield, an instant later an icy creature disappeared with a high pitched squeal. She craned her round face up the the bear of a man near her. “They are watching us, Garan.”
Jace Draccus
Feb 25, 2017, 3:55:00 AM2/25/17
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[Thasiya/The Stranger]
Thasiya understood Vintner's reluctance all too well, even had some sympathy for it. She didn't want to face a demon either. But as much as she would have liked to stay back, she knew she couldn't. Some part of her knew that she would not be able to live with herself if she abandoned the townsfolk... not for a while, at least, and not without a lot of alcohol.
Besides, if anyone else survived and happened to tell people she had fled, it could ruin her reputation while she was still trying to build it.
And... she eyed the thin man. If anyone was likely to survive, it would be him. And she had no doubt he'd hunt her down if he had reason to....
So she gave Vintner a wry, commiserating smile as she walked past him. "Look at it this way, sir bard: you'll have so much to sing about. There's no substitute for firsthand experience."
The thin man, walking past on the other side, let out a short, dry laugh. "You just have to come back first."
They caught up to the dwarfling children in time to hear Magna's warning. All traces of good humour gone, Thasiya drew her sword, a curving sabre. A flick of her fingers and a twist of the weapon, and the blade shimmered with heat energy.
"Are they just watching, or preparing ambush?" she asked, voice low.
"Doesn't matter," the thin man replied, his dry voice just as soft. He carried no weapons, but the way he moved and looked around signalled that he too was ready to fight if need be. "They won't stop us."
Thasiya understood Vintner's reluctance all too well, even had some sympathy for it. She didn't want to face a demon either. But as much as she would have liked to stay back, she knew she couldn't. Some part of her knew that she would not be able to live with herself if she abandoned the townsfolk... not for a while, at least, and not without a lot of alcohol.
Besides, if anyone else survived and happened to tell people she had fled, it could ruin her reputation while she was still trying to build it.
And... she eyed the thin man. If anyone was likely to survive, it would be him. And she had no doubt he'd hunt her down if he had reason to....
So she gave Vintner a wry, commiserating smile as she walked past him. "Look at it this way, sir bard: you'll have so much to sing about. There's no substitute for firsthand experience."
The thin man, walking past on the other side, let out a short, dry laugh. "You just have to come back first."
They caught up to the dwarfling children in time to hear Magna's warning. All traces of good humour gone, Thasiya drew her sword, a curving sabre. A flick of her fingers and a twist of the weapon, and the blade shimmered with heat energy.
"Are they just watching, or preparing ambush?" she asked, voice low.
"Doesn't matter," the thin man replied, his dry voice just as soft. He carried no weapons, but the way he moved and looked around signalled that he too was ready to fight if need be. "They won't stop us."
ShadoJohn
Mar 3, 2017, 2:23:59 AM3/3/17
to
[Magna & Whack]
Marching lockstep with his sister, shield to shield, Whack’s attention waned and his mind began to wander …
“A thousand gold pieces is too much,” complained the prospective buyer as he closely examined the finely wrought shield. “I’ll give you that the craftsmanship is superb, but -”
“My husband is a master craftsman, from an incredibly long line of dwarven craftsmen, there is none better,” Sarakim said confidently, her slender elven hands gently took the kite shield from his grasp, handling it with pride.
“What makes this shield worth the price is what you don’t see. Woven into every step of a complicated manufacturing process is layer upon layer of symbiotic enchantments that reduce the shield’s weight by half, protects better than a castle wall, and something else.” Sarakim set the bottom of the shield upon the ground and held it up with one finger. “Whack dear, get the sledge and do your best to dent this shield.”
Making a show of flexing his muscular arms and loosening his shoulders, the teenage dwelf armed himself with the long handled sledgehammer. Calmly holding the shield up with only her index finger, Sarakim continued her explanation. “Whack is my eldest son, as you can see, he is very strong. We named him Whack because whether it’s with an axe, a hammer, or his fists, he loves to hit things, and he is very good at it.”
Winding up with the sledge over his shoulder, Whack suddenly swung with the force of a load of falling logs. A force that should have launched the metal shield across the room, instead after the ear splitting bang the tall shield stayed put under Sarakim’s finger. At his mother’s nod to continue, Whack swung the heavy hammer at the shield again and again, and again. The cacophony of his hits was deafening, but the loosely held shield never budged.
Sweating profusely, Whack finally stopped and set down the hammer. His mother smiled and winked at him and returned her attention to the customer. “As you can see, this shield is very special and practically indestructible -”
“Ma -”
“Indestructibility isn’t of much help if the inertia -”
“Ma … Ma!”
“Thank you, Dear. You can go back-”
“Ma! It’s dented, I dented it.”
Sarakim snapped up the shield, inspecting it smooth face. Whack pointed out the small dent near center. With a look of frustration and pride she handed her son the shield. “Whack, you now own a magical shield. And before you ask, No the dent isn’t coming out.”
THOOM – THOOM. Fireballs flew from his sister’s shield jarring Whack’s attention back to the here and now. The first imp evaporated charging the group; the second was burned and met his end under Whack’s battle axe.
“Heads up, we’re under attack!” Whack yelled with a smile.
Marching lockstep with his sister, shield to shield, Whack’s attention waned and his mind began to wander …
“A thousand gold pieces is too much,” complained the prospective buyer as he closely examined the finely wrought shield. “I’ll give you that the craftsmanship is superb, but -”
“My husband is a master craftsman, from an incredibly long line of dwarven craftsmen, there is none better,” Sarakim said confidently, her slender elven hands gently took the kite shield from his grasp, handling it with pride.
“What makes this shield worth the price is what you don’t see. Woven into every step of a complicated manufacturing process is layer upon layer of symbiotic enchantments that reduce the shield’s weight by half, protects better than a castle wall, and something else.” Sarakim set the bottom of the shield upon the ground and held it up with one finger. “Whack dear, get the sledge and do your best to dent this shield.”
Making a show of flexing his muscular arms and loosening his shoulders, the teenage dwelf armed himself with the long handled sledgehammer. Calmly holding the shield up with only her index finger, Sarakim continued her explanation. “Whack is my eldest son, as you can see, he is very strong. We named him Whack because whether it’s with an axe, a hammer, or his fists, he loves to hit things, and he is very good at it.”
Winding up with the sledge over his shoulder, Whack suddenly swung with the force of a load of falling logs. A force that should have launched the metal shield across the room, instead after the ear splitting bang the tall shield stayed put under Sarakim’s finger. At his mother’s nod to continue, Whack swung the heavy hammer at the shield again and again, and again. The cacophony of his hits was deafening, but the loosely held shield never budged.
Sweating profusely, Whack finally stopped and set down the hammer. His mother smiled and winked at him and returned her attention to the customer. “As you can see, this shield is very special and practically indestructible -”
“Ma -”
“Indestructibility isn’t of much help if the inertia -”
“Ma … Ma!”
“Thank you, Dear. You can go back-”
“Ma! It’s dented, I dented it.”
Sarakim snapped up the shield, inspecting it smooth face. Whack pointed out the small dent near center. With a look of frustration and pride she handed her son the shield. “Whack, you now own a magical shield. And before you ask, No the dent isn’t coming out.”
THOOM – THOOM. Fireballs flew from his sister’s shield jarring Whack’s attention back to the here and now. The first imp evaporated charging the group; the second was burned and met his end under Whack’s battle axe.
“Heads up, we’re under attack!” Whack yelled with a smile.
The Scythe
Mar 3, 2017, 3:26:14 AM3/3/17
to
[Admin]
I wrote this before I saw ShadoJohn's new one, including the fight with more imps. But I've decided Vinter would do it anyway.
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
Magna's comment was like Garan's: It spurred Vinter on. Thasiya's made him grimace. The Stranger's made him blanch. But Whack's!?
Whack's touched a nerve.
Vinter's face went white, and without thinking, he stooped, picked up a stone, and hucked it in Whack's general direction.
Even with all the emotion, he still diverted at the last second and didn't throw true. But close.
The imp attack startled him, and he jerked, and turned, scanning for any close imps, hand on his rapier.
Finast fingered in his pocket, mentally counting how many prepared crystals he had. There had been a lot of imps seen today, and he would need to conserve. So he began to draw energy from all around him. The imps and the cold wave had taken most of the heat, and so we worked mainly with the wind drawing off energy from the breeze, slowing it to transfer some to him. When an imp lunged, Finast shot a tiny jet of fire with that energy, more to make it back off than to harm it. The imp moved on, looking for easier prey.
Garan let out a war cry of "Junnek!" and charged. He swung the black dwarven war axe wide and low, cutting one imp off at the knees and scattering others.
I wrote this before I saw ShadoJohn's new one, including the fight with more imps. But I've decided Vinter would do it anyway.
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
Whack's touched a nerve.
Vinter's face went white, and without thinking, he stooped, picked up a stone, and hucked it in Whack's general direction.
Even with all the emotion, he still diverted at the last second and didn't throw true. But close.
The imp attack startled him, and he jerked, and turned, scanning for any close imps, hand on his rapier.
Finast fingered in his pocket, mentally counting how many prepared crystals he had. There had been a lot of imps seen today, and he would need to conserve. So he began to draw energy from all around him. The imps and the cold wave had taken most of the heat, and so we worked mainly with the wind drawing off energy from the breeze, slowing it to transfer some to him. When an imp lunged, Finast shot a tiny jet of fire with that energy, more to make it back off than to harm it. The imp moved on, looking for easier prey.
Garan let out a war cry of "Junnek!" and charged. He swung the black dwarven war axe wide and low, cutting one imp off at the knees and scattering others.
Jace Draccus
Mar 5, 2017, 7:48:10 PM3/5/17
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[Thasiya/The Stranger]
"Well, that's an answer then," Thasiya muttered as the imps sprang forth. Hardly surprising, they wouldn't want to let anyone interfere...
She parried the claws of one imp, the heat swathing her blade making the creature howl and fall back. She smirked, but the expression quickly faded as another leapt from the side. Reacting more from panic than planning, she spun away from the attack, flinging out her free hand and yanking on threads of magical energy.
A lash of wind caught the little demon across the ribs and flung it away.
The stranger, meanwhile, took a more direct approach. He shrugged off the casks he carried and then waded into the midst of the fight, laying about him with gloved fists before grabbing an imp by the ankles and using it to bludgeon its fellows.
"Well, that's an answer then," Thasiya muttered as the imps sprang forth. Hardly surprising, they wouldn't want to let anyone interfere...
She parried the claws of one imp, the heat swathing her blade making the creature howl and fall back. She smirked, but the expression quickly faded as another leapt from the side. Reacting more from panic than planning, she spun away from the attack, flinging out her free hand and yanking on threads of magical energy.
A lash of wind caught the little demon across the ribs and flung it away.
The stranger, meanwhile, took a more direct approach. He shrugged off the casks he carried and then waded into the midst of the fight, laying about him with gloved fists before grabbing an imp by the ankles and using it to bludgeon its fellows.
The Scythe
Mar 17, 2017, 11:31:06 AM3/17/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, others]
Garan made a series of short rushes, charging the imps near him. With the imps claered out, he turned to see if the others needed help.
Finast and Vintner both stayed at the ready.
ShadoJohn
Mar 18, 2017, 7:13:53 PM3/18/17
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[Magna & Whack]
THOOM – THOOM. Two ice demons vaporized with a hiss and high pitched squeal.
THOOM – THOOM. One ice demon vaporized, the other rushed Magna and found death as Whack stepped in between and delivered death with his shield and axe.
THOOM – THOOM – THOOM. A small group of enthralled humans were separated from the rest. Unsure how to free them, Whack set to hitting the civilians upside the head with the side of his axe. Magna was appalled, her brother was smiling.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said accusingly as he knocked out the last human in the group. Her brother paused, looking at those around him.
“Pa says a happy job is a good job,” Whack said moving to follow the others.
“No, Pa says a good job is a happy job,” Magna said falling in step.
“Same thing.”
“No it’s not, it’s completely different.”
THOOM – THOOM. Two ice demons vaporized with a hiss and high pitched squeal.
THOOM – THOOM. One ice demon vaporized, the other rushed Magna and found death as Whack stepped in between and delivered death with his shield and axe.
THOOM – THOOM – THOOM. A small group of enthralled humans were separated from the rest. Unsure how to free them, Whack set to hitting the civilians upside the head with the side of his axe. Magna was appalled, her brother was smiling.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said accusingly as he knocked out the last human in the group. Her brother paused, looking at those around him.
“Pa says a happy job is a good job,” Whack said moving to follow the others.
“No, Pa says a good job is a happy job,” Magna said falling in step.
“Same thing.”
“No it’s not, it’s completely different.”
The Scythe
Mar 20, 2017, 1:10:33 AM3/20/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, Other Characters]
Calmer now, Vintner was glad Thwack hadn't noticed the rock. He stayed vigilant, watching for any more imps.
Near Thwack and Magna a surviving imp hissed in anger. It had watched them kill it's fellows and knock the townspeople to the ground. It advanced on Thwack, but Garan caught it from the side. The warrior's black axe blade took off the creature's head and sent it spinning into the trees.
As it's body toppled, something happened to the rescued townspeople. Small traceries of the imp dust. previously invisible, started to rise from them, shimmering blue in the moonlight.
The group of townspeople was a fat merchant, his lady wife, and their servants. They stirred, slowly, sitting up. rubbing their eyes.
"I was dreaming of a great feast." said the merchant.
"Where are we?" Said the lady, obviously afraid. Their servants looked around, wide-eyed, finding themselves suddenly out in the woods. "And why does my head ache so?" she went on, rubbing her temples
It became obvious that that one imp was the one that had enchanted the family, since it's death released them from the possession. It was the possession by the thing's soul that they had seen lifting from the family, and the death of the imp had released them from it.
Finast confirmed it.
"What you're seeing is the demonic possession being broken. So that's one thing we can do - find the exact imp that did the enchanting, and kill it."
Garan was hurrying, eager to move on, burdened by this group of noncombatants. He hustled them up.
"Hurry, come on, it's not safe here." he growled. He went around, getting them on their feet. Seeing the burning bits, and hearing the fighting against the other imps, the merchant's group were clearly frightened now. Garan pulled over a couple of the fighters that had come with them from the Inn.
"Here now, get these people back to the inn, right away. Stay there, and keep them safe. Don't let them go back to town yet, it's probably still full of the imps." They nodded, and led the merchant's group back up the path.
Calmer now, Vintner was glad Thwack hadn't noticed the rock. He stayed vigilant, watching for any more imps.
Near Thwack and Magna a surviving imp hissed in anger. It had watched them kill it's fellows and knock the townspeople to the ground. It advanced on Thwack, but Garan caught it from the side. The warrior's black axe blade took off the creature's head and sent it spinning into the trees.
As it's body toppled, something happened to the rescued townspeople. Small traceries of the imp dust. previously invisible, started to rise from them, shimmering blue in the moonlight.
The group of townspeople was a fat merchant, his lady wife, and their servants. They stirred, slowly, sitting up. rubbing their eyes.
"I was dreaming of a great feast." said the merchant.
"Where are we?" Said the lady, obviously afraid. Their servants looked around, wide-eyed, finding themselves suddenly out in the woods. "And why does my head ache so?" she went on, rubbing her temples
It became obvious that that one imp was the one that had enchanted the family, since it's death released them from the possession. It was the possession by the thing's soul that they had seen lifting from the family, and the death of the imp had released them from it.
Finast confirmed it.
"What you're seeing is the demonic possession being broken. So that's one thing we can do - find the exact imp that did the enchanting, and kill it."
Garan was hurrying, eager to move on, burdened by this group of noncombatants. He hustled them up.
"Hurry, come on, it's not safe here." he growled. He went around, getting them on their feet. Seeing the burning bits, and hearing the fighting against the other imps, the merchant's group were clearly frightened now. Garan pulled over a couple of the fighters that had come with them from the Inn.
"Here now, get these people back to the inn, right away. Stay there, and keep them safe. Don't let them go back to town yet, it's probably still full of the imps." They nodded, and led the merchant's group back up the path.
The Scythe
Mar 20, 2017, 2:49:59 AM3/20/17
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[A Frozen Vesper] Act 3 - Feast of Souls
[Admin]
Act 3, Beat 11, Location - The Bauer Farm
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
After the Merchant's group was well and safely away, Garan motioned to the Swordsman to lead on. The other man nodded silently, and continued eastwards along the dirt road. Wary from the recent attack, they moved slowly and carefully.
Eventually, the group reached the edge of the trees. They walked along the road to where the trees thinned out. Off to the left and right, the trees opened out into a river dell a half-mile or so wide to the east in front of them, and a about a mile long north to south.
Spread around the river dell was the farm.
At first glance it seemed like a typical winter scene. Something straight from a beloved painting. A farm house nestled in the trees with a river running nearby. But the trees weren't bare - the leaves were iced over and still full on the branches. The chimney that would normally have been issuing the cozy smoke was icecapped. The windows frosted over.
The house itself was two-stories at the north end of the dell, up against the forest trees. Laid out around the edges of the trees to the south of the house were a bunkhouse, barn, granary tower, and a mill house. On the south end of the dell was a barn and barnyard. On the eastern side was a granary tower. And just east of the tower, a millhouse stood close by, with the mill's water wheel dipping into the frozen river.
To the near left the bunkhouse was close up against the western edge of the trees.
Straight ahead, the dirt road from Montfort continued down a slight incline. Passing just south of the barnyard, It leveled off on the flat ground near the river, reaching the base of an old stone bridge that arched up and over. On the other side the path over the bridge gave way back to the dirt road and meandered eastwards into more trees.
And on the south, the trees opened up and the rolling fields of the Bauer Farm were visible for miles. The stubble of last fall's harvest stood crisp and white with frost.
In the center of all the buildings stood the people of Montfort. Each of them stood stock still with their feet on wide swaths of blue. Over the ground of the dell a sweeping pattern had been drawn, the same as the blue blood of imps that had been seen at work in Montfort. Here it was completed, a great spiral of blue on the frosted ground. Each blue line was about two feet wide, and they curled and swooped in a pattern stretching out across the Bauer farm. The townspeople filled the blue lines of the spiral, one person behind the other, as if queued up.
Every one of them stood stock still, the frost covering their clothes and hair. The people at the northeast near the center of the pattern showed no signs of breath. The frigid air no longer steamed. Farther and farther away to the west and south, the larger the steam of their breaths became. The first to arrive were there at the center, no longer breathing, and the ones at the edge must have recently arrived. But even theirs shrank and became less with every breath.
All of them were facing northeast, towards the center of the spiraling shape.
At the center was the head of a river of ice. On the east side of the farmhouse, close by the edge of the river, was a great mass of intensely blue ice. Even from this distance it could be seen that it contained some kind of human shape within it. From that start, the massive river of fierce blue ice laid out over the frozen normal river, overlaying it and hiding it from view.
All through the rest of the dell, all mixed in among the people, were the imps.
Many, many, imps.
They capered and carried on. cartwheeling and cavorting. They chittered and chattered, and a gruesome party atmosphere reigned. They were looking forward to something, pointing and gesturing towards the massive, unnaturally blue river of ice.
Garan took in the scene. The Swordsman had taken up an overlook position hidden in the last stand of trees, and Garan joined him. It was large enough, so he motioned for the rest of the group to join them. Finast and Vintner both hesitated, out of BOTH of their elements.
Both the Barn and the Bunkhouse looked close enough to the overlook position to be reached quickly and unseen. The closest imps and townspeople are just on the eastern side of both buildings. The Farmhouse also is up against dense trees, but farther away
[Admin]
Act 3, Beat 11, Location - The Bauer Farm
[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
Eventually, the group reached the edge of the trees. They walked along the road to where the trees thinned out. Off to the left and right, the trees opened out into a river dell a half-mile or so wide to the east in front of them, and a about a mile long north to south.
Spread around the river dell was the farm.
At first glance it seemed like a typical winter scene. Something straight from a beloved painting. A farm house nestled in the trees with a river running nearby. But the trees weren't bare - the leaves were iced over and still full on the branches. The chimney that would normally have been issuing the cozy smoke was icecapped. The windows frosted over.
The house itself was two-stories at the north end of the dell, up against the forest trees. Laid out around the edges of the trees to the south of the house were a bunkhouse, barn, granary tower, and a mill house. On the south end of the dell was a barn and barnyard. On the eastern side was a granary tower. And just east of the tower, a millhouse stood close by, with the mill's water wheel dipping into the frozen river.
To the near left the bunkhouse was close up against the western edge of the trees.
Straight ahead, the dirt road from Montfort continued down a slight incline. Passing just south of the barnyard, It leveled off on the flat ground near the river, reaching the base of an old stone bridge that arched up and over. On the other side the path over the bridge gave way back to the dirt road and meandered eastwards into more trees.
And on the south, the trees opened up and the rolling fields of the Bauer Farm were visible for miles. The stubble of last fall's harvest stood crisp and white with frost.
In the center of all the buildings stood the people of Montfort. Each of them stood stock still with their feet on wide swaths of blue. Over the ground of the dell a sweeping pattern had been drawn, the same as the blue blood of imps that had been seen at work in Montfort. Here it was completed, a great spiral of blue on the frosted ground. Each blue line was about two feet wide, and they curled and swooped in a pattern stretching out across the Bauer farm. The townspeople filled the blue lines of the spiral, one person behind the other, as if queued up.
Every one of them stood stock still, the frost covering their clothes and hair. The people at the northeast near the center of the pattern showed no signs of breath. The frigid air no longer steamed. Farther and farther away to the west and south, the larger the steam of their breaths became. The first to arrive were there at the center, no longer breathing, and the ones at the edge must have recently arrived. But even theirs shrank and became less with every breath.
All of them were facing northeast, towards the center of the spiraling shape.
At the center was the head of a river of ice. On the east side of the farmhouse, close by the edge of the river, was a great mass of intensely blue ice. Even from this distance it could be seen that it contained some kind of human shape within it. From that start, the massive river of fierce blue ice laid out over the frozen normal river, overlaying it and hiding it from view.
All through the rest of the dell, all mixed in among the people, were the imps.
Many, many, imps.
They capered and carried on. cartwheeling and cavorting. They chittered and chattered, and a gruesome party atmosphere reigned. They were looking forward to something, pointing and gesturing towards the massive, unnaturally blue river of ice.
Garan took in the scene. The Swordsman had taken up an overlook position hidden in the last stand of trees, and Garan joined him. It was large enough, so he motioned for the rest of the group to join them. Finast and Vintner both hesitated, out of BOTH of their elements.
Both the Barn and the Bunkhouse looked close enough to the overlook position to be reached quickly and unseen. The closest imps and townspeople are just on the eastern side of both buildings. The Farmhouse also is up against dense trees, but farther away
Jace Draccus
Mar 20, 2017, 6:38:52 AM3/20/17
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[Thasiya, the Stranger]
With the last of the imps disposed of, the thin man cast aside his improvised bludgeon and picked up the casks again. The elf ran her fingers down the blunt side of her saber, gathering the threads of energy she'd woven and drawing the heat back to herself, then flicked the blade to one side to dismiss any remaining traces. Sheathing the weapon, she followed the others, occasionally looking back.
Whether she was watching the rear or keeping an eye on an escape route, it was hard to say. But the thin man watched her.
When the reached the trees, Thasiya took one look and slumped against the nearest trunk. Part of her, still feeling the faint tug of the imp dust, wanted to step onto those blue paths with the others... but that was a small, weak part, easily pushed aside by fear.
"Look at them all," she whispered, but whether she meant the imps or the townsfolk, she didn't say.
The thin man set the casks down again and folded his arms as he surveyed the scene from under the brim of his hat. "Blue soul paths. If the cold hasn't killed them, losing their souls might." He tilted his scarf-swathed face towards Garan, the ostensible leader of the group.
"They might not be dead. Depends how they froze. And if we can get them warmed up. Of course, if they are dead, that changes things." He looked around at the others. "Any ideas?"
"We could try for the buildings there," Thasiya said after a moment, pointing towards the barn. "We could use it as a defensive position..."
"Or be trapped," the thin man finished. Thasiya scowled at him, but didn't contradict.
With the last of the imps disposed of, the thin man cast aside his improvised bludgeon and picked up the casks again. The elf ran her fingers down the blunt side of her saber, gathering the threads of energy she'd woven and drawing the heat back to herself, then flicked the blade to one side to dismiss any remaining traces. Sheathing the weapon, she followed the others, occasionally looking back.
Whether she was watching the rear or keeping an eye on an escape route, it was hard to say. But the thin man watched her.
When the reached the trees, Thasiya took one look and slumped against the nearest trunk. Part of her, still feeling the faint tug of the imp dust, wanted to step onto those blue paths with the others... but that was a small, weak part, easily pushed aside by fear.
"Look at them all," she whispered, but whether she meant the imps or the townsfolk, she didn't say.
The thin man set the casks down again and folded his arms as he surveyed the scene from under the brim of his hat. "Blue soul paths. If the cold hasn't killed them, losing their souls might." He tilted his scarf-swathed face towards Garan, the ostensible leader of the group.
"They might not be dead. Depends how they froze. And if we can get them warmed up. Of course, if they are dead, that changes things." He looked around at the others. "Any ideas?"
"We could try for the buildings there," Thasiya said after a moment, pointing towards the barn. "We could use it as a defensive position..."
"Or be trapped," the thin man finished. Thasiya scowled at him, but didn't contradict.
The Scythe
Mar 21, 2017, 1:12:41 AM3/21/17
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[Garan and FInast, Vintner, and Other Characters]
"We need to find the girl." He said. "Can anyone see her?"
rjbmc...@gmail.com
Mar 24, 2017, 2:35:31 AM3/24/17
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[Garan, Finast, and Vintner, Others]
Finast spoke again.
"Consider this. The imp called the girl the Touchstone, but I think in our terms it meant what we'd think of as an anchor. The Demons naturally sink to the depths that match their density, and the Gods naturally ascend to their heights. It is in their nature to do that, based on the structure of the world.
In order to hold such a powerful Demon at an unnatural height, it would need a kind of anchor to keep it here. And that's the girl."
He pointed out to the scene.
"See how the center of the pattern is at the northeast corner, right by the river? There's that mass of blue ice, with a human-looking shape inside? it's at the locus of the blue pattern. I think that's where she is. We need to get her out of that ice, and separate her from Glacies.
Garan took that in, then turned to the rest.
"Ok, here'a what we'll do. We need some of as Scouts and who can melt the ice to sneak around through the trees to the North side of the dell, and go behind the Farmhouse, and get her out of the ice. The rest of us will stay down here at the Bunkhouse and Barn. The ones by the Barn and the road will be the Rescuers, saving people. That will lure the imps there to attack them. Then the group by the Bunkhouse will be the Attackers. They'll come out by surprise and attack those imps, to defend the Rescuer group.
I think Finast and Magna need to be the Scouts and melt her out. Vintner, I want you and your horn and drum with the Rescuers. You'll make sure every single imp knows we're here.
Thasiya, you and the Stranger can choose your location. Hardig and Sephra, you also choose."
He motioned to the other members who had come with them from the Inn.
"We need to figure a way to use the kegs to melt the imps and destroy the blue pattern without hurting the people. Any questions?"
Vintner spoke up.
"But the imps aren't actually doing anything to the people. What are they doing then?"
The imps continued their racous cavorting. The breath-fog of the townspeople ebbed.
Jace Draccus
Mar 25, 2017, 4:41:16 AM3/25/17
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[Thasiya/The Stranger]
"Stranger. Heh." The thin man chuckled, dry and soft. "I wondered if anyone would ever ask me for a name." He paused, lifting a skinny hand to the scarf-covered chin as if considering. "Call me... Graveson. It'll do."
"Subtle." Thasiya rolled her eyes. Graveson just shrugged, so she shook her head and looked to the others. "The imp said the girl was in the river, so she might be in that block of ice. Or that might be Glacies. We should be careful."
"That's not like you," Graveson murmured.
The elf glared at him. "I may be many things," she said, her voice lowered to an angry hiss, "But I'm NOT stupid enough to tangle with a major demon!"
Graveson inclined his head, conceding the point. Instead of responding he looked to Vintner. "If I had to guess, the people are either powering a spell, or they're being saved for food. Kind of like a cold larder." He picked up a cask and turned it in his hands. "If we can draw the imps away, maybe we can set up an explosion with this, or douse them in it. Burn as many as we can."
Thasiya chewed her lip. "That could be tricky. And we might want to save some for Glacies..."
"Stranger. Heh." The thin man chuckled, dry and soft. "I wondered if anyone would ever ask me for a name." He paused, lifting a skinny hand to the scarf-covered chin as if considering. "Call me... Graveson. It'll do."
"Subtle." Thasiya rolled her eyes. Graveson just shrugged, so she shook her head and looked to the others. "The imp said the girl was in the river, so she might be in that block of ice. Or that might be Glacies. We should be careful."
"That's not like you," Graveson murmured.
The elf glared at him. "I may be many things," she said, her voice lowered to an angry hiss, "But I'm NOT stupid enough to tangle with a major demon!"
Graveson inclined his head, conceding the point. Instead of responding he looked to Vintner. "If I had to guess, the people are either powering a spell, or they're being saved for food. Kind of like a cold larder." He picked up a cask and turned it in his hands. "If we can draw the imps away, maybe we can set up an explosion with this, or douse them in it. Burn as many as we can."
Thasiya chewed her lip. "That could be tricky. And we might want to save some for Glacies..."
The Scythe
Mar 25, 2017, 9:14:00 PM3/25/17
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[ Garan, Finast, Vintner Greenhaven, and Others]
Garan nodded at the Stranger.
"Alright, Graveson it is. Since Thasiya wants to stay away from the Demon, why don't you two go to the Bunkhouse, with some of the wine casks as part of the attack. Vintner and I will go down to the Barn. He'll draw them to us, I'll hold them off " He brandished his axe, "and you two can charge them from the side."
Finast answered Graveson's speculations.
"The imp called the girl the Touchstone, meaning anchor. And so she provides the power to bring Glacies here. He is not here. It would be obvious if it had arrived. Yes, a clod larder is the perfect way to think of it. The Cold Wave must have been the way opening for all these imps to come through. We need to stop him from coming here at all. If we can."
Vintner shoo his head, tightening his grip on his horn. His knuckles were white.
Garan nodded at the Stranger.
"Alright, Graveson it is. Since Thasiya wants to stay away from the Demon, why don't you two go to the Bunkhouse, with some of the wine casks as part of the attack. Vintner and I will go down to the Barn. He'll draw them to us, I'll hold them off " He brandished his axe, "and you two can charge them from the side."
Finast answered Graveson's speculations.
"The imp called the girl the Touchstone, meaning anchor. And so she provides the power to bring Glacies here. He is not here. It would be obvious if it had arrived. Yes, a clod larder is the perfect way to think of it. The Cold Wave must have been the way opening for all these imps to come through. We need to stop him from coming here at all. If we can."
Vintner shoo his head, tightening his grip on his horn. His knuckles were white.
The Scythe
Mar 25, 2017, 9:16:06 PM3/25/17
to
[Admin]
Correction. Finast said "cold larder"
Correction. Finast said "cold larder"
ShadoJohn
Mar 26, 2017, 9:13:35 PM3/26/17
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[Magna & Whack]
“Whack, you stay and help Garan. I will go with Finast to melt the ice the girl is in,” Magna ordered her brother.
“No,” Whack replied stubbornly. “I’m staying with you.”
“What? No Whack, you need to do as I say.”
“No. Pa ordered me to watch your back.”
“Whack, never mind that! You need to -”
“No, Princess Bossy, I don’t. Pa ordered me to watch your back, and he’d kill me if something happened to you and I wasn’t even there. So stop arguing and let’s get going,” Whack stood tall with a look of dwarven steel on his face. Magna knew it was hopeless trying to change his mind.
“Fine, follow me-”
“Follow you? You have two left feet,” Whack said eyeing the trees to the north of the dell, beyond the farmhouse.
“Master Finast, I will lead you and Miss Fumble-foot around the farmhouse and get you as close as I can to that ice pillar,” Whack said making sure he had the mages attention.
“He’s actually a pretty good woodsman,” Magna added begrugingly, unsure why Finast would believe her.
“Whack, you stay and help Garan. I will go with Finast to melt the ice the girl is in,” Magna ordered her brother.
“No,” Whack replied stubbornly. “I’m staying with you.”
“What? No Whack, you need to do as I say.”
“No. Pa ordered me to watch your back.”
“Whack, never mind that! You need to -”
“No, Princess Bossy, I don’t. Pa ordered me to watch your back, and he’d kill me if something happened to you and I wasn’t even there. So stop arguing and let’s get going,” Whack stood tall with a look of dwarven steel on his face. Magna knew it was hopeless trying to change his mind.
“Fine, follow me-”
“Follow you? You have two left feet,” Whack said eyeing the trees to the north of the dell, beyond the farmhouse.
“Master Finast, I will lead you and Miss Fumble-foot around the farmhouse and get you as close as I can to that ice pillar,” Whack said making sure he had the mages attention.
“He’s actually a pretty good woodsman,” Magna added begrugingly, unsure why Finast would believe her.
ShadoJohn
Mar 29, 2017, 1:24:08 AM3/29/17
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[Whack FireHammer]
“Magna Megafoot, pick up your feet and don’t flop them down on every stick and twig in these blessed woods,” Whack scolded his sister in hushed tones. He looked about, they were safe for the moment, situated behind the Farmhouse, about two thirds of the way to the mass of blue ice. The problem was, the way ahead, and in every direction, was filled with ice imps and people staring blankly.
“Master Finast, any suggestions?” Whack asked respectfully.
“Magna Megafoot, pick up your feet and don’t flop them down on every stick and twig in these blessed woods,” Whack scolded his sister in hushed tones. He looked about, they were safe for the moment, situated behind the Farmhouse, about two thirds of the way to the mass of blue ice. The problem was, the way ahead, and in every direction, was filled with ice imps and people staring blankly.
“Master Finast, any suggestions?” Whack asked respectfully.
The Scythe
Mar 29, 2017, 8:55:16 AM3/29/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and other characters]
Before they left, Garan motioned for a couple of the other people from the Inn to go with them. They were a two hunters with their longbows and long knives.
"Go with the Scout team and guard them as they try and get the girl," he said. They nodded.
Finast turned to the Dwelf.
"Lead on then, Master Thwack." he said, and followed.
The small group skirted around the dell through the trees, just staying barely within sight of the people and imps, but hidden. They moved around the dell and reached behind the Farm House.
When Thwack asked him for suggestions, Finast peered around the corner. The view was much clearer from this close. There was a great mass of blue ice, twice as tall as a large man. In it could be clearly seen the shape of a girl. She was kneeling, hands pressed in front of her, palm to palm, as if praying. But she was suspended in the ice above the ground. From there, the mass of ice became a giant, blue river twice as tall as a man, that extended out over top of the original frozen ice river.
Finast pulled back, and motioned for the others to take a look. Once they'd seen, he whispered,
"Let's keep a watch. Garan is planning something. Let's get ready to melt that ice."
"Oh and don't forget, we may have to kill her," he said flatly.
He started mentally preparing to produce as much controlled heat as possible.
Back at the stand of trees, Garan continued dividing up the group. He brought the Vintner, Swordsman and several others with him as Rescuers. And he set a couple of the others to stay be Attackers and to go to the Bunkhouse.
"Ok, when we get down there, Vintner is going to sounds that horn of his, and it's going to bring down those imps on us like a madhouse. As soon as they start to move, you all at the Bunkhouse need to charge them from the side. It'll disrupt and confuze them. And remember, we just need to keep them on us long enough for the Scouts to get the girl, and then we can pull back up here to this stand of trees.
Ok, ask your questions and then let's get going."
Vintner went white and he only nodded when Garan described him drawing the entire swarm of imps down on himself, but he followed along numbly, woodenly.
When they all had enough time to finish planning and ask questions, they split up. The one group crept quietly to behind the Bunkhouse, while Garan, Vintner, the Swordsman, and a few others snuck towards the barn, bringing a few wine casks with them. Garan and the Swordsman peered over the barnyard fence.
"Alright, let's plan where we're going to do this." Garan said, surveying the scene.
Our in the center, the cacophany of the imps reached a crescendo. It was obvious to all that something was about to happen. The focus of the imps wasn't on the girl's ice. That was only the head of the blue ice river. It trailed onto the original, natural, frozen river, and ran down towards the Millhouse. It was there, at the Millhouse, that the focus of all the imps seemed to be. The epicenter of their excitement.
Jace Draccus
Mar 31, 2017, 7:31:28 AM3/31/17
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[Graveson/Thasiya]
Neither the elf nor the thin man had any questions. For Thasiya's part, she was too preoccupied with imagining what was to come. All those imps, swarming towards them. Nothing to do but fight or die...
"The bard better survive," she muttered. "So he can tell everyone how heroic we all were in death."
Graveson made a dry, snorting sound. "Speak for yourself." He looked out at the farm, then to Garan. "We'll go around by the Bunkhouse."
Thasiya glared. "What do you mean, 'We'?"
"We all have to be somewhere. Besides, I have an idea that I think you'll like. Bring some of the alcohol." Picking up his own casks he set off towards the Bunkhouse, keeping out of sight of the imps, thin limbs slipping through the trees with weird grace.
Thasiya watched him go, then looked at the others and shrugged. "Maybe I can at least die drunk," she said, taking up a cask and a couple of bottles before following Graveson, her elven frame moving just as lithely as he had.
Once they were in position, Graveson set down his casks and started removing the outer layer of his clothes. Thasiya flinched and shielded her eyes with one arm.
"Warn me, next time!" Assuming there was a next time...
Graveson ignored her as he stripped. The shirt and pants he folded neatly, placing his boots to one side. his gloves went on top of the pile, then the scarf, and lastly the hat.
Underneath, leather covered him from head to toe, tight against his frame and emphasising how thin he was, but somehow oddly loose in places. Even his face was covered by a leather mask, marked only by thin eye slits.
Once the clothes were set aside, he picked up a cask and started pouring the contents over himself.
"Now that really is a waste." Thasiya shook her head. "I think you've finally lost your mind."
Graveson continued pouring, making sure that as much of his leather covering was soaked in alcohol. "You can make fire, can't you?"
Thasiya blinked, cocking her head, then a slow smile spread across her face. She uncorked a wine bottle and started pouring it over him.
Neither the elf nor the thin man had any questions. For Thasiya's part, she was too preoccupied with imagining what was to come. All those imps, swarming towards them. Nothing to do but fight or die...
"The bard better survive," she muttered. "So he can tell everyone how heroic we all were in death."
Graveson made a dry, snorting sound. "Speak for yourself." He looked out at the farm, then to Garan. "We'll go around by the Bunkhouse."
Thasiya glared. "What do you mean, 'We'?"
"We all have to be somewhere. Besides, I have an idea that I think you'll like. Bring some of the alcohol." Picking up his own casks he set off towards the Bunkhouse, keeping out of sight of the imps, thin limbs slipping through the trees with weird grace.
Thasiya watched him go, then looked at the others and shrugged. "Maybe I can at least die drunk," she said, taking up a cask and a couple of bottles before following Graveson, her elven frame moving just as lithely as he had.
Once they were in position, Graveson set down his casks and started removing the outer layer of his clothes. Thasiya flinched and shielded her eyes with one arm.
"Warn me, next time!" Assuming there was a next time...
Graveson ignored her as he stripped. The shirt and pants he folded neatly, placing his boots to one side. his gloves went on top of the pile, then the scarf, and lastly the hat.
Underneath, leather covered him from head to toe, tight against his frame and emphasising how thin he was, but somehow oddly loose in places. Even his face was covered by a leather mask, marked only by thin eye slits.
Once the clothes were set aside, he picked up a cask and started pouring the contents over himself.
"Now that really is a waste." Thasiya shook her head. "I think you've finally lost your mind."
Graveson continued pouring, making sure that as much of his leather covering was soaked in alcohol. "You can make fire, can't you?"
Thasiya blinked, cocking her head, then a slow smile spread across her face. She uncorked a wine bottle and started pouring it over him.
The Scythe
Apr 3, 2017, 12:09:31 AM4/3/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, others]
Garan looked at the area by the Barnyard. He saw how the animal pen fences ran along the road eastwards, and then northwards, and back westwards to the Barn, in a square. The people and imps were right outside the animal pens. Some of them very close to the fence. Then he made his decision.
"Alright, here's what we're going to do."
ShadoJohn
Apr 6, 2017, 2:44:40 AM4/6/17
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[Magna & Whack]
With pinpoint accuracy Whack lobbed a bottle at the pillar of ice.
“Whack! What are you doing?” Magna asked in alarm, her anger clear in her hushed voice.
“I’m bored,” he answered lobbing another bottle at the top of the pillar and watched the glass shatter and the alcohol run down the ice.
“Well, stop it! You’ll get the imps, or ice demons, whatever they are, to attack us.”
“Good, a little action would be nice,” Whack said tossing another bottle and then another.
“”Whack, you might need those. You’re wasting the alcohol.
“No, Princess Bossy, I’m not,” he replied tossing and smashing bottle after bottle. “The girl in the ice is our target. Soaking the ice will make it burn better. And if those things attack yo can burn them too.”
With pinpoint accuracy Whack lobbed a bottle at the pillar of ice.
“Whack! What are you doing?” Magna asked in alarm, her anger clear in her hushed voice.
“I’m bored,” he answered lobbing another bottle at the top of the pillar and watched the glass shatter and the alcohol run down the ice.
“Well, stop it! You’ll get the imps, or ice demons, whatever they are, to attack us.”
“Good, a little action would be nice,” Whack said tossing another bottle and then another.
“”Whack, you might need those. You’re wasting the alcohol.
“No, Princess Bossy, I’m not,” he replied tossing and smashing bottle after bottle. “The girl in the ice is our target. Soaking the ice will make it burn better. And if those things attack yo can burn them too.”
The Scythe
Apr 6, 2017, 10:46:24 PM4/6/17
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[Garan,Finast,Vintner, others]
Finast reached out to Thawck in alarm. He hissed, "You fool! What are you doing!"
In the general din, the sound of the breaking glass didn't carry far. But far enough. Some of the nearby imps headless and paused their cavorting to come check.
Finast reached out to Thawck in alarm. He hissed, "You fool! What are you doing!"
In the general din, the sound of the breaking glass didn't carry far. But far enough. Some of the nearby imps headless and paused their cavorting to come check.
The Scythe
Apr 6, 2017, 10:49:13 PM4/6/17
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[admin] correction. "Several of the imps heard...."
ShadoJohn
Apr 12, 2017, 11:44:17 PM4/12/17
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[Magna & Whack]
“Fool?” Whack responded with indignant anger. “Well, you’re stupid!”
“Only family can insult this idiot,” Magna said defensively, standing shield to shield with her brother. Whack glared at his sister, not liking what she said either. Tossing another bottle he turned towards both the magic users.
“Something everyone seems to be forgetting is the longer we wait the more of our neighbors that are going mind dead,” Whack said waving his hand at the blank faced people. “We need to stop this now -”
“Whack, move over!” Magna screamed stepping around her dwelf brother and launched a couple fireballs and a massive ground covering fire. THOOM – THOOM – WHOOSH.
The ice pillar was on fire and starting to melt.
“Fool?” Whack responded with indignant anger. “Well, you’re stupid!”
“Only family can insult this idiot,” Magna said defensively, standing shield to shield with her brother. Whack glared at his sister, not liking what she said either. Tossing another bottle he turned towards both the magic users.
“Something everyone seems to be forgetting is the longer we wait the more of our neighbors that are going mind dead,” Whack said waving his hand at the blank faced people. “We need to stop this now -”
“Whack, move over!” Magna screamed stepping around her dwelf brother and launched a couple fireballs and a massive ground covering fire. THOOM – THOOM – WHOOSH.
The ice pillar was on fire and starting to melt.
The Scythe
Apr 17, 2017, 11:33:39 PM4/17/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and others too]
At the noise, five imps left the group and came to investigate. They hissed and bared their claws when they saw Magna, but shied back at the fire.
One of the two hunters with them stepped out from behind the Farmhouse, took aim, and let fly. But the arrow simply skipped off the imp's icy, faceted skin. All five started to move around the fire to get at the Scouts group, but wary of the fire and of Magna.
Townspeople nearby started to defrost slightly from the heat. Tiny wisps of their breath began again.
At Magna's explosions, many more imps paused their caterwauling, and turned, eyeing the blaze......
At that moment, from the opposite, southwest side of the Farm, came another burst of fire. Garan, Vintner, and the others with them had emptied their wine casks all along the animal pens at the farm, and then lit it. The whole farm railing was on fire, all along it's length. The imps near it shrieked and pulled back from the heat that melted their icy skin. The townspeople there too started to defrost, with the same breath appearing.
Garan and the others were inside the fence, using it as a barricade. Weapons at the ready, they waited for the heat to thaw some of the people.
The huge man turned to Vintner and nodded. While planning he'd explained what he wanted. Vintner's knuckles were white as he gripped his horn. He lifted it from where it hung at his side and set it to his lips.
Vintner had never been in battle before, but he had served in the forces of his Elven King. Thus his drum and horn. Even among the elves, forces needed to pass messages from along the line of battle, cohort, to cohort.
So it wasn't "Charge!" or "To Quarters!" he sounded.
He sounded "The Challenge!"
The Elven War Chieftans would leave out in front of the battle lines and challenge each other to duels. This is what he blew now, the traditional challenge among the elves of Verdelothien to single combat.
On such a horn as his, elven-silver, and made by Vadoriel, finest craftsman in that land, the lofty notes of The Challenge! rang out across the river dell. They sounded loud and sweet in the ears of all. Even the imps paused for a moment, hardened, vicious, soul-eaters that they were. But they reacted with anger and bitterness at it's purity and clarity. For the others, the humans, elves, and others from the Dragons Inn, it lifted their spirits, giving vigor and courage. It spoke to their hearts of comradeship and support in time of need.
Of the imps, all except the five at the north end accepted the challenge, and swarmed towards the animals pens en masse.
"Lunaris, have mercy" swore the Swordsman, as his face went white.
Jace Draccus
Apr 20, 2017, 7:54:03 AM4/20/17
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[Thasiya/Graveson]
Thasiya cocked her head at the first strains of music, and she smiled. "Now that takes me back." She hummed and waved a hand, musical notes made of silver shimmering before her... then she frowned as the music diverged from her own efforts. The notes vanished and she shook her head, sighing. "Must be a regional variation."
Graveson watched her impassively, face unreadable behind the wine-drenched leather mask. "Whenever you're ready, we have people to save." He gestured with a gloved hand towards the mass of imps moving towards Garan and Vintner.
The elven sorceress clucked her tongue. "You really don't have a soul, do you?"
"Possibly not." Graveson turned away, bracing himself. "Wait until I reach them before you light me."
Without another word he broke into a run, skinny limbs flailing as he charged headlong towards the swarm of imps. Thasiya followed at a brisk trot. As Graveson barreled into the imps, laying about himself with fists and feet and reckless abandon, Thasiya stopped, some distance back, braising one hand with fingers curled as she focused her energies into her palm.
Fire. Such a simple thing.. and yet not. Most basic of reactions, energy to heat, creating flame. Heat, that was easy, most anything gave off heat, even a minor energy transfer. But creating flame from nothing? That took a bit more.
Eyes closed, she narrowed her focus to one spot, a single point... a spark...
Flinging out her hand, she threw the spark at Graveson, straight as an arrow, hitting him square between the shoulderblades. He didn't notice the tiny impact, but the effect was immediate.
Between one moment and the next, the alcohol soaking his leathers turned him into a flaming wraith. It did not slow him one bit. Instead, he threw himself bodily at the imps, wrestling with them, trying to share his gift of flame with as many as he could reach. Their rasping screams only spurred him on.
Thasiya paused, shading her eyes, lips pursed. After trying and failing to come up with a quip, she shook her head and drew her sword, running a hand along the blade to wreath it in warmth.
Then she, too, set to the grisly business of imp-slaying, staying at the edges to pick off any that escaped Graveson's fiery assault.
Thasiya cocked her head at the first strains of music, and she smiled. "Now that takes me back." She hummed and waved a hand, musical notes made of silver shimmering before her... then she frowned as the music diverged from her own efforts. The notes vanished and she shook her head, sighing. "Must be a regional variation."
Graveson watched her impassively, face unreadable behind the wine-drenched leather mask. "Whenever you're ready, we have people to save." He gestured with a gloved hand towards the mass of imps moving towards Garan and Vintner.
The elven sorceress clucked her tongue. "You really don't have a soul, do you?"
"Possibly not." Graveson turned away, bracing himself. "Wait until I reach them before you light me."
Without another word he broke into a run, skinny limbs flailing as he charged headlong towards the swarm of imps. Thasiya followed at a brisk trot. As Graveson barreled into the imps, laying about himself with fists and feet and reckless abandon, Thasiya stopped, some distance back, braising one hand with fingers curled as she focused her energies into her palm.
Fire. Such a simple thing.. and yet not. Most basic of reactions, energy to heat, creating flame. Heat, that was easy, most anything gave off heat, even a minor energy transfer. But creating flame from nothing? That took a bit more.
Eyes closed, she narrowed her focus to one spot, a single point... a spark...
Flinging out her hand, she threw the spark at Graveson, straight as an arrow, hitting him square between the shoulderblades. He didn't notice the tiny impact, but the effect was immediate.
Between one moment and the next, the alcohol soaking his leathers turned him into a flaming wraith. It did not slow him one bit. Instead, he threw himself bodily at the imps, wrestling with them, trying to share his gift of flame with as many as he could reach. Their rasping screams only spurred him on.
Thasiya paused, shading her eyes, lips pursed. After trying and failing to come up with a quip, she shook her head and drew her sword, running a hand along the blade to wreath it in warmth.
Then she, too, set to the grisly business of imp-slaying, staying at the edges to pick off any that escaped Graveson's fiery assault.
ShadoJohn
Apr 25, 2017, 1:29:13 AM4/25/17
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[Magna & Whack]
Fireball after fireball didn’t stem the rush. For every vaporized ice imp two more took its place. Magna changed her tactic, fire alone was not hot enough to defeat the foe and melt the pillar both. Her magic shield glowed red with the heat of the forge emanating in waves as she swiveled back and forth across the imps and the rapidly melting pillar. Her loyal brother shielded her back.
Fireball after fireball didn’t stem the rush. For every vaporized ice imp two more took its place. Magna changed her tactic, fire alone was not hot enough to defeat the foe and melt the pillar both. Her magic shield glowed red with the heat of the forge emanating in waves as she swiveled back and forth across the imps and the rapidly melting pillar. Her loyal brother shielded her back.
The Scythe
Apr 26, 2017, 3:52:44 AM4/26/17
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[Garan, Finast, Vintner, and others]
The imps swarmed at Garan and the others in the animal pens. The fire on the railings couldn't block them all. In great sweeps of his axe Garan cut down the first few that made it through the fence. But there were too many for just one person. The Swordsman and the others did their best to guard his flanks, but their weapons had little effect on icy skin. Beaten back, the Swordsman and the others defended themselves as best they could with shields, but they were scratched and clawed continually. One of them fell under the weight of many imps.
Vintner played until the imps swarmed over. His horn fell from nerveless fingers and he stepped back, stunned, backing into the fence on the opposite side of the pen. Ahead of him, he watched as first one, then another of the human fighters went down. Garan swung his black axe like a lumberjack, wide stance and sweeping cuts, right in the middle of it all. Then the Swordsman started to be overwhelmed. Three of them clutched onto the man's shield, dragging it down, while two more gnawed and bit and gouged his legs. Stumbling from the weight of the imps, he turned, and his eyes met Vintner's.
"Don't let them...!" he called, reaching out to the Bard.
And there it was. Inside himself. He'd run, always run, in the past. But the Swordsman's gaze locked onto him, and reached inside. It found there a stillness. A surety.
"Not like this," Vintner whispered. His hand went to his rapier's hilt, untouched for years, and swept it out in a smooth motion.
JOY! The blade sang as it leapt from the scabbard, a high descant of wordless joy. Vintner moved with the footwork and grace that only nobility, trained from youth in swordplay, have the time to achieve. As effective as Garan was, crushing and beheading whole groups of imps at once, his great swings were like a bear's lumbering compared to Vintner's cat grace.
One after the other, Vintner's rapier speared all five imps, straight through the head. The gleaming, singing blade rang out joy after joy as it pierced them. It caught the light much more than any blade should, magnifying it so that at almost any angle it blinded the eyes. Along it's length the elven runes spelled out it's name, "Cemcer"
The Swordsman stumbled to Vintner, and for a moment clasped an arm. Both shocked at what had just happened, they leaned on each other.
It was at that point that Graveson exploded into flame, and the pressure of the imps was relieved.
The flaming figure sent imps scattering in all directions away from the flames and his attacks. Many of them fell.
On the north end, by the Farmhouse the battle continued between Magna, Thwack, and the imps. One of the hunters got too far away from them and was dragged down by the imps.
Finast pointed at the ice.
"Look you can see her!"
It was true, the ice was melting enough that she would soon be out. Staying nearby Thwack and Magna for protection, he focused on the crystal full of energy in his hand. Connecting to it, he made the signs and spoke the true names of heat and fire, and focused all that energy on melting the ice. It receded more and more, exposing the girls feet. He kept it up.
All throughout the River Dell, Townspeople were starting to defrost from the heat. Their breath started again, and some began to blink, looking around.
Jace Draccus
May 7, 2017, 6:25:36 AM5/7/17
to
[Graveson/Thasiya]
The flames burned intensely, fed by the copious amounts of alcohol poured over leather trappings, sustained somewhat by the padding underneath. Still, it did not seem to hinder Graveson in the slightest, skinny limbs flailing in all directions as he plunged into the thickest masses of imps. They scattered, shrieking, many burned and wounded. Still more remained, hissing and chattering with rage and hate.
He fought his way towards Garan's group, Thasiya following. Some imps slipped past the flaming figure and lunged at the elf, thinking her an easier target. She flinched and lashed out at the first, heated blade slicing along it's flank. It fell back, squealing, and she grinned. Maybe she could do this after all.
The next was dealt with more calmly, this time slashed across the neck. The third she knocked away with a razor edged wisp of air, wielded like a whip by her free hand. This was almost fun!
By the time they reached Garan's side, the flames were almost extinguished, just a few small patches still burning. The leathers had been reduced to charred rags and greasy strings, revealing nothing but bones blackened by the fire. Graveson reached up one bony hand and pulled the remains of his leather hood and mask away from his skull, looked it over, then shrugged and tossed it aside. He looked to Garan with empty eye sockets, then at the remaining imps as they began to regroup.
"Well," he said, his jaw not moving but his voice still soft and clear, "that worked, more or less. Now what?"
The flames burned intensely, fed by the copious amounts of alcohol poured over leather trappings, sustained somewhat by the padding underneath. Still, it did not seem to hinder Graveson in the slightest, skinny limbs flailing in all directions as he plunged into the thickest masses of imps. They scattered, shrieking, many burned and wounded. Still more remained, hissing and chattering with rage and hate.
He fought his way towards Garan's group, Thasiya following. Some imps slipped past the flaming figure and lunged at the elf, thinking her an easier target. She flinched and lashed out at the first, heated blade slicing along it's flank. It fell back, squealing, and she grinned. Maybe she could do this after all.
The next was dealt with more calmly, this time slashed across the neck. The third she knocked away with a razor edged wisp of air, wielded like a whip by her free hand. This was almost fun!
By the time they reached Garan's side, the flames were almost extinguished, just a few small patches still burning. The leathers had been reduced to charred rags and greasy strings, revealing nothing but bones blackened by the fire. Graveson reached up one bony hand and pulled the remains of his leather hood and mask away from his skull, looked it over, then shrugged and tossed it aside. He looked to Garan with empty eye sockets, then at the remaining imps as they began to regroup.
"Well," he said, his jaw not moving but his voice still soft and clear, "that worked, more or less. Now what?"
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