Post by K Man on Jan 7, 2005 10:20:37 GMT -5
Newt and Garor - Once there was a time, long in your past, that you thought you had seen King Grandil at his most furious - it was right before he exiled you.
That moment has just been surpassed...
The Dwarven king moves and closes to within inches of your face. His nostrils flare and his cheeks wrinkle with frustration.
"Don't ye get the point of this? Ye will die of old age Garor... Not at the end of some horrible claws or sharp blade." Grandil exhales sharply, holding back a second flood of emotions - the aftershocks. "Normally every Dwarf would be honored in the Forge Father's eyes as such - but it is not the fate of a noble. Ye were born of different blood, noble blood, and that blood will not be spilled."
"Our enemies will not be allowed the pleasure of spilling our noble blood...and once the army is complete, no enemy will spill Dwarven blood. The constructs will walk the battlefields shedding enemy blood without the loss of another Dwarven life."
[Sense Motive Check, Garor] You pause for a moment as it strikes you...when you look into King Grandil's eyes you see anger but most importantly, you see fear - absolute fear. Perhaps this tirade is a cover-up for King Grandil's fear of the inevitable...
...'The Master' cannot be stopped...
Or at least the great King believes. It becomes clear that he's trying to keep you here out of fear, not out of some master plan for survival...fear that his throne, his empire, will collapse and none will remember him or his deeds.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caelith and Callian - As Callian sarcastically and openly remarks about the scene, Caelith takes the initiative and graps the iron bar and shouts.
That is all he can get out before you are both blinded by a brilliant light. The metal storm overheard, the steeds of chaos, the magic-starved...all disappear in less than the blink of an eye. They are replaced, as soon as your eyes can adjust, by a room of seemingly infinite proportions. You stand atop a brass platform, about fifteen feet to a side and surrounded by nothing but darkness. A mere thirty feet away floats another platform, this one made of solid iron and topped by a grand throne.
Sitting in this throne is a robed man - if you can assume correctly - Emirikol the Chaotic.
He sits with hands grasping either side of his massive floating throne that looks plucked from the planes of Baator itself. It swoops high over his head and spreads out in a rack of ivory horns and wickedely sharp gems. Emirikol himself is an aged human, appearing to be in his late forties with slightly grey temples and wrinkles at the edge of his cheeks. He sports a light goat-tee that frames his mouth.
A single source of light, one above each platform, is the only thing providing light in this inifinite cavern. Emirikol leans forward and places a hand beneath his chin, looking over each of you.
"Well well...look what the cat has drug into my home. Callian the Kind and Caelith e'Quis'norai mar Ilduroth, formerly of Carealal."
"Tell me Caelith, still hiding behind that spiral of yours? Hoping it will lead to salvation....or redemption?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hero, Krysta, Girud and Galdren -
{There is no map, perse, it's more like a reflex - in innate knowledge and nearly instant understanding. It is possible to vein-ride into the Elven City, as long as it's open dirt or natural rock of this plane. You couldn't go to the top of the Queen's tower for instance, but the door outside is fine. }
Camir appreciates the information the ambassadors give him, eyes looking heavy with the burden of leadership and anxious to adventure like yourselves. He bids you all a fond farewell as you melt into the earth, hot on the trail of Callian and Caelith.
When you reappear, spitting out the dirt taste from your mouth, you find yourself in a thick glade - a forest you can barely see through. The trees are exceptionally thick around a clearing, but it's what's in this clearing that grabs your attention quickly.
A building, ethereal and ghostly, rests in the middle of the clearing, an occasional flash from within catching your eye. A dropping sword, a flapping wing, a torn and pained face - all come and go so quickly it's hard to grasp the situation, but you've seen it enough.
Battle...
Before you can get any closer to the building, a lthe human female seems to appear from nowhere, scimitar drawn and hand crackling with energy. She looks ready to defend at the least.
"By the laws, what has happened in the world outside to allow such intrusions by everyone!"
She remains taught, ready to strike or listen...a reaction to whatever comes first.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Romar - As you leave Veya, you catch a fleeting glimpse of her gathering her armor and weaponry, tossing it on quickly. You make your way into the streets, covering your eyes from the blinding snow and light that manages to filter through the fog. It's not much, as apparent by the vampires that wander around in mid-day, but it's enough to give that 'hazy' look that nearly blinds.
You slip from street to street, between small huts and even smaller sheds - the pathetic collection of buildings that makes New RocRoost. You shine your mirror here and there, coming across more vampires than you would like. [I'll assume you want to do this incognito? (Hidden) I wouldn't want to walk up to a vampire and ask them about their status.
] You keep the mirror in the palm of your hand and shine it towards the woman, trying to see who is undead and who is not.
After about five minutes of wandering around the village, your heart sinks - only about one in ten woman is not of the undead.
[Hide Check, Romar Vs. Spot] You think you slip the mirror stealithy into your pocket just as you pass a collection of five vampiric women. They walk past, casting glances to you as they head deeper into the village. You go about collecting more of the real woman and directing them to Veya's tent.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yuri - As you press into Keira's arms again, you find yourself lost in her charm. It's a shame you must keep this facade up for the time being, at least until an escape has been made.
If you were alive, she would have made a great companion - but something in you, that same dark side you've been harboring since you last saw the sun, gnaws at you and tells you one thing...her loyalty belongs to Hirsuthe and her lust to feeding.
Just as you are lost in passionate embrace again, you become aware of the tent flap being withdrawn violently. You stare at the faces of five women that are obviously vampires like the one beneath you. The spout words venomously, glaring at you like a hated enemy.
"Mistress, the human that came with him is wandering the streets...with a mirror."
"He knows..."
Keira's eyes instantly shoot to yours, awaiting an explanation...
__________________________________________________________________________________________
[People, I'm traveling to Washington D.C. on Monday, and it will be a full day. Look for updates at night, if any. Also, I'll be out all that week, so I'll have to post at night.]
That moment has just been surpassed...
The Dwarven king moves and closes to within inches of your face. His nostrils flare and his cheeks wrinkle with frustration.
"Don't ye get the point of this? Ye will die of old age Garor... Not at the end of some horrible claws or sharp blade." Grandil exhales sharply, holding back a second flood of emotions - the aftershocks. "Normally every Dwarf would be honored in the Forge Father's eyes as such - but it is not the fate of a noble. Ye were born of different blood, noble blood, and that blood will not be spilled."
"Our enemies will not be allowed the pleasure of spilling our noble blood...and once the army is complete, no enemy will spill Dwarven blood. The constructs will walk the battlefields shedding enemy blood without the loss of another Dwarven life."
[Sense Motive Check, Garor] You pause for a moment as it strikes you...when you look into King Grandil's eyes you see anger but most importantly, you see fear - absolute fear. Perhaps this tirade is a cover-up for King Grandil's fear of the inevitable...
...'The Master' cannot be stopped...
Or at least the great King believes. It becomes clear that he's trying to keep you here out of fear, not out of some master plan for survival...fear that his throne, his empire, will collapse and none will remember him or his deeds.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caelith and Callian - As Callian sarcastically and openly remarks about the scene, Caelith takes the initiative and graps the iron bar and shouts.
"For Chaos...
That is all he can get out before you are both blinded by a brilliant light. The metal storm overheard, the steeds of chaos, the magic-starved...all disappear in less than the blink of an eye. They are replaced, as soon as your eyes can adjust, by a room of seemingly infinite proportions. You stand atop a brass platform, about fifteen feet to a side and surrounded by nothing but darkness. A mere thirty feet away floats another platform, this one made of solid iron and topped by a grand throne.
Sitting in this throne is a robed man - if you can assume correctly - Emirikol the Chaotic.
He sits with hands grasping either side of his massive floating throne that looks plucked from the planes of Baator itself. It swoops high over his head and spreads out in a rack of ivory horns and wickedely sharp gems. Emirikol himself is an aged human, appearing to be in his late forties with slightly grey temples and wrinkles at the edge of his cheeks. He sports a light goat-tee that frames his mouth.
A single source of light, one above each platform, is the only thing providing light in this inifinite cavern. Emirikol leans forward and places a hand beneath his chin, looking over each of you.
"Well well...look what the cat has drug into my home. Callian the Kind and Caelith e'Quis'norai mar Ilduroth, formerly of Carealal."
"Tell me Caelith, still hiding behind that spiral of yours? Hoping it will lead to salvation....or redemption?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hero, Krysta, Girud and Galdren -
while traveling the earth in such a mannor, do we have something akin to a map of the veins in our head? What I'm trying to determine is whether or not it would be possible to vein ride into the elven city, and if so, would it be possible to be near the temple housing the Nights of the Purest Star? If not is there any sort of magical item (like a feather token) that could deliver a message calling them to arms in defense of Ravenshead?
{There is no map, perse, it's more like a reflex - in innate knowledge and nearly instant understanding. It is possible to vein-ride into the Elven City, as long as it's open dirt or natural rock of this plane. You couldn't go to the top of the Queen's tower for instance, but the door outside is fine. }
Camir appreciates the information the ambassadors give him, eyes looking heavy with the burden of leadership and anxious to adventure like yourselves. He bids you all a fond farewell as you melt into the earth, hot on the trail of Callian and Caelith.
When you reappear, spitting out the dirt taste from your mouth, you find yourself in a thick glade - a forest you can barely see through. The trees are exceptionally thick around a clearing, but it's what's in this clearing that grabs your attention quickly.
A building, ethereal and ghostly, rests in the middle of the clearing, an occasional flash from within catching your eye. A dropping sword, a flapping wing, a torn and pained face - all come and go so quickly it's hard to grasp the situation, but you've seen it enough.
Battle...
Before you can get any closer to the building, a lthe human female seems to appear from nowhere, scimitar drawn and hand crackling with energy. She looks ready to defend at the least.
"By the laws, what has happened in the world outside to allow such intrusions by everyone!"
She remains taught, ready to strike or listen...a reaction to whatever comes first.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Romar - As you leave Veya, you catch a fleeting glimpse of her gathering her armor and weaponry, tossing it on quickly. You make your way into the streets, covering your eyes from the blinding snow and light that manages to filter through the fog. It's not much, as apparent by the vampires that wander around in mid-day, but it's enough to give that 'hazy' look that nearly blinds.
You slip from street to street, between small huts and even smaller sheds - the pathetic collection of buildings that makes New RocRoost. You shine your mirror here and there, coming across more vampires than you would like. [I'll assume you want to do this incognito? (Hidden) I wouldn't want to walk up to a vampire and ask them about their status.
] You keep the mirror in the palm of your hand and shine it towards the woman, trying to see who is undead and who is not. After about five minutes of wandering around the village, your heart sinks - only about one in ten woman is not of the undead.
[Hide Check, Romar Vs. Spot] You think you slip the mirror stealithy into your pocket just as you pass a collection of five vampiric women. They walk past, casting glances to you as they head deeper into the village. You go about collecting more of the real woman and directing them to Veya's tent.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yuri - As you press into Keira's arms again, you find yourself lost in her charm. It's a shame you must keep this facade up for the time being, at least until an escape has been made.
If you were alive, she would have made a great companion - but something in you, that same dark side you've been harboring since you last saw the sun, gnaws at you and tells you one thing...her loyalty belongs to Hirsuthe and her lust to feeding.
Just as you are lost in passionate embrace again, you become aware of the tent flap being withdrawn violently. You stare at the faces of five women that are obviously vampires like the one beneath you. The spout words venomously, glaring at you like a hated enemy.
"Mistress, the human that came with him is wandering the streets...with a mirror."
"He knows..."
Keira's eyes instantly shoot to yours, awaiting an explanation...
__________________________________________________________________________________________
[People, I'm traveling to Washington D.C. on Monday, and it will be a full day. Look for updates at night, if any. Also, I'll be out all that week, so I'll have to post at night.]
