Team Ramrod | Krolax | L3 | Human Barbarian | HP 21/24 | AC 1 | XP 0 | DMG D10 | 22 Gold+Gold hand clutching blade
Krolax, in his new, tiny setting, strides up to the door and places his hand inside one of the indentations on the door. “Might as well try to get this thing open while we’re waiting, eh Arngrim?”
Kestrel could recognize the faces. They were of youth, adult, and elder.
Shape the world: Who was this famed person depicted at 3 stages of their life? Why would the Ur-Mage depict their visage here?
The faces thrummed power and the weight of ages, but also ageless life. Kestrel knew if she spoke to the faces, they would respond.
The Ramrods
As Lig stepped over to the door, Krolax's hand felt warm on the surface. The door section under the barbarian's hand became spider-webbed with light, something could be faintly heard within.
"Oy, you're pretty tough," Rat muttered at the terrifying Specter still with them. Upon entering the room, she took a very cautious scan of everything; trying to figure out what was dangerous.
Geth, roll 2d6+3 for Trap Expert with the Cautious advanced move.
Order of my questions...depending on how well I do.
1. Is there a trap here and if so what activates it?
2. What does the trap do when activated?
3. What else is hidden here?
She looked at the youthful face, a man fresh-forged from boyhood, with strong chin and chiseled features quite apart from being wrought into stone.
"The hero Lindstrom, sometimes called 'the boy prince.' Not noble by birth, he rose to high station on the strength of his deeds. He helped fend off the Three-Tribes War from his home town, and led the team that later killed the King of Hobs, ending the war. From there, though granted land and title, he focused on his adventures."
Kestrel then turned to face the older man. Handsome in his middle age, with the strength of his youth only just beginning to fade, and tempered with an elder's wisdom.
"Lindstrom never returned, but his lands fell under the protection of King Rennis when he consolidated control of what is now the Westlands. At the time, it was mostly gob tribes and raider bands. Rennis was a good man, it's said...though the years of fending off attacks took a toll on him. In the end he wasn't ready for the real threat."
Finally she drew her sword and aimed it at the third face; the old man's. "A sorceror remembered only as Lychisma. He joined the court, promising to use his magic to spy on the gobs and to aid the armies with great attacks. He was good at it. Maybe too good." Kestrel frowns. "Lychisma was said to have found a way to destroy many enemies at once. On a scale beyond any spell that had been seen before. He wanted to destroy all the tribes. Rennis was at first interested, but later on he resisted and commanded the mage to stop."
"So Lychisma killed the King with magic, striking him down before all the people. The king's guard then turned and bowed to him, cowed...or perhaps enchanted. He cast forth his ritual..."
Kestrel shakes her head and puts her sword away.
"...which is why everything west of the Westlands is now a barren wasteland. Nothing's grown there for generations...and every year the Dead Wastes creep closer to the Westlands."
She looks then at the others in the group.
"Strange to have them all here side by side. I guess there IS a kind of relationship between them though."
The duellist lifts her voice and addresses the face of Lindstrom, the hero. "You. Why are you here? What purpose do you serve?"
SalmonMax on
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
The Argent Specter listened to Kestrel's story with interest, hearing in her words a history that echoed the fall of his own homelands. The paladin's resolve tightened in concert with the grip on his sword, brought to his helm.
"Pasyr ao zmy wriuzmw ikajy, qrilz py ulwuqmz, smiz oafdlyww qrasw ul ph erywylty?"
What here is evil?
(Everyone's got their one-trick ponies, so I suppose I'll keep riding on mine)
Rat went up to the group one-by-one and whispered to them. "Psst. One of those mouths are trapped. It'll cause some sort of timey-wimey thing. And I think there is something valuable in the sands beneath us."
“What do you make of it?, Helter takes off their skull, holding it beside them and puts on a silly voice, “I dunno mate! I think we should ask Helter!”
As Vermilion recognized the faces and leaned forward, the fledgling girl Kestrel expounded such a tale that by the end the bard's face was as red as his namesake. "Beautifully told," he only just manages.
Using Bardic Lore related to Legendary Heroes to see if I can possibly glean anything else directly related to this room.
He follows with the ballad of Lychisma, imparting a little of that ancient magic into the risen knight via Arcane Art.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for Arcane Art
Eldritch Tones allows him to heal 1d8 and gain +2 forward the next time someone assists him
Kestrel gave Vermilion a grudging nod. Her mentor Osgood had learned his magic among the elves. A consequence of being trained by an elf was that you got a lot of poetry mixed into your lessons. Your long, interminable, lessons that you could then take unholy glee in passing along to your apprentice. Maybe this time it would actually be useful for something.
She looked at the face of Lindstrom and considered. There were two ways of taking that question. What did she think others would believe was her greatest sin...and what she felt her greatest sin was herself.
Not just any sin, but a sin of the past. Hmm. There was really only one answer to that. She'd done things she wasn't proud of to get by after the ruin of her home, but all of that had been out of real need and dire circumstances. There was only one thing that truly haunted her.
"I left them behind," she said to Lindstrom, the words trying to stick in her mouth. "I felt something was wrong, that there was danger...but I left anyway. If I'd stayed I might have shared their fates, or I might have been able to save them...but I'll never know now. Because I was a coward who ran when she should have tried to fight."
Ah gods, it was like choking on week-old meat! She felt her hands turning cold and her cheeks turning hot...but more than anything she felt that this was the only way to sate this thing's hunger. It didn't care about the words, it wanted this...guilt. This wracking hollowness inside her when she thought about it.
"Enjoy the meal," Kestrel spit with a sudden surge of spite.
Grim Company: @Nips@LaserFowl@saber_of_black@SalmonMax
She listened to all these tales while looking increasingly uncomfortable, these were sins that she perhaps didn't need to be hearing. When all of this was done she cleared her throat, "that was... brave to tell, Kestrel, thank you." She didn't know what else to say, it was kind of like... what COULD she say? The alternative was silence, and somehow that seemed like the worse option.
Ravas looked somewhat petrified at the sight of the cyclops. Momentarily stunned, he stammered as he responded to his skeleton compatriot "It looks like a prison..."
The Specter could feel evil emanating from the mouths of Lindstrom and Rennis. As this happened, Vermilion recited the Ballad of Lychisma, a haunting tale of the end of the golden age of Westlands. The song filled the Specter with resolve to end the scourge of sorcery that beset the world.
Roll to heal the Specter, dear Bard. You remember that while Lychisma laid low Rennis and brought about the Death Wastes, he prophesied the downfall of the Ghoul Lords, and that the Death Wastes would be cleansed when his apprentice was cast down from the Rainstone Crag. The Ghoul Lords were rousted out of their Warrens a couple seasons ago, so hope springs eternal.
The carving of Lindstrom seemed to chew on Kestrel's words, savoring them before swallowing. It then spit, sand expectorating from it's gullet, as well as a wand, flipping end over end and sticking in the sand head up at Kestrel's feet. The carving of Rennis ground to life, it's mouth opening wide and showing another vision...
***
The Specter is burned to dust, Selgith's helmet impassive as he sees his fellow paladin crushed beneath the falling star. Rat is quaking with fear.
***
Vermilion tumbles into the dark of the mineshafts, his song never to be heard again as the others press on.
***
Halwyr casts a spell to summon a creature to assist Selgith in the Tower of Summoning, attempting fight off the Argent Specter.
***
Visions of infinity seem to play out. Endless possibilities tumbling through the river of time. What was, what could have been, what could be...
***
The face of Rennis spoke.
"I hunger. What is your greatest secret?" He looked upon the crusaders
The Jolly Rogers
Helter was pretty sure lightning figured into the Ur-Mage's iconography, and it made sense that it would feature heavily in his domain. As Ravas and Helter spoke, the Cyclops turned their way, but made no other moves.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
In a pique of surprise, the Argent Specter's prayers reveal an unexpected truth of the three visages in the room. "The face of the mage, not evil?" he thinks to himself. Truly this fortress is labyrinthine in both form and philosophy.
The paladin raises his sword, pointing to the faces of Rennis then Lindstrom. "Trust not the words or the deeds of these two visages, for the Wraiths have judged them, and found them to be corrupt."
Durgon stares at his now miniature companions as they are held up by a door. "Damn it all. We all have to go don't we?" The dwarf moves towards the door that Fox left though. "Fox! Get yer ass back here, we all have to go small."
"Understood, friend knight." His bells jingle faintly as he drapes an arm round Specter's cold armor. "But the face wants what the face wants... Tell us, what IS your greatest secret?"
Can this be teased into my Charming and Open ability? Hell ask regardless.
saber_of_black on
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joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
Helter hollers at the cyclops, “You look pretty glum chum! How’d you get stuck here? Also try not to be too mysterious about it, we’re in a race!” Helter raises their voice, “I will now just stay in front of you while I wait for a reply!”
Then Helter begins to slowly creep around the back of the cyclops, keeping a fair distance.
"When this is done, I'm making you all carry me for a week. " The Dwarf grumbles as he lifts Fox up and carries him over to the pyramid. Having placed the last companion in, Durgon returns to the font. He pulls out the horn and dips the wide end of it in to trap some water, and walks that carefully back over towards the pyramid. Once near the entrance, he drinks the water himself.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
"That wand is clearly the product of malign intent."
The paladin swings his sword in a small circular sweep, as if to draw the eye to it. You notice that the construction of the weapon is unusual, clearly not of local manufacture. "Though even the devil's tools may find use in the prosecution of good, and the destruction of evil. I simply urge caution, Master Kestrel."
I want Argent to bite on Vermilion's goading, but I would also like to know if that could fall under his Charming and Open. I'd love an opportunity to reveal something, then bounce it right back on Vermilion.
Also, Saber, you need to make that heal roll. I mean, you should make that heal roll. I'm not gonna twist your arm.
Because it amuses me, this can totally fall under charming and open.
Kestrel noticed a single word inscribed on the Wand. ‘Mend’
The Ramrods
As Durgon shrunk down to size, he grasped the edge of the case and hauled himself inside to join the others. Each member offered a hand to the door, which hummed and whines as it slid up to reveal a chamber within....
Murals of vampires and leeches decorated the room. A statue of Anubis, the gatekeeper of Death’s Kingdom kneeled on one end of the room, his scales swaying a bit. Faint music could be heard wafting through the pyramid. Your pulse seemed to surge to it’s swells.
The Jolly Rogers
Helter saw an exit to the south. As they crossed between the stones to reach it however, lightning shot from the ring surrounding the cyclops to surge around both the door they entered and the obvious exit.
“I am not a prisoner little creature, but warden for my master. It would seem you are now my prisoners.” He chuckled deeply.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
The Argent Specter steps away from Vermilion, and faces the visage of Rennis. He sheathes his sword, straps his shield to his back, and folds his arms across his chest.
"If it is a secret you both wish, very well. Though my memory is haze-filled, I remember with diamond clarity the day that I took up my oath to the Wraiths above. It is a day, and a memory, I wear with both a burning pride and painful shame.
I was a simple guardsman, once, for a royal court long since lost to my memory. In the depths of that kingdom's war against a desperate threat, I witnessed what all present believed was our king's triumph over the foul forces invading our land. My king slew his opposite, claiming the crown and sword of his fallen opponent, and with the enemy forces broken we triumphantly marched home to court.
Over the following days, a wickedness set in first to my king, and then all who were held near to him. The triumphal celebrations turned to wild debauch, and then toward cruelty as the court oversaw the public executions of captured soldiers. And as our royal court laughed and cavorted at the sight of these needless deaths, the light of the Wraiths cleared my vision and mind, revealing to me the unbidden truth."
"It was in that moment that I realized what had come to pass, and what must be done. My king, clad with the crown of our believed-defeated foe, had been corrupted by that foul harbinger on the day of our supposed triumph. This corruption seeped out into the court like a plague. Emboldened and empowered by the Wraiths above, I stormed into the royal court and confronted my king and all who were near. I was first called mad, and when my exhortations to repent from wickedness went unheeded, the king ordered me dead on the spot."
The paladin's voice grew ever more growling and resounding throughout the chamber, as he clenched his fists at his sides and the light of his visor blazed sanguine.
"The Wraiths demanded the court be purified of its evil, and I am their loyal instrument! I rent and eviscerated those royal guard first set upon me! I drove my blade into the hearts of those dukes and duchesses that cavorted ever so! With my bare hands, I disarmed my fallen king and crushed his skull under the weight of his own throne! And once his fate was met, I brought an end to his entire lineage, one by one! Only once the Wraiths were satisfied in my resolve did my grisly work end!"
The blaze in the knight's visor dimmed a bit, and his shoulders slumped.
"I...killed my lord. And his family. And everything that I held dear, everyone that had raised, sheltered, and loved me in my younger days. They were...good people, kind and benevolent. They did not deserve the fate that ended them, nor did I wish to be the instrument of that end. And for the death of that goodly kingdom at my hands, I am ashamed."
"But the the Wraiths above do not abide the sinful or the wicked, and as their loyal and empowered instrument I serve their greater purpose with pride."
The paladin then spun on his heel, and stared straight through Vermilion.
Team Ramrod
Lig | L3 | Human - Druid | HP 20/21 | DMG D6 | AR 2 on land
Lig cautiously kneels upon seeing Anubis, and hearing the swelling music.
The scene of vampires and leeches displayed on the corridors leading in, causes Lig's face to take upon a severe frown.
Lig thinks on the vampiric ways of Druidic Balance, and the deadly potion researcher who played with his companions earlier, gritting their teeth.
"She died a slave for this place?
I worry our souls will not reach that decent ferryman, if we are to fall here."
Ligriv inspects the statue of Anubis and thinks on the tune.
Geth roll 2d6+3 to Discern Realities / Cautious.
What is about to happen?
What should I be on the lookout for? - preference
What here is not what it appears to be?
From the shadows where she slinks and hides, Rat stops eating a dry biscuit and keeps her mouth agape; crumbs and bits falling out of her mouth as she stares awe struck at Specter's story.
Well, he did squeeze another lovely tale out of it...
The elf carefully removes his arm from the tortured knight as if manipulated by a marionettist, bowing forward and receding all at once until just a hair's breadth from an arcing blade and far removed from any dagger prick. His jumble of red-dyed braids falling forward, red eyes fixed to the stone floor, "I serve many and shan't name them all save my most luxuriated and regal master, hailed a king in his lands, championed a president of a most ancient order," His head and posture begin to rise, "Commander of no less than sixty-six legions, Cardinal of the South," His arms open skyward, "A tender physician to troubled women, an ingenious ally of thwarted lovers, great philosopher and grand patron of all arts liberal, confiscator of familiars and Man's wit when wit is undeserved, writ in seals and grimoires as Tap, Coap, Taob, Goap, but spoken on mine own lips as the ruling potestes," He grins fiercely, manically, painfully, stricken suddenly with a macabre sort of lockjaw. His teeth are quite literally rattling from the force of his clamped jaw. Then a sudden release. "Gaap!"
Rennis’ Visage chewed on these words carefully. It then retched, a lantern expelling from it’s mouth to land at the Specter’s feet. It was carved of the purest ruby.
Lychisma’s hated form turned to the crusaders, it’s mouth agape as another vision overtook them.....
***
A construct of gems and gold and other manner of objects crushed Kestrel, the Specter smashing at the glittering form, tearing frantically to get to it’s hideous heart. Rat struggled against vines seeking to bind her as Vermilion tried to cut her free. Nimue was ominously not present.
***
Lychisma spoke.
“I hunger. What is your fate?”
The Ramrods
Be on the look out for hungers to sate.
You and your companions are about to make an offering.
Everything is as it appears to be for now.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
The paladin knelt down toward the ruby lantern, eyeing it warily. When he was seemingly satisfied with his inspection, he grasped the handle of the lantern and held it aloft. "The devil's tools, indeed."
The armored knight then unslung his shield, preparing himself for the next challenge.
Just for the sake of completeness, I'll ask What Here Is Evil to check the lantern and the wand. Doesn't so much matter if they are, devil's tools and all that, but it's better to know than not.
Also, it probably won't matter immediately, Argent has his shield in his off-hand and the lantern in his sword-hand. Unless he can find a way to hook the lantern to his pack, in which case we're back to Sword+Shield and back in murder-ready mode.
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joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
edited September 2018
Team Ramrod
Fox approaches the scales and places a throwing dagger on the right scale.
The lantern shined as the Specter picked it up, grains of sand glittering in it’s light. The Wraiths did not appear to acknowledge the wand or lantern as evil.
The Ramrods
The dagger weighed the scale down. It then stood up on it’s hilt, then launched end over end at Fox, sticking in his chest.
Defy Danger +Str or +Con Fox
The Jolly Rogers
“If you have eyes little one, look and you will see what my toll is.” The Cyclops moved around a few times, listening for Helter.
Matev on
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
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joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
Fox felt the dagger sawing towards his heart. Though it was painful, he pulled the dagger from his chest and hurled it away, blood flowing freely and scattering across the floor. The paintings wriggled down to where the blood spilled, greedily supping on it. The statue’s eyes glowed and the doors opened a fraction.
Roll damage dice against yourself fox
Matev on
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Grim Company: @Nips@LaserFowl@saber_of_black@SalmonMax
"I'm not entirely sure how to answer this one, I assume it's my turn..." Nimue eyed the statue posing the question with some uncertainty. Given the manner and behavior of her comrades after spilling of their stories she wasn't so sure she wanted to be the next one to speak, anyway.
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joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
edited September 2018
Team Ramrod "Blood it is."
Fox moves back to the scales, quickly runs the throwing dagger across his palm and moves away quickly after dropping what would seem like an appropriate amount.
Posts
Krolax, in his new, tiny setting, strides up to the door and places his hand inside one of the indentations on the door. “Might as well try to get this thing open while we’re waiting, eh Arngrim?”
Kestrel could recognize the faces. They were of youth, adult, and elder.
The faces thrummed power and the weight of ages, but also ageless life. Kestrel knew if she spoke to the faces, they would respond.
The Ramrods
As Lig stepped over to the door, Krolax's hand felt warm on the surface. The door section under the barbarian's hand became spider-webbed with light, something could be faintly heard within.
"Oy, you're pretty tough," Rat muttered at the terrifying Specter still with them. Upon entering the room, she took a very cautious scan of everything; trying to figure out what was dangerous.
Geth, roll 2d6+3 for Trap Expert with the Cautious advanced move.
1. Is there a trap here and if so what activates it?
2. What does the trap do when activated?
3. What else is hidden here?
Something of use must be hidden in the sands beneath your feet.
She looked at the youthful face, a man fresh-forged from boyhood, with strong chin and chiseled features quite apart from being wrought into stone.
"The hero Lindstrom, sometimes called 'the boy prince.' Not noble by birth, he rose to high station on the strength of his deeds. He helped fend off the Three-Tribes War from his home town, and led the team that later killed the King of Hobs, ending the war. From there, though granted land and title, he focused on his adventures."
Kestrel then turned to face the older man. Handsome in his middle age, with the strength of his youth only just beginning to fade, and tempered with an elder's wisdom.
"Lindstrom never returned, but his lands fell under the protection of King Rennis when he consolidated control of what is now the Westlands. At the time, it was mostly gob tribes and raider bands. Rennis was a good man, it's said...though the years of fending off attacks took a toll on him. In the end he wasn't ready for the real threat."
Finally she drew her sword and aimed it at the third face; the old man's. "A sorceror remembered only as Lychisma. He joined the court, promising to use his magic to spy on the gobs and to aid the armies with great attacks. He was good at it. Maybe too good." Kestrel frowns. "Lychisma was said to have found a way to destroy many enemies at once. On a scale beyond any spell that had been seen before. He wanted to destroy all the tribes. Rennis was at first interested, but later on he resisted and commanded the mage to stop."
"So Lychisma killed the King with magic, striking him down before all the people. The king's guard then turned and bowed to him, cowed...or perhaps enchanted. He cast forth his ritual..."
Kestrel shakes her head and puts her sword away.
"...which is why everything west of the Westlands is now a barren wasteland. Nothing's grown there for generations...and every year the Dead Wastes creep closer to the Westlands."
She looks then at the others in the group.
"Strange to have them all here side by side. I guess there IS a kind of relationship between them though."
The duellist lifts her voice and addresses the face of Lindstrom, the hero. "You. Why are you here? What purpose do you serve?"
The Argent Specter listened to Kestrel's story with interest, hearing in her words a history that echoed the fall of his own homelands. The paladin's resolve tightened in concert with the grip on his sword, brought to his helm.
"Pasyr ao zmy wriuzmw ikajy, qrilz py ulwuqmz, smiz oafdlyww qrasw ul ph erywylty?"
(Everyone's got their one-trick ponies, so I suppose I'll keep riding on mine)
Lindstrom's visage scrunched as it regarded Kestrel. The fog in it's mouth cleared, and a vision could be seen...
***
Death and human played chess in a vast desolation. The human made a move, and smiled wildly.
"Checkmate." He whispered with elation.
***
As the vision faded, Lindstrom spoke.
"I hunger. What is the greatest sin of your past?"
Rat went up to the group one-by-one and whispered to them. "Psst. One of those mouths are trapped. It'll cause some sort of timey-wimey thing. And I think there is something valuable in the sands beneath us."
“What do you make of it?, Helter takes off their skull, holding it beside them and puts on a silly voice, “I dunno mate! I think we should ask Helter!”
Geth roll 2d6 for Spout Lore
As Vermilion recognized the faces and leaned forward, the fledgling girl Kestrel expounded such a tale that by the end the bard's face was as red as his namesake. "Beautifully told," he only just manages.
He follows with the ballad of Lychisma, imparting a little of that ancient magic into the risen knight via Arcane Art.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for Arcane Art
She looked at the face of Lindstrom and considered. There were two ways of taking that question. What did she think others would believe was her greatest sin...and what she felt her greatest sin was herself.
Not just any sin, but a sin of the past. Hmm. There was really only one answer to that. She'd done things she wasn't proud of to get by after the ruin of her home, but all of that had been out of real need and dire circumstances. There was only one thing that truly haunted her.
"I left them behind," she said to Lindstrom, the words trying to stick in her mouth. "I felt something was wrong, that there was danger...but I left anyway. If I'd stayed I might have shared their fates, or I might have been able to save them...but I'll never know now. Because I was a coward who ran when she should have tried to fight."
Ah gods, it was like choking on week-old meat! She felt her hands turning cold and her cheeks turning hot...but more than anything she felt that this was the only way to sate this thing's hunger. It didn't care about the words, it wanted this...guilt. This wracking hollowness inside her when she thought about it.
"Enjoy the meal," Kestrel spit with a sudden surge of spite.
She listened to all these tales while looking increasingly uncomfortable, these were sins that she perhaps didn't need to be hearing. When all of this was done she cleared her throat, "that was... brave to tell, Kestrel, thank you." She didn't know what else to say, it was kind of like... what COULD she say? The alternative was silence, and somehow that seemed like the worse option.
Ravas looked somewhat petrified at the sight of the cyclops. Momentarily stunned, he stammered as he responded to his skeleton compatriot
"It looks like a prison..."
The Specter could feel evil emanating from the mouths of Lindstrom and Rennis. As this happened, Vermilion recited the Ballad of Lychisma, a haunting tale of the end of the golden age of Westlands. The song filled the Specter with resolve to end the scourge of sorcery that beset the world.
The carving of Lindstrom seemed to chew on Kestrel's words, savoring them before swallowing. It then spit, sand expectorating from it's gullet, as well as a wand, flipping end over end and sticking in the sand head up at Kestrel's feet. The carving of Rennis ground to life, it's mouth opening wide and showing another vision...
***
The Specter is burned to dust, Selgith's helmet impassive as he sees his fellow paladin crushed beneath the falling star. Rat is quaking with fear.
***
Vermilion tumbles into the dark of the mineshafts, his song never to be heard again as the others press on.
***
Halwyr casts a spell to summon a creature to assist Selgith in the Tower of Summoning, attempting fight off the Argent Specter.
***
Visions of infinity seem to play out. Endless possibilities tumbling through the river of time. What was, what could have been, what could be...
***
The face of Rennis spoke.
"I hunger. What is your greatest secret?" He looked upon the crusaders
The Jolly Rogers
Helter was pretty sure lightning figured into the Ur-Mage's iconography, and it made sense that it would feature heavily in his domain. As Ravas and Helter spoke, the Cyclops turned their way, but made no other moves.
In a pique of surprise, the Argent Specter's prayers reveal an unexpected truth of the three visages in the room. "The face of the mage, not evil?" he thinks to himself. Truly this fortress is labyrinthine in both form and philosophy.
The paladin raises his sword, pointing to the faces of Rennis then Lindstrom.
"Trust not the words or the deeds of these two visages, for the Wraiths have judged them, and found them to be corrupt."
Durgon stares at his now miniature companions as they are held up by a door. "Damn it all. We all have to go don't we?" The dwarf moves towards the door that Fox left though. "Fox! Get yer ass back here, we all have to go small."
"Understood, friend knight." His bells jingle faintly as he drapes an arm round Specter's cold armor. "But the face wants what the face wants... Tell us, what IS your greatest secret?"
"Durgon hold on to my cloak!"
Fox leans into the pool and drinks.
@AustinP0027
Fox also shrank down to model size after drinking of the font.
Helter hollers at the cyclops, “You look pretty glum chum! How’d you get stuck here? Also try not to be too mysterious about it, we’re in a race!” Helter raises their voice, “I will now just stay in front of you while I wait for a reply!”
Then Helter begins to slowly creep around the back of the cyclops, keeping a fair distance.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for Sneaking around
Plus, can I plainly see any exits?
"So what, this thing's evil now?"
"When this is done, I'm making you all carry me for a week. " The Dwarf grumbles as he lifts Fox up and carries him over to the pyramid. Having placed the last companion in, Durgon returns to the font. He pulls out the horn and dips the wide end of it in to trap some water, and walks that carefully back over towards the pyramid. Once near the entrance, he drinks the water himself.
"That wand is clearly the product of malign intent."
The paladin swings his sword in a small circular sweep, as if to draw the eye to it. You notice that the construction of the weapon is unusual, clearly not of local manufacture.
"Though even the devil's tools may find use in the prosecution of good, and the destruction of evil. I simply urge caution, Master Kestrel."
@Matev @saber_of_black
Also, Saber, you need to make that heal roll. I mean, you should make that heal roll. I'm not gonna twist your arm.
Kestrel noticed a single word inscribed on the Wand. ‘Mend’
The Ramrods
As Durgon shrunk down to size, he grasped the edge of the case and hauled himself inside to join the others. Each member offered a hand to the door, which hummed and whines as it slid up to reveal a chamber within....
The Passage of the Crimson Communion
Murals of vampires and leeches decorated the room. A statue of Anubis, the gatekeeper of Death’s Kingdom kneeled on one end of the room, his scales swaying a bit. Faint music could be heard wafting through the pyramid. Your pulse seemed to surge to it’s swells.
The Jolly Rogers
Helter saw an exit to the south. As they crossed between the stones to reach it however, lightning shot from the ring surrounding the cyclops to surge around both the door they entered and the obvious exit.
“I am not a prisoner little creature, but warden for my master. It would seem you are now my prisoners.” He chuckled deeply.
The Argent Specter steps away from Vermilion, and faces the visage of Rennis. He sheathes his sword, straps his shield to his back, and folds his arms across his chest.
"If it is a secret you both wish, very well. Though my memory is haze-filled, I remember with diamond clarity the day that I took up my oath to the Wraiths above. It is a day, and a memory, I wear with both a burning pride and painful shame.
I was a simple guardsman, once, for a royal court long since lost to my memory. In the depths of that kingdom's war against a desperate threat, I witnessed what all present believed was our king's triumph over the foul forces invading our land. My king slew his opposite, claiming the crown and sword of his fallen opponent, and with the enemy forces broken we triumphantly marched home to court.
Over the following days, a wickedness set in first to my king, and then all who were held near to him. The triumphal celebrations turned to wild debauch, and then toward cruelty as the court oversaw the public executions of captured soldiers. And as our royal court laughed and cavorted at the sight of these needless deaths, the light of the Wraiths cleared my vision and mind, revealing to me the unbidden truth."
"It was in that moment that I realized what had come to pass, and what must be done. My king, clad with the crown of our believed-defeated foe, had been corrupted by that foul harbinger on the day of our supposed triumph. This corruption seeped out into the court like a plague. Emboldened and empowered by the Wraiths above, I stormed into the royal court and confronted my king and all who were near. I was first called mad, and when my exhortations to repent from wickedness went unheeded, the king ordered me dead on the spot."
The paladin's voice grew ever more growling and resounding throughout the chamber, as he clenched his fists at his sides and the light of his visor blazed sanguine.
"The Wraiths demanded the court be purified of its evil, and I am their loyal instrument! I rent and eviscerated those royal guard first set upon me! I drove my blade into the hearts of those dukes and duchesses that cavorted ever so! With my bare hands, I disarmed my fallen king and crushed his skull under the weight of his own throne! And once his fate was met, I brought an end to his entire lineage, one by one! Only once the Wraiths were satisfied in my resolve did my grisly work end!"
The blaze in the knight's visor dimmed a bit, and his shoulders slumped.
"I...killed my lord. And his family. And everything that I held dear, everyone that had raised, sheltered, and loved me in my younger days. They were...good people, kind and benevolent. They did not deserve the fate that ended them, nor did I wish to be the instrument of that end. And for the death of that goodly kingdom at my hands, I am ashamed."
"But the the Wraiths above do not abide the sinful or the wicked, and as their loyal and empowered instrument I serve their greater purpose with pride."
The paladin then spun on his heel, and stared straight through Vermilion.
"And whom do you serve, Master Jester?"
Lig | L3 | Human - Druid | HP 20/21 | DMG D6 | AR 2 on land
Lig cautiously kneels upon seeing Anubis, and hearing the swelling music.
The scene of vampires and leeches displayed on the corridors leading in, causes Lig's face to take upon a severe frown.
Lig thinks on the vampiric ways of Druidic Balance, and the deadly potion researcher who played with his companions earlier, gritting their teeth.
"She died a slave for this place?
I worry our souls will not reach that decent ferryman, if we are to fall here."
Ligriv inspects the statue of Anubis and thinks on the tune.
Geth roll 2d6+3 to Discern Realities / Cautious.
What is about to happen?
What should I be on the lookout for? - preference
What here is not what it appears to be?
From the shadows where she slinks and hides, Rat stops eating a dry biscuit and keeps her mouth agape; crumbs and bits falling out of her mouth as she stares awe struck at Specter's story.
Well, he did squeeze another lovely tale out of it...
The elf carefully removes his arm from the tortured knight as if manipulated by a marionettist, bowing forward and receding all at once until just a hair's breadth from an arcing blade and far removed from any dagger prick. His jumble of red-dyed braids falling forward, red eyes fixed to the stone floor, "I serve many and shan't name them all save my most luxuriated and regal master, hailed a king in his lands, championed a president of a most ancient order," His head and posture begin to rise, "Commander of no less than sixty-six legions, Cardinal of the South," His arms open skyward, "A tender physician to troubled women, an ingenious ally of thwarted lovers, great philosopher and grand patron of all arts liberal, confiscator of familiars and Man's wit when wit is undeserved, writ in seals and grimoires as Tap, Coap, Taob, Goap, but spoken on mine own lips as the ruling potestes," He grins fiercely, manically, painfully, stricken suddenly with a macabre sort of lockjaw. His teeth are quite literally rattling from the force of his clamped jaw. Then a sudden release. "Gaap!"
Rennis’ Visage chewed on these words carefully. It then retched, a lantern expelling from it’s mouth to land at the Specter’s feet. It was carved of the purest ruby.
Lychisma’s hated form turned to the crusaders, it’s mouth agape as another vision overtook them.....
***
A construct of gems and gold and other manner of objects crushed Kestrel, the Specter smashing at the glittering form, tearing frantically to get to it’s hideous heart. Rat struggled against vines seeking to bind her as Vermilion tried to cut her free. Nimue was ominously not present.
***
Lychisma spoke.
“I hunger. What is your fate?”
The Ramrods
You and your companions are about to make an offering.
Everything is as it appears to be for now.
Krolax steps into the room, walking towards the kneeling statue, takes in his setting, and inhales deeply.
"There is blood in the air. Let's get through this quickly."
OOC
The paladin knelt down toward the ruby lantern, eyeing it warily. When he was seemingly satisfied with his inspection, he grasped the handle of the lantern and held it aloft.
"The devil's tools, indeed."
The armored knight then unslung his shield, preparing himself for the next challenge.
Also, it probably won't matter immediately, Argent has his shield in his off-hand and the lantern in his sword-hand. Unless he can find a way to hook the lantern to his pack, in which case we're back to Sword+Shield and back in murder-ready mode.
Fox approaches the scales and places a throwing dagger on the right scale.
Helter again moves stealthily around the room, so the cyclops might never quite know where they are.
The lantern shined as the Specter picked it up, grains of sand glittering in it’s light. The Wraiths did not appear to acknowledge the wand or lantern as evil.
The Ramrods
The dagger weighed the scale down. It then stood up on it’s hilt, then launched end over end at Fox, sticking in his chest.
The Jolly Rogers
“If you have eyes little one, look and you will see what my toll is.” The Cyclops moved around a few times, listening for Helter.
Fox felt the dagger sawing towards his heart. Though it was painful, he pulled the dagger from his chest and hurled it away, blood flowing freely and scattering across the floor. The paintings wriggled down to where the blood spilled, greedily supping on it. The statue’s eyes glowed and the doors opened a fraction.
What is to be offered? What does the mural depict? (Assuming I can simply look)
Otherwise:
Geth roll 2d6 for Discern Reality
What should I be on the lookout for?
What here is useful or valuable to me?
Who’s really in control here?
"I'm not entirely sure how to answer this one, I assume it's my turn..." Nimue eyed the statue posing the question with some uncertainty. Given the manner and behavior of her comrades after spilling of their stories she wasn't so sure she wanted to be the next one to speak, anyway.
"Blood it is."
Fox moves back to the scales, quickly runs the throwing dagger across his palm and moves away quickly after dropping what would seem like an appropriate amount.
Geth roll 1d8-1 for damage minus armor.