As conditions on the island deteriorate, resources become scarce and the fires of tempers rise in the heat. No resident of Trollsbane has been untouched by the matters facing Trollsbane. Those that took no heed to earlier warnings see their cupboards nearly empty. Healers move among the sick doing little more than speaking words of comfort of which their own belief runs thin. The healing herbs that were so abundant a month ago, now grow only in a few hidden places on the island, causing the healers to ration them only to those who will benefit most.
While Darlok comes to the forefront as the cause of the island’s woes, another plague creeps into Trollsbane. It is not disease or famine, nor is it magic-enhanced weather. It is doubt and fear of losing life that afflicts the citizens. Some, whether their hearts be hopeful for a quick end to the devastation or indeed have a black lining, have chosen to aid Darlok in the building of his castle. They sweat and struggle with the back-breaking work of moving stone and mortaring them in place. All the while, they protect the fledgling building from attacks performed by independent citizens, who are ill-content to be witness to Darlok’s rise to power. Secret meetings of the growing Army of Lyrenzia are held away from spying eyes. Lines have been drawn and factions formed.
It is the common people that the plague of doubt and fear affects most. These commoners seek information where they can: a bartender, an innkeeper, or perhaps even a traveling bard. The information, added to the mix of dread and alcohol, provide the most entertaining and horror-filled rumors. Far more frightening than the raging rumors, a savage mentality began overtaking the hearts and minds of normally sensible folks. Mobs formed regularly to knock down those who seemed threatening. Of course, they targeted not Darlok himself, but other citizens struggling only to live through the collapse of normal life.
“Tis a shame that we begin killing ourselves, leaving neither blame nor bloodied hand on our mutual adversary.” The low, gruff voice of a man cut through the mumbling in the tavern. The cloaked figure in the corner sipped from his wooden mug before continuing. “Have the brave heroes who prance up to the burgeoning castle and cast flames without thought accomplished anything yet? And, pray tell, where is this army I hear of? Is it but a rumor too? I say, something must be accomplished forthright.”
Murmuring flowed among the tables. The man openly ignored the calls to reveal his name and from hence he came. He growled a replied, his voice low and menacing, “By doing nothing, you have allowed the scales that govern this island to tip in the most undesirable way. You believe you have time to bicker amongst yourselves, to negotiate sides, to act like gnats around a beast.”
The man stood, draining his mug. “Or worse yet,” he paused to look about the room, “your fear has paralyzed you into apathy.” Those that could see his features, despite the shadow that clung on him, saw his face contort with his words. His eyes continued through the crowd. “Perhaps, there are a few of you who can see past your mundane lives. Though, I am probably a fool to believe any of you understand how crucial and difficult maintaining balance has become.” He exited the tavern and crossed the cobbles to the shadow of the wall. There, the man waited, wondering if he came too late as he was informed earlier by the arrogant witch.
Adversity is the only Balance to weigh friends.
Moderator: Gamemasters
Far to the south, a cottage was nestled into a grove of dying trees. Once, they had towered over the building, providing a deep shade in which a thick carpet of moss grew over the roof and walls. Now the moss dried, its softness leeched away by the sun that penetrated through the needle-less branches of the dying conifers.
The rest of the cottage seemed to have suffered the same fate affecting the moss. The heat and dry air had split the wood siding. The once lush vines that crawled up the walls clung precariously with brittle, brown runners. The home would have looked deserted if it were not for the small lamp shining through the open window.
An older woman, her graying hair swept back into a bun, watched as the sun sunk into the sea from the door. The sky seemed to bleed a myriad of colors and blend them as if it were a painter’s palate. The intensity of the reds, yellows, and oranges succumbed to the cooler purple’s of night. When the performance was over, the woman reentered the one-roomed cottage with a sigh.
“So much water surrounds us, but tis nay useful to us.” She walked the perimeter of a large oak table laden with bowls of soaking herbs, dusty jars filled with pebbles, hair, feathers, and torn bits of paper. She stopped to check the progress of several bunches of drying herbs hanging upside down from the rafters over the table. Crumbling a leaf in her hand she smiled, “Almost ready.”
The woman sat in the only chair at the far end of the table. With both hands she smoothed her skirts, passing over the bundle of parchments sewn within the layers. The papers crinkled with her touch. Upon hearing the door splinter open she moved her hands quickly away from the bundle and folded them on the table. She had prepared for this moment; for she was sure it would come. The witch knew the facts of her work would reach Darlok’s ears sooner or later and that he would indeed send an “ambassador” to deal with her.
From the doorway came a voice that chilled the witch. Blessed with fear, a skeleton, well over 6 feet tall and armed with a mighty sword, began, “Are you the witch that plots against the Master?” His empty eye sockets glowed with unholy light.
Unwilling, the woman nodded her head.
The skeleton captain stepped into the room eyeing the assortment of bottles, bowls and hanging herbs. Behind him a score of lesser skeletons waited outside, their swords knocking hollowly against their bone legs as they milled about. The captain of the skeletons snatched two bundles of drying herbs and a bowl of gelatinous yellow material. He moved closer to the woman, his skull inches from her face. The light of fear highlighted her cheek bones and tinged the gray hair red. Her heart rose to her throat and she began shaking, despite her frail attempts to remain calm. The bundle of parchments hidden beneath her garments sat like a lead weight on her lap. He gazed at her a moment longer with his sightless eyes before he turned and left the cottage.
In his wake, a hoard of subordinate skeletons swarmed through the door. Most occupied themselves with smashing and destroying everything on the table. Three marched unswervingly to the woman in the chair. The spell of fear had been broken as the captain exited through the door, and once again she tried to regain her wits.
Dead you are and should have stayed
Soul to fire, Bones to dust
I curse upon which ye were made
Eternal sleep upon the darkest
She spoke lines with full, earthy voice that denied her simple appearance. Purple shaded flames erupted on the a dozen of the skeletons. They immediately fell to the floor, exploding into ash. A dozen downed foes did not hinder the rest. They continued their onslaught of the cottage, two closing in on the woman with their swords ripping through the air.
The next morning, Hulon returned to the smolder cottage to find the witch dead and their weeks of work destroyed. Numbly, he turned the stiffening body over and ripped at the skirts of her dress. Her dead eyes stared past him as he retrieved the instructions for their attack. Without one knowledgeable in the ancient magics or the necessary ingredients, the plan was certainly compromised. But it was not lost altogether, for in his hand were the parchments indicating the precise time and procedure.
What he needed now was help. May the gods lead those brave and passionate enough to him quickly.
The rest of the cottage seemed to have suffered the same fate affecting the moss. The heat and dry air had split the wood siding. The once lush vines that crawled up the walls clung precariously with brittle, brown runners. The home would have looked deserted if it were not for the small lamp shining through the open window.
An older woman, her graying hair swept back into a bun, watched as the sun sunk into the sea from the door. The sky seemed to bleed a myriad of colors and blend them as if it were a painter’s palate. The intensity of the reds, yellows, and oranges succumbed to the cooler purple’s of night. When the performance was over, the woman reentered the one-roomed cottage with a sigh.
“So much water surrounds us, but tis nay useful to us.” She walked the perimeter of a large oak table laden with bowls of soaking herbs, dusty jars filled with pebbles, hair, feathers, and torn bits of paper. She stopped to check the progress of several bunches of drying herbs hanging upside down from the rafters over the table. Crumbling a leaf in her hand she smiled, “Almost ready.”
The woman sat in the only chair at the far end of the table. With both hands she smoothed her skirts, passing over the bundle of parchments sewn within the layers. The papers crinkled with her touch. Upon hearing the door splinter open she moved her hands quickly away from the bundle and folded them on the table. She had prepared for this moment; for she was sure it would come. The witch knew the facts of her work would reach Darlok’s ears sooner or later and that he would indeed send an “ambassador” to deal with her.
From the doorway came a voice that chilled the witch. Blessed with fear, a skeleton, well over 6 feet tall and armed with a mighty sword, began, “Are you the witch that plots against the Master?” His empty eye sockets glowed with unholy light.
Unwilling, the woman nodded her head.
The skeleton captain stepped into the room eyeing the assortment of bottles, bowls and hanging herbs. Behind him a score of lesser skeletons waited outside, their swords knocking hollowly against their bone legs as they milled about. The captain of the skeletons snatched two bundles of drying herbs and a bowl of gelatinous yellow material. He moved closer to the woman, his skull inches from her face. The light of fear highlighted her cheek bones and tinged the gray hair red. Her heart rose to her throat and she began shaking, despite her frail attempts to remain calm. The bundle of parchments hidden beneath her garments sat like a lead weight on her lap. He gazed at her a moment longer with his sightless eyes before he turned and left the cottage.
In his wake, a hoard of subordinate skeletons swarmed through the door. Most occupied themselves with smashing and destroying everything on the table. Three marched unswervingly to the woman in the chair. The spell of fear had been broken as the captain exited through the door, and once again she tried to regain her wits.
Dead you are and should have stayed
Soul to fire, Bones to dust
I curse upon which ye were made
Eternal sleep upon the darkest
She spoke lines with full, earthy voice that denied her simple appearance. Purple shaded flames erupted on the a dozen of the skeletons. They immediately fell to the floor, exploding into ash. A dozen downed foes did not hinder the rest. They continued their onslaught of the cottage, two closing in on the woman with their swords ripping through the air.
The next morning, Hulon returned to the smolder cottage to find the witch dead and their weeks of work destroyed. Numbly, he turned the stiffening body over and ripped at the skirts of her dress. Her dead eyes stared past him as he retrieved the instructions for their attack. Without one knowledgeable in the ancient magics or the necessary ingredients, the plan was certainly compromised. But it was not lost altogether, for in his hand were the parchments indicating the precise time and procedure.
What he needed now was help. May the gods lead those brave and passionate enough to him quickly.
"See here in the center?"
Faramier nodded.
"Someone is looking for you"
"They are?" Faramier asked curiously.
The woman nodded, "You may find them to the south"
"Oh, I shall go seek them then, I take my leave"
Faramier bows and gathers some things. He takes a sickle and a pouch full of herbs, he ties the bag to him and rolls a map up, placing it in a small niche inside his bag. He swings round and turns south.
He walks past the gates of trollsbane, picking a small Firnis Blossom as he passes. He chuckles to himself,
"They all say that the herbs are gone, yet they are to blind to realise that nature leaves its mark everywhere"
He stands up again and begins searching for the one that seeks him.
Faramier nodded.
"Someone is looking for you"
"They are?" Faramier asked curiously.
The woman nodded, "You may find them to the south"
"Oh, I shall go seek them then, I take my leave"
Faramier bows and gathers some things. He takes a sickle and a pouch full of herbs, he ties the bag to him and rolls a map up, placing it in a small niche inside his bag. He swings round and turns south.
He walks past the gates of trollsbane, picking a small Firnis Blossom as he passes. He chuckles to himself,
"They all say that the herbs are gone, yet they are to blind to realise that nature leaves its mark everywhere"
He stands up again and begins searching for the one that seeks him.
Hulon had hardly finished muttering his prayer when a man appeared, sickle in hand. Not believing in mere coinesidence, Hulon hailed the man, “Greetings, fair traveler. Have ye been witness to the murderers fleeing from yonder cottage? The woman murdered and the room ransacked. I fear tis not a random attack, but one of purpose.”
The man, covered in a cloak despite the heat of the morning, bent down to inspect the ground. "Is hoping for a tracker too much?" he mumbled to himself.
The man, covered in a cloak despite the heat of the morning, bent down to inspect the ground. "Is hoping for a tracker too much?" he mumbled to himself.
Faramier looks up startled still holding the freshly cut toadstool.
"Um" Faramier looks around. "Hello, I take it your the one I'm supposed to find, or I'm the one your supposed to find or something"
Faramier opens his bag and places the toadstool in a bunch with some others. "Attack you say?" Faramier pokes his head around the door a sweet smell drifts out as he looks around the room. He comes upon the body of the old woman. "hmm, I think you may be right, this dosent have the same signs as a mere raid. "
Faramier steps into the room, he looks at all the herbs hanging, and at the plants and flowers that furnish the small abode. He goes over to the old woman and bends down to reach the same level as her. Faramier looks into her lifeless eyes and says a small prayer to honour the dead.
Faramier spots the ashes on the floor, he goes over to them and scoops a handfull up, he inspects it and realises it to be bone. He hurridly returns outside to the soft ground, scores of marks lead away from the house.
Faramier turns to the figure, "I have a feeling that whatever cause this was not entirely natural, what were you doing here?"
"Um" Faramier looks around. "Hello, I take it your the one I'm supposed to find, or I'm the one your supposed to find or something"
Faramier opens his bag and places the toadstool in a bunch with some others. "Attack you say?" Faramier pokes his head around the door a sweet smell drifts out as he looks around the room. He comes upon the body of the old woman. "hmm, I think you may be right, this dosent have the same signs as a mere raid. "
Faramier steps into the room, he looks at all the herbs hanging, and at the plants and flowers that furnish the small abode. He goes over to the old woman and bends down to reach the same level as her. Faramier looks into her lifeless eyes and says a small prayer to honour the dead.
Faramier spots the ashes on the floor, he goes over to them and scoops a handfull up, he inspects it and realises it to be bone. He hurridly returns outside to the soft ground, scores of marks lead away from the house.
Faramier turns to the figure, "I have a feeling that whatever cause this was not entirely natural, what were you doing here?"
"The one I'm supposed to find." An odd choice of words Hulon thought. Clutching the parchments in his hand, he watched as the man looked around.
"Yes, unnatural I'm sure," he muttered. "I am ... an associate of the woman. We were working together toward a common goal. I am Hulon and she called herself Harmony. I came to check her progress this morning and found everything as it is."
The man pushed his cloak from his face, revealing himself as a man in his forties, though the scars and lines of sorrow and worry made him look older. Dull brown hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. Deep brown eyes looked over the man that seemed to be an answer to a prayer. His eyes trailed up the little-used path back to town, now trampled as if by an army.
He felt a lump rise in his throat, for Hulon risked everything with his next words. "We were working quietly against Darlok for many weeks," he said hoarsely. "I fear he has been informed."
"Yes, unnatural I'm sure," he muttered. "I am ... an associate of the woman. We were working together toward a common goal. I am Hulon and she called herself Harmony. I came to check her progress this morning and found everything as it is."
The man pushed his cloak from his face, revealing himself as a man in his forties, though the scars and lines of sorrow and worry made him look older. Dull brown hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. Deep brown eyes looked over the man that seemed to be an answer to a prayer. His eyes trailed up the little-used path back to town, now trampled as if by an army.
He felt a lump rise in his throat, for Hulon risked everything with his next words. "We were working quietly against Darlok for many weeks," he said hoarsely. "I fear he has been informed."
As the two men lingered about the woman's cottage, the skeletal soldiers continued northward toward the town of Trollsbane. The Captain, with the ever-present glow of fear radiating from him, divided his troops into groups. To each group leader he gave very specific directions on destination and path. To selected group leaders, his own acolytes, he relinquished two of the precious gifts taken from the witch’s dwelling.
As he handed the carefully wrapped herbs to the two, he gave them this warning. “Guard these with all your being, for thieves will surely try to seize them again and use them against the Master. If that happens, our new found Blessing will vanish with Him.” The Captain’s empty sockets erupted with refracted red light, spearing dozens of the boney band, including his trusted acolytes. With the Blessing upon them, their own eyes blazing with the light of dread and horror, the walking carcasses proceeded on their separate missions.
Several small groups made their way directly to the southern gates of the town where a few small skirmishes transpired. The reasoning behind the ineffectual, and largely unnoticed, attacks was known only to the Captain.
As he handed the carefully wrapped herbs to the two, he gave them this warning. “Guard these with all your being, for thieves will surely try to seize them again and use them against the Master. If that happens, our new found Blessing will vanish with Him.” The Captain’s empty sockets erupted with refracted red light, spearing dozens of the boney band, including his trusted acolytes. With the Blessing upon them, their own eyes blazing with the light of dread and horror, the walking carcasses proceeded on their separate missions.
Several small groups made their way directly to the southern gates of the town where a few small skirmishes transpired. The reasoning behind the ineffectual, and largely unnoticed, attacks was known only to the Captain.
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Twania Green
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Wed Jul 30, 2003 3:07 pm
- Contact:
By mid-morning the small eating area in the inn west of town was already reaching an uncomfortably high temperature. Outside, the sun shone cheerfully, an ironic contrast to the dull and dusty land beneath. At one of the tables in the quiet inn sat a tall woman draped in layers of thin, iridescent material and drinking a lukewarm cup of tea. On the table before her was a stone, the size of which would easily be held in a closed hand. After taking the last sip of tea, she swirled the dredges in her cup as she did every morning and sat it to the side where a small blue light landed on the rim.
Nothing was particularly unusual about the stone on first inspection aside from its natural beauty. It looked like an ordinary piece of amber polished smooth by a rushing river. Hundreds of stones like it were sold from the trinket stands in town on market day. Some vendors claimed their rocks brought good fortune when stowed in the left pocket or attracted friends and relatives if hung over the door. The fortune teller, however, felt a jolt of energy flowing from this stone and purchased it immediately from an old dwarven lady at the market the evening before.
She picked the stone up, turned it in her hand. Her almond eyes widened only fractionally as an image formed beneath the glassy surface of the amber. As she gazed into the stone, a delicate white flower appeared. It was the same flower her mother had picked on outings when the woman was hardly more than a toddler. She couldn’t remember the flower’s name, but knew she had scarcely seen it on the island since then. Mentally, she noted the flower and the connection to “mother”.
Like a pebble dropped into a silent pool, the image rippled. Slowly, another flower came into view. It was a yellow-flowered weed this time. As the images changed, the Seer only tried to observe them, remember the details and keep detached as she received the messages from the stone. The time for analyzing would come later.
The little light that had been sitting quietly on the cup whizzed up into the air and began circling the woman’s head. She shooed it away with her hand distractedly. The image of a man whose face was hidden by a deep hood appeared. At precisely the same moment, the pretty Halfling Zasmia approached with a tea kettle. “You want more tea?” she had asked. However, the Seer only heard, “You want, You lont, You lon” ring in her ears.
“Hulon,” she breathed and looked to Zasmia. “Oh, I’m fine thanks,” she said and shooed the light away again. This time the little pixie, irritated with the lack of attention, shot off toward the ceiling plucking a long wavy hair from the woman on the way. The fortune teller winced as the Halfling walked away. Looking back to the piece of amber, its surface was strangely dull. Her concentration was broken and thus, the messages from the stone ceased.
Standing, the woman gave the twinkling light that was wrapping its self in the strand of hair a bemused look. She waved to the Halfling owners of the inn and picked up the stone to leave. The stone was frightfully hot, scalding her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. The messages given to her were urgent; she knew that now. The rapidly cooling stone was tucked in among the folds of her clothing and the woman departed the inn hastily.
Moments later she stood just outside Eliza’s shop turning in a slow circle. “A flower that reminds me of my mother, an unknown weed, and a man named Hulon. Where do I start and what does it mean?”
Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked at the man. Sevious Helios.
Sir Sevious Helios: Greetings Ma'am
The woman smiled and greeted the man.
Sir Sevious Helios: Are you in need of assistance?
“Hm. No, but you will be I can see,” she said cryptically, for around him hung an aura of battle to come so thick she could nearly feel its roughness.
The man only scratched his head, looking a bit confused at the woman. He became even more bewildered when the stranger took a step toward him and plucked a hair from his head. He smacked his hand on his head and rubbed the place robbed of a single strand. “Ouch,” he called. “What was that for?”
The woman only giggled. How many times the pesky pixie had led her in the right direction, she could not recall. She held the hair by one end. A subtle breeze moved it slightly. “West.”
Sir Sevious Helios: West?
“You must gather your friends and go west ... Tis an herb I need there. The fortune teller twists the hair into a tiny ball and sticks it in her shirt.” An herb of a mother – white with a sunny center, I believe.”
Sir Sevious Helios: An herb...of a mother...so a mother has lost an herb? Are you the mother?
As the two stand in the silent streets, a loud rumbling rolls across the land, as if coming from the bowels of the island. In the folds of her dress, the stone vibrated violently.
“The Drums say your name! Hurry back!” With layers of gauzy material floating on the air, the woman turned and sprinted into the shop. She pulled out the stone, hoping to find another message.
She found more than a message, for when her eyes landed on the glassy surface of the amber, she was thrown to the ground; however not to the ground she stood moments before. She now stood in an isolated outcropping of land that was barred by a row of hedges. On the other side of the impermeable bushes, an army of skeletons roamed, though the majority of them congregated in the ruins of the watchtower. The search for the flower was completely forgotten in her terror. She scooted quietly beneath a tree, clasping her knees to her chest and hoped the demonic, animated husks had not noticed her appearance.
Nothing was particularly unusual about the stone on first inspection aside from its natural beauty. It looked like an ordinary piece of amber polished smooth by a rushing river. Hundreds of stones like it were sold from the trinket stands in town on market day. Some vendors claimed their rocks brought good fortune when stowed in the left pocket or attracted friends and relatives if hung over the door. The fortune teller, however, felt a jolt of energy flowing from this stone and purchased it immediately from an old dwarven lady at the market the evening before.
She picked the stone up, turned it in her hand. Her almond eyes widened only fractionally as an image formed beneath the glassy surface of the amber. As she gazed into the stone, a delicate white flower appeared. It was the same flower her mother had picked on outings when the woman was hardly more than a toddler. She couldn’t remember the flower’s name, but knew she had scarcely seen it on the island since then. Mentally, she noted the flower and the connection to “mother”.
Like a pebble dropped into a silent pool, the image rippled. Slowly, another flower came into view. It was a yellow-flowered weed this time. As the images changed, the Seer only tried to observe them, remember the details and keep detached as she received the messages from the stone. The time for analyzing would come later.
The little light that had been sitting quietly on the cup whizzed up into the air and began circling the woman’s head. She shooed it away with her hand distractedly. The image of a man whose face was hidden by a deep hood appeared. At precisely the same moment, the pretty Halfling Zasmia approached with a tea kettle. “You want more tea?” she had asked. However, the Seer only heard, “You want, You lont, You lon” ring in her ears.
“Hulon,” she breathed and looked to Zasmia. “Oh, I’m fine thanks,” she said and shooed the light away again. This time the little pixie, irritated with the lack of attention, shot off toward the ceiling plucking a long wavy hair from the woman on the way. The fortune teller winced as the Halfling walked away. Looking back to the piece of amber, its surface was strangely dull. Her concentration was broken and thus, the messages from the stone ceased.
Standing, the woman gave the twinkling light that was wrapping its self in the strand of hair a bemused look. She waved to the Halfling owners of the inn and picked up the stone to leave. The stone was frightfully hot, scalding her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. The messages given to her were urgent; she knew that now. The rapidly cooling stone was tucked in among the folds of her clothing and the woman departed the inn hastily.
Moments later she stood just outside Eliza’s shop turning in a slow circle. “A flower that reminds me of my mother, an unknown weed, and a man named Hulon. Where do I start and what does it mean?”
Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked at the man. Sevious Helios.
Sir Sevious Helios: Greetings Ma'am
The woman smiled and greeted the man.
Sir Sevious Helios: Are you in need of assistance?
“Hm. No, but you will be I can see,” she said cryptically, for around him hung an aura of battle to come so thick she could nearly feel its roughness.
The man only scratched his head, looking a bit confused at the woman. He became even more bewildered when the stranger took a step toward him and plucked a hair from his head. He smacked his hand on his head and rubbed the place robbed of a single strand. “Ouch,” he called. “What was that for?”
The woman only giggled. How many times the pesky pixie had led her in the right direction, she could not recall. She held the hair by one end. A subtle breeze moved it slightly. “West.”
Sir Sevious Helios: West?
“You must gather your friends and go west ... Tis an herb I need there. The fortune teller twists the hair into a tiny ball and sticks it in her shirt.” An herb of a mother – white with a sunny center, I believe.”
Sir Sevious Helios: An herb...of a mother...so a mother has lost an herb? Are you the mother?
As the two stand in the silent streets, a loud rumbling rolls across the land, as if coming from the bowels of the island. In the folds of her dress, the stone vibrated violently.
“The Drums say your name! Hurry back!” With layers of gauzy material floating on the air, the woman turned and sprinted into the shop. She pulled out the stone, hoping to find another message.
She found more than a message, for when her eyes landed on the glassy surface of the amber, she was thrown to the ground; however not to the ground she stood moments before. She now stood in an isolated outcropping of land that was barred by a row of hedges. On the other side of the impermeable bushes, an army of skeletons roamed, though the majority of them congregated in the ruins of the watchtower. The search for the flower was completely forgotten in her terror. She scooted quietly beneath a tree, clasping her knees to her chest and hoped the demonic, animated husks had not noticed her appearance.
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Twania Green
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Wed Jul 30, 2003 3:07 pm
- Contact:
A Halfling man called over the hedge, “Hello!” His lips moved, but the woman couldn't hear what he said, though a determined skeleton bursted in flames a few feet from him. Crosis concentrated on yet another skeleton flanking him to his right.
The fortune teller sighed with relief as she emerged from her hiding place. Several other voices called in the distance. Magical strategy it seemed to the woman from the lingo.
“Greetings lady,” Hermie peeked over the hedge.
Shocked to see the two Halflings and three men approaching, she could all but croak “Help.” She explained how she came to be trapped behind the bushes in her convoluted manner of speaking.
Damien Orcris: Truthfully I think you're in a bit of a spot. How to get her out? The man pondered as the last of the demonic skeletons were dispached.
Sir Sevious Helios: Hmm...seems you're stuck.
“Oh, don't say that,” she said frightfully. “I don’t want stay here forever!” The calm, composed visage she usually wore with ease shattered with her fear of the seemingly enclosing space.
Sir Sevious Helios: It's the bare truth
Crosis Smallburrow: Just jump over the bush, the Halfling offered.
Farmer Hermie: Dig her out! We'll drag her over the little bush!
Damien Orcris: Throw her a rope!
As a few of the others searched their packs for a rope, Hagen seemed a bit suspicious of the woman, trapped so near the skeleton reunion.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Wait a moment. Mylady did you see the skeletons here or know from where they came?
The woman opened her mouth to answer, but she laughed instead.
Damien Orcris: I could throw her a Halfling!
The party, in good spirits laughed, lifting the trapped woman’s spirit with theirs. Another marauding band of boney baddies was seen lingering to the north and the men along with Crosis left Hermie and the fortune teller to dispose of them.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: We will come back as soon as we have defeated them, do not fear.
Farmer Hermie: Should I dig, m'lady?
“Digging is fine but these roots are tough. I tried before you all arrived without success.”
Farmer Hermie tried cutting the hedge with his firesword.
The woman kneeled down close to the hedge, watching the Halfling through the branches as his sword began glowing. At first it seemed to be working. The sword was indeed cutting through the tough trunk of the hedge bush. “Wait,” she called. “The wood is growing back together,” she exclaimed.
“Blast!” the farmer cursed, barely audible. He sat back pondering what to try next when a thorny branch wound around the Halfling’s foot. “Ahh! Help!” he screamed as bush began dragging him to the darkness beneath.
Feeling quite helpless, the woman began shouting and kicking the bush, hoping the others would hear and return quickly. As Farmer Hermie struggled, he dropped his sword. Panic stricken, he shouted shrilly the names of his companions as he was slowly dragged further into the bush.
A last call of help from Farmer Hermie finally drew the attention of the others as the bush expelled him into the trap next to the woman. “Darn! I have become stuck too!”
The Seer gasped at the strange turn of events.
As Hagen, Crosis, Damien Orcris, and Sevious gathered around and exchanged baffled looks amongst each other, the woman explained, “The bush swallowed up the halfling and spit him out over here.”
Farmer Hermie: I don't think it was pleased with my trimming!
Hagen von Rabenfeld merely glanced at the lady and offered “Better stay away from this cursed hedge.”
Sir Sevious Helios: Hagen finds interest in you ma'am so he'll do anything to get you out
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Sev concentrate on our task, he reprimanded.
As those on the other said discussed the virtues and flaws of several proposed theories on how to retrieve the trapped duo, the woman introduced herself to Hermie when asked. “I am Twania, my dear, Reader of Fortunes. Though, I should have seen this coming had I looked at my tea cup this morning.”
Hermie Smallburrow: Usually I prefer to meet people under different circumstances, but in any case, it's a pleasure!
Meanwhile, Sevious began uttering a several long strings of words and the assaulting bush erupted in flames. Branches swung wildly, finally succeeding in diminishing the flames. Twania stepped up to the bush. “It’s quite chard,” she said happily.
The others joined in with various spells, attacking the bush with veracity now that it was in a weakened state. A few moments passed and the exertion on the mages’ faces was apparent. They were nearly drained.
Suddenly, the bush collapsed in a cloud of dust.
Crosis Smallburrow: It's open
Twania Green nearly fell over in her glee.
Hermie Smallburrow: Hooray!
Crosis Smallburrow: Get out quick
Hermie Smallburrow dashed through the opening holding Twania’s hand. “Nasty hedgeling,” called as he passed and shook his fist at it.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: I wonder if this is a coincidence that there was a trail of skeletons leading this way
“Miss? I am Damien,” the young man held his arm out to the lady to steady her as she emerged from her entrapment. I'm glad you are safe.
“Why thank you, Damien. I’m am very thankful you all showed up when you did!”
Sir Sevious Helios rolled his eyes, “Please don't let Damien be another Drathe. We don't need another Drathe.
Damien Orcris: Watch your tongue, I don't plan to be anything like Drathe
Hagen von Rabenfeld: May I ask you something M’lady?......Do you have an explanation for the appearance of the skeletons leading us this way?
“I was simply looking for herbs. I fell in through a stone,” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "But alas, I did not find the flower anyway."
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Well that explains why you are here but not why the skeletons appeared
Twania only shrugged. “I have no idea about the skeletons. But could I possibly ask a favor of you all? I really need to find that flower. It must be here.”
Sir Sevious Helios: A herb...You told me already.
Damien Orcris: which herb?
Crosis Smallburrow: I seen some white herb...
Hagen von Rabenfeld: on the peninsula or somewhere in this region?
Twania Green: It is white with a sunny center.
"I've got sickles," Sevious said and began passing them among the adventurous party."Let's look... "
Everyone but Twania entered the forbidden peninsula and began searching for the flower. The fortune teller stood just outside the hedge, too frightful to re-enter. The ground covered in the dust of the defunct bush began moving and a half dozen green shoots began growing quickly from the dry earth.
“Hurry,” she called. “I think it’s coming back!”
The party filed out of the opening, jumping over the emerging beastly bush.
Sir Sevious Helios: Crosis...what did you pick up?
Hagen von Rabenfeld: you found it?
Damien Orcris: A mother Cheaf eh?
Crosis Smallburrow: A...white flower
Hagen von Rabenfeld steps back from the cursed hedge.
The group gathered in a circle. Crosis carefully laid the danty flower on the ground for all to see. Everyone had many questions. What was the purpose of the flower? What did “Mother” have to do with it? Hagen admitted he had never seen such a flower like it before.
Twania only smiled at their puzzlement. “It belongs to a man named Hulon.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Who is this Hulon and where could we find him?
Twania closes her eyes, trying to remember the details of the man she saw in the amber. “He is older and wears a deeply hooded cloak, even in the heat.” She sighed and shook her head. “That was all I saw.”
Damien Orcris: A cloaked older man
Twania looks around the group, studying each for a moment. Finally, her eyes settled on Hagen and she approached him, taking his hand in hers.
Hagen von Rabenfeld looked quite surprised.
Damien Orcris looked away, perhas a bit disappointed in her choice.
Twania held Hagen’s hand palm up, reading the deeply set lines.
Hermie Smallburrow watched on curiously.
Hagen von Rabenfeld stares at his hand as the woman mumbled and turned her head this way and that way.
"You will know him for he is mourning a death. The death of a woman," she finally said.
Hagen von Rabenfeld `s eyes widen.
“Your hands touch other hands and this is how I know,” she said hardly explaining herself. “Be sure to give the flower to him. Or to a friend of his,” she looked at Crosis.
Crosis Smallburrow: I will...
The fortune teller sighed with relief as she emerged from her hiding place. Several other voices called in the distance. Magical strategy it seemed to the woman from the lingo.
“Greetings lady,” Hermie peeked over the hedge.
Shocked to see the two Halflings and three men approaching, she could all but croak “Help.” She explained how she came to be trapped behind the bushes in her convoluted manner of speaking.
Damien Orcris: Truthfully I think you're in a bit of a spot. How to get her out? The man pondered as the last of the demonic skeletons were dispached.
Sir Sevious Helios: Hmm...seems you're stuck.
“Oh, don't say that,” she said frightfully. “I don’t want stay here forever!” The calm, composed visage she usually wore with ease shattered with her fear of the seemingly enclosing space.
Sir Sevious Helios: It's the bare truth
Crosis Smallburrow: Just jump over the bush, the Halfling offered.
Farmer Hermie: Dig her out! We'll drag her over the little bush!
Damien Orcris: Throw her a rope!
As a few of the others searched their packs for a rope, Hagen seemed a bit suspicious of the woman, trapped so near the skeleton reunion.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Wait a moment. Mylady did you see the skeletons here or know from where they came?
The woman opened her mouth to answer, but she laughed instead.
Damien Orcris: I could throw her a Halfling!
The party, in good spirits laughed, lifting the trapped woman’s spirit with theirs. Another marauding band of boney baddies was seen lingering to the north and the men along with Crosis left Hermie and the fortune teller to dispose of them.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: We will come back as soon as we have defeated them, do not fear.
Farmer Hermie: Should I dig, m'lady?
“Digging is fine but these roots are tough. I tried before you all arrived without success.”
Farmer Hermie tried cutting the hedge with his firesword.
The woman kneeled down close to the hedge, watching the Halfling through the branches as his sword began glowing. At first it seemed to be working. The sword was indeed cutting through the tough trunk of the hedge bush. “Wait,” she called. “The wood is growing back together,” she exclaimed.
“Blast!” the farmer cursed, barely audible. He sat back pondering what to try next when a thorny branch wound around the Halfling’s foot. “Ahh! Help!” he screamed as bush began dragging him to the darkness beneath.
Feeling quite helpless, the woman began shouting and kicking the bush, hoping the others would hear and return quickly. As Farmer Hermie struggled, he dropped his sword. Panic stricken, he shouted shrilly the names of his companions as he was slowly dragged further into the bush.
A last call of help from Farmer Hermie finally drew the attention of the others as the bush expelled him into the trap next to the woman. “Darn! I have become stuck too!”
The Seer gasped at the strange turn of events.
As Hagen, Crosis, Damien Orcris, and Sevious gathered around and exchanged baffled looks amongst each other, the woman explained, “The bush swallowed up the halfling and spit him out over here.”
Farmer Hermie: I don't think it was pleased with my trimming!
Hagen von Rabenfeld merely glanced at the lady and offered “Better stay away from this cursed hedge.”
Sir Sevious Helios: Hagen finds interest in you ma'am so he'll do anything to get you out
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Sev concentrate on our task, he reprimanded.
As those on the other said discussed the virtues and flaws of several proposed theories on how to retrieve the trapped duo, the woman introduced herself to Hermie when asked. “I am Twania, my dear, Reader of Fortunes. Though, I should have seen this coming had I looked at my tea cup this morning.”
Hermie Smallburrow: Usually I prefer to meet people under different circumstances, but in any case, it's a pleasure!
Meanwhile, Sevious began uttering a several long strings of words and the assaulting bush erupted in flames. Branches swung wildly, finally succeeding in diminishing the flames. Twania stepped up to the bush. “It’s quite chard,” she said happily.
The others joined in with various spells, attacking the bush with veracity now that it was in a weakened state. A few moments passed and the exertion on the mages’ faces was apparent. They were nearly drained.
Suddenly, the bush collapsed in a cloud of dust.
Crosis Smallburrow: It's open
Twania Green nearly fell over in her glee.
Hermie Smallburrow: Hooray!
Crosis Smallburrow: Get out quick
Hermie Smallburrow dashed through the opening holding Twania’s hand. “Nasty hedgeling,” called as he passed and shook his fist at it.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: I wonder if this is a coincidence that there was a trail of skeletons leading this way
“Miss? I am Damien,” the young man held his arm out to the lady to steady her as she emerged from her entrapment. I'm glad you are safe.
“Why thank you, Damien. I’m am very thankful you all showed up when you did!”
Sir Sevious Helios rolled his eyes, “Please don't let Damien be another Drathe. We don't need another Drathe.
Damien Orcris: Watch your tongue, I don't plan to be anything like Drathe
Hagen von Rabenfeld: May I ask you something M’lady?......Do you have an explanation for the appearance of the skeletons leading us this way?
“I was simply looking for herbs. I fell in through a stone,” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "But alas, I did not find the flower anyway."
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Well that explains why you are here but not why the skeletons appeared
Twania only shrugged. “I have no idea about the skeletons. But could I possibly ask a favor of you all? I really need to find that flower. It must be here.”
Sir Sevious Helios: A herb...You told me already.
Damien Orcris: which herb?
Crosis Smallburrow: I seen some white herb...
Hagen von Rabenfeld: on the peninsula or somewhere in this region?
Twania Green: It is white with a sunny center.
"I've got sickles," Sevious said and began passing them among the adventurous party."Let's look... "
Everyone but Twania entered the forbidden peninsula and began searching for the flower. The fortune teller stood just outside the hedge, too frightful to re-enter. The ground covered in the dust of the defunct bush began moving and a half dozen green shoots began growing quickly from the dry earth.
“Hurry,” she called. “I think it’s coming back!”
The party filed out of the opening, jumping over the emerging beastly bush.
Sir Sevious Helios: Crosis...what did you pick up?
Hagen von Rabenfeld: you found it?
Damien Orcris: A mother Cheaf eh?
Crosis Smallburrow: A...white flower
Hagen von Rabenfeld steps back from the cursed hedge.
The group gathered in a circle. Crosis carefully laid the danty flower on the ground for all to see. Everyone had many questions. What was the purpose of the flower? What did “Mother” have to do with it? Hagen admitted he had never seen such a flower like it before.
Twania only smiled at their puzzlement. “It belongs to a man named Hulon.
Hagen von Rabenfeld: Who is this Hulon and where could we find him?
Twania closes her eyes, trying to remember the details of the man she saw in the amber. “He is older and wears a deeply hooded cloak, even in the heat.” She sighed and shook her head. “That was all I saw.”
Damien Orcris: A cloaked older man
Twania looks around the group, studying each for a moment. Finally, her eyes settled on Hagen and she approached him, taking his hand in hers.
Hagen von Rabenfeld looked quite surprised.
Damien Orcris looked away, perhas a bit disappointed in her choice.
Twania held Hagen’s hand palm up, reading the deeply set lines.
Hermie Smallburrow watched on curiously.
Hagen von Rabenfeld stares at his hand as the woman mumbled and turned her head this way and that way.
"You will know him for he is mourning a death. The death of a woman," she finally said.
Hagen von Rabenfeld `s eyes widen.
“Your hands touch other hands and this is how I know,” she said hardly explaining herself. “Be sure to give the flower to him. Or to a friend of his,” she looked at Crosis.
Crosis Smallburrow: I will...
The musty smell of old books filled the library. Several quite folks lingered among the rising bookcases scanning the leather bindings, each searching for something. Sitting quietly in a dark corner at one of the large library tables were Drathe and Josefine.
Leaning close to each other, they whispered as not to draw attention from those more studious. Many of the ancient tomes are mysterious indeed, and seem to have ears of their own.
“Anyways, did you hear anything new about the Spider Lady?” Josephine whispered across the table to her companion.
Drathe shrugged his shoulders and grinned “No.. well.. I do not know, that strange lady Twania told me a week ago to be careful about the spider lady as she eats her lovers.” He chuckled and lifted his shoulders again. “But then the other day she left a message for me with some one. She said look for the Spider Lady!” He cleared his throat and his smile faded, “But.. well if she is a spider.. well I do not want to be her dinner.” He looked across the table to Jose with a worried expression.
Josefine pursed her lips, then smiled slightly as she waited for some man browsing through the books nearby to move on..
”I think Twania has heard that ...well.. I am friendly to the ladies, and thinks I will do the same to the spider lady but... well, I do not like just any lady.”
Josefine chose her words carefully, “Well...what would you do to the lady?”
Furrowing his brow, Drathe asked, “What do you mean... 'what would I do to the spider lady’?”
”Well would you listen to her or kill her on sight?” she whispered, controlling the pitch of her voice.
Clearly growing confused, the man only scratched his head and gazed at Josefine. He leaned forward onto the table and Josefine returned his look of uncertainy. “Well... I do not know if I would fight the spider lady, but I have heard that she IS a spider, and that she attacked some people I know.
Josefine von Irnaron gasped, though not nearly why Drathe thought.
”She has never hurt or attacked me...In fact I have never met her so, maybe I would talk with her. He nods as if to affirm his decision, “Yes, if she spoke to me and did not wish to hurt me...I would like to talk with her.
Tentatively, Josefine asked, “Would you?” To which Drathe replied, “Maybe she might make me a king.”
Josefine von Irnaron smiles slightly and decided on a more direct approach. “You know, I had a strange dream about..um..spiders. Despite Drathe’s look, she continued. “I dreamt that I was in a room, without any windows just four doors leading away. Then I heard this noise and thousands of ..spiders came up to me and stopped right in front of me.”
With eyes wide, Drathe listen as she continued. “And then,” Josefine looked down to the table, “I talked to them, I ask them If still everything is going as planed and that we are going to keep the work up.”
”You talked to the spiders? And they understand what you say to them?
Josefine von Irnaron nodded to Drathe. “Yes, I understood them and they me. Then I went into town and I saw you and I greeted you as always, but you just drawed your bow and shot me.
Leaning close to each other, they whispered as not to draw attention from those more studious. Many of the ancient tomes are mysterious indeed, and seem to have ears of their own.
“Anyways, did you hear anything new about the Spider Lady?” Josephine whispered across the table to her companion.
Drathe shrugged his shoulders and grinned “No.. well.. I do not know, that strange lady Twania told me a week ago to be careful about the spider lady as she eats her lovers.” He chuckled and lifted his shoulders again. “But then the other day she left a message for me with some one. She said look for the Spider Lady!” He cleared his throat and his smile faded, “But.. well if she is a spider.. well I do not want to be her dinner.” He looked across the table to Jose with a worried expression.
Josefine pursed her lips, then smiled slightly as she waited for some man browsing through the books nearby to move on..
”I think Twania has heard that ...well.. I am friendly to the ladies, and thinks I will do the same to the spider lady but... well, I do not like just any lady.”
Josefine chose her words carefully, “Well...what would you do to the lady?”
Furrowing his brow, Drathe asked, “What do you mean... 'what would I do to the spider lady’?”
”Well would you listen to her or kill her on sight?” she whispered, controlling the pitch of her voice.
Clearly growing confused, the man only scratched his head and gazed at Josefine. He leaned forward onto the table and Josefine returned his look of uncertainy. “Well... I do not know if I would fight the spider lady, but I have heard that she IS a spider, and that she attacked some people I know.
Josefine von Irnaron gasped, though not nearly why Drathe thought.
”She has never hurt or attacked me...In fact I have never met her so, maybe I would talk with her. He nods as if to affirm his decision, “Yes, if she spoke to me and did not wish to hurt me...I would like to talk with her.
Tentatively, Josefine asked, “Would you?” To which Drathe replied, “Maybe she might make me a king.”
Josefine von Irnaron smiles slightly and decided on a more direct approach. “You know, I had a strange dream about..um..spiders. Despite Drathe’s look, she continued. “I dreamt that I was in a room, without any windows just four doors leading away. Then I heard this noise and thousands of ..spiders came up to me and stopped right in front of me.”
With eyes wide, Drathe listen as she continued. “And then,” Josefine looked down to the table, “I talked to them, I ask them If still everything is going as planed and that we are going to keep the work up.”
”You talked to the spiders? And they understand what you say to them?
Josefine von Irnaron nodded to Drathe. “Yes, I understood them and they me. Then I went into town and I saw you and I greeted you as always, but you just drawed your bow and shot me.
With his eyes open wide, he stared worried into Josefine’s. He reaches his hand over the table to hold hers. “Josefine.. I would NEVER do such a thing... I care about you, you are Ishand wife and a mother.”
Josefine von Irnaron pulled back her hand. That's not all. The next thing I saw was a room, with just a table and a chair, I sat down to relax and when I looked up again I saw the most beautiful woman I ever seen. I know it sounds weird but, I couldn't keep my eyes of her. I thought I'm relay dead it this is the goddess Elara, but she just laughed and it sounded terrible..It did not fit at all, she told me something about I should remember who I am..
As she spoke, the world fell away and he concentrated only on Josefine’s face, watching her lips move. The lady continued on, “Then she said I should follow her and I did. She showed me a place in the forest and told me I would find a herb no one else would find...then I woke up. The next day I went to this place and....I did find the herb
Drathe suddenly sat up. You...found a herb?
Josefine von Irnaron nodded, her face full of uncertainty again. For several moments the tension between the two strained. Drathe leaned back in his chair and Josefine looked at him, almost scared.
Looking more serious than usual, Drathe looked at Josefine, “Can..I see it the herb? No wait.. I have changed my mind I do not want to see it.” His voice pitched and a few faces turned toward the table, some shushing the man.
”What is the matter? Why are you acting like this?” Josefine inquired, uneasy by Drathe’s reaction to her dream. You're acting strange, or maybe it's just me
”I am just.. a little bit confused about something someone said to me.” He waved his hand as if waving the thought away. “It is nothing, no one, just a strange lady saying silly things.” Drathe stood up and walked around the table to Josefine. He knelt by her side and took her in his arms.
For a while, he clung to her in silent contemplation. Suddenly, as if hit by insight, he released her. Rising a shaky hand, he pointed to Josefine, “You are her! You are the Spider Lady!”
Josefine von Irnaron pulled back her hand. That's not all. The next thing I saw was a room, with just a table and a chair, I sat down to relax and when I looked up again I saw the most beautiful woman I ever seen. I know it sounds weird but, I couldn't keep my eyes of her. I thought I'm relay dead it this is the goddess Elara, but she just laughed and it sounded terrible..It did not fit at all, she told me something about I should remember who I am..
As she spoke, the world fell away and he concentrated only on Josefine’s face, watching her lips move. The lady continued on, “Then she said I should follow her and I did. She showed me a place in the forest and told me I would find a herb no one else would find...then I woke up. The next day I went to this place and....I did find the herb
Drathe suddenly sat up. You...found a herb?
Josefine von Irnaron nodded, her face full of uncertainty again. For several moments the tension between the two strained. Drathe leaned back in his chair and Josefine looked at him, almost scared.
Looking more serious than usual, Drathe looked at Josefine, “Can..I see it the herb? No wait.. I have changed my mind I do not want to see it.” His voice pitched and a few faces turned toward the table, some shushing the man.
”What is the matter? Why are you acting like this?” Josefine inquired, uneasy by Drathe’s reaction to her dream. You're acting strange, or maybe it's just me
”I am just.. a little bit confused about something someone said to me.” He waved his hand as if waving the thought away. “It is nothing, no one, just a strange lady saying silly things.” Drathe stood up and walked around the table to Josefine. He knelt by her side and took her in his arms.
For a while, he clung to her in silent contemplation. Suddenly, as if hit by insight, he released her. Rising a shaky hand, he pointed to Josefine, “You are her! You are the Spider Lady!”