<font color=white>The Shadow Dwarves</font>

<font color=gray>Suddenly it appeared, this bright and burning wall of light, and eyes long accustomed to the dark of the warrens below the tower register the sudden brightness as burning with a terrible heat. As one they come to a sudden stop. Weapons are dropped as hands are pressed to burning eyes. Not only are their eyes made blind, but their skin, the little of it that is exposed, becomes uncomfortably warm with this light.......</font>

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<font color=white>Joseph</font>

<font color=darkseagreen>The kid’s been blinded. But that’s probably a good thing. ~ he smiles to himself ~ Keep him outta trouble for a bit at least. “He’ll be OK,” he says to the warrior, “probably get his sight back in a couple hours.” At the mention of the book, a genuine excitement dispels his fatigue for a moment. “Yes! The book...... But a deals a deal, I still need to show you what I know about that sword of yours.”

Things are looking up. Just a matter of getting everybody out.......

Of course, a guy doesn’t expect a stabbing at a time like this. “Just like a dame,” he mutters.</font>

[ 08-01-2006, 09:52 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=white>Elsewhere – The Holy Temple of Aerie</font>

<font color=gray>Once it was that this place teamed with activity. Worshippers indeed were many within these halls and the fellowship among those who professed a certain NPC from a popular CRPG as their patron was strong indeed. Gone are those days of activity and the warm sounds of fellowship are no longer heard within these halls. Still, however, when other clans had fallen beneath the might of the Giants of Shadow, this place remained untouched, unthreatened and at peace.

No longer.

That all within the temple might know of their arrival they arrive among the buildings just beyond the great walls of the temple. Great arms thrust upward suddenly from the earth and dusky limbs of terrible might reach outward. Those who rush to stop the sudden invasion, adventurer and guardian alike, are seized and rudely tossed aside landing in a jumble of broken bones and cries of pain. As these first cries of pain sound beneath the light of the waning moon the terrible host assembles. Swords are drawn and those within the temple, nor the wingless goddess who is its patron, can do anything to stop the slaughter of all who once found shelter before the walls of this place.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Larry has given the green light to begin the process of closing out the last of the dormant IW clans.</font>

<font color=999999>Reaper

The reaper was sitting on his throne, it's surfaces newly refinished with carefully laquered bone, detailed so as to appear aged and yellowed, painted so as to appear cracked, splintered by some scavenger eager for marrow. He had called forth from his dungeons Sir Exxon, last of the living paladins of the former Order of Keldorn, whose keep had become the lair of the Reaper. When the once noble countenance of his former friend and ally was before him Reaper let loose a bone chilling laugh that echoed throughout the audience chamber. The knight was bruised, beaten, defiled, and every manner of indignity the orcs could imagine had been heaped upon him. Half of his once fair hair had been shaved and them scarred with a brand to prevent it from growing out, while the other side was ragged and unkempt, covered with fithy, excrement and things best left unspoken of. But the eyes of this one, they still held hope, faith, and most irritatingly, defiance. No matter, Reaper thought, I will crush that out soon enough and replace it with something more... appropriate.

The fallen one stood and took a step forward, then gasped and clutched at his armpit, stumbling back in surprise. It felt like he had been stabbed, but when he withdrew his hand the black velvet glove he wore was dry with no trace of blood. Even now the sharpness of the pain was fading, but still present. He growled as Sir Exxon laughed at him, defying him even now. Reaper snarled and drew Bleeding Soul from it's spot next to his throne, walked to Exxon, and stabbed the knight through the leg, the blade sunk in gleefully through both the man's thigh and through it into his calf and finally stopped at the floor. This man's soul would bleed for the Reaper, and with his end, the once proud Order of Keldorn, Knight of the Radiant Heart would be forever dead, a fading memory that would vanish as common folk realised they had more pressing concerns than thoughts of a vanquished house of uptight champions. Laughing Reaper sat upon his throne once more as his guards held the screaming struggling paladin as the sword eagerly fed upon his soul.</font>

ooc: I trust you recall the sword's special properties against proponents of righteousness and order Larry, if not I can resend.

[ 02-13-2006, 01:55 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=white>The Shadow Dwarves</font>

<font color=gray>They are blinded and the light burns. But they do not turn aside. Fingers tighten their grip upon the handles of their weapons and the warriors of the vanguard step forward. They cannot see the light but they can feel it and they grow more uncomfortable with each step, but they step forward all the same. Behind them are others, stronger than they, whose eyes while hurt are not blinded. And these eyes watch the progress of their fellows with great interest. The singing has stopped but the rhythmic beating of the drums continues filling the stairwell with its sound and making it impossible for any to hear the movement of the dwarves as they approach the light.

Forward the step and into the light. They are dwarves and so they are resistant to enchantments of all kinds. The very substance of shadow has been infused into their being and so spells often simply dissipate against their dusky forms. Each of them is an accomplished warrior, neither one to be trifled with nor to be overcome easily. Mere magery and mere light should be as nothing to them. But this is no mere magery nor is its power merely that of light and to pass through this wall is as if one passed through not spell but seven. Where resistance holds once it may not hold a second time, let alone a sixth or a seventh, and those who seek passage through the barrier must prove themselves against each, and all, of its colored layers. One simply falls before the shimmering pattern, his body drained of health as colors flash about him. Another is thrown backward and then stands rooted to his place an unmoving block of stone. A third falls dead and then simply vanishes – no trace of his life to found anywhere within the realm of IronWorks. A fourth turns toward his fellows, his speech little more than gibberish and his face stretched taut with madness. Another two follow behind them and these two liewsie are destroyed by the barrier which itself remains unchanged and unaffected.

Axes are thrown and crossbows are fired but neither axe nor bolt passes through the barrier before being destroyed.

Still the dwarves press forward, willing to try themselves against this obstacle, until a command from their leader halts them. All is silent before the shimmering barrier save the drums whose beats thunder with the mounting anger of a resolve that will not be mastered be it by magery or by light or by any other obstacle placed before it.</font>

[ 02-13-2006, 07:44 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

Senora

bump…bump..budump…

The priestess groaned audibly as her body slammed once again to the floor. Keeping conscious this time, she instinctively rolled into a defensive crouch her bloodied dagger held out in front of her. She shook her head and blinked her eyes desperately willing her vision to clear. The act was simple, not uncommon or unexpected of someone who was just very nearly thrown into a wall, however, the gesture was enough to make the average onlooker yearn to help her.

bump…bump…budump…

Her head throbbed, which didn’t surprise her, but the fact that the throbbing had a rhythm to it, did.

bump…bump…budump…

As the blurriness of her vision slowly began to dissipate her confusion only increased as she realized the rhythmic thumping wasn’t just her head, but actual audible drums. The folds of her cloak were keeping the shimmering wall just out of her line of vision, but it lit up the area with a brilliant shimmering light. She didn’t even glance sideways to look for the source, she kept her eyes focused on her would be captor hovering before her.

“Morgie?” She heard someone ask in a hesitant but familiar voice. She involuntarily dropped her dagger in horror as comprehension filled her mind and a familiar form filled her vision. The man she stabbed was indeed her fallen paladin companion.

“You…You’re alive?” She stammered. He looked at her and the puny dagger she had just dropped as if she had completely lost her mind.

<font color=darkseagreen>“Now that’s what I like! Not only does she got a great head on her shoulders – well except for that bruise and at least for the time being – but the lady’s got just about the best grasp of the obvious I’ve ever seen!”</font>

She turned her head in surprise to see Joseph casually leaning against the wall as if he were in no mortal danger and Larry standing near Morguerat with a sword in his hands. She quickly clarified her statement and tried to gather her wits about her while subconsciously reaching a hand up to touch the abrasion on her head. “You’re all alive. How did you defeat that….thing? It was so…evil.” Her voice took on just a slight edge of panic as she remembered its attack against her. Pulling her hand back down from her head she noticed traces of Morguerat’s blood on it. Looking up from within the folds of her cloak she looked back to the fallen paladin with great sorrow in her eyes. “I am so sorry, friend.” It was a simple statement spoken quietly and with such sympathy and dignity it silently urged all to be forgiven.

[ 02-14-2006, 12:05 AM: Message edited by: Salinye ]

<font color=skyblue>Larry Silverfall 8/23

Larry heard a familar feminine voice in his personal darkness. The elf had awakened?

"Senora? You're okay! Wha...what's wrong...what are you sorry about?"

Larry sheathed the terrible blade and scuffled his way over closer to Senora's voice, knowing that Morgie was also in that general direction. Blast this blindness! What was going on???

"Is everyone alright? Have the monsters been stopped? Joe? Morgie? Senora?"

About that time, the poor and crippled used-to-be ranger of considerable skill tripped and fell over something.

"Aii!"

He quickly regained his composure and stood back up, dusting off his clothes that he could not even see to know if they had been dirtied with the fall. </font>

OOC>>>Larry takes 1hp damage from the fall because he is blind and stupid.

PLEASE NOTE: this is edited..

<font color=skyblue>She watches as the man kills the wasp, saving Anarrima then senses the spell the first cleric casts and winces, but is safe in her magic from it. She snarls at the cleric as he picks up Anarrima’s staff, but can do nothing about it at the moment, so seeks elsewhere to take out her anger…

The wolf moves like lightning, her sharp claws tearing into the stone floor keeping her footing, and leaps at Cleric 4, ripping a chunk of his butt and thigh out. She immediately leaps back into the safe aura and turns...

Standing there, blood dripping from her muzzle to the floor in slow drips, she raises her hackles, and stamps the stone floor with one paw. The amulet around her neck flashes in a blazing blue arc that speeds towards the Cleric holding Anarrima’s staff……</font>

[ 02-15-2006, 11:04 AM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

<font color=99FFCC>Morguerat 97/115

The booming grew louder, then stopped advancing, Morguerat registered it briefly before dismissing it. </font>"Morgie? You…You’re alive?”<font color=99FFCC> Depite your best effort The knight thought. The knight growled between teeth gritted against pain "Nearly everything in this place is evil, what we could defeat we did, what we can't, we fled from" He nodded towards the light and the booming of the drums at the last. "I've been in a forgiving mood lately," he said looking directly at the blinded Larry, then Senora, "So I'll forgive that attack as a survival instinct, but you've had your freebie, the next time it will be repaid with interest."</font>

[ 02-14-2006, 03:47 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=white>For Team Castle
<font color=gold>
Cleric 1:</font>

Attacked by Tao's stamping paw spell. A blue arc sped towards its target and shocked him with its power.

"Nnnnyyyya-a-a-a-a-a-i-i-i-i-i!!!!!!".

The cleric's hair stood on end and he screamed, dancing about like a marionette before crashing to the floor and wriggling about for a few seconds while the blue electricity danced about him. When the spell had hit, Anarrima's staff flew from his hand and the lightning guided the staff back toward Tao, landing it at the feet of the wolf.
<font color=gold>
Cleric 4:</font>

Having been in a trance from the illusionary spell cast upon the floor and the charm it wrought...the cleric was rendered helpless as the wolf bit him in the flank, severing muscles that helped him to stand. He fell hard to the ground and verbally profaned as he tried to take stock of the situation. He was the only cleric left, it appeared. What should he do? He stumbled up to a staggeringly stand-up position again and hobbled over towards the emerald. He felt it calling him.
<font color=gold>
Cleric 3:</font>

The oddity of being allowed to live this long gave the doomed cleric courage enough to laugh aloud and he pointed at Yevaud, the one that seemed to be the one about to kill him...

"YOU WILL DIE HERE TODAY, FOOL ELF!!!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...HAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA..."
<font color=gold>
Cleric 2:</font>

He began to stir on the ground as something was reviving him, waking him from his unconscious state. He pulled himself up to a hands and knees position, shaking out the darkness from his head. Then...sudden pain!

"AIII!!!"

Something made him twitch involuntarily and he fell over into a fetal position, gripping his stomach and clenching his jaws tight in pain. </font>

[ 02-15-2006, 03:43 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=seagreen>Yevaud 39/45

Yevaud observed the priest, the anticipated strike from Vincent didn't come, and so the elf acted, hefting his blade over his head he brought it down with all of his strength on the laughing fools neck severing it. Yevaud watched it roll to a stop and then set his sights on the cleric that had been stunned by his earlier spell, who was just now beginning to revive, of course being kind enough to announce it by screaming.</font>