OOC: great post morgy. keep it vague who really knows with whom one can place trust, maybe I'll turn ya into a turnip instead, and feed you to our little gnome friends [img]tongue.gif[/img] j/k

[ 02-03-2003, 08:54 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

<font color=indianred>Brendon slept, but not peacefully. In his mind, shadows gathered. It was a dark road, and there was no escape from it. Always a laughter of evil triumph was to be heard, echoing far away, but ever closing in. The forums had nearly forgotten the Mad Mage that ruled here, not too long ago. Now, a strange presence...not to be identified, was at work. A presence of mysterious whispers that brought dread and fear straight to the heart. This presence controlled another power...a lesser power. And that power was the key to yet another dark road. There was no end to this road. Brendon walked it anyway. He kept his black trench coat pulled tightly around him as a dead wind kissed his cheeks and bit into his bones. He came to a cross-roads. Both ways were dark and promised death at the hands of unseen dangers. Which should he choose? Then he thought of his mist diamond. When he plucked it from his pouch, it was covered in blood, but not human blood. It was silver blood, like that of a Silver Dragon. The diamond soaked in the blood and glowed a pale, silver light. The light lit the pathways and showed Brendon that the left path was the correct choice, because it had trees. Strange trees, they were...but that was the path he was to take.

After a long while, a tree blocked his path. When he asked it to step aside, the tree bent down and offered Brendon a rod made of wood as a present. Brendon placed this present in his backpack.

At the end of this terrible journey, Brendon came upon a great land, covered in darkness like a blanket. The air was heavy and stale, and spoke of death. A great shadow loomed in the distance, like a great tower reaching towards the sky in defiance. Then the ground stirred. It spewed hot vapors from fissures that erupted and lava began to pour freely. Brendon tried to run, but had nowhere to go. He called out to his friends, to Syrathic...but there was none to answer. They had left him.

================================================== ==============================

Brendon awoke with a gasp. He jumped up and hit his head on something above him, then fell back down. He looked around. He was in a small space that had become his bedding. They were nearing the village of the gnomes,,,probably able to make it there early on the morrow. He laid back down and breathed easy. It had only been a dream.</font>

[ 02-04-2003, 01:05 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic sat in a corner, wrapping the cloak around himself, completely hidden within the cloth. He positioned himself so that he could see both entrances to the open section they were resting in, just in case something stumbled across them.

The Elf happened to be sitting on the other side of the cave from Morguerat, and seeing the man awake, he took the time to travel the Elf-dream for a short time. He only needed an hour or so to be as rested as Humans after a full night's sleep.

When he came back to conscious thought, he found that Morguerat was still awake, eyeing each of them suspiciously. With the hood of his cloak pulled as low as possible, the large man would not be able to see the Elf's gaze, but Syrathic knew to not stare, else the man would surely feel his eyes on him.

The Elf was wary of the man. Of all the group, Morguerat was the one Syrathic felt least comfortable around. He'd even rather be around that woman Rhienneth (wherever she had gone). At least he knew where he had stood with her. He knew nothing of his position with Morguerat. It was unnerving to say the least. And especially now, he wondered what the man was thinking.

The Elf kept his silent vigil over the entrances and the large man until the others were ready to go. Finally, he rose from his position and stretched. "I'm ready whenever the rest of you are," he said simply.</font>

ooc: How many hit points did I regain from resting? Not sure which rules we're using on that.

<font color=silver>ooc: The party received the quivalent of a full night's rest, but in rough conditions. Dantes will also need a few hours on top of that to memorize and prepare his spells.

Given that we're talking about a total of 12 or 13 hours, those who have been wounded should recover 2 hit points.

<font color=turquoise>DMs Note</font> - Since this is the first time it has come up, it seems to be a good idea to clarify how I handle recovering spells:</font>

<font color=white>Spells are not automatically recovered or memorized on resting [this holds for clerics and sorcerers as well]. Time needs to be spent in memorizing them and preparing material components [Mages]; in prayer and communion with one's deity [clerics and druids]; or simply allowing one's magical energy and ability to focus and control it to recover after having been spent [sorcerers]. Depending on the number and level of spells involved, this can take as long as a couple days. Note that rangers and paladins would be handled the same way with regard to their spellcasting abilities.</font>

ruby and wyrd slept through the night, as comfortable as one could be with missing patches of fur. a grumbling lion had finally settled down and stopped licking the now almost raw patches that had been scraped.

this morning ruby and wyrd seem in a much better mood. smiling and talking to themselves. she cares for the sword again, shining and sharpening. *i am sorry that i have yet to prove myself worthy of you*

when they finish eating they begin to wait for the rest of the party. wyrd picks up one paw and shoves ruby's sitting form down. soon they are wrestling and playing like children. when they tire they sit silently. just lloking at them you know they are talking.

*oh, thankyou darling. my dreams were so disturbed. it feels good to play again. i thought i would be too scared to wake up. so vivid my visions of moguerat inviting a dark creature into his home, his heart. and seeing so many hurt.* wyrd nuzzles ruby and lets out the closest sound to a purr he has. *i hope it was not prophetic. i hate those dreams. to have to interpret such violence!*

OOC:i have based ruby's dream on one i had the other night. since most of her character is based on me it seemed appropriate.

[ 02-04-2003, 12:59 PM: Message edited by: RevRuby ]

<font color=silver>ooc: Sorry about the slowdown, folks -- I've just finished up two major writing assignments and I've simply been out of words for a couple days. I should have a few posts up Thursday.

Since I'll be away for 2 days over the weekend without access to the Net here's what I'll do so that things can move forward:

One of my posts will get the party to the gnome settlement. Anyone who wants to take care of something specific in the city can PM me the details and I'll respond in a PM that should allow you to post away in my absence and accomplish what you need. And, of course, roleplaying between the characters can go on in my absence. I should be back up to full speed by the end of the weekend. Again, I'm sorry about the slow down.</font>

<font color=white>Terrakis</font>

<font color=gray>The slaves dig, those dour and unbroken dwarves whose stern mettle lends them a defiant dignity. And as they dig they sing, their hoarse voices out of tune but keeping curious time with the movement of their tools.

<font color=plum>And it’s go boys go
they’ll time your every breath
and every day you’re in this place
you’re two days nearer death
but you gooooooooooooo</font>

The notes of their song and the sound of their digging reaches him where he stands looking out upon the broken city of broken race. The Drow were never important. Villains not even significant enough to include in the very first AD&D Monster Manual, that hard to find book from the days before TSR had hired good artists, beings not important enough to even be noticed in the great contest against the Modding Mage or to be sought out by the Mage himself as allies, creatures generally roleplayed as mere parodies of themselves by countless angsting Drizz’t clones, even their destruction here was but an afterthought. Perhaps some few of them survive in scattered game threads elsewhere on this board or as the objects of discussion in other forums or as silent avatar portraits whose appearance is but a function of the turning of posts, but here they are destroyed and brought to nothing simply for being in the way.

The city is what is important. Not the city itself, of course, with its buildings which stand as vacant reminders that a civilization which had believed itself important once made this place its home. No, nothing built here has any value. There is something about this location, however, which is important. Something beneath this collection of buildings and corpses. Something terribly ancient and long forgotten. Older than the Mage himself and, indeed, had the Modding One known of it, despite his fondness for Salvatore’s books, he would have brought the drow to nothing himself to possess it.

<font color=plum>..... and every day you’re in this place
you’re two days nearer death
but you goooooooooooo</font>

They sing while they dig, these slaves and that is good for the singing means they retain their vigor and their strength. And the digging of strong and vigorous slaves shall soon yield results.</font>

<font color=indianred>Brendon 61/70

Brendon had not rested well, but was fully awake and ready to move. He looked around to see his friends also either up or rolling out of bed. He looked forward into the tunnel that would lead them to the village soon. He was excited to get there. The monotony of the caverns and darkness and only adventuring food in his pack was beginning to get old real fast. He needed a change of scenery, and would love the chance at a bath.</font>

[ 02-06-2003, 12:21 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=silver> ooc: <font color=skyblue>TAO</font> - I have some stuff ready to go for your character. I’m just holding off since school seems busy your way and I’d rather not rush you.</font>

<font color=thistle>The rest has done them good despite the discomfort and unease which marked their slumber. Even Dellon fairs better now although his pain colored slumber seemed as haunted as that of any of the others here. Cedrick sits silently a while considering this most unusual of groups, a group both bold and capable and yet haunted and fragmented as well. ~ Strangers ~ the gnome thinks ~ They are strangers to one another. Thrust quickly together perhaps as groups that adventure so often seem to be ....... Were this simply an adventure like any other, some grand game of heroism, mayhap there would not be such tension ....... ~ He sighs. Yes, would that this were simply some form of game and he did not have such tragedy to bear home to his fellows. But the guardian has fallen and the humanoids have begun to move and the whispers of terrible giants seem to be true. ~ We are all awake after our slumber, but the nightmare has not left with opening of our eyes. ~ Turning to Kellor and Dellon he says quietly, “We must get quickly to the clanmaster for our friends need what aid we might supply them and there is much we must report.” Glancing at the mage who pours so intently over his books of enchantments, he continues, “Once he has finished his study, we must be ready to move.”</font>