ooc: [img]tongue.gif[/img] Larry, you are one pathetic Deiter. "Now heal my renewed body and I shall stand again at your side!"? No! Deiter would have said, "Now gimme a potion so I can go kick Larry's ass!"

~Chani nodded quickly, then cried out in surprise as the monsters began clamoring from their cells.~ <font color=seagreen>"Damn you Larry!"</font> ~She then grabbed the other half-elf under the arms, attempting to drag him away from the creatures. (Larry hadn't fed him his pop-tarts, so he was kind of scrawny and it wasn't too hard.) Getting him to the far corner, she offered him a healing potion well she began a hasty healing chant.~ <font color=seagreen>"Nim gul!Nim gul ana! Ana ara! Nim gul ana ara Elhonna! Ana ara Elhonna!"</font> ~The healing elven energy ran from her fingertips and into Deiter's body, closing his wounds and giving him the energy to lift the potion to his lips.~

OOC>>>Shut up Spree...at least I delivered the fool into your hands so that you could consummate! You owe me big time for keeping his arse alive!

IC>>><font color=skyblue>Larry struggled to his feet and noticed that Cyril had turned his back on him, while giving aid to the betrayer. He felt his anger transformed into energy for his body. His life was fueled by the hatred of the one that now stood in his room defiling it and ruining his plans for conquest. Sneering at the poor fool, Larry stretched out his hands and blades of ebony shadow appeared in each. Speaking the silent words, "Las asombras vengan y pongen obscuro este cuarto!", the room began to flood with shadows that swirled and boiled, appearing alive and nearly too dense to see through. Larry now was in the mood to stalk his prey. Working with the shadows, being nearly concealed within them, He crept forward, blades at the ready. </font>

<font color=teal>The shadows grow thick indeed, taking on an aspect similar to heavy fog and rendering sight all but useless. ~ He thinks me blinded, and he is right. He assumes that this darkness conceals him, and in that he is more wrong than he realizes. ~ To move, even the Modding Mage must brush against the air, and to live, he must breathe. Should Cyril need its power the dark bladed axe, the one called nightsong, may well allow his eyes to pierce this shrouding darkness but such power is better kept in reserve to be made use of in the exertions of battle and is best not used when other senses may suffice. He remains still for a moment aware that the One Who Mods will easily see his movements. Despite the damage he has done to the Mage, the advantage in power lies firmly in Larry’s hands. ~ The Mage’s expectations must be used against him, he must be made to doubt the power he relies upon.

Returning the stormreaver to its place over his shoulder, he steps forward in the groping manner of one attempting to feel his way through the darkness. He listens as he walks for the change in the Mage’s breathing and the signs of movement that will signal an attack. His groping hand will then take from his belt the axe that is so well balanced for throwing and he will meet the movement of the Mage with a sudden violence of his own.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: If possible, he will hurl the axe at his opponent's knee. If not, he will simply take his best shot.</font>

[ 05-12-2002, 11:39 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color=skyblue>Larry sees his moment of attack. He stops and holds his breath, as he is very near the man. Cyril probably had tons of magical protections, so he would end this battle the old fashion way...by running his sword through the fool's gut! Larry then charged forward, both blades swirling in the air, intent on bringing his opponent down fast. He yelled as he ran, knowing that he could not be seen and expecting his opponent to be so disoriented as to not know from which direction the attack was coming.</font>

OOC>>>Do as you please.

Sorry, Cyril...
I have to crash...
I can't keep my eyes open!
Good luck with the response post.

<font color=silver>ooc: Fair enough. Rest well, Larry.</font>

<font color=teal>Even with his knowing that it was coming the attack surprised him with its speed. It is a confident assault, powerful in its violence. Using the slight advantage his deception had given him, Cyril reaches to his belt and with a practiced movement withdraws the axe and hurls it at the rushing attacker. There is no time to aim carefully for the knees and so he simply throws it forcefully at the body of the One Who Mods. He hears it strike, not knowing if the blow has had any effect other than that of disorienting surprise. Again, he uses the slight advantage of a few instants of time to step swiftly aside and draw the stormreaver. The hand axe returns to the spot in which he had previously stood, but there can be no pausing to retrieve it.

He breathes deeply. One more card must be played in this game of the mind. He whispers, as he braces for close combat, a few words in the tongue the One called Larry uses to assert his power, “Buscas mi vida. Bien. Vas a tenerla.” There is a slight warming in his hands as his life and health gather near the handles of the axes.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: I've been saving the Spanish since Cyril's very first post in this story.</font> ;)

[ 05-13-2002, 12:12 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

OOC>>>You learned the secret shadow language! Lol!!!

<font color=skyblue>As Larry was racing forward, he did not imagine that he could be so easily seen, as he figured that the echoes in the room would distort his voice to make him appear to come from every direction. That plan did not work. Larry felt a blow to his right side that sent him tumbling and rolling across the floor in great agony. Cyril's axe had found him and sliced into his side! The pain was too intense to stand up at the moment, and he merely lay there, suffering. The shadows dissipated at the loss of concentration from their master, and Larry was left fully visible to his attacker. He looked up and met the eyes of Cyril Darkcloud. Pulling himself up to his knees and leaning on one sword, he muttered, "So...you have penetrated my forces, entered my domain, and have now come to take me out of this forum. You...cannot imagine the tyranny and terror that would befall Ironworks if I were not in control here! Clans would spread to every forum in the website! Trolls would lurk freely to destroy others' fun! The people that reside here would be at one another's throats in a week! Ironworks needs me here! And you would be the one to destroy me? For what? I have never offended you and have even spared your life twice before! This is how you repay me?"
As Larry spoke, a shadow in the rear of the room just behind Cyril started to solidify and take form.</font>

OOC>>>Three more moves...you, me, then you to finish. Then you have to save the girls. ;)

OOC sorry I didn't post earlier but I just saw all the new posts this morning.

IC: <font color="99ff00"> The arrow sped towards Morguerat and the stormbringers aim was true, the soul rending torment the former paladin had felt since Neb had pierced him, began to ease, realizing that it was due to more than than just his mortal shell slipping finally into death, it was a death of a sort, the arrow struck deeply into the heart of the betrayerand with a flash of brilliant light that temporarily broke through larry's magical darkness the arrow disapeared, consumed by the evil it was combatting. "Ust Solaris Oth Mithas" the words came easily now and he felt them more than said them, what strength he had was too little to permit speach, but Morguerat felt the taint upon his soul being fighting to remain, but ultimately failing against Cyril's magic. From the wound oozed a small blackened piece of metal that hardened into a matallic lump.

His breathing coming easier and his broken spirit partially restored the fallen paladin began to breathe easier, perhaps if his works were worthy and his soul stayed free of taint Torm would return the paladinhood to Morguerat, such things were rare and took great deeds and much self sacrifice to accomplish, but they were not unheard of. Unfortunately, the two instances Morguerat had heard where that had happened had ended in the deaths of the knights involved, one had valiantly defended his fleeing comrades against the fury of a white dragon, his friends had come back later to destroy the wyrm and took the block of ice that had been their friend to bury it, and in the other tale the knight had sacrificed himself singlehandedly driving a horde of ramaping Tanar'ri back to the abyss and sealing the portal with his own lifeblood, destrying the runes in the summoning chamber.

Morguerat was willing to submit to pains much worse than either of those tales if it would only mean Torm would once again smile on him.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Finishing up a paper for school [ ~ I love the academic life. I love the academic life. I love the academic life. ~ ]. Will post sometime this evening.</font>

ooc: :D *LMFAO* Now you know how work does me!! *LMAO*

IC:
<font color="skyblue">Wolves are not accustomed to being underground for long periods of time, unless it is in the den to whelp pups..................As the cell doors open and the air becomes dank and still, TAO looks at the other wolf and they exchange a glance of shared unease at being so far underground without an escape route known...........

Two sets of amber eyes turn silver in the darkening air, and start to glow....................

Glancing quickly at Spree and Deiter, TAO sets herself in front of the smaller female, her hackles rising and lifts her head in a power-filled spell howl, the other wolf quickly adding to the song of power.........

TAO rears up and slams her front paws to the ground, the other female quickly following suit, adding to the shockwave of pure druidic power that now flows outwards from the wolves, spreading along the floors and walls quickly.....

Curiously, the power skirts around Spree and Deiter, knowing not to harm them..........

The walls start to shake, and the open cell doors start slamming shut one by one as the wave of power moves outward down the corridor.............</font>

ooc: "Shut up Spree..."? That's it! You're going to time out mister! [img]tongue.gif[/img] [img]tongue.gif[/img] [img]tongue.gif[/img]

~Deiter healed, she drew out her scimitar. She looked helplessly back at the half-elf.~ <font color=seagreen>"Do you have your sword?"</font> ~Deiter shook his head.~ <font color=steelblue>"Nope. Larry took it before."</font> ~Chani quickly drew out Ravenwood and offered it to him~ <font color=seagreen>"Here, use this for now! We'll try and get your scimitar back later..."</font> ~Deiter accepted the long-sword, and the two half-elves stepped into the fray beside the wolves.~</font>

Dantes knew he was in trouble when he started a fight with the two generals, but now he was near his limited. The battles of the day had exhaused him mentally as well as physically. Dantes Dove forward trying to avoid the blade but he was not quick enough as the blade bit fairly deeply into his back. The pain throbbed in his back as hot red blood flowed down his back staining his pants and boots with its dull red color. Dantes knew in a test of might he would not stand a chance against this opponent, he had to think of another way to overcome this opponent. Dantes knew he was running out of spells and energy so he would have to take care of this opponent quickly. As Dantes sat up he mouthed a single word. It was a word of power in the language of magic. The sudden outflux of powerful arcane energy made the air feel positively electric. A reddish light surrounded both the fallen mage and the madman. Dantes then looks down at the fallen mage.
"So you wish me to destroy your staff mage?" Dantes asks sarcastically.
Dantes then grabs the staff and throws it like a javelin. The staff flies far through the air and come down on a rock 80 yards away. The explosion from the destroyed staff rocked the ground they stood on. Dantes had trouble maintaining his balance as the ground under his feet shifted from the blast. There was nothing left of the rock that the staff had struck on its way down. It was then that Dantes realized that the blast has caused his spell to fail. Dantes tries to ignore the pain in his back as he grabs his sword and steps into a defensive posture waiting for his opponents' next move.

OOC>>I'm waiting for ya, Cyril!

By the way...to everybody except TAO and Spree who are trapped and only Cyril can save you, if he lives... :D ...

you all had better run very quickly when you are given the warning...you'll know when it is time...anybody left straggling will ..well...regret it. ;)

[ 05-13-2002, 10:33 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=silver>ooc: You bastard! You were trolling me weren’t you? *LMAO*</font>

<font color=teal>Dismal is this place and cheerless, a realm of that which swallows light with darkness and in which sorrow has the last word upon life. Even now the One called Larry raises the specter of chaos and affliction as that which must follow should he fall. This one who has swollen the ranks of his armies with the worst of all trolls and flamers, whose generals have openly boasted of using spam and terrible ubering powers, crassly invokes their specters now. And guilds! He threatens the dominance of those same foolish and impotent clans and guilds that could not even muster a presence in this thread. His hands burn and were they out of this building filled with dead air the winds around him would be great indeed. He begins to speak, his anger rushing to meet the Modding Mage’s words and suddenly, seeing the trap, draws the breath of his own words back into his mouth. ~ He very nearly had me. There is great power in his voice and he is not so weak as he seems. He was trolling me with those very words into a place of heated flames ....

So intent is he on defending himself against the trolling attack that he does not immediately notice the coalescing shadow behind him. ~ This must be ended now. The longer this continues the greater the likelihood of his triumph. ~ Carefully watching the Mage, he slings the nightsong over his shoulder and opens the padded pouch on his belt withdrawing a small flask. “No,” he says, “I have come not to repay you but to return something I had taken from you, something whose loss upset you greatly.”

Only now does he note movement behind him. A worried look flashes quickly across his face and his grip upon the stormreaver tightens.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Everyone remembers the flask right?</font>

OOC>>>Hmmm...you left me open to a few options. eh??? Okay...then take this...

<font color=skyblue>The shadow behind Cyril realized that it had been detected. It smoldered quickly and poured over the man in front of it, attempting to bind him with it's darkness and hate. At that same moment, Larry yelled triumphantly, ignoring the strange flask and the words of the man and threw both of his shadow swords straight at the supposedly entrapped Cyril.

"YOU CAN DIE NOW, WIND-WALKER!!!!!!!!!"</font>

<font color=teal>The chilling and dark touch of the shadow rushes over him enfolding him in a terribly pure malice. With a horrible delight it seeks to awaken his own recent memories of hatred and anger and he is thankful for the clasp which shields his mind from so strong an assault. He feels strength draining from his limbs into the cold embrace around him, but the movements of the One called Larry are the important thing. The Mage shouts and with the violent exhalation of the death threat Cyril crushes the flask.

A new and living wind swirls around him, a wind alive with the strange breathing of one who had been suspended along the boundary between life and death. The memory of its terrible transformation at the hands of the Modding Mage burns within it and there is now no Ring of power to protect the object of its anger. The wind that was once a shadow rider shrieks into gusting and angry movement of its own, disrupting the flight of the swords and displacing the very air that the One Who Mods seeks to breathe with its own terrible presence.

Feeling the wind, Cyril gives the shadow that which it desires, burning it with the stormy outpouring of the power of his life. As it screams in surprise he turns and strikes it with the lightning-tinged edge of the stormreaver.

Even with the sudden bursting of the angry and living wind, one of the swords strikes him a painful blow, one that may well prove fatal if the Mage can withstand this last attack.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Talk about matters of inches and seconds! *LOL*</font>

[ 05-13-2002, 11:21 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color=skyblue>Larry began instantly to suffer for breath. The wind that was unleashed did not blow, but seemed to him as though it were like a vacuum that drew breath from his very nostrils. Larry could barely stand. The bleeding had worsened and he found it horrible to concentrate. He knew a spell to reverse this madness, but what the hell was it? He could not think! He could only concentrate on wanting a short breath of fresh air...but it was to be denied him. Grabbing his side and struggling to stand despite the pain, Larry tried to summon for Neb to come aid him, but could not see Neb's face in his mind. He needed to concentrate, but now things were going dark. His limbs were getting numb, his heart was burning, his lungs screamed to be filled with life...but they would not receive any. Through teary, blurry eyes Larry managed to rasie his head and see the one called Cyril, but not clearly. He could see that one of his swords had done minor damage, but that was nothing. He remembered TAO and Spree in his dungeons, but could not remember why they were there...he felt around for something to hold onto for support, but was only rewarded with cold stone.

Cold...the stone...?

Larry smiled...maybe he had won after all! Then, he took his last breath.

</font>

<font color=lightgreen>As The Modding Mage lost his final breath, the tower jolted. As in all evil castles...when the final bad guy dies, the house comes down, and this was no exception. The tower's warmth and strength had been fueled by Larry's own life-force, and now that he was lying cold, nothing supported the structure. Brick began to lose their holding in the walls. The very foundation lost it's strength. On every floor, the building was shaking violently, and only a matter of moments would determine how long it could stand on it's own ...and who would be left inside when it came down. Dust, smoke, and shadowy figures swirled around in hated anger, but the immortal demi-god Larry lay still, unmoved by this tremendous terror. Nobody could see a simple, glowing white twinkle passing through the halls, and enter a particuar jar. The jar had been made of diamond, and dipped in the blood of a shadow dragon, then hardened and sealed to prevent anything from tampering with it. The twinkle momentarily glowed bright inside the jar and then faded. As it faded, the jar fell from the table-top and rolled across the ground, only to be covered by the ceiling that fell upon it from above. </font>

OOC>>>Run like hell, folks!

<font color=silver>ooc: Super post, Larry! :D

TAO and Spree, I'll post Cyril's movements to the dungeons after you guys post again.

Everyone else - Why are you still in the building? Get moving! *LOL*</font>

Neb, feinting death, growled angrily at the failure of his plan, drew a dagger concealed within the sleeve of his robe and stabbed at Dantes' ankle, hoping to cause his foe to fall. Once on the ground he'd then be somewhat easier to kill seeing as how the wounded sorcerer lacked the strength to stand up.

OOC*cough* Ahem, I used to be part of the guild that started this... if it even exists anymore... and assuming they'll have me back.

IC<font color="99ff00">lifting his hand the weakened man grasped the hilt of his blade in one hand, and with his other he picked up the lump of blackened metal that had oozed from his newest wound, and tucked it into a pouch in his armor, slowly rising to his feet, using the shaking walls for what support he could he called to Cyril that he could help rescue the females</font>

OOC: check your PM's Cyril

[ 05-14-2002, 09:38 AM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=lightgreen>
The tower was now swaying back and forth, causing everyone dumb enough to still be inside to topple around and lose thier footing. The top of the tower, consisting of the 6th and 5th floors fell to the ground, crashing into the dead earth that lay around and into the moat. The fourth floor no longer had a roof, but looked skyward.</font>

OOC>>>How much more clearer do I have to be?
This tower ain't gonna stand much longer!!!
I am giving everyone a chance to save themselves and others...

TAO and Spree, post something so that Cyril can come after you...he is waiting for your posts.

<font color=silver>ooc: Fair enough, Morgeruat! *LOL* But you do list yourself as an expatriot of that order. :D

Not that any of these details would change a loner like Cyril's opinions of such things as guilds, especially after their armies never arrived. ;) Speaking of changing opinions however:</font>

<font color=teal>Perhaps there is some real goodness to found among some of these knights .... ~ So simple an acknowledgment is not made easily and yet it must be made. This man can barely stand himself and yet will offer what little energy he has that the women might live. This knight could simply leave, yet he does not. The unsteadiness of the tower is palpable and disturbing and there is little time to lose. “You have died once this day. There is no need to die again. The women might be saved without the loss of your life.” He hopes these last words are true for there have been too many lives swallowed up by the darkness of this place. “Go and reclaim your life and know that you have my thanks. Soon the skies will clear - bear my greeting to the sun.”

The stones on the upper floors have begun to shake loose and he feels the entry of the restless and probing winds. Perhaps. Perhaps there is a chance that life may emerge even from the pits below this tower. The flesh on his hands burns and his life mingles with the newly moving air. Whisper hoots softly at the entrance to the chamber. “Lead me to them,” he says softly, and follows the owl into the dark stone corridors of the crumbling tower.</font>

[ 05-14-2002, 07:49 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color="skyblue">Her keen sense of hearing notices the demise of the Modding Mage, and the bracer glows a brilliant red, shining thru the dust of the corridors. Slamming her paws to the ground again, she sends shockwave after shockwave towards the few creatures left.

A great rumbling shakes the walls, and the wolves lose their footing for an instant. They stare at each other, then turn to Deiter and Spree.

~The Modding Mage is dead, and the tower falls....We may be trapped I'm afraid.....but.............~

Thinking quickly, she turns back to the other wolf and together they start a power howl calling with all their hearts to Cyril.......</font>

<font color="99ff00"> Grunting his thanx to Cyril, Morguerat centers his concentration and sees himself standing outside the tower, bending space and time the knight moves himself instantly to where he had envisioned himself outside the tower. Overcome by the events of the day he collapses in a heap, the sword sticking out of the dirt next him, and begins snoring softly.</font>

[ 05-14-2002, 01:31 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

Neb's familiar teleports to his side and makes contact with him, then shifts both of them to the Astral plane.

Dantes dodges a weak blow at his ankle then watches as Neb disappears. he then notices the tower shaking and rumbling, in the throws its final collapse. That could only mean one thing, that the modding mage was dead. Dantes smiled a weak smile. There was still one thing he needed to do. Dantes crooked his finger and immediately disappeared.
****************
Dantes reappeared levetating in the throne room. He could see Larry's cold body lying on the shaking floor that he levelated over. Dantes made a motion with his hand and the one ring flew to his hand. Dantes smiled at the reassuring weigh of the object. The tower rumbled around him as again blinked out of sight. It was time to return the ring to its rightful place.

<font color=lightgreen>Something on the second floor explodes, and sends flames stretching and rolling everywhere. The third and fouth floors fall one level to fill the space, as the second floor is no longer there. </font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Morgeruat, I finally posted a response to your character above.</font>

<font color=teal>There is a terrible narrowness about these spaces despite their high ceilings and unusual width. The knowledge that the dark stones of the confining walls may at any point fall inward upon him intensifies his claustrophobic feelings. Still, he moves, aided by the newly moving air, with the swiftness he has spent his life learning. The Mage’s creatures are too concerned with their own safety to pay him any attention and he is free to follow the heart rending echoes of the wolf song to the trapped voices of the woman called TAO and her companions.

Moving through the second floor he notes the movement of the wounded and rage filled bonespawn. He pauses a moment, and notes the weakened structure, smiling at the feel of a draft rising from the first floor. “You simply do not matter,” he whispers and violently brings the axes together. The resulting thunderclap is enough to pull the damaged ceiling and walls down upon the creature. Hoping desperately that the information Whisper has given him about the lower floors is correct, he exits the second floor even as it collapses upon the surprised bonespawn.

Finally, he reaches the lowest reaches of the structure and finds himself confronted by a wall of thick and unyielding stone where the entrance to the dungeons should be.</font>

<font color="skyblue">Pauses a moment, and feels the Cloud bringer near.........starts howling in complete desperation, scrabbling at the rocks and stones with her front paws, silver tears running freely down her muzzle, landing on the stones, melting paths as they fall...</font>

<font color=teal>Despair nearly takes hold of him there before the stone barrier. He knows of no strength that will move it and of no way to pierce it. The howling notes of wolf cries reach his ears and he forcibly calms himself. Above him, the collapse of the tower proceeds amid the crashing of stones and the filling of the air with dust and screams.

The notes of her voice have reached my ears! ~ The realization is sudden and a cause for relief. Air can still pass where bodies cannot and therefore the seal is not so tight as he had feared. He whispers, then, a few reassuring syllables that travel along the slender pathways allowed the air near the sealed doorway to the ears of the woman called TAO, “Keep them safe and I will do what I can.”

The air here has been still and dead for a very long time and it is painful even to breathe it. His eyes narrow as he concentrates and the still air moves slightly near the barrier. He smiles, then, the relived smile of one who sees unexpected reason for hope. ~ There is no way to pierce the barrier, it is far too strong and has been made to defeat such force. But one does not need to enter the chamber in that way.... ~ He turns his eyes to the place above the blockage, the place out of which it had moved to seal the passage. It is hollow where the barrier had been.

He steps away from the door and draws his three remaining arrows of dispelling. Firing them swiftly at the area he will strike, he notes the flashes that signal the dissipation of wards of protection. Grasping the axes once more, he stands with his arms outstretched expelling the last of his energy into the stagnant air around him. Burns cover his hands and creep along his forearms and the dead air suddenly erupts with life and movement. He screams with pain a coiled silver strike of lightning lashes suddenly outward striking the stone repeatedly until several long cracks appear in its surface. He releases the gathered violence of the winds in a single concussive blast and a large opening appears above the undamaged barrier.

He collapses to his knees, gasping for breath in the stale air.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: I’ll let you guys figure out how to get a wolf out this way.</font> :D

<font color="skyblue">As the dust settles, the two wolves look at Spree and Deiter, than begin to climb up the rocks.....

~TAO's paws bleeding, she leaves a trail as she climbs. She and the other wolf begin a soft gruffing back and forth, trying to communicate with the Cloud bringer who may have saved their live...~

</font>

<font color=lightgreen>
The fourth and third floors were now too heavy to be held up by the first floor that had received alot of damage in the initial attack. The remaining bricks and walls of those two floors began to roll off the structure and crash into the ground, sending shockwaves of violence around the area. The throne room had been the center of Larry's magical connection with the demi-plane of shadow. Now that it lay crumpled and open to the sunlight, the magic in the tower completely dissipated, leaving no bindings for the walls of stone. Everything crashed to the ground, and the first sub-level was flooded with debris. This blocked off the doorway that led down to the second sub-level, sealing inside those that were within. </font>

OOC>>>Sorry Cyril, Spree, and TAO...I wanted to make it more dramatic and well, real. That tower was not going to stand forever! There is still a way to get out. If you want me to, I will help. Otherwise, I would like to see just how creative the three of you are! I have confidence that one of you will think of something...but I am here if you need me! ;)

Madman had made a lucky escape and from a safe distane he lit hid pipe and watched the fireworks

ooc:
I've only got 5 minutes to type right now... So, CYRIL!!

<font color=seagreen><font size=4>I'M LOST! PLEASE FIND ME!</font></font>

<font color=silver>ooc: No problem, Spree. Consider it done!</font> :D

<font color=teal>His lungs and throat burn with the corrupted and death filled air of these pits and it is so difficult to simply breathe that he barely notices the wolves leap awkwardly down from the opening. Above these chambers, but frightfully close, the deep rumbles of falling stone grow louder until even these deep foundations shake with the collapse of the tower’s few remaining exterior walls. The way to the surface is closed and they are sealed in and entombed beneath those tons of stone.

As his bearings return he notes the unsteady and disoriented movement of the wolves. Their legs are cut deeply, but he can offer no aid. It is then that he realizes that the young ranger and the one she has come to rescue have not emerged from the dungeon area. With gasping breaths he fills his lungs with the stale air and rises unsteadily to his feet. He forces his burned hands to support his weight as he climbs to the opening. There is no nimble speed about his movements now. There is only the slow and awkward motion of an exhausted man. Clambering through the opening, he drops clumsily to the floor. He finds the young ranger and a half elven youth lying near the obstruction where they must have been thrown by that terrible trembling of the building as the last of the upper structure finally collapsed.

He winces at the pain that fills his limbs even in the simple act of moving them into a sitting position against the stone. Time is growing short, but he forces himself not to hurry. In truth, he is thankful for the distraction from thinking about the nightmare of dying here where one cannot see the sky. Gently he prods the two of them to consciousness and then helps them to climb through the opening. Once they have joined the wolves, the exhaustion in his limbs claims him and he falls from the opening and tumbles heavily to the stone floor.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Now I really do need you and TAO to post *LOL*</font>

[ 05-16-2002, 01:08 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

OOC>>>Let me know when you guys finish.

I have the ending credits ready to post that will be the concluding thread to this story.

Oh, and Cyril, I PM'ed you a question.

<font color="skyblue">TAO, legs and paws bleeding, can stay in this form no longer, not if she wants to live............Touching a bleeding paw to the bracer, a brilliant white light flashes, and when the smoke clears, she is kneeling on the floor, coughing....

Her eyes still glowing silver, she looks to the wolf and gently touches its muzzle starting the healing process.

She turns her attention to Spree and Deiter, noticing that they are a little worse for wear but not bad. She finds the Cloud bringer, and silver tears roll down her cheeks onto his face, as she takes his head in her hands, and lays it in her lap. Closing her eyes she softly starts chanting, and the bracer around her neck glows a soft emerald green, flowing down and covering the Cloud bringer in a soft green mist. The burns start to slowly heal, and the tears that dropped on his cheeks evaporate into his skin, mixing with his spirit to revive and rouse him.................

She smiles suddenly at the Cloud bringer whispering, "thank you, your heart and spirit are as a wolf's.....pure and true". "Rest, and I will think of a way out of here....."

She has done all she can do for him, and draws SpiritSword, gently stroking the runes on the blade, and looks around already making plans to get them all out safe and sound...........

She absently pulls out a mixture of herbs, and chews thoughtfully as the wolf comes to her and lays by her and the cloud bringers side, laying her muzzle on his chest....</font>

[ 05-16-2002, 02:50 PM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

(ooc: ;) Thank you Cyril dear.)

~Chani shook her head, in a daze. Dear me... Suddenly she snapped from her trance.~ <font color=seagreen>"Cyril!"</font> ~She rushed to TAO and her fallen comrade. The wolf, Shadow, whimpered, licking the man's cheek, her white fur blanketing him. Deiter stepped over, regret on his face.~ <font color=steelblue>"Will he be all right?"</font> ~Chani smiled and nodded, laying her hand on Cyril's forehead. The scythe on her wrist glowed vibrantly.~ <font color=seagreen>"I'll take some of the hurt away..."</font>

<font color=teal>Wind, the freest of all that is free, its very essence is to move. It gathers within him in the stillness of exhausted slumber, the windy breathing of life. Slowly movement arrives and asserts itself in the burned fingers of his hands. Whisper rustles her wings in surprise at the return of movement in the one who speaks with the tongue of those that move within the wind. As the small owl watches, his breathing changes and his lungs expand hungrily seizing the stagnant air of this place. Coughing violently, he sits upright pushing away the bodies he feels so close to his own and reaching for the stormreaver.

He listens as he moves to the startled breathing of those near him and pauses. ~ It is them. They are alive and there is no threat. ~ His eyes open and he reaches out with a hand whose burns have been greatly healed to touch the fur of this wolf that sits so close. “My thanks,” he says softly. He is relieved that the others are well, but his eyes darken at the sight of the close and oppressive stone of this place where one’s eyes cannot greet the sky. He stands, something of his normal ease of movement present once more within his limbs. He looks into the eyes of the woman called TAO, she whose throat is caged in silver. Marking the herbs she holds in her hand he whispers, “It would seem that our thoughts move in similar directions.” He points to the wall behind her, “We do not have much time.”

Turning to the young man standing beside Spree, he grasps his hand and speaks, his accent quite pronounced, “I am called Cyril.”</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: This really is the extent of his social skills. *LMAO*</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: We're only a few posts away from finishing so I'm going to move this along so we can wrap the story up. If we haven't gotten to the conclusion by Monday evening, I'll go ahead and write the ending at that point.</font>

<font color=teal>
It is time to leave this place. Soon the dead and dust filled air trapped between these stone walls will poison his lungs and he will no longer be able to resist the overwhelming numbness such a confining space threatens to produce within him. If there is freedom to be found, however, it is to be found only within the unlikely and overlooked things, things like the small and weak seeds within the pouches he had previously given to the women. Between the three of them there is likely not enough power to pierce even the weakened walls of these lower levels. But where might fails the persistent and quiet reaching out for space within which to grow of a slender root may well find a way into the stones. Scattering the seeds along the wall, he steps back and grasps his axes. His hands are not even close to being fully healed, but there is life enough within his limbs for the doing of what must be done.

Turning to the woman called TAO he speaks softly, “The breaching of this wall is in your hands. I will see to it that we have sufficient air to breathe within the waters of the moat.” It is possible as well that some dark things still move within those foul waters, but he is too weak as yet to defend the others as he maintains the envelope of air around them. “You will need to be ready,” he says to the young ranger, “as it is your sword arm that will be our shield.”</font>