<font color=lime> Rodie

"I fair as well as your Iblith decided I should. Although I suspect you really don't care that much about my well being, and are instead thinking about ways you can use me." The bard sat in silence, glaring daggers into Andrion, dreaming of seeing him flayed alive, and set out for fire ants.</font>

ooc Iblith is drow for offal, crap, and outsiders (ie non-drow)

[ 07-06-2004, 09:25 AM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=aqua>Larry

"I slept well, Lady Druid. I was hoping to receive more insight in a dream, but my mind was left in darkness this night. However, it did allow me to rest well.

You...you sometimes have this look on your face that says that you are far away in thought.

Mistral used to do that sometimes.

Tell me, are you and your dragon friend here to ensure I succeed in my quest, or to make sure that the Mage does not kill me? Why would Nature care of either? What balance would be undone in either case?"</font>

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

<font color=steelblue>The Shadow Mage

"Very perceptive of you, Rodie."

"Andrion, you are dismissed for now. Return to your quarters and wait for me there. I shall like to speak with our friend here with no restraints."

<font color=white>Andrion bows low and silently leaves the throneroom to go down to the second floor where he had a room set aside for him. It was filled with numerous tomes of magic and other wizardry stuff. Enough to keep him busy at what he loved most. Learning how to achieve a greater power. </font>

"Now that he is no longer here to push your buttons, let us talk. You will see that I am a very reasonable personage if given the chance. Take a seat, why don't you?"

The mage motioned with his hand and the shadows in the room picked Roderik off of the horse he was strapped to, and tore his bindings away from him. Other shadows assaulted the horse, tearing the flesh form its body as it screamed in terror, leaving only the clean skeleton frame. In another moment, the bones were broken and rearranged to form a seat made of the bones, facing the Throne of the Mage.

The mage gestured to the seat in invitation for Roderik/Rodie to sit down. </font>

[ 07-06-2004, 11:17 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=lime>Roderik

Looking at the chair that had till recently been his mount, Roderik walked around it, examining the ways it was held together, and finished off his potion, enojoying the way his wounds closed and his bruised flesh was made whole.

Leaning against the chair, the bard stretched his arm out, "You've made me your guest, as you did my father in times long past, I cannot flee without your leave, so what would you have me do, dark one, what favor would you have me perform in exchange for my freedom?"</font>

{edit for spelling, I really don't want to be SM's ghast} ;)

[ 07-06-2004, 03:28 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=steelblue>Shadow

"Welcome back, Roderik.

I must say that I am surprised that you are here. I had instructed Andrion to only bring me the candle, and he disobeyed me, deciding to bring you here as well. Well...I shall not punish him this time, because you are such a catch! So much to learn from you, given to the fact of what you actually are.

Would you like something to drink, or maybe having your possessions back would make you feel better? You may have them. They are right over there."

The Shadow raises a cloaked arm and points to the bag that is Roderik's satchel.

"In addition to your supplies, you will find in place of the candle, a few items that you have been desiring in your dreams for a while. Three daggers of throwing. Sound familiar? Yes, they also can be taught to respond to a few commands, such as returning and all that. Do not worry, they are not of Shadow Magic; they are of Mystra's workmanship, so you can easily master them."</font>

OOC>>>He is purposely avoiding the question he was asked.

[ 07-06-2004, 03:00 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=lime>Roderik 39/70

The bard glanced around, and collected his belongings, sifting out the daggers and anything else the mage may have hidden in his gear, and set it on the chair in front of him, looking at the folds of darkness enclosing, concealing, and merging with his host he said, "I'd like to know the price of your hospitality, before accepting any gifts which would endenture myself to you, wise men have often said, learn the price of your meal before sittig down for the feast, heh the last thing I need is to be hung out to dry in the wind, or face off against the Stormbringer on his own turf."

As he paced around behind his chair he kept his thoughts to himself noting the Shadows answers, or lack thereof and logging them for future use, if he was a creature of his word, as he seemed, then being able to twist the mage's words against him would be of immense use.</font>

[ 07-06-2004, 04:18 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=gray>Reaper hp Alot/A whole bunch

The previous day had been interesting, his elite orcs, and orogs (1/2orc 1/2ogre) were being infected with lycanthropy, it would make them more ruthless and powerful than they could imagine, and once they created new pack alpha's they would be juggernauts of destruction to be released on his neighbors.

His spies had been reporting throughout the night, but he was worried, the druidess believed in her power a bit too strongly, but he was not prepared to move against her again, at least not without loosing the gates of hell into her face. A force of fiends that none, not even his rival the Shadow Mage could hope to quell. But demons are competition, and without a way to banish them wholly once the slaughter was over, he would not even try to summon the numbers that would be needed.

While he waited he fed his mount the hearts of some elves that had been caught snooping around his borders. The nightmare seemed to relish the taste of elf flesh. "They're a bit too sweet for my liking" he told the mare running a hand across her coat, watching the ash shake free.

He had seen the Render returned, it was now held in a cage with bars of braided silver, and cold wrought iron, which did little to halt it's slamming into the walls of the cage, until the feeding began, goblins were thrown into the cage at the rate of several every minute, with a pause only long enough for the creature to feed. Once it looked to be at full health again the feeding would stop for several hours. The beasts howls of pain, rage and hunger still rang throughout the keep, and brought a wicked smile to his lips. The day was looking up already.</font>

<font color=steelblue>Shadow

"The daggers are useless to me. I have no need of them. They were given to you in hopes to buy the calm resolve you now possess in order to make talking with you easier.

As for my interest in you, that would be simple enough to explain. There are only a few in this game world that trouble me. The one that is known as TaoWolf, the Windbringer that you mentioned, and Morgeraut, or now known as the Reaper. He is my most recent interest, for he was able to withstand a direct blast of shadow magic from my hand, with no injury. I am interested in knowing how he did that.

Therefore, I have a question for you that will clear up your inquiry as to what I want with you...

How much value does he give to your tortured soul? As he made you what you are today, are you of value to him?"</font>

<font color=orange>Inquisitor Marcos of Snowdale - 98/98

If there was any surprise at the sudden appearance of the elf, it would sooner show in his delayed response than any facial expression. Or perhaps it was no surprise, and the rider was merely examining this forest dweller. Certainly his gaze possessed some intensity.

After a moment, he halted his horse and nodded his greeting. He found no immediate ill intent in the fey creature, certainly this was a fair chance at getting directions.

"I am Marcos of Snowdale, Inquisitor.
"I know not where this trail leads nor where the man I seek departed to, but I would find it most helpful should you be able to direct me to the One-Eyed Wolf tavern."
</font>

Vincent Pathfinder 91 ? /98

After some time of widdleing away at the wood, it slowly started to take on a dimunitive form. Vincent smiled at his little wooden figurine, and then he slipped into a pouch, and pulled out some of the silver from the other night. Everyone was still sleeping, the dragon's breathing deep and hypnotic, as the cats seemed to blend into the pattern. Standing up, Vincent wentback inside to check the fire in the hearth, it was still going and needed some tending for what he needed to do. Reaching into the wood bin he pulled out some smaller pieces of tinder and put them in the fire. Waiting till the caught ablaze he put a little more on. The temperature in the room rose noticeably. Reaching into a sack he pulled out of his back pack, he pulled forth a small cast iron smelting pot. He placed the several pieces of silver into it, and then reached into his belt and pulled forth a few silver coins and put them in the pot with a chinkle sound. He sit in the small fire he had going, and then reached into another into the sack again pulled out a small wooden box. He held the box for a moment as if going over some memory and set it down. Golden runes glistened in the firelight . He opened it and took out two small vials and a small pouch. He poured some fluid from each vial into the pot and then opened the pouch and and took a small pinch of poweder from it. He sprinkled the poweder into the fire and as he did so the orange flames turned blue. The temperature rose significantly in the small area and the silver in the pot turned to liquid. Reaching for his quiver he pulled out several arrows and started dippng them in the silver liquid. After doing this about 12 times he pulled the pot off the fire with a pair of tongs and set it down inside the bow with a slight hiss, the pot went from theorange glow of heated metal to the cool color of cold cast iron. The silver that was left in the bowl began to harden as well. Vincent grabbed another vial and poured some of the liquid on the heated silver, and began mixing it with a pestal. He worked it into a small oblong ball and then let it cool. He then took the tongs and spread the remains of his fire back into that of the main fire, the blue flames turned orange again and the temperature turned back to normal, although the heat of the fire still radiated from the earthen dwelling. After everything had cooled to a normal temp, Vincent cleaned up his mess, rolled the silver nugget out of the pot and put it back into his belt. Wiping everything down he put it away carefully, and then gathered up his arrows. He could hear people starting to awaken, so he headed back out to the porch and proceeded to sharpen his arrows. Larry walked past him a few minutes later.

Arcades smiles and nods, pointing down the forest path. "Continue on this path untill you clear the forest, you should be able to find the One-Eyed Wolf tavern not far beyond. If you dont mind my asking, who is it you hope to find there?"

The old dragon was usually good at getting information, but he didnt want to press his luck with an Inquisitor. The Dragonslayer branch of the inquisitors was quite good at what they do, or so he's heard. Arcades didnt like tangling with them either way.