<font color=indianred><u>Final Battle Details</u>

Larry: In his throne room, facing Spree and TAO.
Spree: Facing Larry accompanied by TAO.
TAO: Facing Larry, accompanied by Spree.
Neb: Has arrived to lend aid to Larry, and has cast a spell.
Morgie: On the fourth floor, not yet in throne room.
Madman: Inside a black dragon, fighting to bring it down.
Azrael: Nearby, but unknown exactly where.
Lennon: Currently unknown location, probably the abyss.
Cyril: Outside the tower, gaining back his strength for a final blow.
Army of Light vs. Army of Shadow: Currently, Army of Light prevails.</font>
************************************************** ******************
<font color=gold>
If I am not mistaken, it is Spree's turn to post next in the throne room. Morgie, Azreal, Lennon, and Cyril are free at the moment to make a post at anytime. </font>

<font color=teal>His burned fingers are beginning to recover something of their normal range of movement and he steps from the cleft in the stones onto a ledge where he might feel once more the wind and rain of the storm. In spite of the dangers which lie ahead of him, he allows himself a smile as he breathes deeply and fills his lungs with the gusting air. Looking in the direction of the tower and the battles now taking place within it his eyes narrow and his smile is replaced by a grim hardening of his features. The matter will be decided inside that mighty and oppressive enclosure, of this he is certain. A pang of fear shoots through him as he considers the likelihood of his own death in such a contest, a battle fought between confining walls and far from the free and living air. He makes no effort to avoid or resist the fear, but simply feels it and claims it as his own - he will waste no strength in foolish attempts to deny the truth of his fear knowing that an illusory courage is as deadly an enemy as Modding Mage himself. No, he will enter that tower as one afraid and his willingness to face such fear will be his strength. ~ Soon ~ he thinks, ~ soon it will be time to discover the manner of being he is, this Modding Mage, this one called Larry. It is good that we will meet once more within that place where his might is greatest and I am weakest. ~ He smiles once more, the grim and peaceful smile of one who will do nothing other than walk the way that lies before him. ~ Yes, soon, my mighty friend, I shall stand before your power for a third and final time. ~ But preparations for this meeting remain to made and he steps once more into the cleft to ready himself.</font>

<font color=seagreen>~The half-elf slackened her hold on the bow and arrow for the preliminary declarations of combat. Her metallic grey-blue eyes looked at Larry almost quizically. Her entire countenence was focused on puzzlement, or a deep confused hurt, like a dying animal in a trap. Her jaw previously clenched, she opened it to speak.~ "I remember those days, Larry." ~She paused, her eyes averting now to the powerful arrow clenched in her hand.~ "I remember battle and grief and pain... I remember harmony and bliss and love..." ~She shook her head with a weak smile and accompanying chuckle.~ "But most of all I remember that through it all we persevered. Through thick and thin we stood by eachother, and sought never to let our bonds die." ~Her gaze shifted to Larry.~ "But do you remember Larry? Do you remember anything of a tavern by the gate? The one you were married in? Behind which I bestowed to you the owner of a wolf pup? Where you cooked a fair batch of roadkill stew? Where Deiter ate six pop-tarts without remorse? Where Sephi cleaned tables grudgingly?" ~Her gaze narrowed and shifted to Neb.~ "Where Mistral and her sworn sister Kaz would stay? And can you recall Kaz's good friend Neb?" ~Her jaw clenched and she looked to the ground.~ "It has become apparent to me that you have forgotten the past." ~She looked at Larry.~ "And I am the bearer of the past. You of all would know this, tortured soul." ~She sighed, looking pensively at the bow and arrow.~ "And so, Larry Silverfall... You ask me here today to claim a throne. A throne that no doubt is beside you. And I stand prepared with an answer, as you tell me of the fall of good from the face of this Earth..." ~She tightened the bow string, then winced. She whispered, barely audible.~ "One where they stand, a spirit of blue, o' tortured his soul, to guide them all through." ~She looked Larry straight in the eye, pure malice tainting her gaze.~ "You have failed to guide us." ~She then let the arrow fly, aimed for Larry's heart.~</font>

<font color=indianred>~As the arrow flew it sang, echoing painfully in the mind of the modding mage.~</font>
<font color=steelblue>
Two of the fall, tears gleam silver-white, for hope of the wood, and past of the night.
One where they stand, a spirit of blue, o' tortured his soul, to guide them all through.
One collects shards, in forests of green, chaos shall reign, destiny carene.
I am the last, who seals their fate, I stand paid in red, afore the black gate.</font>
<font color=indianred>(So is etched upon The Sealed Fate)</font>

<font color="99ff00">Running down towards the throneroom Sir Morguerat hopes the forces he added to the battle below would be enough to turn the tide in good's favor, he rounds the corner an sees Neb casting a spell, thinking quickly he grabs a small stone and throws it, hitting neb squarely in the back of his oversized head( :D ) hoping that this small interruption would be enough to counter his spell, and praying that Neb hadn't finished casting yet.</font>

<font color=skyblue>"NO!!!!" Larry screamed and began to work a detailed pattern as the familiar of Neb's jumped from it's perch upon his shoulder, and as Neb's magical power was beginning to be unleashed, and as the arrow was coming to seek his life...in that instant, Larry completed a time-stop spell.

All stood still...All except for the arrow.

Larry could not understand how the arrow was still in flight! Only having time enough to swerve a little to the left, the arrow struck hard, landing in the right-side of his chest, piercing his lung, and sending a massive blast of energy-lightning coursing through his body. The magical attack on him caused by the arrow made the time-stop spell fail prematurely, and everyone was again free to move. Larry grabbed at the arrow and yelled in anger as he ripped it from the wound. He looked at the arrow as he fell to his knees, and as blood was dripping from his lips, he smirked at Spree and said..."Oh...one of Cyril's arrows, eh? Your own not good enough for you? He was too damned of a coward to show his face here and deliver this himself? Eh??? He had to get a girl to do his job for him??? Do you not even realize that your precious fool of a boy-friend Deiter is still here, in my dungeon! If I die, then you lose him forever, fool! At this time, as we speak, he has been undergoing some changes...~cough~some...some changes that are permanent! Hehe...~cough~ The spell only requires him to drink the blood of a wolf that he may turn into the most horrible undead creation that I have ever made! I have now released him with my thoughts...and he will soon be feeding from a wolf that I had captured just outside! So I say to you...do what you think best. Finish me now...or save the wolf AND Deiter at the same time. It's in your hands now...if he dies...for you still have time. What will you both choose?" Larry gets up from his fallen location, looks to Neb then, stumbles over to his throne, wiping the blood from his mouth on his robe sleeve.

Sitting down, he speaks to Neb..."Neb...Kill Morgie now in a most horrible manner. You have nothing else to worry about from these girls. They know what needs to be done." Larry sat back and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. </font>

[ 04-30-2002, 11:24 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=teal>Whisper has brought him the first reports of the inside of the tower. That the rooms are larger and the ceilings higher than he had anticipated is welcome news indeed. ~ Still the One Who Mods is no fool to be trifled with and he surely must suspect the danger enclosed spaces will pose. It will be wise not to place too much trust in such things as the dimensions of rooms and the heights of ceilings. ~ Even as he considers this a movement within the air of this place brings him other news – She has struck him with one of the arrows! “The moment is nearly at hand, then,” he whispers as he gathers his equipment. The burns on his arms and hands have begun to fade but he suspects that soon they may well be burned beyond hope of healing. His hand touches the locket around his neck and he reminds himself that he has not come here to die. He leaves the shelter of the cleft and steps off of the ledge into the storm. He stands suspended within the winds and opens himself once more to the violent freedom of their gusting movement. The healing made possible by the enchantment of the woman called TAO will be finished by this storm which rages with the vigor of the winds of his distant home.</font>

<font color="skyblue">She raises her sword as Spree lets Cyril's arrow flies, and feels the spell stop time........then abruptly time moves again, and she almost stumbles catching her balance, as she watches the Modding Mage go to his knees.

She freezes though, as she hears the words he speaks......~A wolf?? NOOOO~ She thinks quickly and frantically as she re-sheaths SpiritSword, it protesting the whole time. Her eyes change to complete silver, and she turns to Spree, whispering "I will save this wolf.... remember we are not the ONLY ones who will change the tides of this battle or the outcome of it......"

She stares back at the Modding Mage, a single silver tear rolling down her cheek as the runes carved into her body begin to glow with a faint starlight blue, and she whispers thru the wind, the words carrying for his ears alone...</font>

<font color="plum">"Lyngheith and Lofnheith, | fled is my life,
And mighty now is my need!"

"Though a sister loses | her father, seldom
Revenge on her brother she brings."

"A daughter, woman | with wolf's heart, bear,
If thou hast no son | with the hero brave;
If one weds the maid, | for the need is mighty,
Their son for thy hurt | may vengeance seek."

"Hither the son | of Sigmund is come,
The hero eager, | here to our hall;
His courage is more | than an ancient man's,
And battle I hope | from the hardy wolf."

"Here shall I foster | the fearless prince,
Now Yngvi's heir | to us is come;
The noblest hero | beneath the sun,
The threads of his fate | all lands enfold."</font>

<font color="skyblue">As she whispers to him, her weapons seem to dissolve into the bright light around her, and as she stands bare with the plait of her waist length silver/blonde hair pulled over her left shoulder, blue flames cover her body and she raises her hands above her head, and throws her head back speaking words into the gathering wind around her as she looks straight into Spree's eyes, another single silver tear falling from eyes glowing like molten pools of silver metal with wolfs running across the waves...</font>

<font color="plum">"Who yonder rides | on Rævil's steeds,
O'er towering waves | and waters wild?
The sail-horses all | with sweat are dripping,
Nor can the sea-steeds | the gale withstand."

"On the sea-trees here | are Sigurth and I,
The storm wind drives us | on to our death;
The waves crash down | on the forward deck,
And the roller-steeds sink; | who seeks our names?"

"Hnikar I was | when Volsung once
Gladdened the ravens | and battle gave;
Call me the Man | from the Mountain now,
Feng or Fjolnir; | with you will I fare."

"Many the signs, | if men but knew,
That are good for the swinging of swords;
It is well, methinks, | if the warrior meets
A raven black on his road.

"Another it is | if out thou art come,
And art ready forth to fare,
To behold on the path | before thy house
Two fighters greedy of fame.

"Third it is well | if a howling wolf
Thou hearest under the ash;
And fortune comes | if thy foe thou seest
Ere thee the hero beholds.

"A man shall fight not | when he must face
The moon's bright sister setting late;
Win he shall | who well can see,
And wedge-like forms | his men for the fray.

"If thou mightest grow | thy friends among,
One might see thee fiercely fight;
But bound thou art, | and in battle taken,
And to fear are prisoners prone."

"Thou blamest me, Fafnir, | that I see from afar
The wealth that my father's was;
Not bound am I, | though in battle taken,
Thou hast found that free I live."

"In all I say | dost thou hatred see,
Yet truth alone do I tell;
The sounding gold, | the glow-red wealth,
And the rings thy bane shall be."

"Some one the hoard | shall ever hold,
Till the destined day shall come;
For a time there is | when every man
Shall journey hence to hell."

"Wise would he seem | if so he would heed
The counsel good | we sisters give;
Thought he would give, | and the ravens gladden,
There is ever a wolf | where his ears I spy."

"Less wise must be | the tree of battle
Than to me would seem | the leader of men,
If forth he lets | one brother fare,
When he of the other | the slayer is."</font>

<font color="skyblue">She claps her hands above her head, the runes carved into her hands creating a shimmering pool of flame, wind and light around her, centering above her and below her.....
The floor slowly disappears beneath her and she starts descending thru the stone.....

As she disappears from view, her hands slowly turn into the paws of a huge and beautiful silver wolf, and words float upon the shimmering air carrying to the Modding Mage filled with sorrow and regret....</font>

<font color="plum">"Hail, day! | Hail, sons of day!
And night and her daughter NOW!
Look on us here | with loving eyes,
That waiting we victory win."

"Winning-runes learn, | if thou longest to win,
And the runes on thy sword-hilt write;
Some on the furrow, | and some on the flat,
And twice shalt thou call on Tyr."

"Ale-runes learn, | that with lies the wife
Of another betray not thy trust;
On the horn thou shalt write, | and the backs of thy hands,
And Need shalt mark on thy nails.
Thou shalt bless the draught, | and danger escape,
And cast a leek in the cup;
(For so I know | thou never shalt see
Thy mead with evil mixed.)"

"Birth-runes learn, | if help thou wilt lend,
The babe from the mother to bring;
On thy palms shalt write them, | and round thy joints,
And ask the fates to aid."

"Wave-runes learn, | if well thou wouldst shelter
The sail-steeds out on the sea;
On the stem shalt thou write, | and the steering blade,
And burn them into the oars;
Though high be the breakers, | and black the waves,
Thou shalt safe the harbor seek."

"Branch-runes learn, | if a healer wouldst be,
And cure for wounds wouldst work;
On the bark shalt thou write, | and on trees that be
With boughs to the eastward bent."

"Speech-runes learn, | that none may seek
To answer harm with hate;
Well he winds | and weaves them all,
And sets them side by side,
At the judgment-place, | when justice there
The folk shall fairly win."

"Thought-runes learn, | if all shall think
Thou art keenest minded of men.
On the wolf's claws bared, | and the eagle's beak,
On bloody wings, | and bridge's end,
On freeing hands | and helping foot-prints."

"On glass and on gold, | and on goodly charms,
In wine and in beer, | and on well-loved seats,
On Gungnir's point, | and on Grani's breast,
On the nails of Norns, | and the night-owl's beak."

"Shaved off were the runes | that of old were written,
And mixed with the holy mead,
And sent on ways so wide;
So the gods had them, | so the elves got them,
And some for the Wanes so wise,
And some for mortal men."

"Beech-runes are there, | birth-runes are there,
And all the runes of ale,
And the magic runes of might;
Who knows them rightly | and reads them true,
Has them himself to help;
Ever they aid, Till the gods are gone."</font>

<font color="skyblue">The flames flare upwards, skywards blowing out the top of the ceiling as the last of the words float upon the air, and a soft whisper reaches across time, to the one who it matters...

"a' tighinn, sniomh thoir gu buil, a' tighinn agus a' criochnachadh na dileaban"......

Spree finds in her hand a sapphire hilted dagger with a solid ebony blade carved with the rune, FEHU........</font>

<font color="plum">The Poetic Edda"</font>

[ 05-01-2002, 04:13 AM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

(OOC: Original post removed. Altered to something less munchkinny.)

Neb's spell was disrupted, but only partially. The forces that he'd summoned were still there but now uncontrolled, normally that wouldn't be TOO bad, but his familiar was busily attempting to wreck all magic in it's vicinity and twist it around. Somehow the spell retained some of it's original purpose though.

Instead of giant tentacles sprouting from the floor and crushing all within reach giant flowers grew instead, the sorcerer glared at them, "Damnable chaos, oh well, I suppose it could've been worse. I could have been crushed by one of the tentacles or somethi-" At that moment one of the flowers topple, it crashes to the floor with a loud boom, only missing Neb because he threw himself aside at the last moment.

This inspires him, and he attempts to cause one of the flowers still upright to fall on Morguerat. Not daring to use any of his spells due to the chaos aura he instead runs into one of them shoulder-first. As he slams into the plant he prays quietly that it'll work.

[ 05-01-2002, 01:13 PM: Message edited by: Neb ]

<font color="steelblue">OOC:Havent been able to post in this thread till now :( ... consider this travelling back in time a bit... it occurs about half a millisecond after Nebs ...thing... hits Simbarl. DUR DUR DUR DURM, DUR DUR DUR DURM, OOOOOOOO EEEEEEE OOOOO :D </font>

<font color="lightgreen">As the claw makes contact, Simbarl screams audibly, and time seems to stand still for several moments.
His arms hanging almost limp, still clutching the weapons he held to fight... on his face a look of pain, and terror... his armour and under garments torn to shreds around his lower torso... through his very stumoch, a long deadly claw... a claw connected to the phileet. The paw moves slowly through the space, as Simbarls body shatters like glass into several billion pieces... the paw moves with a gradually quickening pace... as it hits the ground, time returns to normal... </font>

<font color="99ff00"> Breathing a sigh of relief that his horrible dream of calamari and grass was just a daydream, Sir Morguerat failed to notice Neb pushing a giant flower in his direction, he quickly realized his mistake as the air was knocked from him, and he was pinned under an enormous daffodil.

*grunting* At least it wasn't another portal to the elemental plane of alcohol again.
</font>

OOC: thanx neb I wasn't looking forward to being killed off and eaten by a phileet in the middle of a grass seed :D

{edited to adjust for Neb's edit}

[ 05-01-2002, 01:25 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

(OOC: Alright, I've removed my post and written something less munchkinny instead, you were right. I went too far, sorry everyone, I hope that I haven't ruined your enjoyment of this thread.)

[ 05-01-2002, 04:48 PM: Message edited by: Neb ]

OOC: okay my turn :D *L* thank you Neb...........

TAO is currently flowing thru the stones to where the wolf and Dieter are, has blown out a good portion of the ceiling in the throne room, and is now awaiting Spree's and Cyril's posts....

So you know she is now in wolf form, as Larry pointed out and will soon arrive where the wolf is........ I hope :D

[ 05-01-2002, 04:35 PM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

(ooc: Oooohhh! Now it gets exciting!! ~Types furiously~)

<font color=seagreen> [img]tongue.gif[/img] Oh nevermind. Nobody noticed this post anyway... *COUGH* I run after TAO [img]tongue.gif[/img] </font>

[ 05-02-2002, 05:06 PM: Message edited by: Killing Spree ]

"Alright, this is too much damn plant life for one room!" Neb casts a spell called Weed Killer and a fine mist drifts through the room. All those plants that it touches slowly start to wither away and die, unfortunately this also included the one that was pinning Morguerat down, it would take some time before it took effect though.

The mage sat down to eat his lunch while he waited, it was some time since he'd last had a chance to relax.

<font color=indianred>FYI for Spree and TAO

The first floor of the dungeon is a maze, filled with traps and a few minor monstrosities. Nothing too ugly. I don't wanna take time to draw out every inch of it, so I will leave it to your imagination of how difficult it is for you two to pass through. The stairwell to the second level of the dungeon...the prison cells...is guarded by a stone golem. Get by him, and you'll find the locked door. ONce inside the dungeon, you'll see cells on your left and right, aligning the walls. There are 25 to each side. Deiter is in one near the wolf, but not next to it. When you meet Deiter, I'll post his monster stats. Spree...you have a chance to save him, and
1. bring him back from the dead, alive.
2. give him eternal rest
3. leave him to mold and become corrupted into my new undead general.</font>

<font color=skyblue>"Larry opens his eyes to see that Morgie was getting up from being knocked to the ground, Neb had sat down to rest, feeling no danger from the betrayer, and Spree and TAO had gone to the dungeons. Larry laughed. You see Neb...They have walked into my trap! Once the girls get there, they will be trapped and cannot escape! This will force the Windmaker to come into the building, thus stripping him of his advantage of an outside fight, where the winds beacon to his call. He will be right where I want the bastard! My only problem is with that damned arrow I got hit with! It was a wicked poison arrow, poisoned by my own evilness and power! Turned back on myself, it really dealt a tremendous blow! I do not know how to heal from it. Any suggestions"?</font>

<font color=white>Shadows movin' without a sound
From the hold of the sleepless town
Evil seems to be everywhere
Heed the spirit that brought despair
Trouble's comin' without control
No one's stayin' that's got a hope
Hurricane at the very least
In the words of the gypsy queen</font>
*<font color=white>April Wine</font>

<font color=teal>There is a saying among his people, a revered and venerable ideal spoken in time of battle when the odds are long and one does not expect to survive what lies ahead, a few simple words speaking a simple and terrible truth – that a man without hope is man with no fear. Hope - there is very little of that for him once his feet set themselves upon the stone floors of that tower. No, there will be very little hope for him, but fear, that will be present in abundance. It has already risen to demand his attention and submission and its voice will only grow the louder as the harsh unyielding stone separates him from the free and living air. He listens to the terrible logic of his fear, noting the truth of its words. He listens and he understands but he neither submits nor resists. He is afraid and his fear will only increase and it will dog his steps as he moves within the sunless and stagnant air of the tower. So be it.

He has heard the ancient words and marked the tone of voice in which she of the silver caged throat breathed them into the winds. He knows well the words of response but silence is his choice. Such heroic words are not his to say anymore than heroic fearlessness is his to claim. No. It is far too tempting to throw the bold and defiant gauntlet down, to invoke the mighty figures of myth and saga and step forward in the vigor of their example. But such things are not true. He is no hero nor will he ever be. He is simply a man who will do what must be done and there will be no heroic lies about this.

His full strength has not yet returned but that is no longer a concern. He breathes deeply and exhales his thanks into the winds that have so mightily moved on his behalf and the gusting and thunderous movement of the storm begins to change. There is a saying among his people, a revered and venerable ideal spoken when one does not expect to survive what is to come – that a man without hope is a man without fear. He smiles. These words have never passed his lips nor will they today. He is afraid with a great fear because he refuses to live without hope. With a movement swift and decisive he brings his axes together and the thunder of the storm falls suddenly silent. He looks toward the tower. It is time. He fills his lungs with the silent air. The women will live even if his own life is lost and he will spare the life of no one that stands between him and the Mage. He speaks, then, the silent stormwalker, in a whisper that has nothing of the thunder of heroism about it, only the notes of honest fear, “So be it, I will seek you within.”</font>

[ 05-01-2002, 10:02 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

"Poisoned by your own evilness and power? Perhaps if you do a lot of really nice things it'll counteract the poison? Heh, I could summon a few cute bunnies for you to pet if you're willing to try the idea."

OOC>>>Cute bunnies to pet???
ROFL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!That was a good one!!!!!

<font color=skyblue>Larry sits back and studies the wound and how it makes him feel. Already, he could tell that the pain was diminising that had been amplified by the poison of the arrow. Now, more of the actual wound was all that hurt.
"The magic that was sourly coursing through me is being relaxed, and is fusing back into my system. It was a great way for Cyril to momentarilly place me into weakness, but it is temporary. My own essence is slowly absorbing back in, and it just takes time. I will be fine in a few minutes."

Larry held his hand over the wound and cast a cure medium wounds spell to close up the hole. He was still too weak to arise from his throne, so he merely sat there and glared at Morgie.
"So...I suppose we should do something with you, betrayer. I am quite upset that you threw a rock at my general. Larry raised his hand and spoke the word, "Encarceráda!" A prison cell of shadow made solid formed around the weakened paladin-betrayer. </font>

<font color="99ff00"> Straining to stand the betrayer squares his shoulders and stands tall, every glimmer of nobility clearly showing in his bearing.

You actually expected a paladin of Torm to work for you against all tenets of decency? Your flagrant acts of evil have condemned you to a death more horrible than I'm sure even you can imagine, I hear the demon lords are very creative with their punishments against interlopers into their domain, and the one ring will not aid you any longer. Can you not hear, or sense the abyss calling to you the Daemons that live there waiting impatiently to feast on the marrow of your bones? You may kill me but my being here in the first place tells me I'll have a place at the side of my god, what reassurance do you have Larry he spits the name like a curse. and yet I kept my promise, I trained your armies, and have not drawn blade against you, nor against the paladins of Keldorns Order, only your general Neb felt the sting of a small stone.

Silently he awaits his death sentence.</font>

[ 05-02-2002, 10:53 AM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

"Can I kill him, master? Can I? I'm in the mood for slaughtering a paladin...."

<font color=skyblue>Larry stands up and stretches the pain out of his muscles that had occured due to the bane-arrow. He walked over to the place that he had thrown the projectile meant to end is life, and picked it up, tossing it over to Neb and said...

"Use this...but do it slowly! I wanna hear him scream terribly each time that you poke him with it through the bars of the cage. Stab him in select areas,,,that his life may be sustained for at least 100 stabs. That is my wish."

Larry goes back to his throne and sat down, eager to watch the torterous death of this betrayer at the hand of his only faithful general.</font>

OOC>>>Its been fun having ya, Morgie...Now you can say that you died well and honorably. ;)
<font color=gold>NOTE!!!: That arrow has some wicked black magic attached to it, since Cyril made it from my own essence to deal damage to me. You're not going to like getting probed by it! :D </font>

[ 05-02-2002, 01:52 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

"Woooohooo!" Neb cheered as he took the arrow, "I'll make this slow and painful for you Morgie....." The mage gleefully began the stabbing, making sure to injure as many places as possible, and that as many of them as possible were "sensitive" areas....

<font color="99ff00"> As he is pierced by the arrow once and then twice, and many more times Sir Morguerat sensed a change ocuring in him, he felt his divinely given abilities those that proved to him be a worthy champion of Torm slipping away. What could be the cause he wondered as the pain of the piercings caused him to double over, and collapse on the floor, despite his resolve not to give them the pleasure of seeing him in pain. And then he had the answer, it was the taint of Larry's evil that permeated not only his body, destroying it with it's pure maliscious vileness, but it was also seeping into his soul, taking from him that which he held most dear, his service to his god.

A cry welled up in his throat, not a cry of mourning for his impending death at the hands of the one called Neb, nor for the danger to his allies, but the cry was one from a man who has suddenly lost everything he held dear, his service as a chosen of Torm was being severed, the one torment that he had not prepared himself for both mentally and physically, what then would become of his soul, would it fall to the hells of Baator and join the pillar of skulls, the "resting" place of betrayers, he feared it was so, or perhaps his torment would be worse, perhaps he would be cursed to become a Death Knight, a fallen paladin who had died betraying the oaths he had pledged his life to serving.

It was these fears, and anguish that cause the cry, one which coursed through every fiber of his being, and poured from his mouth, deafening all, from those in the throneroom, to the pair searching the lower dungeons, to the mysterious ranger all heard the singular sound of a man's spirit breaking.

A broken man sagged to the floor of the cage, the glimmer of life that had shown in his eyes was gone, replaced with a deadness that would likely never leave, he didn't make a sound as Neb prodded him with the arrow, he merely took the sting without so much as acknowledging the pain it caused.</font>

OOC: Morguerat isn't yet dead, and won't become a death knight, unless raised as one by Larry (in which case he will be under Larry's control), but his spirit is completely broken so that even if rescued he will have nothing to fight for, no real purpose, as his reason for being has been polluted by the evil of the arrow.

[ 05-02-2002, 04:16 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

OOC>>>Woah! Awesome post!

<font color=skyblue>Larry looked on, watching the man's soul be destroyed... and he smirked. "Fool! It serves you right! You had no idea who you'd be messing with! But mostly, you have our good friend Cyril to thank, for he is the creator of the arrow that has dealt this blow of death to you! Hahahahahahah!!!!!"</font>

<font color=gold>
OOC>>>Do we assume that Neb has finished poking at you? If so, then he will walk away from your body, content that his job is complete. You no longer pose a threat to the dark side. You can lay there and die and I may use you against Cyril, if/when he arrives...or against the girls...which ever comes first. </font>

[ 05-02-2002, 04:54 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

(ooc: [img]tongue.gif[/img] OK, technically I should wait for TAO, but I'm getting really friggin bored here. [img]graemlins/crying.gif[/img] And I've got to hurry so I can save my Deiter!! ~SOBS!~ Larry, if he doesn't make it out of this his usual wonderful, green-eyed, sweet, adorable, pop-tart loving self... [img]tongue.gif[/img] I might reconsider having you ressurected.)

<font color=seagreen>~The ranger keeps stride with the wolf only by some unearthly will within. Everything within her cried out at unseen possibilities. What if I can't get there in time? O' Deiter! Please be all right! Her boots pummel the stone floor regularly, her long strides eating up distance. She ran almost blindly. Oblivious to danger and fear. Finally she came to a panting stop, realizing that they were now deep within the dungeon, at the mouth of a small labyrinth. Determined but exasperated, she drew her scimitar. The twin of tears fall glowed furiously. She looked down at a glowing, slightly bleeding scythe. Her right arm shaked slightly, as though she could not control it. She looked quickly into the blade. Her eyes had turned a moonlike silver-white. She cried out in anguish.~ "Deiter!" ~She looked down at TAO, the ghostly eyes looking pained.~ "Please! We must make haste! I fear he is dying... If not already dead!" ~She looked helplessly to the maze before them.~ "We've got to hurry... We'll let the twins guide us." ~She whispered quietly to the sword.~ "Khil celebnim gil." ~The scimitar glowed at a constant variable now, radiating cool light every ten seconds. The half-elf looked at each path. One branched right, the other left. The sword seemed brighter to the left, and the ranger nodded.~ "Right! Let's go..."</font>

<font color="skyblue">The wolf nods her head at Spree, and stares into her almost matching pair of eyes.... She silently starts to follow her slipping in and out of the shadows......

As they proceed, she hears the sound of a strong man's heart break, and stops suddenly, molten silver tears fall from the glowing eyes, and she lifts her head up, closing her eyes, and howls mournfully for a full 30 seconds as the walls and floor around her shake with the vibration.

Letting the howl die slowly, she opens her eyes, a new gleam showing in her pupils of blood. She has sung the hated paladins soul to the Star Goddess, knowing in the end, all men if forsaken deserve at least this small token.............

The bracer around her neck glows brightly in darkness and she resumes following Spree, already sensing the wolf and .......something..... not quite human anymore.....</font>

OOC: sorry guys, really hectic at work *LOL*

[ 05-02-2002, 07:57 PM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

<font color=seagreen>~The scimitar was flashing brighter and at a higher frequency now, until it nearly didn't blink at all. A few more strides... Through a corridor. They were out of the dreaded long labyrinth unscathed. The ranger hated to think what may have fallen upon them if they'd chosen the wrong paths. She could hear with tapered elven ears the footfalls of creatures larger than herself. Shrugging, she turned to the threshold before them. Decisively, as if expecting a trap, she opened the wooden door. A starwell leading downward. Her eyes flash to TAO once before she heads downward. At the bottom they were instantly greeted by the loud clamoring sounds. The stalker clung to the wall, inhaling sharply. She pressed a finger to her lips and turned to TAO, mouthing silently.~ "Stone golem..." ~Quietly she drew her long-sword, Ravenwood in a usually natural attempt to wield two weapons at once, but her right arm was too weak to carry such weight. Wincing, she resheathed Ravenwood, ambidextriously handing the scimitar in her still strong left hand. She held her hand up to TAO, gesturing for her not to move 'til she'd completed her stab. Hiding in the shadows, the ranger crept. Her cloak of non-detection protected her from any prying eyes, and her boots of stealth added some insurance. She snuck silently behind the golem... Then backstabbed it the best she could with one hand. The golem seemed more annoyed than injured as the revealed half-elf pulled the elven-crafted blade from the shallower-than-hoped gash in the creature's back. She whimpered, incredibly wolf-like, calling for TAO's help as she took retreating steps backward, trying to dodge the golem's blows.~</font>

<font color=silver>The Stone Golem felt an attack and turned quickly as possible to plummel the flesh people. He saw one mortal in front of him, so he swung at it with his might. It was fast, and he realized that he would have to be faster. Again, he swung, trying to trik the mortal to go one way, then he swung out with his other hand to catch it off-guard. Master would be so happy to see dead thieves in his basement. Again he swung out, intent on killing for his master.</font>

:D

ooc: [img]tongue.gif[/img] You mean spirited little bastard!

<font color=seagreen>~She noticed with some distress that the fists of the golem were coming closer and harder with each successive punch. Her mind raced back to tales of Corellon Larethian, and his fabled battle with the orc-god Gruumsh. The golem had the advantage in this place, as had Gruumsh on the moors below Olympus. Moreover the golem was physically stronger than she, and like Corellon she was relying soley on her agility and her sword. Then she remembered the fire in Li's eyes as he told the huddled children of her village about when Corellon's enchanted blade was shattered in the heather. She remembered how Locke's eyes had buldged when they got to that part, and how Maverick had hidden up in a tree. Even Arrakis, who'd heard the story more times than all of them, seemed uneasy as Sahandrian broke. She eyed the golem, dodging still now, but barely. TAO could yet be the goddess Moonbow, but if the allegory Larethian died at the hands of the stone golem now, all would be lost. Chani, a determined look on her face, allowed the golem's fist to charge even closer than before. The speed of it sent her hair flying back. I have to time this perfectly! A fraction off and I'll lose my head! She watched carefully now the golem's oncoming fist. Agiley, she ducked to avert the blow. The golem aimed now to the floor to hit the half-elf, but she rolled beneath the tall creature's legs, barely averting the flying fist. Quick as she could she regained her feet and stepped on the creatures protruding ribs like stepping stones. She raised her scimitar high and pummeled it into the golem's head. It wasn't a mortal wound, considering the creature had little mind to speak of, but it would certainly itch. With any luck the golem's thrashing would send the blade through his eyes. The hilt was too narrow for the golem to grab properly, and impaled deep otherwise. Now she quickly leaped from the creature's back, motioning silently for TAO to join the fight. She drew out her long-sword now, sweat dripping from the effort of battle.~</font>

[ 05-02-2002, 09:45 PM: Message edited by: Killing Spree ]

<font color="skyblue">She watches silently as Spree attacks, then finds a small opening.........During all this she has been watching the Golem closely, its movements, the way it moved thru the motions, and most of all the way it moved its feet.........

As Spree finally motioned her, she snarled loudly, vibrating the sand and dust on the floor into a rolling carpet of slipperyness....

She leaps straight at the Golem, aiming for his knees..........</font>

<font color=silver>Golem saw the attack from the animal creature coming, but could do nothing about it. He had been sop busy trying to kill the human that he had not thought that it would have a helper. The attack knocked golem to the ground, and he landed hard, cracking in several places. The sword in his head kept him from thinking straight, and he was feeling tired. Too much energy had been put into this battle. Soon, he would be dispelled, and become once more just an ordinary rock. He didn't like animation anyway. But master Larry had raised him up to do a task, and he tried to succeed. he knew nothing of defiance to he who gave command, so although hurt and shattering, the rock golem continued one more lunge to squash the soft people. He rolled over at a quick pace, hoping to roll them over.</font>

<font color=teal>The silence of the newly stilled air is filled suddenly by a scream. Even before his ears mark the tenor of its sound, the cold nakedness of its anguish had chilled the air perceptibly. Pain such as this comes from no physical wound. No, such agony of breath can only be sounded by a spirit broken by despair. That such frightful notes are produced by the brokeness of a voice accustomed to the confidence of command makes hearing them all the more painful. His has heard this scream once before and his heart crows suddenly cold with the memory of those he had slain within the terrible wind that scatters. It is the paladin, such torment of spirit could come from no other. ~ This is not the final breath of the grave and yet there is a finality about it. He lives and yet his life is ended. This is the breath of one for whom tomorrow has no meaning.

His eyes narrow as he looks upon the brooding stone of the tower. “And you enjoyed this, no doubt, you and your servants. Tearing the hope from a life is a casual thing .....” His voice trails off into silence and a stern resolve claims the cold memories within his heart. “I will see you fall,” he whispers, sending the cold draft of his words outward to the tower, “you and all that stand with you.” Removing a leather case from his belt, he opens it and removes one of the five golden arrowheads it contains. The memory of desperate screams and final breaths torn to pieces by the Scattering Wind rushes over him. He still feels the horrible clarity of the breaking of the chains which held holy symbols to an outsider god around their necks and the feel of the stark lifelessness of the golden symbols upon his hand. ~ The same gold held once more within the same hand. ~ Looking skyward, he whispers the hidden name of the Stormy Daughter of Wind, she whose anger cannot be contained and readies himself to prepare the arrow. “Who is to say - perhaps the touch of one life broken in despair may bring release to another and some little good may yet come out of that foolish tragedy that has killed so many of my people and left me with only half a heart.”</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: The full background of this remembered battle and these arrowheads is given in Tavern by the Creek III.</font>

[ 05-02-2002, 11:10 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color="skyblue">She leaps gracefully out of the way as the Stone Golem falls and cracks in several places. She lands hard against the wall, and yips as a rib cracks. Breathing heavily she dodges wildly as the Golem starts rolling.

She makes a desperate leap at Spree, grabbing her by the cloak as she bounds over them, pulling her over the Golem's chest and out away from his arms, slamming them both into the opposite wall. Wincing again at the pain, she quickly licks Spree's face, and hackles raising, turns back to the Golem......

Upon hearing the call of another wolf within the foul depths of this dank man-made prison, a howl sounds in the corridor, terrified by its surroundings, not able to contain it any longer. The captured wolf screams a howl for release from its prison......

TAO sharply turns her head, the silver tears dripping from her eyes smoldering on the floor as they fall, creating rivlets of tiny cracks in the floor spreading out in the direction of the Golem, and the main corridor.........

She howls again, shaking the very foundations of the TOWER in anger, remorse, hope, love....every emotion NOT found within these hideous walls, and turns to Spree.

The bracer around her neck glows in a sudden fierce red light from the bloodstone centered in the middle, and a bolt of lightning shoots out at the Golem

She stands torn between Spree and the desperate call of a wolf-mate......</font>

OOC: hope you don't mind my imposing on your wolf, Larry

[ 05-03-2002, 01:28 AM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

Neb looked at the defeated paladin, "Well, that was kinda fun. What will we be doing now master?"

<font color=skyblue>"Hehe...anxious for more blood, eh? Well...if I am am not mistaken...didn't a guy ride in on a black dragon? Do you suppose he has made it alive through the tower, and does he lurk somewhere? If you want another game...play like a cat and catch that mouse"!</font>

[ 05-03-2002, 09:36 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

"Enjoyable suggestion.... I shall see about locating this fellow and ending his life as soon as possible." Neb ran off to search for any intruders. His familiar remained with Larry, whom it liked.

<font color=skyblue>Larry looked out the window as Neb left the room. There was a cool, moist breeze that told the story of a rain just ending only minutes ago. He breathed it in, and enjoyed how it brought back memories of a different life, long ago. Catching himself daydreaming, Larry regained his composure and spoke into the winds, knowing that it was Cyril's spy.

"Come for me, now...you that makes arrows to slay me. You who hides in the mists while I have your two messengers hostage. They will not leave the dungeon alive, and it will be upon your brow...for you sent them to me alone. Face me, Wind-maker. face me and your death, that this may be settled. Nobody opposes me in my forum."

Larry stepped back from the window and began to weather-proof his tower. All windows were magically sealed as stone grew through them to close them up. Only one passageway into the tower existed. The front gate. Larry then went down to the second floor and awoke the Bone Spawn. Then, going to the third floor, he began setting up a few things there as well. Finally returning to his throne room and feeling hardly any pain in his shoulder now...he waited for the fireworks to begin.

Thinking about it for a minute and realizing he was bored, Larry walked over to the cage where he held his prisoner and spat at him.

"Hey??? Ain't you dead, yet? What's a guy gotta do to get the point across? Hehehehe"</font>

[ 05-03-2002, 12:06 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

Waking up , as if from the best, most fulfilling sleep of his life madman was in a comfortable sqaushy soft bed...........mmmmmmmmmmmm this is the life.. i wonder who won the battle, it was then the smell hit him , madman wondered what could be producing such a rank stench? worse even than his own? madman sat up and looked at his bed curiously....he had fallen asleep inside the dragon and currently lay in a nice big pile of its recently departed dragon droppings......ewww
shaking his head he arose ''shudder...but i wonder what happened here who won? or does the battle rage on?....seems quiet...

<font color=white>Within and outside the Tower</font>

<font color=salmon>The One Who Mods is alone now but for his victim and it is time for the message to be delivered. A large owl flies silently into the throne room a drops a metal cylinder onto the stone floor. As the shrill notes of metal striking stone ring through the room, the bird turns and in the same swift silence of its arrival flies back to the shadow filled halls of the tower.

Within the cylinder is a page taken from a book which tells the tale of one tortured for his defiance of the power and authority of Olympian Zeus. The Greek of its words is that spoken more than two millennia in the past and in its speaking of an ancient and foolish act of resistance it provides the words with which to describe another:</font>

<font color=turquoise>Prometheus: Yes, to my friends I am pitiable to see.
Chorus: Did you perhaps go further than you have told us?
Prometheus: I caused mortals to cease foreseeing doom.
Chorus: What cure did you provide them with against that sickness?
Prometheus: I placed in them blind hopes.
Chorus: That was a great gift you gave to men.
Prometheus: Besides this, I gave them fire.</font>
</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>from Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus</font>

<font color=silver>As the One Who Mods reads the ancient words, clouds and wind stir again into movement and the rains begin to fall once more around the tower. And with a silent relentlessness the grasses continue their encroaching movement to the very edge of the moat and its dead monsters bearing the quiet defiance of life to the doorstep of death.</font>

<font color=skyblue>Larry read the letter aloud, stopped, and threw it to the ground. Looking over at the dying pitiful man that was once a mightly paladin, he said...

"What does he think this tower is, having a damned owl deliver messages! This isn't the Damned Hogwarts School of Magic, and I ain't damned Harry Potter! Can you beleive this guy???"

The dying prisoner said nothing.

"What's the matter, rat got your tongue?"

Larry spoke a few simple words, "venga ratón a servirme"...and a rat appeared. Larry smirked as it sneaked over to the man's cage and climbed inside, looking for a tongue to get for itself, like the master had ordered.</font>