<font color=white>THE RAVINE</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Beneath the swirling violence of the storm lies the mighty rubble of a destroyed cliff wall, and beneath the enormous weight of broken stone lies the wet and rain soaked earth which bears a terrible and active emptiness within it. Hunger dwells here, and from the damp interstices of this dirt Hunger reaches outward. The noise of thunder and wind fills this place with sound, and the frequent bursting of lightning fills this place with recurring moments of brightness. Wind and rain fill this place with movement and strange grasses have begun to fill it with life.

But in spite of all fullness Emptiness holds sway here.

Vacant it is.
Vacant and terrible.
Hunger.
Hunger that waits.
Hunger that seeks.
Hunger that grasps.
Hunger that takes.</font>

<font color=white size=+3>The Lord of the Forums: Aftermath II - Hidden Hungers</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: This is the second thread in the sequel to the original Lord of the Forums series of threads. The previous thread can be found <a href=http://www.ironworksforum.com/ubb/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=18;t=000356;p=1>her e</a>. The previous thread also contains links to the threads of the original LOF story.</font>

<font color=white><ul type=square>OUR STORY SO FAR.....</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>After the defeat of the Modding Mage, the heroes left the inner forums without having removed the great Hunger from the ground.</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>The Hunger has grown active and threatens the safety of the Forums.</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>A band of adventurers has formed to seek out a way to destroy the Hunger.</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>A group of Shadow Giants who claim to be the true heirs of the Modding Mage have begun to exert their dominance over the lightless realm underneath the Forums.</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>The Devouring Wind, a villain from another thread has become active here.</font>[*]<font color=turquoise>The adventurers have made their way to the Underneath of the Forums and have just defeated a group of grimlock warriors. Following the battle one of their number, believing himself summoned by his god, left the group.[/list]</font><font color=silver>The group is now discussing how to proceed.
Post away, folks!</font>

<font color=lime>Rhianneth

She regained her alertness too late to pinpoint whoever's eyes it was that had drilled such holes onto her back. Almost in defiance, she wriggled her feet such that they grate against the gravel-ridden path, marking the passing of the next few awkward moments.

Unappreciative bunch of louts... ~ It was distasteful, even if she had expected it ~ To think that I, Rhianneth Freelight, should be treated thus in this part of the world. ~ She felt the burden growing heavier and yet, a little song was humming within her ~ When I'm done with all this... when I've achieved what I set out to do... ~ Almost bursting with anticipation now, she was ready to crow.

But the whispered remarks of those who surrounded her tore her back to reality. In frustration, she stood stubbornly silent, avoiding direct interaction with her companions but remaining wary of their body language.</font>

<font color=lightgreen>With the threats gone, Syrathic took a moment to clean his blades on a cloth he pulled from inside his cloak. Blades kept nice and clean were blades that saved your life, as his ranger friends had often said.

He then joined Morguerat in inspecting the bodies. However, like any good thief, he was not studying the bodies, but searching them for any valuables. He was disappointed to find hardly anything of value; a few coins here and there, as the weapons of the deceased were of no use to him. "I'd give anything for some throwing knives," he thought again. "Do people just not carry them anymore, or am I just not finding them? Unless someone is taking them..." His eyes instantly went to Rhianneth, although he did not suspect her in this case. It was just beginning to become a habit.

He got up and crouched near the wall again, near the magical light that radiated from Brendon. It was comforting for him to be near it; it reminded him of the outside world, which he was already beginning to miss. "It hasn't even been that long and you're already starting to clamor for the outdoors. Get a hold of yourself, Syrathic! You've got a job to do!"

He looked around and finally noticed that one of his companions was now missing. "Hey, where'd that priest of Odin go?" he asked softly, the words directed at no one. The walls amplified the sound of the elf's voice enough to be audible to everyone.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: <font color=lime>Morguerat</font> - Your examination reveals a few things:
<ul>[*] The equipment of the warriors is essentially uniform – each uses the same type of axe and the workmanship of their weapons seems to indicate that a single weaponsmith made them all.[*] There is a curious device etched into the blade of the great axe used by the leader – a serpent coiled around an eye. [*] Beneath this symbol is etched a word in the common tongue of this lightless place below the boards. Dankorona identifies it as a name: <font color=turquoise>Euryale</font>[/list]</font>

<font color=skyblue> ~Once more she lifts her head from the moist, dead leaves of the earth, to look to the west, towards the cliffs....~

~Lifting her nose to the darkening evening sky, she sings an ancient song, ancient runes flowing upon the wind, carrying them across the night sky......~

~She stands on all fours, shaking off the dust and moist earth from her silver pelt, silver eyes glowing as she sings..... Stamping one forepaw to the ground three times.....~

~The wind swirls around her, obscuring her from view in a blizzard of leaves, dead grass........ As the winds die down, a woman with long silver/blonde hair, silver/purple eyes, and a platinum bracer around her neck adjusts her Warder's cloak, and slams her rowan staff into the ground......~

~As the silver runes upon her body start to glow, she whispers but one word.........~</font>

<font color=teal>"an f'huil................."</font>

OOC>>>If the DM permits...

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

Brendon was wondering how long this light was going to adorn him. It felt wierd to be a shining candle in this lightless world. He knew enough of magic to know that it would be dissapating very soon, however, so he wasn't panicking or anything. He watched his party members looting, or wanting to loot the bodies of the foul creatures while they still had good light inside the cavern, but nobody was paying attention to the dog-beast. At that moment, cold chills took over and Brendon thought he'd die from the freezing blast. Looking around at Rhianneth, he'd expected that she'd attacked with a spell of cold, but she was not even paying him any attention. An echo sounded throughout the caverns, bouncing from rock wall to rock wall...an evil sneering chuckle. Brendon ran over to the corpse of the dark hound and said, more to himself than anyone else..."I made the kill...so the hide is mine!" Brendon pulled out a knife and began to remove the hide of the beast. It didn't take him long. He knew exactly how to do it quickly and efficiently. Cleaning it off, he placed it in his bag.</font>

Dantes cleaned his blade off on the body of the nearest grimlock. His mind completely focused during the attack was now wandering. Why had these creatureds attacked them? And the word "Euryale" why was that etched into the leader's blade? So many questions, and yet none of them lead to an answer. Dantes seathed his katana. Dantes knew of these creatures, from his previous wanderings and he knew they were not very smart. Dantes picked up the nearest discarded axe, and arced it in a wicked slice downward on to the neck of the nearest dead grimlock. The head came of cleanly from the blow and rolled a few feet before coming to a rest. Dantes then imbeded the axe into the body of the grimlock, leaving the handle sticking up into the air. He then picked up the skull at put it atop the axe handle, leaving a grisley reminder for the rest of the clan, of what would happen if they were attacked again. Satisfied with his work. Dantes looked over at Dankorona. Seeing the gnome holding up well he leaned against the wall waiting for the party to continue its journey.

[ 12-24-2002, 01:11 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

<font color=white>THE RAVINE</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Violent are the winds that shriek above the buried Hunger and still is the mighty pile of boulders that conceals the relentless seeking of its grasp. Between the violence and the stillness, however, lies the complacent embrace of another draft of air. Undisturbed by either storm or Hunger it sprawls slowly along the boulders, reaching through them to the very soil which contains the terrible emptiness. Soon its embrace of this place is complete and there is a separation between the violence of the storm and the stillness of the Hunger. And beneath the bursting of thunder is a whisper of subtle and persistent strength.

<font color=skyblue>Yes! O yes! Reach out in your impotent might. You who snatched power from the Mage himself ..... Yes! Feel my presence above you. Grasp after it for you shall no more seize me than you could grasp the life Seh’rul<font color=white>*</font> poured out over you when he breached the tower ..... Yes! O such a delight is your mindless grasping! Relentless and mighty you are. Relentless, mighty and stupid and blind and unthinking. Yes! O yes! Seek my presence with your vast emptiness and lose the meal you have been offered by my servants ......</font>

The whisper laughs and even the storm pauses a moment at the sound. The power of mighty artifacts surges to the ravine only to be rudely snatched from the consuming emptiness of the Hunger. And unlike other times when the Hunger had drawn power into itself, here no remnant, no excess remains to feed the storm. This day the Devouring Wind claims all.

<font color=skyblue>Yes! O yes! ..... So mighty and so predictable! Just like the Mage himself .... And just like him, you could not perceive the real threat your enemy poses ..... Ah! But I know the sound of that howl and it is time I move from here ..... I simply must meet her! ..... Rage on, O mighty Hunger! Appetite without mind! Destroy what you will and whom you will. You are no threat to me ......</font>

The complacent air moves once more and soon it is gone from this place. For a little while the notes of mocking laughter linger beneath the storm clouds here before being dispersed within the gusting air. Then once more there is nothing but the violent shriek of wind and the stillness of the buried Hunger.</font>

<font color=white>*</font> Seh’rul - in the tongue of the Windbringer’s people means ‘Vessel of the Curse’. In the common tongue of the forums it is translated as ‘Cyril.’

<font color=silver>ooc: <font color=indianred>Larry</font> - Of course the DM approves. In fact I was wondering if anyone would be interested in the hide of that critter [img]graemlins/blueblink.gif[/img] </font>

ruby looks curiously at brendon. "do you think, would the meat be ok for wyrd? he hates the leftovers i only have to give him, but i'm not about to let him go at the meat unless it's safe."

scratching wyrd quietly she her anger bristles at the conceit of the sword. how any good, law abiding citizen could truly think well of a prideful arrogant weapon was beyond her. but alas, if she had thought to use it her fight may have been shorter.

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

"Interesting question, Ruby. It is a clean animal, and not diseased in any way...so that would constitute the cleanliness of the meat...but the creature also has some light magical fibers to itself. If nothing else, I suppose the only bad to come of it would be when Wyrd takes to making fecal droppings...we would never see them in the shadows!</font>

<font color=lightgreen>With the group seemingly occupied with clue-finding, Syrathic decided that perhaps he should scout ahead a little. No need for the party to be surprised as they were just a short time before. "I'll take a look ahead," he said to no one in particular.

Wrapping his cloak around himself and fading into the shadows, he strode into the darkness ahead. Although creeping around in caverns wasn't exactly his thing, keeping to the shadows was, and they seemed to offset themselves in his mind as he moved. "Things could be worse," he thought to himself. "But no need to give the gods any ideas, lest I find myself in worse straits."

He walked at a slower pace then normal, keeping an eye out for traps. One could never be sure what one would find in depths such as these. With the attack still fresh in his mind, the elf felt that anything could be possible and he was as alert as he could be. He did not wonder too far ahead however, hopefully well in earshot of a yell.</font>

ooc: If Syrathic comes across anything interesting, let me know, Cyril.

<font color=silver>ooc: Just a quick note to wish everyone a merry and blessed Christmas.

I'll be out of town visiting my family over the holidays and do not expect to be posting here again until a couple days after Christmas.

Here's hoping the Christmas season passes well for all of you!</font>

OOC: Ruby and I will be out of town until jan 5th so we shall have to take a brief Hiatus from this game, Cyril, if you wish to continue the storyline I think our IM convo's should serve as an adequate base for continuing our plans.

IC:<font color="99ff00">Morguerat took mental notes of the uniform style, and craftsmenship of the weapons, committing the runes to memory, Euryale... what could it mean...

He then resumed his guard post while the others looted, treasure was of no concern to a paladin, and rifling through the pockets of dead humanoids for loose change had never been his style.</font>

<font color=skyblue> ~As she gazes around her, her cloak billows out behind her, softly flowing with the wind as her hair winds around her body...~

~She lifts one hand to her mouth, and with her teeth pulls off the leather glove, spitting it to the ground. She holds her arm out in front of her palm forward. The rune carved into her palm glows a bright silver into the darkening sky....~

~Lifting her head, her silver/purple eyes shine as a thought strikes her...~

"I feel something evil and familiar near.........something in the wind...."

~She raises her staff once more, and slams it into the ground again, the shockwave rumbling over the ground towards the distant cliffs......~

~Her eyes flash silver once, and the rune on her palm turns blue.......~
</font>

<font color=lightgreen>For Syrathic</font>

<font color=thistle>The darkness of these tunnels is unrelenting and oppressive – more so now that the light spell has expired and the slight illumination it provided has been swallowed by the shadows. Although vision fails here, there are sounds to be heard within the darkness for those whose ears are keen. From some distance the rough notes of coarse speech and disorderly movement can be discerned. The stink of dried blood is in the air and nearby are the rudely cast aside boulders of a sprung dead-fall trap that has claimed no apparent victim.</font>

<font color=lime>For Rhianneth</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Even as she stands in her silent resentment of the whispered comments of her companions a whispered breath of mocking air enters her breathing. Its words are barely perceptible at first until the cadences of its speech have become one with the rhythms by which she breathes. Soon, each intake of air into her lungs carries its words and each exhalation of breath is but another act of its speech.

<font color=skyblue>Yes! You are the one who left him! And such a sudden flight it was! O yes! And now you crawl about in these lightless tunnels ..... seeking what? And where was this devotion of yours when it might have been of use? ..... He died alone. But of course you knew that! And where were you when he fell, slain by that violent hand – a hand you did nothing of any substance to oppose?</font>

Memories of those distant days spent within the tower of shadow rise within her. And within the memories lies a sound not unlike the rumbling of thunder in distant mountains. The strange figure of a lonely and hostile man emerges and is followed by the image of her overconfident attack falling harmlessly away from him. This is followed by the image of her form shifting into that of a bird as she suddenly flies from the tower and this in turn is followed once more by the strange figure of the lonely and hostile man swinging an axe. The images fall away then, leaving nothing but a groan of pain to sound its notes in time with her breathing as the whisper continues to speak.

<font color=skyblue>Yes, but at least you did help him with his defenses ..... O yes! Such a splendid success that was! Why it is only natural that the roof should be left completely undefended! How well his trust in you served him! ..... And now you return! I suppose it is for the better ..... After all, he is in no condition to be disappointed ..... Do you seek memories, perhaps? But you already have so many! Let me awaken them for you .......</font>

Memories stir within her, but not as mere images of what has past nor as dispassionate recollections of events. The memories that move in a sudden storm within her bear the visceral and conflicted feelings of those past days. Doubts and fears long forgotten burst with renewed vigor again into her mind and beneath all of these is the whisper laughter that speaks with a strange and mocking truthfulness. The laughter then falls silent, leaving her as she breathes, and soon all is as it was before save for the furious raging of memory and doubt and a scent something like that of a long sealed tomb within her nostrils.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: The events referred to here are all described in the original LOF story.

This entire incident takes no more than a few minutes.</font>

[ 12-31-2002, 12:16 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

OOC>>> I've more or less moved downstairs to my new workplace and I'm definitely going to be swamped with work, so... here goes...

IC>>>
<font color=lime>Rhianneth</font>

<font color=white>You... who are you?... You, who know about my past...</font>

<font color=yellow>Don't listen to it, Rhianneth! Dear child!...No!...</font>

<font color=white>Be quiet, you old decrepit fool! Too long have I suffered in your shadows... I will no longer heed your words, murderer!</font>

<font color=yellow>Rhianneth! How... how could you say that to me?... I...</font>

<font color=white>Cease your moral preachings, murderer! Who are you to tell me what is right or wrong, you who sent my mother to her death?!</font>

<font color=yellow>She murdered Eilonwy Freelight, child. She placed the poison in Mistral's mother - my sister-in-law! How could I face Aragorn after such a heinous deed?? For a few pathetic coins, she abided by Meldrin Nightblade, committed the foul deed...</font>

<font color=white>Save your stories for the ghosts that surround you, old man! From henceforth, you are but a whiff of pungence that I'll shake off, for as long as I want...</font>

<font color=lime>To the others, her eyes appear to flash with an ominous glint. Her lips are tersely pressed and she breathes somewhat cautiously. Yet any attempt to address her is repelled by the very air that surrounds her.</font>

<font color=white>Memories... </font> <font color=lime>~ As they come embracing her, tousling her hair, caressing her body enticingly and whispering sweet nothings in her ears, she begins to relax and a faraway look replaces the hardness in her eyes just a minute ago</font> ~ <font color=white>Come to me...</font>

<font color=lime>No sooner have these silent words been uttered does the flood now tower above her, hurling wave upon wave of painful recollections mercilessly against her. It is all coming back... unleashed by her own desire, all the furious rants she had engaged in thunder in her ears. Rants of how she had left <font color=gold>him</font> in his hour of need and how together, they could have ruled the world...

When at last, the tempest has died down, she stands unsteadily on her feet and breathes erratically. It is clear that she has been shaken by some out-of-the-world experience, but this is matched by a quiet exhilaration.</font>

[ 12-31-2002, 08:36 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic moved forward cautiously, making especially sure that he was as silent as possible. The darkness was thick and he could hardly see, and he didn't want to run into anything nasty. But he still went forward, keeping himself well in range of the group.

A ways ahead, he could hear voices. They spoke coarsely, and he couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, or even if he knew the language. The elf moved ahead to hide behind some boulders which appeared to have fallen as the result of a sprung trap. He peered out from behind the boulders, but still could see nothing. The smell of dried blood hung in the air here, however. "Nothing more I can do here," he thought as he turned back towards his companions.

He knocked on the cavern floor as he neared the group, alerting them to his presence. He was unsure of their state of awareness, but he didn't want to take the chance of being shot. "There's something up ahead," he explained. "Coarse speech, disorderly movement, but I couldn't tell what it was or how many there were. A trap was sprung there, but I didn't see a victim. The boulders from the trap are still there, however, and there is the smell of dried blood in the air. We need to be as quiet as possible when we move ahead, especially once we reach those boulders."</font>

<font color=skyblue>She stands silently, listening to the wind, and gazing around her. But her eyes always seem to end up gazing at the cliffs in the distance, where she first met the windbringer and the ranger. She closes her eyes, allowing one single silver tear to roll down her cheek.

Making up her mind, she opens her eyes, gazing at the crystal set in her rowan staff. In a swirl of leaves, she is gone...........

A large silver wolf, slowly and stealthily makes its way thru the burnt land, towards the distant cliff face...........</font>

<font color=indianred>Brendon

Turning from Ruby with a smile on his face for his clever remark...Brendon noticed that the witch Rhianneth was behaving oddly, like she was upset about something. It was clear from her facial expression that she was weighed heavily with thoughts on her mind. However, Brendon had no time to contempate this, as he had heard the whisperings of Syrathic in warning. Remembering where they were, Brendon snapped back into reality, grabbed an arrow, and notched it, aiming ahead of Syrathic in case there was something creeping out of the gloom at him. Then, the whole party got quiet. Everyone could feel the dread in the air. There was more trouble very nearby, and they had almost missed it, if not for the elf's superior vision and hearing.

Slowly creeping toward Syrathic's position, Brendon nodded his readiness that he was covering the elf from whatever was the first to come their way. He mouthed the words without voicing it..."Ready."</font>

<font color=lightgreen>For Syrathic and</font> <font color=indianred>Brendon</font>

<font color=thistle>As one draws close to the boulders, one thing becomes quite clear – whatever it was that has cast them aside possessed considerable strength. The hard stone of the passage leaves no trace of footprints. Just beyond the boulders the tunnel widens considerably, enough to easily accommodate the entire party, or several large creatures. The ceiling is also much higher here and sound carries differently within this larger space. While it is impossible to discern just how far this wider passageway extends, the careful eye can discern a short distance away what seem to be the glowing remains of magical runes that are scattered in such a way as to suggest that glyphs of no small power had discharged their stored magic energy. It is from beyond these dimly glowing runic fragments that the voices and noise seem to issue. A few moments of careful listening suggests that the strange snatches of speech that reach the ear are snatches of argumentative conversation among a band of grimlock warriors.</font>

<font color=indianred>Brendon

Brendon looks back over his shoulder in hopes to see that the others are realizing their peril. </font>

[ 01-03-2003, 12:18 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

ooc: Larry, we're a short ways ahead of the group, so they're not in immediate peril.

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic moved forward once again, this time with Brendon following. Once again, the elf stopped at the boulders and listened very carefully. This time however, he was able to discern that language came from grimlocks. "More grimlocks," Syrathic whispered to his companion. "Sounds like they're having an argument."

He peered out past the boulders once again. After carefully gazing out, he saw that the passage significantly widened up ahead. And just a short way ahead, Syrathic could see the glowing of what appeared to be magic runes. It was a light glow, suggesting that they had already unleashed their power. He turned to Brendon again. "The passage widens considerably just ahead of the boulders. There's also some magical runes just ahead. However, they seemed to have used up their energy. Probably not a good sign. One of us should head back to the others and prepare them for this."</font>

<font color=indianred>Brendon

Brendon nodded his agreement, and decided that he'd go back and alert the others as to what they had seen. He did not want to risk talking, though the elf was capable of speaking more silently than any human could, yet still be heard to those that are meant to hear. Relaxing his bowstring, Brendon made his careful way back to the party to disclose this little adventure. </font>
OOC>>>and I am wondering if the whole party has not been eaten by some beast when I get back...where is everyone?.
<font color=indianred>
When Brendon got back to the group's resting spot, he spoke of all he and Syrathic saw and heard. </font>

<font color=skyblue>As the wolf nears the cliffs, she stops....

"something is not right here..........."

Touching a paw to the bracer around her neck, she changes back to human form, and stands thoughtfully in the shade of what is left of the trees near the cliff face, and studies a shadowy crack in the cleft to the right.....

Her eyes shine silver as she hears the faint whispers of someone, or...... something.....</font>

[ 01-03-2003, 08:17 PM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

<font color=white>The boundaries of the Inner Forums</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Swift is the wind and unceasing in its movement. This unceasing movement is at its swiftest and strongest within the mountains that ring the Inner Forums. But the wind that gusts with such mighty speed within these mountains is a wind that bears within it the hollow notes of the rattled last breaths of the dead. The unceasing swiftness of the wind soon carries the tainted and corrupting touch of this subtle and consuming breath abroad into the air currents of the storms that rage in these mountains. Soon the storms themselves are driven by the movements of this tainted air and even the sound of the booming thunder takes on a more somber tone. There are sounds within the air here, the notes of a mighty howl, and these sounds are seized by the wind and thrown back into the mountains where the thunder shatters their notes and disperses even the smallest of their echos into the tainted violence of the storm.

Even as the great howl is torn to pieces by wind and thunder, a cluster of dark thunderheads masses near the location of the party’s entrance to the Underneath of the forums. The swollen clouds sway with a malignant complacency as they gather and then all grows strangely still. The stillness lasts for but the length of a deep breath and then is sundered by a series of concussive thunderclaps that shake the very mountains. Silver bolts of lightning shoot down into the stones of the cliff faces, splitting them. Thunderclap follows thunderclap keeping violent time to the angry dance of the lightning and the falling of boulders. Then, as suddenly as it began, all grows still once more and dark clouds slowly drift back into the mountains. But the entrance to the Underneath is now sealed beneath the rubble of a destroyed cliff.</font>

OOC>>>Hey gang...I don't think the DM likes us anymore....

Dantes stood there in thoughtful silence, letting Brendon's words weigh on his mind before he spoke.
"I must see these runes," Dantes whispered. The words, though barely audible, drew everyone's attention with the sense of urgency interjected in them. Dantes drew down his cloak and disappeared into the shadows moving quickly and quietly in the direction brendon came from.
*************************************************
Dankorona sensing Dantes' went made his own way toward the runes, as quickly and surreptitiously as his little gnome legs could take him.

OOC:Cyril PM !! [img]smile.gif[/img]

[ 01-04-2003, 03:56 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

<font color=skyblue>For TAOWolf</font>

<font color=cadetblue>The woman has come as the Devourer had hoped she would. Yes, let her enter these stormy mountains with her suspicions that all is not as it should be. A soft chuckle floats toward her, a mocking laugh that will lead her to a very special place .....</font>

<font color=skyblue>Yes! O yes! Come, child. Follow the laughter ...... There is simply so much for us to share!</font>

<font color=skyblue>Outwardly, she seems calm and collected, but inside she is raging.......

"I know this voice....... Who are you?? ...... "

She can practically smell the evil oozing out of the cleft in the rocks. Her eyes shine a bright silver as she narrows her eyes at the cleft.

Lifting her staff, and drawing her sword she cautiously approaches the shadows and with a final look back to the plains beneath her, she disappears into the cleft........</font>

ooc: I got it Cyril. I was hoping that Azrael would post first so that I had something to go off of, but I guess not.

ic:<font color=lightgreen>The figures of Dantes and Dankorona approached the boulder and Syrathic was ready for them. They expressed their interest in seeing the runes for themselves and Syrathic insisted on accompanying them. he had the best senses and he'd be able to raise the alarm if they were surprised.

The elf creeped forward slowly and silently keeping out of the light of the runes. There was nothing yet, but Syrathic was cautious all the same. He moved forward and found that the passage began to bend just ahead. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but there were strong smells resonating from the tunnel. He was about to turn back when he heard a low growl further down the tunnel. It sounded like the shadow creature he had fought just a short while earlier. "Why hasn't it noticed us yet?" he thought to himself. Then he realized that the smells from the tunnel probably masked their scent. "Lucky for us."

He quickly snuck back to Dankorona and whispered, "There's another shadow hound ahead of us and it sounds like there are more grimlocks as well. The shadow beast hasn't noticed us yet, so I think if I can take care of it without it making a sound, we would easily be able to surprise that group of grimlocks. But if I fail, I'm retreating as fast as possible. But at least you'll know what's following. Warn the others."

The elf slunk back to his position near the bend and peered out tring to pinpoint the exact location of the beast. He wanted to make sure he knew exactly where he would be striking. There was no room for a mistake here.</font>

ooc: Is Syrathic able to see the shadow mastiff? Or is he just going by the low growl?

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

Brendon heard the plan while the rest discussed it. Syrathic was going in to try a sneak attack on the dog that he knew was their most dangerous foe currently, and if he got into trouble, he was going to high-tail it outta there. Brendon dropped to one kneww, planted three arrows in the ground in front of him, and notched a fourth. He had positioned himself on the right side of the cave wall, aiming into the looming darkness where Syrathic would travel. Looking up at the brave elf, he said..."You're covered from here. If you come running...don't worry about what's chasing you. Though I would like a volunteer to stand at the left of the cave to help me out if it comes to melee combat."</font>

<font color="99ff00">Listening to the brief message from Brendon, Morguerat stalked forward as stealthily as his elven mail armor would allow, slowly drew a smaller sword (a non-magical long sword) and set it on the ground in front of him, then prepared a bolt for his crossbow, after shielding the light-casting coin mounted to the front of the weapon. whispering he told brendon "I'm here, we can definitely hold off anything that comes down the passage between the two of us, and those behind us can take care of spell-slinging or whatever their other talents allow."
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OOC: Ruby and I are back from Idaho, and once we get the house back into a livable condition we'll probably be on here more.

<font color=indianred>Brendon

Brendon looks to his left to hear and see Morguerat's claim to the position. He nodded and smiled, thankful that he had brave companions, then looked back up the cave, trying in vain to make out movable shapes. </font>

<font color=skyblue>For TAOWolf</font>

<font color=cadetblue>It is a shallow space, this cleft that opens out into the swift moving winds. Nearly a dozen small owls lie dead inside and a patch of withered grass moves listlessly in the stormy air. The air in this space is rancid with much more than evil, it is heavy with desecration, a corrupting touch whose foulness reaches even to the thoughts of those standing within it. More terrible still, the desecration which fills this place is desecration which has found voice.

<font color=skyblue>Yessssssss ..... She has come, the woman of the silver-banded throat! ..... So pleasant indeed to meet you ..... Yes! O yes! And so right to meet here where he who had named you in that wonderfully descriptive manner prepared his assault on the Mage ..... What is it that he was named in this place? ..... Ah, yes! ‘Windbringer’ ..... Such a splendidly ironic name! ..... Allow me then, to introduce myself, woman ...... I am the Wind which follows in his passing ......</font>

Outside the cleft nothing can be heard save the gusting of wind and the striking of rain against stone, but the inside of this narrow space echos with a laughter that desecrates.</font>

Dantes studied the area ahead and the mysterious runes etched into the ground for several tedious mintues before acknowlegding the rest of the group.
"ohh yes these runes are very powerful indeed. I would like some time to study these if possible. I don't really have anything that can directly stop the hound, but I might be able to at least disable a good number of the grimlocks, so we can move on. But we would need to be ready to strike. Syrathic, Why don't you scout it out and let us know if there is anything else in that room, that we can't see. If not I can turn the floor under them to mud and we can destroy them while they are stuck in it, or I can just create chaos. Unless there are any other suggestions? Well I will plan on casting a chaos spell into the area, unless syrathic gets caught. If you do, lead them back here into our trap and I will pull the rug out from underneath them, so to speak."
**********
Dantes casts two spells. An improved invisibility on Syrathic, and a stoneskin on himself if need be.

OOC: sorry have been busy busy busy [img]smile.gif[/img] should be more active now

Edit: another idea ;)

[ 01-07-2003, 07:13 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

ooc: Okay, here goes nothing! ;)

ic: <font color=lightgreen>Syrathic realized that Dantes had casted an invisibility spell on him, but he wasn't sure if it would sense the mastiff had a good sense of smell. He continued to peer out, but could not see the creature; he only heard its low growl. Even though the cavern walls might distort the sound and make it appear to come from a different location, the elf was almost certain that he had pinpointed the creature's position. He pulled out his blades and moved forward as stealthily as possible.

As he approached, he thought he saw a movement by the beast. It came from the spot that Syrathic had heard the growling, and he hoped it was the mastiff and not a figment of his imagination. With a quick silent prayer to whatever gods were listening, he bounded forward, blades searching for their mark.</font>

ooc: Okay, Cyril, I'm going to put this in your hands. [img]smile.gif[/img]

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey

Brendon watched the elf disappear into the darkness, wondering why invisibility had been cast on him. The Grimlocks were blind, using superior hearing to detect an enemy and the shadow mastiff had a nose! Nevertheless, it was okay because who knows what else might be up there. Maybe these creatures were being led by something greater that did need eyesight.
Brendon cleared his mind, and checked Morguerat's posistion, to see him at the ready with his cross-bow. Peering back up the pathway, Brendon tried to concentrate on any movement or sound that might appear from the gloom. He'd have to hold off firing his arrow until he was sure it was not the elf that he was firing at. Hopefully, Syrathic would know enough to not run directly down the middle, but to veer to the side, and ride the cave wall to allow some good clear shots from himself and / or Morguerat.</font>