<font color=lime>Oley

The stairs were dark, lit only by the light that fell from the room above. At the bottom a small door opened as the mage entered. Inside glass bottles, empty and half empty mugs, cups, glasses and beakers were piled in a corner in a most haphazard manner. In the center of the room was a large pentagram etched into the stone floor and the etchings filled with iron filings while the spokes of the symbol were filled with silver shavings.

Behind that were shelves packed with a tremendous assortment of equipment, jewlery and rings, a glass display case of wands, an alchemy workshop (or at least a sealed off room labelled as such), cages containing numerous experiments, growling, mewling, crying, snarling, and most disturbing, watching and appraising, biding it's time until it could attack (a very disturbing sight from a flower).

A few stools were placed at various tables and workbenches, one wall is lined with tomes bound in various materials that gives the impression that touching it would be very very bad. One workbench holds a book easily four feet tall and at least 6 wide while open although the writing is miniscule and several lenses are nearby to facilitate reading.

The aged magic user walks across the room and sits at the far side of the table facing the entering crowd. He then put on a hat whose point has long since fallen to the left side and is embroidered with stars and moons, a pair of spectacles and brushed some bits of food out of his scraggly beard. "Yes yes, come in, what is it I the great Oley can do for you today?"</font>

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Pandaros

Pandaros' frustration grew as he heard the sounds of the battle. He nearly fired an arrow when the ettin made a sound like it was surprised, but kept his fingers on the bowstring, concerned that he might hit Xaver.

"Focus, focus. Be ready to fire," Pandaros took a deep breath and pulled the drawstring to his cheek, 'sighting' along the arrow as best he could so the shot would fly straight. He held this pose, aimed in the direction of the noise the ettin had made previously. At the next noise from the creature's mouth, the scout would take aim and fire at the source of the voice. He did this with the patience and poise of a well aimed shot, purposefully sacrificing a second shot in the hopes that this one would find its target. He also hoped that firing at the ettin's voice would draw his aim higher than dwarf height, ensuring Xaver would not be hit by accident.

After firing, he would brace himself to be hit by a projectile person while drawing a new arrow.
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<font color=green>Vindson

Vindson quickly caught Oley's gaze with a hand-signal, signalling that the two of them needed to talk, but that it would have to wait for Oley to finish his business with these two.

Vindson then sat down on a stool close to the door and stretched his leg, hoping the pain would lessen.</font>

<font color=gold>Sever

Quickly recovering after a painful yet apparently successful tumble, Sever made his way back to the edge of the cavern. Not at all keen to repeat such an attempt, he sheathed his dagger, drew his three remaining throwing blades and tried as best he could to meld with shadow once again. The beast, which sounded like it was mobilizing again, was too effective in the dark. The three of them hadn't been able to finish it even when it was down. He knew not how Xaver fared after his run, but he hoped the dwarf was alive and able to cast something to even the odds. If they could see, Sever knew he and Pandaros could quickly blind the creature with their projectiles. Ignoring, for the moment, the risk to his stealth attempt, Sever called out to the dwarf.

"Xaver! We need light! Have you a spell?!"</font>

<font color=silver>Xaver

Xaver was thinking whether it would be better to try and get his axe or to keep attacking the ettin with the hammer when he heard Sever shout something to him. The dwarf was already pissed at seeing the ettin get up again and Sever's question didn't help improve his mood.

'We'? I don't need light. And I have no intention to stop midfight to cast a spell for you.

Aloud he answered "Sorry, no time." Then making up his mind that his axe would have to wait for now, he went on to try and break the creature's legs. He moved slowly towards the sitting ettin, trying to stay out of its hands' reach, then took another swing with his hammer at the monster's leg.</font>

OOC: I know Xaver seems to be doing nothing but hitting the legs with his hammer... but he really can't reach further up, and doesn't want to end up being thrown again.

<font color="#FF9900">
Gillian

Gillian tried to keep his expression and his breathing under control as he looked around Oley’s study. There was knowledge here for certain. Oh there were plenty of props too he was sure but the rest of it . . .

”Archmage Oley,” he said in response to Oley’s question, ”my name is Gillian. I have traveled to Lockesville hoping to persuade you to consider offering me teaching in magic. I am mainly, but not exclusively a student of illusion. I . . .” he paused and the continued a little less confidently, ”I will consider any position. If you take apprentices I would be pleased to offer my services. If you take students I will pay what I can. If you offer tuition I will . . .” Gillian stopped again. Perhaps a little more time attending to his father’s lectures on negotiation and a little less time burgling houses for fun might have paid dividends at this point. He shook his head – who was he trying to kid – and smiled at the older mage patiently waiting for his faltering explanation to end. ”Truth be told I don’t know what else to say other than that I am desperate to learn and . . and I await your judgment.”

Gillian looked down at the table in front of Oley, seemingly and uncharacteristically unable to meet the olds mage’s eyes.</font>

<font color=beige>Kuankreid <font color=9370DB>(& Ainyra)</font>

“Word has reached my ear,” The elf spoke softly, “That a sagacious archmage once resided here.” Kuan paused and met Oley's eye directly,
“Perhaps you could direct me in his direction, 'great Oley'?” There was no sarcasm in the young elf's tone, but it was clear he was being wary. This eyes and bodylanguage were both guarded and while seemingly open and friendly, he prefered caution over rashness. “I seek questions. Answers to questions, of which will result in the culmination of yet more questions. Answers always give rise to questions, and so, I see questions, in the hope that their answers will spark yet more questions.”

He paused and smiled, “Perhaps you could help me?”

Meanwhile, the sprite perched on Kuan's shoulder sighed, <font color=9370DB>“Kuan, don't you know anything? You're supposed to introduce yourself, you pompous dimwitted ignoramus! Stop being so pretentious, you feeble excuse for an ill-mannered lout!”</font> the winged creature scowled at the elf, who seemed somewhat taken aback by this outburst. After barely half a moment of wait – and lack of response, the spite scowled, put her hands on her hips and announced clearly, <font color=9370DB>“Great Oley, this is Kuankreid, elven scholar, sorcerer and mage of the Silver Forests and Grey Peaks and I am Ainyra the sprite, familiar companion and advisor in all things spritiual, arcane and mundane to my mage.”</font> She barely paused, but met Oley’s gaze firmly as Kuan groaned inwardly and massaged his forehead with a slender elfin hand, <font color=9370DB>“I apologise for my mage’s apparent lack of manners, and for the rather bland name of his homeland; he’s young and yet to learn proper decorum.”</font> the sprite took a quick breath and ploughed on, <font color=9370DB>“We”</font> she emphasied firmly, <font color=9370DB>“would like to thank you for your hospitality and your welcome into your home.”</font> She nudged Kuan, <font color=9370DB>“Don’t we?”</font>

“Uh yes. Yes, a pleasure to meet you, o great Oley. Thank you for your warm welcome.”

Ainyra sighed despairingly with the air of one who has tried numerous times – and failed – to correct a student, son, – or boyfriend – and treated his display as normal but persisted in the vain hopes that he would one day change.</font>

OOC>>>I've learned something that will help me better operate the numbers in this fight. Thanks Morgie!

Now...let the electronic virtual dice rolling begin!!

<font color=thistle>Round 8


Pandaros was poised with his deadly attack, counting on his listen check to substitute for his eyes...

Sever melted into the shadows, but then called out to Xaver with an idea which exposed his location. (Sever has left the shadows)

Xaver faced off against the giant the way any dwarf would. Straight on, bravery outweighing tactic.

The ettin snarled in his attempt to move away from Xaver's swinging hammer which gave Pandaros the shot he had been waiting on. The arrow flew straight for the head that had snarled, but missed by mere inches. This did catch the attention of the ettin, and one of the heads looked over in his direction, and growled his frustration.

The ettin wanted to attack Pandaros, but Xaver had his full attention, being right in front of him and engaged in active battle. The arrows would have to wait, and the sneaky thief would have to wait. This dwarf was the most persistent of all the invaders, and had to die first. The ettin made his decision and swiped at Xaver where he stood, but missed. </font>

OOC>>>
No damage to report for this round.

<font color=gold>Sever

No time. Of course. Sever mumbled to himself sarcastically whilst positioning himself for another stealth attempt. We're in such a bleeding hurry that you charged into its home without even a thought as to what you'd do when you found it. Me? Sever added a silly voice to his mumblings. 'Oh don't mind me, Mr Two Heads, sir. I was just trying to catch up to them. By the way, before you divvy me up between yourself, do you think they rushed in here purposely to avoid sharing your xp with me?..' The notion may have seemed silly as he mumbled it, but for an instant, he leant it credence. Maybe he'd got it backwards when he assumed it was he who'd skipped out on them?

Sever shook his head clear as he crouched and sought his precious shadow. You'll never know if you don't get your mind on the job, clown. Questions later.

Sheathing his throwing blades, the determined thief held his trusty shortsword at the ready, awaiting his opportunity to strike from shadow once again.</font>

[ 04-20-2007, 03:10 PM: Message edited by: Sever ]

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Pandaros

Pandaros readied another shot, holding it while he waited for a sound from the ettin. He wasn't sure if the first arrow had hit anything, but judging from the lack of complaints from his companions at least he hadn't hit them.

"Gods, whoever is listening," Pandaros thought through the pantheon and picked his favorite, "Bacchus, let this next shot be a good one. If it hits, I swear I'll get blind stinking drunk in your honor."

Never make promises you don't intend to keep, his instructor had always said.
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