LOF - Aftermath: A restless Hunger

[Larry_OHF]

Brendon Grey

Brendon saw the commotion between the two adventurers, and wondered. However, he was too far away to hear the words and had no idea what it was about. He decided that maybe he could help and remind everyone of the urgency to get back on the road. Walking up to Morguerat, he said..."Excuse me, sir. We need to get back on track. That creature put us behind on our journey and we have many days left to travel."

Edited to test colors...(This one is the most unique and nobody is using anything close to it.)

[ 11-01-2002, 01:18 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Morgeruat]

"Eh, yes, of course, you're right, we should be moving on." putting down the visor on his helmet he hoped would conceal the shame he felt for lashing out, he still had no idea why he had lashed out so, he knew he should admit he was wrong, and sorry, but all he could really think about was the pain that had been stirred up inside of him like a bees nest, and would not settle down. And the stink, he didn't know what had caused it, he assumed at first it had merely been the Hunger tainted Bullette decaying, but no one else had mentioned it, so he wondered briefly if he had imagined the whole thing...

[ 11-01-2002, 02:29 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

[Lord Starshadow]

Syrathic took a place next to Zachary as they walked. From underneath the hood of his cloak, he eyed both Ruby and Morguerat. The elf had heard the soft words added by Morguerat during his... rant. He did not know what it meant however, but he was certain for the moment that he did not want to be near the imposing figure. The man's manner appeared gruff, and his words only reinforced Syrathic's notion that the man should be left alone. "If his pain was my business, he'd tell me. But from the looks of him, I don't know if he'd accept any help that I would offer anyway."

The woman on the lion was perplexing as well. She radiated an aura of hurt or sadness, only further enhanced by Morguerat's words. "Had she heard the last words the knight had spoken?" Syrathic asked himself. "But how would she be able to?" That was probably a mystery for another day as well, as he would keep his distance from her, for the time being. The lion had not been giving him any inviting looks anyway.

With Dantes off to the fore and Brendon seemingly lost in his own thoughts, Syrathic figured that he would talk more with the cleric of Odin, who seemed to be a cordial enough man. "So, cleric of Odin, tell me more of the one that has been called the Allfather. How is it that you have gained these healing powers? I had always thought that Odin was a god of war and not of the healing arts." He paused for a moment. "And perhaps you would tell me how and why you came to this strange place? It comforting to know that I am not the only stranger here."

[Larry_OHF]

OOC>>>Just a gentle nudge here...if any of you have not read the previous stories of the Lord of the Forums, you will be missing out! Some history will be important, and only the guys that played in the old threads will know what is going on! I know that it covers alot of pages to read, and would take a very long time to get through it all...but try to do what you can, little by little. I think you will enjoy the story! For reference, Cyril has most of the important threads linked on page 1 from his first posts on this thread.

[AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe]

As he traveled further Dantes' mind was full of grim thoughts. Thoughts of the mysterious hunger, what it could possibly be, and how it could possibly be stopped. Dantes' was in a unique situation for him. He had never felt this helpless before, and it was starting to get to him. he could 'feel' the very land crying out in agony at the constant assault it was under because of the damage the hunger was doing to it. He could 'feel' its pain.
Dantes was startled out of his reverie by seeing motion in the distance. It was the gnome Dankorona huffing and puffing his way to the scene of the long since past battle. As soon as Dankorona caught sight of the party he collapsed in heap on the ground, breathing hard.
"I'm getting too old for this adventuring stuff" Dankorona mutter between gasps for breath.
The corners of Dantes' mouth turned up in a what some would call a smile.

EDIT: Spelling I can't type worth a nickel anymore

[ 11-02-2002, 05:08 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

[RevRuby]

OOC: i am not assuming wyrd has the intelligence to think in formed words, so i will only post ruby's half of any conversations with him, as she is getting his thoughts and feelings telepathically in a way only she can understand.

IC: having only lost one or two tears to the neck of her shirt ruby lifts her head and allows her hood to fall away. she calms herself but running her hands through wyrd's mane. *i know, love, they're all different. but we can't abandon this fight, we have been called here by a power i can't deny. we will continue our lonely journey another time. the hidden adventures of the forums will wait.*

she begins her humming again, the notes begin to sound very eerie, but soft and heart warming. *come, let's walk a little closer to them. they will get used to us and we will get used to them. i am in no mood to be caught away from them by anything like that creature.*

[ 11-02-2002, 04:54 PM: Message edited by: RevRuby ]

[mistral4543]

Rhianneth

As she walks on, a stray wisp of her dark brown hair eludes the severe braid and flutters with the gentle breeze. In the distance, the dying cries of battle ascend into the air, drifting, advancing towards her ears. She hears them, and tenses, gripping her staff intently.

Running. Sprinting. No longer are the surroundings of any interest; she must get to the source of action. ~ Who knows... it could be you... ~ Her teeth gnarling, she rushes ahead, chasing the sounds, not letting them escape.

Wait for me!

At long last, the clues vaporise into nothingness and she glances around with haunted eyes.

Come on...

A flapping. She tenses, then silently moves up and hides behind a boulder. Then peers up to see a flying lammasu, carrying what appears to be a body.

Is it you?!

She can only stand gaping, burning with a feverish passion for the truth...

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Terrakis

To another, indeed to almost any other, such a thing would be a trophy to be prized, a symbol to be displayed to remind oneself and others of the glories of victory. But Terrakis is not like others and the slain dragon is merely a corpse, a body possessing neither life nor power nor glory and symbolic of none of these things. “And so, mighty Adalon,” he says, “how meaningless the ending of your long roll of years. Vain creature! How far you have fallen – the great guardian now become nothing more than food for worms.”

“Terrakis!” one of the other giants calls to him. “The stone of the cave wall here is perfect for our needs and there seems to be just enough.”

“Good!” he exclaims. “Make haste then. Give the order that all of it must be quarried out that the work might begin!” Casting a glance at the glittering horde of the dragon, he calls out, “And someone get those baubles and trinkets out the way!” Turning one final time to the corpse of the fallen Adalon, his voice is cold and sure with a terrible decisiveness, “Not dragon, nor even the glittering horde of a dragon, nor any other thing shall delay our purpose. Aye, and soon even the horrible might of the Hunger shall move and destroy at my command.” His eyes gleam then with a bitter silver light and once more he utters that phrase which has driven him and the others forward with such violent relentlessness, “We are his heirs and none shall contest our claim!”

And as the words of Terrakis recede into echos the sharp notes of metal hammers striking great chisels rings out into the darkness of the caverns. And the creatures that dwell beneath the surface learn another terrible lesson – the giants of shadow will not pause even for the counting of spoil.

[ 11-03-2002, 11:57 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

ELSEWHERE -- Beyond and beneath the fields we know so well

It is called by the gamers of these boards ‘the Underdark’ and to some extent the name is true for a vast sunless region of caverns and tunnels stretches beneath the surface of the forums. But a greater and deeper lightlessness lies beneath even these dark passageways, a lightlessness so ancient and cold that even the sunless Underdark seems a bright and sun-warmed world in comparison. Dead and forgotten threads lie here in the awkward and restless silence of unfinished conversations and stories whose telling had stopped before the end had been reached. The dead entombed here do not rest easily – indeed they do not rest at all for there has been among them these many years one whose has fed upon the night-time terrors of the dreaming dead. However, the silence of this strange netherworld has been shattered by screams for days now as a living nightmare has come to claim the hag who haunts the nightmares of the dead. It is her voice, hoarse with screamed terror that has been lifted in a tragic vocal accompaniment to these silent nightmares -- for while great is the evil of the hag, greater by far is that of the Ru’ah ha’mot’tah, the Wind that Devours, the Breathing of Death.

Zhydo’rah

It fills her now, the terrible laughing Wind. It moves within her and with each breath she exhales its violent mirth into the air around her. She who had feasted so long on the night terrors of others is now herself surrendered to a Whispered Nightmare whose appetite has no ending. There is no resisting the power of the whispered breath of the grave, days of futile screaming have taught her this. The whispers promise things now, however – power, terrible power to surface the terrors of other minds, power and a wealth of feasting upon rare and tortured souls. And so she is doubly enslaved for even were the might of the Devourer removed, its offer is too attractive to refuse. Her wrinkled and blackened skin thrills in anticipation and the burning glow returns to her eyes. She rises and speaks, her throat hoarse and burning from the screams of these last days. The syllables she utters pollute even the stale and death filled air of the tomb. It is a sickening and filthy form of speech whose notes form a strange parody of song. There is a stretching within the air followed by dancing flames and the stink of brimstone and a great steed with a coat like coal and a mane of thick and angry fire stands within the burial chamber.

ooc: The second part of the above post is copied from Tavern by the Creek IV. With the introduction of Zhydo’rah, the main villains are now in place.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

A hard day’s journey will get the party to the entrance to the passageways beneath the storm-filled mountains. I’ll post a description of the area once the party arrives. This will also hopefully give folks the chance they need to select appropriate spells or make other preparations for adventuring in the darkness below the ground.