Part 5>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

[Bozos of Bones]

Kynnen 57/85

Gazing into the eyes of his enemy, Kynnen feared attack. The endlessly long stare was broken when Silt turned for Andrion, and ran to attack. Kynnen's first idea was to attack now, to protect the mage, but then he remembered... Andrion wasn't his frined, infact, he was an enemy. Kynnen just stood back to see the action turn out. Then he had another notion.. Whoever survived would surely come after him. Kynnen thought for a moment how he could ensure he won the fight, and thought of a spell. He spread his hands, and started waving them, opening the link to his God to pray for a blessing. "Vhaerun, belbau uns'aa z'ress." he whispered through the magical connection.

OOC: Vhaerun, give me strength, AKA, castin Bull's strength.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

The One-Eyed Wolf Tavern

The desperate cries for help have stopped. The few sounds of combat likewise have come to an end. One escaped the building from the upper windows only to die in the streets where he had fallen with a broken leg. The dull and monotonous sound of the crunching of bones between teeth lasted much longer, drifting outward through the streets where it was heard within homes and will haunt the sleeping of many for some time to come. At some point during the night the terror stalked away on silent paws. The sun burns bright in the sky this morning and yet it will be some many hours before anyone will step outside his door and walk slowly down the street. The dead silence of the tavern will give him pause and he will stand long and frightened minutes before opening the door. The screaming will start again once he sees ........

And when at last the weeping stops lives that have always felt safe will live under the shadow of fear. Shadow, indeed, has returned to the land and the blood-soaked floors of the tavern provide certain witness that none are safe from the terrors at its command.

[Larry_OHF]

The drama unfolds between the three left standing:

Kynnen: You find yourself momentarily slowed down, but also with no enemy at the gates. Your worries came to an end when the elf decided that you were not the most important kill of the moment. You asked about damage to your spranged ankle. Since I missed that detail in the initial post, I will overlook it for you at this time. Consider yourself lucky that the DM had mercy on your poor soul.

Silt: You choose your opponent. It is the mage, who shines with the blue glow of a warm fire that encircles him. You charge him, two blades at the ready. One drips with poison, the other with a faeire fire spell.

You cover the distance in a blur. The mage has just finished off the half-elven archer. You have the initiative to attack and do so. To hit roll was highly successful and the damage roll was deadly. There is no need to figure in the poison. Your attack cut the mage down in one swing. The poison rune was wasted on a dead man.

Damage to Andrion: 9 hp = Dead.

When Silt attacked, he had to cut through the defence of fire that surrounded the mage. The fires burned the arm of the elf.

Damage to Silt from Fire: 16 hp. (lucky roll for you!)

You see the mage dead in front of you, feel the pain in your arm from the burn of magic fire...and then your elven ears pick up the syllables of a spell being cast in the drow tongue. You turn to look and see that the drow is indeed preparing something.

You have the initiative to move now, since he is busy. What will you do?

[ 02-10-2005, 11:30 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Larry_OHF]

Anarrima

She was thrilled with the portrayal of a bladesinger in action. It was like a beautiful and graceful dance...that had no connotations of ever being dangerous at all. One could walk right up to and past this elf as he wielded the blade expertedly and not fear at all for any dangerous accidental cut from the blade that whirled like a hummingbird. However, that comfort was limited, and an enemy of a bladesinger could not share in that delight. Indeed, a bladesinger was a great comfort to have near her side. She smiled at the elf, in an apologetic gesture that she had doubted him.

"Okay, enough fun and games. Let us hasten our step now!"

And they did.

[ 02-10-2005, 11:43 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[dplax]

Andrion Wilgor DEAD

Thoughts crossed his mind as the sword pierced him. What had he done wrong? He fell to his knees as feeling started leaving his limbs. With a loud clatter the knife fell from his belt to the floor. Desperately clutching at the life, which was leaving his body, Andrion's thoughts started racing faster than they ever had. He had failed, yet strangely he did not care anymore. Where he was going the mage could not get him anymore. Would his body have been visible, a smile could have been seen on his face, a smile which could be called a satisfied one. He had brought about the deaths of several great warriors. And then as his thoughts raced with time one last thought surfaced and was projected at the Mage of Shadow as a last message from Andrion.

"Nanashi shall be pleased to know that she shall not have to share the glory with anyone now."

And with that Andrion fell forward onto his face and all life left him.

OOC: if you don't agree with Andrion being able to send that last thought Larry then just tell me.

[ 02-11-2005, 01:49 AM: Message edited by: dplax ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

ooc: Continuing my mission to get TAO’s character right .....

KayLisa Graywolf

She acts swiftly and soon the pack is safely placed within the circle of megaliths, a band of protective runes providing further assurance of safety for her wolves. She stiffens. There is a shifting in the monotone of the howls, as if some portion of the pack were breaking away. * That fewer now are rushing after her is bitter comfort, for this fact means others are now destined to die and she is powerless to prevent this. She reaches into the pouch at her belt, withdrawing a handful of herbs. Stopping herself, she returns the herbs to the pouch. There must be another way .......

...... She smiles looking skyward. The first time she faced these creatures unexpected help from the skies bought her the time required to save herself – the owl, Whisper. For some reason the owl moved without difficulty in the presence of the banewolves. It is a desperate idea .......

She takes the feather given her by the young woman into her ungloved hand. Crushing a bit of dry fennel over it she softly intones a chant. Her body sways in time with her singing and the notes of her voice drift outward into the darkening night. Her call is augmented by the power of the sacred grove and is not a thing to be ignored.

* This is the group of wolves that attacked the One-Eyed Wolf.

ooc: The druid summons an owl. Plaxica, that means you.

[dplax]

Plaxica 11/85

The presence of the evil was still strong over the area, yet with the help of his inner spirit he had managed to master the fear of it. He set out again and made his way towards the Tavern. His inner spirit felt it at first. A call. Irresistible it was in its pull, yet no evil was felt at its source. It was almost against his will that his feathers started beating and took him towards the sender of the summons. And then he himself heard the call. It came from a grove of oaks, maples and some trees of ebonwood. In its surroundings were several green shrubs, some of which Plaxica recognized as hawthorne.

Ever descending he circled the grove and then spotted the one who had called him. The druidess Kaylisa. Plaxica's heart filled with joy as this was exactly the person he himself had been looking for. He changed from the slow descending pattern and made his way straight at the druidess and arriving close to her landed on a small stone a few feet away and then turned his owl eyes inquiringly at her.

"You summoned me?" - he asked in owlish, but then he realised that the druidess might not understand the language of the owls and he shifted to human form.

"You summoned me?" - he asked for the second time.

[Larry_OHF]

The Mage of Shadow sat in his empty throne room, empty except for the presence of Grey, and brooded over this new information. Just moments ago, he had received the good information that his banewolves had destroyed the people residing withing the One-Eyed Wolf tavern. Hehe...check mate, Chani Ravenwood! But this brought him little comfort now. His best mage on the field was dying, and that meant that it was all up to Nanashi now to kill Larry Silverfall. But how would she compete against foes that had brought Andrion down?

The Mage started to doubt. Should he send reinforcements to back Nanashi up? What were the enemy's strength in that tower?

Then he remembered his last command to the Shadow Owl. It was on route to that very castle, and then he would find the truth out. He checked in with the owl. Already, it was nearing the tower. Just a little further and it would be able to find access into the building and bring the Mage's eyes with it.

[ 02-11-2005, 09:57 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Legolas]

Leaning, ever leaning

There was no room for much resentment in the tower's upper chamber. Certainly the woman would not deign it fit to respond to Silverfall's latter remarks.

"We are pleased to learn you hold faith without forgoing responsibility. If you are determined to act then we would gladly be of assistance."

She turned back to the pair, veils of smoke disturbed parting once again before her dense figure.

"As we all do, you hold to your own beliefs. You may be right, or wrong, about some, or all of it. I have heard tales of threads where a wizard's spells require the finest components to function, and read of others where magic was flung about at a typing in italics. Though we do not know the reason, such use of a universal force reminds us of feathers and great grey creatures with ears the size of barnyards."

The duchess stepped closer, and offered him a dark candle.

"If your faith be as strong as you claim, may the wax and wick open the way for your love. But, be warned. The light draws more moths than one."

Arching an eyebrow, she observed the second-level character with care.

[RoSs_bg2_rox]

Silt 29/80

Silt grinned as he watched the Mage fall, dead to the world. With a resounding sigh he realised never again would this man kill, never again would he wreck the lives of good, never again would he practice his evil spellcasting. Dead. Dead to the world. With this satisfaction Silt barely felt the pain of the shield which had led him to Andrion, but it scarecly mattered.

Looking over to the drow the elf heard the chanting. This could only be for the worse, he decided. It was not worth wasting his life on an enemy he had nothing against; other than the fact he was drow. Yet Silt knew nothing of this man's life, of his quarells and history, and reasons for doing as he must. Personal satisfaction was not the elf's goal on this occasion, and the warrior knew this. His decision was made.

Leaving the room the way he had entered Silt ran as fast as he could, hoping he had stunned the Drow who was casting and could evade him if he decided to chase. Making his way to the steps he had seen Larry ascend earlier, he followed the man's path with no hesitation. The climb up was long, and he realised it would take him sometime to reach the top.

[ 02-12-2005, 07:54 AM: Message edited by: RoSs_bg2_rox ]