Part 7>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Thorrin Ebonshield

At the arrival of the Presence his bearing changes and he stands at attention waiting in silence until he is spoken to. “It was necessary,” he states with the simple directness of his kind. Seeing that the Presence waits for him to speak further he elaborates. “Several of my brothers perished within the barrier. It fell to me as their leader to try myself against it. Had I not succeeded all of the intruders would have escaped and their brazenness gone unpunished.” He pauses to provide the Presence an opportunity for questions before continuing. “The Husk of Grey has been preserved from serious harm. Even now a number of my fellows stand watch over it with orders to slaughter any that would approach.” Once more he pauses before he continues. “None sought our aid nor informed us of the breech. We learned of it and mustered our strength. We found the others in flight and the animal creature reduced to little more than a kitten mewling in terror and our weapons ended at one and the same time her disgrace and her life. We were too busy in our pursuit of the invaders to seek out the others for slaughter.” Despite what he and his fellows were able to accomplish there is a note of disappointment in his voice at not having been able to complete the killing. He steps to the side and places his hand about 2 feet from the wall of the tower. “It was through an opening made here – an opening pulled out from the substance of this wall that the other two intruders departed, the one of them showing no trace of fear and the other blind, confused and waving a sword. I felled the warrior before he could escape. That creature,” he dismissively indicates the elf, “was already fallen when I breached the barrier. As regards their fate, we await your pleasure.”

From the other side of the barrier a murmur spreads among the clan brothers. “The Presence. Thorrin stands before the Presence. It is true what he said. Now none shall dare contest our claim......” Weapons tap quietly against shields in honor of the arrival of the Presence.

[TAOWolf]

She gets her hands to the floor just in time to keep from falling over. Her head spins, and the runes carved on her body pulse a soft blue glow for about 20 seconds then stop.

Lifting her head, her eyes are noticeably unfocused, and she shakes her head, trying to see.

"wait.....wait...." she whispers to no one in particular. She hears a soft evil laugh in the back of her mind, and she stares hard at the floor as she feels a little bit more of her power drain away like a feather blown by the wind.

She gazes at the floor where her shadow should be, and a dawning understanding glimmers in her thoughts, and she slams a fist to the ground as she whispers, "You want to drain me? You want to fight over who will survive? We shall see who is the stronger at the end, my shadow... we shall see who will triumph in the end...."

[Larry_OHF]

The Mage


The Mage at first had been furious when he was told that Thorrin and his clan had actually been the ones to end the life of his pet, and had desired the blood of all the others in the tower that he had judged inadequate to protect its walls. However, if there had been one thing he had learned in all his confrontations with the Windbringer it was that his fury sometimes caused him to make errors that proved erroneous in the end. Therefore, he stood there and thought on the subject. Wouldn't that surprise that old owl-smelling Ranger of the Winds...Hell, it surprises me!

He did not miss the quiet talk on the outside of the room by the other dwarves who revered this discussion he had with their general as though Thorrin truely were in the presence of deity...their deity. In this tower and to those that proclaimed Shadow as their life-blood, the Modding Mage was indeed the supreme ruler, yet nobody had before treated him to such an extent...even since the beginning of his Ascension to the Powers of Moderation.

Also, they were using that phrase, "None shall contest our claim". Since being born into Shadow, they saw themselves much like Terrakis and the giants did...Sons of Shadow. They felt that this made them superior to all others in sharing this connection with their Greater Power. That meant that they would revere the giants above themselves, but none else, for they were next in line of authority, and they would not tolerate anyone else ruling over them...for their shadow-birth had given them a rising in class status. Interesting.

It looks like I am getting stronger, Windbringer...your victory over my champion has not weakened me.

He therefore realized that killing Thorrin for his treachery of slaying his pet was not warrented on justifiable reason. In fact, Thorrin did so only because Nanashi and the others let Larry and his band of merry men trapse through the entire tower and steal from him! Silverfall could now use that foolish candle he'd created long ago to gain the upper-hand in this game.

"Thorrin. I have thought this over, and realize that you tried to defend the tower as best you could once the others failed to do their jobs, and though the death of my pet should have cost you a lifetime of being locked in a fully-lit room with Elven love music blasting into your ears...I have realized the work for what it actually is, and I am glad to have such a loyal creature such as yourself guarding my tower...not to mention the capture of two of the four fools! Therefore I shall ask of you this:

1. Drag these two prisoners down to the darkest prison cell that I have. Since the both of them rely on their gods for strength, make sure that the room is desecrated against their holy needs.

2. Your clan is now my Royal Guard. I want my throne room guarded at all times unless I have you out on assignment. Cease in all killings of the others that failed at this time. I shall deal with them in my own way.

Below the clan of the Giants of Shadow is the clan of the Dwarves of Shadow. None else shall contest your claim for today you have proven yourselves worthy and your birthright is secured."

The Mage then turned and walked nearer the prismatic wall. It was time to dispell this nasty thing.

Being that he had Modding Magic, this was not such a difficult task. A simple edit would remove it, though this power was only reserved to the caster and those that moderated. No other mage would be able to perform such a task, though there had been times that certain members could pray to their modding gods with the power of Report Post and beseech the Powers to edit this or that of another person's words, and on occasion it might be done.

The Mage studied the wall, smirking at its powerless light against his tools.
He opened his palm, scrolled across from left to right, top to bottom, and erased the coding for which the wall was comprised. When he was finished, the wall had been completely erased from the tower's doorway and forever forgotten.
However, every time he performed such a task, he risked invoking the wrath of Ziroc, for moderators were never allowed to abuse their powers in such a way for their own gain and desire. The Mage himself had been before the courts of the Moderators long ago to answer to such a crime but he escaped with his cunning and justifications. Now, hardly any moderator even came out this far anymore, so the RP forum was truely his to enjoy alone. He saw the shadow dwarves on the other side of the dissapated wall look at him in astonishment and then the Mage pulled his vanishing trick, pulling the shadows about him to darken the area he stood and when the darkness dissapated, so too had gone the Mage from that area.




Anarrima 55/67

Anarrima Casts: Cure Serious Wounds

The powers that she had suplicated her deity for came forth and decended upon Vincent the half-elf as he even now tried pushing the pain of his injuries from his mind in attempt to attack the Marilith from behind while Yevaud was beginning to give her a good thrashing from the front.

OOC>>>Vincent, you were at 81/98. Anarrima's spell has cured you completely.

Suddenly, from the side she heard Tao talking to,,,herself? What was she going on about?

"Lady...are you well? What is the matter?"

[ 06-24-2006, 04:40 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Thorrin Ebonshield

By his power the Presence brought down the barrier. By the word of his mouth the Presence has given them their birthright. “We shall mark this day,” he says to his clansmen. “For on this day we stood before the Presence and the Presence found us worthy.” He motions for silence as the others begin to acclaim their assent. “Orders have been given, and orders will be obeyed.” Surveying his clansmen he calls forward the ten worthiest. “Go to the eight who stand guard over the husk. Together you will all escort the husk to its place near the throne of the Presence and there you shall remain as the guardians of the throne. Four of you shall stand outside the grand doors. Four of you shall stand on the inside of the grand doors. Four of you shall stand on either side of the throne. Two of you shall stand with the husk. The enemies of the Presence shall be your enemies. Those who seek the favor of the Presence shall be watched with care lest they prove treacherous. And when the time comes for the striking down of those who violate the sanctum of the Presence none are to be spared unless the Presence himself commands so.” The ten nod their assent and immediately move to carry out their orders.

To the others he says, “Take the prisoners below, clothe them in the rags of slaves and confine them to the deepest cell.” He pauses as the prisoners are lifted. “And once they are secured, start work on digging out a cell that is even deeper and more secure.”

[Legolas]

Inquisitor Marcos of Snowdale - 75/98

With the daemon slithering alone once more, and only the witch out of the fight, he considered the damage to be contained thus far. He had no doubts, however, that the wolfwoman was only feigning exhaustion. Possessed of legendary powers it was only her selfish and evil mind that urged her to conserve her strength in the face of this many-armed foe. Should the people in this room survive the latter, they might well have a treachery on their hands.
All in good time, however. Though he could be alert to the peril he saw no way to avert it at the time.

Though the situation had not at all grown better with time, the inquisitor was positive now that the monster might be bested. His brief research of the portal had revealed to him a weapon with powers both physical and psychological, and the confidence this instilled assured him an engagement was not irrevocably doomed to failure. He strode to retrieve his hammer.

"Drive her towards the portal," he spoke, "that she may burn for her evil ways."

Six arms and a tail had proven insufficient to cause the bladesinger a rapid demise. How would she fare if her one adversary grew four more?

[Larry_OHF]

Ana 55/67

She waited for Tao to catch her breath and answer, but was distracted from the ailings of the Lady to look up and see what Marcos was shouting about. He had recovered, had helped clear out the little summoned monsters, and had regained his war hammer. The only problem was that the encahntment that she had placed on it had worn off now. His war hammer would be useless against the demon!

She surveyed her mental list of powers that were afforded to her by her Goddess and realized that she could not imbue the weapon with celesital powers again during this battle. In fact, all she could do was warn him and then heal him with a quick spell.

"Sir Marcos! Wait! Your weapon is useless against her!"

She began to pray quickly for his health.

It took no time at all for the spell level she used. A wave of magical healing washed over the man and made him feel better. She hoped that Marcos knew what he was doing, and turned back to Tao, leaning down to examine her closer.

OOC>>>Marcos recovers 19 HP with a level 2 cure moderate wounds.


Ssayonele

She did not expect this battle to turn so sour all the sudden, for the adventurers had wiped out her minions and had taken advantage of the unsteady grounding within the castle that seemed to be sinking into the swamps because of their own magic at causing the leak in the stone. The Cleric was casting spells of healing, the Bladesinger had survived this long against her, the Half-elf was sneaking around behind her and the Human was shouting his battle cry.

It was time to put an end to this foolishness.

She used her brief moment of opportunity that the Bladesinger afforded her as he dashed towards her castaway sword to turn on the two behind her and start the attack against them. She came straight at Vincent who had been trying to get into position to backstab her with his pretty blade that she wanted when she sensed the power within it. At the same time, she writhed around to position her tail in attacking distance to Marcos, who had just come into range. She grabbed him up and constricted, bending his metallic armor into his chest before throwing him towards the very portal he had been shouting about. He hit the portal with a hissing crash and fell to the floor, smoldering.

Ana

Once again, Anarrima looked up when the fight drew her attention from Tao to see that Yevaud had run after the sword that the Marilith had thrown and that is when she had turned towards Vincent and was getting ready to hammer him with her attacks. There would be no way he could handle her! Her snakey tail then grabbed Marcos who had just been refreshed with magical healing and tightening around his body, making a sick cracking noise before she threw him at the portal. He hit the portal and was fried alive, basically. The only thing louder than his hissing body was Anarrima screaming in terror.

Frantic now to not die in this hole, she abandoned Tao's injured body and ran towards Yevaud who was close by.

"We have got to leave! Do not stay and fight! We have to run! Come on! The others will follow what can! Yevaud! Do not make me leave you here!!"

She had been imprisoned in the city of the drow in the Underforums for years, seeing no sun, no warmth...and suffering all manner of afflictions. This was too close to that nightmare and she was ready to get out.

To prove her point, she turned and fled toward the door.

OOC>>>Marcos, you have taken a heck of a lot of damage, but since you were fully healed before the attack, you are not dead now. You have taken 52 hp damage from the burns (hurts like hell!) and 25 from the constriction which has left you with a heck of a hard time breathing.

Vincent...Fight or flee...its your call! I cannot promise that you'll be able to do either very well.

Tao...You have more to worry about than a snake lady.

Yevaud...do what you feel is right. Either leave your companions or follow Ana. Its your call, but know that for a moment, your enemy is distracted with Vincent.

[ 06-24-2006, 04:41 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Morgeruat]

Yevaud

Yevaud stopped cold, the new blade in his left hand, he could feel the warmth of hellfire coursing through the metal. The words tore at him while the sight in front of him was equally gripping in it's intensity. A comrade had been felled, and likely lay beyond the capabilities of all but the most powerful clerics, another had the full fury of the demoness at his face, and Ana was rapidly fleeing the danger of this hellhole. He knew what he should do, what he was honor bound to do, what he had been trained to do, and yet tugging at his mind was his heart, and the pleading words of a cleric he had been infatuated with for a long time (at least in human terms). Taking both blades he used the burst of speed from Kaylisa's herbs and swung them down without grace, without art, without the music his fencing style was named for. Down they came biting into the slithering tail of a demoness distracted from a sneaky elf. Once they hit he turned the edges diagonally apart and wrenched them free, taking out an even larger part of the monster's tail. And then, he ran, the only sound he heard was the pumping of blood in his ears as he focused on the exit Anarrima had fled through, his legs churning the uncertain ground, strength already sapping from them as the strength granted by adrenaline faded and the fight reflex turned to flight.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Lady Sombra

The insolence! To stand before her in this way as if all were well, to provoke her to anger and even dare her to strike him...... And that damnable silence – as if whatever cryptic lunacy passes for thought within him is a thing transparent to all. Strike him? Perhaps she shall.

The Other resists. The Other. Surely he has come to destroy her on behalf of the that One who is helpless to save herself “I have as much right to this life as her! I may be but a shadow to you but I will not die easily.”

“Were you but a shadow to me I would have already slain you and those blasphemies that form your pack. You are no mere shadow.”

“Lies! You have taken her part in all of this and you have come to mock me.” Her eyes flash. “I am no fool! I am no child to be trifled with! And I will stand in her shadow no longer!” Once more even as her own form begins to lose substance her anger finds the Other. And what she finds she seizes. The blue light around her deepens in color and dances like fire and a tear, a real tear glides down a cheek now tangible enough to feel it. “You sent your daughter to her. Always it is her. Me? You provoke me, dare me to strike you, drive away my pack.” The blue flames around her hands burn with a blinding intensity. “Her life is mine to take and take it I shall. Leave me! There is nothing for you here.” Giddy with the sudden rush of life and power that flows into her, her hostility takes on a mocking note of its own.

“Perhaps I shall return the favor and one day soon pay a visit to your child.”

And from the silence a storm emerges. The grace that she remembered is no longer present in his movements. But there is speed, much more speed than she remembers, direct and forceful and brutally efficient. Even her eyes have difficulty following the movement and by the time her mind recognizes its meaning the blade of an axe has bitten her. She falls clutching her throat as the weapon that cut her returns in silence to the hand that threw it.

“Thank whatever outsider god still listens to the groanings of your heart that you have a form still so insubstantial that you might not completely lose the power to speak and to draw breath.”

His whisper cuts as readily as the axe. This is not the voice of the man she believed she knew. That voice while having its harshness had a ready gentleness about it whenever it had turned to her. There is nothing of the kind here.

“Hear my words, woman. And mark them well. Wage your struggle against your sister. Triumph even, should you be able. Survive, should such a thing be possible for either of you. There will be time enough then for the resolving of whatever hatred might obtain between us.”

The air around her is still and neither cold nor biting. The words that follow, however, have a chill within them greater than any she has ever felt in the bitter air of winter, and in the chill a promise that has no room for either compassion or for compromise.

“Involve my daughter in this and I shall destroy you both.”

By the time she recovers her strength he is gone. The chill of his words, that remains, and, although the air is warm, she is cold. So very cold. She takes what comfort she can in the heat of her hatred and the sounds of the return of her pack.

[ 06-08-2006, 05:01 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[Cyril Darkcloud]

For those beneath Castle Lesismoore

What can be seen by any eyes that should chance to rest upon her is that the woman known as KayLisa Greywolf winces as she tries to stand and falls clutching her temples. A bluish glow dances about the pale blonde of her hair and her skin grows white as if its color were simply draining into the air. Her breathing grows shallow and even the air that surrounds her drops in temperature. Her face tightens in struggle and pain and the movement of her lips produces no sound. And then, her body relaxes, and she slumps, pale and exhausted and drained of both energy and strength, onto the rough stones of the floor. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is labored.

As to what the woman herself experiences – other than the pain of being seized in the grip of a terrible and hungry hatred and the rapid and relentless drinking of her energy and the terribly sudden, even violent, stopping of this same drinking - that is a thing best told in her own words should she desire to do so.

ooc: I’d imagine that something like this might even get the attention of the Marilith. Even in the Abyss this ain’t the kind of thing that happens every day.

[ 06-08-2006, 05:16 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

[TAOWolf]

She opens her eyes just enough to look directly at Yevaud, and whispers loudly into the air, "I can't walk, and I don't think I can stand long, I am going to shift to my wolf form. Can you carry me out?"

She snarls with all her strength at the bitch draining her in her mind when a strange coldness fills her but a moment, then blinding pain once again. She looks to one palm, and the rune carved there loses some of its blue fire glow. Not alot, but enough to tell her, that her shadow has pulled on her strength yet again. But she does notice something different this time. A tiny thread of fear... not of her, but of something else... could she use this knowledge??

She locks that knowledge away in her mind, and weakly slams her staff to the floor. Dust and muddy water rolls around her hiding her from view, and when the dust clears, she is in wolf form. Eyes gleaming, she looks down, and notes with a small amount of satisfaction her wolf shadow which is still there. Another glimmer of information is locked away, and she sits on her haunches, shaking herself and looks to Yevaud......