Before midnight everyone finds themselves back within the walls of Silvervine Tower.  Kaele spends the entire night studying ancient tomes in her study.  Ishmael leads each of the adventurers to a small bedchamber, each previously prepared by Kaele herself.  Each room is small, but very luxurious compared to some of the private rooms one might purchase in any of the affordable inns nearby.
Porto, Roth, and Stan find a small gift on their beds, whereas Ilsa and Shirok already received theirs in their silk coin sacks.  Roth finds a set of goggles.  The lens are masterfully crafted and perfectly transparent.  He finds that when wearing them, anything he focuses on becomes slightly magnified; a useful tool for someone of his subtle talents.
Porto finds a coiled length of silk rope.  As he touches the woven fibers, he has no problem sensing subtle magic enchanting the rope.  He isn’t sure what it is, but he’s certain this will prove useful in his future travels.
Stan finds a beautifully bound, yet simple looking book.  He opens the book and finds several simple cantrips and novice incantations penned within.  As he flips through the cream-colored pages, he finds that many have been left blank.  He also finds that no matter how many pages he turns, he can never reach the end.  He had heard of such treasured tomes — unlimited spellbooks — during his time at Arcanus-Tirith.
The night passes by uneventfully, yet very peacefully.  By morning all of you feel more rested than any of you have in a long, long time.  Ishmael meets all of you as you begin to filter into the grand dinning room.
“A pleasant morning to all of you friends,” he greets each of you.  “Once you have all gathered here, Kaele will speak with you all collectively.  In the meantime, you are all invited to a morning meal.”
Upon the table are bowls of fresh and exotic fruits, a platter of poached eggs, raw vegetables, and pitchers of milk and a variety of juices.

OOC Once each of you post at least once, Kaele will enter and we may continue.

Stan's appetite this morning was voracious. His first day of adventure, with all its trying emotional scenes, had taken its toll. Vegetable and meat alike fell to the wizard's nigh-insatiable hunger. At last, he washed down the hapless breakfast with a large glass of milk.

"This! This is the best milk I've ever tasted. How do they do it, Ishmael?"

Shirok and Neya came down together, although Neya's movements seem a bit more careful then usual, as though she were less sure of herself. It is most likely due to the sudden growth she seemed to have gone through; one could almost swear that she had grown at least a foot overnight. The shewolf lay beneath the table patiently until Shirok passed down a plate of bacon and sausage, before filling his own with a selection of the fruits and vegetables across the table along with a glass of juice.

Ilsa came to breadfast without her sword and armor. She sat down next to Shirok and stabbed a large fruit, which she ate off the blade. She raised an eyebrow at Stan, seeing him drinking milk like an unweaned child but decided to not say anything. She wondered if Shirok noticed her being nice. And there was no proper meat on the table--was this how elves ate, she asked herself, but decided again not to taunt their host or Roth should he overhear--so she grabbed an egg and put the whole of it in her mouth. At least by eating she could avoid saying anything that would cause problems.

Roth came down the stairs slowly with his nose buried in a scroll.  He was dressed plainly without his armor or even his green cape, but still carried a dagger on his hip.  Atop his brow were strapped his new goggles wish pushed his black locks of hair back and to the side.  The young elf put the scroll down long enough to collect some eggs and fruit and acknowledge the others, but continued to read through it as he ate.

Kaele descends the short staircase leading to the dinning chamber.  Although she has not had any rest last night, she appears as vibrant and elegant as ever.  Once she reaches the landing she offers each of you a friendly nod, as if to say, “Good morning!”  She finishes the last few steps and abruptly begins as the rest of you eat your morning meal.
“Azazel Shiningstar was once an angel of the celestial realm.  He was a master swordsman and expert evoker, a grand champion of justice, and bearer of Light.  It was in the year 893 of the second age, during the Sin War that Azazel was finally bested in combat — or so the text goes.
“According to my research, Azazel was not destoryed in the Sin War, but seduced and corrupted by an agent of the Infinite Abyss.  Azazel’s story seems to fade away into obscurity until well into the third age and more importantly during a terrible time our collective history, The War of Tears.  It appears that during this time Azazel was walking among mortals here on the material plane.  He was stripped of his ability to fly and his wings were cut as punishment for his consorting with evil powers.  It was here on the material plane that he began once again to amass power and devotees, or maddened disciples if you will.
“As it were, his cult, the Sons of Azazel, launched themselves into a terrible bloody campaign against The Crimson Brotherhood; and more exclusively against the Dark Lord Tórus.  The Brotherhood ultimately destroyed Azazel’s cult and Tórus petrified Azazel in white marble.  About eighty years ago, the Azazel-statue was discovered and the Sons of Azazel cult was revived.”
As she speaks she produces the stone fragment Shirok recovered from the Glass Tower.  She holds it out in the palm of her hand for all to see.  “I believe this is a piece of that dreadful statue, and that boy you encountered was one of his agents.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:28, Mon 25 Jan 2010.

Stan's eating habits were more restrained following the arrival of a lady. (Ilsa hardly seemed to count herself as such.)

As Kaele's description of Azazel's life waxed expository, Stan felt his appetite draining away.

"That statue; It's a literal piece of an extraplanar being?"

He deftly unforked the Tarnathian Blue Olive that he had been about to sample. The wizard's hunger for knowledge easily overshadowed his appetite for food. Stan forgot his manners and leaned across the table towards Kaele, eager to give the marbleized outsider-flesh an experimental poke.

"Then why do we not destroy that piece so the statue cannot be rebuilt and be done with it?" Shirok asked. Probably there was some bizarre, arcane reason it couldn't be done, but it was also possible that such a simple solution had simply never occurred to them. A wizard of Kaele's standing could probably conjure enough fire to reduce the fragment to nothing.

Beyond that question, both Shirok and Neya simply continued to eat, apparently completely unconcerned with the actions of some madness-crazed cult or a corrupted celestial being.

Ilsa grunted her agreement with Shirok and added, "Exactly. Smash it. Grind it do dust. Feed it pigs. Then throw the pigs into a flaming pit. Then scatter the ashes in the sea." She finished chewing and put out her hand, "I can do it if you want." There were few problems that a strong application of violence and destruction didn't solve, not in her mind.

And waste a perfectly good plate of bacon! I think not. Do what you will to the statue but leave a the pigs out of it. Porto says jokingly exaggerated. Surprising what a good nights sleep and an egg will do...and an apple, a couple glasses of milk a full plate of grapes, and whatever else was put in front of him.

"Or three of his agents." Roth replies to Kaele's conjecture of the nature of the boy.  "I was thinking of heading to the library today, or the keeper of records.  I'm sure if the person who claimed his temple was recognized by the first citizen, Julius, was telling the truth, there would be some record of it or him.  And maybe the lady scholar researching the fallen tower had some findings I could dig up."  After a pause considering Kaele's story, Roth adds, "And who were the Crimson Brotherhood and 'Dark Lord Torus?'  The Sons of Azazel don't sound so bad."

Kaele somberly nods at Stan, reaffirming what she’d said regarding the statue fragment’s origin.  She then listens to Shirok and Ilsa’s suggestions regarding the fragment’s destruction.
“Ilsa,” she says to the half-orc.  “Crush the fragment into as many pieces as you can, and place them on the table.”
With toothy smile, she quickly does as instructed, and the white marble crumbles easily at her considerable strength.  Four pieces are made from the tiny fragment, and Ilsa completes the task by setting them on the table before the party.
“Now Shirok, if you please, would you place the broken fragments back together?  Simply touch the pieces together.”
As Shirok does, he finds—as do everyone sitting at the table—that the fragments meld together and become one complete fragment once more!
“Azazel’s will to live is considerable indeed,” Kaele says softly following the eldritch display.  “To compound the issue, each piece calls out for the others.  It is a call only some can hear — but to those that can, such a call is maddening.  And I believe his will and each of your paths are deeply intertwined.  I believe if we can somehow figure out this mystery, I may be able to return you to your proper time.
"If you go in search of knowledge young Roth, I would like to accompany you.  Perhaps my presence may grant you access to knowledge you wouldn’t otherwise be privileged to.  Mayhaps Stan could join us?”

"Ooo!" What had been a slight annoyance had suddenly become a game. Sure, four pieces would come back together, but Ilsa knew she could do much better. Snatching the fragment of statue again, she threw it to the ground and stomped on it until no fragment was larger than her thumb. She then put all her weight on one small piece and twisted and scraped it on the floor until it had the consistency of dry dirt. She scooped the dirt into her hand and delighted in how it reformed into the fragment.

She then grabbed two small bowls from the table, trapped one of the small chunks under each, and tested how closely she could push the bowls near each other until they moved on their own, pulled by the fragments. She had forgotten about everyone else and since her name wasn't mentioned to go find information, she remained content to play. "I wonder if Azazel feels this. I hope I'm annoying him," she laughed.

Roth nods with interest at the stone's behavior and comments, "Now THAT is some marketable magic.  I can't think of a single noble who wouldn't spoil someone who could give them a self-reconstructing wall with riches."



"And likewise." Roth grins at Kaele with an air of confidence before returning to his scroll and breakfast--the young elf consuming much more than one would expect for his size.

"What makes you think we are intertwined?" Shirok asked, concern obvious on his face. "The time shift could have just been caused by some magics that defended the statue and its followers, our presence in the tower at all a mere coincidence. Why would such beings take an interest in us at all?"

Neya rose curiously as Ilsa starting stomping on the stone fragment, and she poked out her nose once Ilsa had finished to sniff curiously at the dust. Watching when Ilsa picked up the dust, her ears perked up in surprise when the rock began to reform itself. The shewolf sat up and watched Ilsa play with the rock, apparently in rapt fascination.

I'm sorry but why cant we rebuild the statue exactly? I mean this Azazel would likely owe us a favor or something right. Porto says as he takes a large bite of an apple.

"Well if it's a chaperone you two are looking for, I'd be happy to oblige." Stan looked as if he was going to say no more, but suddenly he let out an uncharacteristic giggle.

He moved his silverware animatedly as he explained. "Sorry, sorry. Old joke about two elves going to the library. Did you know the elven word for 'knowledge' can mean both collected learning or an intimate encounter? It's caused quite a bit of confusion for the elven apprentices. I mean, can you imagine what a 'house of knowledge' is to them? Only in certain regional dialects, of course.

"Anyway, yes. I'd be happy to accompany you."

“I have my reasons,” Kaele replies cryptically to Shirok.  “I will speak with you all more regarding them later tonight.  Until then, I beg you all make yourselves at home.”  With that, her gaze finds itself drifting between Roth and Stan.  “Shall we?”

---

The short carriage ride to the Grand Library is a pleasant one.  To each of your surprise, Kaele’s carriage is pulled by a single dire black bear, and it seems to be very protective of her.  The sun is bright and the sky is the most clear you have seen in a long, long time.  As unnerving as the multiple floating towers and platforms are, you find that you can quickly become accustom to them.
At the library, and during the course of the day, the research team uncovers quite a bit regarding the Azazel, his cult, and Lord Tórus.  Little more is found on Azazel beyond what Kaele has already found and reported.  Further still, Roth buries himself into more current records, and that of active religious orders and their leaders.
According to one such record, the young elf finds that a small sect of “spirit worshipers” was registered to a one J. Unius.  The document, or more so an application for legal protection to operate within city limits, shows that the order did not yet have a permanent place of worship, and its reported members were "less than 10."  The financial voucher that accompanies all such applications reports that the order took in less than 2,000 gold coins annually.  With such information, it is no wonder the little cult evaded the First Citizen’s auditors—looking into this order simply wasn’t worth their time.
All writing referring to Lord Tórus deals with his dealing only after becoming a key player among the Crimson Brotherhood.  Who he was beforehand, and whether or not he is of noble blood remains a well guarded secret.  What can be found on him mainly deals with his involvement in the War of Tears and short campaign against a group of crusading Pelorites.  According to all records, the Dark Lord has endured, however his whereabouts are unknown.  By the end of their research in him, Stan and Roth gain the basic understanding that Tórus is a terrible blight upon nature and suppressor of personal liberty.  He is reported to be a powerful necromancer and master tactician.
On a whim, Stan begins to research the group of Pelorites persecuted by Tórus after the War of Tears.  In his research he finds that the leader of the group, Garret Nachtbrise, is the only documented survivor of the group and is currently residing in Redding, a small wilderness community several hundred miles east of Skyway.

---

Later that night, during the evening meal, Kaele speaks again on this.
“This afternoon I had Ishmael reenter the Glass Tower to collect the other pieces of the shattered statue; however he reported that all other fragments were missing.  As you all may very well appreciate, this come to be a very serious twist in fate.  We must continue together—and not falter.
“After more than a little deliberation, I feel it will be in our collective best interest to bring Sir Nachtbrise here to Skyway to aid us in this Azazel business.  I believe that since he has knowledge of the Crimson Brotherhood and their dealings, we might be able to gain a better understanding of Azazel’s enemies, as well as some guidance as to where to go next.”

Shirok had spent most of the day outside the city. The closest thing to a place of wilderness he could find within walking distance was a small orchard several miles away from the city proper, and while the trees were far too neat and organized to be a proper forest it was still far more relaxing then the city itself. He'd spent hours simply sitting at the base of one of the trees, letting himself relax and reconnect with the Mother while Neya ran around the area chasing squirrels, reconnecting with nature in a more visceral, immediately satisfying way.

---

Shirok was silent as the others presented what they had found inside the library, but as Kaele made her suggestions he spoke up. "I do not have a complete knowledge of the history of these events, but from what you have told us I do not understand what you intend for us to do. Neither Torus nor Azazel are an active force, and if they do reappear then it sounds as though they will turn their attention against each other."

Eventually, Ilsa grew tired of playing with the statue shard. She wanted to experiment more, but the methods that came to mind would certainly not meet with approval. When everyone left, she went back to her bed and took a nap; she donned her armor and weapons upon wakening.

At dinner, after spending an incredibly boring afternoon, she listened to Kaele and Shirok's response. The barbarian smirked and rolled her eyes before summarizing: "Azazel, the broken statue, used to be a warrior for light, goodness, and all things pure, holy, and boring. But he turned bad. Or insane. Bloody stumps for wings. He had it out for another bad thing, Torus, and they fought over territory. Or a woman. Or just who had the largest di... followers. Now Azazel is a broken statue and Torus is coming back. Do I have that right?"

Porto spent his evening eating and sleeping. Like always. And then he decided to tune his new lute and do a few practice songs with it. But no one was around to hear. He saw someone moving in a bed so he played a song for them. With a quick duck Porto dodges a sleepy sweep from Ilsa's hand. Porto then ran to his room and locked the door...


Porto remains silent through the conversation, just staring at the statues head. And chomping on a carrot.

Kaele offers Shirok a nod after his statement.  “It isn’t outside the means of an experienced cleric to reverse Azazel’s curse; however I imagine the statue would need to be complete before such a spell can be cast effectively.  From the look of things, this Junius seems to be intent on reconstructing the statue and setting the fallen angel loose—which is a direct threat to this city, and potentially the entire material plane.
“Tórus represents an entirely different threat, however remote, as he seems to have completely disappeared about a hundred years ago.  It maybe that one draws out the other, although it may not.  My research has lead me to fear Azazel’s release at this present time, as by your own accounts the statue was nearly complete when you saw it last,” she says as her eyes lock onto the fragment lying on the table.  She appears genuinely relieved Shirok had the presence of mind to take it when he did.
“I am now asking you, each of you, to help me protect this city and help you return to your original time.  I need you to travel to Redding and convince Sir Nachtbrise to come to Skyway.  I believe his experiences in combating the Crimson Brotherhood could prove invaluable in determining our next course of action.”

"You have already helped me more than I had hoped. If you wish me to go to Redding, I will go.

"Although first, a wardrobe update is in order - if only so we do not draw attention to ourselves." Stan's outfit had barely been in fashion in his own time. To wear it now would invite undue attention.

"Our Sir Nachtbrise must be getting on in years by now, no? Or is he from one of the longer-lived races?"

Ilsa gritted her teeth and smiled. She hated being ignored and she was imagining ways to Kaele bodily harm. Fortunately, someone started talking before the half-orc could execute any of her plans. "What will be paid?" she asked, bluntly. She had no love for the city and no desire to save it should someone wish to destroy it again. Her kind were short-lived and she lived each day as if it might be her last. She was a creature of the moment who didn't have any concept of her original time. Life was. She lived. That was all. Even so, she did have one iron in the fire that she paid good money for. "How far is this place?"

"That's a very long trip just meet someone." Roth says to Kaele, figuring in his head, "Maybe three weeks each way with straight roads and no trouble on the roads?  Do you have any way to ... expedite the trip, or maybe contact him remotely?"

My Clothes are out of this world baby. What am I to do if you should all return to your time, could I go with you all I don't have any real wish to go back to where I came from.

"Well the fellows at the country club would be amused by a halfling manservant, I have no doubt. Porto even sounds pretty close to 'porter.' I say," (Stan adopts a mock posh accent) "If you ever need employment, old chap, don't hesitate to knock at my place."

Kaele bit her lower lip as she regarded Ilsa and her question about payment.  Perhaps she felt that it was a silly question, given that both parties would be help each other benefit mutually; but she didn’t appear bothered in the slightest.
“I pray you find a teamster’s wage sufficient,” she says at length.  “Three marks per mile, and at 800 miles round trip, I can pay your party 2,400 golden Sässeriné marks.  Divisible by five, you each make 480 pieces for such a simple task.
“If you all agree, I’ll send forth a message to Nachtbrise and inform him of your pending arrival.  However I can’t offer you any more aid in this journey beyond purchasing for each of you a fine horse and provisions.  Can you help me?”

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. You are sending him a message that we are coming to give him a message?"

Stan was not trying to be difficult. He was genuinely a bit lost. He has assumed Nachtbrise was hard to get a hold of, hence their mission.

“The message will be to inform him of your party’s pending arrival and request that he accompany you back to here.”

"Perhaps we have to guard him. Or drag him." Ilsa said with a smirk. She did a quick calculation in her head. The pay wasn't bad, not once she decided not to return the horse. It got them out of the city, but it would be long time before she got her bow, which was good because she would be able to use it to its fullest when she finally claimed it. But it would be up to Shirok to decide if they took on this job. "What do you think?" she asked him.

Shirok considered for a few moments before finally nodding. This Azazel and Torus were apparently real and credible threats to everything, and the old man would have useful information. And it would mean at least a month out in the wilderness where he belonged. "Ilsa and I accept," he said, briefly glancing at the others seated around the table.

“I am most grateful,” Kaele replies after everyone agrees.  The remainder of the day is spend in preparation, and by twilight the next morning the entire party has been outfitted for the journey.  Each of you are given a light horse—each equipped with a saddle, bit, bridle, and two saddlebags.  As for provisions, each of you are given a bedroll, clay jug full of fresh water, and sack containing two weeks worth of trail rations.  Ishmael informs each of you that the horses are trained to forage for their own food, but will accept standard feed if given.  Stan is also given a map showing the way from Skyway City to Redding.
The way appears long, but should be easy-going and quite scenic.  You follow the road north along the Dagger River and pass into the high country.  The party’s first stop is at a small trading post situated along the crossroads marking the western corner of The Great Highway.  You continue following your map and head east from there, following the Highway a great distance of rolling plains.  Further north you can easily see the high peaks of the Glittergüld Mountains, and Roth points out for the party the famous landmark Folcrum’s Pass, a set of twin peaks that rise high above the others among the northern mountains.
About three days out you encounter a stagecoach speeding the other way.  Before it collides with your party, you all wisely move off the road and allow it to pass.  The driver offers an annoyed wave as the coach passes and you think nothing more of it.
At five days out, you encounter the first of the craggy outcroppings that make-up the outskirts of the Sovereign Eastern Provinces.  As you continue eastward, you encounter more and more caravans hauling mining goods and materials from the mines to their markets throughout provinces.  You notice the population of the area is quite diverse and many of the laborers seem to be products of mixed heritages.  They seem to get along just fine, and Stan points out that he’s heard that some of the wealthiest merchants operate in the area.
That night, while in camp, you all settle in and go about your usual businesses.  It isn’t until just before midnight that Ilsa, Shirok, and Neya get the feelings that something isn’t right.

Neya had finally stopped growing a few days ago, but for a while it had seemed as though she would never stop. She had made the horses nervous enough to begin with; matters had only gotten worse now that she was literally their size and looked like she could eat Porto in at most two bites. She'd made a grand game of terrifying the poor creatures until Shirok gave her a talking to.


That night, both Shirok and Neya were half-asleep by the fire when the now massive she-wolf's ears perked up, her eyes snapping open. Slowly her head lifted to stare out into the darkness, her nose twitching. A moment later Shirok's eyes opened, and he looked out into the darkness. His eyes flicked over to where Ilsa was, checking if she had noticed something as well.


19:06, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 23,14 using 1d20+7,1d20+5. Shirok/Neya Listen.
19:06, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 12,20 using 1d20+6,1d20+5. Shirok/Neya Spot.

Ilsa snarled as she lifted her head and looked around. Half-asleep, she neither saw nor heard anything. She yawned so wide her jaw popped. "What is it?" she asked her companions in orcish. She could feel their nervousness and unease. Dressed in only her undergarments, she stood and stretched. Holding her mighty sword across her shoulders, she twisted her hips, rotated her neck to loosen the joints, and yawned again.

16:18, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 7 using 1d20+1. Listen.
16:18, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Spot.

Roth spends the majority of the trip as he did the day before they left--with his nose buried in a scroll.  Knowing little of horses, he is glad to receive a very tame one that follows the horse in front of it with little direction.  He pauses every now and then to take in the scenery--amazed at how far he has come from his beginnings.  He fled to Skyway City to escape his past, but now it seems his past has fled from him and the people of his birthplace would hardly remember his name if they even lived.

He stays up later than usual on most nights and speaks less than the others would expect; he is obviously uncomfortable with Ilsa's presence and, without drawing attention to it, does not sleep before her.  On this night, Roth sits beside the fire idly scribbling unfamiliar arcane runes in the dirt with a twig, but pauses to look up at the motion coming from the orcs.

Stan did not want to fall asleep this night, and so he sat near Roth. It seemed Stan's eyes were surrounded by little black lines, as if he had not had a good nights sleep since leaving Skyway. The magician said little, save to apologize for staying up when it was not his watch.

"I know I should be getting rest, it's just..."

He stopped when Shirok seemed to notice something.

The half-orcs, Ilsa and Shirok, and the large wolf, Neya, sense it first.  They are aroused from their slumber at the looming presence of something terrible.  At first, no one else had noticed that the insects have gone silent; but then a shrill screech rings out as if from nowhere!  A figure seems to materialize from the darkness and grabs the fat little halfling still snoozing in his bedroll.  With a loud grunt Porto is drug away and out of the campfire’s light.
Suddenly, all of you have gathered around the fire and actively listening for more clues as to what just happened.  After an intense moment, the round form of the lost halfling scrambles back towards the camp, entering the safety of the campfire’s light.  He carries his tiny shortsword, which would make a good dagger for any of the others.  He is clutching his side and bears more than a few scratches—but the look in his eyes tell you all that the fight is far from over.
"Something bit me!" he cries out after having shuffled only halfway back to the fire pit.  Again the strange and bloodcurdling sheik sounds once more, freezing your movements and sending chills down your spines.  Before Porto can make it back to the group fully, the figure reappears once again!
It appears to be a humanoid of average build.  Its skin appears grayish in the light of the campfire.  It doesn’t appear to be armed with any traditional weapon; however its digits are whittled down into wicked-looking claws.  Its eyes seem to reflect the moonlight, giving the creature a sinister appearance.
It howls once more and rushes towards Porto...

Initiatives & Actions
Deadline—Thurs. Feb. 4th @ 12:00 PM CST

"He's mine!" she told the figure in a grim attempt at humor that was probably lost on everyone but her. With a grand sweeping motion, Ilsa brought her sword around and launched at their assailant. "And this is for waking me up!" she added as the blade met flesh.

14:39, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Initiative.
14:39, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 24 using 1d20+8. Attack with Sword.
14:40, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 10 using 2d6+6. Damage.

Neya snarled loudly as she rushed forward to meet the thing's charge, fangs snapping out to rip into the creature's limbs and bring it down to the ground. Shirok followed a moment later, his spear lashing out to taste blood.

Neya acts at Init 22, Shirok at Init 17

Neya - Advances to creature and attacks. Atk 20, dmg 10, Trip 19.

Shirok - Advances to flank with Neya and attacks. Atk 15 (w/ flank), dmg 7. Makes Knowledge(Nature) check about creature, 11.

18:06, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 17,22 using 1d20,1d20+2. Shirok/Neya Init.
18:08, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 20,10 using 1d20+9,1d8+9. Neya Atk/dmg.
18:10, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 19 using 1d20+6. Trip check.
18:11, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 15,7 using 1d20+5,1d8. Shirok Atk/dmg.
18:11, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 11 using 1d20+10. Knowledge(Nature).

Stan had studied his grimoire at Kaele's and hadn't cast a single spell since. He slept little on the journey, and when he could not sleep, the arcane glyphs of the ancient Art burned in his mind like fireflies pleading to be released.

Now, he answered that plea.

The magician stretched forth his hand and uttered a phrase indecipherable to the untrained ears of his companions.

His pointed finger split open like a blossoming tree, disgorging what appeared to be two tiny sets of bodiless batwings. The missiles flew around Ilsa in erratic curves before homing in on the strange creature. They hit its grey skin in a burst of color, ending their brief existence and inflicting enough pain to end a normal person's life.

Initiative 9
Standard action: I cast magic missile at the darkness creature. 9 force damage.

19:16, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 9 using 1d20+5. initiative.
19:25, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 9 using 2d4+2. magic missile

Taken by surprise, Roth backs away from the fray, pulling his new goggles over his eyes and a dagger from is belt.  He prepares to throw the small blade at the creature, but hesitates when he sees the rest of the party charging in and instead trains his elven eyes on the distant shadows at the edges of the campfire's illumination.

Move: Back away about 10 feet, draw dagger
Move: Spot: 11:48, Today: Roth Daos rolled 14 using 1d20+7. Spot.
Low-Light vision should give him 80' dim vision by torchlight, 40' clear.

In a blaze of rapid responsiveness, and like a well-oiled machine, the entire party snaps into combat!  Neya and Shirok lead the way, breaking away from the fire-ring first.  The large wolf charges headlong into their attacker and delivers a terrible bite to the creature.  Instantly she begins to twist and attempt to bring the creature to the ground.  It is strong, but the loose gravel and dirt make it difficult for the decrepit creature to remaining standing.  It falls to the ground in a heap, but Shirok is there to take advantage to its failing defense.

Being so close to the creature, Shirok can see the tough and leathery skin, sunken eye sockets, and course, thin hair.  He had heard of these creatures before, terrible mockeries of life.  Legends speak of grim warriors who give their souls over to the Dark One, and worship blasphemous death and wonton destruction can escape death’s embrace and return as such creatures.  Shirok grits his teeth as he forces his spear deep into the monster’s exposed chest, drawing forth a terrible shriek.

Still it struggles to eat of the flesh of the living, that is until Ilsa gets close enough to deliver the killing blow.  With a great heave of her greatsword, she lops off the ghoulish creature’s head, cleaving it at its neck.

Seeing that the situation is now under control, Stan bites his lower lip and restrains himself from allowing the slur of arcane energies from his mind.  Roth and Porto take it upon themselves to scout the surrounding area before deeming it safe to return to their nightly activities.

+180 Exp!

Neya waited until the foul thing had definitely stopped moving before she released her death grip upon it and stepped back, her look of disgust easy to see. The thing both smelled and apparently tasted horrible; like chewy, rotten maggots. Neya's tongue kept working as she tried to clear the awful taste from her mouth, yet she still stared out into the darkness, searching for signs of any more things.

"It is a creature of death; warriors who served the darkness and were repaid by this temporary escape from death," Shirok declared after studying the creature for a few moments, taking great pains to remove every trace of the thing's blood from the blade of his spear. "This one may have come alone, but it must have come from somewhere."

He glanced at Porto. "And what of you?" he asked. The creature had singled him out and apparently bitten him; disease and poison were the least of the possible problems that held.

Ilsa spit on the ground. "A poor warrior, at that," she grunted. Giving Porto a once-over glance, she said, "He might be infected. We should kill him now to be sure..." She then laughed uproariously. She paused and wiped a tear from her eye. "I kid. Tying him up should be enough. If he begins craving our flesh, then we kill him." She made a sideways grin just to keep them guessing as to whether or not she was skill joking.

The words receded into Stan's brain as his spell remained uncast. He was trained for battle, like all college-sponsored wizards. But he didn't really have the stomach for it. He was glad to let others do the killing. Still, a strange feeling of remorse crept over him as the spell sunk uncast into his subconscious. The magic wanted to be let out.

Stan walked over to Porto and put a friendly hand on the halfling's shoulder. "Are we being a bit rash here? Surely he will not turn in the next few minutes."

The wizard was visibly exhausted. A lack of sleep and a head full of belligerent magic made for a poor state of mind. Although he did not have the raw fury of the half-orcs, Stan definitely seemed on edge.

After accompanying Roth for a quick perimeter search, Porto slumps down next to the fire and stares at the dancing flames.  The pain in his side is excruciating and will be tender for many days he’s sure; but to his credit he simply allowed Ilsa’s banter to sail in one of his ears and out of the other.  He felt that if she truly deemed him a threat, she wouldn’t waste her energy making joke, he’d simply find that his belly was cut—or worse.  The fact that he was still living was all Porto needed from his surly half-orc companion, to put his mind at ease.
After taking a few moments, he hummed a familiar softly to himself, and he seemed to sit a little straighter.  The spell hadn’t done much for the blood stain on his new jacket, but his wound was on the mend.  By morning it would be fully closed and all that would remain was the soreness of his flank muscles.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he answered those around him and waving them off dismissively.  It was apparent more than just his physical being had suffered from this attack.  Why had he been singled out, he wondered to himself as he continued to stare into the flames.

"Maybe tying him up wouldn't be a bad idea." Roth comments after he finishes his sweep and sets his loaded crossbow down near the fire, not wanting to be caught unprepared again.  With a helping of dread and a slight quiver in his voice, Roth explains, "I've read about these things before.  Their bites seem minor at first, but most people--in a few hours or a day at most--get a terrible fever and are wracked by pain until they finally die and rise again as another of the beasts."  He pauses for a moment before reassuring the halfling, "But we can kill you before the pain sets in once you get the fever ... spare you the misery."

"I agree," Shirok added, already rummaging through his pack for a long coil of rope. "If nothing is wrong, then you spent a night tied up. If there is something wrong, we can either attempt to cure you or simply kill you without you succeeding at your attempts to kill us." He held up the rope and looked at Porto questioningly; would the halfling agree to what Shirok saw as a perfectly reasonable suggestion, or would he be forced to get Ilsa involved?

Ilsa covered her mouth so as to conceal her smile at (what she perceived to be) Roth agreeing with her. She turned and walked out of the campfire light to the edge of the clearing where Porto had been dragged off. She studied the darkness with her orcish vision while she wiped the ichor from her blade. She waited for Porto to be bound or for a call for her to assist by holding him down.

Porto listens in horror as the other contemplate killing him. He looks around in dismay and curses the fact that he has short stumpy legs and has little chance of making a run for it. I shall concede to being tied up. But please my skin is soft can you at least tie me up with this silk rope instead of your rough one. Porto says hoping that he may still be able to sleep ties up.

OOC:I'm gone for a couple days you all decide to off me

"It's really our only option." Roth assures Porto as he takes the rope and begins making his knots around the halfling's wrists that are both secure and as comfortable as he can manage.  When finished he asks Porto, "Is there any kind of meal we can have Stan or Shirok provide for you?"  He pauses for a moment before turning to explain to Shirok and Ilsa, "A last comfort for those doomed ... it's our way."

"Do not worry, my friend. We really do not want any harm to come to you. Imagine if you were to turn into a zombie and wander off - you would be lost for days."

Thanks that's very comforting Stan. Porto says humorously. And Roth could you at least pretend that I have some hope of surviving. What kind of damned place is this where a guy scrapes his knee and everyone assumes that he's going to become a damned monster. Roth I distinctly remember you not turning into an orc or a sword when Ilsa here thought to give you an extra smile on your shoulder. Couldn't we head back to that elf chicks house. If I am infected she could help me and if not... we lose a couple days SO WHAT?

"Kaele is a wizard, and a very good one. But this sort of thing is in the realm of priestly magic."

Stan stayed near Porto, trying to demonstrate some kind of solidarity between the two, even if it was only by staying up the night with him. Sleep wasn't a boon anyway, lately.

Shirok is silent for a moment, looking at Roth, before he turns and speaks to Porto. "We would lose ten days, more if you turn and make traveling difficult. The faster option would be to simply kill you now."

Now that Porto was bound he approached the halfling, pausing to rummage through his belongings for the small pack of herbs he carried. If there was some necromantic infection, with luck he would be able to detect it.

23:15, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 15 using 1d20+12. Heal check. Checking for disease, poison, etc.

Roth sets about tying Porto up with his own silk rope as Shirok inspects the wound.  However, Porto’s own bardic magiks have closed the wound, and thus the half-orc druid learns next to nothing.  In the end, he does concede that the wound does not appear infected or diseased, and almost completely mended.
That night the others sleep and Porto and Stan stay awake by the fire.  They speak of few things, as the two find it more pleasant simply sitting in each other’s company.
Earlier that night Ilsa had acquired a pair of jack-rabbits and meant to cook them for the party’s supper; however upon cleaning them she found them to be sickly and unfit to eat.  Throughout the night, the entire party can’t help but notice the scarcity of wildlife, and the ailing conditions of the few that make their presence known.  Something wasn’t quite right in the Redding hills, but such problems were the least of your party’s worries.  They had their task, and would seek to carry it out.

The next morning several party members find themselves feeling a bit under-the-weather.  Ilsa, Porto, and even Neya are slow to rise and carry unquenchable thirsts.  None actually openly complain, but it can easily be seen that they must be suffering from achy and sore joints.  Porto’s normally cherubic face is more flushed than normal, making him appear feverish.  Neya is the only one willing to allow another to touch her, and Shirok confirms their suspicions that they are suffering from fevers.  They each have their own reasons for not wanting to discuss with the others their conditions, but they all agree that they are able to carry on, at least to Redding.
Once in Redding, the scene is severe.  The small town appears to be in shambles, as if having just suffered an intense raid by monsters operating in the hills.  Roughly human-sized wooden boxes lie strewn about in sloppy stacks, and a terrible odor dominates the air—death.  As the party nears the center of town, the stacks of hastily made coffins give way to grizzly piles of humanoids wrapped in white sheets, awaiting additional boxes to be made.
It isn’t until the party passes a group of children playing in the street that the actual issue becomes realized.  As the children play, they also sing a haunting song:
"I had a little bird,
It’s name was Enza.
I opened the window,
And in-flu-enza..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:30, Mon 08 Feb 2010.

"I hate this accursed place," Ilsa said in a tone that would have been a growl had she not been feeling so poorly. Instead, it came out as an irritated moan. "We should find our man and drag him back as swiftly as possible. The sooner we leave, the better."

"I was only joking about the bite." Roth admits at seeing Porto obviously under the weather, "You didn't have to go and get sick!" And the worry on his face seemed to grow upon reaching Redding.  Without trying to draw too much attention to himself, the elf took hold of his cape which hung over his left arm and wrapped it across his face to cover his mouth and nose.  Looking over to Stan he asks, "Where are their healers?"

"I suspect they are dead or have fled," Shirok replied solemnly, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Neya's shoulder. The large wolf let out a slight whine as he did, staring uncomfortably at the pile of death before them. Disease was natural, and the death it caused could not always be prevented. That was simply life. But the creatures that had attacked them was anything but natural. Ilsa, Neya and Porto had been the closest to the thing, and they were the ones who had sickened while the rest of them remained healthy for now.

If those things had been spreading this disease, then they had to be stopped. Not only for the sake of the survivors of this town, but for the life surrounding the area. Walking carriers did not simply stop at one village. "You there," he called out to the passing children, interrupting their play. "Where can we find the one in charge?"

As the children are called on by Shirok, they laugh and scatter as only children can do.  It is obvious by their fleeting giggles that they do not fear the half-orc, and the party takes note that many of the children share the druid’s split heritage.  Before the party can move away from the spot the children were playing, a few of them reappear and approach the adventurer’s with looks of genuine curiosity in their faces.
“Are you warriors?” one asks.
“Like the Crystal Knight!” says another.
They each appear completely enthralled by Neya, although none of them appear to fear the large wolf either.  Before any of you can answer the children, another one races past you toward a two-story stone building.
“Follow me!  I’ll take you to Lord Sendars!”
The party puts their horses into slow trots and follow the sprinting boy, the other three trailing behind.  At the entrance you all dismount and step inside.  Roth stops and tosses a single silver piece to the boy before ducking inside.
The scene inside is little less bleak than outside.  Several of the wall-mounted torches are extinguished creating a dim and depressing atmosphere.  The reason for the ill-lighting dominates the wide hall: four long rows of cots and in each cot lay a single individual.  Men and women dressed in blood-stained white linen robes rush to and fro, tending to the sick and dying.  Each wears a white handkerchief over their nose and mouth.
The boy pockets the silver piece and moves past the party, leading them further into the make-shift infirmary.  He leads you through corridors once richly decorated in celebration of Redding’s history and trials as its brave men and women fought for survival against the various monsters that dwell in the surrounding wilderness.  Now it is dank, dirty, and utterly depressing.
The boy leads you into another hall, this one relatively more open and only contains two cots.  At first glance it appears to be the main surgical chamber; but upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that this area is being used as a laboratory.  Several tables line the walls and contain boiling pots of herbs, each with documented healing properties.  Salves, bandages, colored glass vials all are displayed here in a terrible disarray.
A man, a male half-elf and a male gnome stand here arguing.   The man and the half-elf appear unkempt, but do not appear to have always been that way.  The scraggly beginnings of beards and dark bags under their eyes show that neither have slept much in the last few days.
“…and he’s been gone three days—how long will you allow the people to suffer?” the half-elf demands.  His words seem to cut the man deeply and he grimaces in reply.
“What more will you have me do?  If the prayers to your god have not been answered, I fear the community coffers can do little more—”
“Bah!” the half-elf scoffs.  Before he can say any more, all three individuals finally realize that the party has entered the chamber.  The man looks at each of you and patiently waits for an introduction.

Stan was about to ask Roth the same question. It seemed they were on the same train of thought regarding the suspiciously absent healers.

Stan said little as the party took in the wounded town, but his heart went out to these poor children. Their situation was deeply unsettling.

He followed the others into the chamber.

"Answers to prayer come in many forms," he said to the trio. "Perhaps we may be of assistance somehow?"

He suspected that the missing "he" was in fact the very man they sought, but he did not want to tip the party's hand just yet. Obviously these people were on edge.

Ilsa glared at Stan, clearly irritated by his offer (and no doubt exacerbated by her illness). "These people talk too much," she thought as she snorted loudly to clear the phlegm. She took a breath and blurted out, "You Lord Sendar? Where's Sir Nachtbrise? Is he gone? If so, where? We find him."

“I am Lord Sendar,” the man replies.  He appears healthy, but very tired and slightly irrigated.  “This is Garret Nachtbrise,” he says as he motions to the half-elf with his thumb, “'though I wasn't aware he was knighted.  And this is Milo Arboraen,” he says nodding to the gnome.  “Please forgive me if I seem… inhospitable,” he says as he turns and moves over to a nearby table and picks up a red vial.  “Is there something we can do for you?”

Garret lets out a heavy sigh as Ilsa states that you are looking for him.  He crosses his arms over his chest and stands facing the party, ready to hear whatever it is they’ve come to say—although it appears he already knows what you are all about.

Despite the illness, Neya still managed to wag her tail at the approach of the children. The she-wolf waited outside of the stone building as everyone else entered, laying down on the ground while wagging her tail so the children knew it was safe to approach. A couple of the children glanced at Shirok questioningly, but he simply nodded. Neya would have ripped apart an entire army before letting any of them harm a child; even the possessed child back in the tower had only been attacked because Shirok hadn't asked her to harm him, just hold him.


Once inside the makeshift hospital, Shirok simply let the others get on with the talking while he approached the table full of their research and bubbling herbs, studying them carefully as he tried to figure out what, if anything, their work had taught them about this disease.
I guess a Heal check is most appropriate. 17:28, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 11 using 1d20+10. Heal check.

"Good my lords,"The wizard said, bowing in the formal style as he had been taught at school. "I believe Sir Nachtbrise is expecting us. I'll let him do the explaining, as you'd no doubt have some trouble believing our strange tale."

Ilsa looked at Stan. Why is making this so complicated? She coughed and wiped the snot from her nose. She took a couple steps toward the half-elf identified as Nachtbrise and said, "We're escorting you to Skyway City. Lady Kaele needs you." She folded her arms and waited for the response.

"--or your father." Roth adds to Ilsa's diplomacy as he appraises the half-elf's age, "We are looking for the leader of the Pelorites who fought Torus.  We should have been preceded by a message from Lady Kaele."

Lord Sendar remains fixed gazing at the strange vials on the nearby table.  His normally well-groomed beard is unkempt and somewhat wild.  He appears to be a healthy man in his mid-forties; however deep crows feet and worry-lines can be seen at base of his eyes.  He wears comfortable clothing, favoring browns and reds.
Milo the gnome stands back and out of the conversation, quickly turning to return to his bottles and burners.  He wears flashy clothing more akin to a court jester.
Nachtbrise also appears to be middle-aged; however his elven ancestry makes it nearly impossible to accurately estimate his age.  He keeps his graying hair short and presently appears to be in need of a good shave.  His ears are pointed, but their points are subtle and can be easily missed.  He has wide eyes and appears to have been made to sparkle, but now they appear tired and lightless.
He steps forward and nods at the party’s statements.  A sour expression forms on his face as Roth mentions Tórus.  “I am the one Lady Silvervine has summoned,” he states bluntly.  “However, as I have already responded to her, I cannot answer her summon.  As I’m sure you can easily see I am entrenched here where the need for my services is greater.”
“Services!” Lord Sendar scoffs.  The two men share an intense share before Garret looks away.  “Perhaps you should speak with them—you’ve little else to do here.”

Outside, Garret walks with your party through the dusty streets of Redding.
“Please forgive Lord Sendar,” he says at length.  “He is under a great deal of stress, and is still grieving a terrible loss.”  As he speaks, his gaze falls to a nearby stack of coffins, particularly child-sized coffins.
“Lady Kaele’s message was indistinct.  What need would she have of me?”

"She asks for your expertise regarding the Crimson Brotherhood and the Cult of Azazel," Shirok answered, though his tone was somewhat dismissive until he asked his next question. "How much do you know of this plague?"

Stan kept quiet. He wasn't a cleric; he knew better than to meddle in the affairs of priests and druids.

However, he took the time to survey the scene. He noted the symptoms of the afflicted, and any common factors such as their age or living situation. Any clue that would help save these haunted children was a clue worth searching for.

“That was a long time ago,” Garret replies to Shirok without looking directly at him.  He hadn’t avoided the half-orc’s gaze intentionally or to be rude; he seemed more concerned about this plague than some ancient cult.  The scene playing out before the party is dire indeed.  The streets are all but totally deserted.  Every so often a lone figure could be seen darting from building to building; afraid to be caught outside longer than the individual had to be.  Despite the temperate climate, the worn thoroughfares are dusty and derelict.
Stan places his attention in finding some kind of median for Redding’s plague, and before long his findings are bizarre.  There appears to be an abundance of smaller, child-sized boxes; and many of the afflicted back in the stone structure were young peoples, young adults and the like.  By the look of things, the older folk appear to be more resistant to the outbreak; a very uncommon attribute to most known sicknesses.
As the party makes its way through the blighted town, Garret affirms Stans observations.  “It attacks the lungs,” he says loud enough for everyone in your party to hear.  “It brings on high fevers and fills your lungs with fluid—mostly blood.  Within the length of a day, most are drowned in their own fluids.  It seems to spread faster than anyone thought possible.  Before dying, one can infect dozens of others, and if only by being near them.
“At first we thought this was nothing more than the spring cough; but then young and healthy men from the mines began to die.  Many people began to blame the mixed populations and seedy individuals who use our community to disappear, if you catch my meaning.  That was when the riots started, but luckily they didn’t last too long.  The militia quickly restored order, but also exposed many good men to the contagion.
“A few nights ago, Lord Sendar met with a great warrior from the far south, the Crystal Knight.  He claimed to have tracked its source to one of the smaller mines and entered; but has yet to return.  To be honest and completely frank, I would love nothing more then to answer your Lady’s summon and be rid of this place for a time; however as long as we are under attack by this influenza, I must remain here.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Fri 12 Feb 2010.

"What does a man with a sword hope to do against a plague?"  Roth asks curiously at the mention of the Crystal Knight--adjust his cloak over his face as the half-elf describes the symptoms of this illness.  "I hate to see people suffer like this, but I don't know the first thing about medicine--except to stay clear of a place like this."  Roth looks around at the sick an dying, his discomfort apparent, but soon gets to business, "We know first-hand of a cult trying to bring Azazel back--for better or for worse,--and our research revealed Torus may still be out there."

Stan did not really feel like getting sick. At all. As charitable as he was, his biggest driving desire was to leave town. No, that was his second biggest. His first priority was to figure out what had happened to his wife and start getting some sleep again.

Either way, he didn't feel like playing doctor.

"What do the little birdies have to do with it all," he asked in reference to the rhyme. The party's wizard really wasn't feeling that mentally acute today.

A rhyme it's only some dark humor of little children. Porto says feeling a bit under the weather and getting worried with the the sick people about them.

"And what of the undead creatures roaming these lands?" Shirok asked. "If they were coming from the mines you mentioned, then that indeed may have been the source of this plague. Where is the mine this 'Crystal Warrior' entered?"

Shirok seemed to be completely ignoring the other members of the party, especially the ones who were advocating they simply leave.

"I wasn't aware of any undead," Garret replies.  He appears to be genuinely alarmed at Shirok's revelation.  Cofussion dominates his features as he addresses Roth's earlier question about the Crystal Knight.
"The Crystal Knight has a stalwart reputation of succeeding where others cannot.  Many of the legends surrounding his exploits are grand, and often mention his strong affiliation with the Divine.  There are more than a few bardic songs where he is regarded as a deity--or at least well on his way to becoming one.
"I believe he went into the Myrdal Vanderplot's mine.  The entrance has been marked with a large banner of the queerest yellow."

The news of Azazel's attempted revival also doesn't sit with with the old cleric.  But he doesn't say anything about it at this time.

I've never even heard of this crystal night. Porto says.

"I don't suppose you need some people to go check up one him, since he's nigh-divine and all. Still, if you were getting worried I'm sure we'd be glad to go have a look."

Garret listens to Stan as the young wizard seems to offer his party’s services, at least in locating the Crystal Knight.  The old half-elf looks around uncomfortably before answering.  “I normally don’t like speaking for this community,” he says in a low voice.  “But I won’t tell you where you can and can’t go,” he says with a sly smile.  “Nobody alive owns the mine anymore, so if you did pay it a visit I doubt anyone would notice.  To be frank, this plague is not only killing our young by the scores, but those able to work have been too afraid to leave their houses for fear of infection.  Without anything to export, we’ve not been able to trade with the surrounding communities and towns—our markets are in ruin!  It seems that those healthy enough to wait this out won’t have a Redding to return to.”
As he finishes, Garret appears to have a sour expression on his face.  It is an unhealthy mix of frustration, anger, and fear.

Roth has no interest in hanging around the sick; if he knew anything of medicine he might offer his help, in the safety of a lab, but as it was all he would be doing is endangering himself.  Roth never even understood the reason they were fetching this Nachtbrise, but since Porto seemed to be ill and the others seemed to think a Crystal Knight in the mines bight have some connection to the sickness, just abandoning this town to it's unfortunate end didn't seem to be an option.  At the very least, a Crystal Knight sounds wealthy.  Roth gives a long, complacent shrug before deciding, "Then it sounds like we're headed to the mine, on the chance this some supernatural curse and not just a plague?"

"We fought the undead last night, and the plague immediately affected those of us who dealt with it too closely. Nor would a hero such as the Knight come to such a place without dire need. Even if the undead are not the cause, the chance that they are must be dealt with." He reached up to pat Neya's flank and spoke something in the odd tongue he used to speak with her, her head turning to him with some surprise. She looked at him for a second before nodding, although she did appear slightly worried.

"Please, lead the others to the mine," Shirok asked Nachtbrise before he turned away, starting to walk back towards the village as Neya remained with the others. "My skills will be better turned towards tending to the ailing, in case there is no reason behind this plague." He didn't seem to be prepared to listen to any arguments.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Tue 16 Feb 2010.

"Hell no," Ilsa objected. She had been following along, listening but not caring, hoping their time in this town would soon come to an end. It was clear to her that she would not be allowed to subdue and drag Nachtbrise back with them and would instead have to do him some favor involving a mine to get him to come with then. She had sighed and comes to terms with this reality when Shirok spoke his plans--plans she did not like.

Whether or not he was prepared to listen to any arguments, she was going to give him one. Or a boot up the ass. "You do not send Neya away to do that which you must do yourself. You are a great shaman and healer, Shirok, but your place belongs with us. If we go to the mine, we all go. If we stay in this damned place, we all stay. We are Snake Tongue. We band together and crush our enemies. We do not mope and sulk alone. We fight."

Nachtbrise shifts uncomfortably in the heat of the day as Ilsa voices her concerns to Shirok.  The others hold themselves; now willing to go, but unsure at how this might play out.  They all watched eagerly as they awaited Shirok’s response.

Shirok quickly turned to face Ilsa, try to keep his voice calm. "I have no intention of 'sulking.' The healer does not charge into battle if there are wounded to care for, and a warrior can do nothing if they do not assault the enemy. You can best fight by preventing any more lives from being claimed, and I can best fight by trying to save those already claimed.

"This is not an enemy that can be crushed by force alone. The mine is the base, but every infected is an outpost. There is no victory unless they all have been dealt with."


Neya whined slightly at his words; apparently she agreed with Ilsa.

"So, you're going to send Neya and I off to fight without a healer? You can fight the outposts, but unless we destroy the base, there will always be more. To do that, we need your power. Without it, you are sending us to our deaths." Ilsa set her jaw and stewed for a moment. She then called Neya to her. "Come. We shall be leave your master to heal those not of his tribe."

"Shirok, consider your placement from a healer's perspective. If you leave now it will be like cutting out a vital organ from our troupe. Likewise, if we stop the catastrophe at the mine, it will be the disease that has lost its heart, not us. The rest of the body will heal itself once the cancer is rooted out.

"Before we go anywhere, though, I'd like a good night's sleep."

The wizard's eyes are unfocused, his gaze wandering and unsure. Soon he will fall asleep in the street.

"I trust in your strengths. I know that you will survive, with or without me," Shirok said slowly, trying to impress upon both Ilsa and Neya the seriousness of his words. "But this plague is something that should not be. And I must try to undo it."

With nothing else to say he turned and began to walk back towards the village, his heart heavy. Within the day, Nachtbrise had said. Ilsa and Neya would survive the battle, just as they always would. But this disease, regardless of where it came from, was something they could not fight alone, and if Nachtbrise was correct then they had less then a day. He would not let that happen.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:32, Tue 16 Feb 2010.

Neya whined as she watched Shirok go, though the wolf remained where she was beside Ilsa. She looked around at the others in the party, looking a little lost, before finally settling on Ilsa, her eyes plainly questioning.

If it's only his healing that you fear is gone then you can all stop worrying. Porto says as he twirls a gnarled stick in his hand. Have you all forgotten that I know a trick or too in the art of healing. I can mend a soul like a cobbler, pun intended. Besides should my "bag" o' tricks run dry I always got this nifty little toothpick. Porto says trying to boost the confidence in the other members of his party.

Ilsa shot Porto a look that would have been a prelude to a severe, if not lethal, beating had they been alone. If only the daggers from her red eye were real blades, the halfling would have died where he stood. But rather than take out her ill temper on him, she snarled the brackish phlegm from her sinuses and spit on the ground.

She looked to Stan and asked, "We leave for the mine in the morning, yes?" She gave Neya a firm, one-armed hug, holding the wolf to her body. Truth be hold, the barbarian felt like death was worming through her body and welcomed the added support Neya provided. Soon, the only thing that would keep Ilsa standing will be her ever-present rage.

Shirok makes his way back to the stone structure housing many of the sick and—most importantly to the half-orc druid—the laboratory.  Once there he finds both Lord Sendar and Milo hard at work mixing salves, stirring boiling liquids in glass beakers, and weighing herbs.  He tells them of the party’s desire to help and that they plan to investigate the Vanderplot mine, after the Crystal Knight.  A smile comes to the tired Lord’s weary face.
“Thank you,” is all that he says, but in his tone Shirok can detect a sense of gratitude greater than anything he has ever sensed before.

Near the outskirts of the small community, Nachtbrise leads the party members to the mine, which is marked—as the cleric mentioned earlier—by a large yellow banner.  The banner is of the most peculiar shade of yellow, and all of you find it depressing, nauseating, and utterly revolting.  For the short time you spend trying to identify why such feeling well up within you, you are unable to place why you feel this way.  Finally Nachtbrise offers you luck and excesses himself, stating that he must return to help Milo at the town hall.

A short while later, Sendar leaves Shirok and Milo in the laboratory and passes Nachtbrise at the door.  The two men exchange knowing glances, but continue their separate ways.  Together Milo, Nachtbrise, and Shirok work throughout the night; but it seems the best they can accomplish are pain remedies and sleep aids to help those about to pass away to do so peacefully.  By the end of their nightly labors, Shirok succumbs to exhaustion-induced slumber on the cobblestone floor, and Milo covers his new friend with the last clean blanket for warmth before retiring himself.

The party checks into one of the small inns operating along the town’s main street.  Securing a room isn’t difficult, once they agree on a venue.  By this time rumors have already reached the ears—and heart—of the kindly old dwarven innkeeper of the party’s intentions to help.  He insists that if they are able to chase away the plague killing the town, and restore the bustling trade, that their stay would be on the house.
That night, he does what he can to make the party’s stay as comfortable as possible; but by the next morning everyone except Ilsa, Porto, and Roth find themselves suffering minor fevers.  The young elf appears to not be affected by the pestilence at all; however Ilsa and Porto’s earlier conditions escalate further.  At one point during the night, Porto begins to shake violently and vomits a small amount of blood.
He assures the others that he is able to make the expedition into the mine, and by morning he appears a little better.  He only eats two heavily buttered biscuits and a single apple for breakfast, a sign that he isn’t feeling good, but good enough to venture out.  Clean water is in high demand at this time, and very expensive, but your dwarven host procures enough of it for your party to fill two waterskins for your newest quest.  Alone, he waves you off as you all make your way to the Vanderplot mine once more.

The Vanderplot Mine—
Area 1: The Entrance
A cool breeze rolls over the rocky outcropping as you behold the entrance to the caverns.  The dusty ground is littered with tools, picks and shovels, some of which protrude from the deep piles of dirt and rock.  A single darkened shaft leads into the depths of the mine ahead.  The dirt path beneath its wooden support structure is covered with stone debris, a few pieces of which occasionally glint with the slightest hint of ore.  No light issues forth from the tunnel.  Burnt-out torches are strewn across the floor, their brackets torn from the shaft walls.  Behind you, the worn road leads back through the foothills to the valley below.  Aside from the quiet whistling of the wind, complete silence fills the small clearing within the hills.

Area 1 notes The tunnel is 15 ft. wide and 10 ft. tall.  The mineshaft heads north into the outcropping and slants downward at a gradual incline.  There are no light sources in the tunnel and those of you without Darkvision will need some source of illumination.

Please post any actions taken before we continue to Area 2.

Before entering the cave, Ilsa stared at the banner and fumed. It make her ill, even more so than she already was, which made her angry, even more so than she already was. In a fit, she climbed up and tore it down. If she had a convenient torch, she would have burned it to ashes. Instead, she simply ripped it, crumpled it, stomped on it, and spit on it. Unfortunately, it left her winded and little light-headed. She took several minutes to catch her breath and her bearing. She pointed down the tunnel. "I'll scout ahead. You follow with lanterns?"

Uneased by the grim conditions of the morning, Roth peers warily down the dark tunnel, almost unaffected by Ilsa's display of tearing down the banner.  At the moment he would even support her actions, if anyone were to ask.  A sickly yellow that seemed to rub off on others, and it was beginning to seem like he was either very lucky, or his elven blood gave him some resistance to the illness that was plaguing the area.  Maybe this illness really was more magic than flea.  Roth nods in agreement with Ilsa and further adds, "I don't think they'd leave any traps in a mine--at least not this close to town.  And if they did, we'll find this knight soon."  The young elf pulls a sunrod from the pack slung over his shoulder and knocks it against the cave's wall; shedding bright light into the tunnel before adjusting his cape secured over his face.

Stan had spent the last night in a sleep that was, if not comfortable, at least restful. He had re-stocked the corridors of his mind with spells, although already his selection was proving inadequate.

He was thankful when Roth lit a sunstick, as he has not himself brought any lightsource. It was a beginner's mistake, and he mentally chided himself for it.

"I...cough... agree. If someone else were here he would have found the danger first. We don't know for sure that he was here at all, however." Stan's point was interrupted by a coughing fit. He held up a hand to ward off any who might try to help him.

"I'm fine. Just a moment."

His eyes rolled back into his head and his hands began the intricate gestures of a spell. They could feel the energy wash over the wizard as his armor spell took form around him. It was clear he was not eager to enter a strange mine, but was at least resolved to keep his complaints to himself.

"Big, famous knight scared away by the banner, you think?" Roth jokes as watches Ilsa enter the mine.

Area 2:
The tunnel opens into a small, roughly rectangular chamber. Scattered chunks of silver ore surround an overturned pair of wooden carts. The lower half of what appears to be a human body juts out from beneath one of the cart’s edges. It shows no signs of movement. Dried blood is smeared across the northern wall in several places. Exits lead to the west and the east.

Area 2 notes The chamber is 25 ft. wide and 25. long.  Roth's sunrod illuminates the area.

Ilsa frowned at the body. She looked both ways, deciding which was best. She looked to Neya and asked, "What do you think? What can you sniff out?" She wished Shirok was there.

She said to the others, "Maybe our hero didn't get very far." She then began the process of clearing the ore and righting the cart so that the identity of the body could be discerned.

"That wasn't the flu..." Roth observes the obvious as he enters the chamber chamber and stands near the overturned cart, worried by the legs sticking out from under it.  Holding the sunrod high, the elf squints to see down the other two corridors as Ilsa works to move rubble.

"They weren't after money, anyway." Stan hefted a piece of ore.

There wasn't a king's fortune here, but the silver was obviously valuable. Whoever had left this body here was not a robber.

"This doesn't seem to be the Crystal Knight, but he definitely was killed for a reason. Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have."

Shirok had appeared briefly before the party before they left for the mine, long enough to lay his hands upon Ilsa and Neya and murmur some old words of power. It wasn't enough to cure them, but it was enough to made them feel better. Unfortunately he hadn't stayed long enough for another argument to begin before he left again, returning to the lab and his work. They lived, but they were still getting sicker. He was running out of time. And he refused to let them fall.


00:09, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 2,3 using 1d4,1d4. Lesser Restoration (Ilsa, Neya).

Ilsa restores 2 Con, Neya restores 3.

Neya approached cautiously at Ilsa's words, the massive wolf approaching the body carefully and sniffing its stench, trying to work out the difference between flesh that would stay dead and flesh that might still rise. She pulled back after a few sniffs, sneezing violently nearby the body. Falling back a bit to let Ilsa work she sat upon the ground and stared into the mine, her body tense for any danger yet not seeming to have the same confidence and readiness she'd always exhibited before.


00:13, Today: Shirok Rezkala rolled 7 using 1d20+5. Scent.

As Ilsa moves the cart to return it to an upright position, a loud bang reverberates through the chamber!  The party members nearly jump out of their skins at the thunderclap; but as the echoes dissipate they can see that everything is alright—at least on the surface.
From the sound of it and the crumbled resin debris, Roth identifies it as a spent thunderstone.  It must have fallen from under the turned cart as Ilsa turned it; but why would something like that be found here?
The ringing in your ears soon dispels; however both Neya and Stan seem to be suffering lingering effects.

Ilsa cleared her ears. "Nice warning trap," she said. Whoever was down here knew they were coming. She had to acknowledge the cleverness. She snorted up another glob of phlegm and spit it out. "Which way?" she asked. While she waited for an answer, she pulled out the necklace that Kaele had given her and put it on. Shirok wasn't there to tell her not to, and if it was magical, she figured she needed all the help she could get at this point.

Neya yelped loudly as the rock exploded, whimpering a little in worry when the strange ringing in her ears didn't go away. Slowly she approached the remnants of the blast and sniffed at it cautiously, gently nudging it with her paw. It didn't seem to be alive, or at least not anymore. With that dealt with she reached up to paw at her ears, trying to clear whatever it was.

Shirok—
Meanwhile, back in Redding Shirok is hard at work with Milo and Garret as they search for a cure or possible treatment for the afflicted peoples.  Judging from the infirmiary, the plague is indiscriminate as to who it attacks.  Humans, elves, halflings, goblinoids, and kobolds—any who work the mines and call Redding home.
Together they work feverishly, and although Shirok and Garret posses the abilities to restore a small number of the affected, a greater cure is needed.  Milo’s alchemy seems to be failing; but Lord Sendar remains patient.  This horrible event is wearing on the man; but he is faced with no other choice.

Stan recoiled from the explosion, then quickly scanned the area to see if there was a hostile spellcaster nearby.

When the others discovered the thunderstone he let out his breath and visibly relaxed.

A warning trap, said Ilsa.

"Ah, very clever indeed. We are dealing with someone who is either patient, well-trained, or both. This doesn't bode well for us. I suggest Roth scouts ahead - librarians are used to moving about with little noise, after all."

When the bang happened Porto gave a startled jump and a whelp. Luckily for him he wasn't the only one. Perhaps it is the crystal warrior...soldier...person? Porto says having a hard time remembering who they were here for.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Mon 22 Feb 2010.

It was getting to the point where it took more energy to keep his eyes open then it did to do his work, but Shirok kept pushing himself forward. He grabbed the noes compiled over the past hours, scanning them with an increasingly annoyed expression. There had to be an answer here somewhere. There had to be.

"More like filing books in alphabetical order." Roth comments as he pumps the tragus of his pointed ears until the ringing eases, "But being an elf has some advantages."  Roth holds out the sunrod to Stan, but as he sees the wizard having trouble hearing him, he adds to Ilsa and Porto as he pulls a small steel mirror from a slit in his armor, "I'll stay where only elves can see, and signal you to stop or go with this."  Expecting to hear some disapproval from Ilsa, Roth takes the moment to get a better look down the two corridors, pulling his goggles down over his eyes.

Should be able to get an idea of what's down 120' in each direction.  When we start moving, Roth will stay about 80' ahead of the others so that he's out of the rod's 60' (human) shadowy illumination, but still within the (elven) 120'
This message was last edited by the player at 05:29, Tue 23 Feb 2010.

"Only where elves can see? You're the one with the torch..." Ilsa shook her head, not understanding what Roth meant. But they were crafty bastards and she wasn't going to argue. She did have a legitimate question, though. "What about that door over there?" She pointed west.

OOC I'll have to update the map later tonight.  :p

Roth straightens the goggles over his eyes and looks over in the direction Ilsa pointed.  With a nod he replies to Ilsa, "I'll check it out," and walks towards the doorway, readying his crossbow and loading a bolt as he walks.  Once at the door, he puts his ear to it to listen to the other side while examining the frame for any signs of another trap.

Stan adopted a position with a clear view of the door and readied himself to cast a magic missile spell should an enemy appear.

Roth looks over the door rotten wooden door frame quickly, and doesn’t find any signs of trapping.  He carefully checks the locking mechanism and finds that it is not locked.

One of you opens the door slowly, peering inside.  The large, square room houses four long wooden tables, each with a bench on either side.  On top of the tables lie a number of wooden bowls and eating utensils.  In the southeast corner of the room, a small stewpot steams over a fireplace carved into the floor.  A pungent odor hangs in the air.

After pushing open the door, Roth takes in the room and the confusion it offers.  "They must have cleared out at the sound of the last trap..."  He looks over his shoulder to the others and notes, "Watch for any more traps they left ... or ambushes."  The librarian takes in the details of the room as he walks to the cauldron to see what's cooking--watching his step as he does so.

Neya's nose wrinkled as she stepped into the room; the stench was even deeper here. Curiously she approached the steaming thing over the fire and poked her snout at it, sniffing the steam.

22:36, Today: Neya rolled 15 using 1d20+5. Scent.

Since everyone else was interested in the cauldron and Stan had no desire to smell the brew, he contented himself with taking in the non-culinary clues in the room. Perhaps someone had left something behind that might give a hint as to the diners' purpose or identity.

The wizard had expected one man to be here, not many and certainly not a meal set out at table. The plot thickened.

"We'd better hurry. Don't let them set up ambush. Kill them before they can bring friends," Ilsa said in response to Roth's words as she walked across the room to the far door with her greatsword out and ready for action. There was urgency in her voice, turned raspy from the illness. Since the others were obsesses by the pot, she opened the door.

Porto walks over to the cauldron. He considers taking a bit, he was never completely full. But on further inspection Porto realized that it was not worth throwing back up. I think we should continue. Porto says weakly

Stan followed a safe distance behind Ilsa. He shared her belief that time was of the essence.

As soon as the group enters the room, the table furthest from the door tips over sending the bowls and eating utensils flying!  As it slams to the ground, the crowns of small reptilian heads can be seen bobbing along the other side, and the sounds of short barks can be heard.  Before anyone can react, a volley of stones rains down on you!

Reflex Saves.  Then roll Initiatives and post actions.
Deadline—Tuesday March 2nd, 2010 @ 12:00 PM
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:11, Mon 01 Mar 2010.

"Ouch! Son of a wyvern!"

Stan's first instinct was to blow the small reptilian creature away with a magic missile, but academy discipline told him to save the spell until it was truly needed. There were fighters here who could easily dispatch these nuisances.

Still, the wizard was not about to let himself go ambushed and unavenged.

With a sound that only the worst of bards would call a battlecry, Stan leapt at the nearest creature and plunged the wizard's dagger straight into the wood of the intervening table.

15:16, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 23 using 1d20+5. Initiative.
15:15, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Reflex Save.

15:21, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 5,4 using d20+1,1d4. Dagger attack.

Neya yelped slightly in surprise when the table suddenly tipped over, the tiny lizard things suddenly rushing forth. With a snarl of anticipation she rushed forward towards the little things, her jaws slashing out to rip the annoying little things apart as she tried to ignore the stones raining down.

Reflex Save 16. Neya attacks the nearest target. (Atk 25, dmg 12, trip 30)

16:32, Today: Neya rolled 25,12,30 using 1d20+10,1d8+9,1d20+10. Atk, Dmg, Trip.
16:27, Today: Neya rolled 12 using 1d20+2. Init.
16:33, Today: Neya rolled 16 using 1d20+5. Reflex. 

"Told you!" Ilsa yelled at her companions when the assault of rocks came. Focusing her attention on their attackers, screaming "Stopityoupatheticmiscreants" with her hoarse voice. With a few large strides and a leap, she was on the little buggers and hacking with her sword.

13:29, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 20 using 1d20+3. Reflex Save.
13:30, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Initiative.
13:36, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 25 using 1d20+8. Attack.
13:37, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 13 using 2d6+6. Damage.

Yipes! Porto screams as he scurries out of the room. He starts to sing an inspiring tune to aid his friends.

Don't let life get you down
Just get up and leave this town
It will be hard
So keep up your guard
You can turn your life around

16:08, Today: Porto 'Chubbs' Brandybuck rolled 17 using 1d20+7. reflex.
16:08, Today: Porto 'Chubbs' Brandybuck rolled 14 using 1d20+3. init.

Move Action:Run out of room
Standard:Inspire courage

"Son of a kobold!" Roth curses in dwarven as he ducks behind the nearer table to avoid the rain of stone.

18:41, Today: Roth Daos rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Initiative.
18:40, Today: Roth Daos rolled 24 using 1d20+6. Reflex Save. (/w Evasion)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Tue 02 Mar 2010.

Stan appears to take the worst of the stony barrage.  Despite this, he reacts quickly and rushes forward into battle.  Standing on the other side of the over-turned table, he sees four small humanoid reptilian creatures, of the like he’d seen living among the other mixed races of Redding.  He’s seen these creatures before, and he knew they have a terrible reputation for deception, trickery, and evil: Kobolds.  He attempts to stab one with his long dagger, but fighting over the wooden barrier proves to be too much for the young wizard.

Porto’s first instincts are to run.  But he quickly remembers that he must support his companions.  As he keeps as far away from their assailants as possible, he begins to sing an inspiring song.

Neya rushes just behind the sprinting wizard into the fray and leaps over the table-barrier.  In a morbid display of raw power and ferocity, the large wolf literally tears one of the hapless creatures apart as she attempts to trip it up.

Ilsa likewise charges in!  She too delivers a terribly devastating blow to the first kobold she encounters.  With a mighty cleave, the barbarian cleaves her victim nearly in two—and also severs the kobold standing to the right of her target.  Following Neya’s grizzly display, Ilsa effectively slays two kobolds with one fell swoop of her heavy great sword!

Roth ducks under the nearest table and avoids the hail of stones.  He quickly brings his crossbow to bear and fires, sniping the top of the only reptilian head left alive.  His bolt skims the top of the table and draws a deep red line across his target’s bald head.  The brilliantly aimed shot draws forth a pain filled bark from its recipient.

Seeing it companions so easily slaughtered, and just having been shot itself, the kobold falls to the floor and weeps, begging for mercy.

Ilsa laughed at the cowering kobold and might have crushed its head with her boot had she not started coughing. Several moments later, her chest and throat still full of phlegm, she cursed at their prisoner in orcish. "You are a pathetic creature. Your blood is unfit to soil the bottom of my boots." She wiped off her sword and asked the others in common, "Anyone speak puny rat dog lizard person? I guard the door." She walked across the room to the far door and leaned against it, using the moment of rest to catch her breath and clear her sinuses.

Neya slowly padded forward towards the tiny lizard thing, blood still dripping from her jaws. She leaned forward slightly, staring directly into the thing's eyes. It was submitting.

Well, that was alright then. Satisfied that it wouldn't try anything she fell back to sit beside Ilsa near the door, suddenly sneezing violently and sending a spray of blood and mucus against the wall. She whimpered slightly from it, but seemed well enuogh to shoot a death glare at the lizard thing.

Roth straightens up and sets his crossbow down on the table which he had taken cover behind.  Eased to see Ilsa spare the last, surrendering kobold, the young elf crosses the room and squats near the thing, trying in varying tongues to speak with the bloodied reptile, "Common? Dwarven? Gnomish?"

Stan stayed out of Neya's way as she tore into the kobolds. The sight was disturbing to the young student, who still wasn't used to killing. He had no time to reflect, however. Ilsa's blade arced over the wizard's head and he ducked just in time to avoid being in two places at once. The next moment Stan's heart skipped a beat when he saw Roth level a crossbow in the wizard's direction. Although the whole affair took less than 10 seconds, Stan was quite shaken up by the violence and, above all, his own ineffectuality in either stopping or contributing to it.

He sat down a fair distance from the Kobold and tried not to look at all the blood on his tan adventurer's pants. He was already weakened and sleep-deprived, but now he felt emotionally wrecked as well. The wizard pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head in his crossed arms - the perfect image of a scared or perhaps exhausted little boy.

Stan listened to see what the Kobold had to say, or even if anyone could understand it. Usually such creatures spoke at least some common, but Stan was quickly learning his assumptions were often moot.

Porto walks in and picks up right after Roth finished. Halfling, elven, orc Porto says gesturing to Ilsa

“Meza no want die!” it cries out in broken Common at the party just before breaking into a rough coughing/barking fit.  “Meza no more hunt humans—meza promise,” it says between hoarse barks.  It is obvious, like everything else in this town, it is infected.  “Will maka nice zurs, maka nice...”

What were you doing here? Porto asks friendly to make him feel easy

16:14, Today: Porto 'Chubbs' Brandybuck rolled 24 using 1d20+12. diplomacy.

“Ee take shiny rhock,” the kobold replies to Porto, and even offering the halfling what must be a kobold-smile.  “Others no like 'is place.  Say it cursed,” the little creature says before falling into another coughing fit.

Why do you want the shiny rock?

“Ee sell eit course!” the kobold answers, as if the answer was obvious enough.  “Maka nice? Eh, eh?”

So your just a bunch of miners? Porto asks

Stan broke off a bit of his trail biscuit and offered it to the poor Kobold.

He said something in what sounded like the language of magic, though the words carried no arcane power with them. The speech was dark but elegant, not gutteral like the Orc tongue yet not as flowing as Elven. It was the language of dragons and their lesser kin.

"Ask him how many more of his kind there are, where they are, and what traps they have created. Ask him where this stupid knight went." Ilsa was getting impatient. She would have already beat the information out of it. Or maybe just beat it. The half-orc scratched the top of the wolf's head and sighed. She missed Shirok.

"I'm sorry about your friends."  Roth explains to the kobold, "We don't want to hurt anyone--well, maybe the orc does,--but we need to find a human knight that came here before us.  To end the sickness."

Stan translated Roth's words to the kobold, assuming it even understood the dragon-language in the first place.

It shrugs at Porto’s question.
That strange smile seems to reappear in the kobold’s face as he hears the words from Stan.  It eagerly snatches up the biscuit and tastes it gingerly.  It makes a look akin to that of disgust and tosses it away.  As it does, it replies to Stan in the same tongue, and seemingly at a more comfortable pace.
"Naš vođa, moćna šaman zove M'dok naredbi da se držite ove špilje. Mi ćemo koristiti sunčan stijene prodati izvan naroda, i graditi naše snage, ali za ono što ja ne znam."
"Shiny warrior!" the kobold says to Ilsa and Roth as they too speak to it.  "Warrior meet wit M’dok an' den leave.  Meza no know more on d'is."

"M'dok?"  Roth looks to Stan, not sure if that is a name or a foreign word.

"M'dok is the name of their leader. Apparently he wants them to defend these caves and use the minerals to... sell and... build their strength? I think that's what he said. Apparently the Crystal Knight talked to their leader and then left."

Stan was glad to translate such a challenging language if it meant taking his mind off his troubles.

"Mi ovdje pokušavamo izliječiti bolesti koja zla svoga naroda. Ako želite dobiti dobro ne bi trebalo ugroziti nas."

"Left were?" Ilsa was growing angry. "Why do I have to ask these stupid questions? Can you not think of them yourselves? And ask him about his leader and their defenses. Maybe we find the knight taken prisoner here. Maybe this creature is lying to you. Maybe we slaughter them all." Yes, she was liking that plan more and more. "Or maybe leader knows what knight said and why knight left and where he went. We go talk to leader. Maybe not kill them if they give us good information." It was a compromise plan.

Neya gently nudged Ilsa on the shoulder, trying to distract her. She could smell the anger coming off of her, and whenever Ilsa got angry Shirok usually tried to calm her down. Shirok wasn't here, but Neya could at least try.

Roth shoots a glare at Ilsa, thoroughly annoyed by her presence, and suggests, "Why don't you check the next room?"  Turning back to the Kobold, Roth asks, "Can you take us to M'dok?  We need to fight this warrior."

Ilsa grinned and licked her teeth. She then kissed the air at Roth. "Come, Neya. Maybe we make it to M'dok first." She hefted her sword, turned around, and opened the door.

Neya glared at Roth for a moment before she stood and padded after Ilsa, trying to stay alert through the haze her sick mind had left her in.

The kobold stares hard at Stan, but doesn’t say anything in response to the wizard’s last statement.  As Ilsa speaks, you all can tell the little creature attempts to follow her; but his basic grasp of the Common language is just too rudimentary.  The kobold becomes very nervous at length, visibly relaxing only when Roth seems to stand up to her.
He nods at the elf, “Yes, yesss!” it answers.  “Meza taka you to M’dok ifa you’za maka nice.”  The creature looks around the room one final time to survey the slaughter before leading the band down the eastern tunnel.  Ilsa and Neya remain in the room and once the other party members leave, following the kobold, they make their way through the northern door.

I will continue with Ilsa and Neya in a separate thread, until the party meets back up.

The kobold leads you down the eastern tunnel, from where the overturned carts and dead man are.  The inclined tunnel begins to slope much steeper here.  As you near the entrance to the larger cavern ahead, you all notice a soft blue luminescent glow.  Roughly 20 feet from the mouth of the cavern, the kobold hugs the northern wall, and motions you all to do the same.
“Trap,” he whispers sheepishly.
Beyond, the enormous cavern extends upward for at least 100 feet, climbing high into the bowels of the mountain. Glowing blue-green lichens creep across the rough walls and man-sized stalagmites protruding from the ground in this area, their faint light growing and then diminishing again every few seconds. The illumination occasionally highlights small flecks of silver, which glitter in the face of the great western wall of the cave. Several cables hang down from the edge of a wide hollow within that wall. The hollow penetrates deep into the west face of the cavern and begins about 20 feet above where you stand (Map pending). The air here feels cool and damp.
Your kobold guide issues a series of hoarse barks, obviously alerting something to his presence.
“Ee mus climb erp ta ropeses,” he says as he scampers out into the open.  Despite being affected by the plague, he nimbly begins to climb up the ropes to the ledge above.  “Come.”

Shit Porto says, he doesn't like to climb.After you Roth Porto says with a gesture.

"Right." Roth agrees with Porto as he slings his crossbow over his shoulder.  With a gesture for Stan to wait until he's up, Roth takes the rope and begins his ascent, pausing at the top to first peek over the ledge.

21:53, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Roth Daos, rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Climb.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:54, Sat 06 Mar 2010.

Roth has no trouble in following the nimble lizard creature up the ropes, 20 feet above the cavern floor.  The elf peeks over the lip and discovers the kobolds' little base of operations.
They yap at each other, speaking in their own language.  They appear passive enough with the other kobold from the dining hall, and before Roth has fully made it to the top, most of them have pressed themselves against the far wall, obviously fearing the strangers.
At Roth's signal, Porto climbs up, followed by Stan.  A short while later, the kobold who led you here returns with another kobold, dressed in an somewhat impressive red robe.
"Meza M'dok!" he declares.  "What you want?"

"We're looking for the warrior that came before us."  Roth explains to the kobold in charge, "We think he knows how to end the sickness."

Stan follows along, still a bit sullen but glad to finally be working with the kobold instead of against him.

When M'dok shows up, Stan stays close to Roth in case any trouble erupts.

“Great warrior,” M’dok replies nodding, signaling that he knows of whom Roth is speaking about.  “Her scales are hard, like iron.  Very impressive, for human.  Iron warrior not here,” he says at length.  “Left to see demon,” he says as he points out over the vast cavern to the east.
“The demon brings sickness, the demon brings death.  Have not seen Iron warrior in long time.  Probably eaten by demon.  You leave too!  Or demon eat you too.  I’s warned her, she not listen.  Her scales too thick,” he says with a hoarse laugh.

So, the crystal knight was a woman. Well, it was certainly possible in this modern age (not that Stan knew much about what he still thought of as "the future"), but admittedly he had thought their quarry a man.

No matter.

"I wonder if the great M'dok has ever seen this demon, or spoken with him?"

Or if the great M'dok would help us find and maybe even help us vanquish this demon? Porto suggests in a sing song voice.

M’dok appears about to answer Stan when Porto interjects.  The small lizard regards the portly halfling for a brief moment and then nods.
“We go!  Help fight demon” he barks, loud enough to stir those around him.  He issues a series of quick yips and snarls, and three kobold warriors approach.  Each wear bits of actual armor and carry better weapons then the others.  “M’dok lead the way,” he says to Roth.

A look of confusion consumes Roth's face for a moment at the kobold's willingness to fight a demon he seemed to be so afraid of, but with a quick shake of his head and a shrug, the elf gestures for M'dok to lead and insists, "After you, Master M'dok."

M’dok and one of his elite guards climb down to the cavern below.  Roth and the others follow, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that the kobold leader seems to stick very close to Porto.  He and his small band lead the party through the massive cavern to the east, and eventually come up to a smaller tunnel.
As you enter the tunnel you all begin to feel an uncomfortable heat emanating from somewhere ahead.  With each step the heat seems to intensify, until it becomes sweltering as you enter a small bowl-shaped grotto.  Waves of heat wash through the cave, thickening the air and making breathing difficult. This small, bowl-shaped cavern’s floor is littered with humanoid corpses. Rats skitter through the sea of bodies within the sunken floor, pausing occasionally to nibble at a choice morsel. A host of their brethren lie nearby on their backs, some of them still twitching with a few remnants of life. A tunnel’s opening is visible in the eastern wall of this chamber and, in the distance; the sound of rushing water can be heard.
“Demon on other side,” M’dok says, motioning past the bodies.  “Tunnelworms not ever enter dis tunnel.  Leave offerings when feel heat.”

Stan said nothing except a short arcane phrase. He touched to his forehead the magic-dowsing wand and carefully searched for any signs of magic in the chamber. He was again careful not to stray too far from his companions.

So whats the plan Roth, Stan? Porto asks, he's a singer, not a tactician. Besides the demon probably already knows their there.

"I'd like to know what we're dealing with before we charge in. As far as we know now, the 'demon' is anything from an elaborate ruse to an actual Planar creature. The nature of our foe will determine our battle plan."

As Stan lectured he tried to avoid a rat that was chewing on someone's fingernail. They really were disgusting buggers.

Roth groans in disgust at the sight of the hot bowl of death, tightening his cloak over his face against the stench, but still almost gagging as he steps amongst the filth.  "I wouldn't be surprised if this was the sole cause of the sickness ... bodies need to be buried or burnt, not left sweltering and rotting. Even the rats are sick here!"  Roth ends his statement with a bit of amazement, nudging one of the twitching and dying rats with the toe of his boot.

Looking to M'dok, Roth asks for him to clarify, "What is a tunnelworm?  Do you mean rat?  And are there any traps down this tunnel?"  Looking to Porto and Stan, Roth adds, "Same as before, hold that rod high and watch for my signal to stop and go as I scout ahead."

“We are Tunnelworms,” M’dok replies to Roth as he slaps his chest in a prideful display.  When asked about traps, he shakes his head.  “Me no know.  We never come down here.  Leave sacrifice at tunnel entrance and leave.”

The party looks out over the sea of death and decay.  Crossing this cavern will be tricky, as there is no clear way around the pit of bodies, which you now see is made-up of nearly every surface race imaginable.
You being to make you way through the cavern, but are forced to wade through areas where it is imposable to avoid contact with the bodies.  As you do, some of the bodies begin to stir!  Several of the humanoids pull themselves up and begin to surround the party.  This is very unnerving and doesn’t look good.

Initiatives and 1st round actions

Luckily Porto was trying to distract himself from the horrors that surrounded him with a tune in his head. When the dead rise he quickly spews forth lyrics that lighten your spirits and lets you know that you can do anything. Porto swings his lute from his back into playing position and lets your ears have a ride.

Well I wont back down, no I wont back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I wont back down

Gonna stand my ground, wont be turned around
And Ill keep this world from draggin me down
Gonna stand my ground and I wont back down

Hey baby, there aint no easy way out
Hey I will stand my ground
And I wont back down.

Well I know whats right, I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin me around
But Ill stand my ground and I wont back down

Hey baby there aint no easy way out
Hey I will stand my ground
And I wont back down
No, I wont back down

_{^{Tom Petty - "Won't Back Down"}}


15:28, Today: Porto 'Chubbs' Brandybuck rolled 17 using 1d20+3. init.
Move Action:Draw Lute?
Standard Action:Inspire Courage

Stan got the idea that some of the bodies were brushing against him consciously, but he pushed aside such notions and tried to wade through the sea of bodies quickly.

At a certain point, however, even an educated man must suspect that his zombie fancies are more than paranoia.

While the first undead began to surround the party, the wizard had already soiled himself and was busy frantically uttering a spell. Discipline was the last thing on Stan's mind as he cast his mightiest spell, sending a large sphere of fire into the nearest zombie. The sphere set some of the non-moving bodies ablaze, making the battlefield a dangerous inferno of death and fire.

6:07, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 6 using 2d6. Damage, Flaming Sphere.
12:40, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 18 using 1d20+5. Init.

Roth picks his way carefully through the mess of dead bodies, disgusted by the filth, but freezes at the sight of them beginning to move.  He pales in sudden fright and backs away, firing off a crossbow bolt at one of the abominations as he does and offers a contrary opinion to Porto's little diddy, "Actually, maybe backing down would be the best course of action?"

Move: back away a bit
Standard: Attack w/ crossbow
23:09, Today: Roth Daos rolled 10 using 1d10+1. Damage.
23:09, Today: Roth Daos rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Attack w/crossbow.
22:58, Today: Roth Daos rolled 9 using 1d20+3. Init.

Deathly afraid of the monsters, Porto begins singing in attempt to inspire enough courage to rise and overcome this newest challenge.

Roth reflexively raises his crossbow and fires, all the while backing away.

Seeing the dead rise, Stan finally is able to cast a spell, releasing the tension within his mind, and greatly helping those around him.  The ball of magical fire slams into the same creature Roth had just shot, burning away its dead flesh.  Unfortunately, the zombie remains, hell-bend on feasting on their blood and brains.

Behind you, you hear another fight break out as M'dok and his band of warriors are likewise attacked from behind.

The wounded human zombie shuffles forward at Roth, while a dwarven cadaver confronts Stan.  Both are sluggish after their first death, and aren't fast enough to attack after having spend their energies shambling.

Porto continues to sing as he pulls out his silk rope that he got from Abigail and throws it towards the nearest non-burning zombie. It's slender ropeness wraps itself around the creature preventing it from causing further trouble for Porto and his companions, hopefully.

Standard Action:Throw Rope

Stan kept the sphere alive, focusing his attention on holding the spell for as long as he thought safely possible. Meanwhile, his feet found their own way away from the center of the battle, trying to find some safe ground out of range of the putrid undead.

Move action: direct sphere to keep attacking zombie(s).
15:37, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 8 using 2d6. Sphere damage.

Move action 2: Try to get away from the zombies (taking an attack of opportunity if necessary)

Roth drops his crossbow as he continues moving back down the tunnel they had come from and calls out to the others, "Keep moving!  M'dok, can we lead them to one of your traps?"  Meanwhile, he pulls a scroll from one of the cases strapped to his belt and, after quickly reading through the runes contained, utters an arcane phrase and gestures with his hand at a group of the lifeless husks.

Move: Away!, draw scroll
Standard: Use Scroll of Grease, targeting as many as possible.
16:59, Today: Roth Daos rolled 32 using 1d20+12. UMD DC 21 Grease Scroll.

Porto casts his length of silk rope at an approaching zombie’s feet.  Like a serpent, the rope quickly wraps itself around the monster’s legs and waist, arms and torso; effectively holding it still.  The zombie isn’t able to produce enough movement to topple, and is held immobile.

Roth jumps back from the burned zombie with a bolt jutting from its crushed chest.  As he does, he produces a scroll and reads from it.  His expert reading causes the area in front of him (10 ft. square) to be covered in a thick layer of slippery grease.  His wounded zombie attacker hasn’t the physical dexertity to remain standing and falls over.

Stan (somewhere behind Roth) takes a step backward in an attempt to distance himself from his dwarven assailant.  He focuses on the wounded zombie lying in front of Roth, rolling the flaming sphere into the zombie once more.  Both the zombie and the area affected by the grease ignite, filling the already putrid air with the stench of burning flesh.  The corpse lets out a seemingly automated moan before expiring within the flames.

Another zombie—this time a kobold—climbs to its feet and shambles toward Porto.  Behind the party, three more kobold zombies are engaged with M’dok and his band, along with another, half-orc, zombie.  They fight well, however their spears do little to harm the zombies’ dead flesh and muscle.
“Me no think so,” M’dok shouts back at Roth to be heard over the din of combat.  “We trap mine entrance and around camp.  Also, we now… how you say… severed!”  As he speaks he points to the line of kobold zombies blocking the way back to big cavern.
As they fight, you see M’dok wielding powerful magic spells, as well as any human or other "goodly race."  He appears to be a very talented shaman.

"I think the word you're looking for is screwed!"

Stan was uncharacteristically animated as he fought to keep the magical fire between himself and the undead. He had just enough time to recognize Roth's scheme, but not enough to keep the flaming ball of magical pitch from igniting Roth's grease spell.

"Really Roth, there's a reason we have schools for this sort of thing. Could you please leave the conjuration to the professionals?"

Despite his mock chiding, Stan smiled when the combined grease and fire consumed one of their foes.

"After all, I don't tell you how to shelve books."

Move 1: Flaming sphere round 3/4
18:55, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 11 using 2d6. Sphere damage (round 3).

Move 2: Try to stay out of harm's way (though it seems less likely each round.)

Porto continues to sing as he switches his banjo for his sword and hopes he wont have to use it. Porto holds it up like a scared child, out in front of him with both hands.

Standard Action:Full Defense

"I only got it from a freshman, it wasn't going to last anyway!" Roth jests to Stan.  Having run out of options, the elf draws his rapier and rushes at the undead kobolds blocking their way to safety, thrusting with precision at his target's dead heart.

10:00, Today: Roth Daos rolled 5 using 1d6+1. Damage.
09:59, Today: Roth Daos rolled 24 using 1d20+6. Attack.

Porto draws his longsword and holds it out before him.  He keeps singing, but you all can tell this encounter isn’t setting very well with him.  The zombie tied up at his fight shifts slightly, as if still trying to walk forward.

Roth moves to intercept and attack the kobold pressing Porto.  The elf’s attack is masterfully executed; however it appears that the little undead creature shrugs off the wound.

Stan brings the ball of flame back to attack the dwarven zombie chasing after him.  He also masterfully guides the magical ball and scores a decent hit; however the zombie continues coming!

The kobold zombie engaged with Roth lashes out violently and it slams its clawed hands into Roth’s side.  One of its claws finds a chink in the elf’s armor and the young man feels a little sting.
A great cry rises through the tunnel as the kobold team finally kills one of their attackers!

"It had to be zombies ... I wasn't prepared for zombies!"  Roth mutters to himself in a mix of discombobulating fear and exasperation as he looks about the debris on the ground for a club or longsword for some proper dislodging and dismembering.

Move: Spot to find another weapon.
23:37, Today: Roth Daos rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Spot.

Porto moves to the downed zombie, as if having gained a little fortitude.  He croches down and begins to saw at the creature's neck with his longsword, all the while continuing his song.

Stan knew he couldn't hold the spell much longer. He watched as it burned itself out, like the light of their hope extinguishing.

The room darkened. For a moment the wizard's mind was all panic, but he pushed the emotion aside and searched for another spell that might be of help to the group.

Stan began a short, low incantation. The zombies aroud him seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the metric chanting grew louder, more forceful.

Move: Flaming Sphere round 4/4
12:41, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 7 using 2d6. Sphere damage 4/4.

Standard: cast protection from evil
AC is now 17 against evil creatures (+4 mage armor, +2 PfE)
Also get +2 bonus to saves vs evil creatures' effects

Duration 4 minutes (40 rounds)

Porto focuses on beheading the zombie he had magically tied up a few seconds before.  The dead flesh is cut through easy enough, but the bone proves to be a problem.  The halfling trudges on though, determined to kill it so that his companions can focus on other things.

Roth looks around frantically for another weapon that might prove more useful against their foes.  He had heard tavern tales and other folklore that killing a zombie could be as easy as burning it, or slashing the flesh from its bones.  Maybe it was the desperation of the situation, but he isn’t able to locate any nearby he feels he would be able to substitute well-enough.  Strapped for options, he swipes his rapier against the approaching zombie’s chest!
He hits his target and the blow proves quite effective; however using his blade in such a way requires him to swing awkwardly and he isn’t sure he’d be able to replicate the effect next time.

Stan bounces the ball of flame onto the dwarven zombie again before it goes out.  Luckily, the living cadaver has had enough of the flame’s bite and drops to the cavern floor, returning to its eternal sleep.  With a wide smile on his face, Stan begins to cast a new spell, one that will help protect him and his allies from the remaining zombies.

M’dok’s elite warriors now focus on breaking the zombies’ outer defenses, while M’dok himself turns to assist Roth.  He masterfully casts a simple incantation and a small orb of acid flies through the air, over Roth’s head, and slams into the zombie’s chest!  The acid burns away more flesh; but it continues to shuffle toward Roth.

Zombie Count:
2/4 miner zombies remain (1 held by Porto)
3/4 kobold zombies remain

Stan desperately searched through his pack for the curative potion which had travelled with him into the future. He unplugged the stopper and desperately quaffed the foul-smelling brew.

Whether because of the time travelling or just because the potion was poorly made, the healing effect seemed less than Stan had expected. He let out a resigned sigh and started seriously considering that this might be his final resting place - just another nameless corpse in the macabre pile.

-Draw potion
-Drink potion
21:48, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 3 using 1d8+1. Cure light wounds FTW. (Or so I thought at the time)

Porto continues to hew at the undead flesh wishing that his arms were a bit stronger or that his sword was a bit larger, but he continues to sing on.

For lack of a better option, Roth continues his assault with his finely crafted rapier and thrusts again at his assailant.  Finding fear's grip stronger than his own, he once again turns is attention to scanning about for a more suited weapon.

01:31, Today: Roth Daos rolled 7 using 1d20+6. Attack.
01:33, Today: Roth Daos rolled 22 using 1d20+7. Spot.

With a sickening snap! Porto’s blade finally makes it completely through the bound zombie’s spinal column.  It shudders briefly before curling up and lying deathly still.

Roth still scans the area for a better means to defend himself from the zombies.  Of course he spies many bones and severed appendages lying among the dead; however he knows that beating them with blunt weapons will have the same effect stabbing the creatures produces—nothing.  He understands that he needs to tear their flesh from their bones, or burn them.  He notices Porto’s approach, although time-consuming, isn’t a terrible one.
As he looks about and ponders what to do, he realizes that daggers can be used to slash as well as pierce victim’s internal organs.  He could easily use one of his tiny blades in this manner, without awkwardness or difficulty.

Being free of his undead dwarven antagonist, Stan focuses on restoring his tried physical stamina.  He retrieves a potion from his belt and downs it in a few quick gulps.  He feels slightly refreshed, but concedes that nothing beats bed rest; or a powerful cleric.

M’dok hurls his spear with expert marksmanship, its point puncturing his target’s skull!  The zombie falls to a nearby pile of bodies and remains there unmoving.  “We break this line,” he calls out to Roth, pointing at the remaining zombies cutting off your escape to the west.  “Maybe you’sa scout ahead?”
The kobold’s band work in unison, stabbing the zombies and using their spears to hold them back.  The group was wise to befriend them as they would prove dangerous foes—especially in the cramped quarters of the mine.

Zombie Count:
0/4 miner zombies remain
3/4 kobold zombies remain
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:45, Mon 22 Mar 2010.

Porto retrieves his rope from the headless body that had been his foe. Roth, Stan? Porto inquiries.

Since the immediate threat was gone, Stan's mind began to catch up with the animal side that had been keeping him alive through the combat.

He held up a finger delicately as though he were about to say something to Porto. Then, Stan threw up.

"This demon had better be ready for one angry mage," he said as he held himself up with his hands and knees. He got to his feet a short while later. "Come on, lets go.

"By the way, Porto, where'd you learn to saw through a neck like that?"

Porto gives a mocking smile as he holds up a finger and wags it about as if to say "it's not polite to ask".

"Alright, we'll move ahead."  Roth nods to M'dok, noting for a moment the skill of his soldiers before his flicks some flesh from his rapier and returns it to its scabbard.  Roth fetches his discarded crossbow and reloads it as Roth vomits, and when they are both finishes it, he waves for Porto and Stan to follow, "Lets check ahead, but stick together.  I want to get out of this place quick."

+500 XP!

Together Porto, Roth, and Stan make their way through the zombie pit and to the other end of the cavern.  They follow the narrow corridor further to the east.  A short distance later, they find themselves in the mouth of the tunnel and standing before a wide cavern:
A single, jagged pillar of rock lined with glowing blue-green moss emerges from the depths of the pool within the center of this cavern.  Water courses down its side from a font near its tip, cascading into the pool below.  The pool feeds a wide stream that flows rapidly along the length of the room and then under the rock wall at the southern end of the cave.  Several glyphs are carved deep into the stone face of the pillar, their outlines just visible beneath the light of the moss.  An eerie sense of discomfort pervades this place (map update pending).
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:32, Tue 23 Mar 2010.

Sounds echo from behind you, betraying the approaching band.  Could it be M’dok’s force?  More zombies?  Or perhaps some new threat?
A moment later the familiar figures of Ilsa and Neya come into view, with M’dok and his band in tow.

Map update still pending...
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:05, Wed 24 Mar 2010.

Neya barked once when she saw the others, her tail wagging a few times. She approached the group, a slight limp appearing in her gait, sniffing the air as she did so. There was something weird about this new place, something that made her feel wrong.

17:21, Today: Neya rolled 20 using 1d20+5. Scent.

Why hello glad you could join us, we've missed you two a bit! Porto calls out to them looking them over to determine their conditions.

"Heal Neya," Ilsa replied brusquely to Porto. She followed it up with the blunt question, "Where is the demon?"

"If there is a demon, we will find him soon enough. This place is... eery," he added unnecessarily.

Stan again touched the magic-sensing wand to his temple. The pillar was obviously magic; the trick was figuring out why. Perhaps something he had read in an old book somewhere would give him a clue to solving this town's problems. To be able to actually fix something with his knowledge, to put his schooling to use, that would be small pleasure in this rough future.

Porto goes over to the large wolf and produces the wand in his hand. He flips it about and around his head until it rests in his other hand. He taps Neya a time or two and gives Ilsa a tapping if it's needed, and wanted.

"Now me," Ilsa said when Porto healed Neya. Though Ilsa was putting on a brave, angry front, but it was clear she was very, very ill, probably near death. Soon, she would have to rage simply to remain standing.

"Stay back." Roth says to the others--ignoring Ilsa's arrival,--as he heads slowly into the cavern, his eyes both scanning the shadows for danger and examining the ground as his ear seem to perk and search for any sounds other than the party.  As he nears the center, he investigates the pool for any threats, as well as tries to make sense of the carvings on the pillar.

01:23, Today: Roth Daos rolled 24 using 1d20+9. Decipher Script.
01:22, Today: Roth Daos rolled 24 using 1d20+9. Spellcraft.
01:22, Today: Roth Daos rolled 18 using 1d20+5. Hide.
01:22, Today: Roth Daos rolled 16 using 1d20+5. Move Silently.
01:22, Today: Roth Daos rolled 14 using 1d20+10. Search.
01:21, Today: Roth Daos rolled 23 using 1d20+5. Listen.
01:21, Today: Roth Daos rolled 21 using 1d20+7. Spot.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:25, Thu 25 Mar 2010.

Porto dishes out three taps of his wand each, all but closing all of Neya’s wounds and completely healing Ilsa.  The pair once again looks formidable—or would if it weren’t for the disease plaguing them.  As Porto selflessly tends to them, Roth and Stan appraise the situation, gazing deeply into the cavern before them.
The wizard and librarian regard the massive pillar for a long moment, both trying to identify any magics that may be in play.  The rock formation is large, jutting easily 20 ft. from the pool.  Roth spies a narrow trail, about two feet wide, looping around it (with the exception of the area smoothed over by the waterfall).  He quietly points this out to Stan.  The wizard nods, but keeps his eyes locked onto the water spewing down the pillar, noticing faint traces of a strange magic affecting the water, thanks to his arcane sight.
Roth focuses on the glyphs, and before too long, it appears he understands what they mean.

"Snake Tongue ... why does that sound familiar?" Roth asks Stan as turns his eyes away from the glyphs and casts his gaze down into the pool, seeing if anything interesting lays beneath the surface.

"Hahahaha!" Ilsa laughed but had to stop short as she was overcome with a hacking, wheezing cough. She walked up to Roth, her breath heavy and gurgling. She came up very close to him and whispered. "I am Snake Tongue. So is Shirok. And Neya. We are Snake Tongue. You cannot ignore us." She backed away and smiled, her gums and teeth coated in her own blood, taking on the same crimson tinge as her eye. "I will die soon, but I will not die alone. You'd best find this demon before the time of decision comes."

Neya whined at the sound of Ilsa's sudden coughing, the gleam of bloodlust in her eye. Once the little one had finished tapping her with the stick she padded over to Ilsa, nudging her slightly before turning to Roth, a questioning look in the wolf's eyes.

"Well I don't see any demons here, do you?" Roth asks Ilsa, worried at her seeming to lose what little sanity she had.  "Maybe you should check the walls for an exit."  He looks back up to the pillar and translates for the Orc, "It talks about Snake Tongue clan ... Slang-tong, coming to this cave, breeding with demons, and dying out.  Nothing very helpful."

As you search the large cavern, a bloody roar echoes throughout the cavern!  The scream seems to be coming from atop the pillar.
"Ongelowiges! Jy oortree op uitgehold grond! My hoor en die woorde van die Almagtige Gruumsh Een Oog! Dood aan u, indringers! Miskien is jy vrot van 'n duisend jaar hier onder Sy troon! Heerlikheid tot Hom! Glorie vir Tornclaw!"

“That is demon,” M’dok says as he points his clawed finger to the top of the pillar.  “He angry we come!  He know we come to fight.”
You can sense the kobolds are nervous, but willing to assist you where they can—as long as you lead the charge.

"Hmm, that sounds like Orc. Ilsa, did he say something about Gruumsh?

"How are we even to get up there without being picked off? It seems we are at a tactical disadvantage."

Stan scoured the area from which the voice seemed to be coming, trying to identify any illusion magics that might be present.

Ilsa tightened her jaw and ground her teeth. She was steeling herself and taking deep, labored breathes. Then she yelled back in orcish. "Ahn sek Ilsa Redeye ak die Snake Tongue Korak. Guh gak Neya; sha te gak Snake Tongue. Ahn bunara Tornclaw. Ahn kor'hom nik!"  She stopped speaking and regained her breath. She was beginning to foam at the corners of her mouth.

Neya immediately started growling when the roar echoed through the cavern, her gaze fixed upon the hidden foe at the top of the stone pillar. She barked twice once Ilsa had finished speaking, a low threatening bark that demanded he come down now, before she went up to get him.

"Durch Tore höllischen Ich rufe euch, diener des Parlaments der Hölle."

And seemingly from nowhere there appeared a raven, one of the lesser servants of the Obsidian Countess.

"Go!" Stan said in Common. "Show this 'demon' what you think of him."

Porto nearly poops himself when the voice from the pillar yells out in orcish. How can Ilsa be so brave...or crazy. Porto pulls his sword out once again, not that it could do much good.

Roth nearly stumbles as the pillar begins shouting, but soon begins to crane his neck to try and see what seems to be hiding on top of it.  "But what about the Knight?" he asks those about him, not really able to find a target for his crossbow.  For now, he was happy to let Ilsa make the threats at something else--and take the attention she drew.

“Vloeke na jou Snake Tong!” the voice answers Ilsa.  “Jy is die uitdagings hou geen gesag hier! Jy sal betaal vir jou verraad!”
The raven Stan summons races toward the top of the pillar.  Once at the top, it flutters around cawing.  It dives once or twice before finally disappearing.

"Well, I'm out of ideas. Let me know when you need something lit on fire."

Ilsa held her greatsword in her left hand. She couldn't swing it this way, but it freed her right to grab the throwing axe off her belt. "Den coom dun hier an fight, jou fhangtok fhangtok!*" She then waited until she had a clear target to throw her axe.


She threw it anyway.
16:10, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 8,10 using 1d20+6,1d6+5. Throwing Axe Attack, Damage.

Ilsa’s thrown axe doesn’t make it very far.  Certainly tossing an axe, even as small and balanced as the one thrown by the barbarian, the distance and at the angle required—not to mention the fact that her target has yet to reveal itself—is quite nearly an impossible feat.  Her efforts are solid, and all around agree that if she were able to see the owner of the booming voice, the owner would now find Ilsa’s axe in his chest.  But instead, her edged missile collides with the side of the stone pillar and falls harmlessly into the pool of fetid water.
The booming voice returns, but this time as ailing laughter.  Suddenly, a globe of darkness forms just over the lip of the column.  A spear bursts from the darkness, its trajectory directly in line with Ilsa!  The barbarian proves slightly quicker and steps just clear of the deadly projectile; it shatters as it slams into the rough cavern floor.
This somewhat unnerves the M’dok and his fighters.  "What we do?" he asks Porto, ready to charge up the narrow path to engage the demon—that is, if the halfling and his friends will back them.

Well M'dok...uh...Roth, Stan...Ilsa? Should we charge, I mean what other options have we. We can't just stand in the open as this demon throws spears at us. Porto says nervously. This was definately not his area.

"If the coward doesn't come down from the tree, you don't climb the tree. You cut it down." Unfortunately, Ilsa was in no condition to knock over or climb up the pillar. The barbarian was having trouble just standing up straight without swaying. If she was at full health, she would have already climbed up to face the demon.

Unfortunately we cant cut it down. But we can climb up. It shouldn't be too steep a climb for a strong orc such as yourself. Roth, Stan, care to make any suggestions?

Neya growled loudly as she took a few steps forward, her eyes still fixed upon the top of the tower. She was fast, she was strong. She could get up there and rip the enemy down before he could strike her. Maybe.

She glanced briefly back at the others, looking for some sort of confirmation before moving.

"It's not the climb. It's the spears in the flesh while you do it that're the problem," Ilsa hacked, not taking her eyes off the ledge. "And that goes for you too, Neya." The half-orc turned to the halfling and said, "I could muster enough strength to throw you up there, if you're game." She smiled her bloody smile.

Well maybe this will help Porto says as he gets out his rope. You all watch as it starts to spin slowly at first, then it picks up spinning faster and faster until it is a tight spiral that resembles that of a shield. It's not much but a rope shield is better than no shield. Porto says as the rope hovers in front of him providing cover.

OOC:Is the pillar straight up and down? Because I thought that there was an incline to it, like a plateau.

"Abbathor's Codpiece," Roth mutters in the harsh dwarven tongue at the situation.  The elf looks over his shoulder to Stan and asks, "What do you have left for artillery?," but before hearing the answer, hands off his heavy crossbow to the mage.  He pops his neck and approaches the edge of the pool nearest where the winding path meets water.  "I'll be bait.  Fan out, and if he tries to take a shot, let him have it."  After taking another look into the water before him, Roth hops to the pillar and slowly edges his way up the path.

Stan gave Roth a mock salute and began to load the crossbow. The heavy winch was almost too much for his weak frame, but he managed to nock a bolt into place. The weapon was hefty, but at a time like this he didn't mind.

The wizard sighted along the top of the bow, trying to remember the last time he had fired one of these. In training the heavy crossbows would split a pumpkin into little orange mash. He imagined it would work the same way with the "demon."

"The one day I didn't prepare a light spell. Figures..."

He kept Roth covered, ready to shoot if the demon showed itself, but not unless Stan could be sure of his target's location.

OOC: Ready action as described above.

Neya's growling faded slightly, but after a moment she began to follow Roth up the pillar, moving slowly and well behind him. She couldn't get the thing up top without climbing the pillar, and something that stopped the elf might not stop her.

Again, another spear flies from the magical darkness!  And again, Ilsa easily avoids the missile.
"Lafaards!" the voice cries out, probably after seeing the spear miss.  But as Roth and Neya move closer to the raised plateau, jump the water onto the small island’s base, and begin their slow climb up, it calls out again, laughing as it does:  "Kom! Bied julle aan Gruumsh!"
Stan diligently keeps the crossbow trained on the globe of darkness atop the island plateau and watching Roth and Neya’s ascent.  Their progress is slow, but the path is easy enough to follow.  Again they jump over the small waterfall, avoiding the plague-water like… well, the plague.
The spears stop being thrown at Ilsa as the two climb and strange mutterings can be heard; prayers to the demon’s fell god.  Roth and Neya crest the top of the pillar and disappear into the darkness.

Initiatives & 1st Round actions
Deadline Tuesday April 6th @ 08:00 CST

Neya's growling stopped as she entered the darkness, her pace slowing as vision faded and became useless. Her nose sniffed the air gently, testing the odors and scents wafting through the darkness. That scent was her. That scent was the elf. And that scent...

Init:  Natural 1
Move action: Use Scent to determine enemy location.
Standard: If scent shows that enemy is close enough, five-foot step towards him and attack. Atk 29, dmg 10, trip 23.
Moving silently to try and stay hidden.

13:38, Today: Neya rolled 20 using 1d20+5. Move Silently.
13:42, Today: Neya rolled 29,10,23 using 1d20+10,1d8+9,1d20+10. Possible Atk/Dmg/Trip.
13:44, Today: Neya rolled 3 using 1d20+2. Init.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Mon 05 Apr 2010.

Stan recognized that the darkness was magical and remembered that that sort of dweomer was easily countered by a light spell. He again regretted not preparing such a cantrip this morning.

With his allies in the darkness even blind firing was no longer an option.

"It would be nice if one side or the other got out of the magical darkness, thank you!"


13:54, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 25 using 1d20+5. Inititative.

Still holding action.

Porto turns to his kobold companions and yells Let's go bag us a Demonnnnnn! With that Porto charges the path, hopefully with his kobold friends behind him, and casts a spell to illuminate the darkness. Normally Porto's bravery was about his height but he was tired of being sick, tired of not eating without throwing it back up, he was tired of no BACON!

Free Action:Talk
Move Action:Move towards impending doom
Standard Action:Cast Light on Rope(shield)

16:50, Today: Porto 'Chubbs' Brandybuck rolled 17 using 1d20+3. init.

Once at the top, Roth draws his rapier and listens carefully, trying to pinpoint the location of the demon-orc.

Move: Draw
Standard: Ready attack if demon comes near enough.

23:05, Today: Roth Daos rolled 24 using 1d20+4. Listen.
23:05, Today: Roth Daos rolled 13 using 1d20+3. Init.

13:00, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Initiative.

Her sinuses packed with muck and her breathing labored, Ilsa moved less quickly than the others. Before she could even react to the accusation of being called a coward--which even she found ironic given that she had called the demon a coward and got not response--the elf and halfling were charging up the tower. She coughed and followed, greatsword at the ready.

Double move, pushing past Porto on the way up.

Stan waits down by the shore, keeping the crossbow trained on the globe of darkness.  He readies himself to shoot the first unfamiliar thing he see once/if the darkness is lifted.

M’dok issues a great cry and leads his three warriors up the spiraling path to finally confront the demon!  The little creature’s legs pump as he sprints up the incline; but he is easily passed by the other, taller individuals.

Porto is next, following the charging kobold leader up the incline.  As he moves, Chubbs casts a simple evocation on the length of rope coiled around his left arm; the one spell Stan had been waiting patiently for.  Unfortunately, taking the time to cast the spell slows him down slightly, delaying the halfling from reaching the top ahead of the others.

Roth listens carefully, trying to pinpoint the location of the creature known as The Demon.  He is surprised to sense how close he is to the beast, and has little trouble identifying the other combatant’s loud armor and ragged breathing.  He thrusts with his rapier, but catches his target’s armor which effectively turns his blade.

The second kobold warrior follows M’dok up the slope, hollering curses to the demon.

Ilsa also rushes up the incline, barreling past everyone in her way.  With her great strides, she easily—even in her sickened state—makes it to the top of the small plateau.  She arrives to find the area still darkened by the Demon’s spell, but also the top of the plateau makes for very closed-quarter fighting.  The area is only ten feet squared, and now filled by the Demon, Roth, Neya, and now Ilsa—not to mention a small fire ring and some kind of wooden structure.

The first and third kobold warriors follow the others.

Following a vicious snarl, Roth’s left shoulder explodes in pain!  Something very sturdy has stabbed very deeply into his shoulder.

Neya sniffs out the Demon and lashes out violently!  She catches a mouthful of something incased in metal and bites down, thrashing about to trip up her catch.  A throaty grunt protests the trip attempt, and forces Neya’s neck to the side; but she proves the stronger, evident by the loud crash immediately following.  The force holding Roth’s shoulder also goes limp.  With a sickly pop, the elf feels warm blood pouring down his arm and left flank.

Please post 2nd Round actions—
Deadline: Wednesday April 7th @ 08:00 CST

Porto continues up keeping the lightened rope in front of him hoping to illuminate the dark. As he runs he begins to sing a delightful tune.

We crush the ones who don't agree
Whose lifestyles clash with you and me
And a little peace goes a long long way
It's peace we want, for peace we pray
A little peace goes a long long way
It's peace we want, for peace we pray
Ain't so crazy

_{-Elton John(modified)}

Move Action: Run up plateau
Standard Action:Inspire courage

"I here now." Ilsa said in human tongue, her breaths growing more rapid and haggard. "Now you die like coward in dark!" Ilsa screamed in orcish at the top of her lungs, lifting her sword high in air and bringing it down where she heard the crash of metal from Neya's attack.

Rage
20:54, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 17 using 1d20+9. Power Attack +/- 4.
20:55, Today: Ilsa Redeye rolled 21 using 2d6+16. Damage.

Neya snarled loudly as she ripped and tore at the bloody and foul metal filling her mouth, trying to rip aside or find a hole in the metal skin so she could get at the flesh beneath. Rapidly she moved to get over the enemy, trying to make sure he stayed on the ground; that way the pack could simply rip it apart.

Possible attack of opportunity when the demon stands. (Atk 13, dmg 13, 16 trip)
Neya attacks the demon. (Atk 17, 10 dmg, trip 26)

00:07, Today: Neya rolled 13,13,16 using 1d20+10,1d8+9,1d20+10. Possible AoO.
00:07, Today: Neya rolled 17,10,26 using 1d20+10,1d8+9,1d20+10. Atk/Dmg/Trip.

Feeling rather useless, Stan let down the crossbow. There would be no firing at the demon now that his allies were closed to combat with it. Stan didn't really want to shoot Ilsa by accident, even if others might not mind.

Crossbow now held at his hip, the wizard began cautiously advancing up the pillar. He kept well away from the melee and the charging kobolds.

Move: Move up pillar.

Sorry to not be doing much this fight. Suggestions are welcome in the OOC thread. :)

More than slightly shocked by the apparent bite to his shoulder, Roth is slow to react as the struggle breaks out, making a feeble attempt at an attack in the darkness.  As the pain is overshadowed by the rushing adrenaline from the fray, Roth registers that Neya has taken the demon to the ground and quickly stoops down beside him before he can stand, grabbing out to get a hold of whatever he can and execute an awkward motion somewhere between a lift and push to hopefully roll the creature back and off the pillar.

(A Bull Rush seems most appropriate for the action, as it does not require an attack roll, but also won't benefit from him being prone.  Or would it be a grapple, or a bastard of the two?)

18:44, Today: Roth Daos rolled 4 using 1d20+1. Bull Rush?.
...Lets hope he rolls worse...

Stan lowers his crossbow and slowly makes his way toward the island-plateau, intent on climbing up if needed.

M’dok continues his charge up the path.  He and his warriors are about to the top!

Chubbs also continues to make his way up the path, holding out the light-enchanted rope, and singing an inspirational song of courage.  For those around him, they sense the magic intertwined within his tune, and feel they are able to conquer this supposed demon.

Roth falls onto the hidden form which must be the demon.  He isn’t too surprised to find the mysterious humanoid incased in some kind of metallic armor.  As the elf attempts to push the creature back and hopefully off of the plateau, powerful clawed hands wrap around his neck—but fail to find a firm enough hold to effectively throttle Roth.  He pushes will all of his might, but fails to move the demon.

The second kobold continues following M’dok up the path.

Ilsa raises her blade high above her head and delivers a might blow to the—now—prone demon!  Just before the barbarian allowed herself to slip into her murderous rage—a rage she seems to personally enjoy.  Her blade penetrates the demon’s metal chest with a sharp groan of splitting iron.  A toothy smile forms on Ilsa’s face as she feels her sword bite deep into her victim’s flesh—mortal flesh.

The first and third kobolds continue their charge.

The demon begins to chant again, no doubt casting another spell.  Roth tries to jab his elbow into the metallic creature; but its armor proves too thick.  Neya tightens her jaws; but her fangs also fail to penetrate the armor.  Ilsa gingerly retracts her blade, taking proper caution not to loose the creature’s position in the magical darkness.  She then slams the blade back down; which only stops once the tip contacts the hard cavern floor—completely skewering the demon.
With a hoarse whine and throaty cough the demon’s body becomes limp and the darkness is dispelled!
Roth cries out that it is done, calling for the kobolds to halt their charge, as not to cause everyone to tumble from the small plateau top.  They stop on the path, unsure what has happened, but fortified by the sudden disappearance of the darkness globe.
“Is the Demon dead?” M’dok shouts to anyone at the top.

Roth can hear the half-orc—for that’s what the Demon really is—labor for breath; but remains unconscious and bleeding out profusely.  Something is very strange about his half-orc, something very otherworldly.  Perhaps it is not completely accurate in describing it as just half-orc.  The elf can tell by looking at its face that its heritage is half orc; but the other half is unidentifiable.

"Not yet!" Ilsa called out. Still frothing, she hacked and stabbed at the half-orc's body repeatedly, breaking bone and splattering blood. Soon, exhaustion finally overcame her and she collapsed to her knees, sword still in her hands but practically helpless. Her labored breaths were shallow and accompanied by blood--her own--spitting from her lips.

We should cut it's head off. Porto says, adrenaline still pumping. Burn the body too. If this is the source of the disease we should burn it all... Porto keeps his rope up. The halfling is always cautious around other worldly beings...especially now that he was one...technically.

Almost immediately Neya was beside Ilsa, laying down next to the exhausted orc so she would have someone to lean on. She whined with concern; Ilsa was looking worse and worse, her scent filled with pain and sickness. Even as she sat quietly beside Ilsa, trying to comfort her, Neya kept an eye on the fallen body of the other orc. The others still seemed concerned about it, and she had already seen dead things try to kill her.

Stan was disgusted by the sounds of Ilsa mutilating a dead and probably helpless foe. There were more than just emotional reasons for sparing the half-orc. As a prisoner he might have given them a vital clue, with or without actively cooperating.

Now it seemed he was being consigned to death and fire. A fitting end for the "demon."

Stan kept the crossbow loaded and stayed vigilant, noting with amusement that he was now the rear guard of their troop.

"This doesn't really solve anything, you know. There's still a disease. And the missing knight."

Damn the knight! Wasn't he supposed to be here! Porto yells. He's dead for all I know or care. Porto considers the body. According to our kobold friends here the Demon is the source of the disease. So if we burn it and all those bodies down there we should recover in time. And as far as what this solves....may all demons burn for eternity. They are nothing but a plague. In this case, literally. Porto didn't mean to be a bitch at the moment but this whole thing was very wearing on his little plump¹ frame.

_1.Oxymoron

Roth grimaces as Ilsa viciously finishes off the foul half-orc.  As fitting it would be for the demon to have held some secret to the plague that had weakened her so much, it would be a shame for all those afflicted to join her.  Turning back to the others he gets to business, "M'dok, was the crystal knight among the bodies we fought?  And can you have your guards carry the demon back to that pit, and pile all the bodies together while we fetch oil from town to dispose of them all?  If the demon wasn't the source of the sickness, that was."  He thinks for a moment, looking at the rest of the party before delegating, "Stan, can you bring news to town, and get whatever oil they have? And Porto, can you help our friend with the demon, make sure nothing worthwhile burns?  I'll take a look around here and see if this place holds any secrets..."  To start, he casts his eyes right at his feet, curious what exactly the demon spent all it's time doing atop it.

As Ilsa delivers the killing blow, and than a series of additional blows for good measure, the water pouring from the little spring at the top of the plateau begins to clear.  The area seems to be bathed in good energy.  As those afflicted by the plague see this, they can't help but think the water is calling to them--inviting them to take a refreshing drink.  Their throats are so dry.
Roth, being the only one in presence not affected, first notices the torn and battered remains of another humanoid likewise encased in heavy metal armor.  It doesn't take an unassuming librarian to figure out whose remains they are: The Crystal Knight.
The top of the plateau is small, and much of the space is dominated by the spring.  But the demon's small camp consists of a small fire ring and spear rack.  A dirty bedroll lies by the ring, next to dirty cooking utensils.
Looking over the demon, the survivors discover a barbed tail and pair of bat-like wings.  The half-orc appears fiendish, and one can easily see how the being could be taken as a demon.

Ilsa leaned forward and crawled on her hands and knees the short distance to the spring. Cupping her hands in the cool, clear water, she drank greedily and blood-stained water drizzled down her chin and neck. After gasping for air, she drank again, gulping two handfuls.

Hoping that the corruption had passed Porto kneels by Ilsa and takes some long hardy drinks as well, hoping that it wasn't some clever trap designed by a hidden demon. Once finished Porto has a look around and notices Roth looking intensely at a armored body. Porto felt bad for a moment about the comments he made. This man had died trying to fight evil. An evil that he shouldn't have needed to fight alone. But as always one mans dead body is another halfling's treasure. He inspects the body and the items as he wonders why he was called the crystal knight.

Take 20 on search(or ten)

The wizard kept the crossbow loaded and cautiously ascended to the pillar's summit. He wasn't about to drink from a strange magical water source, even if it did seem pure. He could last another day being sick, if it meant the difference between curse and cure.

"Those are her things, Porto, in life and death." Stan was an emotional shipwreck, no longer sure what to think or feel. But he knew that looting a dead woman's body was not a task for heroes.

Ilsa drops to her stomach and crawls to the spring.  She gulps handful after handful of cool, refreshing water.  With each gulp, she feels strangely refreshed, as if being cleansed by it magically.  Soon, she appears to have completely recovered from the symptoms plaguing her.
While Ilsa is drinking the enchanted water, Chubbs takes stock anything that might be considered 'lootable.'  Between the Crystal Knight and the Demon, he finds:  Masterwork chainmail (ruined), masterwork heavy steel shield, spear (glowing faintly), necklace (strange symbol), longsword (glowing faintly), and a suit of mithral full-plate.

Her thirst satiated, her health restored, Ilsa called to Neya, "Come. Drink." Unlike the rage and blunt hostility of her normal speech, there was genuine tenderness and affection in her voice as she spoke. She offered handful of water to the wolf should she be hesitant about drinking from the spring itself.

Neya stepped forward and sniffed at the water in Ilsa's hands. Something was strange about it, it didn't smell like water. But Ilsa said it was safe, so she lapped up the water before approaching the spring and drinking directly from it. Her stance seemed to straighten as she drank, the slight wobble that had been in her gait fading almost immediately. After a while she raised her head and barked happily, wagging her tail.

Stan began to make his way out of the mine, hopefully avoiding any zombies on the way out. If there were trouble he would run back to the others.

He would take the news of their recent activities to town and hopefully take a bath and a nap afterwards.

Porto takes the necklace and pockets it. He also carries the spear in his hand. He also attaches the sword to his back. He then asks his kobold friends the carry the rest of the loot that he found. All but the ruined chain mail.

Sitting cross-legged on the plateau, Ilsa pulled out her waterskin and proceeded to clean off her sword, washing away the blood and splatter from the "demon." She then took her whetstone to it and honed the edge from where it had struck the hard ground. All the while, she eyed the kobolds suspiciously, watched Porto loot the body, and wondered what Roth was doing. She refilled her skin from the spring. "I take this to Shirok," she told Neya.

Neya barked again at Ilsa's words, looking quite happy about the prospect of getting out of this place and seeing Shirok again. She reached down to the water herself and lapped up some more water to clear out the rotting blood and stench of the dead things from her mouth.

Before leaving, Chubbs also drinks from the spring, and he too is cleansed of the plague symptoms.  Seeing the halfling feeling better, M’dok and his warriors also drink—and are surprised to find themselves feeling much better; better than they had before the demon’s arrival within these tunnels.
Ilsa fills her waterskin with some of the enchanted water as the Tunnelworm kobolds gather up the pieces of armor and shield Chubbs intends on recycle back into the adventuring industry.  Seeing Stan the Wizard making his way away from the group, Chubbs calls out and asks him to stick around a little longer.
Together, they all make their way back to the kobolds’ cliff.  M’dok climbs up the ropes back into his peoples camp, but returns quickly and with a gift for Chubbs.  He presents the agreeable halfling with a beautifully—and dirty—red cloak.  He explains that it is a treasure of his clan and wishes to give it to the adventurers who helped save his people from the demon’s schemes.

---

A short while later, back in Redding, the group reunites with Shirok and Sir Nachtbrise.  They explain to the others what happened in the mine, including the demise of the famed Crystal Knight.  Shirok uses the water from Ilsa’s skin on a sick child, and they all watch on as the child is instantly cured of his ailments.  Lord Sendar sends a patrol of militiamen back to the mine to collect more of the enchanted spring’s water.
By the end of the day the first casks of spring water are being distributed to the sick, and the group of adventurers whom ventured in are deemed heroes!  A group of individuals from the church of Pelor operating in the small mining community approach the heroes and explain their intent to organize a feast in their honor.  Lord Sendar pledges to match their offer and work with them to make the feast the grandest any of the Redding folk have ever seen.

Ilsa was glad for the feast, but she had personal business to attend to first.

She cornered Shirok and studied him intently with her blood-filled eye. When she spoke, it was in carefully measured tones. She was holding back her anger but there was also disappointment in her voice. "You deserve no feast. Neya was a better warrior than you. She fought the demon. We cured this plague. Not you." She wagged her finger at the druid. "You know Tornclaw? He cause this." Ilsa was still unsure if the "demon" was Tornclaw himself or a descendant. By the time she stopped beating the body with her sword, it was unrecognizable. "This was Snake Tongue business. You will not turn your back on us again."

"I know," Shirok replied quietly. He'd been rejuvenated by the water, but there were still bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. He stood quietly leaning against his spear, slumped against it in disappointment at himself. "I did what I thought was best, without listening to the wisdom that was offered. Had I stopped to consider that I might be wrong, I would not have sent you alone to do what we all should have done."

He straightened slightly, offering the haft of his spear to Ilsa. "I make no excuse. I say only that I was wrong."

Porto greedily holds on to the loot. He puts the things that he cant carry on his own in a cart as asks Stan to help him pull it. Offering him a reward should he agree to help. He thanks his kobold friends for their gift and hopes to get it washed. Perhaps if it was their treasured possession it would have some hidden power. Porto asks about it before he leaves. Chubbs is excited for the feast for he has not eaten much in what seems like forever.

Ilsa stood silently. She had been prepared for a fight. She was expecting Shirok to defend himself and his actions. And yet, his admission and contrition had disarmed her. She wanted to yell and spit at him, shaming him further. She should have torn him down for giving up and not defending himself like a warrior, but she couldn't do it. Slowly, the anger faded from her as she gazed upon his forlorn expression.

She grabbed him behind his head and pulled him forward so that their foreheads touched firmly, but gently. "You'll make it up to me later."

Stan addressed Porto.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to pull a cart filled with the items I specifically told you not to loot. You are offering to pay me for my services, like a common laborer, with wages probably drawn from the items I specifically told you not to loot. Is that the general idea?"

He stopped to cough, a reminder that the wizard was still sick and hadn't yet drank from the magical water. Wizards, after all, were often the least trusting of magic.

"Further, Porto, your expressed opinions re: demonkind, while broadly true, have somewhat soured my disposition towards you. In short, I shall not pull your cart.

"Good day, sir!"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Wed 14 Apr 2010.

Not giving up that easily Port kinda takes a step towards him trying to make his appeal. What if I just pay you with the stuff I took from the demon? Come on! this thing is going to be a bitch to carry, please. And why do you care about what I said about demons, your not one are you. If you are you can tell me pal. Come oooooooooon!

After returning to the town with the others, and having one of the healers help him with cleaning the fresh bite on his shoulder, Roth emerges from the building to find their halfing has found a cart for all the spoils and managed to garner the disdain of their mage.  Playing referee, Roths steps in with his hands raised and reasons, "Now Stan, there's no sense letting the knight's things go to waste by burying them with her body.  Where would we be if everyone took their knowledge to the grave, and didn't write it down for those who followed?  You'd be without cantrips, and I'd be without a job!"  He laughs meekly at the small joke and turns to Porto, "And you!  A cart?  Really?  You know you can't keep it all for yourself."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:39, Thu 15 Apr 2010.

"Stay out of it Roth! I've still got another fire ball running around up here."

Stan pointed to his temple with an extended index finger. His face was that of a desperate man or a lunatic.

Finder keepers my elf friend. But if your willing to help I'll share my spoils with you. Theirs a glowing sword in here that my have your name on it. Porto says like a salesman. He really didn't want to pull the cart. If he could at all.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Sun 18 Apr 2010.

Shirok said nothing in reply, lowering his eyes in silent thanks. Even if his efforts in the town had been fruitful, there was no excuse for abandoning his tribe, for abandoning Ilsa. He could only be grateful she was alright, that he was given the chance to atone.

There were several moments of silence before Shirok felt something nudging him in the back. Finally he pulled away from Ilsa and turned to see Neya's golden eyes staring at him. He spoke quietly to her, bowing his head in apology. Neya simply stared back, until she suddenly lunged forward, slamming into him.

The fight was brief, and ended with Neya wagging her tail and Shirok completely pinned underneath her massive form. After letting him struggle for a while the shewolf stood and let him up, lightly headbutting him as he stood.

Ilsa smiled as she watched Neya and Shirok get into it. It was good to see the wolf full of life again. "The crystal knight was dead. I don't know that the means for our quest. But the fat one has the loot," she said. With the three of them together again, Ilsa was deferring decisions to Shirok.

"The Crystal Knight was a stranger in this situation as were we," Shirok answered as he stood, scratching Neya gratefully behind the ears as the wolf wagged her tail happily. "But now that the plague has ended, Nachtbrise should be willing to return to Skyway with us." He set aside the matter of the loot for now; it could be dealt with easily enough later.

"I should probably go and see this pillar for myself; if it holds the history of our tribe, then it needs to be read."

"You should not go alone. The kobolds are not all dead. I don't know why, exactly. And what of the human, elf, and other one?" Ilsa asked.

"We will not be long; beyond informing the others of where we have gone I do not see the need for them to be involved. This is Snake Tongue business." He shrugged slightly. "But if you would prefer, we can bring them."

"No, just to tell them where we are." Ilsa shook her head. "Neya and I must claim our share. The little one looted the body."

Shirok nodded in agreement; if she wanted to handle the matter now, then it was best to handle it now. Besides, the longer it went unsettled, the more complicated things would end up becoming.

The two half-orcs eventually found the others standing by a cart filled with the loot, the others arguing nearby. Shirok frowned slightly, waiting to see what the dispute was about before possibly interfering, but Neya almost immediately strode forward curiously and poked her head into the cart, sniffing at the assembled goods within.

"I'd be careful, Porto.  Hogging the loot usually ends with a knife in someone's back."  Roth grins and reaches into the cart, pulling out the sword and it's scabbard as he offers his aid to the halfling, "But I'd be glad to carry the sword for you for a while."  He pauses for a moment and notes in an aside to Stan, "Until we find its' rightful heir, as it must be passed on."  Returning his gaze to Porto, the young elf adds, "But did you really have to take her armor?  It would cost more than it would pawn for to refit it, and it's a real dishonor for a knight to be buried without it."

"Less of a dishonor than to have ones corpse rotting in a mine," Ilsa said. "To the victor go the spoils." The tone of her comment could only be interpreted one way: she considered herself the victor. "If her kin wish to challenge for her armor and arms, let them step forth." The Snake Tongue tribe was not one built on inheritance laws and equitable distribution of wealth. It was based on strength, intimidation, and the power of one's allies. Leadership was not passed on from father to son, unless it happened to be the son who killed the father. Anyone not strong enough to hold onto their possesses did not deserve them.

I like that talk my large companion. Porto says to Ilsa. Tossing the necklace from the demon to Ilsa Porto asks. What do you make of it?

Ilsa caught the necklace and examined it. She showed it to Shirok. "Then you agree the armor is mine," she said to the halfling.

That depends. The way I see it is that I'm going to be traveling with you all for a while. So if you wear the armor the better chances I have of surviving. If your plans are to sell it. Then I myself get that privaledge.

"I will not sell it," Ilsa said. The idea truly had not crossed her mind.

Shirok took the necklace and studied it briefly, though there was little he could learn from it. It obviously held some enchantment, but he hadn't the knowledge to decipher it without testing it; safety demanded that it remain unworn until it could be identified.

"Weapons and armor were made to be used," he said in response to the ongoing argument of whether the items should be taken from the dead. "There is no sense in leaving them to be buried when they can still serve their purpose."

Shirok come over here for a second. This may be a little to big for me to throw. Porto says as he pulls on the spear. Making it obvious that he intends to give the magical spear to the half-orc. Go for it Ilsa. Porto replies about the armor.

Sometime after the group returns to Redding, plans are being made for the feast and festival to celebrate the finding of a cure for the plague—and thus the community’s salvation.  During this time, after Chubb’s loot had been properly divided, Ilsa, Neya, and Shirok make their way back to the Vanderplot Mine with a small patrol of militiamen charged with harvesting the first casks of the enchanted water.  During this expedition they once again find the kobolds.
M’dok, who immediately recognizes the large wolf, Neya, allows them free-passage within their new homeland.  The militiamen secure three barrels of the water and Shirok spends time going over the Tornclaw Clan history.

Back in Redding, Chubbs and Roth spend some time searching for some way to properly identify the magical properties of the Demon’s spear and fallen Knight’s sword.  Unfortunately, there are few versed enough in Arcane ways who reside in mining communities such as this.  They pack them away, content to follow-up once back in Skyway City.

Natchbrise agrees to leave Redding with the heroes; but not until after the festival.  The cleric wishes to help administer the curative waters to the affected miners and their families.

A few days later, after much of the water has been collected and given out, and the festival plans have come to a head, the party begins!  There isn’t much by way of food, but nearly all capable persons have come together to show their appreciations for the adventurers who had risked their lives for the doomed community.  Chubbs uses this time to perform a little bit for the happy residents.  For the next 24 hours, the other members of the group find he possesses a keen musical skill and favors the surreal.

"The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.

The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for fuse
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, 'I've just been made'
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, 'My advice is to not let the boys in.'

Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
'Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison.'

Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, 'Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in ?'
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, 'Death to all those who would whimper and cry'
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, 'The sun's not yellow it's chicken.'

The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Put jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle.

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he bums out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle.

The geometry of innocence flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.

Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearsal around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps or the soul
To the old folks home in the college.

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge.

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for fuse
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues."

---

The next morning, the heroes wake rested and refreshed.  During the feast, even Stan drank the water and now he had to admit he felt better—at least as much as the plague was concerned.  The party, plus Natchbrise and a donkey and cart (for Chubbs) set out for Skyway City.
It isn’t long before something very strange happens.  Roth spies the beginning of a wide forest on the horizon; and after a little while the others do too.  This is strange since they hadn’t passed through a forest on the way to Redding—in fact, the map hadn’t mentioned one, and Roth is quick to point out that there shouldn’t be a forest around for several hundred miles.  At least not a forest big enough to notice.
The party takes some time to verify that they are in fact still on the Great Highway and heading directly for Skyway; but an expansive (and new) forest now stands between them.

"Well I'll be a sorcerer's familiar. This is quite strange."

Stan had been feeling more energetic since partaking of the curative water.

He stared around at the forest, trying to convince himself they had merely gotten lost. But the path was quite familiar - the bends in the road, little rock formations here and there.

"This is definitely the road to Skyway, though. Porto, what do you make of it?"

"Forests don't just grow in a few days," Roth states, more confirming to himself than explaining to the others(well, maybe Ilsa,) "This would takes some powerful magic ... or maybe we've slipped through time again?"  Now without fear of plague, Roth's cape once again drapes over his left shoulder, and has taken the knight's sword and strapped it over his shoulder and across his back.  His rapier, although it is of fine craftsmanship and seemed to hold sentimental value to the elf, is now tucked in his mount's saddlebags to be sold on return to the city.

Shirok studied the forest ahead with a faint look of confusion upon his face. A new forest was most assuredly a good thing, but it was impossible for one to grow this quickly. They hadn't been lost in time again, had they? Surely the last time had been caused by some obscure sorcery within the Tower, not something that would be found within a small mining town.

After a few moments of consideration he rummaged through his pack and pulled out the gilded scroll case given to him by Kaele, sliding out the Wayfarer's Map. It had been in the case since leaving Skyway, and if it was as accurate as the golem claimed then perhaps it could shed some light on this.

With the party stopped (and for reasons she didn't quite understand or care about), Ilsa took the time to adjust her armor, tussle with Neya, and gnaw on some rations. She had no speculation of her own to add to the discussion.

Slipping through time, surprisingly, would be the best explanation due to the experience at the tower. But then again that would mean that it has something to do with us and not the tower. And with Sir Natchbrise with us that also seems unlikely. So maybe a great sorcerer is playing with us and sending us through time, or rose a forest in a matter of days. Picking up a rock Porto chucks it at the nearest tree. Or perhaps this is just a strong allusion.