Piffle!

It's less that ten days by wagon (I think).

10 DAYS?! He could have finished training in that time. I was thinking a day or two. In that case, he will sell something and start training now.

That's ten day of travel, not sitting about doing nothing time. Not possible to train while on the move.

He was not going to be moving. he is staying put, as mentioned previously, and training himself. Gathering 2 weeks of food, locking the door to a room on his own and barring the windows, Hammering boards across both and with all his research and training himself! Think that gives a clear picture?

He can catch up on a light horse, which travels MUCH faster than a cart...

Brutus considers this for a good five minutes before realising that a) he doesn't know the way to Northending except by what's on a rather dodgy looking map, and b) travelling alone in the wilderness is a recipe for suicide, especially since there's been reports of bandits, orcs, goblins, ogres and even the odd giant plaguing the roads for the past few centuries....

He even thinks about travelling invisibly, but is unsure if he could make an entire horse invisible without serious mental anguish to both caster and mount. Experimenting may yeild the necessary information, but he had heard somewhere in his travels, that some of the more powerful creatures including some ogres and giants, had the ability to detect people covered by invisibility....

The third day back winds down just like the two before. Eating in the inns dining room and sharing the same food as everyone else in the building, you accept the usual rounds of drinks before heading upstairs to your rooms. Yawning heavily, you prepare yourselves for bed, Joan drawing the short straw to act as guard for the first few hours.

Brutus remains motionless, only moving his eyes in an attempt to understand the situation without alerting anyone that he is awake, or even still alive...

Joan, well, does not head towards the light if she sees one!

In reply to Legbreaker (msg #58):


Sitting up abruptly in her flannel pajamas, Prudence brings her hand up to her nose in an attempt to block out the odor. She can't see much except a light shining under the closed door. 'Something isn't right' she muses to herself as she scans the room with the minimal glare that is in there. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary as she can make out the shapes of her packs and weapons. However, the odor and her sudden awakening has left her in a state of curiosity and alarm.

Deciding that it is best not to stay where she is, not that she was going to get back to sleep with the stench anyway, Prudence slips out of bed, scanning the floor before doing so. She makes sure to remain quiet as she is fairly certain that Gertrude was the one asleep in the bed across the room. However, being the first to fall asleep that night, she couldn't be sure. Cautiously she makes her way over to her pack, mainly by memory of where the furniture was situated. Quietly, Prue picks up her sword and heads for the door. She doesn't want to alarm the other occupant of the room if what had awoken her isn't something serious.

With her sword in hand, Prue stalks to the door and quietly slips out it and in to the hall. Still haunted by the stench, she tries breathing through her mouth instead of her nose. Looking left then right, she remembers that Joan was on watch last night and that she might know what the horrid stench is. Out of habit when facing something unknown, Prue fingers where her ring of protection resided. 'Good' she  thinks, feeling it was still there.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Sat 05 Mar 2011.

The screams consuming my dreams coalesced into one scream and I instantly recognised them as belonging to someone close to me. They went on for a short while made longer by this knowledge, then began to change pitch.

I stood tall in my screaming dreamscape, muscles coming to life as I scan for the source of the screaming. There is a grey desert with a night sky void of celestial bodies, a blank space furnished only with sands and screams. I was still experiencing the acrid smell, an offense to my sense of smell which my body tried to reject even as I kept breathing for the necessity of life.

The screaming multiplied in volume and the smell worsened. The calamity to the senses became overwheling and I began to feel them form into a physical force, assaulting my airways and stretching my eardrums to intense pain.





It stopped. The sky beamed white, Flametongue appeared blazing in the sands before me and a calm whisper disturbing the new void of silence commanded "Evil has come. Confront it."

I awakened.
When I opened my eyes, Flametongue was in my right hand. The fire scorched through the acrid substance, leaving a trail of clear air. My left hand dove for the Cube's first face, and I stood as a wall of magical force pushed the substance to the edges of my reach. The smell changed to the familiar smells of my camp, leather, polish and wholesome soap.

No motion was revealed by the firelight, and so I strode to the entry, and planted a large callused foot in precisely the centre of the door, easily separating it from its weak, fancy hinges and sending it, still vertical, across the hall where it embraced the wall with a satisfying "WHUMP" "Surprise, evil..."
The door left a door-width scar clear across the floor of the hall, then fell back from the wall, which also now sported what was apparently an outline for construction of a new fire exit. It then fell flat at my feet.

I stepped out onto the door, scorching the wooden panels before me as Flametongu'e tip caressed the ground preceeding me, held in a low, menacing fighting stance. I scanned the hallway, trying to root out the evil at the root of my dreams. The screams were louder out here, and I recognised Natasha's clear voice, now distorted with pain and something worse... and then she stopped abruptly.

The wroth built up inside of me begged and screamed for release. My war with evil was afoot once again, and I intended to leave a scar on Evil's already twisted visage.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:28, Sat 05 Mar 2011.

I screamed, and felt the change in my lungs as the noxious substance invaded my body. I didn't recall awakening, or sleeping for that matter. Wracked with pain, all I could do was to hold my breath, and deny entry to the rest of the cloud of evil surrounding me.
I forced my mouth shut, and my senses focused. I could clearly taste the metallic tinge of my own blood, and sense the broiling liquid inside me that I suspected was partly lung.

Faith wished me to enter the hall, but my weakened body denied me the peace I would find in removing this evil flaw from the world, whatever its form. First I needed to wake the others.
My training made ignoring the pain that much more mundane, and I calmly viewed the room. Prudence was up and advancing on the door, while Joan remained still. I approached her prone form and applied gentle but firm pressure on a spot known to cause significant disruption to the human body. If she wasn't awake by now, she would remain asleep until further notice...

My second priority was to open the window, and climb to the lower floor. I can't hold my breath forever, and I can already feel the burn in my lungs intensifying from lack of fresh air, though I know there's none to be had here. So I pace determinedly but calmly to the window, and check the sill and glass for any more devices intended to harm us, ready to leave on my satisfaction that it is safe.
I will walk up from the stairs below, and pin the evil between myself and, well..

A din erupted outside in the hall; 'Ah, the bullfrog is awake...' I see the telltale flickers of firelight under the door and know my more flamboyant companion is awake. Ah, him and that sword - such a crude implement. Regardless, the window, before I run out of breath...

Brutus wakes and rolls out of bed. The foul taste in the air causing him to hold his breath. Nothing threatening can be seen in the unexpected gloom, but enough light filters in from the window and under the door to allow him to avoid barking his shins.
At the door he inwardly curses, realising that as it opens into the room towards him he will be forced to touch the handle with his bare hand - kicking it down barefooted unlikely to be successful.
The unlocked portal opens easily, even though he swore it was locked when he retired, and a key held by Joan. He bursts out into the hallway into the fresh air and light, narrowly avoiding both the almost invisible tripwire across the opening and the dozens of glass shards scattered in the hallway beyond...

Joan slumbers onward, her mind swimming through molasses as reality attempts to force itself upon her subconscious.

Prudence like Brutus acts quickly to get out of the room she shares with the motionless Gertrude, but unlike the mage she grabs her sword along the way, but immediately drops it again - the hilt is coated in a sticky substance, already beginning to burn her palm.
As she wipes her hand clean on her bedding, she can clearly hear the the air in the other womans lungs gurgling. Undoubtedly the woman is in serious trouble - Joan will have to deal with it she thinks, rightly understanding danger must be dealt with before medical help applied.
Slipping out the door, Prudence emerges a good 20 seconds or so after Brutus, her detour for the sword and careful movement in the room slowing her. She is however not so lucky with the tripwire, crashing down upon shards of sticky glass which cut straight through her sleepwear to grievously lacerate her flesh.

Jeremiah felt his hand close around his sword hilt, immediately noticing all was not well. Already poison was coursing through his skin and into his bloodstream, burning like hot lead in his veins.
His other hand rummaged in his belt pouch hanging over the bedpost for the magical cube. His hand brushes something sharp inside, causing him to withdraw the bare hand before impaling himself upon whatever it was.
Rising to his feet unsteadily he kicked at the door with his foot, succeeding in nothing more than inflicting a terrible bruise upon his sole and shaking the surrounding wall. The carpenter had done a fine job with  these "fancy hinges"...

Natasha writhing in agony as her lungs boiled, saw her salvation at the window. With little delay she flung it open, sucking clean air into her devastated airway. A hurried inspection of the sill and she was out, beginning her climb down the façade of the grand inn.

If Brutus had to touch anything, he did so by removing his nightshirt and using it like a glove. Contact poisons were not often used in Elrudd, but only due to the fear of repercussions for their use, which clearly did not exist here. Whatever was going on, honour was no-where to be seen, so the appropriate care would be taken.

Once in the corridor, he looks around. If he sees nothing, he may cast Detect Magic, but it depends on what he sees.

In reply to Legbreaker (msg #63):


It was times like these that left Prudence wondering why she agreed to join this group in the first place. Gently lifting herself up off of the ground whilst trying to avoid more lacerations, Prudence could be heard muttering under her breath. Finally straightened up, she was now more determined than ever to find Joan. 'Isn't she supposed to be on watch?!' she angrily thought to herself, before taking a glance to the left to find the woman in question slumped in a chair. "Ugh" she  voiced, straightening up and hobbling over to Joan. "Oi!" she exclaimed, placing her hand on Joan's shoulder and shaking it in an attempt to rise her.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:02, Tue 08 Mar 2011.

Things never go to plan, eh?
I reckoned to improvise a glove from a strip of my robe, and persist with my use of Flametongue. There was a reason the phrase was to put evil To The Sword, not to the Fist. That was just not good form, ignoble to say the least.
Forget the cube... my companion had already left the scene, so I was the only one holding my breath against the pervasive gas, and I would simply exit the room in good speed to relieve myself of this dilemma.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:25, Tue 08 Mar 2011.

I allowed myself a small contented smile to cut through the continuing suffering emnating from my chest as I flew through the cool, fresh night air to land perfectly five feet from the base of the Inn.
Regaining my posture, I hurried over the cold cobbles around to the Inn main entrance. I suspected a horse would be saddled and ready for the unknown assailant/s and if I didn't find it at the entrance, it would surely be at the stables.
I began to weigh the options - hobble the horse, or hide and wrestle the hopefully fleeing assassin... Hmmm... decisions.

Brutus is almost about to start casting when all goes silent around him. An instant later and agony shoots through his body as something sharp silently slices DEEP into his side, shredding vital organs and causing him to collapse in agony. His scream of pain goes unheard even to his own ears.

Joan slumbers on....

Prudence, with blood pouring from dozens of lacerations carefully picks herself up and gingerly moves with bare feet through the glass shards. Her blood coated hand reaches out and shakes Joan as she attempts to wake the cleric.

Jeremiah rips part of his clothing and wraps it around his burning hand before moving quickly to the still closed door.

Natasha recovers quickly from her controlled fall out the window, springing quickly towards the stables.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:29, Thu 10 Mar 2011.

This trap on my sword was more than just annoying - but a good instrument of Heironius blanches not, nor gives in to the intents of evil. Clearly someone did not want me using this blade, and clearly they would be surprised when they saw me wielding it through the pain. The tingle was actually a little exiting, and I felt a stir of adrenaline and smiled wider.
We are all animals, in a way, eh?
Charge the highest level bad guy on the field. So he walks into the corridor to check stuff out.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:59, Thu 10 Mar 2011.

Party Initiative (unmodified): 8
Enemy Initiative (unmodified): 1

Brutus recovers quickly, but not fast enough to do much more than notice the fairly attractive, if rugged looking man dressed in dark clothing and weilding long sword and dagger. Blood drips from the smaller weapon and a look of satisfaction can be seen on his blacked face.

Joan is lost in a nightmare, the world shaking around her. Try as she might, her limp body will not respond.

Prudence maintains her efforts to wake Joan, completely unaware of Brutus' silent assailant just a few yards behind her.

Jeremiah almost strolls to the door and pulls it open. His hand continues to burn making it difficult to hold his flaming sword effectively even with the makeshift bandage between skin and hilt.
The door opens silently and he steps forward into the gloomy corridor beyond.

The dark man smiles, two tusklike fangs exposed in his mouth. A glance at Jeremiah and he steps back, pivots and dives out the window into the darkness.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:45, Fri 11 Mar 2011.

At that moment, Jeremiah leapt out the window, closely followed by a bleeding mage. Both suffered mild bruising, and the poison on Jeremiah's sword dealt him the last of its pitiful weak damage then fizzled out with a *pfft*.

Despite this daring act of acrobatics from two men quite unsuited for it, the assailant was nowhere to be seen. Brutus would have to wait for his revenge, while Jeremiah began his plot to get this one next time... he was a proper bad guy, and due some pre meditation.

Meanwhile, Nat discovered sweet F**k all at the stables. Disappointing, but life is like that sometimes. She decided to be philosophical about it all - as monks are known to do, of course.

Prudence bled some more, Joan snored, and poor Gerty passed with a faint burble in her sleep. We were too late for her.

A few minutes later, the party had gathered, and dropped all the curative (healing, lay on hands, cure disease etc) magick they had which wasn't in potion form. Jer discovered some nasty bugs in his helmet, leading to the subsequent discovery of bucketloads more in everyone's headgear. Not fun at all.

Jer went off to "Call the Police!" and wake up the inn staff. People were amazed, there was a hullabaloo, and a wasted attempt to raise Gerty, alas she was not meant for this earth...

Shortly thereafter we discovered what we suspected - all our fancy kit was gone. Luckily we had more interesting items from our previous efforts, though Jer missed his nice plate +2. It was pretty.

In the middle of the night, some very significant draconic stuff went down, we were all introduced to 3 silver dragons, led by one Falx, Grandson of Bahamut (not to name - drop, but...) who informed us that some bad, bad men (and monsters) had some potions of silver dragon control, and that shit would quickly hit the fan in 24 hours were we not to fix this situation. So we grabbed some basic kit and buggered off to a crypt yonks away where the evil ones had set up shop. We then proceeded to righteously fuck some shit up. Picked up 2 potions, fought some beasties, (Jer spiced things up by hilariously throwing away weaponry left right and centre, but we still won so nyah!).

One potion in a fancy bottle was destroyed, the other merely tipped out, and the Dragons were so turned on by this sucess that they gave Jer some serious, serious kit, (see post below) and a restoration scroll for a mage mysteriously placed in the front line due to him glowing like a christmas tree and humming like a power line from all the magic focussed on keeping his rather meaty buttocks safe from unauthorised penetration...

So that's where we are - deep in a crypt with some wights, mummies and the remains of a horde of wererats, with more to come...

So she (Nat) went back up with that potion... and Falx said "What sort of reward would you like?" And she said, half joking, "Full Plate +3, In Jeremiah's size." Ha ha, right? WRONG!
"Wish Granted." WHAAAAT!?
"Indeed. Here you go, have fun."

And that's the story of how Jeremiah just achieved one of the Paladin's dreams. When he saw his companion hobble back under the staggering weight of that wondrous suit, he sighed and wondered if he was hallucinating. But it was real.

A single tear ran down his cheek, and his eyes lit up like a little boy's at Christmas.
With this suit, he would crush the pawns of evil in their millions, and the blood of the guilty would flow like a river, running down the intricate engravings of his suit of magical armour of awesomeness.

There was gold, silver and platinum, and an embossed figure of Heironious. It was resplendant. It felt like wearing simple chain, and he was pretty sure that the gauntlets had an inbuilt moisturising function, because his skin was silky smooth upon donning them, and his boots now vibrated soothingly to ancient shiatsu techniques. It was truly wondrous.

Sigh, and now we get back to events...

So, moving right along;

I wanted to get things in motion again, quickly, but had no real plan. I suggested to the party that, at least, we exit this room;
"Right, let's move out. We don't know when the mummies will return. Time is ticking away, lads."

Then I came to my senses:
"Wait, you know, I feel like toasting some bad guys. It's two hours in and we're 2/5ths or 40% done here. Let's finish them and do some preliminary checks for any ill gotten gains they've collected. The church always needs donations!"

I moved up to the haunt of a mummy on the wall close to the door, on the opposite side of the ones I had slain earlier. This time when he popped up, I'd pop him...

Standing 5ft clear of the door into the room, I cocked my bow silently. I had nothing more to say on the matter, and certainly no objections to ridding the world of some more aberrations as a detour.
Ready, I waited with my finger on the trigger and my sights set on the next closest to Jeremiah as the lantern acted like a spotlight. I really should have bought more of those, in retrospect...

Actually, Brutus has drifted out of the scene, and up to the Lycanthrope brreding room. Joan followed him till he dissapeared under a door about an hour ago. There was the sugesstion that during that time the party remove some mummies, but without you there to agree, we did not send Jeremiah forward. Natasha would be a lot more effective if she had some ammunition for her crossbow...

Hmm... I see... so that's how it is... depressing. Shall we go back then and mess up some mummies? Flametongue is keen...
The hilt warmed up slightly and wavered in the lantern-light in agreeance.

Joan is happy to spend the time waiting for Brutus to find himself killing undead. Never a waste of time, in her opinion...those abominations should not be walking anyway.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:43, Fri 18 Mar 2011.