~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire Command: [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

Turn 141.0: Recollecting

Posted: 2/9/01

Shortly after the dust settles, the Caerloon soldier in front of Storm throws his weapon to the ground, submitting to him in surrender. Storm hesitates for a moment. "Arrr...ye coward," he shouts, barely able to hear his own voice through the ringing in his ears. As such, his voice is in a yell. He sheathes the sword in his right hand as he starts walking toward the surrendering man, and with his left he smacks the pommel of the sword over the man's head. With his right hand, he grabs the man by the collar as he falls, catching him before he fully falls, and starts walking toward the rest of group--dragging the unconscious solider behind him--without even breaking stride.

Crayne stands there silently. He looks angrily at the surrendered soldier in front of him. His dagger drips with Caerloon blood. At first he doesn't even notice that his hearing has been effected. The sheer adrenaline and rage had carried him through the battle and now suddenly it was all over. Rinder's Six had won again. 'But for what?' Crayne thinks to himself as he sees the bloodshed all around him.

Suddenly, Crayne moves up to the surrendered soldier and shoves him hard. "You fool!" Crayne shouts smashing the foot of his staff into the ground. "Do you people never learn? Look at your friends! All such a waste! And for what?"

He turns and begins to walk away from the battle scene. He shakes his head in a disapointed manner. A sudden wave of tiredness then hits him as his heart begins to beat normally. He sees the arrowhead jutting out of his waist. There was no blood though due to Illena's healing spells. He had much to thank her for.

Kneeling on the ground, next to Alara, El thinks he can feel her heat. He feels colder, certainly weaker, and his head has begun to spin. As he attempts to rise, he falls heavily against her. Shaking his head and pushing her away, he can feel the closeness of her body, ready to support him, and remembers for a moment, similar embraces, long ago and far away. He clears his head of such thoughts, and surveys the battlefield.

Emma walks out to rejoin the rest of Rinder's Six. Her hair is messed up and her body feels sore all over from two separate falls to the cold packed dirt during the battle. Her leg also aches badly from the crossbow-wound. She limps a little as she nods to Canter. "Thanks for taking the heat off of me," she tells the leatherman's son, clapping him on the shoulder as he keeps watch on the soldier in front of him. She thinks it odd that he doesn't respond and then looks more closely at him. The big warrior shakes his head and points to his ears. "Oh...." she says "...the song." She looks to Dodgen and asks, "Their ears have been affected...is it permanent?"

Dodgen shakes his head. "No...not usually."

Hannibal enters the El-Balans compound and gazes in astonishment at the destruction the priests had delivered. "Damn! Why the hell didn't you just do that in the first place?!!" he asks no one in particular but intended obviously for the Priests of Hathe.

Shrugging, Hannibal approaches Canter and gives him the once over. "You look terrible friend, but I'm glad your okay!" Hannibal smiles at the leatherman's son and pats him on the back.

Noticing Storm close by as well, he walks over and this time wraps his arms around the stout and gives him a hug. (Knowing full well the dwarf will probably react poorly to the move!) "Damn good to see you Storm!" he chides while picking the big man up as high as he can manage.

"Skandor?" Emma calls out, not seeing the young paladin anywhere with the interposing wall of fog between them, "Has anyone seen the Sword Bearer?" Her chest tightens a little as she considers the very real possibility he might have fallen despite the restorative faith healing she had placed upon him. "Skandor?!" she tries again. But, with him also being deafened, there's no way he can hear her words.

Skandor drops his sword as his blood-smeared gauntlets slowly descend from his ears, his eyes clenched tightly shut in pain. He opens them a moment later...and the sound is gone. He is still surrounded by the fog, and looking down, the dead mage still lies at his feet. His breathing comes in heavy, weary gasps...but he cannot hear them! He cannot even hear his own breathing!

He mutters one word, mostly out of concern, but partly out of fear..."Emma?" his mouth moves, but he hears nothing!

'Am I dead?' he thinks. 'Did the mage get one last spell off, realizing his doom was at hand? Is this...it?' he wonders, barely able to move. The fog slowly starts to clear around him, and he feels tears slowly slide down his face. Many questions fill his mind suddenly.

'Am I worthy to enter Anhur's Great Hall? Will I get to see my mother and father again? And will they judge me worthy...redeemed?'

As the fog clears a bit more, he can slowly make out the appearance of buildings, and people, in the distance. Quickly, with minor embarrassment, he wipes away the tears from his eyes. How embarassed he would be to stand before his mother and father, or before Anhur himself, with tears streaking his face like a little baby! But once again, his bloody forearms only serve to smear the sweat and blood around his eyes and cheeks further. He catches his breath.

There was Emma, walking towards him.

Her mouth moves, and though the paladin can not make out her words, he can tell that she seems quite relieved, perhaps happy even.

"Oh, thank the heavens!" Emma says, "I feared we had lost you." She hobbles toward him and gives him a congratulatory hug for surviving the conflict. "Our faith has seen us through," she says, blinking back the mistiness in her eyes. Soon she pulls away however and can tell by the stunned look on his face that he doesn't fathom her words...but clearly he can understand the look upon her face. Simply relief and happiness to see him once again.

Stunned with the realization that he was not dead, Skandor merely blinks unmoving as Emma gently embraces him for a moment. Indeed, as she pulls him close, he can smell her hair, her own sweat from the heat of battle--nay, he was not dead. Far from it! Skandor cannot recall the last time someone embraced him in an effort to show that they merely cared for his well-being. He knows not how to respond, so he doesn't. His weary muscles relax, though, as he realizes that he enjoys her nearness, awkward as it may be.

As she pulls away he avoids her eyes, and instead looks silently down at the mage's dead body, and beside it. Slowly, he bends down to retrieve his sword. He lifts it slowly, and for some reason now, many minutes after the battle, long after the adrenalin rush has worn off, the blade suddenly feels as though it weighed many times more than it actually did.

He feels almost...disappointed? He had felt so close to death, and believed for a few moments that he was, indeed, dead. Perhaps still being alive was Anhur's way of shunning him from the Great Hall? Or perhaps the Almighty was telling Skandor that he was not yet ready to enter? Not yet...worthy?

Slowly, his hearing returns to him as he hears someone else approach.

Hannibal nods his agreement with Emma's words. The paladin had certainly proven his worth over the last few engagements. Approaching the wounded Sword Bearer, he smiles broadly and shakes his hand. "You're tough as nails, you know that, right? Next time I want you out of the picture I'll remember not to drop a slab of ice on your head." Hannibal smiles and pats the paladin on the shoulder before moving on.

The paladin wearily shakes Hannibal's hand. He attempts to smile, looking at his fellow warrior with an almost-dazed-like expression and nods. Softly, slowly, he whispers, "I will take that as a compliment, sir."

He glances once again towards Emma, to be sure that she was indeed alright. His eyes look her over for any sign of any major wound. Not seeing any, his mind attempts to snap to attention whe he sees her about to speak.

Crayne makes his way back to where he had left Illena earlier, behind one of the dead horses that littered the battle field. "Illena!" he bellows. He begins to worry a little as he dosen't receive a reply. And there suddenly he sees her head poke up behind one of the horses. "Arhh! You are safe! That is good! Come now, I believe you have friends that would like to see you!"

Illena smiles and jumps up from behind the horse, "Thank you!" she says.

Crayne replies, "What? I can't hear you!"

The mage shakes his head violently for a few moments, and slowly his hearing improves. "Phew! That's better!" he says as he looks to Illena. The two of them then head back to the courtyard side by side.

As Storm reaches the group, he throws the man into the middle of the circle, and inadvertently shouts his comments to the group. "Here be a Caerloon coward fer yer executioner's blade! 'course, I can finish the bugger fer ye if ye don't wanna wait that long!" He says the last bit as more of a joke, not taking any motion forward to actually do such an act.

Emma turns around and starts taking an assessment of the rest of the battlefield. "Is everyone else accounted for? Crayne? Illena? Robert?" She can't quite see the desert clearly enough outside the gate, though she believes she saw a small head poke up from behind one of the dead horses. "Hannibal? Can you check on them?"

Hannibal perks up at mention of his name and nods. "Yeah, I'm on it."

Hannibal runs off and retrieves the young lady (along with Crayne), returning to Alara's care as she seems to be closest to her anyway.

Then Emma's eyes settle upon Crayne...or rather six different Craynes! She blinks her eyes at this latest surprise. A smile crosses her face, their heated argument all but a forgotten memory now. "Crayne the Ever Resourceful," she says, "I think you deserve that new title to go along with Highbrow. It certainly fits you just as well."

Illena giggles at Emma's expression. Crayne is little a confused for a moment before he realises. To both sides of him stand illusionary Craynes. He had been so caught up in the battle that he hadn't even noticed that they were still there. Crayne bursts into sudden loud laughter.

Crayne smiles again. The rage in him had been succumbed for now. He was tired and he needed rest. He knew now though that he would find it hard to put trust in any of the Six again. He had been deeply hurt by their suggestions of megalomania.

The priestess gives a groan as a new wave of pain shoots through her leg and she wobbles, finally letting herself down easily to the ground to take the weight off. "El? By the gods, you look more beat up than me, Canter, and Crayne put together," she says, "Come let me invoke a prayer to Anhur that he might heal your wounds. Skandor? You too." She gathers both the man and elf next to her and then prays quietly with a hand on each of them.

What carnage. Elloharin the Dimmed has grown no brighter in the company of the Six. His path has only gotten more bloody, more gruesome, more stained. He sighs heavily and considers the dead bodies. He can see the members of the Six wandering almost aimlessly through the last tendrils of fog. Emma approaches Skandor, his tabard nearly gone, and then comes forward to him.

Elloharin regards the tall paladin closely. He thinks he can see the light shimmer off the man's bloody cheeks. What?! Tears? He can see how he follows the priestess around. His eyes never leave her. And they seem so desperate, and so cold. Skandor's eyes seem in someway to reflect his own. Flashing painfully through his memory, the sight of a nearly crushed Skandor, sword upraised, ice cascading over his trembling body. Was it a god that held him up then? Was it faith? Or...was it Emma? His charge. Suddenly the desperation in the paladin's eyes seems more pathetic, less holy and admirable, and more deceitful.

As Emma's hands close on El's shoulders, he follows her eyes as she looks him over. Bloody rents torn through his clothing, leather armor, and through to his body. He can feel cool comfort sweep through him as his wounds begin to close of their own accord. He studies her closely, a wry smile comes to his face as a rhyming couplet appears in his mind:

Oh Emma, emma, she so sad,

she done her best, and still we bad.

tried so hard to make us believe,

help our hurts, our pain relieve.

and still we hurt and hurt and bleed,

and follow her around wherever she lead

oh emma, emma why so sad?

Don't chou know we really so glad,

to follow you 'round where ever you lead.

our light, our hope, your fearless steed,

To follow your god, your light, your creed.

He speaks it softly under his breath, as she prays. Looking steadily into her eyes, and smiling a sort of sardonic, half-grin, half-grimace.

(OOC: 7 hp restored to El; 4 hp restored to Skandor)

Next Crayne looks to the arrow that is stuck in his side. Usually he would have approached Emma with something like this, but his pride wouldn't have it. Making his way off near to the Temple walls, Crayne sits slowly down. He closes his eyes and grips the arrow head. With a large yelp of pain he snaps the top of the arrow off. Blood begins to gush from the wound. Quickly he slides the arrow out through his back. He quickly throws the arrow and again yells in pain. Quickly he moves for one of his belt pouches and begins to apply one of his healing balms to the open wound. Once applied he then takes a long swig from his water bottle. He rests there silently for a moment as the pain begins to soothe.

"Now, perhaps a minor blessing for the rest of us," Emma says, muttering to herself. "Anhur favors the victorious," she reminds herself, touching the wound in her leg. She feels a little better and stands once more, testing her weight upon the injured limb. Then she walks to Alara, Canter, and Hannibal, healing them. Crayne is, for the moment, nowhere to be found.

As she makes her way to Storm and begins casting, he suddenly interrupts her by slapping her hands away from him. With a sneer, he says (again in an inadvertent shout, which in this case might get taken the wrong way) "save yer healin' fer someone else, priestess. Accordin' to ye, I ain't worth yer stinkin' god's healin'." He turns his back on her, walking away, mumbling a strange mix of common and dwarven. But since he's talking louder than he realizes due to his partial deafness, most of his words are heard. "...enjoys killin'...know the half of it...dwarven..."

Emma sighs and watches the Dwarf walk away. She puts a hand to her mouth and bows her head, focusing on the hard-packed earth beneath her feet. 'I'll never get through to any of them,' she thinks, 'Even when I try...I just make things worse. Why did I have to use those words? I insulted virtually everyone I tried to help.'

She sighs and straightens up. 'Just let it go,' she tells herself, 'Stop berating them all the time...stop expecting so much of them. Maybe if you lower your expectations, you won't be so disappointed all the time. And maybe if you keep your mouth shut for once you won't say something to make people hate you so much.'

When she is finished healing as many of the party's wounds as possible, Emma returns to Dodgen. "We returned with your Coreognate's body," she explains, "Though it was no easy task to save it from the undead creatures that had gathered to feast upon his bones. It was only through the grace and blessings of Anhur that we turned them away.

"Before we returned here," she continues, "I summoned his spirit once more into this realm so he could tell us what happened. These Caerloon troops escorted several Red Dragon mages to El-Balans for the purpose of uncovering the hidden locations of the Rings of Damacht...powerful devices which control the power of the elements themselves. Your Coreognate told us of the Ancient Chambers that lie beneath this temple. He explained that the information they seek is contained within a written play that lies in Killner's Vault. We must reach that place before they do."

The priestess motions to the dead soldiers spread across the courtyard. "We questioned the leader of these men and he tells us that fifty soldiers were garrisoned here before our arrival...and that two of these Red Dragon mages remained. We faced only a portion of that force here in the courtyard. The others must still be searching for the play. Can you help us to find them and the play first? Even now I suspect they have Director Amos with them. Amos is a good man, but he fears for your safety. The death of the Coreognate has unnerved him and he might have already told them the location of the vault. Can you help us once more, Dodgen? It is paramount that the rings not fall into the hands of our enemies."

A troubled visage sweeps across Dodgen's face. "Killner's Vault...the Ancient Chambers. These are places heavily guarded for centuries, generations."

"I realize the sacred importance, Artful One," Emma replies, but is cut off.

"And not a soul has set foot beyond the subchambers of the Temple in quite some time. The scrolls, scores, and writings sealed in Killner's Vault are there for a reason, a purpose. They have been deemed by great scholars past simply too dangerous for study!" Dodgen lowers his head, cupping his mouth with his hand in thought. A morning breeze, cool and fresh, ruffles his dirty robes.

Then, he looks up, addressing Emma once again. "I will lead you'n to the gateway to the Ancient Chambers. But I will venture no further. If these mages you'n speak of have undertaken such a quest, and have caused Director Amos to accompany them, then I simply request of you'n to consider his safety whereupon you find him. But be forewarned!" Dodgen emphasizes, "Your'n mettle will be tested in the Ancient Chambers, Shield Maiden of Anhur. I know not of the obstacles you'n face; there have been no plays, no songs, no poems on the subject. And no one living in this realm today has ever set foot there..."

"Alright then," Emma nods, "We need time to prepare ourselves for the trials ahead. This battle took a toll on all of us, I fear. Skandor? Canter? Secure the prisoners and let the Hatheans decide what to do with them. Hannibal? Storm? Why don't you two scout out the rest of the compound and see if you can tell where the rest of Robert's men disappeared to."

Skandor merely nods, still shaking off the effects of the tiresome combat and the 'near-death' experience. Shouldering his claymore, he instead draws his gladius. It was small, lighter, faster...it would make it easier to discipline the prisoners if need be. The Sword Bearer was a gruesome sight both to his captives, but even more so to his companions. They knew Skandor always one to be clean as a whistle, from his daily shaving regimen to the care and cleanliness of his chain mail, weapons, and especially his tabard.

But now, his tabard hangs in charred, tattered strips from his waist, a few stray pieces of cloth hang down to his knees. His chain mail is rent and torn in a few spots, and blood--some dried, some still wet, mingled with some of his own--smears his face, hands, knees, arms, and various other parts of his body. Sweat streaks down his face, creating small rivulets of up-and-down stripes on his cheeks. Slowly removing his chain hauberk, his hair is matted with sweat.

Without speaking, the paladin watches the prisoners closely, waiting, daring them to move.

"Speaking of Robert..." Emma continues says, "Where is he?"

"Everyone's accounted for, although some of us look better than others I think," Hannibal replies, winking at Skandor. "Wade's body is gone. I think I saw one of the Caerloon officers grab him and ride off to the south."

"What?!" Emma responds, "But...that can't be...we need...but..." She stumbles over the words, sorting out the ramifications and possibilities behind Robert's 'escape'. Finally she calms down and says, "Well...for all our arguing, I think this solves our problem for us. Robert is back in the hands of his men. And he's far away from those that still seek the Rings of Damacht...so he can't warn them about us by betraying our confidence in him.

"No doubt, he's well on his way to whatever encampment his force originated from," she continues, "Probably to the south somewhere. That's for the best, I think. His own men won't see him as having consorted with us. And, if he lives up to his word, we might have found a well-placed ally in the ranks of the Caerloon army. Only time will tell."

She looks back toward Crayne and Hannibal...the two she had argued the most with over Robert Wade. "I'm sorry for the harsh exchange of words between us," she tells them, "I care about Robert Wade the Younger. I cannot deny it. How much I feel this way about him, I haven't sorted out yet. But I do see a noble spirit in him...the potential for great good. If we can just open his eyes and separate him from his father's ambition and evil, I know we can save him from a path of personal destruction. That's my goal. But I can't let it interfere with our goals as Rinder's Six."

Hannibal then nudges Storm. "If you can forgive me for hugging you I think we need to set off and scout the place out, maybe snoop up in the temple some more. Up to it?"

Storm, who had been inspecting one of the long, bleeding gashes down his side, looks up. "Aye, it be better than waitin' around fer nothin'." Before heading in to the temple, though, he goes back toward the gate of the temple and scavanges for any unstepped-on caltrops that he can re-add to his collection. (OOC: Storm finds and replaces 15 caltrops.) After this, he nods to Hannibal and walks off after him to scout the temple area.

Emma slips her broadsword back into the scabbard at her waist. "So let's concentrate on the Rings of Damacht and forget about Robert for a little while. We need to prepare for a confrontation with the other wizard and the soldiers that are with him."

Crayne merely nods his head at Emma and says, "Indeed! I will certainly not let this happen again. As you say Emma, we need to prepare for the future."

"El? Alara?" she suggests, "Why don't you go ahead and count the dead. That ought to give us an idea of what to expect in the Ancient Chambers. Meanwhile, Crayne and I can perpare our spells and prayers..."

Crayne turns to El, "El look out for the mage. Search his body closely. Be careful not to miss anything!"

Hearing her instructions, El and Alara go out to count the dead.

El is merciless to the dead. The light in his eyes is nearly extinguished as he rifles through their belongings. From the archers, he takes what shafts are still whole and places them in his quiver. The dead are like wood, and must be treated like such. He doesn't expect his own tattered body to be treated any differently when it falls to the ground, dead or exhausted. Care can be taken for the living--not the dead.

(OOC: Elloharin scavenges 16 sp, 9 cp from the soldiers, but no composite short bow or suitable leather armor. He does find 17 usable arrows.)

While Storm and Hannibal are busy scouting out the temple, Emma approaches Elloharin, and then Skandor, imparting her Anhur-given healing power on the two soldiers. Then she uses her remaining Orisons upon all who remain--and who accept them.

(OOC: 7 hp restored to Elloharin (CLW), 7 hp restored to Skandor (CLW), 1 hp restored to Alara, Canter, Elloharin, Hannibal, and Skandor (Orisons).)

Stepping into the interior of the Temple, Hannibal and Storm immediately jump into the shadows. Caerloon soldiers could be hiding anywhere, just waiting for the right moment to pop out and stab them. After a tense moment, though, all seems quiet. As their eyes speedily adjust to the dark interior of the large stone structure, they begin to survey the scene.

The wood pews have been pushed aside, tossed off to the right (as one enters the sanctuary), leaving a large open space in the middle of the sanctuary. Storm furrows his brow as he observes this, and gives a silent look to Hannibal, making sure the human noticed it too. Hannibal, however, is already noticing something else: the stone wall that encompassed the hidden, magical doorway to the study below has been breached! Large stones, formerly part of the wall, lie next to the wall, and an odd, jagged hole in the wall leads to the narrow staircase to the study. The hole is big enough for a human to get through, and as Storm follows Hannibal's sight line, he notes that the torches formerly placed along the wall of the descending staircase are conspicuously missing.

Meanwhile, outside the temple itself, the priests of El-Balans begin to assess their situation, gathering the remaining clerics and students from the stable and directing them to clear the debris from the sleeping quarters. The gate is shut and sealed and the outer walls inspected for breaches. A fire is soon lit near the kitchen area and a few scroll-boys are sent for water for soup. The Coreognate's body is brought into one of the smaller buildings near the stable, to be cleaned and prepared for a proper Hathean burial. As things begin to come under control, Dodgen returns to Emma.

"Shield Maiden," he begins, his tone serious, "My Brothers in Song and I give you'n our thanks, and our gratitude for rescuing us'n from the clutches of the evil soldiers. We'n were taken by surprise during morning prayers five days ago, and for some, this morning is the first sun they'n have seen since then. Some of my Brothers wish to offer you'n and your Sword Bearers a bit of Hathe's rejuvenating elixir, if you'n will accept it."

"Artful One," Emma replies with a smile, "Your rescue was my duty. And your offer of healing is gladly accepted."

With a nod, Dodgen leaves Emma's side, and with a few of his fellow priests, begins to heal some of Rinder's Six.

(OOC: 5 hp restored to Alara, Canter, Crayne, Elloharin, Emma, and Skandor. (Storm and Hannibal are in the Temple at this time.))

Following the administration of Hathe's Elixir, Emma and Crayne find themselves two quiet spots and in their own ways, set to study. Crayne takes out his spellbook, smoothing out some of the pages that were creased in his pack during the ride from the desert and the confusion of battle. First he memorizes Armor, promptly casting it upon himself for protection in the dangerous days ahead. Then he sets about memorizing a whole new slate of spells, a task that will take many hours.

Emma, meanwhile, finds a quiet place for prayer. Kneeling and laying bare her weapons, she closes her eyes, filtering out the sounds of pots and pans, songs and voices, and other happenings going on around her. A sense of peace arrives after a few minutes. She begins her formal prayers, requesting Anhur invest in her a modicum of his power so that she may once again draw on it when faced with the challenges that will surely be in her future.

Emma rises at about the time when one of the Hatheans announces that the midday meal is ready. At the same time--as if one cue!--Hannibal and Storm emerge from their activities in the temple. Elloharin meets the priestess at the tables outside the kitchen, reporting to her and the rest of the party his tally.

"The foot soldiers and archers number forty. Also present are two officers and," he looks to Crayne, "one mage. Aside from a little pocket change, we found no usable weapons or armor in conditions better than our own. And," he continues with a hint of disappointment, "the mage seems not to have carried with him any wizardly items."

"Forty," Canter repeats, slurping some soup from his bowl. "And if Robert said there were originally fifty, that leaves ten foot soldiers unaccounted for."

"Plus at least one officer, I'd imagine," Skandor says.

Emma nods to Skandor and Canter, "plus one Red Dragon mage."

"Where could they have gone?" Alara asks.

"To the Ancient Chambers," Hannibal answers. "Storm and I had a look inside the temple. It seems they somehow found out about Amos's secret subterranean study. The wall is blasted enough for some men to get through and head down. And I don't think they're there to study."

Storm nods, agreeing with Hannibal's assessment. "The race be on."

Alara leans forward over the table, as if about to speak, but then stops. Something was holding her back. Finally, she opens her mouth, her voice tentative. "I will not be joining you in the Ancient Chambers," the half-elf announces. Her eyes stare straight down the table, past Canter and Emma, Skandor and Hannibal. She looks directly at Illena. "I think I have found here, among these welcoming people, and with Illena, a place that I might someday be able to call my home. It is a calling."

Her eyes begin to moisten as she begins to look at her friends sitting around her at the long table. "I have no desire for war and battles anymore. I'm not sure what I will do, but I know that she will need someone of her own kind to look after her," she motions to Illena, who stands at the end of the table, watching and listening, her large eyes taking in all that she can see and hear.

"Do you see me a traitor? A coward? I do not wish to be any of these. I will be here for you, my friends. But I will be here, at this lost, forgotten place on the edge of the world. Will you allow me to take my leave?"

---

1. HP Status at the end of 141.0: Alara 27/41, Canter 32/44, Crayne 29/16*, El 25/25, Emma 42/42, Hannibal 15/26, Skandor 28/38, Storm 22/50.

* these values include the effect of the Armor spell

2. At the end of Turn 141.0, Crayne will have memorized the following spells:

1: Detect Magic, Magic Missile, Color Spray, Read Magic

2: Knock, Levitate

3: Invisibility 10' Radius, <one slot empty>

3. At the end of Turn 141.0, Emma will have the following spells:

1: Anti-Vermin Barrier, Command, Cure Light Wounds (x3)

2: Augury, Find Traps, Cure Moderate Wounds, Hold Person, Remove Paralysis

3: Dispel Magic, Locate Object, Summon Animal Spirit

~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire Command: [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~