~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire
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Turn 147.0: Hathean Ancestors
Posted: 4/12/01
"Well done!" Emma
congratulates her fellow warriors. She
turns around to make sure the rest of the cavern is clear of Caerloon enemies
then sheathes her broadsword.
"Skan?" she asks with a worried expression on her face,
"Where's Storm? Did they capture
him and flee?"
Storm hobbles out of the
walkway and makes his way to the rest of the group. On the way, he looks around, noting the frozen man in the corner
and the injured Joelen on the floor by the cut rope. He chuckles when he sees the Caerloon captain. "That gonna leave a scar," he says
sarcastically to himself.
Emma is greatly relieved to
see Storm still standing...wounded, but far from down and out. She approaches the dwarf and then
impulsively bends down to hug him, despite any protests he might make. He can feel a bit of real fear in the way
her body trembles beneath her armor.
"I...I thought we might have lost you," she whispers, her
voice too low to be heard by anyone other than him.
She squeezes him briefly
once more and then pulls away, trying to regain her mask of control. Her eyes are misty and she quietly struggles
to keep from crying in relief.
Outwardly, it's hard for anyone else to discern her true feelings, but
to Storm it's quite clear that the Shield Maiden isn't as self-assured as she
sometimes pretends to be. She's still a
young girl (and much younger than a dwarf!), not all that long removed from the
sanctuary of her temple. She
second-guesses herself a lot, and most recently she had begun to second-guess
the plan to attack the Caerloon mage and win Amos' freedom. And though Rinder's Six was successful in
carrying out the plan, it had almost come at too great a cost.
Storm takes up position by
one of the statues, leaning heavily against it for support as the others gather
themselves and begin to talk. He
straightens when Emma approaches him and cringes a little as she hugs him. A soft moan escapes his lips, still irked at
overt displays of affection.
Catching his breath,
wincing slightly from the pain of the arrow wounds, Skandor turns to look at
Storm. He smiles thinly in appreciation
for the dwarf's survival capabilities.
Storm feels engulfed as
Emma hugs him tightly. Clearly, like
himself, she is glad to see that he is alive and well...or, at worst, alive and
wounded. Skandor silently allows them a
moment of privacy as he makes his way towards the two soldiers held by Emma's
spell. One of them is clearly dead, a
small red stream having already made its way down the man's body to form a
small pool at his feet. The other man,
though, was perhaps merely unconscious, as he did not appear to be
wounded. Knowing that they also had
Joelen as a prisoner, Skandor instinctively raises his Gladius, preparing to
end the man's life quickly, cleanly...honorably. A warrior's death.
But he stops, again wincing
from the pain in his side. Looking
down, he sees the two wounds suffered from the archer's arrows. One was clean and superficial. The other, though...the feathered fletching
still protruded from the hole in the chain mail where the arrow had struck.
Gritting his teeth, calming
himself, Skandor lowers his blade. He
reaches one hand down and slowly removes the arrow from his side. He lets out a small groan, and thanks Anhur
that it was a normal flight arrow, and not a hunting-barb. Turning his attention back to the frozen
foe, every instinct and training was urging him to slay the enemy: they had no
time, manpower, or position to be dragging along prisoners. They were in a very dangerous situation, in
a dungeon of unknown design and construction.
Letting the enemy loose here would be like letting an enemy loose in an
armory, even though the 'weapons' were different in nature.
But, the battle was over. This man was helpless. To slay him outright would not be an
honorable kill. Perhaps some would even
term it dishonorable. So, instead, the
paladin sheaths his gladius, slings his shield, and secures this man as best as
he can, with some rope from Canter's pack.
Meanwhile, up on the stone
bridge high above the cavern floor, Crayne turns the ring on his finger and
smiles for a small moment. It was
difficult for him not to take any delight in the rings effects. The fact he had sent a Red Dragon mage
careening across the chamber delighted him.
There was no doubt that the mage and his men would have felt it to for
they were travelling at quite a pace. A Haste spell, he would have
guessed from his knowledge of such things.
A spell which he respected wholeheartedly, and one which he wished for
in his repertoire. But it wasn't to be,
and Crayne now knew that he had to turn back his attention to his friends.
He wondered whether they
were all still okay. For he was sure
that Hannibal had been struck quite badly and Storm too. 'Where was that
ill-mannered dwarf anyhow?' Crayne thinks to himself. It was then that he acknowledged Amos' presence beside him. He was still couching low with his head
buried in his hands. Crayne kneels and
smiles, "It is okay now Amos! You
may come out from there. You are
safe. The mage and his men have
gone. Rather quickly too I might
add!" Crayne grins with that last jest.
"Here take a drop of
this!" Crayne says as he hands Amos his bottle of water, "I only wish
I could give you something a little stronger!"
Joelen's scream rings in
Elloharin's ears. The look of horror in
his eyes as he careened with the cavern's floor. And the sickening crunch of bone and body against the cold stone
beneath him. He sways on his feet,
feeling dizzy and dirty. It is one
thing to kill a man in a fight, it is another to send him hurtling to his doom,
helpless and frightened. It was this
that sickened the elf the most. When
enemies died with grins or growls on their faces, it was one thing, when they
fell with smirks and derisive laughs turning to horror, it was one thing, but
when they were smote down in fear--it was quite different. The excitement of the past few days had
almost rejuvenated El, almost alleviated the weight of guilt, which clung to
his back like a dead body. He recalled
the name given to him by the gibbering lunatic which hovered at the edges of
his consciousness. Elloharin the
Dimmed.
Elloharin sits by the mage
and the downed thief, Hannibal. He
holds the thief's head up. He hears the
thief whisper, something, but can barely make it out. One word is distinctive though, "Anhur."
"You can't sleep yet
Hannibal, you think Anhur would accept you in this state? Don't believe it. You haven't made good quite yet.
You still owe Emma. You still
owe Storm. You still owe Crayne. You still owe Rinder. So don't fall asleep yet human. Responsibility isn't over for you.
"Emma! Hannibal's
downed! It looks bad! We could use your help!" Elloharin shouts it down to the cavern
floor, hoping to hasten the Six. He
sits guarding the thief, priest and mage, while they recover. His own wounds are grave and he adjusts his
body, making sure that the wounds are clean and not infected. He periodically slaps Hannibal on the cheek,
trying to keep him awake.
The hands were not pulling
as hard now, more just a light descent now, almost as if sinking in mud. Hannibal tried to look around himself, to
locate the source of the voices he thought he heard, but everything was still a
dull grey. Was he dying? Why wasn't he scared?
Crayne then looks to
Elloharin and nods, "El! Give me a
hand with Hannibal here! Be gentle
though for the man is in a good deal of pain!" The mage slowly turns Hannibal onto his back. He reaches to his belt and pulls a small
vial from one of his many pouches.
Quickly he applies a balm to Hannibal in order to stop any serious
bleeding. (1 hp restored) "Stay with us Hannibal! Emma will be here soon!" Crayne says to
him as he applies the balm to his wounds.
Once he is satisfied that he has stopped the bleeding he gives him a
good dose of his water.
It is then that he
remembers Amos, "Amos! Is there
anything you can do for Hannibal? We
would be forever in your debt if there was something you could do for
him!" Crayne looks at Amos
anxiously, waiting for an answer.
Amos looks flustered, the
expression on his face a mix of fear, confusion, and concern. "I...I don't..."
As quickly as Emma's heart
had soared upon seeing Storm alive and well, it drops again at the news that
Hannibal might be at death's door somewhere upon the bridge. She remembers the lightning that the
Caerloon mage had thrown into their midst.
It had burned like fire down every nerve of her body, but she had
weathered it well enough. Hannibal must
not have fared as well.
"I'm coming!" the
priestess shouts back up, starting to move toward the bridge again. She looks back at Skandor and gestures
toward the tunnel where the Caerloon mage and his bodyguards had escaped. "Watch the tunnel, Sword Bearer. Warn us if they start to come back...
"Canter? Storm?" she suggests, "Watch the
officer and make sure he doesn't pass away before we get a chance to speak with
him." Emma finally reaches the area
where the rope had once been. She retrieves
it and offers to throw it back up to Crayne or El. "Somebody catch!" she bellows, "So I can climb
back up..."
She hurls the heavy hemp
rope as high as she can, but after many tries cannot toss it high enough for
someone on the bridge to catch. Sensing
Emma's frustration, Crayne looks down to the priestess and says, "Don't
worry Emma! I will levitate him down to
you!!"
As Canter starts to move
towards the downed Caerloon officer, Skandor calls to him. "Canter, a moment sir..."
Canter nods in a respectful
manner, eager to hear from his friend Skandor.
"You fought well, and
your assistance is much appreciated. In
return," Skandor says, lying his hand gently on Canter's shoulder, and
bowing his head as he speaks, "I offer what little I can, a blessing from
Anhur, a reward for vailiant endeavors, bravery, and courage." Canter smiles as Skandor lays his strong
hands on his shoulders, the healing power of Anhur invoked. (10 hp restored to Canter)
A soft blue glow spreads
from the paladin's fingers on Canter's shoulder, and slowly ebbs up the man's
neck, down his arm and back as well.
Canter can't help but smile slightly at the warm feeling the healing
brings, a comforting sense of well-being.
The glow brought about by the paladin is a little more intense than it
had been in the past, a testament to the growing power that Anhur was imparting
to his Sword Bearer.
When the light slowly fades
away a few moments later, Skandor raises his head and smiles, and pats Canter
once on the shoulder. Then, the Sword
Bearer strides in the same path the enemy took when they made their escape, to
the exit at the other end of the cavern.
Heeding Crayne's words, Skandor observes a wide path around the statues,
and stops when he reaches the ground where the ice begins. Un-slinging his shield, he
kneels behind it as much as possible while watching down the tunnel, looking
for any sign of the enemy. He waits
there, his vision unswerving, as he listens to the rest of the activity around
the chamber.
Finally, Crayne is able to
bring Hannibal down to the cavern floor and before Emma. While she deals with the weakened thief,
Crayne takes hold of the rope and levitates back up to the bridge, once again
securing the link between the two levels.
Emma observes Hannibal's weakened
condition and her heart feels dismay once again. "Oh, Hannibal," she breathes, leaning down close to him
and smoothing back his hair. It had
grown slick with sweat and blood.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," she joked
half-heartedly, "Seems like all we ever do is get beat up
anymore." She sets about the task
of unwrapping El's blanket from the thief's body and checking the rest of his
wounds.
Hannibal could hear a
voice, a female voice.
"Mother?" he croaked, desperately trying to open his eyes and
fight back the greyness that clouded his vision.
"Mother?" Emma
queries aloud. Her concern grows as she
considers her friend might be delirious, or at least closer to death's door
than she had thought. "You'll be
happy to know that Storm is okay," she explains to him, "So rest
easy. I'll call upon Anhur to heal your
body, but you've lost a lot of blood.
It will take time and rest to recover from that. Now hold still..." She places a hand upon Hannibal's chest and
recites a prayer of healing for her friend.
(OOC: Emma casts "Cure
Moderate Wounds" on Hannibal, 7 hp restored to Hannibal.)
A wash of golden light
pushed away the grayness and a flood of colors invaded Hannibal's view. He could see the cavern ceiling now, feel
the cold stone earth beneath him, and could see a woman staring peacefully down
at him...a smile crossed her lips as she realized he was okay.
Emma's eyes grow bright
with hope as she can see Hannibal's pain receding. 'He'll be alright,' she thinks to herself, 'Thank Anhur, he'll be
al---'
Without hesitation,
Hannibal reaches up and grabs the back of the woman's head, pulling her in
close and kissing her full on the lips.
Never before had Hannibal felt so good, so happy to be alive.
When the kiss ends, he
pulls back and it was then he realizes who it was. "Oh, hi Emma," he states plainly, as if casually
greeting the priestess. Silently he
prays she would not slay him right there on the cavern floor in anger.
Utterly stunned, Emma can't
quite find her voice. Her lips part and
there's a somewhat shaken and dreamy look upon her face. She finally blushes however and worriedly
looks to either side of the bridge, concerned that someone else might have
noticed Hannibal's actions.
"Uh...um...that's...that's o-okay," Emma murmurs, not quite
meeting his eyes and trying to appear like she's just focused on the task at
hand. She
looks around for something to do and appears flustered, finally putting her
hands on her knees like she doesn't know quite what to do with them. All that continues to thunder through her
mind is how the kiss had felt and whether it might have just been accidental or
if Hannibal had truly meant to do it.
'Why?' she thinks to
herself, 'Wh-wh-why did he do that? Was
it still the delirium of his wounds?'
The sounds of Elloharin
approaching (he has by now climbed the rope Crayne has restored) pull her
attention back to the real world. Her
eyes briefly meet Hannibal's with a look of curiosity and confusion...and
desire? It's hard to tell, really. And she can't quite explain the feelings
inside herself either. She has always
cared for Hannibal as a friend and occasionally as a spiritual guide whenever
he allowed it, but this...well, could there be something more?
In that fleeting instant,
all of those thoughts are clearly expressed on her face and communicated
through her eyes. Then the moment
passes and El moves to help Hannibal to his feet. The Shield Maiden remains kneeling upon the ground for a little
while longer, mentally shelving her thoughts for another time. She can always examine them at length
later...once Rinder's Six claimed the Hathean play and departed the Ancient
Chambers. Still, she climbs unsteadily
to her feet and feels embarrassed and self-conscious.
As El arrives at Hannibal's
side once again, he smiles broadly (albeitly weakly) when he sees all his
friends had survived.
Soon all of Rinder's Six,
plus a flustered but recovering Amos, are reunited on the floor of the cavern,
not far from the four statues. Crayne
looks to the group and speaks up in his usual authoritative tones. "A plan which went awry I feel! Although we must not dwell on it! We now have Amos, who I am sure will fill us
in as to what he knows about this mage Covarc, and where his journeys has taken
himself so far in these underground chambers.
Also Amos, we as a group have something very important to put to you. You are quite free to choose whichever course
you think more appropriate. We ask you
whether you would act as our guide for us, in this quest for the play we
seek! You are of El-Balans and we
believe you would assist greatly if you would come with us on our cause! But, as I say we will not force you into any
action whatsoever! It is your
decision!"
Emma leaves Amos to
Crayne. The Highbrow would know how to
calm the flighty priest of Hathe.
Instead, she focuses her attention on Storm. "You're sorely wounded," she notes, one hand resting on
her hip. A lot of tension hangs in the
air between the priestess and the dwarf.
She's unsure what to do or say.
"I...I could pray for swift-healing upon you," she offers,
"I feel somewhat responsible for the arrows that struck you, after
all. Though I did not launch them
myself, it was certainly my force of will that committed us to the planned
attack on the Caerloons. And that's
what put you in harm's way..."
Storm gives a hard look to
Emma. To a stubborn dwarf, insulting
words are not forgotten easily, and they are still not now.
"I'm sorry,
Storm," she says, and it's clear from the feeling she puts behind those
words that she means more than a simple apology for the fact that he was
injured. In the Shield Maiden's heart,
she knows she wounded him with her words as well. Now she only hopes he will accept her apology for both.
Storm is slightly surprised
by her at-long-last apology. He looks
directly into her eyes, where he is struck by her blatant sincerity. He then finds his gaze softening, her
sincere nature spreading to the dwarf through the air between their eyes, and
suddenly he is struck by a great deal of appreciation for Emma and her
words. "Aye..." he says
softly, an acceptance to both her spoken words and her deeper intentions. "Arright." He lowers his head slightly, preparing to
receiver her healing blessing.
Emma softly breathes a sigh
of relief. Her emotions seemed to be
all out of control lately. If she
wasn't loudly berating Rinder's Six one moment, she was fearing for their continued
friendship the next. Storm's acceptance
makes her feel much better about where she stands in the group again. (Emma casts Cure Light Wounds on Storm; 5 hp
restored to Storm.)
As the surge of energy
courses through his body, Storm's posture straightens and he sighs in
relief. He looks up into Emma's eyes
again, the trace of sympathy, love, and friendship still in his gaze. A moment later his normal gruff appearance comes
back, and his voice has lost the bloody grumble of a few minutes ago. "Don't ye worry, Emma, I be arright
now. But don't ye be thinkin' I's goin'
into odds like that again anytime soon!
Not unless Anhur himself be standin' next to me." He chuckles happily and clasps Emma on the
shoulder, offering a slight squeeze to his pat that only she would notice.
"Oh, Storm!" she
happily responds, "I think you'd be willing to face a score of giants, a
hundred Orcs, and the whole Caerloon army itself if you knew it was the right
thing to do. You're the bravest dwarf
I've ever known...and the most loyal, too.
Even if we make a tactical mistake or take on a risky scheme, you're
always the one that finds a way to make it work out for the best. And in the caste of Anhur, you'd be the foot
soldier that carries the day while the fat general sits safely behind the
lines."
Her words are partly
joking, but it's clear that the Shield Maiden genuinely believes them. And as she says the words aloud, Emma comes
to see Storm in a different light. The
realization that he really is the embodiment of a faithful foot soldier dawns
upon her. 'He's not so different from
me or the rest of the human population of Rinder...,' she thinks, 'In fact,
he's more in tune with what Anhur's doctrine is all about than some of the
priesthood!'
Crayne then turns to the
rest of the group, "I suggest we rest for a while and regain our
strength. There are spells, too, which
I feel I should memorise to safeguard us against the mage. He will afterall be on the lookout from now
on! Also," Crayne perks up,
"Be wary of those statues! Stay
away in other words! They emanate
magic! I certainly wouldn't walk
amongst the middle of them anyhow!"
Crayne turns to Amos, "Do you know what the statues and the ceiling
illustrations represent?"
Hearing Crayne ask Amos to
join them, and hearing Crayne also ask about the statues, Skandor waits for a
silent moment before airing his questions, as well. The tactical situation was very sketchy, at best. They needed info, and fast, to ensure that
they did not become trapped, or worse.
"I...I..." Amos
begins, catching his breath and finally breathing calmly, "I will join
you'n in these chambers. My people
haven't been down here in many generations, so I'm not sure how well I can guide
you'n, but I will do my best." He
swallows, looking up to the illustrations on the cavern's ceiling: men clothed
in robes, riding some kind of animal, hands stretched toward the sky. "As for the drawings...I am no expert
in the artistic arts, but I would suspect they'n depict early followers of
Hathe, or perhaps the god our ancestors worshipped. Though great in their place as our ancestors, for building these
great chambers, and for eventually discovering the truth and light of Hathe,
they'n believed that there was but one god above worthy of worship..." His voice trails off.
"Is there more?"
Canter asks.
Amos looks back toward the
party. "Perhaps...ancient lore has
it that to unlock the secrets of time past, a certain song is needed. My people still practice a melody which we'n
believe is similar to the ancient tune, but the ancient words are long since
lost. I wonder how truthful the legend
is, and if somewhere we'n might find those lyrics, in the ancient tongue."
Emma's mind races. Where had she heard something similar? Amos' tale certainly seemed familiar. With urgency, she has an anagnorosis: she
remembers the Coreognate's spirit's words:
'It will take skill and determination to reach Killner's Vault, where
this play rests. And remember, with
songful praise of Hathe, your way will be--'
"Amos, sir...this
tunnel," Skandor calls out with a deep voice, pointing with his gladius
towards the tunnel into which the enemy retreated, "Where does it
lead? Is there any way for it to lead
behind us? Were you leading them in the
right direction, or were you stalling?
How far are we from the library?
How much did you tell them?"
Amos shakes his head. "I simply don't know where that tunnel
leads. Remember what I told you'n, I've
never been down here, nor were my fathers or their fathers. Only the ancient ones. As for my guidance to the Caerloon troops, I
can only say I did not lie to them, but my lack of clear vivid knowledge about
these chambers limited my ability to guide them. And where I did know a little, let us just say, I 'withheld' a
little." Amos smiles to Skandor
and sends the Sword Bearer a wink.
Vaguely, Emma hears Crayne
discussing the statues with Amos.
Though she is curious about them, she knows well enough to trust the
Highbrow's insight. If they are
magical, it is probably best to stay away from them. What concerns her the most is his suggestion that they take some
time to prepare their spells again. She
agrees. They'll need every bit of
preparation they can get to face Covarc again.
"Crayne?" she
politely interrupts his discussion with Amos for a moment, "I'm going to
interrogate Joelen...and then I'll try and regain some healing power from
Anhur." With those words, she
moves away from the others and crosses the distance to the Caerloon
officer. She hopes that El's enchantment
has worn off by now...otherwise, she fears he might ignore her to still get at
the elf. Crouching down next to him,
she sadly observes the man's shattered legs.
It would take a significant amount of healing power to restore them. Power that is beyond her right now.
"Joelen?" she
softly asks, "Your mage has deserted you.
Your men have fallen in honorable combat. And you are very far away from your homeland." She pauses to allow those depressing facts
to settle fully upon the man.
"Though we are enemies on the battlefield, I do not wish to see a
captive suffer," she continues, "Rinder is not the aggressor in this
war...we only seek to defend ourselves from your leaders. We are a land of peace, prosperity...and
healing."
She reaches out a hand and
touches the officer's arm. "I
would share that healing with you if you will speak with us," she offers,
"Tell us of Covarc's plans...of his knowledge about this place...and of
the orders his superiors left with him.
Tell us these things and I will see to it that you are carried from this
place and cared for until you can walk again."
Joelen looks up from his
shattered position on the cavern floor, his eyes meeting with Emma's. "Covarc is a brilliant mage, capable of
striking you down where you stand without lifting a finger. He knows what he is looking for and will
stop and nothing to get it. You,"
he looks past Emma to the others, and to Amos, "your friends and that
bumbling idiot of a priest will never find the play before the great
Covarc. And if by some chance you do, I
would bet my life you'll never make it back to the light of day again."
Emma smiles thinly at
Joelen. 'He isn't going to be much
help, especially with those legs and that attitude,' she thinks. Then she speaks: "Fine then. Seeing as you have little desire to curry
favor with me--the only one who can heal you here--Anhur and I will withhold
that healing. But I will not see a
warrior die a dishonorable death."
With that, she rises from her crouched position and walks away, leaving
Joelen quite confused.
She approaches the only
other living Caerloon soldier, the one still in her Hold Person spell. With ease she breaks the spell, holding the
soldiers hands tightly behind his back.
His eyes wander the room, seeing all of Rinder's Six and his destroyed
officer. "You are now a prisoner,
soldier," Emma says sternly in the man's ear. "And as your captor I will put you to labor. But you have a choice, of course..."
She loosens her grip on the
man's hands and walks around to face him.
"You can be slain here alongside others from your troupe, or you
can escort your crippled officer back to the surface, the way you came, to
El-Balans. There I'm sure the
priesthood will welcome you as kindly as is appropriate. But at least you'll be alive. Think not of straying on your way out of the
Ancient Chambers, for I wouldn't give you too high of a chance of surviving
down here, especially with that useless Joelen."
The soldier is terrified,
and with blinking eyes nods to Emma.
"Good," she
replies. "Now get
moving." In minutes the soldier
has lifted Joelen over his shoulders and is making his way out of the cavern,
retracing the Caerloon party's steps.
Making her way back to the
group, Emma reports: "We are through with those two. They would have only been a burden, and
would likely have turned against us when we actually find Covarc and the
remaining men."
"Agreed,"
Hannibal whispers, still recovering.
"Now let us take an
hour to recouperate and study," Crayne suggests.
Storm nods, rubbing a sore
spot. "Aye, a good plan."
Emma agrees, planning her
own prayers.
Soon Crayne is in study and
Emma and Amos are in prayer. The others
find comfortable spots, unroll bedrolls, and sit by lantern-light,
relaxing. Though the danger was far
from past, at least for now they had a moment to breathe. For who knows...this could be their last
such moment...
1. HP Status: Canter 17/44, Crayne
10/16 (*), Elloharin 15/25, Emma 23/42, Hannibal 11/26, Skandor 25/38, Storm
16/50.
2. After the hour of rest, prayer,
and study:
CRAYNE will have: L1: Magic Missile (x2), Color Spray, Detect
Magic; L2: Knock.
(*) Crayne will also have cast
Armor upon himself. This raises his HP
to 24/16.
EMMA will have: L1: Anti-Vermin Barrier, Command, Cure Light
Wounds (x2); L2: Augury, Cure Moderate Wounds, Remove Paralysis; L3: Dispel
Magic, Locate Object, Summon Animal Spirit.
Assuming he'll take the time to
re-memorize Feather Fall and Taunt, ELLOHARIN will have: L1: Feather Fall,
Taunt, Wall of Fog; L2: Blindness.
~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire
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