Kestril on 24/10/2003 at 04:56
*Kestril stumbled to his feet. Feeling like the walking dead he seemed to encounter every where he made his way to his sword. A voice once again echoed in his head.*
E: You have not answered me thief!
K: Why would you want to spare me my life? Could you not kill me and return what I have taken by your own power? You need me for some other purpose, don't you?
*Every word reminded Kestril of the cracked texture of his lips. He futily tried to apply moisture, but only found a sting when hios tongue met the split in his lower lip.*
E: Clever manfool...you will take me out of this place. This place holds a righteous curse. The hammers sealed it against the creatures of the woodsie. Those hammerites... What did they hope to achieve? Hiding me in a secluded church, hoping no one would think to look here. You will take me out side, and carry me to where I desire, or you will die. Do you understand me manfool? Do you under...
*Kestril looked up at the gemstone. He couldn't gauge it. No face to read. Nothing but a soft white glow.*
E: It appears I no longer need you manfool. There is one stronger than you that will no doubt be coming in here very soon. Feel free to attempt escape. While they can't come in here, they are quite vigorous outside.
Oneiroscope on 24/10/2003 at 05:41
Strands of mist began to appear in the shadowy corners of the chamber. Kestril looked around nervously, and drew his battered sword with a hiss.
"What is this, Eye? What have you drawn to me?" Kestril's voice shook with fear and rage.
"I did none of this manfool! It is the work of another!" For the first time the whispering voice of the Eye seemed hesitant. The mist continued to grow, coalescing along the floor and creeping toward Kestril, who danced away holding the Eye at arms length. Hearing the dead moaning outside, he knew that he was trapped. Whatever threat this mist represented, Kestril was at its mercy. Unless...
He glanced up at the thick wooden beams that supported the arched ceiling. Without another moment's thought the sword was in its sheath and the Eye disappeared into Kestril's pack. Out came his bow and a rope arrow. In seconds, despite his injuries and exhaustion, the thief was perched on the beam and watching the mist from a safe distance. The vapors writhed and danced along the lines of the tile mosaic, caressing the face of the Builder.
"What is this?" Kestril wondered. He believed the Eye. Whatever was causing this was not its work. A sound began to creep into the cathedral. A strange whispering, almost musical. Soon Kestril found himself almost entranced by its beauty. He shook himself. He had almost dozed off! The sound was coming from the mist. Some dark sorcery was at work here, he felt sure. But how to escape?
Acorn on 25/10/2003 at 05:13
{OOC: I hope I'm not interfering with the entrance of another character or plot point. But as it is I can't resist the intro.}
A short distance from the main doors outside the now unguarded derelict Hammerite church Acorn stood unshod upon the dewy spring grass performing a spell that called upon the elemental spirits of spring, death of winter and renewal of life. Singing the last few lines she had learned from the ancient Pagan conjurers she opened her deep green eyes as she concluded her chant with a growl and made a broad shoving motion. The doors and windows of the abandoned building imploded shattering and splintering upon the floor of the empty church as the misty shades that were memories of birth and death poured into the naive and filled it nearly to the rafters. "Thine creatures of darkness have been vanquished and given back to the earth, Hammerite!!!!!" Acorn screamed into the echoing chamber. Nothing stirred amongst the shadowed rubble but mists ... and perhaps another whisper. Faint but urgent. A spell?
"The Ents will not enter this hateful place fore its disgusting taint offends them, but I am not afraid!!" Acorn strode forward boldly bow nocked with fire, picking her way toward the center of the room. Peering about, she saw nothing but rubble. "Come out!!" She called and spun about peering into another corner not noticing that a water arrow was knocked from her quiver by a bent torch afixed to a collum. Another faint breath entreated her from.... she turned her gaze to the rafters. Did she see something move? A shiver of motion way up near the cross beams...? She held her breath and aimed .......................................................................... No...... nothing now.
"Rats..." she muttered sniffing "could have sworn I caught man scent a second ago...... maybe it was just...coulda been old meat.." Sniff Sniff.
Acorn took a last peek and sniff behind the alter and shrugged. Well, that was a wasted effort, and now she was late for the fine dinner she should have been enjoying at her estate manor house. Her stomach made a few dissatisfied noises in agreement. She turned to leave and paused at the ragged opening of the doorway and growled into the shadows fireing off a parting, "If there IS somebody here, you'd better hope I never find you!!" Did she hear some small fey muffled plea for help amidst the echoes in the disapating mist?
"This place is cursed!" she spat and strode away to mount her horse, turning him in the direction of the path back to the road.
The Ents still clicked with agitation where they stood arms raised to the sky about the small clearing of the old Hammer Church in the fading light of afternoon. Threading her way through the scattered bodies of the subterranean beasts, now torn to pieces, Acorn felt satisfied that she could leave the great tree sentries in care of her western border. But something compelled (or was it implored?) her to return to the church once again. She fought off the urge with an angry shake of her head. Echoes of the past, she mused, rustlings of dead leaveses. "You, old one!" she called to the nearest Ent which creaked in reply. "If you sees anyone suspicious, brings them to me at big housey! I must get to the bottom of this mystery...." and with that settled, she rode away.
Finally back on the road, and day dreaming of a hot meal she urged her curious and fearful entourage, with promise of extra gold, to make haste to reach the Manor house before dark.
{OOC: Did you notice the water arrow I left? :angel: }
Oneiroscope on 25/10/2003 at 06:17
OOC: Good one Acorn!:thumb:
In the darkness of the Bagmoor crypt, the figure of the long dead Leaf dropped its arms. Something had broken its spell. Some...intruder. At this distance it was difficult to tell what had happened. All the lich knew was that for whatever reason it had failed its master. The Stone was angered, Leaf could feel that in what remained of its tortured soul.
Fear was a long forgotten indulgence, however. The Stone knew patience the likes of which even the Trickster could only have guessed at. The thing that was once Leaf knew that it would not be punished for its failure. There was no option other than his total obedience to begin with. Instead, another of the rotted corpses rose.
This had been called Sir Guille. In his case the title had been no affectation. He also had served the Woodsie Lord, but had betrayed the Builder to do so. His magic was more...civilized, than Leaf's. But no less potent. The two of them together had slain armies in life. Now, with the weight of their many decades in the buried crypt who could say what their powers might mean?
Had it not been for the Hammers. The six who now stood eternal watch over the doors of the crypt, promised revenge by the Stone upon he who had imprisoned them alive, who had buried the entrance under tons of earth some fifty years ago- the now elderly Father Darius Vraden. Had it not been for them, Leaf and Sir Guille would never had entered the service of the Skollus Stone. What a waste it would have been. The dank crypt, the Stone, the black void of death...all had taught Leaf and Guille secrets that the greatest wizards of old had never dreamed of.
"A pagan witch has hindered me..." The voice of the Stone drifted from its chamber. "punish her...wrack her spirit...break her...bend her to my will...bring me the Eye..."
EDIT: OOC: I hope I'm not overplaying my hand here. I don't mean to take over the game or anything. Everything I've described so far about the Skollus Stone was thought up last summer, I'm just trying to keep some consistency with the story I developed for Abiding In Darkness. I felt it was necessary in this post to show my cards. The two liches are all the long-range magic the Stone possesses. In the crypt, besides the Stone and the liches are a bunch of zombies (the Bagmoor dead) and 6 Hammer Haunts. The crypt was buried by Vraden 50 years ago after Leaf and Guille attempted to claim the Stone for the Trickster. The Stone itself only has power over the dead near it. It does, however, have the ability to divine what is happening far away, and sometimes to influence receptive minds. I am thinking that what Guille and Leaf would try next would be a lot more subtle, considering they are now up against Acorn, who has her own magic. I leave it to you folks to decide what form it might take.
Acorn on 25/10/2003 at 07:44
The forest near Orwell Manor. 7 O'Clock pm.
"Sir Orwell was one of the local Baron's most trusted knights. From what I've heard over the years, he had acquired vast amounts of wealth in the service of "Hislordship", battling other warlords who would carve up these rich lands for their own; Not to mention carrying out other heroic exploits we used to hear about as kids picking veteran's pockets as they spun tales about this or that war hero inside the local pub... That is until he died and orphaned all of that lovely swag. Now, Orwell Manor stands empty deep within' the 19 thousand and 84 acres of Goldstein woods. Its a harrowing journey through the thick tree growth and treacherous stretches of swamp land, but Lord Croft saw fit to "loan" me a map {Mental image of an old nobleman lying unconscious on an expensive rug in his living room next to a guard} that shows where the old road to the Manor house was located. Thanks "buddy"."
"Funny but the trees seem to have just swallowed it up." Garrett mused not for the first time as he re-rolled his map and stowed it along with his compass in an inner cloak pocket. "Good thing that the map says the manor house should be just over this rise... This place has got me talking to myself."
*click click click click creak groan*{seismic tremor of movement}
Garrett draws his sword and melts into the shadows, "What was that?"
Oneiroscope on 25/10/2003 at 08:22
Garrett watched and waited. Something was most definitely up, but what? The air stank of sorcery. Through the trees he could see the stones of a graveyard. Doubtless it belonged to the Orwell family, close as it was to the manor, but the grounds were as wild and overgrown as the rest of the estate.
Wonderful. Garrett thought. With my luck there's going to be zombies any second now.
The shaking continued. Sure enough, soon something began stirring amongst the graves. There was a sudden flash.Lightning? Don't remember seeing any clouds. When his vision cleared, Garrett saw a figure standing in front of one of the tombs. It looked...odd. Not a zombie. The clothes were much too fine for that.
It looked for all the world like a nobleman had just suddenly decided to visit the dead. But still... something strange. Garrett realized what it was. He wished he hadn't. The figure was standing over empty space. Over a grave that had burst open, and now yawned darkly under the fancy shoes of the nobleman.
The nobleman turned. Even through the trees Garrett could make out a toothy grin as the man slicked back his hair and checked his ornate scabbard. Then the man casually walked onto solid ground and made his way toward the manor. Whistling the old serenader's standby "Sweet Mary Marry Me" as he strolled along.
"I have a bad feeling about this." Garrett said. "And I'm still talking to myself."
Acorn on 25/10/2003 at 10:34
Lady Acorn sat nightgowned in something sheer and green before the mirrored vanity table in her opulent (but tastefully so) quarters brushing her long black hair. Soon she would retire to her bed, and she was ready for it after THIS day. Luckily she was rich enough that she didn't often have to dirty her hands with this sort of common- There was a respectful and slightly hesitant nock at her bedroom door interrupting this train of thought.
"Enter." Acorn replied with a yawn wondering what her house maid wanted at this time of night. Though a large house needed many hands to keep it running, Acorn had never required the servants to tuck her in or offer massage or any such pretentious nonsense.
One of the trailsmen from her journey opened the door and entered, respectfully dipping his head.
"Hey!!!!!" Acorn yelled, grabbing a robe off the back of a chair and quickly shrugging into it and tying it shut, while the trailsman tried to put his eyes back in his head.
"What- What do you want?" Acorn finally asked, blushing profusely.
"Ah ba-ba hamina *harumph* ah, excusey me your ladyship but there's a matter that needses coming to your attention."
"Oh, Goddess. What is it now?" Acorn replied becoming aggravated at herself for having decided to take this thrice damned trip.
"A man approaches."
"And?"
"He scareses the horseys."
"Ah." Acorn opened an ornate box that was perched on a high shelf and retrieved a few pieces of tangle vine from its padded interior. "Well, let us go and welcome this stranger..."
"Yes, milady."
Outside, a few trailsmen--now acting as guards--stood nervously at the gate to the inner yard. They whispered cautiously among themselves as they watched the dapper whistling figure garbed in antique finery stride up the walk toward them in the moonlight.
He reached the gate and halted, clasping hand to sword hilt and bowing in an elaborate manner.
"Hello my good fellows." he remarked cheerfully, "I humbly request permission of entrance to the grounds of Orwell manor."
"Who calls on the Scarlet Lady, old fellow?" asked one of the men skeptically.
"Lady?" the pale man looked puzzled, "Surely old George is about the house somewhere?"
"Master Orwell died last blooming season, a cold killerd him."
"Ah, poor chap. A shame really..."
"Yes it is." came a woman's voice from the shadows within the yard, "and who might you be, out this late." Acorn stepped into the light, eyeing the stranger curiously. Somehow he looked familiar.
The fine old gentleman bowed even more elaborately in her direction.
"A friend."
"Really? Because you look like a dead man."
The gate guards gasped and made hex signs, backing away.
"Thou art correct, lady." The nobly garbed man replied smiling, the curve of his lips revealing the extended points of fangs.
"Father told me a lot of old stories about this place" said Acorn, "and only one man in the family ever was said to have born some sort of a curse. If you are he, then you must be Great Uncle Frobert."
"Frob, please." the man bowed again, "Ah, then you must be my little niece... not so little now..."
Acorn blushed, "I'm not going to invite you in Uncle Frob. I just moved in and I don't need vampires running amok right now."
"George felt the same, it was just our little joke. Me showing up and frightening the help. Playing a little chess in the drawing room. I was, however, considering coming in for a bite as it looked like the place was under new management..."
"Well, its not." Acorn smiled.
"A pitty."
"Quite."
"Might I bunk in yon guest house then?" asked Frob pointing away toward a small cottage in the field, "Surely, You wouldn't turn away family?"
"Oh, alright. But if you must feed, use the sheep and horses."
"As usual." the nobleman sighed. "Hmm sheep or horse... well good night my dear, I'll be around. -No mischief I promise- but there seemed to be someone else skulking about in the shadows a while a go. I shall see if I can spy him." Frob said swallowing back some extra saliva and turning to go.
"Now to bed." Acorn muttered sleepily. "Be vigilant men! There may be a tresspasser about." she added as she headed back into the house.
{OOC: Now I don't have to fight all those dead guys alone. :thumb: }
Acorn on 25/10/2003 at 18:30
Garrett crouched on a high branch overlooking the wall of the (apparently inhabited) Manor grounds as the vampire strolled by underneath his tree in the moon light for the ninth or tenth time glancing nonchalantly about and whistling yet another dusty golden oldie.
"This guy is sticking around a little too close", Garrett mused fingering his blackjack, "he must have sensed that something was up or he would have been over at the other side by now..." He checked his pack, "I'm fully loaded, but I don't know if I have what it takes to take someone like him out. Better try to sneak in over the wall as soon as "Mr. Music Man" gets far enough away..."
"I can wait my lad." the nobleman remarked to the air as he walked, "I have all the time in the world...."
"I'll bet you do." Garrett muttered waiting for a patrolling trailsman on the other side of the wall to pass as well, "unfortunately I still have to work for a living." he swiftly crossed the open expanse of branch and jumped down inside the wall, KO'ing the Pagan from behind and pausing only to drag him aside under a concealing bush. "Now for the pay-off." Garrett became a shadow moving with the breeze and none marked his passing....
Oneiroscope on 25/10/2003 at 18:43
{OOC: Good! Upon reflection I was thinking that was too overt, anyway. If the Stone could do that, well who needs the Eye? So instead:}
The mind of Sir Guille, or what blasted fragments of it that remained, travelled through the ether. The Stone, in all its glory, receded into the distance. Sir Guille felt sadness that his duty to the Stone should carry him away from it, but it must be done. The Stone had told Sir Guille that his target controlled the lands on which the thief who possessed the Eye was trapped. Control the woman, control the estate. Use her power to capture the Eye.
Soon, Sir Guille was near the Eye. He could sense it strongly. He wished with all his soul that he could simply claim the Eye for the Stone and be done with it. Nothing ventured... He examined the minds near the old church. He found the mind of a human, thoughts of pain and fear, the desire for escape, but no ingress. The man was battered and bruised, that much was certain, but he still had enough strength of will to resist possession.
The lich cast around, looking for nearby minds. He found Tree Beasts. Ents, he corrected himself. But such minds were too close to the Woodsie for possession. Even were it possible, having inhabited a human body for all his years of life meant that trying to learn to control a huge body of wood represented a task that might require years to master. Frustration!
Very well. Sir Guille widened his search. After some time he found the manor. One by one he examined the minds, looking for the slightest crack which he might begin to pry open... Ah.
Oneiroscope on 25/10/2003 at 19:57
A Keeper! How delicious. Right under the very nose of the pagans. The man's mind was weakened by years of smoking the Black Lotus that the pagans had doubtlessly introduced him to. He had managed to observe the Orwells for some time, since the woman was a child, in fact. But now he was a mere shell. His identity and sympathies divided. Perfect.
Sir Guille entered the mind of the man and settled in with barely a struggle. The Keeper was not even aware of the lich. Guille amused himself for a time by ruffling through the man's memories. First he found information germain to his task. The Keeper's name was Levent. The pagan woman's name was Acorn. The two had shared a special bond. Levent was her stableman. Always kind and understanding. Always willing to let Acorn cry on his shoulder. It would all be too easy.
Guille also found, the memory dusty with disuse, mention of the Skollus Stone! A book read long ago when Levent had been studying as an Acolyte. The foolish Keepers believed it to be nothing more than an old fable. A tale invented by some Precurser dramatist for entertainment and nothing more. The book had been written by another Keeper. One who obviously had never read the jeweled tome which sat under a blanket of dust, hidden and forgotten atop a shelf in the Bagmoor family's library.
Guille began to formulate a plan. A plan that would ensure the woman Acorn would willingly and determinedly bring the Eye to Bagmoor Keep. And in so doing, condemn the world of the living to damnation and horror for all time. All it would take was a slight...skewing of the facts. Surely, she would want to incur the gratitude of the Woodsie? Yes. And the Woodsie Lord would be most grateful for both the Eye, and the Skollus Stone!
--------------------------------
Father Darius Vraden gazed with failing eyes upon the great steel doors. The walls were thick granite. A large inverted red hammer was carved into the stone above the doors. Within, warded by a deadly spell of his own devising, only a mound of black earth met the eye. But Vraden's dreams had been fretful of late.
He had seen his Hammers. His poor lost Hammers. In his dreams they had stared at him with such hatred, such accusation. But what else could he have done? The old man leaned hevily on his walking stick as he made his way past their gravestones. Six white stones. The graves filled with nothing more than a few personal items from each of the long dead Hammers.
The Bagmoors had taken to surrounding those markers with their own dead, since the crypt was now unavailable to them. But one space still remained, next to the white stones. Someday soon, Father Vraden would be laid to his rest there. But for now...something was wrong.
He could feel the taint of that Thing. It lingered in the air like the stench of brimstone. The Stone was awake again. It must be. But Vraden was too old, now. What could a man of 90 winters do against something that predated the dawn of the world? An immortal creature so consumed with hate that not even millions of years could dim its fury. All he could do was pray. Pray that the Builder would find a way to hinder what could not be destroyed. Vraden entered the Bagmoor church, and slowly, carefully, lowered himself upon his aching knees. "Oh Builder, aid your children 'gainst this foul enemy. Inspire us. Send us some way to defeat its machinations. I beg of you..."
{EDIT: OOC: Please let me know if I am stepping on any toes! I've never played this kind of RPG before, and don't really know what the rules of ettiquette are. Also, I am a short story writer, so I might have a tendency to go a little overboard.:o If I mess up too badly, let me know and I will be happy to edit my posts appropriately.:) }
