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| Chapter 1 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 31 2012, 12:25 AM (1,517 Views) | |
| FalseHumanity | Dec 31 2012, 12:25 AM Post #1 |
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It is the middle of the night, and your skin is burning away. In inn beds, in bedrolls around campfires, in love and war making, the pain is excruciating. You can feel every vessel, every vein, venule, artery, arteriole, defined by agony. The very blood in your body is moving, and you cannot help but move with it. The world spins, collapses, goes black. As you gradually pull yourself awake, you feel cold soft ground underneath you. Loamy soil and dark sand crush under your fingers. There are other shapes in the room, backlit by one flickering lamp at one end. The lamp casts long, perfect, straight shadows onto the ground. Beyond the bars, you can make out three approaching figures. On either side, the two men wear hooded robes of all different colors, the garish patterns making your head hurt just from the glance. They both carry large picks strapped to their backs. The man they are escorting steps into the dim light from the lamp at the mouth of the cell, and... He strokes the door to the cell with cloudy fingers. There's a soft rasping like barbed wire over sheep's wool. The figure does not wear robes like the others – he wears only a simple loincloth. His skin flutters like paper pages, contracting around the irregular cants of his arms. His mouth is sewn shut with sinews and drips pus at the edges. He looks at you, and you notice with a shiver that his eyes have gaping holes in the middle where the pupils should be. The irises dilate and constrict. His throat is fluted vertically, and as he speaks puffs of green vapor swirl in and out of the holes. “Their blood is strong enough. It will spark the gate.” His minions bow their heads, apparently not willing or not needing to speak. The figure breathes in deep, letting his nostrils flare like candles. You can clearly see each rib ripple against the skin and muscle of his chest. Before you can gather your wits to speak, before you manage to choke back the bile rising in your throat, he turns and vanishes with his entourage back into the darkness. What do you do? Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by FalseHumanity, Feb 12 2013, 12:45 AM.
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| AEve | Feb 9 2013, 04:36 AM Post #2 |
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An old dwarven woman struggles to her feet in the cramped space, disoriented. A moment ago Ingar Jorfunn had been asleep in an inn in Molthune, before waking to agony coursing through her veins. The pain still lingers, added to the stiffness and various aches of age that she has grown accustomed to in recent years, but she doesn't let it distract her. She runs a hand over her gray beard and tries to compose herself as she examines the haggard faces around her. When she speaks, her voice is a bit hoarse - she thinks that she remembers screaming just a moment earlier, but her memory is blurred in that brief interlude between sleep and wakefulness. She remembers the terrible figure and his ominous words, though. She is afraid she will never forget. "Do any of you remember how you got here?" she asks, glancing at each of her companions in turn. "And - " she has to break off, coughing, before continuing - "does anyone know what in Torag's name is going on?" Edited by FalseHumanity, Feb 17 2013, 09:09 AM.
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| Heroic Peanut | Feb 9 2013, 05:40 AM Post #3 |
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After the mysterious entities leave, Calvin picks himself up and removes a mask from his pack and puts it on before he checks himself for any injuries that could explain the excruciating sensation he just experienced. Before he donned the mask, you notice a human man with very rough features. His nose appears to have been broken many times over the course of his life, and he appears to have a prominent bruise on his cheek as well as several days worth of stubble. He has very short, closely cropped, light brown hair. As he continues to examine himself, you notice that he is about 6 feet tall and has very defined arms and upper body. He appears to have used his muscles often and strenuously for most of his life. You also notice that he also has bruises not just on his cheek, but all over his body as well, especially around his biceps. The mask he puts on is primarily a gold color with red accents around his eyes and mouth. There is also a crest of a red bird displayed across his forehead with details defined with a silver thread. His clothes appear to be fairly muted with a lot of tans and dark browns used in it. The design of the clothes is a pretty standard tunic and breeches combination with nothing covering his arms. The clothes appear mundane and while not pristine, are clean and well maintained. His boots and pack however are another story. They both appear to be expertly made and crafted. His boots look tailored and appear to give excellent traction even on this loamy soil. While you notice how well crafted his pack is, you can't seem to peg down what makes it so special. You do notice that when he went to retrieve his mask, he did look like he had to stick his arm far further into it than you would have thought. He also has a small bottle filled with some unknown liquid at his waist along side a water skin which is also filled with an unknown liquid. He doesn't appear to have anything else on his person, not even a dagger for utility reasons. After he finishes examining himself, he mumbles to himself, "Well now, that was interesting. I wonder how they summon someone they aren't interested in." He then looks around the room taking in his surroundings and that of the other people present. After he finishes examining the room, he then peers down the hallway after the entities and says, "How's everyone else doing? Is everyone alright? In case it matters to anyone, the name is Calvin." Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by Heroic Peanut, Feb 21 2013, 08:48 AM.
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| LauthUuhien | Feb 9 2013, 07:10 AM Post #4 |
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"We are fine." The two thin women stand from the ground, their red and blue shrugs droop like scarves to the ground, covering their otherwise unadorned arms. Similar colored shirts peak out from beneath mauve, short-sleeved jackets, and are framed on the bottom by loose, mauve pants that are pulled tight at their ankles, revealing silken slippers on their delicate feet. Their skin is pale, pale white, and their eyes are completely dark blue, not a pupil in sight, making their gaze somewhat unnerving as one is never certain if they are looking at them. It is hard to say how old they might be, but their skin is flawless, and their two foot long braids of hair are black through and through, not a shade of grey or white peek out. The braid is well woven with silver and golden strands and plates, ending with a golden plate depicting a serene, bubbly cloud. They both have on their waists belts that hold clearly visible daggers and darts (small javelins). The one in red bears an additional couple of pouches on her waist, while the one in blue has a backpack tight against her back. A small, ethereal man surrounded by barely visible waves of wind stands between them, silent and looking to either for an answer to the obvious question. "I am Belthezar, and she Rajmina. The small one is called Gen." "We do not know why we are here. Do any know why we have been brought to this place?" Rajmina and Belthezar look about the room for signs of information as to their new location. Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by LauthUuhien, Feb 9 2013, 07:13 AM.
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| Ferran Gladfoot | Feb 9 2013, 08:33 AM Post #5 |
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"Well..." A figure at the back of the cell begins saying while attempting to extricate himself from a tangle of fine webbing. "I spent a few weeks with a group who were tracking a necromantic cult called the Adherents of Rakmhyre. They were fond of drugging travelers and absconding with them for use in their... experiments." He frees himself, leaving the tangled material in a heap as he stands. The speaker appears to be more cat than man, with tawny fur covering his wiry frame. Beneath his heavy red overcoat he has a satchel slung over one shoulder. From one hip an ornate blade with a basket hilt hangs in a scabbard and from the other hangs a curious looking shield consisting of a small round metal plate and horns protruding from either end. Where the neck of his tunic opens a glint of polished metal can be seen. He suddenly looks as though he's just remembered something important and begins frantically checking his pockets, then his pack. Having quickly exhausted his supply of hiding places without discovering the item he is seeking, he turns and begins rifling through the discarded net. "Of course," he adds, speaking over his shoulder and almost as an afterthought, "their victims didn't usually wake up armed... or at all" Edited by Ferran Gladfoot, Feb 9 2013, 08:33 AM.
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| Karakkaze | Feb 9 2013, 11:07 PM Post #6 |
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At least you're a PC
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"Small mercy, then, that we are still alive" yet another says as he looks around the small cell. "Actually, I'd almost say this is an improvement. Almost." The man is around average height, with dark hair, a lean built body, and piercing purple eyes. He is dressed in a well fitted shirt and trouser combination, both made of a dark black cloth pinstriped with a blood red. On his feet sit a slightly incongruous pair of standard issue military boots, yet he does not carry either sword or shield, only a single small dagger and a long spear resting against his pack. He appears to be concentrating on something intently, before speaking once more. "Well, this will be an interesting one to explain to my employer," he sighs, "Regardless,I am Ebalaver, and I haven't the faintest clue of where we are or why, any more than the rest of you. I also personally don't care to find out as I have a personal policy about my blood staying on the inside of me." Spoiler: click to toggle |
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| FalseHumanity | Feb 10 2013, 09:06 PM Post #7 |
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Calvin Anton: You're in passably good shape. Some aches and pains, but nothing broken, and no lasting damage. Spoiler: click to toggle Ebalaver: There is the thick smell of magic permeating this place, but you can't tell exactly what kind. Whatever it is, it rankles. It rankles badly. Spoiler: click to toggle Everyone: The room is a ragged teardrop shape, tapering towards the barred door at the front. At its widest, it maybe spans 15 feet, and seems to be about 30 feet long. The walls are unfinished stone, freshly hewn. An older man lies slumped against the wall near the back. He obviously hasn't yet woken up. The dim lamp at the door sheds little light, but you can make out a hallway extending left and right outside of the cell. The bars of the door are thick iron, maybe 2 inches thick apiece, with six inches in between each. The door has a heavy iron padlock on it. Belthezar: As you're looking around the room, you notice that you disturbed some of the loam around your feet as you stood. Underneath it seems to be hard rock with some sort of inscribed lines on it. |
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| LauthUuhien | Feb 11 2013, 03:40 AM Post #8 |
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"Gen, we will need our shields and flames." Rajmina addresses the small, ethereal man who stands beside them. He nods his head and disappears in a small gust of wind. Spoiler: click to toggle Rajmina then approaches the padlock, and reaching into her belt-pouch, she pulls out a key and pushes it in. "Perhaps we can at least leave this cell." Spoiler: click to toggle "On the floor- aid me in removing the dirt. There are lines beneath this loam." Belthezar sits on her knees and swipes the ground with her arm, trying to see the lines on the stone. Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by LauthUuhien, Feb 11 2013, 03:43 AM.
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| FalseHumanity | Feb 11 2013, 04:33 AM Post #9 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle After a second, the key turns in the lock and the heavy bolts disengage. Belthezar: You're able to get some of the floor cleared away, pushing the soil to the edges of the room. The hard black stone underneath your feet is marked with long curving runes that span the entire chamber. It's simple white chalk, smudging underneath your boots. Spoiler: click to toggle
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| Heroic Peanut | Feb 11 2013, 04:50 AM Post #10 |
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Calvin turns and addresses the Dwarf in the room. "No, I have no idea how or why I was taken here. But since we seem to have some time, why don't you tell us about these necromancers you were tracking." Calvin says to the Catfolk, "Seeing as how we all seem to be in the dark here, gathering as much information as quick as possible should be our first priority. Personally, I don't know why I would attract someone's attention for something like this. I had just wandered into a new town after about 8 days on the road. I can't even think of anyone I've pissed off enough to make an enemy of. The biggest thing I've killed has been dinner. Now, let's see what I can do for our lucky friend here in the corner." Calvin moves over to the unconscious man and starts looking him over for any signs of injury that could explain why he is the only person remaining unconscious in the cell. After he finishes examining the man, and assuming there are no injuries that require his attention, Calvin will attempt to brush some of the loam away from where Belthezar is working. As he is working with Belthezar, he looks and addresses Rajmina. "If you are unsuccessful with the lock, I may have an item that can help in breaking the door open. I have a magic item that will create a sturdy piece of wood about 4 feet tall and 1 foot wide. It may be capable of creating enough of a gap for someone to slip through." Spoiler: click to toggle Edited by Heroic Peanut, Feb 21 2013, 08:49 AM.
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| Ferran Gladfoot | Feb 11 2013, 06:46 AM Post #11 |
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The catfolk responds without looking up from the tangle of net through which he has been searching. "The Adherents of Rakmhyre had been stealing travelers for months, though no one had yet noticed. When a noble's daughter went missing, my companions were hired to find her. During our investigation we learned of many other disappearances, all targeting travelers. It seemed like a worthy lead to us since the girl was traveling incognito as a pilgrim, ironically to avoid kidnapping, when she was taken. Ultimately, one of our own posed as a target, and we were able to capture one of the cultists when he tried to make off with our friend. From him we learned that they were a necromantic order who revered the writings and works of an ancient necromancer called Rakmhyre who, in his final days, left instructions for his disciples so that they could one day resurrect him. I don't remember the precise methods, but I know it required fusing multiple human bodies into an adequate vessel for him, which is why they had taken only humans. We got this much from our captive, but he would not tell us the location of their experiments." He pauses for a moment, having evidently found what he was seeking. He stands, pulling on a black beret as he does so, and continues speaking. "We realized quickly he would never willingly lead us to his fellow vermin, so we engineered a fake escape for him, and waited to see where he would go. We tracked the hapless cultist for weeks before he lead us to their sanctum. It was ingeniously hidden beneath a watchtower on the Gethryn Highway. We laid in wait for three days, then ambushed a group of cultists as they emerged. Once inside, we discovered were too late to rescue the kidnapped girl we'd originally been hired to find, so we settled for ensuring there would be no more victims. We freed their prisoners, burned Rakmhye's writings, destroyed their abominable experiments, and put as many them as we could find to the sword. Though I confess, in our later explorations of the stronghold, we discovered several tunnels and bolt-holes through winch some of the Adherents may have escaped." He takes a second pause as he bends down to recover the mess of webbing, and sets to work untangling it as he continues. "This could be a remnant of the original cult, desperately trying to continue their work using the fragmented writings they would have been able to escape with during the assault on their sanctum. If that were the case it would explain why there are non-humans here, but not why we still have our equipment. I rather doubt that our abduction was orchestrated by the Adherents of Rakmhyre. But in the end it makes little difference, I doubt that our fate will be particularly pleasant in either case, so long as we remain in this cell." |
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| Karakkaze | Feb 11 2013, 07:11 AM Post #12 |
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At least you're a PC
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"A gruesome tale, but it sounds like they got what was coming to them," Ebalaver comments as he aids in clearing away the dirt. "How were the Adherents kidnapping people? I, at least, was clearly abducted through some foul magic, though I know not about the rest of you. If they were targeting travelers, then it was likely a more simple abduction, rather than this far more complex one." Ebalaver stands, carefully attempting to not smudge or break any of the chalk lines quite yet. "Now then, let's see what we have here." Spoiler: click to toggle
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| AEve | Feb 12 2013, 12:38 AM Post #13 |
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The dwarf runs a gnarled hand over the rough-hewn stone of a wall thoughtfully. Without looking away, she addresses the room. Spoiler: click to toggle "That... creature... mentioned our blood, and a gate. Doesn't seem like something we want to stick around for. But it does seem a little suspicious, doesn't it? All of us in a single cell, with all our possessions?" She turns around to face the group, frowning and toying with a small golden hammer hanging from her belt, the same shape as the larger warhammer strapped to her back. "We have to consider the possibility that it wants us to escape. I'd suggest that we don't activate anything we're not sure of - and let's try not to bleed on anything." She starts to turn back to the wall, then pauses and quirks a brief smile. "And since we're sharing our life histories, you can call me Ingar. Cleric of Torag, at your service. If things get bad, you can leave the praying for divine intervention to me." |
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| LauthUuhien | Feb 12 2013, 02:27 AM Post #14 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "Yes well, we've never made bleeding a goal of ours. And we appreciate having a Cleric in our midst, divine power does not come easily." Belthezar turns from the door and shows that the lock has opened. "Well, the lock is open, even if we don't decide to leave for fear of traps or other foul play. Though we do not know why we would be taken either, we have never done anything to gain the attention of powers that would be capable of collecting us as we were. At least, we do not think so." "Does anyone have knowledge of rituals that would require the blood of so many mismatched beings? Or a gate? At least, so long as we are discrediting these... Adherents the cat-man speaks of." "Or the man who looked so odd, for that matter?" Edited by LauthUuhien, Feb 12 2013, 02:28 AM.
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| Ferran Gladfoot | Feb 12 2013, 03:01 AM Post #15 |
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"We never learned the precise methods of their abductions, though we did determine that their preferred targets were those traveling alone. We laid our trap by having one of ours pose as a poor traveler. It's worth noting that we attempted this several times, in different taverns, before we caught our man. We knew we had a bite when one of our lookouts spotted the cultist adding something to our friend's drink, which turned out to be some sort of slow acting sleeping poison. Apparently it was meant to prevent the victim from waking up as the cultist made off with them. Though how exactly they had been getting their sleeping victims out of the inns was one of the things we never uncovered. Given the disparity in the methods used, I doubt this is the work of Rakmhyre's lackeys... unless they have radically altered their methods" The mess of netting he has been fussing with finally untangles, revealing itself to be a hammock, which he folds and tucks into his satchel. This task completed, he looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes pause for a brief moment on each of his fellow captives, as they sweep the room before coming to rest on the strange diagram at his feet. "Intriguing." he says to himself, and becomes lost in though for a moment. Spoiler: click to toggle This reverie last only a few seconds before he turns to address the dwarf. "Oh, and you're absolutely right Ingar, introductions are most definitely in order. I am Ferran Gladfoot, Orator and Chronicler of Heroic Deeds. Pleasure to make your acquaintance " Edited by Ferran Gladfoot, Feb 12 2013, 03:03 AM.
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