Morsereg watched in a rapt silence as Darkheart entered the tomb, never actually taking his attention away from Alalia. "Keep moving, feline," He growled at the cat-being as they made their way towards the entrance to the tomb. In one hand, he held the torch outstretched. In the other, his clawlike fingers, unnaturally long and bony, stretched wide, prepared to strike.
He idly noticed the change in Jerem as he entered the tomb and Darkheart followed. "After you, m'lady," Morsereg sneered mockingly. He would only approach to enter the tomb once Alalia had entered, and was sure she would not attack him.
And thus he was engulfed by the sensation of death surrounding him, amplified much more than it was out in the open with the air to whisk it away. Keeping the torch outstretched, he cast its light around occasionally, for Darkheart's use. He could see in the dark, quite well, and had no need for it. His mortal teammate however, was not as cursed.
Cemetary Crypt
-
Morsereg Dindaedel
- Citizen
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Sun Jun 11, 2006 3:26 pm
- Race: Vampire
-
Alalia Morrigan
- Citizen
- Posts: 63
- Joined: Thu Jun 09, 2005 11:14 am
- Race: Cat Shifter
Alalia bared her teeth at Morsereg, but did what he said. The change in the gravedigger was surprising, and decidedly unnatural. His sudden eagerness to get into the crypt completely contradicted his earlier fear, and he should not have been able to attack the stone wall in so vicious and unyielding a manner, especially not at his age with bleeding wounds. However, although it perplexed her, the transformation did not frighten her. After all, he was still only human.
The cat girl slunk quietly through the whole, moving out of the vampire's way when he entered with his torch outstretched. She did not want to have her fur singed. With her claws on one hand extended and a torch in the other, she did not feel at all vulnerable. Ghosts and spirits were beyond her comprehension, or rather, outside of her plane of existance. Phantoms were souls that had not moved on, and humans and other living creatures could interact with them because they also possessed souls. She did not, and therefore existed on an extirely physical plane. Spectral beings simply were not real to her.
Alalia looked around, an expression of bored disinterest on her face. "Well?" she asked, looking at the two humans.
The cat girl slunk quietly through the whole, moving out of the vampire's way when he entered with his torch outstretched. She did not want to have her fur singed. With her claws on one hand extended and a torch in the other, she did not feel at all vulnerable. Ghosts and spirits were beyond her comprehension, or rather, outside of her plane of existance. Phantoms were souls that had not moved on, and humans and other living creatures could interact with them because they also possessed souls. She did not, and therefore existed on an extirely physical plane. Spectral beings simply were not real to her.
Alalia looked around, an expression of bored disinterest on her face. "Well?" she asked, looking at the two humans.
((NPC Post))
Jerem crawled swiftly through the hole he had dug, down on all fours. The tunnel, maybe five feet long, was wide enough to admit him, Alalia and Morsereg with plenty of room, and would just fit Krevster in his armor.
Jerem burst through into the main crypt in seconds, directly behind the door they had originally tried. He lifted the torch over his head to see better; all the while something in his head was nearly singing in triumph.
The room revealed in Jerem's flickering torchlight was nearly 20 feet on a side. In the center were two marble slabs upon which lay the dusty remains of whatever battlemages were lain to rest there. The armor was dusty, but recognizable as that of a battlemage. Portions of the leather had been eaten through by rats and other vermin, while the metal was eaten by rust.
Jerem's eye passed over all this with hardly a glance, and as Krevster entered behind him, Jerem was already most of the way to the spiral staircase in the far corner. Anyone taking a quick glance around would notice this was the only other exit besides the front door. Piled behind the front door were the remains of something that was once presumably human, a bone caught under the fringe of the stone doorway acting like a doorstop. Jerem skirted the slabs, bumping his hip sharply against one and raising a bit of dust. Not even noticing, he turned at the top of the stairs and looked directly at Krevster. His eyes gleamed almost ferally in the torchlight.
"Come!" he hissed. "This is tha way! Ya wanted ta know where t'was. Hurry!"
And with that he darted down the stairs and out of sight again.
He stopped at the bottom, about two flights down, and looked in both directions. The dusty, cobwebbed hallway looked the same either way one looked, and Jerem hissed in frustration. Whatever had been guiding him seemed to have left for the moment.
Something attempted to slip into Krevster's thoughts. It would be much like the feeling of lying awake in one's bed while some force tried to open the bedroom door. Words lapped gently against Krevster's own thoughts. Look for me. Come to me. Know me! Over and over the words repeat. Should Krester actively resist, the words would cease.
Jerem crawled swiftly through the hole he had dug, down on all fours. The tunnel, maybe five feet long, was wide enough to admit him, Alalia and Morsereg with plenty of room, and would just fit Krevster in his armor.
Jerem burst through into the main crypt in seconds, directly behind the door they had originally tried. He lifted the torch over his head to see better; all the while something in his head was nearly singing in triumph.
The room revealed in Jerem's flickering torchlight was nearly 20 feet on a side. In the center were two marble slabs upon which lay the dusty remains of whatever battlemages were lain to rest there. The armor was dusty, but recognizable as that of a battlemage. Portions of the leather had been eaten through by rats and other vermin, while the metal was eaten by rust.
Jerem's eye passed over all this with hardly a glance, and as Krevster entered behind him, Jerem was already most of the way to the spiral staircase in the far corner. Anyone taking a quick glance around would notice this was the only other exit besides the front door. Piled behind the front door were the remains of something that was once presumably human, a bone caught under the fringe of the stone doorway acting like a doorstop. Jerem skirted the slabs, bumping his hip sharply against one and raising a bit of dust. Not even noticing, he turned at the top of the stairs and looked directly at Krevster. His eyes gleamed almost ferally in the torchlight.
"Come!" he hissed. "This is tha way! Ya wanted ta know where t'was. Hurry!"
And with that he darted down the stairs and out of sight again.
He stopped at the bottom, about two flights down, and looked in both directions. The dusty, cobwebbed hallway looked the same either way one looked, and Jerem hissed in frustration. Whatever had been guiding him seemed to have left for the moment.
Something attempted to slip into Krevster's thoughts. It would be much like the feeling of lying awake in one's bed while some force tried to open the bedroom door. Words lapped gently against Krevster's own thoughts. Look for me. Come to me. Know me! Over and over the words repeat. Should Krester actively resist, the words would cease.
-
Shadowsong
- Citizen
- Posts: 193
- Joined: Sun May 14, 2006 3:28 am
- Race: Human
'Hold!' Krevster barked, his voice as fierce as ever. Despite the fierce tone, he had not applied the full extent of volume to it - since even in graveyard, his voice would wake up half of the inhabitants if he truly shouted.
Jerem might have been willing to pass over things withouit a glance, Krevster was not. Jabbing with the shield he disturbed the two bodies, on the off chance that they would take exception for this and go for him.
One...Two...Three...Four.
So far unattacked, he sheathed his sword and began rummaging inside the armour, looking to find any jewelery or trinkets inside that hopefully bear some mystical or monentary significance. Signs of vermin were a quiet cause for hope, with any luck there would be no death magic protecting the tomb, otherwise the rats would hae triggered it.
Jerem skirting the slabs stood out glaringly to Krevster - his first guess was that those slabs would be trapped. Maybe Alalia could test it by stepping on them?
The bone doorstop was nothing short of funny. For someone with such a macabre sense of humour. Still, an armoured boot still swept it aside. Two reasons, every corpse here had the possibility of rising, and having a second exit open would be helpful if there was need to beat a hasty retreat.
'Jerem!' he called after the gravekeeper, 'Where what is?' he demanded.
Something about this situation did not seem right, which was just as well really, since he would be completely disarmed if everything had gone according to plan.
Look for me. Come to me. Know me!
His helmed head cocked slightly at the voice whispering into his thoughts. Attempting to listen, which would have had far more point to it if his ears were involved.
Go on. Where? Who are you?
The thought was thrown back outwards, directed at whatever voice was intruding on his mind. Guidance was welcome of course, but some dialogue with the evil spirit would be more useful.
Jerem might have been willing to pass over things withouit a glance, Krevster was not. Jabbing with the shield he disturbed the two bodies, on the off chance that they would take exception for this and go for him.
One...Two...Three...Four.
So far unattacked, he sheathed his sword and began rummaging inside the armour, looking to find any jewelery or trinkets inside that hopefully bear some mystical or monentary significance. Signs of vermin were a quiet cause for hope, with any luck there would be no death magic protecting the tomb, otherwise the rats would hae triggered it.
Jerem skirting the slabs stood out glaringly to Krevster - his first guess was that those slabs would be trapped. Maybe Alalia could test it by stepping on them?
The bone doorstop was nothing short of funny. For someone with such a macabre sense of humour. Still, an armoured boot still swept it aside. Two reasons, every corpse here had the possibility of rising, and having a second exit open would be helpful if there was need to beat a hasty retreat.
It?"Come!" he hissed. "This is tha way! Ya wanted ta know where t'was. Hurry!"
'Jerem!' he called after the gravekeeper, 'Where what is?' he demanded.
Something about this situation did not seem right, which was just as well really, since he would be completely disarmed if everything had gone according to plan.
Look for me. Come to me. Know me!
His helmed head cocked slightly at the voice whispering into his thoughts. Attempting to listen, which would have had far more point to it if his ears were involved.
Go on. Where? Who are you?
The thought was thrown back outwards, directed at whatever voice was intruding on his mind. Guidance was welcome of course, but some dialogue with the evil spirit would be more useful.
If violence is not the answer, you have asked me the wrong question.
((NPC Post))
Jerem had ignored Krevster's cry to stop and had raced down the two flights of stairs. While Krevster searched through the remains upstairs, Jerem danced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, irritation and confusion flowing through him. There was no longer anything to guide him, it having sent it's own presence upstairs to Krevster.
The battlemage corpses laid out on the slabs had nothing of importance on them. Sifting through the remains would cover one with dirt, dust and rat feces.
The stairway leading down was circular, circling back on itself as it went around a central pillar of stone down two flights. Nothing of significance is on the stairway, aside from a few tarnished, empty sconces.
As Krevster sent his own thought back to the intruding thought, it seemed to build in strength in his mind. It would try to fight it's way into his thoughts, to learn who he was and what he could do for it.
Pictures would try to form in his head, deep in his subconscious where he might not notice. Pictures of Krevster leading a vast army to victory. Krevster being crowned king. Krevster as a god. At the same time, in answer to Krevster's thought back, another thought formed, stronger in his mind than the last thought.
Follow the gravekeeper. He will bring you to me...
Immediately it was gone, leaving almost a void where it once was. Below, Jerem giggled with unrestrained glee, then shouted up the staircase.
"Come! It wants ya ta come! Hurry t'up!"
Jerem had ignored Krevster's cry to stop and had raced down the two flights of stairs. While Krevster searched through the remains upstairs, Jerem danced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, irritation and confusion flowing through him. There was no longer anything to guide him, it having sent it's own presence upstairs to Krevster.
The battlemage corpses laid out on the slabs had nothing of importance on them. Sifting through the remains would cover one with dirt, dust and rat feces.
The stairway leading down was circular, circling back on itself as it went around a central pillar of stone down two flights. Nothing of significance is on the stairway, aside from a few tarnished, empty sconces.
As Krevster sent his own thought back to the intruding thought, it seemed to build in strength in his mind. It would try to fight it's way into his thoughts, to learn who he was and what he could do for it.
Pictures would try to form in his head, deep in his subconscious where he might not notice. Pictures of Krevster leading a vast army to victory. Krevster being crowned king. Krevster as a god. At the same time, in answer to Krevster's thought back, another thought formed, stronger in his mind than the last thought.
Follow the gravekeeper. He will bring you to me...
Immediately it was gone, leaving almost a void where it once was. Below, Jerem giggled with unrestrained glee, then shouted up the staircase.
"Come! It wants ya ta come! Hurry t'up!"
-
Shadowsong
- Citizen
- Posts: 193
- Joined: Sun May 14, 2006 3:28 am
- Race: Human
Many hours spent on the battlefield had rendered Krevster indifferent to the blood and filth so common in combat. Dirt and dust held no deterrant for him, rat feces was less acceptable, so instead of straightforwardly sifting through the remains he simply turned over the rust-armoured bodies on their slabs to see if there was anything worth taking.
Very cautiously, the warrior began his own descent down the stairs. He kept his sword in his scabbard, ready to grab a sconce or the pillar in case his footing shifted unexpectedly.
The images sliding quietly within his mind sparked off something. Suddenly visions of smoke and ruin flared brightly. He could see the army in his mind's eye, tearing down a marble city brick by brick and putting homes to the torch. Flashbacks of combat struck him, of victories past, with his blade slick with the blood of the slain.
All this passed in an instant, the instant the presence planted the first pictures in his mind. All of this the presence was sure to have seen.
With conscious effort, Krevster willed the other pictures to come to mind. One featured him as a king. It meant less to him than that of the army. He never knew what to think beyond the glory. For all his lust for power, he could not escape the knowledge that he was prepared to take the crown, not to wear it.
Being a god? He was unsure where to begin. One thing was for certain, he would be a dark god. He saw unholy radiance blazing from his sword, a flood of darkness descending on his command. And there was where his visions ended.
The void was painful. He had already come to welcome that presence. He felt rejected with it gone, even envious of Jerem.
Jerem called. He followed.
At his own cautious pace.
Very cautiously, the warrior began his own descent down the stairs. He kept his sword in his scabbard, ready to grab a sconce or the pillar in case his footing shifted unexpectedly.
The images sliding quietly within his mind sparked off something. Suddenly visions of smoke and ruin flared brightly. He could see the army in his mind's eye, tearing down a marble city brick by brick and putting homes to the torch. Flashbacks of combat struck him, of victories past, with his blade slick with the blood of the slain.
All this passed in an instant, the instant the presence planted the first pictures in his mind. All of this the presence was sure to have seen.
With conscious effort, Krevster willed the other pictures to come to mind. One featured him as a king. It meant less to him than that of the army. He never knew what to think beyond the glory. For all his lust for power, he could not escape the knowledge that he was prepared to take the crown, not to wear it.
Being a god? He was unsure where to begin. One thing was for certain, he would be a dark god. He saw unholy radiance blazing from his sword, a flood of darkness descending on his command. And there was where his visions ended.
The void was painful. He had already come to welcome that presence. He felt rejected with it gone, even envious of Jerem.
Jerem called. He followed.
At his own cautious pace.
If violence is not the answer, you have asked me the wrong question.
-
Morsereg Dindaedel
- Citizen
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Sun Jun 11, 2006 3:26 pm
- Race: Vampire
Morsereg entered the main crypt just after Jerem, taking his time to inspect it as Darkheart did the same. He subconsciously began to ignore the torch as he studied the room, all the while still keeping Alalia within his sights. He wouldn't risk turning his back to her, even for a moment.
After Darkheart had finished testing the bodies to make sure they wouldn't rise on them, he made his way towards them. Indifferent to anything that was around the bodies, he sifted through the remains for anything of value. Nothing of notice.
As he was looking through the remains, he felt something bite at his hand, and for a moment truly listened, as his kind could, hearing small feet scurry away between scraps of leather and rusted pieces of metal. His hand darted into a gap in the metal, grabbing ahold of something inbetween two fingers. He slowly lifted it up, eyes settling on the rat whose head rested so painfully between two fingertips. A small amount of pressure was applied at first, increasing the pressure bit-by-bit.
Soon, he felt the skull give way. Pushing more effectively demolished the rat's head. Drawing up his other hand, his torch dangerously close to the rat, he punctured a few holes in the rats body with one of his nails, slashing open it's stomach before he dropped it again onto the floor, the rats body soaked in its own blood.
"You're as worthless as the scum that infects the world as a whole," Morsereg lamented quietly, staring at the rat. "One would think that your slightly more animalistic nature would make you better company that those that claim to be more sophisticated than we are, cousin. But, you're no better than they are. Look at you. You feed on that which they have no use for. You live in places where they unknowingly make you shelter. Without them, you die out. You even embrace the darkness of death in their tombs." He whispered to himself, before picking up the sound of Jerem calling. As the guard followed at his own pace, Morsereg turned to Alalia, motioning towards the stairs for her to lead. He would follow her. Descend into the dark. Farther into the earth...
Even farther away from the virus that is humanity...
After Darkheart had finished testing the bodies to make sure they wouldn't rise on them, he made his way towards them. Indifferent to anything that was around the bodies, he sifted through the remains for anything of value. Nothing of notice.
As he was looking through the remains, he felt something bite at his hand, and for a moment truly listened, as his kind could, hearing small feet scurry away between scraps of leather and rusted pieces of metal. His hand darted into a gap in the metal, grabbing ahold of something inbetween two fingers. He slowly lifted it up, eyes settling on the rat whose head rested so painfully between two fingertips. A small amount of pressure was applied at first, increasing the pressure bit-by-bit.
Soon, he felt the skull give way. Pushing more effectively demolished the rat's head. Drawing up his other hand, his torch dangerously close to the rat, he punctured a few holes in the rats body with one of his nails, slashing open it's stomach before he dropped it again onto the floor, the rats body soaked in its own blood.
"You're as worthless as the scum that infects the world as a whole," Morsereg lamented quietly, staring at the rat. "One would think that your slightly more animalistic nature would make you better company that those that claim to be more sophisticated than we are, cousin. But, you're no better than they are. Look at you. You feed on that which they have no use for. You live in places where they unknowingly make you shelter. Without them, you die out. You even embrace the darkness of death in their tombs." He whispered to himself, before picking up the sound of Jerem calling. As the guard followed at his own pace, Morsereg turned to Alalia, motioning towards the stairs for her to lead. He would follow her. Descend into the dark. Farther into the earth...
Even farther away from the virus that is humanity...
Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me.
-
Alalia Morrigan
- Citizen
- Posts: 63
- Joined: Thu Jun 09, 2005 11:14 am
- Race: Cat Shifter
Alalia looked on with distaste as Darkheart sifted through the decayed corpses. She was no stranger to death, in truth, she thrived on it, but her lust for carnage was in the act of death, the moment when her claws were slick with warm blood and she watched the light leave her victim’s fear-widened eyes. These piles of dust and rusted armor provided no pleasure, no rush of adrenaline, only the stench of rot in the heavy, motionless air of the crypt.
Suddenly, there was a cracking sound, and the tangy metallic smell of blood cut through the odor of decay. The catgirl glanced over at Morsereg, then stiffened as she watched him mutilate a rat corpse. Crimson drops stained the filthy floor, and it took all her self-control not to fall on her knees and lap them up despite the grime. Her ears flicked forward as the carcass commanded her full attention as it was ripped apart, releasing more blood and bodily fluids. Trembling slightly, she watched it hit the floor, forcing herself not to dive on it and devour it. The vampire’s musings were lost on her as she stared at his hands, which were stained crimson. At that moment, she would have fallen on her knees in the filth that coated the floor and licked the drops from his fingers if he would allow it. A quiet whine escaped her throat before she could stop it.
Alalia watched the bloody hand gesture towards the stairs and, for a moment, did not comprehend its meaning. Finally, she turned and trotted down the steps after Darkheart, her quiet steps almost silent compared to the guard’s armored clanking. Her steps were neither eager and hurried nor restrained and cautious, as she had no voice whispering promises into her mind
Suddenly, there was a cracking sound, and the tangy metallic smell of blood cut through the odor of decay. The catgirl glanced over at Morsereg, then stiffened as she watched him mutilate a rat corpse. Crimson drops stained the filthy floor, and it took all her self-control not to fall on her knees and lap them up despite the grime. Her ears flicked forward as the carcass commanded her full attention as it was ripped apart, releasing more blood and bodily fluids. Trembling slightly, she watched it hit the floor, forcing herself not to dive on it and devour it. The vampire’s musings were lost on her as she stared at his hands, which were stained crimson. At that moment, she would have fallen on her knees in the filth that coated the floor and licked the drops from his fingers if he would allow it. A quiet whine escaped her throat before she could stop it.
Alalia watched the bloody hand gesture towards the stairs and, for a moment, did not comprehend its meaning. Finally, she turned and trotted down the steps after Darkheart, her quiet steps almost silent compared to the guard’s armored clanking. Her steps were neither eager and hurried nor restrained and cautious, as she had no voice whispering promises into her mind
((NPC Post))
Jerem was oblivious to everything happening above him. All that mattered to him was the voice. It was his only purpose for continuing on.
He turned left at the bottom of the stairs when Krevster came into view. Jerem waved impatiently for Krevster to follow, then virtually sprinted ahead. He walked through old cobwebs with out so much as a sweep of his hand, not caring about anything but getting to his destination. he stumbled, half-mad, through the halls, taking seemingly random turns. Occasionally he would turn to make sure Krevster was following. The darkness continued ahead and fell behind them, the guardian of the crypt.
The hallways were dusty and damp. At head and chest level were openings in the wall. Each was just the width and height of a person, and if one looked into them, there were almost always a corpse or skeleton rotting blithely away inside.
Jerem paused whenever the other members of the party paused. He would wait longer for Krevster than for everyone else, but he kept waiting for all the members, at least for a few moments.
Jerem was oblivious to everything happening above him. All that mattered to him was the voice. It was his only purpose for continuing on.
He turned left at the bottom of the stairs when Krevster came into view. Jerem waved impatiently for Krevster to follow, then virtually sprinted ahead. He walked through old cobwebs with out so much as a sweep of his hand, not caring about anything but getting to his destination. he stumbled, half-mad, through the halls, taking seemingly random turns. Occasionally he would turn to make sure Krevster was following. The darkness continued ahead and fell behind them, the guardian of the crypt.
The hallways were dusty and damp. At head and chest level were openings in the wall. Each was just the width and height of a person, and if one looked into them, there were almost always a corpse or skeleton rotting blithely away inside.
Jerem paused whenever the other members of the party paused. He would wait longer for Krevster than for everyone else, but he kept waiting for all the members, at least for a few moments.
Last edited by Mavarion on Mon Nov 27, 2006 5:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Shadowsong
- Citizen
- Posts: 193
- Joined: Sun May 14, 2006 3:28 am
- Race: Human
'Slow! Down!'
Eager though he was, Krevster had no intent of losing himself in these unholy tunnels. Not that he disliked unholy, he had taken contracts for dark cults in the past, but he had enough respect for it to know it as dangerous.
Hoping for an inspiration, Krevster tried to send out his thoughts to that unseen presence, in the hope that it would find them and answer. I would welcome your guidance. Show me more as I try to find you. I cannot afford to follow your thrall so blindly.
Passing the various corpses and skeletons casually decaying in their niches, it felt uneasy to leave them behind him. He couldn't help the thought that these would be between him and the exit, and good soldier never likes to be trapped.
A moment of insight struck, 'Jerem!' he called out, 'Tell the spirit to speak to me! I want to know more about it. And don't get us lost in here!'
While never straying too far from his companions, distance gradually grew between Krevster and the others. He wanted allies within reach, but also more time with him and the entity to gain first prize on what it could offer him. Through the catacombs he went, but in following Jerem he was careful to memorise his route.
Over and over in his mind he ran the thought I would learn more of you, in the hope the presence would notice and respond.
Eager though he was, Krevster had no intent of losing himself in these unholy tunnels. Not that he disliked unholy, he had taken contracts for dark cults in the past, but he had enough respect for it to know it as dangerous.
Hoping for an inspiration, Krevster tried to send out his thoughts to that unseen presence, in the hope that it would find them and answer. I would welcome your guidance. Show me more as I try to find you. I cannot afford to follow your thrall so blindly.
Passing the various corpses and skeletons casually decaying in their niches, it felt uneasy to leave them behind him. He couldn't help the thought that these would be between him and the exit, and good soldier never likes to be trapped.
A moment of insight struck, 'Jerem!' he called out, 'Tell the spirit to speak to me! I want to know more about it. And don't get us lost in here!'
While never straying too far from his companions, distance gradually grew between Krevster and the others. He wanted allies within reach, but also more time with him and the entity to gain first prize on what it could offer him. Through the catacombs he went, but in following Jerem he was careful to memorise his route.
Over and over in his mind he ran the thought I would learn more of you, in the hope the presence would notice and respond.
If violence is not the answer, you have asked me the wrong question.
-
Morsereg Dindaedel
- Citizen
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Sun Jun 11, 2006 3:26 pm
- Race: Vampire
"Spirit?" Morsereg asked himself quietly, overhearing Darkheart yell to Jerem. At the same time, he also hear Darkheart's footsteps slowly quickening, until there had been made a fairly sized distance between them.
"Speed up," He whispered to Alalia, "It seems there's something ahead. Might benefit us both, but not if Darkheart gets there and seizes anything useful before we catch up with him."
Secretly he extinguished his torch by snuffing it on the stone wall, and slunk just far enough behind Alalia as they continued on so that her torchlight did not illuminate him. Should someone, or something, ambush them, he did not want to be the first one to be seen, should the ambusher prove to make a retreat necessary. Thus, as he did so he carefully memorized the route back, eyeing around in the dark to spot recesses in the wall that he could hide in should he be chased in the opposite direction.
However, as they continued, he felt the atmosphere itself becoming blacker. Old, powerful magic resided in these halls...And while he felt no such thrall, or heard no such voice as Darkheart did, he felt the magic ensnaring him, its power tempting him to kill Alalia here and now, to give himself more of a share in the bounty.
He fought it off, until at one point he almost raised his empty hand to strike, before forcing it down. He would not kill her yet, she still would have her uses. Nevertheless, the power was a temptress, wrapping its chords of hate around his mental being, and he felt once more the dark magics that ensnared this tomb, for a moment almost encompanied by a thousand voices screaming to him...
"Speed up," He whispered to Alalia, "It seems there's something ahead. Might benefit us both, but not if Darkheart gets there and seizes anything useful before we catch up with him."
Secretly he extinguished his torch by snuffing it on the stone wall, and slunk just far enough behind Alalia as they continued on so that her torchlight did not illuminate him. Should someone, or something, ambush them, he did not want to be the first one to be seen, should the ambusher prove to make a retreat necessary. Thus, as he did so he carefully memorized the route back, eyeing around in the dark to spot recesses in the wall that he could hide in should he be chased in the opposite direction.
However, as they continued, he felt the atmosphere itself becoming blacker. Old, powerful magic resided in these halls...And while he felt no such thrall, or heard no such voice as Darkheart did, he felt the magic ensnaring him, its power tempting him to kill Alalia here and now, to give himself more of a share in the bounty.
He fought it off, until at one point he almost raised his empty hand to strike, before forcing it down. He would not kill her yet, she still would have her uses. Nevertheless, the power was a temptress, wrapping its chords of hate around his mental being, and he felt once more the dark magics that ensnared this tomb, for a moment almost encompanied by a thousand voices screaming to him...
Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me.
-
Alalia Morrigan
- Citizen
- Posts: 63
- Joined: Thu Jun 09, 2005 11:14 am
- Race: Cat Shifter
Alalia barely heard Morsereg's whispered command, but her legs obeyed, her strides legthening to try to close the growing gap. However, her eyes were glazed over and unblinking as she stared unseeing into the darkness. Her normally coiled muscles slackened and relaxed, and her torch slipped from her fingers and clattered eerily against the stone floor, extinguishing itself in the dust. She didn't need it.
The catacombs seemed to thrum with magic, its tunnels like veins leading to some twisted, dark heart buried deep in the earth. Its pulse resonated with her own, pulling her along. The black magic that swirled throughout the structure mingled with the black magic that was her life force. This was her true birth place, the real source of her existance. The mage that had created her had simply been a vessel.
The catgirl was completely unaware of the threat Morsereg posed to her as she staggered along, her body not responding properly as her life force tried to escape its earthen shell. She had no visions of greatness, no hatred, no feeling whatsoever. She was no longer a part of the physical world; instead, she flowed through the corridors along with the rest of the power that swirled around her.
Back to the heart.
The catacombs seemed to thrum with magic, its tunnels like veins leading to some twisted, dark heart buried deep in the earth. Its pulse resonated with her own, pulling her along. The black magic that swirled throughout the structure mingled with the black magic that was her life force. This was her true birth place, the real source of her existance. The mage that had created her had simply been a vessel.
The catgirl was completely unaware of the threat Morsereg posed to her as she staggered along, her body not responding properly as her life force tried to escape its earthen shell. She had no visions of greatness, no hatred, no feeling whatsoever. She was no longer a part of the physical world; instead, she flowed through the corridors along with the rest of the power that swirled around her.
Back to the heart.
((NPC Post))
Jerem slowed at Krevster's command. He didn't look back, and almost looked like an over-eager dog straining at it's leash.
No thoughts came in response to Krevster's plea for guidance, although a faint chuckle seemed to echo down the hall, something that would be heard by each living creature in the crypt.
The sinister atmosphere of the crypt was almost palpable the further the four went. The darkness seemed to encroach on the torchlight, dimming the light. Even the nightvision of cats and vampires would be mildly affected. Open side passages and rooms opened occasionally. In one such room stood an altar, upon which rested a book. The altar faced the far wall hundred foot room, towards a moldy, torn tapestry, half of which still hung on the wall, the other half on the floor. Rot had taken it so badly that nothing but a bit of color here and there could be made out. Lying ten feet inside the doorway was a partially rotted corpse, several perfectly round holes poking through the parts of the body that hadn't yet rotted, or hadn't been eaten by scavengers. What looked to be a spear, snapped in half, poked through one of the holes at an odd angle. It almost looked like the spear had come from the floor.
Jerem continued past each opening, turning when there was no other choice but to turn. Several times the halls turned back on themselves, performing a square. The floors sloped ever-so slightly, so that the tunnels never ran back into each other. An hour passed, the air becoming stagnant and moist as they continued their decent.
Jerem slowed at Krevster's command. He didn't look back, and almost looked like an over-eager dog straining at it's leash.
No thoughts came in response to Krevster's plea for guidance, although a faint chuckle seemed to echo down the hall, something that would be heard by each living creature in the crypt.
The sinister atmosphere of the crypt was almost palpable the further the four went. The darkness seemed to encroach on the torchlight, dimming the light. Even the nightvision of cats and vampires would be mildly affected. Open side passages and rooms opened occasionally. In one such room stood an altar, upon which rested a book. The altar faced the far wall hundred foot room, towards a moldy, torn tapestry, half of which still hung on the wall, the other half on the floor. Rot had taken it so badly that nothing but a bit of color here and there could be made out. Lying ten feet inside the doorway was a partially rotted corpse, several perfectly round holes poking through the parts of the body that hadn't yet rotted, or hadn't been eaten by scavengers. What looked to be a spear, snapped in half, poked through one of the holes at an odd angle. It almost looked like the spear had come from the floor.
Jerem continued past each opening, turning when there was no other choice but to turn. Several times the halls turned back on themselves, performing a square. The floors sloped ever-so slightly, so that the tunnels never ran back into each other. An hour passed, the air becoming stagnant and moist as they continued their decent.
Last edited by Mavarion on Fri Dec 08, 2006 2:39 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Shadowsong
- Citizen
- Posts: 193
- Joined: Sun May 14, 2006 3:28 am
- Race: Human
That corpse was more recent than he would have liked.
The body was only partially rotted, further evidence that this was a previous grave robber who was less than careful.
Stooping, Krevster turned his eyes towards the ground, checking for murder holes set into the ground. His shield dipped also, focusing on protecting his lower body should spears rise from the ground. For all his confidence in his armour, tested it by triggering spear traps was a poor habit to get into.
He knew about spike traps. He had made enough of them. Brutally effective. But equally, a nightmare to keep clean.
The tome resting on the altar held interest to him. Hopefully it's lore would be related to whatever dark power lurked within.
He knew how these traps worked, generally the trigger would be a pressure plate. Although part of him could not escape the thought of an undead skeleton lurking beneath the floor, ready to poke anything that came above.
'Stop. Now.'
The altar seemed appropriate. Perhaps some dark power had sponsored the battlemage Sarvil? It would certainly explain his magic.
Alalia would be better suited to passing this obstacle. Or Morsereg, since a spear trap would be a limited threat to him. Though he suspected using his comrades as crude trap detectors would be a poor way to begin a working relationship. Hopefully the pressure plate would be close to the body, and that would mark out the area threatened by the trap.
'Trap!' he announced, careful to keep his voice low. These chambers had an echo that made shouted commands and warnings difficult to make out.
None of this was helped by the thought that the man could have moved after being struck by the spear. So scanning as closely as he dared, Darkheart widened the search to include a trail of bloodstains, perhaps hinting of where the man was when the spear struck.
Tracing the edges of the archway, Krevster examined it for any sharp cracks or gaps, lines in the arch that would normally be overlooked as part of the architecture but would house a concealed blade. If it was an altar in a hundred foot room, it would be a chapel of sorts. And there would be seeting rows, which could be clambered over to avoid pressure plates. Mere seats would not be a great obstacle, probably not even to Krevster with his armour and shield. Certainly no obstacle to Alalia.
Indeed there were benches handy, but they were beyond the corpse. So some test was needed with the pressure plate. Perhaps if it was triggered at a safe distance.
No holes were visible in the poor light. Too bad. Oh well, not his problem so much at the moment. Looking back, he wondered where Morsereg had gone, but could still see Alalia in her own torchlight.
'Where is Morsereg?' he asked, as a momentary thought, then returned to the matter at hand. 'Alalia, in that room,' gesturing towards the immense altar chamber, 'is a spear-trap. The spears will come up from the floor. They are usually triggered by pressure plates. I'm guessing the plate is near the body, but the corpse might have moved in it's death throes. Check in case the bloodstains start early.'
Advice dispensed, now for his instruction, 'I want you to go get that book on the altar, and gather any ritual tools you find as well. Be careful of traps. I'm not sure how sturdy the benches are, but I'm sure you could use them to cross the room without touching the floor.'
A mental shift took place, and suddenly Alalia was no longer the infuriating wench who had antagonised and threatened him every step of the way. Now she was a comrade.
He took her arm gently, 'Be careful.' he said, with more feeling than he liked to admit.
Perhaps he just had a soft spot for cats.
Finding new business as quickly as possible, he turned to Jerem. 'Try telling your friend and guide to start being more helpful.' This was a good conversation, including a comforting level of menace. 'And I think we need to know what happened to my other ally. I'm about ready to begin a search.'
The body was only partially rotted, further evidence that this was a previous grave robber who was less than careful.
Stooping, Krevster turned his eyes towards the ground, checking for murder holes set into the ground. His shield dipped also, focusing on protecting his lower body should spears rise from the ground. For all his confidence in his armour, tested it by triggering spear traps was a poor habit to get into.
He knew about spike traps. He had made enough of them. Brutally effective. But equally, a nightmare to keep clean.
The tome resting on the altar held interest to him. Hopefully it's lore would be related to whatever dark power lurked within.
He knew how these traps worked, generally the trigger would be a pressure plate. Although part of him could not escape the thought of an undead skeleton lurking beneath the floor, ready to poke anything that came above.
'Stop. Now.'
The altar seemed appropriate. Perhaps some dark power had sponsored the battlemage Sarvil? It would certainly explain his magic.
Alalia would be better suited to passing this obstacle. Or Morsereg, since a spear trap would be a limited threat to him. Though he suspected using his comrades as crude trap detectors would be a poor way to begin a working relationship. Hopefully the pressure plate would be close to the body, and that would mark out the area threatened by the trap.
'Trap!' he announced, careful to keep his voice low. These chambers had an echo that made shouted commands and warnings difficult to make out.
None of this was helped by the thought that the man could have moved after being struck by the spear. So scanning as closely as he dared, Darkheart widened the search to include a trail of bloodstains, perhaps hinting of where the man was when the spear struck.
Tracing the edges of the archway, Krevster examined it for any sharp cracks or gaps, lines in the arch that would normally be overlooked as part of the architecture but would house a concealed blade. If it was an altar in a hundred foot room, it would be a chapel of sorts. And there would be seeting rows, which could be clambered over to avoid pressure plates. Mere seats would not be a great obstacle, probably not even to Krevster with his armour and shield. Certainly no obstacle to Alalia.
Indeed there were benches handy, but they were beyond the corpse. So some test was needed with the pressure plate. Perhaps if it was triggered at a safe distance.
No holes were visible in the poor light. Too bad. Oh well, not his problem so much at the moment. Looking back, he wondered where Morsereg had gone, but could still see Alalia in her own torchlight.
'Where is Morsereg?' he asked, as a momentary thought, then returned to the matter at hand. 'Alalia, in that room,' gesturing towards the immense altar chamber, 'is a spear-trap. The spears will come up from the floor. They are usually triggered by pressure plates. I'm guessing the plate is near the body, but the corpse might have moved in it's death throes. Check in case the bloodstains start early.'
Advice dispensed, now for his instruction, 'I want you to go get that book on the altar, and gather any ritual tools you find as well. Be careful of traps. I'm not sure how sturdy the benches are, but I'm sure you could use them to cross the room without touching the floor.'
A mental shift took place, and suddenly Alalia was no longer the infuriating wench who had antagonised and threatened him every step of the way. Now she was a comrade.
He took her arm gently, 'Be careful.' he said, with more feeling than he liked to admit.
Perhaps he just had a soft spot for cats.
Finding new business as quickly as possible, he turned to Jerem. 'Try telling your friend and guide to start being more helpful.' This was a good conversation, including a comforting level of menace. 'And I think we need to know what happened to my other ally. I'm about ready to begin a search.'
If violence is not the answer, you have asked me the wrong question.
-
Alalia Morrigan
- Citizen
- Posts: 63
- Joined: Thu Jun 09, 2005 11:14 am
- Race: Cat Shifter
Alalia stopped when she was told, recognizing a command even in her dazed state. The thrum of ancient magic continued to pound through her, a throb that seemed to shake her very bones. From what seemed like a great distance, she heard Darkheart’s instructions and slowly nodded agreement, although if questioned later she would not remember what she had agreed to. Sitting on the grimy stones that made the tunnel floor, she removed her boots and set them aside.
Her eyes still blank, the catgirl stared at nothing as she briefly stretched, limbering her muscles for the task before her. All her muscles coiled tight as she crouched, preparing herself to jump. She knew she couldn’t reach the benches, but the corpse was within her range.
With a startling suddenness, Alalia leaped forward, landing on the half decayed body. For a split second, the corpse absorbed the impact of her jump, but then there was a grinding metallic click. However, that brief instant was all that she needed to leap forward again, landing safely on one of the benches as spears shot up to impale the dead body once again.
Her eyes focused straight ahead, the catgirl seemed to not even notice how close she had come to her demise. Bounding over the benches, she jumped onto the altar, landing on all fours. Picking up the book with absolutely no hesitance, she thrust it through her belt and returned across the benches. Once she reached the end of the rows, she leapt back to where she had started. With glazed eyes, she offered the book to Darkheart.
Her eyes still blank, the catgirl stared at nothing as she briefly stretched, limbering her muscles for the task before her. All her muscles coiled tight as she crouched, preparing herself to jump. She knew she couldn’t reach the benches, but the corpse was within her range.
With a startling suddenness, Alalia leaped forward, landing on the half decayed body. For a split second, the corpse absorbed the impact of her jump, but then there was a grinding metallic click. However, that brief instant was all that she needed to leap forward again, landing safely on one of the benches as spears shot up to impale the dead body once again.
Her eyes focused straight ahead, the catgirl seemed to not even notice how close she had come to her demise. Bounding over the benches, she jumped onto the altar, landing on all fours. Picking up the book with absolutely no hesitance, she thrust it through her belt and returned across the benches. Once she reached the end of the rows, she leapt back to where she had started. With glazed eyes, she offered the book to Darkheart.