MT: The Gathering

[DragonKa-Tet]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

How could the mage make the man understand? The army the captain is are part of is the one that wrongfully imprisoned the elf in the first place. He may have saved Fig's life, but he was just righting a wrong that his own committed organization had committed. Fig is heading out with this group and assessing the opportunity in return for that as it is. Normally, he'd just put this all behind him and go find some other opportunity less likely to get him killed. There's no time to explain it all, he'd just have to see how it worked out.

Fig shrugs and shakes his head, "I can't give you that. All I can promise is that I'll give it a chance, which is itself a favor."

Fig is too preoccupied in his own thoughts of what he should do to deal with the horses much. He half heartedly tries to feed one and pat it, but isn't really paying attention. Once able, he saddles up, even if the horse still isn't super pleased with him being there. The animal would get used to him.

[Rathrune]

[DragonKa-Tet]

 

It was pleasant weather for traveling and the cleric was enjoying the beauty of their natural surroundings and the gentle rhythm of the horse beneath her. She was content with her choice of animal and leaned forward now and then to croon encouragement in its ears and rub its strong neck. It felt good to be out of the city. Quiet by nature, Calista preferred to watch and observe the others. A smile of amusement graced her angular face when she noted Fig and his apparent discomfort with his chosen beast. Grubar seemed only marginally better but Ylloara appeared to be quite comfortable in the saddle. The wood elf still didn't know what to make of Venethe. He's the perfect example of the "strong, silent type", she thought. When asked, she answered questions about her life in a soft-spoken, polite voice. "I have lived most of my life inside the deep woods," she said. "When I was younger, I had a rebellious streak which did not sit well with the elders of my village. So I was sent to the Order of Aerdrie Faenya to train with them, learn discipline and the healing arts."

 

As the day turned to evening, Calista was in favor of camping beneath the stars without a fire. Fig drew their attention to the strange lights and she was utterly enchanted until the large explosion rent the peace of moments before. "Holy Pin-feathers! Do we dare investigate?" she asked the others. "With a fire that big, someone is likely hurt. I do not have many spells left but I can try to do some light healing if needed. I will go along with whatever the rest of you decide, but I cast my vote to examine the area as quickly as we might."

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Every damn time Fig started getting used to the horse enough that he could let his mind wander, thinking on greater and grander things than this plane of existence, on the weaves on the arcane and how he could manipulate the strands of that great tapestry to make something even greater, the beast would try to throw him off. At first he tried to take it in stride, but within a few hours and stream of sailor language would come streaming from his mouth every five to ten minutes.

When conversation turns to Fig’s past, he’s fairly open about it. He had grown up in the elven lands of forests and streams, enjoying the beauty of nature like most young elves. He especially loved lakes and streams and navigating them in small row boats, and eventually had the opportunity to see the sea on one journey to a human settlement with his brethren. Unlike most high elves, he found a love for the great wide ocean. When he was 80 left his homeland and ventured out into the world and found a job on a merchant ship as a common-elven translator and common shiphand. Over the many years he spent on the ship, he rose to first mate and had many adventures. He also befriended the ship’s mage, Peronus Mistvale, and found he too had a talent for the arts. This mage specialized in experimental magic, and that is where Fig picked up his somewhat odd form of spell casting.

After almost 40 years, Fig parted ways with Captain Greatwind and left the ship to explore the world further with the goal of discovering new and interesting bits about magic that he could splice into his craft and further develop his spell casting. Not long off the ship, he had fallen in with this band.

Fig immediately takes an interest in the lights, watching them and wandering what they could possibly be. When the explosion occurs, he doesn’t take his eyes off the fireball, watching in amazement. “By the hydra’s right testicle…” he murmurs as the inferno grows then fades away. How very interesting! It seemed much like the things that had happened when his spell casting went awry. He must investigate! Luckily enough, when he turns to Calista, she suggests it first!

“Yes, yes. It is only the responsible thing to do, to make sure no one is hurt…” he says, agreeing with the mage. “Off we go then!” He states and immediately whips the reigns, driving his stead forward. He excitement is in no way hidden and he is obviously interested in more than just helping people.

[Terinatum]

     

     

 

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig had noticed Ylloara's silence thoguhout the day, but had chalked it up to her being in her own world, thinking on things. It is something he commonly does as well, and when he does, he prefers to be left alone to do it. With all of these new events, there was a lot to think on right now.

 

When Ylloara calls to the elves that they have a job to do, Fig just keeps on riding, but turns to yell back "It'll take but a moment lass, to ,er, be checkin' tah make sure there aint nobody injured!".

 

(OOC: I keep forgetting to put sailor slang and accent into Fig's words, been so inconsistant.)

[JonDixonYT]

 

Grubar listened with one ear for most of the ride, the rest of his concentration on staying on the pony.  His ears did perk up at the discussions of histories though.  How much to reveal, he pondered as he listened to the others.  As I said at the inn, I'm from the hills to the north.  My family fell on some rough times, used to be that you couldn't get a ruby or an emerald that my father hadn't pulled from the rock... his voice trails off.  But, now that's changed.  I spent some time as a mason's apprentice...and then I discovered that I could handle the surface better than some dwarves, a low chuckle, fishing, of all things.  Once my time as a mason was up, I left the hills to search for...something more up here.

 

When they stop, a loud guffaw escapes his lips.  Sleep, out here...like an orc?  He is astonished.  Why would anyone want to sleep under....that, he says, pointing meekly at the sky.  It could spit anything onto you at any time.  Nay, to an inn I say, where we can get a drink.  Speaking of, do any of you have any ale? he asks, hoping to save what's left in his skin for an emergency.

 

Before he can get an answer, Fig points out the lights, and then before he knows what's happening, everyone has taken off.  Hey, he yells, trying to coax the pony faster without falling off, wait for me you filthy little vagabond, who's going to save your skin when the goblins that are up there try to skewer you on their spears?!?!

 

---

HP:8/13 AC:5

[Terinatum]

[Rathrune]

[Terinatum]

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar looks to the others after the vision, to see if they had experienced the same.  What in the depths was that all about?  What did that silly elf get us into? he thinks to himself, before the surroundings bring him back into the present.  He sees Yllaora and...a naked child?  I should have never left the hills he thinks, listening to the woman speak.  At that moment, the skeletons being their macabre dance.    Could this child be somehow related to the skeletons?  

 

As the maniacal skeleton king spouts off his drivel, Grubar readies his axe.  He had never found from the back of a beast before, but he couldn't risk the vagabond running away and leaving him with his trousers down with all these skeletons.  Have you any magic in your fantastic weave for this, elf? he spits out.  You know where we could be right now?  In a warm inn, with some warm stew and a cool ale, instead of here, with deranged skeletons and devil children.  By the hammer.... he grumbles and trails off.

 

He notes the aggression in Yllaora's stance and will follow her into the fray, if she goes that way.

---

HP:8/13 AC:5

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Coming back from the flashback Fig winces. He believes he knows why the smell triggered the flashback. What did I do? He thinks solemnly. I really should not drink to that extent with these new powers…

 

Looking about the devastation, Fig takes in the lines of the fire. That is unnatural… Is it some sort of great magical rune laid down upon the earth?  (OOC: Some sort of check here?). Slowly walking the horse around the area, Fig begins talking out loud both to his comrades as well as to himself to help figure out the puzzle.  â€œThe fact tha’ even the leather ‘as disintegrated indicates tha’ tha fire burned with great heat, somethin’ that would’n ‘ave happened wit vegetation as tha only fuel. Between tha’ an’ the size of tha inferno, tha fire could not ‘ave been natural.” The only question is the possible rune… he continues thinking to himself.

 

When Ylloara finds the girl and rushes over, Fig keeps his distance, only slowly moving the horse closer. Still, he doesn’t come closer than 10 feet or so, knowing that something is wrong about her. He begins looking about for danger just as the skeleton figure emerges. When it speaks and reveals that it too serves a Master, perhaps the same the soldier spoke of, Fig is glad he made the choice he had and not followed the charmed man, despite what had happened since. He liked his own skin after all.

 

When the skeletons rise up it is all Fig can do not to give in to the horse’s desires and bolt for the road, though he seriously considers it: These people are not my friends, just recent companions! I owe nothing to them. This whole mission was a favor anyway, why risk my life? Then another smaller voice speaks up in his head: Then why are you still here? Having no answer, Fig just sighs and quickly begins formulating a plan.

 

It’s a good think that Venethe isn’t a part of it as he charges into the fray, and as Fig remembers the old woman’s words his resolve to stay and fight strengthens, but only a bit. What the hell yah be wantin’ me tah weave yah old bat? I got nothin’ that’ll work on these mindless things. He thinks angrily while once again lamenting his lack of any sort of purely offensive spell. It is then that Ylloara and grubar start yelling at him. “Nothin’ like yer thinkin’! I’ve always been more o’ a lover tha’ a fighter!”
 

His plan then clicks and he moves hos horse toward Ylloara’s as fast as he can and retrieves the rope from her bags. He tosses one end to Calista, figuring Ylloara would be more useful with a weapon in her hand, as he begins tying off one end low on one side of his saddle. “Tie it off! I’m going to try to cloths line them!”

 

If this failed, his only choice would be to try what he did last night, and that could end in any number of ways…

 

HP:5/5 AC:4

[DragonKa-Tet]

 

Before she knew it, she and Fig were racing toward the site of the explosion. She heard the others fall in behind them and smiled grimly that their group wouldn't be broken quite yet. She was glad they were all in this together. As they approached the area, they slowed the horses to a walk and the stench of burnt flesh and vegetation almost overwhelmed the cleric. She brought an arm up in front of her nose to try and breathe in less of the foulness as she surveyed the scene. The low-hanging smoke didn't obscure her vision enough that she didn't notice the way the others seemed to zone out momentarily. Confused but not knowing what else to do about it, she guided her horse close to the small child and hopped down. Using as much of her elven charm as she could, she spoke softly to her mount and asked it to stay. Although she knew the animal was spooked, it seemed to understand and it obeyed...for now.

 

Calista approached the girl and knelt on one knee near her, looking and examining the poor child's strange state. She looked at Yllaora. "My spell is gone for the day and I must pray for it again come sunrise, but even if I had it, I don't know that it would do any good for this one. I could possibly try some light first-aid on her, but...the healing that she looks like she needs is healing of the mind and spirit." The wood elf gently brushed a strand of greasy hair back from the girl's face. "She is perhaps in shock at what happened here...how is it that she suffered no injuries? And why is she sky-clad?"

 

Before Ylloara or anyone could answer those questions, a wicked voice interrupted, coming from the freakish skeleton making its way toward them across the field. Calista's brown eyes widened. "Undead!" she whispered harshly and reached inside her tunic, grabbing her holy symbol that dangled on the black leather thong around her neck. As the horrid creature yelled about its Master and how they would all serve him, Calista gasped as she noticed more of the skeletons rising around them. To her dismay, the gnome rushed in to do battle with the larger, lead skeleton. "Venethe! No, wait!" she cried, but it was too late.

 

Then Fig was thundering past her on his horse and throwing her the end of a rope, telling her to "tie it off!", that he was going to try to do something called "clothes-line" them. "But..." she started to protest that she knew nothing of tying ropes or what "clothes-lining" was and realized that he wouldn't be able to hear her, he was already galloping off. Trying to catch the rope, Calista figured she could at least try to wrap it around the horn of the saddle of her horse, if nothing else. It wasn't a knot, and it certainly wasn't "tying it off" by any means, but she looped it as quickly and tightly as she could, then re-mounted the horse again to try and keep it from bolting away without her. This horse might be our only escape, she thought hurriedly. "If it doesn't work, I'm going to try to use my Goddess's power against them!" she called out to the group, hoping at least some of them would hear and understand her intent. "Holy Wing-Mother, if I attempt the turn, please grant me aid", she prayed with quiet fervor.

 

HP: 8/8 AC: 7

[Rathrune]

[Terinatum]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig is quite pleased with himself as he quickly ties his rope off and swings into the saddle, glancing at the height of the skeletons' necks as he works. This was going to work fantasticly! Once on the horse, he turns to check that Calista is ready... And finds her fumbling to even pick the rope up off the ground. Once he realizes that her knot is nowhere near tight enough, he rides over to her horse and quickly adjustes her knot, relooping the rope about the horn in such a way that it would hold tihgt without actually undoing her work. As he deftly moves his hands about his work, he gives her a reassuring smile, "We'll 'ave tah work on this. We'll getcha set right if we ever get outta here. Now, ride hard tah tha left o' the left most skeleton, and keep tha rope taught. Then come back around tha other side."

 

Once Calista is off, Fig will ride as far right as the rope will allow (50' rope, 2-2' feet in each knot, so 44'-46' between them?). When they near, Fig shouts "Duck yer heads!" to the melee fighters to warn them. The dwarf was probably already fine, but Ylloara might get caught if she doesn't watch out.

 

HP:5/5 AC:4

[DragonKa-Tet]

 

"PINFEATHERS!" Calista swore, aghast at her level of ineptitude in performing such a simple task. She could feel the heat of her face as the red of embarrassment flushed her cheeks and spread to the tips of her pointed ears. "I - I'm sorry," she stammered the apology to Fig as he came riding up to save the day, quickly tying a knot that she had no idea how to duplicate. She gave him a weak half-smile at his encourgement and nodded fiercely with determination. Kicking her horse's flanks harder than was probably necessary, the cleric struggled to stay in the saddle as her mount leapt forward in the direction Fig had indicated. "My magic is limited!" she cried defensively at Yllaora. "But I'll try!" Keeping one hand on the reins and saddle pommel, Calista raised her holy symbol in her other hand, trying to aim towards the line of skeletal warriors  and called out, "By the Holy Wing-ed Mother of The Wild Wind, the Light of Dawn and Eagle's Grace, By the dome of the ever changing reach of sky, the chaos of a birthed new zephyr, By the Light of Aerdrie Faenya, BEGONE!"  The mild mannered cleric's soft voice seemed to strengthen and gain both volume and depth when she yelled, attempting to turn the undead with the power of her Goddess. ((attempted turn undead against the regular skeletons))

[JonDixonYT]

Filthy bags of bones! Grubar shouts, swinging around to make sure that Yllaora is still with him.  He had never fought any undead before, only heard stories of twisted men using them to try and steal riches from the dwarves.  Thus, he had a deep seated hate for them, despite never having met them in battle before.  It felt good to chop two of them down, but he knew that they would have to get rid of the leader if they were to have any chance at this fight.  What's to say that he couldn't just re-animate these ones that Grubar had chopped down already?

 

Come lass, let's go and get that gnome!  He continues to try to make his way towards Venethe, making sure to stay with Yllaora so they can watch each other's backs.

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HP:8/13 AC:5