[Benevolance]

It was a sound that brought Jon to a half-crouch, scanning the edge of the clearing, wary. The darkness presented no veil to his eyes, but vigilence urged caution. His life depended on it. This quarry was dangerous.

His eyes detected no sign of movement, his ears heard naught but the nightsong, the far off hoot of an owl, the sound of a fox shuffling in the brush nearby. Unconsciously, he stroked the pommel of his sword for reassurance. Nothing to fear. He turned back to his work.

It amazed him that there was so little blood. Seven bodies were strewn about the clearing, the silver Pandessan badges notably absent. Yet their weapons - low-grade magical mass-productions, to be sure, but excellent quality in their own right - lay on the ground where they had fallen, undisturbed. Two soldiers had not even drawn steel; two others had been felled by single blows. Grimly, he analyzed the details of the scene, pieced together the events as they unfolded. Or as he believed they unfolded. It left him little doubt...this was done by the pair he hunted: the sun-drenched elves with the painted faces.

His gaze drifted to the smooth skinned elf with tawny hair. His vacant eyes gazed imploringly at nothing. His body was riddled with wounds. He had been desecrated after he died, Jon was sure of it. In fact, most of the blood in this clearing was his. Why would his kin hate him so?

It had been the same, four nights prior, when Jon's party had been ambushed. It was quick, frightening. Had Jon not been some distance from the camp, had his unnatural eyes been unable to see the silent angels descend from the trees and begin a ruthless slaughter, had he made even a single breath, he is certain he would be among the corpses.

Shock, perhaps, more than anything - or a lifetime habit of blending with his surroundings - it was difficult to say why he had gone undetected. But he had remained silent, hidden; a mute chameleon amongst verdant curtains. And the vengeful angels sated their bloodlust and departed.

The memory shamed him. It had been only seconds. Jessen and Taggard were dead before they woke. Durgan was on guard but the golden-haired elf with a feathery cloak had dispatched him with his silvery spear. The other elf, in glittering breastplate and wicked barbed sword, split Cor in twain as he struggled to rise. The pair, bathed in moonlight, faces painted white with a trio of black tears, had gathered the badges of his comrades and departed into the trees with graceful movements.

Jon had hurried to his comrades, discovered death. He raged for a time that Jessen could provide no Intervention; his comrades souls would be left to Outsiders. He had sworn vengeance. He had found the tracks and followed...to this. Two days later. Another scene of violence, of bodies and lost souls.

He cursed the rocky ground that hindered his efforts. His quarry seemed elusive. Two days and the elves seemed to be gaining distance. If not for the fact that they had traveled in roughly direct lines, Jon was uncertain he would have found the trail again. It almost vanished in places, the rocky soil yielding few secrets.

Why would elves help the Outsiders? It made no sense. The trail led onward, towards the trio of mountains dubbed the Hags.

[Kishi]

Four days, and no closer. Jon takes a moment to rest in a small grove of trees, taking a quick swig from a waterskin and cursing himself. His options, at the moment, were a bit spare. He could try to keep on their trail, moving slowly, and they'd probably outrun him. Or, he could try to guess where they were going, jump ahead of them-

And probably lose them either way. Another angry shake of the head, another swig of water. Dammit, just a game of Who Follows Best, and I'm losing. So much simpler back in training.

Jon stows his waterskin, and checks his gear, hoping the familiar ritual will focus his mind. He makes another infintesimal adjustment between the scabbard of his sword and the straps of quiver while plotting his next move. Alright, following them isn't working. I can't just think of them as beasts, they're on the hunt. Someone's giving them something for those badges, be it a bounty or glory. And that means...

Jon settles his gear again and heads out at an angle to the path the elves have been following. Get off their course by a couple miles, then parallel it. They're hunting Pandessan squads. Let's see if I can't find one, use it as bait, and when they go to ambush it, I'll return the favor.

This post has been edited by Kishi: 22 June 2006 - 07:53 PM

[Benevolance]

Jon sets off at a pace that soon devours miles. Jon sticks to the comforting cover of the woodlands, disdaining the clear, dangerous open terrain beckoning provocatively nearby. Eventually the forest thins, confiers giving way to wispy poplars.

Dawn wrests the stage from grudging night, illuminating the crags and slopes above the tree tops. Around midmorning, Jon finds himself paused at the edge of a great wood.

The trees before him are enormous, ancient. The very air is sombre and respectful. He glances north and south along the edge of the woods. Dense rock litters the slopes to the north, a long climb up to the peak and along the ridge. To the south, a lazy creek feeds itself into a large, still lake, bordering still more peaks.

From his vantage, Jon can just barely make out a series of large, flat stones placed curiously in the water. The stones are circular, the diameter must be nearly the height of a dwarf to be visible at this distance. They do not appear natural.

[Which path do you choose: lake, woods, mountain?]

[Kishi]

Jon quickly dismisses the lakepath. Artificial paths mean they're travelled, and travelled means it could be watched. Too open to hide, and nowhere to run.

He considers the mountain and the woods in turn. Peaks give me a better view, while the woods over cover. But I can't defend against what I can't see. The mountains it is.

[Benevolance]

Jon skirts the edge of the wood, making his way towards the mountains. He chooses careful footsteps along the rocks. The sun moves higher. Movement in the sky above catches his eye. An eagle, circling. A second, not far off. Probably mated, he realizes. Hunting the wood's edge.

The trail grows steeper. Jon is forced to pick his way along with hands and feet in places, scurrying over boulders. He pauses to catch his breath in the shadow of a large rock. He has climbed about a third of the way.

He eyes the mountain carefully, picking the next leg of his trip. A long bluff is not far off, higher up. It would make easy traveling along the mountain for a few miles. The most direct route is a rough chimney of rock, a moderate climb of about fifty feet. A longer, winding path follows below, a series of switchbacks eventually meeting up with the bluff a few miles on.

[Kishi]

Jon starts shifting his gear around to make his way up the rock chimney. A quicker trip up, and I'll be able to get a look around, too. Might get lucky and catch sight of a target right off.

[Benevolance]

The chimney proves as simple a climb to Jon as expected. Ten feet from the top he is suddenly assailed by a blur of golden feathers. The bird streaks past his ear, bumping him. He braces himself quickly.

Glancing down he sees an eagle, the bird swoops upwards following its dive. It lets out a shrill cry. To Jon's ears, the sound of the screech echoes oddly in the chimney, sounding almost like the bird spoke its frustration.

Glancing upwards, Jon sees three more eagles, circling almost lazily above in the sky. Lazy circles, driftng downwards, and definately centered on him. Suddenly an enormous shadow passes over the chimney, a twenty-foot wingspan eclipsing the sun.

[Listen 28 - Jon heard the eagle speak.]

[Survival 29 - two successes. The birds are centered on Jon and descending to an altitude to dive; the first bird deliberately attacked Jon and only his armour saved him from injury.]

[Kishi]

Jon fights to get up the last ten feet of the shaft. He quickly pulls a spear from his quiver, and readies himself to fend off the next dive. As he crouches to present a smaller target, he glances around the bluff to see if anything in the area would help provide a stronger defense.

Climb check to move up the last ten feet, draw a shortspear from his quiver as part of the move action.
Ready the spear to receive a charge.

+7 attack, 2d6+6 damage on a hit. The Skirmish damage "applies only to attacks taken during the the scout's turn"- I'll leave it to your decision if it applies here. If you decide it does, add another d6 damage.

AC: 22

This post has been edited by Kishi: 24 June 2006 - 05:35 PM

[Benevolance]

[I defer the decision to a later date]

The first bird swoops down on Jon, right onto the tip of his waiting spear. He shucks the poultry from his weapon as he ducks beneath grasping claws. He manages to get a spear on the second bird as well, dropping it as it tries to swoop past. The remaining two birds rake Jon with claws, damaging his cloak but leaving the scout unharmed.

The two eagles let out cries of dismay. The sound is echoed by a deeper call. It is unmistakably language, but one Jon does not understand.

The giant eagle swoops down, landing delicately out of Jon's reach. Ten feet of predatory bird hops ungainly foward, wings spread for balance, approaching Jon cautiously. The indignity of its awkward ground movement diminished by talons the length of swords. It watches Jon with an unnerving intelligence.

Combat results:
Jon hits eagle #1 (no charge). Jon does 5 damage. Eagle #1 dies.
Eagle #2 attacks Jon and misses.
Jon hits eagle #2 (AoO). Jon does 6 damage. Eagle #2 dies.
Eagle #3 attacks Jon and misses.
Eagle #4 attacks Jon and misses.
Giant Eagle lands twenty feet from Jon and moves 10ft closer.

[Kishi]

Jon focuses his attention on the giant eagle, taking a few quick skipping steps back and hurling the shortspear at the bird with all his might.

Jon moves back ten feet and throws the shortspear at the giant eagle.
+9 attack, 1d6+3 damage (x3 crit) plus 1d6 skirmish damage.

AC: 22 (23 vs. Giant Eagle)

[Benevolance]

The spear travels straight and true. It breeches the breast of the bird, narrowly missing the heart. The eagle screams in rage and pain and, with a curse in common, scutters to the edge of the cliff and launches away, in search of easier prey. The spear twists free as it moves, clattering to the ground near the chimney. The remaining brood follows their wounded mother.

[Jon critical hit (confirmed) for 23 damage. Eagle withdraws.]

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 25 June 2006 - 06:17 PM

[Kishi]

Jon pulls out a longbow and nocks an arrow, watching the brood depart. He considers launching one last shot at them, but decides against it. Best not waste the arrow. And, while I'm thinking of it...

Jon looks to the two dead eagles, checking over their bodies for any feathers that might serve well to fletch his next batch of arrows. As he plucks feathers, he looks off the edge of the bluff to the land below, looking for signs of any travellers passing through the area.

[Benevolance]

[Craft (fletcher) roll = 23. Enough feathers to make 2gp worth of arrows.]

Jon carefully removes several of the feathers. He completes the work quickly and efficiently. When he stands to look down the bluff, he can see no sign of humanoid activity in the area.

[Kishi]

Jon binds the feathers together, stashes them in his backpack, and then sets off along the bluff, heading deeper into the mountains.

This post has been edited by Kishi: 26 June 2006 - 03:49 PM

[Benevolance]

The path continues clear and free for several miles. Jon makes good progress across the easy terrain. The high vantage allows the Pandessan scout to survey the terrain for several miles. The forest blankets nearly as far as the eye can see, hectares of thick, oaken forest. Even from this height, the lake beyond is obscured by the tall trees.

Night draws in. Jon feels barely any fatigue from the day and the darkness is no screen to his eyes. If he continued on all night, he could probably reach the foot of the bluff by morning.

[Endurance check: 22 - *success*]

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 04 July 2006 - 05:58 PM

[Kishi]

Jon takes a short breather for a few minutes, but doesn't dawdle too long. Before the last traces of sun have disappeared from the sky, he's back on his feet, heading for the foot of the bluff.

[Benevolance]

Standing, Jon takes only a few steps when something seems...wrong. The hackles on his neck rise. He cannot help the feeling that he is no longer alone.

[Kishi]

On instinct, Jon draws his sword and looks for trouble. He drops into a fighting stance but keeps moving, albeit at a bit slower pace.

[Benevolance]

The sword hisses quietly as it draws free. He looks, but sees nothing. He moves on. A slight breeze touches his face.

His footsteps are the echoes of echoes of a cat's paw on silk. Too loud he thinks, though he knows nobody beyond the reach of his sword could track the sound of his movements. He is like a ghost.

Something flitters at the edge of his vision. A chance movement. He twists, ready.

Nothing.

The bluff is empty, an expanse of grey dust and rock covering a heartstone of granite. A small, malnourished tree is the only feature that is not hewn of stone; the waifish pine barely reaches Jon's waist. It sways in the breeze, greyscaled to his darkvision eyes. His heart begins to beat a little faster, the hairs on his neck stand taller. He is certain now. Someone is here. Someone he cannot see.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 08 July 2006 - 06:50 PM

[Kishi]

Jon glares into the empty air. "Hardly sporting. You want to come out and show yourself so we can talk?"

[Benevolance]

The only reply is the faint sound of the wind.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 11 July 2006 - 02:49 PM

[Kishi]

Jon holds back a growl of frustration, and calls out again, repeating himself in Elven this time.

[Benevolance]

Jon feels something brush against his mind. It is a sensation he has felt before, back in the city.

The image of the laboratory springs to mind. An elf, dressed smartly in a black suit, unadorned. He is asking Jon questions. Jon's head is unfocused, glazed. It was something in a drink. He felt something brush his mind, a feeling like the gentle caress of fingers across the back of a hand. The elf left, shaking his head and complaining about the walls. It had puzzled Jon. The walls had never bothered him, though he thought the painting by Herius Boudron by the south door was a trifle in poor taste. Dragons playing poker? Who had heard of such a thing?

When the drug wore off, Jon realized that the man had been trying to read Jon's mind. Then - as now - Jon's thoughts belonged to no one but himself.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 11 July 2006 - 08:59 PM

[Kishi]

Jon forces out a chuckle. He speaks again in Elven. "It's not to be that easy- what's mine is mine. Now either deal, or leave me the hell alone."

[Benevolance]

Jon once again feels the sensation of thereness. It dawns on him that it - whatever it may be - just moved. That is the oddness he senses. There is no sound, just the rustle of the wind. Lacking any visual clues, Jon cannot place the location of the creature. It must be near, but...

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 11 July 2006 - 10:45 PM

[Kishi]

"Fine." Jon pulls out a waterskin and sprays it out in a quick arc, a quick eye out to see where something might have caught the water before it hit the ground, and making a lunging slash at the first sign of a presence.

[Benevolance]

The water splashes on the stones. The droplets meet no resistance, but prompt a rich peal of golden laughter.

"The glowering man is very perceptive!" Jon spins towards the elven voice. Nothing but thin air beyond the edge of a precipice. The voice continues from behind Jon. He looks, again disappointed.

"He cannot see me, but he knows I am here. I cannot see his thoughts, but I know he thinks. What does he think, I wonder? This odd creature, the shadow on my doorstep?"

The voice is rich, sultry; a voice evocative of lustful divas and forbidden women. The sound bounces around the bluff, impossible to narrow down. Everytime Jon thinks he has the voice pinpointed, it resonates from somewhere else.

He cannot be certain, but he feels magic is somehow involved.

[Kishi]

"So glad to offer such choice entertainment." Jon offers a mocking bow- or at least, as close as he can approximate, given the two or three times he's seen an officer show such a sign of deference. "Would m'lady care for a dance now? Or shall I be on my way?"

[Benevolance]

"A dance? Of course not, silly. The Lady will want to speak to you first. Then I can kill you."

Jon feels a sharp pain. He looks down to see an arrow blossoming prominently from his right side. He readies his weapon, a wave of dizziness follows. His vision blurs. His arms feel heavy. He forces his eyes to focus, to look for his adversary. His vision blurs again. Get away, he thinks. He doesn't move. Why can't he move? He is on his knees, he realizes, not recalling having fallen. Darkness welcomes him, accompanied by sultry, warm laughter.

He awakes, alone. He is lying down.

He is in a room. The walls, ceiling and floor are shaped of a dusty-rose tinted stone. A small window is set high on one wall. The room is dark, no light streams through the small window. An iron gate bars the only door.

There is a small pallet of mostly fresh pine branches upon which Jon rests. The scent of evergreen seeps into Jon's nostrils. A clay pitcher rests on a wooden stool beside the pallet. It is filled with a clear liquid. There is no sign of anyone.

[Kishi]

Jon rolls off the pallet into a crouch and looks around. He mentally berates himself to a chorus of a half dozen instructors from training. Fantastic work, Jon, just bait and taunt a faceless foe, in her own territory, who obviously has an advantage you have little or no way to counteract. Obviously part of some foolproof plan to locate and infiltrate whatever base this is. Exceptional work, I expect they'll give you a medal for this.

Shoving the black, sarcastic voice away for a moment, he looks around at his new surroundings. He does a quick check to see what, if any, of his gear they left him with.

[Benevolance]

He is still wearing his armour. A small, neat hole is visible where the arrow punctured the uniform. His fingers probe the opening but discover no sign of wound. His ring remains on his finger, but there is no sign of his backpack.

[Kishi]

At least not entirely defenseless. For all the good it did me. Ignoring the pitcher of what he assumes to be not-so-pure water- It was something in the drink- Jon stands and stretches out his muscles. He looks around the cell for a few moments before giving in and conducting a full out search, looking over the pallet to see if he could take it apart, checking the door, and just familiarizing himself with the room.

Hard to play subtle when you know they're most likely watching anyway...

This post has been edited by Kishi: 16 July 2006 - 12:23 PM

[Benevolance]

Jon examines his confinement. The pallet is constructed of a cut pine branches, needles intanct, with a canvas laid overtop. The branches smell of pine sap and evergreen. No branch is larger than his forearm, and mostly curved slightly. The branches seem freshly cut, and they are still somewhat springy.

The window is narrow and placed where Jon could jump and touch the bottom sill. Three iron bars, seemingly set into the stone, bar egress.

The iron gate is of a dull colour, fashioned from five vertical bars and three horizontal. The bars are laid fairly close together and held in place by means of a fancy pins, as opposed to welds. Worn gooves on the insides of the threshold indicate that door goes up, rather than open out. At the foot of the gate, one bar slides into a complex looking locking mechanism constructed of brass.

Touching the gate, the bars give a little beneath his gentle pressure. The second and third verticle bars particularly seem somehow looser than the others, as if the pins holding the verticle bars in place were somehow weaker than the others.

[Kishi]

Jon looks out past the door to see if there's any guards present. He starts to fidget with the loose bars, looking to see if he might work them loose, either by cunning or might.

[Benevolance]

The passage appears deserted. John examines the gate, uncertain if his talent for sabotage can assist his escape. He gives way to expedience and, grasping the bars, tugs with all his strength.

The cords on his neck stand out as he strains against the bars. Finally, exhausted, he pauses. A little give. Not much.

Taking a deep breath he sets himself again, using his feet for better leverage. He heaves. There is a clamorous pop as the rivets bursts free of the ring. It ricochets twice off the wall before disappearing into the pallet. The bar wiggles, enough to squeeze through. John wastes no time in leaving his cage.

The corridor goes twenty feet in either direction, ending in T junctions at both ends. There are four cells along the one wall. The entire wall is fabricated from stone. The wall opposite the cells is stone for the base, and wood paneling above. A lively painting of a thrush decorates the wall.

[Kishi]

Jon shakes his head. A good capture, but they've certainly failed to follow through on the rest of it. A bit surprising, but let's not sit around so they can learn the error of their ways. He glances into each of the other cells to look for any items of use, and then sets off down the hallway to the right.

[Benevolance]

John ventures down the corridor. He listens and - hearing no sound - peeks quickly around the corners. Empty.

The hallway to the left travels about fifteen feet, terminating in a closed, wooden door. A double door on the left wall of the left corridor is similarly closed. There is a small, open window on the wall opposite the double door.

The right corridor ends abruptly after 10 feet. There are no doors or windows, but one corner is currently occupied by a small iron bucket filled with filmy water, jauntily displaying a mop from its open top. A small, slightly rectangular bristle brush keeps the bucket company.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 21 July 2006 - 12:40 PM

[Kishi]

A poor weapon is better than no weapon, Jon reminds himself, quoting an old instructor. He pulls the mop from the bucket, and then considers the two. After a moment, he sets the mop down, and holds the bucket carefully.

Moving cautiously down the hall, Jon listens at the doors- first the double doors, then the other.

[Benevolance]

Moving carefully to avoid slopping the water, Jon puts his ear to the double doors. He can hear voices. They appear to be complaining, if he were to judge by the tone. Listening at the end door, Jon hears nothing particular.

[Kishi]

Cautiously, Jon tries to open the second door as quietly as he can manage.

[Benevolance]

Jon carefully balances the bucket of water and turns the simple wooden handle. The hinges cry out briefly but loudly as he opens the doorway a crack.

[Kishi]

Jon waits for a moment to listen for any reaction to the damn hinges. If he hears nothing, he opens the door further and looks beyond it.

Listen check +10

[Benevolance]

Straining his ears, Jon can just make out the sounds of continued conversation in the room, nor does he hear any sounds of alarm coming from the opposite side of the doorway.

[Kishi]

Nodding in satisfaction, Jon slips the door open wide enough to step through and passes into the room beyond. He quietly closes it behind him, looking around at his new surroundings.

[Benevolance]

Jon steps through the doorway into magnificence. The stone floor yields gracefully into polished wood. The walls are a deep-coloured hardwood, rising to a curved ceiling ten feet tall. A series of small, oval windows are inset with stained glass a wrap around the wall to Jon's left, ending at another doorway across the room. The stainglass is dark and unilluminated, giving the impression of darkness outside.

In the center of the chamber the floor is raised, looking every bit a seemless, natural extension of the hardwood floor. A small metallic tripod, a fiddle and bow, and a horn are set atop the dais. There are many polished silver mirrors, each facing different directions.

Elaborately wrought wooden furniture is arranged in a circle around the platform. The pieces vary in size and shape dramatically, many sized for children. All give the impression of exquisite craftsmanship.

The room is illuminated by a single candleabra. Seven yellowed, tapered candles sit on the brass coloured stand, but only two candles are currently lit.

[Kishi]

Jon comes to an abrupt stop as he steps in to the room, surveying a scene very unlike what he expected. He takes in the entire scene for a moment, finding something somewhat unsettling about it. He looks around for any signs of life, and then moves to the opposite doorway.

Move Silently +13

This post has been edited by Kishi: 29 August 2006 - 04:47 PM

[Benevolance]

Jon walks lightly and quietly across the floor, a silent shadow. The other doorway is partly closed. A warm light issues forth from the portal.

The view through the portal yields a plaster wall or sub-par construction perpendicular to the doorway. But peering through the gap created by the hinges, Jon can just make out several tables, neatly aligned. Empty chairs gather around the table like a clutch to the mother hen.

[Kishi]

Very strange. Are they unused to holding prisoners, or do they just believe that they won't escape? I expected to work my way out of dungeons, not music rooms. Jon he prepares to step through before a stray thought crosses his mind. Setting the bucket down gently, he retrieves the fiddle from the center of the room. A slightly better weapon choice. He brings his ear to the door and listens for any noise beyond it. If he doesn't hear any, he steps through.

[Benevolance]

Ear to the door, Jon hears the sound of quieting humming from the room beyond.

[Kishi]

Jon tries to focus on the humming, getting a sense of who might be on the other side of the door.

Listen +8. Jon's trying to get an idea basically of the gender and possibly age of whoever is humming, and if they're moving about the room or seem to be stationary.

[Benevolance]

The voice sounds masculine, though highly pitched - perhaps belonging to a young male whose voice is only beginning to change. The sound does not move about the room.

[Kishi]

Jon considers his situation for a moment. Lost in the middle of some ill-defended, ill-designed enemy stronghold of indeterminate size and strength. Outnumbered, uncertain where to find any better armaments than a bucket or a fiddle. Any exits short of leaping out a stained-glass window most likely requires you to fight your way past forces similar to the ones that caught you in the first place, weilding, again, a fiddle or bucket. Classic work, Jon, you learned well in class. Obviously inspired by the work of Captain Marik Howlender, a little known Pandessan scout who died in anonymous ignominy when he sabotaged his escape through intense stupidity, so no one knows who the hell he is and you just made him up. But stop avoiding the question- how the hell do you plan to escape without them tracking you down and testing how badly they want their 'lady' to talk to you before you die?

As Jon crouches next to the door in the darkened room, about to be swamped by a mood darker than his skin, one word comes back to him and restores a grim smile to his face. Sabotage. They can't catch me if they've got bigger worries. Find something important and break it, or just light a fire somewhere. They'll be busy repairing the damage, and that'll be more things to distract them. Jon starts to head back towards where he was held captive, alert for trouble. Look in those cells first- nothing else, I imagine the cots would burn nicely. There's got to be something I can get my hands on that'll break nicely and give them all a headache.

Hide +15, Move Silently +18, Spot and Listen +10, Search +12

[Benevolance]

Jon is as a spectre, ghosting through the hallways unseen and unheard. The other three cells are unoccupied and there remains no sign of any gaoler. Two of the cells are completely bare, but one is furnished in much similar fashion as the cell in which Jon awoke.

[Kishi]

Jon glances around the area for a moment, looking for any guardians. You'd expect that they'd keep an eye on their prisoners. Or at least check them every so often. He glances at the cell he escaped from, curious if there had been any sign that someone had moved any of the debris from his escape.

Keeping an eye out for anyone coming to check on the cells, Jon tries to break the cot from his cell into pieces. Taking up a heavier piece, he moves down the prison block, away from the first direction he explored, and looks down the intersection, first left, then right.

This post has been edited by Kishi: 18 November 2006 - 05:27 PM

[Benevolance]

[You have a club]

Looking left, the corridor ends in solid wall. The hallway to the right continues about thirty feet and ends in another wooden doorway. The door is painted with a stylized dragon. On the right-hand wall, another doorway. Jon can hear the same voices he heard before, but more clearly now. As the door latch begins to click, Jon suddenly realizes the voices sound clearer because someone is approaching!

[Kishi]

With no hesitation, Jon rushes to the other doorway and throws the door open, hoping that whatever waits inside is a better choice...

[Benevolance]

Shouldering open the door, Jon finds himself face to face with a little blue man. Or rather, face to face if the man were taller than Jon's knee. The green-haired, blue-skinned humanoid drops the bundle of fabric in his hands and reaches for his dagger, hissing.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 12 January 2007 - 03:29 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 1]

With astonishing speed the green-haired man draws his weapon and springs across the distance with a powerful bound. He crashes into Jon, stabbing the Pandessan scout as he does. The knife slides harmlessly across the outer layer of hardened leather. Jon takes a two-handed swing at the creature. He throws his weight into the swing, catching the creature in mid-air and sending it powerfully into the adjacent wall. Jon can feel the bones shatter beneath the force of his swing; the blue-skinned man screams as his body breaks. He follows into a diving roll, aiming for the open hallway behind his foe. From the hallway Jon just vacated, the scount hears voices of alarm call out at the sound of the dying fey's cry.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 14 January 2007 - 12:25 AM

[Kishi]

Jon comes out of the roll at full speed, heading down the hallway, eyes alert for any enemies or doorways. While the voice in the back of his mind chides him for the absolute botch of a mission so far, he can't help but smile, his teeth a sharp contrast to his grey skin. It's okay. I'm still free, still mobile, and I've got at least a couple of tricks up my sleeve they aren't expecting. But they were right- not like the training missions at all.

[Kishi]

After a moment, Jon realizes what the little blue man was carrying. Swearing at himself, Jon turns around and backtracks the man's route.

[Benevolance]

Two more blue-skinned men are emerging from the doorway. Eyes widen with rage at the sight of the blood-smeared wall above the body of their comrade. One carries a short sword; the other carries a fiddle.

[Benevolance]

[Round 1]

Jon quickly looks over the two men, and turns his focus to the one that's visibly armed. A warcry from an old dwarf instructor echoes in the back of his mind, and Jon calls out a loud "Azaghâl ai-mênu!" as he brings the club down at his foe. The blue man dances nimbly aside, stabbing ineffectually at Jon.

The second man hastily puts fiddle to shoulder and begins madly playing. Nebulous enchanting vespers tug at Jon, beckoning. Jon shutters his mind and shrugs off the compulsion.

[Benevolance]

Round 2

The tug of magic on Jon's mind causes a quick re-categorization of threats. Keeping a cautious eye on the one foe, he takes a swing at the fiddle bearer. The club crushes through the meager defense offered by the wooden instrument, breaking the blue man with catastrophic ease.

The fiddle player's partner stares wide-eyed at the carnage and immediately begins to incant, lowering his guard momentarily. Jon seizes upon the lapse and crushes the blue fellow with a well-placed bludgeon.

Jon can hear more commotion coming from elsewhere in the complex. Farther down the hallway he was exploring, he suspects.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 26 January 2007 - 05:29 PM

[Kishi]

Moving swiftly, Jon takes hold of the two dead in front of him. He steps into the room behind them, and closes the door quickly, looking for some way to bar it shut.

[Benevolance]

A medium sized table makes a suitable barrier for the door. Quickly scanning the room, Jon sees his equipment stacked in a corner; on a smaller table, the contents of his backpack have been turned out. The differently-sized tables suggest that not all the occupants are of the same small stature as the two blue bodies he tossed idly to the corner.

A second door mirrors the one he entered on the opposite side of the room. A bureau with drawers and a large, silver mirror round out the furnishings.

[Kishi]

Jon shoves the table against the door and smiles as he sees his gear. "Finally." He looks over his goods on the table, checking to make sure all is accounted for, and nothing's been tampered with before shoving them haphazardly into his backpack. He straps on the rest of his gear, and pulls out a shortspear from his quiver, leaving his club aside. Keeping a sharp ear out for the sound of anyone coming from the opposite, unblocked door, Jon quickly searches the bodies of the grigs and the room around him, making certain to check the drawers of the bureau.

Search check +12, Listen check +10. Man, it's nice to have skills sometimes.

This post has been edited by Kishi: 31 January 2007 - 12:30 PM

[Benevolance]

Tattered clothing, marred with blood, are the only possessions of the little two blue men. Jon opens the top drawer of the bureau; it opens with a dignified reluctance best suiting great age. The drawer contains nothing. The second and third drawers open more smoothly: snippers, cutters, pins, hammers...an ecclectic variety of tools and implements of destruction rest haphazardly inside.

A sound catches Jon's attention, the sound of approaching...hooves?

[Kishi]

Hooves? Jon concentrates on the sound for a moment, confused. Hooves? Time to move. He grabs two hammers and a pair of sturdy-looking snips, stashing them in his backpack before he opens the unblocked door, spear at the ready.

[Benevolance]

A momentary hesitation as Jon crosses the threshold saves him from a monsterous headbutt; a ram-horned head smashes into the door jam, sending a spray of splinters from the impact. Had Jon emerged any faster, he would have borne the brunt of the attack upon his chest.

The angry satyr snarls and tosses his longbow aside.

[Benevolance]

[Round 1]

Jon flinches back as the satyr widens the door frame in front of him. Caught off guard by the force of the attack, he lashes out with the spear in his hand, trying to recall what he'd learned of satyrs in training.

The spear tip leaves a long cut across the creature's torso. The beast howls, drawing a dagger as he lowers his head. Jon ducks back, away from the dangerous horns and the follow up dagger slash.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 13 February 2007 - 02:10 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 2]

Jon and the creature square off. Jon furiously tries to recall whatever he can about the creature, but nothing comes to mind beyond the obvious: the satyr is a fey, and fey are most dangerous when they have pipes. Jon feints, cuts. The satyr steps into the swing, turns aside the blade with his dagger. Jon steps back before the horns can gore. The satyr snarls.

[Round 3]
Thankful the creature wields no instruments, Jon waits for the satyr to attack. With the stubborn determintion of a goat, the woodland creature leads with his horns. Jon catches a horn with his off hand, twists. The satyr's neck is immensely strong and Jon does little except tug the creature off-balance. In too close to stab, Jon bludgeons the beast with the butt of his spear; Jon hears the collar bone crack with the impact. The satyr bleats in pain.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 04 March 2007 - 01:17 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 4]

With another failed assault, Jon's confidence grows. "Oh, come now, aren't you going to make this even a bit of a challenge?" he taunts his foe.

The satyr shakes free of Jon's grip and steps back, glowering. In a stunted human speech that Jon can just understand, the creature grunts, "Quick, shadowling. But strikes is feathers." He lowers his head once more and attempts to ram the Pandessan, but Jon's fast spear catches the creature before he can move.

[Benevolance]

[Round 5]

"What in the hells does that mean?" Somewhat confused and discomfited by his opponent's ramblings, Jon takes a different tactic. Rather than standing still to trade blows with the satyr, he abruptly changes directions, springing back from the satyr and hurling the spear at his foe.

The spear plunges through the satyr's breast and pins him to the wall behind. The woodland creature slumps against the wooden shaft, kicking twice before laying still.

[Kishi]

Jon watches the satyr for a moment, making certain the creature is dead. He cautiously moves up to the corpse and quickly pats him down, looking for any keys or other items that might help in an escape. Aftyer he's satisfied he's found anything of use, Jon looks out the doorway the satyr entered from.

Search +12

Question: what time of day does it seem to be, or can Jon tell? Is this area lit through windows, by torches, or what?

[Benevolance]

Jon finds no keys or possessions on the satyr other than the slim dagger that was so poorly wielded. Looking through the doorway from whence the satyr emerged, Jon recognizes the musical room he visited previously.

[OOC - There is daylight.]

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 18 April 2007 - 04:29 PM

[Kishi]

Jon considers backtracking again, but decides against it. I'm at least better armed at this point. Moving up to the far door again, he listens for any signs of life on the other side.

[Benevolance]

There are no longer any signs of life through the door on the far side of the music room so Jon peeks around the ajar door and discovers a lunch room.

Simple wood tables in a variety of heights and lengths adorn the room. On the largest of the table rests a nearly empty wooden bowl, a silver spoon, and a ruddy clay cup.

A portrait of a silver-haired and sallow-skinned woman of dubious elven ancestry hangs upon a masonry fireplace. The fire burns oblivious, warming the contents of a small brass kettle.

A wooden cabinet with glass doors huddles in the corner nearest the hearth. Through the lead-glass panes, Jon can make out an ill-conforming collection of tankards and dishes. There are two doors into the room: the one which Jon just entered; and a second door immediately opposite the first across the room. The far door is closed.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 27 April 2007 - 05:11 PM

[Benevolance]

Jon proceeds to the closed door, planting his ear against the thick wood to listen for sound beyond. He hears nothing. Cautiously, he opens the doorway onto a bewieldering circular room.

The floor and walls are inexplicably smooth, the wood positively gleaming to an almost reflective shine. A woman kneels before a seamless basin at the center of the room. She is peering intently into the calm waters as Jon enters and does not appear to notice his intrusion.

[Kishi]

Jon glances around the room quickly, looking for any signs of anyone else. Drawing his bastard sword quietly as he can manage, he rushes forward towards the woman and slices down at her.

+8 attack, d10+3+d6 damage.
AC: 22

[Benevolance]

Her gaze never wavers from the pool as Jon rushes out of the doorway. Her exposed, slender neck presents an irresistable target to the darkling. As the blade descends, he is startled by the vision of Pandessan soldiers in the pool. At the edge of the vision, creeping and hungry, is an image of death. Jon's strike goes awry, cleaving through collar bone but sparing the woman a killing blow. She screams in shock and pain, twisting as if to stand in spite of the sword still lodged in her breast.

[Hit 27(22) for 17 damage]
[Initiatives: Jon 21; Woman 13]

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 18 May 2007 - 04:59 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 1]

The woman steps aside of Jon's strike. Her elven features distort themselves momentarily into an image of pure wrath. Jon feels his hackles stir as his body fights off whatever foul magics she just tried to use. She spits curses in a language that Jon cannot understand.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 30 May 2007 - 03:49 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 2]

"Another elven traitor," Jon growls in Elven, filling the normally lyrical language with as much wrath as he can. "You can rot with the rest of them." He strikes the woman across her midsection with a heavy blow. She grunts from the impact, spitting equally vitriolic epiphets at Jon. As his sword passes, Jon can see no blood where his blade parted the fabric of her robe. The elvish woman gestures intricately with her hands. The room is suddenly permeated with a heady woodland scent as her hands dance an impossibly complex weave.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 30 May 2007 - 03:55 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 3]

Jon abruptly realizes what he's fighting and he responds swiftly. Taking a step back from the woman, he shoves aside the sudden sense of guilt and growls out the harsh syllables that came to him in a dream one night, calling out the shadows to surround him. From all the corners, the darkness runs like ink, pooling itself around the darkling like a cloak.

Through the unnatural darkness Jon can make out the woman's eyes narrowing slightly as she completes her incantation. There is a puff of purple smoke. Something brushes Jon's leg, and he glances down to see a coiled constrictor writhing at his feet. The creature strikes at Jon with its blunt face but catches only wind.

[Benevolance]

[Round 4]

With the cloak of darkness around him, Jon feels slightly safer. Deal with the snake in a moment, if it's still there.

Jon takes a quick step forward, sweeping his sword through the area he last saw the nymph in. He strikes a glancing blow. Another string of curses, another string of syllables. Jon tenses momentarily, expecting some sort of magical attack, but none materializes.

[Benevolance]

[Round 5]

Long hours of practice at night fighting comes as reflex to Jon, and he resheathes his sword without a moment's hesitation. He crouches down low and reaches out in front of him, grabbing hold of the nymph. She struggles and bites but to no avail.

A creeping sensation slithers up Jon's leg. He remembers the snake, as it tightens its coils about his legs and waist.

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 20 June 2007 - 01:46 PM

[Benevolance]

[Round 6]

Jon roughly twists the woman into a hold, wrapping one arm around her throat while trying to shake the snake loose from the other. The snake clings thightly, trying to squeeze the life out of the Pandessan soldier. The woman uses the distraction to grab Jon's forearm with both hands and bite deep. The wound more surprises Jon than injures him, but his grip lessens just enough for her to slip beneath his arm and skitter a few steps away.

The snake inches its grasp further up and Jon stumbles. His foot catches the edge of the pool and slips into the ankle deep water. Even through his thick travel boot, Jon feels an intense heat. The warmth spreads up his leg. He looks down in horror to witness the quicksilver water climbing its way up his body. As the liquid touches the snake, the reptile begins to unravel in a thick, acrid smoke. The woman cries out a horrified sound as the world dissolves around Jon.

In an instant, the small room disappears, replaced by a sloping hill. Jon is standing at the edge of a light forest. Fifty feet from where the Pandessan stands, a pair of elven Pandessan soldiers are squared off against the pale-haired angels Jon was pursuing. Jon watches as the male strides forward, past one elf, to strike the second down with contemptible ease. From beyond the range of his darkvision, Jon makes out the shape of more soldiers rushing to battle.

His attention is drawn back to the elf and the angel. The female proclaims in a hauntingly beautiful voice to the surviving Pandessan elf, "I will kill you, by the method you requested."

This post has been edited by Benevolance: 25 June 2007 - 02:17 PM