Old July 26, 2018, 06:48 AM   #61 (permalink)
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To say that the Sylrosian was less than comfortable with the tableau before him was an understatement. Seeing the death of the young monk, then his ghost and now this mask wearing oddity wrestling with another monk who should - by all accounts- be dead what with the dagger protruding from his eye socket.

Suppressing the churning in his gut that such a sight provoked, Calanon did not dare draw his eyes away from the centre of the chamber, so his friend became an afterthought.

An enchanted slumber? Clearly the masked man had decided the way to wake someone from such a sleep was to murder them where they lay? It did not make any sense. But, in that regard, it seemed a good sign that the man, with his curious dead eyed mask, had decided that Calanon himself was not to be counted as one such dreamer.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” was his reply, voice wavering only very slightly in the face of such a macabre and unsettling scene. And then because he wasn’t certain that Moss’ presence had been noted, he went on. “ I sought to find what had become of the brothers. And here I find you, and them….they sleep you say?”

Too dark to look for signs of breath, signs of life in the bodies that lay about the chamber, but the monk the man held certainly lived, somehow, for he spoke, accusatory and it only heightened the suspicion Calanon felt towards the masked man. What had he walked into?

And then the stranger had twisted to position the speaking monk between himself and the elf, and Cal felt the fizz of frustration that it would be difficult to hit the man with a direct spell now. But as he considered that, it gave him the spark of an idea. It was a moment then to pull together the the threads of force energy and to target the relocate spell at the monk now being used as a shield, as the sorcerer attempted to teleport the injured holy man out of the grasp of his masked captor.

Barely was there time to release the magic before a fall of debris from the ceiling had Calanon glance up and take a faltering step backwards, a sudden and very real fear kicking in as he was reminded on the feeling of all that earth pressing down on him. Was the ceiling coming down ?!
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Old August 12, 2018, 10:30 PM   #62 (permalink)
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Nope!
When in doubt?
Run, Run, Running Away!
Was, t’was almost entirely how the young Jorelite had managed to live to survive another day for so many Unusual and Strange situations,
Puppies?
Sure, fine! Undead Puppies and Dust Demon Thingies?
Uh. No. No thanking you very much!
Tossing her head,
Scanning for the Escape Route,
There was a mess of coffee-brown tresses spilling out from the crimson ribbon that usually bound Éclair’s hair back; uncertain. Bedrooms? Usually safe! Here? Far less Interesting given that a.) Everyone seemed to be Dead or Missing and b.) Éclair had learned that Priests weren’t really worth her while after the Iori-Ex.
Downstairs!
Definitely downstairs! Better than being trapped somewhere,
Wait. Waitasec.
Undead-Demon Thingie?
There was a pause,
A neat little pirouette as Éclair eventually managed to move from instinctive panic,
To, oh, right. Right. Necromancer.
Duh.
Command Undead!
“Bad Priest! Sit! Heel! Stop that right this instant!”

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Old September 15, 2018, 03:33 PM   #63 (permalink)
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Barthelme, Moss, Calanon

Barthelme's sudden move startled the monk, and the Twisted was able to swing them around, with Father Quintus ending up mostly between himself and the newcomers as his arms were twisted sideways and his grip on the Pinnacle crystal and Glinnaur slipped. The monk howled, blood trickling down his face from the wounds where his eyes had been as his mouth twisted in response to Barthelme's words: "I don't believe you, Beast! You look to break the divide between this world and the next...?" His words ended in a grunt as the two men's dark robes tangled (not exactly combat-ready wear...) and they almost ended up on the ground as they twisted, and then toppled entirely as Calanon's relocate met Barthelme's nullify and the natural physical forces they'd been exerting sent Barthelme staggering, and then outright falling, backwards while Father Quintus pitched onto the ground forward. Barthelme's thought to use a suggestion on Calanon had come too late.

At the same time as the mystic fell on his tailbone, Moss' tentative question reverberated into Barthelme's skull.

The ghost of Xavier, meanwhile, had come out of his stupor and as the multi-sided conversation circled around the fate of the other monks turned his attention to them rather than the fight.

Instead, he knelt down beside one of the prone monks and hovered over him, his shapeless form almost going through him. "They're not dead." He marvelled, swinging his wide-eyed gaze over the rest of the group. "But... their breath is very faint."

He seemed to be about to say something else, eyes darting to Father Quintus, who had ended up in a semi-sprawl close to Moss' and Calanon's feet, but all that ended when a sudden crack and hailstorm of rocks and debris heralded Sylaphormes' furious arrival. The lamia was still currently invisible, and the lower half of her body was still stuck in the hole as she continued to twist and attempt to make her entry into the cavern, but everyone below could still feel her.... a deep, visceral feeling of animalistic fear heightened into terror by the lamia's bloodlust. Focused on her goal - blood - Sylaphromes no longer cared who stood in her way, or how unstable her forced entry was making the ceiling.

Éclair

The little pools of dust that had quickly grown to the size of large anthills stopped growing and the door stopped shaking as the Jorelite issued her command.

Thing was, Éclair almost immediately felt that things were a bit wierd in this case. Granted First Abbott Emmet was definitely of among the dead, but then there was the matter of him currently inhabiting the body of a very-much-living dog, and also the fact that he had also been re-animated (or re-scentientized, given his lack of physical form) by unknown powers whose source Éclair was not at the moment aware of.

Powers that were not giving up easily... the Jorelite could feel the tenuousness of her hold, even beyond the tension in the air that spoke of a spell that hadn't quite gone the way it was supposed to. From behind the door Éclair heard the dog yipping and then a drawn out whine of... maybe apology?... from behind the door: "You don't know who you are messing with, girl..."

The anthills of dust shuddered and flattened slightly, sinking closer to the floor, then went entirely inert. A silence that was not at all confidence-inducing fell over the hallway.
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Old September 26, 2018, 09:07 AM   #64 (permalink)
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Whilst the spell Calanon released did not have quite the intended effect, it did result in the monk breaking free from the masked man he had been held by, the elf stepping back as the man sprawled at their feet, his attention split between the ghostly figure of Xavier and the disturbing shower of sandy loam and stones from above.

And whether it were the idea of all that earth coming crashing down upon them, the grotesque sight of the bloodied eye sockets of Father Quintas, or the still boggling presence of the ghost of the young monk, Calanon felt a ripple of fear steal up his spine. His grip tightened reflexively around the hilt of the sword he held, though it would serve no good if the roof were falling, and for a moment the elf floundered, torn between the sudden desire to flee and the want to help those who could not, namely the slumbering monks who Xavier had judged not to be dead.

They should move them from the cavern.

Still, the elf did not trust the masked man enough to ignore him completely, and so keeping an eye upon where the other had fallen, Calanon reached down toward the Monk at his feet, aiming to help the man up and away toward the entrance to the cavern if he could.

“Come now, Father, we must away from from here”
And the Sylrosian tried to keep his voice steady despite the gripping fingers of fear that held him in thrall. Perhaps if they could get Father Quintas to safety, they might have time to..wake the others? Wishing he had Moss’ gift of mindspeak then, the elf decided that compromising his friend’s position was a necessary evil as he called out to the human.

“Wake them, Moss, if you are able. Wake them and make them move before this whole places caves in upon us.”
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Old October 1, 2018, 07:54 PM   #65 (permalink)
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Moss watched on, mouth agape, as the two men grappled, and he flinched slightly when the blinded monk fell near his feet. The mystic stared at the sockets where the monk's eyes should have been, his own gaze widened in shock at the man's state. The other figure – Barthelme, perhaps – had fallen over in another direction, and the amnesiac found himself hesitating as Calanon reached down to help Father Quintus.

The stunned stupor that Moss had unwittingly stumbled into as he hid in the shadows was shattered as the ceiling threatened to do likewise, and he spun to face Xavier as the ghost's words reached his ears.

A quick nod followed in Calanon's direction, and then he was moving, scrambling across the room as quickly as possible, his feet slipping across the small rocks of debris and trying to find purchase as he rushed across the room. He hurried towards the group of monks, even as he realised the futility of attempting a rescue.

There are too many...

”Xavier, you must help us!” he pleaded, though how the ghostly novice might do such a thing was beyond him.

Moss grabbed at the nearest monk, his fingers gripping the man's habit as he tried to drag him away from the immediate danger that lurked all too terrifyingly above their heads.
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Old November 27, 2018, 05:48 AM   #66 (permalink)
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This was True,
It was after all really quite rare,
That Éclair knew who she was antagonising at any given moment,
Just as,
When push came to shove?
She really didn’t much care either so long as the world was that little bit more Interesting afterwards,
Right now?
Lots of Interesting?
Right now?
Lots of Run, Run, Running Away!
Certainly, never paid to hang around afterwards!
”Sorry Puppy!” Éclair sung out,
As she resumed her flight from the Dust Priest Monster Thing,
Sacrifices had to be made, and it wasn’t as if the Puppy was Her Were Uvak, and so?
Running Away Time!
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Old January 10, 2019, 03:00 PM   #67 (permalink)
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Calanon, Moss, and (Barthelme)

The man Moss had hesitantly identified as Barthelme seemed to have hit his head in his fall to the ground, and lay still and unmoving: whether he was the mad mystic or not remained a mystery, as he didn't reply to Moss' mental question.

But there was little time to figure that out as the roof of the cavern began caving in and Calanon and Moss turned their attention to the monks. "Yes, yes... we must... we must close the breach..." muttered Father Quintus as he staggered to his feet with Calanon's help. The injured monk leaned on Calanon heavily, his face a grisly, sight-less mask. Whether it was the monks injuries or something else, as Calanon touched Father Quintus he felt his skin get clammy and a prickling along his spine and nape, a preternatural whisper of knowledge that something was not quite right with the Father. The elf wasn't given to fear, but all his base animal instincts seemed to be screaming at him that the Father... the Father was not supposed to be alive. Was... not alive? He'd had a dagger and a crystal driven through his eyesockets and into his brain, after all.

Those animal instincts screamed at Calanon to let go and leave the Father to die in the imminent cave-in.

Moss, meanwhile, had jumped over to one of the other inert monks and began trying to lift him up. The monk didn't rouse and was a dead weight in the human's arms; trying to lift an unconscious body, Moss quickly realized, was much, much more difficult than lifting a conscious being would have been. While Xavier bent down and appeared to be trying to help, his ghostly hands just passed right through the other monk's body without any sort of impact at all. Nevertheless the young monk kept trying, apparently having once again forgotten that he was now a ghost. "I - I - oh feth! We need to get out now!"

Xavier's exclamation accompanied another audible crack in the ceiling and another shower of fine dust and rock. The roof was now completely unstable, and the adventurers had now run out of time. They had to get out of the cavern, at least, and hope and the rest of the system of underground tunnels held long enough for them to find their way out.

Moss would not have time to drag the monk he'd grabbed to the tunnel; it would take too much effort, and he was too far away.

And that wasn't even to mention the wave of bone-chilling fear that crashed into Moss and Calanon as Sylaphormes - whom they couldn't see, but whom they certainly still feared - broke through, into the cavern... fear that practically forced their feet back the way they'd come.

Barthelme has been written out of the thread; he has been rescued from the cavern by Sylaphormes. He has lost either the Pinnacle Crystal or Glinnaur. +1 xp in a relevant skill.


Éclair

Éclair ran, leaving puppy, First Abbott Emmett, and whatever else behind.

She had no trouble making her way back through the hallway and down the stairs. Her feet hitting the first floor, she felt a slight tremor underneath the soles of her shoes. It wasn't much, but it was enough to catch her attention as she ran.

From upstairs she heard the bang of a door bursting open, but she was well on her way out of there and... and.... was she going anywhere in particular??? She'd found herself back in the dining hall with the weird three-skulled statue of Ioannes/Jalat on one end; the kitchen she'd explored was on one side, and she recalled that there was a door down into a basement from there. Otherwise, from her previous explorations she knew that there wasn't much else to be seen on the ground floor.
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Old January 11, 2019, 02:40 PM   #68 (permalink)
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Moss could feel the terror that was already within him growing as he strained and struggled to pull the monk by his habit. The man was unable to help himself, however, and he barely shifted despite the mystic's strength. The dark wool of the robe contrasted against the human's white knuckles as he clutched at the fabric. Only his face was more pale - what little blood that had not already drained from his cheeks fled as Xavier's panicked words echoed in the room.

The young novice's hapless attempts to assist only accentuated the futility of the situation, and Moss knew he would have to abandon his doomed rescue of the monk.

That realisation was driven home by the dust and debris from above as the roof began to give way. With a departing glance sent in the direction of the masked figure nearby, the bearded blond was too desperately fleeing to care about whether or not the man was Barthelme, for his legs were moving before he could even tell what was happening.

He did try to direct them in Calanon's direction, so that he might join the elf's assistance of Father Quintus, even as his own boots slipped and tripped across the detritus that littered the cavern.

"Xavier!" he called over his shoulder even as terror threatened to take hold and force him to swallow his own words. "Can you show us the way out of here?"

Moss didn't wait for an answer, however, letting fear and adrenaline guide him and his companions towards the nearest exit.
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Old January 13, 2019, 02:01 PM   #69 (permalink)
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The urge to recoil from the man who clutched at him, who leant on him was almost too much to ignore, and Calanon suppressed a shudder as he looked upon the monk’s face. He wanted suddenly to push the man away, to do the unthinkable and just leave the him here to die as the ceiling fell down around him. Staggering slightly, he had begun to walk towards to the door that had admitted them into this place, but it was not fast enough, it was too slow.

Still earth and rock showered around them, and the elf fought against the fear that he always had in such places, that they would be buried, that the weight of the earth and stone above them would be too much and it would come crashing down. Only now he knew that it was not just his own paranoia and dislike of the underground; the threat was real, and he was already mumbling his apology as he slipped out of the clutches of Father Quintas.

“I’m sorry” he said, even as he attempted to pry the monks fingers from him. “..I’m sorry….I cannot” He was glad that the man had no eyes to look upon him with, for it were a reminder that this wasn’t natural, that it was no normal man he was leaving behind. The Monk should be dead already, and whatever they had stumbled across. Calanon was not sure he wanted to bring any part of it back with them.

“Forgive me” he muttered one last time, shooting a glance towards Moss as he backed away from Father Quintas and then ran for the tunnels, the fear that had been growing almost sweeping him away with it, so he could not think past anything other than getting out, getting away.
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