[Game Thread] V. The Darkening Dawn

[mountainbound]

The cold night passes without event, much to Dan's disappointment. A few hours before dawn the young wizard gets up to relieve his badder of half a bottle of brandy, and somehow has the sense to lay back down a few feet from Karla, gathering his heavy winter cloak about him and bundling a pile of leaves for a pillow. No one is awake to watch him.

The break of dawn comes and goes without much more than a glimmer of pale light shining down the corridor of the Ichvaali ruins. The party rests on a landing about thirty feet below the actual opening of the dolmen in the center of the mountaintop site, and while it was a blazing red morning outside, here beneath the ground, it's simply just a little less dark.

Karla rises first, her head still swimming from a night full of dreams. Mostly about a huge, shaggy beast with curling tusks longer than a man. It followed her wherever she led, keeping its distance, menacing with its sheer size. Of course, there was an odd undertone of sexual innuendo, but that was soon forgotten by the barbarian swordswoman, layered beneath more pressing matters. Like what to do next.

Next up was Rip, who immediately rises and climbs the stone stairs to the opening of the dolmen. There he looks about, perhaps fearing an attack by Olaf. His face is dark when he returns, as though disappointed at his inability to stay awake, given the danger of the previous night. "You do well with that blade. He spoke about you. Did you know that?" It was obvious the ranger-henchman of Olaf's could be referring to no one but his previous employer. He continues, addressing Karla. "He said you had fire. It just so happened he was trying to master Fire. Did he master you?" Rips eyes glint in the pale light of the cave. "You're better than your boyfriend there," he motions to Dan, who's still snoring softly on his leaf pile.

DM's Note Heal HP equal to your level, which is now 4, plus CON bonus.

[HenryLockwood]

"No-one's my 'master'."

Karla stands glaring into the darkness, daring it to contradict her. She doesn't look back over her shoulder at Rip; she can hear he's a step back from her, and she's got time to turn and draw a sword should it become necessary.

"Olaf and fire - I saw him get burned once. And I don't need a boyfriend."

Karla shifts her weight, right foot to left, left foot back to right, always on the balls of her feet. She spins, suddenly, turning to her right as the sword flashes out of its sheath. It's the new sword, the singing sword, the one that speaks in her dreams. Free them, let them go, cut them loose, cut them down, shred the bonds, shred the flesh the sword seemed to say. Now, as if Karla's arms are unwilling followers, she draws it - holding the short hilt in both hands, clumsily, right hand wrapped over the top of her left - and levels it, as if with an effort, at Rip. The tip of the blade points, wavering forward and back, just below his gut, in an unmistakably threatening direction.

"Don't try sneaking up on me again."

[Mal Radagast]

The earth cracks, deep chasms tearing open...grasping at its edge, staring down into that blackness, he is terrified. Or...not blackness, brightness. The earth cracks, light glaring out, growing, like a sun growing inside the world, growing too large for it. There is a young man, a boy, running. Skipping across the rifts in the skin of the world, laughing as he dances between them, until...a slip and a scream, swallowed up by the black. Or the sun.

Ach, well that's the way of dreams, isn't it? You can only remember things halfway, or two ways, or not at all.

Fahd screams for the boy in the dream, but he doesn't wake with a scream. He doesn't bolt upright, or leap awake, or any such thing. He grunts, clenching the ground to be sure it won't move on him, and heaves himself upward. A chill morning, which doesn't usually bother him, but on this one he clutches his cloak around him like a blanket, or a shawl. Gold embroidery shimmers.

"You don't master fire." His voice is morning-hoarse, but more than that. Gruff, old. Fahd feels old.

He rolls his eyes at the morning. He pauses. He does it again. Turning to face Rip and Karla, those sharp eyes narrow, grackle-feet crinkling at the corners. There's something there, behind Karla, or a part of her, but only when he's not looking. He's almost caught it, carefully, it in the corner of his eye...when the boy dashes by, in the other corner, laughing! Ibram! That was Ibram! He's all right! Fahd laughs, then - not feeling like an old man at all, but like a much younger boy.

He laughs again - somewhat uncharacteristic - as Rip shoots him an odd look. "It's going to be one of those days, I believe...so says the gleeman." With a long cat-stretch and a deep morning-mist breath, Fahd turns to survey his world. An old world, a young world...a slightly mad world. Well, it's always been that.

[Krimchee]

Hearing stirrings in the camp, Silas rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. After a few short moments, he sat up, knowing it'd be no use. Silas didn't remember his dreams often, but this one rolled around in his head and seemed to resist fading away as his dreams usually did. Deep down, he knew it was a bad sign, just another unavoidable reminder of how out of control this flaming adventure had become. He tried to ignore it, and stood up. He was stiff and sore from his injuries and sleeping on the ground, but he felt better than he had the night before. Gods, he thought, that's saying something isn't it? Raising his arm, he sniffed at his leathers. He spat. Silas could swear that he still smelt the stench of that gods cursed flaming sloth on his clothes.

Silas began his morning ritual of breaking camp. He checked his gear, re-packed his backpack so that the gear balanced properly and didn't rattle. He noticed the banter among the others, but ignored it. Or at least he tried to ignore it. It grated on his nerves actually. Without saying anything, Silas quietly went out into the daylight to inspect the day. Wordlessly, the wolf followed him. Noticing that made Silas smile, and took a little edge off his foul mood. Silas had not forgotten the dangers of the day before, so he was alert and quiet. He wanted a peek outside to make sure Olaf wasn't about to sneak up and flaming bugger them from behind.

Perception/Stealth Check Perception Dice Roll: 1d20+11 (13)+11 Total = 24 stealth Dice Roll: 1d20+8 (20)+8 Total = 28

[mountainbound]

Several members of the group make their way to the entrance at the top of Archeebald mountain. The wind is frigid, blowing shreds of cloud and obscuring visibility. Silas takes time inspecting the snow for tracks, but there's no sign of Olaf's return. It's a quiet morning, though the flow of cloud indicates more snow today.

"He hasn't come back," Rip says, "But he knows where we're at. You still feeling brave enough for the dark?" He looks from Silas to Fahd, skipping Dan, and last to Karla. "At least you got fire with you."

Having already decided the course the night before, there was not much more to do beside light a torch and begin the descent into the subterranian ruins of the Ichvaal. As you pass certain landings, archways covered in runes appear to either side. After passing a few of these, Dan finally asks, "Are we going to turn down one of these, or just keep walking down. Does anybody know where we're going?"

The answer, of course, was no. Rip says, "We've been moving in an eastern direction since we started -- that's generally the direction away from Jessup and back to Archeebald."

The ancient stair, tunneled from the earth, is eerily vacant. There is little debris, no bones or discarded items -- not even dirt. It's almost as though the steps were periodically cleaned. But by who? Ghosts of a departed civilization? Doubtful.

Dan's question about continuing on is soon answered when, at the next landing in the stairs, the party finds the arch leading further down has been destroyed by a massive stone that must have slipped from the ceiling. It was the first sign of a subsidence that you've seen in your travels through the tunnels. As with many such square landings above, each side has an arch: the one in front is crushed, the one behind leads back up. Through the right arch is gaping darkness, through the left, more darkness.

As you stand considering your options, the wolf at Silas's heel pads over to the left arch. After a few seconds of sniffing, he gives a low growl, hackles rising, and slowly steps backward, staring into the darkness beyond the light of Dan's torch.

[HenryLockwood]

Karla has been silent much of the morning. This isn't unusual; she tends to speak only when spoken to anyway; but today there's a feeling of deliberate silence that isn't there at other times. She watches Rip, warily, never letting him out of her sight. Though this frequently means bringing up the rear, Karla seems content with that.

"Whatever's bloody down there, the wolf doesn't like it."

She gestures at the left arch. "I can't smell it, but I'm no wolf. Is it something that's going to come out after us? Should we take it to pieces early?"

[Mal Radagast]

"At least you got fire with you."

Shaking the sleep off, the spirits settled back on padded haunches, Fahd can barely hear the old man chuckle at that, that elder-lion purr of a chuckle. He can feel the wry amusement, though, perhaps more because he shares it. So many plays on the same word...typical Ichvaali humor.

Fahd pauses. He shakes his head, spirits and dreams like cobwebs, clinging. As the others pack up in the dawny silence, he sheds cloak and coat, rolls up his linen shirtsleeves, and yawns again.

Water...a splash of water would be the thing. Without even thinking that it might be somewhat counterproductive, the old-young spiritchaser asks the Lynx to find some fresh water. A bobcat drops from a nearby tree, tussling with something on the ground. The something runs to Fahd, scrabbled right up his leg, cheeping, into his arms. So close, it's impossible for a shaman to keep contact away - the new spirit floods into his mind, swimming-dancing, playful, washing fire and ashes and broken earth all away. Otter...from the Old Word oter...water. The name is the thing, isn't that what Aisha used to say? The name is the thing.

The bobcat saunters away, mission accomplished, as the ambitious otter leaps off after it, looking to play. With otter still on his mind, Fahd cups his hands and Create Watersplashes fresh riverwater onto his face. The only purr in the back of his mind now is a contented Lynx. He sighs, feeling utterly himself. Whoever that is.

Shrugging into the rich-warm cloak, then his battered leather coat, he follows the party quietly down to the darkness. Plenty of silence to go around, in the dark this morning. After yesterday's events, he supposes, it isn't much of a morning for conversation.

"Does anybody no where we're going?" Good question. "...back to Archeebald." Is that where we wish to be? Fahd holds his tongue, for the moment.

At the broken passage, he smiles. At the low-growling wolf, he frowns. Almost...almost, he reaches out to the Wolf-spirit in the wolf......sniffing, poking around the edges, curious for conversation. He decides, after all, not to.

Peering off into the black, he shakes his head again. Stooping to pick up a bit of rubble, Fahd casting Lightbrushes it off on his cloak. He tosses the now-flickering-warm rock off down the dark passage.

 

An odd post...this went through many iterations. Is it still a little muddled?

Also,

Dice Roll:

d20+10

(7)+10

Total = 17

Perception seems in order!

[mountainbound]

Rip unsheathes his sword, seeming to agree with Karla's strategy of early attack. As the wolf growls and returns to Silas's side, Fahd somehow heats a stone and tosses down the gaping tunnel to the left. You watch as the slightly glowing stone bounces and sparks off the walls of the passage, disappearing perhaps down another stair some distance away. But there's a hint of movement glimpsed in the bouncing light of the stone as well. Something small, and fast.

Green eyes stare out at you from the tunnel, then... a lynx appears. Tufted ears make long shadows behind the animal, and Dan is first to exclaim: "How'd she get down here? I thought the cat didn't follow you outside of the woods." After having spent several months together, the young wizard had had ample opportunity to talk with the spiritchaser about his connection with the lynx spirit.

Rip doesn’t seem to care about the specifics. "Well, that solves that mystery," he grunts, sheathing his sword again. "Which way to go now?"

Still next to Silas, the white wolf continues to growl, perhaps on edge in the tunnels. It was, after all, the wolf's first time in the ruins, indeed his first real day with his new human companions.

DM's Note The four (or six) of you are standing on one of the countless landings encountered along the descending stair. It's a 4-way intersection, and as such is larger than most of the landings: a square about 25' wide with an 6' wide arch opening in each direction. The arch to the left, where the lynx emerged, is made of the same impeccable dry-set stone blocks as the arch to the right. The only difference between the two was a rune carved into the stone at the top of each. On the left, a backwards “R” with a long tail, on the right, a cross with a dot in each quadrant. The collapsed arch in the middle had lost its rune-block in the subsidence. Likely the stone was among the thousands of cracked stone fragments scattered at your feet.

[HenryLockwood]

"What are those bloody shapes?"

Karla gesticulates at the runes, the tailed shape and the cross. She tries to face both archways at the same time, guarding against whatever may emerge, and it was clearly only an effort of will that kept her from lashing out at the lynx.

"And if that's your cat, Fahd, will it tell you what's down there?"

[Krimchee]

Seeing the lynx made Silas breathe out an involuntary sigh of relief. Slowly, he let the bow fall to his side. The wolf's growling brought him up short though, and Silas quietly reached out a hand to comfort his new-found companion. Remembering how they'd communicated in the past, Silas concentrated, willing his thoughts to the wolf. Suddenly, he felt the connection spring to life between them. "Peace.....the cat is a friend and has traveled with us before. It will do us no harm."

To his companions he said, "I can hear water coming from the right. Usually following water is a good way to go in the forest or the mountains above ground, but down here...." To the wolf he asked, "We're trying to decide which way to go....I hear water coming from the right...but it doesn't tell me much."

With a sudden moment of inspiration, Silas wondered if he could communicate with the Lynx as well. What the hell, he thought. Let's give it a shot. Silas concentrated, willing his thoughts towards the Lynx. "Lynx, what can you tell us about the tunnels ahead?"

[Mal Radagast]

Green eyes in the flickering light...Fahd cocked his head to one side, curious. The eyes twitched to mirror his motion, and he imagined he felt, or almost felt, an amusement. Slowly the eyes grew closer, until the grey form grew up around them, picked out in the spotty dark. The wolf growled, as the lynx prowled up close enough to sniff - a quick-batted paw and a snapped-wolf-jaw, and the lynx was across the clearing in a flash, curling behind Fahd's legs.

"How'd she get down here? I thought the cat didn't follow you outside of the woods."

He stares down in some wonder. "She doesn't...didn't." He looks up again, toward the still-warm stone casting shadows on its own down the corridor. "If I had to hazard a wild guess," he speculates, raising one wry eyebrow to the wizard, "I'd say she got down here from that way."

"Oh, fat lot of good that..." Dan grumbles.

Fahd chuckles.

"And if that's your cat, Fahd, will it tell you what's down there?"

"Hah!" The young cat-fellow almost chokes on his chuckle. Clearly, Karla is not a cat person. "She isn't my cat." He shakes his head, scratches at some scruff. "If anything, I'm probably her human."

Dan scoffs again. "Regular fount of knowledge, you are..."

Fahd is, however, too distracted to laugh this time. Crouching down on haunches, he runs his hand over a corner of stone, at a patch of black which has attracted the attention of the lynx. At least we brought fire...hah. Perhaps we weren't the only ones. He frowns.

[HenryLockwood]

"What's that?"

Karla notices Fahd's attention to the stone. Now she sees the black corner. Fahd's in the way, so she can't tell if it's new or old, burn or mold to you Americans mould; but it's not what she'd have expected here. It could be worse than either... they used to talk about the "shadows that melt the flesh", back the other side.

In a flash, Karla's sword is in her hand again; she slinks tensely over to the left arch. "We need to get out of here!"

[mountainbound]

Rip bends to inspect the blackened areas on the stone. As Karla whips her sword out, the grizzled old ranger chuckles. "Don't get your pantaloons in a wad," he smirks, muttering to Silas standing nearby, "though by the looks of her, she probably goes commando."

"These marks are old, nobody's been down here since... who knows?" Rip says. With a scoff, he tears off a sticky chunk of tobacco from his pack and stuffs it in his cheek.

Given your distance below ground (several hundred feet), the air is comfortable, if not warm, and Dan is just finishing tying his threadbare cloak to his pack. Amazingly, he takes not one swig of the brandy contained within. Coming to inspect the marks after Rip, he says, "That's odd. Hey Si, you remember that tree we saw on the banks of the Yakawanna -- the day we pulled the canoe over and met..." he pauses, looking hesitantly at Rip, "the day we met Isaiah? There was a tree there that was all burned up. Wasn't lightning, because it came from the side. This kind of looks the same..."

But Silas is too busy concentrating, for the moment at least, to respond to his friend. Reaching out with hitherto-fore untapped arcane power, the young bowman sends a tenuous missive to the big cat, and to his surprise, gets an answer. Terse, but a response non-the-less. From behind Fahd, the Lynx spirit purrs, green eyes glaring out at the white wolf.

DM's Note Still waiting on which direction the group will head in.

[Mal Radagast]

Standing, still stretching sleep from his limbs, Fahd weighs the ways. The direction lynx just sauntered from is probably safe. After all, no sign of a fight on her. So of course, she wanders off the other way...

Fahd sighs. Looking from the blackened stone, down the darkened corridor, and back and back...finally the spiritchaser, shaking his head, lives up to his name. Pausing only to grab another stone and Light...but keep it covered a bit so as not to throw off Lynx's darkvision?warm it on his cloak, he follows. That old-man piece of him voices grumpy reservations, but the little-boy laughter drowns them out. A cat cannot help his curiosity, after all.

Still...he pauses only so many steps along. This place...these places...hearing Dan speak stirs memories, not all his own, yet all in his keeping. Standing half in the shadow, he chuckles back at Rip. "The marks are old."

[Krimchee]

Silas eyed Fahd like he had two heads. He'd grown to accept the spirit man over the last weeks, he was good in a bind. But times like this he wondered whether the man was bloody daft. He talks to flaming ghosts, what'd you expect? Briefly, he paused to examine the marks. The bloody well were old. "What's so funny, spirit man?" he said to Fahd, annoyed. "Dan's right. And if the two are bloody well connected then we'd better stop giggling and get the feck out of here."

"I say we go right."