“Hold still”, Lyssa says and she presses the wand of healing into the wound. Oslando grinds his teeth to hold in an agonizing scream. Within the blink of an eye, the knobbly tip of the rod closes the wound as a warmth spreads throughout his body. She notices how one of the white stripes quickly turns into the same blue as the rest of the stave.
(20 versus AC) (16 versus AC) (13 versus AC)
Merodius, observing the nearing vindicator, turns to his allies and runs towards them. Right before he gets the chance to get near them, the acolyte quickly stabs him in the back before getting out of reach.
“I’ll take care of the big one”, Mero shouts, still rushing towards the vindicator, slightly limping with pain. “Bruq, go for the shield, now!”
As the satyr follows his command, Alexander focuses his crossbow on the acolyte, realizing his bolts won’t penetrate the vindicator’s thick armor. The projectile whistles shortly as it travels through the air and makes a squishing sound as it enters his body, killing the foe.
With a swing of his glaive Bruq tries to drive the soldier back, but the vindicator knocks his weapon away with his shield, leaving himself exposed just long enough for Merodius to attack. The vindicator looks down to see a weird construction with a white mask below its pointy head. He can read the mixture of bravado and anger from his artificial face.
“Get away from my friends!”
(Spell save DC 14 versus constitution 8)
The sorcerer claps his hands together and a loud, thundering sound echoes throughout the entire church. A wave of high pressure bashes against the shining armor. The vindicator tries to resist the burst of energy and stand his ground, but he gets pushed back for about ten feet, his armor rattling and his shield blown away.
(23 versus AC)
Oslando doesn’t give the vindicator any time to recover and runs towards him. Before his opponent can react, the half-elf has burrowed his knife deep in his neck. With all of his body weight he pushes him to the ground and stabs his shortsword through the helmet’s vizier.
As a nasty gurgling sound slowly dies away behind the mask, blood gushes from beneath the horned helmet. He pulls his weapons back in a slashing movement and their last enemy collapses.
Death and bloodspill fill the air with a gloomy, metallic taste as they recover themselves.
“Thank you, Lyssa. He really got me there.” He looks at the metal around his wounded shoulder. He can see a fully healed scar hidden beneath the red smudge. “If no one objects, I would like to claim the black sword that gave me this. It will remind me to not rush into battle.” Oslando puts his knife back on his belt and picks up the longsword, swinging it through the air from different angles to test his skill.
Bruq walks up to him. “Also”, he satyr says, “it apparently cuts through armor as if it isn’t there and that’s bloody convenient.” He taps on the cutting edge of the black sword, as if he’s a blacksmith instead of a cocky hunter.
“Looks good on you”, Mero tries to say enthusiastically, but they can all hear the pain in his voice he tries to suppress.
“Are you okay?” Lyssa looks worried.
He shakes his head as response to her question. He presses his white glove on one the wounds, but no blood leaves his body. “It’s a new sensation, but it is far from a pleasant one. Maybe you can lend me the staff of healing, please.”
As the siren walks towards the sorcerer, Alexander blocks her path. “That won’t be necessary”, he speaks and he turns towards Merodius. He gets down on both knees before him, lays his sceptre on the ground and presses his both hands against his chest. “Don’t speak about this, puppet. You did well.”
Struck with confusion, Mero experiences a warmth radiating from the palm of Alexander's hands and a faint blue light finds the source of the pain like a needle in a literal haystack. He sighs in relief and simply nods as a sign of gratitude.
“I’ll have the shield, in that case. No point in wasting perfectly good equipment. Anyone interested in the helmet befuddled with blood and brains?” The cleric picks up the tower shield, not nearly big enough to fully cover him. “No? Me neither.”
They walk up to the golden shrine, looking around to find where the escaped cultists have run off to, but they are nowhere to be seen.
“There must be a way to open the floor here”, Bruq says. “I saw them jump down.” He taps on different tiles on the floor with his polearm, but nothing seems to happen.
“Didn’t he shout to mess up the statues? We should inspect those.” Lyssa walks over to the four plain statues with Oslando, while Merodius and Alexander inspect the altar for details.
(Perception 9)
“The altar only shows four burning statues”, Mero says. “I can’t make anything else of it, really.” They turn towards the others, who are inspecting the stone figurines carefully to find an answer to this puzzle.
The first statue holds a plate with some dirt on it and, laying on the soil, they see a small seed. A name is engraved in the plate.
“Corellon”, Oslando reads aloud, before walking to the next statue. There they see a plate with a small tree grown from the earth, but it is leafless and almost lifeless as well.
“Raven Queen”, he says, this time more mumbling to himself than letting the others know what he is reading. The next plate holding figurine has a small tree risen from it, smaller than the previous one, but with more vitality left in it.
“Pelor.” He inspects the final plate, observing a full-grown tree with many leaves on it.
“Let me guess”, Lyssa says to him. “This one says Sehanine?”
The half-elf nods. “Correct.” They all line up, a few steps away from the scenery, and all look in different directions, trying to connect the dots.
Merodius rubs his hands together. “Boy, I love a good riddle.”
maandag 29 oktober 2018
woensdag 24 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.9: A Reflection of Angels
(17 versus AC)
“I’m not letting these undead things get in the way of what Hadriel promised me”, Lyssa says with one eye closed, aiming her blunderbuss at one of the nearing acolytes. A loud blast echoes throughout the church, almost deafening for anyone in hearing range, and small but sharp metal projectiles bury their way into his cold chest. His collapsing body doesn’t slow the other ones down as they just simply step on him, only eager to fulfill their command: kill the intruders.
(13 versus AC)
“We have to slow them down”, Mero shouts. The strange growling of the reanimated corpses makes his so-called skin crawl. As he puts his hand forward, a freezing energy forms around it. An icy beam of cold energy hits the one closest to them. The ray doesn’t kill him, but rigids his body, making every movement sound as a thin layer of frost being crushed under someone’s boot.
(Natural 20 versus AC)
The acolytes lash out with their grey hands, but before they can hit any of them, Oslando quickly runs up to one of them and cuts his head clean off. Blood only squirts out of the wounds for a second before it gets crystallized, looking like the crystal that killed him in the first place.
(22 versus AC)
The half-elf draws the attention of two of them and they shift their rage from his allies to him. Red shards grow out of their hands, but before both can strike him down, Bruq swings his glaive and divides one of their torso’s in two. A diagonal line starts under his arm and ends just above his hip on the opposite side. The top starts to slide off slowly, but before it is fully dislocated, it attaches itself again to his lower half with his crystallizing blood. Nevertheless, he still collapses, creating such a spectacle it draws Oslando’s attention for just a second too long.
(18 versus AC)
He tries to block his attacker by raising his weapons, but the piercing gem finds its way into his lower arm.
“Ah!”, he shouts as he pulls his arms back. He readies himself for another attack, but then sees something more worrying behind the others. “The other corpses!” He points with his dagger in the direction they came from, alerting his allies, just not in time.
(23 versus AC)
Merodius turns around, only to be stabbed in the shoulder.
“Help me!”, he exclaims. He does not bleed, but it hurts like hell. He sees another one behind his attacker, the one they took the key from.
(12 versus AC)
His cry for help draws the attention of Lyssa. She immediately shoots, but her accuracy isn’t that great as she turns. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck”, she curses as the pallets scrape the wall.
(19 versus AC)
Alexander is more worried about himself than the sorcerer. He aims his crossbow at the acolyte that got slowed down by Merodius, creating a hole where his left eye was. He grins and a subtle roar crawls its way out of his shapeshifted throat.
(23 versus AC)
The priest looks over his shoulder to see if the puppet is managing, but he looks fine. Mero has raised his hand upwards and a bolt of fire shoots out. No crystals grow out of the acolyte’s face as his skin burns away completely, scorching the wounds instantly.
(19 versus AC) (18 versus AC)
With only one of the blood cult minions remaining at the other side, the half-elf faces the real challenge of this fight: the cult’s vindicator, the real threat in shining armor. Oslando pushes away his tower shield, stabs him in the side with both weapons and tries to pull them through his body.
A muffled scream echoes within the helmet, but he doesn’t back down. He thrusts his shield at Oslando, stopping his attack, and he slashes with his ebony blade. It finds its way into the half-elf’s white flesh, dissecting the artery that runs along his collar bone, creating a small, jolting fountain of red wetness. His skin almost instantly turns pale as he drops his knife to cover the gushing wound. He stumbles a few steps backwards and is caught by Lyssa, as the vindicator closes in on him.
“I’m not letting these undead things get in the way of what Hadriel promised me”, Lyssa says with one eye closed, aiming her blunderbuss at one of the nearing acolytes. A loud blast echoes throughout the church, almost deafening for anyone in hearing range, and small but sharp metal projectiles bury their way into his cold chest. His collapsing body doesn’t slow the other ones down as they just simply step on him, only eager to fulfill their command: kill the intruders.
(13 versus AC)
“We have to slow them down”, Mero shouts. The strange growling of the reanimated corpses makes his so-called skin crawl. As he puts his hand forward, a freezing energy forms around it. An icy beam of cold energy hits the one closest to them. The ray doesn’t kill him, but rigids his body, making every movement sound as a thin layer of frost being crushed under someone’s boot.
(Natural 20 versus AC)
The acolytes lash out with their grey hands, but before they can hit any of them, Oslando quickly runs up to one of them and cuts his head clean off. Blood only squirts out of the wounds for a second before it gets crystallized, looking like the crystal that killed him in the first place.
(22 versus AC)
The half-elf draws the attention of two of them and they shift their rage from his allies to him. Red shards grow out of their hands, but before both can strike him down, Bruq swings his glaive and divides one of their torso’s in two. A diagonal line starts under his arm and ends just above his hip on the opposite side. The top starts to slide off slowly, but before it is fully dislocated, it attaches itself again to his lower half with his crystallizing blood. Nevertheless, he still collapses, creating such a spectacle it draws Oslando’s attention for just a second too long.
(18 versus AC)
He tries to block his attacker by raising his weapons, but the piercing gem finds its way into his lower arm.
“Ah!”, he shouts as he pulls his arms back. He readies himself for another attack, but then sees something more worrying behind the others. “The other corpses!” He points with his dagger in the direction they came from, alerting his allies, just not in time.
(23 versus AC)
Merodius turns around, only to be stabbed in the shoulder.
“Help me!”, he exclaims. He does not bleed, but it hurts like hell. He sees another one behind his attacker, the one they took the key from.
(12 versus AC)
His cry for help draws the attention of Lyssa. She immediately shoots, but her accuracy isn’t that great as she turns. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck”, she curses as the pallets scrape the wall.
(19 versus AC)
Alexander is more worried about himself than the sorcerer. He aims his crossbow at the acolyte that got slowed down by Merodius, creating a hole where his left eye was. He grins and a subtle roar crawls its way out of his shapeshifted throat.
(23 versus AC)
The priest looks over his shoulder to see if the puppet is managing, but he looks fine. Mero has raised his hand upwards and a bolt of fire shoots out. No crystals grow out of the acolyte’s face as his skin burns away completely, scorching the wounds instantly.
(19 versus AC) (18 versus AC)
With only one of the blood cult minions remaining at the other side, the half-elf faces the real challenge of this fight: the cult’s vindicator, the real threat in shining armor. Oslando pushes away his tower shield, stabs him in the side with both weapons and tries to pull them through his body.
A muffled scream echoes within the helmet, but he doesn’t back down. He thrusts his shield at Oslando, stopping his attack, and he slashes with his ebony blade. It finds its way into the half-elf’s white flesh, dissecting the artery that runs along his collar bone, creating a small, jolting fountain of red wetness. His skin almost instantly turns pale as he drops his knife to cover the gushing wound. He stumbles a few steps backwards and is caught by Lyssa, as the vindicator closes in on him.
donderdag 18 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.8: A Reflection of Angels
Ten rows of wooden benches are gathering dust in the church, all the way from the main entrance up to the golden altar where the voices are coming from. Throughout the whole building, massive paintings are covering the wall, all of demonic creatures fighting angelic beings. The room is well lit by the burning candles and the light that enters through the red stained glass windows. A few pillars are scattered throughout the room, supporting the roof, and creating ideal places to hide.
(Stealth 13 versus perception 11)
Although they only heard two voices, Bruq sees three people standing near the altar. He stealthily and slowly walks up to the nearest pillar, just ten feet away from them, as he tries to gather as much details about the talking cultists.
(Perception 22)
The woman is a dark grey and blackish gnome, a subrace he recognizes as a svirfneblin. These gnomes lack the finesse many other races have, having no calendar to keep track of time and living underground, far away from the civilized surface dwellers. She’s about three-and-a-half foot tall, dressed in a simple black and red robe and has a dagger on her belt. She has earrings in the form of mushrooms and some golden rings next to them. Based on these observations and the info gained during the eavesdropping, he concludes she’s some kind of magic user, probably a wizard.
The man commanding her is a human. He has light brown skin and a fire red beard and long hair tied into a knot. His chest is naked and his lean physique is decorated with the same red symbols as the church walls. He doesn’t seem to have any weapons on him, although his lower arms and shins are covered with spiked bands. A golden amulet hangs from his neck, resting between his pectoral muscles.
The silent cultist is fully plated in dark red armor. A helmet with curled horns on the side hides his face and most of his body is covered by the black tower shield he’s carrying. In his other hand he holds a long ebony sword.
Across these three figures, he spots four acolytes around the altar, all face down towards the floor and with the same magical red shard stuck in their body. He looks back at the others, meeting questioning eyes asking what he has observed.
(Intelligence 12)
He thinks about how he can make himself as clear as possible with an understandable sign language, realizing that they should have discussed this before he sneaked away. He holds up four fingers, continuing with moving his index finger along his neck and tipping his head to the side with closed eyes. After this, he holds up three fingers and holds up his shortsword, making small hostile movements.
“You’ll come with me”, the leader speaks, “and you’ll stay here. If you even have the slightest suspicion something's wrong, let me know immediately.”
Bruq signals his allies to attack. He couldn't let the cultists continue their unholy rituals. They quickly walk around the corner, creating a straight line of sight to attack.
(19 versus AC)
“Don’t forget to …”. The cult leader stops mid-sentence as he sees a satyr aiming directly at him and releasing an arrow. He turns away quickly, protecting his face, but this doesn’t prevent the projectile from piercing his left shoulder. “Gods be damned!”, he shouts. “I told you this would happen!” He pulls out the arrow and breaks it. “You’ll regret that, bastard!” He turns to Rowynna. “Go mess up the statues. I’ll give these mercenaries something to fight.”
(11 versus AC)
The cult leader takes a few steps forward. His wizard sidekick turns away from the battle, while the fully armored soldier goes to stand beside his master, blocking an incoming crossbow bolt with his shield. The head cultist pries into the wound of his shoulder and wipes his finger across the amulet, smudging it with his own blood. “Maka’an eratu neghep, zaraan virishek sezsjem!”
A blood red flare comes off of it and the crimson crystals break. They dissolve and enter the bodies of the murdered acolytes.
“Good luck with them, heroes”, he snarls sarcastically, walks up behind the altar and jumps down into an unseen area. The gnome follows.
The moment they want to move closer, facing the lone warrior guarding the shrine, the four corpses make short spastic movements. Their bones make unpleasant sounds as they stand up, turning their heads to the five invaders. They stand silently, looking at them with hollow ochre eyes, waiting what their next command is going to be. “Kill them all and kill them quickly.” The soldier finishes his order by bashing his sword against his shield, starting to advance into combat.
As the revived priests follow him, Bruq switches quickly from his bow to his trusted glaive, making a single statement that summarizes the whole situation. “Fuck.”
(Stealth 13 versus perception 11)
Although they only heard two voices, Bruq sees three people standing near the altar. He stealthily and slowly walks up to the nearest pillar, just ten feet away from them, as he tries to gather as much details about the talking cultists.
(Perception 22)
The woman is a dark grey and blackish gnome, a subrace he recognizes as a svirfneblin. These gnomes lack the finesse many other races have, having no calendar to keep track of time and living underground, far away from the civilized surface dwellers. She’s about three-and-a-half foot tall, dressed in a simple black and red robe and has a dagger on her belt. She has earrings in the form of mushrooms and some golden rings next to them. Based on these observations and the info gained during the eavesdropping, he concludes she’s some kind of magic user, probably a wizard.
The man commanding her is a human. He has light brown skin and a fire red beard and long hair tied into a knot. His chest is naked and his lean physique is decorated with the same red symbols as the church walls. He doesn’t seem to have any weapons on him, although his lower arms and shins are covered with spiked bands. A golden amulet hangs from his neck, resting between his pectoral muscles.
The silent cultist is fully plated in dark red armor. A helmet with curled horns on the side hides his face and most of his body is covered by the black tower shield he’s carrying. In his other hand he holds a long ebony sword.
Across these three figures, he spots four acolytes around the altar, all face down towards the floor and with the same magical red shard stuck in their body. He looks back at the others, meeting questioning eyes asking what he has observed.
(Intelligence 12)
He thinks about how he can make himself as clear as possible with an understandable sign language, realizing that they should have discussed this before he sneaked away. He holds up four fingers, continuing with moving his index finger along his neck and tipping his head to the side with closed eyes. After this, he holds up three fingers and holds up his shortsword, making small hostile movements.
“You’ll come with me”, the leader speaks, “and you’ll stay here. If you even have the slightest suspicion something's wrong, let me know immediately.”
Bruq signals his allies to attack. He couldn't let the cultists continue their unholy rituals. They quickly walk around the corner, creating a straight line of sight to attack.
(19 versus AC)
“Don’t forget to …”. The cult leader stops mid-sentence as he sees a satyr aiming directly at him and releasing an arrow. He turns away quickly, protecting his face, but this doesn’t prevent the projectile from piercing his left shoulder. “Gods be damned!”, he shouts. “I told you this would happen!” He pulls out the arrow and breaks it. “You’ll regret that, bastard!” He turns to Rowynna. “Go mess up the statues. I’ll give these mercenaries something to fight.”
(11 versus AC)
The cult leader takes a few steps forward. His wizard sidekick turns away from the battle, while the fully armored soldier goes to stand beside his master, blocking an incoming crossbow bolt with his shield. The head cultist pries into the wound of his shoulder and wipes his finger across the amulet, smudging it with his own blood. “Maka’an eratu neghep, zaraan virishek sezsjem!”
A blood red flare comes off of it and the crimson crystals break. They dissolve and enter the bodies of the murdered acolytes.
“Good luck with them, heroes”, he snarls sarcastically, walks up behind the altar and jumps down into an unseen area. The gnome follows.
The moment they want to move closer, facing the lone warrior guarding the shrine, the four corpses make short spastic movements. Their bones make unpleasant sounds as they stand up, turning their heads to the five invaders. They stand silently, looking at them with hollow ochre eyes, waiting what their next command is going to be. “Kill them all and kill them quickly.” The soldier finishes his order by bashing his sword against his shield, starting to advance into combat.
As the revived priests follow him, Bruq switches quickly from his bow to his trusted glaive, making a single statement that summarizes the whole situation. “Fuck.”
zondag 14 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.7: A Reflection of Angels
“Life”, he sighs as the padlock falls on the ground. The key disappears into thin air, together with the other locked chests.
Oslando stands up again and looks down at the chest. His companions gather around, curious what the unlocked box is hiding. They all see a bright and deep blue wand with six wide white stripes around it. It’s two feet long and has a knobbly end but a smooth beginning, making it easy to hold.
Lyssa takes it out, just able to wrap her hand around it. “What is this curious treasure?”, she asks, tilting her hand and turning the stave around.
(Religion 15)
With one quick look at it, Alexander knows exactly what she’s holding. “It’s a wand of healing. In the beginning of our civilizations, healing powers were preserved for those speaking for the gods: clerics, monks, paladins, all those kinds of do-gooders. As corruption didn’t exclude these weaklings in its all-consuming grasp, they became greedy. They started selling these wands to the people, earning money on their poorly treated diseases. The white stripes mark the charges of the wand. After depletion, they are pretty worthless, encouraging the mob to keep spending money they don’t have.”
Bruq looks at him with a cheeky smile. “I know you could do it”, he smirks. “You spoke five whole sentences without being a total dick to us!” All but one laugh out loud.
“You’re going to hold on to it?” Oslando observes the dangling rod on the left side of her belt, recounting the six white stripes and deducing the six charges of healing they have to spend.
“Maybe it’s wise for me to keep it, because you’re probably at the front line of battle, together with Bruq. While Mero and Alex cast spells, I have my hands free for healing, since my voice is my weapon.”
He agrees with her practical logics and walks to the door.
“Don’t use abbreviations of my name as if we are on a friendly basis.”
Bruq smiles to himself as Alexander says this, realizing the cleric’s helpful attitude couldn’t last forever.
“And what makes you think I’m not at the front line? I’m a warpriest. I bash skulls in myself instead of praying my enemies will die. It gets the job done faster.”
“Good point, Alexander”, the satyr says and he looks over at Oslando, whose hand wraps around the handle of the door. “No traps, right?”, he asks anxiously, stopping the half-elf’s motion.
(Perception 18)
He observes the handle and the post, but he sees nothing to worry about. “Don’t think so. Everything looks normal.” He opens it slowly and stops when it’s ajar. They hold their breath, but everything is silent at the other side. He opens it completely and steps in.
It’s a kitchen. Sitting on a chair, upper body on the table with arms spread out, they see the same thing as when they entered the church; another dead acolyte. The same kind of red crystal has pierced the backside of his robe, penetrating its way into his organs.
“Unfortunate”, the cleric mumbles. The bits of food on his plate have gone bad and grey mold has covered more than half of it. Many of the drawers are halfway open and cutlery, pans and plates are scattered around, as if they were thrown around in frustration during a quest to find something.
“What a mess”, the captain says with a sigh. “Don’t think to we have much to do here.” She moves to the next door, followed by Merodius, while the others stop next to the corpse.
(Perception 16)
“Also dead, without a doubt.” The half-elf wipes his hand clean against his pants. “No point in using the wand, I presume?”
The priest shakes his head. “No. Healing and resurrection are very different from one another. One reverses damage, the other reverses death.”
“Indeed”, the puppet says. “It’s evocation versus necromancy. Completely different.”
(Perception 13)
As the sorcerer wants to continue his explanation, he stops talking and raises his hand. “Stay quiet”, he says with a hushed tone. “I can hear something behind the door.”
(Stealth 19)
Lyssa carefully opens the door. They can hear two voices speak, one male and one female.
“I think I have nearly cracked the secret of the mirror, master”, a woman's voice echoes throughout the main hall of the church. “Although its use is clear, we seem to be missing the five stones to make it fully function. With some more time I think I can manipulate the blood crystals to fit the cavities.”
Bruq switches to his bow and walks up to the door.
(Investigation 4)
“I don’t know where they are exactly, but let’s use the element of surprise with our ranged weapons.” He opens the door a bit further and makes a step out of the room.
“Do you think I have time to spare, Rowynna? Do you think the angels aren’t planning the retrieval of their stolen relic? The answer is no. I need results.”
“But I have warded the church against angels, master. They can’t …”
“I know they can’t!” His voice thunders throughout the halls and startles the mysterious woman. “But angels have henchmen as well! They just rattle up whatever idiot will accept their “noble and worthy quest” and send them this way. We need to get back up.”
Lyssa draws her blunderbuss, Alexander a light crossbow and Merodius a slingshot.
“I’ll try to get a visual on them”, Bruq says, his bow at the ready. “If they spot me, we can all just start shooting immediately.”
They agree and the satyr leaves the room first, back against the wall, and peeks around the corner.
Oslando stands up again and looks down at the chest. His companions gather around, curious what the unlocked box is hiding. They all see a bright and deep blue wand with six wide white stripes around it. It’s two feet long and has a knobbly end but a smooth beginning, making it easy to hold.
Lyssa takes it out, just able to wrap her hand around it. “What is this curious treasure?”, she asks, tilting her hand and turning the stave around.
(Religion 15)
With one quick look at it, Alexander knows exactly what she’s holding. “It’s a wand of healing. In the beginning of our civilizations, healing powers were preserved for those speaking for the gods: clerics, monks, paladins, all those kinds of do-gooders. As corruption didn’t exclude these weaklings in its all-consuming grasp, they became greedy. They started selling these wands to the people, earning money on their poorly treated diseases. The white stripes mark the charges of the wand. After depletion, they are pretty worthless, encouraging the mob to keep spending money they don’t have.”
Bruq looks at him with a cheeky smile. “I know you could do it”, he smirks. “You spoke five whole sentences without being a total dick to us!” All but one laugh out loud.
“You’re going to hold on to it?” Oslando observes the dangling rod on the left side of her belt, recounting the six white stripes and deducing the six charges of healing they have to spend.
“Maybe it’s wise for me to keep it, because you’re probably at the front line of battle, together with Bruq. While Mero and Alex cast spells, I have my hands free for healing, since my voice is my weapon.”
He agrees with her practical logics and walks to the door.
“Don’t use abbreviations of my name as if we are on a friendly basis.”
Bruq smiles to himself as Alexander says this, realizing the cleric’s helpful attitude couldn’t last forever.
“And what makes you think I’m not at the front line? I’m a warpriest. I bash skulls in myself instead of praying my enemies will die. It gets the job done faster.”
“Good point, Alexander”, the satyr says and he looks over at Oslando, whose hand wraps around the handle of the door. “No traps, right?”, he asks anxiously, stopping the half-elf’s motion.
(Perception 18)
He observes the handle and the post, but he sees nothing to worry about. “Don’t think so. Everything looks normal.” He opens it slowly and stops when it’s ajar. They hold their breath, but everything is silent at the other side. He opens it completely and steps in.
It’s a kitchen. Sitting on a chair, upper body on the table with arms spread out, they see the same thing as when they entered the church; another dead acolyte. The same kind of red crystal has pierced the backside of his robe, penetrating its way into his organs.
“Unfortunate”, the cleric mumbles. The bits of food on his plate have gone bad and grey mold has covered more than half of it. Many of the drawers are halfway open and cutlery, pans and plates are scattered around, as if they were thrown around in frustration during a quest to find something.
“What a mess”, the captain says with a sigh. “Don’t think to we have much to do here.” She moves to the next door, followed by Merodius, while the others stop next to the corpse.
(Perception 16)
“Also dead, without a doubt.” The half-elf wipes his hand clean against his pants. “No point in using the wand, I presume?”
The priest shakes his head. “No. Healing and resurrection are very different from one another. One reverses damage, the other reverses death.”
“Indeed”, the puppet says. “It’s evocation versus necromancy. Completely different.”
(Perception 13)
As the sorcerer wants to continue his explanation, he stops talking and raises his hand. “Stay quiet”, he says with a hushed tone. “I can hear something behind the door.”
(Stealth 19)
Lyssa carefully opens the door. They can hear two voices speak, one male and one female.
“I think I have nearly cracked the secret of the mirror, master”, a woman's voice echoes throughout the main hall of the church. “Although its use is clear, we seem to be missing the five stones to make it fully function. With some more time I think I can manipulate the blood crystals to fit the cavities.”
Bruq switches to his bow and walks up to the door.
(Investigation 4)
“I don’t know where they are exactly, but let’s use the element of surprise with our ranged weapons.” He opens the door a bit further and makes a step out of the room.
“Do you think I have time to spare, Rowynna? Do you think the angels aren’t planning the retrieval of their stolen relic? The answer is no. I need results.”
“But I have warded the church against angels, master. They can’t …”
“I know they can’t!” His voice thunders throughout the halls and startles the mysterious woman. “But angels have henchmen as well! They just rattle up whatever idiot will accept their “noble and worthy quest” and send them this way. We need to get back up.”
Lyssa draws her blunderbuss, Alexander a light crossbow and Merodius a slingshot.
“I’ll try to get a visual on them”, Bruq says, his bow at the ready. “If they spot me, we can all just start shooting immediately.”
They agree and the satyr leaves the room first, back against the wall, and peeks around the corner.
dinsdag 9 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.6: A Reflection of Angels
“You guys are seeing this as well, right?” Lyssa slowly walks to the three wooden chests, covered with leather and metal parts and locked with a very obvious padlock.
“Yes, we’re seeing it, Lyssa. Strange phenomenon, but hopefully useful.” The half- elf stands beside her, reading the same message she is reading.
“Life. Death. Power.” The three words echo in their mind.
“Power”, Alexander says as he walks towards the chest, even though he doesn't fully comprehend the situation. “Always choose power.”
Bruq stops his movement with this spare hand. “We are deciding this together. No point in rushing this decision.” The satyr looks at the rest of the group. ‘Well… What do you all think?”
“Although I think we should consider each one, opening something with “death” written on it may be not the best of ideas.” They all seem to agree with Oslando’s way of thinking. “The key says to use it only in time of need”, he continues. “What if you were suffering so badly, the chest would make it all go away by giving you a sweet and painless way out, meaning death?”
(Investigation 5)
Bruq kicks carefully against each chest while saying this, but they don’t move. They don’t feel heavy or seem to have something in it.
“Power can mean it has a magical weapon”, Alexander reasons. “If we’re about to fight the cultists, isn’t it useful to have something like that?”
They remain silent, thinking and overthinking the situation. “That may be true”, Mero says, “but life could be something that can aid us if one of us falls in battle.”
“No use for a weapon if we’re too beaten up to wield it.” Mero and Oslando agree with Bruq, nodding their heads in response.
“But there's no need for healing if the weapon could defeat all of our enemies with ease.” Alexander's facial expression is stern, as if he is trying to lecture a couple of stubborn students. “Lyssa, you’re holding the key. What do you think?”
(Intelligence 3)
She remains silent for a couple of seconds. “I really have no fucking clue.”
Her blank, almost idiotic, staring, combined with her mouth half open, makes Bruq burst into laughter. “Then, in the name of my hairy backside, let someone else make the decision.” She, baffled by her inconclusiveness, stretches her arm, letting the key dance in front of her, waiting for someone to take it.
(Dexterity 17 versus dexterity 8)
Before Alexander even has the chance to move, Oslando’s fingers enclose the brass key. “Democracy”, he tells the priest and points her finger on Merodius. “What do you choose?”
“Life”, his reaction sounds without thinking too long.
“Power”, the priests says loudly, even before the half-elf gets the chance to fully point in his direction, “and I suggest the rest chooses this as well.”
“Life”, Bruq says, ignoring the advice of the grumbled cleric.
(Charisma 10 versus charisma 9)
Lyssa, confused and persuaded by the emotionless command of her dodgy companion, says “power”.
Her vision stays fixed on the chests, her line of sight partially blocked by the moving half-elf.
(Constitution 13)
“Guess it’s up to you, Oslando.” He doesn’t seem to respond to the monster hunter. His mouth moves, but he doesn’t speak. He repeats the rhyme in his head, trying to keep his mind clear, while the possible outcomes echo in his head.
“Oslando?”
He starts to mumble, louder with every word that rolls from his tongue. “Three chests hiding in front of my eyes, but only from one you may claim your prize.” He falls to his knees, hands trembling as he uses both to keep the key steady. “Unlock one to fulfill your desires and greed.” At this point, he is nearly shouting the lyrics, trying to remove one of the padlocks. “Word of advice: only to use when in need!”
(Arcana 20)
Lyssa kneels down beside him, whispering into his ear. He seems to calm down, as her bardic magic counters the mind clouding words of the magical key.
“Just put it in a lock and it will go away.” His head shakes less uncontrollably as he nods in agreement. She looks at him as he closes his eyes and unlocks a chest.
“Yes, we’re seeing it, Lyssa. Strange phenomenon, but hopefully useful.” The half- elf stands beside her, reading the same message she is reading.
“Life. Death. Power.” The three words echo in their mind.
“Power”, Alexander says as he walks towards the chest, even though he doesn't fully comprehend the situation. “Always choose power.”
Bruq stops his movement with this spare hand. “We are deciding this together. No point in rushing this decision.” The satyr looks at the rest of the group. ‘Well… What do you all think?”
“Although I think we should consider each one, opening something with “death” written on it may be not the best of ideas.” They all seem to agree with Oslando’s way of thinking. “The key says to use it only in time of need”, he continues. “What if you were suffering so badly, the chest would make it all go away by giving you a sweet and painless way out, meaning death?”
(Investigation 5)
Bruq kicks carefully against each chest while saying this, but they don’t move. They don’t feel heavy or seem to have something in it.
“Power can mean it has a magical weapon”, Alexander reasons. “If we’re about to fight the cultists, isn’t it useful to have something like that?”
They remain silent, thinking and overthinking the situation. “That may be true”, Mero says, “but life could be something that can aid us if one of us falls in battle.”
“No use for a weapon if we’re too beaten up to wield it.” Mero and Oslando agree with Bruq, nodding their heads in response.
“But there's no need for healing if the weapon could defeat all of our enemies with ease.” Alexander's facial expression is stern, as if he is trying to lecture a couple of stubborn students. “Lyssa, you’re holding the key. What do you think?”
(Intelligence 3)
She remains silent for a couple of seconds. “I really have no fucking clue.”
Her blank, almost idiotic, staring, combined with her mouth half open, makes Bruq burst into laughter. “Then, in the name of my hairy backside, let someone else make the decision.” She, baffled by her inconclusiveness, stretches her arm, letting the key dance in front of her, waiting for someone to take it.
(Dexterity 17 versus dexterity 8)
Before Alexander even has the chance to move, Oslando’s fingers enclose the brass key. “Democracy”, he tells the priest and points her finger on Merodius. “What do you choose?”
“Life”, his reaction sounds without thinking too long.
“Power”, the priests says loudly, even before the half-elf gets the chance to fully point in his direction, “and I suggest the rest chooses this as well.”
“Life”, Bruq says, ignoring the advice of the grumbled cleric.
(Charisma 10 versus charisma 9)
Lyssa, confused and persuaded by the emotionless command of her dodgy companion, says “power”.
Her vision stays fixed on the chests, her line of sight partially blocked by the moving half-elf.
(Constitution 13)
“Guess it’s up to you, Oslando.” He doesn’t seem to respond to the monster hunter. His mouth moves, but he doesn’t speak. He repeats the rhyme in his head, trying to keep his mind clear, while the possible outcomes echo in his head.
“Oslando?”
He starts to mumble, louder with every word that rolls from his tongue. “Three chests hiding in front of my eyes, but only from one you may claim your prize.” He falls to his knees, hands trembling as he uses both to keep the key steady. “Unlock one to fulfill your desires and greed.” At this point, he is nearly shouting the lyrics, trying to remove one of the padlocks. “Word of advice: only to use when in need!”
(Arcana 20)
Lyssa kneels down beside him, whispering into his ear. He seems to calm down, as her bardic magic counters the mind clouding words of the magical key.
“Just put it in a lock and it will go away.” His head shakes less uncontrollably as he nods in agreement. She looks at him as he closes his eyes and unlocks a chest.
vrijdag 5 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.5: A Reflection of Angels
The wall makes a deep slurping sound as it sucks the blood from Alexander’s hand. His face tries to hide the agony he is withstanding, but they can all tell he suffers. With his eyes pinched and his teeth clamped, his skin turns pale. After a good five seconds, the vacuum fades and he falls on his back.
“Are you alright?” Lyssa stands over him. His eyes are wide open, his irises shifting rapidly between blue and grey, as he gasps for air.
“I’m well enough”, he coughs and rolls onto his side to get up again.
“Well, whatever you did, Alexander, it worked. Look.” A deep red colour, darker than blood, smooths out the cavity of the ominous rune. The priest’s blood hardens rapidly. The clotted blood starts to crack and with every crack a muffled noise of scraping stones echoes from inside the church.
Right in front of their very eyes the rune begins to grow in size, pushing away the bricks surrounding it. A doorway is created, framed by bloodied stone, revealing the inside of the cursed sanctuary.
“Shall we?”, Oslando whispers, both weapons drawn and ready to strike down any foe coming for them.
He steps through the opening. Bruq follows him closely and so does the small Merodius Darvantigo. Dargothoth, still disguised, joins them after Lyssa helps him stand up.
“Thanks”, he says while grinding his teeth, as if politeness physically hurts him.
“It’s okay. Just don’t do to us what you did to our guide.” Her face shows a string of different emotions, but he mainly recognizes kindness and sadness.
“I will try to contain myself”, he sadistically jokes while grinding his teeth. “We’ll all be fine.”
(Perception 11)
They enter some kind of storage room, mostly filled with barrels, some whole, some broken, and a lot of functionless items. There’s a door to their left, luckily without another blood rune, and it forms the only exit from the macabre scene on their right.
A dead acolyte lies in the corner in front of four big paintings. His eyes are heavily covered by an excessive amount of dried blood. His mouth is subject to the same condition and, right were the heart of this human would be, a black and red crystalline object is stabbed.
“I guess this one isn’t a cultist”, Bruq states.
(Arcana 16)
“Don’t touch the dagger. It’s blood magic as well. It will kill you.” It’s strange to hear grim news in the friendly and slightly high pitched voice of the innocent sorcerer.
“Thanks for the heads up, Mero”, the half-elf says, taking a step back from the corpse.
“Alexander, do you know what religious order he belonged to?”
(Religion 21)
“He is just wearing plain brown robes, nothing to deduce from this”, he tells them, causing Bruq to sigh. “The paintings, however”, Alexander says in a louder voice, “give it away. They portray four different gods. Corellon Larethian is on the left, the god of that created the elves. The radiating man on the next painting is the god of sun and light, Pelor. Beside that is Sehanine Moonbow, the elven goddess of the moon. The one on the far right is the Raven Queen, self-proclaimed goddess of death.”
They look at the different symbols and deities illustrated on the canvas, most details hidden beneath layers of dust.
“They are, in the order of which they are standing, the gods of the spring, summer, autumn and winter. If I’m correct, this church is dedicated to the gods of the seasons.”
Oslando nods his head slowly. “Well, thank you for sharing”, he says without making his distrust audible.
(Investigation 18)
As they try to come up with a plan for when they run into the cultists, Lyssa kneels down near the cold corpse, noticing that his state of decay doesn’t match his body temperature.
“What do we have here?’, she whispers to herself with a joyful melody and removes the necklace of the acolyte.
“Lyssa, what are you doing?” Mero observes how the siren captain is dangling a thin string with a brass key hanging from it in front of her.
“He had this around his neck”, she says. She sounds absent. When she scratches some dried up blood away, it reveals a message to her: “to use when in need”.
(Wisdom 6)
She is startled and lets out a short but loud scream of panic.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” The satyr’s grip around the glaive tightens, ready to slay an invisible enemy threatening his companion.
“The key is singing to me”, she stammers during her hyperventilation. “It’s singing the same rhyme over and over again. It’s screaming! Make it stop!”
Bruq helps her release her grip on the metal. She calms down and holds it by the cord again.
“It stopped”, she sighs in relief.
(Arcana 12)
“It’s magical, alright”, Merodius says, although the information he provides seems to be unnecessary. “What did it say?”
She stares into nothingness as she recites the rhyme.
“Three chests hiding in front of my eyes,
but only from one you may claim your prize.
Unlock one to fulfill your desires and greed.
Word of advice: only to use when in need.”
And as she speaks these words, three wooden chests materialize out of thin air.
“Are you alright?” Lyssa stands over him. His eyes are wide open, his irises shifting rapidly between blue and grey, as he gasps for air.
“I’m well enough”, he coughs and rolls onto his side to get up again.
“Well, whatever you did, Alexander, it worked. Look.” A deep red colour, darker than blood, smooths out the cavity of the ominous rune. The priest’s blood hardens rapidly. The clotted blood starts to crack and with every crack a muffled noise of scraping stones echoes from inside the church.
Right in front of their very eyes the rune begins to grow in size, pushing away the bricks surrounding it. A doorway is created, framed by bloodied stone, revealing the inside of the cursed sanctuary.
“Shall we?”, Oslando whispers, both weapons drawn and ready to strike down any foe coming for them.
He steps through the opening. Bruq follows him closely and so does the small Merodius Darvantigo. Dargothoth, still disguised, joins them after Lyssa helps him stand up.
“Thanks”, he says while grinding his teeth, as if politeness physically hurts him.
“It’s okay. Just don’t do to us what you did to our guide.” Her face shows a string of different emotions, but he mainly recognizes kindness and sadness.
“I will try to contain myself”, he sadistically jokes while grinding his teeth. “We’ll all be fine.”
(Perception 11)
They enter some kind of storage room, mostly filled with barrels, some whole, some broken, and a lot of functionless items. There’s a door to their left, luckily without another blood rune, and it forms the only exit from the macabre scene on their right.
A dead acolyte lies in the corner in front of four big paintings. His eyes are heavily covered by an excessive amount of dried blood. His mouth is subject to the same condition and, right were the heart of this human would be, a black and red crystalline object is stabbed.
“I guess this one isn’t a cultist”, Bruq states.
(Arcana 16)
“Don’t touch the dagger. It’s blood magic as well. It will kill you.” It’s strange to hear grim news in the friendly and slightly high pitched voice of the innocent sorcerer.
“Thanks for the heads up, Mero”, the half-elf says, taking a step back from the corpse.
“Alexander, do you know what religious order he belonged to?”
(Religion 21)
“He is just wearing plain brown robes, nothing to deduce from this”, he tells them, causing Bruq to sigh. “The paintings, however”, Alexander says in a louder voice, “give it away. They portray four different gods. Corellon Larethian is on the left, the god of that created the elves. The radiating man on the next painting is the god of sun and light, Pelor. Beside that is Sehanine Moonbow, the elven goddess of the moon. The one on the far right is the Raven Queen, self-proclaimed goddess of death.”
They look at the different symbols and deities illustrated on the canvas, most details hidden beneath layers of dust.
“They are, in the order of which they are standing, the gods of the spring, summer, autumn and winter. If I’m correct, this church is dedicated to the gods of the seasons.”
Oslando nods his head slowly. “Well, thank you for sharing”, he says without making his distrust audible.
(Investigation 18)
As they try to come up with a plan for when they run into the cultists, Lyssa kneels down near the cold corpse, noticing that his state of decay doesn’t match his body temperature.
“What do we have here?’, she whispers to herself with a joyful melody and removes the necklace of the acolyte.
“Lyssa, what are you doing?” Mero observes how the siren captain is dangling a thin string with a brass key hanging from it in front of her.
“He had this around his neck”, she says. She sounds absent. When she scratches some dried up blood away, it reveals a message to her: “to use when in need”.
(Wisdom 6)
She is startled and lets out a short but loud scream of panic.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” The satyr’s grip around the glaive tightens, ready to slay an invisible enemy threatening his companion.
“The key is singing to me”, she stammers during her hyperventilation. “It’s singing the same rhyme over and over again. It’s screaming! Make it stop!”
Bruq helps her release her grip on the metal. She calms down and holds it by the cord again.
“It stopped”, she sighs in relief.
(Arcana 12)
“It’s magical, alright”, Merodius says, although the information he provides seems to be unnecessary. “What did it say?”
She stares into nothingness as she recites the rhyme.
“Three chests hiding in front of my eyes,
but only from one you may claim your prize.
Unlock one to fulfill your desires and greed.
Word of advice: only to use when in need.”
And as she speaks these words, three wooden chests materialize out of thin air.
woensdag 3 oktober 2018
Chapter 1.4: A Reflection of Angels
They follow the hunched Bruq, who inspects the disturbances in the grass, resisting the urge to eat the grass as a stereotypical satyr would do.
“These aren’t your typical plants, are they?” Lyssa, knowing more of water than land, notices the oddly vibrant colours of the petals. They form a strong contrast with the dried brown and black flowers of those with a damaged stem. “Mero, you said they were magic. Are they dangerous or could we pick them? You never know when a little extra magic could be useful.”
(Arcana 15)
“They seem harmless. I don’t think these plants have magical properties. I rather think that the magic coming from the ground the church is built on affects them.”
She plucks a flower and the brightness of the plant immediately fades.
“Well, so much for that plan”, she says as she crushes the dried plant and releases the dead bits to be taken away by the chilling wind.
“It’s not really a big church”, Alexander states, inspecting the signs drawn on the black wall. They all seem so trivial in his eyes compared to the one that utterly destroyed the descendant of Thrones. They hear him, but choose to ignore him.
Bruq points at the ground. “Do you see the absence of grass here? Someone has been scuffling around. After this point, it stops. Something must be here.”
(Perception 17)
“Like blood mixed with dirt? I bet it’s the same as on the wall.” Oslando’s words shift their attention from the ground to the smudged stones of the church. This bloody mess is different than the painted symbols. A strange rune is carved into the wall, excessively covered with dried blood all around it. Strangely, the notches in the stone seem to be completely clean.
“Well, isn’t this curious?”, Lyssa asks. “There’s more blood spilled on here than I have in my entire body. Mostly because my body holds more wine than blood, but even if that wasn’t the case… This looks dangerous. It’s exciting.”
They all come closer, inspecting if they recognize the symbol from anywhere. A horizontal stripe is connected to three shorter, vertical stripes pointing upwards, all evenly distributed along the horizontal base. At the end of each vertical stripe, a circle is attached.
(Wisdom 22)
“I recognize it”, Alexander says slowly, making the rest of them look at him with questions glowing in their eyes. “It’s part of the big symbol we saw at the front of the church. It was drawn in one of the smaller circles.”
Oslando nods, barely visible. “Good spotting.” As they’re all staring, the expression of Mero’s mask changes.
(Arcana 21)
“It’s a blood rune”, the sorcerer says. “It sends out the same energy as I felt earlier in my life, in the home of my former master.” He presses his glove against the stone. “It’s used as a protection spell. It’s a lock that demands a sacrifice if one wants to see what it hides. It’s not something to mess around with. It could get a caster killed if they make even a minor mistake while carving it. This one seems rather… perfect.”
They look at him, partially flabbergasted about the grim message this seemingly innocent being tells them. Now they know for sure. Mero is not to be trifled with.
“Why did your master practice blood magic in his home?”, Bruq asks, scraping the dried up red from the wall with his glaive, trying to see if he can activate the rune with the already spilled bodily fluids.
“Former master”, he speaks with a cold voice. “Since I am a construct, I have no blood. He ensured I could never find things I wasn’t supposed to find. It peaked my curiosity, of course, but the only way to activate it, was through him. He would never let me see it.”
“So, whose blood are we going to put on it?” The captain’s question visibly raises the eyebrows of the other party members. “We want to go inside, right? I think this is a safer option than using the front door. Why else would the cultists use this when they occupy the church?”
“I would do it, but, as I said, I don’t have blood like you do”. The puppet speaks with an uplifted tone, giving away that he is very pleased with this outcome.
“Of course you would love to do it”, Alexander sarcastically says. “Do you have any idea how much blood it needs? What the after effects are of using this rune?”
Merodius takes another look at the magical lock. “The elf used it multiple times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t think he had more blood in his body than you do.” They look at one another and they remain silent.
(Sleight of hand 6)
Alexander reaches for the dagger on Oslando’s belt, but the half-elf is faster. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The cleric sighs and flips his sceptre. “I’m fixing our problem”, he explains with a stoic voice, as he slides the sharp nail at the bottom of his weapon across his hand and presses his bleeding palm against the blood rune.
“These aren’t your typical plants, are they?” Lyssa, knowing more of water than land, notices the oddly vibrant colours of the petals. They form a strong contrast with the dried brown and black flowers of those with a damaged stem. “Mero, you said they were magic. Are they dangerous or could we pick them? You never know when a little extra magic could be useful.”
(Arcana 15)
“They seem harmless. I don’t think these plants have magical properties. I rather think that the magic coming from the ground the church is built on affects them.”
She plucks a flower and the brightness of the plant immediately fades.
“Well, so much for that plan”, she says as she crushes the dried plant and releases the dead bits to be taken away by the chilling wind.
“It’s not really a big church”, Alexander states, inspecting the signs drawn on the black wall. They all seem so trivial in his eyes compared to the one that utterly destroyed the descendant of Thrones. They hear him, but choose to ignore him.
Bruq points at the ground. “Do you see the absence of grass here? Someone has been scuffling around. After this point, it stops. Something must be here.”
(Perception 17)
“Like blood mixed with dirt? I bet it’s the same as on the wall.” Oslando’s words shift their attention from the ground to the smudged stones of the church. This bloody mess is different than the painted symbols. A strange rune is carved into the wall, excessively covered with dried blood all around it. Strangely, the notches in the stone seem to be completely clean.
“Well, isn’t this curious?”, Lyssa asks. “There’s more blood spilled on here than I have in my entire body. Mostly because my body holds more wine than blood, but even if that wasn’t the case… This looks dangerous. It’s exciting.”
They all come closer, inspecting if they recognize the symbol from anywhere. A horizontal stripe is connected to three shorter, vertical stripes pointing upwards, all evenly distributed along the horizontal base. At the end of each vertical stripe, a circle is attached.
(Wisdom 22)
“I recognize it”, Alexander says slowly, making the rest of them look at him with questions glowing in their eyes. “It’s part of the big symbol we saw at the front of the church. It was drawn in one of the smaller circles.”
Oslando nods, barely visible. “Good spotting.” As they’re all staring, the expression of Mero’s mask changes.
(Arcana 21)
“It’s a blood rune”, the sorcerer says. “It sends out the same energy as I felt earlier in my life, in the home of my former master.” He presses his glove against the stone. “It’s used as a protection spell. It’s a lock that demands a sacrifice if one wants to see what it hides. It’s not something to mess around with. It could get a caster killed if they make even a minor mistake while carving it. This one seems rather… perfect.”
They look at him, partially flabbergasted about the grim message this seemingly innocent being tells them. Now they know for sure. Mero is not to be trifled with.
“Why did your master practice blood magic in his home?”, Bruq asks, scraping the dried up red from the wall with his glaive, trying to see if he can activate the rune with the already spilled bodily fluids.
“Former master”, he speaks with a cold voice. “Since I am a construct, I have no blood. He ensured I could never find things I wasn’t supposed to find. It peaked my curiosity, of course, but the only way to activate it, was through him. He would never let me see it.”
“So, whose blood are we going to put on it?” The captain’s question visibly raises the eyebrows of the other party members. “We want to go inside, right? I think this is a safer option than using the front door. Why else would the cultists use this when they occupy the church?”
“I would do it, but, as I said, I don’t have blood like you do”. The puppet speaks with an uplifted tone, giving away that he is very pleased with this outcome.
“Of course you would love to do it”, Alexander sarcastically says. “Do you have any idea how much blood it needs? What the after effects are of using this rune?”
Merodius takes another look at the magical lock. “The elf used it multiple times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t think he had more blood in his body than you do.” They look at one another and they remain silent.
(Sleight of hand 6)
Alexander reaches for the dagger on Oslando’s belt, but the half-elf is faster. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The cleric sighs and flips his sceptre. “I’m fixing our problem”, he explains with a stoic voice, as he slides the sharp nail at the bottom of his weapon across his hand and presses his bleeding palm against the blood rune.
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)