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Chapter Seven: Melshaef's Tree and the Crown of Chains

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Not open for further replies.
HP: 52


Initiative: n/a


Spells per day/remaining: 4/4


Active spells: n/a


Active effects: n/a
Otiorin was not outwardly fazed by the corpse's sudden revival, but within he recoiled in superstitious fear. By the Eldar, what sorcery does that? He tooka step back, turning his gaze once more to the forest around them. Only at the suggestion of bringing Bria here did he speak, "You intend to expose Bria to-", he began, then paused, "Never mind."


He frowned, then ran to one of the largest trees in the clearing and nimbly scaled it, finding a vantage point on one of the upper sturdier limbs from which to watch over the clearing across his bow.


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Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)
Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:15 a.m.
Weather: Building cloudy skies with cold winds.
Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.
Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.

The wind blows through the trees. The trees answer with rustling leaves. It is the corpse that acts as it should not.

Though the bloodstained thing remains as still as one should, there is, every minute or so, a touch of movement from the thing's lips... "Mielikki... please..." Those eyes do not close at Bren's touch. Instead they remain open and aghast in a most unholy way, held in the grip of terrible unlife. Bren has seen enough death in his lifetime to know that the soul of this man is not yet gone. Something keeps him here. Here, instead of Heaven where the Goddess of the Forest would have him. Indeed, this knowledge is clear to all of the present Wanderers, though they each come by it differently.

One Wanderer in particular comes by this knowledge through familial means. Luna remembers well her brother, Alec, when he lived. She remembers his dreams were just as potent as hers. With her thoughts toward necromancy come the memories of her and her middle brother and how they would compete in friendly fashions. "So your fires can burn the living," Alec would taunt, " but my magic can alter the course of a man's very soul..." In the end, it was Alec's own soul that was altered. While the casting of Necromancy and Divination spells are beyond Luna, being the Evocationist that she is, the theory and reading of such matters are anything but. Yet Bren's words give cause to haunting feelings inside Luna's heart...

Bren says, "There's some kind of mark on this poor man, like the mark on the warg's footprints."

For Luna to make sense of the situation, she will have to overcome her very human and very natural fear of approaching something that should, by all rights, not be moving at all... Luna knows just enough about the often misunderstood and easily misunderstandable art of working with the dead.

Does she approach to see the mark for herself?

Vardadraug looks from Bren to Wolf as Bren makes his request. Pecker, on the other hand, begins squawking up a storm when the dead man moves, for what animal can stay at peace when a scene as grisly as this is at work? Wolf will need to calm the excitable hunting falcon down if Pecker is to be of use, for the brown and white has never been well when undead are at hand.

As for Otiorin, who like his ancestors of countless years back, takes to the trees and what they can provide him, there is much to be seen. Though the fifty-foot climb is not a difficult one for a man of his skills, nor does it stress his body as much as it would have but a week ago, the half elf finds himself near the highest branch that will support him. The climb is not without reward. For there, across the trees caressed by the invisible hands of the winds, is the sight of countless other trees. He can see the great cut in them that makes up the Road of Kings to his west and to the northeast... aye... that is where his eyes come to stop. For what half elf of any generation or background would not stop and gape at the sight of two hairy giants, ugly beyond compare, and towering among the oaks and pines?

The pair move through the trees, though at a distance of perhaps half a mile. Too far to hear, yet something in Otiorin feels as if he is not nearly far enough from the colossal, horrid brutes. Something else comes clear to Otiorin's mind. One does not have to be a Formorian giant from the Hunderhills to recognize that humanoid body language shared by all such similar creatures. They move slowly, eyes down, hands down - like creatures in search of something important...

What now do the Wanderers in Shandra's Evergreen do?
 
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Luna has seen dead men before; but not one like this. "Bren, show me the mark. I may recognize it, and what it means, and how we can release this poor man's soul to move on."
 
Bren warily shows Luna the mark (your storyteller has asked Bren's player and gotten a "yes"). =)


Luna sees the black and red mark inside the cadaver's throat. It is stinking and utterly disgusting, but with revulsion comes revelation. The mark is about the size and shape of a gold coin. The bloodied thing bears the design of a scar-like pentagram upon it. It seems like something placed inside the man's throat after it was torn open. Upon closer examination, there appear to be "marks upon the mark"; the coin-shaped item is moving with activity, however slightly. In fact, with further scrutiny, Luna sees that the coin-thing is not entirely whole. There are signs of chewing on its edges as if it is being slowly devoured by something... It is only a matter of time until it is fully consumed.


It is then that Luna's time in study pays off. She remembers that, in life, Alec would refer to such an item as a soul anchor (or simply anchor). Much like a ship is stopped by a heavy anchor, such a necromantic mark upon a person acts as a form of magic that utterly stops a soul's ability to move on after death! It was also this type of magic that led to Alec's own undoing...


Removing it is key to freeing this man's soul. However... Alec did not tell his little sister how to safely do that... (any more than she shared the secrets of Evocation with her middle brother, despite their mutual affection).


What now does Luna do?


Vardadraug looks to Bren. Mine feet are not as swift as Pecker's wings, but they move surely enough. Do you wish me to fetch someone from the wagons, son of Killane?
 
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Luna sucks her breath in through clenched teeth. "A Soul Anchor! This is necromatic magic, one of the areas of magic that I know little about. But, I do know that, in order for his soul to be released, we must do something. Bren, I want to try to release this man. Your dagger, please?"

This post assumes that I made my Fortitude roll; I will edit as necessary if I did not make it.
 
Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking TENSE)




Keeping his distance in an effort to stay prepared for whatever danger, Wolf does not see the mark - but hearing Bren say it looks alot like the mark on the warg's footprints makes him nervous. And Luna's deductions only add to it. "I hate the Undead." he says in response, momentarily lowering his bow but appearing ready to aim again at any moment, at anything.
 
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Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:30 a.m.


Weather: Building cloudy skies with cold winds.


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


Brendoran Killaneson Sarabina has much first-hand experience of death in his long tenure as an adventurer and that experience steels him against the rotting stink and sight of the bloody, open corpse set in its awful pose.


Not so yet for Luna Callen. The young mage's senses are assaulted by things that should not be. Her nose tells her to run away while her eyes beg to close. Worst of all, when the wind seems to restore itself to the wood, those two Wanderers nearest the corpse get a face-full of its putrid stench.


Thankfully, the Callen family is made of stern stuff, their youngest daughter included. Luna is able to proceed without further penalty in the manner of her choosing.


Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Sparkle who, caught by surprise and struck fully, reels with a short cry to faint right there on Luna's shoulder. Her long serpentine body goes limp with a soft thud of her head on Luna's shoulder.


Pecker sees this and becomes more agitated. As much as a pain in the tail the pseudo dragon can be to him, it brings him no joy to see the old girl fallen. In fact, he becomes sad at the sudden lack of her company.





Sparkle rolled a rotten 5 on her own d20 for Fortitude save... Poor old girl! =)
 
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Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


Bren has been staring rather single-mindedly at the not-dead man, unwilling to take his attention from it while he has friends watching his back. However, Vardadraug's question calls his gaze back to the wolf, and then to the stressed-out bird. "Oh, yes, of course. Please do, and thank you." He then returns his attention to Luna and the corpse. "Ah, poor Sparkle. Well, I don't think she'd enjoy this next bit anyway..." He draws his dagger and flips it in his hand. Before he allows the mage to take it, though, he meets her eyes and says, "Be very careful, Luna. Once we tried to use a Dispel Magic spell to disrupt a ritual being cast by ogre magi, and ended up removing the barriers to its success instead -- thereby unleashing Vaprak the Destroyer, god of the trolls, into the woods around Highwind. I shouldn't like to go through that again." He smiles to keep the warning friendly, but his eyes remain serious as he offers the dagger hilt-first. "You may wish to wait and see what insights the others can offer before you proceed."
 
Luna lets out a sigh. "Honestly, I don't know what will happen. But I do know that this man is suffering, trapped between life and death, and I have a need to release him from his pain. You should step back, just in case something goes wrong."


With her warning given, Luna takes the knife and leans in, intent on cutting out the tissue with the mark imbedded in it.

Do I need to make any rolls for this? If so, what skill?
 
Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:30 a.m.


Weather: Building cloudy skies with cold winds.


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


With a confident nod to Bren, Vardadraug bounds off through the woodlands and back toward the Road of Kings. The exalted wolf vanishes speedily into the evergreen and in moments is gone like a wraith in the night.


With Bren's knife, Luna girds herself for the worst and begins the utterly revolting task of going inside of the cadaver's neck. Her target is the unnatural scar-like mark. Her fingers dig deep into the flesh, which she discovers quickly is stiffer and grayer than naturally-dead flesh should be. The mark resists the cutting at first, but Luna's line is one of dedicated people and her will makes for fine slicing. The pentagram-mark is indeed stuck into the flesh, joined there by magic most foul, intent most heinous, yet it gives each moment as Luna digs and digs inside the corpse's neck.


Then suddenly, the thing shrieks to the heavens!


"Mielikki! Nooo! Do not forsake meeee!"


The voice dies as quickly as it comes, but Luna's knife does not cease. The slicing continues. The young undaunted wizardess cuts cleanly between the flesh on the back of the cadaver's neck and the unholy mark and the mark... quivers... in response.


Then... something horrid billows forth... creeping like a sickly-green mist rising up from the man's neck and mouth and nostrils... out into the open air. The mist does not act like mist should; instead it acts like a living thing, turning, searching, reaching quickly toward Luna. Too quickly! Bren, though both warrior and ranger strong has not the cat-like reflexes that Otiorin owns nor the true dexterity that Wolf has known all his young life - being neither of these, the leader of the Wanderers is too late to act to save Luna.


Luna Callen is quickly enveloped by the mist that spews forth from the mark... and memories of her dead middle brother come a'haunting as the mist touches her skin and Sparkle's scales. She knows... Alec knew better than this. Alec died playing with powers beyond his knowledge. But this is not to be Luna's fate... for the fires within her are of a different kind than that which rose in Alec Callen.


Being so close to the damaged mark, the mist is too swift - Luna has no chance.






Heya folks! In most cases, I can reasonably provide a saving throw, but... this mark Luna just opened is one of those items that doesn't provide one under these circumstances. Bren being farther back will get one though as will Wolf. Remember that Vardadraug is now gone and Otiorin is high up in the tree. Sorry, Sherwood!


The mist infiltrates and infests Luna's nostrils, ears, eyes, and mouth despite her attempt to cover them with her hands. Perhaps an archmage could defend against evil such as this, but Luna might not reach that particular level of magic and reputation now... Luna's world goes wild as she hears whispers, ghostly whispers, by the dozens enter her body, her mind, her very being. Perhaps it is sweet karma that Sparkle lies in her fainted state on her shoulder and does not suffer as Luna does. Mortal beings should not have to go through the soul-wracking hell that Luna experiences...


A terrible transformation then occurs there in the green of Mielikki's forest! There is the breaking of flesh as Luna's fresh young skin bristles and snaps, instantly becoming old and worn like ancient leather. Her hair darkens into a long shroud of gray like ash from a volcano. Her posture turns and bends from youthful and spritely to aged and crone-like, but with a terrible vitality not known to mortal flesh!


But it is her eyes that are the worst... Her eyes glaze and darken into red, lava-like orbs, filled with hate and vile intention - as Luna's Callen's very heart changes...









Sherwood, Luna is now Neutral Evil. Please record this on your character sheet until it is remedied. Assuming it is remedied. Here's hoping. Getting something like this turned around is a real... well, the word rhymes with lich...


Wolf sees all of this as Pecker suddenly leaps off of his shoulders in a squawking panic and disappears after Vardadraug, for what normal animal could remain in such a scene? A great green fire lifts up from where Luna Callen was kneeling. In moments, she is fully engulfed. Bren is forced back unless he too wishes to ingest the diabolic mist that even now faintly reaches for him. Even Otiorin from his high perch knows that something below him has gone terribly wrong...





As the green mist recedes, there in Luna Callen's place is someone... something else. There is a cracked and unholy smile on her aged lips now, filled with utter malice and a vile hatred that Bren has not felt since the dark times when he adventured in the Underdark against the Drow Elves.


For before the Wanderers, where the Wanderer Luna once stood, now stands this:






zombie-woman-760.jpg



(Image credit: yujeanscene.wordpress.com)


Sparkle falls forgotten off of Luna's shoulder. She strikes the earth and does not waken. Luna takes a step forward and onto the pseudo dragon's tiny neck. She looks down only once and seeing what she has under her heel grinds it down and smiles wickedly.









Sparkle's life is now in mortal danger!


Somewhere deep inside of this undead horror, Luna Callen is in a very, very dark and cold place with no warmth, no friends, no light, and no magic. Yet she is there for certain seeing all that the thing she is now sees, yet completely helpless to act. All that happens next is for Luna to experience...


Yet in the world of the Wanderers... the wretched terror before you stands with haughtiness in her bearing and blazing hate in her stare. Only Bren with his years of first-hand experience knows this thing instantly for what it is. For vampires have fangs, and wraiths have no bodies, but liches... Liches possess both magical powers beyond any of the Wanderers. Perhaps the Light in the Dark could face this thing, but only one of their number lurk here now...


...as the ghastly undead witch raises her hand and begins casting upon you!





Initiative time, folks! Please provide initiative rolls here. Ladies and gentlemen, we have combat! Sherwood, you need not roll at this time, but you're welcome to comment away in the Adventurers' Table thread to your heart's desire. At least you have a heart - your character on the other hand... Well... You'll see... =)
 
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(For the RP moment)


"Well I just kinda wanted to look all protective and stuff yanno? But relaxing works too."


Bronze drags over a few logs to sit down, then goes into the wagons looking for a lute or something of the kind, and if/when he finds one, plops down and proceeds to play music. The music is from a different place, somewhere else, from mount Olympus. To the music Bronze would sing of the heroic battles of Herculies and other people of Greek legend. Singing in greek of course, so no one really knows what he's singing about, other than it sounds cool.
 
  • Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


    Bren gasps and falls back to avoid the unholy mist, holding up one hand in defense (or denial) in front of his face. He stares in shock as something beyond his worst fears comes to pass, for even knowing that the unexpected can happen anytime one messes with magic beyond one's understanding, he never thought the result would be such a horrid transformation of one of his party members. Yet even as he stares, his resolve stirs within him, a resolve confirmed and strengthened when the thing taking possession of Luna's body attacks the mage's familiar. From falling back, his posture shifts to moving forward - and he prepares to go on the attack himself, this time in Sparkle's defense.
 
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Wanderers!

[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DItgw1mU9Us[/media]






lol-just-kidding-1.png


​



(Image credit: www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk)


Heya folks! Luna is not a lich. =)


I have no intention of pulling an idea like that out of our OOC chat and making her one. =)


After I read what Cap'n and Sherwood were saying, I thought to myself, "what if I acted like ran with Capn's idea here? What kind of laughs could we get if I did?" And best of all, "How much money would I pay to see the looks on their faces when they read that post?!" Ha ha! Folks, I just could not resist!! 8D


Backstory: Remember when you guys were fighting Bilal the Rich over a year ago? Well, at some point in OOC chat, dear ol' Cap'n piped up with something about "What if Bilal had a powerful bodyguard, maybe a gladiator?" and I think Sherwood hopped right in and said, "Don't give the GM any ideas!" I read that, laughed, and left it alone.


But this time when Cap'n said, "Hey, what about Luna as a fire-lich?" And this time Sherwood went with it with "Really? Cool! Lets get cutting!" The temptation was too great!


I was not going to let this little prank run on too long (it's only funny if everyone thinks it's funny). Plus, it's Halloween time - what an opportunity for a scare! 8D


So... feel free to break out Killfire's Fluffy PIllows and beat your mischievous Dungeon Master - again, I just could not resist! 8D


Feel free to return to the scene where Luna is human is leaning over the cadaver with Bren's knife. Vardadraug has been sent to the Adventurers' Wagon. Bren is warning Luna. Wheeeeeeeeeee!


For your Dungeon Master is fully a believer in the following words:


Laugh-each-day.jpg



(Image credit: caringforcaregiver.com)


Ha ha! =)
 
Luna is about to begin to cut the symbol away, when a sudden chill runs up her spine. Looking over at Bren, she says, "I have a sudden bad feeling about this. My brother would call the feeling that someone had just walked across my grave. Let me see what I can do for Sparkle while we wait for Bria."


She gently scoops up the tiny dragon and takes her away from the noxious fumes being let off of the body. Luna takes a damp cloth and wipes the face of her old friend. "It's ok, little one. I have you."
 
Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:45 a.m.


Weather: Light rain sprinkling down from cloudy skies. Chilly air, especially for the morning.


"Do not... come..."


As Luna picks Sparkle up into her care, the little dragoness croaks, coughs, and murmurs in helpless delirium. "Do not come near... the corpse, Pecker... Gaacck... Stench will... get you too! Fly, Pecker! Uggggh..." Her own wings reach out and flail in a useless attempt to take flight, but it is clear that she is far safer in Luna's hands given her current condition.


Raindrops begin to trickle down and patter against the treetops all around Shandra's Evergreen. Vardadraug's absence seems long. For a short while, there is not much else to do except look at the corpse and each other as the sprinkling from the clouds begins. Yet the old pseudo dragon is not the only creature murmuring here. From time to time, the corpse releases an unintelligible word or phrase.


Some of you find your senses waiting to hear the tromping of a Felane coming up the highway along with a wolf and a young woman, but that sound does not reach your ears. The chill of the air reaches you. Silence creeps in and about.


Then the silence is shattered! A girlish cry of alarm and danger that can only come from the likes of Bria reaches your ears! You do not know if she just shouted, "Bren!!" or "Rin!!" But does it matter? Her cry, you think, is born from just over 100 yards in the direction of the road, southwest of you. The fastest way to that point seems to be to backtrack down your trail (which is about 40 yards) and turn left down the Road of Kings.


Bria's voice, however, is not the only one that suddenly rises...


The corpse speaks again as if in answer to the healer's cry... The cadaver's hollow, desperate voice is full of pain and that pain is growing. It is as if the soul inside the body feels its time is running out... It calls aloud, repeating but a single word... over and over again...


"Mercy!"


What do you do?
 
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From his perch in the trees, Otiorin called down to the clearing below.


"I see the giants yonder! They appear to be roving the forest back and forth, searching for something.", he spoke, pointing in the direction the dolorous beasts could be seen, "I would wager they are but half a mile distant and ranging left and right at a slow pace. If needs must, we could be on them in a matter of minutes."


He was about to settle back into his vigil, awaiting the response from the rangers and mage below, when the distinctive sound of Bria's cry of alarm rang out. Without a moment's hesitation, the Half-Elf took to his heels, leaping from branch to branch, tree to tree, to cover the distance between himself and the young healer he loved.


Please be safe, stay safe!
 
Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking DETERMINED)




Wolf tensed up at hearing Bria's scream and looked like he was just making a difficult decision when Otiorin leaped to her rescue, after which the ranger shrugged and spoke to Bren and Luna. "Well, since Otiorin left his post and you two seem capable of containing whatever this is until reinforcements arrive, it's up to me to do some reconnaissance. I'll be back when I have something to report."


In the next few moments he transformed, taking the shape of his namesake and then running off on all fours into the woods, heading in the direction where Otiorin spotted the giants.
 
Luna looks over at Bren. "I cannot shake the feeling that we are rapidly running out of time to do a something about that mark. Sparkle, are you feeling any better to be able to share some of your knowledge with us?"
 
Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


Bren looks up at Otiorin when the half-elf speaks, and nods. He is about to reply when Bria's scream cuts through the air. Turning automatically in that direction, he stops to glance up at Otiorin again, but realizes his absence even as Wolf comments on it. Again he starts to reply, but gets nothing out before the other ranger takes off. "Be safe, and stay out of sight!" he calls after the transformed Wolf. Sighing, he turns back to Luna and the corpse. "Can you and Sparkle keep an eye on things here? Otiorin and Bria may need help. Please don't attempt anything until we return, unless Sparkle can give a definite course of action. Improvising could make things worse!" He waits for a reply, but unless Luna suggests otherwise, he'll then take off on the fastest path back to the road and Bria's presumed location.
 
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Sparkle, in her hacking and coughing delirium, raises a single claw as if she has something important to say. In Draconic, Luna and Bren hear this:


"Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear,


Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.


Fuzzy Wuzzy was not so fuzzy, was he?"

In other words, Sparkle's issues will last a little while longer. Mind you, while it's been a few days in Real Life, Sparkle just got nailed with this effect not 30 seconds ago in game-time. Just wanted to point this out. =)
 
Luna sighs. "Bren, I will wait here, and hope that Bria can get here soon to give me her insight. Otherwise, I am at a loss on what to do to free this man from his suffering."
 
Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 11:00 a.m.


Weather: Steadily raining, the sky is thick with gray clouds. Chilly air, especially for the morning.


Three scenes, three situations... (please read carefully, folks) =)





  • In Shandra's Evergreen, few creatures are as sure-footed and fleet as her rangers. In but a few minutes, Wolf has left his party far behind as he bounds along the grass and between the trees, shrubs,, and rocks, yet the young ranger is in for a surprise as suddenly the gray clouds begin to pour their rain down upon him. It is enough to worsen visibility and hearing. His nose is useless in such rain, though it cannot be yet called a downpour. As the raindrops crash upon the trees and earth, Wolf quickly finds himself a "soggy doggy" as he is forced to lope along more carefully lest he lose his footing and injure himself in the chilly wetness.


    It is not too long when Wolf comes upon the area where the ground trembles as if in suspense. The green and brown leaves near him quiver as if in panic. One needs not be a ranger or wolf to know when giants are near. Peering about with caution, Wolf spies the towering brutes some fifty yards away. The rain is coming down just lightly enough that his keen senses can make out their features - and what a shock they turn out to be! No words, spoken or written that Wolf has ever read provide a clear picture of the ugliness of Formorian giants! Their hideousness is nothing short of astounding! Like beauty, it is hard to take one's eyes away from those cursed and deformed features as the mind reels in wonder, asking "can anything real be that ugly?"






    200px-Fomorian.JPG



    (Image credit: en.wikipedia.org)


    It is an unusual sort of fascination, but it is all too true. Formorians are without a doubt the most horrid of all giants, perhaps all creatures, and as they rummage through the forest undaunted by the rain, they speak in tremendous voices that boom across the forest. It is a pity then that Wolf has not yet learned the language of giants.


    "Grohel, mak dhukan!"


    "Ai! Chet thal Malshaff rok bal! Grue thath!"


    "Ai, kannak! Malshaff grue!"


    Yet one need not know a tongue to sense some of its meaning; body language, tone, and facial expressions (this last being the absolutely worst to have to lay eyes on) can say much, as every animal knows, human rangers included. The Formorians appear frustrated by the rain but they do not cease as they plod along, pushing aside age-old branches as if they were the lightest of cloths. While the incredible strength of these true giants makes even Bloodland Minotaurs seem as weak babes, their manner of speaking does not seem to be as dull-witted as some stories Wolf has heard. Hill giants are known to be as dumb as ogres (perhaps dumber!), but these Formorians speak in ways that tell of cunning and real thinking.


    It is then that Wolf spies tracks nearby, tracks that are being slowly washed away by the pattering rain. The tracks belong to no giant, but canine! They are grand in size, quite a bit larger than Wolf's own. They lead off to the west through thicket and bramble.


    What does Leonard Wolf do?


 
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Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in WOLF form, looking WOLFY)




So wet fur actually feels as sorry as it looks. Of course.


Wolf hurried along as much as possible through the pouring rain. He wasn't just taking in the sights from his recently acquired perspective - this time he was on a mission. A mission that suddenly drew to its conclusion when he finally spotted his prey. The giants were right where they were supposed to be according to Otiorin. And as ugly as expected. What are they doing? Searching for something? Or someone?


The large canine tracks caught his interest but they seemed to be going away from the Formorians. And he wasn't sure if he should leave yet. He didn't actually find out anything useful, but then again what could he learn just by spying on them? Whatever they were here for might not even be around. They do seem perplexed. A bit. Maybe? Hard to read those faces. He paused for a minute, watching them go, until the irresistible urge to follow the canine tracks won. Wolf decided to follow them while they were still usable. I bet these will lead me to my old friend, he thought as he ran through the rain towards the west.
 
HP: X


Spells per day/remaining: 4


Spells available:


Active affects:


Otiorin's pounding heart stilled as he took in the scene before him. Bria caught in the grip of four malevolent men and in pain, a massive wolf that outstripped even Wolf's new form. He became still, his rapid breathing slowing, even as his mind raced at the situation unfolding. These men intend to kill us regardless, so there's no alternative.


Otiorin smiled, but the expression was devoid of his normal cheerful expression, instead it dredged up thoughts of bloody massacre and brutalities unending. It was a smile oft seen on faces splashed with the blood of innocents, ringed with razor sharp teeth and beneath eyes of glimmering silver. The Half-Elf's skin took on a pale cast, silver-white scales glistening just under the surface and his fingernails extended to become silver claws.


"I too have a reputation.", he hissed between his bared fangs, "A reputation of brutally slaughtering those who mishandle members of the Ko. This one especially. So now we come to the ultimate question: Which of you pathetic creatures wishes to meet your end first? Or would you all rather be cast into the void between worlds together?"


He withdrew Moonlit Edge, even as the wind howled from behind him, whipping his cloak out like draconic wings. The weapon's blade shimmered blue-white and a cascade of frozen air issued from it as scattered raindrop flashed from the edge as flash-frozen hailstones. He threw back his head and a gutteral, mirthless laugh issued forth, cut off by a deafening peal of thunder. As he brought his head down to eye the robed men again, he growled hungrily.

Attempting to intimidate with a +6 skill mod.


[dice]15573[/dice]
 
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A dozen different responses flash through Luna's mind at the sudden appearance of the strange man. She slowly stands and brushes the dirt from her dress, then turns to face him. "Do you not know that it is unwise and rude to sneak up on a wizard? If I were not so even tempered, I may have acted in a rash manner. You are, of course, correct I in the fact that the spell you mentioned would be useful here, however I do not dabble in the necromantic arts. Now, May I ask you your name?"
 
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