Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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kintire
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by kintire »

The underground chamber has been cleared of everything except a brazier in the centre of the chamber and a pile of gold and silver in front of it, consisting of every scrap of either metal Safana possesses and a contribution from Caine, surrounded by an intricate diagram traced on the floor in black ink. Safana stands in front of it, her feet placed firmly on the floor and her body undulating like one of the columns of smoke that rises from the brazier. She has laid aside her northern travelling clothes and is dressed in a scarf of crimson silk wrapped around her breasts and puffy trousers of the same stuff slung low about her hips, translucent enough that she is visible through them as a vague shadow in the crimson mist. Her hands shift from intricate gesture to intricate gesture and she chants fluently in a strange tongue, not designed for human mouths.

As she does so the glowing coals of the brazier darken from scarlet to the same crimson of the silks she wears, and the smoke grows black and swells until it fills the circles, floor to ceiling. Two crimson coals can still be seen, and they rise slowly until they hang about a hand's span apart seven feet from the floor like two burning crimson eyes. Safana begins to sweat as the smoke rushes together and coalesces into a looming figure.

It seems about eight feet tall, although the huge turban makes exact height hard to judge. Its is a man, tall and hugely built: fat, but with powerful muscles beneath. His skin is utterly black, like the smoke, but his eyes blaze with that deep crimson flame. He is dressed in a waistcoat, puffy pants like Safana's but opaque, and shoes with long upturned toes that come to a point. The clothes are pf the same crimson silk as Safana's, but that is barely descernable except in the trousers for they are covered with gold. Golden medallions cover the turban except for the glittering crimson gem the size of a fist on its front, and the waistcoat is covered with intricate designs in gold wire. The trousers hang from a great golden jeweled belt about his belly. The shoes are decorated with engraved panels of gold inlaid with silver, and his fingers and arms are loaded with rings of gold and jewels.

Under the magnificence of the clothes something seems wrong. His body moves as a body should only when he remembers it. His belly jiggles when he laughs, but when his attention is elsewhere it is motionless, like a statue. The rest of his form is the same, except only his face which always seems animated. His expression is jovial but there is a cast to his features, accentuated by the crimson glare from his eyes, which seems sardonic, mocking and with more than a hint of cruelty. His crimson gaze lingers briefly on Safana, now bowing on her knees, palms, elbows and face to the floor, and moves to Caine. A hint of curiosity crosses his face, as he waits for an explanation. He does not wait for longer than a heartbeat.

“Oh my master and the delight of my eyes and the desire of my heart, here is the Anuiren Archmage, Caine, who desires converse with your illimitable wisdom. Archmage Caine, I have the utterly undeserved honour to introduce the Stone Sultan, Kabril Ali al Zelazil, the Fountain of Wealth, the Perfect Compass, Ataman of the Mountain's Root.”

Kabril's voice emerges from his lips, silken yet hard, like gold coins slithering across an obsidian floor. The speech sounds Anuiren, but his lips are not forming the right shapes for the words he speaks at all.

“And there I was in the middle of a feast. Still, should I complain? Was Safana's errand not to make new friends, cultivate new allies, discover new things, learn new lore? Perhaps an Archmage is worth interrupting a feast for. Perhaps. Hmmm. I shall speak with you, Archmage Caine, and decide if I am angry or pleased with the interruption afterwards.”

He fixes his gaze on the wizard, leaving Safana trembling with fear.
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by alhoon »

Termelan suddenly asks. "Lord Filbert... could you track in our side of the world the haunted house? Or would you be able to check where it is?"
He carries with him a piece of clay, a small branch and a few pebbles from the shadow world. Noticing that Filbert has stopped he asks "why did we stop sir?" and he looks around for a couple more mementos; perhaps something that would capture the audience's attention. The darkest the pebble, the better.
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by VAN »

Shadowland

Filbert checks the clay one more time, to be sure that's indeed a thin spot. Without turning his head replies:

"I have never done this but maybe I can yes. Just the distance is really different here as is how the house will look like. So we need to check for a house but cannot tell you how far away from the inn. But maybe the direction will remain the same. If we go South from the inn might find it."

Taking a deep breath to concentrate he continues:

"We are at the inn's kitchen, I can get us in there just I would prefer to do that when the cook leaves it. He will be scared if we appear from nowhere."
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by ewancummins »

kintire wrote:The underground chamber has been cleared of everything except a brazier in the centre of the chamber and a pile of gold and silver in front of it, consisting of every scrap of either metal Safana possesses and a contribution from Caine, surrounded by an intricate diagram traced on the floor in black ink. Safana stands in front of it, her feet placed firmly on the floor and her body undulating like one of the columns of smoke that rises from the brazier. She has laid aside her northern travelling clothes and is dressed in a scarf of crimson silk wrapped around her breasts and puffy trousers of the same stuff slung low about her hips, translucent enough that she is visible through them as a vague shadow in the crimson mist. Her hands shift from intricate gesture to intricate gesture and she chants fluently in a strange tongue, not designed for human mouths.

As she does so the glowing coals of the brazier darken from scarlet to the same crimson of the silks she wears, and the smoke grows black and swells until it fills the circles, floor to ceiling. Two crimson coals can still be seen, and they rise slowly until they hang about a hand's span apart seven feet from the floor like two burning crimson eyes. Safana begins to sweat as the smoke rushes together and coalesces into a looming figure.

It seems about eight feet tall, although the huge turban makes exact height hard to judge. Its is a man, tall and hugely built: fat, but with powerful muscles beneath. His skin is utterly black, like the smoke, but his eyes blaze with that deep crimson flame. He is dressed in a waistcoat, puffy pants like Safana's but opaque, and shoes with long upturned toes that come to a point. The clothes are pf the same crimson silk as Safana's, but that is barely descernable except in the trousers for they are covered with gold. Golden medallions cover the turban except for the glittering crimson gem the size of a fist on its front, and the waistcoat is covered with intricate designs in gold wire. The trousers hang from a great golden jeweled belt about his belly. The shoes are decorated with engraved panels of gold inlaid with silver, and his fingers and arms are loaded with rings of gold and jewels.

Under the magnificence of the clothes something seems wrong. His body moves as a body should only when he remembers it. His belly jiggles when he laughs, but when his attention is elsewhere it is motionless, like a statue. The rest of his form is the same, except only his face which always seems animated. His expression is jovial but there is a cast to his features, accentuated by the crimson glare from his eyes, which seems sardonic, mocking and with more than a hint of cruelty. His crimson gaze lingers briefly on Safana, now bowing on her knees, palms, elbows and face to the floor, and moves to Caine. A hint of curiosity crosses his face, as he waits for an explanation. He does not wait for longer than a heartbeat.

“Oh my master and the delight of my eyes and the desire of my heart, here is the Anuiren Archmage, Caine, who desires converse with your illimitable wisdom. Archmage Caine, I have the utterly undeserved honour to introduce the Stone Sultan, Kabril Ali al Zelazil, the Fountain of Wealth, the Perfect Compass, Ataman of the Mountain's Root.”

Kabril's voice emerges from his lips, silken yet hard, like gold coins slithering across an obsidian floor. The speech sounds Anuiren, but his lips are not forming the right shapes for the words he speaks at all.

“And there I was in the middle of a feast. Still, should I complain? Was Safana's errand not to make new friends, cultivate new allies, discover new things, learn new lore? Perhaps an Archmage is worth interrupting a feast for. Perhaps. Hmmm. I shall speak with you, Archmage Caine, and decide if I am angry or pleased with the interruption afterwards.”

He fixes his gaze on the wizard, leaving Safana trembling with fear.

Caine steps forward.
"Sultan Kabril. Welcome to Falcon's Roost."
The mage adjusts his ruff collar. "I lack your servant's gift of eloquence, so your Magnificence will pardon me if I use plain language. Your servant's new friends have made a powerful enemy. I propose joint action against this enemy for our mutual benefit."

Kabril's eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "What enemy, and what action? Benefit?"

Caine says, "Rhoubhe Manslayer. I propose we deprive him of his war chest, thus hindering his efforts against the allies of your servant Safana. Of course, perhaps a hoard containing mounds of gold and the jewels of kings and princes holds little appeal for a supernatural power such as yourself..."

Kabril laughs. "You jest, mortal. I know somewhat of the elflin abomination. A vile creature, indeed! But tell me more of these treasures he possesses. How did he come by such great wealth?"

"By the same means we shall take it from him: force and guile--aided by sorcery."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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KAL-ANTHERAK
THE SEARCHERS

They search the children's room, which looks surprisingly like the sort of nursery one would expect to find in the home fo a wealthy family back in Tuornen. No kids here.

But when they break into the grotesque chambers of the Marquis, the SEARCHERS discover two human children hiding under a massive iron framed bed. The boy and the girl both appear unharmed, but frightened.

Renn’s men loot a locked coffer as big as an ogre’s fist.
Renn discovers a downward slanting, slime coated waste chute in the Marquis’s bedchamber, big enough for a man to crawl through or perhaps slide down.

Sooner after breaking into these rooms, the party hears sounds of other intruders; hellish cacophony of voices, thunder of many feet, splintering wood, the hiss of flames. The dead air stirs to life, bringing the stink of hot blood, sweat, and smoke into the Marquis’ rooms. A quick peek through the broken double doors shows the shadows of orogs leaping in firelight silhouette down the farther hall. It sounds like hundreds of the swine-things rioting. And they’re getting closer with every second.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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"Time to go," Cormac growls. "Kids, stay in the center of our group. If ye get separated, we may not be able to help you."
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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Adam wrote:"Time to go," Cormac growls. "Kids, stay in the center of our group. If ye get separated, we may not be able to help you."
The children huddle behind Sir Boarhort.

Nevil sidles up to Cormac.
"If we are going to go out the way we came in, we'd better go fast. We might be spotted. I haven't found a back way out of here. It seems like he'd have one, a secret door maybe..."

Sevett, Renn's man, lifts the refuse chute cover and looks down the drain. "I could fit in this. Not sure where it goes, though."

The noises of the rampaging Orogs grow a little louder and closer...
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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"If we can get out through tha' waste chute, that seems like the way to go," Cormac recommends, "No way to guarantee we avoid the Orogs, an' I don' want to get in a fight with the kids here."
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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Foerde

Foerde will continue to investigate the tunnel by clearing the cobwebs and thrusting his torch forward for more light. If there isn't another tunnel, he will back track to the first room he was in and check the tunnel the ascending tunnel.
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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Adam wrote:"If we can get out through tha' waste chute, that seems like the way to go," Cormac recommends, "No way to guarantee we avoid the Orogs, an' I don' want to get in a fight with the kids here."

Searchers

"Would all of us be able to fit through that?" Roald glances at Sir Boarhort.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."

George R.R. Martin.
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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Varrus the Ethical wrote:
Adam wrote:"If we can get out through tha' waste chute, that seems like the way to go," Cormac recommends, "No way to guarantee we avoid the Orogs, an' I don' want to get in a fight with the kids here."

Searchers

"Would all of us be able to fit through that?" Roald glances at Sir Boarhort.
"Ahem."
Sir Boarhort steps close to the hole and looks down it.
"Maybe if I strip off my armor."
He shakes his head." Or if you...err...grease me and give me a good shove."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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SAFANA

Kabril says,
"If my servant is taken, the elves may extract this from her."

Caine and Kabril switch to a language SAFANA does not comprehend, full of crackles and coughs, raspy consonants and full throated vowels.

The great djinn vanishes in a burst of acrid smoke.
All trace of the treasure used to call him has vanished.

Caine, sweaty and pale, leans against the wall a moment.

His waxy faced attendant appears from the shadows with a decanter.
The wizard drinks straight from the crystal.
He sighs.

" Get up, SAFANA. You did very well. Negotiations were...strenuous. But your Master and I have struck a tentative bargain. I will call him again, with your aid, after a season of preparation and planning. What I have proposed we do is no small matter, and will require the correct selection of operatives. In the meantime, we agreed it would be best for you to remain with me. "

The Mage helps SAFANA up from the floor.
"But I would not have you as an unwilling helper. If you don't wish to stay, then go as you please. I hope you will at least remain at Falcon's Roost until Lord Filbert arrives."

FILBERT AND TERMELAN

The pair wait a short while until Filbert senses the time is right, and then they slip back into " the real" world, appearing in a shadowy corner their inn's kitchen.
The transition comes swiftly, with first solid shadows and then the objects that cast these shadows resolving out of the twilight gloom. In another moment, everything about the pair appears comfortingly real.

TERMELAN, feeling in his pocket, finds that the pebbles remain where he placed them. They look like little lumps of coal, very black.


FOERDE

Retreating from the shaft edge and returning to the main room, Foerde moves to explore the other passage.
He finds one end partly blocked by rubble, but he's able to clear that away by hand. As the dust clears, a new vista opens before him: a shadowy vault with a deep floor, low ceiling, and square walls. It might be fifteen feet on a side.
A shining, faceted oblong mass lays lengthwise in the middle of the floor, glittering in the light of his torch, even under a layer of dust and cobwebs.
It looks a bit like a coffin.
And, indeed, he sees something vaguely humanoid laid inside, or perhaps caught like a fly in amber.

DOMENICA

The party reaches a roadhouse after less than an hour on the dirt highway. Full dark has settled over the land. As they get settled in the house, rain starts falling, pelting the roof and turning the bare yard to muck.
Inside, Sir Rory commandeers a space near the hearth fire for his wounded men. The landlord brings blankets and some beer.
This rustic establishment hardly compares with the fine inns avilable in Haes, but the thatched roof keeps the cold rain off and the fieldstone walls hold in heat.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by Varrus the Ethical »

ewancummins wrote:
Searchers

"Would all of us be able to fit through that?" Roald glances at Sir Boarhort.

"Ahem."
Sir Boarhort steps close to the hole and looks down it.
"Maybe if I strip off my armor."
He shakes his head." Or if you...err...grease me and give me a good shove."
Roald grimaces. "I'm thinking it might be better to take our chances with the Orogs."
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."

George R.R. Martin.
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

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Sir Boarhort gestures towards the front room, whence noises of coming orogs grow louder by the second.
"It sounds like bad odds. I say we barricade the door of this room. Those big double doors in the front are too warped and broken now to be defensible. If the Marquis had a secret way to escape, you'd think it would be here, in his bedroom, yes?"
He hurries to the massive iron bed.
"If we can cram this against the door, that might hold for a while. And if there's no other way out, well, at least the kids and the woman can escape through the waste chute.
Hell, anybody who can fit."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

Post by alhoon »

Filbert & Termelan

Termelan smiles at the pebbles. "Should we call it a night Lord Filbert?"
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