Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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ewancummins
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

Post by ewancummins »

DOORWAY BETWEEN THE CHAMBER OF THE EYES AND THE LONG UNEXPLORED TUNNEL, NEARBY SPACES ON EITHER SIDE

BENN'S POV
VIEW CONTENT:
Adam wrote:After Dorgio's question, Benn tries to spot the man's eyes, ready to look away if they should start...moving on their own.

Benn rolls the dead man over and leans in for a look at the eyes.
They remain closed.

Shadows flicker on the floor-- something grabs Benn by his left ankle-- the man's hand!
The eyes flick open, but Benn twists away in time to avoid meeting their gaze.

HISS!

The kitten leaps out from its hidey hole behind the angle of the door, darting past Benn, racing down the hall.

Fire flashes in the corner of his eyes, thunder hammers his ears, and smoke stings Benn’s eyes and nostrils!
He kicks the hand loose from his leg and stumbles backwards through the smoke, back into the Chamber of the Eyes.
He sees Sara, coughing, holding a smoking pistol, leaning on the left part of the door jamb, peering down the long tunnel. His left ear rings with the fading echo of the gunshot.

The smoke filling the doorway thins a little, and a shambling figure steps into the threshold…





SARA's POV
VIEW CONTENT:
She sees Benn move in the examine the figure lying face down. He rolls it over. And then she hears the little cat hiss, sees it leap from hiding behind the door, race down the hall. Stepping sideways, she gets a quick, clean shot past Benn and aimed right at the cat. But the smoke prevents her from seeing right away if she hit or not.

Benn staggers back, and something comes after him-- looks like the body has risen from the floor...


THE OTHERS' POV
VIEW CONTENT:
Benn enters the doorway to check on the still form.

He hunches, rolls the body. Sara quick steps and fires into the hall, over Benn's shoulder.
FLASH-BOOM

Benn staggers back into the room. Something follows him, shambling out of the pall of white gun smoke!


Munchen, who had been nosing around the door before everything went crazy, now hides behind Franz, growling.
Last edited by ewancummins on Wed Jun 04, 2014 2:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

Post by alhoon »

The moment Raen sees movement behind the smoke, he starts chanting in draconic. His precise movements seem to capture the light in the room, condense it in a glowing halo around the mica piece he holds and as the spell reaches the end, he throws the now golden-glowing mica towards the room and it explodes in a myriad tiny glowing sparkles, that glow with blinding intensity. The archivist is just outside the perimeter of the spell and the epicenter is deeper in the room Benn came out of, about 10'-15' from him.
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Golden light pulses from behind the pall of gun smoke.
The shambling form lurches out of the doorway, hands outstretched groping for Benn. A horrid groan tears from the man's lips.

Franz stabs him in the back.

BOOM

Sara shoots him in the side.


The man falls down , grabbing at Benn as he hits the floor. He coughs blood onto the Lamordian's shoes.


He lies on the floor, face down, blood smeared over his ripped clothing where the Falkovnian's swords pierced him. Metallic dust sparkles in spots on his back.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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"Morning's balls!" Dorgio coughs, the rotten-egg smell of smokepowder clogging his sinuses. He frowns down at the body of the man who now seems well and truly dead. "Who have we killed?"

The priest steps toward the dead man and attempts to roll the body over onto its back with his spear.
"You said I killed you--haunt me, then!...Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!” -Wuthering Heights
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:"Morning's balls!" Dorgio coughs, the rotten-egg smell of smokepowder clogging his sinuses. He frowns down at the body of the man who now seems well and truly dead. "Who have we killed?"

The priest steps toward the dead man and attempts to roll the body over onto its back with his spear.

Dorgio rolls the man over.

The young man's face stares up at the ceiling, still wearing an open mouthed expression of shock. His slightly glazed, wide open, blue eyes appear normal-- for someone who has just suffered a violent death.

Vlad steps close, kneels on the floor. He places his head on the man's chest, face inclined towards the man's chin. At the same time, he feels the man's neck for a pulse.

The Barovian says,
"He's dead...now. His flesh is still warm..."
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Galandel

Galandel slows down his pace and attempts to locate the noise he heard, relying mostly on sound rather than sight.
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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RocEter wrote:Galandel

Galandel slows down his pace and attempts to locate the noise he heard, relying mostly on sound rather than sight.

He recognizes the sound from an experience earlier in the day-- the shutters of the millhouse, clattering with movement of the air.

And sure enough, the breeze thins the fog a little and Galandel sees the millhouse rising up on his left side in the fog.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Galandel continues onward, towards the smugglers tunnel. Using the Mill as a way marker that he is headed in the right direction.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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RocEter wrote:Galandel continues onward, towards the smugglers tunnel. Using the Mill as a way marker that he is headed in the right direction.

Galandel marches on, the others moving behind him.


...


Galandel spots the stone fence ahead, a blurry line in the fog.

Both hounds bark, straining on their leashes. The Kennel Master says,
"Down boys, down!"

Lights appears in the mists ahead of the elf huntsman and his companions, pairs of dancing lights like fireflies.

The lights draw near...
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Galandel will move away from the river and his parties light source, using the humans as bait his plan is to ambush the light sources.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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IN THE MISTS


The ghostly floating eyes drift close to the humans and elves.

Rather than warning anyone, Gal sneaks away, leaving his companions to face the gaze of the eye-things, while he creeps around, preparing an ambush...


Baronet Sicart steps towards a pair of the ''fireflies'' and peers at them.
''Oh! My goodness!"

The Kennel Master jogs his dogs up to the Baronet's side. A pair of eyes darts in, hovering near his face.
''Gahhh! Get the hell away from me!" He swats at the disembodied orbs.
Last edited by ewancummins on Wed Jun 04, 2014 1:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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Galandel looks around to see if there anything that appears to be controlling the evil eyes, if he sees nothing he will attempt to attack one of the eyes.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
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Re: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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RocEter wrote:Galandel looks around to see if there anything that appears to be controlling the evil eyes, if he sees nothing he will attempt to attack one of the eyes.

He does not see anyone or anything that appears to be controlling the orbs.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

Post by ewancummins »

Galandel lets an arrow fly..

and misses.

The eye he shot at just flitted out of the way at the last possible instant, moving in tandem with its twin.
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: Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

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GALANDEL IN THE MISTS

After missing his shot, the eyes turn their attention to Galandel just as he shouts. "Withdraw, this is the dark magic I warned you of!"

The eyes, close distance on Gal fast and attack. They lock their strange evil gaze his eyes and fills Galandel with terror and a sickly sensation of drowning. He manages to shake their gaze and its effect. Back turned towards the eyes, he withdraws to the tunnel. As he makes his escape into the tunnel, he closes the hatch behind him and cracks a sunrod to illuminate the otherwise darkened tunnel.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
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