PRP: Down the Hole
=====================> 15) Down the hole <======================
Open/Closed: OPEN: This event is open to any player who wants to sign up
using +event/signup. There may be limited space, so signing
up does NOT guarantee you a spot in the event.
Poster: Sebropert*
Start Time: 08:50:00 PM (LOCAL), Saturday, December 31, 2016 (0m 7s)
Location: rp2
Level Range: 2-5
What lies beneath?
Signed up: Nasrin (Clr3)* Donna (Brg2)* Krom (Ftr4)* Ollithial (Ftr2)* <list hidden> Confirmed: none
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Krom A young, lithe, Mestnorr warrior. 50s 13m Donna A black-haired human girl in black robes. 17s 19m Nasrin Human female, 5'5", muscular. Dark red hair, pale. 1m 1h Sebropert A black and copper Sith'Makar with burn scars. 0s 1h Ollithial A short, but powerfully built shadow elf. 11s 2h
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Plot Nexus <O> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
A fire burns in the center square of the village. A hush blesses the crowd as the fortune teller recants the tale of recent nights. A brisk winter wind howls between the buildings, catching the old woman's hair as she speaks. "The ninth winter comes. We all know what must be done! Either we pay the Grimgowl its tithe, or it will destroy the village." The village bursts into gasps, and murmuers, and rumbles of discontent. The old fortune teller motions with a hand for silence. "Nine for the nine. Every ninth winter we pay the Grimgowl nine of our young ones, or we all die. Those before us knew we would not want to pick, so we draw lots. Before the lottery, are there any that will volunteer?" Two cloudy eyes look about the crowd, and not unexpectedly no hands rise to give up their lives, or that of their children. Dragging forth a large bowl of terracotta clay. "Place your marks in the bowl. One for each girl or boy not yet of age." This tale of woe has finally reached the guild. Nine years have past since last the tithe was paid. So long ago, but bad news does not travel quickly. With its own problems to solve, a kind temple places up the money to send a party to the village, to see what this dark ceremony may entail. Again in the village square, just as the tale has been told, the villagers gather. The old fortune teller, now fully blind calls again for the lots to be drawn.
Krom considers a few long moments, and steps foreward. "Krom knows not of Grimgowl. Krom is not one of you. Krom ask honor of being made one of you. Krom will be one of you only short while. Krom will be one of your young. Krom volunteer to go to Grimgowl."
Standing on the fringes of the Explorer's Guild contingent, the short, black-haired woman crosses her arms, visible eye narrowing at the gathering. For the moment she holds her silence, but a thunderous scowl twists her pale features. As Krom speaks up, she grunts once, stepping to the warrior's side and throwing a withering glare at the blind fortune-teller.
"Grimgowl? What manner of creature is this you're paying tribute to?" Nasrin is a sight when she's angry. Fur-lined cloak, sweeping red hair, gleaming armour emblazoned with the sigil of Kor across the front, and a massive battleaxe across her back. She ends up standing less than a stone's throw from the fortune teller, staring intently toward the gathering. "You should all be ashamed. It's better to die with a sword in hand than to meekly turn over children who cannot yet fight. Where is this thing laired?"
"We are here from the adventurer's guild, put away your tokens and we will kill the thing that plagues you so, that is our contract," Ollithial calls out over the clamor, the shadow elf speaking swiftly and honestly. He abides by contracts and being paid in a timely manner, and has made issue of a lack of pay on several occasions.
Krom glances to the others. "Krom does not assume Krom has better wisdom of this life than those who live it. Krom know what is needed is seldom nice. Krom honor what sacrifice has already been made."
Silence falls upon the villagers as they look up to the adventurers volunteering themselves for sacrifice. The old woman cannot see the glares and withering stares. Her head lifts. "What know you of our plight to lay judgement?" The crone asks, her head shifting towards the different voices lifting. "We know not the ways of war. Once our ancestors tried to fight the Grimgowl. Into the marsh they marched to the Grimgowl's lair. Down they stepped with blade drawn, and naught again were they seen." She shifts about, her cane tapping at the earth as she moves. "We dare not wait with the tithe. But, it is not due until the sun breaks the horizon. If you have come to help," the crone's cane lifts to point out the western path our of town, its tip quivering with her desperation. "Then march you west. Straight as an arrow til you see the broken god tree. There at its roots you will find the Grimgowl and its dark brood."
"...West," comes Donna's sullen voice. Uncrossing her arms, she strikes out that way, pausing to glance behind her for only a moment. "Know this, woman. It was a Temple that gave word we were needed here. Next time, *don't* wait to ask for help." And with that, she resumes her way toward the lair.
"Live, die. Life is war. You can't improve your livess without fighting for it. If I die today... Perhaps you'll get you're sacrifice after all." Nasrin shrugs slightly, an uncomfortable gesture in heavy armour. There's a faint grimace as she does so. "Due west to the broken God tree. Very well. Thank you." Nasrin turns toward the west and takes a deep breath to start in the same direction as Donna.
Krom nods, and turns west. What's needed has been said.
Ollithial isn't going to repeat the issue, if they need more scolding for selling their children so cheaply, that is their problem. The guild will see that they are paid, so he just needs to finish the job. Taking the directions given, he starts west at a walk. Bow in hand. "Anyone have sense of direction better than just guessing?" he asks.
Shortly out of the town, the ground turns moist, and the air heavy. The trees once green now hang in sad deathly poses. Vine and thorn have taken have overtaken the land. The muds of the marsh suck and pull at the boots of the travelers. Deep in the marsh, the tiniest flicker of orange can be seen. A dancing life against the gray drab that surrounds.
Following the others, Ollithial taps his bow against his calf as he walks. Looking back over his shoulder as they leave town, he says to the others, "What a sorry lot, and this is coming from a kid who has left in Goblintown when he was just a lad, but the guild isn't exactly a new invention, and they're just throwing their kids away to feed some monster," he says to the others with a headshake.
Krom shrugs, frowning mildly as he double checks his compass. "The village still stands. The people survive. With their laws they have done so. Without, perhaps not."
"They won't have to any longer," Donna growls, blackened-steel gauntlets creaking as she opens and closes her fists. "We'll see how big its appetite is when I *feed it its own heart.*" Oh, the slight young woman is *very* much in a temper at the moment, for all she tries to tamp it down by keeping an eye on their heading.
"Not worth standing if you give up agency and self-improvement to cower behind your weakness," Nasin responds with a faint snort, shaking her head. "CHallenges like this exist to be emet. Whether for good or ill.. As if they can thrive without their younglings." She looks down at the compass cupped in heer hand as this is said and pauses, frowning. "There's something not quite right. The compass needle is quavering. Something is messing with out sense of direction, I think." She tromps along further. "If it has a heart left once we've beaten it into paste, you mean," the woman adds.
Krom shrugs again. "Krom does not agree with their ways, but they are THEIR ways. Krom will not force his will upon them." He nods to Nasin, and taps at his own compass. "Or North Steel, pull the indicator astray."
Above in the trees, rooks clack and caw into the night. Going is swift, but wet. The deeper waters leave a clear path of moss and rocks to give purchase to the marches. But to those without a keen eye, the movements of this supposedly dead land are invisible. Behind the marchers, ripples cut the swampy waters. Smooth white domes crest the water, then vanish before the ripples stop completely. Krom slows for a moment, frowning. "We are not alone... what flanks us, Krom does not know." he imparts quietly.
Suddenly the water roils. White domes crest the marsh, and empty skeletal sockets above grinning teeth rise. Four humanoid skeletons rise out of the waters. Two to the left and right, no more than five to ten feet at most. The first with a rusted scimitar swings wildly at Krom in the lead. No sound comes from the creature besides the clack of ichor covered bones.
The suddenness of their arrival causes his shafts to go wide, and Ollithial sends the shafts into the marshes to splash down. Even as he releases the second shaft, he starts to backpedal behind Krom, using the warrior as cover.
Staggering back as the rusted blade drags across her stomach, Donna's eyes widen in fury. The wrapping over her arm bursts outwards, held up by a faintly-glowing series of runes in blue just under her skin. Lunging forward, she swipes her spiked fist outward, but misses by a country mile... something that does not seem to improve her mood at all.
The skeletons seem more successful than the adventurers. Their blades are pitted and mired, but blows land well. 2 are on Krom, 1 on Donna, and 1 on Nasrin.
Krom blinks, and slashes back, his curved blades skipping off bone, but leaving marks behind. "Krom was expecting something more... fang-filled."
Nasrin is cursing as skeletons are appearing, reaching for the heavy axe acrossh er back. "I doubt this is the Grimgowl whatever, just its foul brood. They did mention a dark brood." The redhead is rolling her eyes, stepping back as one of the undead creatures lunges at her. "Learn to fight!" She calls, yanking her axe free with a snarl. The weapon glows for a second and from it projects another, glimmering axe made of pure force. That weapon floats for a second, then cleaves her attacker into two pieces of its own accord. One of the skeletons slashes Krom with both its sword and the sharp tips if its fingers.
Once again, Ollithial releases two swift arrows from his bow and they fly off in to the swamp. This time, both of the shafts flying through the hollowed chest of the skeleton. Pulling another arrow, he curses, "I really need some sort of arrows for shooting at skeletons, arrows are really not the best for this sort of thing."
Krom grunts softly, and renews his attack, blades ripping apart the skeleton as much as chopping the bones. "Yes, Krom expect 'brood' be young Grimgowl, not undead servants."
And after swing upon futile swing, Donna loops her glowing fist in a vicious overhead swing, shattering the dome of the ichor-covered skull. Pausing for a moment to catch her breath, she looks to one side, then the other. "....This isn't the tree we want," is all she says.
"I expect we still have a foe yet to destroy," Ollithial says and goes to retrieve a few of his spent arrows, wiping them off and dipping them back in to his quiver. He doesn't say anything about missing, but he doesn't exactly gloat either.
Krom stands ready a few moments longer, just in case something else jumps out, then tsks softly and relaxes. Dabbing at his injuries with a mostly clean cloth, he nods. "Krom assume we will know Broken God Tree when see it."
"I see these things are just as annoying as ever." Nasrin is grinding her heel on the bones of one of the skeletons, crushing it. She looks over at the spiritual axe and then shakes her head, letting out a soft laugh. "Forward, then. Sprightly. Kor is smiling upon is tonight. At least until we reach the monster's lair. Are we trying for any kind of stealth?" She starts forward, this time with her axe to hand. The glowing axe follows.
"We're bleeding," Donna says, "and heading for a monster that eats people. Don't think stealth'll mean much." Tugging at the wrapping over her arm, she presses a hand to the cut over her stomach, scowling against the pain. "Let's finish this."
Krom frowns at his compass, trying to double check against the sky and other signs how much it might have wavered. "If you know way to splash though muck quietly, Krom will immitate."
The ivory ambushers float in the water for moments before the weight of their blades drag them below the murky waters. A high pitched caw from a crow in a tree echoes through the marsh as the last skeleton sinks. The bird takes wing and the marsh is quiet once more. Deeper into the swamp the light in the distance grows slightly, flickering from the mist rising over water. Nearness breaks the mist, and the massive cylinder rising up from the ground. Even from a distance it is large. Wood shards peel out of its top. Once this pillar may have been a tree the Sildanyar themselves would sing about. But now the titan rests in its swampy grave. A few hundred meters away, and the orange flicker is revealed to be a torch. Burning away its life in a sconce against the tree. This final stretch is all that is left before the broken god tree.
"We should summon druids and clerics to cleanse this place, this place is wrong," Ollithial says as they advance upon the Broken God Tree. His bow held before him, he keeps his eyes open, staring in to the darkness with that adept power of the shadow elves. Ignoring the darkness.
"After," Donna says, tugging on her gauntlets to better seat them over her hands. "We're here to kill the monsters."
"Nope, not a clue on how to proceed quietly. Just checking," Nasrin responds in a cheerful tone as she continues to walk. Then she begins to sing. The Herald has a sweet, clear voice that manages a passable near alto, no doubt through practice. "Deep into the stony hills, miles from town or hold. A troop of guards comes riding with a lady and her gold. She rides bemused among them, shrouded in her cloaks of fur..." When the tree is coming closer a few moments later Nasrin trails off, tilting her head slowly. "We'll see to ap roper cleansing soon enough," she murmurs quietly. "But first we burn the monnster out. Shall we?" She's casting about for something- anything- that might indicate their target.
Krom shrugs, and steps foreward, raseing one blade to slice a shallow cut into his forehead. The trickle of blood flows not down, but up, soaking into the single white forelock, staining the length a brilliant red. "I AM KROM! Linnbane of Mestnoor, grandchild of Boadic, desendant of Arlic- son of Kreig Dranei! I am Champion of Sky, and chosen of the Erlking! Come forth Grimgowl, and face your tribute! Or Krom shall come in after you!"
The declaration earnes a briefly raised eyebrow from Donna, but she steps forward, spiked fists raised. "...That'll probably do it," she murmurs.
"Found us a way in. Steps and torches. Seems... Promising. Necromancer?" Nasrin laughs softly and then shakes her head, starting into the darkness at the base of the torch. "May as well see where it leads," she notes primly as she walks. "Wouldn't do to keep death waiting, after all."
Down, down, down the hole. Nasrin leads the team into the hollow beneath the broken god tree. The stairs spiral, and when they straighten again there is a small sconce with oil burning on one side. The tunnel gets no wider, but it remains high enough to walk normally. At the end of the hall a root plunges through the ground, and a simple stairwell is carved into the wood. One side of the stairwell is wall, and the other emptiness filled with the sound of falling water.Krom fishes a small vial from his pouch, and shakes it vigerously before clipping it to his belt and uncapping the top. A swarm of tiny motes of light drift out, hovering around the northman a few moments before fading away, another soon taking their place. Each mote is nothing, but together the cloud provides decent light without hindering his view. Frowing slightly, Krom brushes his fingertips across the wall on the right. "Air moves on the far side. Another room, perhaps?"
Following along with the others, Ollithial keeps his bow at the ready, but doesn't try to change positions at all, simply keeps his eyes open. "Check it?" he asks of them and points his bow at the opening.
Donna keeps herself oriented toward the open space, peering into the blackness. "Dunno," she grunts, glancing up to Krom and nodding in thanks. "...Could be open space, underground."
"A secret passage on the far side of the wall, you think?" Nasrin squints and turns, looking around again as she pivtos on a heel. "Would be the perfect place for an ambush. Let's see if we can figure out how we'd go about opening it then?" She approaches the wall and looks to Krom for direction. "Before we proceed down the death trap over there." She indicates the stairwell with a toss of her head, red tresses following suit. "Worst case we waste few minutes."
"It's a trap," Nasrin announces abruptly, taking a step back. She rubs her fingers together, holding up her hand to show the golden-orange goo running along the metal. "Lots of tiny holes. Poison darts, maybe? Best get away from this. We're lucky we didn't manage to trip it." She shakes her head then and looks to the stairs once more. "They're arranged pretty oddly. Normally I'd expect a uniform sequence, but... Anyway. We should avoid the top step, I think." She draws a line in the air with her finger from the wall toward the steps. "That's where it's aiming."
Krom hrmmms, and shrugs, poking at the wall. "Small holes. Maybe Grimgowl is tiny, or turn into cloud?" He blinks, and nods to Nasrin. "Or that."
"I can go grab a long branch to push on it with," Ollithial suggests and gestures back up the entrance.
"Stuff on my fingers. Smells like... Honey." Nasrin sniffs the air and shakes her head a couple of times before sighing. "I don't know. Do we need to trip it? I'd just as soon leave traps undisturbed if we're not completely sure what they do. I'd almost rather jump over the edge of the steps. I can throw light down to be sure it isn't a spiked pit."
Krom considers, and shrugs. "Trip or skip, Krom is fine either way."
"....Honey?" Donna asks, frowning in puzzlement. "...Maybe it's a hive?"
"Then let's jump over it," Ollithial says. He stares towards the stairway ahead, and continues to keeps his bow at the ready. Keeping his eyes open he prepares to follow the others as they move.
Up and over the step with no badness coming of it. The stairwell leads deeper down. At the bottom there is a small ledge by a pool of water. It is several feet deep. A hole in the wall under the stairs fills the pool, and it runs south out a small hole in the floor. Across from the ledge is an opening in the wall. A room with torches awaits. A dark skinned Mul'neissa sits within, her robes dark and covered in deathly talismans. On the floor you can see nine shallow graves waiting to be filled. "Hello pretties," the Mul says from beneath her hood. Beside her a piles of bones soaked in blood lay on the ground. A small roosting boast has a large familiar looking crow sitting on it. "Caw!" Ollithial hears the words from the other shadow elf and after a brief glance around. Brief glance. He unleashes two swift arrows, one hitting the crow soundly. "Fuck you, making our folk look bad," he says in harsh judgement.
Grimgowl snarls when the arrow pierces the crow. "Rise, defend me!" She motions at the pile of the ground beside her. "Curses? Fine. We'll deal with curses." Her chest convulses and she doubles over. Her mouth opens as she vomits forth a swarm of spiders. A black mass of many creeping legs forms on the ground to do her bidding.
Krom sighs. "Krom suppose is too late to talk this out?" And then spider-vomit... mildly disguisted, the north man advances anyway, grabbing a burning torch off the wall and tossing it at the spidery swarm. It's not much, but his own light has no flame.
"Witch," Donna snarls. "SHOOT THE BIRD!" Her arcane tattos glow, she crouches... And the young woman is off. Clearing the entire pond in a smooth rolling leap, she pelts forward, not stopping until her spiked fist buries itself in the witch's gut. "No kids for *you* this time," she growls past clenched teeth.
The swarm moves into Donna. Spiders!!!!
The pile of bloody bones rises from the ground, each joint fitting together with a clack. Its empty mouth opens with a gasp. A silent scream of horror. The witch steps back and her eyes glw like hot coals. Fire burns Donna's flesh, but fortunately she does not catch on fire from the witch's burning gaze.
Krom moves towards the bloody mess, blade chipping a... tibula? The slanty shoulder bone thing... "What sort of name is Grimgowl, anyway? Krom was named after great-uncle."
Finally hitting something other than a bird, Ollithial lets loose and manages to hit the witch solidly in the thigh. Drawing back another arrow, he prepares to let loose again.
Slipping around behind the Witch, Donna reaches out to grab her shoulder and drive a fist into her kidney... Only for the caster to turn, and swipe a knife across her cheek. Despite the bleeding, the black-haired woman grins. "*Made you look.*"
Nasrin is splashing through the water and making a frightful noise. Her red hair is slick, ssticking to her shoulders as she moves, dragging her way toward the fight. It startss to get shallower, however, and the cleric tkaes a deep breath, leveling her axe. "What kind of nonsense is thiss? Water? Really... Damn it..."She grumbles as he alines herself up on Grimgowl, then launches into a lumbering charge. She isn't swift, given the amount of armor she is wearing, but she does hit like a lumbering train, driving her axe forward with her own weight and scattering spiders as she goes.
Of all the things in the room, the spiders seem to be having the best luck. Gnawing on Nasrin with their sharp little mandibles. The red skeleton has little luck as it flails sharp hands at Krom. The axe to the back sends a splash of blood out from the witch. Her frame spins, bringing her burning gaze onto Nasrin. Scorching her, but the water all over the cleric keeps her from igniting.
Krom fehs, and returns the attack on the skeleton, his own efforts somewhat more productive as the undead creature falls to the floor, broken. Pulling back two swift shots, Ollithial lets loose with one arrow which hits the witch at an odd angle, piercing one of her lungs. In response, she had been about to turn and unleash some new curse upon him, only to take the follow-up shot through the mouth. The arrow punching through the back of her head and sending her tumbling to the ground of the cave.
As soon as the witch falls, the crow flies up the stairs, and the spiders fade from existence. The bones of blood and gore lay on the ground in a pile. The Grimgowl is dead, and each passing moment her body seems to age, growing older and wrinklier until she turns to dust.
As the Witch crumbles away, Donna lets out a long, slow breath, straightening. Silently, she watches the corpse age to a pile of dust, mouth pursed in hard, angry contemplation. Once it seems that no more activity will be had here, she nods, turning back toward the stairs. "*Now* we bring in the druids."
Krom looks around very cautiously. "Krom recall tale not unlike this. Hero go to fight monster in woods. Save village, big feast. Villagers slaughtered when monsters mother arrives. Krom pretty sure Grimgowl mother long gone, but maybe have sister or son or something."
Watching the witch crumbles away, Ollithial says, "I was sort of hoping we could bring the corpse back to the village, so they could throw rocks at it or something, maybe work up some bravery in the future, but screw them," he tells the others and does a usual quick search for looting purposes, before they head off back to Alexandria.
"Can you catch that damned bird?? It deserves to be buried with its master." nasrin is shaking her head, breathing heavily as she does so. Finally the young cleric walks toward the pile of dust which represents the once deadly Grimgowl, frowning. "Well, let's search the cave and get ready to hjead back toward town, I suppose. That was something interesting...." The room seems mainly designed for the purpose of the nine year ceremony. There are no living quarters. There are some knick-knacks. A doll made of cloth and chicken bones. A brass ring about the size of a bracelet. There is one hidden space, but it is empty. The shape of whatever was in the space is a perfect sphere. At about the end of that hour... As you are searching, about an hour in the pile of bloody bones starts to rattle and rises up into a fully formed skeleton again.
Krom acks as the Bloody Skeleton rises once more. "Krom is not okay with this!!"
As the skeleton suddenly rises and attacks Krom, Ollithial is quick to lift his bow and unleash two arrows. He hits it solidly, aiming for the head of the thing, since aiming for the ribs seems to always end up with his arrows flying through the ribcage.
"If it's coming back to life on its own then obviously something is wrong," Nasrin mutters, shaking her head as she does so. She is moving toward the newly fallen skeleton and shaking her head. For good measure the redhead hits the fallen skeleton a couple additional times. "Okay, that's it." Having crushed it the cleric goes to her belt. "It needs to be properly cleansed." It's a flask. Look. Nasrin pulls out the cork with her teeth and then she's pouring out the contents over the bones.
Krom coughs, and dabs at his more recent wounds. "...Krom think take some of the bones, toss them into the water. Take others, toss them into the swamp. Leave rest here. Just to be sure."
With the Grimgowl dead, and its minions purified, the trip home is uneventful. All the torches on the way out are dead, the flames dying out slowly without the witches power to feed them. The villagers are shocked at your return, but seeing as how they doubt you'd stab yourselves just to mock them. They offer trinkets of food and linen. The money will come from the guild after all. All is well, and the marsh is safe for the time being.