Post by Ha'ak al-Qulus on Nov 2, 2005 18:45:10 GMT -5
Interlude: Soul Fearing
Their approach announced by drumming footsteps, three armored figures pounded into the dim room and jolted to a sudden stop. They had clearly seen recent action and were just as clearly expecting to encounter more. Three grim faces peered into the shadows; two drawn, smoking swords and a glowing sorcerer’s staff wove protective patterns. The echoes of their noisy entrance faded, allowing the distant sighs and moans permeating this labyrinth to weave again their eerie aural tapestry. All three stared at the apparition before them, a robed figure so innocuous in appearance it made their defensive postures seem incongruous.
Before they could decide what action was called for, the figure bowed. A soft “Good morning” issued from the robed man’s hood-shrouded face as he surreptitiously tucked something away inside his robe. Then he straightened his back and lifted an orb, whispering words familiar to Isparian fighters all over Dereth. Feeling renewed stamina flow through his body, the trio’s mage immediately raised his own staff, as if in answer. His spell converted some of that physical resource into the spiritual pool of power he would soon need.
A thin smile flickered briefly within the hood, then was lost in the short, dark man’s short, white beard. “Two Liches just past the door, there,” he said softly, pointing. “Follow the passage beyond them; go right at the junction.”
The three adventurers turned to the door, approached it cautiously. They paused, testing the air for any strengthening of the faint charnel odor that permeated the dank passageways. One fighter pushed the door open, revealing an empty corridor. Looking at his companions, he waited for each to nod, then stepped through, sword ready, shield high.
The rush of displaced air was just enough warning, allowing all three to brace for the two grisly animated corpses that appeared in the hallway. One of the Liches raised a crossbow to fire at the mage, who had no shield to deflect the quarrel. The other paused in that characteristic pose fighters dread, gathering its energies to cast some deadly bolt or lay a shackling weakness on the victim before it.
The two fighters converged on the Lich holding the crossbow. It was the nearer, and protecting their mage was the best protection they could provide themselves. The armored sorcerer himself threw a bolt of fire at the Lich, but the creature curled its lip and let the spell wash past without effect. The fighters’ blades were not biting deeply into the Lich, either, and it looked as though the encounter might prove costly for the three Isparians.
Watching the battle’s progress, the robed figure again lifted his orb and whispered a few words. Swirling energy appeared around the Lich and had barely dispersed before the two fighters found their blades cutting through rotten flesh as through soft fruit, the Lich dissolving into ichor in moments. Attacking the second monster, the fighters found it much less resistant, and quickly reduced it, too, to an unwholesome heap of dry bones and moldering ligaments.
With no pause even to sift the Liches’ remains for something worth carrying away, the three ran down the corridor, one fighter calling back a “Thank you!” over her shoulder. The robed figure, alone again, said softly, almost inaudibly, “A pleasure, Lady.”
Taking from his robe the parchment he had hidden away earlier, the man returned to his interrupted task. He studied a sketch on the parchment, looking up from time to time as if to compare the room about him to the drawing in his hands. Apparently satisfied, he walked out into the corridor, stepped over the debris of the recent battle, and strode briskly down the hallway.
Reaching out mentally to a touch a friend half a continent away, the man asked, “Nandesu Ka. What news?”
Her reply formed in his mind, “Ha’ak-san! I’ve no special news. Are you well? Are you safe?”
“Safe as can be, Nan-san. I’m mapping Three Towers.”
“Ha’ak-san! You’re not there alone, are you?”
“Of course not, dear patron. I’ve all manner of company. The place is practically alive.”
Their approach announced by drumming footsteps, three armored figures pounded into the dim room and jolted to a sudden stop. They had clearly seen recent action and were just as clearly expecting to encounter more. Three grim faces peered into the shadows; two drawn, smoking swords and a glowing sorcerer’s staff wove protective patterns. The echoes of their noisy entrance faded, allowing the distant sighs and moans permeating this labyrinth to weave again their eerie aural tapestry. All three stared at the apparition before them, a robed figure so innocuous in appearance it made their defensive postures seem incongruous.
Before they could decide what action was called for, the figure bowed. A soft “Good morning” issued from the robed man’s hood-shrouded face as he surreptitiously tucked something away inside his robe. Then he straightened his back and lifted an orb, whispering words familiar to Isparian fighters all over Dereth. Feeling renewed stamina flow through his body, the trio’s mage immediately raised his own staff, as if in answer. His spell converted some of that physical resource into the spiritual pool of power he would soon need.
A thin smile flickered briefly within the hood, then was lost in the short, dark man’s short, white beard. “Two Liches just past the door, there,” he said softly, pointing. “Follow the passage beyond them; go right at the junction.”
The three adventurers turned to the door, approached it cautiously. They paused, testing the air for any strengthening of the faint charnel odor that permeated the dank passageways. One fighter pushed the door open, revealing an empty corridor. Looking at his companions, he waited for each to nod, then stepped through, sword ready, shield high.
The rush of displaced air was just enough warning, allowing all three to brace for the two grisly animated corpses that appeared in the hallway. One of the Liches raised a crossbow to fire at the mage, who had no shield to deflect the quarrel. The other paused in that characteristic pose fighters dread, gathering its energies to cast some deadly bolt or lay a shackling weakness on the victim before it.
The two fighters converged on the Lich holding the crossbow. It was the nearer, and protecting their mage was the best protection they could provide themselves. The armored sorcerer himself threw a bolt of fire at the Lich, but the creature curled its lip and let the spell wash past without effect. The fighters’ blades were not biting deeply into the Lich, either, and it looked as though the encounter might prove costly for the three Isparians.
Watching the battle’s progress, the robed figure again lifted his orb and whispered a few words. Swirling energy appeared around the Lich and had barely dispersed before the two fighters found their blades cutting through rotten flesh as through soft fruit, the Lich dissolving into ichor in moments. Attacking the second monster, the fighters found it much less resistant, and quickly reduced it, too, to an unwholesome heap of dry bones and moldering ligaments.
With no pause even to sift the Liches’ remains for something worth carrying away, the three ran down the corridor, one fighter calling back a “Thank you!” over her shoulder. The robed figure, alone again, said softly, almost inaudibly, “A pleasure, Lady.”
Taking from his robe the parchment he had hidden away earlier, the man returned to his interrupted task. He studied a sketch on the parchment, looking up from time to time as if to compare the room about him to the drawing in his hands. Apparently satisfied, he walked out into the corridor, stepped over the debris of the recent battle, and strode briskly down the hallway.
Reaching out mentally to a touch a friend half a continent away, the man asked, “Nandesu Ka. What news?”
Her reply formed in his mind, “Ha’ak-san! I’ve no special news. Are you well? Are you safe?”
“Safe as can be, Nan-san. I’m mapping Three Towers.”
“Ha’ak-san! You’re not there alone, are you?”
“Of course not, dear patron. I’ve all manner of company. The place is practically alive.”