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For some hours now, you have travelled through the depths of the catacombs beneath The Dark City, great caves so cavernous that you cannot see walls or roof. The darkness, and the silence, would be enough to send many a man mad but you, battle hardened warriors to a man, have steeled yourself against the abyss and jouneyed on, following a steady stream of foul smelling water down towards the great doors that sealed The Terror's legacy, The Black, within the catacombs themselves. Deep within are twisted tunnels and chambers holding horrors no man can comprehend. But his Holiness, The White Emperor, has asked you to journey to the centre of The Black and retrieve Whitefang, the sword used to slay The Terror, so that he may himself use it to bring peace to the land.
The doors stand cut into a great stone wall seemingly made of one slab of black rock. It is ice cold and wet to touch, creaking and moaning quitely to itself as the darkness about it smothers everything else. The great double doors have a tableau etched into them - four great heroes in gleaming golden armour fight against an amorphous, sinsiter shadow that clings to the walls of The White City. Set amongst this is a star diamond, which crosses the tiny gap where the two doors meet and provides a faint gleam of light against the encroaching darkness. Inscribed below, in common, is:
"Here, The White City's downfall rests forever, as a testament to our weakness in a time needing courage and strength. May this door never be opened, for within lies an evil no man should need reckon again. As a penance for our failure, we who did not fall remain here, in body or in spirit, to see to it that The Terror never rises again".
The ground about the door is muddy and uneven. Staying in one place for too long sees any adventurer slowly sink into the mire.
Quarion shifts around in the mud, hoping to not stay in one spot too long and avoid getting his boots caught.
He turns to his other companions, "I believe we have reached the last point where a quick return is possible. Shall we proceed?"
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Melkor, Tiefling Warlock Avatar by Nevitan
Last edited by Awesomologist : 09-30-2008 at 04:13 PM.
Reason: Grammar
Pacing slowly back and forth, so as not to become enmired in the mud, Oredon replies, "Aye, good Eladrin. I would be out of this muck and on about our appointed task. Let us move forward with all due caution."
Bazrak, Dragonborn Fighter
Bazrak, visibly annoyed by the clinging mud, very nearly shouts his next words
Are we gonna open the door? Or stand here blabbering about it?
Despite his bravado, he takes no overt steps towards the door. He'd run into some nasty traps at the arena, and saw no reason to risk death before he could take on a beast or two.
This door is shoddy work. I've made better doors in my apprentice days. And why are all you whimpering about a little mud? Come on, let's go get this over with.
Hearing the others express, what can at best be considered urgency, Quarion takes a moment to examine the doors before opening them and moving through.
Spoiler
Only because I caught my weekly group with this. I'll be checking the door for traps, specifically magic ones. Perception - (1d20+8)[14](22) Arcana - (1d20+18)[13](31)
If nothing is detected Quarion will open the doors.
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Melkor, Tiefling Warlock Avatar by Nevitan
Bazrak, Dragonborn Fighter
Stepping from place to place to avoid being trapped in the mud, he moves behind the Eladrin, and readies his axe, with as close to a grin as can be managed by a reptile spread across his face.
Haha! I call dibs on anything that hops out at us!
Quarion's Arcane knowledge tells him that Star Diamonds, though brittle, are easily enchanted as magical traps; the rest of the door seems mundane though.
You all hear, or are prompted to listen more closely by your friends reaction, a scuttling and clawing, muffled almost to silence by the thick stone of the dungeon's doors.
Looks like we woke up whatever lived inside.
The elven figure in the back stands, irritatedly shifting his feet to avoid sinking while idly playing with the glowing, curved blade in his hand. Tossing it from hand to hand, matching the movements of his feet, he watches the door with a slight smile on his face, despite the fact that the terrain irked him.
Too bad for the poor beastie. Now it has to die. But at least it gets to see us in all our glory- wet, dirty, and pissed off. Hopefully it has fur- I think I'll need to wipe off my boots when we go in there.
The wizard begins to idly juggle the blade, his eyes remaining forward, all attention on the door. Dressed in simple, slim robes, he looked like a mage but acted like a fool. If anyone called him either, he would only smile. Most of the time, it was his enemy who would be fooled, and then only until their untimely death. For now, the doppleganger simply remained in his elven disguise, smirking and waiting for something interesting to happen.
The door swings open easily, despite its obvious mass. As its does so, thw affixed star diamond falls to the floor, a dull plop falling dead in the vast surroundings as the diamond begins to sink. Within is dark; what little you can see within is a black marble tiled corridor, about 10 feet across, with a ceiling covered in cobwebs. Metal loops in the walls for torches or lamps stand empty. Within the darkness, perhaps 100ft in, you can make out the darkest of hunched shapes, apparently waiting for your arrival.
Quarion Reisend, Eladrin Swordmage
Quarion points his sword at the wizard, "Light it up, unless one of the Dragonborn would prefer it. I can see well enough down here."
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Melkor, Tiefling Warlock Avatar by Nevitan
Bazrak, Dragonborn Fighter
Bazrak lets out a low, chilling laugh.
No point throwing spells out yet. I'll take care of the dark.
He reaches into his sack, pulling out a sunrod, and lighting it, before throwing it underhanded into the corridor. He then readies his axe,while going through a few small stretches.
Well, Here's to us. Hope you lot don't die.
He then steps forward, to just inside the corridor.
Spoiler
Sunrod-Bright light out to 20 feet, so no matter how far he throws it, it illuminates an 100 foot radius.
It's not much of a waste. Something as savage and unrefined as a fire blast I can throw around day. It's the more... graceful magics that are difficult or tiring to cast.
Robin ignites a small, magical flare on the end of his sword.
I'd rather not lead, if you don't mind. Bit delicate. But I'm an asset if I am protected.
He spins the blade, twirling it.
Though I'm not too shabby in a scrap.
Quarion motions to the others to follow as he leads the way into the center of the room.
Spoiler
Quarion will move cautiously towards the center of the room and stop only when he notices anything of interest or presenting danger. Perception - (1d20+8)[2](10)
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Melkor, Tiefling Warlock Avatar by Nevitan
You all here more scuttling - but can't quite place where, and the room itself doesn't appear to hold anything living other than you.
There is certainly plenty of death though. At least three sets of bones lay strewn on the ground, the skeletons almost certainly of elf or eldarin origin. In the centre of the room, on a podium, lays a sarcophagus made of white marble, with carvings of three elven heroes adorning the side facing you. The lid lies on the floor, a large crack lengthways down in, almost sundering it in two. Besides the way you came in there is, apparently, no other entrances or exits.
Oredon, sword ready, moves towards the sarcophagus for a closer look.
Spoiler
Oredon will stop if he notices anything amiss. Don't know if this was explicity included in Quarion's check, but Oredon will glance up towards the ceiling as he heads to the sarcopagus (just to make sure nothing is getting ready to drop on us).
Bazrak, Dragonborn Fighter
Bazrak shoulders his axe, and walks slowly towards the skeletons, stopping about 10 feet from them, examining them as best he can from a distance
You're probably right. Not enough meat on their bones.
He snorts.
Spoiler
I'll go ahead and roll a perception on the skellys. It can't hurt. (1D20+8)[10](18) or heal, maybe to pull a cause of death, whichever you feel fits. (1D20+7)[19](26)
Robin
True. Elves are a bit skimpy. Wonder what it would do if it was faced with a Dragonborn...
Saying this, he turns to Bazrak and smiles, his face growing scales and his eyes turning into glowering embers. He soon looks just like the fighter, with only a touch more ferocity in his expression and glowing eyes. He hisses at him in Draconic.
Spoiler
One of your race seems meaty enough. Perhaps he's still hungry, and we should call him back?
His face returning to normal, it changes further, until a pure white, blank figure stands before the group, with white hair and eyes.
Did I mention I am a doppelganger? I often forget. I prefer an elven guise most of the time, but I'm actually quite flexible. Just thought I'd tell you so you know of my skills.
He laughs to himself as he changes back to his elven form, waiting for a reaction from his companions.
Bazrak, Dragonborn Fighter
Bazrak laughs, loudly, and at length
<Draconic> So, You can be whatever you want? And you chose That skimpy form? You should disguise yourself as a WARRIOR! Get some respect!I think I fought someone like you once. He had great muscles, and a horrifying face, but fell over as soon as I hit him...Or maybe he was just a wimp, who knows?
I prefer this form, not for its raw power, but for its grace and elegance. Being a musclebound brute isn't exactly the most effective fo forms, since it doesn't really make me stronger, just look stronger. In this form, people think they will be dealing with an archer, or even a quick warrior. Then the fire starts raining from the sky, and their minds betray them, and they quake in fear. So, while your well muscled bulk is useful for taking blows for me, this form is more than appropriate for what I help you with- killing, en mass, and laughing while I do it.
The elf smirks and continues to juggle his blade while he says this, knowing that he liked the Dragonborn. Brash, aggressive, and overall useful, he would be a worthwhile companion.
Quarion listens to the conversation between the Eladrin/Doppelganger and the Dragonborn with a slight bit of amusement as a smile creeps along his face. However he remains focused on searching the room for clues as to what to do next.
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Melkor, Tiefling Warlock Avatar by Nevitan
"I'll probably go with a Dwarf, maybe with racial fighter-based PrC in there. A VERY Dwarven Dwarf, Oh, and dual pickaxes. Let's not forget about dual pickaxes. I like it. It's Dwarftastic!"-Kragorr, (drunk) companion.
Spoiler
"If you're fighting fairly then you're not doing it right."-theBST
The graceful ones usually are the wizards. Looking like a muscle-bound meathead would be a better cover. Then again, you all look like meatheads to me.
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The Dark City
