Quest Loot Runners #4: A Quiet Place

[Toruuk Stoneheart]

An unburned torch that hadn't been waterlogged...that was a fortunate find. As usual, Toruuk's amazing sense of direction had led them to amazingly good fortune. This was only a sign of more good things to come, to be sure.

The minotaur scanned the room, seeing the same discarded gear and heraldry that his roguish friend had.

"Y'think this was some sorta guard tower?"

He snorted loudly.
"This could o' been a damn tool shed or a shit house for all I know. Elves are always so damn immaculate with everything."

Far more eye catching than any of the junk that was scattered about in the foyer was a flight of stairs at the back of the room, headed upwards. Now that was a good sign. Progress was progress, and as the old saying went, there was "nowhere to go but up!"

Toruuk beckoned his companion along and trotted towards the stairs.
"Heh, betcha this Bambalam thing is at the top! Let's get movin'!"
The bull started charging up the stairs, stopping on each flight to peak into each room momentarily. *STOMP STOMP STOMP*
Empty
*STOMP STOMP STOMP*
Nope
*STOMP STOMP STOMP*
Nuh-uh
*STOMP STOMP STOMP*
Not--wuh oh.

The room was filled with a constant, soft buzzing, a quiet cacophony of sawing logs. The whole room, probably ten stories up, was filled with snoring goblins. Toruuk wasn't particularly surprised to see them all clustered about in their little sleeping piles, no, what was truly shocking was that he hadn't managed to wake them all up in his raucous charge up the stairs.

"Uhhh...hey, Em," He sort of whisper-yelled back down the stairs. "We got a swarm of little nappers in here."

 

[Emery Thatcher]

"Oi, that's fair." Emery spoke in response to his minotaur friends comment on elves. "Bastards sure know how ta' make stuff confusin'."

It took seconds before Toruuk Stoneheart was parading through the tower like he owned the damn place. Which if he wanted to claim that he did he doubted that anyone would argue. Emery certainly wouldn't. He just shrugged and lit up another cigarette with the torch he procured luckily and followed behind the lug so he could have some light for his wild stomping.

Emery was leaning against a wall looking at the tiles when Toruuk called to him. "Nappah's?" He asked, confounded. The thief walked over to where Toruuk stood and saw what he'd seen. A bunch of sleeping goblins. The bandit's eyebrows raised as he peered in and noted to now take a lighter approach with his voice.

"Ah, see whatcha mean. Aight, hold dis'." And he handed Toruuk the torch. With that exchange, he drew a dagger from under his coattails and tip toed into the room.

"Time t'cut some throats then." He whisper laughed.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

Majister and his raiders did not make it very far through the receiving hall. A distinct tremor in the ground, a faint rumbling relayed up through their feet, alerted them to the presence of something...big.

Krull and Darla exchanged glances behind Majister. None of them had heard the wizard making mention of something beyond squat stature taking up residence here in the Lower District. Majister himself could have sworn that the escaped goblin was off to bring back some more of his foul fellows, or to set up some trap or ambush somewhere. This was an intriguing development.

The three of them stopped. Waited, each with degrees of apprehension. Some dust was shaken loose from one of the pillars in the hall (this particular one broken some three-quarters of the way up from its base). Tricks of the light played on the pocket of dust drifting down before them.

And, at the end of the receiving hall and through the tall arching portal at that end, came a giant. No, no, you heard that right. An honest to goodness giant. One whose head nearly scraped against the very ceiling of the hall. One who carried a hammer that appeared quite adequate of striking all three of them at once with a sufficiently aimed swing.

Darla laughed nervously.

Krull let out a contemplative and throaty hmmm.

And Majister (relieved, of course, that giant hailed them instead of charged straight on) immediately threw his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Well met, my gargantuan gentleman! You've been doing quite well for yourself, I see, and allow me to be the first to say how impressively you've sculpted your physique! The pristine image of bristling muscle the quintessential sculptor always has in mind! Oh do save your thanks, my good giant, compliments are complementary to our fortuitous meeting here!"

A sweep of his right hand, and it was drawn dramatically over his heart. "But where are my manners? I've simply forgotten to introduce myself and my comrades! The orc behind me is Krull, the woman Darla, and I, my good giant, am Majister! And I'm here to tell you that I am absolutely ecstatic that our paths should cross here in this most potentially lucrative of times!"

Majister spread his hands. Inviting. Suggesting. "Lucrative. Yes! And for the both of us, I might add! You see, my good giant, I cannot help but to notice a distinct lack of goblin blood staining that mighty hammer of yours. Ghastly, I know! Simply ghastly! But fear not, for I have just the remedy for you, friend! As it so happens, I and my fellows have only moments ago slain a number of these squat fiends. But! As fate would have it, one of them escaped our wrath and scurried off further into the Lower District here. Surely, this vicious runt intends further malice against myself and my band here! And here, my good giant, is where you come in! Join us on this venture, and I promise all the foes you could ever want to face this day. How does that sound?"

Majister awaited the giant's answer. His allegiance would certainly be...preferable to the alternative.

Jair

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2 - Soldiers of Fortune
with Donric Mannir, Edward Smitan, and Colette Maconner

The Anirian Guard was highly skilled at ground warfare and land based activities. However, if you wanted competent rowers you would find far better seamen amongst the Anirian Navy. Despite Colette and her allies' best intentions it took them far longer to row their little craft towards the shorehead than a more experienced group would’ve taken. Fortunately, none of the other competitors seemed to be aiming for the keep.

Donric’s constant grumbling was grating when she had first met the more veteran soldier. Though eventually it became somewhat of a comfort when she had the pleasure of venturing out with the man. It was easy enough to let his words slip into the background and focus on more pressing matters and when you returned to the incessant complaints he’d lodge you would have comforting words from a friend to keep you company.

As the base of their rowboat skidded onto the sand of the shore Colette whisked her fingers through her increasingly thick hair. This humidity felt heavier than a ten ton weight collapsing on the group.

”I don’t use my sword as often as you two because I’m an archer, if either of you think you can hit a bullseye from downrange ten times in a row you’re welcome to take my place,” she informed the group’s field medic. Bantering amongst her fellow soldiers was something that Colette enjoyed even if her gloating was a bit too extreme.

Rancid fumes snaked their way into the girl’s nostrils causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. A hoarse cough escaped from her lungs to accompany the face she was making but that was nothing compared to Donric’s composure. He turned to the side and vomited in a violent manner. As gross as that was the proud guardsman of Aniria knew that people responded differently to a variety of sensations.

Colette placed a gentle palm on the medic’s shoulder and spoke softly, “you OK? I know you hate elves but to vomit? That seems a bit intense.” Her words were jovial as she smirked a bit at his misfortune. ”You need a cloth to clean your face?”

Though she hadn’t allowed her lunch to come up the wrong end the straw haired girl would never have denied that the smell was repugnant. Whatever lied inside of the keep before them was surely decaying. Perhaps it was the bodies of those who came before them to retrieve the treasure ahead. Maybe that’s just what plague ghouls smelled like. Or it could’ve just been all of the unusual vines and flowers growing off the face of the keep. Elves liked weird smells after all.

Colette’s footsteps thundered up the staircase of the porch of the keep until she was right by the doorknob itself. She stayed facing the door, not sure if Donric had caught up yet, and asked, ”so, uh, buddy… how about you turn that knob and go on ahead inside. I’ll cover you.” Without further conversing she readied her shortbow with an arrow and pulled back on the bow string, ready to take out whatever may lay on the other side.

 

[Jair]

Jair smirked as the roguish looking man talked up a storm, even chuckling along as he went on such a loquacious spiel. He gave a nod to the individuals as they were introduced. Finally when the full, and elaborate introduction was finished the giant replied, trying to sound like a typical giant.

"Well aint chu a pretty talkin ass kisser" He with all the grace of a boxer, and a big ol' smile on his face introduced him self "I'm Jair, the storm, and I'd be happy to join yall, an knock some heads."

He might not be the best play actor but he figured it worked for most of the drunkards in the taverns. At the moment he wasn't going to show all the cards in his hand.

Normal people shook hands, but considering the size discrepancy he offered up a bro fist. "Nice to meet ya!"

((tag Majister ))

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT

Spoiler

Well aint chu a pretty talkin ass kisser.

Majister just grinned. Said, "This certainly would not be the first accusation of flattery leveled in my general direction."

And then the giant introduced himself, not merely to Majister's relief but to Krull's and especially Darla's as well (her sigh was a veritable gale wind compared to Krull's). My, how the seas of luck undulated with varying ferocity from moment to moment! Majister could have sworn with a conviction reserved only for the most religious of zealots that giants were a solitary people. Ah yes, and why wouldn't they be? What other beings walking the surface of Arethil could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them?

See here! The case in point! Why, such was the disparity between himself and Jair that the giant, had he offered his hand to shake, would have crushed Majister's own. Even the most benevolent of giants had to know quite keenly that their mere presence, their enormous size, was a danger to the smaller beings around them. Hence, another reason among many for the individualism.

But, oh yes, like a game of Allirian Five suddenly going into one's favor at the revealing of the last two shared cards, this particular giant not only was willing to set aside any individualistic tendencies he may (or may not) have, but also willing to join Majister instead of...well, instead of crushing him and his comrades to death. Gorgeous!

Majister stepped forward, made a fist of his own, and thrust it forward to pound against Jair's own. Perhaps such a vigorous gesture would have been a touch rough for another human, but Majister suspected that the giant would hardly feel the otherwise considerable force backing the thrust of his fist.

"And we are well met!" said Majister. "Pleasure to have you on board with our wonderful venture here in this long lost locale! Come! We may walk and parlay. And, with any luck, our talks may yet summon our nefarious foes! Better to know where our enemy is than not, wouldn't you say?"

Majister led the way out of the receiving hall and into the Plaza of the Lower District. A vast open square, with scattered grasses struggling to reclaim the city through the plethora of cracks in the smooth stone blocks comprising the ground. Puddles of collected rainwater, both large and small, covered a sizable portion of the square alongside these grasses, giving the floor of the Plaza a certain resemblance to Bayou Garramarisma and other swamps. In the very center of the square, a huge fallen statue, its legs broken off and its face defiled by both time and the vandalization of the goblins. Every towering building lining the perimeter of the square was in some state of disrepair: long shattered windows, crumbling walls and doorways, collapsed roofs, overgrowths of particular hardy vines smothering the lost beauty of their facades, accumulated water damage, chips and holes and other small scarring in the stone and the wood and the marble and the brick which all told the sum of the story of Dar'dell in the dreary wake of the lost city's fall.

Majister thought not to check any of these buildings of the Plaza: shops or homes or civil buildings or whatever they once may have been. No, he had an idea on where the Bammaram might be. A hunch, call it. From down below on the shore he had disembarked on, at the base of the massive staircase, Majister had seen what appeared to be some kind of church or temple in the Lower District. Quite the enormous structure, even among such breathtaking company as this Plaza and other titanic constructions across the whole of the city. And to get to this church, there was yet another staircase leading up to a bridge across a waterfall. This staircase and bridge were, roughly speaking, currently ahead of them and to their left: there ought to be some access to them in this direction. And, as a sort of confirmation, the dirty footsteps of their escaped goblin fellow seemed to go precisely in this direction as well.

Onward! Majister strode forward, his boots splashing in the waters puddles here and puddles there as he made his way across the vast square of the Plaza. Darla and Krull were at his flanks.

To Jair, Majister said, "My good giant, you simply must share with us your story! Surely you'll admit that this is a most unique location in which to find oneself! Why, I'd be remiss if I did not mention that you might well find the presence of myself and my fellows here as surprising as we find yours! Have you come on account of the wizard Grangomelle's game? Or perhaps you seek solely the merriment of crushing a foul goblin or two with that fearsome hammer of yours? Do tell!"

Jair

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

His fingers let out a rhythmic crack, interlocked between each other, he cracked his beck to the side, rubbing it with a soothing hand. He plopped back his spired hat, bent and cocked over as whatever spittles of blood he could he removed. He walked a little past the duo, vision a haze in the embracing darkness, the very mouth of the cave seeming to form in this silky black mess, devoid of life and colour. He turned to Caliane, giving a rather exaggerated bow in kind, his hand rolled three times in the air before pressing against his chest, his right leg extended straight behind him as his while his left bent, becoming half his height, "A right pleasure to meet you two, I am one Farzad Oldsummer," He gave a peculiar shake of his head at mentioning his name, "And fret not dear Avariel, it was the best flight I've ever had in my, admittedly short lifespan." He replied in kind, himself a bombastic display of colour matched only by the complete destruction of it around him, the gaping maw of black consuming all. Until something emerged from it. "Wow, spectacular. These crabs are every..." He paused, turning to the Avariel, he raised a finger to his lips, crossed it than drew it lengthwise along them.

He watched as the torch was tossed towards him, narrowly missing it but with certainty fumbled, lucky the fire didn't snare his clothing in flame, turning around a great wave of his torch, scaring away the darkness. Than something stirred in that cruel darkness. Well what was cruel darkness.

It was a single, wry creature, wings left furled, the crackle of it's footsteps were covered by the scuttle and conversation between the three of them, even the now burning wood's mundane crackle covered it up. Farzad's eyes grew wide, staring the beast down it came closer. Closer.

See, now this is fascinating. He lost himself in his own ramblings, watching it come nearer and nearer, This creature mustn't have always been blind. It recognizes that it was hidden in the darkness and couldn't use it's wings without alerting us. He stated, he propped his staff hand under his chin with a closed fist, mimicking the great thinkers of the past though clearly lacking their common sense. And not only that, it is using the crackle of fire to cover up it's footsteps. Simply engrossing, I wonder if they have a language? Could I, Farzad open up channels of comm- he was cut off, it had reacted to the unnatural warmth, it's mutated fingertips done what passed for a grip, though to thin to lift his weight up properly, it's other arm came back reeling to end the prey and drag him into darkness. Farzad replied swiftly.

The hand with the old wood and fire was snuffed.
​

It was a deaf movement, a casual stride of the hand as the creature's skull was quickly made into a cruel fizzle, bubbling flesh, it's mouth hanging loose as it's body slowly curled up into a ball. Farzad kept quiet as he looked at the raptorial arm. His eyes grew wide, the fingertips didn't grow limp. It closed him closer, the light was diminished Farzad was lost in the darkness, his mouth was left agasp, the thing was running on muscle memory. It's mouth still turned and chewed but there was little force, the arms that slowly closed in pressed his gut at the now ineffective mouth, it's teeth getting locked into his clothing the feel of bubbled and cindered flesh stained into his clothing. The smell was rancid. He pressed his hands against the creature trying to pry himself free, head jerking trying to hold back the vile vomit that now started to stir in his gullet.

Smiling One /\ Caliane Ruinë​

 

[Donric Mannir]

Treasure 2 - Soldiers of Fortune
Donric Mannir Edward Smitan and Colette

A second vomit followed, although, considering how thorough he'd been the first time, this was more of a dry heave. With his hand pressed up against the door, Donric took a moment to steady himself and breath deeply. While the air around him was still squalid and dank, the memory of that bloated corpse slowly drifted out of his mind and he returned back to the real world. Carefully, he dipped his spare hand into his kit bag and plucked out three brown pellets from his stock. He wolfed the first one down and found his nausea fade almost immediately.

He paused and considered how unsympathetic Cole was with him, he toyed with the idea of not passing a pellet towards her but soon decided against it. "You should be nicer to me you know, I mean... If you were to get hurt, I'd get to pick whether or not we keep you." He grinned, clearly happy with his retort, and slipped his comrades a pellet each for their consumption. "The smell will undoubtedly get worse in there, take this and it'll prevent nausea."

He'd been told during his training that this pellet was a cure-all, a wonderdrug, synthesised from all the stable herbs and dried into a pill form. Equally a rumour went around, a couple of years back, saying the drug was fake - a plussy-bow or something - apparently designed to trick your mind into thinking you were cured of all ailments. Donric didn't hold much stock in that idea, he considered himself a bit smarter than your average soldier, and this tablet had always cured all his issues like magic.

A moment later Donric began to arm himself, equipping his sturdy iron shield and heavy mace as his armaments of choice. He knew the next battle would be tough and the chances are he might not even survive, but hopefully, his heavy armour and shield would at least provide some protection. Satisfied with his armaments, Donric leaned against the door and turned the knob. A mechanism clicked, the runes across the door lit up, and as they entered an orchestral accompaniment marked their arrival.

"What the fu- Fucking elves, I swear to god I could scalp the-" He didn't get to finish his sentence. Donric barely had time to raise his shield as a green blur bounded across his vision and slammed into him. The two figures fell together, the beast displaying an impressive amount of strength for something that essentially amounted to a sabretooth corpse. The beast was quick, but Donric quicker, he worked entirely on instinct and training. With a heave, he leveraged his shield and cast off the green menace from his body.

He rose to his feet, he roared, and as the ghoul steadied itself, ready to charge for a second time, Donric's mace struck the beast head-on. The face crumbled, the teeth shattered and, after an uncomfortable few moments of writhing, the beast finally seemed dead. He paused, nudging the beastie with his foot, in the distance some far-off rumbling and howling could be heard. "We need to run, anywhere that isn't here, that sodding fucking stupid elf door has given us away." He shuddered at the prospect of fighting more of these.

 

[Jair]

Treasure 3​

The giant was still chortling as he let the trio of little people lead the way, letting his ships anchor of a weapon dangle over his shoulder. The receiving room that they passed through was lined with the most striking of granite, with natrual inlays of gold, making the what little bare floor that was visible look like golden veins running across it.

Jairs foot splashed into a puddle, it was likely a deep puddle for those who were not giants. There were plenty of arches that he had to duck under, and his head brushed against some of the low hanging vines, he brushed a few aside, and the popped like thick cob webs.

"My good giant, you simply must share with us your story! Surely you'll admit that this is a most unique location in which to find oneself! Why, I'd be remiss if I did not mention that you might well find the presence of myself and my fellows here as surprising as we find yours! Have you come on account of the wizard Grangomelle's game? Or perhaps you seek solely the merriment of crushing a foul goblin or two with that fearsome hammer of yours? Do tell!"

He heard the rogue ask. "Me? I head about this little treasure hunt at a tavern. Didn't get any details, but decided to come for fun, and profit any way. I was starting to get disappointed till I happened upon yall though." The giant replied as trailed behind examining the architecture looking for wards, and other such runes.

((tag Mathis Majister Mejeure
))

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT

Spoiler

Majister walked through the Plaza, hands folded behind his back, listening to the giant's succinct reply.

Interesting, yes. Why, you might even say that Jair was the ideal ally. Here for fun and undefined profit and with no knowledge of the Bammaram at stake. Perhaps even if the item had caught his attention he would be swiftly disappointed in seeing that it was crafted for hands much smaller than his own. Hmm. Oh but would it not be ironic if this revelation were the other way around? The Bammaram crafted for hands much larger than Majister's own? Dreadful. Simply dreadful.

But he retained a high confidence that this venture would prove successful. Whatever meager treasures these goblins may have cobbled together over the years Majister would be willing to part with...provided of course that the hypothetical hoard in question wasn't too large. Then some negotiations would need to take place.

"A tavern, huh," said Darla to the giant. "Everything of note always happens in a tavern." She wasn't wrong. Had they not themselves learned of Grangomelle's game the very same way?

"I wonder how large the tavern must have been," said Krull.

"Not as large as poor Jair's tab, I do reckon," Majister said, letting out a crisp hah hah! "The sheer quantities of drink involved in inebriating a giant must surely be staggering! Would it not be a gorgeous godsend to chance upon stolen valuables here, my good giant? I'm certain these monetary woes of yours could--"

Majister had been walking and talking, head back over his shoulder to speak with Jair, intuitively proceeding in across the Plaza and toward the suspected passageway to the staircase. The splash of his boots in water was expected. The light rustle of grasses against his legs and their soft sponginess under his feet as he stepped upon them was expected.

The thin, barely visible tripwire snapping just as he turned to the passageway, however, was not.

A log suspended by two ropes was loosed. It was supposed to swing down, previously unseen, from the opposite side of the passageway's arch and, presumably, ram into and dispatch its victim. The devious goblin construction, however, failed miserably. The log, instead of swinging forward into Majister and killing him...simply dropped to the ground some few paces from him with a loud but ultimately harmless thud.

Majister, Krull, and Darla all froze. Darla let out a small squeak of belated fright.

"All things as they should be, I suppose," Krull said. And he smirked. "Goblins..."

Majister, holding his ground and not quite daring to ascend the staircase just yet, looked back again to Jair and said, "By any chance do you, with your superior vantage up there, happen to spot anything else peculiar around us? Anything a goblin, say, might consider an effective trap? There's only so much luck the appropriate Lady is willing to dole out to me, and, believe you me, I'd rather not test Her patience!"

Jair

 

[Toruuk Stoneheart]

Treasure 3

"Time t'cut some throats then."

The Minotaur placed a massive mitt on his companion's chest to stop his advance.
"Oi, what? They ain't doin' anything to us and there ain't no glory in killin' a sleepin' opponent."

The suddenness of Emery's advance into the room had made the bull forget that he was supposed to be whispering. Regardless, he wasn't particularly happy about the idea of just slaughtering a bunch of weak little goblins in their sleep, and he had to make that known.

"C'mon, kid! I thought we talked about this! If we don't get the Black Betty thing with honor and glory then there ain't no point in comin' up here at all." He huffed and stomped a defiant foot into the ground. He was quickly getting worked up about this.

Just out of sight, beyond the bull's peripherals, a sleeping goblin stirred. And then another. One grumbled in irritation as the veil of sleep began to be lifted from it. All of Toruuk's arguing and stomping about was beginning to take its toll.

Toruuk, of course, was none the wiser. He continued flailing the torch around in his hands as he gestured wildly, ever an animated speaker. He was totally oblivious to the danger he was slowly rousing.

 

[Jair]

Treasure 3
​

"Not as large as poor Jair's tab, I do reckon, "The sheer quantities of drink involved in inebriating a giant must surely be staggering! Would it not be a gorgeous godsend to chance upon stolen valuables here, my good giant? I'm certain these monetary woes of yours could--"

The eldritch giant was about to reply with "that's the reason why I pursue such adventures" but then a log fell to the ground before them, and instead stated "well that would have left a bruise." He was already looking on the path ahead when the little rogue asked.

"By any chance do you, with your superior vantage up there, happen to spot anything else peculiar around us? Anything a goblin, say, might consider an effective trap? There's only so much luck the appropriate Lady is willing to dole out to me, and, believe you me, I'd rather not test Her patience!"

Looking forward Jair could see quite the few potential traps. "I see several dead falls, the kind those scruffy types in the forests like to play at. I think some sort of snare traps. They wont be much trouble for me, but could possible cause you to at the very least to slow you down."

He paused a moment, and furrowed his brow "um I can possibly do something that'll set off every trap for quite a distance, but it might bring down a very large portion of the city as well. I've never had to direct it." The monk mage elaborated slightly. He let his anchor drop to the floor, and rested his foot on one of the flukes.

Taking a deeper look his noticed that the goblins had sort of fortified stalls, and old abandoned building. The elves made their structures to last, and often enchanted the materials to ensure that they lasted for time in memoriam, the goblins construction was ramshackled like what one might make when drunk on a dwarven gut buster or some such. He could really ruin their day if there was a consensus to let hem do it.

((Tag Majister ))

 

[Emery Thatcher]

LOWER DISTRICT

"Oi, meatead'" Emery whisper scolded. "This ain't about glory er whatevah' you've got all mixed up right there. Thems lil' fuckers in there would do the same if the tables were turned, ain't no reason we should let em' be." The thief never did understand the meaning of honor or how battle could be about anything other than life and death. He knew these goblins would kill them if they weren't quick about it now.

Unwittingly, Emery's voice picked up in volume too.

"Y'think ya high and mighty cuz' you made it all the way through the hedge maze and the towah' some weeks back and I left due to sickness." Or at least that's what he thought had happened. "Y'ain't had no problems back there killin', now let's GET TO IT!"

As soon as his sentence finished, a spear planted itself in the walls beside the bickering duo. As Emery's face panned in surprise he noticed that every single goblin had awoken due to their loud fighting and stomping.

"Now that ain't good." Emery chuckled casually.

The goblins threw themselves at the both of them. Emery was quick, jumping immediately on top of one of their heads. Then another. And a hop, step, and a skip had leapt his way nimbly over the heads of six goblins to the other side of the room and drawn his dagger.

"Aight, I misspoke Toruuk," The thief offering the minotaur a warm grin.

"This is wayyyyy more like it."

Toruuk Stoneheart

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

Keen eyes, this one. Jair needed but a small moment and a dash of advance knowledge to spot a number of those devious goblin traps--some of which, presumably, likely to work as intended--inconveniently set up along their way to the staircase and the bridge beyond.

I can possibly do something that'll set off every trap for quite a distance, but it might bring down a very large portion of the city as well.

Exchanged glances among the three of them.

"A gamble against the traps," said Majister, smirking slightly, "or a gamble against what may happen from this thing you've offered to do, my good giant."

He glanced at Krull. He inhaled. Said, "Seems meant to be. In my humble opinion."

He glanced to Darla. She shrugged. Said, "I just fucking hate traps."

Then Majister turned about to face Jair directly. Said, "Well then, with a preamble like that, how could I possibly be the one to say nay against this spectacle of yours? I shall happily gamble a very large portion of the city if such must be the wager! Fear not, my gargantuan friend, for both you and I know that this city was lost far before either of us set foot here."

As for the other adventurers? Elsewhere in the city, searching for other treasure, possibly to affected by Jair's trick? Well. Not all adventures have happy endings.

Majister, his hands folded behind his back still, turned back around to watch the coming results in the passageway and the bottom of the staircase. Set off every trap, he had said. Should make for splendid viewing.

"At your leisure, Jair," Majister said, as casually as a callous military officer ordering the burning of a village for strategic gain.

Jair

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2 - Soldiers of Fortune
with Donric Mannir, Edward Smitan, and Colette Maconner

”You wouldn’t get very far without me,” Colette replied to Donric’s remark in a joking tone as she took the brown pellet and forced it down. The pellet itself had an odd taste to it, like mixing dirt with rubbing alcohol. She thought about asking the field medic what was in the pellet but she had learned that he hated having to explain anything medical to her. ‘Just shut up and lemme do my job,’ would probably be his reply.

Once the group was at the door Colette tried to steady her breathing. It was always tense when she pulled back on the bowstring and had to just… wait for whatever came next. As Donric turned the door handle a signal cut on and began to alert anyone, or anything, in the vicinity. The Anirian medic began to curse the elves until the absolute image of disgust reared its head in a frenzy.

It was uglier than ugly. Rancid sores festering all over its green skin. A disgusting stench resembling rotting onions mixed with expensive cheese. And those razor sharp teeth supported by a wide gaping maw.

At the sight of this beast Colette let loose a high pitched yelp and released the fletching of her arrow. The missile soared through the air and, due entirely to her surprise of course, hit nowhere near the plague ghoul instead lodging itself in the soft wood of the door. Donric had just barely been able to repel the creature and was getting ready to charge once more.

”Kill it! Kill it!” the yellow-haired girl screamed at her comrade. Too paralyzed by fear to grab for a second arrow.

Donric’s mace struck true, turning the creature's skull into a fractured mess that smelled even worse than when it was alive. Her ears detected the horrendous sound of moaning and movement that could only be even more of these foul things.

With utter surprise spread across her face she looked at the mace-wielding man, ”the elvish door? You’re the one who set off the alarm!” This wasn’t a time to point fingers or assign blame, but, it was also very important that the medic knew this was completely his fault. ”You’re right though, we can’t stay here, where should we go? Up the staircase? Down the hall? Or out the door and back to our row boat?”

Colette knew that last option was probably a no go. Though she’d take janitorial duties for two weeks in Vel Anir over dying to some creature that smelled worse than Donric’s armpits any day. ”Perhaps we should just ascend the stairs? The quicker we can get this treasure the sooner we can be rid of this awful place.” Regardless of what happened today the proud Anirian soldier knew one thing for certain.

She would never step foot in some ancient elven keep again.

 

[Donric Mannir]

Treasure 2 - Elven Keep

"Okay, just to clarify, the bloody door rang out like an orchestra. The sodding knife-ears must have thought it a neat party trick." He growled. These bloody elves and their fancy-pants ways would be his undoing, of that he was certain. In the distance, he could hear a low rumbling and, while he couldn't be certain, his instincts were aflame telling him the ghouls were on the move.

"Uh... If I'm completely honest... I didn't read the notice - where's the treasure being kept?" He looked at her sheepishly, he hadn't really put much thought into what they would do once they entered the keep. Donric had been working under the assumption that some all-powerful mage would beat them to it and blast these foul demons to smithereens. Needless to say, his whole worldview had been upended in the past minute or so.

Regardless, Donric ran towards the grand staircase that took centre place within the vast hallway. Despite the age and the obvious infestation of plague-ridden demons, the years had been kind to this castle. Hanging perfectly, undisturbed, along the sides of each wall were tapestries that, while faded, were otherwise immaculate. Each one seemed to detail a different story, ranging from great battles, mythical creatures or some other mythos central to this lost kingdom's culture. "Too much time weaving, not enough empire-building, if you ask me." He mumbled quietly, even Donric, currently running for his life, was beginning to begrudgingly appreciate these masterpieces.

Bounding up the stairs with reckless abandon, Donric reached the first floor and paused to wait for his companions. They needed a bottleneck or some high ground. If they could funnel the ghouls towards them, it would make their numbers more manageable. Alternatively, somewhere to snipe the accursed creatures, safely from their reach. Although that said, he figured their lengthened claws would probably make them perfect climbers.

His thoughts wandered back towards the brief encounter they had just experienced. Anger, then disbelief flashed his mind. Kill it. Kill it. Who did that daft pup think he was? Was he planning on buying the corpse beast a drink? Take it out for a nice meal? He shook his head, he'd had enough stewing in his own thoughts. He needed to focus on what was going on around him.

Breathing deeply, and fighting the urge to vomit from the lingering stink, he glanced around his surroundings to ground himself. Curiously, he noted that the immediate area around several of the wall torches seemed burnt - as if the fire had triggered something to combust. He shrugged. It probably wasn't important, he had plague beasts to deal with in any case.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Treasure One
____________________

There were hundreds of them. Hundreds of her ancestors strew in this forgotten place. Were they mourned for? Were their names recorded in the annuals back home? The empty holes were eyes should have been bore into her as if it could see into her very soul. Caliane's stomach turned over and she thought she might throw up - as it was she had to put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Given how long her people lived, there could be Avariel alive currently who would know these people. In some distant part of her mind she was aware there was something else coming towards them but every part of her body was frozen at the horror before her. It was like she was trapped inside her mind banging on the glass window to wake up.

It was only when the tears splashed onto the skull at her feet that she realised she was crying. The absurdity of it seemed to snap her out of her daze and she brought a hand up to wipe at the salty trails. In that same moment she noticed the wizard disappear into the darkness. Annoyed at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her that it had left her team vulnerable she swore and then strode forward, taking care to step around the bones on the floor.

As she moved towards Farzad she brought with her the flame so she could see the new horror of one of these creatures literally melting. It's skin crinkled up like paper in a flame but instead of ash it oozed like a pus down the wizard's clothes and hands where he was desperately trying to peel himself free. Even in death the creature appeared to not want to let go of its prey. The imagery was bad enough but the smell made her retch. Casting her hand out towards it she threw a flame of brilliant heat towards it so it covered its entire body. Even then it burned slow, but at least it wasn't dripping everywhere. Before the wizard could get too scorched she yanked him free of its hands.

"Let's go find this sword, then get out of this nest," slipping her fingers into his grasp she began to tug him down a side corridor, though the torch she was holding was now a lot dimmer so as to hopefully attract less attention.

***
Farzad Oldsummer | Smiling One​

 

[Jair]

Treasure 3​

"At your leisure, Jair,"

"You all should stand back." Jair said as he studied the area.

The eldritch giant nodded once, looked up at his clearance, pulled up a few lengths of anchor line letting the hundred fifty pound boat anchor dangle by his knees, placed his toe on the fluke, and kicked it into motion. Soon the anchor was whipping around him like one might see an expert in martial arts would do, which would not be a miss...considering.

Once the anchor built up as much speed as the giant could coax out of it he slammed it on the ground, which all things considered would be frightening enough, how ever the exact moment the anchor hit the ground, a blinding flash of energy of an indescribable color, and substance flashed from the giant's forearms, wrists, and hands, through the anchor line, and anchor, and into the ground.

The anchor must have pierced the marble paving stones, and reached the earth underneath them; because the ground began to heave, and roll, and the collateral damage began to happen as the wave gained speed, and intensity as it spread from the anchor.

There was obvously more too Jair's little trick than just raw brute strength, the earth was moved via an calculable, but ludicrissly high amount of eldritch eneregy motivating it to do so. Enchantments for preservation that lined the important buildings glowed, and screamed until they were overwhealmed with a near blinding flash all over the immediate area, strong foundations faulted, causing cracks their buildings to crack, and slump against one another; weak foundations fissured causing their buildings to collapse in on them selves; structures with out a foundation simply shattered; the marble paving stones were pulverized into aquarium gravel; nothing, and no one weighing less than five hundred pounds was sent flying through the air at least twenty feet that included goblins. Most importantly however the traps for quite some distance were disabled.

Jair blinked as buildings in the distance swayed, and groaned under stress as several after shocks, and tremors of other buildings collapsing continued. "Is every one ok?" He looked behind himself to see if his compatriots were all right, and cracked his neck. The tattoos on his forearm flowing, and the smell of cooking flesh came from them.

(tag Mathis Majister Mejeure, and anyone else who would like to react)

 

[Toruuk Stoneheart]

Treasure 3

"Have you SEEN my neck? It's way too thick for some little goblin toothpicks to off me in my sleep!"
The volume of the argument between the hapless duo continued to pick up for some minutes, until the unfortunately familiar *THUNK* of a spear sticking into the wall cut the champ off mid sentence.

"Those things weren't sleepin', o' course I didn't have a--Oh. Whoops."
Almost immediately Toruuk was buried in a dogpile of goblins. He hadn't expected the things to move so quickly, but then again he was paying precisely no attention to his surroundings in the moments prior. Even more surprising was how heavy two dozen of the little bastards were all clumped together. He felt some mild, uncomfortable poking start to move through the green mass atop him and into his fur and skin. They were assuredly attempting to stab him with what little bits of sharpened stone and metal they had as excuses for shanks.

"Alright, that's about enough of that." ...Is what the bull tried to say, but beneath the pile it just came out as muffled mumbling. One of his enormous hands clasped around a goblin torso and slammed it into the nearby wall behind him. That one went motionless instantly. His other hand grabbed what he thought might be a scrawny limb and chucked it aside. He heard a muted scream as the thing must've been launched across the room. It was difficult to tell exactly what effect he was having beneath the suffocating mass of green.

Toruuk groaned in irritation beneath his assailants and took a labored step forward. He flexed his core, lifted his arms, and began swinging. A symphony of frightened screams filled the air as a cluster of goblins went flying, then another as Toruuk swung to the other side. Slowly but surely his steps became unhindered as more and more of the little bastards were flung violently across the room.

At last, Toruuk found an axe and an arm free of the mob, his vision clear enough to see a multitude of goblins clamoring before him. One sweeping chop later there were twice as many goblin parts lying about and half as many live goblins.

"This is wayyyyy more like it."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself, kid, but I may be starting to see your point." He grumbled over the cacophony of chittering fiends.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

LOWER DISTRICT

"Tch." Emery realized that Toruuk was swarmed only after he was on the other side of the room. He knew the lug could handle himself. Yet this many goblins could overwhelm anyone. Many are quick to underestimate goblins for their size but anyone with half a brain knew how dangerous these things could be. Now there stood four between him and his friend turned jungle gym.

One of the fuckers charged him with its spear but they weren't a quarter as fast as Emery. Turning into what looked like essence with his movements. He was able to reappear behind the attacking goblin and drop his heel into its head, incapacitating it. The other three rushed him all the same. At least these things were predictable. Another nigh invisible flash and three ribbons of red. The three goblins had their throats cut in the blink of an eye.

"Yeahhh, maybe I shoulda stated with tha'." He then rushed over to Toruuk and started kicking the little fuckers off of him best he could, taking a few stabs to the arm himself. He knew all he needed was to get them in an arc. If that was possible, his partner could decimate them in one hit. With that in mind he made sure to kick them in such a manner they'd fall, even grabbing one and throwing it to ensure it made it to its intended spot.

Toruuk Stoneheart

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

Treasure 1

Richard sighed while he rowed Myrcella Bochanan through the misty ocean. Just when he thought that the voice from Easterling land would teleport them back home, it sent them to the same old Wizard who announced the another treasure hunt this time through an Elven ruin. The Bard Knight looked around the decaying buildings full of moss and vines. They seem to date back to the Age of Wonders where technology was booming. Richard was excited that they were in the ruins of Dar'dell once a flourishing Elven nation which was bought down by a notorious racist: King Saul.

It wasn't known which Kingdom Saul hailed from, some scholars say it was Vel Anir back before it became a sprawling human fortress. Vel Anirians seem to hold that same sentiment judging by how many of them quote Saul. Allegedly Saul kidnapped the Princess of Dar'dell, raped and murdered her before dismembering her naked body and placing them on pikes. He then used him as banners to lower the Elves morale while his soldiers marched Dar'rell destroying it using anti-magic and killing most of the inhabitants. "Well here we are again," Richard smiled at Myrcella. "At least we're closer to home this time." The Bard Knight stopped rowing and placed his hand on Myrcella's soft cheek.

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2

Where was the treasure? He didn’t even read the notice? No wonder Colette and the northern guard had struggled when a veteran of their order couldn’t be bothered to simply read an important notice as to the location of their objective. It was irresponsible, unbelievable, and completely unsurprising.

The treasure was within the throw room. She recalled the notice perfectly but still didn’t understand what a throw room was. Perhaps a room filled with blankets? Who could know. Regardless, before she could answer the talented medic he darted up the stairs. Colette figured that a blanket room was most likely to be located up stairs. Probably near the lord of the keep’s bedroom.

Once he was halfway up the stairs the archer of the group shouted up at him, ”I guess we’re taking the stairs,” as she ascended herself. Truth was, the bright blonde would’ve chosen to climb the decorated staircase too. It seemed to be ornate enough, with intricate designs and glossy woodwork, that it screamed ‘treasure ahead.’ However, Donric had asked for her opinion then bumbled his ass up to the second story. Why ask if you didn’t care for her opinion.

Once she arrived at the narrow pathway, which featured balconies on either side overlooking the first floor, she had hoped to give him a piece of her mind. She knew he didn’t care for her opinion. Colette was a rookie and her innocent face caused people to underestimate her. Still, she really wanted to tell this pudgy field medic off.

The plague ghouls had other ideas though. Groaning filled the group’s ears as it echoed off the walls and ceiling. A putrid stench re-visiting their nostrils. Violent scratching resonated through the floorboards as one of the ghouls began climbing up towards the second story via a column. Colette readied an arrow from her quiver, took aim, and released.

It struck directly into the beast’s pupil, the foul creature let out a scream and then collapsed onto a pile on the first floor. The Anirian archer’s face twisted towards Donric as she saw two more of the disgusting things hobbling towards them.

”Do something!” she demanded as another arrow was pulled from her quiver.

 

[Donric Mannir]

Treasure 2

Donric's breathing levelled quickly. Running up the stairs in heavy armour, whilst wielding a shield and a mace, was particularly exhausting, but he didn't want his comrades to cotton-on to the fact he'd been skipping training sessions. Thankfully at least, by the time Colette had made her way to his level, his breathing had returned to normal and any residual sweat would just seem like part and parcel of wearing the bulky protective gear.

He had planned to ask his comrades about the next steps of their plan. Donric knew he wasn't much of a thinker, it was why his career had sort of levelled off in recent years - that and the fact he didn't try too hard. Unfortunately for him, before he had the opportunity to exchange some words with Colette - someone of particularly more brainpower than him - a few stinky green blobs lumbered into view.

He sighed. The earlier smell that he detected, the one that he shrugged off as being the ambient musk of these demons, had been a warning. He should have clocked it sooner. Thankfully Colette was on it in an instance. The woman uncoiled like a taut spring and, without delay or hesitation, she loaded, drew and felled one of the beasts in a single instance. Whatever jokes he made about or to the girl, even he had to admit she was a great shot.

"Do something! Kill it! Gee Cole, you're full of great suggestions today. You know, here I was planning on letting it bloody maim me." He mimicked a whiny impersonation of his comrade and charged, without thought, into the pair of plague demons that were advancing on the pair. Unlike the last encounter, he was prepared.

His shield bashed the first figure and pinned it securely against the wall, creating space for his next move. As the second beast lurched towards him, Donric slammed his maced down into the gaping maw that doubled as its head. Putrid brain matter splattered on him and he bit his tongue hard to prevent the stench from turning his stomach.

"You know, while we're at it. What the fuck was that shot earlier? Just figured you'd shoot a shadow in the corner while the old boy Donric is wrestling with nasty green corpse fiend, did you?" He growled, wrestling the wicked green creature for control of the shield. He'd managed to trap the beast's claws and body safely behind his shield, but that had left him little room for attack.

"By the god's Cole, just shoot the ruddy thing, I can't just stand here pinning it forever while you twiddle your thumbs."

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

What a show!

Majister and Darla and Krull heeded Jair's advice; when a giant told you to stand back, well...it wasn't wise to argue, now was it? He proceeded with winding up the anchor to a speed that perhaps the blacksmith who forged it never intended. Majister had a fleeting moment to wonder about this, how Jair reckoned that the whirling of his anchor--though formidable in its own right, rest assured of that!--might bring down some significant portion of the ruined city.

The answer came along with a sudden slam and blinding flash of energy which had a--shall we say--brilliant argument: shield your eyes and turn your head away. No questions or rebuttals. Surprise, this actually was no argument at all!

Majister and his raiders did just that, and so it remained a terrifying curiosity to the three of them just where in the hell the ground had gone. Blinding light and the earsplitting clamor of destruction, my, wasn't it of little wonder how they were disoriented so? But they needn't remain confused for long, for at the apex of their abrupt launching into the air they all felt the pull of Arethil slowing them...and returning them roughly to the ground which had so suddenly departed their feet an ephemeral moment before.

Majister and Darla and Krull all hit the marble stones of the Plaza and had the wind knocked out of them--a small orchestra of gasps from the three, nearly in tandem. Their gambesons helped to cushion their falls to an extent, but by no means was it made pleasant. Another doling of luck from the appropriate Lady, in that none of them landed awkwardly or haphazardly so as to break a bone or two.

Oh yes, the show. Majister missed it, as did Darla and Krull presumably, blinding as that energy was. But the aftermath was marvelous!

Majister stood. Turned in a full circle to observe the effects of Jair's mighty feat and he, normally one for many words, could only whistle in awe as he eyes danced from sight to sight.

Darla rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up half-way on her hands. Looked toward the passageway and the staircase and the spilled payloads of a few foiled traps readily visible. Said, "I'll be damned."

Krull sat up as simply as a man rising out of bed. Said, "I perhaps underestimated the...extent of the damage."

And Majister looked to the giant and, having regained his wits, said, "Ah, Jair. Now this, my good giant, is exactly the level of enthusiasm for our enterprise here that I love to see! Splendid! And wouldn't you know it, we've come away with nary a scratch on us! A bet well-placed, timely and true!"

"As long as the staircase holds," Darla said, getting up to her feet.

"Spare us the worries, my dear!" Majister said. "With our combined prowess, nothing will keep us from seizing the treasure these goblins are hoarding. Now then, onward, to the vindication of that very statement!"

Majister started forward, the first to step past those tripped traps and to try out the ascending staircase. Darla, a smidge of a pessimistic frown leaking into her expression, nevertheless followed after. Krull first said coolly to Jair, "Excellent work, friend," then followed after the two.

Jair

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

It was a grizzly affair. It was slow, as a child might describe it was 'yucky', Farzad had far more harsh words to say, starting with the first two letters of fun, and the last two letters of jack followed with, this. His jubilance of being freed was undercut and undermined by a sneer of disgust that had frozen on his face, himouth was oversized D shape, teeth were barred and the undeniable wrenching was cutting in and out, "I want to die."

He took two, exceedingly exaggerated steps, far around the creature watching her dim limelight illuminate the corridor. He had pulled out a sponge and was lacquering it in the distinct smell of pure clean alcohol and aggressively cleaning himself, "So, what's the plan than when we get into their nest? Is it burn them? Because normally I'm all down for a rip roaring inferno but uh... They... Yea they stink and bubble something foul." He stated as matter of factly as he could, the sound of an aggressive scrub-a-dub-dub emanating in the foul darkness of the cave, the sound of chittering and snapping wings unfurling the deep and darkness of this cave. It grew louder, it became almost apart of nature, like the bubbling of a brook or the obnoxiousness of crickets. Farzad grabbed and held tightly a scroll, he turned to his compatriots.

"So, I suppose it begs to ask. Who gets the knife?"
​

He asked, his voice wasn't a whisper, with how the sound reverberated through the cave it was a nightmare to hear anything almost as if sound was paralysed beneath the mantids incessant flight. He dragged the scroll from his sheath, putting his thumb to his mouth he wetted a long line against the grain of the scroll, the twine followed suit, held together only by his fingertips. He figured this might very well be the last time he sees them. Not because he would die. They might though.

Caliane Ruinë​