Private Tales The Necromancer's cave

[Baise]

Spoiler: OOC

Drop me a PM on discord (Raigryn) or on here if you'd like to join. Looking for 2-3 more people, but relatively grounded characters.

The Necromancer's cave, Allirian Reach

Allira, outside Eastern guardhouse

An entire town gone. That was the warning they were given. Half a day's ride east of Alliria on the reach. Closer than Valthar would have imagined. No bodies left behind, but the rangers had tracked the footprints to a cave in the nearby hills. Only one of the Rangers had returned.

Valthar was glad of the axe Míriel Fëanorna had provided. Its weight was reassuring, its magical embuement specifically for battling the undead. They were offering gold for any mercenaries to go and clear the necromancer from its cave. He was more reassured that Miriel was here than by the axe.

The nordenfiir looked around to see who else was brave enough to take the coin.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

When Valthar informed her it was going to be half a days ride Miriel had saddled Thorlion up and filled his saddle bags with more important provisions such as medical supplies, food and water. The black stallion had not been particularly happy the Nordenfiir was still in his home but he came around after a treat. Then another. He regarded Valthar still with a cool contempt only a horse could give but he had quickly figured out Miriel would leave him behind if he wouldn't behave. It was against his flank she leaned now at the Gatehouse, having a quiet conversation with Thomas who was one of the Lieutenants in the City Guard.

Miri cut a fine figure in her Elvish armour. Her leather collared tunic was a striking blue that matched the colour of the two stripes tattooed on her face. Despite it looking soft it was a surprisingly hard material that could believably be the difference between a puncture wound to the lung or a bruise. Her shoulder guards were an unusual metal with wove blue hues that mapped out the symbols of her rank as a cavalry woman and her regiment and matched similar guards on her knees. A wide belt cinched her waist in and housed all six of her throwing knives, just in case the two curved blades against her back were not enough, whilst also proudly displaying the emblem of her city. With her hair braided back on one side to keep it off her face, she looked like the seasoned warrior she was.

Despite the appearance, the conversation was an easy one punctuated with laughs, it was about nothing in particular that passed the time in a more pleasing manner than sitting in silence. It also gave her a chance to ask what he had heard about the Necromancer but sadly it was as much as Valthar had already told her. She couldn't believe it was so close to the city.

Her eyes flicked up as a few others began to walk towards them with purpose.

 

[Raigan]

As usual Raigan went from client to client to exchange information and other goods. It was at the docks that after a client named Krugg gave him his share he asked Raigan if he could get some informations about one of his contacts that he haven't heard from recently. After some talk and haggling about the pay Krugg began to brief Raigan about the man. He is located in an nearby town and usually upholds his deadlines. He was about to deliver a magical trinket. "Find him or atleast tha trinket, bring it ta me an' ye get your pay." he said.

Raigan startet to gather more information about the place and pretty quickly found out that it got completely eradicated. He followed a trail of information to a certain man named Valthar.

The man was positioned near the eastern Gatehouse accompanied by a women. The two could see that the man that stepped forward was wearing old and ragged clothing and isn't that clean. He seemed to be a worker from the lower class. He asked the blond man what this was all about and after a short briefing Raigan knew being recruited as a mercenary would mean a nice double pay also his chances of retrieving the trinket would be much higher so he joined them to battle the necromancer

He looked around to see if anybody else would join them.

 

[Baise]

Valthar hadn't expected to find anyone joining the group that wasn't here just for the money. Perhaps, he had supposed, there would have been a paladin or warrior trying to warn their renown. Raigan was after a trinket carried by one of those now in the Necromancer's clutches.

It was in fact a Ranger name Barbon who would be leading the party. He has been part of the first scouting group to find the cave. He was a young man with dark skin and a sticky build. He had made it entirely clear that he was not going into the Necromancer's cave.

"What did this man look like?" Valthar asked Raigan. Valthar was a simple man. He didn't think of the fact that the question could have been construed as an attempt to steal the trinket for himself. He simply wanted to be mindful of seeing Raigan's target attacking them as the undead.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The place was without balance, but even if villagers were the bane of her existence, the woman could not pretend to not have an inch of pity for the misfortuned. Asuego was only passing by when she heard of the information about this tragedy, oh how plans change quickly.

But of course, a grandiose entry from a person of ill-repute would be too apparent. Thus to the assembly group came a woman in simple white robes and a black hooded cloak that obscured her face and being. Only two orbs that flickered red in the direct light were seen through the darkness.

Her stride was elegant and flowing as if to fit a noblewoman with no experience of hardship in life.
She held her hands together, fingers interlocked., while from her left hung a basket, it's goods hidden with a quilted cloth.
» Good afternoon. I assume this is the rally point for the cave excursion.«

 

[Faurosk]

A man and his dog had come into town not two hours before this fateful meeting at the gatehouse.

Or rather, a man had rode into town not two hours earlier, heading into the stables with a rather perplexed looking horse in tow and emerging some time later with a dog all too enthused to be back in its original form. In either case, Faurosk heard on good faith that the area was troubled and made his way just as hastily as he could, riding atop a polymporphed familiar or not. After getting his well-furred friend back to normal, it was just a waiting game until the cavalry rolled in.

A group of adventurers meeting at the town's front door? Why, he almost couldn't miss it.

"It certainly seems like it," came a distinctly indistinct voice from the opposite flank of Sue, answering the shrouded woman's question a hair presumptuously. "Crowd of industrious types, most brandishing weapons of some sort or another? Sounds like quite the 'rally' to me."

For his own appearances, Faurosk had certainly looked less put together in his time. The man's somewhat blasé robes were layered with a mantle of fur, hanging just high enough to leave his belts of pouches and vials in easy reach. A pair of mismatched daggers hung on opposing hips, each one just a touch too lustrous to simply be iron.

Of course, the beast at his side also did wonders to improve the wizard's guise of competence; It stood just under three feet at the shoulder, a thick mane of fur serving as an all-too-familiar sight for many locals. "Oh, shit," a commoner would later remark to their friend, both of them two pints deep at the local tavern. "You remember that madman who brought one of the Reach's wild mutts into town? Bet it's eaten him by now, but hell if he didn't look so cool and dashing and amazing with it at his side."

... Okay, perhaps that last bit's embellished just a hair.

"So, where to and whose head's being put to the axe? Necromancer, right," Faurosk continued with a somewhat brusk nod. He'd grown just a hair used to these awkward introductory periods over his tenure on the road, and the philosophy he'd found to best streamline such times was to just get names and the like handled right out of the gate. "I'm Faurosk, this here's Dustmop," a thumb thrown to the mutt at his side. "Give him a scratch behind the ears, and he might just bite out a ghoul's throat for you. Who's to say, that'll probably come in handy on a day like this."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Miriel."

The blacksmith watched the approaching trio with growing interest: it looked like the usual motley group that enjoyed these types of adventures. It was part of the excitement. At least, for her. As her gaze moved to Valthar she got the sense her new friend was not enjoying it as much as she was. She couldn't blame him though, this was a job out of necessity for him. The first man to arrive pretty much fit her assumptions of who would join the group, but the second two caused her to raise one eyebrow, then the other as they stepped forward. The woman looked like she was on her way to a picnic rather than to battle, and the last man to arrive came with a dog bigger than anything she had seen usually kept by humans. But still, she didn't look at them in any form of degrading manner like other elves were oft to do. It was a levelled look other fighters gave to one another as they tried to figure out how they were going to benefit the party. When it came to the woman, Miri was excited to find out.

After speaking her own name by way of introduction she swung herself up onto the stallions back in a fluid movement and then patted his neck. Despite being so close to the large dog the black beauty seemed more keen on keeping his eyes on Valthar.

"This is Thorlion. Also might help you out in return for scratches or a mint, though probably more likely to just slobber on you," a smile played about her lips. The horse snorted in indignation and pawed the cobbled streets; he wanted to be on the way. So did Miri. Her eyes moved to the Ranger who was to be their guide. She couldn't say she blamed him for not wanting to face such dark magic again.

"Should we go?"

As Barbon began giving orders to bring forth some other horses Thomas, whom she had been speaking to earlier, patted Thorlion's neck and then held out his hand.

"Be careful, Miriel," such serious words from a man who was usually all laughs. She gripped his forearm in a soldiers embrace and gave him a tight lipped smile. "Always, Thomas."

 

[Baise]

There was no fanfare for the motley group as they left Alliria. They had a job to do and they would be paid well if they returned. Alliria was a place that ran off of coin, perhaps more than any other city on Arethil.

"I am Valthar Ardullsson," he introduced himself.

"Dustmop..." he muttered quietly as they left.

It had not escaped his attention that Miriel owned a winged horse. She looked every part a fabled elven warrior of legend. Yet observing her with the guard in her armor reminded him that she was a soldier. For the treck to the cave he had to keep his distance from the suspicious horse. He didn't even try the mint to trick the horse into trusting him.



Those with a heightened sense of smell knew they were at the right place when the ranger pointed out the cave at the base of a rocky ridge. Even from here he could pick up the scent of death.

He held up Villise, the magic axe Miriel had passed into his care. It was hard to tell if the axe head was glowing in the broad daylight. If it truly did light up in the presence of undead then he was certain he would see its power soon.

Spoiler: ooc

If you want to head into the first cave opening there are some relatively fresh bodies around the room. Rangers.

 

[Raigan]

Raigan is surprised by the group and curious too, what kind of people engage in such a dangerous task. After introducing at the gate and openly answering Valthar about his target it only occures to him now that this might not have been such a smart move "and again, why do I always do that." he whispers to himself. This is after all the reason why he always loses coins on the way, because he starts to trust people and they run off with his money. Well Valthar seemed trustworthy but what if the others overheard him describing the man. He wasnt exactly quiet" He should wear clothing with wide red sleeves and a green jerkin over it also he has some kind of marking under his left eye." As they got moving he simply went silent for most of the time.

As they got closer to the cave a certain smell floated through the air.
It was rather weak at that point but he knew this will turn into a stinging stench very soon. "I'll go ahead and see what is awaiting us."

Raigan wanted to show his worth as a member of the party. He seemed rather eager to get there first and have a look into the cave maybe because he wanted to show off or maybe because curiousity about his group grew into intimidation - everybody else seemed so much better equipped for the mission ahead of them or atleast their mystic gave the impression. Whatever it was that got him here he now found himself in front of the cave's entrance, the stench stronger than before clearly radiating out of it. Knowing that the last group that scouted ahead got deminished to only one left he decided to use one of his tricks. This place must attract lots of vermin, perfect he thought. In no time he were able to find a nearby fly that was already on its way into the cave and with the flick of his finger and a blueish glow from his inked skin, he made the fly subject to his will. He hates to see through the eyes of an insect it always leaves him dizzy for some time. Leading the fly into the cave he was able to see some bodies rather inactive and just laying around they seem to be in a better state than he had anticipated. He decide to leave it at that and not scout further into the cave, he wants to keep the dizziness to a minimum.

On returning to the group he shares what he had seen. "The entrance had some corpses laying around. None moving atleast for now and a passage that leads deeper into the cave. Its all really dark in there" He looks over to the Ranger. "They wore the same clothing as you do." He feels like he should say something like sorry but he just awkwardly stares in silence.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

» Susanna, white witch,« were her sweet words along the way as they introduced each other, if only so briefly, even to the animals, the earthern mother's sweetest of the children.



» Halt, I hope you plan not to enter the caves without proper preparation?« The witch slurred at Raigan as he speeded ahead, but it seemed the intent was not quite such yet.
As the man proceeded with his magic, the white witch turned to the rest of her company.
» We know little of how strong these necromancers are, but to down an entire party of rangers is no easy feat.« Asuego shook her head.
» If you let me, I advise I oil you in my flying ointment and temporarily bind your souls to a poppet for an extra measure of precaution.« She seemed rather elegant with her words as if to not mean harm. But there was always this nagging feeling of the law of contagion when dealing with witches in such a manner.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel swung her leg over the front of Thorlion's head so that she was facing the group, rummaged in her saddle bag for an apple and then slid to the ground. She took a bite herself and then gave the rest to the horse who was already nuzzling at her shoulder for a share of the treasure. As the others were dismounting and sorting themselves out she loosened the saddle and set it on the ground, then the bridal, then murmured something in elfish in his ear. The horse seemed to understand as he stalked a few paces away and had a roll. Content Thorlion was seen to she made her way leisurely over to the rest of the group to stand by Valthar just as the other elf offered her protection.

Humans were often mistrusting of magic, even other elves, it was a great deal of trust to put in someone to temporarily bind your soul to something. Such a trust required a token in return, something to hold over her in order to ensure she returned the soul to the rightful owner.

"A kind offer, but I would want assurances my soul was coming back to me afterwards. I will agree to this if you give me your hair., when my soul is returned after you may have your hair back." Hair was a matter of pride for most elves, especially white hair as pure as snow. It was a mark of status and power. It was also probably as important to Sue as Miri's soul was to the warrior. Perhaps seeing such a trade might encourage others to take the woman up on her offer to. This kind of magic was often seen as evil even amongst some elves too. But Miri had learned a long time ago the benefits of magical protection when running into battle.

 

[Baise]

"I'd rather bind my svalen to nothing but myself right now," said Valthar with a shrug. If he died and the necromancer bound it instead then perhaps he would regret the decision. He rather rather intent on not dying in the first place.

Valthar turned to Miriel and offered an apologetic shrug. He knew she had started to negotiate to an offer she could accept, but he was particularly distrustful of all magics.

Especially from anyone that introduced themselves as a witch.

Asuego 'Susanna' Míriel Fëanorna Raigan Faurosk

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

Míriel Fëanorna
» Very well. « The witch spoke, producing a wicked arthame from her being, the vile blade was wawed and black. No sooner did her hand reach behind her head, grasping a thick bundle of locks.

Shhhhhhhhhhlick.

» Here is my trust, I need a drop or fragment of your being« From her basket came a salve, it was mildly hallucinogenic. In one hand lie it, in the other the rope of anteortusan hair.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

There didn't need to be words, she understood the look Valthar gave her and she gently touched his arm in her way of response. This was a pact between two elves, it probably looked crazy to everyone else gathered there but Miri was content with the exchange. She stepped forward and claimed the white bundle of locks, which she weaved into her own hair in pride of place, turning the braid that ran along the left side of her face a stark white. Then she drew her own blade and without a seconds hesitation drew it across her hand. Carefully she turned the hand into a fist and allowed a single drop to flow onto the witches outstretched finger. Once done she absentmindedly licked the trail of blood from her hand and murmured a soft spell in elvish to heal it. A parlour trick really, a little spell to help soldiers with minor cuts and wounds but nothing that would work on others unfortunately. It was not her gift.

Once done she stepped back beside Valthar and flexed the hand experimentally, it would not hinder her in the fight.

"If there's nothing else, I suggest we get going," Miriel drew both blades from her back and rested them on her shoulders nonchalantly.

 

[Baise]

Valthar narrowed his gaze as he watched Miriel make her pact. He did not understand why anyone would make such a bargain, but there wasn't time for questions. He was going to have to ask how the exchange of hair had anything to do with anything.

He held the axe out as he approached the cave. Raigan had already found the corpses of the rangers just inside the entrance. The norden was trying not the just watch the metal.

He held the axe high enough that he could bring it down upon anything that leapt out of the darkness. Nothing moved.

The stench of death was almost overwhelming to his norden senses. He grimaced as he crept forwards.

The axe started to glow as the corpses started to move.

 

[Faurosk]

The mage continued into the cave near the rear of the group, kindly ignoring the witch's offer to bind his soul off to an object. "Fool me once," as they always say, and there are few mistakes to be made more than once... That wasn't one of them.

Faurosk regarded the fallen rangers with a professional amount of disconnection. He'd met their compatriots in the past, and most seemed to be good folk just trying to make the world a better place. It was the necromancer who'd made this all too personal. When the corpses began to shudder into motion, however, this faint coldness came in handy-- They weren't rangers, after all. Not anymore.

Two fingers pinched a piton from one of the mage's numerous belts, and it took little more than a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation to sent it zipping forwards through the air. The heavy iron nail moved with unnatural speed, impacting a ghoul in the shoulder and sending a web of thin cracks lancing up the stone at its back. Sure, the zombie was still very much alive- Unalive? -but it was also rather thoroughly pinned against the wall.

"Company," came Faurosk's voice in a rough little tune as he drew another spike from his hip. "Do kill them properly, a firm clout to the skull should do it."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Despite the whole situation Miriel hung back a little to enjoy watching the Nordenfiir walk in front of her before following at a leisurely pace with the witch-elf, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her blood was humming with the anticipation of the coming fight. With one last glance behind her at Thorlion and the Ranger they were leaving behind - who carefully made a symbol for his gods in front of him - and then vanished into the cave with the others.

It was a typical scene truly for any creature that Rangers couldn't defeat; bodies strewn about the place in the frozen scene of a fight. Except this time they were coming back to rejoin the fight on their killers side. For a moment the image of her sisters rising from the dead flashed across her mind and she grimaced, glad that she would not have to witness that at least here. The issue with Necromancy was always that no matter how many times you killed the bastards they got back up - unless of course you had a magic weapon like Valthar did.

Wake, Cuilë, Effírië.

At her request the two blades woke as if from a lazy afternoon nap in her hands. Of course, unless there was another metal bender or extremely sensitive to magic they probably wouldn't hear the voices that responded with eagerness to kill. One side of her lips lifted into a small smile as their familiar voices met her ears. Feeling more whole she stepped between two Undead and raised her blades in simultaneous strikes, starting at the top of the skull the blades hummed as they cut through the flesh as if they were going through butter. The four halves toppled and spasmed and she stepped through the blood puddle towards the next. It was an unfair test really, the recently risen dead were a lot easier to kill than the rabid things that had been that way for longer.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The witch dropped the blood over the poppet. It got soaked deep within and a few words of power made the poppet glow. She drew a pair of wide-open eyes upon its face. It shall take blows in Miriel's stead until it itself was broken.

She was the last to go after them, and then slowly lagged behind. Perhaps for the better, the witch had little to offer in terms of active combat.
» Hold them off as best as you can, « she crouched to the ground. The best she could do was to sanctify the ground as they went deeper and deeper.

A sack of sea salt and chalk was always handy for any occasion.

 

[Baise]

Valthar had seen too much horror in the summer lands. It had all started when a gate to hell itself had opened up in Eratejva. They had opened across Arethil, leading to him being spewed out down here. Sorcerers and necromancer and orcs and chimera.

He stepped forwards with his axe in both hands. Listening to the advice of the mage he raised it high. He chopped downwards at the closest creature.

It was freshly dead. Its flesh was pale, several puncture marks in its chest surrounded by dried blood. It was still very much the visage of a man. It begged the question of what had put those puncture marks there.

He snapped the axe down and a crack echoed out around the cavern as its head was split. Whether the magic of the axe or the strike to the head, it fell and remained down.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

The group worked well together to dispatch the rangers who were the freshly risen it appeared. Farousk it was turning out was quite the good mage and he had easily killed around a third of the rangers with an efficiency she could admire, especially when it came to the art of magic. Valthar had taken care of another third with his axe which was still glowing faintly despite the butchered mass around them, and Miriel had taken care of the rest with her twin blades.

Miriel wiped the from her cheek as she stopped to catch her breath and to assess the situation. Too easy, this was just another way to tire the group out a bit at a time in order for them to be weaker later. Of that much she was sure. Despite the muck on her person the elf produced a sparkling clean handkechief from her belt and cleaned the red stains from the metal. She hadn't had to touch her own magical supplies as of yet so her energy was only slightly abated, she just hoped the others were the same.

"We need to burn them," there would be no soldiers death for these men and women. Whilst they were dead they were puppets for the Necromancer. She didn't hesitate to sheath her swords and begin dragging the pile of bodies into a pile as best as she could.

 

[Baise]

Valthar placed his boot on the shoulder of his corpse. He wriggled the haft of the axe from side to side and then yanked it free. That was the rangers dealt with.

He kept looking down into the depths of the cave as he dragged a corpse outside by its ankle. There was no way of smoking undead out of a cave, but they could have choked themselves.

Valthar's keen sense of smell forced him a distance away from the pile of bodies once they had stacked it. Their ranger guide came down from the nearby hill to say goodbye to his companions before the fire was lit.

"They had puncture wounds," Valthar said. "Lots of them. The necromancer knows we are here now."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel heaved the last of the bodies onto the pile and wiped her hands on her leggings grimly. It was not a nice job but at least these people could be at rest. She had always wondered if they felt themselves reanimated, if it somehow trapped their souls on this plain as well. Would they be horrified to see themselves attack their old comrades or were their minds muddled and broken by the Necromancers spell? When the other Ranger appeared, seemingly brave enough to venture this far to the cave, she left him to his grief and made her way back to Valthar who was deeper inside.

"I noticed it too, odd wounds for a Necromancer," her eyes swept down his body to see whether he had any serious injuries before moving to the darker parts of the tunnel. "This was just a test, assessing strengths. Seeing if we could handle cutting down potential friends," her lips pressed into a thin line before she sighed, rolled her shoulders and walked on. No point in huddling at the entrance. "How's the axe?" her lips twitched a fraction as she few one of her twin blades so she could be ready for anything.

 

[Baise]

Valthar looked down at the blade. It still faintly glowed. He did not know of that was to do with residual magic from the creatures they were burying or because more dark things had been awoken.

"Well balanced, did the job," Valthar said with a sharp nod. He thought that was high praise, but it might not have sounded so to her ears.

"It's light is welcome in a dark place."

Valthar slowed up, sensing movement. Three ghouls dropped down form the hidden shelf behind them. They landed awkwardly on all fours, hissing and spitting.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

It was very rare that Miriel actually got to see her customers use the weapons she made so she was getting a small amount of pleasure watching Valthar. Critiquing bits of her workmanship she could improve upon.

"The job is all it needs to do," Miri gave him a smile that had a slight feral edge. She was enjoying the fighting. As much as she loved her work in the smithy and with her horses she was Warrior Born.

When he slowed Miriel did too, her eyes on the light of the axe which had begun to flare up again. It was that that had her moving even before the sound of the creatures dropping hit her sensitive ears. She spun on her heel and threw the drawn sword. The slight curve gave it a better flight path as it zinged through the air, slicing through the left ones head cleanly. Instead of thundering into the wall though, her eyes glowed gold and the sword froze before racing back to her hand through the second creatures neck like a weaponized boomerang.

The third was not so stupid and lunged at Valthar.

 

[Baise]

Valthar was certainly no warrior of renown. Even the first skirmish would have made that clear to Míriel Fëanorna . He had a few tricks however, norden strength and was not facing a creature of great intelligence.

He lifted his axe as if to strike from above but reverse the direction. The base of the haft swung up and struck the ghoul beneath the chin. It was not stunned for long but Valthar swiped down and took a leg. Then he cracked its skull.

"So...you have swords that return to your hand?" he asked conversationally as if they had not just been assaulted by ghouls.