DM themed play-by-post D&D game : STORY THREAD

[beowuuf]

Falkor and Ameena walked (or scurried) to the backs of the room to continue their searches. Ameena's sense of smell had never seemed better, almost as good as her days as a child. Sadly, it did not produce much information so far. The scents of the three in the room only spoke of their races - which were plain to see - not anything to do with their travels. That, in itself, was unusual. Similarly this room did not seem to speak of much. There were the faint trails of people, as if this area was regularly cross-crossed in times passed, but the scents were too old - nothing fresh. The wooden door, despite her claims, seemed very solid. Certainly teeth could gnaw through it, but hunger might kill her before the task would be completed. Oddly, as she got close to the grate, there was a sharp sting to her nose. For now it could easily be attributable to the dying iron of the grate.

Meanwhile Falkor poked and prodded the sconce, pulling with limited strength and checking for anything unusual. The sconce seemed perfectly normal and unyielding, and if it were producing any other effects they were too subtle for him to notice. One thing that did come to his attention was how solid the sconce was - it was firmly secured. Either this area was so little used the sconce had never been loosened, or perhaps the solidity spoke of a mechanism anchoring it. If so, it was one the halfling was too weak to move.

Looking for confirmation of the lack of use of this room, Falkor realised the room was...strange. The room itself seemed uncluttered and clean, and the sconce and solid wooden door seemed either new or little used. They certainly all looked well cared for. In comparison, Falkor realised the grate on the far wall looked old and unkempt. It was rust spotted and tarnished, with black muck all along the edges by the wall. It was incongruous that something so old and worn would be associated with this clean room.

Speaking of doors, Falkor could not keep his gaze from drifting to the solid door as the half-orc pulled upon the chain. Falkor recognised these sorts of doors, it was either of dwarf or mock-dwarf construction. Pulling on one of the chains would allow the counter-weight balanced door to be pulled up, a rocker mechanism allowing it to be left open in a number of positions. Pulling on the chain on the other doorpost would pull the door closed again. The chains should also protrude from the opposite side, allowing the door to be open and closed from there too. If the group wanted to block this door, jamming the chains or at least holding them should stop the door from being opened from the other side.

Falkor did not need to speak of precations needed at the door, as Westian was already doing them. Westian looked to the base of the door, ready to spot any odd lights, or sounds, or of course visible legs. Speaking of light, Westian was suddenly aware that their light source was across the room, and already at this side of the room it was a touch harder to see the details of the door without relying on his elvish gifts of eyesight.

Still, Westian at least had the half-orc by his side. When the orc had pushed against the grate earlier Westian had seen the apparently solid iron wobble. The orc was certainly heavy and well-build, a perfect fighter incase of trouble.

Haynuus grabbed the chain (luckily the correct one) and started pulling. Unfortunately, the chain must have knotted itself higher up, as with a loud 'clunk' the door wobbled and stopped. Haynuus shrugged and kept tugging - the perfect solution to most problems was always to do them harder.

Westian winced and felt more nervous. The opening door did not instantly reveal legs. However, Westian could already hear the echo of the clanking door as Haynuus kept compounding the mis-aligned chain with his aggressive tugs. Westian wished one of his tutors could be here, those elves had vicious tongues and perhaps enough courage to scold the half-orc into being more careful. Westian wished he could recall more of his studies, he could use some pro-

Do you not think yourself a High Lord, do you? I thought not! A hundred times the runes of power, if you would be so kind Dallomain. That might remind you of your place in this world!

And as quickly as that, Westian saw a flash of a scroll. He could recall his young self chanting 'LO, LO' and drawing over and over again two arrows on a piece of parchment. The memory was snuffed as quickly as it came, and its passing made him physically sick.

Haynuus kept yanking, but now something was wrong. Not with the door - the door opened perfectly. And not with what was revealed beyond, it seemed in the fading torchlight to be a room no bigger than the one they were in. Both Haynuus and Westian could easily see, despite the slowly dwindling torchlight beyond the door, that there were no occupants. The walls seemed lined with little ornate recesses, and to the west was an opening with no door.

No, to Westian what came to his attention rather quickly were two things wrong. The first was a ghostly yet dull light coming from the opening to their left. The light did not, from what he could see, waiver. The second thing was actually the lack of something. The last clunks and bangs of Haynuus opening the door had not produced any appreciable echoes. Westian was suddenly very worried and looked to the wooden door. What had produced the odd echoing noise?

BOOM. BOOM BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

A loud banging was suddenly audible, coming from somewhere beyond the stone opening in the new room. Westian realised the noise must have stopped when Haynuus had made noise with their door. And now, the noise had started again - by the rhythm, more insistent than before!

Westian urged Falkor to hand Haynuus the torch, so at least someone was armed...

[beowuuf]

Update completed! The new room is basically a 20x20 room, with alcoves on most of the walls, except for a west opening close to you about the size of a normal 5 foor door outlined in stone. Haynuus can see a little way beyond, and sees that a corridor continues, turning left into another stone opening.



So guys, welcome to the game proper! Wahahahhahahha

Edit: Map added.

[ian_scho]

When the torch is handed to Haynuus, and Westian indicated that he was ready, the half-orc would cautiously move on into the open space of the next room. He'd been on an adventure 3 times before but that was with mostly orcs and human outcasts, where they would rush into these places as it was a first come first served mindset - to pick up whatever trinket before someone else saw it[*][/color]... This time Haynuus was reticent, almost afraid. It must be the effect of his companions changing his way of thinking.

[*][/color] And occasionally get hit over the head for it.

[oh_brother]

The flash of recollection was tantalisingly close for Westian, but then it faded, like the memory of a dream after waking. LO. He remembered that much. But there was more…frustration gave way to dizziness and a sudden wave of nausea that made him double over and retch.
But such thoughts faded into the background when Haynuus started opening the door. At first the echoing irritated him, but the colour drained from his face when he realized that there was another source of noise in the room. More worryingly this noise had stopped when the door was opening – oh gods, something is aware of our presence.
Haynuus turned around with an inquisitive look as if to ask if he were ready. Westian nodded affirmation with a shocked look still painted on his face that the half-orc did not seem to notice. Part of Westian was screaming for him to stop, but in his dazed state inertia took over and he followed the half-orc through the door. He turned back to Faynor and Ameena and beckoned them to follow him with a pleading look in his eyes. Strength in numbers he thought to himself. Though in this case the strength, excluding the orc, was an unarmed half-elf, an unarmed halfing and a small, unarmed, Murafu.

[ian_scho]

The unarmedness of the party didn't worry Haynuus as he was with what appeared to be a couple of wizards and clerics... No-one had told him that they had lost their memory of their spells and incantations so he just assumed that the fireworks would fly as soon something horrible scraped and crawled into view. You see the half-orc had very little knowledge to lose in the first place, and his throbbing headache was attributed to someone probably clubbing him over the head and dragging his scarred body into a dungeon.

Such are the advantages of being a fighter, only the onset of old age will take Haynuus' innate thumping ability from him. And the odds are at the moment that he won't get that far.

[money]

"WAIT" screamed Falkor. He was all to aware of Haynuus and Westian's eagerness to move along, but if that noise was in fact something coming closer then the door they just opened could well be used as a weapon, or at least buy them some more time. "Ameena, can you focus on the next room? Can you smell anything different coming from there?" If this Murafu was any good at smelling he hoped she could at least get a 'whif' of whatever, or whoever, was making that noise...

Falkor then made his way back into the corner of the room he had awoke from - from here he could see down the corridor and also could keep an eye on the Iron grate - it was possible the noise was coming from that direction also! Either way, he felt reassured that whatever was coming he had a good chance to see it first. His next step was to wait and see.. Will Ameena detect anything? Would the Elf and Orc halt their movement into the next room - at least for a few moments untill we were all ready or agreed on the next steps?

[beowuuf]

Going to quickly update again. Of all the people to leave behind, Ameena is the one who can catch up fastest! Her actions at the door or at the grate may be significant, but not to your next immediate actions...

BOOM. BOOM.

As Haynuus stepped through the gate, he saw the torchlight reveal the small room. Many alcoves were set into the wall at about chest height, their size able to hold perhaps a chest at best. Sadly, they all seemed completely empty. There were some things carved on the wall around each alcove, but nothing that could be remotely interesting if the alcoves were empty.

Haynuus, if you have a plan of attack here then go for it, otherwise make me a raw intelligence check (1d20-3) - either way, time to think tacticsl!

BOOM

As Haynuus stepped through the gate and saw the room with little regard, Westian stepped through and felt a disconcerting sensation as of an unlocking door in his mind. Again a memory swam into his mind, though this time it was not some blocked memory surfacing. This was one he recalled easily. The shock came from the unfamiliar previous room suddenly becoming familiar.

Still, who could blame him. Last time he had been here, Westian had spent so much time in the room before the grate, looking at wall upon wall of paintings depicting every life lost in the great war against Lord Chaos. The previous room they had been in was but an anti-chamber with a guard, barely remarkable.

The Grey Lord was a pleasant host, and almost immediately the door had been opened, and Westian had stepped through to almost the same sight as now. In the place of strange companions he had been in the company of higher elven clerics. Westian had been honoured to come with them as they undertook a pilgramage to visit the Grey Lord. Nothing had been wrong, it was simply a social visit.

Many believed Lord Chaos had been a rogue High Lord that had attacked the Grey Lord. Many believed the Grey Lord had revealed his true name - Librasulus - and had evetually with a few chosen heroes banished Chaos from the land. The clerics of Westian's order knew the truth, that the Grey Lord had infact caused himself to split in two parts and had almost brought the land to eternal night.

And so the Grey Lord, perhaps in penance, had become more available to share his knowledge and powers with the races outside the mountain. Very rarely, the Grey Lord would even come from his place of solitude to aid in world matters. And so the clerics - periodically - came to Mount Anaias. Someone suspicious could suspect the clerics would periodically wish to check on the mental health of the Grey Lord. After all, Lord Chaos had left machincations in place to free himselrf, and at least once to elvish knowledge had tried to gain dominance over the Grey Lord.

And someone of even worse suspicions might think the clerics wished to take advantage of the Grey Lord's weakness in his previous stance of isolation, to probe his mind for high and deep secrets.

Westian had felt fear from awe and fear from the audacity of the clerics and their questions to the Grey Lord. The Grey Lord's apprentice - whom had met them in this cloakroom and then teleported them immediately to the Grey Lord's personal rooms - seemed to have shared Westian's disbelief at the audacity.

Westian had certainly used all his skills at smoothing ruffled feathers that day, finding nicer ways to phrase the questions of his elders to avoid the ire of the Grey Lord, while ensuring he did not draw the ire of the elders themselves at being handled by a younger cleric.

At the time, Westian had been pleased to be teleported away at once. Theron - Westian believed that was the apprentice's name - had intimated that the doorways lead to the old dungeons, relics of the days of Chaos that the Grey Lord had not got rid of. Now of course, Westian wished he knew more of what lay beyond.

BOOM. BOOM BOOM. BOOM.

Or perhaps not.

Ok, the big revelation that wouldn't be a revealation at all. You are in the DM dungeon - sorta! More info to the rest of you in the OOC thread.

As Falkor edged to the back of the room, he suddenly realised one thing. Haynuus and the torch were all the way over at the other side of the room, now through a door. This was increasingly putting the halfling into fading light. This could not be a good thing!

BOOM BOOM. BOOM.

Falkor, do you wish to position yourself any differently now you know danger isn't immediately coming round the corner? Any checks? If you are still awaiting Ameena's input, then hopefully your requests will be answered one way or the other. Give me an indication of some actions depending on what she says in the OOC thread if so!

Ameena, too, realised that the torchlight was retreating around the corner of the door, throwing her into dimmer light. For now, not a concern as her nose and eyes were able to guide her well. Still, could she afford to lose a eyesight if the light disappeared altogether?

BOOM. BOOM BOOM.

And Ameena, hopefully you are back this evening - let me know how you are using your previous perception check (sniffing the open door or sniffing the grate area and room. And what you want to do after that!

That's another update people! I think we're on track

[ian_scho]

Haynuus waved the torch in an arc to ensure he saw everything in the room clearly, and no shadow would cover a small key or coin. He didn't feel that a threat would appear from the other open doorway.

Next he would examine the carving on the wall, albeit with little hope of working out what they mean. Perhaps... Ohhh this was a tantalising thought. Perhaps he'd have to take his trousers off again like back when him and a few mates fell into a dungeon last year. They needed various items to weigh down pressure plates to get a door open. Being young and poor they left their only belongings and after a few embarrassing minutes of being stark naked they quickly returned to hacking up screamers and other wildlife down in the dungeon. What fun it was! Charging around without a care in the world with his choppa in his hand.

What bothered him though was the fact that the banging had paused briefly? Maybe it was the door that they had just opened (he could close it again later to see), or maybe the halfling or the furry one had found something.

[oh_brother]

Westian stopped moving and listened intently to the noise. Was it getting closer? Did it sound mechanical or organic? Was it completely regular?
He turned back again to his companions in the room, again gesturing them to follow. Maybe that was not the best option; they seemed busy examining the room and from their actions he judged they had more experience than him in dungeon environs. But he did not care – at the moment all he wanted was for everyone to be in the same room in case danger came charging around the corner.

[money]

Realising the Murafu could easily catch up Falkor moved into the next room. It was a mixture of curiosity and best defence that he moved in behind Haynuus where he would be defended, assuming Haynuus new how to use the torch, from any threat coming around the corner - whilst at the same time concentrating on the runes that surrounded the first Alcove. Reassured that he would most likely hear anything in the room he focus all his attention to the runes... Could he make anything from them... perhaps this would help him recall why they had ended up there.

[beowuuf]

Roll me a knowledge (Arcana) check please!

Edit: Never mind, I see you beat me to it! It's now a quick perception check I need!

[Ameena]

As Haynuus heaves the wooden door open, Ameena has a few final sniffs but notices nothing of any particular significance, which perhaps in itself might be significant - how come none of the others smell of anything except themselves? It's as if they'vwe been cleansed of any residual scents of places they might have been before this. Odd. Very odd.
She flinches slightly at the sudden booming noises, and looks over toward the door. She glances over at Falkor when he suggests she sniff the new room, then back toward the door. The booming noises are making her feel somewhat uneasy, but being of a social species, she doesn't really want to be left behind so edges closer to the others. She stands next to the open doorway, right up against the wall, then leans over and peers around into the next room. Her nose twitches as she tries to make out any new scents, and her eyes flit over the alcoves in the wall, but she doesn't venture any further in.

[beowuuf]

Haynuus watched the strong torchlight dance on the walls, creating an interesting play of light on the wall. This was good, as the carvings around the first alcove were ... less interesting.

On the left was depicted a demon head, which was a good start. A little bit over-wrought, like something one of the human warriors would paint on their armour along with the interestingly shaped and attired female angels. Pure orcs usually preferred some red paints hap-hazardly slapped on in the simple demon symbol that mages and clerics liked so much.

That's right Haynuus, you totally know the SAR rune. What good that does you, and what good that does your magic-using companions given they are unlikely to ask you about that stuff, remains to be seen

There seemed to be a depiction of flames below, and the races of the world - even a crude orc - running away from them. The alcove itself seemed to represent some cave, with small decoration around the edges suggesting ice. In the keystone of the alcove was a representation of a gem radiating...something radiant. To the right were more carvings of the races of the world walking out of the cave, shielding their eyes from a depiction of the sun. Haynuus had some sympathies, if the people in the cave had been drinking all night then the sun was a right pain the next day.

All in all, it seemed quite dull. Haynuus waved his torch a little more, as the play of the light made two of the figures look like they were ha-

Haynuus sniffed the air, realising there was an odd scent he recognised. This room seemed clean, but from the archway he could smell the faint aroma of mold. It reminded him he was hungry.


Falkor on the opposing side was looking at the intricate carving around his alcove for a different reason. Sadly, the carving seemed to represent the concept of balance. The keystone of the alcove had the symbol for balance or neutrality. Radiating from the alcove in four directions were an odd mis-mash of small carvings. Drawn upwards were pictorial representations of fire, water, earth and wind all entangled and flowing towards the figure that Falkor guessed with surprise could be none other than the Grey Lord, a respected and feared legend in magical circles.

To the left of the Grey Lord, standing just behind his left shoulder, was a helmeted figure of authority. Given that the left hand side by the alcove had a latticework of small squares, and given that the elemental whirl was drawn with more care on this side, Falkor guessed the figure was the Grey Lord's true identity - Librasulus, the Bringer of Order.

On the right, just behind the right shoulder of the Grey Lord was a horn-helmed figure wrapped in a cloak of harsh etching. Haphazard swirls adorned the right hand side of the alcove, ensuring no-one could misinterpret the meaning. The Grey Lord's nemesis Lord Chaos was depicted with chilling detail. Falkor felt a shudder. What an odd thing to depict. Unless...

Falkor looked to the bottom of the alcove, and saw that in opposition to the raw forms of the world, the underside carvings of the alcove represented the forms of man and beast, with wings and arms and legs and talons and beaks and hooves. Some forms battled, and some forms embraced, and some had fallen to their knees. And between those figures were depicted waves of force exploding.

Falkor knew what these pictures were supposed to represent, they were the foundation of conventional magical wisdom, the pure concepts that provided mages with their understanding of the world. Would it have really been so bad for the carvings to have used the runes of power, instead of mere artwork?

Falkor as distracted as the chill came back to him, distracting him from dwelling on his past education. He skimmed the other carvings of the alcoves, the one Haynuus was standing beside especially. The alcoves in order seemed to tell of the dawn of the world, and key events that began each age. The depiction of the power gem at the start, and the Grey Lord sundered at the end, gave Falkor an unsettled feeling. Could they really be where he feared they were? Could they really in the halls of the Grey Lord, Librasulus himself? Was he even now beneath Mount Anaias?


Meanwhile Westian was applying his intellect to the problem of the noise. It certainly seemed to be getting no louder, so it was not something approaching. He tried to rationalise what he was hearing. The rhythm of the noise did not seem regular, and held no pattern. There seemed to be no wind in the halls, already the air felt a touch stifling. Therefore, there did not seem to be any logical agency to produce such an organic unpredictable rhythms. Unless...perhaps it was a water-driven device that had come undone? The erratic motion of the water leading to erratic motions of a mechanism attached?

BOOM. BOOM BOOM. CRACK

Westian flinched at the noise, felt his mouth go dry. The noise sounded like wood splintering, as if a boat hitting a rock or a barrel filled too much before its top were hammered on.

CRACK. BANG.

The torture of wood continued, and dull thumps could be heard aswell. Westian could imagine something solid had became much less solid, but was still receiving mighty blows.


Ameena retreated from the iron grate in the previous room as the rest of the group had moved. She tasted the air and sniffed deeply, but again the new room had that odd lack of scents. As if there had been traffic, but that traffic had been a while passing.

Coming forward to the immediate doorway of the wooden door, Ameena could detect the odor of mold or mildew close by, seemingly from the stone opening to the left. She could also smell the faint odor of fear on the cleric Westian and from Falkor behind her.

Ignoring it, she saw the light illuminating the stone opening and beyond appeared to come from somewhere inside, not from their own torch.

Ameena heard the crack too. She sniffed the air again, but it took a few moments in the dead air for some hint of a new scent to catch her attention. However, the scent was strong enough to trigger a name in her mind.

Trolin.


Hopefully that will be my last long post. Anyway, we have some flavour text that may - or may not - be significant, and we have potential some Trolins not too far away doing something violent. What happens next is up to you!

[beowuuf]

[money]

Pleased that Ammena had now joined them, and that he was still as far away from anything coming into the room as he could be Falkor turned to Ammena, "Ameena, can you smell anything? Any scent of monsters or friends?"

Falkor moved closer to Haynuus - not too close, but close enough to see what Westian was up to. For a nervous Elf he was acting rather brave, or perhaps foolish - given that the booming was still coming and anything could come round the corner to greet us.

"What do you think that Noise is?" Falkor openly questioned his friends... Although he still didn't know anything about these creatures, he had already warmed to them and being a good judge of character Falkor took comfort in his realisation that already he saw his fellow travellers as friends.

[oh_brother]

“That noise sounds like wood breaking” Westian answered in a low voice. “Wood and water…” At least it was not getting any closer, and that managed to put Westian’s mind somewhat at ease. But since he could see no other route to take he realized that it was a noise he would have to face sooner or later. The only way out is to go deeper into that gods-forsaken dungeon?

Now that he did not feel an immediate threat he was in no rush to charge around the corner. He started examining the pictures that seemed to have caught the eyes of Falknor and Haynuus. Since Haynuus had the torch he walked closer to him. “Ah, I see you are enjoying the depiction of our exodus from the ice” he said with a hint of self-importance. “A very dramatic work indeed.” He could almost imagine himself in this room when it was brightly lit, a glass of wine in his hand as he discussed art or history with a kindred spirit. Talk like this though was simply an attempt to insulate him from current realities, and those realities intruded again when he looked at the other symbols intently. They seemed like they should be familiar, but he could not grasp them and a frown creased his forehead.

Feeling that it was time to own up before they ventured any further, he confessed to the group in general: “I don’t know how much use I will be if we have to go into that dungeon.” His eyes avoided everyone’s gaze as he spoke. “I am a cleric, and was quiet a promising spell-caster, but that knowledge seems to elude me at the moment. I will do what I can, but I will have to rely on the strength of others if we are to somehow exit here safely”. Of course he had heard stories about this dungeon before, and looking at himself and his companions he estimated their chances of exiting here alive as being miniscule. He decided not to share this cheery thought. No one would thank him for it, and besides it was best to keep the others motivated - they would be less effective if the feeling of dread that was enveloping him spread. “But looking at you all fills me with confidence – spells or no spells if the four of us stand together may the gods have pity on whatever stands in our way!”

[ian_scho]

Haynuus wanted to drop a weight into the alcove he was examining to see if it activated something but noticed that Westian had wandered under the doorframe on the side. The half-orc had little expectations in life but accidentally dooring an ally was not one of them, so he let that idea pass. Perhaps it would be a good idea to move north of Westian to take a peek through the other open doorway? He was in no hurry though as others far cleverer than him they would be examining the other alcoves shortly. He would stand guard either next to Ameena or north or Westian while the others continued their investigation.

The noise of the wood disintigrating under impact made Haynuus wonder if something unfortunate had been carrying the wood in the first place. He didn't know what noise a corpse would make going through the process of pulping and maceration and didn't really want to find out. He'd rarely seen mechanical devices go wrong, yet this noise was erratic and not the repetitive and continuous grinding that he was expecting. He always distrusted the Mechanicians as they made unnatural devices or created machines of war giving one side in the battlefield an unfair advantage. Magic was drawn from nature and the earth, machines were hewn, cast and manufactured by unnatural peoples.

The other preocupying thought was that he was starting to get hungry and the reason he detected the smell of mold so soon was that he had had a bad experience consuming it before.... He had hallucinated about monsters... Made of... Rock

[Ameena]

Ameena finally crept through the room in which the others were standing. She sniffed about and caught the familiar scent of mould. Ick. She'd spent plenty of time around things that didn't smell too good, mainly when hiding in old storehouses and such when finding herself in a large city full of hostile inhabitants. They didn't tend to go near places they didn't like the smell of. Of course, with their terrible sense of smell, most such creatures seldom noticed any kind of smell. But she could catch plenty now - the mouldy smell from beyond the nearby open doorway, faint traces of fear from both Falkor and Westian...and something else. She momentarily grasped a word in her mind - the name of a species. At least, one name for that species - different people had different names for things, and she'd learnt several in the few years she'd been exploring the world since reaching full physical maturity.
The distant booming noises altered slightly, to be joined by the cracking and crunching noises of what sounded like wood being abused in some way. She flinched at the sudden sounds, not liking them. Falkor spoke to ask her whether she could smell ay monsters or friends. Monsters or friends? Did that mean that a thing called a monster couldn't be a friend? What a confusing turn of logic! Plenty of people had called her a monster in the past, but she would never have considered really trying to cause them any harm.
Still, despite his slightly puzzling question, so far Falkor had been the only one to really speak to her much beyond an introduction, and was (perhaps unconsciously) acknowledging her abilites by asking her to try and catch any scents in this place. He was also not much taller than she was, so she didn't really have to crane her neck any time she wanted to look at his face.
Then came Westian's "confession" that he'd been a magic-user who'd apparently lost his magic. well, from the looks of things, they'd all lost things - Ameena herself couldn't remember how she'd got here any more than any of the others claimed to, and that was definitely cause for concern as the murafu was always careful to make sure she knew where she was, and where lay any nearby escape routes. Doing so had so often proven the difference between living to continue her exploration in other realms, and becoming either lunch or an abandoned corpse. She wasn't sure she liked the half-elf's allusion to the gods "having pity on whatever stands in our way", because that implied they'd be rampaging through this place killing things. Ameena was always careful never to harm anything that didn't seem like it posed a true threat. The only times she'd attacked something had been in self-defence (mainly when cornered), and, on a couple of occasions, defending a friend from attack.
On thinking of the word "friend", Ameena suddenly realised she couldn't actually remember the names of any of her past friends. Or their species. Because there hadn't only been murafu - murafu were always friends to each other, always helped each other, which was what made other species seem so strange to her, because so many of them seemed perfectly happy to take any opportunity to cheat or hurt, even kill each other. She'd never understood that. But now she couldn't remember anyone she'd known. Just as Westian had forgotten his spells, those things which made him a cleric, she couldn't remember her friends, those who had helped structure her life as a murafu. Having people to talk to, and curl up with at night, were part of what made her her. And now she couldn't remember. Suddenly she felt very alone. She wasn't sure these nearly-strangers would like her trying to stand close to them - she knew how some other species could be when other creatures tried to get physically close to them, especially those of the opposite sex. To her, such behaviour only showed up another odd facet of these creatures - the fact that they could interpret even the most basic of friendly gestures as an initiation of mating behaviour.
Instead, she pulled up the hood of her cloak, trying to feel some sense of security from being partially covered. Her nose poked out from beneath the hood, and she could still see out. Her hands started to fidget, the claws clicking together faintly. Her tail trailed on the floor behind her, sticking out from under her cloak. This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all. Here she was, all but alone, with half her memories missing, trapped in a place she didn't know. Normally she'd have no objection to being underground (assuming that that was where they were), but this place just felt...wrong. And she had no-one to talk to.
She just wanted to find a nice corner and curl up, close her eyes and hope for something better to happen. But that didn't seem likely. She had the horrible feeling that she wouldn't be seeing a fellow murafu for a long time. If ever. She glanced around the room faster than ever, trying to find something to distract her mind from its horrible thoughts, and tried not to start trembling.

[beowuuf]

"Who can you always turn to in times of trouble?" asked one of Westian's teachers.
"My order," said Westian quickly.
"Wrong! Your god! True, your brothers should also be trusted, as is right and proper. Never forget whom we serve though. Not by your actions, and especially not by your faith."

Westian was still plagued by conscious memories of the classrooms, instead of the sub-conscious flashes that might reveal more of his lost knowledge.

Falkor was experiencing something similar. There was an itch travelling through his limbs, matching his fingers and toes tingle unpleasantly. It was the charge of mana - the magical energies a spellcaster relied upon. The feelings began as if to punish him for not recalling how to release the energy. Falkor recalled the existence of simple classroom exercises to train the mind and channel the reservoirs of mana, but not the details of such lessons.

All in the room had their thoughts interrupted by another loud crack, and another and another. These were longer sounds, with after-echoes. Small sounds of decending planks on a hard surface.

The banging had stopped. There was eerie silence. The smell in Ameena's nostrils grew deeper.

Haynuus found himself at the front of the group, listening to the noise and then the silence. When more noises followed, he recognised them, though not easily. The words were in a dialect of orc Haynuus didn't immediately recognise. Falkor's ears prickled. He too recognised the basic words, though knew their origin better - Trolin.

"Free!" came the gutteral bark, the last orcish syllables a recogniseable wheeze to Haynuus and Falkor, just part of the growl to Westian and Ameena.
"Shuttup!" came a different, stronger bark. "There was noise earlier! Pay attention, you! And you better pay attention too!"

The group could all hear the words, even if they could not all understand them. More importantly, they could all hear and understand the next set of noises. There were heavy footfalls, echoing from around the bend in the corridor, coming through the stone doorways. The footfalls were slow and loud, and they were getting louder. The Trolins were inexorably coming closer... the group had but moments before the creatures would be upon them!


And that seems a fun time to break for the weekend! Next update at whatever point on Monday, after people have posted. Feel free to have some OOC discussions on what to do first before you all update. I will happily delay the next update for a day or so if you lot want to agree on a consensus of actions first. I'll also happily resolve single skill rolls in the OOC thread before the main update if there are any quick actions you wish to take.

Good luck!

[beowuuf]

Actually, everyone do me a favour and roll a single d20. This is not a skill check, don't worry about what it is for. feel free to make other rolls if you want to quickly check a skill or ability.

http://www.dmjump.net/partymap3.jpg

I've made the normal map slightly bigger, split the grid size from 10 foot squares to 5 foot squares, and given you all proper symbols. I haven't included the radius of the torchlight. Assume if your character can see Haynuus, they can still see perfectly. If you are in the opposing room, or if you are out of line of sight with Haynuus, you will be in a dwindling light.

Edit: Ameena moved on map

[Ameena]

Now quivering slightly, Ameena took a frightened step backward at the sound of the approaching creatures. She'd seen them before. At least, she'd seen creatures of this smell before, who made these kinds of sounds. Some people called them trolins, others called them trolls or blue trolls. Some called them pounders, because of the way they liked to bash things all the time. That was what they did, as far as she could gather - they roamed around and bashed things with clubs. Or sticks. Or whatever other blunt instruments they happened to find nearby. She'd seen them before, from a distance. They didn't seem to be particularly intellgent, and tended to bash things with little or no thought to their own defence, and with no consideration that retreat might even be an option.
Of course, that was in the outside world. these creatures might be different. These might be a different shape, or colour. They might have some actual skill, rather than just wading in and trying to smash everything. She didn't want to find out. She didn't like their smell, but there was no getting away from it now. There'd be no way to escape, she knew. For where was there to go? All around her stood firm stone walls, and even if she retreated to the previous room, she wouldn't exactly be difficult for them to find. There was nothing she could hide behind, no hole she could crawl into. That was what she normally did when danger lurked - run away if possible, or hide until it left if not. If she was discovered, dodging running away usually remained an option. If all else failed she had her teeth. On occasion, in the past, she'd carried a knife too, but now she had nothing but her cloak.
Fighting back the urge to panic (which she knew never did anyone any good), she flicked her gaze briefly around the three others who stood in the room with her. What would they do? Fight? What were the chances that the approaching troll-creatures weren't even violent? It might be possible, after all. Yet she somehow got the feeling that Haynuus might be the type to just charge in regardless. He'd probably fight. They had a torch - maybe the trolls feared fire. She certainly did. Not tame fire, though - not the kind that sat there calmly, surrounded by a ring of stones, built by travellers who wanted something warm to sit around at night. Other fire, though, the kind that raged unchecked through wooden buildings, or was hurled by magic-users during combat, terrified her. It could only take a single spark to turn her into a living torch. The thought had always been one that scared her, even though she'd never really come close to being set alight. Because she'd always stayed away.
She took a half-step to the left and leaned sideways against the wall, trying to stop herself from shaking. What could she do? The approaching creatures were, based on previous experience, most likely to be hostile. They'd probably attack. Those noises before had probably been the troll-creatures bashing a door down. She didn't think to consider why they'd been bashing a door down, if indeed that's what they'd been doing. She was trying too hard not to panic. There was going to be a fight, that much seemed certain. It wasn't absolutely certain, but it was certainly very likely. She didn't like to fight. She didn't know what to do. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no friends to stand with. Only three mostly-strangers, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, each so different from a murafu that she knew she'd probably never truly figure out the way each of them worked, nor they her. She was still young. She'd not been wandering long - maybe only a couple of years. She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and wished fervently for the warm touch of her family, her species. The familiar brush of their whiskers against hers as they sniffed at each other in greeting. The happy voices, speaking and singing, as they went about their lives. Warm sun, light breeze, cool shade. She missed it all. She wanted it back. But she couldn't have it. She was trapped in a dark stone room, feeling so alone, with three strangers of species she'd never had much luck befriending. She had a vague notion that she'd befriended a halfling once, but couldn't remember the details. But why? Why was she here? Had she done something wrong and not realised it? Murafu did that sometimes, not quite understanding all the strange rules that other species laid down within their territories. But could she have done anything so bad that it meant she deserved to be sent to a place like this? And why had she been sent here anyway? Or brought here, or whatever had happened. Had she simply slept too close to some magic user, who perhaps had cast a spell which had accidentally sent her here? But then why the others? And why couldn't she remember? What use could she be to these people? All she wanted in life was a little food, a few interesting smells, and somewhere comfortable to curl up to sleep. Preferably with someone she could curl up with. Were the murafu the only sentient race who lived like that? Would she live long enough to find out?
All these thoughts took only a few seconds to pass through Ameena's head as she stood there, head bowed beneath her hood, clawed hands gripping the wall through her cloak, shaking slightly, trying desperately not to panic.


OOC - I checked the map after you'd made that post and Ameena's position doesn't seem to have moved. But she's moved again in this post I just made, taking another step to the south - she'll now be in the square to the southwest of Falkor, huddled against the wall.

[ian_scho]

Haynuus takes a quick step back to be beside Westian. He had previous experience with Trolins and this was not good. Not good at all - he had lost a friend to them. Haynuus was in the back row at the time, throwing the content of his backpack and then desperation set in and it was even his trousers, into the face of the Trolin. If only he know how to close the door in front of them?!

The only thing he could do was wait now. Torch in hand.

[money]

Falkor was not comfortable at coming face to face with the Trolins, especially as he could not remember any spells to help, and by all accounts everyone else seemed to be suffering the same problem. Suddenly a thought came to him, perhaps bluffing would be the best option here? After all, they could be as scared as we are?

"It's Trolins, 2 at least and another with them I think, by the sounds of it they have escaped from somewhere - perhaps they had been taken like us? We should prepare for a confrontation." then looking at Haynus, Falkor continued in Orc, not that he wanted to seem to be leaving Ammena or Westian out, but it just came natural, "they speak Orc, perhaps we can instill fear into them... If they think our numbers are stong and well armed perhaps they may be less inclined to come seeking a fight?"

Realising he had spoke Orc he turned to Ammena and Westian and repeated in common tounge. "What do you think? Do you think we should try to bluff them?"

[oh_brother]

Westian arched an eyebrow when the halfling started to speak in what he assumed was orcish. Clearly this Falknor character was educated. Westian had assumed he was a thief – like most halfings he had met – but perhaps not. He filed that thought away for later.
"Whoever they are they are certain to be tired - they have been banging away with some vigour for a long time. That could mean it will be easier for us to overwhelm them. Alternatively it could also mean they will be more willing to listen to us, and given our lack of weapons this seems to be the more attractive option. Assuming, that is, they speak common, or that one of you can communicate with them in their guttural tongue”.
“Nevertheless we should be ready in case they are uncooperative. I say we all stand facing them, making ourselves look like a large group. I realise people hiding in the shadows could be useful in case a fight is unavoidable, but if only one or two of us are visible it might just encourage them to attack. We could stand up to our full heights, and try not to draw attention to the fact that we are unarmed. And a little drama might not hurt”, to emphasise this point Westian rolled up his sleeves and held in his hands in style of a spell-caster about to release a blast of magical energy. “What do you think?” he asked, making eye contact with everyone in the room in turn.
Westian still felt horribly nervous, but it was tinged with a growing excitement in his stomach now that an encounter seemed unavoidable. He felt a thrill of power as he outlined the options available. Normally in tense situations he was simply the junior cleric with very little direct say on how things proceeded; now he felt like an important member of this strange group. His superiors had always told him to accept his subordinate status, and ostensibly he did just that. He bowed to the right people, and smiled when a superior over-ruled him, even when he knew he was right. But for now he was an underling no more.

[Ameena]

Ameena forces herself to listen to what the others are saying. It sounds like they're discussing attempts to try and bluff their way past these creatures. But then what? If there's no other way out of this place, they'll still be stuck wandering around in a place with however many troll-creatures there are. If she hadn't been so nervous, she would have felt somewhat amused by Westian's suggestion that they "stand up to their full heights". As she is, she's barely as tall as Falkor - height is never the domain of the murafu when among other races.
This and several other factors combine in Ameena's mind - she is nervous, distracted. She doesn't particularly want to act in a threatening manner against several other creatures she knows are most likely aggressive - that might just rile them up even more. Standing as she is at the back of the group, a step or two behind the others and huddled against the wall, she doesn't think she can be of much help. She's used to hiding in the background when among strangers, watching them talk amongst themselves until she can determine whether her contributions, such as they are, might be welcome.
Because of all this, she remains where she is, hunched against the wall as before.

[ian_scho]

"A plan." hissed Haynuus hurridly.

"If the Trolin attack, we take a step back, and those at the back can move to their side then." It was the only tactic he could think of. Ameena might be able to pounce in from the shadows, Falkor could distract their attention,.. Anything!

He recalled when he had got trapped by Trolin with his back against the wall before. It was a horrible recurring memory that he was willing put to sleep finally, with revenge in mind.

[beowuuf]

After adjusting yourselves and muttering last-minute clarifications, you await the creatures. The noises have changed, and it takes a moment for something to appear. When it does, you all have to adjust your eyeline up an few inches.

These Trolins are typical specimens, blue-skinned masses of muscles and lumps. Slime is trapped in the crevises of their musculature and in folds of flesh, and overall they make Haynuus look attractive. They also make Haynuus look merely adequete in strength, given their own massive bulk.

The first Trolin moves around the corner cautiously, apparently tipped off by your voices. He perhaps expected to spy on the group, and is surpised to be confronted by a waiting party. He is exposing a fang with his curled lip and raising a club, when the second Trolin appears around the coner, bumping into the first.

The first Trolin glares and elbows the second back. The second looks generally sluggish, and takes a moment to register the party, the elbow, and finally the meaning of the elbow. He stands to one side by the other Trolin.

In the background, a third Trolin appears. This third one barely puts his head around the corner, content to hold back for some reason.

Ameena's nose does not register a creater smell now these creatures are in sight. Infact, if anything the smell has started to dissipate.

"Where is he, graggas?"[1] growls the first Trolin in orcish to the party, "where have you under-body-blanket-gold [2] our boss-big-sparkle-have"![3]


[1] Neither Faklor nor Haynuus understand this word, recognising it as purely Trolin utterance.
[2] Haynuus recognises this concept as 'hidden', having himself hidden his gold under the blanket on which he slept on many occasions.
[3] Falkor recognises from his learning that this concept must mean 'king', as only royal Trolins acquire any sparkling adornments.


There we go! Technically speaking, we are in combat. Just no one is swinging yet, and perhaps no one will. However, actions and timing will be in 6 second bursts from now until the confrontation stops. Check out the OOC thread for a 3.5 ed combat rules summary.

Once you know what's going on, I'll need from each of you 1) a single action, 2) a movement or move equivalent action (if you want), and 3) any minor/free actions you think you can try.

Be aware of the initiative order. If you are acting later than others, be sure to post some contingency actions/movements in the OOC post incase circumstances change.

[beowuuf]

Round 1

Here is the map at the start of Round 1. Letters and numbers have been added to make it easier for you to reference the square you wish to go to.

http://www.dmjump.net/partymap3.1.jpg

[ian_scho]

The flickering of the torch was playing tricks on his mind. On the blue skin of the trolins were what appeared to be dark marks. The old blood stains of his friend, moving and swimming around their bodies like an angry animated shadow cast from that terrible memory in his mind.

The pupils of Haynuus' eyes dilated, absorbing yet more hatred and emotion into his being. Yet he was cold. Terribly cold.

He pointed his torch directly at their direction, it's light engulfed his vision and inflamed his synapses, and snarled:

"We ain't got no gold! Yous be too stupid to know that. But we 'ave BLOOD!"

Haynuus raised the torch in the air and stood on tiptoes to look as big as possible[*][/color].

[*][/color] Just like he used to do when insulting Ogres in his youth... Although that was from a distance, and he did run like a cat with it's tail on fire afterwards.

[money]

As Haynuus pointed the torch at the Trolins Falkor jumped into action. He realised they were armed and that had to be an advantage well above a swinging torch - but they didn't know any more about the party then Falkor, or the others, knew of them... As he could recall the skill of generating Manor, he also remembered ways of casting quick spells without the aid of runes... could he get it right? If so, he might just be able to cast fear and doubt into the trolins - perhaps giving Haynuus enough of an advantage to strike first...

Using all his might, the sweat dripping from his brow, he tried to cast the Message spell, directing at the Trolin to the right (T3). With Haynuus waving the torch, he hoped they would not be able to see his lips move...

"The others are in trouble, we have killed the KING, Lets go and help the others - perhaps there are more weak Trolins"

He hoped the ORC pronunciation was ok, that the message would have the Trolins believing more Orcs on the way... in fact, not just any ordinary ones - but ones that had slain their King (or at least their leader). Of course - this could go horribly wrong and enrage them, but Falkor believed they would be more scared then enraged...