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To Further Corruption
Posted: 29 Jan 2005 09:16 PM |
Romulus had been quite alarmed to have spotted another gnome in this area, he had thought his kind was all but extinct but a few pockets of existance in which Romulus just could not seem to find. There was very good news in this, perhaps good news indeed. As we know Gnomish blood is inherently magical, infact in ages past, it was an old rumor that orcs used gnome blood to coat their weapons with powerful magics in order to fight elves better, or that they would put the blood on sores on their feet to remove them. Though, Romulus did know Solan, but the fool had turned on Romulus for the likes of -women-. That cursed Blanche La Belle, none the less....only that cur could turn someone from the true path of redemption which is necromancy. None the less, he was useless, indispensable at this point, not to mention he was male. Far more powerful, and far more hot of blood, is that of female gnomes. If Male gnomes were considered extinct, you might as well consider female gnomes fairy tells, why Romulus himself started to wonder if Gnomes began to breed asexually, or if the lack of women were causing the dissapearance of his societies.
But back to business.
Romulus grabbed his large book, and sprawled it over his desk, a hand in each corner, his eyes pacing back and forth as if in a frenzy of contest. He slid his finger down and accross the pages, looking for what he needed.
With one finger in his mouth, he would mumble to himself "Nope..no..not it...no..nope..". In time, he skid by, and just as if an animal had nipped him in the butt "Ooh! Ooh that was it", and he quickly places his finger back onto the line. The Boney finger almost compresses the text into the previous pages, as he presses it harder as he continues to read
Artisans Recipe for Transverse Necromancy:
How to make the Living out of the Undead
1) Vial of Contagion
2) Skin of a White Stag
3) Mix with a large supply of Female Gnomish blood
Romulus jumped, almost in excitement. Could it be..could Romulus finally cure his bond with death? Would he no longer be slave to Gorlath, would he be able to use necromancy as he pleased, would he once again feel the warmth of a familiar face......perhaps. But none of this would come to fruition, if he could not get that gnome...
That delicious......little.....magical.....crazy...female...gnome |
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Re: To Further Corruption
Posted: 02 Feb 2005 04:24 PM |
Something was haunting Gorlath Keep and it was not the Keep’s ghostly denizens.
Doors creaked open and shut of their own accord, startling the occasional spirit. The quiet patter of footsteps roamed up and down the gloomy corridors... but there was no one there.
The footsteps paused in mid-step as a loud battle-cry echoed down the hall, followed by a thin, ghostly scream. For a moment, silence reigned the Keep once more. A door shut; the footsteps went from a walk to a run, skidding around a corner and stopping short of an Elf with a gigantic axe slung casually over his shoulder. At his feet lay the crumpled forms of two undead Ghasts.
The Elf started and peered about him, his keen eyes searching the darkness.
“Wot you?” he demanded. “Bad ghost?”
There was a pause, then a distinctively female voice rang out from nowhere: “Oh no! I am not a ghost!”
The Elf’s head turned this way and that, searching for the source.
“I am a Gnome,” the voice continued. “Um, but I cannot see me at the moment.”
The Elf blinked. “Not see?”
“Uh huh! I am invisible! It is a good way to explore.”
“Can hear,” the Elf grunted. “Not see, but hear.” He scratched his head. “Fenris confused. Be careful, Gnome-not-here. Place bad. Fenris nearly die.”
“Ooh, that is bad,” the voice agreed.
“Fenris look for things,” the Elf continued, giving up his search.
“What things?”
“Just things to have. But not know when to find. Like this. Look, see? Find thing, but not know what it is.”
Fenris held out a bow. Something grabbed a hold of it and tilted it for a moment before releasing it.
“My friend Sam showed me something like that once,” the voice said thoughtfully. “It is made by Elves.”
“Fenris is Elf,” the Elf declared, frowning at the bow. “Ahh—is Elf bow. Fenris see it now.”
“Well, if you are going to be exploring too, do you want to explore together?” the voice asked hesitantly.
“How go with is not see?” Fenris asked, perplexed. “Can follow if want.”
“Um, well it will wear off soon...” the voice said.
Something shimmered in the corridor. Within seconds, a little Gnome in a multicoloured outfit and a tortoise on her head manifested less than a pace from Fenris.
Fenris jumped, giving a surprised yelp. He did a double-take and peered at the being before him.
“Is little Gnome, yes?” he asked.
“Uh huh. That is me,” she replied.
“Is good,” Fenris decided. He gestured up the corridor, back the way the footsteps had come. “Fenris go this way?”
The two of them headed off to explore the Keep together.
All around them, the shadows stirred and whispered restlessly. Darkness had eyes and those eyes were on them.
~*~
She had gotten separated from Fenris while they were upstairs. That had been after a close encounter with Ghasts and Dread Warriors that had left the both of them feeling tremendously sick. Fenris had gone one way and she had gone the other, stopping only long enough to dig out a healing kit to take something for the sickness.
Then the shadows had peeled off the walls and come oozing after her.
The escape was a blur, a memory of blindly firing into the darkness and pulling the gates tightly shut behind her. A Ghast followed; she nailed it with a shot straight through the throat and kept on running. Fenris had probably made it out. Fenris was tough.
It was only once she’d reached the crossroads that divided the Great Plains that she stopped. Miramil threw a glance behind her at the Keep, a rare frown crossing her expression. That had almost been too easy.
And what was in the upstairs corridor anyway? The one with all the traps. That had definitely been a nastier place than the ground floor or the prison.
One thing was for certain: she wasn’t going back in there without knowing how to turn invisible. Throwing one last glance at the Keep, she set about making camp. It was getting dark anyway; if she was going back by herself, further exploration would have to wait until the morning.
~*~
He eyed the dissolving form of the Gorlath Spirit with a mixture of thoughtfulness and curiousity, stroking his long beard. The man had introduced himself as Rasputin, a Cleric of Elbereth, and he was merely passing through the Great Plains on his way to rescue his brother from a spider-infested forest. He and Miramil had barely gotten through their introductions when the spirit had manifested out of the gathering darkness and attacked.
“My, my,” Rasputin mused, “Now what is one of those doing out here?”
Standing off to his side, lit up all too conspicuously by the flickering camp fire, Miramil frowned and looked back at the distant silhouette of Gorlath Keep.
~*~
“Did this one follow you?”
It was about half an hour after that episode at the Keep, and mere minutes after Rasputin had departed. The speaker was a slender, red-haired Elven man wearing dark robes. He pointed to the still-fading remains of the spirit, his brow creasing into a frown.
“Uh huh,” Miramil affirmed. She threw a glance at the shadowy remains. “Ghosts are not so tough. We had to come outside for a bit because I forgot all my spells and got separated from Fenris.”
Off to her other side, a Half-Elven woman vaguely resembling the Elven man stared distractedly into the dying fire. “That’s nice,” she mumbled.
Miramil turned to look at the woman. “You are trying to be brooding and mysterious, aren’t you Ali? Sam says staring into fires is what brooding and mysterious people do.”
Despite herself, Alianda grinned. “No, not really—more like confused and uncertain.”
The grin faded as quickly as it had come, and Alianda let out a deep sigh.
“Oh,” Miramil continued, oblivious to the change in mood. “Well that is good because brooding and mysterious people need to wear black spiky armour and scary helmets, like Mister Pes. That is how to be properly brooding and mysterious.”
“Well, black is not my best colour,” Ali replied absently.
Miramil nodded. “No, it is too Versuci!”
Samic chuckled heartily. Alianda’s eyes flicked towards him, then back to the fire.
“Let’s go squishify something,” she decided abruptly, getting to her feet. “I can’t think straight.”
“Okay! I think we left some ghosts standing!” Miramil declared. “Erm... I mean, floating.”
Alianda nodded distractedly and quietly began packing up the campsite.
“I don't think squishifying things will make her feel better,” Miramil murmured to Sam.
He shook his head but said nothing more.
~*~
“I’ll knock.”
Sam flashed a grin back at Ali and Miramil. They were in the upper floor of the Keep, having made it past the roaming undead and the traps in the upper corridor.
Miramil muttered something under her breath, her voice becoming otherworldly for a moment as she started casting various protective spells. She gave a nod to Sam after the last one, and he turned his attention to the door.
With blinding speed, Sam brought the door crashing down with a rapid succession of well-aimed blows.
He charged into the room, arcane magics enhancing his already-considerable agility as he spotted the pale form of a Vampire and rushed towards him. Miramil followed him through the door, crossbow primed, while Ali stood in the doorway with her bow at ready. From deep within the chamber, the dim figures of other, unidentifiable undead stirred.
And all hell broke loose.
With almost lazy grace, the Vampire swung his massive sword at Sam and clobbered him with a blow that sent him sprawling in a senseless heap. Miramil was by his side in seconds, chanting a spell of Invisibility at Sam just as she had only days ago in Bloodwood. It had saved him from the Ettins then, making him vanish at a pivotal moment and later proving useful when he’d had to fetch help for her and Alianda.
But this time, it was not to be.
With frightening rapidity, the Vampire changed the arc of his swing, his sword slashing towards Miramil. The blade ripped straight through flesh and bone like paper. For an instant, the purple and white spark of disrupted magic lit up the darkness, then died.
She saw Ali collapse as the room tilted crazily about her—the Half-Elven woman surrounded by flailing shapes that moaned and hissed as only the undead can. Saw Sam rise to his feet and transform into a whirlwind of frenzy, his magically boosted speed lending power to his fury as he lost all control and became a blur of destruction. Felt herself land with a distant thump in a pool of her own blood, and saw the pale Lord Gorlath summoning even more minions to overpower their sadly under-prepared party.
Then she saw nothing more.
~*~
If they had seen Sam finish off every last one of those undead, they would have known that they should have left the job to him and stayed well back. It was a near-repeat of that sad misadventure into Bloodwood just days ago, their shortest adventure ever. They had not gone a hundred paces before being absolutely slaughtered by Ettins that day. Sam had only gotten away to find help because of that Invisibility spell.
Today, he needed no spell.
Gorlath was the last to fall, landing with a jarring thud that rang loudly throughout the Keep. He would be back, though. Sam knew that as he turned his attention to his slain companions. There wasn’t much time at all to find help...
He threw one last look around the room, his eyes searching the darkness with Elven precision. There wasn’t anything left that would harm them here. None of the other undead would dare venture into this room; he’d observed that they stayed well away from this corridor. He had to go, now, before it was too late.
Sam ran faster than he had ever run before.
~*~
Time passed.
The minutes bled into hours, and still Sam did not return.
~*~
“Wait!”
Sam’s voice. That was Sam’s voice. Miramil raised her head from the cold stone floor and saw him standing by the wrecked door, shouting to someone in the corridor.
He shook his head and stepped back into the room, running a hand through his hair. “He left without a word... again...”
Sam stood there for a moment longer with a perplexed look on his face, then made his way over to Ali and quietly tended to her wounds.
“Did we... did we whomp them?” Miramil asked, standing up dazedly.
Unlike Ali, she was faring well for someone who had been a corpse not five seconds ago. Then again, she was a Gnome after all.
Sam nodded slowly. “They are whomped.” He raised his eyes towards the door. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank him...”
Ali winced and staggered to her feet, holding her side. “Let’s get out of here,” she mumbled weakly.
Miramil exchanged a glance with Sam as Ali limped out the shattered door.
“I do not think that squishifying session made Ali feel better,” Miramil observed, stepping up to Sam’s side.
Sam turned to look at the fallen forms of the undead strewn throughout the darkened room.
“I don't think it helped us at all,” he agreed quietly. |
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Re: To Further Corruption
Posted: 03 Feb 2005 04:54 PM |
Romulus had returned from 'preaching' the good faith of the undead,and back into his humble abode at Gorlath Keep. His return was one of immediate unpleasantness, he was wracked with immeasurable pain and anguish, the cries of slain spirits and souls torn from this realm to who knows where. Injustice had been done here, and it was many minutes before Romulus could gain control of his body...however painful it had been...and stagger further into the keep. The pain became most tremendous outside of the private quarters of Lord Gorlath, who upon seeing Romulus was very mad. Gorlath was quite displeased, especially since he had originally mistaken the small gnome for Romulus.
We had lost many good men that day, men who's spirits would drift elsewhere in agony, no longer protected by the walls of Gorlath.Many spirits find solace here, where they can rest in the calming area of the great plains. It is rare to find a spirit foolish enough to try and wander into Midor areas, especially with an almost Man-hunt like attitude against them passed by the church. If any of them -did- try to pass it, Romulus quickly made sure to keep them away...protecting both the living from frightenning a spirit and having it attack, and saving a hopefully good soul.
But mostly, it is the magical barricades of Gorlath which many spirits find there ways here for. Whatever reason it is that spirits decide not to pass on, or ghouls and zombies to just...well...not die, no one can really know. What is unfair though, is that these beings are sometimes unwillingly under the control of men who do not deserve the power to do so. Evil magicians who harness souls for their own purposes, or cruel necromancers looking to make armies of already fallen soldiers. Whatever magic has befallen Gorlath Keep, almost....shields these undead from such things. It is a rumor, perhaps, but as far as Romulus can tell he can not unwilling try to command any of the undead in the keep. They seem, almost, unbound by the very link which a necromancer has with the undead. They can feel, sense, almost even smell all unliving things around them. It is no wonder most necromancers go mad, for the thousands of voices will race through their head, not only do they try to communicate back to many of them, they need to filter out thousands, and try to maintain their focus on what is going on around them. They are not attached to this, they are not onto this 'link', you speak with them as you would an equal...to their face.
This was not the problem though, there was anything but joyous celebration in Gorlath Keep. Gorlath paced around in anger, summoning to his keep some of the most hellish creatures Romulus had personally ever seen, to act as his royal guard. Romulus figured it best not to disturb the mad Gorlath, but some of the spirits later told Romulus the story of what had happened. He knew many Elves, and other beings, and the descriptions were a bit foggy...can't rely on a Zombie to give you much of a great description of anything...but there was one creature who entered the keep...a Female Gnome....and Romulus knew of only, one of those... |
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