Café de Nuit

Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:SEARCHERS

Renn tries to keep well away from the strange tentacled beast.

"I can scout ahead a little," he tells Roald and Cormac. "Try to find a way through the city that keeps us from getting cut to bits."

"Sounds good," Cormac whispers. He will follow Renn with the others at a safe distance.

SEARCHERS

"Right then," he whispers back, then begins creeping towards the sound of the whips. He keeps one dagger drawn, held against the inside of his forearm as he skulks forward.

THE SEARCHERS


Renn sees a faint greenish light flickering across the cavern floor near his feet. Checking for the source, he sees in an instant; the glimmer comes from the blade he holds flat against his forearm.

As he draws closer to the sound of whips, the light grows stronger.

The whipping noise comes from one of the larger stone corrals.

Crack

A whimper and then insane laughter follows the sound of the whip.
As he gets close, he sees that firelight shows through the doorway of the circular structure.
Peeking into the circular stone room, Renn spies a couple of armored orogs holding a third orog, one that wears no armor. The unarmored one sags in the grip of its captors. A fourth swine-goblin stands behind the prisoner, a bullwhip held in its right fist.
A torch mounted on a pole burns on the left-hand side of the gloomy chamber.
Not far from that fire an eflin child with slate gray skin watches the orogs, seated on a stone bench set against the wall. The elf child murmurs, stroking a thing huddled under a blanket or cloak on the bench near him.
The bundle shifts and a pale face appears under the hem of the cloth.
Renn sees tears in the eyes of the apparently human child.
The little one huddled under the cloth says,
''Please, I don't like this game. I want to go home."

The gray elfin child replies, ''You don't want to see what it looks like, inside?"

CITY OF HAES
............


CRANSTEL goes to the CATHEDRAL ARCHIVES with Priestess IDELE. There they search the collection of books and parchments for more information about the foul cult of Orcus, and for further clues to an antidote to the Crone's poison.

...


DOMENICA and FILBERT conclude their business with the ARCHPRELATE. Afterward, they arrange the boat trip to Endier.
(But Domenica does not book herself as a passenger. She has other work to do, gathering intelligence and sending out spies in the city, looking for the Crone.)
...

SAFANA...?


......

TERMELAN...?




.....

GUNNAR...?

SEARCHERS

Cormac growls quietly in the back of his throat, lifting his bow down from his back and stringing an arrow.

Unless stopped, he will draw a bead on the Orog with the whip and prepare to fire.

Adam wrote:SEARCHERS

Cormac growls quietly in the back of his throat, lifting his bow down from his back and stringing an arrow.

Unless stopped, he will draw a bead on the Orog with the whip and prepare to fire.

Seeing Cormac preparing to attack, Sir Boarhort cocks his hammer over his shoulder and lifts his shield to port.

Renn's men clap hands to weapons.


Nevil draws his dagger and presses his back into a nook in the stonework, making himself as inconspicuous as possible.

The creature melts into the gloom. But even out of sight, the party can still smell the thing.

Searchers

With a smooth motion, Roald draws his sword.

SEARCHERS

Cormac fires.
His arrow bounces off the orog's ugly helmet.

The two swine things holding the prisoner drop it. They squeal in fury, rushing towards the opening in the stone circle.

Both fall under the party's combined attack, making it no more than a few yards through the door.

A scream sounds from within the stone corral, high pitched like a child's voice.

The orog with the whip rushes on, heedless of the danger posed by the ambushers who have just cut down its fellows. It cracks the whip as it sprints past Sir Boarhort.

A tall figure with slate gray skin and burning eyes stalks along behind the fleeing orog torturer. It looks like an elf about to the extent an orog looks like a pig or like a goblin.
The eight foot tall elf-thing smiles at the party. It lifts a wickedly barbed iron spear in its right hand.
" Snacks! But first, we play."

SEARCHERS

Roald knocks the monster's spear from its hand.

The creature bellows, lunging for the spear.

Everyone in range attacks with everything he has got.
Except Reese. The lad kneels, snatches the dropped spear, and hustles away with it as men shoot, stab, and batter the freakish elf-thing.

Cormac fires an arrow point blank into the monster's chest.
Roald slices off its right ear.

The thing will not drop. It shakes off attacks that would have killed three strong knights, shoving at its attackers, pushing towards Reese.

The boy stands transfixed in dread, clutching the stolen weapon in both hands.

Lights spring up as Sevett and Gatt light torches. Seeing the demonic rage of the strange elfin creature, they backpedal. Sevett grabs Reese by the shoulder" Back, get back with us boy!"

"Give me my spear!" The voice booms so loud that every orog in this section of the cavern must have heard it.
The monstrous fay slams forward, heedless of injuries taken, knocking men aside as he lunges for Reese.
But Boarhort knocks him off balance.
Roald and Renn leap in, stabbing and hacking.
The enemy laughs. He cries out in the squealing, grunting language of the Orogs.

His horrid wounds begin to close before the eyes of his attackers.

" Fools! I am the Marquis of Kal Antherak! I am invinc--"

SPLAT

A shite covered pad wraps over his mouth. It tears loose with a wet ripping noise. The dung beast bites its screaming victim on his right arm.

"Aiiiiiii!"
The Marquis shrieks again. The dung eater slams him against the cavern floor.

He is not moving now.

But the torchlight reveals that his wounds are closing...

Searchers

Roald stares at the elf-demon's healing wounds with increasing sense of dread. He was lucky to bat the spear out of the creature's hand. He doubted he would get lucky twice.

Then he noticed the dung-monster that had intervened, and got an idea.

He turns to Cormac. "I don't suppose you could encourage your new friend to eat that thing before it regenerates, could you?"

Safana remains silent for the rest of the meeting, looking thoughtful. As the meeting breaks up she wanders over to Termalane

"Hey there! Any ideas on Crone hunting? If we are going to raid her again I think we need a proper plan this time. You can tell me your thoughts over that drink you owe me!"

She grins cheerfully at him, nodding a polite farewell to the others.

Termelan stiffens when Safana talks to him and then replies avoiding her gaze.

"You do me much honor my Lady. I apologize for considering you a person one such myself could share drinks with and you have my gratitude for not seeking my punishment. It was an honest mistake my Lady. I have missed, somehow, your Trueness. My only defense for it, is that I have never spent much time in the presence of True Mages." he says obviously mistaking her show of comradery for sarcasm.
" I am at your disposal, as it's proper for one of my kind to one of your kind. I ... have some ideas about the mission, that's true. I'll be happy to share them with you at any place of your choosing." he says to Safana's shoes.

"As I have mentioned when I thought you were just a beautiful, intelligent woman of common power, I come from a land that is often ravaged by such incidents. People of my station crave the power of people of your station and seek to gain it through unnatural and unholy pacts with fiendish powers. I believe the Crone is one such person. That an Archmage like the Manslayer backs her, makes her a lot more dangerous."
He takes a breath. "We have a saying there. It takes a True mage, like yourself, to defeat another mage, like the Crone. While part of it is propaganda used by the distant and aloof archmages to keep us doing their bidding without spending much effort to quell unrest of the common people, there's a lot of truth in that saying.
The Archmage of Endier is, in my humble opinion, a good place to start pushing back against the other Archmage, the Manslayer. About fighting one of his apprentices, the Crone... I would have to differ to your expertise as it is both wise and proper. You understand better than anyone else what are the crone's powers and what are her limitations.
I can, and I plan to, find out more about her fiendish patron, try to unearth what unholy powers it gives to its worshippers and what are the "downsides" of such a bargain. The creatures of hell don't share power without putting checks and balances nor an Archmage would take an apprentice without taking some precautions that the apprentice won't overpower him.

We would be honored if you agreed to accompany us to the Archmage of Endier, if you deem it safe for yourself to visit another True Mage and fits your schedule. I believe that as a True Mage, you are the most qualified envoy and ambassador we could be blessed to be in the presence of when meeting the Archmage of Endier and I would be honored to accompany you that majestic and exotic city I've heard so many stories about, if you would have me.

While lord Filbert organizes the trip, I plan to learn as much as possible about the customs and proper etiquette of the place we will seek and what is a customary gift for such meetings. If it so pleases you, perhaps you could ask his Grace, the duke, about what his Grace is willing to offer the Archmage to secure his help against the other archmage.
I will also seek to find morsels of truth hidden in books, legends and memory from the other times the Manslayer has terrorized this land. To see if I can find any pattern through his madness that would help us prepare better for any forthcoming attack. And if I'm so lucky to find how heroes in the past thwarted such an attack altogether? You'll be the first to know after Lord Filbert."

SEARCHERS

The Elven Bard steps forward and thrusts her sword into the breast of the fallen enemy. The steel sinks in over an inch, but then it grinds against bone with a gruesome noise and goes no further.

The small wound closes around the sword point.

Everyone nearby can see the Marquis' chest rising and falling as he breathes, apparently unconscious but obviously still alive.

And then the whole party hears heavy breathing. Not from the enemy at their feet, but from the gloom all around.
Eyes flash in the darkness at the edges of the overlapping circles of torchlight.
Piggy, evil eyes.
Squeals rise in the great cavern, a grotesque paean of hunger and lust.

The Bard sees more. Dozens of the swine-things, most wearing armor, pouring out of alley mouths and stone hives, converging on the party.

In a minute at most, all routes of escape may be cut off.

Safana stares at him, slightly bemused, as he unleashes his conversation at her feet.

"Are you jesting with me? Have I been a bit vain? And what do you mean by True Mage? My apologies, good bard, but I am in my second language here. Anyway, the Crone seemed to be using Necromancy which is not my area of expertise, and which I know little about but she will have a reserve of arcane power which, after a time, will become exhausted. Also she will have difficulties if disturbed or engaged in..."

She stares at him again her voice trailing off.

"Why are you staring at my feet?"

SEARCHERS

Renn flicks the ichor from his blades and cranes his head toward the oncoming noise of the enemy. "Let's get the hell out of here while we can! Should we leave our unconscious friend with a torch or two to play with? Might keep him from regenerating, and the smoke may aid our escape..."