Lia eyes the room of marionettes one last time -- and firmly turns her back on it, striding into the darkness. 'Let us hope there are no more doors to unlock,' she thinks to herself as she steps through the portal. 'Or I'll have to blow the next one to splinters ...'
(OOC: Lia goes through the door.)
The Eye of Anubis: Book Eleven
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Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6844
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
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Kaitou Kage
- Evil Genius
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- Contact:
"Stop for a break as soon as we can," Kuzan called as he darted toward the door, "I'll make sure we all get patched up!"
And with that, the priest dashed through the egress.
Essentially, Kuzan is recommending that, situation willing, we pause for what 4e calls a "short rest" and he'll take care of healing and ability damage.
And with that, the priest dashed through the egress.
Essentially, Kuzan is recommending that, situation willing, we pause for what 4e calls a "short rest" and he'll take care of healing and ability damage.
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The Whistler
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 1454
- Joined: Thu Jun 07, 2007 7:38 pm
- Location: Southshore
Otto followed behind him, stealing a quick glance back at the room--and the weeping-masked mannequin--before darting through the door himself.
Two near-death experiences before noon, and a physicalized reckoning of your own inner demons on tap...today is *not* going to be a good day.
Also making with the escaping.
Two near-death experiences before noon, and a physicalized reckoning of your own inner demons on tap...today is *not* going to be a good day.
Also making with the escaping.
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NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 29th, 761, 10:08 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Hurry! Go!" Edmund helped pull any stragglers along as best he could with his ravaged strength. The kris had stopped its singing, the sudden hollow in your ears almost as painful as the music itself. All around the marionettes swung to a halt, their momentum dragging them a few more feet before they finally ceased. The masked dolls hung still from their glittering strings, limp and lifeless things now, revealed as the helpless prisoners they truly were. The light in the chandeliers began to flicker and die out.
Only the bloody doll remained, twisting the silver garotte in its hands as it watched Charles step beyond its reach. The light in the room slowly dimmed, leaving only the faint glow of the silver wires and the bloody, porcelain mask behind. Charles realized he could see beyond the darkness to it's single, unbloodied eye - glassy and dull, but still human.
I'll be waiting...
The door slammed shut with a certain, grim finality.
===============================================
At first, you merely walked through the darkness, uncertain of your destination, but nevertheless guided forward by the simple fact that to turn back was not an option. After a moment, you noticed the floor changed, turning from smooth tiles into harsher, rougher stone. In time, you heard the rush of water, and then a dim light appeared in the darkness ahead. You walked towards the light.
And came out in a natural cavern the size of a cathedral. A sinkhole, actually, a vertical column excised from the living rock. Here, the forces of water and time had worn away an open, cylindrical pit in the rock, a hundred meters across and a third of a mile deep. Through the dim outline of the sinkhole's rim you could see stars shining in a night sky.
From the rim came a thundering waterfall, the spray of white water crashing down, bouncing off the walls in a grand interplay of water and stone. Thousands of feet it fell, crashing down into a roaring whirlpool. You could feel the water on your face as you entered, rendering your hair and clothing damp and chill.
You came out on a narrow ledge about three-quarters of the way down, an outcropping of rock fifteen hundred feet below the top of the sinkhole. Below was another drop, a mere hundred feet this time, straight into the raging whirlpool.
Not to far from where you exited the tunnel, the ledge turned into an outcropping of rock, jutting far out into the center of the sinkhole, the very tip ending exactly above the swirling, magnificent whirlpool. Atop this outcropping, which though dwarfed in size by the rest of the cavern was still easily large enough for all of you to stand upon, were the only signs of man's work in the entire sinkhole.
Twelve braziers of bronze lined the way to the end of the outcropping, burning sluggishly and casting a dim, shadow-filled light across the entire room. At the end were two statues, primitive, stylized carvings of an unimaginably ancient woman, crude statues that nevertheless were accurate enough for you to fill in the details. Her hair was long, her eyes were knowing, and she was clothed in a shimmering gown that seemed half-made of water. The statue on the left held in two cupped hands a little bit of soil, out of which grew a young shoot of wheat. The statue on the right held in two hands an angry, snarling serpent, a viper with cruelly hooked fangs.
Between the two statues was an altar, or at any rate a crude block of stone that served the purpose of an altar. From where you stood, you could make out an inscription carved into the front of the altar. On the block of stone were the implements of the ritual trade.
A flint dagger.
A piece of flat bread.
And a viper, currently asleep.
August 29th, 761, 10:08 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Hurry! Go!" Edmund helped pull any stragglers along as best he could with his ravaged strength. The kris had stopped its singing, the sudden hollow in your ears almost as painful as the music itself. All around the marionettes swung to a halt, their momentum dragging them a few more feet before they finally ceased. The masked dolls hung still from their glittering strings, limp and lifeless things now, revealed as the helpless prisoners they truly were. The light in the chandeliers began to flicker and die out.
Only the bloody doll remained, twisting the silver garotte in its hands as it watched Charles step beyond its reach. The light in the room slowly dimmed, leaving only the faint glow of the silver wires and the bloody, porcelain mask behind. Charles realized he could see beyond the darkness to it's single, unbloodied eye - glassy and dull, but still human.
I'll be waiting...
The door slammed shut with a certain, grim finality.
===============================================
At first, you merely walked through the darkness, uncertain of your destination, but nevertheless guided forward by the simple fact that to turn back was not an option. After a moment, you noticed the floor changed, turning from smooth tiles into harsher, rougher stone. In time, you heard the rush of water, and then a dim light appeared in the darkness ahead. You walked towards the light.
And came out in a natural cavern the size of a cathedral. A sinkhole, actually, a vertical column excised from the living rock. Here, the forces of water and time had worn away an open, cylindrical pit in the rock, a hundred meters across and a third of a mile deep. Through the dim outline of the sinkhole's rim you could see stars shining in a night sky.
From the rim came a thundering waterfall, the spray of white water crashing down, bouncing off the walls in a grand interplay of water and stone. Thousands of feet it fell, crashing down into a roaring whirlpool. You could feel the water on your face as you entered, rendering your hair and clothing damp and chill.
You came out on a narrow ledge about three-quarters of the way down, an outcropping of rock fifteen hundred feet below the top of the sinkhole. Below was another drop, a mere hundred feet this time, straight into the raging whirlpool.
Not to far from where you exited the tunnel, the ledge turned into an outcropping of rock, jutting far out into the center of the sinkhole, the very tip ending exactly above the swirling, magnificent whirlpool. Atop this outcropping, which though dwarfed in size by the rest of the cavern was still easily large enough for all of you to stand upon, were the only signs of man's work in the entire sinkhole.
Twelve braziers of bronze lined the way to the end of the outcropping, burning sluggishly and casting a dim, shadow-filled light across the entire room. At the end were two statues, primitive, stylized carvings of an unimaginably ancient woman, crude statues that nevertheless were accurate enough for you to fill in the details. Her hair was long, her eyes were knowing, and she was clothed in a shimmering gown that seemed half-made of water. The statue on the left held in two cupped hands a little bit of soil, out of which grew a young shoot of wheat. The statue on the right held in two hands an angry, snarling serpent, a viper with cruelly hooked fangs.
Between the two statues was an altar, or at any rate a crude block of stone that served the purpose of an altar. From where you stood, you could make out an inscription carved into the front of the altar. On the block of stone were the implements of the ritual trade.
A flint dagger.
A piece of flat bread.
And a viper, currently asleep.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Kaitou Kage
- Evil Genius
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- Joined: Thu Nov 29, 2007 11:53 am
- Location: Here and there
- Contact:
After a cursory check to ensure the party wasn't in any immediate danger, Kuzan stood to the side of the entrance. Wands in hand, he stopped people as they came through the threshold and pronounced healing rites on them. A faint outline of a winged man surrounded him as he channeled the healing energy, but it gradually faded once he finished.
Let me know what healing you need so I can distribute wand charges and spells appropriately
I'll post a more proper reaction to the room later.
Let me know what healing you need so I can distribute wand charges and spells appropriately
I'll post a more proper reaction to the room later.-
Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6844
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
"Indeed" Sascha agrees sheathing his sword and grimacing at the pain in his arms.Rock wrote:"Well," Lia says as she leans against the driest piece of secure rock she can find, "that was unpleasant."
[OOC: Im not worried about the hp too much, but anything Kuzan can do for the 6 Strength damage will be muchly appreciated
Sorry this is only a real quick post, I'll be back involved properly tomorrow, and I'll do Saschas lvl and that pm for you then Isabella.]
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
Tomas breathes a little...he was lucky to get out with minimal damage to himself, let alone anyone else horribly dieing. Eisenwald pulls a length of razor wire out of his mouth, paling a little and stuffing the grim equipment into his pocket.
Tomas then clasps Charles's shoulder, silently conveying sympathy to the secret agent for a moment before moving on. "Is everyone okay?" Tomas looks a little worried at the faint smell of ozone and lacerations on Lia's arm, when abruptly something clicks, and he gives the altar another once over.
There's no accusation or anything, but Tomas cannot keep his eyes from glancing over to Andre.
Tomas then clasps Charles's shoulder, silently conveying sympathy to the secret agent for a moment before moving on. "Is everyone okay?" Tomas looks a little worried at the faint smell of ozone and lacerations on Lia's arm, when abruptly something clicks, and he gives the altar another once over.
There's no accusation or anything, but Tomas cannot keep his eyes from glancing over to Andre.
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yalenusveler
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 1266
- Joined: Thu Nov 29, 2007 10:44 pm
- Location: Pennsylvania...or Baator
Andre took a few seconds to get his bearings, looking around the chamber. There were a few more moments of silence from him, then with a hushed tone he finally spoke. "This one is mine." A simple and direct statement really, as he began to walk towards the makeshift altar, only pausing to look back to the others, the expression on his face clearly one requesting a modicum of quiet.
As he stood before the altar, Andre took a moment to concentrate, and with a slight shimmer in the air that could've been simply water vapor instead of magic, his attire changed. Gone was the now rumpled suit suggesting that a mortician had decided that adventuring would be a delightful change of careers. In its place, were deep blue robes, likely familiar to Kuzan, Otto and Tomas from their little jaunt with Andre to the old temple of the Oracle.
Bowing his head, Andre began to speak in a language that he quite frankly, was possibly the only soul with anything resembling mortality to have knowledge of. From the tone, and the quiet reverence with which he spoke, it was obvious to anyone but a raised atheist that he was speaking a prayer. When he picked up the piece of bread, the words he spoke made it absolutely certain.
"The gift of the Oracle, the bounty which nourishes the body, and the knowledge that feeds the hunger of the mind. May we partake of it, and grow stronger for it through her grace." He intoned towards the other members of the expedition, as if leading a mass. Then, he set the piece of bread down, and in a show of either nigh unreasonable bravery..or perhaps stupidity, he gently picked up the serpent, much like one would lift up a slumbering babe that one did not wish to wake.
He then spoke again, his voice quieter still, yet somehow still heard over the roar of the waterfall. "The wrath of the Oracle, that which falls upon her foes, and those which deny her what is hers. May it pass over us and fall upon those more deserving." And then, in another surprising act, Andre began to carefully milk the serpent of its venom, amber liquid falling upon the bread, a scant few drops seemingly enough for both the ritual, and likely to end a life, considering the care with which Andre set the serpent down.
His next act might quite frankly be more distressing, depending on how one viewed serpent handling as part of religious ritual, as he drew his dagger, pricking a fingertip, a bead of crimson forming. "And the blood of those who make covenant, a sign of acceptance of both the gifts which the Oracle gives unto us, and the wrath that is hers to unleash should we be found wanting." And with that, Andre let the blood fall from his fingertip onto the bread, mingling with the amber of the snake's venom.
Taking the now blood and venom stained bread, Andre raised it up, then turning towards his "congregation" he took a bite before intoning some prayer in that language he shared with his deity, before returning to High Mordentish. "Let us give thanks and praise to the Oracle for the gifts she has given unto us, and for sparing us the terror of her wrath which has befallen so many others before us, in ever just punishments for their sins."
Andre bowed his head, then took another small bite before setting the blood and venom stained bread down. "I give thanks unto the Oracle for the gift of obscuration she has given us, hiding our actions from our foes. I also give thanks unto her for tying me into a tradition of the past and letting it live again, tying me to history, something which previously I could only observe but never experience." His voice then hushed again.
"I also thank her for finally letting me commit a selfless act that was actually such. Before I stood before her, a choice of service or the death of a child before me..I was selfish. Even when I acted to benefit others, I still clung onto "What will this do for me?" and "How will this make me look?". When Tomas was asleep in the burning mill...Oracle help me..I actually considered just leaving him there. I had to struggle to make the right choice. The Oracle..even if others do not see it such through mortal eyes, gave me the chance to show that I could be better than that, and do something right despite it costing me." Andre shook his head, as if ashamed of himself more than anything.
"I'm also thankful that she finally gave unto me a chance to break covenant with the Fraternity. In my own selfishness, I had tied myself to an organization with enough blood on its hands to make the waters run red. Before her, I lacked the strength to finally cast it aside, to realize who I truly stood beside and who mattered to me. After accepting her covenant..I found that strength. And for that, and her, I am forever thankful."
As he stood before the altar, Andre took a moment to concentrate, and with a slight shimmer in the air that could've been simply water vapor instead of magic, his attire changed. Gone was the now rumpled suit suggesting that a mortician had decided that adventuring would be a delightful change of careers. In its place, were deep blue robes, likely familiar to Kuzan, Otto and Tomas from their little jaunt with Andre to the old temple of the Oracle.
Bowing his head, Andre began to speak in a language that he quite frankly, was possibly the only soul with anything resembling mortality to have knowledge of. From the tone, and the quiet reverence with which he spoke, it was obvious to anyone but a raised atheist that he was speaking a prayer. When he picked up the piece of bread, the words he spoke made it absolutely certain.
"The gift of the Oracle, the bounty which nourishes the body, and the knowledge that feeds the hunger of the mind. May we partake of it, and grow stronger for it through her grace." He intoned towards the other members of the expedition, as if leading a mass. Then, he set the piece of bread down, and in a show of either nigh unreasonable bravery..or perhaps stupidity, he gently picked up the serpent, much like one would lift up a slumbering babe that one did not wish to wake.
He then spoke again, his voice quieter still, yet somehow still heard over the roar of the waterfall. "The wrath of the Oracle, that which falls upon her foes, and those which deny her what is hers. May it pass over us and fall upon those more deserving." And then, in another surprising act, Andre began to carefully milk the serpent of its venom, amber liquid falling upon the bread, a scant few drops seemingly enough for both the ritual, and likely to end a life, considering the care with which Andre set the serpent down.
His next act might quite frankly be more distressing, depending on how one viewed serpent handling as part of religious ritual, as he drew his dagger, pricking a fingertip, a bead of crimson forming. "And the blood of those who make covenant, a sign of acceptance of both the gifts which the Oracle gives unto us, and the wrath that is hers to unleash should we be found wanting." And with that, Andre let the blood fall from his fingertip onto the bread, mingling with the amber of the snake's venom.
Taking the now blood and venom stained bread, Andre raised it up, then turning towards his "congregation" he took a bite before intoning some prayer in that language he shared with his deity, before returning to High Mordentish. "Let us give thanks and praise to the Oracle for the gifts she has given unto us, and for sparing us the terror of her wrath which has befallen so many others before us, in ever just punishments for their sins."
Andre bowed his head, then took another small bite before setting the blood and venom stained bread down. "I give thanks unto the Oracle for the gift of obscuration she has given us, hiding our actions from our foes. I also give thanks unto her for tying me into a tradition of the past and letting it live again, tying me to history, something which previously I could only observe but never experience." His voice then hushed again.
"I also thank her for finally letting me commit a selfless act that was actually such. Before I stood before her, a choice of service or the death of a child before me..I was selfish. Even when I acted to benefit others, I still clung onto "What will this do for me?" and "How will this make me look?". When Tomas was asleep in the burning mill...Oracle help me..I actually considered just leaving him there. I had to struggle to make the right choice. The Oracle..even if others do not see it such through mortal eyes, gave me the chance to show that I could be better than that, and do something right despite it costing me." Andre shook his head, as if ashamed of himself more than anything.
"I'm also thankful that she finally gave unto me a chance to break covenant with the Fraternity. In my own selfishness, I had tied myself to an organization with enough blood on its hands to make the waters run red. Before her, I lacked the strength to finally cast it aside, to realize who I truly stood beside and who mattered to me. After accepting her covenant..I found that strength. And for that, and her, I am forever thankful."
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
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NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 29th, 761, 10:21 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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From behind the rest of you, in the dark and lightless tunnel, came a smattering of lights, and the sounds of footsteps. After a moment, as Andre approached the final place in the ritual, you were able to make out the details.
It was a procession. Perhaps fifteen, twenty people, most dressed in rough tunics. They carried torches to light the way, the smoky flame flickering in the vastness of the sinkhole. Two priests led the way, swinging small bronze braziers that let pungent smoke rise into the heavens. Immediately behind them was a family of three, a father, a mother, and in swaddling clothes a young child.
They reached the outcropping, and the two priests guided the family up towards the altar. They looked at Andre, ignoring the rest of you as though you were so much mist and shadow.
The baby began to cry, and the young wife shushed her, though there were tears in her own eyes. The child looked like Angelique. No... the child was Angelique.
August 29th, 761, 10:21 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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From behind the rest of you, in the dark and lightless tunnel, came a smattering of lights, and the sounds of footsteps. After a moment, as Andre approached the final place in the ritual, you were able to make out the details.
It was a procession. Perhaps fifteen, twenty people, most dressed in rough tunics. They carried torches to light the way, the smoky flame flickering in the vastness of the sinkhole. Two priests led the way, swinging small bronze braziers that let pungent smoke rise into the heavens. Immediately behind them was a family of three, a father, a mother, and in swaddling clothes a young child.
They reached the outcropping, and the two priests guided the family up towards the altar. They looked at Andre, ignoring the rest of you as though you were so much mist and shadow.
The baby began to cry, and the young wife shushed her, though there were tears in her own eyes. The child looked like Angelique. No... the child was Angelique.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
If Tomas is upset by Andre's confession, there's no sign of it. He looks honestly glad that his friend is getting this pain off of his chest. He'd clasp Andre's shoulder if he wasn't afraid of ruining the ritual, and then...
If I really am a god, Tomas thinks to himself, first thing I'm doing is asking the rest of them what, exactly, is up with the child sacrifice thing. "This is, like, an anointing with oil, right?" Tomas asks, sounding nervous, even as his hand slowly crawls towards Ivorsen's hilt.
If I really am a god, Tomas thinks to himself, first thing I'm doing is asking the rest of them what, exactly, is up with the child sacrifice thing. "This is, like, an anointing with oil, right?" Tomas asks, sounding nervous, even as his hand slowly crawls towards Ivorsen's hilt.
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yalenusveler
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 1266
- Joined: Thu Nov 29, 2007 10:44 pm
- Location: Pennsylvania...or Baator
Andre looked at the child before him, then at the flint knife. There was a certain sublime irony here, being presented with ones own child to sacrifice when one became a man of the cloth so to speak..to save the life of a child.
It would ordinarily shake just about anyone's faith, let alone someone who had only recently come into possession of that rarest of quantities. Either way, Andre took the stone knife in hand. "A beautiful child...and a fitting sacrifice unto the Oracle." Not a pleasant set of words to be hearing from someone holding a stone ritual knife that looks absolutely itching to taste human blood.
Needless to say, shocking was quite the understatement when instead of slicing into the child, the blade instead went for one of Andre's fellow priests, followed up by the sort of shove to send someone into the whirlpool for the unfortunate fellow.
"Except for the fact that my daughter is DEAD and has been for years!" Andre spoke, anger in his voice, cutting through the prior reverence. "The Oracle told me to keep faith, and I have. Faith enough in her that she, as a parent who has lost more than I, would not make me sacrifice my own child, especially considering she's been dead for four years."
Andre continued, fire in his voice. "A Goddess of Knowledge would know her own priest better than this. I will not play this mockery of her out any further for the sake of some tenebrous thing playing with the minds of others."
Andre then looked out towards the waters. "And if I am wrong, and this was the will of the Oracle of the River, then I request most humbly that as the Last Priest of the River, may her displeasure fall upon me and me alone, and spare the people of her valley, for this time it will be I who has failed, and not they, and never her."
And with that Andre waited, expecting either soon to feel his lungs filling with water, to be attacked by the remaining "Congregation", or hopefully..for this psychodrama to end.
It would ordinarily shake just about anyone's faith, let alone someone who had only recently come into possession of that rarest of quantities. Either way, Andre took the stone knife in hand. "A beautiful child...and a fitting sacrifice unto the Oracle." Not a pleasant set of words to be hearing from someone holding a stone ritual knife that looks absolutely itching to taste human blood.
Needless to say, shocking was quite the understatement when instead of slicing into the child, the blade instead went for one of Andre's fellow priests, followed up by the sort of shove to send someone into the whirlpool for the unfortunate fellow.
"Except for the fact that my daughter is DEAD and has been for years!" Andre spoke, anger in his voice, cutting through the prior reverence. "The Oracle told me to keep faith, and I have. Faith enough in her that she, as a parent who has lost more than I, would not make me sacrifice my own child, especially considering she's been dead for four years."
Andre continued, fire in his voice. "A Goddess of Knowledge would know her own priest better than this. I will not play this mockery of her out any further for the sake of some tenebrous thing playing with the minds of others."
Andre then looked out towards the waters. "And if I am wrong, and this was the will of the Oracle of the River, then I request most humbly that as the Last Priest of the River, may her displeasure fall upon me and me alone, and spare the people of her valley, for this time it will be I who has failed, and not they, and never her."
And with that Andre waited, expecting either soon to feel his lungs filling with water, to be attacked by the remaining "Congregation", or hopefully..for this psychodrama to end.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
-
Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6844
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
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Nathan of the FoS
- Fiendish Enforcer
- Posts: 5247
- Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
- Location: San Francisco CA
Charles nods at Tomas' gestures of solidarity, his face set in hard lines which do not relax in the slightest as he looks around the strange...cathedral?...and Andre performs his ritual.
His face grows harder at the appearance of Andre's "wife" and "child". Frankly, nothing Andre can say of the Lorelei, or how she has changed him, will make Charles believe she is anything but evil, but it would be fatuous, at this point, to claim that Andre's mistress is so much worse than his own masters.
If Andre is willing to sacrifice the memory of his daughter to the goddess he claims has made him a better man, well, let that be between the two of them.
And then...
Well, that was a bold stroke.
Charles draws Shadowfinger (he rather wishes he were holding any other blade at this moment, but there it is) and advances, waiting for the reaction of the phantasms--if they have any.
His face grows harder at the appearance of Andre's "wife" and "child". Frankly, nothing Andre can say of the Lorelei, or how she has changed him, will make Charles believe she is anything but evil, but it would be fatuous, at this point, to claim that Andre's mistress is so much worse than his own masters.
If Andre is willing to sacrifice the memory of his daughter to the goddess he claims has made him a better man, well, let that be between the two of them.
And then...
Well, that was a bold stroke.
Charles draws Shadowfinger (he rather wishes he were holding any other blade at this moment, but there it is) and advances, waiting for the reaction of the phantasms--if they have any.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 29th, 761, 10:23 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The priest was an older man, likely in his fifties or early sixties, and he never expected what was to come. In a heartbeat, the man was pushed over the ledge, eyes surprised as the high priest whom he had admired and respected murdered him in cold blood.
He screamed as he fell. He screamed for a very long time. Then there was a wet crunch as he bounced against the side of the sinkhole, and the screaming stopped, rather abruptly.
The other priest, a younger man, rushed to try and rescue his companion, but he was too late. The young man fell to his knees, his eyes following the limp, bloody corpse as it disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Then the young priest began to cry.
A trickle of water began to fall onto the altar from above, providing a counterpoint to the youth's anguished sobs.
August 29th, 761, 10:23 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The priest was an older man, likely in his fifties or early sixties, and he never expected what was to come. In a heartbeat, the man was pushed over the ledge, eyes surprised as the high priest whom he had admired and respected murdered him in cold blood.
He screamed as he fell. He screamed for a very long time. Then there was a wet crunch as he bounced against the side of the sinkhole, and the screaming stopped, rather abruptly.
The other priest, a younger man, rushed to try and rescue his companion, but he was too late. The young man fell to his knees, his eyes following the limp, bloody corpse as it disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Then the young priest began to cry.
A trickle of water began to fall onto the altar from above, providing a counterpoint to the youth's anguished sobs.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing