He looks to Trip, "Your marks are somewhat known to my kind. We've ferried so many of their dead to their resting place." He points at the mark on Trip's hand "You have the mark of the Jester, the Wandering Rogue. Your master is clearly the King of Rogues. What it says, I'm not entirely sure of since the language is often shrouded deep within the faith itself. It is usually only known to those who are higher in the religion. "
He looks to Kratimos, "Yours is somewhat harder to identify." He steps closer to examine the mark, "....Hmmm...."
Volstaid pauses for a moment, his eyes go wide as if from shock, the red that surrounds his pupils clearly shone in the firelight ever reminding you that this man is not of this plane, "The...the Outcast...?" He voice trails off. You can tell that the Hestic is clearly disturbed.
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Kratimos rolled his sleeve back down to cover the mark. "Sounds like you know something about this particular symbol."
Crimson, silent as a shadow, strides across the foyer to the doorway opposite the hall from where she entered. She walks through the open passageway into an old music room. A grand piano and a large harp missing several strings are the primary pieces of equipment in this room. The dust of ages coats everything in a thick blanket and spiders have made their home everywhere they are able. You hear the sound clearing as you approach the next door.
She presses her ear to the door, her hair collecting some of the offending dust as she does so. It is clear to her that the voices do not originate on the other side of the door. She reaches for the handle but hesitates. Something in her gut cries for her to take caution. Crimson draws closer to the handle which, after closer inspection, reveals a thin glass needle coated in a clear green fluid tucked into a tiny hole at the center of the doorknob.
A lesser hunter would have easily fallen prey to such a device. She pulls from her pack a set of tools and silently sets to work removing the needle. ((Add one unknown poison needle to your inventory))
After a few moments, she is able to unlock the door. Quietly she greases the hinges so they do not make a sound as she pushes the door open into a darkened study. The musky smell of death fills the air and she freezes still remembering the encounter in the basement only moments earlier.
Her keen ears set to take in the sounds around her and she determines that the threat is either neutralized and is decomposing, it's just a corpse, or the creature is waiting. From her previous encounter with the undead, Crimson surmises that the creature is not one for patience and takes the risk of opening the door, crossbow at the ready if she were to need it.
As the door slides open, the smell becomes more potent as the stale air is once again stirred. She steps forward and the light from the previous room shines in. To her right, a desk coated in dust as was the previous room and to her left a burlap sack the size of a man. Where Crimson assumes the head would be, there is a large and bloodied mark. Opposite her is another door.
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
The Hestic stairs blankly at the arm now covered by a sleeve. "I know the mark only from legend and nothing more. Are you familiar with the legend of Oedra the Outcast? It is told to us as children of the Volstaid to realize the very power of will.
The legend begins when the god Haroaz fell in love with Altua, a lesser diety who lived in the same plane. Altua was renown for her beauty and prowess on the battlefield. Many, even greater gods, pursued Altua for a bride. Even the mighty Pelor was drawn to her for a time. Regardless of what magical and powerful gifts were offered Altua, she had fallen in love with the Hunter and after sometime the two formed a powerful bond similar to what you would call marriage.
Her beauty, however, had drawn the unwanted attention to even greater powers than the gods themselves. From the outer rims an evil surfaced in search of consuming such beauty. A great power from the plane of Shadow, the mad god Meizi. In his mad obsession he began consuming worlds in search of Altua. He would travel from plane to plane devouring all he desired and the gods could do little to hinder him. Consider this Meizi, was a god who was passive when it came to the inner planes. A maddened god who found delight in the torture he poured upon his own creations. Now, the beauty of Altua was all he sought. The gods formed a council to determine what must be done. Unanimously they agreed that Altua must sacrifice herself to save her people and the other gods.
A great altar was built on which Altua stood to be taken by Meizi. As his madness approached to consume her, Haroaz defied the will of the council and rushed to the altar to protect his one true love. As he approached the tentacles of the great devourer descended into the world itself and Haroaz watched in horror for he was too late. His love was obliterated by the creature as it pulled her from the altar and absorbed her beauty into himself.
Haroaz boiled with rage and grief and rushed forward to meet his end. With a swipe of a massive tentacle, Haroaz was taken into the creature. Legend has it that the sheer and powerful will of Haroaz sustained him in the midst of the mad one. With his axe, Farbjoor, he fought his way through the creature. A lesser god destroying a greater god from the inside out. He emerged victorious though forever broken. Haroaz, the broken god changed from Haroaz to Oedra. He and his people chose exile and left to the border where his realm met with the realm of shadow. With the death of Altua, her people merged with the children of Haroaz. This children of Haroaz and the children of Altua, now known solely as the Bioural committed themselves to the eternal battle against the tide of evil living in exile from the gods who sacrificed the love of Haroaz in cowardice and shame.
The battle with the mad one was not without it’s consequences, however. The children of Haroaz were forever changed. Though honorable hunters they took on forms of creatures that best suited their new life. They have forsaken the old ways and the council, preferring a lone existence. The form of the wolf was what they adopted.
In this world, a child of Haroaz is an odd find. Kratimos, how far back can you remember?"
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
((Great myth! I love it!))
Kratimos had to sit himself down during the story. The story of Haroaz struck a very deep cord with him.
"I.. I, uh... Kratimos stuttered, struggling to recall. "I mean, I remember being a lad, training to be a Paladin... and... being ejected by the council... Kratimos trailed off. These memories seemed lifetimes away.
Guy pulls the dagger from the illithid. It's alien blood flows from it's body a purple ooze. The creature falls to the ground and backs away as if in fear. The guards come through the door as he makes it seem as though he were about to lunge forward. The guards restrain you and wrestle the knife form your hand. The creature dives forward, seeming to ward the guards off and then turns to you and bows its head to the floor. The guards at first appear puzzled and then back away. It's clear to them what is going on here.
**Rehl...you may call me Rehl human.**
In the two years to come, Guy and Rehl entered the arena and news spread quickly of the human and his mindflayer servant. The duo earned a most feared reputation as they searched for an opportunity to escape from this very real prison.
**Guy....guy are you ok? Your thoughts seem distant.**
It is present day. Guy is armored and armed with dangerous and powerful relics provided by the Lich Lords.
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
The Hestic kneels silently. Volstaid's ears perk up and he begins to smell the air and stands suddenly, attention focused on the darkness beyond the fire. His head snaps to the side to signal one of his men who bolts off into the night.
He turns back to group, "Prepare yourselves, evil is upon us."
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
Kratimos checks to see what the ranger has smelled, taking a couple whiffs himself of the air.
Spot:
[dice]0[/dice]
Regardless, Kratimos draws the femur-club of his. He looks down at it, and back to the ranger.
"You wouldn't happen to have a spare sword or two, or any another weapon of sorts?"
You smell the wind. You pick up the odors of old stone and decaying flowers. Then, a sudden and violating scent of rotten flesh. Though imperceptible to Anna Loretta and Trip, you can tell that these creatures are still far off but closing. Fortunately for you, you're downwind.
Kratimos/Winthrop
Spoiler:
The Hestic kicks sand into the fire, extinguishing its light that once played off of the headstones of the graves around them. Anna Loretta draws closer and wraps her arms around Kratimos' thick set legs. The child is clearly in fear as she looks up into the warrior's eyes. "Woofie....what's happening? Is it more monsters?"
From two silken sheaths the ranger Volstaid draws a blade in each hand. Even in the poor lighting you can tell that these weapons are beyond ordinary. Each perfectly crafted and etched with runes of power and there is a feint, pure light, glowing about each of them. The other Hestic draw their bows and ready their arrows. In starlight, the eyes of Hestic glow a frightening and passionate red color, intense as their hatred for the evil that approaches.
Jeremiah 20:9-But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
"Thank you," Kratimos tipped his head to Trip. "I'll be sure to clean it before I get it back to you."
The handle of a real weapon felt good in his hand, the weight of it playfully tugged his grip. Kratimos flicked it and let it spin round it's shaft, getting a sense of it's weight, then catching it and gripping it tightly.
"Yes, little Anna," Kratimos put his free hand on her head to comfort the trembling girl. "I want you to hide behind those pillars while Woofie takes care of everything."
Kratimos pointed to the pillars facing away from the direction of the incoming enemies. After she hid herself, Kratimos turned himself towards the new threat and made his way to the front, looking around for anything that can give him a tactical advantage.
Given the doorknob discovery Crimson takes caution and walks silently and looks out for traps and creaky floor boards. While the desk looks inviting to examine, she decides it's best to check out the tall covered bloody object to see who it was or is inside (if identifiable). Just to make sure it won't surprise her she gives it a good jab first to see if it reacts.
"Woofie?" Trip thinks to himself. He has a small smile on his face as the girl hides. "Wish I had memorized Sanctuary today... ah well. I'll have to pay attention and make sure nothing sneaks up from behind there."
Trip peers into the darkness, trying to see anything.
