Jerry Greystar (Chris1234)- Private Thread

[TristenC]

Looks good. I might adjust the last bit for the intro post and play it out starting with her entering the crypt.

[Chris1234]

That was kind of the introduction scene I was trying to offer, so sure, go ahead... Glad you like it, thx.

Will the into happen in here? Or wheich forum directory?

[TristenC]

[Ooc: intro here, and I'll let you know when we move it to the main thread. Welcome to the game ]


Jerry Greystar, Priestess of Mystra, daughter of the late Harper Gerald Greystar and Undead Slayer in her own right, moved softly among the mossy stones of the City of the Dead. The moon gave little light tonight, obscured by the thickening clouds overhead, which incidentally was better for her purposes. She had circumvented the guards and made her way deep within the massive, aptly named cemetery. Even with directions, it took some time to find the crypt she sought. Rustling shrubs and leaves clattered and scraped in the evening breeze, sending an uneasy chill through her. So many buried here... what chance that all of them were truly at their eternal rest? She knew better than most how dangerous the risen dead could be... how cunning some, how horrid others... each must be purged from the world. That was the only way, according to old Harket; the venerable librarian she had met as a girl. It had surprised her to learn he had been an adventurer... such an unassuming and mild-mannered man. He was also meticulous... methodical in almost every way. That was his secret, he claimed. That was the only way he had survived.

Eventually she came upon a modest sized stone crypt. It looked much too small to house anyone, much less an entire family going back generations, but she had been told that the bulk by far lay underground. She approached the stone door, raising her left hand before it. The warming light of Mystra herself welled within her flesh, and her palm began to glow a faint blue-white; illuminating the family crest carved on the granite archway above. Sunspear. Fishing a small marble token from her pouch, she rubbed her thumb across an identical carving surrounded by runes. Letting the glow fade, she pressed the stone to it's match just-so. A low rumbling began as the massive ebon-stone door split and swung outward. At that moment a ray of light struck her eye, and she flinched. Glancing up at the sky, the swollen moon was quickly swallowed again by the clouds. The entryway was dusty and cluttered with cobwebs. Hard to think anything could survive here, but tombs were often not as secure as they seemed.

The Sunspear family had retained her services for this investigation. There had been some rumor of a 'disturbance' at the grave... a 'sighting' of one of the long-dead matriarchs... In an effort to keep their name out of public mouths in this regard, she had been impressed with their desire for the utmost secrecy. "Find it and deal with it. Quietly." She knew they didn't mean 'bargain' and, truth be told, she'd never consider striking an accord with the undead anyway. Harkin had drilled it into her from the time she began learning his trade. The Undead are an abomination. The Undead are un-natural. The Undead are a sick mockery of all that is good and right... and her own experiences had not dissuaded her from those teachings... The Undead had taken her father.

Snapping back to the present she proceeded forward, allowing her infravision to take over. A gift from her Elven mother, her father liked to say. The small room inside was layered with thick, undisturbed dust. No prints on the floor, nor any trace along the walls or alcoves or the narrow stairway that dropped into the dim below her. Screwing her courage to the sticking point, Jerry gritted her teeth and descended the stony path; unlimbering her magical morningstar. No trace yet didn't necessarily mean there was nothing to find, but it didn't bode well for a simple fix either. She passed a few of the Sunspear ancestors laid out upon shelves to either side, and narrow halls branched here and there. All-told there were supposed to be over fourty souls laid to rest within, and room for more as the decades rolled on.

The musty, damp earth filled her lungs and her own footfalls echoed back at her from the walls. She had little skill with moving quietly, her expertise lay in quite different studies, and each sound seemed the shuffling of some unholy horror bent on her damnation... Let them come, she thought grimly. A humorless smile crept onto her face as she steeled herself. A high, clean sound rang out in the hall and she froze. Straining her half-elven ears she struggled to pick up the source. Another note, lower and longer, pierced the silence. Music? she thought, incredulously. Here? Pehraps some foolish youth had snuck away to practice, but that was ludicrous. Cautiously she advanced to the end of the corridor where a pale ethereal glow emanated from the final chamber.

The violin began properly now. Slowly... back-and-forth undulating but gradually climbing in pitch. The strains of music hastened in tempo by infinitesimal degrees, vaulting high and low with such speed and virtuosity it was clear the musician was a master who had likely spent decades honing their technique. Finally, after a particularly virulent stanza, the fiddle ended abruptly. Peeking around the edge of the door, Jerry spots the source and her blood runs cold. Seated on a stone sarcophagus is an old woman dressed in gypsy garb. A tassle-fringed shawl drapes elderly arms that nevertheless bear the fiddle with a deft touch. She looks up at the girl's arrival and smiles sadly. A pale blue-white glow emanates from her, almost the same as the weaveglow bestowed by Mystra, with one noticeable exception... Jerry could see straight through her...

[The piece should sound like this: "Solitaire" by Kamelot]

[Chris1234]

{OOC: Awesome start up - you should write a book! And it's really moody too. Nice. I just spotted: SP TNL is 4000XP, (Faiths & Avatars p183)}

Presenting her seven starred symbol with a violent gesture towards the girl, Jerry announces, "By my Lady Mystra's name, begone, Spirit!"

=========
Turning [1d20] = 3

[TristenC]

[Ooc: Hah, thanks. If you like that one check out some of the other 'first posts' in other private threads. I'm particular fond of This one if you can open the link. I used to write for fun... actually I guess I still do but only in campaign settings now

Thanks for the note about TNL xp. That's very honest of you and I appreciate it.]

Jerry presents her holy symbol, which glows with an increasingly bright light. Calling upon her Lady of Magic she rebukes the ghostly figure, uncertainty creeping in unbidden. The old woman stands slowly, shaking her head in disappointment but not driven in fear as the young half-elf expected. Turning away, the apparition walks towards the corner of the chamber to a crevice in the wall where the masonry had split as the tomb settled. The old woman cast back a somber look and opened her mouth as if to speak. Deciding against it she turned again and glided through the narrow opening... Jerry knew there were many forms of insubstantial undead, and while she had never seen a ghost itself before; this one seemed to mean her no harm... Even so, Harken's warnings came back to her, and she knew she had not driven it permanently from this place... The narrow crevice seemed just barely wide enough that a slender, unarmored half-elven girl like herself might be able to squeeze through with a little effort.

[Chris1234]

With another glance around the area to see if she's missed anything, the Mystran thought ~Let's see what's through there.~
She drew her mace and followed the peculiar creature.

[TristenC]

[OOC: Incidentally, is Jerry short for anything like Jeraldine, Jerald or any variation like that?]

Morningstar in-hand, Jerry took one last look about for anything significant. The cobwebby corners and moldy stones revealed no secrets, even the sarcophagus itself appeared not to have been touched since it was sealed gods only knew how long ago. Following the fading glow, she wedges herself into the passage. Earth crumbles in little bits as she squeezes herself through, tumbling down into her hair and eyes and caking itself into her garments. Shuffling sideways she begins to breathe heavily, thoughts of constriction and being trapped forever underground rushing through her mind… buried alive…

A few tense claustrophobic steps more and the passage widens slightly, enough for her to breathe more easily at least. The dirt walls gradually give way to natural limestone, and a trickling sound can be heard ahead. The crevice becomes more passage-like and finally opens wide enough for her to walk abreast. Instead of continuing in a mostly straightforward manner it bends and turns in odd ways the farther it goes, and bears a smooth surface that seems to be worn by the eons… The sound of running liquid increases and the next turn reveals a stream of water pouring from a narrow fissure high in the wall, but draining slowly through a small break in the limestone below.

Finally after Mystra only knows how many hundreds of yards tramping through the damp she the passage widens into a small subterranean cavern. The ceiling, dotted with stalactites that constantly drip the purest looking water she has ever seen, vaults high above her in the dim. Marvelous though the sight was, it was not what gripped her immediate attention. There, sitting cross-legged on a natural raised platform of limestone, was the faintly glowing gypsy spirit. Before her lay more than a dozen cards like those used by fortune tellers, also glowing faintly in the dim light. Her eyes seize Jerry’s like a vice. Beware! The old gypsy’s voice rang out with a powerful, other-worldly echo; momentarily freezing the young cleric in place. Dripping water refracted the ethereal light, scattering it around the chamber. One familiar to you comes now, bent on your destruction! You cannot face him as you are, you will need help.

Gradually Jerry feels that she can move again. The old woman looks as if she would say more but awaits the girl’s response.

[Chris1234]

(OOC: Short for Geraldine. But she was never a girly girl. More tom boy insofar as society allowed.}

Forint edged closer, ready and wanting to strike the spirit but restrained in case the creature was indeed a servant of Mystra which would take precedence to her own mortal desires.

"Tell me Spirit, how are you named and Servant of My Lady be thee?" She moved another pace forwards."How named is the one and where should I seek this cited help?

[TristenC]

Holding the magical weapon poised to strike, she asks her questions. A sadness comes over the old woman's face. I am known as Magda the Wanderer, she says. But I know not who your Lady is, so to that I cannot answer. A noise from deep within the passage behind draws her attention, though she keeps her eyes locked on the old woman. You must seek to bring him eternal rest, his soul writhes in agony even now... the echo reverberates in the chamber, scattering oddly like the playing light. You must seek the Crown of Souls. Only it's power can bring him peace...

Again the noise is heard; a scraping, almost snarling inhuman growl. It reminded her of the slavering sounds of a starving wolf... and a rabid one at that. She very nearly looked back, but from the sound she had a moment more and still she would not willingly tear her eyes from the ghostly visage before her. The gypsy woman moved with blinding speed and snatched up the phantom violin. Striking an ear-shattering chord she keened aloud with her resonant voice in harmonic accompaniment! The volume and pitch assaulted Jerry's ears so violently that she clapped her hands to her head to cover them; weapon still in-hand. The entire cavern- nay, the world it seemed- thrashed violently! Tumbling rocks fell and a stalactite crashed to the platform where there was now no sign of the gypsy. Another rent in the cavern opened opposite the first, cutting so deep into the earth it must come out the bottom. Tumbling stone wedged in rows stuck in the gaps providing a new-fallen and uncertain limestone bridge deeper into the bowels of the earth. A roar of rage and hunger behind spun her around in nothing short of abject terror.

There, shambling forward from the original widened passage, emerged the foul figure of a fledgling vampire... She had studied long for a moment like this; trained and questioned and prepared. Even so, she knew full-well she stood little chance of surviving such an encounter alone... at least not yet... Something about that twisted visage froze her blood solid... that face was familiar... one she had not seen in over a decade... one she had known as intimately as her own... one she never expected to see again... one she had loved... The tortured, ravening countenance before her... was her father...

[Chris1234]

Jerry bolted down the avenue of escape opened up by the Wandering Spirit, crying, "Gratitude, Magda. Father, I _shall_ bring you peace." She added a silent prayer, ~By Your ill, Great Lady, may I endure to bring peace to father."

[TristenC]

Wasting no time Jerry plunges into the jagged stone passage, stepping carefully on the stuck stones; some of which shift and scraped down the still-rumbling wall. When faced with the choice of certain death or likely death the most dangerous plans began to make a sort of insane sense. Had there been any other way, she never would have taken such a risk. Just before a turn takes him out of view, she sees the wretched figure of her father one last time. The once-loving face twisted in ravenous bloodlust, formerly kind eyes glaring at her without recognition. Her mind screamed at her as she fled that it was impossible. She had been told his body was destroyed in a fire by the creature responsible for his demise… She knew well that had that been the case he never would have come to such a fate. Fate, it seemed, was not done with the Greystar family yet…

On she scrambled, the jagged breaks in the stone scraping against her. Heat could be felt from far below, Mystra only knew from what source. Water poured into the chasm from a recently released underground spring, squelching and forming an uncomfortably warm steam that filled the rent in the earth. Breath laden with fear and the thick humidity tightened her chest. Despite the heat she shivered as another unearthly howl from the pursuing creature goaded her on from behind. The passage narrowed more, horns of stone digging deeper into her flesh, and her heart sank at the newest sight… The constant passage ahead ended… Unbidden tears trickled down her face as the thing that was once her father clawed and slavered and scraped his way closer… Yet, when all seemed lost, a golden shimmer just below her eye caught her attention. A smeared tear reflected illumination from above and she turned her disheveled, dirty, scratched face upward. There, high above, shone a sliver of daylight… She was no great climber, but her tom-boyish youth and drive to prove herself had made her strong. There seemed just enough space to ascend, and little chance she would fall wedged between the handhold-riddled walls that loomed so close together…

[Chris1234]

Letting her morningstar lapse onto its shoulder strap Jerry tries desperately to make the ascent, climbing to Mystra only knows where. ~If I can just get into the light it will repel the foul creature..father.~
She boxes her anguish and puts it away to deal with later, concentrating on the task in hand. Fortunately there seem to be an abundance of hand and footholds. Up she went.

[TristenC]

[OOC: You keep saying Mace, but doesn’t she have a Morningstar?]

Stuffing her emotion down, the half-elven woman climbs with fervor. The sharp rocks scrape her palms and fingers, and a few crumbling handholds give way as she struggles upward. Had the opposing wall not been close at her back she surely would have plummeted to her doom in the dark below. Muscles burning and unused to such a rapid climb she nears the daylight ahead. Something strikes her as strange about it, but she hasn’t time to worry about it now. Closer and closer the sunlit surface creeps, and she feels a sense of relief just as a clawed hand snatches her leg! Tugging down with inhuman force, the vampire Gerald drags at her having caught hold of her clothing with one clawed hand!

[Chris1234]

{OOC: Yep, you're right. I'm a muppet.}

Jerry heaves herself upwards with all her might, "Mytra aid me!", and kicks upwards from the toeholds with desperate strength.

[TristenC]

[OOC: No worries, it happens. Incidentally, which muppet? I’m partial to ‘animal’ myself ]

Straining against the supernatural force below, her fingers ache with the effort of opposing the creature. Gradually she is pulled back and her mind screams at her in terror as she knows the fangs are nearing her ankle!.. Silently whispering a prayer to her Lady Goddess Jerry closes her eyes and pulls with all her might. A crumbling sound below speaks of loosening footholds and the white hem of her robe tears free as the fiend slides downward into the darkness! Knowing the setback won’t buy her much time, the young cleric scrambles upward towards the light, finally breaking forth from the pit onto solid ground. Cold wind buffets her in the noon-day sun but the sunlight never felt so sweet. Crawling a few paces away from the dark scar in the earth she mutters a prayer of thanksgiving.

Taking in her new surroundings for the first time a deep chill crosses her spine that has nothing to do with the weather. Rocky foothills of red stone and sparse vegetation surround her. Nearby a rushing river rushes down a deep rent in the earth, winding its way to her left in a powerful torrent. Thick forests lay downslope a mile or more and cover the land in that direction as far as she can see… White capped mountains bar her way in the opposite direction, the foothills climbing sharply to peaks the like of which she has never trod… No less disturbing is the cold, windy day itself… not only had it been full night less than an hour ago by her reckoning… it was nearly summer! The cool air mocks her memory of the promised heat…