Utter, impenetrable night filled the world… Mira’s ears rang with the silence. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound issued forth… She felt about in the black and found another near her… an arm strong and sure, and she knew it was Yasir… Solid, reliable, strong… As suddenly as she found him he was gone… simply gone… ripped away by the gods only knew what, and she was alone… again… The pain blossomed in her gut and she knew she had to get him back… at any price… She felt around for him, frantically in the dark. Finally her hands landed on another… much smaller, feminine… a friend. Elsa She held the young woman close, two friends lost in the dark… Cold began to seep into her bones… the cold of the grave… she knew they wouldn’t last long…
Mira opened her eyes to find the bedroom window open, cold early morning air having long since chilled the room uncomfortably. She lay next to Elsa on the halfling’s bed, cuddled up. The icy air pebbled her own bare skin and Elsa’s outside of her slip. The halfling’s eyes fluttered as she too gradually awoke…
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Pyros stood on a small circular platform made of brass. A disk, really, held up by nothingness in a sea of eternal night. Even his infravision couldn’t pierce that veil of darkness. He crouched and felt the cold metal of the platform… it rang like a bell when he struck it. Another platform, like his but thin as paper and much wider, appeared several dozen feet away. Elsa stood atop it, facing away from him. He called to her, but his voice made no sound. He went to dig out a stone to throw to get her attention, only to find that all of his pouches were gone! He waved and jumped and shouted; all to no avail. A third platform appeared to the other side, exactly like the one Elsa was on. A figure in white stood there, a little smaller than the Halfling. Willowy and beautiful and perfect… though she faced away, he knew it was her… Tendrow… Again he called out, and again was rewarded only with silence…
Suddenly his own platform vibrated violently, tearing in half like a leaf with one booted kender foot on each side. The two halves slowly but inexorably moved away from each other, inch by inch… and below there was only emptiness… He knew if he fell into that abyss he would fall forever… a forever of silence, of nothingness… nobody to hear his stories, no voice to speak them, no interesting things to investigate or people to meet! He moved to his right and Tendrow’s platform began to fall! Quickly putting his foot back on the other half of his platform her’s ceased its descent. He moved cautiously left and Elsa began to drop. Expecting it he reversed his motion and the Halfling too was safe… His own platform continued inexorably on, pulling him in both directions… trying to force him to make a choice… who to save… Tendrow was gone… wasn’t she? She couldn’t come back… or was this the afterlife? What tortures would they face if he didn’t choose? Farther and farther apart the disk split, stretching his legs wide as he strained to keep his feet. He wouldn’t be able to hold his own footing much longer… he was practically past the point of even being able to choose. Somehow inside he knew that if he fell… sacrificed himself… both their platforms would fall… His eyes closed tight and a single tear leaked out… and Pyros moved…
Sitting bolt upright, Pyros found himself in Yasir’s bed… the warrior was still in jail, and Cal lay sleeping on the other bed across the room… it was day…
---
Cal watched helplessly as Pyros and Elsa danced… they were having such a good time together he could hardly feel bad for her… but he should have been the one there… he had to show her how he felt about her… Maybe one of his inventions! Yes! He could make something so interesting and intricate that she would see how intelligent he was, not like that crazy elf-child thing… what was a Kender anyway? Who had ever heard of something like that? It was ridiculous… Still, Pyros had saved her… Cal owed him for that… Pyros had saved her a couple of times, so he had heard… maybe that’s why she liked him… the kender was brave… or fearless… or insane. Probably all three… Combat wasn’t really Cal’s thing… the gnome had taken lots of precautions to avoid confrontation… it was so much easier to just escape or not get involved… Besides, Cal had Elsa too. When she dropped her mace fighting those wolves, who had brought it back to her? He had. And not by charging past the wolves like a maniac and endangering himself, he had done it the smart way. He had used magic. Much easier, much less risky… The gnome sighed as he watched the two dance… darkness settled on the room until only he and the pair dancing were illuminated… almost like a pair of bullseye lanterns aimed at the small folk, but with no obvious source… He was in a strange land, far from home, in a small town surrounded by wilderness, watching the girl he was enamored with dance with another, hunted by some deranged mutant monster cat-thing… how could things get worse?
Slowly the Gnome’s eyes opened and daylight filled his sight. He lay on his own bed in the Wayfarer, tangled in the sheets. His romantic rival sat across the room, seemingly freshly awake, on Yasir’s bed… the events of the last night came washing back to him… the warrior was still incarcerated …
---
Cross waded through the night. He walked alone on a narrow road through the thick, tangled forest. This new land was interesting, but the people here were so afraid of magic. He had to leave town after the last ‘incident’. He had performed some simple tricks for a young girl, just lights and sounds and things… the girl had laughed and clapped and enjoyed it immensely. It did his elven heart good to see someone appreciate it. It wasn’t strong magic, nothing more than a few bards had done during their musical performances in Harmonia. Nothing more than Mira had done, he was sure, a dozen times in the same town… But the girl’s mother had not appreciated it… Shouting guards and pursuing locals had made up his mind, it was time to move on… Heathens. How could they not see how magic could enrich their lives? How did they not know it could protect them from what they feared most? They were blind… he felt sad for them…
Suddenly Gar began to chuckle. It was odd, he hadn’t heard his long-time companion speak in months before coming to this place. The fight in the jail had… awakened something in Gar… With a shiver Cross recalled the evil cackling as it sank into the creature’s throat… And again when it struck the massive Alpha wolf in the neck as well… Both shots had been extremely lucky… he wasn’t that good with a dagger, but he had hit them both perfectly… it was as if… as if Gar himself had guided the blow… The dagger began chuckling louder, the sound taking on a decidedly twisted bent. Cross tried to shush him, the sound might draw predators in the night… Gar laughed madly as if he could sense the Elf’s thoughts, louder than before. He shushed him again, whispering to his sole companion to please be quiet. The laughter only grew louder. Sounds, rustling and snapping of branches could be heard in the dark forest, drawing closer. You fool! Gar almost shouted at him, I WANT them to hear! Another peal of mad laughter took him. I used you to bring me to this place! I wanted you to come here so I could find the mists! Just like I used you to get away from her! The cackling became almost deafening as glowing eyes became visible in the night… dozens of them… They reminded him of the eyes that creature in the jail, only bigger… FEEDING TIIIIME! AAAHAHAAHAAAA!!!
Cross’ eyes snapped open as the harsh laughter faded away in his mind. He lay on the floor of the room he shared with Artanis, a knot forming between his shoulders from the way he had slept… it was day…
---
Blood like a shining ruby dripped off of Artanis’ sword… a sword that shone like the moon itself, silver metal reflecting the pale light from the sky with such purity… His other sword glowed too… glowed with a magic power from his homeland… home world? Was he even on the same plane as he had been? It was hard to say… Yasir was somewhere out there in the night, the two had been separated during the attack, and John… John was surely dead… A special fishing spot, he had said. High in the foothills, a rocky riverbed where the trout loved to come in the spring to spawn… He had been right. There were fish by the thousands, more than the three men could have carried home in a dozen sacks… They had waited too late heading back, the catch so good… dark had come quickly in the hills… and now… The blood-caked beast before him twisted and writhed on the ground… it shifted… there was no other word for it… he was becoming far too familiar with the process… He only payed half a mind to the wretched thing, he hadn’t recognized any of the others he had dispatched… but something about the build… the shape… He looked again… There, face twisted in a rictus of hate and… was it humor? There lay the warrior… Yasir…
His own wounds burned more keenly than ever, his adrenaline pumping blood from them quicker and quicker. He quickly bandaged what he could… he knew a little about these things, but Yasir had known far more having hunted them back on Faerun regularly… each wound… each cut… they all bore a chance of infection… Sometimes a man would be cut nearly to death by them and not be affected… sometimes the smallest wound was enough… The worse you took the better the chances seemed, but it was never a sure thing… never… Closing his companion’s eyes he wondered what he would tell the bard… A crashing sound behind him broke him from the moment and he whirled about, blades ready. A pair of glowing eyes watched him from the trees… He would have to end this one quickly… his wounds were adding up. He didn’t have much time… A low growl behind him caused him to glance quickly aside… another… there would be a third soon. Almost as he thought it a crackling snapping sound broke from the opposite flank… The pack was clever… no way he could best three of them… but no way he was going down without a fight. Artanis, shadoweir of Mielikki, Ranger, Druid, native protector of the forests; raised his bloody longswords for the last time…
Slowly the half-elf’s eyes opened to the chill morning air… the Wayfarer’s rest was just as it had been the night before… Cross lay drowsily waking on the floor nearby… the events of the previous night came spilling back to him…
---
Jeraldine Greystar, daughter of the late Harper Gerald Greystar, Priestess of Mystra and Undead Slayer in her own right, wept. She wept for her friends, she wept for Merrick, she wept for herself… but mostly she wept for her father. He had become the very thing that destroyed him, raised to unlife in a vicious mockery of the kind man he used to be... the whole of her life after his death had been preparing to hunt down those abominations like the one that had taken her father from her… and now her father had become one himself… Her new friends lay dead around her… all of them… the bard, the small folk, even the red-bearded ranger… torn apart… not by wolves, as she had feared they might be what seemed so long ago… but by her. Well… by her father… she had involved them. She helped them in their own quests and they had in turn tried to help her… the Vampire Gerald had slaughtered them all… They struck blow after blow against him, time and again… nothing could end him… She had done everything right! Holy water, holy wafers, holy symbols, even tried garlic and silver and a host of other things… they slowed him, for a time, but she Could. Not. End him.
She heard the old gypsy woman’s words as if in a dream… the echo reverberated in the chamber, scattering oddly like the playing light. You must seek the Crown of Souls. Only it's power can bring him peace... That had been the first time she laid eyes on the figure that had once been her loving father… the crown… it had been found, but it had quickly been taken… by it… somehow the vampire had learned of it… that was how the first one died… the cheerful elf-child… he picked it up as he did so many other things, unnoticed… he was toying with it, right when the undead tore him apart… the halfing had stood shocked, useless in battle as she watched the one she loved rent to pieces… she had been next… one by one the other fell… Her gaze drifted to the dark-haired corpse beside her… even him… Those tender, violet eyes stared sightless at the ceiling… The… thing had left him for last… Painful sobs wracked her body as she wept uncontrollably. She turned him on his side so she would not have to peer into those dead eyes… Curling up beside him she embraced him, sobbing into his chest… she would find a way to end the vampire… but for now… Jerry wept.
With a sniffle and a shake Jerry awoke, curled up closely with the subject of her attentions the night before… The slow rise and fall of Merrick’s chest told her the dream was just a dream… the tangle of limbs and warm skin confirmed his life… and in a way, her own… He breathed fitfully as if he too were facing some unseen terror of the night… The two lay warm under the covers, with the chill of late winter in the air above…
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[OOC: As I said before, I’d like to gloss over the next game day to get us to when Yasir is (hopefully) released and the party ready to head to Skald. I know there are a few things the party has scheduled for today, and there will be time the day after (Tuesday in-game) for any RP interactions you’d rather flesh-out more thoroughly. I know Jerry and Merrick have a date as well, which we can handle in the private thread or gloss over as well. My goal is to be done with this game-day before the end of the month, so there is time for some interaction. My brother in-law is getting married and I’ll be out of town for a few days the weekend of Sept 30th.]
Cal gains 1 hp from rest and is now at full health [9/9]
Elsa gains 1 hp from rest and is still Hurt
Mira gains 1 hp from rest and is now at full health [20/20]
Yasir gains 1 hp from rest and is now at full health [23/23]
Everyone except Elsa is at full health, and Mira can see the Halfling will probably get there with a single cure spell of her own.
Everone’s Harmonian Language check goes up 1% for spending half the day around people speaking the language. Mira’s goes up 2% because she is a bard.
Casters pick your spells for the day please.
It is now Monday, February 26th, 736 BC (Barovian Calendar)
Funny. The last scene IRL and IG both started on a Sunday… The same is true with this scene for Monday… I didn’t even plan that
