A Return to Faerun from Elben Aator
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- silke_rahn
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"No, we need to go in and see if she is in trouble," said Nedylene.
Then Ulrike looked toward the direction of the shrine. She saw a figure riding slowly from that direction.
"Lady Nedylene, I think she is returning, but she seems to be carrying someone."
Nedylene looked in the way of the shrine and saw Delia's horse; the young woman looked to have a bundle across the bow of her saddle. Nedylene worried now that something went terriblely wrong at the shrine.
"I see and it looks as if she has something or someone cradled across the bows of her saddle too."
Then Ulrike looked toward the direction of the shrine. She saw a figure riding slowly from that direction.
"Lady Nedylene, I think she is returning, but she seems to be carrying someone."
Nedylene looked in the way of the shrine and saw Delia's horse; the young woman looked to have a bundle across the bow of her saddle. Nedylene worried now that something went terriblely wrong at the shrine.
"I see and it looks as if she has something or someone cradled across the bows of her saddle too."
Drow on the Surface face as many dangers as those in the Underdark. Just because the Rivvil is friendly does not mean he wishes to help you, he may just want to get you off guard before knifing you.
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"I believe they were attacked by bandits or by someone that wanted it to look like bandits," said Delia. "Will you help me to lower her to the gound?"
She then waited for Adian to act.
She then waited for Adian to act.
Drow on the Surface face as many dangers as those in the Underdark. Just because the Rivvil is friendly does not mean he wishes to help you, he may just want to get you off guard before knifing you.
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"[i:29s457yg]Eilistraee balbau ilta ka'lith," [/i:29s457yg]he said.
Adian dismounted and lifted the drow woman from the saddle. The moment his hands touched her her wounds began to fade. Her breathing became deeper and easier. The the time he set her down on the ground, the worst of her injuries here reduced to dark marks.
"Umraeari and the others would not have fallen to mere bandits," Adian said, plainly having no idea of how dangerous professionals could be. "I saw them practicing. No one who faced them could have gotten away unmaimed."
He looked up, dread in his eyes.
"What about...the others?"
Adian dismounted and lifted the drow woman from the saddle. The moment his hands touched her her wounds began to fade. Her breathing became deeper and easier. The the time he set her down on the ground, the worst of her injuries here reduced to dark marks.
"Umraeari and the others would not have fallen to mere bandits," Adian said, plainly having no idea of how dangerous professionals could be. "I saw them practicing. No one who faced them could have gotten away unmaimed."
He looked up, dread in his eyes.
"What about...the others?"
- BaravarImrathiln
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He had left the tavern in the silence of the rest of the evening, using the arrival of the one called Zazzt to make a discrete exit from the inn. The Ranger was often content to linger in such places, but he had had one battle already that day, farcical though it had been with the trio of drunkards. He was not inclined to linger among so many others of his dark features in so prominent a place as the inn. Large groups of Drow always drew crowds, and as often as not, those crowds would get violent.
He had smelled the smoke long before he had seen the column rising darkly into the sky. The colour told him all he needed to know about what was going on. Thick and black, it meant that someone was burning flesh or a large quantity of oil. Neither spoke well, as it was too early in the day for a large bonfire. The little dragon flies through the trees overhead, keeping close, but flying circles around his walking master. The Ranger had a horse, and knew the beast was close. So he put two fingers to his lips and whistled, a shrill, wavering trill, calling the horse to his side. It would be too late for him to do anything save pick up the trail of any survivors and perhaps their pursuers. If any had survived to be pursued. It seemed an odd place for bandits, so close to Baldur's Gate, but he did not dispute the scent on the air.
As he waits patiently for the horse, it trots up from behind him, nickering slightly as it arrives. Like the ranger, it was nearly silent, despite the underbrush. It knew the forests as well as its master did. It was a big black horse, and anywhere else it would have been reserved for a mounted knight in full plate armour with a lance. But with a lighter load as the ranger was, such a horse was a tireless and faithful companion, and as brave as any hound in battle.
He mounts in silence, and rides off, aiming for the pillar of smoke rising through the air. Baravar was determined to lend any aid he could, even if he thought in his heart that all he would be doing was burying the dead.
He had smelled the smoke long before he had seen the column rising darkly into the sky. The colour told him all he needed to know about what was going on. Thick and black, it meant that someone was burning flesh or a large quantity of oil. Neither spoke well, as it was too early in the day for a large bonfire. The little dragon flies through the trees overhead, keeping close, but flying circles around his walking master. The Ranger had a horse, and knew the beast was close. So he put two fingers to his lips and whistled, a shrill, wavering trill, calling the horse to his side. It would be too late for him to do anything save pick up the trail of any survivors and perhaps their pursuers. If any had survived to be pursued. It seemed an odd place for bandits, so close to Baldur's Gate, but he did not dispute the scent on the air.
As he waits patiently for the horse, it trots up from behind him, nickering slightly as it arrives. Like the ranger, it was nearly silent, despite the underbrush. It knew the forests as well as its master did. It was a big black horse, and anywhere else it would have been reserved for a mounted knight in full plate armour with a lance. But with a lighter load as the ranger was, such a horse was a tireless and faithful companion, and as brave as any hound in battle.
He mounts in silence, and rides off, aiming for the pillar of smoke rising through the air. Baravar was determined to lend any aid he could, even if he thought in his heart that all he would be doing was burying the dead.
nor the Arrow for its swiftness,
nor the Warrior for his glory.
I love only that which they defend."
~ JRR Tolkien
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Berevar's exploration told him several things: There were definitely survivors. Six all told, scattered in different directions, three adults, two of them quite small, and one sized somewhere in the middle.
The attackers had been neither experienced nor versed in even basic tactics: They had simply swarmed into the glade and struck with numbers. From the large size and depth, Berevar could tell that the attackers had been entirely human. No attempt had been made to hide their tracks or their numbers, and they had left in the same direction as they had arrived. The weapons at the scene were not weaponry bandits tended to use: few signs of blades, and then only a handaxe worn more by chopping wood than by combat, and a knife.
Only trace amounts of blood were visible that were unlikely to belong to the slain priestesses: This was odd given that the priestesses of the Dark Maiden were known to be fairly skilled with their weapons. It was almost as if they had barely fought back...
Possibly as a delay for the escapees?
And the mark of Tyr crudely drawn inside the shrine. Why would Tyr followers attack a shrine to Eilistraee? The two were not at odds in any significant way, and the actions here were wildly out of character for the followers of the god of Justice.
Tracking the escapees would be a bit of a job...but with an airborne companion it could be done before night had entirely fallen. As for the attackers...their trail could be followed by a blind man.
The attackers had been neither experienced nor versed in even basic tactics: They had simply swarmed into the glade and struck with numbers. From the large size and depth, Berevar could tell that the attackers had been entirely human. No attempt had been made to hide their tracks or their numbers, and they had left in the same direction as they had arrived. The weapons at the scene were not weaponry bandits tended to use: few signs of blades, and then only a handaxe worn more by chopping wood than by combat, and a knife.
Only trace amounts of blood were visible that were unlikely to belong to the slain priestesses: This was odd given that the priestesses of the Dark Maiden were known to be fairly skilled with their weapons. It was almost as if they had barely fought back...
Possibly as a delay for the escapees?
And the mark of Tyr crudely drawn inside the shrine. Why would Tyr followers attack a shrine to Eilistraee? The two were not at odds in any significant way, and the actions here were wildly out of character for the followers of the god of Justice.
Tracking the escapees would be a bit of a job...but with an airborne companion it could be done before night had entirely fallen. As for the attackers...their trail could be followed by a blind man.
Last edited by Adian Novar on Tue Feb 17, 2009 8:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Zazzt, from what he knew of Tyr's faith, could draw no conclusion as to why the followers of the Just God would attack, and even desecrate, a shrine of the Dancing Lady. He knew of no war between the two faiths, but his knowldege in this matter was limited. Then a disturbing thought woke in his mind. Zazzt turned to Adian, "Are you certain that these are the priestesses of this shrine?" He said, "I do not mean to doubt your knowledge, but it seems to me that an attack on a temple of Eilistraee by another goodly god seems very..." He paused, picking his words carefully, "out of the ordinary. Perhaps you and Nedylene should speak to Umraeari, and discern if she is who she appears to be."
A fight need not end with the death of participant. A fight also ends when the desire to do violence is gone.
Zyeke
Zyeke
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Adian brushed some of the injured drow's hair from her face.
"She is definitely one of them," Adian said. "She's sort of the 'house mother' for the rest. This makes no sense. They told me that everything was going so well..."
The youth looked for a moment as if he would break down into tears. He shook his head, trying to focus.
"Why would anyone do this? We harm no one...try to help the needy. This is madness."
"She is definitely one of them," Adian said. "She's sort of the 'house mother' for the rest. This makes no sense. They told me that everything was going so well..."
The youth looked for a moment as if he would break down into tears. He shook his head, trying to focus.
"Why would anyone do this? We harm no one...try to help the needy. This is madness."
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Zazzt solemnly nodded, undrestanding Adian's pain all too well, "Perhaps I should view the surrounding area, if you will note need me here," He turned to leave, but turned around, remebering something, "Here," Zazzt said, tossing Adian a wand, "This should help you with healing Umraeari, the word to activate it is 'dro'." Nodding reasuringly, he flew up past the trees, on his carpet, straining to find the attackers, even casting a spell that created half a dozen 'eyes' to assist him. They zoomed off into the woods
A fight need not end with the death of participant. A fight also ends when the desire to do violence is gone.
Zyeke
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Adian pointed the wand at the priestess a little awkwardly and saod "Dro." The woman's injuries faded even further intil light bruises and her breathing became relaxed and regular.
[center:380gv5d1]* * *[/center:380gv5d1]
Zazzt had no trouble picking up the trail of the attackers. There was no effort to hide. There was only one horse in the group: The rest had walked. They were a disorganized lot, and more or less trampled the brush in their way.
The trail led for a mile towards the edge of the woods, finally coming to a well travelled wood trail and eventually leading to a closely compacted collection of wood and stone houses at the outer edge of the forest. Farmlands spread out in a circular pattern around the buildings, while in the center was a stone temple. The trail of attackers stopped in a sort of "milling around" at the outer edge, then dispersing towards the buildings.
There was no sign of damage or descruction in the village.
[center:380gv5d1]* * *[/center:380gv5d1]
Zazzt had no trouble picking up the trail of the attackers. There was no effort to hide. There was only one horse in the group: The rest had walked. They were a disorganized lot, and more or less trampled the brush in their way.
The trail led for a mile towards the edge of the woods, finally coming to a well travelled wood trail and eventually leading to a closely compacted collection of wood and stone houses at the outer edge of the forest. Farmlands spread out in a circular pattern around the buildings, while in the center was a stone temple. The trail of attackers stopped in a sort of "milling around" at the outer edge, then dispersing towards the buildings.
There was no sign of damage or descruction in the village.
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Zazzt cast a quick sending "The attackers left a clear trail, edge of the woods, about a mile, follow as soon as possible." He whispered a spell that created armor of force that surrounded him, protecting him from incoming attacks, Zazzt carefully walked into the center of the village, keeping his hood up to conceal his features, and kept his hands, on the hilts of his swords, under his cloak.
A fight need not end with the death of participant. A fight also ends when the desire to do violence is gone.
Zyeke
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(Rash indeed.)
Quite a few homes were darkened, with only a handful lit with candles or lanterns against the darkening night. There was definite activity at the temple: the place was well-lit with minor light enchantments on the torch sconces. From within could be heard a great deal of excited talk, predominantly in male vopices, some of it sounding distinctly congratulatory in nature.
Quite a few homes were darkened, with only a handful lit with candles or lanterns against the darkening night. There was definite activity at the temple: the place was well-lit with minor light enchantments on the torch sconces. From within could be heard a great deal of excited talk, predominantly in male vopices, some of it sounding distinctly congratulatory in nature.
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(He is INSANE, rash is an understatement, next guy might be more careful )
Zazzt carefully snuck out again, and cast an invisiblity spell that would make his hiding easier, deciding to wait for his, travel compainions, he guessed. He settled in, waiting for his companions to arrive, making sure to note any departings or arrivals.
Zazzt carefully snuck out again, and cast an invisiblity spell that would make his hiding easier, deciding to wait for his, travel compainions, he guessed. He settled in, waiting for his companions to arrive, making sure to note any departings or arrivals.
A fight need not end with the death of participant. A fight also ends when the desire to do violence is gone.
Zyeke
Zyeke
- BaravarImrathiln
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The Ranger passed the burned grove by, his small, flapping companion providing him all that he needed to know about the grisly scene and those who remained there. The dragon had also noted the trail, though it was hard to miss. Instead of joining the nobles in the clearing, the Ranger skirts it 'round, just out of sight within the trees. And then, following the trail through the woods, he comes to the village soon after the lone Drow. During his ride, he had pulled his longbow from its scabbard on the saddle and had nocked a single black-shafted arrow. He did not yet draw the bow, but he held it at the ready as he rode out of the trees some distance away.
He was not likely to be seen where he was, and he did not want to start anything if he could help it. Given the size of the trail and the size of the village, he was ill-equipped to deal with the entire population, even with his bow from a distance.
THere had been, it seemed, one survivor of the attack, though for how long that would remain true, he could not guess. The crude and grisly symbol of Tyr did not fit well with the rest of the scene, or at least, it did not seem to. The Ranger knew enough of Justice, however, that he knew it took many forms, including obliteration. So for now, while his conscience rebelled against the very thought, he would reserve his judgement and watch and wait.
He watched the dark shape flitting around the doors and windows of the temples, his keen eyes recognizing the shape of Zazzt's cloak and swords, despite the falling darkness. He had ridden around most of the town, keeping to the dark shadows near the trees, his hood up and bow in hand. He moved like the wind, swift and silent, and like a shadow, he saw most of what was going on. He positions himself within bowshot of the temple, finding a single copse of oak trees forming a salient from the forest and pointing toward the temple. It was not much, but if he had to fire, it was best to fire from hiding. Nor did he dismount, unwilling to give up the advantage of speed and power that the vast black horse would give him if he needed to use a blade this night.
He was not likely to be seen where he was, and he did not want to start anything if he could help it. Given the size of the trail and the size of the village, he was ill-equipped to deal with the entire population, even with his bow from a distance.
THere had been, it seemed, one survivor of the attack, though for how long that would remain true, he could not guess. The crude and grisly symbol of Tyr did not fit well with the rest of the scene, or at least, it did not seem to. The Ranger knew enough of Justice, however, that he knew it took many forms, including obliteration. So for now, while his conscience rebelled against the very thought, he would reserve his judgement and watch and wait.
He watched the dark shape flitting around the doors and windows of the temples, his keen eyes recognizing the shape of Zazzt's cloak and swords, despite the falling darkness. He had ridden around most of the town, keeping to the dark shadows near the trees, his hood up and bow in hand. He moved like the wind, swift and silent, and like a shadow, he saw most of what was going on. He positions himself within bowshot of the temple, finding a single copse of oak trees forming a salient from the forest and pointing toward the temple. It was not much, but if he had to fire, it was best to fire from hiding. Nor did he dismount, unwilling to give up the advantage of speed and power that the vast black horse would give him if he needed to use a blade this night.
nor the Arrow for its swiftness,
nor the Warrior for his glory.
I love only that which they defend."
~ JRR Tolkien