Log the Eigthteen
'tis a sad day for the crew of the Lady's Favour. The ease at which the paltry defenders of this island were laid low has caused the crew to forget themselves and assume too much. And now one of their own has paid the price. I must now relate to you the tragic tale of the death of Spacko the orc.
Although he had not signed on with us, he had sailed alongside us and shed blood and shared drink and to the mind of this sailor, that makes him a brother of the sea. A bond that is not easily forgotten and his death awakens a vengeance that is not easily doused.
We must start the tale at the beginning, as is custom. We had just finished the fight with the two headed smithy and his minions. Our joy knew little bounds at that point, for magic and gold was quickly found and laid at our feet. The delicate touch of Mistress convinced a number of chest to surrender their booty. Magical elixirs of all descriptions were found and secured in piles of platinum. The visions of living out our lives in much luxury must have clouded our judgment as we continued down; deeper into the lair of Moab.
When we entered the transformation room, we should have trusted to instinct and left. But the stone slabs, complete with leather straps had conjured forth images that burned away all reason. Even the strange glowing liquid that was contained about each slab could not dissuade us, even though Mistress's attempt to gather the demon spittle nearly cost her a limb. But we did not heed the warnings. The vision of Moab standing before us, mocking us only fueled our insanity. Kemby tried to tackle the illusion, but the bald, pale elf only stood their laughing, mocking our abilities and predicting our forthcoming doom. Oh, if only we had listened to his prophecies. Kemby and Lucky could stand the mocking no longer and crashed through the door, charging blindly into the darkness. We had no choice but to follow them. But we were not fast enough to stop the unfolding drama before us. They crashed through a library and into a bedroom. Once again, Lucky spied a concealed door, but his name did not hold true as he attempted to open the door. With a flash, a glowing magical cube surrounded and enveloped the two warriors. I could hear their cries for help as I moved into the library, only to discover that Moab himself was awaiting our arrival. he reached out with a bony hand and chilled me to my soul. I could feel the coldness of death slowly filling my bones. But I could not allow such feelings to stop me. My crew mates were in mortal danger and needed my assistance. Spacko, ever the brave soul, moved towards Moab and the steel started flashing.
With a plea and a pray to Harrimast, the cage of force was brought low and Kemby rushed past, the death of Moab the only thought on his face. I would have rushed to help, but as I turned another elf appeared and started trying to separate my head from my shoulders. Lucky and I danced around with him for precious seconds. Lucky was slowly cutting the bastard into the grave when Harrimast gave me his blessing and I decorated the room with his guts. I rushed back towards the library wondering at the booming that had been dodging our ever step. It seems that Harrimast was directing my moves that day. For no sooner had I passed from the bedroom, then the room exploded in flame. I could hear venomous oaths and strange incantations coming from the passage behind the secret door, but the sight before me caused me more concern.
Spacko was trading blows with Moab, trying with all his might to send the devil back to his grave, while Kemby had unlimbered his mighty bow and was whistling arrows where ever Spacko was not. Our old nemesis, the drow, was struggling to over come the Captain's spiders curse and was slowly advancing into the room. But behind the black bastard was the sight that turned my blood to ice. Two great statues, taller than the tallest man I had seen were forcing their way into the room. The spider curse and the narrow corridor was impeding their progress, but it was obvious that they would soon be in the room. They looked like unfinished sculptures, clay works that moved of their own violation. Evil creations if ever I had seen them.
The drow moved past me and I managed to take a piece out of his hide, but it was not enough to stop him. With the way clear, the golems pushed their way in and the evil surrounding us grew with intensity. Moab barely looked injured and the golems great fists were starting to raise to the ceiling. The situation was helpless, we had to leave. But Harrimast had not given me the ability to rescue everyone. I whispered a prayer, hoping that Harrimast would protect Mistress, Lucky and the captain. I was hopeful that the captain's good luck would see them clear of this hellish place. I could not reach the valiant Spacko and I do not know that he would have appreciated being pulled out of such a magnificent struggle. At least, that is how I will remember his last moments; a smile on his lips as he swung the axe, drawing blood and ichor from the beast that call itself Moab. I envisioned the guard room far above us, pulled the magic around me, grabbed ahold of Lucien, bound Kemby to me through the powers of his doll and opened a door between dimensions. As we vanished I could see the great fists of the golems slamming down into Spacko.
We appeared in the guard room, not knowing the fate of our companions. We did what we could to assist them. We poured what magics we could into the voodoo dolls that I had crafted of them, healing the wounds that we imagined that they were suffering and enchanting them with any spell that we could envision helping. Many seconds later we could hear the voice of Lucky coming as if on the wind. He still lived and the captain's whisper spell was still functioning so he must be living as well. Lucky joined us and within seconds the captain came flying towards us, convinced that Moab was nipping at his heels. Mistress was soon afterwords, covered in webs and smelling of a storm at sea. The burrow spell had worked, although it seems that Moab laid every spell out that he had access to.
We ran. We ran as if the devil was our cook and we had skipped out without paying. But we were one short. Spacko was now a smear on the floor and a stain on our hearts. We would have to take our vengeance on another day. For now we had to get ourselves away. Their will be a reckoning. By the blade of Harrimast there will be a reckoning!!
Jee-to, quartermaster, Lady's Favour
Although he had not signed on with us, he had sailed alongside us and shed blood and shared drink and to the mind of this sailor, that makes him a brother of the sea. A bond that is not easily forgotten and his death awakens a vengeance that is not easily doused.
We must start the tale at the beginning, as is custom. We had just finished the fight with the two headed smithy and his minions. Our joy knew little bounds at that point, for magic and gold was quickly found and laid at our feet. The delicate touch of Mistress convinced a number of chest to surrender their booty. Magical elixirs of all descriptions were found and secured in piles of platinum. The visions of living out our lives in much luxury must have clouded our judgment as we continued down; deeper into the lair of Moab.
When we entered the transformation room, we should have trusted to instinct and left. But the stone slabs, complete with leather straps had conjured forth images that burned away all reason. Even the strange glowing liquid that was contained about each slab could not dissuade us, even though Mistress's attempt to gather the demon spittle nearly cost her a limb. But we did not heed the warnings. The vision of Moab standing before us, mocking us only fueled our insanity. Kemby tried to tackle the illusion, but the bald, pale elf only stood their laughing, mocking our abilities and predicting our forthcoming doom. Oh, if only we had listened to his prophecies. Kemby and Lucky could stand the mocking no longer and crashed through the door, charging blindly into the darkness. We had no choice but to follow them. But we were not fast enough to stop the unfolding drama before us. They crashed through a library and into a bedroom. Once again, Lucky spied a concealed door, but his name did not hold true as he attempted to open the door. With a flash, a glowing magical cube surrounded and enveloped the two warriors. I could hear their cries for help as I moved into the library, only to discover that Moab himself was awaiting our arrival. he reached out with a bony hand and chilled me to my soul. I could feel the coldness of death slowly filling my bones. But I could not allow such feelings to stop me. My crew mates were in mortal danger and needed my assistance. Spacko, ever the brave soul, moved towards Moab and the steel started flashing.
With a plea and a pray to Harrimast, the cage of force was brought low and Kemby rushed past, the death of Moab the only thought on his face. I would have rushed to help, but as I turned another elf appeared and started trying to separate my head from my shoulders. Lucky and I danced around with him for precious seconds. Lucky was slowly cutting the bastard into the grave when Harrimast gave me his blessing and I decorated the room with his guts. I rushed back towards the library wondering at the booming that had been dodging our ever step. It seems that Harrimast was directing my moves that day. For no sooner had I passed from the bedroom, then the room exploded in flame. I could hear venomous oaths and strange incantations coming from the passage behind the secret door, but the sight before me caused me more concern.
Spacko was trading blows with Moab, trying with all his might to send the devil back to his grave, while Kemby had unlimbered his mighty bow and was whistling arrows where ever Spacko was not. Our old nemesis, the drow, was struggling to over come the Captain's spiders curse and was slowly advancing into the room. But behind the black bastard was the sight that turned my blood to ice. Two great statues, taller than the tallest man I had seen were forcing their way into the room. The spider curse and the narrow corridor was impeding their progress, but it was obvious that they would soon be in the room. They looked like unfinished sculptures, clay works that moved of their own violation. Evil creations if ever I had seen them.
The drow moved past me and I managed to take a piece out of his hide, but it was not enough to stop him. With the way clear, the golems pushed their way in and the evil surrounding us grew with intensity. Moab barely looked injured and the golems great fists were starting to raise to the ceiling. The situation was helpless, we had to leave. But Harrimast had not given me the ability to rescue everyone. I whispered a prayer, hoping that Harrimast would protect Mistress, Lucky and the captain. I was hopeful that the captain's good luck would see them clear of this hellish place. I could not reach the valiant Spacko and I do not know that he would have appreciated being pulled out of such a magnificent struggle. At least, that is how I will remember his last moments; a smile on his lips as he swung the axe, drawing blood and ichor from the beast that call itself Moab. I envisioned the guard room far above us, pulled the magic around me, grabbed ahold of Lucien, bound Kemby to me through the powers of his doll and opened a door between dimensions. As we vanished I could see the great fists of the golems slamming down into Spacko.
We appeared in the guard room, not knowing the fate of our companions. We did what we could to assist them. We poured what magics we could into the voodoo dolls that I had crafted of them, healing the wounds that we imagined that they were suffering and enchanting them with any spell that we could envision helping. Many seconds later we could hear the voice of Lucky coming as if on the wind. He still lived and the captain's whisper spell was still functioning so he must be living as well. Lucky joined us and within seconds the captain came flying towards us, convinced that Moab was nipping at his heels. Mistress was soon afterwords, covered in webs and smelling of a storm at sea. The burrow spell had worked, although it seems that Moab laid every spell out that he had access to.
We ran. We ran as if the devil was our cook and we had skipped out without paying. But we were one short. Spacko was now a smear on the floor and a stain on our hearts. We would have to take our vengeance on another day. For now we had to get ourselves away. Their will be a reckoning. By the blade of Harrimast there will be a reckoning!!
Jee-to, quartermaster, Lady's Favour
posted by groodude | 9:48 p.m.
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