Death in the Mountains - IC

[Skaven - The Chase]

Round 7
Slythe (ini 11, 1 wound)
Daemaer (ini 10, Atheryic Armour +5AP, -1 crit, fear (2))
Skaven 1 (Ini 7, 8 wounds, calmed 5 rounds, -10 all actions due to fear engaged with Daemaer)
Skaven 2 (Ini 7, calmed 2 rounds, 3m from Serestre)
Skaven 3 (Ini 7, dead, engaged with Slythe)
Skaven 4 (Ini 7, dead, engaged with Slythe)
Skaven 5 (Ini 7, calmed 4 rounds, 9m behind Slythe Slythe)
Skaven 6 (Ini 7, in combat with Slythe)
Grey Seer (Ini 7, Atheryic Armour +4AP)
Serestre (Ini 6, Atheryic Armour +4AP)


Daemaer staggers a little, but steadies himself and gathers the winds again, before casting a dart of raw magic into the head of the rat that had previously taunted him.
Confident the rat was dealt with he starts to move towards Slythe.

The rats bearing down on Slythe calmed down, becoming near peaceful. Slythe didn't understand what was going on, but he knew he should strike while the iron is hot as the warm bloods said.
He turned and charged the grey seer, knowing that cutting the head off was the best way to kill a Serpent.
Unfortunately, slythe expected a dodge and attacked where the seer would be, except that he was just as frozen as the others.

While the calmed Skaven mill about the one guarding the Seer throws itself at the Saurian aiming a wicked slash to Slythes arm... [reaction]

The big Saurian brought clarity to the seer as the Celestite Sword narrowly missed removing its head. The battle was not going to plan for the beleaguered Rats. Glancing behind him the Seers mutters a few quick words and vanishes...

With her two companions advancing Serestre didn't want to be left behind. Not knowing how long her blessings would affect the calmed Skaven she glanced nervously between the two as she scurried forward and positioned herself between Daemaer and Slythe

Cautiously, Valgard tapped the ground in front of him with his axe, checking for traps like a blind man. Two in one hall seemed a bit excessive, but paranoia had saved him numerous times. Satisfied that they had seen the worst of it already, he stepped forward into the room. "I think we found it. Gimme lantern a light." He says, holding the open lantern out while he peers into the room.

"Don' ferget why we're 'ere. Loot i' ta tha end but we gotta find a way ta seal this tunnel off when we're done." He says, looking up and down the waterway as he talks, waiting on his brother to light his lantern.

“Aye,” responded Reggie. He was the thinker of the two and was glad Valgaard had his mind in the game. He felt maybe some of him was rubbing off.

Probably not though.

He held out the torch to his brother and begins taking a sincere look around. Like Val said, loot was important but blocking the tunnels was even more so.

“We need to tread lightly on what we consider up for the taking. This isn’t our house after all, and the folks here seem to be decent enough. Though...”

He looked back at the door. “Who knows when this place was last in the people’s memory. I’d say this might be a well kept secret of one or a few individuals at most.”

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[Skaven - The Chase]

Round 8
Slythe (ini 11, 1 wound)
Daemaer (ini 10, Atheryic Armour +5AP, -1 crit, fear (2))
Skaven 1 (Ini 7, 8 wounds, calmed 5 rounds, -10 all actions due to fear engaged with Daemaer)
Skaven 2 (Ini 7, calmed 1 rounds, 24m from group)
Skaven 3 (Ini 7, dead)
Skaven 4 (Ini 7, dead)
Skaven 5 (Ini 7, dead)
Skaven 6 (Ini 7, dead)
Grey Seer (Ini 7, Atheryic Armour +4AP, 54m ahead of Slythe)
Serestre (Ini 6, Atheryic Armour +4AP)


Daemaer paused as the Gray Seer disappeared.
"Huh..."
After a quick glance around and not seeing the enemy, he focuses before a golden light illuminates him.
"Much better. Lets finish this."

Slythe struck at the lone rat scabbing about his scaled legs, crushing him woth the Celestine sword like a maul.
"The ssssseer isssss in the tree over there!" He warns the others, pointing to where he saw the magician.

The skaven know when they are beat. The terror of a Saurus had chewed through whatever they had thrown at him and he'd barely broken a sweat or had been harmed against the rats weak blows. The calmed skaven look back towards their leader only to see him disappear into the trees, it was time to run but with the Saurus between them and their boss they attempt to run off in different directions.

Daemaer looks, and not seeing the Seer turns his annoyance on the other fleeing rats. Watching one as it moves through the trees he calms his breathing and focuses, before unleashing a crackling bolt of lightening, incinerating the filthy skaven.

[The Crypt]

You enter a collection of rooms which you have a quick look into; its a retreat of sorts and laboratory.

Laboratory
The chamber is furnished with heavy wooden work benches, stout chairs and a table, a rough and a dirty carpet stained with blotches. There is glassware stacked on the work benches which are dirty with neglect. A few books on the table are mould spattered and mouse-nibbled. A large patch of bright red mould grows across one of the walls.

Bedroom
This room contains only a hard wooden bed, a small bedside table and a few iron candle sticks. A mildewed book rest on the small table.

Chamber
This room is bare, save for a statue of a man, made from what looks like iron which is heavily rusted. It stands around seven feet tall.

Study
The room is dominated by a large writing desk with a swivel-chair behind it. There is also a large leather chair in one corner and a pair of fine tapestries with strange symbols woven into the design hanging from the walls. A small black coffer marked with bizarre sigils and runes stands on a table against one wall.

Slythe didn't want to let a single vermin escape to fight again. He dropped his Celestite weapon and drew the bow. He had no time to aim. Leaving it to chance he fired a single knocked arrow at the fleeing rat.

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Serestre stands still and watches the flight of Slythe's arrow hoping it to miss, which it did by a literal whisker of the Skaven. The rat flinches as the arrow tears past only as inch from its head before it puts its head down and disappears amongst the trees.

Serestre breathes a sigh of relief as the arrow missed, although it could have been interpreted that she was simply happy that they were out of the thick of it. She wipes a bit of sweat from her brow and looks at her companions.

"Phew...well that was a bit more than we bargained for. Those rats are tough stuff..."

Valgard gave a nod of thanks as his lantern took light, and headed in to the workshop cautiously. After he quickly cleared each of the rooms, Valgard set his axe down and began to look into each room more carefully. He breathed deep the musk of unkempt structures. It was it favorite scent, as treasure always followed.

First, the laboratory gave Valgard little interest. He looked it over quickly as he entered the workshop but gave little care to it afterward. The bright moss patch inside made him believe the room could be poisonous, and he had little interest for whatever glasses and books were strewn about. The bedroom kept much the same tone as the laboratory, simple yet complete, Valgard could appreciate it without taking much time to look everything over. Here, he grabbed the mildewed book, unsure if it was anything important, but sure enough that he would flip through it.

As he moved about the chamber, he read a quarter of the first page before deciding it was too much work and tossing it on the rusted statue base. He gave a small bow to the structure "I'm sure you were a good guy once. Or a god even. Sorry your first visitors in a while are rifling through your things." He runs his fingers all around the statue, looking for secret levers or things of the like. "There's nothing special about you, is there?" He said with a sigh before heading into the study.

Finally. Valgard let out a low chuckle. This was what he fought slimy snakes and pitfalls for. He called back out of the room. "Reg! Reg tha good stuff is in 'ere!" He said with glee. He almost flopped over the chest, but the strange runes and symbols made him wary. When his brother arrives, Valgard looks back at him "Looks more up yer alley. Wha's i' say?" He says with a motion toward the chest.

Daemaer, watches as they the arrow misses the rat.

"Damn rats. And wow yeah. Im sure we were a lot more than they bargained for too. Ha!"

He winces as he laughs at one of the burns from the lightning rubbing on his clothing.

"Anyways, we need to get back and tell the others. I have a feeling this isnt over....but first. Lets see if these rats have anything but cheese on them. haha...ohhhh. That hurts..."

He moves over and starts rifling through each of the bodies.

Slythe nods silently.

He hoists the bow back across his back and wilds the familiar Celestite weapon once again.

He takes up rear guard when the make their way back to the village.

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Daemaer stands and after wiping his empty hands on his pants.

"...well what did i expect."

He nods to Slythe and moves towards the village and monastery

By your judgement the sun is only an hour from the horizon as Daemaer, Serestre and Slythe arrive back  at the monastery. The monks and village folk have been busy; bonfires to light the night have been positioned at intervals around the settlement and you notice a patrol of a couple of monks and a villager walk the perimeter.

Jean-Louis now sporting a hardened leather breastplate over his robes greets you at the gates. "How did you fair, it looks as though you've had trouble?" he asks with concern evident on his voice "Your friends are not yet back from the crypt" he continues "I'd assume they've found something as they've been quite some time and the tomb isn't that extensive."

Slythe snarls. It wasnt meant to be a threatening noise, but most warm-bloods recoiled in any case.

"How are the defensssesss proccccceding?"

After they stammer an answer, he snarls again, "We took care of some vermin, but I exxxxpect more will come in the dark."

Murcurie wrote:

Finally. Valgard let out a low chuckle. This was what he fought slimy snakes and pitfalls for. He called back out of the room. "Reg! Reg tha good stuff is in 'ere!" He said with glee. He almost flopped over the chest, but the strange runes and symbols made him wary. When his brother arrives, Valgard looks back at him "Looks more up yer alley. Wha's i' say?" He says with a motion toward the chest.

Reginad picked up the book Val had tossed and gave it a quick, but knowingly more intense look than his brother had. Whatever the title and first few pages said would dictate whether or not it was worth keeping. He spied the statue similarly and then moved to the chest.

"'Twould be foolish in the extreme to open tha' without a mage nearby. Let's give everything a good look over for physical traps or tricks. But we can always come back; think the Elf is up fer it?"

The junior monk who attends Jean-Louis looks worriedly at Slythe, the aggresive nature of the Saurian causing him concern. Jean-Louis however is nonplussed "The monks are armed as are the villages who can fight, we have set bonfires along the perimeter for when night falls and we'll triple up the patrol" he replies steadily to Slythe.

"What did you find out there" he gestures into the wood from the direction you've came "why do think they will come tonight?"

"Jusssst a guessss" he replied coolly.

"You ssssshould have roving patrolssss insssside the perimeter asss well. IN cassse they deccccide to dig." he adds, knowing thier penchant for subterranian assaults.

Daemaer addressed the monk.

"As our delightful friend has said, we encountered some of the rat kin. including a Seer. We killed most, but there are most likely more. Once our friends have returned from the tombs, we will discuss further and come up with a better plan. For now, how about something to eat and drink! I am famished and positively bone dry!"

He nods to the others, and walks off towards the kitchen.

Serestre was supremely happy to be back at the monastery. Her little encounter with the rat men had left her tired and depleted mentally. It had taken her all to call on Shallya and she would need rest before being effective again. However, she had had quite enough of fighting for the time being.

"Whew! It's good to be back in a somewhat safe locale. Is anyone else as tired as I am?"

Before Serestre and Daemaer say their piece Jean-Louis looks down at the floor at Slythes remark and nods "Thats a good idea even if the Skaven don't dig their way in, they might sneak past our line so I'll arrange for some roving patrols."

"If you wish it" he addresses Daemaer at the mention of food "please join me and a few others for dinner - it will be ready it but a short time, it is the least I can do for you all. Perhaps by the time we're done your friends will be done in the crypt."

[In the Crypt]

Reginald racked his brain, but nothing came to him. He stared at the box, studying it. Two symbols stood out to him.

"There and there - those two big As. I've not the slightest what they mean, but they must be important in figuring out this riddle. But again, I don't like the feel of this. Or that statue back there come to think of it."

After rummaging around, Reginald finds a number of items. Two are vials filled with liquid - something for the Elf or the lass to look over. It could be poison, or it could be magical. He was banking on the latter. He also takes a pouch with four gems and places it in his pocket. It had been some time since anyone had been down here, and he doubted it would be missed, but he also didn't want to steal from these people.

If asked about it, he would tell the head of the monastery what he found. The last item was an iron ring and well folded blue robe. It was unassuming and that was why it interested him so much. The statue was odd, and for some reason he felt as though it was the key to something larger.

On a whim, he takes the ring and the robe, placing them both on the statue to see if anything happens.

[The Crypts]

The robe is to small to present a good fit on the statue, but it does nevertheless fit - once the robe is unfolded it can be seen to be in good condition with only a small amount of wear along the hem. There is no chance of fitting the ring on a finger of the statue, the iron mans fingers are far to thick.

Reginald takes the ring, robes, and the book and puts them all in his backpack with the rest of the items. He warns Valgaard once more to stay away from the box - at least for the time being - and makes ready to rejoin the others. Once Val is good to go, he will depart.

Slythe sniffs the air with his forked tongue. He did not smell the short ones who smelled of sweat and iron.

"Where are the sssshort warm bloodssss?" he asks.

Jean-Louise lets it slide that you answered his question with another question "I've not seen your companions so they'll still be in the..." a squealing noise can be heard as the old iron gate to the crypts is pushed open interrupting the monk who pauses and looks towards the noise, a moment later Valgard and Reginald step into view - they are somewhat bedraggled, still damp from their adventures. “… ah, here they are.” He turns back to Slythe “As I said I’d be honoured if you’d all dine with me, you’ve time to clean up before dinner is served, its simple fair but wholesome and filling.”

Serestre liked the idea. It sure beat what they had already gone through.

"Sounds good to me! While I am tired, I think I am more famished. I shall join you for dinner."

Daemaer turns at the sound of the gate opening.

"Gentle-Dwarves! What great timing! Let us convene in the dinning room, and catch up over some hearty food."

He turns and keeps walking towards the dinning hall.

Slythe thought he was politely refusing the invitation, but it didnt translate that politely.

"I am not like you warm blood. I only need to eat onccccce a week. Not for a few dayssss."

He looks at the dwarves, who were worn down much more than he would have expected. "What happened to you dwarvessss?"

Daemaer overheard Slythe and called back.

"NO! Talk later! Eat now!!"

Reginald looked at the elf and for a brief moment thought about hitting him in the jaw at the outburst.

He looked to Val and then back at the group. “I suppose dinner before we caught up would be fine.”

With a grunt he moved off to somewhere where he could get cleaned up.

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Valgard returns Reginalds look and mouths silently “Gentle Dwarves?” at his brother. Shrugging, his belly grumbling loudly “Aye I could do with some food, wrestling a giant snake works up an appetite, eh brother.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jean-Louis nods at Slythe “Snakes have the same appetite, most interesting indeed. Even if you’re not hungry would you join us at our table? I mentioned earlier that I’d like to speak to you, its seems like an ideal time.”

Slythe nods approval. It wasn't like he had any other pressing matters to attend to.

"I will join you." He replies mechanically.

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Reginald shook his head as if he had no idea what the Elf was going on about. It was very unlike him. Of the two of them, he was much, much more civilized than his brother - at least in affairs of diplomacy and conversation. Something about the fight with the snake... and that wicked box... something about it had him not acting his normal diplomatic self.

It had been a while since he had seen any action, sure, but he made a mental note to be less crabby. Clearly the others had been through something similarly awful recently.

He approached Daemaer. "What did you three get up to while we were away?"

Serestre looks over to Reginald with wide eyes and a bit of an exasperated look on her face.

"Rats...we had to deal with so many rats...even one who could call on the magical forces...just like our dear Elf can. We barely made it out alive...but I doubt they will simply give up...I would assume they are coming for us...what with the numbers we saw."

She shivers a bit at the thought of it all.

"However, I'd rather not have to go through something like that again. How did you two fare?"

"We fell down into quite a large pit and had to dissuade an equally large snake from making us its lunch. We'll need to make another trip back after dinner - business left unattended."

He considered the report of their battle. "I should suppose that you left many of them bleeding and dying in your wake." He smiled at Serestre and resisted the urge to reach up and rustle her hair. Something about her put off a vibe of one needing such a move, but it wasn't his place. "No doubt they got one look at you and ran for the hills. Er, not because you're an ugly lass. Er, no, I mean not to say that you are ugly. You're not. But on account of your fierce fighting ability. Eh?"

His eyes widened at his drastic foot-in-mouth.

What in the Gods was that, Reginald?

Valgard planted his axe in the ground, he was about to open his mouth but his brother beat him to it. As he listened to his brother quickly stumble over his own words, Val laughed heartily. "Hahaha! Don' be 'urt by it all lass, this bastard's tongue loses i's silver when he likes a lady." He says, wrapping an arm around his brother and patting his chest.

"He dinnae lie tho', big tunnel snake trieda ea' me an 'im fer lunch. Boarded up 'is li'l hole pretty good tho', should prolly 'ead back after grub an' double check. But first, 'am starvin'" He says, grabbing his axe by the haft and pulling Reggie along with him to the dining hall.

As they walk, Valgard whispers to his brother "Ya, she's cute, but ya can' be takin' on a woman on tha road. 'specially na' one from a fightin' bunch. Best lay those feelin's ta rest. Trust me."

Reginald flushed at his brother's assumption. "Bah! You don't know what you're on about, Valgard. I was just making conversation; it is what civilized folks do, after all." He was sure to over enunciate and articulate his last sentence in common tongue.

As if on cue, his stomach chose that very moment to rumble as loud as thunder. He patted his armored belly.

"Well, at least partially civilized."

Serestre listened intently to their story, trying her best to remember every detail of it so she could write it down in her memoirs for later.

As he stumbles over the final words, her cheeks begin to heat up, her face gets warm, and she can't help but look away from his face.

She had never felt this before, having been holed up for much of her life as practically a nun. It was odd and new and she wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

She shakes her head and giggles for a brief moment.

"I am...glad you think of me as such Reginald. I surely do not hope they ran off due to my features. But surely, it wasn't my fighting ability. Part of me wishes I could fight as you all do. The other part knows this is wrong...."

She quiets down for a second, seemingly at odds with herself.

"But...I will always do all I can to aid you all. I will help protect you from the evils of this world."

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Daemaer had waited for the others to catch up before waiting for Serestre to finish.

"It is as she says. We tracked them to a cave. Dealt with a couple of rats at the cave, before beating a hasty retreat after a lot more turned up. When it turned out running was going to work we fought. The damned rats had a seer and as she said we almost didnt make it. Eventually they broke."

He winces, and keeps talking.

"I apologize for my words. Casting and healing takes a lot out of me. Healing myself doubly so. I really need some food and drink in case the rats try something tonight."

He looks at Serestre.

"Do not short change your abilities Serestre. Your magic was very useful and helped us more than once during that fight."

Those around hear an audible groan from Daemaer's stomach.

"AHHHH. So hungry! Let us eat!"

With you washed after your trials you are shown through to a spartan hall which has a long table running its length. It looks as though there would be enough seating so all the monks of La Masiontaal could dine at once, however this evening less than half the wooden chairs are occupied. As you enter Jean-Louis stands from his seat at the head of the occupied half of the table “Ah, our honoured guests, please be seated.” he tells you as he gestures towards some vacant chairs either side of him (2 on one side, 3 on the other).

With you seated food is brought to the table; chicken and veg soup and a hard bread is served by junior monks – it is simple but tasty - there is an option of water or ale to quench your thirst. Along side Jean-Louis you are also sat with a large barrel of a monk who goes by the name of Sam, you saw him break out the weapons to arm the monks earlier in the day. Opposite Sam is old Padre Pierre an ancient man with rheumy eyes and very little hair – what does remain is grey and wispy. The padre narrows his eyes as you are introduced to him, he squints in an attempt to bring you into focus.  

“What more young’uns.” The Padre snaps “No doubt you’ll be taking part of the ale eh? The youth of today have no discipline; strong drink, games of chance and such like lead to Demon-worship.” He shrills before calming slightly “Taals worship is not as strong as it used to be” he goes on in a sad voice before it picks up again “ere’ do you worship Taal?” he pointedly asks of you all.

Any glances to Jean-Louis will show he bears as expression of pained patience, as he smiles slight in apology to you at the Padres out-burst. The other monks probably used to the Padre ignore him and begin to eat.

Slythe watches silently and with disdain as those gathered consume more food and ale. He himself has simple water and nothing else.

"Isssss it not tiring the need to conssssume nutrientssss so often?" he asks his companions.

When the padre asks about worship, he responds "The old onesssss are the only godsss who ever exsssisted, or ever will. Any thing elsssse is blassssphemy. Ssssotek, Tlanxxxxa, Quetli, Xxxxhotl, and Tzzzcatli are the only onssse who'sssss namessss were found on our ssssacred plaquesssss."

Serestre had chosen not to partake in the ale, despite a nagging urge that maybe she needed one. Especially after the day they had all had. She sighs and listens to the Padre. The same old guard spouting the same old stuff. The gods worked together, creating balance. They were necessary. These thoughts she had kept to herself at the convent, but she believed them all the same. Her guardian Shallya was still her patron and still she contributed the majority of her prayers to her, but the other gods had importance as well.

She had decided. Maybe it was time to let her opinion known.

"Aren't all the gods necessary, Padre? Balance is the key, for without it, corruption leaks forth? Blessed Shallya is my patron, but I feel that all gods have their own meaning and place..."

Daemaer digs into the food.

"Ale of course! Ohhh this is good!"

He listens as the old padre talks.

"My good Padre, i will worship whoever you wish if you keep this food and ale coming!"

He takes another slurp of soup, and swig of ale.

Reginald took water over ale. It may have surprised some, but he expected combat in the night and needed his wits about him. While the thought of water reminded him of the last pool he had been in, he did his best to stay hydrated.

"Eating and drinking may look tiresome to one who has to do it so little, Slythe. I assure you, it has its benefits."

He eagerly dipped his bread into his chicken soup and ate big mouthfuls. He hadn't realized how famished he was before, but now it hit him like a sack of stones.

"Sam, was it? How are your weapons holding up? Had a little dust on them, I would imagine."

The Padre takes a large spoonful of soup slurping it loudly lumps and all, he then spits it out splattering Daemaer who is sat opposite a look of apoplexy on the old mans face at Slythes words.

"Eh! What! Xxxatl, Zzzebub" he snaps loudly at Slythe. He squints at the Lizard trying to get him into focus "You look ill, green about the face. Some kind of delirium got the hold of your mind spouting rubbish like that."

He settles back into his seat taking more soup, he doesn't glance up at Serestre as he examines his spoon. "Sensible words young priestess, but are all gods necessary." he replies calmly "What about Khaine god of murder and other names I shall not mention?"

He then glances up at Daemaer "Can't you old your ale?" he waves his spoon in the direction of the high elf "you've soup all over your robes."

The other monks around the table go about their meal ignoring the Padres outburst.

Sam finishes his mouthful before replying to Reginald, wiping a stray bit of the Padres soup from his chin. He nods "A bit of a mix bag, a few of the crossbows are useless unless they can be repaired" he raise a speculative eye brow at the dwarf but continues on "but most of our weapons Taal provides, staves and clubs they're all good. I'm sure a few of the villagers swords could do with a sharpen though."

He hisses back at the aged padre'
"Im a ssssscion of the godsssss you withered warm-blood! A ssssaurus who sssssufferessss from age like you would have been killed sssso not to wasssste the burden. What good do you ssssupply at the keep? "

And now the warm bloods took care of the all the elderly? only skinks and the kroak lords were akin to receive that specialty.
It was outrageous and puzzling at the same time.

Daemaer laughs.

"I like this Padre! Ha! "

He listens for a moment.

"I can offer little in the way of martial assistance, but i definitely have a score to settle with that damn Seer. Speaking of magic, does anybody need healing. We should get that sorted as soon as possible so we can be ready if anything happens tonight. And i am feeling much better now that i have some good hearty food and drink in my belly!"

He emphasizes this point by letting out a belch.

He looks around the table, seemingly very impressed with himself, before clearing his throat and closing his eyes for a moment.

You see faint traces of silvery light start to flow around him before he burps again and they disappear in a flash (96 vs 82)

"Oh dear....lets try that again haha!"

Again he closes his eyes and this time and silvery light flows around him, wounds fading and healing. (12 vs 82)

"Much better!"

He reaches for another hunk of bread.

Slythe snorts in reply, "If you know how to heal my kind, warm blood."

He didnt doubt Daemer's ability, Skink priests could heal a warm blood if they so wished, why couldnt they? Magic was magic after all.

Serestre found herself a bit at a loss for words, but did her best to speak freely with the padre after swallowing some of her water.

"Well...however much I dislike it...I do believe they all have a place. We aren't supposed to always know the plans of the gods...nor their feelings...but we have to merely trust that all is in place...even if...to us it may seem out of it."