[Kaschan]

Poor Thyr.

[Kaschan]

Path-Shaper, on 06 July 2012 - 02:35 AM, said:

Kaschan, on 06 July 2012 - 02:15 AM, said:

Fuck, 'he messed something up

Pfft, ye of little faith. I had just forgotten to take Thyrllan out of the list

Just quoting what you yourself said

[Thyrllan]

Kaschan, on 06 July 2012 - 02:39 AM, said:

Poor Thyr.

nah, it's cool, I kinda like being a Lich.

[Thyrllan]

k, I can't stare at the screen any longer. I'm off for a bit.

[Kaschan]

You know, I was thinking, we could always try signaling the players by spelling something. I mean, we have the following first letters of each name available to us:

ABDELORST

[Kaschan]

Buuuh Bye....

[Kaschan]

Sekarand's Tower was not even two decades old, but it was widely know to be the most haunted structure in all of Theft. The liches howled wildly every night and could be seen wandering in the tower and the grounds. By the time Sergeant Guld retired from the city watch and had the liches cease their howling, every home and store for ten blocks around the Tower had been abandoned. Rumours that the liches had stopped screaming eventually spread, but the citizens of Moll were too interested in their continued survival to move back into the Tower's neighbourhood. The same quality cannot be applied to the many adventurers, treasure hunters, scholars and other riff raff who came from across Theft and beyond to delve what the High Sorceror had left behind...

Having not been a particularly good sorceror, Sekarand's mysteries were largely disappointing to scholars, fortune seekers and practitioners alike. One by one the travellers departed to seek their fame elsewhere. Only about a dozen were left when the secret barrow was found beneath the tower's lowest sub-basement. Oddly, there was no trap door or other entrance into the barrow, just a crack in the floor that gave away its existence. How then did Sekarand get into it? Leaving that question for later, the remaining adventurers dug their way into the barrow, each expecting to find buried beneath the tower the gold, ancient scrolls, magical artefacts or other treasure they sought. Jumping down through the crack brought the adventurers into what seemed to be an empty storage closet. Torches were lit, warrens were probed and the adventurers set off through the open closet doorway. Beyond, a short hallway soon became a labyrinth of rooms, stairs and passageways, all pitch black and deserted.

Onwards and downwards they went, each Adventurer sure that someone else would remember the way out, until the last torch died and still no treasure had been found. Surrounded now in darkness, they could see light streaming around a corner ahead. Running towards the light in a panicked mob, they rushed into a domed chamber, lit with blue and red light, every wall covered in arcane glyphs. In the chamber's center was a raised shallow basin, or perhaps an altar of sorts. Sitting in the basin, its contours matching the bowl's curvature, sat a crystalline sphere made of red and dark blue translucent crystal. A close inspection of the sphere revealed it to be hollow and filled with a pulsing purple mist which floated and flowed randomly. It was this orb which lit the room, casting the walls in slashes of red and blue which deepened and flared randomly.

The adventurers stared transfixed at the sphere for several minutes, until a grizzled old treasure hunter cleared his throat and said "That's a shiny rock, how much ya think we can sell it for?"

The adventurers had been reluctant at first to get too close to the crystalline ball, but it had not reacted when the young boy from the group ran up and placed his bare hand upon it. After that they had all stepped forward to touch it and agreed they would share its sale, but even with a pair of muscled treasure hunters, a Jheck warrior and a fully-grown Fenn they couldn't move the sphere so much as an inch. For half a bell they tried every trick to dislodge it and then another half a bell trying to break the altar under it, but not a scrap of progress was made. Those who had struggled with the orb sat panting in the center of the room while the rest of the crowd mingled around the domed chamber chatting and examining the wall panels.

Among the adventurers was a man of very dark skin, wrapped in a black cloak, who wore black gloves and black boots. His hair was - you guessed it - black. No one had yet spoken more than a few words to him, since he sneered at anyone who approached. Now his eyes fixated on a young Theftian girl in tattered clothes who was chatting away near the orb. He stepped forward, threw back his cloak (revaling a black shirt and black pants) and shouted a short stream of words too fast to understand. The girl understood enough to take it as a flirtation and immediately rejected the man. Confused, the man babbled incoherently for a few moments before pulling out two long knives from his belt sheaths and lunging forward. The girl was surprised and didn't react for several heartbeats. A master assassin would have used those moments to plant the knives, re-sheath them and disappear before any reaction was possible.

This man was not a master assassin.

He awkwardly swung himself forward so slowly that the girl nearly had enough time to throw herself to the side and out of the killer's reach. The assailant pushed himself far enough forward that his leading knife sliced through the girl's's stomach and then lost his balance and stumbled forward while the girl fell to the ground clutching her gaping chest wound. Arms and knives flailing helplessly, legs tangled in his victim's, the killer stumbled forward for a few frantic steps until he crashed into the crystal sphere. As his body was suddenly halted his arms flew forward, one gripped long-knife swinging around to slice a deep gash across the side of his own neck, the other long-knife jamming itself to the hilt in the pulsing ball of rock.

Fener is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka.
Eloth is dead. She was Amee Najayin.

The onlookers had the time between one heartbeat and the next to stare at the scene in complete silence and then the sphere exploded outward. Shrapnel flew, knocking to the ground those too slow to have ducked. Through the flying shrapnel and through closed eyelids, and even through hands covering faces, the adventurers saw three bright flashes of light - one blue, one red and the last a deep, sickly purple. After the final flare of colour faded away, the adventurers lay wounded and moaning in complete and utter darkness...


Everyone lays on the ground, hands covering their faces, as shards of glass and stone ricochet overhead in a deadly hail. Most are silent, but one member of the group shrieks loudly and audibly.

"GHOST! GHOST! THERE'S A SHADE ATTACKING ME!"

Some concerned adventurers peek around between their fingers, but they don't see any ghosts. Well, that shrieking woman seemed pretty weird anyways - darker skinned than seems possible and dressed in desert robes despite the cold winds that come to Moll from the Stormrider straits? Yup, definitely just a crazy, they thought and went back to huddling in the fetal position.

Darkness all around, and the echos of hammering stones slowly fell to silence. Moans of pain, the rustling of crawling bodies, a woman screaming and cursing like a sailor, then falling silent, and then finally an orange globe of light appeared in the center of the room, illuminating the adventurers. "Not anotha' one!" cried the little boy. "Relax," spoke a man in white robes, "this is just a light source. Is everyone okay?"

Near the empty altar, a large man sporting numerous scars climbed to his feet and kicked at the corpse of the dead assassin. "This guy sure ain't okay. And that sliced up teen lass looks pretty dead, too."

"There's a young woman over here who's cut up to shreds," called an old woman.

The white-robed man went over to examine the injured woman, who's streaked hair was now soaked in blood, and soon pronounced her dead.

Kalse is dead. She was Luvaya Fiodethel

"So what now?" asked one man.

"What do you mean 'what now'? By Dryjhna's dead teats, we get out of here!" This from a sandy-haired woman who had wrapped herself around a hairy barbarian in fear, though her eyes did not seem as shocked as her gesture indicated.

"We are all too exhausted to make the journey back," responded the scarred man. "If we try now, we'll get lost and collapse in some random chamber and spend the rest of our lives wandering around here. Let's find a room and get some rest, first."

Wearily, everyone agreed, so they shuffled off to the nearby side chambers and each collapsed into fitful slumber.

After leaving the altar room, they had shuffled off alone or in small groups to nearby small rooms. Exhaustion defeated fright, so one and all they each fell asleep.

No rays of sunlight reached the tunnels, so they did not all awaken together. A lanky, purple-haired woman thought she was the first to awaken as she padded through the halls, but then saw torchlight flickering from the altar room. Within she found the scholar, his face pressed so close to the glyphs on the walls that he was blocking the light of the torch he held. She tapped a hand against the wall to alert him and he glanced over. Ritual morning greetings were exchanged, then he turned back to the wall.

"You can read these?" asked the woman. Without looking back, the scholar replied "Vaguely. These glyphs are vaguely similar to the script used in Jaghut writings. Not enough to decipher their meaning by that alone, but considering the difference between most Jaghut writings and the known excerpts of Gothos' Folly, it looks to me like these glyphs are an even older Jaghut writing system. So, by extending the differences between Jaghut script and its Folly incarnation even further, I can guess at some of the meaning here."

"What does it say?" the woman interjected, cutting to the point lest the scholar continue blabbering all morning.

A flash of irritation on the man's face, then he continued, pointing to various glyphs. "The overlined symbols are phonetics, for proper terms. This recurring group should sound something like 'ba-ha-mud'. Then these proper nouns here would sound like 'se-kel-in', here 'feen-nis' and here 'boll-ad'."

"Yes, yes, but what does it actually say?!"

"It's a warning."

"A what? A warning? About what?"

"About this 'bahamud'. It says 'bahamud' went out of control and destroyed - or maybe corrupted? - the 'se-kel-in' and 'boll-ad' sent to - or maybe sent after? - it. That it couldn't be... held? contained? by a 'feen-nis'. This part here is easily translated: It says, simply, that releasing 'bahamud' will bring a fate worse than death. It says it over and over and over again."

"I didn't think Sekarand was into dire pronouncements..."

"In ancient Jaghut glyphs? No, I don't think Sekarand had anything to do with this. He probably never even knew these halls existed."

Several pairs of footsteps echoed from the hallway, then a few other adventurers stumbled sleepily into the room.

"Good morning everyone. The scholar here sure has some great news for us all..."


After assembling in the altar room, the adventurers set out to find their way back to the surface. They wandered, argued and gossiped all day, with rumours circulating through the group of a terrible creature stalking them amongst the ruins. Each time they reached the altar room, someone new would take charge of navigating, and each leader's fool-proof method lead them right back to the altar room.

The last person to try leading the group had the mages summon a illusory map, suspended at waist level, which would turn to orient itself in the direction they traveled and grow as they traveled. They found their way back to the altar room several times, but each time it was by a new route and soon they had mapped a large portion of the area around the altar chamber.

Spotting a hall branching out of a less familiar area, the adventurers rushed towards it and there finally found the staircase leading up, and eventually out. Everything looked as it had been the day before, except now a seris of amber beams barred the way, from the steps to the ceiling. The bars shone with the glow of magic, illuminating on the walls glyphs that the adventurers had missed the first time through.

The mages warily approached the shining bars while the group's scholar began working out the glyphs. "I do not sense much power coming from these bars," said one of the mages. "If it is Jaghut work, we may be unable to." replied another. "Despite the many artifical glaciers and ice fields across the world, Omtose Phellack can be subtle when the wielder wants it to be."

Some of the other adventurers had gathered around closely and overheard the mages. "So how do we know if they're dangerous or not?" asked the scholar, who had stepped up beside the mages. Behind him, the giant Fenn woman grinned, shouted something incoherently and kicked the man headfirst into the bars. Every piece of the man which touched the magic barriers disintegrated instantly, leaving nothing behind. The Fenn women had begun to laugh, but also had lost balance from her own kick. She tried to reach out to grab the shoulders of someone to steady herself, but reached at her own shoulder height rather than down. She slipped, tripped and fell, her own head tumbling straight into the magic bars and disintegrating, as well.

Kaschan is dead. He was Iddil Miratus.
Serc the Bahamudite is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka, the Eager Ninja.

After assembling in the altar room, the adventurers set out to find their way back to the surface. They wandered, argued and gossiped all day, with rumours circulating through the group of a terrible creature stalking them amongst the ruins. Each time they reached the altar room, someone new would take charge of navigating, and each leader's fool-proof method lead them right back to the altar room.

The last person to try leading the group had the mages summon a illusory map, suspended at waist level, which would turn to orient itself in the direction they traveled and grow as they traveled. They found their way back to the altar room several times, but each time it was by a new route and soon they had mapped a large portion of the area around the altar chamber.

Spotting a hall branching out of a less familiar area, the adventurers rushed towards it and there finally found the staircase leading up, and eventually out. Everything looked as it had been the day before, except now a seris of amber beams barred the way, from the steps to the ceiling. The bars shone with the glow of magic, illuminating on the walls glyphs that the adventurers had missed the first time through.

The mages warily approached the shining bars while the group's scholar began working out the glyphs. "I do not sense much power coming from these bars," said one of the mages. "If it is Jaghut work, we may be unable to." replied another. "Despite the many artifical glaciers and ice fields across the world, Omtose Phellack can be subtle when the wielder wants it to be."

Some of the other adventurers had gathered around closely and overheard the mages. "So how do we know if they're dangerous or not?" asked the scholar, who had stepped up beside the mages. Behind him, the giant Fenn woman grinned, shouted something incoherently and kicked the man headfirst into the bars. Every piece of the man which touched the magic barriers disintegrated instantly, leaving nothing behind. The Fenn women had begun to laugh, but also had lost balance from her own kick. She tried to reach out to grab the shoulders of someone to steady herself, but reached at her own shoulder height rather than down. She slipped, tripped and fell, her own head tumbling straight into the magic bars and disintegrating, as well.

Kaschan is dead. He was Iddil Miratus.
Serc the Bahamudite is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka, the Eager Ninja.

Shaken by the Fenn woman's actions, the adventurers backed away from the magic beams. Some turned to face the glyphs on the wall opposite. "Scholar's dead" muttered the old hag. "Can anyone else read Jaghut?" asked the attractive almost-blonde woman, looking around for a response. No one replied. The hairy barbarian wasn't even listening, and was in fact staring openly at her curves.

A hand lashed out and struck the barbarian open-handed, sending him flying thirty paces down the hallway. A tall, sinuous woman stepped forward, cracking her elongated fingers. "I hate to admit it, but I can decipher a small bit of meaning from these symbols. In short, it seems to be a warning that we will not be allowed to leave until the monster Bahamut is no longer among us.

A pasty white man stepped up onto the stairs. "What are you doing?!" cried the robed mage. The rock-like, muscled figure replied "That Fenn was clearly tainted by the Apostl'ey. I do not know else who among you may be similarly tainted, but I am not. I have just come back to life, I will not squander it in these catacombs!" With that he turned to run up the stairs, but when he reached the magical bars they turned a fiery red. The bars surged as waves of power traveled up them to hammer into the ceiling. The roof cracked and then collapsed, flattening the chalky man and showering the rest of the group - who ran away screaming - in debris. The dust doused torches and the panicked flight scattered the adventurers, beginning a terrifying night of wandering alone and lost in the dark.


Thyrllan is dead. He was the Exalted Ectoplasmic Etyno.

It is now night two (starting officially 12:30 GMT to make the numbers nicer).


Some ran headlong into walls. Some crawled along the corner of the halls. Some curled up and shivered uncontrollably.

One and all, the adventurers passed a night of terror. For some it was the frantic terror of flight, for others the despairing kind as the realization that there was no way out sank in. There are, indeed, many kinds of terror.

As the faintest hints of light arose in the ruins, signaling morning above, the adventurers were each struck by a single, uniting kind of terror. An icy claw gripped their spines as a single piercing scream of pain, of horror, of abject violating wrongness wailed throughout the ruins. A single scream, and nothing more.


Some adventurers found each other in the dark and have regathered in the main chamber, where a heated argument is occurring.

"If there's some terrible creature down here, we need to find another way out of here as fast as possible!"

"No! We must not unleash this force upon the city above!"

"I don't care about the city above, but what if we're all now cursed by the fancy clouds, and the only way to beat the curse is to kill them, and if we don't kill the clouds then they'll follow us, and in ten years the clouds will suddenly turn into swarms of capemoths that rip off all our toenails and slash our necks with them! We gotta kill the clouds now before they can get away!"

Everyone stared at this last speaker in confused silence, which was broken by a shout from across the room. The adventurers all turned to see the man in white robes, who was usually so calm, turning all about and flailing his arms about. He regained his focus and the other adventurers shrank back as he flung waves of glowing energy towards the corner and ceiling.

"Togg's teats! What are you doing?" The man turned to the companion who spoke, his dark luminous eyes wide in fear.

"Didn't you see it?! There was a terrible ghost!"

More confused silence, but there wasn't a ghost in sight, so they all turned back to arguing.

"You can't stab a cloud fools! We need to go on a quest to find the noble pink, green and yellow clouds which will destroy these
ones for us!"

And so on...


Current Cast of Characters:

• Scholar, Iddil Miratus aka Kaschan [DEAD]
• Ectoplasmic Lich, Etyno aka Thyr [DEAD]
• The Not-So-Master Male Assassin, Mekin Zikulka aka Fener [DEAD]
• Fenn Female, ____ aka Serc [DEAD]
• Streaky haired Mage of Life and Death, Luvaya Fiodethel aka Kalse [DEAD]
• Dark Skinned woman in desert robes, ____ aka Tellan
• Poor Theftian Girl, Amee Najayin aka Eloth [DEAD]
• Mage in White Robes (source of orange light? coroner finder since he proclaimed Kalse dead?), ____ aka Sheltatha Lore

• Grizzled Old Treasure Hunter
• Little Boy
• Jheck Warrior
• Old hag
• Scarred man
• Sandy-haired woman (wrapped around the barbarian)
• Hairy Barbarian
• Lanky, Purple-haired Woman
• Blond-curvaceous lady
• Tall sinuous super-human woman with killer slap

[Kalse]

Thyrllan is no longer on my list of dead people. He must be Emurlahn and he has all knowledge that we do.

[Thyrllan]

yeah, typo, that. PS also said I was alive in game thread for a while.

I scared Shelly, who is man in white.

[Thyrllan]

Kaschan, on 06 July 2012 - 03:17 AM, said:

Sekarand's Tower was not even two decades old, but it was widely know to be the most haunted structure in all of Theft. The liches howled wildly every night and could be seen wandering in the tower and the grounds. By the time Sergeant Guld retired from the city watch and had the liches cease their howling, every home and store for ten blocks around the Tower had been abandoned. Rumours that the liches had stopped screaming eventually spread, but the citizens of Moll were too interested in their continued survival to move back into the Tower's neighbourhood. The same quality cannot be applied to the many adventurers, treasure hunters, scholars and other riff raff who came from across Theft and beyond to delve what the High Sorceror had left behind...

Having not been a particularly good sorceror, Sekarand's mysteries were largely disappointing to scholars, fortune seekers and practitioners alike. One by one the travellers departed to seek their fame elsewhere. Only about a dozen were left when the secret barrow was found beneath the tower's lowest sub-basement. Oddly, there was no trap door or other entrance into the barrow, just a crack in the floor that gave away its existence. How then did Sekarand get into it? Leaving that question for later, the remaining adventurers dug their way into the barrow, each expecting to find buried beneath the tower the gold, ancient scrolls, magical artefacts or other treasure they sought. Jumping down through the crack brought the adventurers into what seemed to be an empty storage closet. Torches were lit, warrens were probed and the adventurers set off through the open closet doorway. Beyond, a short hallway soon became a labyrinth of rooms, stairs and passageways, all pitch black and deserted.

Onwards and downwards they went, each Adventurer sure that someone else would remember the way out, until the last torch died and still no treasure had been found. Surrounded now in darkness, they could see light streaming around a corner ahead. Running towards the light in a panicked mob, they rushed into a domed chamber, lit with blue and red light, every wall covered in arcane glyphs. In the chamber's center was a raised shallow basin, or perhaps an altar of sorts. Sitting in the basin, its contours matching the bowl's curvature, sat a crystalline sphere made of red and dark blue translucent crystal. A close inspection of the sphere revealed it to be hollow and filled with a pulsing purple mist which floated and flowed randomly. It was this orb which lit the room, casting the walls in slashes of red and blue which deepened and flared randomly.

The adventurers stared transfixed at the sphere for several minutes, until a grizzled old treasure hunter cleared his throat and said "That's a shiny rock, how much ya think we can sell it for?"

The adventurers had been reluctant at first to get too close to the crystalline ball, but it had not reacted when the young boy from the group ran up and placed his bare hand upon it. After that they had all stepped forward to touch it and agreed they would share its sale, but even with a pair of muscled treasure hunters, a Jheck warrior and a fully-grown Fenn they couldn't move the sphere so much as an inch. For half a bell they tried every trick to dislodge it and then another half a bell trying to break the altar under it, but not a scrap of progress was made. Those who had struggled with the orb sat panting in the center of the room while the rest of the crowd mingled around the domed chamber chatting and examining the wall panels.

Among the adventurers was a man of very dark skin, wrapped in a black cloak, who wore black gloves and black boots. His hair was - you guessed it - black. No one had yet spoken more than a few words to him, since he sneered at anyone who approached. Now his eyes fixated on a young Theftian girl in tattered clothes who was chatting away near the orb. He stepped forward, threw back his cloak (revaling a black shirt and black pants) and shouted a short stream of words too fast to understand. The girl understood enough to take it as a flirtation and immediately rejected the man. Confused, the man babbled incoherently for a few moments before pulling out two long knives from his belt sheaths and lunging forward. The girl was surprised and didn't react for several heartbeats. A master assassin would have used those moments to plant the knives, re-sheath them and disappear before any reaction was possible.

This man was not a master assassin.

He awkwardly swung himself forward so slowly that the girl nearly had enough time to throw herself to the side and out of the killer's reach. The assailant pushed himself far enough forward that his leading knife sliced through the girl's's stomach and then lost his balance and stumbled forward while the girl fell to the ground clutching her gaping chest wound. Arms and knives flailing helplessly, legs tangled in his victim's, the killer stumbled forward for a few frantic steps until he crashed into the crystal sphere. As his body was suddenly halted his arms flew forward, one gripped long-knife swinging around to slice a deep gash across the side of his own neck, the other long-knife jamming itself to the hilt in the pulsing ball of rock.

Fener is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka.
Eloth is dead. She was Amee Najayin.

The onlookers had the time between one heartbeat and the next to stare at the scene in complete silence and then the sphere exploded outward. Shrapnel flew, knocking to the ground those too slow to have ducked. Through the flying shrapnel and through closed eyelids, and even through hands covering faces, the adventurers saw three bright flashes of light - one blue, one red and the last a deep, sickly purple. After the final flare of colour faded away, the adventurers lay wounded and moaning in complete and utter darkness...


Everyone lays on the ground, hands covering their faces, as shards of glass and stone ricochet overhead in a deadly hail. Most are silent, but one member of the group shrieks loudly and audibly.

"GHOST! GHOST! THERE'S A SHADE ATTACKING ME!"

Some concerned adventurers peek around between their fingers, but they don't see any ghosts. Well, that shrieking woman seemed pretty weird anyways - darker skinned than seems possible and dressed in desert robes despite the cold winds that come to Moll from the Stormrider straits? Yup, definitely just a crazy, they thought and went back to huddling in the fetal position.

Darkness all around, and the echos of hammering stones slowly fell to silence. Moans of pain, the rustling of crawling bodies, a woman screaming and cursing like a sailor, then falling silent, and then finally an orange globe of light appeared in the center of the room, illuminating the adventurers. "Not anotha' one!" cried the little boy. "Relax," spoke a man in white robes, "this is just a light source. Is everyone okay?"

Near the empty altar, a large man sporting numerous scars climbed to his feet and kicked at the corpse of the dead assassin. "This guy sure ain't okay. And that sliced up teen lass looks pretty dead, too."

"There's a young woman over here who's cut up to shreds," called an old woman.

The white-robed man went over to examine the injured woman, who's streaked hair was now soaked in blood, and soon pronounced her dead.

Kalse is dead. She was Luvaya Fiodethel

"So what now?" asked one man.

"What do you mean 'what now'? By Dryjhna's dead teats, we get out of here!" This from a sandy-haired woman who had wrapped herself around a hairy barbarian in fear, though her eyes did not seem as shocked as her gesture indicated.

"We are all too exhausted to make the journey back," responded the scarred man. "If we try now, we'll get lost and collapse in some random chamber and spend the rest of our lives wandering around here. Let's find a room and get some rest, first."

Wearily, everyone agreed, so they shuffled off to the nearby side chambers and each collapsed into fitful slumber.

After leaving the altar room, they had shuffled off alone or in small groups to nearby small rooms. Exhaustion defeated fright, so one and all they each fell asleep.

No rays of sunlight reached the tunnels, so they did not all awaken together. A lanky, purple-haired woman thought she was the first to awaken as she padded through the halls, but then saw torchlight flickering from the altar room. Within she found the scholar, his face pressed so close to the glyphs on the walls that he was blocking the light of the torch he held. She tapped a hand against the wall to alert him and he glanced over. Ritual morning greetings were exchanged, then he turned back to the wall.

"You can read these?" asked the woman. Without looking back, the scholar replied "Vaguely. These glyphs are vaguely similar to the script used in Jaghut writings. Not enough to decipher their meaning by that alone, but considering the difference between most Jaghut writings and the known excerpts of Gothos' Folly, it looks to me like these glyphs are an even older Jaghut writing system. So, by extending the differences between Jaghut script and its Folly incarnation even further, I can guess at some of the meaning here."

"What does it say?" the woman interjected, cutting to the point lest the scholar continue blabbering all morning.

A flash of irritation on the man's face, then he continued, pointing to various glyphs. "The overlined symbols are phonetics, for proper terms. This recurring group should sound something like 'ba-ha-mud'. Then these proper nouns here would sound like 'se-kel-in', here 'feen-nis' and here 'boll-ad'."

"Yes, yes, but what does it actually say?!"

"It's a warning."

"A what? A warning? About what?"

"About this 'bahamud'. It says 'bahamud' went out of control and destroyed - or maybe corrupted? - the 'se-kel-in' and 'boll-ad' sent to - or maybe sent after? - it. That it couldn't be... held? contained? by a 'feen-nis'. This part here is easily translated: It says, simply, that releasing 'bahamud' will bring a fate worse than death. It says it over and over and over again."

"I didn't think Sekarand was into dire pronouncements..."

"In ancient Jaghut glyphs? No, I don't think Sekarand had anything to do with this. He probably never even knew these halls existed."

Several pairs of footsteps echoed from the hallway, then a few other adventurers stumbled sleepily into the room.

"Good morning everyone. The scholar here sure has some great news for us all..."


After assembling in the altar room, the adventurers set out to find their way back to the surface. They wandered, argued and gossiped all day, with rumours circulating through the group of a terrible creature stalking them amongst the ruins. Each time they reached the altar room, someone new would take charge of navigating, and each leader's fool-proof method lead them right back to the altar room.

The last person to try leading the group had the mages summon a illusory map, suspended at waist level, which would turn to orient itself in the direction they traveled and grow as they traveled. They found their way back to the altar room several times, but each time it was by a new route and soon they had mapped a large portion of the area around the altar chamber.

Spotting a hall branching out of a less familiar area, the adventurers rushed towards it and there finally found the staircase leading up, and eventually out. Everything looked as it had been the day before, except now a seris of amber beams barred the way, from the steps to the ceiling. The bars shone with the glow of magic, illuminating on the walls glyphs that the adventurers had missed the first time through.

The mages warily approached the shining bars while the group's scholar began working out the glyphs. "I do not sense much power coming from these bars," said one of the mages. "If it is Jaghut work, we may be unable to." replied another. "Despite the many artifical glaciers and ice fields across the world, Omtose Phellack can be subtle when the wielder wants it to be."

Some of the other adventurers had gathered around closely and overheard the mages. "So how do we know if they're dangerous or not?" asked the scholar, who had stepped up beside the mages. Behind him, the giant Fenn woman grinned, shouted something incoherently and kicked the man headfirst into the bars. Every piece of the man which touched the magic barriers disintegrated instantly, leaving nothing behind. The Fenn women had begun to laugh, but also had lost balance from her own kick. She tried to reach out to grab the shoulders of someone to steady herself, but reached at her own shoulder height rather than down. She slipped, tripped and fell, her own head tumbling straight into the magic bars and disintegrating, as well.

Kaschan is dead. He was Iddil Miratus.
Serc the Bahamudite is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka, the Eager Ninja.

After assembling in the altar room, the adventurers set out to find their way back to the surface. They wandered, argued and gossiped all day, with rumours circulating through the group of a terrible creature stalking them amongst the ruins. Each time they reached the altar room, someone new would take charge of navigating, and each leader's fool-proof method lead them right back to the altar room.

The last person to try leading the group had the mages summon a illusory map, suspended at waist level, which would turn to orient itself in the direction they traveled and grow as they traveled. They found their way back to the altar room several times, but each time it was by a new route and soon they had mapped a large portion of the area around the altar chamber.

Spotting a hall branching out of a less familiar area, the adventurers rushed towards it and there finally found the staircase leading up, and eventually out. Everything looked as it had been the day before, except now a seris of amber beams barred the way, from the steps to the ceiling. The bars shone with the glow of magic, illuminating on the walls glyphs that the adventurers had missed the first time through.

The mages warily approached the shining bars while the group's scholar began working out the glyphs. "I do not sense much power coming from these bars," said one of the mages. "If it is Jaghut work, we may be unable to." replied another. "Despite the many artifical glaciers and ice fields across the world, Omtose Phellack can be subtle when the wielder wants it to be."

Some of the other adventurers had gathered around closely and overheard the mages. "So how do we know if they're dangerous or not?" asked the scholar, who had stepped up beside the mages. Behind him, the giant Fenn woman grinned, shouted something incoherently and kicked the man headfirst into the bars. Every piece of the man which touched the magic barriers disintegrated instantly, leaving nothing behind. The Fenn women had begun to laugh, but also had lost balance from her own kick. She tried to reach out to grab the shoulders of someone to steady herself, but reached at her own shoulder height rather than down. She slipped, tripped and fell, her own head tumbling straight into the magic bars and disintegrating, as well.

Kaschan is dead. He was Iddil Miratus.
Serc the Bahamudite is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka, the Eager Ninja.

Shaken by the Fenn woman's actions, the adventurers backed away from the magic beams. Some turned to face the glyphs on the wall opposite. "Scholar's dead" muttered the old hag. "Can anyone else read Jaghut?" asked the attractive almost-blonde woman, looking around for a response. No one replied. The hairy barbarian wasn't even listening, and was in fact staring openly at her curves.

A hand lashed out and struck the barbarian open-handed, sending him flying thirty paces down the hallway. A tall, sinuous woman stepped forward, cracking her elongated fingers. "I hate to admit it, but I can decipher a small bit of meaning from these symbols. In short, it seems to be a warning that we will not be allowed to leave until the monster Bahamut is no longer among us.

A pasty white man stepped up onto the stairs. "What are you doing?!" cried the robed mage. The rock-like, muscled figure replied "That Fenn was clearly tainted by the Apostl'ey. I do not know else who among you may be similarly tainted, but I am not. I have just come back to life, I will not squander it in these catacombs!" With that he turned to run up the stairs, but when he reached the magical bars they turned a fiery red. The bars surged as waves of power traveled up them to hammer into the ceiling. The roof cracked and then collapsed, flattening the chalky man and showering the rest of the group - who ran away screaming - in debris. The dust doused torches and the panicked flight scattered the adventurers, beginning a terrifying night of wandering alone and lost in the dark.


Thyrllan is dead. He was the Exalted Ectoplasmic Etyno.

It is now night two (starting officially 12:30 GMT to make the numbers nicer).


Some ran headlong into walls. Some crawled along the corner of the halls. Some curled up and shivered uncontrollably.

One and all, the adventurers passed a night of terror. For some it was the frantic terror of flight, for others the despairing kind as the realization that there was no way out sank in. There are, indeed, many kinds of terror.

As the faintest hints of light arose in the ruins, signaling morning above, the adventurers were each struck by a single, uniting kind of terror. An icy claw gripped their spines as a single piercing scream of pain, of horror, of abject violating wrongness wailed throughout the ruins. A single scream, and nothing more.


Some adventurers found each other in the dark and have regathered in the main chamber, where a heated argument is occurring.

"If there's some terrible creature down here, we need to find another way out of here as fast as possible!"

"No! We must not unleash this force upon the city above!"

"I don't care about the city above, but what if we're all now cursed by the fancy clouds, and the only way to beat the curse is to kill them, and if we don't kill the clouds then they'll follow us, and in ten years the clouds will suddenly turn into swarms of capemoths that rip off all our toenails and slash our necks with them! We gotta kill the clouds now before they can get away!"

Everyone stared at this last speaker in confused silence, which was broken by a shout from across the room. The adventurers all turned to see the man in white robes, who was usually so calm, turning all about and flailing his arms about. He regained his focus and the other adventurers shrank back as he flung waves of glowing energy towards the corner and ceiling.

"Togg's teats! What are you doing?" The man turned to the companion who spoke, his dark luminous eyes wide in fear.

"Didn't you see it?! There was a terrible ghost!"

More confused silence, but there wasn't a ghost in sight, so they all turned back to arguing.

"You can't stab a cloud fools! We need to go on a quest to find the noble pink, green and yellow clouds which will destroy these
ones for us!"

And so on...


Current Cast of Characters:

• Scholar, Iddil Miratus aka Kaschan [DEAD]
• Ectoplasmic Lich, Etyno aka Thyr [DEAD]
• The Not-So-Master Male Assassin, Mekin Zikulka aka Fener [DEAD]
• Fenn Female, ____ aka Serc [DEAD]
• Streaky haired Mage of Life and Death, Luvaya Fiodethel aka Kalse [DEAD]
• Dark Skinned woman in desert robes, ____ aka Tellan
• Poor Theftian Girl, Amee Najayin aka Eloth [DEAD]
• Mage in White Robes (source of orange light? coroner finder since he proclaimed Kalse dead?), ____ aka Sheltatha Lore

• Grizzled Old Treasure Hunter
• Little Boy
• Jheck Warrior
• Old hag
• Scarred man
• Sandy-haired woman (wrapped around the barbarian)
• Hairy Barbarian
• Lanky, Purple-haired Woman
• Blond-curvaceous lady
• Tall sinuous super-human woman with killer slap

I think blondy curvy = sand-hair.

[Thyrllan]

yawn

bedtime.

[Fener]

Serc, on 05 July 2012 - 10:33 PM, said:

Oh I see your question. I was Fener. I have to kill someone each day. But Fener didn't CF scum. It must be Serc who was originally scum. I was never informed anything about scum.

Bollocks. I was Serc and a Shy Fenn Giant. Called Elaidaruta.

[Fener]

Kalse, on 05 July 2012 - 10:41 PM, said:

Serc, on 05 July 2012 - 10:33 PM, said:

Oh I see your question. I was Fener. I have to kill someone each day. But Fener didn't CF scum. It must be Serc who was originally scum. I was never informed anything about scum.

I can see this being possible, but if it's true, then the person currently inhabiting Fener is the original Serc, who was scum. And he's been here all along, listening...

So, Fener and Serc, let's hear it out. I want some answers.

I'll answer any question. He came up Bahamudite or whatever it is. I still have my character, no guard because I'M DEAD!! I'd like to have not died and still be playing the game but i'm in the sidelines watching like you two. Anyone else that has swapped alts will know they keep their character and alignment.

[Fener]

Serc, on 05 July 2012 - 11:20 PM, said:

How about this. Distrust both me and Fener. I'll just vote with you guys. That way you don't have to worry.

sLIMY SCUM.

Serc the Bahamudite is dead. He was Mekin Zikulka, the Eager Ninja.

[Fener]

No Matter how you try and paint it you came up as scum.

[Fener]

Kaschan, on 06 July 2012 - 01:20 AM, said:

Ok, my current conclusion: Serc is scum. If he and fener claim to be each other, and corroborate each others' switch story, then that means all players in that fiasco are accounted for, and Serc is dead. My suspicion, Serc was the Night 1 recruit. But I can't confirm that atm.

Ok, now just a little more reading in the living thread, and I should be caught up and able to drill down. Gods, where's the alcohol...

That would mean that I wouldn't have known but he would have

[Fener]

Kaschan, on 06 July 2012 - 01:31 AM, said:

Haha. Sorry, perhaps you should close your computer then

So, Serc, why me? Why kill me you big Fenn bitch.

And which one of you, Fener and Serc, is Mekin Zikulka? And to the other, what is your name?

I'm the Fenn. Not Serc. I was Serc and a Fenn but then I became Fener but still me the Fenn.

[Fener]

Caught up somewhat. Very hard to read both thread's without internet at home. It gets installed tomorrow

I'm glad the people on thread are voting Rashan. He has been doing that a lot all game, and it is a way to show people your around without committing any ideas.

I'm thinking Rashan's style of play is "NEW" scum!! It is hard to play like town when you know you are not town. My guess is that they don't know what to say or contribute. He has now garnered a couple of votes and BAM he is trying to post some relevant stuff. I don't buy it.

I think Rashan might be a good place to look next.

Out of the others I'll have a quick scan and see what I think.

Should we have a pool of abilities in here? I know it has been discussed and we have the list of characters and descriptions.

So

New Fener = Guard when alive nothing when dead etc???

[Fener]

Path-Shaper, on 06 July 2012 - 02:00 AM, said:

10 Players still alive: Anomandaris, Barghast, D'riss, Emurlahn, Liosan, Osseric, Rashan, Sheltatha Lore, Telas, Tellan

8 votes to lynch.

I like Emurloth's theory about being raised from the dead and in what order. I guess we'll see tomorrow. What about his FM theory?

My top three here for cult are Rashan, Osseric and I don't know. Either Ano or Telas.

So I have a top 2.

[Fener]

Vote Rashan

Communicating with the thread.