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Thread: Worm Delve

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    Worm Delve

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    Worm Delve Main Post #1
    This is the first main post for Worm Delve. Players' posts in either thread are due by 11 pm, Tuesday, June 24th. The next main post will appear by 11 pm, Thursday, June 26th.

    Eight days after Midsummer
    The party, as a whole, starts. Something soundless, as loud as any howl, echoes through the forest in your mind. Looking around, the physical forest surrounding you seems at peace, dank and humid in the still air, even as you imagine it being inundated by the psychic gale. Pradize searches too, as unsettled as the rest of you.

    "They've done it," she says at last. "The barrier to the Montane is no more. We still have a day before we reach the Izzmarg Flow, another before we leave the forest. Let's hope whatever is coming passes us by."

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    Rogur quashes a moment of uneasy guilt. Haven't I already shed more than my share of blood for this damned place? If that witch Cresta doesn't want to stick around and do something to stop Katyrein, I can't see how it's any of our concern either. Realizing that he's using Cresta as a model for his own actions does nothing to quiet his unease, so he grits his teeth and follows resolutely after Pradize.

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    "Should we not be concerned about warning the people who are 'down river'? Were you not charged with preventing the Montane from shedding it's barrier, or was that what Katerin was supposed to be doing?"
    Ariellana, Noxias, and Yrisz that one time...
    Quote:
    "It seems to Noxias that the mere act of perceiving her in her decrepitude is enough to draw forth the mortality in his body."
    Translation: "Damn girl, you fugly."

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    Worm Delve Main Post #2

    This is the second main post for Knowledge's Cauldron. Players' posts in either thread are due by 11 pm, Saturday, June 28th. The next main post will appear by 11 am, Monday, June 30th.

    "Yes, that is what Katyrein was supposed to be doing while she was engaging in the opposite activity," replies Pradize. "As for the rest of us, it was simply common sense. If I did have any obligation to warn about the Montane, I have already done so: over the past several weeks, anyone entering the forest was attacked. Most people have no idea what the Montane is or what dangers it represents, but everyone now knows that the forest has become hazardous and menacing.

    "I don't rightly know what's coming out of the Montane, but I doubt it's something you can outrace. It may already be between you and Beilston. Cresta, Zephyr, Varis, or Sai might be able to warn them, but there's no time left for you to do so. Do you intend to try anyway? If so, let's say our goodbyes here. I don't think I will see you again, in this realm, at least."

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    Worm Delve Main Post #4

    This is the fourth main post for Knowledge's Cauldron. Players' posts in either thread are due by 11 pm, Saturday, July 5th. The next main post will appear by 11 am, Monday, July 7th.

    The rest of the day is spent moving at a hurried pace. You stop for the night well before sunset, when Yrisz timidly suggests that with two days left in the forest, a forced march will only fatigue everyone should you encounter the menace that everyone senses is closing about them. She picks at her strips of dried food and stares at the ground that evening, until finally admitting that she's reached the end of her rations.

    The night passes in tense watches. Every sound and every interval of quiet seems more suspicious than the last. Sleep comes with difficulty, and everyone draws upon their personal discipline to allow themselves to rest, save for Pradize. This is the first night she stays to accompany the party, and in the darkness, standing perfectly still holding her scythe, she melts into her black robes and seems transformed into a grim, inexorable presence. Yrisz, as she drifts off to sleep, imagines Pradize not standing guard but simply watching over her, silently counting down the minutes remaining in her life.

    When dawn comes the next day as a pale light shining through clammy, humid mist, you hurriedly gather your belongings and break camp. While you travel, the oppressive atmosphere almost becomes unbearable. Making an effort to break the spell, you begin to speak in normal tones, asking Pradize to share her tales with you. She answers readily for the most part, but even she is on edge, and occasionally snaps or lapses into a sullen quiet.

    The sound of rushing water around midday brings a sense of cautious relief. You hurry toward the noise and reach the edge of a fast, foamy river, perhaps a hundred yards from bank to bank. From that point on, you travel upstream, keeping the river on your left. By now, the fog has mostly burned off. Pradize indicates that the water is palatable, and you fill your skins again.

    A few hours later, you are attacked. First, you smell them. It's not an animal smell, but a thick, earthy, musty odor that reminds Rogur and Yrisz of the tunnels of the Woerd. It is alarmingly different enough from the regular forest odor that everyone has time to draw forth their weapons and implements

    Pradize faces away from the river, with her back toward Yrisz. For the first time since you met her, she grips her scythe like she intends to use it. Turning around, she catches Yrisz's glance.

    "Don't heal me with your prayers," she mutters. Then they are upon you. Thick-legged, stalk-trunked, club-fisted gray, crimson, and brown mockeries of the humanoid form: they look like elongated, walking toadstools. Jack-o-lantern-like faces are imprinted on the mushroom caps that pass as their heads. They shamble into view, stirring up clouds of purple spores, broken roots, and decayed leaves.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Umiushi View Post
    "Don't heal me with your prayers," she mutters. Then they are upon you. Thick-legged, stalk-trunked, club-fisted gray, crimson, and brown mockeries of the humanoid form: they look like elongated, walking toadstools. Jack-o-lantern-like faces are imprinted on the mushroom caps that pass as their heads. They shamble into view, stirring up clouds of purple spores, broken roots, and decayed leaves.
    Before Pradize even finishes, Rogur loads his sling and flings a bullet at a nearby foe. The bullet does no appreciable damage while the rest of the party reacts slowly compared to the swift movements of Rogur and Konstansz. Rogur manages to get several paces away before Konstansz is able to begin her attack. Their bodies move with a practiced rhythm without thinking as they try to flank and attack.

    Yrisz is next to grasp the situation but before she can take up an offensive posture she is slapped with a giant ruddy orb. In obvious pain, she still manages to create an Astral Flare which befuddles many of the gargantuan toadstools around her.

    Pradize spends a moment to asses the odds and decides to throw her lot in with the party rather than watch the fight unfold and return later. She casts a horrendous glance at a fungus and it shudders in terror as she swings her blade at it's comrade. Her unbalanced swing misses the mark completely; she fades from view with a last glance of warning to the cursed foe.
    Last edited by Malk0lm; 07-15-2014 at 03:43 PM.
    Ariellana, Noxias, and Yrisz that one time...
    Quote:
    "It seems to Noxias that the mere act of perceiving her in her decrepitude is enough to draw forth the mortality in his body."
    Translation: "Damn girl, you fugly."

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    Meanwhile, Nox is beside himself with anticipation. It has been several days since he was last able to utilize his Arcane muscle. He spies a perfect location to retreat to which will allow him to direct his malicious spells. He recalls the words to draw forth his most powerful spell and places them on the tip of his tongue; not noticing a nearby monster blending in with the trees and grass. He jukes away from it's ugly visage, prematurely ejaculating the incantation of his Flaming Sphere. He reaches out, trying to draw back in the words, but the damage is done. The sphere springs to life in a clumsy mass burning friend and foe alike. A large gout of arcane flame splashes against the beautiful Tiefling, and some hits that sailor guy too. Two of the enemy wither into charred masses and are no more.

    Rogur twists away from the flame cursing the moronic wizard. Drawing his sword he charges at the enemy attempting to support Konstanz and help her flee from the inferno.

    Konstanz slaps at the flame on her clothing with no effect. She moves quickly away from the fire and flame, the rage building inside. She spots a nearby enemy and lets her anger fly cursing the plant thing with Eldritch fury.
    Ariellana, Noxias, and Yrisz that one time...
    Quote:
    "It seems to Noxias that the mere act of perceiving her in her decrepitude is enough to draw forth the mortality in his body."
    Translation: "Damn girl, you fugly."

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