[IC] The Heroes

[Zendrelax]

"If competence is any indication," Cewri's speech was slow, as he was still looking for the mark on Celeste's neck, "then there's no way one of them was behind this. Even if it is a Goblin behind this, which in my experience isn't even worth considering, then by the time they were powerful enough to do something like what they did to Celeste, they'd either give us a bigger challenge or have the sense not to show if they could."

"As far as knowing us goes, I'd say my feelings go the same way. But that begs the question, why send those Goblins after us if we could make such short work of them?"

[Thrashy]

Celeste was still squirming and thrashing when Cewri investigated her neck, but the outline of a strange symbol was clearly visible on her neck:



It appeared to have been burned in place, perhaps with a branding iron.

During this time, Celestes gaze was fixated at Cewris eyes, and a faint smile could be seen on her face despite the gag.

[Thrashy]

Scog, a tough bastard of a goblin who also happened to have been in charge of this current debacle, lay low in the shadow of a pine and observed the party in front of the burning shack. He had not been told much about these people, but had never expected them to be this dangerous. The giant had been a particulary nasty surprise. His warriors had all died or run off, but Scog was damned if he wouldn't get back at these bastards before retreated himself. He just needed a window, an oppertunity...

...and there it was. They had all turned around now, staring sheepishly at the female in their midst. Scog didn't know why she had been tied up, but he didn't care. They were distracted, and that was all that mattered. He reached for his quiver and produced an arrow, dipped in a very nasty rare poison extracted from a seclusive breed of mountain basilisk, and took aim. He was a skilled bowman, Scog. For a goblin.

The arrow left the string with a faint twang and sailed through the dark night sky. Before any of the heroes could notice it, it struck Martox in the back, piercing his heart. He stood there for a moment, looking with unbelieving eyes at his comrades, before falling to his knees. Black, stingy smoke started hissing from the wound.

Scog stared silently from his hiding place under the pine. A direct hit. The human wouldn't be long. Now all he needed was to get out of her-

SNAP

A twig, half buried in the snow but still dry and crisp cracked audibly under his feet. He looked back towards the burning cabin in panic to see if anyone had heard him.

[ArenaSnow]

Desalith was frowning, gazing at the mark on Celeste's neck. He couldn't place it; but whenever he saw it, the unwanted thoughts came back up the levels of his memory.

He couldn't think any longer when he heard the quiet whizzing of an arrow and a thud next to him. He stared in horror as his old friend fell, an expression on his face that Desalith had seen before in the fight against the Necromancer.

Rage overtook confusion. Disregarding his own safety, he spun around in the direction of the arrow. A distinct snap came from the bushes.

Roaring in a voice that couldn't be his own, he lifted his staff and brought it crashing down on the ground, sending waves of electrical energy in the direction where he heard the snap come from.

10 seconds later, he collapsed, having drained all his energy and decisively overexerting himself. The world was a blur around him.

[Zendrelax]

The arrow came from nowhere. Martox went down. Desalith went crazy. Desalith collapsed. All faster than he could react to. Not crouched over Celeste as he was.

Martox...

I cannot help him. I cannot heal. Revenge.

If Desalith exhausted himself, the archer isn't going anywhere. No time to waste on a wretched corpse. Help Martox.

Revenge.

Martox. Cewri moved to Martox's side and swung his bag off of his back, and it hit the ground with a thud. The wound was smoking, and Cewri began to fear the worst. He tugged gently on the arrow, and it began to give way. Not barbed. One blessing, at least. But when the arrow came free of Martox's flesh, his heart sank. He recognized the way the arrowhead glistened in the light from the burning cottage.

In his travels, he had ventured to the far-flung Ashera'ak Forest, where he had been attacked by a fell beast the likes of which were not seen elsewhere: Asher Vothk in the Giants' tongue, but most would know it as the Double-Crowned Basilisk. Its venom had nearly taken him, were the Giants he had been seeking not found him at the beast's mercy. They had brought him back to health, but e had escaped death by only seconds. They showed him that when exposed to light, the venom would spsrkle in many bright colors like a sadistically ironic rainbow. He didn't have any of the antidote. He remembered how to make it, but it would take time. They didn't have time.

"Oryx," they had one chance, "it's venom. Doubble-Crowned Basilisk. We have minutes." the Half-Giant stood up. "The archer is down after Desalith's treatment. I don't have the antidote. See what you can do to help Martox." Even if he couldn't heal their ally, even buying a little time would help. Cewri began taking large strides in the archer's direction. "It might have been sent with an antidote." Goblins are stupid. No master would trust them without taking precautions—and you can't have your minions dying before they get the job done. And if it's actually alive, we'll have a font of information. Then we kill it.

[Thrashy]

There was not much left of the goblin. In fact, it was hard to determine what was goblin and what was not. The creature had, in the face of such a massive discharge of power, promptly exploded. The nearby pine had also caught on fire. Whatever items or secrets the fell little beast might have had seemed forever lost.

Meanwhile, Martox's contition was detoriating rapidly. The venom not only spread through his body at an alarming pace, it was also corrosive and causing mortal damage to his heart and internal organs. He had minutes, maybe less. He also seemed quite unconscious, probably from the enormous trauma of getting his heart pierced.

[SuperTacticalDerp]

Oryx rushed to Martox's side got immediately to work without a word. He would not let another friend fall with his gifts in hand. The Undead Vanguard placed his hands on the open wound and allowed his allies blood to muddy his hands as holy magics did their best to heal.

Oryx had gotten better with time, healing the wounds swiftly and locating the poison. The toxins were not rushing at a breakneck pace, but never the less it was a distrubing situation.

"Damnit," the old skeleton muttered to himself, "really didn't expect to be right back in the action like this today. Not like this."

[Thrashy]

Oryx could only do so much for the wounded wizard. The poison had already done too much damage, and his pierced heart lacked the strength to keep its body alive. In the cold embrace of the starlit night, beside the roaring fire of the former cottage, Martox's life came to an end. He passed silently, the pain dulled by Oryx's healing energy.

There were many questions now needing answers. Who had attacked the heroes, and why? What was the strange mark on Celestes neck, and could its magic be undone? Just what the hell was going on? These thoughts echoed through the minds of the heroes, tempered with anger and grief.

Before they could be answered, however, Martox had to be buried. They would then have to find their way to the nearest settlement to regroup and come up with a plan - someone was responsible for all this, and that person had to pay.

[SuperTacticalDerp]

Oryx could do nothing but stare at his bloodied palms. His friends blood covered every crack and crease of his bones. Martox was dead. Another friend dead, and all his fault. Why couldn't he ever do more? He was raised by the gods to kill evil, but could never seem to save the good around him.

Oryx just felt empty, his light dimming in sorrow. Shame wretched at his being and grief engulfed his soul. All he wanted to do was weep or moan somehow, but he was sure that whatever tear ducts he once had were shriveled long ago.

"Not again," the skeleton mumbled, "I can't believe this. Not another damnit. Not another!"

[ArenaSnow]

Desalith slowly stood up, still heavily weakened by an overexertion of his energies. "We need to move..." he muttered, walking in the direction of Martox. "We need to bury him... and... get some support..." He partially limped on his ankle and looked rather sleepy for the situation.

[Zendrelax]

Upon finding what little remained of the Goblin, Cewri returned to Martox’s side, and fell to his knees with a great thud. His mouth was dry. The Half-Giant didn’t know when he started weeping. When Martox breathed his last, he tried to speak, but the words died in his throat. Do we have time for a proper ceremony? The thought hung in his mind for a moment. Not a grand one. Not like he deserves. But we must do something.

He cradled Martox’s head in his hand, and when Desalith spoke, something clicked in his head. “They’re connected” He said, “the Goblins an-and what happened to Celeste. There’s the same person behind them, o-or one knew about the other.” And if that’s the case, the one who decided to play marionette with Celeste seems infinitely more competent. We bury him. We mark his grave on our maps—we remember, like we always have done. We heal Celeste. And we track down the bastard that did this.” He looked towards the old mage. “You’re right to say we need help, but getting it will be tricky. Especially if we ” Reverently, he rested Martox’s head back on the ground.

He moved to stand, but saw Celeste, still gagged. Brainwashed or not, if there isn’t a risk of her biting, she deserved to have her mouth free. Now entering a crouching position next to her, he untied the gag, his hands shaking. He stood. “I-I’m going to start digging.” All this time, his tears had not stopped flowing.

[Crimson Raven]

The first night was the worst. A huge thunderstorm had let loose it's fury on the unsuspecting earth, and I was caught in the middle of it. There was no shelter and no fire. The unrelenting deluge soaked every piece of tinder in the small woods, and not even his spellfire would catch. "Great, just bloody great." Aris thought to himself. He wrapped himself in his large, black leather duster, trying to shield himself somewhat from the wind and freezing rain. The spells cast on the leather had a handy side effect of making the coat waterproof, however it was not weatherproof and it could only cover so much of him. He spent the uncomfortable night sleeping in fits and sputters. But by morning, the storm's fury had apated and Aris awoke in time to see a beautiful sunrise. After he had dryed off the best he could he sat and watched the sunrise, reflecting on what had led him here; the arguments, the fights, and the strict rules. "I probably should not have run away like that, without even saying goodbye. Should I go back and apologize?" He wondered. But another part of him thought "No, I will never go back, not after what they wanted of me." His mind made up, and the sun climbing higher, he ate a quick breakfast and continued on the road that led away from home.

[Crimson Raven]

About noon, three days later, Aris stumbled into a moderate sized town amid a small group of travelers as tired as he was. Aris intended to locate a marketplace, buy some supplies and spent the night in an inn before continuing onward. He had idly considered purchasing a horse to make travel easier and faster, he knew how to ride dispite his city upbringing, but he decided against it because he did not have much money and he had no idea where he was going or how long he would be traveling.

[Thrashy]

Celeste's gag came off, but it wasn't long before it was tied back in place. The terrible things coming out of her mouth were too much even for Cewri's big heart.

When the grave had been dug and the funeral had been held, it was time for our heroes to move on. The was a small mining town on the edge of the mountains to the east; it was the closest settlement by far and would allow the party a chance to rest and regroup before deciding on their next action. The town also had a reputable inn, known for the many distinguished individuals that had visited it during the years. That would be a good place to look for help.