[IC] Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

[DMZ]

1486 DR, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls

It was a day like any other when Reverin grimaced at the sunlight intruding in his private sleeping quarters. With but a slight motion of his hand, the old, dusty curtains in front of the window moved and blocked the nasty sunlight from reaching the young mage's face. He relaxed for a moment, trying to fall asleep. Having not achieved that goal within the next five minutes, Reverin gently floated off the bed and towards the tiny sink in the room. The dials on the tap turned on their own, splashing ice cold water all over the wizard's head, conveniently floating underneath the tap. Grumbling about the failure of the latest incantation and wiping his robes with a towel now held firmly in his pale hands, the wizard recalled the memorized spells for the day with the flick of a hand, showing a dull silvery ring on a long and bony finger. The ring emitted a short pulse of light, and went back to appearing like any common wedding ring.

Today was the day! Reverin was quite convinced his offer and the money it came with would attract as much an audience as an insurance should that scoundrel of a rival, Erepar, decided to cheat again like he did last time. This time, Reverin was sure that he would win, and gain his rightful prize: the sword Erepar kept in a magically locked and warded cubby. Rumoured to be a weapon of great power and even greater enchantment, it was surely worth disposing of a small time mage for. Reverin was giddy just thinking about the possibilities of posessing such an item, and the things he could learn from it...and the price it would eventually fetch on the market! Compared to all that, the amount of money he would lose to any potential guards (should they of course, survive. And I won't try too hard to prevent any untimely deaths. It's a risk they take, no?) was worth as much as the dust the youngster was standing on right now.

A short while and a long windy staircase later, the front door of a small tower opened, and Reverin appeared, floating ever so gently to a recliner in front of the tower, right across the gate through which any guests would enter, in the middle of a waist high fence circling the tower. The mage placed an alarm ward on the gate and reclined in his comfortable chair, determined to catch another nap before anyone arrived.

The tower and the recliner were located on a small newly formed hill outside of a large town called Two Stars, a local merchant town. It's convenient location along the Golden Way, a major trade route for the Eastern nations of Faerun, meant many benefits for the young wizard. Prices for magic items were some of the lowest in the East, the town was protected by a powerful militia ran by the Gallidy family, and the money from caravan tolls made the place a very decent affair outside of living in Thay itself. For the wizard in need of items or spells, there is always the Seer's Eye, functioning as a market for magical items and services alike.
The only issue with living here were the ever increasing attacks by demons, the consequences of some major event in Thay a few decades ago. The militia held them back admirably well, and it was an excellent way to test new spells and items, as the many live demonstrations showed. This constant threat naturally meant that mercenary companies thrived in Two Swords, as the many caravans always needed guards to protect them the closer the carts ventured to the land of the Red Wizards.

Life here had been good to Reverin, up and until the arrival of that pesky Erepar and his meddling in true wizard affairs a few years ago. The sight of the wondrous item he brought from Thay, with the glowing runes and inscriptions, had intrigued the more experienced mage, but Erepar guarded the item with his life, strangely so. That was, of course, a big reason why Reverin needed to have it. Anything worth guarding that badly would be worth getting, at almost any cost. Especially not his own life.

[El Taco Taco]

If Thesk had not been plagued by winter, Kalana could have seen herself forging a life here.

She had spent the past two years journeying northwards, plying her craft to survive. Looting dungeons, providing magical protection, eradicating pests (both sentient and wild), and the occasional bout of assassination had kept her on the road, chasing rumors of work to keep her belly full. She certainly hadn’t intended to make a living adventuring; it had simply been the only available option when she had left Calimshan. Kalana had meant to set herself up in a quiet village, maybe build herself a little tower where she could pour over her books in peace. Perhaps eventually she would find a little child with a gift for the Art and pass on her knowledge. It had been, in her opinion, a truly excellent plan.

The villagers of the nameless border village in Tethyr had rather dashed those dreams when they had chased her beyond their farms with swords and arrows. Kalana had thrown indignant fireballs at the uppity humans over her shoulder and seriously considered turning around and crossing the Calim desert all over again.

It had been a similar story in the next half dozen villages she tried until Kalana finally gave up on her little tower and her books. Throwing in with the first band of adventurers that would take her, she wandered ever further from the Sea of Swords. Companions were ever shifting, parting in death and exhaustion alike, joined by youths and veterans alike as they pursued work. By the time she had reached the Moonsea, Kalana had worked with nearly a dozen different companies. Faces and names had blurred together; the wilds were as brutal as war, and few of their number survived the winter in Narfell.

Kalana had found winter fascinating for all of three days. It wasn’t so much the cold as the almost unending night. She had never thought the sun to be a scarcity before. Even in the midst of horror, she had always been assured by the fire painting the sky on every rising. To go nearly a month without more than a feeble glimmer of sunlight had been maddening. As her latest company began the journey south, Kalana swore she would never again spend a winter in the hells of the north.

And then she had found Thesk. In the three weeks she had spent in Two Stars, selling the artefacts she had spirited away from the ruins of Narfell, she had yet to be refused service even once. Two Stars was not a particularly large town, but she had counted no less than three other tieflings scattered throughout its markets. Her horns had been more a curiosity than threat, and by her second week it seemed as if the humans had grown accustomed to her. And when her latest company announced that they were heading west, Kalana had simply wished them well and taken her share of their coffers.

In all the hundreds of miles she had traveled, by foot and ship and horse and magic alike, Kalana had never found a town quite as friendly as Two Stars. In the midst of spring, she indulged in the first breaths of peace and quiet she had known since her childhood in Memnon. And though she could never have confused the bitter morning air of Two Stars for the spray of the sea and the sweltering heat, it had been the closest thing to home she had found in the realms.

Perhaps, however, she had never been meant to settle down. The idea of a tower and books had sounded so delightful, fresh from war in robes still stained by brains and guts. But she hadn’t considered that a little town—even one as vitalized by trade as Two Stars—could be so unbelievably boring. And despite three weeks of soft beds and hot baths, Kalana found herself missing the road. There was never a short supply of bandits or monsters to battle in the wilds. And while it was nice not to have children scream at the sight of her, she rather missed the readiness of a fight in town. There was nothing like unleashing the Art, shaping reality into fire and death, fanning the flames of her temper until she felt alive. Two Stars was simply too peaceful. Even with the two skirmishes with demons she had seen, there simply wasn’t enough… excitement.

Finding work had not been much of a challenge. Trade routes always needed protecting from raiders and slavers alike, especially this close to Thay. Kalana had expected to find a place in a caravan striking east, guarding someone’s wealth. Simple work that promised both combat and healthy pay—what more could she want? Then she had seen the signs. A small fortune to help best a hedge-wizard? It was either a simple matter for easy gold or a truly lethal trap. Both options were rather appealing.

It was a short journey through the crowded markets. After nearly a month within its borders, Kalana still found joy in wandering the stalls, laden with silks and spices and wonders from both east and west. Smoke and the spice of cooked meat curled through the air along with the din of hundreds of voices in half a dozen languages. The watery sunshine did little to warm the morning, and Kalana drew her heavily brocaded shawl closer around her frame.

Her gnarled staff clicked along cobbled stone, little golden bells tinkling as they swayed in time. Slipping through the gates, Kalana turned her burning eyes on the tower atop the hill. It was a simple structure, but as she followed the stone path up its slopes, she could taste the familiar bite of magic in the air. A wizard hiring a wizard to kill a wizard—it seemed to be the beginnings of a bawdry tavern joke. Kalana’s lip curved into a private smirk at the thought.

The simple fence surrounding the tower seemed almost to hum as she approached. Arching a heavy brow, she considered the neatly maintained garden and the man dozing in a chair. Had she been mistaken? The signs had lead here, after all. With a little tut of impatience, Kalana rapped the fence with her staff to rouse the sleeping man.

“You there,” tone curt and eyes narrowing, Kalana cocked her head to one side, “Are you still hiring?”

[DMZ]

An almost invisible shimmer reacted to the staff touching the fence, sending a surge of magical energy through the inanimate object, letting a spellcasting wielder know that there were more than a few magical wards in place should they decide to breach the perimeter. The alarm ward reacted perfectly to the sudden disturbance in energy, and started blaring with a remarkably high pitched noise, arousing not only the sleeping Reverin, but likely also a few undead in the nearby graveyard.

The young mage stretched out and threw the intruder an annoyed look, unhappy to be disturbed from his slumber so soon. He inspected the tiefling woman with rapidly evaporating interest, questioning if she was right for the job. Common sense overruled the disinterest as he sensed the shift of magic around her. Clearly a mage. With barely a mouth gesture he shut up the yapping alarm ward and rose from his seat, walking over to the woman.

"That I am. Pray tell, why would I hire you?" Reverin flatly stated as he mentally listed his memorized spells for the day and chose one of an elemental nature to test the woman's power. He flicked his hand, aiming behind the tiefling, and an elemental made out of solid rock, took shape there. "Could you defeat something as simple as that, for example?" he bade. The mental battle with the elemental took quite a bit out of the young mage, but he didn't show it. It was a powerful pet, and if she could so much as harm the construct, this girl might be worth risking the money for.

[knighthawk]

~Every risk has reward, every journey ends in treasure, some are simply not the ones you seek.~

His journey east hat not been as rewarding as he had hoped, the search for his mount had taken him to the Plain of Horses in hopes of connecting with a mighty beast... *Bark*...Not the mighty beast he had in mind. It was a 'liondog' pup and was promised to be a great beast of power one day. Having seen the parents, he was inclined to believe it. His mind had made him think of getting barding and saddle made for this 'riding dog' pup with an enlargement enchantment upon it so that he might actually use it as such some day. But that was for another day and for the now it was a mouth to feed and an adorable face sticking out of a saddlebag for others to coo over.

Beasts aside, he had indeed learned how to endure the harsh desert weathers and came back with a small trophy in the form of a plainsmans 'yurt'. A type of folding tent that was quite spacious when fully expanded, he had gotten himself a children's tent and was still large enough for him and all his things if he crawled in. *bark* And his pup. He hoped to take this ingenuity to either his elves for them to add their own influence to it or to some gnomes to see if they could improve on the design or materials.

He was pondering sailing canvas when he heard an alarm that could wake the dead and brought his jackass around to the hill where he saw a woman and a man under attack by an elemental. He spurred his beast on to leap the fence as he leveled his scythe to attack the monster as he rode by, unfortunately the beast of burden was not war-trained and so it merely threw him from the saddle over the fence. His years of riding skill by his grandmother started with a year just getting knocked off his horse on purpose all day long. As such he has burned in his body the reflex and roll needed to come up from a shortcoming ready for battle.

A mountain of an orc-kind, with a scythe, falling off his ass while a wearing green and brown armor of a bug into a living rockpile... A bard must surely be dying of laughter somewhere. "Vile fiend!" Spoke another with mace on hip and finger of accusation. "Harass this man no longer!"

Having arrived to the scene, not being there at its blossom, he had not considered that the woman summoned the elemental against the man or that the man had summoned the elemental against the woman. He simply assumed the elemental was against someone and that was good enough for him to bring aid to the cause. This did now make him pause long enough to "feel" for the others, to sense if they held darkness in their hearts.

[El Taco Taco]

In the span of but a few breaths, everything had gone to the hells. One moment, she’d been speaking with the slip of a wizard, considering his challenge mildly. He’d summoned an earth elemental, lumbering and rough around the edges, but familiar enough territory for Kalana. Growing up in a city ruled by genasi, elementals were a copper a dozen. It would be a simple matter to burn through its defences and prove her merit. Nostrils flaring as she pushed off her staff, her blood seemed to scream through her veins, ready to answer the call and burn. Sparks flared between her fingertips as she began their instinctive dance.

And then the pleasant civility of her morning came to a screeching halt with an accusation and a truly massive body being launched off a comically undersized steed. Her hand clenched around the white-hot spark, suffocating her own spell before she inadvertently flambéd the small mountain of a man.

Kalana’s scarred lip curled. She couldn’t exactly figure out what had happened, but instinct warned her that none of this could be good. Tutting impatiently, she turned her gaze on the first interruption. Brow arched, she considered it with disdain. A peasant, it seemed, with more zeal than sense. Her golden head-dress tinkled delicately as she cocked her head to one side. It was armed—instinct urged her to take a step back. But there was both the earth elemental and the second interruption in that direction.

Instead, she scoffed.

“Didn’t your master ever teach you not to interrupt your betters?” Every throaty word dripped with condescension, as if she were reprimanding a small child. With a huff, she drew her intricate robes tighter around her shoulders against the crisp morning air. Blistering eyes turned on the second disturbance—although she was careful not to turn her back on the peasant—“And you—just, what are you doing?”

[knighthawk]

Raa was grateful for the aid up and grateful none struck him down without honor in his limited capacity. Between the human hand and his own scythe that made a sprout of crabgrass spring up where its butt pressed into the earth he was able to right himself for combat. Both social and physical.

"I heard the alarm and came to help. I would like save face to say my steed threw a shoe so in turn lost me, but in truth it might be wiser than I to not meddle in affairs not of my own. I am Raa Tel'Nimras, paladin of Mielikki."

[DMZ]

The situation rapidly escalated from amusing to absurd, right in front of Reverin. The wizard audibly scoffed when the disillusioned male came into view, expressing his hate of tieflings. Reverin was quite fond of the odd creatures, seeing an unnatural beauty and power in them. He had barely enough time to dispel some of the wards guarding the fence when a burly, half orcish creature named Raa had flown into it. He wouldn't be able to do much anyway, the mage thought. He'd spent a few months preparing the various wards around the tower, and had only dispelled a few of them.

With a rather annoyed look on his face, he gestured for the orcish abomination to get out of his garden. The dent in the ground the paladin had already made would take days to fix, and longer to re-cultivate. While the lumbering sack of flesh took its sweet time to get up with the help of the human newcomer, Reverin considered him. There was nothing immediately alarming about him, but nothing immediately calming, either. The tiefling woman he had seen a few times before at the markets, and she appeared to be exactly what she looked like. The only new thing about her were the magical abilities.

The human, that he knew nothing about. Something bothered the young mage about the seemingly simple attire of the man. He had sensed a flicker of magic on him, but couldn't place what kind of spellcaster he would have to be. Or that he would be a spellcaster at all! Not knowing all of this bothered Revering beyond reasoning. He unwillingly narrowed his eyes looking at the man.

The orc, or rather, half-orc, appeared to be a simple creature indeed, a rather unlikely candidate for a Paladin of Mielikki. Wasn't she a ranger goddess? The yelp coming from somewhere in his robe when he landed was more surprising. Perhaps he was a ranger after all, carrying all kinds of vermin in his pockets. In the event of a fight, Reverin decided he would put the orcish monster at the front. The less of these filthy creatures remained, the better. The young mage scratched his ear, suddenly acutely aware that his birth-given pointy ears were not present due to the masking enchantment. The sacrifices he made to get better prices.

Sensing a stalemate of sorts at the scene, he coughed to get everyone's attention:

"If all of you manage to defeat my pets, I'll consider hiring you." he said with a clear edge of arrogance.

The lumbering elemental charged forward, commanded by Reverin to go after the green skinned brute instead of the tiefling. To not let the rest of the party feel all alone, he cast a contingency dweomer on the approaching undead, awoken by the alarm, and bade them to charge at the tiefling and human alike. With a dozen warriors amongst their ranks, and half as much deceased townspeople, he figure it would be a good test of their mettle.

[knighthawk]

Raa saw the towering titan bearing down on him and the undead rising from the same earth that the elemental came from. But there was something odd. Pointing to the elemental for emphasis he instructed upon the others.

"Its evil, it is wholly evil! You two, tag team it, flank it and keep it off balance, I'll deal with the undead."

He charged past the evil elemental, perhaps even 'counting coup' as he banged it with the back of his haft but bearing to not get his blade stuck in its earthen embrace. While paladins are often the front line against evil, if he stood toe to toe with the elemental they would be pounding each other for hours. No, let the other two work it down while he took on the undead that a lesser cleric could turn or higher fighter could grind throug. Thankfully, he was both.

"RETURN TO THE EARTH!"

Four words, a simple command, but with the weight of the world behind them. Between the orcish ferocity, the power of faith, and the weakened bonds of the attempt to dispell the undead sent half a score away to shamble elsewhere. More than half but less than all, that still left the unlikely of the chosen against eight-to-one for close quarters.

~Oh well, you cant spell Mielikki without melee!~

[DMZ]

The green menace and the human...cleric, by the looks of it, managed to actually turn more than half of the undead under his control. Reverin had anticipated something of the sort, but nothing quite as successful. Four or so undead began their slow shamble back to the graves, six others no longer under his control went either for his fence or the party, with the fence clearly being the worse choice of the two so far. Lightning crackled left and right and two common skeletons fell down, the rest shambling away. That left the party to deal with 8 undead adventurers and his pet golem.

The golem itself wasted no time in trying to attack while the orcish menace cast his spells, charging with all its force at the orc's back. The skeletons split up evenly to attack the human, tiefling and orc alike, shaking their empty fists in the air as they charged. The many years of experience gathered by this undead troupe made Reverin wonder if he couldn't simply use the undead to do his dirty work.

Reverin began the quiet casting of a dweomer as he watched the attack unfold. Three skeletons moved into position to surround the human, three simply charged the apparently stunned tiefling, and the remaining two got into position to 'catch' the orc when the golem would inevitably barrel into it and send it flying.

[El Taco Taco]

Humans. What a pain. Kalana would never understand why they had managed such dominance of Faerûn. There was nothing… exceptional about them. And they were so very fond of their pitchforks and torches when they weren’t clapped in irons. What a nuisance. It was moments like these where Kalana yearned for Calimshan. A pity she couldn’t return.

The half-orc declared itself a Paladin, which was… potentially problematic. She’d had enough run ins with fanatics as to be wary. It seemed that Tymora had smiled on Kalana—she’d met her fair share of half-breeds and outsiders in her journeys, and they tended to be less prone to fits of witch hunts.

Kalana took a moment to observe, staff shifted smoothly in clawed hands. The massive half-orc (whose name she had already forgotten) spat orders. The air shifted, suddenly, an electric taste in the air—and for a brief moment, she felt the familiar cold of the disruption of magic. It was thoroughly unpleasant.

Several of the undead were turned, shambling away, leaving the real fight. The elemental aimed for the orc, moving with impressive speed. Burning eyes focused on the skeletons charging towards her, mangled upper lip curving into a smile that could only be described as wicked. One foot shifted back, a hand snapping through a simple dance. A familiar burn of magic screamed through her blood. She slammed the butt of her staff into the ground, calling deeper for an extra surge of power, as five arcane orbs of energy screamed from her extended hand. Three of the empowered missiles found home in her charging skeletons, the remaining two arcing through the air to catch the elemental in its chest. Kalana was feeling generous.

Without hesitation, she sank into the lull of the Art, abyssal arcane words and the complex curve of hands and staff through the air filling her with euphoria unlike anything else. The world became the battlefield she had been made for, colours sharpening into brilliant focus as she began to form the molten balls of rock in her minds eye.

[knighthawk]

The paladn had truly hoped they would listen to his sound advice, but judging by the way he was soaring through the air again without the aid of a mount said otherwise. Raa had jousted before, in tournaments mostly. The three hundred pound orc in a hundred pounds of armor on a horse weighing another thousand pounds, facing off against another three hundred pound knight on a thousand pound horse and with two forces of thirteen hundred pounds each holding a lance that brought all that power to a single point...It hurt like hell getting struck, but it was a survivable blow.

He had the benefit of the elemental's fist being so huge like a warhammer to spread out the damage instead of a spike. All the same, he was thoroughly uprooted from his intended stance and sent soaring into the skeletons. He had the idea, far more curiosity than the brilliant strategy, to ball up as he flew to attempt crashing through a waiting minion in hopes of crushing the bones under his own falling damage. If it worked, he could lash out with a free hand against the remaining skeleton meant to catch him, if they cradled him in their undead embrace, he would try to turn them again now that they were so much closer to his forceful personality.

[DMZ]

All three of the skeletons in front of the tiefling mage stumbled at the impact of the magic missiles, but Reverin forced them to continue their advance, clawing at the tiefling mage in an attempt to interrupt her spell. One managed to do some minor damage, but by all appearances the tiefling was far more durable than the she looked like, continuing to cast. Reverin keenly felt the impacts on the elemental, wincing at the power of the magic. Even so, he bade the elemantal - perhaps a bit *too* eager - to crush the orc under its fist.

The human was far more successful, having obliterated one skeleton outright and doing minor damage to the others. That didn't avoid the claws of the corpses, indicating that they had been doing their work splendidly. The young mage bade the skeletons to grab the human spellcaster and incapacitate him, intending to give the elemental more time to get rid of the orc menace. By the looks of it, the tiefling would be done soon with her casting, her skeletons not lasting long.

Briefly shifting his attention to the skeletons surrounding the orc, Reverin mimicked the orders given to the ones attacking the human: try to grab the orc and hold it in place. By the looks of it, however, that would be a failed endeavour, with the orc being nearly twice the size of the walking corpses.

[DMZ]

Reverin nearly lost his spell when he noted the human charge towards him. A fleeting shade of fear went through the mage when he saw the human break his wards...almost. The lightning wards reacted just as they should have, jolting the human back with lethal force. With a loud crackle he fell back from the fence, wisps of smoke trailing from his limp form.

The power of the wards turned the two skeletons following the newly made corpse to dust, the shockwave spreading it to the winds.

One out of three, Reverin thought. Less bodies to waste money on.

The orc managed to crush one of the attacking skeletons under his massive weight, leaving only two standing. Hopefully that would be enough.