The floor boards
creaking and the heat rising as the sun’s rays slip ‘round to shine in the
windows, our exhausted party battles the three blackguards fiercely, getting
their second wind as the blackguards begin to wan.
A welcome sight
is Wik, who finally returns to the melee at a very opportune moment, appearing in
time to aid Martonis in his victory over Scowl; an interesting combination of
meatloaf and sliced tenderloin would best describe the body parts.
Ooma (NPC’d by
the DM, thank you Ooma for your patience...) chases one of the scoundrels as he scrambles to the
hall and attempts to escape into another room. She slices him to ribbons,
giving no quarter. She finds a wealth of objects dumped on the bed that she
swiftly recognises as heath potions and other good items! She rushes them back
to the group after, wisely or unwisely, she uncorks a clear tube with a red
cross painted down the length, lifts it to her lips and swallows the contents. Immediately she senses a cool sensation rushing
through her veins, curling her toes and bursting into a euphoric joy. Yep,
she’s feeling better!
The final combatant hasn't a chance, although he does put up a decent struggle and is dispatched to
whatever realm his soul claimed; or was claimed by.
Looting of the
bodies is interrupted as Ooma calls Martonis into the hall.
“Does that look
right?”
He sees an
cerulean blue glow pushing against the crevices around the door at the end of
the hall. “Okay, this is interesting.” He has Wik and Amaril, along with Ooma
stand clear and prepare for what they may be releasing as he pulls the door
open and peers into the dark room, only the auras to guide them.
The room glimmers
with several objects pulsing with concentric deeper blue circles, some have
one, some two, some three and still others, four, circles pulsing outward from
them. A shadowy figure stands in the corner, the low light glistening off its mithral armour.
Martonis casts a
light spell which glows almost like the sun itself, revealing the figure to be
an empty mithral shirt set on a dress maker’s dummy. It also reveals a cache of
mastercraft and magical items!
Carefully
cataloguing the items; spending time to discover each objects qualities and how
they are used to obtain the benefits suggested in the fanciful (and carefully
planned) etching, pulsing, wood and enamel inlays, artistically imbued...
Not
our group. Instead, they gather the treasure trove and race outside of the
Tavern with their hoard like starving rats with a hunk of bread...
They do take the
time to carefully explore each item’s purpose and distribute them among those
present, as they examine them while sitting on the grass, reserving a very awesome Adamandite Battleaxe for Ooma. (They did not
trust the DM to hold it for her though...) They also discuss if she would make
use of the Lion’s Shield, and decided to hold it for her as well, although they
do not recall her carrying a shield in the past.
They then
distribute the vials found and examine the scrolls, all while Lucy, Antoinette
and Morgan listen to their story and grin as items are offered to them. Lucy
proudly accepts the dagger and the scimitar from Morgan, who spends the rest of
the afternoon sipping spirits and teaching Lucy how to become a Jedi Warrior –
he isn’t sure where he coined that term from, but he likes it! Martonis erects
his tent and gallantly offers it to Antoinette and Lucy. Antoinette smiles
coyly and accepts graciously.
A fire is lit
and, despite the gnawing and thrashing of the Veran in the thicket, a peaceful
and idyllic afternoon is spent, each taking turns resting or watching Lucy. As
evening approaches they find rabbits bounding in the grass and, while Lucy is
kept occupied, rabbit dinner is prepared. They discover tubers in the garden
next to the kitchen and toss them on the fire, remembering how tasty they could
be.
Full and
droopy-eyed, Lucy finally begins to succumb to the exhaustion she has been
fighting for hours. Morgan carries her inside the tent and no one is sure, but
they THINK they hear him telling her a story... He returns with a faraway smile
on his face.
The sun drops
behind the obsidian and soon a black velvet sky sparkling with diamonds is
revealed; a quiet hush pervades the grassy field... The munching of the
thousands of Veran held at bay by such a fragile rock – Obsidian, a glass-like
shaft of smoky purple – merely white noise now, snores and odious noises being
far more disturbing as our group finds utter exhaustion a wonderful
restorative...
Lucy rises early,
as children are wont to do. And, as children are also wont to do, she tries to
be quiet as she leaves the tent, her destination the potty that Morgan and
Antoinette showed her the afternoon before. The finely crafted Ironwood staff
that Morgan planted for her as they played the day before, seizes her attention and she detours
over towards it.
She stares up at
its top for a moment, a radiant beam touching her face, before she leans
forward and traces one of the shapes with her finger in the dim morning light.
She stands up and curls her arms upward; stretching, then spins a full circle,
giggles bubbling forth from her smiling lips. She then quickly continues on her
trek toward the toilet...
Children... so sweetly innocent...
o0o
XP: February 24, 2016 NOTE: Doing This
Differently Again!
Those at:
Level
4 – 6000 XP
Level
5 – 5000 XP
Level
6 – 4000 XP
Level
7 – 3000 XP
EXTRA-XP for
those who write a story (with the Tavern at its centre...); journal entry (of
usefulness); or an insight into their character’s back story... 50xp x
character level, for one entry per week… (Remember, I don’t know what you need
or covet if you don’t tell me...)
o0o
Ignore those creatures making fun of the Ooma-stand-in... :0)
o0o
fledgling Dungeon
Mistress,
khrys...
~*~*~*~
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