The Voyage West RP

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Corth watched as Alandra moved up the beach. Grimacing as Alandra went off to do something that Corth was good at. Or, rather, what Corth excelled at. But, Corth had to admit with a grin of satisfaction, that he worked best alone too.

Corth sat in the surf and watched sliently as a crab sidled up to Corth's boot and caught the toe in one of it's pincers to no effect.
"Sorry." Corth mumbled as he flicked his dagger at it. Killing the crab in seconds. Corth washed the crab in the salt water. Then, with his dagger, he cut off a square at the bottom of his cloak.
Considering the quality of his cloak at this point, the removal of the square didn't make much difference.
Corth wrapped the crab in the cloth, and put the bundle in his bag. Sooner or later, Corth would have to eat again.

Then, Corth's thoughts went to Aewilar. Corth highly doubted that Aewilar would be willing to bestow a Healing Blessing onto Corth. For surely Aewilar had recognised Corth as a Cleric of Vailorath. Even if no-one else could.

 

Slade thinks on Huakor and Norrin's words before making a decision about them.

"I am not familiar with this isle, the monks taught me little beyond that which I needed to teach myslef. As I never intended to do very much traveling... Well, what's done is done let us do what we must."

Slade turns towards Norrin and looks at the fellow. He thinks to himself about the man's disposition.

"Are you not a man? For a man would not resolve himself to death so quickly. Had you not seen me earlier I fear you would have run in fear from the sight of one such as myself."

"I will take cursed solid land over a wobbly deck any day. A curse can be lifted, but the deck of a ship will always wobble"

With that Slade walked towards a large stone. Talking with the stone Slade asks a weapon of it and apologizes for what he must do. He proceeds to chip off a large piece of the stone to make something he can use as a weapon.

 

Sila

 

A rustling sound came from the undergrowth of the pine forest off the shore where Slade, Haukor, Norin and other sailors has washed up. A young man appeared from the undergrowth, his fine clothing seemed have picked up many minor tears as he moved about the undergrowth. As he came closer to the sailors on the beach, a neck wound became visible, two holes that had scabbed over where present. A holy symbol was visible on his neck, a depiction of three white flowers, the symbol of Daimorath, the Lord of Mercy.

[ April 03, 2007, 07:28: Message edited by: Ilmater's Suffering ]

 

Slade absentmindedly chipping away at the stone notices movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning to face this potential threat he sees a young man emerging from island's undergrowth.
Slade stands with his half formed weapon and backs away slowly from this unknown individual, wary of any that seem unfamiliar to him, taking no solace in the medallion hanging from the young mans neck.
He then looks to those around him, far more familiar with the world than he, for a hint as to what action he should next take.

 

Haukor lifted his axe into one hand.

"I wasn't aware there where humans on this island. State your business for being here."

The young man seemed to be surprised at the suspicion with which he was greeted.

"I have been instructed to speak with you."

The young man's voice was soft and gentle.

"Instructed, huh? Just who are you anyway?"

"Who am I? Well, one should have no need... oh, I see my crest must have ripped off in the underbrush."

"Crest you say? So there are nobles on this rock?"

"I am afraid I am the only noble on this island and as far as I was aware, waking up with morning, I was the only human on this island. There are no dwarves, elves, gnomes or halflings for that matter either. I am sorry, but is there somewhere I could sit down."

"Bah! Don't tell me you're the soft type of noble who gets tired by simple exertion."

"No, normally activity does not produce the strain to leave me in such a state of weakness."

Norin, who had been sorting through which of his books had been ruined and where therefore useful to be dried out and used as fire starters previously, appeared actively interested in what the young man was saying and interjected into the conversation.

"It's the neck wound isn't it? A bite like that would do it. I've read you get rather frail afterwards."

The young man began to stroke the wound, seemingly without noticing he was doing so.

"That wound sounds just like how a vampire's bit is described Sir Ketham Longbrook and the Vampire, too close together to be an animal bite and no wound left by a bottom set of fangs."

Norin's eyes went wide after he realized what he just said and his face went bright red. Norin then proceeded to look away from the young man.

"I... I don't... someone told me that story..."

"Pay no heed to the shipwright." said Haukor, "Now before we where distracted, I had asked for your name among other things."

"I am Malloren Lournhart, a healer in the service of Daimorath and the third son of Duke Lournhart, vassal to Prince Olhard Gretzen."

"I've heard your name somewhere, from the lips of some bard in a tavern not too long ago, but what I don't understand is why a bard would be telling tales of noble who isn't a great adventurer in a tavern."

"The bard you speak of was probably telling a tale of Chrysanthia."

 

Yipping voices cried out in a tongue that was most likely draconic in the direction which Alandra had headed off into the pines. The voices quickly became frightened and panicked and then transformed into bloodcurdling howls of pain. A short while after the screams stopped, Alandra moved quickly out of the woodland, spattering of blood was left in several small patches on her upper body and arms.

"Most of our fellows lie to the east. Let's head in that direction, Corth."

Alandra began to head into the east along the shoreline.

[ April 08, 2007, 08:33: Message edited by: Ilmater's Suffering ]

 

Corth watched as Alandra came out of the underbrush. Corth raised an eyebrow at the blood all over the bard's body. The question didn't need asking, and the answer was obvious.

Corth nodded grimly as Alandra told him which way to go. It was almost an order. But, it was most definately not a question of Alandra asking Corth what to do.

No. Alandra had assumed a sort of comfortable command over Corth. For the time being thought Corth. Corth once again looked back to the blood over her arms and body. He smiled his wicked smile behind Alandra's back. I could get to like this one. He thought as he got up and fell into step behind - not beside - Alandra.

"Right behind you." said Corth.

 

Having walked for about half an hour along the beach with Trailen, Max felt his mind become detached, and he was beginning to wonder if any of the others survived the destruction of the ship. He really didn't know anyone aboard apart from Corth, Trailen and Kala... and having thought that he wonder if Kala had seen him use the death spell aboard the ship. He doubted she would view it in a favorable light.

A few more minutes passed in relative peace, with only the sound of their footsteps and the break of the surf, when Max saw a shape off in the distance. It was the bard from the ship, Alandra wasn't it? And Corth was with her, just a few steps behind.

They walked closer until Max could speak without shouting. "So someone else survived? Good to see. Do either of you know where in the hells we are? I cant scry on this island, I have feeling that it wasn't chance that we ended up here and I doubt that anyone of good intention lives in that tower to the east."

 

"I'm not sure I've heard of a lady adventurer who goes by the name of Chrysanthia. Was she a lover of yours? As I remember, the bard seemed quite interested in the relationship you two had and it was quite a bit more then simply being friendly.", said Haukor.

Malloren blushed slightly.

"You most certainly are mistaken for I would never allow myself to become romantically involved with Lady Chrysanthia Vothyretz."

Haukor drew his face back slightly.

"Now I remember where I know your name from boy. You where that nobleboy who was kidnapped by that fiend Chrysanthia Vothyretz a couple of years back... but what are you doing on a place like this?"

"I come here because Chrysanthia took me with her to this island."

"Don't call her by her first name alone boy, it sounds as if you're close to her. This makes the situation grave if that devil from beyond the grave is roaming the island. Tell me boy, why is she here?"

"I came to you and your comrades with the intent of asking for your aid in a situation most dire. The younger Lady Vothyretz came from Castle Vothyretz under the behest of her dark master, the God of Undeath to provide protection to an artifact Baestion Blackhand was working on, an artifact what would greatly further the position of the Lich King. This artifact must be destroyed before it is completed for it has been created with the intention of spewing forth vast amounts of negative energy, turning our plane of existence into a world that supports little other then the animation of the undead. If we mortals fail to stop the creation of this artifact, war will break out amongst the gods themselves."

"Pyltharam holds Kelgoryd to be an enemy and the situation seems as one where I can't be idle, but let me ask you this boy, what can I do against a lich like Baestion Blackhand and a vampire like Chrysanthia Vothyretz?"

"Baestion Blackhand has left Riftgate, as I understand, in search means in which he can control the energies needed to complete the artifact. His servants fear close proximity to the younger Lady Vothyretz and do not serve her nor did Baestion Blackhand turn Riftgate over to the younger Lady Vothyretz while he is away. The younger Lady Vothyretz only has her two servants, Ferrusk Boartooth and Itharion Starwind to rely on. While I doubt there is anyone in your company that could survive an encounter with one, the tower is far too large for the three vampires to successfully keep watch over. If you seek to avoid them and the monsters who wander the corridors of Riftgate, it would be possible to destroy the artifact and maintain peace amongst the gods themselves."

[ April 12, 2007, 21:39: Message edited by: Ilmater's Suffering ]

 

Slade eyed the man suspiciously. He did not trust one so unwilling to help himself, nor did he like the idea of avoiding any enemy. It simply was not his way. Finally coming to a decision on how he thought best to proceed, Slade offered a suggestion.

"Might we learn of what this man speaks and determine it's truth before rushing off into what could be a trap?"

Turning to address the weak nobleman, "And if it is indeed a trap I would most definitely crush you," lifting his enormous foot to help punctuate the validity of his threat.

 

"We'll be staying far away from that tower for now.", said Alandra, "Though I don't doubt we'll have to end up there to escape the island. As for this island, it was once a place found in many bard's tales, an island of cruel cold and damning death, with a king who was treacherous as a blizzard and a lord who forgot his own death. We are west of the Northlands on an island respectfully called the Isle of the White King in honor of the formidable white dragon, Chalkegyth, who was once the terror of any land that saw snowfall. We're incredibly lucky to have been born in a time where he lacks motivation to take action for his perverse pleasure."

Alandra then shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know any more then you however as to why we're here. Maybe Chalkygeth has become fed up with his kobold servants and desires to breed himself something more able."

 

A kind smile spread across the young man's pleasant face, seemingly unaffected by Slade's threat.

"Daimorath considers tricks and deceptions the tools sinful men in need of redemption, I who vowed my life to Daimorath shy away from actions. I have also sworn a vow on by my faith and my desire to do benevolence that I shall take the life of no humanoid.
"If I did wish harm to befall you, however, I would have no need of a trap. The younger Lady Vothyretz's two servants know that intruders have entered the island. Baestion has many magical devices that perform many functions in his lair, almost allowing the master of that tower to feel the island as if it was his own flesh. While some of the devices the younger Lady Vothyretz still studies in order to operate them, Baestion Blackhand has several devices that operate a magical alarm around the shore of the island that operate without the need of one to operate them."

Malloren glanced upward at the sun.

"You are guaranteed safety for the time being, but you shall have to be gone from here by nightfall before the senseless evil of the two servants comes to bare on this island."

"Just how much information do you have to tell us anyway boy?", asked Haukor.

Haukor turned to Slade, "Let's here the boy out before we judge anything he says."

"I have a considerable amount of information which I must divulge to you. I have never seen that like Riftgate, such incredible evil permeates the tower, warping the living creatures inside, I am sure only my true belief in virtue of mercy and hope keep me from becoming twisted myself. The sophistication of the magics used impresses the younger Lady Vothyretz who has spent much of her existence involved in the study of magic. Baestion Blackhand spends much of his time subjecting living creatures to negative energy, trying to manipulate its interaction with living material to improve on the undead.
"It is quite clear that a summoner like himself has had his field of study altered by that which is presented to him. Riftgate sits upon a planar rift that leads world overwhelmed with choking evil and miserable death. In this world which is dominated by negative energy and the very plane itself seems to stand in the way of all whose soul is not tainted with evil, the divine essence of a dead god lingers. The god is Vyndram, the father of the Goddess of Death, Illorun, and the one time God of Death, a being who seemed undead himself. This divine essence of Vyndram is energy Baestion Blackhand is seeking to use create the artifact he is creating, the essence very essence of death, despair and panic."

 

"I am still unsure if we can trust this one, one so unwilling to save himself. Might there be an empath amongst us? Or one with magical empathic abilities so we may discern the truth of this man?"

 

"Isle of the White King you say? Ah, then that tower must belong to Baestion Blackhand the Lich.
A ancient white and a Necromantic master are not what I was expecting on this voyage.

I will not deny though that we are luckier then we could have been. There are worse things that could happen. Do either of you have any idear what we should do next?"

We should have died. All logic points to us dying, yet something saved us. And I don't think what saved us had good intentions... I think...

Suddenly his hand felt as if it were on fire and he doubled over in pain, clutching the limb to his chest. It felt is as though someone had bathed it in burning pitch... he almost whited out from the intestity. The it was over almost a suddenly as it begain leaving him gasping on the ground.

He looked at his hand and saw, to his horror, that it had turned reddish in colour and the nails were sharper... pointed... one would say demonic.

"By the hells" Max breathed "What just happend?"

He could have sworn he heard Ellie's laughter in the back of his mind. Max glanced at his companions and saw the confusion and distrust evident on their faces, and relised he had no way of explaining what had just occured unless he told the truth.
Sometimes he hated his life. He waited for the first responce.

 

At the mention of the Lich, Corth's amulet seemed to scorch him with the heat it radiated. There were undead, which Vailorath didn't care about, they were gone. Skeletons and Zombies were almost useless.
But, then there were the living dead. Those few - and mostly evil - mortals who had somehow defied Vailorath's Will, and continued to live long after they had died...Vailorath waited for these. He hungered for them. The living dead were to be destroyed, annhilated. No matter the cost.

Corth thought he could faintly smell burned flesh, but that didn't matter. The burn-scars from the amulet had always healed in the past. But, that was out of his mind as soon as Corth saw what happened next.

Without even thinking, Corth had drawn the cold iron shortsword from his hip. As fast as lightning, Corth had stepped in front of Alandra and pushed her backwards out of the way. And in front of Max on the ground. Corth pointed the sword at Max's neck.

Corth spoke in a voice that was his, and, yet, not his own. His voice seemed to radiate with power, and a faint light seemed to erupt from underneath his shirt. Corth - with his free hand - tore the amulet from his neck and thrust it towards Max's eyes.

"Child of the Damned!" Corth hissed in a booming voice. "Speak your truth and purpose. Or so help me, I'll cleave your head from your shoulders so fast Daimorath wont even see you before Vailorath has his hands on you."

Corth managed to hide his surprise of the fact that Vailorath had granted him his power back. The sigul was glowing - brightly. Corth had a feeling that it probably wasn't permanant. In fact, he knew it wasn't.

Corth stared hard into Max's eyes. Corth's expression spoke volumes; If I don't like what I hear. You die.

 

A cleric of Vailorath? Oh... this makes things difficult.

"Very well, I will tell you. Please hear me out to the end before making any judgements.

About 5 years ago I, along with a friend named Elle, became involved in Demonology. We sought the power that came from it, the usual story with demons I suppose, and practiced... Dark magics. The spell I used on the ship to slay the Sahuagin is a perfect example of what I gained in knowledge. The cost on the other hand... was to great.

Elle and I refused to pay it when the Balor demanded it, saying it was not what we had agreed upon, and looking back on it that was probably not the wisest thing to do. We fought it and drove it back to the hells, but not before it claimed Elle's life. After that I turned my back on the Infernals and everything to do with them and it would have remained so if not for the Balor. He told my story to the entirety of the hells, and it appears it has spread to most of the Lower Planes in some form or another.

Demons and Devils have been trying to collect my soul for the past 4 years. I have held them back but for one small problem that was out of my control. Elle's soul was taken after her death and she apparently joined the Demons ranks, and I can't stop her from affecting me as I can the other Fiends as we made a pact in life that still stands today. It was that if one should lose the other in life, out spirits would find each other after death.

She seems as eager to claim my soul as the rest of the hells, whether because of her memories or her demonic nature I can not tell. This curse was in all likely hood designed by Elle, in an attempt to speed up the process of my "Damnation".
And no, I don't think it's reversible.

...And that's it really. So Corth, Cleric of Vailorath, what do you do now?"

 

Corth crouched down on his haunches, with his iron blade still drawn. He smiled his sick smile at Max and said;
"If I truly were a Cleric of Vailorath - as you say - then I would be torn. Not out of any friendship you and I may have. Vailorites don't have many friends. But, because, normally, you are mortal, so I - we - would have put you under torture for the things you have done. But, also, you have had contact with daemons. And, you may even be part-daemon yourself. And, since you seem to have no alleigance to Vailorath - or to Zares or even Caladine - by rights I should send you to The Seat without even telling you this."

"But, you have caused the death of your childhood friend, and perhaps have even cursed her to daemonhood. Her face should haunt your nightmares." Judging from the look on Max's face, Corth thought he wasn't wrong.
"Some would say that is punishment enough."

Corth stood up, and sheathed his sword. "But not me. You have acknowleged me as a Cleric of Vailorath. I never said any such thing. But, without the presence of a servant of the High Father, and no servant of Daimorath to stand against me, you call me Priest, and call me Judge. And if I so choose, your executioner."
This wasn't a question.

Then, his voice seemed to fade away, while another one seemed to take it's place; "I judge you damned!" The shining amulet in Corth's right hand seemed to lessen, and eventually fade away until it was just a silver symbol of Vailorath again.

Corth looked down at Max, his voice returned to normal.
"You should feel lucky. For I am no Cleric of Vailorath. However, if Vailorath has granted me any power at all; When you die - by my hand or any other - you will go to Him. Or, just because He would know how much it would hurt you, He might just give you over to the Fiends anyway. It's a gamble. I wouldn't want to die anytime soon were I you." Corth's voice then seemed to take friendlier tone.
"We've got bigger problems though, you say there's a Lich on the island, and possibly a great white Dragon? It seems to me Max, that you and I have greater evils to face. And we use the tools we've been given."

Corth offered his hand to help Max to his feet.

[ April 17, 2007, 10:16: Message edited by: Cheesegear ]

 

In the silence that followed Slade's question, Haukor shook his head.

"It wouldn't appear so. We're going to have to rely on our instincts on this one."

Malloren followed Haukor up.

"What could I do that would demonstrate to you that I am indeed telling the truth?"

 

Max accepted Corth's offered hand.

"Thank you. All things considering that was very understanding of you."

My life is never going to recover from this.

"Do you have a plan Alandra?"