Meanwhile... in the Darkness Below

[Blindhamsterman]

Elenaril simply nods

well, let us see how successful we can be at outsmarting the various denizens of the deep then.

We'll set out in a few short hours, so I suggest everyone gets some rest.

Sywyn, I'd like you to move out a short while before us, see what the route we'll be taking is looking out. Remember our first destination is the fortress where Ethan heard strange noises.

When we arrive there, Sywyn and Ethan together will inspect the are carefully for tracks and any hint of what we might be walking into. Then Sywyn will once again take up the forward scouting roll.

Our task for the time being will be to see if this potential lead will shed more light on the intelligence we're trying to gather. It should also in theory be a somewhat safer route than the one we tried last time.

Once he finishes speaking, he glances about, seeming somewhat more sure of himself again, he looks to each of them for a few moments questioningly

Does anyone have anything they'd like to add to that? If so, speak up now, if not, then I've a few scrolls to scribe for Aglaril.

What do you have in mind Aglaril??

After saying the final words, he takes the third book he carries from his pack, a leather and locked spellbook, when he opens it the whispy writing that some might recognise as celestial can be read, alongside arcane looking diagrams.

[Ithildur]

Aglaril considers a moment, recalling the myriads of spiders that they had faced down in this place.

"A Web spell at the right time may have averted one of the near disasters. I've also been singed by ice and fire, once nearly killing me outright. Perhaps such a protection would be useful against spellcasters that we face."

"If I do cast the Web spell, our bows can make pincushions of our foes, but what will you do Elenaril? Do you wish to have your bow back?"

[Ronan]

Maer listens silently for some time, only speaking to Elenaril once the discussion has passed

"I'm nae better at staying unseen than Ethan is. If he is being seen, so will I. If Sywyn is half as skilled at spotting traps as he is anything else, he'll not need me up front.

I've been studying those crystals . . . mayhap we can find a way to break them into something usable as arrowheads, or trade the gnomes or dwarves for something similar? If Sywyn had arrows that could harm that spirit. . ." he trails off

(( I believe the Trapfinding feat in NWN2 caps the disable device DC, not the search DC as 3.5 does, so a skilled ranger should be able to spot traps just fine ))

[Blindhamsterman]

Elenaril finishes scribing a small number of scrolls for Aglaril, rolling them up together he hands them to the other elf whom had watched patiently.

"Here, these should help you in the coming difficulties we face, and beyond then also no doubt."

"As for ranged weapons, no, I've no arrows anyway, nor do I truly have any desire to use by old bow. You may keep it. while here I suppose I'll simply stand ready to deal with anything that manages to past web spells. Once away from this place, I think I'll research wand creation, likely Olaf can help with that." he rubs his chin thoughtfully

"When we set out, I suggest that our focus in spell selections could do with a change of pace... spells to disable enemies may well prove more useful than simply causing damage to a lone enemy" looking toward Sywyn, he grins a bit "I think lone enemies will cause less trouble with Sywyn beside us anyway."

"I'll rearrange my spellbook accordingly, I know a number of useful spells that should hamper our enemies, I suggest Laniara, that you prepare sleeping spells, perhaps a single more powerful Deep Slumber spell also. Though I leave specifics to each of you."

With that Elenaril takes out his journal once more and finishes writing a page he'd started a short while earlier, unlike the previous page, this one does not have blood smearing it...((found here: http://www.alandfaraway.org/forums/view ... 1&start=15

[Ronan]

Maeredhel approaches the shrine to Corellon Larethian and Sehanine Moonbow, upstairs in Everdusk Hall. He pauses by the door, hearing someone within. Standing off to the side, flat against the wall, he waits for the half-elves inside to leave. Eventually they do, without noticing him. This makes him smile a bit as he slips inside...

The animated statues of Corellon and the Moonbow watch him enter. Are they moved by divine will, or some Art of their creator? For a brief moment Maer thought to examine them and check, but he pushed that from his mind to do another time. He stands there for a bit, in the center of the carpeted isle looking back at the two statues for a while before speaking:

"Well... " running a hand through his shaggy hair "I 'spose I haven't prayed to either one of you, not really. Never asked for things, and such. What'd be the point? I've got all I need. Except, well... nae, I think I have that too, with Lady Mirithial."

He then pauses, looking at the statues as if they'll respond.

"So shyte, why am I here? You both know I'm yours." Though as he says this something itches at him, making him frown ... but the feeling quickly fades.

"Ah, right. Don't let Elenaril do anything too silly like get himself killed over a single elf. You know he's more important than that." Maer then nods as if in affirmation to his words.

"If we have to kill this Devil, well, it'd be shyte, but it happens aye?"

Scratching the back of his head, he adds, "But, I 'spose you know all this. Hells, is this even how quessir pray? I never had anyone showing me how, you know." He makes another mental note to sneak up on and listen to another elf praying.

"Well, doesn't matter now. You know most times I feel like you two birthed me and stuck me into the body of some quessir named Maeredhel. Makes me wonder, what happened to him?"

"And what will happen if the Devil kills me? Will the old Maeredhel come back? Will you stuff a new one in here? They want me to scout, it seems like, so I'll likely get shot first. Maybe by one of those killing arrows. Which is fine, I mean, you know I've been dead afore, when we first met. 'twasn't so bad. I'd appreciated if you keep the dying part from hurting so much, that part is nae fun."

"Anyhow, I know its not really either of your things," he pauses and looks to the statue of Sehanine Moonbow, "but it seems like the dwarves have lost a lot too, aye? Over the ages I mean. Maybe I can bring some of their past back to them, if its revealed to me? Maybe keep a bit for myself, if its useful. Aye I'm sure you'd rather me be delving into our own ruins, and I think i'd rather be too, but maybe next time, aye?"

Maeredhel stands there for a long while after, looking at the statues as if expecting a response.

[Blindhamsterman]

((loved that))

[kid]

this thread is fun.
everyone writes well... Its one of the the ones I keep for a while before reading,
cause I want to give it proper attention when I do.
Nice job.

[Ronan]

(( This takes place during our rest last viigas session. We ended the session shortly after, but I'd like to request we re-wind to this point when we start next week. At the time we were trying to make some progress before our Euro DM and players had to leave / pass out, and did not adequately play out all time and strategizing which goes on during a rest. Either way its no big deal - we only ATed one area. ))

Maeredhel sat on a bed of soft, glowing fungi; enough for him to see the others in the cave around him: Elrien, also in reverie next to him. Sywyn, who had a recent rest of sorts, keeping watch. Keren and the enigmatic Jonathan, on their backs sleeping as humans do. Aglaril sat by the water; a blissfully shallow pool in a place where horrors can come in any form.

Though Maeredhel was aware of the world around him, his mind drifted elsewhere in the waking rest known as reverie.

He walked up an ancient set of stairs cut in stone to a dwarf's stride. Cold air and snow bit in his face as he squinted at a long, thin shaft of light in the darkness around him. A huge door; large enough for a giant to pass unhindered, but cracked only enough so an elf could slip through. On the other side was snow, the sun's glare off it, and Sywyn.

The ranger's cloak mimicked even the texture and depth of the snow around him; Maer could never have spotted Sywyn if he were hiding from someone at Maer's vantage. The ranger crouched at the cliff ledge, pointing downward to the forces set against their escape from the ancient dwarven keep: Aside from the huge, painted orcs and gnolls were two frost giants.

"Call the others out, Maer", the ranger said.

It was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake but I did it anyway, Maeredhel thought. It is easy to do as your told and blame the teller for failures. What happened was as much my fault as Sywyn's.

Then the result appeared before him: Taernl's chest was split almost completely open by a giant's axe, while his eyes stared up at the sky. Steam rose from his wounds, though some of the blood on the ground was already beginning to freeze.

The broken body's lips moved, and words he's spoken long ago came out, "He ho-oed when he should have yip-yipped. You cannot trick a trickster, Maeredhel", and suddenly the true tragedy of Taernl's death hit the small elf like an ogre's fist.

To an untrained eye, the scene might have looked like a great victory for the elves. Only one of theirs had fallen, while two giants and a dozen orcs and gnolls had died on the other side. Maeredhel knew better; Taernl was a fine warrior but his worth was in his mind. Unbeknownst to most all of its citizens, the Confederacy suffered a blow with his death it might never recover from. No swords or spells could replace the knowledge and schemes in the dead elf's mind.

"A mistake" Maeredhel said, both in his reverie and the waking world. With that, he willed his dreams away and moved to kneel beside the ranger Sywyn.

"Sywyn, that last battle . . . 'twas nae good. Aye, we won, and its good we did, but we might not have. We weren't even inside Delzoun, or even that close. If we continue this way we'll get closer, and the difficulty will likely only increase as it did afore. Now we've angered Duerra as well, and we really don't even know what that even means.

"I didn't lead these people down here with promises of battle. We aren't going to win the conflict above or below solely by strength of arms. 'tis Erevan's ways that will see us through. The only way to win these wars is to turn our enemies on each other, and that is just what I mean to do here. But none of it will work as well if either the gnomes or flayers know we're here. I know you're in the dark on the plan, but trust me in this. Leena and the mages of the tower believe it a good one.

"Taernl believed it a good one. And, well, I think he was one of Erevan's. I don't know what he'd want us to do for him now that he's dead, but I mean to play at least this trick in his name.

"I know we'd seen some gnomes the way we came afore. We've trackers with us, mayhap we'll see signs. If not, mayhap we'll see one of their boats come by. If nothing, well, we can then decide on something else. If we press on to the spider-pits and the fortress, well I think we'll see a lot more battle. Aside from putting our plan in danger, one day we'll find a battle we won't win."

[Keryn]

Sywyn knelt alone as the others were resting, something was bugging him since they had catch that boat. He thinks to himself as he checks his maps drawned and perfected in each journey to the depths of the night bellow...

"Something is not right in here... *he flips a page, and his finger slides down the page stopping momentarily over some notes and marks* We met the Svirns here last time, near the boat that descends the river, though, that way it leads out... towards the bowl."

Sywyn rubs his chin and looks at the group, slowly he shakes his head. All brave, but we cannot fight our way through these tunnels, though Keren makes it impossible to move in these tunnels without being heard he thinks.

Maer joins him and Sywyn simply nods, listening, and answer as he finishes.

"You have my trust Maer, but maybe it is me who doesn't have yours. *places a hand over his shoulder* Nothing to worry about now anyway. I have no idea what you have in mind, knowing though would make it easier to follow your idea, and even help you if something goes awry. *he nods* I'll do what you ask of me my friend. *he opens his map and shows to Maer* We are here *he points* Last we saw the Svirns it was back there where we got the boat upstream. Though the boat downstream, will take us closer to the outside, near the Bowl, it was also where the Svirns went when they tried to escape the Umberhulks. We are still quite close, maybe it would be for the best to head that way. In my notes all the passages lead outside, but maybe we missed some passage? Finding the Svirns will be the easiest way, I remember they said the Fungui is found deep under and not an easy catch. Do you have something to trade with them?
As for passing unnoticed... *shrugs* Maybe it is a good plan, though it seems we have the wrong people to execute it. Keren will give our position, you know this all too well. Do you have any suggestion?

[Ronan]

"It is not a matter of trust, Sywyn. 'tis more that illithid can read minds, so the few who know, the better. Aside from myself, Aglaril knows as he overheard me speaking on it with Leena.

"I do have something to trade aye, or rather Keren has the something now. We need to have a human to do the dealing so our presence isn't known. Keren speaks dwarven, a language at least some of the gnomes will no doubt know. Jonathan would be best, aye, but he doesn't speak any tongues which would be of use to us.

"I don't know what to do about the noise Keren makes. We could have him strip his armor and focus on healing? Though he's certainly a boon in battle. Or maybe we simply have him follow further back? Whatever you think is best, I s'pose.

"He does have the ability to silence himself, as well as make himself vanish . . . should last long enough to run past one encounter."

[kid]

The young priest bearly closed an eye, cuddled into a ball, cradeling his backpack near the rustling ambers of a dying fire.
He opened his eyes to the sound of quiet murmrs in the elven toung.
even when they ploted the damned buggers sounded so elegant.
he closed his eyes and tryed to return to sleep, he would need Her blessings on the morrow, dayum, they would need them.
and he'll need to have his faculties if he wishes to do as Maer want him to do. he forced his eyes the stay shut, listening to the quiet and steady dripping somewhere deep within the dark . . . till he driffted off into a huanted sleep.

He woke. the elves still conversing amungst themselves.
a soft groan escaped his lips as he rose to a sitting position, and almost instinctivly he shot a glance to Sywyn, catching the elf's glance and smiling apologetically in return.
The young priest was even breathing to hard for the ranger's ears,
or maybe the problem was that he was breathing al all...
He almost sighed then cought himself in time and moved to ready his gear for another... day? was it even day? He didn't know, nor did it matter.
They needed him, his land needed him.
if that means he needs to suffer some glares, so be it.

He smiles a small smile to himself, buckling the plates of his hated armor.
"Elven make", he thought to himself, "wonder if that only makes him hate me more."The small smile persisted as the young priest finanly stood, ready.

"So..."
He steped forward, looking between the elves, smiling his small smile then shruged faintly.
"Off we go?"

[Ithildur]

Aglaril afforded himself the luxury of laying back for a while with his hands supporting his head. His eyes were wide open, as they nearly always were even when in reverie, but the elf remained motionless.

Spoiler:

((realized the below may be too much introspective info for this thread, probably suitable for a Library post but not RP/IC forum post, hence I am putting this section as spoiler-ish))
Out of all of them, perhaps he could appreciate the tangible menace of the Darkness Below best.. yes, even better than Sywyn and Maer with their much keener senses... for he remembered his first trip down all too well. He remembered the dread, the deep fear he'd experienced, the oppressive feeling of being cut off from sun, moon, and stars, the feeling of being so very far deep underneath things, like being in an enormous tomb that stretched forever.

But unlike tombs of the Ar'Tel'Quessir, this place was full of horrors and dangers, far from restful or peaceful. And here they were yet again... wandering the deadly place for hours that could slip into days and ten-days, and much longer, if things went poorly.

Aglaril felt calm in spite of this somehow. He did not fully understand, but he knew he was a different elf than the one that had entered this place many cycles ago. The dangers were still there, of course; in fact he was more aware of them now than on his previous trips. Besides the grey dwarves and the frog men, he had seen firsthand the horrible aberrations called Illithids, had felt the mind warping powers of their psionic attacks, seen their abominable, tentacled faces up close and personal more than once.

The elf glanced about at the rest of the group. A small part of him still flirted with thoughts like making some small mischief, perhaps using a cantrip to give hotfeet to an unsuspecting victim and watching them yell out in pain in spite of the danger. But he recognized more and more clearly what lay behind such thoughts and deeds; it was avoidance. The more tense things became, the more Aglaril struggled with fear, doubt, insecurity, and other negative feelings, the more he felt compelled to act out in ways to defuse them, often overreaching in his attempts to both deny what he felt as well as to try and emulate him...

That was before. Before... well, before many things... The trips to the Underdark. The Horde. His People prided themselves on being trained for war against creatures like orcs and goblinoids, but honestly, how many elves who were born and raised on the Isle ever saw as many of them as Aglaril had slain these past moons? Every muscle and sinew, reaction and reflexes, stamina and skill were tested and honed - and not the least of these, his wielding of the Art had increasingly become an extension of the same.

Maeredhel and Elrien likely did not realize, perhaps even remember the conversation that night... the night when Aglaril had his last strong drink. Perhaps in a small way, that was the beginning, the turning point.

"Taernl believed it a good one. And, well, I think he was one of Erevan's. I don't know what he'd want us to do for him now that he's dead, but I mean to play at least this trick in his name.."

The mention of the recently slain elf jarred Aglaril's thoughts to the present once more. For a brief moment he was nearly overcome with an emotion he seldom allowed himself to feel in such raw form: anger... no, rage.

Aglaril sat upright, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, then exhaling through his mouth slowly as he had been taught decades ago. He rose to his feet slowly, and spoke up with a calm voice.

"Maeredhel, if we must face more battles then so be it. With our current group I'd imagine we'll be hard pressed to avoid as many foes as you and Sywyn alone can down here,"

"Yet I'm in agreement with you that we cannot solve all our problems by killing everything we come across, or dying trying. The more we can use our wits, the better, especially if we can sow conflict among enemies."

"Sywyn, Keren should be... fine... as long as he gives you and Maeredhel both room to operate. That last battle, we potentially could have avoided getting caught in between two groups if some of us weren't constantly so eager to quickly press forward while you're scouting ahead."

"One other thought... we have the map portions we found with the dwarven runes on them. Perhaps Keren can make something of the runes, unless one of you has translated them already? Who knows if that might yield more insight? Lastly, what do we collectively know of these Deep Gnomes, in general and the particular ones found in this area?"