Meanwhile... in the Darkness Below

[Ithildur]

((I thought it'd be a good idea to start an IC thread (mostly IC anyway) to flesh out the RP that's taking place in between Thursday sessions. I realize folks are busy and can't log in as much as we'd like to, so have at it! Note: I've not done this in ALFA in a while, so someone politely give me a tap if I'm doing something I shouldn't be; I'm trying to keep things simple and avoid giving out too much meta))



You can do this. Come on Aglaril.

Thrust. Parry. Feint, and step to the side, sword in defensive position... NOW. Arcane syllables... use your left hand for the somatic element... quickly, but not too fast... don't let the momentum of the physical exertion...

Feh! No good... the spell is disrupted, even without any armor on. The cantrips and simpler spells of the first circle I can manage, but... this was a bit more complex. This was what, the tenth attempt?

And tenth failure. Hmph.

Aglaril glanced over briefly towards the others, hoping that no one saw, or at least, that none were laughing. Especially Elenaril... he did not care greatly what Sywyn thought of him after his insults, and Ethan was... well, he wasn't an elf. Maelredhel deserved regard certainly, but Elenaril and Laniara... they were both fellow Ar'Tel'Quessir... and Elenaril was more than that...

"Hero..."

The word came forth under his breath without thought, as Aglaril shook his head. Members of House Shaelara were scoundrels and troublemakers, not heroes. Aglaril's father had been known for his courage in his youth, certainly, but he would not have been called a 'hero' by many... certainly not by himself. A scoundrel, yes. Reckless adventurer, swashbuckling daredevil, but not... a hero. This is what Aglaril had always looked up to, emulated, or tried to, all of his young decades.

But Elenaril had called out something that he'd never considered before. During this unlikely adventure facing giants, Duergar, and unknown denizens of the Underdark, Elenaril had claimed that Aglaril displayed flashes of ... 'heroic' was the word he used, did he not?

And if anyone would know, Aglaril thought, Elenaril would. But still...

Aglaril shook his head, and resumed his drills. He didn't have much time, he knew, before they would break their rest and resume tracking their quarry.

I just want to survive this, help as much as I can, and return to the shining sun, the moon and the stars above... without ending up like that poor bastard Bedine.Thrice cursed place, this foul darkness! Let the dhaerow and 'Heroes' have it all they want...

Even as he thought this to himself, he found his glance wandering towards the camp, where the others seemed to be discussing something.

[Blindhamsterman]

The elf sits with his back against a hard wall in the small room that once housed the undead, his robes - enchanted though they are - begin to look frayed and battered, getting even this far has been hard.

He glances to the other side of the room, a corpse wrapped in an old cloak, the bedine - Dahkir, slain by hammering spells that had almost taken his life also. A trap, and they'd walked right into it... the entire group had been badly hurt, if it wasn't for the swift actions of the group it is likely none of them would have survived it.

Turning his gaze from that sorry sight under the robes, he frowns just a bit. In the center of the room the young, oft-cocky elf, Aglaril practices. He's graceful and sure of his movments, though lacking the natural grace of someone like Maeredhel or Sywyn, but his movements have the telltale markings of the Bladesong stance.

He smiles a bit, nodding approval as the other elf spins and weaves through his movements, chuckling softly as he once again disrupts the spell he attempted to cast... How many years had it taken him at home? back at the lodge? Just to learn to control his movements enough to cast a spell mid swing? ten? twenty? Probably more than that... eighty years he'd spent in that place... before running with now gone friends for the mainland...


Good Aglaril, remember, fighting is much like a dance, each movement should be measured and graceful, but do not force it, take your time, forget everything around you except your blade, become one with it, feel its weight... it's balance. You'll know the perfect moment to cast if you can master that.

He smiles again, nodding as the other elf stops a bit, seemingly deep in thought, Elenaril turns to regard the elf beside him, Maeredhel, apparently examinging something under the soft light of the camp fire.

He looks about the rest of the group, Laniara sitting at a table, books before her, a number of scrolls beside it. Always so meticulous, so full of clarity.

Just off to her side, Sywyn works on his bow, tightening the string at the moment, the bow that is to all intents and purposes a part of him. Elenaril chuckles softly a moment, they'd been through a lot together, he was glad to have his friend back.

Then he glances over toward Ethan, the man... the only human left now, seems quiet, much like the elves, he clearly doesn't like the underdark any more than the rest of his compaions, the man is quiet now, sorting through his gear as best he can in such faint light.

He glances over toward Aglaril again, rises and draws Talvael, as he does the room is filled with a soft orange glow, the elven runes dance with soft trapped flames, the blade itself, with its scale-like design reflects the magical light and appears to be a purplish colour.

Aglaril, here, let me show you

He walks over, and taps the other elfs blade with his own

Like this my young friend.

[Ithildur]

Aglaril paused as Elenaril's magnificent rapier tapped the borrowed longsword he held; he hesitated briefly, then nodded once.

"Certainly, I can use all the schooling I can get, while I have the opportunity..."

For a brief moment the contrast between the two sun elves was embarrassingly evident to Aglaril: Elenaril with his rapier was the very picture of cathshee-like grace and precision, his every movement nimble and honed. Aglaril had always prided himself on his own quickness and agility, but next to the other elf he actually felt... clumsy.

Putting aside his thoughts, Aglaril nodded once more and quipped with a rather roguish grin.

"I trust you will not spoil this nice shirt I'm wearing by drawing blood? I do like red, but I think it would stand out very poorly against this blue."

[Keryn]

Sitting in a corner after taking care of his longbow Sywyn looks at an arrow with golden feathers... He spins it with his fingers trying to understand how an arrow could pierce through stone! How an arrow could even pass through stone and hit an enemy in the other side killing him... What sort of magic could be used to accomplish this. Certainly just the adamantine tip would not make it possible.

He looks at Aglaril for a moment...

You are Tel'quessir... *sighs* I hope this journey shows you, you can do more then just drink and gamble... Your people needs you more then you can imagine. I hope one day you forgive me my harsh words towards you, but if it made you angry and stand up to show me wrong... or if it opened the doors for Elenaril to reach out to your heart and lead you to where you should be, by your peoples side, then I do not mind having been the harsh one, or even one you hate or care not about.
Keep practicing Aglaril...

He nods to himself as he thinks about what he is watching and then opens a small notebook. Some pages are flipped and he stops where a map has been drawn, he adds something to it. Sywyn seems to have drawn every single place they've been to, managing to keep an idea of the distance walked, and the directions taken.

If we need to turn back or get back to someplace we were, this will be quite a help. He thinks.

[Killthorne]

I didn't wanna go. After hearin' a few quips 'bout th' 'bilities o' some elven ranger named Sywyn and learnin' that he was gonna go inta' th'Dark with us, I figured th' need ta' have me along was pointless. I think th' only reason I went was fer Maer. An' even that's a lil' on th' questionable side o' things. Ever since them assassins, it just hasn't been th' same 'atween us. Still, I'd hate ta' have him dyin' again an' I guess if one extra bow can sink a few arrows here an' there, I might as well be here in this gods awful place.

I'm glad I saw m'family an' friends an' th' High Forest 'afore I took this dangerous road. Th' only other human with us (an' a strange one o' sorts as he seemed ta' be able ta' conjure up an' speak ta' spirits), Dahkir, was killed so easily by a barrage o' destructive magical fireballs an' ice chunks. Wish we could done more fer him in buryin' him an' 'least payin' our respects, but we've got no time or enough security down here ta' do so. Kinda eats at me that I could end up like him, down in this pit, th' same way: a pile o' cremated bones an' ash amidst th' horrors an' darkness with no way fer anyone ta' visit m' grave.

Feelin' odd 'bout bein' in this group though. Other than bein' th' only human among a group o' elves that is. At times I think we're bein' led by Elenaril, at times by Sywyn... an' at times, it's some sort o' consensus on where ta' go an' what ta' do. All I can say is I am bloody well lost. An' I'd have ta' agree with Laniara now. The sun an' sky sound real good after bein' down here fer some time. Other than th' random patch o' illuminated mushrooms 'er th' scarce glowin' crystal, it's nothin' but darkness. Been usin' m' ears more than m' eyes fer sure. Sorta one reason why I ain't mindin' if Sywyn takes th' lead in scoutin'. I'm blind down here.

I guess if ye were ta' ask me if I were afraid o' what's down here, I would outright say "damn right I am." Already had m' mind temporarily taken o'er by one o' them squid-faced buggers. But this fear I got keeps me somewhat alert, keeps me on edge an' in some sort o' defensive position that ain't seemin' ta' go away.

By th' looks o' th' others, I'm prolly bein' more quiet than usual. Well, I got nothin' ta' say. Well not nothin'. More like, let's not cross magical rope bridges across web-filled chasms e'er again eh? But eh, I'm outnumbered. Common sense seems ta' be o'ershadowed by th' blackness an' lunacy o' even bein' down here. Guess I'll just keep ta' m'self until I need ta' speak up. All I know is I got an arrow ready fer this Golden Devil th' moment e'eryone realizes he's bloody leadin' us 'round to our deaths. Either th' bugger's been mind-controlled 'er he's playin' us right inta' the greys' hands on purpose. I ain't likin' this whole deal o' followin' his trail all o'er this damned place without any good reason. An' I wonder if th' rest o' th' party is startin' ta' think th' same...

[NESchampion]

((I love the views of the Under, very nice stuff all of you.))

[Ithildur]

Aglaril sat with his arms resting on his knees, his head slightly lowered. The expression on his face wasn't difficult to read: there was a cloud hanging over the Elf. The last encounter had been a near disaster, one that ended in the group fleeing for their lives. It had been the second, perhaps the third time since they'd ventured down here that they had ended up fighting foes without having any idea what they were up against.

Not surprising perhaps, in a strange place like the Underdark, no. What bothered the Sun Elf was the apparent lack of concern by the lead scout of the group over what Agaril saw as two critical failures. The pragmatic Sun Elf had no wish to see a third close brush with disaster. He doubted that the Underdark would prove to be so merciful, especially to a group of surface elves and a human.

Reluctantly, Aglaril came to a decision silently, although when he looked up and saw Elenaril nearby, he hesitated...

[Blindhamsterman]

Elenaril sits, his head in the old leather book given over to him by the dwarves, his expression remains the same as it has since they'd left the dwarven outpost - one that mixed sorrow and something else, frustration or perhaps even anger.

his raven dark hair all the darker from blood, his own blood that has matted it badly. his robes continue to remain apparently undamaged despite the misadventure that saw the party fleeing all the way back to this old safe-house.

beside him lies his journal, the page open on the most recent entry, a few blood stains indicate that he was still bleeding even when he'd written it. ((found here - http://www.alandfaraway.org/forums/view ... =6&t=44251))

He glances up as the younger elf - less obviously battered than himself seems to suck in a breath, eyes on Elenaril - eyes with a clear look of determination in them. He motions the younger elf over.


Aglaril, come speak with me.

[Ithildur]

"Very well Elenaril," replied the elf in an unusually sober tone. "Perhaps it's best I speak my mind freely."

Aglaril paused briefly to collect his thoughts, then began.

"I spoke to you that I've been thinking about... my life, purpose, things of that nature, recently, after months of idling my time in the taverns of Silverymoon. And that is why I came on this adventure, at Sywyn's invitation. I thought it might be an opportunity to... stretch myself perhaps, to grow, to see what it's like to face unknown dangers at the side of other Quessir, for purposes beyond my own self... for something bigger, more meaningful."

"I expected danger, and agreed to it, without knowing fully the reasons behind this dark venture; perhaps it was foolish, perhaps not. But now that it comes to it..."

The elf hesitated before continuing, deep furrows etched in his brow and forehead.

"I do not wish to die, Elenaril, not yet. Not like this, away from the light above... in this dreary place, like that poor wretch Dahkir. I feel as though we are pressing forward towards greater and greater dangers, without recognizing the increased threat, stumbling into battle and situations uninformed and unprepared."

"I also lament the fact that I cannot contribute more. I wish I had Sywyn's skill with stealth and bow, or Laniara's skill with the Art, or yours with the blade. Or any of the others. I feel like somewhat useless baggage, chasing things around down here, or being chased by them, for reasons that are not clear to me, all the while feeling that I will suffocate down here in this oppressive darkness."

"I miss the sun, Elenaril," Aglaril shrugged, then eyed the other elf as his voice softened. "Do you believe... we will ever see it again?"

[Ronan]

It took Maeredhel a surprisingly long time to realize just how different he was. He did not long for the sun or stars. He did not miss morning dew, or the feel of fresh snowfall under his boots. He looked into the darkness and felt not fear, but the wonder of the unknown.

He was precisely where he wanted to be.

When Maeredhel could scarcely manage a spell of invisibility, he'd solved one of the dead Dean's puzzles and entered the Tower of the Star, alone. When he was just learning to wield a rapier properly, he'd entered a drow city and laid eyes on a priestess of Lloth. Long before this expedition had started, Maeredhel had snuck past ogres and giants, and found the abandoned crystal caves of the dwarves. With Ethan, Maeredhel had explored nearly every one of the interesting places in the Marches. Then after his rebirth, he re-explored even more alone. The danger of this place was nothing new, nor was the excitement of discovery.

While many of the others prayed Corellon to deliver them safely to the surface, Maer prayed to the Lady of Dreams to let him stay, and solve Delzoun's mysteries.

Most of the others feared death. Maeredhel did not. He'd died before, and oddly being dead was one of the few things he remembered of that time. He knew if he died again Sehanine would see him to Arvandor. No, its the dying thats painful and frightening, Maer thought. Not the being dead.

What bothered him is how useless he was. In the past he'd survived by being quick and clever; sneaking past frost giants and disarming ancient traps. None of his skills seemed at all useful against the hordes of duergar and murderous fish-men they faced. There was nothing to be done but kill them, and Sywyn was nothing if not a killing machine.

Then there was the dwarven craftsmanship. Walls with no seams, statues seemingly carved in-place. How was he to spot traps created with such skill? How many secret doors and passages might they have already passed? The thought of taking a wrong step and being set afire or impaled on a hidden spike was not pleasant.

What really tugged at Maeredhel's mind was not the danger about them, but his own reactions. Why did he not long for the surface? Only the drow were at home in the Night Below. Why did he feel nothing at Dahkir's death? The man had saved their lives, and been killed for it. Why did he smile at the dark, grateful for its secrets and mysteries? This was the way of Shar, his hated enemy. He acted like he'd learned a teu'tel'quess should act, but more and more he began to see just how different he was from the other elves.

Once again he was glad Ethan and Elenaril were here. The friend and the hero; whatever happened, they could likely be trusted. Maeredhel was much less sure about the coward and the two murderers. Elenaril could not be blamed for what those two had done, he told himself...

[Ronan]

Maeredhel sat back against the cave wall, pretending not to listen to Aglaril and Elenaril speak. As he did so, he removed each of the tiny scroll cases from his bandoleer and inspected them.

The end of the first case was concave. A scroll of invisibility. The wax seal was intact, so he did not break it.

Aglaril baffled Maeredhel. The elf oft claimed to be a 'scoundrel', yet he'd no skills Maer associated with any sort of rogue. He had knowledge of spellcraft beyond Maer's own, yet could seemingly only work the simplest spell.

The next was convex, a scroll of blindsight. The seal had been melted away by some firey magics, so he set it aside to re-seal. The vellum inside was effectively waterproof, but Maeredhel was less sure about the inks used and even less about what other liquids it might be exposed to. He had not created that scroll himself.

Perhaps most oddly, Aglaril was here. A moon or so before their descent, Maer and Aglaril had helped a Silvaeren moon elf against two common thugs. The so-called scoundrel's charm had fled even more quickly than his courage. And yet he was now in the Underdark! Maeredhel did not know much of those sorts of things, but he did know how feared the place was. It was no place for a coward, and certainly no place a coward would chose to go on his own free will.

The next scroll case had a sharp point carved on it, making it a spell warding against missile weapons. Maer had dozens of scrolls of many different types, so selecting the right one in a short amount of time was critical. He'd memorized their locations of course, but the carvings made selecting one more foolproof if his bandoleer had shifted, or he'd taken a blow to the head.

Some things just didn't add up. Maeredhel neither trusted nor liked Aglaril, although he wasn't sure if he trusted anyone outside of Elenaril and Ethan anyway. Still, he spoke up, saying something for the first time in hours:

"He has the right of it, aye? All our blunders seem to happen when we don't scout well. We need some way to know what we're up against. I think we ought to try and take another mage captive."

Shrugging before the others reply, he looks to his next scroll...

[Blindhamsterman]

The bloodied and battered elf lets out a slow sigh at the words of his companions, it's clear from his expression that he cannot help but agree with their words, for a moment his expression is perhaps even more pained than it was before they had spoken. He sets the fallen Bladesinger’s journal, leaving it to rest upon his own similar sized and equally bloodied journal; this sight of which could even seem ominous.

"All blame for our two recent blunders should fall upon my shoulders; Sywyn and Ethan have done an admirable job in guiding us for the most part unscathed through this place. The battle that saw Dahkir slain was one we could have avoided had I suggested Sywyn scout further than he already had instead of relying on what little he'd told us and on what I heard the Duergar say..."

he pauses a moment as if thinking

"And our most recent, and in many ways even more disastrous blunder could have been avoided had I not simply taken Sywyns word that it was an orc ahead... I recognised it for what it was too late, and we all paid dearly for it."

Elenaril looks between the two elves, one a close and trusted friend for some time, the other a newer ally, but one he sees something greater in. He gives a half-hearted smile.

"I am the expedition’s leader, and as it was my duty to burn Dahkirs body for my failure, the blame lies on my shoulders alone for any other ills that should befall us. I am supposed to be the one protecting each of you from peril, and I am supposed to be the one ensuring the party follows their roles down in this gloomy place. For what has already befallen us, I am sorry."

still sitting with his back to the wall, he straightens his shoulders, the image is somewhat incongruous with the bloodied appearance he still bears

"But this I promise you, we'll see the dual purpose of this expedition through, we'll ensure that we complete the intelligence we've gathered for the dwarves - making it more concrete... and now, more importantly in my mind... we'll find this Devil, this kinslayer... and we'll determine what set him on the path he has followed."

"If he is friend then we shall aid him in his purpose and I shall mourn both the loss and fall of Kalliniel Galadhron."

"If he is our enemy... then I'll uphold my duties, and ensure he pays for the ills he has caused, both to us, our kin on the surface and to the fallen Bladesinger..."

his expression becomes firm and even more determined

"But most of all, I promise you that no more of you will fall. I expect you to flee if things become too dangerous, Laniara will get you out in such an instance, and it'll be up to me to ensure she has time to do so."

[Ronan]

Maeredhel had set his scroll bandoleer aside, and was shaving a bit of silver from a worn coin, gathering it in a spell component pouch. As he listens to Elenaril, a small smirk forms on his lips.

"My eyes are better than yours, Elenaril, and I was right on or past your heels as we attacked those things. 'twasn't such a good idea I 'spose, but we lived, and know more for it."

Maer shrugs, and goes back to harvesting silver from his coin

[Keryn]

*meanwhile if anyone notices, Sywyn is nowhere to be found. He is certainly not inside the safe walls*

[Keryn]

*Sywyn returns some long hours latter he enters and falls down sitting leaning back against the stone wall. Blood is visible in his cloak and some likely also sprayed over his face, though it seems already dried.
He drops his bow to the ground and rests his forearms over his bent knees and breaths deeply, before turning to Elenaril though speaking loud enough to that all can hear the news.*

Elenaril *looks to him and then the others making sure everyone is listening*

I went back to the old Dwarven Outpost in the crystal caves, I had to make sure what had happened down there and they seemed the most reliable source of information, since it is not wise to face them again not knowing what we stand against.

*he pauses and takes another deep breath*

That huge creature and resembled an Orc at distance in those shaddy tunnels was in fact a earthen spirit, some of the Felbar's warriors were also attacked recently by some of them. No mage can summon them or call for them to act has their servants, they have a will of their own, though they do have weaknesses. The "dumanthoins glowgems the huge crystals we saw in the caves, are said to be one of them weaknesses, also there are weapon that hurt them more.

*slowly pulls his hood back and leans his head down as he closes his eyes and continues to speak, the blood dried in his face now more visible, his expression of a mix of fear and fatigue*

The cat like creatures, he did not mention any names, but said that much like a druid is able to call forth a faithful animal in the woods, the Ilithid were able to do as much in here... *rests his head in his hands and then back again in the wall* He did warn us that the deeper we will go the tougher the enemies will be. And that if the devil had managed to pass unseen through those, then it would be wise to wait for him to return instead of pursuing him there.

I guess we should check other nearby areas, maybe where Ethan heard some work being done in the rock...

*looks at them waiting for an answer*