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02/22/2004 6:35 AM
OOC: Read the associated OOC comments before joining this adventure.
IC: The second floor of the quaint house that Storm had taken residence in had been turned into a laboratory. His pursuit of Arcane Magics had never diminished over the decades. Errant mixing of potions and powders have caused many a spectacular explosion; a dangerous part of experimentation not all wizards were willing to take.
Storm was willing however. That was how he earned that nickname years ago. In his mind a small chance to take for the betterment of Mankind through the advancement of Magics.
The knock on the door could not have come at a worse time. The Druid/Mage was pouring two drops, just two drops, of Thrymin extract when the thumping came. The knock caused him to lose concentration and a third drop fell into the sulfur and fire beetle saliva mixture.
The explosion, like the rest, was spectacular.
The explosion almost leveled the whole second floor, and blasted Storm out through the shattered window and onto the cobblestone road below.
The follower of Sylvanus and Mystra slowly picked himself up off of the road. Should 'ave cast Stoneskin, he cursed to himself. His emerald eyes then fell upon the source of the interruption.
"Ye thar! Did ya see what ye have caused! Bah! Six months of study blown all the way ta Waterdeep!"
The Druid/Mage nodded his head to the Messenger's inquiry. "Aye, I'm Storm. I'll be at tha tavern in a l'il bit. I have a small mess 'ere ta clean first!"
Storm quickly assessed the damage to the home he had leased; the second floor no longer existed. "Wait! I'm on me way," he quickly shouted to the departing servant.
[Edited by Goldenheart on Sunday, February 22, 2004 2:13 PM]
02/23/2004 4:30 PM
The smoke and debris gathered aroundhim, almost throttling him moments after the explosion occurred, an explosion that rattled his body as well as his nerves. It had completely thrown him offguard, despite having been previously forewarned of such an occurrence.
Blasted mages, why don’t they just get rid of themselves in the process, he grumbled to himself. The messenger picked himself up, and dusted the debris from his attire and stood stiffly to face the person he was to deliver the message to. He eyed the mage warily and responded coldly, to his outburst.
“Never mind your default, be fortunate you hadn’t sent us both in pieces to Waterdeep.” Alas, although it’s my misfortune that you haven’t, Yurel amended silently.
“You may call me Yurel. My Mistress has an imperative message for you regarding an ancient fetish. Meet me at the tavern, so I can disclose it in further details,” he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose, adding hastily, “Only after you clean up here and yourself of course.”
As he spoke, his hands had unconsciously strayed to the hilt of his sword. If such an event arises that bids his decision between his life and that of this mage, he would not have to think twice.
He then turned on his heels and hurried away, ignoring the mage behind him.
02/23/2004 5:36 PM
The Druid/Mage walked with measured step down the cobble stone road; one of few such roads, in his small town of Essembra. The town never grew since he was a child, nor did it shrink. It always seemed to hold steady at just under four-thousand, as if it was all it was allowed. It seemed that it was meant to be that size and only that size for as long as it was around. Buildings from old fell with time, and new ones were constructed in its place, but the size and population always remained a constant. Storm knew this town like the back of his hand; and particularily the tavern where he had been summoned to. Summoned? B'ah! tha nerve!, he chuckled to himself. The tall, slight-of-build Druid entered the small tavern and took a seat in a corner, and like normal, waited.
Storm shook his head in thought, Now what could be tha matter? Seems like thar is always a problem ta solve with that one!. The barkeep brought over his usual and the druid/mage took a gulp of the bitter ale, belched slightly, and thanked the barkeep.
Anyone who never met the druid would have taken him to be no more than thirty, perhaps thirty-five at most, but to those who knew him they knew he was much older. Rumor has it that the follower of Mystra and Sylvanus was well over four-hundred years old, but if the truth be told, he was not quite four-hundred. Regardless of his preceived age, he was old for a human; his life exteneded by his Gods for reasons only known to them. He had a long life, and he was tired.
Storm took a large gulp of the ale, and with practised patience, waited.
[Edited by Goldenheart on Monday, February 23, 2004 8:49 PM]
02/25/2004 4:03 PM
Yurel wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the tavern. The stench of stale ale and filthy human sweat wafted into his nostril and assaulted his sense of smell, generating a feeling of queasy flip flops in his stomach that persisted even to the moment he stood before the druid.
“Have you had enough?” he asked, eyeing the druid with disgust, when he shamelessly allowed himself with another gaseous belch.
Yurel withdrew a scroll from the folds of his satchel and tossed it to the druid.
“My mistress sends you her greetings. She entreats you to do as it bids, and in turn you shall be well rewarded.”
He waited for an answer as the man opened the scroll. “Well?”
Ravena leaned against the stable wall, abducting her tibia and bringing the bottom of her shoe onto the wooden surface. She was bored. The sun was not much of a friend, and it was a bloody pain to be standing alone, barehanded and sweating profusely.
She eyed the passerbies, their purses not measuring up to her taste. She craned her neck as she a man dressed in refine clothings passed by. Her keen eyes scoured his body attire for any of that familiar bulge, but to her disappointment she could find none. He didn't even carry any pouches. Shades! Her lips curled up in a visible pout. Where have all these ostentatious nobles gone to nowadays. She groaned as she felt the sudden intensity of the sun boring into her cotton shirt, the rays permeating the tiny pores of her skin.
"Come on, now, where is it," she muttered to herself as she watched another passerby.
02/25/2004 6:05 PM
Storm balked at the messengers inquiry. "B'ah! Ya can never 'ave enough ale. Though it seems ta me I only drink tha stuff when yur Mistress summons me!" The mage took another gulp of ale and continued. "When is she ta learn I don take rewards? Nor do I care ta be summoned. Ya can tell her that if she summons me again I'll turn her in to a toad.
"Now What does she wan this time?" the Druid asked as Yurel handed him the scroll. The druid/mage shook his head and chuckled. "She just could not have told ye? B'ah! She'll never change that one!"
Storm opened the scroll, shook his head, and handed it back to Yurel. "Tell her, that such menial tasks are beneath me!" Storm thought for a moment, and once again shook his head. "Wait, I have another task I must complete, and what she asks for is on tha way, tell her I'll see what I can do, but this is tha last!"
Storm looked up towards the ceiling and cursed his two Gods then addressed the departing messenger. " I'll leave in tha morn, but it may be a while till I'm back. Let her know I'll send word when I can."
The druid/mage shook his head in disbelief. Here he was, a man who has walked Faerun for nearly four-hundred years, one who know every spell known to mage and druid alike-and them some, being tasked liked he was a mere servant. If I had known what I was in fur, I would never had bed ya! . Storm smiled at that night, perhaps tonight he will pay her one more visit, perhaps.
02/26/2004 4:22 PM
Yurel was astonished at the druid’s impudence. Once again, he was utterly confounded by his mistress’s relationships with people such as this. With indignation flaring in his mind for both him and his mistress, he said coldly, “I’m sure that this “menial task” is unsuitable for someone quite like you. Perhaps she had taken you for someone who is capable for doing such a menial task.”
The druid had accepted it, with no promise that the task would be done with efficiency or completeness.
“I’ll let her know of you and your intentions,” Yurel replied with a stiff bow.
He swung around and walked out the tavern, bridling with anger. Coarse the man was, he should not have been a person to be having a speck of attention from his mistress.
Ravena took to an inn as the sky darkened. She was greatly disappointed. NOt a successful day this was. She had only enough coins for a night board and a meager breakfast in the morning. Tonight, she was not going to have dinner at all.
02/26/2004 6:16 PM
Sylvia wandered through town, looking for a place to stay the night. She was bored, tired, hungry, and wanted more work. Not that she needed the money. No, she had just finished a big job, and was well off for the moment. What she needed, craved, was the excitement.
As she was walking about, her gaze happened across a lone woman, entering a nearby inn alone. Frowning, Sylvia followed her inside, and sat at a nearby table. It was dangerous to wander alone, and one way or another, Sylvia was going to teach that woman a lesson she wouldn't soon be forgetting.
02/26/2004 6:36 PM
Storm chuckled at the messengers words, "Know of me? She knows of me, no doubt about that!" The druid waited for the messenger to leave, then followed behind. He was in no mood to visit with Cassandra this night, perhaps when he gets back. Storm turned right, then headed to the closest Inn, with the explosion at the home he leased there was no way he would be going back any time soon. Besides, he didn't have too, his robe held many dimensional pockets, and after four-hundred years of exploration accumulated more items than he would ever need.
As he made his way to the Sleepy Dwarf Inn he thought of the charge Sylvanus had given him the day prior: to establish A Druid Grove deep in the bowels of the worst place known to man, Undermountain. Why Slyvanus, the God of Druids would want a grove there was beyond him, and besides how would an Oak grow where no light exists? The answer eluded him, but he had faith in his God, he would not task him with the impossible, would he?
First thing was first, Storm could not do this alone, as seasoned and as skilled as he was in the arts, he needed help. But who would be desperate enough to follow him into the home of the Dark Elves, follow him into a world where no light exists, where every shadow hides someone or something, that would kill any one who passes just for the sake of killing? Establishing a druid grove where no light has ever penetrated was hard enough, but finding those to accompany him will prove the most challenging.
Storm entered the Sleepy Dwarf Inn, he was not tired; he was a druid and only required sleep to memorize spells, and so ordered another ale and seated himself at a table that faced the door.
[Edited by Goldenheart on Thursday, February 26, 2004 6:39 PM]
02/27/2004 7:04 PM
Ravena immediately requested a room, not interested in staying around long to smell the sweet aroma of the food that floated around. While waiting, a brunette around the same age as her entered and she stared.
This one appears to be pretty well off. She measured the bulge of the coins in her pouch and turned her nose away. Not even enough for a two day’s meal. That means, she’s not worth much the trouble.
Her eyes suddenly flickered over to a robed man. He was downing his ale, and paid no notice to the patrons around him. A wizard perhaps she quickly assumed. Wizards must be loaded, because they can conjure up coins in just a spell. She grinned at a sudden thought.
The innkeeper then arrived with the key interrupting Ravena’s train of thoughts. He had a scowled on his face, knowing full well what she was.
“Fer the night only, and I wan’ ya out by the crack of dawn. Don’t you be messin’ with my customers, ya har?”
“Sure thing, sir,” she said smartly and strolled by the wizard’s table.
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