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[IC] - TIDERULER OF MARAN
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 6909596" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><strong>@<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=24380" target="_blank">Neurotic</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6801311" target="_blank">KahlessNestor</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855130" target="_blank">Jago</a> [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION]</u></strong></em></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The sudden explosion of light from the sunrod made the room and its’ contents far more discernible. Darkness rescinds and for a moment comfort sits in, only to be taken away as the carvings on the walls become clearer. The ominous aspect of the tall room makes them feel as trespassers, and the general abandon of the stockpiles does not help. It seems that the place receives a lot of traffic, sure enough, but no one would remain down here for long. Probably it’s the best place to hoard weapons and war supplies precisely because there is no reason to come down here.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>REYNARD</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As the pistolero approaches the plaque, he notices plenty of candle marks all around it. They are not placed in any particular ritual patterns. On the contrary, their disposition seems to have served as a mean to illuminate the writings. Someone surely took its’ time trying to read the inscriptions.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Leaving such concerns aside, Reynard focuses on the writings themselves. The plaque is quite big – it could house a 6’ body easily, with lots of space to spare. The arabesques drawn all around the stone are quite familiar, reminding him of those framing a herald for a guild in Maran. Still, these seem to be far older, dating from the days before the foundation of the city. As for what is written within the arabesque frame, Reynard has some difficulty trying to uncover it at first, but slowly he begins to shape some answers in his mind. The language is an archaic form of the common tongue. Back in Laholt he received instruction on such matters, even though only scholars would use such precious writing any more. Whatever he learned, though, proves to be enough for him to discern the main message contained in the plaque, convoluted as it may seem. It reads something like this:</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Herein lies the last of the Willing, life and strength of Cartagula. His name forgotten, as Fate determines, his purpose remains, preserved for nights of stars unlit. When this seal is broken, once again he’ll rise to separate the unmoving gates of dead Cartagula”. Whatever remains of the message is too obscure or too destroyed to be read. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>VA’ARAHKIR</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>There are plenty of crates, some half covered by cloth, others merged together by ropes. The reptilian employs his light feet and fast moves, sliding into the maze of wooden boxes and barrels, smell and touch being his guides as much as vision. He’s quick to realize that most of the crates house basic supplies, from campaign tents to blankets, from ropes to torches. Some even preserve sailor’s biscuits and rum, and it’s quite surprising that no pests have tried to attack the food reserves. Among the crates he finds a pair of sturdy boxes, each marked with a special rune, painted in red as if in a hurry and concealed underneath a heavy skin. Pulling the covers and opening the boxes, he discovers two sets of fifteen potions, all carefully accommodated in padded individual cases. The first box holds a variety of colored liquids, so far unidentified to him. Each bottle seems to have the equivalent of two, maybe three doses of each concoction – assuming they should be drunk, that is. The other box holds fifteen identical round ceramic flasks, closed by cork leads and padded with unusual zeal, almost as if easily breakable.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>MARIUS</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The monk glances at the plaque, extracting from it rough and vague parts of the message Reynard obtained. What concerns him, though, is that, among the arabesques, a set of four circular symbols, almost as mandalas, are placed at the four corners of the stone. In draconic, these are quite recognizable, since the language hasn’t changed much as time passed. Each of them stands for a way or purpose, the four of them being Virtue, Survival, Desire and Ascension. Some of these principles have been discussed to exhaustion by his order, almost to the point he might recognize all variations of their representing mandalas. And, as all mandalas, they assume no particular position, what makes it impossible to know which of them comes first to the sculptor of the stone, if any. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>His search for any secret paths has not led to any particular success, with a notable exception: he realizes that the plaque, as well as several frames on the walls, are hollow. The wall frames hold the same shape as the one in the central plaque. Even though they’re a bit smaller, it would still be enough for a human body to fit inside. It becomes obvious that the place was conceived as a mortuary chamber. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As for the beast that attacked them, all the effort he delivers into remembering any useful information turns out to be vain. More than this, his memories struggle to emerge into his thoughts. The very image of the thing loses itself as soon as conjured into his mind, the tension of the moment reaching an unnatural intensity. Something linked to that creature instils some primordial fear as he tries to remember its’ visage, a sentiment not at all common in the monk’s behavior.</strong></p><p> </p><p><strong>MORGRYM</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The dwarf drags his steps around the piles of weapons found around. At first glance, all gear seems quite regular and in dire need of a sand polishing – and then again, some pieces might disappear if brushed with sand, so rusty they are. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Nevertheless, closer inspection reveals some interesting treasures among the rotten pieces. Clearly, the rusty ones were used to hide the good weapons, placed carefully down and back. As he scavenges through the piles, he finds several fine samples of maranan craftsmanship, among them two battleaxes, a long sword, two crafted clubs and a pair of metal knuckles, as well as three shields, all masterpieces. Arrows of the same quality can be found in two full quivers, laying down near the boxes. But the most intriguing artifacts found within the improvised armory are a pair of finely decorated pistols hanging from a wall in leather holsters. Morgrym can’t vouch for the thing’s qualities, but they surely look expansive.</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 6909596, member: 6855545"] [B]@[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=24380"]Neurotic[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6801311"]KahlessNestor[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855130"]Jago[/URL] [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION][/U][/B][/I] The sudden explosion of light from the sunrod made the room and its’ contents far more discernible. Darkness rescinds and for a moment comfort sits in, only to be taken away as the carvings on the walls become clearer. The ominous aspect of the tall room makes them feel as trespassers, and the general abandon of the stockpiles does not help. It seems that the place receives a lot of traffic, sure enough, but no one would remain down here for long. Probably it’s the best place to hoard weapons and war supplies precisely because there is no reason to come down here.[/B] [B] REYNARD[/B] [B] As the pistolero approaches the plaque, he notices plenty of candle marks all around it. They are not placed in any particular ritual patterns. On the contrary, their disposition seems to have served as a mean to illuminate the writings. Someone surely took its’ time trying to read the inscriptions.[/B] [B] Leaving such concerns aside, Reynard focuses on the writings themselves. The plaque is quite big – it could house a 6’ body easily, with lots of space to spare. The arabesques drawn all around the stone are quite familiar, reminding him of those framing a herald for a guild in Maran. Still, these seem to be far older, dating from the days before the foundation of the city. As for what is written within the arabesque frame, Reynard has some difficulty trying to uncover it at first, but slowly he begins to shape some answers in his mind. The language is an archaic form of the common tongue. Back in Laholt he received instruction on such matters, even though only scholars would use such precious writing any more. Whatever he learned, though, proves to be enough for him to discern the main message contained in the plaque, convoluted as it may seem. It reads something like this:[/B] [B] “Herein lies the last of the Willing, life and strength of Cartagula. His name forgotten, as Fate determines, his purpose remains, preserved for nights of stars unlit. When this seal is broken, once again he’ll rise to separate the unmoving gates of dead Cartagula”. Whatever remains of the message is too obscure or too destroyed to be read. [/B] [B] VA’ARAHKIR[/B] [B] There are plenty of crates, some half covered by cloth, others merged together by ropes. The reptilian employs his light feet and fast moves, sliding into the maze of wooden boxes and barrels, smell and touch being his guides as much as vision. He’s quick to realize that most of the crates house basic supplies, from campaign tents to blankets, from ropes to torches. Some even preserve sailor’s biscuits and rum, and it’s quite surprising that no pests have tried to attack the food reserves. Among the crates he finds a pair of sturdy boxes, each marked with a special rune, painted in red as if in a hurry and concealed underneath a heavy skin. Pulling the covers and opening the boxes, he discovers two sets of fifteen potions, all carefully accommodated in padded individual cases. The first box holds a variety of colored liquids, so far unidentified to him. Each bottle seems to have the equivalent of two, maybe three doses of each concoction – assuming they should be drunk, that is. The other box holds fifteen identical round ceramic flasks, closed by cork leads and padded with unusual zeal, almost as if easily breakable.[/B] [B] MARIUS[/B] [B] The monk glances at the plaque, extracting from it rough and vague parts of the message Reynard obtained. What concerns him, though, is that, among the arabesques, a set of four circular symbols, almost as mandalas, are placed at the four corners of the stone. In draconic, these are quite recognizable, since the language hasn’t changed much as time passed. Each of them stands for a way or purpose, the four of them being Virtue, Survival, Desire and Ascension. Some of these principles have been discussed to exhaustion by his order, almost to the point he might recognize all variations of their representing mandalas. And, as all mandalas, they assume no particular position, what makes it impossible to know which of them comes first to the sculptor of the stone, if any. [/B] [B] His search for any secret paths has not led to any particular success, with a notable exception: he realizes that the plaque, as well as several frames on the walls, are hollow. The wall frames hold the same shape as the one in the central plaque. Even though they’re a bit smaller, it would still be enough for a human body to fit inside. It becomes obvious that the place was conceived as a mortuary chamber. [/B] [B] As for the beast that attacked them, all the effort he delivers into remembering any useful information turns out to be vain. More than this, his memories struggle to emerge into his thoughts. The very image of the thing loses itself as soon as conjured into his mind, the tension of the moment reaching an unnatural intensity. Something linked to that creature instils some primordial fear as he tries to remember its’ visage, a sentiment not at all common in the monk’s behavior.[/B] [B]MORGRYM[/B] [B] The dwarf drags his steps around the piles of weapons found around. At first glance, all gear seems quite regular and in dire need of a sand polishing – and then again, some pieces might disappear if brushed with sand, so rusty they are. [/B] [B] Nevertheless, closer inspection reveals some interesting treasures among the rotten pieces. Clearly, the rusty ones were used to hide the good weapons, placed carefully down and back. As he scavenges through the piles, he finds several fine samples of maranan craftsmanship, among them two battleaxes, a long sword, two crafted clubs and a pair of metal knuckles, as well as three shields, all masterpieces. Arrows of the same quality can be found in two full quivers, laying down near the boxes. But the most intriguing artifacts found within the improvised armory are a pair of finely decorated pistols hanging from a wall in leather holsters. Morgrym can’t vouch for the thing’s qualities, but they surely look expansive.[/B] [/QUOTE]
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