Tales told to the Librarians

Post your characters here

Moderator: etherial

Posts: 20
Joined: Sat Sep 23, 2017 2:48 pm

Tales told to the Librarians

Post by Shaalwyd » Mon Sep 25, 2017 9:02 am

Not all adepts are comfortable with setting their stories to paper. The written word is an art, and not one with which everyone is comfortable. Fortunately, the Librarians at the Great Library are accomplished in dictation, and willing to record the stories told to them. Such tales will be posted here.

Posts: 20
Joined: Sat Sep 23, 2017 2:48 pm

Re: Tales told to the Librarians

Post by Shaalwyd » Mon Sep 25, 2017 9:03 am

The Quest for the lost Questors of Garlen, as told by Alari, Swordmaster Extraordinaire
Our first part of our adventure is rather uneventful. We manage to make our way to [Human Settlement Whose Name the Player Forgets Right Now] without much incident. Moore and I get to talking about Heartscry! I believe it's the first time for both of us we haven't had her enlightening company. He... makes an effort at singing that one travelling song of hers. His heart was in it but he just doesn't have the timbre she does (or any talent at all, but don't tell him I said that!)

After the village, we head west and try to find ourselves some lost Questors. But, on our 6th day, tragedy strikes! Wolves get the drop on us! They strike out of the bushes and I catch a whiff of something horrendous! I struggle to keep my breakfast down but a sharp yell from Orlen from behind me informs me where that odor comes from. It was another undead wolf whose rotting was beyond anything I've ever wanted to see!

For once I must take on a defensive stance as I try to protect the wizard as he gets into a more advantageous position. Unfortunately he's been hamstrung so he cannot run far. Moore does manage to interpose himself between undead beasts and Orlen. Yet, to my bafflement, he goes into a berserk rage! He swings haphazardly - almost blindly! - at our assailants. I manage to realize that the rotting wolf's smell rapidly diminishes with distance. I make my way around my current foe (a regular undead wolf) and I make it out of the miasma...and I definitely didn't throw up or anything along the way! In any case I am at my full capacity and strike out at my foes.

However the damage has already been done. Moore and Orlen are down. However Ceadda, the truly heroic human, fends off a multitude of vicious hounds with nary a scratch on him.

In all honestly, I didn't put on the same show I normally do but that was because this was a matter of life and death (not to mention two-thirds of my audience was unconscious). Luckily, quickly picking up on the warrior's strategy, we defeat the undead beasts with much less danger to ourselves.

After the intense wolf fight, we came to the pragmatic conclusion that the Garlen questors were very likely already dead, and rested for two days, until we were almost fully recovered.

On our next day's travel, we're hot on someone's trail and come across four robed figures, faces obscured by hoods. I try to put my best foot forward with a First Impression but they have none of it and I thiiiiink Ceadda shouts out that they're cultists so I very fluidly go from an outstretched hand to outstretched blade!

However one of the fiends whistles, some sort of signal to alert their undead thrall. A bear no less! Luckily it seems slow and a bit daft so it's taking its dear sweet time to get to us. Orlen (who must have been blessed with quick thinking but more on that later) immediately works his wizardry and makes my muscles as strong as steel! And I scout out the toughest looking Raggar cultists - Roggar? That one Mad Passion who likes undead and poison a lot.

I take on the brute head on however, in my bravado and boldness, one manages to sneak around and toss a bag of poison at Orlen! I didn't much catch of what went on but I could hear Caedda and Moore move to more properly protect him. But yes, I heroically strike at the brute with a powerful opening yet I seemed to have left myself open to counter attack. However, instead of going at me with killing intent, he opted to grab my hand and give it a firm twist. The damage was minimal but I could feel my wrist swelling. But, and this was his fatal flaw, I have learned how to fight through such incredible odds and gnawing pain! I duel the brute, not letting him land another blow on me. I dance and laugh around him landing strike after strike until the fiend falls. However, in my merriment the bear had advanced up to us.

But Ceadda. Oh Ceadda! I only caught a glimpse of him rushing to put himself between me and that rotting, moving monstrosity. I saw his skin glistening like metal, Orlen must have strengthened him too. And in a display of sheer combat prowess and mastery, he thrust his spear clean through the beast, slaying it in but one blow!

In the frenzy of battle, one Roggar cultist managed to escape and we suspected reinforcements would be on their way. So we make chase. For once my eyes that are normally set for the stars gander down and I spy a trail of the poisonous powder these people seem fond of using and I lead the way!

About one hour later quite an amusing event happens. Before we get to any encampment (or grove that the Garlen questors might be at) we bump into the cultists again along with one who's more finely dressed; one who I can only assume to be some sort of higher up. There's a brief, awkward pause between our two parties before we spring into combat!

And the wind must have been on our tails for we all lunge to the leader for a team attack, overwhelming him and knocking him flat on his back. One cowardly cultist throws another bag of poison at me but Garlen must have been blessing me for I somehow resisted the tightening of muscles. In another moment, Ceadda has stabbed through the leader, stilling him. But the remaining two cultists turn their attention towards me.

During the combat itself, I was in the moment. I felt the adrenaline rushing. I could ignore the throbbing pain of two wounds so I did not notice this at the moment. But, recalling the fight, I remember how they looked at me. There was cruel, heartless glee in their eyes as they flanked me. There, they had no mercy. One tore into my shoulder with a dagger twisting the blade while the other stabbed into my tail but not before applying a poison that shot icy pain right up my spine!

But fight on I did. And I had my friends to support me so I was bold, valiant! I continued twirling and flourishing my cape to put up visual barriers but I am only one T'skrang and I could focus on only one fiend at a time. Garlen seemed to try her best to keep me alive, poisons quickly seeming to dissipate but my foes were tenacious; reapplying their venom that burns like the coldest ice. Our party takes out one cultist but even I cannot fight like this forever. My vision blurs. The painful wounds get to me. I am told by the others that, as I fall to the ground, Ceadda howls out in rage and takes down the last cultist, the original one who fled from the first combat. He says that his gleeful sadism-filled face showed true fear as that Warrior brought down his wrath. But I was battling a different foe. While I was not conscious my body was still dying from ever-draining poison.

I cannot thank Garlen enough. Or maybe she was thanking me for seeking our her children, as I did not perish. Orlen did inform me (with his physician skills) that I was on the brink of death once again! And, while I do have my Last Chance Salve, it's still a spine-tingling thought that I danced with Death for a second time this year. As for the Garlen questors... their fate was not so lucky. The damned cultists had turned them into undead thralls on the very grove they sought out. We put their souls to rest and gathered the healing herbs they originally sought and went home.
This is a faithful rendition of the tale as told to this librarian by Alari himself.