The Story of The Stave: Chapter one

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OoC: I never liked that elf

IC: Callain strode back into the house, revelling in his newfound strength. He felt stronger than he ever had been, but with that, he felt a sense of guilt. He needed blood to satisfy any hunger, and that was something he had hoped to leave behind when the Stave drove the Vampyre taint from him.

He stared at the blood drenched clothing in the corner. He had hurled them there the previous night and helped himself to some of the old man’s garments. The meeting with the old man disturbed him. And the question of what he was disturbed him more. Callain looked normal, but he drank blood and had supernatural strength. He shivered and lay down, hoping he would find his answers in Tarsk…

 

The first sunlight woke Glamrod up. He slept very well, probably becouse the child's bed was exactly his size. He grumbled, turned around and wrapped his mantle around him, and fell back asleep.

Illith'Hen hadn't slept very well, probably becouse of Glamrod's snuffling nose. He was tempted to kick Glamrod to make him stop, but instead put his head under his pillow and fell asleep.

Callain was wide awake, staring at the roof. The small bed was very uncomfortable, but his exhaustion had made him sleep. He looked around and noticed Illith'Hen and Glamrod sleeping, but Kibrani was nowhere to be seen. He got out of bed, put on his clothes, and left the room. He saw Lefkl sitting behind a desk in the central room, concentrated on readning a scroll. He decided not to disturb him, and went outside.

Outside, he looked at the chickens running around. The cock would wake everyone up soon. He was tempted to have chicken for breakfast, but then he thought of his conversation with Lefkl yesterday. Somehow, he didn't trust that man. He turned left and went a short distance back into the forest, to the waterfall. He was thirsty and wanted to quench his thirst, but he knew that water wouldn't suffice. On his way to the waterfall, he noticed footsteps leading there. He followed them and arrived at the waterfall.

His jaw dropped slowly as he saw Kibrani bathing, naked. She was a beautiful women, so he realised now. Although he knew he shouldn't be looking, he still kept staring until she had dressed again and went back to the house. He sat at the waterfall for a while, thinking, and then went back to the house when he heard the cock.

 

(I am sure Rallymama is going to have something to say about that Ancalimon. Anyways -)

Glamrod was especially grumpy on the day that it was agreed that the destruction of Tasrk, the Stave, and the Ulder'Gein all had something strange, something supernatural, something in common.

"I be guessin' that yer our guide, old man."

"I'm knowin' the road well, dwarf."

Callain sighed. Despite being early morning, the light hurt his eyes. Rays of light were like neeldes. Needles of fire piercing his flesh. He draped a cloak over his shoulders and head. That was better. A bit.

He could still taste the blood. Fresh blood. For a moment, he wondered what the blood of another person tasted like. What the blood of Kibrani tasted like. He pushed the thought from his head, and forced himself a conversation.

"So, old man, what do you think happened?"

"T'the city? They say there was a lot of fire. Lots of fire. My guess is as good as yours."

Illith'Hen kept the Stave in his hand. He thought about Tarsk, wondered if it had something to do with his life. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. Elves lived a long time.

He could feel the Stave pulling him. Toward Tarsk, perhaps. He hadn't deviated from the road. Maybe toward some altar or other place of magic or evil, that he no longer wanted anything to do with.

Callain spoke again. "So we are supposed to go into this city, where supposedly everyone died, and expect to just look into there and come out alive and intact?"

Lefkl shrugged. "There're a few hills over Tarsk. We can get a vantage point o'er the city, if you prefer. But I don't doubt that there is a connection between the city and the Stave and maybe everything else. I for one believe that people see more coincidences than there should be."

Callain snorted and ignored Lefkl. He really wasn't interesting in talking anymore, now that he felt significantly better. He hoped there were plenty of fresh, dead people in Tarsk. And supplies, of course. And supplies.

 

Callain was spread across his belly, gazing out over the ruins in Tarsk. Black smoke still rose from some of the building, but the carnage had ended. No bodies lay strewn on the ground, but blood covered the ground and walls. He waited two minutes, and decided it was clear. He waved the others up, and they silently descended in to the town, weapons drawn.

As they came closer it was obvious some of the townsfolk had put up a fight, as weapons lay around the grounds. Callain hefted a hunting bow and quiver and they moved on. Finally someone spoke, it was Ilith’hen “This is useless. There’s no-one here.”

“Agreed” muttered Callain,

“Well?” said Glamrod,

“What” asked Ilith’hen

“Can we loot the bodies? Callain’s already started.” He said, pointing at the bow.

“Glamrod!” exclaimed Kibrani

“What, they don’t need them,”

“Aye” said the old man, “lets get tucked in.” Immediately the old man sauntered into a house. Callain was about to follow, until he saw a glint upon the hill. Steel, he thought, or a spyglass? He tapped Kibrani on the shoulder, and she followed him in going wide around the glint to investigate…

OoC: BTW would a couple of you mid checking out "Death Comes To All" in CS and tell me what you think, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!

 

Master Truefoot Burrendale (Tufty) had crept after these strange folk all the way to Tarsk. He couldn’t understand it, a nasty-blood sucker that could walk about during the day? That was unheard of. No, wait, there had been that story Uncle Burrtoll had told him about the vampire called – The Edge, no, he had only looked like a vampire, Blade, yes that was it Blade.

Anyway, a vampire was a vampire, and he had every intention of writing himself into the Burrendale history books. He could see it now, Tufty the Vampire Slayer. He watched as the heinous creature of the, em, creature approached up the slope. His short bow would cut through that monster’s flesh and pierce the rotten pretence of a heart that the beast possessed.

He crouched behind a large (small) rock and waited. A hundred yards, then fifty yards, almost, almost. He had him now. Tufty stood up to his full resplendent four feet and laughed at the stupidity of this demon spawn trapped in his sights.

‘What’s so funny?’ said Kibrani with a dagger to the back of the halfling’s neck.

‘I was just thinking of something Uncle Burrtoll once told me,’ replied Tufty.

‘What was that then?’ asked Kibrani.

Tufty slowly turned his head to look at the thief out of the side of his eye. ‘He said that when there is a vampire less than ten yards away you should stand aside and let a warrior do his job.’

‘What job would that be then?’ said Callain, while snapping the halfling’s arrow in two.

‘Mostly marching, in fact I feel like a good march right now.’

‘Not so fast,’ said Kibrani, ‘Why were you following us?’

‘I, um, well, yes, yes indeed. I thought that there was a vampire stalking your party, my mistake. Farewell.’

Kibrani was holding on to his cloak. She jerked him to a halt. Callain grabbed him by his straight shoulder length red hair and turn his head to face his own.

‘You are a fool, but actually I think our little group could use some help with disabling traps and such like. I think that if we spare your life we deserve a little of your time in return, what do you say?’

‘High adventure calls,’ shrilled Tufty, ‘and I can do naught but follow, lead on good sir.’

‘After you,’ said Callain.

Kibrani pulled Callain to a halt as the halfling strode down the hill.

‘He’s not a thief like us,’ she said, ‘he’s a, well, you heard him, a warrior. What does he know about traps?’

‘If we keep him walking in front of us I’m sure he locate the traps, one way or another.’

‘Fine. Fine.’ said Kibrani, although she really wasn’t sure how she felt about Callain’s latest brainwave.

The entire group advanced further into the burnt out city of Tarsk…

[ June 12, 2003, 23:52: Message edited by: Bluin ]

 

Of course she'll have something to say about that. Anyway, my aim is to get a little love story going between Callain and Kibrani, just to have a change from constant beast-slaying and battles, don't you think? I will post my part later this day becouse I have to study for my exam in two hours.

 

(ooc - if someone's going to call "me" beautiful, all I can say is THANX! )

Tarsk wasn't completely dead. Rats were thriving in the ruins.

Everywhere they wandered, the group saw signs of how the conflagration caught the city unaware. It became a sick game to guess what a building had been by the nature of its remains. Here, five rough clay mugs still stood on a charred table of thick wood: a tavern. There, the head of a pitchfork lay near several pairs of stirrups: a horse barn. The game stopped when Illith'Hen found three skeletons - one adult-sized, two much smaller - huddled in a corner. He was violently ill before rejoining the others. After that, they stayed together for their investigations.

Later, in a small camp on the far side of the ruined town, they discussed what they had seen while Tufty made a stew from a few unfortunate rabbits and some wild herbs.

“Divine retribution?” suggested Glamrod. Kibrani shook her head.

“Nothing at all was spared. I’ve not heard of a god so vengeful as to strike down his own worshippers simply to remove his rivals. Besides,” she continued thoughtfully, spooning up the last of the surprisingly tasty stew, “gods are vain. Someone would have been left alive to tell the story of what had happened, and why.” Lefkl nodded begrudgingly.

“Y’make a good point, lass. An’ there were nae more thieves an’ murderers there than in any other city, for Tarsk t’ be singled out like that.” He took a gulp from a small flask. “Did ye ken tha’ one house, a bit off the market square, where there was nought left but the doorstep? Seemed that somethin’ blew tha’ place apart from the inside out.”

“The eye of the storm,” Callain mused. Tufty interrupted his train of thought.

“My mother’s uncle’s brother-in-law used to tell the tale of fire spirits that would walk the earth, scorching all in their path – well, at least until they came to water, of course, so he stopped them from destroying his town by setting up a bucket brigade. He got them cornered in the town square, which was paved in stone, then had everyone throw water from all sides. They gave him a medal for that, you know, and put up a statue on the very spot. Every year they have a parade and…” His voice trailed off at the looks of disbelief on the others’ faces. “Anyway, the flamekin – the fire spirits – had to be summoned by someone before they could walk anywhere. If the spell was disrupted…”

“But why are there no burnt trails heading out of town?” Illith’Hen mused. “Where could they have gone?”

Speculating on that question, they talked until the cookfire burned itself to embers. No one was in the mood to invite flamekin into the camp, so they let it die and prepared to sleep. When Callain finished his watch, he laid his bedroll close to Kibrani. “Chill tonight,” he said when she stirred. He soon fell asleep, curled on his side with one knee against her.

Kibrani lay awake a little longer. She didn’t think it was cold, but she did feel an extra thrill of warmth running through her. For whatever reason, she was glad to have someone close by, even a former vampyre… She shook that thought from her mind and simply enjoyed the touch of another person. She fell asleep and dreamed of flames.

 

lol Rallymama!

I am going to let you guys decide a bit about the party's adventures for now. I am going to follow a different character, Sadi. Perhaps some of you might know this name from a certain book? Anyways, he will join the party soon. But, the party will NOT figure out what is going on in Tarsk until he enters the party! So don't mess my future plans for the story up!

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Sadi couldn't believe his ears when he first found out about the destruction of Tarsk. Maybe Drogul really started his twisted plan! He decided to talk to his king, Erra the fifth. He left his room and walked the usual path to the king's private quarters. As he suspected, Kel was standing before the door, blocking his path. Kel was the personal guard of the king, and he took that job very serious, a little too serious perhaps. He suspected everyone of being a traitor, even Sadi. So it was no surprise that when Sadi arrived, Kel straighted his shoulders, raised his chin a little and walked with sturdy steps to Sadi. A little irritated, Sadi said:

*sigh* "Hello, Kel. Up very early I see."

"Of course! One should cannot get up early enough to serve his king! And wat brings you here, Alchemist? Do not even think of bothering his majesty, he does not wish to be disturbed!"

"Well, I'm sure he doesn't want to disturbed by anyone but me"

Slightly angry, Kel replies: "I have my orders, you will NOT pass!"

A small grin appeared on Sadi's face. "Not even for, let's say, a little 'service'?"

Kel's determination melted like snow in the sun. "Eh.. I have no idea what you mean!"

"If you let me pass, I won't tell anyone about your little trips to his majesty's doughter's room" He actually began to enjoy this.

"But...How can you possibly know alchemist!" Kel was furious.

Sadi calmly walked past him, knocked on the door, heard a voice saying "Come on in Sadi", and went inside, grinning.

Kel stood there, petrified.

 

Glamrod grunted something and rolled to his feet. “Really Glamrod” muttered Ilith’hen from his bed roll “Do you always need to mention you need a ‘piss’ every morning.”

“Come along now, Ilith’hen” said Callain, setting a new fire. The morning was damp and he couldn’t have given a rat’s ass about fire kin. “Let him answer the call of nature.” He glanced round at Kibrani. She lay still beneath her blanket. He strolled over to her and draped his own across her.

His mood suddenly lightened he returned to the fire. He swore as it resisted to light but a little flicker. Looking round he made sure no one was watching before breaking wind above the pitiful flame. Nothing happened. “Damn, it always worked for my grandfather.”

Sighing the halfling turned to the flame and within moments had it raging. He smiled at Callain “Smart ass,” muttered Callain, lifting his bow “I’m going hunting. There are tracks of a young Doe toward the west.” Without another word, he turned and jogged westward…

 

As Callain left, Tufty snatched up a spear that he had found in the remains of a burnt out blacksmith’s shop. He had shortened the spear down to a more manageable four feet in length. As the group had advanced into Tarsk he had been walking behind Lefkl. He had held his new spear in the exact same fashion as the old man held his, and had imitated Lefkl’s strange, lurching stride.

This time he trotted off after Callain. He was sure Callain could use his help. Everybody could do with a bit of Truefoot Burrendale’s help. He caught up with thief as he made his way through a small clump of trees on the edge of Tarsk. On the other side of the trees was a herd of red deer.

Callain had been right; there were several does with fawns at foot. There was also a huge stag with magnificent antlers. It was strange for wild creatures to come so close to civilisation, but they must have come down from the hills into the lush cultivated fields when all the people of Tarsk were crispy fried.

Callain and Tufty were hiding in the trees. The stag was a hundred yards away. The does were another hundred yards further out after that. There was no tree cover beyond the clump in which they were sitting. They would just have to wait and hope that the herd came closer. If they were spotted the herd would run for the hills, make a clean getaway, skidaddle, vamoose.

All the while Callain was afraid that Tufty was going to give their position away. He couldn’t have snapped any more branches if he had actually been trying. Callain was sure that the Stag had become suspicious. And then Tufty crawled out into the clearing right in front of the beast.

He kept his head down and crept along the ground trying to make his small frame as inconspicuous as possible. ‘Not even if it was the most myopic moose in the world,’ thought Callain. Dinner was cancelled, it was going to be roast halfling for supper instead.

Tufty kept going. Almost rolled into a ball, he inched forward zigzagging a little to help matters along. The big stag stared at him and then bellowed loud enough to be heard in the next valley. Tufty stopped. Then he started again, this time trying to skirt around the deer towards the calves.

Big daddy was having none of it, this little fox was going to get what all arrogant little foxes have coming to them. He lowered his head and pawed the ground. Tufty kept coming. The deer charged. Tufty unfurled and threw his spear. ‘Too high,’ winced Callain as the spear arced above the deer’s back.

Tufty was running. He was running right at the charging stag. ‘The suicidal midget has lost it,’ Callain couldn’t watch, but he did anyway. Tufty and the deer met. With the poetic grace of a suicidal midget, Tufty vaulted upwards, over the antlers and did a forward flip on the stag’s back, landing perfectly with his feet together on the ground. Then one of his feet stepped back. ‘Damn,’ thought Tufty, ‘almost.’

The Hobbitlan hero ran forward and grabbed up his spear, dinner was just about coming to the boil, he could see steam snorting out of the stag’s nostrils. The creature had become unsettled. Now there was something between him and the rest of the herd. He charged again.

This time anger and fear rolled together to drive the stag’s powerful shoulder and leg muscles, propelling him forward at ballistic speed. Caught in the path of oncoming death, Tufty didn’t run. He pushed the shaft of his spear into the soft ground and sloped it forward. Then he crouched beside it. He watched as sods of earth flew skywards behind the animal. As death reached out he sprang towards its open arms, one step, two steps and then up.

The stag spotted the spear too late. It pulled to one side, and the spear tore a gash in its front shoulder. As its back twisted, Tufty’s hands failed to get a good purchase on the stag’s shoulders and the halfling slid down the animal’s side to the ground.

The deer was in shock, it bucked sideways to try and get away from the source of the hurt, but the pain kept coming. As it blindly circled in panic, Tufty leapt to his feet, dagger drawn, and clasped onto the beast’s thick mane, just far enough behind the antlers to stay out of harm’s way. Like a halfling possessed, he used his free hand to furiously stab the creature’s neck.

The stag stopped circling; this was to frightening, too awful for it to deal with. Its brain shutdown and, in a catatonic state, it dropped to its knees.

‘Come and get it while its warm, blood sucker,’ Tufty shouted in as ferocious a voice as his pipes could muster, ‘I prefer mine cooked but each to their own.’

[ June 14, 2003, 05:58: Message edited by: Bluin ]

 

The king's private quarters were very comfortable, yet sober. The walls were decorated with red carpets, with the golden eagle and a red background on it, the sign of the kingdom of Aeroth. He appreciated his king for not showing off his incredible wealth whenever he could.

"Have a seat, Sadi."

"Thank you, your majesty"

"Oh come on Sadi, leave the formalities behind, and call me Erra. I trust you have something important to discuss?"

"Yes, Erra. My secret service has just informed me of the total destruction of the city of Tarsk. It lies in ruins, none have survived."

"By the gods!" Erra jumped up. He sat back down after a few moments and began to think. "I think we both suspect the same person behind this cowardly deed"

"Yes, Erra. I am certain Drogul has started his twisted plan to conquer all of Loinhell, and unite it under the banner of Dradora, lord of the Seven Hells."

"Were is he now?"

"he is still in Tarsk, Erra, although his main force has moved elsewere. I am planning to send a regiment there to investigate the matter, and with your permission, I would like to go with them"

"Do as you think is right, my friend. These will be dark times..."

 

Callain marched over to the halfling, his face a mask of fury, and promptly kicked the halfling from his feet. “Dammit short man. You had the thing running for minutes, the meat will be tough, due to his muscles bunching, not to mention stringy, considering the stag was old. Still” he said, bending down to feed.

When he was done, he looked up to find the halfling staring at him. “Cut off the good sections, and take them back to the camp.” Callain stood, and wandered to a small stream just within the tree line.

Cupping water in his hands, he washed the blood from his face. Gazing at his reflection in the water, he noted his canines were a little longer. So, he thought, the thirst for blood was just the first of the symptoms to return. The stave had only temporarily regained Callain’s human essence. They would have to find a cure soon, or Callain would return to his previous form…

 

Horns sounded in the far distance. Tufty reacted at once and ran towards the hills, in moments he was out of sight, never to be seen again.

Callain brought the meat back to the group and related Tufty’s strange behaviour.

‘Typical halfling,’ said Glamrod.

The group continued on without him.

 

"Hmm," said Callain, "I did get on at him a bit for killing the wrong animal. Do you think I scared him away? Anyway, it was a good kill."

 

(ooc - If you've got a plan for this story, then it isn't so much of a cooperative effort, now is it? Now, instead of having a part in shaping the story, the rest of us are just providing a little color and maybe a sidetrack or two. I, too, had some ideas for the path the plot could take back in the original incarnation, and a big part of my inspiration came from trying to steer events in those directions - especially when something that someone else wrote sent me totally haywire! I'm not saying that I won't participate any longer, but some of the fun has been taken away.

Maybe you can/should provide a general outline of the major events you want to happen, so we have a framework for the sideplots the other characters may experience?)

 

Yes, you're right. I was planning to send Sadi and a bunch of troops to Tarsk to investigate matters. There, they would meet the party and Sadi would join the party, while his troops battled Drogul. The party would escape in that chaos, or something like that. Feel free to tell me your ideas and we'll see what happens. I understand it if you say some of the fun has been taken away, so just tell me what you want to do.

 

(ooc - Well, if what you had in mind was simply a way to bring in a new character, then most of my comments don't apply once he joins. I think we can all manage to screw each other up pretty well within the general framework of getting the stave to the four remaining altars! )

"Not much of a place for a burglar to be hanging around," Kibrani grumbled, kicking at some blackened rubble. "There's nothing left to steal, and it'd be no challenge even if there were, with all the people gone. So tell me again why we don't pick up camp and move on?" She looked at Glamrod somewhat expectantly.

"I'm no happier about this than you are," he replied, "but Illith'Hen insists that the stave wants to stay. He says that it seems to be waiting for something. Bah - wizardry!" He spat eloquently. They trudged on through the wreckage of Tarsk. Every now and then something would clink when they overturned a pile of broken stones; Kibrani's mood lightened as her pouch grew heavier.

When they reached the market square, Lefkl was already inspecting the remains of the house he had noted their first time through. He waved them to silence before they could speak and continued to walk an ever-growing spiral through the ruin. Suddenly, he took off at a tangent and gestured for Kibrani and Glamrod to follow without looking up.

They kept up as best they could as Lefkl carved a straight path through the ruins of Tarsk, climbing into pits and scrambling over piles of rubble. In the middle of one pit - a root cellar, to judge by the lingering aroma of burnt onions - the old man came up short. He scanned the area, his eyes glowing red, then shook his head. "Th' trail's too scattered," he said, his eyes fading. "Destruction on this scale creates a lot of cover." As he moved towards Glamrod and Kibrani, the muscles of his ancient face twitched. He brushed at the air as though swatting bugs and his pace quickened. "What have you got there, lass?" he demanded, grabbing Kibrani's shoulder. "What have you found?"

She fumbled at the strings of her belt pouch and dumped the blackened bits into Lefkl's hand. He poked a gnarled finger through them, then lifted one piece on a cracked, yellow nail. Its gold showed through streaks in the soot and at least one gem tried to sparkle on the band. It was too large to be a ring and too small to be a bracelet, except for a child. The shock of power that ran through Lefkl as he rubbed it clean was visible.

Running back to camp as abruptly as he had left, he scooped up the stave from its resting place beside Illith'Hen's pack. "Hey!" he cried, reacing out, but he was too late to stop Lefkl from sliding the ring onto the end of the stave. A soft tremor shook the ground under their feet when it stopped about halfway up.

[ June 18, 2003, 06:01: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

(ooc: good job rallymama! exactly the sort of thing that will allow others to go on, while still letting me bring in the new character!)

"What was that?"

Sadi felt the ground shake under his feet for a moment, nearly knocking him down. He decided to ignore this strange event and continued with putting his travelclothes on: A simple, long brown robe, with yellow edges; and a dark brown mantle. He putted a dagger in each of his boots, and four on a small, invisible string tied to his back. He took his chest with potions and other chemicals, and putted it into his backpack, together with a small bow and some arrows. He was ready to join the small army waiting for him outside, ready to go to Tarsk.

He walked out of his room and went downstairs. Captain Lelldrin was already waiting for him, in full platemail, sitting on his beautiful black horse; Silh.

"Greetings, captain. Are we ready to go?

"Certainly, lord Sadi. We await your command!"

"Let's go then"

Sadi got on his horse, signaled the troops they would move out, and rode away, followed by the small army.

 

Kibrani took careful aim and focused on her target. Taking a long, slow breath, she let her missile fly. The small copper coin bounced sharply off the flat rock. Its new direction carried it quickly towards Glamrod, who went cross-eyed as he tried to follow its path. The coin struck the nose-guard of his helm with a clear ping, then dropped into his mug with a satisfying plop. Kibrani leaned back and smiled smugly.

“Drink it up, Stumpy. That’s five in a row. Do you want to stop while you’re still somewhat sober?”

“Don’t be silly,” Callain growled. “He’s been making up reasons to get drunk ever since we found that barrel in the back room of the tavern.”

“Don’ wanna washte it,” Glamrod mumbled, looking up blearily, “an’ we can’ carry it far…”

Kibrani just shrugged – she preferred a hearty ale to the cheap red wine they had found, protected from falling debris by a heavy beam. Her shrug turned into a stretch; aware of Callain’s eyes upon her, she added some extra arch to her back and wriggled her hips. Her eyes were as full of promise as her pose. Callain stepped towards her and extended a hand to help her to her feet.

“Hey everyone, look at this!” Illith’Hen’s excited voice cut across the camp. He came into the clear area around the campfire slowly. The stave was balanced on end on one finger, and his path was erratic as he dodged about, keeping it upright. Since he was focused on the stave, he didn’t see Glamrod’s discarded mug before he stepped on it. The stave clattered to the ground as he fell, rolling gracefully and sitting up. “Stupid old stick,” he said ruefully, rubbing his ankle. “I wish it would figure out what it’s waiting for so we can move on. All this sitting around is getting really old.”

(ooc – hinthinthinthinthint... )

 

I know, I know. But I don't have the time to post new parts, becouse I am donig my exams. Tomorrow is my last, and then I will continue the story!