DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE9: By the Light of the Last Moon

Zoltan

He sits cross-legged in the shelter, bow at hand, sword across his knees. Silent, alert, focused. He has spent many nights on watch in the wild, frequently alone, and he knows the price to be paid for inattentiveness.

The sounds of the wild, especially those near at hand draw his attention. The first seem non-threatening and so do not engender an active response. However the sudden change, drop in temperature, and following feeling of a malevolent entity's interest cause him to reach for the hilt of his sword.

His eyes peer into the darkness, searching for the source.

<Weston>

He was suddenly awake, but did not move to indicate he =was= awake.

Slowly, silently, he moved his head. He looked about for the source of what ever had pulled him from his sleep ... and saw nothing but his own breath. But he did =feel= something.

It had been nagging at the edges of his senses for some time ... like a itch that wasn't quite an itch, but the hint of an itch to come. Now it was an itch. But could he scratch it? It was certainly making itself known now. Was it the 'presence' that had destroyed the local wild life and the dragon with it's rider?

He sat, he pulled his sword. It was too quiet. He looked about again. D and Zoltan were not here, so it was still their watch. It was hard to imagine that something had surprised them and taken them out so quickly and so silently. Chances were that they were doing the same thing he was doing ... trying to get a sense for where the threat was.

He got to his feet. He moved slowly, silently towards the cave's entrance, straining to hear something, anything that would give him a clue at to what and/or where.

Seyja


She hadn't been asleep long but something bothered her, interfering with her rest and she opened her eyes just in time to see Weston moving toward the cave entrance.

Seyja sat up, grasped her greataxe and got to her feet, pulling her armor more tightly around her and fastening its stays as she moved to follow him.

Jex

He was wading with his trousers rolled up to his knees in a shallow pond. Giant lily pads floated among the reeds. Golden carp swam around his feet as he took each step. His gentle steps created ripples that rocked the lily pads and made the reeds sway. Tiny lights glistened in the hazy mist that hung over the moonlit waters. Up ahead he saw her, a silhouette at first but as she approached, her form could be seen through the translucent frock and her crimson hair glistened with morning dew. She approached, hands outstretched. He reached for the hand and at about the time he did so, her face was revealed for the first time. Her skin was pearly white, her eyes violet. Her form was ideal. Then the mood on her face suddenly turned from seductive to one of sheer terror. The pool bubbled and boiled and she started to dissolve.

He awoke, startled and somewhat angry. It took great effort but he quickly focused on the campgrounds. He had been shaken awake, like the bubbling water in his dreams. The feeling of wrongness bore into him. He felt like prey.

Sergeant Almador

Unexpectedly, after a hard day's hiking Sergeant Almador hadn't dropped off to sleep quickly. His legs felt restless and throbbed, as if they still wanted to put one foot in front of the next, even though he was lying down.

This was the first night he'd spent with this party, these strangers who had only arrived in town yesterday. But it wasn't their strangeness that made him most uncomfortable, it was their apparent discomfort.

They did not relax, they were edgy, and that reminded him that they were camped at the foot of a cursed peak. A peak that he'd heard tales about his whole life. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was breaking some taboo....

Almador was sleeping fitfully when the warmth seemed to leak from the cave and a chill wind swept over him. He awoke with a start, crying out as he saw his breath mist.

The man-at-arms grabbed his armour and started to buckle it on. He gasped when the earth shook and sat, shivering and looking around wide eyed. Having collapsed, the campfire would die and they'd be plunged into darkness. He was afraid.

What was out there?

Tindarien

He is not sure what woke him but from sounds in the cave, others had woken too. And it is cold. Colder than it should be. Something unnatural is around them.

Quickly he rouses and takes what he needs from around him. Instincts tell him trouble is nearby. He heads for the cave entrance, Weston just ahead of him. As he moves he nudges anyone who seems to still be sleeping. He wants to check outside and also on the sentries.

GM

The party emerged from the cave, with goosepimpled skin and their breath misting around them. Snowflakes fell wispily in the darkness, and it was as if winter stalked the summer night like a hungry beast.

There was no stomp-stomp of giant feet, nor growling or rumbling. The treetops shook as something massive twisted between them, sinuous as a snake.

"What comes hither?" Said an intrigued voice, so powerful it rolled up the slope and back down, and echoed through the river valley. Your eyes rattled in their sockets from the basso profundo. It was a noble voice, yet had a subtle, gutteral drawl, a monstrous malice lurking barely beneath the surface.

"By the light of the Last Moon, they come, small in stature and small in mind.

"Or... perhaps not, my dear, perhaps they are interesting?"

The cold seemed to intensify.

"What do you say? Are you interesting?"

<Weston>

"I believe out adversary makes his presence known", he said in a whisper to those around him. He had his sword ready, but wondered what it might be able to do against such a thing.

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Nestaron

He was last out, hurriedly trying to buckle up his armour whilst carrying his quarterstaff tucked under his arm. The avalanche-like voice, reverberating abreadth the hillside drew him up short.

Nestaron hardly noticed the snow landing in his hair or his juddering body. He saw breath mist from Weston's mouth, but didn't hear the words.

This was no mindless savage of a beast, but the cleric suspected it was indeed the Beast.

D

The pale elf remained still. He knew of it was a dragon as he suspected, even more so now that he had heard it's voice signifying intelligence, that it knew they were there. He stayed silent though for one of the more eloquent should speak up. There was only one answer that was reasonable. If they were not interesting they were in for ...

Seyja


She shivered slightly, not solely from the drop in temperature as she pondered the meaning of the... whatever it was's words. She finally determined it was better - at least slightly - to be interesting than not.

"Nestaron, or you, Jex," she whispered, "can you make us sound interesting?"

Tindarien

Someone needs to say something even if only to buy time. The association with cold, the power, the intelligence, the size implications.. this must be a dragon with the might of Winter in its breath. All of that earns it respect but does not necessarily make it a foe, though he is saddened to think that is likely.

"I am Tindarien."

He keeps a respectful but easy tone. Not so easy considering that death may only be a step away.

"How might we be of service?"

Zoltan

He hears the movement and hushed whispers coming from the cave as the other stir, so feels no need to announce his presence to wake them.

So he patiently waits, to see what is out there.

It announces itself with a tremendous swirling movement and a thunderous voice. So menacing and large a presence that his immediate thought is fighting it would be futile.

So he sheathes his sword, rises easily to his feet, and exits the blind to see what it is that has arrived.

He ponders the question for a second, turning his head when Tindarien replies, only adding, "I find myself interesting. I do not presume to speak for others and how they view me."

<Weston>

He watched Tindarien put his weapon away and wondered. While he would certainly prefer =not= fighting, he wasn't sure that he was ready to invite 'it' to dinner either. For now he was willing to wait and see, but he wasn't ready to put his sword away ... yet.

[Recruiting for this player character. Send PM for details]

Nestaron

The half-elf was polite but straight-talking, and he felt he was definitely not the man to be trading words with this monster.

Seyja was right, someone had to speak, they wouldn't make a very interesting first impression by standing their like zombies.

But then why should they care whether the Beast found them interesting. Was it buying time, or just exercising its cruel streak?

Tindarien was first to speak up for the party. Nestaron's hands wrung his staff and he glanced to his companions.

"Be wary, don't trust it." Cautioned the cleric in a low voice.

D

"I am not one to really know what is interesting to someone like yourself. But I find my own tale odd to say the least." He offers from his hiding place. He doesn't come out, no need in his mind, but...

It also occurs to him that his companion said the same thing. Which doesn't make D's comment all that original. In point of fact it makes it kind of silly. But he didn't want to offer up the gold they were carrying, that would be a last ditch offer later, if given no other choice. He clearly isn't used to the whole impress them with his words, more of a deeds kind of person.

[Ghosted for Neptune]

Jex

Gathering his wits could take Jex a long time. Because he had so much of it.

He was still reeling from the vivid poetry of his dream, drawn back into a cold and creeping reality that was not as he left it when he dozed off.

Tindarien's nudge was unwelcome but undoubtedly helpful.

With his teeth chattering and wearing his just cotton shirt, the bard grabbed Fusillade and caught up with his companions.

Seyja had a point; he should say something and he would. But Jex wasn't going to waste his best efforts on talking to the darkness, however impressive its voice.

Why did it hide? Maybe, just maybe, it had a sense of the dramatic.

GM

There was a laugh, like the growing roar of an avalanche and then suddenly it stopped. Everything was still again. D and Zoltan, in the shelter, could see hoarfrost forming on the pine needles around them, and feel a piercing, icy chill in the air.

"Self-interested. Aren't we all." Came the terrible voice with droll amusement.

You heard the trunk of tree snap and creak, opposite the glade to where you thought you saw the treetops sway. Was there two of these things? Or was it so big it could encircle the glade?

"So, High Elven, how may you be of service to me, you ask? So polite, so con-siderate. Perhaps it is I who can be of service to you? You all look so... lost."

Zoltan

The sudden thought, *How does something as big as this seems to be manage to find enough to eat in this barren place?*, invades his mind. He shakes his head to focus, annoyed at the distraction.

Since the entity, whatever it is, seems focused on Tindarien he holds his tongue for the moment.

(OOC - Neil - seemed an appropriate moment for his new armour to do it's thing <g>)

D

"I will take the bait. How can you be of service to us?" He had a lon history of getting into trouble by asking the questions that others didn't want to ask, and stepping into the big black holes that were left for him. This was nothing new.

Jex
He was unhappy about being startled awake but also wary of the voice that called out to them. He unsheathed Fusillade the Angry and called out
"Who disturbs our rest this night?"
"Who wants to know if we interesting?"
"Who are you to give us such fright?"
"Who bothers our restful slumbering?"

No spells just yet, just rapping

<Weston>

The others seemed to be taking care of the talking part. But =he= couldn't help but wonder why such a ... supposedly ... fearsome beast felt the need to hide in the darkness and intimidate with words. From his experience, it was people that were weak and insecure that took approach.

He decided to try to get an idea where the creature ... or was it creatures? ... were hiding.

Seyja


The barbarian woman shifted her grip on her greataxe, moving it across her shoulders and holding its shaft in both hands as she twisted slightly right and left to loosen her muscles.

She said nothing but she did spit to one side after grunting in response to Jex's... whatever it was.

Tindarien

The creature seems to know him.. unless it has good sight, magic or a fine ear for accent. Mentally he shrugs. Not much he can do either way. At least whilst it is talking it is not attacking.

"I'm not aware of being lost.. at least geographically."

He attempts a touch of humour.. maybe a little intrigue.. but still maintains a respectful tone.

GM

There was a grunt of disgust that blew a thin dusting of snow from the pine branches around you.

"What a revolting thing!" It exclaimed in reply to Jex, "And it speaks? What foul temper, what fouler smell!"

A pause. Weston inched away from the cave-mouth, looking for a better vantage over the surroundings.

"If you are not lost, High Elven, you must be here seeking your fortune? Fortune-nately you have found me, and I am the Fortune-Giver...."

Debris tumbled down the slope and the ground shook under your feet. Ahead, beyond the rock outcrop at one end of the glade and massive head rose from below.

An ancient, reptilian face, criss-crossed with deep scars, its jaw, once broken had set askew with its spear-like teeth jutting from all angles. It was coloured pure white that seemed almost ghostly and transluscent in the darkness, except its eye that glowed with inner fire.

The other socket was a black pit, but the one eye was fierce enough. The slitted pupil looked like a portal, large enough to step through into the Beast's sinuous mind. Flakes of ice rained from its mouth as it spoke.

"I am the Dimming of the Day, I am the Cold Touch of Winter. I was there before the Dawn of the Empire, when the White fell and the Wizard King stole Death's Doorway."

It was a dragon, white, immense, and rather too close. It sighed.

"But I am old and jaded, sat upon a hoard of 'treasure'. Gold, gems, pah... gaudy and crude like your friend.

"These days I prefer handicrafts. Plainer, simpler things. Perhaps you would like to trade?"