DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE13: The Ice Chamber

D

As the beginings of a plan rolled around in hus brain he mentioned to the others "I still have the potion of fire resistance if it would allow someone to assist the operation of the bucket and crane assembly."

<Weston>

He considered their options. It was pretty clear that there was no way to toss a grapple as high as was needed. He didn't like the 'wild ride' idea all that much. "Back the way we came seems like the best choice to me. But we would have to =really= hurry."

[[ can we assume two 'vials' (from the potions that were just used) were filled with the 'purest' of the blood samples we could find? ]]

[Good idea, MikeD.]

Tindarien

"I can get down quickly using feather fall and then using fire resistance help other use the lift mechanism. But will we have time for everyone? Work out the priorities. I need to get on with this. Nestaron though should be in the first tranche, he cannot move easily or quickly. And a good climber. We might be able to get a rope down to any remaining."

He holds his hand out for the potion which he will swallow, cast the spell and jump.. unless there are other suggestions or advice but it had better be quick.

Jex

"I suppose this is where my acrobatic skills come in? "

D

The pale dark elf proffered the potion. He then went to assist Almador or their rescued comrade to enact the plan.

"I can climb." He offered.

<Weston>

"How about if I accompany you Jex. I am a fair climber and it will be safer if we help each other. It is one less person to take up space in the lift. And that would also mean two of us to help with anyone using the rope."

Jex

"That works for me," he says to Weston and D. The more, the merrier. Let's come up with some sort of support system using rope and pitons, to help us stay safe during the climb.

Bearkiller

It took the halfling a while to catch up with the others, who understood ropework, cranes, fire and magic far better than him.

Nonetheless, it didn't sound like a plan to him. It sounded like a lack of a plan.

But given their predicament, Bearkiller was grateful for it because he had no ideas of his own. Being so lightweight and growing up in a mountain tribe, he could climb like a squirrel. But not even a squirrel could climb up to that pot-hole and out.

The mine shaft was the only way, he saw that and what these adventurers were talking about was a chance, however slim, of survival. Like an animal, he jumped at that chance boldly and fearless.

"Your balls are mighty." He said to Tindarien, "Brains, not so sure."

[Ghosted for Zeim]

Zoltan

Maybe he didn't trust undead, especially those that'd been in the thrall of an ancient evil for decades, and hadn't proven themselves moral exemplars in life either.

But his hands was on his hilt and sword drawn as soon as the ghosts appeared, and it stayed drawn until his companions had devised a plan for their escape.

Sliding it into his scabbard, he moved to Nestaron's side and lent the half-elf a supporting shoulder.

The first step would be racing back down the tunnel to the trap, and across from there to the bucket. They would have to be fleet of foot and could tarry no longer.

Nestaron

He accepted the paladin's aid with earnest thanks. In a pinch, the party had pooled their expertise and resources and come up with a daring escape plan.

Nestaron didn't doubt it, or his companions. They had already slain a Primeval dragon in its own lair. One didn't accomplish such a feat without carefully weighing the risks... that was the downfall of the champions who had tried and failed before them.

"Good luck." He said, to his elven friend and the others and then focused all his efforts on not slowing any of them down.

Sergeant Almador

He could understand the high elf not hearing his question. What he was about to attempt looked almost exactly like suicide. That had to be distracting.

The man-at-arms tested his leg and felt able to decline D's assistance.

"Much obliged, sir," he said, "but heck, I think I can still hop and skip on this leg at a goodly rate."

His mind was still largely reeling from events from he didn't even spare a thought for what the party were about to attempt. He assumed it was all sound and went along with it willingly.

Seyja


"I, too, can climb, but I am willing to fill whichever role will aid the group the most," Seyja said.

<Weston>

"Well there are those that cannot climb, so lets get the bucket working and go from there."

Seyja


The barbarian woman nodded and moved to help Weston with the bucket.

Tindarien

He nods to the others and turns. Best to go through this quickly before his courage fails. He has one other option to try on the way down, one last chance to cast breath of the white, maybe it will quell those flames or hold them at bay for a while. He quaffs the potion, casts his spell and jumps, trying to recall the words for the breath weapon.

Zoltan

Maintaining his support of the half-elf, he offer a silent prayer to the Herald that they might escape safely.

D

The pale dark elf offers help where he is abke so that they can get the chosen four in the bucket and then speeds down the way they came up.

Jex

He begins the climb after all precautions are taken. Ropes are tied together and everyone braces themselves. It was a life and death deal and they were in a race to survive.

GM

You ran.

Back along the tunnel, down to the landing where D had disarmed the trap.

Swigging the dark elf's magic potion, Tindarien leapt from the landing into the mine shaft. In his backpack, Farvi the Ferret screamed like only a ferret could, sounding like a berserk teenager.

The walls were barely visible, blurs of glistering light as the fire reflected from the seams of pyrite.

The sorcerer felt hot air buffeting his body as he fell, his hair and clothing rustled, smoke stung. Twas likely he blinked away tears and squinted as he plummetted towards the flames.

Tindarien could see the fire was already creeping upwards through the black, oil-rich rock. Soon the smoke would ignite in a roaring, fiery explosion, and the structure would become a furnace.

Bracing himself, the high elf mouthed the words of his spell as he plunged into the fire. Into a ball, eyes squeezed shut, he felt heat, intense, more intense, but his pain threshold always seemed one step ahead...

He dropped from the underside of the conflagration and would have splattered against the floor of the shaft, but Tindarien's body suddenly turned feather light and he glided the last few yards to land on his feet.

Around him were the burning bones of the Master of Winter, but it was much cooler at floor height. The sorcerer hurdled a leg bone and darted to the crane, throwing the lever on the windlass.

High above, four of the adventurers had climbed into the bucket. The best climbers had appraised the cable-laid rope and decided to fix to it just above the shoulders of those in the bucket. Then they too could benefit from the shielding and speed of descent of---

CRACK!

The bucket dropped as the hundred year old pulleys paid out, taking its riders on a hair-raising journey down the shaft. Bearkiller's craggy features were unreadable but Sergeant Almador was screaming one long, loud obscenity. Nestaron grunted, fighting nausea and pain, but maintaining eye contact with his companions. How did everyone else react?

Flames suddenly washed over the bucket and the unyielding floor could not be far beyond.

Just as suddenly, the bucket-riders were squashed into the bottom of their conveyance as the brake was engaged. The bucket jounced around like a mishit conker as the pulleys far overhead took turns busting apart. Then with a snap the rope broke and the bucket fell barely six feet to the hard rock, clanging, rope flailing and disgorging its riders.

They were already scrambling their feet, helping each other, when Tindarien appeared through the heat haze, clothes smouldering, to lead them to the exit.

Crane parts crashed down all around. The fire roared.

You ran.

Behind, you heard the mine shaft explode, felt the tremour, fresh air howled passed you as it was sucked in to feed the inferno.

***

Summer sunshine. Wooded slopes.

The karst archway spanned the river that had formed it, and lent the peak above its distinctive shape and name. The Titan's Elbow.

One by one, figures swung down from a rope that disappeared into the overhanging rock.

***

Summer sunshine. Wooded slopes.

The karst archway spanned the river that had formed it, and lent the peak above its distinctive shape and name. The Titan's Elbow.

One by one, figures swung down from a rope that disappeared into the overhanging rock.

***

In the bright blue sky, the yellow sun was at its zenith. The day's shadows were short, like underscores, and the beach was mostly bleached white sand and boulders, backed by lustrous, dark green verdure.

An outrigger canoe had taken shape on the shore, being worked on tirelessly by the party. Putting their heads together, Tindarien and Bearkiller had come up with the design but the mohawked halfling would not be accompanying the party to Rosencliff. His own quest led him back to his tribe on Harthorn, and he had no reason to visit the fishing town.

A water break before the packs were loaded. Your reserves were stashed downriver, so you could slake your thirst. Might as well drain the vessels and discard, rather than take up precious space in the canoe.

Leave now and you would be back in town by nightfall, barring incident on the journey. You had to bid farewell to Bearkiller first.

[
D HP: 21/28; Rec: 3/8; AC 15, PD 16, MD 12; Init +10
J HP: 20/32; Rec: -1/8; AC 15, PD 13, MD 12; Init +5*2
S HP: 34/43; Rec: -1/8; AC 16, PD 16, MD 12; Init +4*2
T HP: 17/24; Rec: 2/8; AC 12, PD 13, MD 15; Init +4
W HP: 33/44; Rec: 3/9; AC 17, PD 15, MD 12; Init +4*2
Z HP: 31/40; Rec: 0/8; AC 22, PD 14, MD 15; Init +3
Al HP: 16/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
Be HP: 32/32; AC 18, PD 14, MD 14; Init +6
Ne HP: 21/27; AC 13, PD 13, MD 13; Init +2; Weakened
]

<Weston>

It had certainly been a harrowing, mind numbing escape! The 'fall' through the flames, the race to escape the conflagration when the mountain all but exploded.

On the shore of the river, the immediacy faded a bit, but they still had a lot of work. As they worked to build their transportation back down the river, he tried to lighten the mood ... "Almador, does the city have a choir? You should try out, you have a marvelous voice." ... "Hey, Nestaron, was that a wild ride or what?" ... "Tindarien, does this go here or there?"

The time to leave had come and ... not unexpectedly ... Bearkiller was off to his home. "Thanks to you and your friend", he said. "I don't think we could have prevailed with out the two of you. Have a safe journey home. And if I can ever do anything to help you or any of your tribe in the future, don't hesitate to call on me. I would welcome the chance to return the favor."

Seyja


The barbarian woman saluted Bearkiller with a fist bump to the left side of her chest, just barely smiling as she thanked him and bid him farewell.

"As our friend Weston said, if I can be of future assistance, please let me know, my friend."

Zoltan

He holds onto Nestaron tightly as they tumble from one place to the next in their escape, making sure the half-elf they fought so hard to rescue isn't lost in the escape.

Fire...., tumbling....., one thing after the next, but finally they were free of the cave and he can breathe a deep sigh without filling his lungs with smoke.

He too bids Bearkiller goodbye and then readies for the journey back to Rosencliff. He has a promise to collect on, and his face breaks into a small smile for the first time in a while.

D

The cavern, its descent, the roaring flames, all blurred together. He could remember individual moments which was more than he could say for what he thought of as his former existence. Yet already it was almost too much to recall in detail.

Yet as they worked on the hollowed boat he listened to the banter. They lived. That was a feat unto itself. He leant his skilled hands to whatever he could do. He had other things on his mind. The baroness for one thing.

The news that Bearkiller would go his own way was not surprising yet he felt a pang. Something about harrowing survival to bond people. Weston was correct. Without his aid they might not have survived.

"Travel well. May we meet and fight side by side again," D offered.

Sergeant Almador

After the Battle of Heilbutt's Hallow, he'd wept out of shock.

But after the ice chamber, the blizzard dragon, the ghosts and the daring escape down the blazing mine shaft, Sergeant Almador just felt a little deranged. As if 'normal' had become abnormal or vice versa. A sunny beach by the river? Building a canoe and going for a paddle? Sheer madness! Surely they should be attacked by a vengeful dracolich or the bloody mountain should errupt into a volcano?

The man-at-arms knelt and looked at his reflection in the water. They were upstream of the Titan's Elbow, so it was not poisoned.

He had the unsettling feeling that he didn't know the person who stared back. Shrugging, he splashed water over his face, and chuckled at Weston's banter.

"I'm afraid that was an exclusive, one time performance!" He retorted.

Almador helped pack the outrigger while the others said goodbye to Bearkiller. He wasn't overly fond of the mohawked halfling, but gave him a respectful nod out of courtesy.