Syr d20=19 ; Monday August 2nd, 2010 5:15:38 PM
Quietly enjoying the peace and power provided by the light, the elf is dismayed when it starts to come to a halt. Syr feels the pull of the darkness and makes an audible grunt as he resists. He reaches out to Mac offering what support he can to the minotaur. "Belkior? Any ideas? Those mage are useless!" Catching himself, he mumbles out of the side of his mouth, "except you Jass, of course." He rolls his eyes once to the halfling recalling the sorcerer's huge ego.
(OOC: Will save 19+22=41+35+21, for a total of 120 with Belkior's +23 before the halfling rolls. I'm back and ready to go. I was summoned to the Big Easy to deal with OSHA last week.)
On the Shoals of Evil - DMAl Monday August 2nd, 2010 9:09:02 PM
The collective will of the Crimson Shields strains against the darkness that holds them in place. Together, they are mighty indeed. Within the soundless quaking of their ethereal transport, the Shields feel the gradual slipping from the grasp of the darkness. They feel their will lift themselves from the black and jagged shoals of a great despair.
One ... Two. Four. Six. And yet the barest shape of a Seventh. Without shape or substance, pure presence, they rise from the darkness, drawn by the light of the Crimson Shields, drawn by the strength of their will. Collectively, they reach out to draw the Crimson Shields back to them. Fight as they may, the Shields find themselves drawn back into the darkness. Back toward the Seven. And then an Eighth rises up as well, this one greater than all seven combined.
Jass feels the darkness, he feels the despair. He has been there. It tastes of death. The good in the Crimson Shields senses the lesser seven and the greater eighth. The good in them senses the monumental evil. The world shakes with evil, and the Crimson Shields sense these things just before the darkness takes them, overwhelming each of them, all of them. For each Crimson Shield, there is no sight. There is no feeling. Only the sense that the other Shields are nearby - somewhere nearby. They are somewhere in the infinite darkness.
A mote. An atom. Tiny.
Sound returns. Speech returns. The mote, white in a sea of darkness, stretches into the thinnest of lines. It stretches to the infinite distance. Then the white line of light begins to expand, becoming space, becoming place. But what place? And what of the evil seven and the greater eighth? What awaits in this place now unfolding before them? Should they be prepared? Should they be afraid?
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OoC: Please post here today. Tomorrow, we will move to the Gray Knights' board.
Jass AC:27 HP:126/113 (False Life) and Furball AC:21 HP 75/62 Tuesday August 3rd, 2010 1:08:11 AM
Jass is pale and stares unseeing, his breath shallow and rapid. One hand is grasping the fur on Mac's leg and the other wrapped in Syr's shirt. The sorcerer isn't very strong, but he's been scared half to death. For a man just recently return from all the way from undeath, he knows that that is a condition he never wants to be a part of again!
Not knowing what has happened but feeding off of his partner, Furball is upright and alert, looking more like a startled meerkat than the sleek mink he is.
...Actions
...Effects Unseen Servant; Dismissed (can't follow through teleportations, gates, etc) False Life; 15 hours; +13 hit points (shared)
Mac Tuesday August 3rd, 2010 6:58:12 AM
Mac errs on the side of not being caught unawares, and whilst he hopes the diversion was the end of the surprises, (with the nature of the initial request being Good and all), he believes it pays to be sure. Axe at the ready - just in case.
OOC: When do we get post privileges?
On the Shoals of Evil - DMAl Tuesday August 3rd, 2010 7:37:47 AM
OoC: Sorry, Graham. (I forgot.) You've got them now.
Syr Tuesday August 3rd, 2010 11:25:14 AM
Syr looks at the others, "Anyone else have a better indication of what the 'seven' refers to? or the 8th?"
Emerging in the Horrid Lands - DMAl Tuesday August 3rd, 2010 9:10:23 PM
LOG ON