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{She'll just attack with her sword, focussing on the most wounded, unless she gets badly hurt. I think she's at 45 hp right now.}
It didn't really deserve to be called a battle. Darian quickly ran through one of the orcs before it could even get up. The other, confused by the images, lasted little longer. Darian happily found herself a bit winded from the burst of activity, but unhurt.
The orcs had nothing but 1 gold piece which one carried in a pouch. Their dirty, lice-ridden chamber smelled awful. The only visible egress was a door to the south.
Darian was proud of herself. Not wanting to stay in here any longer than necessary, she listened at the door to the south.
{I'm hoping that battle was fast enough that her mirror images is still in effect. If she heard nothing threatening, she will continue...}
Ready with her sword, Darian quietly opened the door to the south.
{If it's just a passage or something, she'll take it. But checking for traps of course.}
A passageway led south beyond the door, and this was dimly lit by torches in wall sconces. Following the short passage to the end, she saw that it turned east.
As she walked east, her 4 remaining images winked out of existence as she made her way along the lengthy passageway.
At the end of the passage, Darian stood before a door marked with a black and amber cross.
Darian had a bad feeling about this cross thingy. She listened carefully at the door, without touching the cross. She casted invisibility on herself, then quietly opened the door. As she did this, she tried to stand away from the center of the passage, in case there was another spear trap.
Listening carefully, she heard a regular, male voice, saying something rythmically... chanting?
Turning invisible, she carefully opened the door. Thankfully, it was quiet. She saw a man in a black robe standing at a table, pouring oil into an intricate brass vessel of some kind, all the while chanting in some incomprehensible tongue. Still, for all that she couldn't understand his words, they sent chills up and down Darian's spine. Around the room were a few chairs, but there was no other decoration, save for a crude cot. Another door led south from this room.
The man was quite wrapped up in whatever ritual he was performing, and hadn't appeared to notice the door opening. Darian could try to kill him quickly, or she might just decide to sneak across the room without him noticing.
Darian decided her best bet would be to subdue this man. She figured he might have some useful information, such as the location of Alsander. Part of her also needed to hear some male grovelling.
Invisible, she moved in quietly, and lined up her sword. She then made her attack.
{She is not doing shadow damage. If she is behind him, it probably should be a backstab. She's trying to kill him, but if somehow he's not dead, she'll bandage and tie him up. She doesn't have a rope, so she'll have to make binds by cutting strips off the ruined dress.}
{Another Randism: "No rope? Don't you feel naked?"}
{Darian knows exactly what it feels like to be naked; thus not having a rope does not give her that feeling. She does feel rather silly, though, having a grappling hook and no rope.}
Darian silently moved up behind the man. Thrusting her sword forward and up, past his shoulder blades, she saw the man stiffen, then fall limp on her blade. She quickly had to lower him when she realized he was no longer supporting his own weight. Her backstab was a success.
{Critical Backstab! As I read in combat and tactics, a critical adds one damage roll, and is not multiplied by any other factors, i.e. A character on a charging horse with a lance who rolls a critical would roll 3 times the damage dice, not 4. The point is moot, of course, since the bugger's dead.}
The man had the look of a priest about him... he was dressed in a similar manner to the fellow outside. Apart from his religious symbol (A flaming skull) he was wearing a golden bracelet.
Darian couldn't remember feeling more confident. There was still, however, one thing that thoroughly bothered her - the fact that no one was here to witness her impressive skills! She concluded that the reason no one respected her when adventuring was because she was usually forced to cover the back. She'd rarely been allowed to show her true skills on the front line. If she forced her way to the front, it only earned her a lecture from Calidor about "endangering the party".
People are curious creatures. As the prophet Elrond is fond of saying, "One of the prices of being able to think is we tend to delude ourselves." This was certainly true in Darian's case at this point. She ignored that the reason Calidor and Lenear, or alternately Rikus would stay at the front was because they were simply best suited to being in front, being the strongest and most resilient fighters. Darian seemed to see it as a competition... whoever strikes the last blow gets bragging rights. Calidor would argue that it wasn't important who hit a creature last, but that the party managed to defeat it together. Calidor was rarely wrong when it came to tactics. Unfortunately, such things went right over Darian's head, as she thought being kept in the back of the party was merely an attempt to rob her of glory.
Initially she hadn't really wanted to kill the man. But simultaneously, she couldn't remember affecting a more professional backstab. She wondered if he even felt anything.
Darian searched his body, and eagerly explored the room. It was full of annoying priest stuff, but she kept her eyes peeled for valuables or potions. Perhaps she could bring something of value to Kayla or Andarra that would be worth a few favours. She plucked the golden bracelet from the dead priest's wrist, and tucked it away in her pack.
She remembered the last time, when Calidor got all upset. She'd found a very powerful sword, and he took it off her and destroyed it. And there was the time Sorin zapped one of her prized possessions. She began to believe they thought she couldn't handle powerful magic. Perhaps she was better off keeping this stuff to herself.
Perhaps this place could become her new abode. Who says a castle has to be above ground? Of course, she'd have to redecorate, removing that unwelcoming and outdated "flaming skull" motif.
Darian was happy in her ignorance. Few would so casually flip off the symbol of Modius, the ruler of the Dark Gods.
She also chose to overlook the claustrophobia she had felt since she got in here, the way monsters seemed to crawl the place, the crypt full of wraiths, a certain skeletal warrior, the decaying bodies and filth... etc, etc. Oh, and that this place was probably some sort of nexus for evil magic and dark spiritual energy. What could possibly go wrong?
{Yes, Darian is claustrophobic here. And she is afraid of the wraiths and skeleton. Bad role-play on my part. Her comments about making this place her "new abode" would thus have to be interpreted as sarcastic humour.}
She was certain this guy wasn't that big wizard, what was his name... Mordenkainen? Strangely, that name sounded familiar. Anyway, she'd still have to defeat him.
She proceeded to the south door, and listened. Not hearing anything, she opened the door as quietly as possible, and peered beyond.
In the small room beyond the door she quickly spotted a trapdoor in the floor which was half-covered by a tatty rug, and heavily barred from her side. The room was sparsely furnished: a bed with clean bedding, a chair and a table on which stood a portable incense-burner.
{Yes, Darian is claustrophobic here. And she is afraid of the wraiths and skeleton. Bad role-play on my part. Her comments about making this place her "new abode" would thus have to be interpreted as sarcastic humour.}
That bed looked awfully tempting to Darian. She knew that if she slept again, however, she would certainly miss the boat (literally). She was also tempted to light up the incense she found. She didn't, being afraid it might invoke some sort of evil magic.
Darian searched the room for secret doors. She then pulled away the tatty rug, and attempted to open the trap door.
Finding no secrets in this room, Darian unbarred the trapdoor and looked down. Below, she saw a set of steep stone steps leading down into the darkness.
Darian was definitely picking up on the downward theme in this place. And she didn't like it. Nor did she like the confining, stone walls; nor the dank, cool darkness. In her home town of Halica, she'd known some Dwarves from Northern Dara. She still didn't understand their love of the subterranean.
Darian pulled out her torch, and unhooded it. It shed an annoyingly bright "attack me" light, but she needed it now. She slowly proceeded down the steps, checking for traps as she moved. This was becoming routine for her, since she'd been doing it so much lately.
Darian descended the steep stone steps, using her light to guide her way. Eventually she arrived at a landing; a flambeau blazed and spat green flame on the west wall and illuminated doors in the middle of the east and south walls. Listening at each, she heard nothing. As experience had taught her, however, that didn't necessarily mean much.
Darian got her sword ready. She attempted to open the east door, while not standing directly in front of it.
Darian opened the door quietly and discovered a comfortably appointed room lit with ornate wall-lamps. There were fine carpets, a large cushion, and wall-paintings decorating the room. Lying on a fur-covered bed, a man wearing plate-mail was sleeping. A sword was scabbarded on his belt. Darian wondered how he could sleep in such a getup... she knew Calidor could sleep in his armor, and that he was able to do so from long experience wearing it. If this guy was the same... he was probably not a run-of-the-mill goon.
Darian couldn't believe her eyes. This was irresistably romantic! At first, she tried to disbelieve what she saw; it could be an illusion.
{Does the guy have a helmet on? If not, is he attractive? (Hey, it influences her)}
{No to both. He's pretty homely.}
Darian casted Charm Person on the sleeping man. Then, with her wand of paralyzation handy, she moved silently into the room. She crept up to the bed, and attempted to silently pick his sword from the scabbard.
Darian cast her spell. Not surprisingly, the sleeping man didn't respond. He was asleep after all. Carefully, Darian crept near the warrior. Slowly, she inched his sword out of his scabbard. However, as the sword left the scabbard, the tip tapped the rim of the hilt, making a noise.
That was enough. The man's eyes snapped open, and he looked at Darian. "Who are you?" he asked. Darian noted that while he seemed wary, he was quite calm for someone who saw that someone else had his sword. His tone was more curious than threatening.
"I'm Darian...!" (friendly smile). "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to wake you. But I saw your gorgeous sword, and I just wanted to look at it. Here, you can have it back."
After placing the sword down beside him, she sat on the bed. "Say, this is a terribly comfortable room. Do you live down here?" she inquired, looking toward the paintings.
The man smiled at her. He was half-wondering why it seemed so natural to have a pretty young woman he had never seen before come into his room.
Quickly, he dismissed the thought. He picked up his sword, replaced it in its sheath, and stood up. "Yes, yes I do. I am Colm, captain of the guards. Who are you? Are you new?"
Darian paused, for effect. "Mordraneth sent me. He wanted me to keep an eye on some fellow named Alsander. I never met him. Actually, he wanted me to make sure Alsander is not too, um... uncomfortable. Oh, pelor, I'm not supposed to be telling you any of this! But I dunno, Colm, I really feel I can trust you..." (coquettish smile).
{Does he seem to be buying this?}
His brow furrowed at mention of Pelor. Darian quickly realized that that particular deity may not be very popular around here. He then shrugged. "Ah, you must be the new questionner! I suppose that explains the outfit," he said, as he looked at her appreciatively. "Urzak must have sent you. Well, the prisoner is being troublesome and the Master wants the information out of him--how to open that blasted spellbook of his. The Master isn't happy that whatever that book contains is out of his reach. Get him to talk today, and if not, kill him off, very nastily indeed if at all possible. We don't want him to be uncomfortable, after all! You know the way." He chuckled. Obviously, he thought Darian was being sarcastic!
"Don't worry - I'll get him to talk... that's my job. He'll wish he'd never met me. But as I mentioned, I am new, so I don't know the way. Maybe you could take me to Alsander?" Darian asked, politely.
"Well, I'm pretty tired... this is the first decent sleep I've gotten in 2 days. Seems somebody broke in a while ago, and everything's a mess." Darian thanked her charm for causing him not to make the obvious connection. "Urzak's getting forgetful, it must be all those daft incantations he chants day and night. Just go south, then west from the dining room, and follow the passage to the junction, turn right, keep on to the door with the silvered door-handle, go in, and Mehrabian's room is on your left. Tell him I sent you, and he'll give you the help you need."
The man seemed to be telling the truth. He was visibly tired.
Darian thanked the man. It dawned on her that she should have casted Charm Person on Calidor a long time ago. It certainly would improve his attitude.
On the other hand, Calidor was notoriously resistant to that sort of thing. Giving credit where it was due, Calidor had an iron will. Besides, even if it did work, and Andarra found out, (and she WOULD, she could always tell when something was wrong) she'd remove it quick and there would be hell to pay.
{In game terms, Calidor makes saves versus mental spells at +5 to his roll, giving him a save of 3 versus Charm Person. Good luck.}
Darian quickly backtracked up to the dark priest's room. When she got there, she carefully removed the unholy religious symbol from his neck. "No harm in wearing this thing," she thought. She wasn't a fan of flaming skulls, but it might have helped her image.
Darian returned down to the room with the flambeau, and headed south. She was moving more boldly now, behaving as though she belonged there. She was wearing a lot of black leather from her latest shopping spree, and now she had the popular local jewelry. But she figured she needed more to make the image complete. Casting Alter Self, she modified her body shape to be more muscular. She was going for that "butch" look that might assist in convincing others of her new profession - Interrogator. She practiced quietly to herself: "If you don't open that SPELLBOOK, I'm going to peel your skin off in STRIPS!!". She chuckled quietly.
{Darian's basically going to follow his directions. But she has her sword sheathed, so she looks like she belongs. She's carrying a piece of paper, so as to look official.}
She followed the passageway beyond the south door until she came to another door. This was slightly ajar, and she peered into the room beyond. An oaken table stood in the middle of the room, with a large tablecloth covering it; on the table she saw silver cutlery, fine porcelain and cut crystal, and bread, meats, and fruit laid out ready to eat! There was no sign of anyone in the room, so she entered. She saw there were two doors from this room, one on the east wall, and one on the west wall.
{The food is normal. Take what you like.}
Beyond the west door was a torch-lit passage which led
westwards and then bent round to the south. She noticed
it was not dusty, but clean, so she deduced that many
people passed along it regularly. There might have been
many foes here, but perhaps also someone who might be
helpful if she was lucky and careful {or in Darian's case, just
lucky
Following the guard's directions, she headed right, which
was west. The passageway continued westwards, then turned south
again; once more it was clear she was travelling a well-
frequented path. At the end of the passage she observed a
wooden door-plaque with a handle bearing an ornate
door-plaque of bronze and a silvered door-handle. Just before this,
there was a side-passage to the east, at the end of which there
was a small door with a sign fixed to it: "DANGER! KEEP
OUT!"
{I'll stop here. Darian might just get curious about that
door with the sign. You know about Darian and forbidden
fruit...}
Darian was extrememly curious about the door marked "Danger". But she didn't want to blow her cover right now. She'd have to explore it after she spoke to this Mehrabian fellow.
She opened the door with the silvered handle and walked in.
In keeping with her new dominatrix image, instead of knocking, Darian decided the best approach would be to boldly enter. She walked into the room to the left, confident in her muscled physique, black leather, and evil jewelry.
{If she sees a person in there.}
"You must be Mehrabian," she said. "I'm Darian, the questioner. Colm said I could find you in here."
Darian opened the door and walked into a large chamber constructed of bare
stone with high walls, lit by torches which burned and spat, giving
off blue light and faintly greenish smoke. This smoke was unpleasant,
irritating her throat and nostrils. There was a half-open door in the east
wall, from behind which a red glow spilled into this room. There was
another door in the west wall, and this was made of very stout black wood
with massively thick iron banding and fittings. In the north-east
corner of the room was a fountain with a thin jet of liquid spraying
several feet into the air.
Following Colm's directions, she opened the east door all the way. A grim
sight unfolded before her eyes as she looked around. Fierce heat radiated
from a huge metal brazier filled with white-hot coals, from which a number
of branding-iron handles were projecting. Tables carried brass vessels,
clawed pincers, and pliers; even more horrid items were scattered about the
room. She was also seen by the room's occupant, a misshapen creature with
grey-brown skin and huge muscular limbs covered in wiry tufts of black
hair. But he just grinned at her, showing yellowed stumps of rotted teeth,
and gestured her in.
Hoping this... thing would buy her act, she introduced herself. She sat
down at a table with Mehrabian, the half-ogre; and he poured out a bowlful
of rancid, greasy, grey-green liquid in which blobs of a yellow fatty
substance floated. She wisely declined his offer of a bowl for herself.
He rubbed his hands and greeted her. "So, you're the expert torturer, eh?
Well, the ole buzzard 'asn't said nuffin', but I 'aven't 'urt 'im too much
yet; just a few burns an' such, nuffin' broken. 'Course, I obeyed the
Master's command to keep 'is 'ands chained up all the time, to stop 'im
usin' 'is magic and suchlike."
Mehrabian added a few comments concerning the torture techniques he hoped
Darian would demonstrate; then he got up and jungled a bunch of keys he
carried on a leather thong at his belt. "Less go gerrim," he said, and
moved over to a small barred door, hidden in shadow in the north-east
corner of the room.
{You can wait for him, or attack him. Or, you could try something else.
He's too big and the door's too small for Darian to pass by him at this
point.}
With the half-ogre's back turned, and his concentration on unlocking the cell door, Darian slowly and quietly slid her sword out of its sheath.
{If he somehow notices this, she will say she's just getting it ready to intimidate the prisoner.}
Waiting until he had the correct key in the lock, and just before he was about to open the door, Darian attempted a full back-stab on the fetid creature.
{Actually, if she misses completely, and he notices, she could say something like "I'm just practicing a few swings here...".}
She figured that even if this battle made a little noise, chances are anyone listening would think it was part of the usual torture noises coming from this room.
Wasting no time, Darian rushed forward and stabbed the torturer in the
back, hoping for a quick kill, like against the priest above.
Unfortunately, the half-ogre was made of tougher stuff, and howled in pain
but did not go down. She now faced a wily and strong opponent.
He advanced on her wielding a barbed metal rod mounted on a short pole-arm,
and he was one mean opponent!
They attacked each other at once, trying to get an early advantage. Darian
gave it a grazing cut to the arm, while the creature's flail struck her in
the left shoulder, causing her to cry out from the sheer
force of the blow.
{Darian takes 9 damage}
Hurt and angry, she slashed at him viciously, keaving a deep wound in his
thigh.
Darian pressed her opponent, but his whirling flail caused her blow to be
deflected somewhat. She hit him, but not badly. Still, he was visibly
wounded.
The torturer took advantage of the unpredictablility of his weapon, and
struch her in the chest with an upward swing. Darian staggered back with
an "Oof!"
{Take another 10 damage!}
Darian realized that the monster was very strong. Every hit was
punishing. She had to end it now. Abandoning all defense, she charged it,
thrusting her sword forward.
She felt a heavy weight upon her. She quickly realized that the thing had
gone limp, and had a shocked expression on his face. With a final gasp, he
died.
Darian enjoyed killing that disgusting creature. Unfortunately, she wasn't expecting him to be so adept at combat. She decided to drink two-thirds of the vial of deep red liquid she acquired from the man in the first cell.
{I really hope this is an extra healing potion.}
Flushed with victory, and smarting from the torturer's deadly blows, she
quickly went to the door. In a darkened cell, full of filthy straw and
lice, she saw a weak old man, his white hair streaked with dirt. He was
visibly weary and looked half-starved, and had clearly suffered terrible
abuse, but he didn't seem to be on death's door like the prisoner she had
seen earlier. Could this be Alsander?
Stoppering the vial, she decided to take this next step cautiously. She knew she was dealing with a master illusionist, so she tried to disbelieve the prisoner scene before her. The man was as solid and substantial as could be expected... that is, as far as Darian could tell, he was real.
Before entering the cell, she looked carefully around the torture room for the spellbook. She figured he'd want it as soon as he was freed. And who knows what could happen the moment his shackles were released. Darian saw nothing resembling a spellbook... she presumed that Mordraneth kept it with him. However, hanging on a peg in the corner, there was a set of ornately decorated robes, such as a wizard would wear.
Finally, she advanced into the cell to free the man.
Last Update: December 29, 1998
