Arcanum RPG

***Zalakar is now level 2***

Zalakar extricated himself from the sweat-soaked bed and vomited into his chamber pot. He coughed and spat then took a swig from an open bottle by the bed. He had a blinding headache, a furry tongue and a worrying rash. What the hell happened last night? Oh, yes. O gods!

"I'll never drink again!" He wails. "And this time I really mean it!" (ooc - +1 Willpower)

 

Gregory found the smithy quite easily, as the proprietor of the business was working.
Archibald Leeks?
"I am. And who might you be, my good dwarf?"
Gregory Soapstone. I'm starting on the long path to become an accomplished smithy, like yourself. I was curious as to whether or not you had any fine hilts for a blade?
"Indeed I do. Should you require time in the forge or on an anvil, help yourself, so long as you know what you're doing."
Ah, thanks to you, Archibald!
Gregory quickly set to work purifying his iron ore with the steel he found. Once his ore was pure, he began hammering it out into a bar, then he formed the tang, and finally beveled it to give a rudimentary edge. All that was left was to temper the piece and set it in the hilt, then he could sharpen the blade.
Leeks caught a glimpse of Gregory's handiwork, saying, "That's fine work! You're well on your way to becoming a blacksmith!"
Thank you, sir! And I thank you again for time in your smithy. Here's the coin for your hilt.
It won't be long now, thought Gregory, soon I shall have all I need to set up shop!

 

Hannah made her way back to the estate, staggering slightly for she was rather drunk. Her carriage had arrived, and the driver was pacing about worriedly. When he spied Hannah approaching, he ran to her side.
"Madam, are you quite alright? The butler said you had gone out, and I was worried that some evil might befall you!"
"Yes dear, I am quite..." she stumbled, threw an arm around the driver and leaned heavily on him. "Quite alright!" She giggled.
"Madam! Are you..." he paused, looked around, then continued in a whisper. "Are you... drunk!?!"
"Yes, rather!" She giggled again. "I will not be requiring your services any longer, you may return to Tarant at your... leisure. I shall... I shall return when my business here is concluded. Give father my love!" With that, she planted a kiss on his cheek. She then pulled his top hat from his head and vomited into it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she handed the hat back to the driver. "And now... I bid you goodnight and farewell."
Hannah stumbled toward the door, leaving the driver standing in the snow, holding a hat full of steaming vomit.

 

Crap.

Viktor's sight was still blurry due to him magickally messing with his mind earlier that day, but he saw the general shape of the creature before him quite clearly. Muscular humanoid body, apparently covered in brown fur. Strong arms with sturdy claws. Four meters of height, and that's not even counting the impressive antlers on its head. No doubt he was in the presence of the mythical Stillwater Giant, and that was definitely not good news, especially not in his current mental state. His merry time must have weakened his vigilance - nothing else could explain how such a massive creature managed to sneak up to him so closely.

Now that he noticed the beast, it stood still mere meters away, waiting for Viktor to make the first move, visibly underestimating him. That was the Giant's mistake.

"You will not get Viktor Salazar without a fight, fawn!" - he shouted as he threw out his hand and concentrated, attempting to stun the Giant. To his surprise, he found himself unable to locate its mind with his thoughts. Could it be that this creature is immune to mental magick?

Not fair. Not fair at all.

A quick change of strategy, then. With magickally enhanced agility, he started running circles around the Giant to confuse it while preparing another spell. Luckily for him, it must have worked, for not a single time did the creature manage to reach him with its claws during this manoeuvre, and so seconds later, when the spell was ready, he stopped, spread his arms and summoned a bright wall of flame, closing the Giant in the very middle of it. He expected the beast to jump towards him with a painful roar, but instead it stayed in place, apparently to emphasise how completely indifferent it is to his efforts. This mockery enraged Viktor.

Let's see you endure this!

He clenched his fists and intensified the wall of fire by transferring all of his will and anger into it. And that was Viktor's mistake.

The flames previously summoned by Viktor burst in a blinding flash and ...disappeared. Rapidly weakening, Viktor realised he overestimated the powers he had stored for this battle and cast more magick than his body was able to maintain at the moment.

"It was fun while it lasted..." - he whispered with a wide smile, briefly thinking of the past few months as he fell to the ground. For a short moment he saw the Giant towering above him with spread arms, ready to grab him and rip his body in two any second, and finally found himself surrounded by silence and darkness as his consciousness faded away.




Instead of outright attacking him, though, Stillwater's statue of the Giant remained as motionless as always.

 

***Viktor is now level 2***

 

Hannah awoke to sunlight streaming in the window. Wretched, hateful sunlight. She sat up, groaning. Her coat and sword belt were on the floor, apparently cast off when she had stumbled into bed the night before. Her memory on that subject was a bit hazy.
I think I let that half-orc buy me one too many

She washed her face in the basin, then threw on a shirt, not bothering with the laces. As she made her way to the dining hall to see about some breakfast, she reflected on the night's events. She groaned when she remembered her encounter with the driver. He was a good enough chap, but he would almost certainly report back to Lord Clayborne on Hannah's antics, and Rumford Clayborne did not share his daughter's sense of humor. She decided it would probably be best to avoid the tavern until her business here was completed.

 

1 July, 1861.

After a wonderful breakfast in the dining hall, you are ushered into the library.

An odd assortment of guests are gathered together there, some of whom you recognise as fellow-guests of the house and others who arrive at the last minute, (including one who was delivered from town in a wheel-barrow, smelling stongly of singed hair).

The unflappable butler, Jeeves, master of his art, serves drinks and sees to everyone's comfort while an ancient and officious looking fellow in a grey wig ums and ahs over a yellow parchment on a desk.

At last, when the clock chimes eleven, the bewigged man clears his throat and speaks

"Well, then, yes, ah, so... we shall skip to the pertinent section, shall we Mister Jeeves?"

"As you say, sir," replied the butler.

"Right, yes, jolly good, then, ah... and to each of the aforementioned individuals I bequeath the sum of four thousand pounds to be used howsoever they shall see fit, on the proviso that each individual shall first visit my final resting place and there hold vigil for no less than one hour.

"And, um, ah, well, eh... that's that then." Concluded the old lawyer weakly. Like a clock winding down, he seemed to come to the end of his energy and simply stopped.

"If you will all care to accompany me," Jeeves says. "We can complete the formalities by lunchtime."

He leads you as a group out into the grounds and to the strange conservatory, which he unlocks with a singularly complicated-looking key. Upon entering you realise that it is not a hothouse after all, but rather a stark stone area enclosed by a gruesome glass and steel dome. At the centre is a stone sarcophagus. Promising to return within the hour, Jeeves excuses himself and locks the door behind him.

Zalakar is familar with this sort of situation and immediately pretends to be grieving for poor old whatshisname, dearest of fellows, taken too soon, why couldn't it be me instead etc. etc. In the Thornton-Dyke family, this sort of display wasn't just profitable, it was political. His aristocratic instincts urged him to impress upon everyone else that he loved old whatshisname much more than they did. In this case, however, his enthusiasm was wasted.

A low humming begins somewhere beneath your feet and starts to rise, growing in intensity until your bones and teeth are buzzing and your ears pop. The air itself is blurred by the noise, which quickly demands all of your attention. Suddenly a succession of lightning bolts cross the steel dome, adding tempory blindness to the deafness already achieved. After an age of noise and light, it achieves a peak and... suddenly stops.

Blinking away the after-images from your eyes, you instantly realise something is very, very wrong. You are standing on the same hilltop with the same mountains visible to the north, yet the house, the conservatory and even the old road have completely vanished. What's worse, a brown bear is amongst you and your companions, surrounded and looking, if possible, even more confused and irritable than you feel.

 

The resulting silence is quickly broken by a sincere laughter.

"Hah hah hah, funny day!"

The confused bear stands up on its hind legs and roars with evident agression and strength.

"Shhh." As Viktor snaps his fingers, the animal abruptly calms down and stares at the distance with wide eyes, as if the very god of all things bearish appeared before it.

"It won't be like that forever, you know. I trust one of you sword people can take it from here?" - he says, glancing briefly at Hannah and Gregory. "Leave the eyes intact, if you would be so kind."

Interesting. That went easier than ever. Maybe this bear has an unusually weak mind. Or maybe...

(OOC Willpower +1)

 

The ground began to shake. Hannah looked around at the others, hoping somebody present knew what was going on, but all exhibited equally blank stares. The following moments were bewildering and mildly painful. When it was over, Hannah's heart was racing. She looked about her, taking in her new surroundings. When she saw the bear, she instinctively reached for her sword.
"OUCH!" she sqealed, jerking her hand back from the hilt. It was searing hot! Looking down, she noticed a small arcane-looking glyph on the pommel. The glyph was glowing with a quickly fading blue light.

She heard Viktor laugh, then say a few words, but none of them registered in her brain. She was completely flummoxed. Not knowing what was happening or what to do, she simply sat down on the sarcophagus and waited to see what happened next.

 

The ground and atmosphere vibrating in unison, lightning arcing throughout the glass and steel dome, and then it was over.
Damned magickal...whatever that was!
Gregory quickly regained his composure, and almost immediately wished he hadn't.
Oh...bother! If only I deigned to study explosives!
Gregory looked at his sword. Then the bear. Then his sword. Then, what Viktor said finally registered with him. T'would be a shame to kill such a majestic beast. This bear is in phenomenal physical condition.Obviously, it's afraid of all of us together. I'm sure if it could be lead outside of the group, it would simply wander off. I have a leg of turkey. If you all would part company, I'll just throw this some distance over there...
The bear's placid complexion is disrupted by the smell of cooked fowl. It saunters out of the group toward the turkey leg. Then, it returns for more.
Oh...what did father say about bears? Once you give it food, it'll always come back.
Damn it! Hmm... Gregory glanced at Hannah, asking Could you come down from the sarcophagus and help me scare the bear away? Repositioning himself closer to Hannah, he whispered And if that doesn't work, I suppose we'll have to, erm...kill it.

 

The brown bear is fat and its coat is glossy, but there's only so many monkeys that a bear can tolerate. It frowns in concentration then decides a little subtraction will simplify the maths.

It charges the shortest, hairiest monkey (mmm, smells like chicken) but then turns to chase the most cowardly one, who is squealing like a stuck pig and trying to climb a tree.

Zalakar dangles from the tree-limb trying to swing his legs out of reach, and succeeding only in enticing the giant carnivore. One way or another he is in serious danger of ruining his new robes.

"Killitkillitkillitkillit!" He bawls.

 

Harumph!
As the bear is distracted with Zalakar, Gregory charges it from behind, doing his best to sound perturbed.
I suppose this is my fault for feeding the damn thing!
Gregory was unfamiliar with a bear's anatomy, but was certain all he could reach would royally piss the thing off. In this case, that's what he wanted.
He slashed at the bear's backside until it turned around and roared while going bipedal. This exposed its soft underside, and Gregory was eye level with its groin. With a quick glance, Gregory discovered that it was indeed a boar, but shuddered after considering emasculating it. Instead, he stabbed into its gut and was met rather soon with a swat to his stocky frame.
This hit sent him sprawling, and he was dazed for a moment, which was long enough for the angry male to come charging with Gregory's first blade still in its abdomen. Gregory stood up and drew his second blade, steeled his resolve, and jumped at the bear. Using its gaping maw as a step, Gregory jumped onto it's head and drove his second blade through the neck, causing an impressive wound but nothing the bear wouldn't fight through until it bled out. The bear tried to shake Gregory off, and succeeded; however, he brought his second blade with him.
Gregory was on the ground again, and the bear was angry. It was noticeably slower than before, however not too slow.
It must be losing a decent amount of blood. It knows it's in trouble, but it won't stop until one of us is dead. Gregory took a breath, and felt a rush of pain in his side, realizing the bear broke some ribs when it knocked him down the first time.
You won't understand a damn thing I'm saying, but believe me when I say you are the finest foe I've ever had the grace to fight.
The bear charged, dripping blood in its path.
Gregory ran full sprint at the bear, sword at the ready.
The bear raised its left paw, sickle edged claws at the ready, but since it had been slowing down, Gregory had enough time to stab at its chest. The bear fell down in a heap. It was dying.
Gregory removed his first blade from the bear, and the wound began bleeding profusely.
Gregory found more healing salve ingredients, and applied them to his broken ribs.
Sir, I believe the ursine fellow is dead!

 

"Yes, it most certainly is." Not that Viktor would really know such a thing. So far he has been running from bears, not killing them.

He approaches the animal with a certain dose of caution. As he reaches the bear, he pulls out a rusty dagger he found in a trash bin one lucky day and - just to be sure - stabs it in the muzzle, ready to jump back on the spot if necessary. No reaction. A few more stabs - still nothing.

Dead enough.

He loosens up and ably cuts the animal's eyeballs out.

Once that's done, he hides the dagger in one of his pockets and the pair of eyes in another one.

Now that the bear is no longer a worry, Viktor tries to figure out the situation he found himself in. The sarcophagus is still here. Whatever magicks were used to make the estate disappear, they can very well make it reappear. Along with the conservatory. And the stiff butler. And Viktor's money.

Yes, it seems fairly clear now. All of this is most probably a test of persistence of some sort, an unnecessarily elaborate final wish of the old bewigged loon. Oh, how he will be missed, and all that. Apparently you get such ideas when you're too wealthy. Well so be it, for four thousand coins, Viktor can be tested however anyone wishes. There's not much left of the hour anyway.

But where are my manners!

He approaches Gregory, clapping. "Twas a most excellent fight, sir. Here, you deserved it." - he says, as he places a small object in the swordman's hand. Before Gregory can respond, Viktor turns away and heads towards the sarcophagus.

The surprised dwarf looks into his palm and what he finds there is one of the bear's eyeballs.

 

"You stupid damned dwarf what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?! Next time feed yourself to the wildlife and rid us all of your stupidity!"

Zalakar recovers his unassailable arrogance in an instant. Well, not literally unassailable. He reconsiders the blood-stained dwarf glaring at him.

"Er, look... thanks, old chap, there's a good ma... dwarf."

"Now, where this old bastard's corpse? I'm going to... hold vigil. Mwahahaha!"

"You, girl! Out of my way! Ogre! Open this box! Dwarf! Butcher the bear, cure the hide, make a fire and build a shelter!"

Just as he seems to reach the very pinnacle of unpleasantness, Zalakar stops talking and starts chanting. He begins to radiate a dark, menacing aura and a foul stench of decay. He is reaching into the ocean of unrest just beyond the veil of death, searching for this particular spirit.

It may take hours, assuming the others don't simply slit his throat.

 

John had remained, paralyzed, on the spot while the drama with the bear played out before him. He had thought about pulling and discharging his gun in order to stop the bear from eating the aristocrat whatshisname, but he hadn't been able to move as much as a finger. He was still observing his surroundings, eyes as big as plates, completely dumbstruck.

What the hell just happened? he suddenly exclaimed, Where the hell are we?

 

"Oi, ork-face! Silence before your betters! I need complete concentration!"

Zalakar closes his eyes and returns to his evil chanting... an easy target at fifteen feet, good light, no crosswind.

"...karrokhnagoronmalakafilthystupidorkishskumbagnorramalakhanaruun..."

 

"JUDGING BY THE MOUNTAINS AROUND US, DEAR HALF-ORC, IT WOULD SEEM WE ARE AT THE VERY SAME PLACE WE WERE AN HOUR AGO! A THING WHICH CANNOT, HOWEVER, BE SAID ABOUT THE LINKENBERRY ESTATE!"

Viktor's statement was obviously addressed at John Doe, even though he wasn't even facing him, standing next to Zalakar and shouting his words right in his ear instead.

 

"Why, you bounder! Who the devil? I'll teach you!"

Zalakar, already drenched in the black magick, turns it's deathly power on this disgusting, impudent peasant... who merely smiled broadly at the spell, taking only a shallow scratch across his face.

"Ooh, er, now, see here, I'm nobility you know..."

[Viktor takes 12 - (12xDR/100) hit points damage.]

 

Feeling a sudden pleasant sensation on his face, Viktor briefly touches his cheek and looks at his fingertips. Blood. So he's a mage after all - he thinks as he licks the fluid away.

"Now sir, that was absolutely uncalled for. But, of course, so was my childish behaviour."

He spreads his arms and warmly adds: "Let's hug and make up."

Zalakar is noticeably disgusted by the very thought of being as much as touched by someone who, judging by the looks and smell, hasn't washed in days (weeks? Good lord!). Yet, apparently relieved that he was met with friendliness rather than hostility, with an uneasy grimace and a muffled, unhappy moan he reluctantly accepts the odd gesture.

His relief quickly fades away as he realises how suddenly hot it has gotten.

 

John reached for the gun instinctively and put it in the noblemans face.

If you ever adress me like that again, he said, I will kill you. This is your first and final warning. Is that understood, you filthy bourgoise pig?

He kept eye contact with Zalakar for another few moments, then retracted his gun and turned his attention to the madman.

Now, I'm no man of science or such, but in my experience houses doesn't simply DISAPPEAR into thin AIR, and especially not WHEN YOU'RE BLOODY IN THEM, YOU BLOODY FOOL. Something's NOT RIGHT HERE, you see, and that was what I was trying to get at. Now, he said while still holding the gun firmly in his hand, One of you must know something. That someone really ought to spit whatever it is he or she knows before things get ugly.

He let his gaze pass between the lot of them, giving them all a serious stare, and added Well?