The Unseen Servant forums

Cruloc

The Northman considers loosing an arrow at the escaping spider, but the motionless forms of Gnasher and Grigor force him to reconsider. He must revive them.

Swiftly Cruloc of Cimmeria moves to the fallen Zamoran. He meticulously examines the puncture wound left by the arachnid, drawing near to smell the poison. With a sagacious grunt, he reaches into his pouch of herbs and hurriedly begins crafting an antidote.

60% chance of effecting cure for known poison [1d100]=10

"You'll not soon be dining in the halls of your thieving ancestors if I have any say in the matter."

Iago Vazquez de Quesada

Iago retrieves his dagger and cleans his weapons before replacing them in their respective sheaths and peering into the darkness after the retreating spider.

"This is why I said to sleep close to me," he mutters into the gloom, then grins faintly. It fades as he turns to watch Cruloc care for their fallen comrade.

Dahinna

Sick to her stomach with the stench of spider guts and gore all over the place, Dahinna keeps her sword drawn peering into the darkness of the ceiling, fearful of more creatures dropping on them.
"Is Grigor going to make it?" she says, chancing a glance at Cruloc.

Amethu tends to Grigor along side Cruloc. He watches the barbarian ply his herb crafting skills before attempting to use his own magic.

If Grigor requires further aid, he'll use a slow poison spell to try and halt the poison.

He'll cast a heal spell on him regardless. Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=4

Kiri reflexively reaches for his pouch that at one time contained an ancient healing elixir, before remembering they had need of it before this life or death situation, specifically, during a previous life or death situation.

As the others tend to Grigor, he approaches the dog. Though he is not much of an "animal person" having never formed a bond with anything that could be called a pet, he realizes this creature's importance to the gypsy. He examines it, admittedly with little hope, to see if there is anything he can do.

Can poison be squeezed out of a creature with brute strength? He hesitates...

The Temple Ruins, the Dead City of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Before Dawn. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia
Partly cloudy, cool




Only the promise of death makes life worth living.



Panting, steel bared, the adventurers watch the shadowed vaults above with a wary dread. The cobwebs there don't seem large enough. The frightful crawling horrors must lair elsewhere.

Amethu, Cruloc and Kiri quickly tend to the fallen. They discover Grigor and Gnasher are not dead, but in the grip of some insidious paralysis! Had the ghastly spiders triumphed, the party would have been carefully preserved in web cocoons, infested with spider eggs and, upon their hatching, eaten alive from the inside.

The barbarian's knife quickly cuts an 'X' into the gruesome laceration where Grigor was stabbed by the immense stinger. Then Cruloc draws the poison from the wound, spitting out bitter venom and salty blood. In time, the gypsy opens his eyes as his paralysis leaves him.

Over Grigor's wakening form, Amethu utters sacred orisons of healing. (+4hp)


Actions?!


Map:

One square = 10 feet

Behind the DM Screen:



PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Dahinna

"Mitra's grace upon us!" Dahinna says, seeing Grigor come around. She backs up against Iago and tries to penetrate the darkness above, searching for the other spider. "I wish we could see the ceiling. We are not safe until that bastard is dead too!"
Lighting another torch (she now has 4), Dahinna goes in search of her darts, hoping they are not damaged beyond use.

"The dog still lives," says Kiri. "I don't think I can help it, though."

The gigantic easterner wipes his sword and puts it away. "Do we dare finish resting here? I don't think the spider is coming back anytime soon."

Amethu is relieved the party is still intact to fulfill their quest. He too looks into the darkness of the ceiling. "We had planned to rest and it seems that may still be needed. Perhaps another location?"

Iago Vazquez de Quesada

Iago's humor bouys back to the surface and blots out his fear of creeping things. He smiles crookedly as Dahinna backs close. "You aren't spider-legged, are you?" the pirate asks, chuckling before accompanying her to retrieve her weapons.

"It seems that wherever we lair there is danger." Iago shrugs. "The best we can do is set a watch, yes?"

Zahra
Zahra keeps watch for any threat. Blessings of the Goddess- I am glad that you live, Grigor.

Grigor

Recovers aghast to find 'x' marks the spot and the Barbarian sucking in his left buttock.

"They say every scar tells a story, but I think we should be shtum about this one!" he insists.

He tends to Gnasher using a holy symbol and blessing a doggy wafer which he places in the hounds mouth to swallow. He rubs the wound, invoking a cure spell.

Grigor invokes Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=5

Cruloc

"Gypsies are accustomed to being thrown out of taverns and dwellings where they squat, but being spurned by your god and your ancestors must rankle, eh priest? What ululating supplications will you make for being condemned to exist a while longer in this mortal world?"

The barbarian gives Gnasher a soft pat and scans the darkness above.

"Should the spider again draw nigh, he must know he'll leave with fewer legs. Let us rest, but remain doubly vigilant."

He binds the wounds of the newly injured, and continues to treat those with older ones.

The Temple Ruins, the Dead City of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Nine. Before Dawn. 19th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia
Partly cloudy, cool







Despite the specter of creeping doom hanging over them, the trespassers remain within the sacred temple ruins.

Cruloc administers to the injured, and Grigor rouses Gnasher from his stricken state.

While recovering her darts, Dahinna discovers a thick book hidden among the cobwebs and debris, ravaged by time without measure, and by those who defiled this temple long ago.



Written in High Atlantean, learned Amethu determines it to be an arcane tome of ancient, forbidden sorceries of the Thurian Age. Having survived since sorcerer-priests last ruled this temple, its brittle pages threaten to crumble to dust! (Spellbook: ESP, Forget, Knock, Locate Object, Ray of Enfeeblement, Scare, Shatter, Strength, Wizard Lock, and others he can't decipher)

The final hours of the night pass without further disaster, and the sun rises through the central door of the temple ruins, banishing all shadow, mystery and menace.



In the cold light of dawn, the ghosts of vengeful alien gods are merely desecrated statues again. No monstrous spiders lurk in the ruptured ceilings, nor any threats within the temple's decaying environs.

But the howling silence of the dead city still haunts them.


Actions?! (Nightly rest and first aid is accounted for. If needed, please roll for additional healing as per the house rules.
Casters may pray and/or study for new spells.
And a new Experience Point award is here!)


Map:

One square = 10 feet





PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Amethu is focused solely on the book. The spiders and the temple forgotten. He pages through the book as if they were made of babies breath. Such care. Almost.. loving.. if such an emotion remained within the sorcerer priest. He glances at Kiri of whom he knows to also want to examine such a magnificent find. He passes it if asked quietly, though behind the mask, hidden, is a reluctance to part with it. He finds time to rest, focus on his daily rituals to prepare, and bask in the new found knowledge and ability the treasure has bestowed upon him.

Recover HP (con 8) [1d100]=30

Grigor and Gnasher

both do their morning ablutions. The gyspy priest praying at the rising of the sun and the hound marking his territory on a stone pillar. They are thankfully recovered from the wounds and effects of the venom.

While folk gear up over breakfast, he plays 'fetch' with the Gnasher and gets him to smell the spider scent so that in future he may not be caught so unawares.

"Are we going into the crypt below or exploring more of the ruined city?" he asks.

Dahinna

Having not slept really well since the spider attack, even though curled up back to back with Iago, Dahinna gets up and goes to find a column to pee behind. Returning to the group, she pulls some rations out of her pack and begins to nibble, glancing up at the ceiling every few bites. Approaching Amethu and Kiri, she asks, "So, anything interesting in that old book?"

Cruloc

Recover extra HP (70%) [1d100]=25

The barbarian wakes with a hearty yawn, feeling rested.

Taking his cue from Dahinna, Cruloc exits the temple briefly upon rising to urinate off the edge of the portico. He bends his knees slightly and leans back to amplify the arc and distance. "An army of pikemen could march dry beneath this span," he observes with satisfaction. He finishes, shakes, and regards his work.

"Ha! The head on yonder frothy puddle would be celebrated at any beerhall in Aquilonia!"

He turns his attention to the rubble pile which they had observed the night before.

"Harpy's nest. There may be a bauble or two in there."

Amethu after several hours spent studying the book finally acknowledges Dahinna's question. "Indeed. Indeed there is...." his head tilts slightly as he thinks of the powers in the book that are frustratingly just outside his reach. Such is the way of the wizard.

He gently closes it and passes it to Kiri. He whispers reverently, as he considers that the power to influence time itself was within his grasp! "The potential in this tome is.. amazing. Study this as you will. There is more power yet to be discovered that is unknowable to me at the moment. Let us return to it when we have the skill to fathom it's power".

Magically sated he turns himself to investigating what is likely the entrance to what lies in wait below.

Kiri sleeps better than he has in months and awakes refreshed - or as refreshed as possible after a fight with giant spiders in an ancient, forgotten temple. He feels somehow more alert, more alive than before.

Chance for Extra Healing (20%): [1d100]=47

Level up in MU: HP per Magic User Level: [1d4]=4 (divided by 2)

He patiently awaits for Amethu to be done perusing the new tome before graciously accepting it in his turn with a polite nod. He finds the knowledge inside fascinating, and also finds, surprisingly, that he understands more of it than he might have expected. Under no illusions, he knows he isn't the most accomplished spell caster around - always having devoted much of his time to the physical and to combat - his spells being utilitarian and rarely flashy. Still, some of these complicated formulas he felt he might be able to commit to memory, given time. And ink.

"I've brought no ink," he says, "Though I would enjoy learning a new one of these." His finger traces the spells he finds most interesting and potentially useful, Knock, Locate Object, Shatter, Strength, Wizard Lock... if only he'd brought ink instead of spending his time searching for shield oil.