"These chains here....these ones look like they still might be functional." Aluve speaks with the group. "I have heard of different realms...or worlds before...could this be one of those....a different land?"
Han simply mutters nervously to his self making his way to the stern to monitor the surroundings. He take out a small letter and reads the worry building. How would he get to her now? What would she say when he didn’t show?
"I suppose Hell would qualify as a 'different land'... my question is, what brought us here and why? Is this a punishment? A test? Or is it just bad luck?
Branch thanks the woman for her responses and having no other questions that pop in her head, she takes a seat somewhat near the woman and watches the second tower approach. She wonders how close skirting past this city of dead will take them? Are they going to make it past this city? And what waits for them beyond if they do? Will she ever see her sister again? She smiles to herself, apparently she has a lot of questions, but she stays silent for the moment, keeping her eyes and ears open.
The air grows silent as the ship approaches the threshold. Even the crew cease their endless work to stand and stare as the tower looms past them, revealing rotwood and steel buildings. The river closes in around them, reigned in by two stone embankments that travel the length of the city. To their right, the wall extends out a ways and then turns to follow them, marking the edge of the city not far off. On the other side, the wall extends until it is swallowed by the seemingly endless horde of ruin. Dozens of stone chimneys rise above it all, taller than any tower they'd known before, interspersed through the city but somewhat clustered around some long-forgotten center of industry.
This was once a place of decadence, of elegance. One could imagine the noise, the crowds going about their day, the vendors shouting above it all, the smell of fresh-cooked foods of all kinds, and the music that would've drifted from every street corner and tavern bar. From every window hangs some tapestry of elegant design, still visible now even tattered and faded as most of them are. On every street and alley-way the shattered remains of lanterns are held aloft by masterfully decorated steel poles.
Even now, in its ruin, the city is not quiet. Something falls over in one of the buildings, producing a clatter out across the water. A screeching howl echoes over the streets from several blocks away, joined by others until the cacophony surrounds them and drowns out all else before being silenced by a louder, baser roar that calls across from what they can only hope to be the other end of the city. Branch even sees something move, or rather, the shadow of something. Just a flicker of motion in one of the windows, and then it's gone, so brief she wonders if it might've been her imagination.
For all this sound, nothing comes to greet them. Nothing, save for the dead. The corpses of those who'd lived and died here line the streets as pervasively as those once-elegant decorations, chewed bones in tattered rags all. There is one place in particular where their bones stack upon each other like some morbid display: a gate house, off the port side. Staring at it, the knowledge of what it was and what had happened comes to Bramble as if it was a distant memory, as if he'd lived it himself. A memory of being condemned, of the doors being closed before he'd gotten through. Doors that were now blown inwards, that had failed to save the city, and had only succeeded in the condemnation of it's people.
To everyone else, that memory is not-so distant. No longer are they on a ship, no, there never was a ship. There was the fish-market. Yes, that's where they'd just been when the alarm-bells sounded, and the screaming began. Oh, god, the screaming! And they were screaming too, running mad with the crowd, jostling for position, pushing and shoving, and getting shoved back. Shoved so hard they fall, and have to tuck and avoid the painful foot-falls of their peers as they get stampeded over until the crowd thins enough that they can force their way back to their feet. Then its the running again, running and screaming to the gate-house doors that are... closed. Already closed. People claw at the gate and try to climb over each other, some jump into the river and try to swim but they don't make it far before they disappear beneath the surface, and scarlet red dyes the waters. And then the howling, screeching over the clamour like metal being rent. They look back, back towards the terror, back towards what they'd so desperately fled from. A flash of blood-stained teeth meet their gaze, of blackened red fur and silver polished and pure, and then nothing. A dark, suffocating nothing like a pit in the chest. For Bramble it is only moments, watching the entire crew succumb to the madness, watching them one-by-one sink to their knees, unadulterated horror plastered on their faces. And they scream, as loud and as clear as the howling from earlier, and then they wake from their state.
Han gets slow to his feet then promptly waters the river with what was left of his lunch earlier in the day. Gaining his bearing he looks to the rest of the crew in fear and astonishment noting their similar disposition. “Allow me to the the first to say…..what in the actual f**k was that.” Then seeing Bramble in a not as disheveled state. “Please tell me you just experienced that as well and I’m not just losing my mind.”
Branch slowly comes back to her senses, still sitting on the deck, whirling from the emotions and scenes that played out in her mind. Once she has control of her faculties, she glares at the woman, "What the hell was that? What did we just experience? I thought you said this place wasn't cursed? You never said any of this would happen, why? What was that horror we just saw? What happened to these people???" Her voice, calm though a bit shaky when she starts grows in pitch and is an all out panic sound by the time she has finished. Her hands are clenched in fists, nails digging into her skin, she does not notice. She doesn't get to her feet, she doesn't trust herself, she just glowers at the woman, waiting for a response.
Chatcho is still taking notes but considers Archibald.
I doubt it. Chaka/Mind Power/psionics isn't exclusive to Thri-Kreen/Nomad People/my kind, and even the most adventurous of my kind loathe crossing large bodies of sed/water. In fact...
Before Chatcho can think his thought, the ship enters and exits the threshold. His Will is bested for the second time today, but this time far more intrusive and terrible. Bereft of the opportunity to psionically compartmentalize these foreign thoughts into clusters that make sense, Chatcho gasps a series a quick clicks before drawing ample air again. Alien dread forces him to his knees, and his Will is broken.
As they drift, it is much the same as before. Things move unseen in the shadows of buildings, in the corners of windows. Occasionally, they knock something over, announcing their presence to those on the ship, but they're never seen. Roaring and howling sometimes echo from the distance, but usually it is quiet, muffled, as if far away. Once, a shudder runs through the ship as if it brushes against something underneath the water, or something brushes against it.
For a long while, the woman remains silent. Tears stream down her face like two rivers. She leans back against the railing heavily, staring at nothing in particular while she sorts her mind. Finally, she speaks, but so thrown by this revelation is she that she nearly does so in the wrong language. "Ek gereigir... I do not know. I don't have all the answers. They died. That's what happened to them, you know as well as I." As she regains her faculties, her voice becomes harsher, more defensive under Branch's tirade. "But they did not die of a curse. That, too, I imagine you saw. So if you are so worried that I've led you astray, then I'd suggest you quit your bellyaching and turn your attention to watching the buildings for that, that... beast, abomination? Whatever kind of hellspawn it was."
It is then that a new dread fills the air. Not some powerful memory of the long dead, this one is very much present and immediate. The boat drifts through the final turn, having spent far too long in this city already, and everyone lay their eyes upon the water gate. A flash of the long dead's memory reappears to them as they see that it's closed... already closed. Heavy steel chain rises from the waterline by a dozen feet or so, blocking their passage. Even compared to the other tower marking the entrance to Stayar'Dauthr, this tower is in even better condition. The plants do not climb its walls, and though there is evidence of some damage, it seems to've been patched by loose stone and thick wood. The embankment that has corralled the river up this point begins to rises sharply now, forming a new wall that blocks the river off from the defensive works.
It is the man, who reacts most quickly. Knowing they must stop the ship before the new wall overtakes them and makes it that much more difficult to disembark, he races to a pile of loose rope and throws a loop over the side and onto the city's street. It catches, and he just manages to tie it off before the whole line snaps taut, the ship groaning as it is pulled to a halt. The crew assist him in pulling the ship back up the stream and anchoring it on the street. There had been an element of security in the knowledge that they were on the water, that anything that wanted to get to them had to somehow jump from the street onto their deck. That security vanishes, as the crew are forced to tie the ship directly to the street.
"It's not supp-" The woman begins.
"It is." The man interrupts her, simply. "Someone has to go to the tower, and lower the gate."He is not alone, when his gaze instinctively falls on the party at that.
Aluve looks intensely at the man, running through his mind what he was suggesting. He shifts his gaze to the gate and then to the ancient city, this was a far cry from the trip he had expected before he set out looking for his family.
Aluve turns to his companions. "I guess that means us.....alright! Lets get our equipment and get this gate open! Jack, you need to keep an eye on the shoreline as well as the water."
The ranger adjusts his belt and checks his weapons. "So who is coming?"
Han looks to the creepy street of the city in contemplation. He wants to stay on the ship since it’s their only route of relative safety but his damn curiosity about the towers mechanical features pushes him over the edge. “Alright. I’m in. Probably a terrible idea but might as well go and see how these towers work. That and the faster we get it moved the faster we get out of here.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Branch looks at the woman with incredulity. She could have at least warned them that these images were coming, and then to admonish her for being overwhelmed? She didn't have words for it.
As the ship is stopped and their duty looms, she looks at her team and nods. "Looks like we have work to do. Not sure if we were that safe on the water anyways." and she steps out with the rest. Not seeing anything immediately, she offers to scout ahead a bit to see if there is anything down the next alleyway that crosses their way to the tower.
The shadows of the city grow long in the fading afternoon sun. As the group mills about and finalizes their preparations, Branch moves forward a few dozen feet to the edge of the first building, peering around the corner silently. She's about to signal the all-clear when two buildings down, a rotwood crate topples into the alleyway and crumples into a dusty heap. A moment later, the snout and then the head of some creature pokes its way into the alleyway, sniffing at the ground and then ultimately at the ruined heap of wood. Straining for a better look at this distance, Branch leans a little more into the alleyway herself, but the creature must've noticed the motion for its gaze snaps up and it goes as rigid as a statue. The two of them lock eyes for an agonizingly long moment.
Then, the beast gingerly takes one step forward. When Branch--still rooted to the spot--doesn't move, it seems to convince itself that she's not really looking this direction, and it rushes forward as quickly as it can without making a sound, crossing nearly half the distance between them in a handful of seconds before something else seems to draw its attention. It stops again, still as a statue, save for one tattered ear twitching and flicking, listening to some unknown noise.
As close as it is now, she can make out more details. It seems canine, but large, and mangy. Its coat is tufted and matted, and several large spots of its body lack fur entirely, instead showing the scaly, flaky, sore-ridden skin beneath. This creature is sick, and in poor health, but Branch could imagine what it might've looked like in its prime, and that imagination is the spitting image of the same flash of fur that'd killed her, and the others, in their shared memory. Whatever had taken its attention seems to force it to abandon the hunt, however, as it finally looks in the direction it's ear had been facing, and then vanishes through the shattered doorway of a building a moment later.
Aluve heads into the shadow city. The whole place just felt off, like the groud itself was dead but somehow alive. The city was sick, haunted by memory and sadness.
He caught up with Branch. "You see anything my friend? We shouldn't veer too far from the path....I feel if we go to far in...we wont come out." Aluve looks out towards the tower, using his dark vision he attempts to see things that may be hidden in the shadows whilst he waits for the party to join them.
Archibald moves closer to Chatcho. "She talks a bit... Strangely. Like you do, sometimes. Do you think there are more people like you here?"
Paladin - warforged - orange
"These chains here....these ones look like they still might be functional." Aluve speaks with the group. "I have heard of different realms...or worlds before...could this be one of those....a different land?"
Aluve finds a spot to rest as the ship sails on.
Han simply mutters nervously to his self making his way to the stern to monitor the surroundings. He take out a small letter and reads the worry building. How would he get to her now? What would she say when he didn’t show?
"I suppose Hell would qualify as a 'different land'... my question is, what brought us here and why? Is this a punishment? A test? Or is it just bad luck?
Branch thanks the woman for her responses and having no other questions that pop in her head, she takes a seat somewhat near the woman and watches the second tower approach. She wonders how close skirting past this city of dead will take them? Are they going to make it past this city? And what waits for them beyond if they do? Will she ever see her sister again? She smiles to herself, apparently she has a lot of questions, but she stays silent for the moment, keeping her eyes and ears open.
perception 3
The air grows silent as the ship approaches the threshold. Even the crew cease their endless work to stand and stare as the tower looms past them, revealing rotwood and steel buildings. The river closes in around them, reigned in by two stone embankments that travel the length of the city. To their right, the wall extends out a ways and then turns to follow them, marking the edge of the city not far off. On the other side, the wall extends until it is swallowed by the seemingly endless horde of ruin. Dozens of stone chimneys rise above it all, taller than any tower they'd known before, interspersed through the city but somewhat clustered around some long-forgotten center of industry.
This was once a place of decadence, of elegance. One could imagine the noise, the crowds going about their day, the vendors shouting above it all, the smell of fresh-cooked foods of all kinds, and the music that would've drifted from every street corner and tavern bar. From every window hangs some tapestry of elegant design, still visible now even tattered and faded as most of them are. On every street and alley-way the shattered remains of lanterns are held aloft by masterfully decorated steel poles.
Even now, in its ruin, the city is not quiet. Something falls over in one of the buildings, producing a clatter out across the water. A screeching howl echoes over the streets from several blocks away, joined by others until the cacophony surrounds them and drowns out all else before being silenced by a louder, baser roar that calls across from what they can only hope to be the other end of the city. Branch even sees something move, or rather, the shadow of something. Just a flicker of motion in one of the windows, and then it's gone, so brief she wonders if it might've been her imagination.
For all this sound, nothing comes to greet them. Nothing, save for the dead. The corpses of those who'd lived and died here line the streets as pervasively as those once-elegant decorations, chewed bones in tattered rags all. There is one place in particular where their bones stack upon each other like some morbid display: a gate house, off the port side. Staring at it, the knowledge of what it was and what had happened comes to Bramble as if it was a distant memory, as if he'd lived it himself. A memory of being condemned, of the doors being closed before he'd gotten through. Doors that were now blown inwards, that had failed to save the city, and had only succeeded in the condemnation of it's people.
To everyone else, that memory is not-so distant. No longer are they on a ship, no, there never was a ship. There was the fish-market. Yes, that's where they'd just been when the alarm-bells sounded, and the screaming began. Oh, god, the screaming! And they were screaming too, running mad with the crowd, jostling for position, pushing and shoving, and getting shoved back. Shoved so hard they fall, and have to tuck and avoid the painful foot-falls of their peers as they get stampeded over until the crowd thins enough that they can force their way back to their feet. Then its the running again, running and screaming to the gate-house doors that are... closed. Already closed. People claw at the gate and try to climb over each other, some jump into the river and try to swim but they don't make it far before they disappear beneath the surface, and scarlet red dyes the waters. And then the howling, screeching over the clamour like metal being rent. They look back, back towards the terror, back towards what they'd so desperately fled from. A flash of blood-stained teeth meet their gaze, of blackened red fur and silver polished and pure, and then nothing. A dark, suffocating nothing like a pit in the chest. For Bramble it is only moments, watching the entire crew succumb to the madness, watching them one-by-one sink to their knees, unadulterated horror plastered on their faces. And they scream, as loud and as clear as the howling from earlier, and then they wake from their state.
The gate-house drifts past.
Han gets slow to his feet then promptly waters the river with what was left of his lunch earlier in the day. Gaining his bearing he looks to the rest of the crew in fear and astonishment noting their similar disposition. “Allow me to the the first to say…..what in the actual f**k was that.” Then seeing Bramble in a not as disheveled state. “Please tell me you just experienced that as well and I’m not just losing my mind.”
Branch slowly comes back to her senses, still sitting on the deck, whirling from the emotions and scenes that played out in her mind. Once she has control of her faculties, she glares at the woman, "What the hell was that? What did we just experience? I thought you said this place wasn't cursed? You never said any of this would happen, why? What was that horror we just saw? What happened to these people???" Her voice, calm though a bit shaky when she starts grows in pitch and is an all out panic sound by the time she has finished. Her hands are clenched in fists, nails digging into her skin, she does not notice. She doesn't get to her feet, she doesn't trust herself, she just glowers at the woman, waiting for a response.
Aluve steadies himself. Grabbing the side of the ship, his breath quickened and he tries to process the breif stint of maddness that overcame him.
"I was there...but I wasn't....its like we entered a memory...or an echo of the past....is everyone ok?"
Han looks over to Aluve “Physical been worse………mentally that would be a big ole negative”
Chatcho is still taking notes but considers Archibald.
I doubt it. Chaka/Mind Power/psionics isn't exclusive to Thri-Kreen/Nomad People/my kind, and even the most adventurous of my kind loathe crossing large bodies of sed/water. In fact...
Before Chatcho can think his thought, the ship enters and exits the threshold. His Will is bested for the second time today, but this time far more intrusive and terrible. Bereft of the opportunity to psionically compartmentalize these foreign thoughts into clusters that make sense, Chatcho gasps a series a quick clicks before drawing ample air again. Alien dread forces him to his knees, and his Will is broken.
"Kano qhan-cho? G'Tok-Dra...dre... Kano chat...chuchaka haazik?"
As they drift, it is much the same as before. Things move unseen in the shadows of buildings, in the corners of windows. Occasionally, they knock something over, announcing their presence to those on the ship, but they're never seen. Roaring and howling sometimes echo from the distance, but usually it is quiet, muffled, as if far away. Once, a shudder runs through the ship as if it brushes against something underneath the water, or something brushes against it.
For a long while, the woman remains silent. Tears stream down her face like two rivers. She leans back against the railing heavily, staring at nothing in particular while she sorts her mind. Finally, she speaks, but so thrown by this revelation is she that she nearly does so in the wrong language. "Ek gereigir... I do not know. I don't have all the answers. They died. That's what happened to them, you know as well as I." As she regains her faculties, her voice becomes harsher, more defensive under Branch's tirade. "But they did not die of a curse. That, too, I imagine you saw. So if you are so worried that I've led you astray, then I'd suggest you quit your bellyaching and turn your attention to watching the buildings for that, that... beast, abomination? Whatever kind of hellspawn it was."
It is then that a new dread fills the air. Not some powerful memory of the long dead, this one is very much present and immediate. The boat drifts through the final turn, having spent far too long in this city already, and everyone lay their eyes upon the water gate. A flash of the long dead's memory reappears to them as they see that it's closed... already closed. Heavy steel chain rises from the waterline by a dozen feet or so, blocking their passage. Even compared to the other tower marking the entrance to Stayar'Dauthr, this tower is in even better condition. The plants do not climb its walls, and though there is evidence of some damage, it seems to've been patched by loose stone and thick wood. The embankment that has corralled the river up this point begins to rises sharply now, forming a new wall that blocks the river off from the defensive works.
It is the man, who reacts most quickly. Knowing they must stop the ship before the new wall overtakes them and makes it that much more difficult to disembark, he races to a pile of loose rope and throws a loop over the side and onto the city's street. It catches, and he just manages to tie it off before the whole line snaps taut, the ship groaning as it is pulled to a halt. The crew assist him in pulling the ship back up the stream and anchoring it on the street. There had been an element of security in the knowledge that they were on the water, that anything that wanted to get to them had to somehow jump from the street onto their deck. That security vanishes, as the crew are forced to tie the ship directly to the street.
"It's not supp-" The woman begins.
"It is." The man interrupts her, simply. "Someone has to go to the tower, and lower the gate." He is not alone, when his gaze instinctively falls on the party at that.
Aluve looks intensely at the man, running through his mind what he was suggesting. He shifts his gaze to the gate and then to the ancient city, this was a far cry from the trip he had expected before he set out looking for his family.
Aluve turns to his companions. "I guess that means us.....alright! Lets get our equipment and get this gate open! Jack, you need to keep an eye on the shoreline as well as the water."
The ranger adjusts his belt and checks his weapons. "So who is coming?"
Han looks to the creepy street of the city in contemplation. He wants to stay on the ship since it’s their only route of relative safety but his damn curiosity about the towers mechanical features pushes him over the edge. “Alright. I’m in. Probably a terrible idea but might as well go and see how these towers work. That and the faster we get it moved the faster we get out of here.”
Chatcho shakily rises to his feet and joins Aluve and Han.
"G'tok-dra ak Kano, Chatcho ak Kano."
Archibald is shaking in his boots, weapons in hand for comfort, but nods. He goes to the rear of the group.
(Is this the city from the wheel of time???)
Paladin - warforged - orange
Branch looks at the woman with incredulity. She could have at least warned them that these images were coming, and then to admonish her for being overwhelmed? She didn't have words for it.
As the ship is stopped and their duty looms, she looks at her team and nods. "Looks like we have work to do. Not sure if we were that safe on the water anyways." and she steps out with the rest. Not seeing anything immediately, she offers to scout ahead a bit to see if there is anything down the next alleyway that crosses their way to the tower.
Stealth 13
The shadows of the city grow long in the fading afternoon sun. As the group mills about and finalizes their preparations, Branch moves forward a few dozen feet to the edge of the first building, peering around the corner silently. She's about to signal the all-clear when two buildings down, a rotwood crate topples into the alleyway and crumples into a dusty heap. A moment later, the snout and then the head of some creature pokes its way into the alleyway, sniffing at the ground and then ultimately at the ruined heap of wood. Straining for a better look at this distance, Branch leans a little more into the alleyway herself, but the creature must've noticed the motion for its gaze snaps up and it goes as rigid as a statue. The two of them lock eyes for an agonizingly long moment.
Then, the beast gingerly takes one step forward. When Branch--still rooted to the spot--doesn't move, it seems to convince itself that she's not really looking this direction, and it rushes forward as quickly as it can without making a sound, crossing nearly half the distance between them in a handful of seconds before something else seems to draw its attention. It stops again, still as a statue, save for one tattered ear twitching and flicking, listening to some unknown noise.
As close as it is now, she can make out more details. It seems canine, but large, and mangy. Its coat is tufted and matted, and several large spots of its body lack fur entirely, instead showing the scaly, flaky, sore-ridden skin beneath. This creature is sick, and in poor health, but Branch could imagine what it might've looked like in its prime, and that imagination is the spitting image of the same flash of fur that'd killed her, and the others, in their shared memory. Whatever had taken its attention seems to force it to abandon the hunt, however, as it finally looks in the direction it's ear had been facing, and then vanishes through the shattered doorway of a building a moment later.
Aluve heads into the shadow city. The whole place just felt off, like the groud itself was dead but somehow alive. The city was sick, haunted by memory and sadness.
He caught up with Branch. "You see anything my friend? We shouldn't veer too far from the path....I feel if we go to far in...we wont come out." Aluve looks out towards the tower, using his dark vision he attempts to see things that may be hidden in the shadows whilst he waits for the party to join them.
Roll: 13 + 4 = 17
Han bring up the rear of the group trying to be inconspicuous as possible.
Stealth: 24
Perception: 9