HYPERBOREA / The Scorched Sanctuary

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/09/2018 10:32 pm

I light the lantern

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/09/2018 10:45 pm

How?

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/10/2018 9:10 am

Tinderbox. Same one I used to light the torch.

Last edited by achiriaco (10/10/2018 9:11 am)

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/10/2018 9:23 am

Malak finally steadies his shaking hands - from cold or fright? - enough to ignite the small twigs from his case, and lights the lantern, which re-bathes most of the room in soft warm light.

The lantern holds only a small amount of oil, most spilled on the floor.

Emral bleeds deep red from a gash in his arm, and more profusely from his leg.

The skeletons lay in piles of bones around him.

**Posted by fireinthedust** 10/10/2018 10:10 am

"Folly? You're not the ghost of these children, spirit. And I'm not the fool who stood against me in battle!"

Emral brushes the bone dust off himself before sheathing his sword and limping towards Malak. He notices the wounds at this point and seeks to stop the bleeding by clutching his arm close.

"We should fall back and recover. Perhaps that wagon of entertainers I hitched a ride with is still camped nearby. I'd hoped to grab the boy and return with them, or catch another wagon going the other way. At the very least, we can tend these wounds."

(I'm making up the wagon, obviously, because I realized that I have no idea how Emral spent three days travelling by himself without a tent or weather gear. He's no delicate youth, but he's also no barbarian/ranger. I will edit as you direct, obv.)

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/10/2018 11:37 am

A fine idea, Emral thinks. But he knows it is the panic of the wounds setting in, for surely those minstrels are long gone, having dumped you on the main new road, far from the old roads which led deep to this forgotten and quarantined place -- especially at wagon speed.

**Posted by fireinthedust** 10/10/2018 11:57 am

"Quick, Malek, get us out of here. These floating lights are really tavern wench fairies, and they've started speaking rather crudely." His free hand reaches out at unseen things, and his gaze seems more feverish.

"Hah! I've caught one. I'll keep it in my pocked until I can show those minstrels. Then they'll make me their chief, and we'll be swimming in pudding."

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/10/2018 12:31 pm

I tend to his wounds.
"Warlock lets search this chapel. Maybe we can find a dry place away from the cold."

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/10/2018 12:48 pm

Malak grabs loose papers from the floor and dabs the blood away from the arm wound, it's fairly shallow and will congeal in this low temperature.

The leg wound however is a deep stab. You'll need to find other means of healing it.

Emral manages to stand and can probably walk at 1/4 mv rate & -4DEX until healed.

Last edited by Iron Ranger (10/10/2018 12:55 pm)

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/10/2018 12:51 pm

Iron Ranger wrote:
Malak grabs loose papers from the floor and dabs the good away from the arm wound, it's fairly shallow and will congeal in this low temperature.

The leg wound however is a deep stab. You'll need to find other means of healing it.

Emral manages to stand and can probably walk at 1/4 mv rate & -4DEX until healed.

I pray to Crom and lay my hands on the wound.

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/10/2018 12:55 pm

Crom laughs at your puny cries for help.

The flow continues.

Last edited by Iron Ranger (10/10/2018 1:24 pm)

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/10/2018 2:26 pm

Iron Ranger wrote:
Crom laughs at your puny cries for help.

The flow continues.

"To hell with you Crom for not listening!"

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/10/2018 3:48 pm

Crom abandons you.

Time wastes.

**Posted by fireinthedust** 10/10/2018 6:48 pm

Emral grunts, shedding the delirium as beneath one who has mastered the pain of casting spells and swordplay.
"Agreed. I'll hold the lantern, you keep your eyes about us and find some place we can shelter tonight. Maybe something I can heat up and cauterize this leg wound, or some supplies from before this place was burned down and they were tending to plague victims. But that's if we're lucky, which I'm not expecting."

Emral takes the lantern and follows Malak, and has his smaller sword drawn and ready in the other hand.

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/11/2018 5:06 pm

I look around the front of the chapel.

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/11/2018 6:29 pm

With Emral right behind him, Malak inches his way toward the front of the church, struggling to keep his footing on the slippery, thickening sleet sheet on the floor. Quaking from the cold, indecision has set in...

He stares blankly at the melted harp to his left, the burned out doorway to his right, and the 4ft raised pulpit straight ahead of him....

Hmmmm. he thinks.

Last edited by Iron Ranger (10/11/2018 6:30 pm)

**Posted by achiriaco** 10/11/2018 6:33 pm

Hmmmm

**Posted by fireinthedust** 10/11/2018 9:07 pm

“Hmmm? You see anything in the next room?”

Do I see anything in the debris? Or the daggers do they look interesting?

**Posted by Iron Ranger** 10/11/2018 11:52 pm

fireinthedust wrote:
“Hmmm? You see anything in the next room?”

Do I see anything in the debris? Or the daggers do they look interesting?

The debris holds only torn, water logged books. The daggers are rusted.

**Posted by fireinthedust** 10/12/2018 6:20 am

Ewwww!

“Let’s go into the room on the right”

Emral hobbles off that way.