Red Wizard

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly lady dressed in a nightgown. She was carrying a lit candle, it's warm light illuminating the womans wrinkled features. She looked at Desmond from top to toe, taking him in, her face fixed in a somewhat stern but equally surprised grimace. Finally, she looked him square in the eyes, her brows slightly raised.

I must say, she said, That I'm quite perplexed as to why such a dashing young man such as yourself would be calling at my door this time of night. I would be inclined to take it as a compliment, albeit unexpected, were it not for my growing suspicion that I am not in fact the lady you're here to see. As much as this assessment disappoints me, I am still glad. The young lady upstairs has been entirely too unconcerned with courtships, as far as I'm concerned, and she could certainly do well to spend a little time with a strapping lad. Oh please, don't try to deny it, I'm not interested in appearances or other lies. Do come inside. I'll show you to her room.

The woman let Desmond in, guiding him upstairs. She stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and stood to the side.

You have a gentleman caller, my dear, she said, Now, I would have liked to have been informed of this prior to his knocking on my door, but we'll have that discussion in the morning. I will tolerate no secrets or skullduggery in this house. Well, I'm off to bed. I do not want to be disturbed. Good night.

Without further ado, she left the two of them there, disappearing down the hallway. A young woman, presumably miss Blakes, was sitting at a small desk in the room, staring at Desmond with wide eyes. She hadn't been able to speak while the whirlwind of a widow had passed by, and now she sat with her mouth slightly agape, still trying to catch up. Finally, she took a deep breath.

Who... she whispered, Who are... I mean, what are... Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure, mister...?

@CollectorOfMyst

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

Howe leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his chest, as Alan explained his business at the factory. His eyes were focused on the professors, as if he was listening as much with his gaze as he was with his ears. When Alan was finished, Howe nodded politely and leaned back in towards the desk. The chair groaned as he shifted his weight. He spread his hands in acknowledgement of the professors hypothesis.

Yes, Sir, he said in that surprisingly feminine voice, I completely agree with your assessment. We've had the machines looked over ourselves, as have the constables, and have found no structural fault or obstruction. Although I can't see how the constabulary would be knowledgeable about the intricacies of engineering, my personel surely is, and if there were any material failing they would have found them.

There was a quick knock at the door, followed by an old man with a small catering cart. On the cart was a pot and two cups with matching saucers. The man discreetly rolled the cart up to the desk and poured coffee into the cups. He placed the cups in front of Howe and Alan, and was soon on his way once more.

Coffee, professor? Howe offered, I find that it helps with the night shifts. We get good beans here, courtesy of the company. It really is very good. And, personally, he continued, producing a small flask from inside his waistcoat, smiling, I like to add a little sting to the brew. I buy it from an exiled dwarf uptown. It's really good. Can I perhaps tempt the professor to try a drop or two?

With the coffe business sorted, Howe leaned back again holding the delicate cup and saucer in his big hands, sipping away at the hot drink.

I would be delighted if you would inspect the machine hall, professor. We've been waiting for an expert to come by, but the company isn't too keen on letting just anyone into the factory. Secrets of the trade and all that, you know. But they couldn't protest a thorough investigation from a man of science such as yourself. Whenever you're ready.

@TRES

Dwarves!

@tundrafrog1124

1) Reclaim the Fist of Durin Hammerheld from the dragon in the faraway mountain.

2) Yes.

3) Thrillem has been buzzing with talk of the quest for quite some time. The elders have instructed our characters with vague directions to the mountain and a description of the weapon.

4) They were told by their clan, who probably nominated them in the first place.

5) Similar quests have taken place before, but this is the first attempt to reclaim the Fist.

Blackguards!

There's no rush, take your time 🙂

Blackguards!

@Expendable You can decide that for yourself. The room where our characters awaken is neither of their cells, however.

Blackguards!

@Expendable An indefinate ammount of time has passed since she was incarcerated.

Blackguards!

@An Outsider The Warden will not have equipped him with anything. He will be carrying what was on him when he checked in, so to speak.

Blackguards!

@An Outsider You can assume that your character has all the listed equipment in the CS on their person.

Blackguards!

@Spin The Wheel@BigPapaBelial@Rosellangel@An Outsider@Abstract Proxy@Emeth@A Lowly Wretch@Expendable@Kassarock

I got inspired, so... IC is up! Feel free to begin posting. Your character will find itself in the same room as Holgarth, and in a similar predicament. See this as a sort of intro to your character.

Let's go! :D

Blackguards!

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H O L G A R T H

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Darkness.

I am awake.

I must break free.

I must have vengeance.

Open your eyes.

Holgarth Half-Blood, King o’ the Hills and the High Places, forced his eyelids open. He grunted and groaned with effort, as if a great weight had been placed upon them by an unknown hand. His mind felt unfocused and his flesh trembled with weakness. Why this was, he could not say. There was no memory of what had come before this moment, only the distant recollection of his defeat and the subsequent disorganized days of incarceration. How long had he been in this place, this Maw? There was no answer. There had only been darkness, and silence, and the cold. But now, there was light. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust his blurred vision. He caught a shadow of movement to his side, but was powerless to investigate. Growling, the Half-Blood tried to move his limbs, but to no avail.

You have woken. That voice –

Holgarth forced his eyes shut once more, struggling against his confines. He wasn’t ready to face it again, refused to play this game of cat and mouse for the Witches amusement. But there was no escape. No matter how hard he tried, he could not break loose. With a final roar of frustration, he opened his eyes to face the terror. This time, his vision was clear.

Half-Blood. I have been waiting.

He was in a large chamber, dimly lit by a ghastly blueish light of unknown origin. The stone walls were damp with moisture, rising upwards into a vault above. There were other people there, their forms veiled in shadow, but Holgarth barely noticed any of this. He only had eyes for the entity that stood before him, in the center of the room. The moment his gaze fell upon her face, despair took hold of his heart with merciless talons of ice.

The Warden.

She (It? Holgarth wasn’t sure the Warden could be counted as a woman) stood perfectly still, observing him. His mind screamed whenever he laid eyes upon her; something was wrong. It was as if she was not really there, not real at all, but at the same time the only real thing in the room. Even the light and the shadows seemed to fall upon her incorrectly, as if they had a conscience of their own and were reluctant to touch the abomination. Time stretched, Holgarths heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Finally, he could bear it no longer and roared his rage at her.

Release me, witch, or kill me! I tire of your games! Why do you keep me here? What is it that you want?

The Warden remained motionless, as if he hadn’t spoken. As if he wasn’t there. Holgarth strained again, but could not move. He looked down on his body, but found no bounds. He stood upright, clothed as he had been the day of his capture, still as a statue. He roared again, his frustration mingled with panic, fruitlessly straining against the invisible force holding him in place.

Patience, the Warden said, her voice like breaking glass. All in due time. They are waking.

The very next moment, one of the shadowed figures began to stir. Holgarth growled.