Waterdeep Roleplay

Abadoon

There's no art on Abadoon.

Description

You are suddenly blinded by a flash of light. As the light fades, there stands a tall dark cloaked figure. The hood of the cloak covers all of its face except two blue eyes that glow in the darkness. The robes are blue with golden trim running all around. The man holds in his left hand a long wooden staff, in his right a sword that appears to be longer than he. He stands as if made of stone, unmoving, and seemingly lifeless. As he stands here, it seems death itself could do no harm. He whispers something that is completely inaudible. A flash of lightning suddenly shoots from his staff, striking the ground with a loud crack. At that moment he disappears leaving behind only the memory.

Roleplay Notes

December 2002

the calling

Roleplay Log Overview

Currently 35 rolelogs since June 2012 have been archived.

December 2013

October 2013

September 2013

August 2013

Log: 18082013 - Ror and Aneh

June 2013

May 2013

Log: 10052013 - Ror and Zazza

April 2013

March 2013

January 2013

October 2012

June 2012

a prize to bring home

He ran to a large room opposite the charging golem. Upon entering he lay a thick grease at the mouth of the room, and then using a pair of dragon wings he took his position hovering above the doorway. The Golem came through the door without hesitation and slid from the entrance into the wall at the other side of the room.

The Golem was on his back flat, the blow had stunned it but a fury was building inside the golem. Psycho quickly dumped more grease over the golem. Now directly overtop the golem Psycho spoke. 'The best way to stand between a rock and a hard place is off to the side.' The golem furious thrashed as it tried to stand again and again only to fall.

The grease was now too thick the golem could not gain enough friction to thrash so it lay on the ground helpless. If there was a golem here then there must be more to the temple than he should handle alone.

Psycho with his wits back took a look around the room. He saw a ladder going up into darkness above with a partially collapsed covering. At the foot of the ladder was an unconscious hecuva. He looked hungry, yet incredibly strong.

Psycho decided to cut his adventure short and return to the Heart of the Keep while he was still ahead. The Hecuva he would bring back with him.

As Psycho clasped the shackles upon the undead he stole much of the undead's freedom. The Shackles were just the first part of the soul binding process. The deep binding came from the gauntlet, Psycho reached into the hecuva's unconscious mind and pulled forth a rough cut gem. Psycho was able to control the undead even unconscious with the gem.

The skeleton rose and began his march back to the Heart of the Order

if a golem spots run like hell

Psycho had gotten most of them on the lowest level with his Nexus Stone. The remaining liches and undead were dispatched with his holy maces. The Luminus glowed in the dark and struck the undead with such force some of the undead instantly turned to dust on the walls.

Angry spirits of the bodiless and of other foul creatures shrieked a cry of alarm. The cry made the very walls visibly shake. The dust unsettling from the walls with the sound hung in the air trying to find footing before finally floating down to rest upon the ground. With the cry also came a rumbling from the floor above. Heavy footsteps. They suggested it was no undead creature to still carry such weight.

He didn't have to consider what it could be for long before a large stone golem appeared at the end of the hallway. His size was massive as he easily filled the walkway. Psycho wondered how it could even move with its size in the small halls.

But move it did, and man that son of a bitch was fast! The golem looked like the end of the hall was closing in on him; a solid wall of rock charging at him from the end of the hallway. Psycho did the only thing he could thing of run

out of the shadows and into the dead

When Psycho entered the temple he saw that it was quite clearly a temple belonging to the Zhentarim. The Black Cloaks hat hung from the walls and the likeness of anshoon were clear giveaways. The Temple had been abandoned. Long ago abandoned there was a thick dust that hung on most of the stones. The doorways were however full of scrapings and a could stench that was mistakably undead. The stench was nothing like a rotting corpse, still teaming with life and smells from when it was once alive. The smell of the undead was thin and putrified it smelled like burt hair mixed with old socks.

As Psycho Turned the corner he saw a hallway full of hungry walkers accompanied with lichees. They had sensed him almost as fast as he had seen them. But he was always prepared for the undead. Infact in recent years they had become somewhat of a fascination of his.

Psycho quickly pulled *The potion of an Angel from his bag and quaffed it. He began to sing, the voice was no longer his own but the voice of the Heavens.

'Come to me my children,
Lay your head down at last,
The days have been hard and night has come fast
Your time is undone,
Your souls have no path'

As his song finished you could literally watch the souls rise out of the undead and lichee. It rose out from their Rrise out of the undead and lichee. It rose out from their bodies and began to float. The black figureless shape hung out of the chest of the undead like a ballon tied upon their hip.

Psycho Breathed in deeply before he pulled out a Nexus Stone. He watched as the souls floated through the air to be consumed by the dark stone. During his monk training he had become familiar with the Nexus Stone, but he was still learning much of its uses.

step away from The Temple

After months in The Shadow Temple Psycho`s patience had been growing thin. Been growing thin. By his own admission he had killed more of these worms than the Elder Monk had led him to believe even existed. Psycho had counted his days total at 21 Legendary Veserab. Psycho told the Head Monk that it was time he travelled outside of the temple. The Elder Monk again reminded Psycho that his journey from apprentice to guardian would would succeed only when he posses the 4 virtues. He prayed to the gods to give him insight into his attaining his other virtues.

As soon as he stepped from the temple, a flood of senses returned. He received a mental note from Crovax about a storm brewing within the Moonshae Islands. 'A stone wall has broken open along the Moonshae seaboard you should investigate it.'

Psycho was ready and happy to leave the temple. The Head monk had proven too tight lipped. On top of the Monks and the Order Psycho also had two books he needed to concern himself with. The Tome of Endless Pages he had given Tsaroth and now a book of Shade Magic.

Psycho Set off from the Shadow Temple and traveled to the Moonshae Islands. He had learned much as a monk and was looking forward to putting some of it to use. By the time he approached he saw the massive storm brewing.

The Storm came on quick and strong, the sea which was normally calm and beautiful was now a dark monstrous wall of freezing waves threatening to sink any boat that would dare travel upon its hungry waves. Finding the temple wall without knowing it was there would have been very difficult.

Death

Ruthivan sat on his knees, clutching Claire's body to his chest. He rocked and sobbed, then growled and cursed. He punched her dead body repeatedly, ignorant of all the eyes that watched him commit his desecration. His entire camp now stood around him, their circle excluding Mirin's form, until at last he let Claire roll from his arms onto the ground.

He was numb, he felt his soul severed. She was dead, truly dead, and he knew it because the bond he kept alive through his force was gone. For all that he tried to do to keep her, in the end, Claire had escaped him the only way she had. And he was the one that had set her free.

He got to his feet and stared at Mirin for a long moment, then looked to the healer. "Get that out of here. Put her outside the camp."
"Yes, Elder Ruthivan."

He looked to the faces that stared back at him with open shock and turned on his heel, leaving them behind. He had nothing to say as his heart was crushed beneath its own weight. The children rushed forward, but stopped at the look on his face, and Ruthivan's stared at them as alien and apart.

"Your mother is dead," he said, his voice steel and gravel. They cried, they wailed, and Ruthivan walked into the bedroom he shared with Claire, shutting them out and leaving them with the help. He sat on the edge of the bed and an agonizing howl sprung from his stomach, not stopping until he had expelled every last mote of air from his lungs. Then, Ruthivan broke down. His sobs were heard by every esper in the camp as they filed by the tent, and every one was a repentance for every wrong he had ever heaped upon Claire.