|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 20:58:29 GMT -5
((John enters Cheydinhal))
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 21:25:05 GMT -5
John stepped into Cheydinhal, weary from his travels he seated himself on a nearby public bench. He retrieved a small hand carved pipe from his bag, and lit it. The pipe was his only vice, handed down from his father, he smoked from the pipe frequently, it was a tradition in his family, he smoked a special blend of herbs, the recipe of which had been handed down for generations of Nords.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 21:30:22 GMT -5
A city guard approached John from behind, the metallic clink of his chain-mail giving him away long before his arrival. "Excuse me" the guard said. John turned to face him "May I check your bag please?" the guard finished. John was thoroughly bothered by the guards request, but handed his bag over in spite of himself. "I'm terribly sorry" the guard said apologetically as he searched John's bag "but we have reason to suspect that there is an underground skooma trading ring operating out of Cheydinhal, and we have to be vigilant"
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 22:08:23 GMT -5
"Okay sir" the guard said as he finished searching John's bag "You are clear, please enjoy your stay in Cheydinhal" John took his bag back, and grunted in response, the guard turned and left abruptly, sensing John's lack of gratuity. John extinguished the small flame in his pipe and stood up. He had not been to a chapel in a while, so he directed his leisurely stroll toward the towering chapel, which dominated the Cheydinhal skyline.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 22:13:49 GMT -5
John knelt silently at the chapel alter, praying for the blessings of the nine in his future travels, when the rotten stench of death descended onto the room, blanketing everything with a fowl musk. John opened his eyes abruptly, and looked around for the source of the smell. A small Bosmer had entered the chapel from the undercroft door. The Bosmer stepped up to the alter and knelt next to John. At this point the rot was so intense John's lungs were choked for air, the odious grasp of the undercroft reached up, claiming everything with it's tainting stench.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 2, 2008 22:20:01 GMT -5
John stood from the alter, recoiling from the concentrated aroma surrounding the Bosmer. The Bosmer, noticing John's abrupt movement looked at John inquisitively. "You smell of rot" John stated bluntly "Oh...that" the Bosmer sighed "I work all day in the undercroft, putting souls at rest, the smell seems to follow me most every where." he said apologetically.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 4, 2008 22:16:48 GMT -5
John made to leave the chapel, but night had fallen, and he was hesitant to leave with no place to sleep, and not wanting to part with the coins for a hotel room. The Bosmer finished his prayer at the alter and stood, he turned and spoke to John. "We offer sleeping accommodations here, free of charge." John was once again taken aback by the Bosmer, who apparently had read his mind.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 4, 2008 22:19:52 GMT -5
John had warily accepted the Bosmer's offer, and now he lay on a bedroll in the chapel sanctuary sleeping silently. He was awoken by the scuttling of feet, attempting to move silently but not quite managing. He lifted his head to see who was in the chapel, but was met with a dull thud, which he vaguely recognized as the sound of a blunt object striking his skull. He felt an intense second of throbbing pain, then his head became numb and warm, and he succumbed to sudden drowsiness brought on by the blow.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 6, 2008 19:32:16 GMT -5
John opened his heavy eyelids and found himself in some dank subterranean structure, dimly lit by candles. His wrists were bound in shackles attached to the wall, keeping him from moving much of anywhere. Directly in front of him stood a stone altar, bedecked with shears and calipers, and smothered in human blood. Somewhere in the house a door creaked open, and small clicking footsteps grew near.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 7, 2008 7:43:40 GMT -5
John listened to the footsteps growing closer, until finally the Bosmer from the chapel entered the dim circle of light illuminated by the candles. "Well, I do hope your stay has been comfortably so far" the Bosmer said in a bemused, if somewhat deranged, fashion. "I will rip you in half, just as soon as i get my arms free" John replied. "I would just stab you now!" the Bosmer shouted, spittle flying off his lips. "But alas, we have an audience today." as the Bosmer finished saying this the sound of footsteps picked up again, but these were different footsteps, shuffling and soft with ages of decay. Then at least a score of zombies appeared, standing loyally behind the Bosmer. The bosmer was smiling now, but the old insanity still dwelled on his face "I would like you to meet the fair citizens of the Chedinhal Chapel undercroft"
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 8, 2008 16:20:26 GMT -5
As the last undead shuffled into place the Bosmer turned to face them, he raised his arms in a grandiose gesture and began to wave his arms as if he was conducting some sort of symphony of death. The bodies began to choke and gasp as, one by one their souls were yanked out of them, as if by some sort of ethereal fishing hook. The bosmer guided the souls through the air, the soft purple glow of the souls swirled together into a auroral vortex of lights. The souls began to descend until they were level with the Bosmer's head, then the formed a bizarre single file line and shuffled into a jeweled hour glass sitting on the stone altar.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 8, 2008 16:42:17 GMT -5
As the last of the souls entered the hour glass the purple glow of souls (which had bestowed itself upon the hourglass) was so intense it lit up the entire basement. The Bosmer lifted the hour glass and held it into the air "By the eternal power of the Underking, I harvest the lamentations of these lost souls" the Bosmer recited, as he finished the same raspy groan that had come from the zombies, issued from his mouth and he fell to the floor.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 8, 2008 23:13:50 GMT -5
The Bosmer turned back to John, and grinned, his smile was insidious, somehow it seemed to actually drip evil. As the Smile widened his face cracked, the skin splitting open, and falling off in thick leathery sheafs. His hair began to slip from his scalp, falling away in wads, settling around his ankles on the floor. His skin had almost completely gone now, revealing taught yellowing flesh underneath, skin so tight it clearly displayed every crevice and rise in the bosmer's skull. As if intended to signal the end of the transformation the Bosmer's eyes seemed to grow larger, then they rolled forward from his head, falling to the floor, but they dissolved into dust before ever reaching it.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 8, 2008 23:25:55 GMT -5
"I AM BORN ANEW" the ex-Bosmer shouted into the air. This seemed to trigger something in the undead standing behind him, who launched themselves upon them. "What are you doing!?!? he cried "I gave you new life, I gave your meaningless souls purpose! You should bow before me!" he cried his voice cracked and angry "Away with you" he cried, and as he did so a powerful magic hum filled the air, and with a loud crack the undead were dead again, lying in a circle around the lich.
|
|
|
|
Post by John on Mar 8, 2008 23:31:42 GMT -5
Unfortunately for the Lich he seemed to have little control over his magick, as the pulse he sent out did not just send the undead back to their eternal rest, it also gave John quite a jolt of pain, but more importantly it cracked the Manacles holding John captive, John could now free his arms, but the Lich did not realize that just yet.
|
|
