Into the Pit
The black pit that was Dralmir has been a cancer on Albion since we cleared the zombie plague from the Isle. So when Lady Tracy and Baroness Izett approached me with a plan to clear it I felt compelled to at least try...the following is my best recollection of the events.
Tracy and Izett visit Harold at Castle Cala, the two women coming with matters to discuss. The request is to visit the site that was once the Tower of Dralmir, and from there Tracy states her intention to study the site, cleanse if of the evil that's possessing it, and ultimately raise it. It's certainly a bold plan, but the young woman is confident that she can achieve And why not? Isn't slready bringing sunlight back to Ascolat?he a
her aims.
Having agreed at least in principle, three horses set out from Castle Cala towards the pit that is now Dralmir.
For his part Harold is dubious as to if Dralmir can be cleansed but has no intention of leaving Izett and Tracy go on there own. So a troop of Graal infantry and Sir Harold astride his war Horse stand ready to provide the ladies proper escort through the Lands of Southern Albion.
Izett travels with two of her own men at arms. The horses that she and her men ride trained specifically to spook less in this domain, amongst the keening of the roots. Still the animals aren't happy about it, they can sense the evil of the land.
Of all the group, Tracy rides alone. Or at least she did on her arrival. Between Izett's escort and Harold's troupe, however, it's a fairly extensive party which approaches the place. Dralmir is a seething pit, filled with black roots as thick as a man's torso. They emit a low, almost subsonic keening that makes the animals edgy and doesn't do much for the riders as well. The young redhead is the one who calls for a halt, riding between Izett and Harold at the fore. "I want to test something here." she offers, watching the writhing roots. "But be prepared for just about anything."
Izett secures the sack she has on her horse, one she's been guarding very carefully as the group rides toward the pit. She had begun humming softly when she approached the keening sound of the roots. Pulling her horse to a stop she and her men stop as she checks on that sack making certain not it is still secure. Apparently considering it very important to task at hand.
Harold holds up a gauntleted fist to signal the halt, then gestures a squad forward glaciates at the ready
"You may proceed" he says to Tracy as he slips from the saddle and readies his axe, staying about a half step behind and to her right.
Tracy dismounts as well, rubbing her mare's muzzle before taking a couple steps closer to the edge of the pit. Spreading her slender arms wide, the young woman begins speaking in a soft, yet clear voice. The tongue is arcane, the words gibberish, and after just a few moments the very earth itself begins to ripple like a wave upon the ocean. One of the large roots is -spewed- free, expelled as if vomited out of the rolling earth.
Izett watches quietly as Tracy begins to work, green eyes focused slowly shifting color slightly as she studies the landscape in front of her. Feeling the ripple of the land she reaches down, whispering softly to calm the horses from such a thing as they've never heard or felt. Watching as the root is expelled from the ground.
Harold lowers his visor and readies his shield as the magic is worked. His armor makes a slight rattle as he makes ready to strike the evil root, ice blue eyes fixed upon the black writhing thing.
Tracy's eyes are defocused, her attention on the chanting which expels the root from the earth. The 'normal' keening sound of the roots becomes deeper, and louder. There's more of an edge to it, like scraping fingernails on slate. And that's when the surrounding roots go wild. Reaching up and out in an explosion of turf, it lashes out like a many-tentacled beast. And it somehow knows to seek the source of its discomfort... the red-haired woman.
Izett watches with the writhing of the roots. She moves to get down off of her horse. Careful not to disturb the sack she has on her horse in the process. She too begins to whisper softly. Green eyes focused on the roots, hands moving slowly as if guiding the roots, trying to at least keep the majority of the roots away from Tracy. As the strain of doing so starts to show on her features trying to figure out what Tracy is trying to accomplish.
Harold steps in front of Tracy "at them!" he orders his men, they know just how to deal with these damned roots! The men make ready with glaives Harold with his war Axe.
The roots are hard and quick, as if guided by some unseen force. Izette is able to turn away a good portion of the attacking roots, and there are plenty of axes and glaives to deal with those remaining. Tracy's brow knits, and for several minutes it's a standoff. The earth stops roiling when her chanting drops, the young woman shaking her head as she backs away. Almost immediately, the roots settle as well and are easily repelled. "There's something deeper down there." she mutters. "And all we were doing was to piss it off." Drawing a deep breath, she exhales slowly and grins. "We need to REALLY piss it off if we're going to draw it out and kill it."
Izett pants softly for breath nearly shaking from trying to divert the growth of so many and such strong roots. She looks toward Tracy and a bit of a smile appears on her features. That smile so very different than her normal warmth, and the glint to her green eyes far from that normal genteel softness, "Oh..I think I've brought a tidy little package..that might make it a bit hot around the collar." she motions toward the sack on her horse.
"What have you got up your sleeve Izett?" Harold asks "If we are going into the pit things are going to get bloody...are you sure about this?" he asks Tracy. The soldiers hack up any roots still out side the edge of the pit.
Tracy chuckles softly, arching a brow at Izett as she nods. "I'm -very- sure, Sir Harold. What I intend to do is more of the same, only on a much larger scale. It will take a while to set up the magic in ritual fashion, but I should be able to uproot everything in this entire area in the process." She gives Izett a -very- curious look as well. "What do you propose, so that we can coordinate?"
Izett smiles as she walks over toward her horse. Pulling off the sack from her horse she removes the clay jar from within the fabric sack removing the extra padding from around the ball, "If you would be so kind as to add a bit of fire after this is tossed into the pit, we can burn them out without the hacking them up part." she suggests handing the over sized softball size object off toward Harold, "If you would be so kind as to throw this into the pit, Sir Harold..it needs to land inside so that the splatter won't land near any of us."
Harold takes the clay orb and eyes it dubiously, he looks to both Izett and Tracy then readies to throw "On your mark Tracy of Pathi" he says lifting his visor to get a clear view of the pit.
Tracy raises her hand when Harold takes up the ball of foliage from Izett. "Have your men stand ready all the same, Sir Harold. There's something nasty beneath the roots, and we'll meet it if we're successful." With a flourish she produces a small ball of flame which just sits calmly in her hand. "Ready..."
Izett takes a few steps back, confident that Harold will land it deep in the pit, but not wanting to take any chance of a backlash from the heat of the flame about to go up. She reaches over to collect the reigns of her horse to be able to calm the animal as needed.
The ball is heaved and Harold flips his axe into his armored fist. The Black watch stands ready, tense for the conflict about to ensue "Stand ready Lads" Harold's voice booms from within the helm.
The ball follows a nice, lazy arc into the pit and Tracy tosses the fireball in afterward. As soon as the two connect, she calls out several words in arcanis tongue as well. It's already a pretty major conflagration, thanks to the oils in the bloom. And the Pathi magic only fans the flames, greatly increasing both their heat and their hunger for fuel. As the heat blasts out of the pit, the keening of the roots becomes loud enough to set one's teeth on edge. The roots are rapidly consumed, but before they can be completely destroyed something huge and shapeless begins to rise up from the depths.
As the thing starts to form from the pit Harold charges the beast, his men following behind the Grand Master screaming "Monsalvat!" The Knight in gleaming steel leads his men from the front, fending off the beasts attacks, his Axe bites deeply again and again as he wades into the fray. The Black Watch follow their leader glaives flashing they begin to hack and chop at the beast.
Izett leaps up onto her horse as she tries to make her way in closer with her men, trying to join up with Harold's men. Reaching to her side she pulls out a dagger, green eyes shifting color slightly trying to get a closer look at the mass forming. As the men attack, and the fire burns within the pit the keening louder and louder. An appendage of the beast swings toward her, the dagger coming up instinctively to fend off the attack. The blade goes wide, the animal side steps trying to avoid the attack. Her dagger misses, and she is struck hard. The wind sent from her lungs as she barely manages to keep her grip on the horse. Only through the training of the horse and her quick thinking does she manage to keep from being thrown from the saddle. Were it not for the din of battle one might hear a cracking sound as she wheels the animal back away out of reach.
Slowly, the creature takes shape from the formless darkness. The rhythmic thudding of axes take on the more hollow sounds of chopping wood, as a huge creature of black roots takes shape. And seething out of the pit's inferno come many formless, slimy black creatures. The creature is -very- difficult to cut, harder than the toughest old oak or ironwood.
The Black watch lays into the beast and it's spawn their Bill's rising and falling, the sound of the chops creating a din that is nearly as loud as the thrumming. Harold drives his axe again and again into the root beast seeking for a vulnerable spot, trying to make the creature bleed. Harold's gleaming armor is soon splattered with sap and bits of the beast.
Izett shifts on her horse, starting to whisper softly. Hands slipping free of the reigns starting to move slowly. Her attention focused on those beasts, trying to prevent their formation or to root them to the ground by growing their feet into the soil to root them into place.
The many, chopping blade of the Black Watch are having an effect on the creature, albeit a small one. It's going to be tedious work, this. The dark, slimy creatures begin to take on more humanoid forms of undead foliage, only to be held fast as Izett burrows their feet into the soil. Tracy focuses on the flames, stoking and ever building as she seeks to set the monster alight. The magical fires begin to catch, the dark creature crackling as it alights. The keening of the roots becomes an earsplitting howl as Harold's axe strikes true, only instead of spraying sap the creature splatters his armor with black blood.
Izett continues to try and humm as the keening becomes so loud and potent, hurting her ears. Still she shifts from humming to singing. Her body trembling with the effort of rooting the new plants to the ground. Her breathing short and labored. Having difficulty filling her lungs fully with air as she tries to continue to keep singing.
Harold snarls and renews his assault trying to widden the hole, unmindful of the foul smelling blood that now splatters his once gleaming armor. "At them!" he shouts out, his voice barely heard over the ear splitting droning.
The Black Watch lays into the rooted beasts hacking them to bits as fast as they are able, attempting to keep them from the giant The Grand Master battles. A knot of Black watch forms protectively around Izett and Tracy keeping back any strays that might think to assault them.
The giant monster lashes and flail as the Grand Master's smoking axe draws more and more of its blood. A root like fist glances off of his shield, then again with a much fainter blow as the thing begins to die. The Black Watch is able to cut down the creatures that are held fast by Izett's magic, and steadily the tide of the battle turns. Tracy is screaming to be heard above the keening, flames settling in to burn the foul, giant creature.
It takes nearly an hour for the monster to die, and in that time all of the smaller creatures are hacked into bits. A deafening silence falls over the field as the keening finally fades away. Tracy sinks to her knees, her voice a hoarse whisper. Down inside the pit, the fires have all extinguished to leave behind charred, black roots. They are immobile, but there is little doubt that there are more below the surface.
Izett drops down as well as the last of the root creatures are hacked down. Her arms wrapped around her midsection as she struggles to try and catch her breath. Her complexion a little pale as she works to collect herself.
Tracy and Izett visit Harold at Castle Cala, the two women coming with matters to discuss. The request is to visit the site that was once the Tower of Dralmir, and from there Tracy states her intention to study the site, cleanse if of the evil that's possessing it, and ultimately raise it. It's certainly a bold plan, but the young woman is confident that she can achieve And why not? Isn't slready bringing sunlight back to Ascolat?he a
her aims.
Having agreed at least in principle, three horses set out from Castle Cala towards the pit that is now Dralmir.
For his part Harold is dubious as to if Dralmir can be cleansed but has no intention of leaving Izett and Tracy go on there own. So a troop of Graal infantry and Sir Harold astride his war Horse stand ready to provide the ladies proper escort through the Lands of Southern Albion.
Izett travels with two of her own men at arms. The horses that she and her men ride trained specifically to spook less in this domain, amongst the keening of the roots. Still the animals aren't happy about it, they can sense the evil of the land.
Of all the group, Tracy rides alone. Or at least she did on her arrival. Between Izett's escort and Harold's troupe, however, it's a fairly extensive party which approaches the place. Dralmir is a seething pit, filled with black roots as thick as a man's torso. They emit a low, almost subsonic keening that makes the animals edgy and doesn't do much for the riders as well. The young redhead is the one who calls for a halt, riding between Izett and Harold at the fore. "I want to test something here." she offers, watching the writhing roots. "But be prepared for just about anything."
Izett secures the sack she has on her horse, one she's been guarding very carefully as the group rides toward the pit. She had begun humming softly when she approached the keening sound of the roots. Pulling her horse to a stop she and her men stop as she checks on that sack making certain not it is still secure. Apparently considering it very important to task at hand.
Harold holds up a gauntleted fist to signal the halt, then gestures a squad forward glaciates at the ready
"You may proceed" he says to Tracy as he slips from the saddle and readies his axe, staying about a half step behind and to her right.
Tracy dismounts as well, rubbing her mare's muzzle before taking a couple steps closer to the edge of the pit. Spreading her slender arms wide, the young woman begins speaking in a soft, yet clear voice. The tongue is arcane, the words gibberish, and after just a few moments the very earth itself begins to ripple like a wave upon the ocean. One of the large roots is -spewed- free, expelled as if vomited out of the rolling earth.
Izett watches quietly as Tracy begins to work, green eyes focused slowly shifting color slightly as she studies the landscape in front of her. Feeling the ripple of the land she reaches down, whispering softly to calm the horses from such a thing as they've never heard or felt. Watching as the root is expelled from the ground.
Harold lowers his visor and readies his shield as the magic is worked. His armor makes a slight rattle as he makes ready to strike the evil root, ice blue eyes fixed upon the black writhing thing.
Tracy's eyes are defocused, her attention on the chanting which expels the root from the earth. The 'normal' keening sound of the roots becomes deeper, and louder. There's more of an edge to it, like scraping fingernails on slate. And that's when the surrounding roots go wild. Reaching up and out in an explosion of turf, it lashes out like a many-tentacled beast. And it somehow knows to seek the source of its discomfort... the red-haired woman.
Izett watches with the writhing of the roots. She moves to get down off of her horse. Careful not to disturb the sack she has on her horse in the process. She too begins to whisper softly. Green eyes focused on the roots, hands moving slowly as if guiding the roots, trying to at least keep the majority of the roots away from Tracy. As the strain of doing so starts to show on her features trying to figure out what Tracy is trying to accomplish.
Harold steps in front of Tracy "at them!" he orders his men, they know just how to deal with these damned roots! The men make ready with glaives Harold with his war Axe.
The roots are hard and quick, as if guided by some unseen force. Izette is able to turn away a good portion of the attacking roots, and there are plenty of axes and glaives to deal with those remaining. Tracy's brow knits, and for several minutes it's a standoff. The earth stops roiling when her chanting drops, the young woman shaking her head as she backs away. Almost immediately, the roots settle as well and are easily repelled. "There's something deeper down there." she mutters. "And all we were doing was to piss it off." Drawing a deep breath, she exhales slowly and grins. "We need to REALLY piss it off if we're going to draw it out and kill it."
Izett pants softly for breath nearly shaking from trying to divert the growth of so many and such strong roots. She looks toward Tracy and a bit of a smile appears on her features. That smile so very different than her normal warmth, and the glint to her green eyes far from that normal genteel softness, "Oh..I think I've brought a tidy little package..that might make it a bit hot around the collar." she motions toward the sack on her horse.
"What have you got up your sleeve Izett?" Harold asks "If we are going into the pit things are going to get bloody...are you sure about this?" he asks Tracy. The soldiers hack up any roots still out side the edge of the pit.
Tracy chuckles softly, arching a brow at Izett as she nods. "I'm -very- sure, Sir Harold. What I intend to do is more of the same, only on a much larger scale. It will take a while to set up the magic in ritual fashion, but I should be able to uproot everything in this entire area in the process." She gives Izett a -very- curious look as well. "What do you propose, so that we can coordinate?"
Izett smiles as she walks over toward her horse. Pulling off the sack from her horse she removes the clay jar from within the fabric sack removing the extra padding from around the ball, "If you would be so kind as to add a bit of fire after this is tossed into the pit, we can burn them out without the hacking them up part." she suggests handing the over sized softball size object off toward Harold, "If you would be so kind as to throw this into the pit, Sir Harold..it needs to land inside so that the splatter won't land near any of us."
Harold takes the clay orb and eyes it dubiously, he looks to both Izett and Tracy then readies to throw "On your mark Tracy of Pathi" he says lifting his visor to get a clear view of the pit.
Tracy raises her hand when Harold takes up the ball of foliage from Izett. "Have your men stand ready all the same, Sir Harold. There's something nasty beneath the roots, and we'll meet it if we're successful." With a flourish she produces a small ball of flame which just sits calmly in her hand. "Ready..."
Izett takes a few steps back, confident that Harold will land it deep in the pit, but not wanting to take any chance of a backlash from the heat of the flame about to go up. She reaches over to collect the reigns of her horse to be able to calm the animal as needed.
The ball is heaved and Harold flips his axe into his armored fist. The Black watch stands ready, tense for the conflict about to ensue "Stand ready Lads" Harold's voice booms from within the helm.
The ball follows a nice, lazy arc into the pit and Tracy tosses the fireball in afterward. As soon as the two connect, she calls out several words in arcanis tongue as well. It's already a pretty major conflagration, thanks to the oils in the bloom. And the Pathi magic only fans the flames, greatly increasing both their heat and their hunger for fuel. As the heat blasts out of the pit, the keening of the roots becomes loud enough to set one's teeth on edge. The roots are rapidly consumed, but before they can be completely destroyed something huge and shapeless begins to rise up from the depths.
As the thing starts to form from the pit Harold charges the beast, his men following behind the Grand Master screaming "Monsalvat!" The Knight in gleaming steel leads his men from the front, fending off the beasts attacks, his Axe bites deeply again and again as he wades into the fray. The Black Watch follow their leader glaives flashing they begin to hack and chop at the beast.
Izett leaps up onto her horse as she tries to make her way in closer with her men, trying to join up with Harold's men. Reaching to her side she pulls out a dagger, green eyes shifting color slightly trying to get a closer look at the mass forming. As the men attack, and the fire burns within the pit the keening louder and louder. An appendage of the beast swings toward her, the dagger coming up instinctively to fend off the attack. The blade goes wide, the animal side steps trying to avoid the attack. Her dagger misses, and she is struck hard. The wind sent from her lungs as she barely manages to keep her grip on the horse. Only through the training of the horse and her quick thinking does she manage to keep from being thrown from the saddle. Were it not for the din of battle one might hear a cracking sound as she wheels the animal back away out of reach.
Slowly, the creature takes shape from the formless darkness. The rhythmic thudding of axes take on the more hollow sounds of chopping wood, as a huge creature of black roots takes shape. And seething out of the pit's inferno come many formless, slimy black creatures. The creature is -very- difficult to cut, harder than the toughest old oak or ironwood.
The Black watch lays into the beast and it's spawn their Bill's rising and falling, the sound of the chops creating a din that is nearly as loud as the thrumming. Harold drives his axe again and again into the root beast seeking for a vulnerable spot, trying to make the creature bleed. Harold's gleaming armor is soon splattered with sap and bits of the beast.
Izett shifts on her horse, starting to whisper softly. Hands slipping free of the reigns starting to move slowly. Her attention focused on those beasts, trying to prevent their formation or to root them to the ground by growing their feet into the soil to root them into place.
The many, chopping blade of the Black Watch are having an effect on the creature, albeit a small one. It's going to be tedious work, this. The dark, slimy creatures begin to take on more humanoid forms of undead foliage, only to be held fast as Izett burrows their feet into the soil. Tracy focuses on the flames, stoking and ever building as she seeks to set the monster alight. The magical fires begin to catch, the dark creature crackling as it alights. The keening of the roots becomes an earsplitting howl as Harold's axe strikes true, only instead of spraying sap the creature splatters his armor with black blood.
Izett continues to try and humm as the keening becomes so loud and potent, hurting her ears. Still she shifts from humming to singing. Her body trembling with the effort of rooting the new plants to the ground. Her breathing short and labored. Having difficulty filling her lungs fully with air as she tries to continue to keep singing.
Harold snarls and renews his assault trying to widden the hole, unmindful of the foul smelling blood that now splatters his once gleaming armor. "At them!" he shouts out, his voice barely heard over the ear splitting droning.
The Black Watch lays into the rooted beasts hacking them to bits as fast as they are able, attempting to keep them from the giant The Grand Master battles. A knot of Black watch forms protectively around Izett and Tracy keeping back any strays that might think to assault them.
The giant monster lashes and flail as the Grand Master's smoking axe draws more and more of its blood. A root like fist glances off of his shield, then again with a much fainter blow as the thing begins to die. The Black Watch is able to cut down the creatures that are held fast by Izett's magic, and steadily the tide of the battle turns. Tracy is screaming to be heard above the keening, flames settling in to burn the foul, giant creature.
It takes nearly an hour for the monster to die, and in that time all of the smaller creatures are hacked into bits. A deafening silence falls over the field as the keening finally fades away. Tracy sinks to her knees, her voice a hoarse whisper. Down inside the pit, the fires have all extinguished to leave behind charred, black roots. They are immobile, but there is little doubt that there are more below the surface.
Izett drops down as well as the last of the root creatures are hacked down. Her arms wrapped around her midsection as she struggles to try and catch her breath. Her complexion a little pale as she works to collect herself.