[Socerer SoC]Scene 5: Bloodhounds [Trithemius]

edited December 2008 in In-Game
Trithemius awoke suddenly with a grave sense of something wrong. He looked around him, through the bubble tent he had erected, at the toxic forest he had passed into the day before. Nothing seemed amiss. He looked around him in the tent and saw the little leather breathing hood he had fashioned for the child, laying on the ground. He had pulled it off when they made camp but kept it pinned to the infants clothing. Now the child was missing.

It took only a minute to catch sight of her, outside the tent. She lay on the ground not far away, unprotected from the maisma. She was giggling and cooing, reaching little hands up to swipe ineffectually at the glowing spores that rained down gently from the trees. The picture was almost idyllic. He realized that it was the giggling, muffled by the tent, which had awakened him.

He sees the track in the soil and ground fungus where she had crawled, or at least dragged herself out of the tent.

Sitting calmly, six feet or so away, Thinker sits, watching the child play.


  • I'm not dead, btw, I've just been busy and sidetracked. I'll hopefully make a post tomorrow.
  • Trithemius felt a lump in his throat as he watched the child happily drawing the miasma into her lungs. It cosmically unfair to him in that moment that the little girl could evoke such strong emotions in him, joy and dread, when he hadn't even had the fun of helping to create her. The hermit scooped the child up gently to take her back into the tent.

    "Now, now. If you breath too much of the air of the Sea of Decay, you'll end up like me - old and creaky, with stone in your marrow and lead in your veins. Back to bed with you, young lady."
  • Ha, I like the 'cosmically unfair' line.

    The child seems pleased to see him when he picks her up. But her aspect suddenly changes when they pass back out of the miasma. Suddenly her little body spasms, only once, but hard, and she begins to cry. It takes him several minutes to calm her down. By habit he inspects her from tip to toe. He can spot no ill effects from the exposure. Still, she can't have been out long. Ten minutes this deep in the forest would be enough to kill someone.

    A warning buzz from Thinker snaps his attention up again. Thinker is no longer visible but the treeline is full of shadowy figures, though human rather than insect.
  • Trithemius froze. Cradling the child in his arms, he slunk into the shelter of the forest, staying close to the giant stalks to minimize his silhouette. Slowly, Trithemius pulled the chitin helmet down over his face. With his left arm, he rocked the little girl back and forth slowly; his right hand unconsciously crept down to the sword at his waist. The ceramic blade had been so sharp, when he was young. It felt so light in his hands then, on the day it first tasted blood. Nowadays it took all his strength to wield it, and with each swing his calcified tendons would shriek in protest.

    Inside his visor, Trithemius looked out at the figures in the treeline through glittering, faceted domes, waiting to see who they were and what they wanted.

    Trithemius is hiding until he can tell more about these people, but he is quite suspicious..
  • One of the figures makes it's way out into the clearing. Trithemius recognizes it. Wormhandlers. Shunned by most of the civilized world they eaked their existance out in the Rotwood. This was, judging by the decorations on his heavy clothing, helmet and mask, the chief of this band. Trithemius had dealings with them before. The handler was laden with the typical assortment of pouches, his weapons, a long insect shell knife, and a rifle, and of course his bloodworm basket. Trithemius marveled anew at how quietly they moved given that they carried all thier worldly posessions wherever they went.

    The chief walks to the center of the clearing and crouches, peering around the clearing attentively. He then opens the top of the long cylindrical basket on his hip and lets out the slug-like bloodworms, three of them, which begin to sniff around the clearing making thier small chirping noises as they go.
  • Trithemius narrowed his eyes. Wormhandlers on the hunt. Not such a rare sight, here in the rotwood. Surely there were a thousand things in the forest that the nomads could be searching for, besides an old hermit or the little girl he carried. And yet, Trithemius could not quite put to the back of his mind the gnawing suspicion that this encounter was something more, and more dangerous, than mere coincidence. There were too many of them to fight, and with bloodworms coursing through the clearing, he was unlikely to remain hidden for long. No, best use a more secure means of escape, even if it meant exposing himself temporarily. If the worm handlers turned out to be looking for something else, he might even get to rescue his tent. And if not, then at least they wouldn't dare fire their rifles in sea of decay.

    Trithemius's hand left his sword, and brought his worm flute to his lips. A quick pattern of notes pierced quiet sounds of the forest, as Trithemius called Thinker to his side, ready to fly away together into the canopy.
  • Perhaps Trithemius senses a gamemaster at work? :)

    Will roll vs thinker for the call (it seems a little sore at Trithemius)

    Tritehmius Will +1 die for rp #DiceRoller(4d10)
    Thinker's will + binding bonus #DiceRoller(6d10)
  • Damn, it really doesn't want to obey right now. Total victory on Thinker's part (6 victories.)

    The chief's head snaps up at the sound of the worm flute and he gets to his feet but makes a motion for the others to remain where they are. Somewhere far above him in the canopy, Trithemus hears a 'snort' from Thinker's wings.

    The slimy scarlet slug creatures at his feet suddenly start chirping louder as they move around the tent and the spot where Trithemius found the child lying moments ago.
  • Wow, that sucked... at least I didn't do this badly on the binding roll, I guess. With stamina 2 Trithemius will never outrun them on foot, so I guess it's time for a confrontation.

    Trithemius gritted his teeth and strode into the clearing.

    "That's my tent. I hope I won't have to pick worms out of it later."

    Does Trithemius recognize this particular Wormhunter chief or his tribe?
  • "Pure water and fresh wind, forest-man" says the chief in heavily accented Teutomekian. Trithemius realizes that he recognizes the markings of this tribe, but they are far out of their normal territory. He remembers trading with them many years ago. By the decorations on the clothing, this chief would be the son of the man he dealt with then. The bloodworms gather around Trithemius all chirping shrilly. The chief whistles through his mask and the creatures, twice the size of the child Trithemius carries, turn and inch back to their master.

    "See they do no harm, eh?" Trithemius cannot see the expression behind the mask, but the voice sounds freindly. "You have found the little one. We are charged with returning it to its guardians. Please give it to us."
  • Man, you had to go and make them nice, reasonable people, didn't you :p

    "Pure water and fresh wind to you too, son of Aravis," Trithemius replied. "You've come far from home in search of this infant, then, and might have come farther still; I've been carrying her for several days since I found her. Who is she? Where does she belong?"
  • Well they're polite. Nice and reasonable may be going a bit far. :)

    "Please to call me Ahmose, forest-man." The man sinks down casually to sit on his heels. "We come far because the Teuto chief man pay us well. No other tribe" he motions to the still figures in the edge of the clearing, "no other tribe is so good as we to finding lost things in the forest." He chuckles, " though we mock him for allowing his women to run so deep into the forest and without their wind mask. Hmph, he keeps a poor house I say. But with so many wives..." he chuckles again. "We found the first one quickly, this one took much more."

    "For who is the child?" He shrugs, "It not even is age of becoming for us, it is a sakra..." he pauses cocking his head as if he is trying to think of the words "...a no-name." he says finally. But Trithemius knows the word, remembering that wormhandler children do not even get a name until they reach 2 years old. They are cared for, but they aren't considered "people" until they are named.

    "The woman who ran away with this one? Dead?"

    Despite the candor. Trithemius senses an unease among the tribesmen. He notice Ahmose playing with a charm around his neck.
  • "She's dead. She had no breathing mask, and swallowed too much foul air. The Sea of Decay is a death sentence to those who are unprepared. Only the truly desperate would flee here. As she lay dying, she asked me to protect the child. She wished to save the child, yet she brought her daughter into the lethal miasma. How much more fearful must have been the fate she fled! I am a friend to your tribe, but I do not trust the Teutomekians or their chiefs. I cannot give her to you."
  • Ahmose sits quietly for a moment. Then says, "There is bad magic here forest-man. Did you find a wind mask for this child when you found the woman? And yet the woman is dead?" He pauses. "The other had no mask. We found it 3 days after the woman had perished, yet it survived breathing the bad wind. It takes no more than a day for such wind to kill a child, I know for I have given two who would not live to the forest." He stands and takes a step forward. Trithemius hears small shifting movements from the surrounding men.

    "I would as soon let this task alone, and this evil with it, but to fail would dishonor the name of my tribe. I ask you as friend to our tribe to give us the child."

    [color]This will be a will roll.

    Ahmose will.
  • OK, will roll:


    And one more die in case I'm getting an rp bonus :p


  • Suck on it, tribespeople! Now why can't I roll like this when Trithemius talks to Thinker...

    I'll post trithemius's response tonight... I just realized I'm gonna be late for something
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