Re: By the Shores of the Moonsea
Tarron
Tarron nods at Corym's words. He leaves the others to their own devices, his mind racing. He cannot believe that Corym had failed them in the library, but in faulting Corym he realises that the blame didn't lie solely on him. As a unit, he would have ensured that each member knew the goal. As a leader, he would have checked if the mission priorities had been achieved. But more importantly, a true leader and commander would have set clear and specific instructions. Something which Neldor had clearly failed in.
He wasn't about to take things lying down. Not when he had already turned from a life of drink to a path of redemption. The door closed gently as he left the others with the luckblade. He was on the hunt for Neldor.
Slipping through the soaked streets, his hood up against the downpour, Tarron makes his way over to Neldor's shop. He'd never been there, but Glen is a small town and the way had been described to him. He finds the shop, another tall and narrow building that reaches up to the lip of the ravine like the one that had been made available to his group. The shutters are all shut, and there is no light coming from any of the windows.
Tarron tries the door, only to find it locked. Speeding through a detect magic spell, he stares and the door, and the unmistakable sign of a wizard lock spell. Hesitating for a moment, he looks around for another entrance, but the house is like most dwarven construction: sturdy and defensible, without any obvious weak points. Tarron knocks on the door, but there is no response.
Not wanting to break and enter, Tarron stepped a little closer to the door to see if he could hear any movement or sounds within. "Sir. If we could talk?" he calls out, loudly.
The building is silent. No one answers his call, save for the rain pouring down upon him.
Frustrated, Tarron curses under his breath. Not that anybody can hear him of course. He hadn't wanted to break in, but right now he had no patience for waiting. What needed to be said had to be said now...
He cast the knock spell upon the door of Neldor's doorway but stood as far back as he could allow. All he wanted was the attention of the mage.
The knock spell washes over the door, and Tarron sees the wizard lock flicker out as the spell is temporarily suppressed. The door remains closed, however.
Tarron kicks open the door, but springs back anyway. He doesn't want to be considered a thief... "Neldor, come now. We need to talk." he calls out loudly.
The door thuds, but does not open. From the feel, it's probably barred on the other side. Fortunately, Tarron holds a number of Knock spells memorized. Realising he needs another casting, Tarron recasts it. The door swings open, revealing a relatively empty room, with a counter built along one wall. On the opposite wall from the entry is another door, which is closed.
Cursing the mage's defenses, Tarron considers his options. He wanted to have this out with Neldor while it was still fresh. The hurt on the face of Corym was evident.
Still, his own actions may be considered rash if he went about things like a bull in a china shop. For the moment, things could wait. Still, it did seem a lot drier inside the shop than it did outside. Tarron entered, and locked the door behind him with the bars. He would wait until the morning and let things simmer for the moment.
"I'll be right outside when you feel right to talk." he calls out, making sure that his presence was well known to avoid a shock. Then he settled down as best he could, hanging his sodden cloak on a peg by the door to dry.
Talindra
Gripping the hilt of the drawn luck blade, Kitheras fastens his gaze on Talindra and clearly says, "I wish that Talindra Braegen be restored to the full health and vigor she had before her undeath while retaining her memories up to this day."
The blade pulses brightly, and the wavy, water pattern in the metal of the blade smooths out, leaving the blade gleaming and unmarked. There is no other visual cue of the magic, but a moment later Talindra gasps. Color floods her grey form, as though someone had doused her in a dozen buckets of paint. The hazy outline of the room behind her disappears as she resolidifies, and her feet drop to the floor with a thud. Her eyes focus and snap to Kitheras's face. "I... I'm alive," she gasps.
Then Talindra collapses, weeping.
Krackor
"A dragon?" Vorn raises an eyebrow at Krackor, then transitions it to Kali. "You'll drink well on that story, since I trust by your tone that we do not need to rush to arms."
The two dwarves exchange glances. "As for a temple... you are very insistent. More human than dwarf, belike. Why should we be interested?"