-------- A knock on the door, well, a fumbled smashing, really, giving testament to one who had known sobriety and decided against being friends with it, came upon the door to the tower where Tomah of Thamara was studying. Setting down his tome, he took up his lantern and made way to the door, not entirely knowing what to expect..... As he eased open to the door, a sodden man dripping in sea water and rum, both of which he was clearly familiar with, stumbled into the entry way. An equally sodden backpack clasped in his hands. Tomah helped the man up, sat him down on a stool recovered from a shipwreck, and poured the poor soul a glass of water. The poor soul knocked the glass over and pulled from the rum bottle he had been nursing. "Oi....You one 'o them Pawsmans?" "Aye, I am indeed. You find yourself at the Tower of Paws. Are you ill, sir?" "Nay nay, not a thing 'at this 'ol sailor cant handle." The soaked wanderer took another drink of his rum, at which time he also threw the old backpack to Tomah's feet. " I be feelin' ya might know what better to do with this than me, matey." A stench of decay instantly filled the room as Tomah drew back the flap ever so slightly. Tomah recoiled. Inside this rotting backpack was a set of bone armor, equally as rotten, as well as a stone with etchings. A runestone. "Why in all of Sosaria did you bring this to me, mister......?" "Bucklebones. The name's Bucklebones. A man who wa'nt in his right mind, me thinks, paid me a pretty penny to take 'em up to that 'ol island of Ice not long ago. Had a head of a skull, he did! Kept mumbling 'bout meeting some Ancient One and 'ow his Master would be pleased. Dinna sit right with me, that one. So I nicked his pack, sent 'em on his way with something or another 'f a buncha bones I 'ah lying round. Made a marking in that rune there where I last saw 'em. Then came right 'ere to you." Tomah surmised that the "head of a skull" was just the bone helmet, which he now noticed was absent from the pack. " I dinna want to hold on to this. I done like the way it smells. Pawsmen seem to know about this sort 'o thing. All mystics and the like, the lot of ya." Bucklebones grumbled in between drinks as he took his boots off and set em by the fire. "Well, sir Bucklebones......yes yes, make yourself at home......I will hold onto this for you and see what can be made of it. I will call others and perhaps we will unravel this mystery." Tomah replied. The stench of the bag, and the man who brought it, honestly, as well as the accumulation of water amusing in puddles on the stone floor, was something to be remedied, so Tomah ran upstairs to fetch clean cloth and a bit of mandrake root. He returned to the entrance to find the door wide open, rain from the storm adding to the rainwater already present, and no sign of Bucklebones. "You left your boots....sir...." ------------- Tomah sent out the call to any adventurer who would dare come on this perilous journey. His call was answered by the Urks! They came in force and caused quite a bit of trouble for the first few reputable citizens to answer the call! Not long after the Urks arrived did a vanguard of true and noble warrior flock to the scene, with dragons and nightmares a plenty. The Urks retreated for the time being. After the Urks had dispatched, Tomah gathered the group inside and told the story that Bucklebones had told him. The team decided that it best they travel to seek out these "Ancient Ones" lest their power and influence be harnessed by someone who would have ill intent. The bone armor would have to travel with them, it seemed. Imladaris volunteered to carry the stinking pack of death. They open a gate to the location on the rune. Traveling further and further into the dungeon, they finally came upon an old crypt. Many undead were present, but they fell, one after the other, to the might of the warrior and their companions. The bone helm, the only missing piece, was still missing. It must be here somewhere.....where was the man that Bucklebones had dropped off? And then he appeared. Horace Freeland. Wearing the helmet of bone he goaded all those in the crypt. Tomah's rage began to build. The last encounter he had with Horace did not end well...... But before Tomah could unleash his fury, Horace, crazed and wild, jumped down from the ledge and with a cry of MY MASTERS WILL SEE YOU DEAD! DIE!!! Attacked Imladaris! Sufficient to say, Horace Freeland did not live long enough to utter another threat. With the bone helm now in their possession. Imladaris put it on. The Ancient Ones appeared! These foul creatures had no interest in talking. This suited the adventurers just fine.... The party gathered up as much as they could. The Ancient Liches were holding trophies of some kind, and each of the party members received one as a reward for their valor. They opened a gate back to Paws. There, they traded battle stories, examined the loot each of them had, and admired eachothers prowess.....in battle.... while Tomah spoke longingly of his home city, Thamara. It was a good and grand adventure! But still.....many things are left unanswered..... --------------------------- Tomah relaxed in his tower. One thing yet still to do. A journal was on the corpse of Horace Freeland. With a deep breath and a prayer to the Chorus, Tomah opened and immersed himself with what was inside. The following is an entry from the journal of Horace Freeland: My masters sent me to seek an audience with the Ancient Liches of Deciet on the Island of Ice. The condition, however, was that I was to wear an outfit of bone and thread, rotting for ages since last it was handled. The Liches would then, and only then, agree to an audience with me. My masters would not be happy if I were to refuse this requirement. I would rather be at odds with some filthy and pathetic Liche than with my masters, whom I fear as much as I love. Having gathered the pieces of armor that were needed, I hired an oarsmen and paid to to take me, on his vessel, north to Ice Isle. I stored the set of armor in his locked and seemingly safe metal chest. I had the bone helm on, as I did not want him to see my face, last he remember me. Little did I know that the cretin had a false bottom in that metal chest of his, and whilst I slumbered, he replaces the entire set with a farcical set. I entered the deepest dungeon and attempted to summon the Liches, but then realized, only then, that my suit, save for the helm, was a complete fake. The Liches did not show, and so now I wait and write, in the hopes that some poor fool comes to try and complete what he thinks is a great and noble quest. I am sure the Ancient Ones will suck the life from his body. As for my hired oarsmen, Bucklebones, I will report to my masters after I retrieve the bones suit and they will show him what revenge's true form is.....
