VaultQuest: The Epoch Quartet

Chapter 2 - Galadreth

Lysander readied himself as the man/orc hybrid barreled towards him. Lysander calmly raised a hand, casting Grease directly in the path of the Orc, using the surface area to cover a long strip stretching from a few feet in front of Lysander to the back wall. Not noticing a thing, the frenzied fighter crossed the distance between them, and Lysander whirled, spinning from the Orc's path, ducking a flailing elbow, and launching into a kick at the exact moment the Orc's foot came into contact with the grease. The Orc smashed into the ground with a bone-jarring impact to rival the one Lysander had received seconds earlier. The Orc's momentum and the frictionless area affected by the Grease spell combining to send him smashing into the back wall, the entire building seeming to oscillate as if hit by a localised earthquake, dust exploding from the walls and ceiling.

Lysander pirouetted, bringing himself into a low courtly bow, right hand extended, left over the chest. The crowd sat in stunned silence. Then they went mental. Roaring their approval, smashing limbs, pitchers, chairs, mugs, and whatever else was at hand upon tables, nearly matching the previous impact. Lysander gave a winning smile (He was barely able to stand at this point) and dispelled grease.

To all intents and purposes, it had appeared that Lysander had just kicked the Orc into the wall at the speed of angry Orcs. Briefly thanking Boccob that he had remembered to prepare spells on the walk over from the prison, (Only takes a minute per spell level now! Let's hear it for Fifth Edition, ladies and gentlemen!) he staggered his way back to his table, practically collapsing as the standing ovation got even louder. Myra quickly sat down beside him, inspecting the various wounds inflicted by his flight through the tavern.

She gently laid a hand on his shoulder, and much like in the prison cell, a brief flash of verdant energy shot into his body, sealing wounds and repairing tissue damage (and knitting together the fractured rib Lysander didn't realise he had sustained). "Thanks Myra." he said, putting every ounce of sincerity he could currently muster behind the words as he took a deep breath. She shook her head and smiled. "You have a knack for getting into trouble in taverns." She responded. "Astute observation. I'm beginning to notice a theme myself." Lysander groaned, doing his best to return the smile, but probably ending up with a grimace.

As his mind settled, a surge of worry and anxiety burst forth from his empathetic connection with Vex. The tiny dragon leapt into Lysander's lap, scurrying about and fussing over him much as a dragon does over his hatchlings. Suddenly, the tavern's collective breath was drawn in as the fishy orc clambered to his feet. He fixed Lysander with a stare. Lysander returned it, quickly running ideas for counter-Orc strategies through his head.

Then, the Orc chuckled. Then, he began laughing, a great booming sound that filled the room. The moment of tension passing, everyone else was laughing too. The Orc got to his feet with little difficulty, and marched over to Lysander, sticking out a hand, still rocking with mirth. Lysander took it, and they shook, the Orc only crushing his hand a little bit. "No onshe fhulored me like that in yhears." he said. Lysander grinned, and passed him a few silvers. "For the privilege." he said, causing the Orc to go into hysterics. "Get yourself something to drink that's better than the ale." The Wizard advised. The Orc grinned, and nodded. Then, he looked to Slumpus. He shook his head, and held out a hand. "Brothers?" "Brothers." Slumpus grinned, and the two embraced. "D'you remember hwhat we where fhighting abouht anywhay?" Slumpus shook his head, and the two began laughing together.

Then, as everything was seemingly returning to normal, Lysander gasped, pain smashing through his mind like a hammer striking anvil. A shockwave, permeating the very air around him, washed over the entire bar. For a solitary moment, Lysander's innate magic reacted to the pulse of energy, causing a flash of light as he and Myra fell backwards, the elf evidently experiencing the same pain he was, the two writhing on the floor in agony. Everyone else in the bar had gone silent; the jovial mood was immediately gone, as even those not attuned to the forces of magic felt a deep sense of foreboding, fear, and plain wrongness. Even as they observed the blatantly magical effect it was having on the two, everyone seemed to sink even further into silence, mouths hanging slightly agape, hair raised as if someone had struck a jarring off-cord note in the favourite song of reality. Throughout Antiom, Therinos, and lands unknown by Man, Elf, Dragonborn, Drow, Gnome or Dwarf, the same feeling was shared by every living organism upon the face of the earth, and possibly beyond. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.