# seasong's Light Against The Dark II (May 13)



## seasong

Welcome to Part II of Light Against The Dark! Follow the link for Part I (and here is the PDF of the narrative-only), in which our heroes get their start, or read on for their current stories. The character sheets can be found in the Rogues Gallery thread along with heavy mechanics/crunch questions. Finally, here is the Theralis website (updated far less frequently than this thread will be), with the house rules, info on the gods, etc.

In brief summary:

Our heroes, Athan, Greppa and Merideth, are citizens and former soldiers of the city-state Theralis. A frontier nation, Theralis is slowly getting embroiled in a bitter battle for its own lands against orcs invading from the east. The major battles have been occurring in the summer, the primary orc migration period, and although Theralis has done well against the outer tribes, the city-state is beginning to falter against the older and tougher tribes now making their way into the valley region.

As we start, the PCs are on a self-imposed mission to rescue roughly a thousand slaves (former citizens of Theralis) from the Uhkamah tribe, or at least those who are still alive now, two years after their capture.

For more details, see Part I!

Our heroes:

Athan of Little Lake: Physically ideal, Athan is a powerfully built young man of 18 years, with close-cut blond hair and cornflower blue eyes. He bears a birthmark in the shape of Allas on his left shoulder, a triangle scar on the right, and three thin scar stripes from the top of each shoulder to his thighs. His face is handsome, if unassuming, and many people tend to assume he's a bit slow. He wears an ankle-length tunic and rich coat, and a white silk cloak clasped with the symbol of Allas. He carries a brace of throwing spears slung on his back, and a slightly heavier spear of incredible quality in his hands. He moves with the easy grace of a career soldier, and speaks Taest and Orc fluently.

Greppa of Tartwater: A fragile-looking _ellini_ barely topping five feet, Greppa looks to be sixteen years of age, but in truth he is an arcanist of professional calibre, already the equal of many arcanists twice his age. He has caramel skin, auburn hair, and dark, intense eyes. He bears the same birthmark as Athan, but placed on his upper right chest, just below the collarbone. He is dressed in a dark, ankle-length tunic, a finely stitched coat, and a white silk cloak. He bears no weapons save a knife.

Merideth of Southbottom: A slender, pale woman with short, black hair and wide, dark eyes, Merideth has blossomed into a powerful and attractive mindworker whose servant background is rarely suspected. She bears the same birthmark as the other two, but on her left calf. Merideth wears a practical knee-length tunic and coat, both dark brown, and the white silk cloak and clasp of Allas. She carries a single spear, of the same make as Athan's throwing spears.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

*Insert theme music* Canta Per Me (Japaneese version) from "NOIR"


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## Talix

All right, new thread!  I'm looking forward to seeing how they fare in this more challenging war... and how the heros' powers are progressing.    Let's hear it for unassuming spell-casting!


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## incognito

*Found it!*

Yaaaaay!  Seasong's story hour, Yaaaaay!

so unlike his recent crappy IronDM submission...

(sorry, sorry, sorry - couldn't resist)


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## GreyShadow

*Waiting*

Already a cliffhanger and he hasn't started yet!


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## Indigo Veil

*Re: Found it!*

ack...my computer doesn't seem to like the EN world cookies...sorry; this post was originally a duplicate of the one below.


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## Indigo Veil

*Re: Found it!*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> *so unlike his recent crappy IronDM submission...
> 
> (sorry, sorry, sorry - couldn't resist)
> 
> *




Now, now...let's be nice. ^_^ Seasong's been quite a busy little bee--he's been upping his stats in SSX Tricky (Grrrrr...which forced me to improve mine as well. ^^;; Elise is my schweetie), kicking everybody's butt in X-Men New Dimension for the Gamecube, swapping massages with me, and he attended a b-day bbq, AND he's been running me through a solo campaign (I write the log for that campaign, but I don't know that I write it as interestingly as seasong writes this SH for the Theralis campaign, I think), AND he's been working like a dog for a company that runs him into the ground, and, AND (didn't think there was gonna be any more "and"s, eh? ^_^) he's been keeping up with this campaign.  And he runs that weekly super hero soap opera campaign that involves more of us, so that makes at least **3** campaigns that he runs consistently. I've yet to figure out how he squeezes in time for sleep! He's CraaAaAazZZzzY!

<gives seasong a hug> Good job. ^_^ 

Where is this Iron DM thread thing located, anyway? I'd like to read it, even if incognito says that it sucked fish heads. ^.^ Your players love you, even if the Iron DM people don't give you props. .. .. Well, your players _like_ you, anyway. Y'know, just a little.  Well, as much as we fickle beings can.  ^_^


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## seasong

*Re: Re: Found it!*



			
				Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> Now, now...let's be nice. ^_^ Seasong's been quite a busy little bee



I wish I had that excuse - but I specifically had 6 hours of time that I did nothing but stare at the screen and try to make the IronDM scenario work.







> AND he's been running me through a solo campaign (I write the log for that campaign, but I don't know that I write it as interestingly as seasong writes this SH for the Theralis campaign, I think),



You write it very well . It is a lot more RP & dialogue than Theralis, and has no real fighting (only one action scene to date!). It's more in the horror genre, and doesn't involve d20/D&D at all.

I'll find a link to the IronDM stuff.


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## incognito

Seasong: beat you to it!

Don't worry Indigo - I tease seasong becasue I'm jealous of his talent as a writer!

Here is the link.  Seasong has posted two adventures - but I think you'll be impressed with several of the writers there.

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=38786


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## seasong

Here's the IronDM tournament. I'm currently in the finals, and will be devoting some time to IronDM this Saturday .

Which brings up "Thomas and sleep":

If you add up all of my morning prep, eating, work, GM duties and other "have to do" stuff, I end up with about 79 hours of sleep a week (11 per night!). However, that's only 20 hours of GMing duties (about half of which are prep, and half of which are running the campaigns).

I'm more of a full-time GM, and in addition to prep for each session, I'm constantly working on settings I'm not running at the time, detailing things about a current setting that isn't in play right now, reading nonfiction, and otherwise stimulating my world-building and GMing muscles.

Plus time I spend on ENWorld, the ENWorld IronDM, and the Rat Bastard's Home for Orphans IronDM... And then there's me time, reading webcomics, light fiction, side writing, writing up the Theralis story hour (yes, that's ME time)...

So I have a pretty full schedule, but _as long as work is light_, I can overlap GMing and work. This past week, work has not been light (and has, in fact, been rather heavy), so I've sacrificed some sleep, which I enjoy slightly less than roleplaying .

Today is starting light, so hopefully I'll get a Theralis update done.


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## Indigo Veil

<reads seasong's post, watches as her brain melts into a puddle of gray mush, and then shuffles her feet around in it>

Gahhhh, more numbers than I like, especially in a post that talks about sleep. i like sleep..a nap would be really cool right about now.  ^_^ 

<falls down dead>  0->----<   

Eh-heh heh heh... ^^;;



> I'm currently in the finals, and will be devoting some time to IronDM this Saturday



Ahhhh. Then I guess I should go and get that address for the "benkyoo paatii" on Saturday night--it's a party where a few classmates get together to "study" Japanese, get drunk, watch anime and play video games. LOL  

I love my Japanese class...well, except for the homework. And the quizzes. And the tests. And I'd like it lots better if I didn't actually have to *attend* class... ^_^ Wait, I guess that means that I don't actually like it that much at all! ^^;;;



> Don't worry Indigo - I tease seasong becasue I'm jealous of his talent as a writer!




<grin> yeah, me too.



> Here is the link. Seasong has posted two adventures - but I think you'll be impressed with several of the writers there.




thanks for the link! I've already started reading, and it all seems so exciting! ^_^ "Llamas." <laugh>  Too funny.


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## seasong

*LAtD: Babes in the Wilderness*

Athan's mother spent a lot of time in the wilderness, ranging far from the normal Theralis borders, and so she occasionally met others of a like mind. One of those was Chatham, an orc wanderer who belonged to no tribe save his own, and had some mutual respect going with Athan's mom... so it was to Chatham that she sent her son when he said he needed a wilderness guide.

When they arrived at the spot they were supposed to meet him, there was no one on hand, and all three tensed a bit - Theralis was at war with a number of orc tribes, and it was still summer, the raiding time for orcs.

"Hello." The voice came from above, and had a deep, rich timbre to it. They looked up until they saw him - a leonine humanoid, wearing tanned leather pants, a copper torc around his bull-like neck, and a hide vest. Under one arm was tucked a three foot wardrum, and an orc spear lay across his back. Orcs look fairly close to human, save for their slightly brutish features and unusual (7 foot plus) size, but this one was positively gorgeous.

As he gracefully slipped to the ground from his loft, looking like nothing so much as a boneless cat, he grinned at the three heroes, "You must be they who I was sent to guide. My name, if you will, is Chatham, and I would love to know yours."

Athan grinned, Merideth looked sour, and Greppa openly gaped... but they managed to sort their names out. As everyone explained that they needed to find the site where the Bunahken fell to the dragon Amalan, Chatham grew more serious and nodded.

"My price is 2 argur per day, and I will guide you where you need to go so long as you pay that. However, we can save time if we run..." he looked at Greppa appraisingly, "Will you be able to run with us? I could carry..."

"I'll keep up." It came out a bit sharper than Greppa intended, and inwardly he grimaced. Could he run? Just because he had short legs... the inward grumbling continued as he cast _hawk's flight_ and flew alongside the others.

Unfortunately for everyone, an orc's idea of running turned out to be just that. He kept the pace at a kind of hustling jog for a human, for hours. Greppa, proud of his newest spell, found himself continuously recasting and soon grew as exhausted as Athan and Merideth despite the relative comfort of flying.

Chatham showed no sign of fatigue, but eventually let up as afternoon slid in. Without a hint of breathlessness, he grinned at the trio of sprawled youths, then laughed out, "Did you never wonder how orcs covered ground? We will camp here."

Still not trusting Chatham, but unable to stay awake, Greppa finally summoned a minor _mud doll_ and instructed it to watch over them. He'd been asleep for an hour when he woke up again, cursing himself. He should have been summoning _mud dolls_ during the whole war - they could have warned of the coming orcs each night.

Then he fell asleep again, and the world faded into dreams.


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## seasong

_Note: *mud doll*, for those new to the story hour and my style, is the *alarm* spell with different appearance and special effects. The *mud doll* appears as a tiny earth elemental that vaguely resembles a doll made of sticks, wattle and mud. It flows through the area, patrolling for anything larger than a rat. If it sees something of the sort, and isn't given a password, a mouth opens in the ground and begins a low wail that pitches upwards into a shriek.

All game effects are the same as for *alarm*._


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## Talix

Very cool - I love the custom spell descriptions, as always.


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## seasong

Another note: I tend to fall down a hole and disappear on weekends. I may get a vignette and a few background details written this weekend... or I may not. If I don't, though, Monday will surely see something.

Anyway, I'm off to run a superhero soap opera. See y'all later!


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## seasong

*Vignette: Killing An Orc*

He went by Akeros, although it was not his name. Akeros was one of the great rivers beneath the earth, and it was into this river that murderers and villains were cast in the afterlife. Akeros (the person) was one of the individuals who cast them there.

Long and lean, with dull black eyes and casual manner, Akeros crouched among rocks, out of sight of the orcs he watched. He had identified the target, the orc hero who had wrecked havoc weeks ago on the front lines, and had watched the target's patterns closely. Although orcs never slept exactly the same hours twice, and avoided habitual timing of any sort, Akeros had identified a range of times that the orc hero might be found by himself.

Unfortunately, he had also determined that a swift, silent death would not be possible. And Akeros had no taste for glorious death.

So he waited until there was a clear path, and stealthily slipped away from the tribe's encampment. He  explained the situation to his general, and was given a small group of soldiers - only the most loyal and close-mouthed - and they went on a "scouting trip" for a pair of days.

At the passing of dusk, when Akeros was more certain that the target would be alone (or close to it), the soldiers charged in and attacked him with weapons poisoned by Akeros, and then retreated and fought their way back to Theralis while the orc hero died. Some of them died, but the majority successfully returned, with tales of stumbling across the hero and defeating him at great loss.

Akeros stayed behind, still hidden among the rocks, to make certain the target did not fight off the poisons. When he was sure the target had died, he too retreated.


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## seasong

*Running With Orcs*

Chatham turned out to be an excellent idea... despite the constant exhaustion Athan, Greppa and Merideth were suffering. He knew the wilderness inside out, and neatly avoided all manner of danger without pause, although he did occasionally point out this or that vicious thing.

Then they arrived.

Below them lay the Bunahken valley. No orc stirred here, but everyone could make out the charred remains of a small group of warriors. Most had fallen to the elements or animals, but three remained standing after more than a year, their blackened hands still gripping the spears that failed to help them against Amalan the dragon.

No orc stirred in the valley - none felt it wise, yet, to risk being mistaken for the Bunahken.

After a moment, Greppa found his voice, "How are we going to find the Uhkamah tribe now?"

Chatham, seemingly unimpressed with the carnage below, shrugged, "You said you wished to see the valley of the now-dead Bunahken. If you wish to find the Uhkamah, I can lead you there instead."

No one said anything. Greppa nodded, face burning. Chatham grinned and pointed to the east, and the party began to run, following the orc at 2 argur per day... again.


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## incognito

and now I can get back to my true calling.  This story hour's groupie!

Wow, Greppa got FLY!  

I don't trust that dragon.  Anything that big...can't be trusted.  He's probably the _shape changed_ Nercomancer.


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## seasong

Greppa got _fly_ and _fireball_. He is now prepped to follow in his former master's footsteps.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

*Follow in his master's footsteps?*

Since he's dead, exiled to some hell dimension or is some uber-orc's ***yatch, I'm going to have to stay out of those sandles.


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## seasong

*Bestiary: Groundmouth*
_Note: An unmodified *tendriculos* from the Monster Manual._

The wilderness is about 90% unknown. When young fools hie off into the wood beyond the civilized vallies of Theralis to find some ancient ruin or another, they often don't return, and _why_ they didn't return is rarely known to those who love them back home. The _groundmouth_ is one of the reasons, although few know of it.... by its nature, it tends to leave few witnesses.

The groundmouth is a 4-6 ton colony plant of animate fibres up to twelve feet long. The individual fibres produce acids as they move, just like human muscles, but several times more potent, and particular groups of the fibres have evolved towards specific tasks, much like the organs of an animal.

The center-most fibres are acid resistant, and form a kind of stomach - it is here that the acids of movement are squirted, both to remove the toxic acids from the other fibres, and as a method of digesting prey. Most of the remainder of the fibres are more evolved for powerful movement, allowing the plant to move with sudden and terrifying force.

The end result, is a pair of powerful, woven vines that act like flexible arms, a large central mass, and an open maw that the vines toss prey into. The groundmouth lies mostly dormant for days, looking like a slight bulge in the ground surrounded by vines - when something steps on its fringes, the mouth opens and the vines whip into action to pull the prey into the mouth... which is rapidly filling with acid from the movement.

Although bludgeoning damage bruises and kills the individual tendrils, edged weapons and most forms of energy do little to harm the groundmouth, and it rapidly recovers from most non-bludgeoning damage.

The groundmouth is one of nature's worst trap predators hidden in the occasional journals of wilderness scouts.


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## seasong

_Note: this happened during the last war, but I forgot to mention it. The tribe with the giants would prevent people from getting near the giants by throwing this spell at would-be attackers - the group that jumped the giant did so with the knowledge that many might die from this._

*Stylized Spell: Flaying Spirits*

When most people think of a shaman, they think of peaceful meditations, prayers for good days and better hunting, and calling spirits to aid their tribesfolk in various daily chores. In point of fact, the orc shaman does do those things... but she also calls down the spirits to fight for her tribe, and functions as a divine instrument of vengeance when such is called for.

This spell draws some of the darker spirits of the wild to the shaman, and then sends them to a point visible to the shaman, where they are provided with just enough energy (by the shaman) to briefly enter the material realm and flay the flesh of the living before returning to the spirit realm. They explode outward from the central point, ravaging all they can get to in that brief moment and then, sated, disappear.

All game effects are identical to _fireball_.


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## incognito

How to put this subtley...hmmm:


more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.
more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.
more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.
more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.
more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.more.

wait for it...



more!


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## seasong

_A couple of years ago, our heroes spent some time as captured slaved among the Bunahken tribe. Although life wasn't exactly pleasant, they had a kind master (the shaman Olgah), and she cut a deal with Greppa to teach her arcanist magic in return for their freedom. Some time after they left, the Bunahken were destroyed by the dragon Amalan (aided by the Uhkamah tribe). When that happened, the other captured slaves (mostly citizens of Theralis) transferred ownership to the Uhkamah, and since then. Unfortunately for the Uhkamah, Olgah (the Bunahken shaman) survived the dragon attack, and went on a path of vengeance after the tribe.

Now, a few years after their capture, they have arrived in the region that Chatham says the Uhkamah stay..._

*Wolf-bit*

Greppa was slowly becoming an arcanist of great power. At less than 20 years, he was already a near-equal to his former master, the elderly Hurath. But today, he was a sneak, crouched quietly behind a tree and watching the orc valley below him through narrowed eyes. Nearby, Chatham was similarly posed, but watching all other directions. While Chatham stood guard, Greppa concentrated on the tiny figures below and figuring out what was what.

To his best estimation, there were perhaps 20 to 30 warbands, each gathered about their camps and fires. That meant less than a thousand orcs, but still several hundred. Of humans, it looked like close to a one to one ratio... meaning at least a few hundred Theralis citizens had died in the intervening years.

Little else was certain. They did not appear very strong, and their shaman was young... possibly a hurried replacement for a recent death.

Greppa snorted. The Uhkamah were weak, and holding his people slaves. He nodded to Chatham, and the two slipped back into the forest and returned to Athan and Merideth. After discussing what Greppa had seen, the Theralese youths and Chatham slowly made their way back through the wilderness to Theralis.

As they did, Greppa mused on the Uhkamah. Captain Agina would be pleased, he knew.


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## Talix

If the orcs had a fireball-equivilent spell (love that description, BTW), why weren't they using it in the battle to break the shield-wall?


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## seasong

The giants were doing that for them, and while the giants could throw boulders all day, the fireball-equivalents needed to be saved for emergencies (like keeping the Theralese off the giants when the giants needed to retreat).

It may not be evident from the story hour (I'm still working out how to describe battles well), but fireball's _only real effects_ thus far has been on morale, and on specific knots of people (human or orc). Against armies measured in the hundreds, and spread out over wide distances, the arcanists (and the shamans) simply can't produce enough bang to shift the course of war.

Morale, on the other hand, is an awe-inspiring effect. If a front-line fighter thinks he may be taken out at some random moment by something he has no control over or ability to stop, he's shaky in the fight. And a simple -2 morale penalty, applied across average rolls for hundreds of people, can shift the battle a great deal.

Secondly, there were a lot fewer shamans (read: 2) who could cast that than there were arcanists who could do the same. On the other hand, the Theralese had no equivalents to the giants, so the shamans focused on bolstering the giants.

Whew! Got a bit carried away in that answer!


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## seasong

ENnies judges voting

At this point, I don't have a rat's chance in a catnip factory of winning a position as a judge, but I'd like to give a good showing (translation: at least 20 votes). If anyone who hasn't already voted is willing to go there and give me a vote, it would make me very happy.

And I promise that I will continue to write this story hour even if I DO win - remember, I write the story hour/work on the setting while at work. I would be reading/judging entries when I am NOT at work.


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## Caliber

Whohoo! I cast the 20th vote for you!

Do I win a prize?


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## incognito

Man, You are Shameless!

I voted for ya - though it only displayed you as having 20 votes...uh, ohhh..

The fix is in!


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## seasong

I am shameless . And I can't give out prizes - I don't want even the _appearance_ of buying votes. So this is purely an ego thing, unless I get about 150 more votes, in which case I promise I shall be a benevolent judge-dictator and dole out cake and story as one might sow seeds of mighty grain .


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## Capellan

seasong said:
			
		

> *At this point, I don't have a rat's chance in a catnip factory of winning a position as a judge, but I'd like to give a good showing (translation: at least 20 votes). If anyone who hasn't already voted is willing to go there and give me a vote, it would make me very happy.*




I was your 4th vote, IIRC


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## seasong

I'm working on tomorrow's post today. Looks like it might be a bit longer than the past few (which have been more of a paragraph or two, and I apologize - work is still rough right now).


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## Greybar

> So this is purely an ego thing, unless I get about 150 more votes, in which case I promise I shall be a benevolent judge-dictator and dole out cake and story as one might sow seeds of mighty grain .




Okay let's see.  write a quick automated browser, needs to be able to login to enworld, register, browse to hotmail and make an account to receive the registry, browse back to enworld and vote.

whew, how long do I have before the poll closes?

and then how long do I have before Piratecat or another mod unleases both hot and cold, holy and unholy running hell on me...

John


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## seasong

Greybar, I've been meaning to say this in other threads but I keep forgetting - I really like that sig. It sums up a lot of why I world-build, and why I GM.


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## Esiminar

Your story hour is truly an inspiration to me and has encouraged me to start working on a world building project that has been languishing on a back burner for the most part of the last four years.

Hopefully I will have some of it posted in the plots and places forum soon for the community’s perusal.


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## Delgar

In addition to letting you know that I'm still reading. I thought I would pester Mr. Iron DM champion a little. Weren't we promised 5th level stats for the characters? Hmm, I seem to recall. I'm begining to think that you started this whole new thread so that everyone would forget! Well I didn't so stop celebrating your Iron DM win (congratulations by the way) and start updating! 

Hey and no more of this namby pamby sneaking around crap. I want to see some serious orc arse kicking vengence. You got that, we want some violent action!

Nuff said

Delgar

_P.S. I still need help in my gladiator thread over in the plots/places forum _ Gladiator Thread


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## seasong

_Hopefully this makes up for the short posts I've been doing. It also *almost* catches us up to the present, just in time for this weekend's session._

*Assault on the Uhkamah*

When the trio returned to Theralis, they met with Captain Agina almost immediately. A basic explanation was given, and Agina turned to Chatham.

"Chatham, we value your aid in this matter, but just so we are clear, our intent is to attack the Uhkamah and free the Theralis citizens currently held by that tribe. We would like to hire you to help guide us back to them, but I understand if you would rather not."

What she didn't say, although Chatham knew, was that she'd be very understanding... and he wouldn't be allowed to leave Theralis until they had completed what they set out to do. He grinned disarmingly, "I'm not of any tribe, and my loyalty is to the silver I can smell in your chests. What should I care about the Uhkamah? Didn't they help smash the Bunahken?"

Chatham then carefully made certain that his loyalties were well known, and while plans were still being made, just casually let everyone know that he would be at the same place Athan, Greppa and Merideth had met him originally. No one thought much of it, and he stepped out into the woods.

Silently, a man called Akeros followed after...

*Planning*

Agina sat down with the trio and together they sketched out a reasonable map of the Uhkamah region. Agina pointed at a few places and got Athan's opinion of their defensibility, then finally settled on a valley several miles south of the Ukahmah valley.

Greppa gave a full report on their strength, numbers, and rough placement in the valley, but added, "Except for the shaman, the Bunahken changed their placement all the time." That was noted along with everything else.

Agina, it turned out, had put together a list of nearly two hundred soldiers trained as scouts willing to go on the trip, including some Keraunesti soldiers on loan, and two additional healers. Groups were assigned, and supplies were gathered. Within three days, they were prepped to go.

Chatham was waiting in the spot he'd said, and they were off.

*Execution*

Weeks later, after they had arrived, the soldiers went on cold rations. No fires, no hunting - cold gruel, salted strips of meat and raisins made up the entire diet. Although there was grumbling, the fact that there were 3 orcs per soldier just a few miles north helped keep actual complaints to a minimum.

And then the first part of Agina's plan began. Orc hunting parties who came near the camp were quietly and brutally ambushed and killed. Scouts watched the valley for groups of 10 or fewer orcs leaving the valley, and reported back on the direction... and then a warband of Theralese soldiers would head out, ambush and kill them, then haul and bury the bodies.

When orc hunters began looking for their comrades, much the same thing happened... and after two days and nearly a hundred deaths, the orcs had become paranoid about travelling in the wilderness.

Curiously, however, what they did was simply start packing. And scouts returned with reports that the orcs were calling Agina's attacks "wolf attacks". Instead of fighting it, they were simply preparing to flee.

That left little time for subtlety or psychological warfare. Agina had Greppa watch for the first major group of orcs to leave... and when the vanguard of warriors took off to mark a new territory, the Theralese attacked.

At first, it was a massacre. When the Theralese first came running down the mountainside to engage the orcs, many orcs screamed and ran rather than fight... but when they realized that it wasn't wolves, they began shouting angrily and practically berserking.

It was a rough battle, but the Theralese managed to drive the orcs back far enough to get to the slaves... and as spears were tossed lightly among the slaves, the Theralese became as a swelling tide, unstoppable. Many slaves felt the need to avenge themselves on this or that orc, but most simply killed as quickly as they could and retreated behind the Theralese shields. The orcs fled, but angrily, shouting threats as they increased their distance.

By the end, more than a third of the orcs were dead, and less than a tenth of the Theralese. The shaman had never showed up.

*Retreat*

Only then did the Theralese retreat, back to their hiding spot. Scouts were sent out to confirm that all citizens were recovered, and two were spotted and quickly recovered from the orcs trying to escape with their slaves.

There were too many injuries to move immediately, so Agina had the healers begin their work and the shield wall kept up, and waited.

She did not wait long. The remaining hundreds of orcs attacked in an uncoordinated and hasty assembly. They had been harried by wolves and cursed in hunting for weeks... and now these humans had come to steal their slaves?

The Theralis shield wall, a bit hastily erected itself, held. Then, abruptly, the orcs began to flee, yelling "BESHA! ETHRAT!". They did not flee straight from the soldiers, but at an angle...

Greppa summoned kinetic forces about him and flew high into the sky. As he soared upward, he realized that he was now higher than he'd ever been... the mountains spread around his feet like anthills, and the trees resembled needles on pincushions. He admired the view briefly, and then checked on the orcs - they were fleeing northwest, and perhaps fifty yards behind him was a pack of wolves... or rather, a horde of wolves, like a vast furry carpet, as there were hundreds of the beasts.

Greppa rapidly dropped back to earth and gave his report, and then rested... as all too soon, the healers were done, and it was time to go.

In all, a successful mission, and all three heroes felt a great weight lift from them. On the way back, they talked mostly of Greppa's mine expedition idea.

And since everyone knew the way back, no one really noticed that Chatham was gone.


----------



## seasong

Esiminar: Wow, thank you  . I'll keep an eye out for it!

Delgar: Thanks for the kind words . If you check, you'll notice that I have updated the characters (except for Greppa, who's still trying to decide on one more spell). Athan picked up Power Attack, which I'm sure he'll be abusing in the future, and Merideth can now do heinous inflicts.


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## incognito

> no one really noticed that Chatham was gone




 I know someone that noticed...

Question:
"Akeros" - he is a specialized unit, I suspect there are other specialized Theralis units.  We may see more later.

Besides shamans, are there other specialized Orc units?  I suspect the hero may be one - but Athan seems to be filling that role on the human side, and I was thinking of something mroe along the lines of a skills specialist.


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## seasong

Skills specialists: As has been mentioned in the past, the Theralis military is organized and highly developed for the technology they possess. The bulk of the military is broken up into shield carriers and spear wielders, but there are also slingers (cheap missile attack), elite shock troops (like the Keraunesti), healers, spear bearers (replace spears as they blunt), scouts, and captains (standards bearers and leaders, sword-wielders).

Arcanists are used whenever they are available, and could be considered a kind of reserve specialist.

Akeros is a specialist of sorts, but he's actually mostly outside of the military structure. He's officially a scout, but what he really does is "dirty work". To put that another way, he's Special Ops/Black Ops for Theralis. And yes, there are certainly others of his ilk...

Among orcs, most male orcs only have three real specialties: warrior, hunter (scout), and war drummer. Orc women do not go to war, although they are reasonably frightening combatants just for their size and strength. An occasional orc of unusual insight (male or female) may be a shaman, and shamans typically help out in a war effort as well.

Warriors and hunters collect into warbands devoted to one or the other; these warbands may work together internally, but externally they tend to compete with other warbands rather than work together. An orc warfront is thus a fairly confused affair, with some attacking, some relaxing in the back, etc. Each warband has its own war drummers, and many are as reknown for their war drummers as they are for anything else.

War drummers are essentially bards, enhancing their warband, scouting, and allowing communication with other warbands by means of the drum. When you hear the orcs drumming in the mountains, they're actually sending messages back and forth.

The "tattered tribe" with the giants was an astounding exception. Consisting of warbands from a variety of tribes that have been destroyed over the course of the last few years (by the westward march), they've hunkered down together with the intent of surviving as best as they can. Most of the members of the tattered tribe are the strongest of their respective tribes (why they survived), and they actually have several shamans and one "orc hero"... plus the giants, of course. As a result of diverse backgrounds and unusual strategic ability, they have begun to specialize more than most orcs, breaking themselves into wall-breakers, defenders, etc.


----------



## seasong

*An Ancient Mine*

It was nearing winter, and the three youths sat in the tower library, surrounding a map Greppa had hastily sketched from memory. Greppa was talking, Athan was listening, and Merideth was zoning out in fields of heroism and glory.

"Okay, so here is Theralis, and here's Aglaonis. Aglaonis used to have a mining colony 'sixteen days by ox cart', which I think translates into three days by foot, or one day with Chatham. The mining colony was lost to 'the Enemy, foul and unseen' about five centuries ago, and was footnoted out of existence by hasty scholars."

Athan pointed at a narrow valley, "So it would be about here? Why would it have been left alone?"

Greppa grinned... he was rather proud of his scholarship on this matter, "Because no one knows about it. The 'Enemy' was attacking all over Aglaonis, opening weirdling gates and stuff, and the colony was just one of several. Most of the Aglaonis stuff dismisses the colony as a tidbit added by over-eager historians, but I checked the one place a historian would never look... merchant's records."

Athan leaned back, knowing Greppa was baiting him, "And those said....?"

"If the mine doesn't exist, there's about 20,000 argur worth of fortune that was coming out of nowhere 600 years ago. Even then, though, there's no reference to an exact placement, so I had to check scouting maps of the area. The little valley you're pointing at was described as a 'hidden vale' and hard to find... the placement's my best guess, but I think that's where the mine is."

Merideth, yawning beatifically, blinked and looked at the two boys, "Hm? Do we know where it is?"

A pained look was Greppa's only response.


----------



## incognito

Even with non standard character advanccement.
Even with a marvelous story line.


that was the quintisential adventuring Party.

the doubtful fighter
the exited Mage
the cleric with her head in the clouds.

(sighs contentedley)


----------



## seasong

*Babes in the Wood II*

Greppa wanted to check out some things in the Aglaonis library before marching into unknown wilderness (and Athan and Merideth decided that trying some new beers wouldn't be so bad), so that was the first destination.

After careful examination of all supplies, Greppa pronounced the group ready. Athan had gone recruiting some extra muscle, and two Keraunesti soldiers with too much free time had agreed to accompany the group. They were Arkos and Kyliados, and about as alike as could be - both were new recruits into the Keraunesti ranks, like Athan, and had been "re-blooded" on the bones of the giants.

They agreed to a 1/4th share, since the heroes had already done the legwork of finding the adventure, and the five set out. The trip through the wilderness was marvelously trouble-free, right up to being a mere six hours out of Aglaonis...

They were walking through the woods, and passed through an are that was familiar... except for the new, heavy growth of vines covering the trees. They noticed, but chalked it up to seasonal differences, until the vines fell from the trees, gathering into human-thickness ropes, and grabbed Merideth, while a lump of vine-covered earth ten feet from her opened into a dripping maw.

Greppa, as he instinctively summoned a flame servant to harass the flank, tried to draw on all the books in Hurath's collection... and came up blank. He didn't know what it was, it was just monstrous. _We're going to die_ was his only thought as the thing swallowed Merideth.


----------



## incognito

Greppa is right.

They are pretty hosed.  CR 6 with a fighter heavy party, and starting off with Meredith swallowed  = ugly.  There are some that say the Tendricoulus in not really CR 6 either.  And there are poeple like me who agree.  Without a Sorcerer who took Melf's Acid Arrow (and made a wand of it at L6), we would have been toasty (and our NPCS ranger GOT toasty)

I forget, what's your stance on Character death seasong?


----------



## Capellan

Incognito - have another read of the Tendriculous' special abilities, then go check Meredith's stats in the Rogue's Gallery.

If she got out of this alive, then either (1) seasongalongsong  altered the monster more than he said; or (2) there were some _really_ lucky dice rolls that day.

Of course, Greppa should be OK, as long as he's careful.  He has _fly_, after all.


----------



## seasong

With this post, I'm caught up until we play again this weekend .

*Babes in the Wood II*

The four remaining outside of the thing reacted swiftly, if a bit late for Merideth. Athan, Arkos and Kyliados all hurled secondary spears into the monster, then pulled their primary spears and moved in. Greppa's flame servant lept onto the plant-like fibres and tried to burn them... but while the fibres retreated from the heat, did not burn well.

And within moments, the holes and rents from the spears, as grievous looking as they were, began to seal. As it began to heal, two tendrils grabbed Greppa and pulled him into the maw. He screamed, then went limp... both spell casters were paralyzed and the stomach acids began to go to work.

Which is a far cry from helpless, at least for these two in particular. Greppa had long since learned the lesson of being tied up, knocked over the head, gagged and poisoned... and had mastered one spell that he could cast with merest thought. Three long, lean _shadow servants_ pulled themselves out of the darkness around him and attacked the monstrous creature, withering its fibres and rending its structure.

As for Merideth... she was a healer. After healing herself enough to survive the acids, she simply cut loose with the most powerful _inflict_ she could, damaging the very life force of the groundmouth. It shuddered where it touched her, and she got some grim satisfaction out of the fact that she wasn't tired - she was going to take it with her.

The fight lasted for several more seconds before it was subdued into a vegetative state approximating unconsciousness, and the three warriors pulled the badly acid-burned casters out of its mouth. Merideth began healing immediately, but Greppa had to suffer silently until she could move... and even then, the backs of his hands, exposed after he covered his face, bore scar patterns similar to shattered glass.

When Merideth noticed that the creature was healing itself, she screamed in frustration and began kicking it. The others chuckled and prepared to leave the area, until Greppa noticed that where Merideth had kicked it, the bruises remained.

"Spear butts!"

"What?"

"Spear butts! Use it like a quarterstaff! Bruises don't heal!"

It was short work thereafter, and they beat the poor, unconscious thing until it stopped healing entirely. Perhaps they had damaged the local ecology, and perhaps not. But they were damned if this thing was going to wander anywhere near a city and live.

When they were safe in Aglaonis, Greppa purchased a few sheets of paper and wrote down everything he'd observed about the groundmouth... others would need to know what it was, and how to kill it.

Then he began looking for maps to the mine.


----------



## seasong

*Warning: Game System Ahead*

So, a few words as to why this fight was fair .

1. The party had _earth's skin_ and _earth's strength_ active on everyone. They finally learned that lesson with the armorcat.

2. The groundmouth did 8 (tendril) and 12 (bite) to Merideth in the first attack. Drop 4 off of each of those for _earth's skin_ and she's only halfway dead. Those stomach acids were next, of course, and she _is_ paralyzed, but...

3. Healers can cast regardless of paralysis. Check 'em out closely on the website - the only component for their spells is concentration (and/or XP for certain spells). So Merideth was just as useful inside the beast as out of it... and had a massive bonus to hit with her 3d8+5 no save touch attack.

4. The groundmouth had 176 hp. The party was dishing out about 50 hp per round (mostly subdual), not counting criticals (the first round they dished out 99 hp). The groundmouth only lasted 3 rounds; Merideth took a total of 40 hp, minus 26 hp of healing, staggered over the three rounds. Even with regeneration/10, they can really dish it out.

So, in summary, it was a very, very tough fight. A slip on anyone's part and the party would have suffered grievous losses. But no one slipped, and they won through.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> I forget, what's your stance on Character death seasong?



If it happens, it happens. One of the giants very nearly flattened Greppa, for example, and it would have stood. With that said, PC deaths are pretty rare in my campaigns. I play with smart people, and I'm pretty good at knowing what they can and can't handle.







> _Originally posted by Capellan_
> If she got out of this alive, then either (1) seasongalongsong altered the monster more than he said; or (2) there were some really lucky dice rolls that day.



The only change to the monster was to give it 176 HP instead of 94 HP.  They got one lucky round (99 HP), but really that just countered the increased HP.

However, the real reason she got out alive, and I think this gets forgotten by non-Merideths (), is that she can still cast while paralyzed, and she's the healer.


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## Peskara

I've been reading this thread for a little while (I read all of the first thread first, I hate starting in the middle of a story) and I wanted to chime in about how cool it is. 

Seasong, you don't need an Iron DM title to prove you are truly an iron DM, just your insane gaming schedule and posting updates like a machine more than qualifies you for that. I count myself lucky if I get to game once a week!

Love this story! Love the orcs! I guess you can count me as an orc sympathizer (although I still like the heroes too). I will be very sad if Chatham's been killed by that Akeros guy. In fact, I'd like to read more of Chatham's story if you're taking requests.

I also dig the customized flavor you've got going on (I prefer a good homebrew world over any of the published settings and I really don't like the standard D&D version of orcs at all). And you've got great players as well!

Thanks for the great read!


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## seasong

Hi Peskara! Welcome to the readership . And thank you for the kind words - they help keep me going, and stroke my unconscionably weighty ego.

Oh... and don't tell my players, but I'm secretly an orc sympathizer myself .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Seasong, Orc fan*

I can attest to that, he actually roots for them when we fight.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Chatham*

Hello Peskara and welcome to the party. 

Greppa's hoping that Chatham makes a comeback too, but that's because he has more...um...ulterior motives on his physique.  But, unfortunately since Greppa has a habit for becoming infactuated with the unhealthily unatainable, my instincts tell me that the orc bard's resurfacing may come under less than happy circumstances.

Oh the pending drama!


----------



## seasong

*Re: Seasong, Orc fan*



			
				Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> I can attest to that, he actually roots for them when we fight.



I have to. If I don't, who will?

On another note, WotC updated the official SRD on the 13th, and they took out mind flayers and beholders... both of which are the extradimensional "crisis threats" of my world. I've discussed the issue with my players and, since I am releasing all of my house rules and whatnot under OGL on the website, I decided to drop them from the world and replace them with new threats - a very _different_ kind of eye tyrant (you'll see ) and a sentient ooze lord type of thing.


----------



## seasong

_Those who have read the website may have noticed the beholders and mindflayers in the Races section. When I put the world together, WotC's "gentleman's version" of the System Reference Document included them... but with the understanding that things might be changed or removed. Use At Own Risk, right?

So I risked it, and used them. Now that the official SRD has been updated, however, they (along with the yuan-ti, carrion crawlers and a few others) are no longer available. That's fine - I understood .

It does mean that I need to start working on alternatives, however, and this is the first part of that. The below is a patch for the website (which I will update as soon as I get a chance). Please replace the extradimensional races with these - instead of mindflayers, there are now eye tyrants (not the beholder kind ); instead of beholders, there are now ooze lords; and the spiderkin remain.

Now back to your regularly schedule waiting for the story!_

*Extradimensional Threats*

There exist at least three distinct "shadow worlds" which occasionally connect or interact with this one, and all are horrible. The primary known races of each are the eye tyrants, the spiderkin, and the ooze lords. Fortunately, they interact with each other about as often, and are weakened by their wars with each other. Each generally seeks to conquer all others, and many heroes have been made (and killed) in defeating their plans. Of course, humanity has had its own share of would be world conquerors who desired to take their worlds.

*Eye Tyrants:* Eye tyrants are humanoids named for the eyes all over their skull which, chameleon-like, dart in all directions. They have moist, amphibious flesh of dark and muted colors, are taller and far more slender than humans, and possess long fingers with which they are very clever. With a hood, skilled disguise, and very little light or closeness, they could likely pass for a particularly ugly human. Eye tyrants are known as powerful espers, and are one of the reasons that espers are mistrusted - not that a Theralis esper would ever work with eye tyrants, but the history of the eye tyrants shows just how the powers can be abused. Eye tyrants are cold and calculating, and seem to base their society on their strength as espers.

*Spiderkin:* Spiderkin are mostly humanoid, but vary from individual to individual. They can roughly be classified into four groups: completely humanoid (with minor arachnid traits), half humanoid-half arachnid, completely arachnid (with minor humanoid traits), and shapeshifters (who slip between the different categories). Spiderkin society is a loose coalition of inequality, broken up by family "houses" and full of treacherous political currents. In their humanoid form, the spiderkin resemble beautiful youths with patterned skin coloration and solid black eyes.

*Ooze Lords:* The ooze lords are not humanoid at all, but are instead massive pools of sentient slime, molds, oozes, algae and other "community entities". Most theories point to the ooze lords being spiritual entities which possess community systems of sufficient size and complexity, but there are no hard facts. Ooze lords operate in rough clans, with one particularly powerful, large and charismatic one attracting a number of lesser ooze lords around itself - they become a threat when the strong, charismatic ooze lord fancies some new territory in our world.


----------



## seasong

*Early Winter in Aglaonis*

Once in Aglaonis, the group split up. Greppa needed to go through the library and mark out a better map to get to the hidden valley (as well as confirm what possible threats might be faced there); Athan wanted to chat up the local breweries, and introduce Arkos and Kyliados to beer; and Merideth wanted to talk with a local esper she'd been referred to. Athan managed to get a reference to a fur trapper who knew where the valley was and could lead them to it, and, after Greppa made a few last inquiries at the book repository, they got together to discuss it.

Greppa had the first question, "Will he want to know what we're doing out there?"

Athan grinned, "As long as it's not in his trapping zones, I don't think he'll care."

Merideth nodded, "Besides, we're adventurers. We'll just let him assume we're out there because we're crazy."

The trapper turned out to be a fur-wearing misanthrope who overcharged and disappeared as soon as they got there. Fears of questions or jumping their reward for finding the mine were quickly allayed... now the trouble was simply finding it.

The valley was a mile and a half long, a mere crevice in the mountains that housed it, and Greppa was fairly certain it was supposed to be on the northern slopes... but that was still almost a square mile of land to go over and try to find a small opening or evidence of the mine's location.

Ultimately, they decided to sleep on it. Greppa summoned a _mud doll_ to watch over them, and everyone settled into sleep...

...and it was almost dawn when the _mud doll_ began to wail, its voice pitching up and up, and as the grabbed spears and half-sat, looking around, an answering roar matched the _mud doll's_ tone. It was a massive creature, easily three man-lengths long without the tail, a pair of huge wings, and a thick, ruffed neck. Lizard-like, but built more like a large-legged bird, its slate grey skin blended into the darkness.

It was a wyvern, and it was taking some serious offense to the _mud doll_. As they watched it, it attempted to bite, then stab with its spiked tail - the doll simply reformed and continued wailing. Finally, Greppa told it to hush... and the wyvern looked up at them.

Greppa at least knew what this thing was - a flying reptile that preyed on large herbivores and occasionally fought with armorcats for territory. Its tail spike contained a deadly venom, it hide was said to be as thick and tough as iron shields, and its bite was said to crush bones with ease. The only real weakness it had was that it was a clumsy flyer, due to the weight of its hide and oversized legs...

It seemed to be sizing them up, so Greppa took the opportunity to summon up a magical shield, and say, quietly, "Look out for its tail. Poison."

Then everything seemed to happen at once. The creature's tail darted at Greppa's face as he was casting, Athan and the Keraunesti hurled their secondary spears and barely nicked its hide, and Merideth began moving in from the side, trying to get close without provoking an attack.

The creature ignored the others - it focused entirely on the spell caster, biting and stabbing at Greppa. He began a more powerful spell, and yelled, "Retreat! I'll hold it!"

He intended to _fly_ as soon as the others were clear, of course, but no one knew that - they just knew the caster was damned stupid. No one ran.

Then, three spears thunked into its hide from close-in, hard; Greppa unleashed his newest spell, _sun bolts_; and Merideth managed to unleash her worst life-damaging energies simultaneously. As spears pierced its hide, and brightly glowing missiles streaked through its wings and flesh to burn into the mountain behind it, and green lightning crackled along its ribs, the wyvern yelped, twisted, and took off into flight. They hadn't even seriously injured it, but they'd caused enough pain for it to retreat.

No one slept after that.


----------



## Barastrondo

You know, among our own circle of gamers, wyverns have such a (justly deserved) fearsome reputaion that "wyvern" has become something of a verb. 

As in "seasong almost wyverned his whole party."


----------



## seasong

Barastrondo said:
			
		

> As in "seasong almost wyverned his whole party."



Eh, they coulda taken it, even with AC 9, DR 8/-, and 120 HP under my house rules . But it's a semi-intelligent creature, and it's not going to fight to the death if it can help it, particularly since it knows what a spell caster is, and it learned that there were 2 of them.


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## seasong

Quick side note: I've updated Greppa for 5th level, only two sessions late .

Which is just in time for the PCs to hit 6th level... between the groundmouth, the wyvern, the mine, and the coming war, it was inevitable, I suppose.

Was that a teaser? How about this: Somewhere in the dim future, a boulder rolls over Athan, Merideth tells a lie, and Greppa makes a sacrifice and turns down a different path of arcanist magic...

...and an orc tribe named Buhkruhk ('breaking cat', or armorcat) that scares even the Tattered Tribe.


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## Delgar

Seasong your such a tease! I suppose your going to drag this out for an entire week as well!

Anyway, just letting you know that I've enjoyed the update, and I'm waiting on an updated PDF version so that I can print it off and read it to my fiancee! Right now we just got through the Temple. So get off your butt and get cracking!

Delgar

_P.S. Help a poor DM out_ Gladiator Thread


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## seasong

Delgar said:
			
		

> Seasong your such a tease! I suppose your going to drag this out for an entire week as well!



Strangely enough, yes .







> I'm waiting on an updated PDF version so that I can print it off and read it to my fiancee!



That is taking me a bit longer than anticipated - I'd hoped to automate the process, but there is simply too much reformatting that I have to do. It will be done soon, though!


----------



## seasong

The PDF version of Part I is up and (sort of) complete. It still does not include all of the geeky goodness of my world-building stuff, but the complete narrative has been formatted and included.

_Edit: the complete narrative of Part I._

Word of warning: file is 360K in size. If you have a 56K modem, it may take you a minute or two.


----------



## seasong

_Note: I got some things out of order in the post above; they had searched part of the valley before the wyvern arrived; the shallow cave referred to below was one they found._

*Finding the Mine*

The day was largely spent combing the northern face of the valley and finding nothing, just a few more shallow caves that led nowhere. They'd spotted some the day before as well, but a quick check indicated that they were little more than hollows in the earth.

As evening fell, the party returned to one of them, hoping it might provide sufficient space to be defensible... and when Greppa poked summoned _daylight_ into the hollow, they noticed a hole once hidden by shadows.

Greppa, the only one who could fit through it, poked his head through carefully, and saw only a narrow waterhole leading down. Shrugging, he summoned more _daylight_ down the hole.

Obscured somewhat by a pair of tiny stalactites at the edge of the hole, and about thirty feet below the cave, a smooth, carved floor was just visible.

"I found the mine!"

Everyone wanted to take a look, but there was no way anyone was getting down the hole. They still had to find the entrance. With the knowledge of where it was, roughly, they began scouring the area until finally, as night deepened, Greppa found a boulder with sun light leaking from its edge. A closer examination revealed that the boulder had been wedged into a door, then left to grow foliage cover. It was an awful big boulder.

So Athan psyched himself up, and Arkos and Kyliados grabbed the edges, then Athan roared in effort as he hauled up on the boulder. Arkos and Kyliados, caught by surprise, were lending no help - they merely watched in surprise as Athan staggered a few steps back with just under a ton of rock in his arms... and then fell backwards on the slope. Athan yelped as the boulder rolled over him, cracking a few ribs and bruising his face, then rolled to his feet and glared at the two Keraunesti.

"What? We were just so impressed, that... well.."

He continued glaring, but Greppa was watching the boulder as it slowly rolled, end over end, down the slope. "We have to stop it. Or get it back up here."

"No _way_ are we getting that back up here."

"But... we've uncovered the mine shaft! Anyone could walk by and find it after we've left!"

"We're not hauling that boulder up here. You want it, you do it."

Greppa tried to do just that, summoning _shadow servants_ for hours until he figured out that their duration was ending before he'd summoned sufficient numbers of them. He came back up the slope - it was the middle of the night, and the others had settled down to wait for him.

"I couldn't get it. So, I guess the question is... all we need to do is go in, make sure it's a mine, then head back and get paid to show someone where it is, right?"

Merideth grinned slyly, "Well... we could do that. But this mine, if you're right, is what, five hundred years old? And it was lost without ever clearing it out? There's got to be some cool stuff in there..."

It was agreed within minutes - greed over speed. Greppa summoned a pair of _mud dolls_ to warn him of movement, one a few tends of feet within the mine shaft, the other in the party's sleeping area, and everyone went to sleep.

Greppa's only warning was the faint sense of connection to the _mud doll_ when it ceased to exist in this realm. Magical energies, unseen by the unaided eye, ripped through the area, tearing magical bonds and cutting off power supplies. Everyone's _earth's skin_ held, but only Greppa's and Arkos' _earth's strength_ held.

Everyone but Arkos woke up immediately, as the earth elemental's strength leaked from them like water. As they stood up, heavy sand seemed to weigh on their minds as several powerful espers extinguished their consciousness.

Greppa and Athan remained awake just long enough for Athan to hurl one spear into the mine, and for Greppa to start looking for targets. Then blackness.

*Nightmares*

A face looked down at Merideth, eyes bubbling out of its skull in all directions. It had a small mouth, almost an afterthought, and two slits for a nose. One pair of eyes sat where human eyes would be, then, starting where a human's third eye was imagined to be, there was a line of them running back along the ridge of the skull. Another line ran diagonally parallel to them, another pair sat where cheekbones should be, and more seemed a bit more randomly placed about the bottom/back of the skull.

All of the eyes were deep black, and the whites were barely visible at the edges. They stared at Merideth, as long, slender fingers pensively tickled at the lower lip of the tiny mouth.

In her mind, she could hear them speaking, "This one, like us, but an _organger_." "So it is." "Is it _lithung_?"

Pain.

"Not _lithung_. Trained." "Possibly _dowagen_?"

Pain again.

"Not _dowagen_. And alone. They have learned." "We could use a friend."

A pause.

"It is awake."

Blackness.

*Conversations in the Dark*

Faint light. Merideth was in a chair, a bit tall for her, but well padded. She was not tied. Dim lanterns barely provided sufficient light to see by, but she could see that there were three of the eye tyrants seated near her. And in her mind, their voices...

"Forgive our treatment of you."
"Your people have little love for us.
"We were frightened. We did not know."

She wanted to scream. She managed a squeak. More calmly, she mentally sent her thoughts out, hoping they could catch it, "What are you going to do with me... us?"

"It is of no consequence to us where you go."
"Our research. We must remain hidden."
"We wish only to send you away."

Her head was beginning to pulse from their concentration, and it was uncomfortable, "Are you... I mean, I don't understand. Why?"

"We are refugees. We are nothing."
"We will be destroyed if your people find us."
"Why did you come here?"

"Wait... wait. We didn't come looking for you... we just.. wanted to find the mine. It represents wealth to our people."

"We must keep the mine."
"We must keep it hidden."
"We must keep it safe."

Merideth paused. She thought she might be beginning to understand what was going on - these people were refugees from their world (and indeed, their clothing seemed somewhat ragged compared to her own finery), and this mine was the only safe place for them in her world. And damn, telepathy was cool.

"If I... if we promised to keep your place secret, would you let us go?"

"Your promise is good to us. We can feel your mind."
"The others are like stone, they have no capacity for speech, only noises."
"Can we trust you?"

"Yes. You can trust me. I will vouch for my friends. Please, let us go. We can find another way to wealth."

"The words feel true."
"The others may not agree. We can not trust them."
"We could bind them."

"Wait, what, what is binding?"

"We would excise memories of this place."
"You would still remember. They would forget."
"We would trust you with our lives."

"Ah, how much... how much damage will this do to them?"

"We can not remove everything. They will know what has happened."
"Many become confused after."
"There is no permanent harm."

In this fashion, Merideth discussed the issue with them until she was certain it would not actually hurt her friends, then, "I... Okay, I guess we have to do this. I mean, we have to survive right? I promise that I won't tell anyone you are here, or where 'here' is. I'll protect your secret."

"Thank you."
"Our friendship is yours."
"You may go."

They led her to her friends, who were laid out in a coma-like state on slabs of stone. The trio of eye tyrants began working on each one, erasing memories of the mine... then waking them up, _held_ by mind magicks, and _compelling_ them to answer questions. Merideth acted as translator from mindspeech to vocalization, as the eye tyrants methodically discovered how, given what they had erased so far, each person might try to recover the lost information. Then another session of memory removal.

Merideth cried a lot, but it was necessary. She didn't feel like much of an adventurer right now, but she had to get her friends out alive.

Time passed swiftly in the darkness. The process took weeks. The eye tyrants were thorough and careful - they wanted an ally outside, and Merideth was such, but she would not be if they were not careful with her friends.

And in the meantime, they shared with Merideth. Asked her about the outside world, and explained their purpose - to establish (but slowly and oh so carefully) diplomatic ties between their knowledge and her world. They were all teachers, they said, who had been banned for their controversial beliefs. Merideth, they said, was proof of their beliefs, an _organger_ (meat creature) who had trained an ability to mindspeech.

There were many things they did not say, but Merideth failed to notice. There was too much to learn.

Then, release.

They blindfolded her, and led her up through darkened mine shafts. Telekinetic powers carried the others. By cover of night, they travelled overland, until they were near Aglaonis. Here, they parted ways.

"We thank you again."
"Keep us safe."
"Return when you can. We have much to teach."

*Consciousness*

Greppa was the first to wake up. He looked around and saw everyone lying in states of repose. Merideth was snoring very softly.

He could vaguely remember visions of humanoid creatures with staring, black eyes. He could remember looking for the mine, but he couldn't remember where it was... or even what book he had found the original reference in. It had been a chance footnote he'd noticed - it would take months, possibly years, to scour the books for it again.

Of the fur trapper, he remembered nothing at all.

He woke everyone else, and the story was the same. Merideth seemed to remember more - her description of their appearance was a bit more detailed than his own memories, but she knew nothing more than those details. It made sense - espers had mental training that rivalled that of the arcanists, even if some arcanists failed to take note of that.

He felt violated. Psychically raped. But for the moment, there was nothing he could do about it, so, with typical Theralese practicality, he focused on making sure everyone was okay.

Oddly enough, everyone's equipment was untouched. Even the spear Athan had thrown was returned to him.

After some discussion, they began the march back to Theralis. They couldn't deal with this right now, and Greppa wanted the comfort of his tower around him... and the scraps of paper he'd scribbled for Athan, when they had discussed this prior.


----------



## seasong

Just as a side note: Athan and Greppa didn't know about Merideth's role until I wrote it out above. The next session may be tough to roleplay, but I have faith in the Players' Crede of Firewalling .

*Sanctum Sanctorum*

The trio returned to Greppa's tower; the Keraunesti returned to their barracks. Everyone noticed the unusually warm weather, and some quick questions to Greppa's neighbors proved the worst true - it was already summer. They'd lost _months_ of their lives, with no memories.

Greppa cried, raged, got over it. He had some venging to do, and summer meant he didn't have a lot of time to venge. He ran upstairs to the library, gathered up all of his notes about where the mine was, including book references and historical notes, and...

...threw them in the fire. He watched himself do it, but he couldn't quite believe it. He sat down, watched them burn, poked and scattered the ashes.

When he was done, he screamed.


----------



## Talix

I'm strangely reminded of a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode...    In that one, it took two repetitions to get everything right.  The same here?  Hmm...

Great bargaining!  I wonder how much guilt and torment Meridith will go through having to keep this knowledge from her friends.  And when will she get to sneak away to learn more?

Great updates!


----------



## seasong

Whew! That whole scenario was a tough one to GM and to post, both, but I feel that it was good and necessary in the long run - it provides motivation to fight, pathos, and all of the complex shades of gray that I like... while setting up the PCs for a longterm fight.

I think this also helped prepare Greppa for the sacrifice he makes during the coming war, which was a beautiful moment of roleplayed angst and desperation and patriotic fervor (we'll see if I can pack that into the writing, however).

Neverwinter Nights-style, here's my list of Quests & Questions:
1. Help win the war this summer.
2. Something is pushing the orcs from the east. Find out what.
3. Find and defeat the eye tyrants at the Lost Aglaonis Mine.
4. Find out what happened to Hurath.
5. Find out what happened to Chatham.
6. Find out why Merideth is so quiet recently .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*#10*

Number 10. Upgrade Player Firewall


----------



## incognito

> Greppa cried, raged, got over it. He had some venging to do, and summer meant he didn't have a lot of time to venge. He ran upstairs to the library, gathered up all of his notes about where the mine was, including book references and historical notes, and...




It's moment's like these that make the story hour worthwhile, rather than the adventure.  It 'smuch better, if you ask me, ot imagine the hero Greppa, with a look of incredulty on his elfin face, as the book burn  - than to make the will save vs. compulsion, or burn your notes on the Silver mines.

great chapter.  do you have a link to a pick of the "eye tyrants?"


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> It 'smuch better, if you ask me, ot imagine the hero Greppa, with a look of incredulty on his elfin face, as the book burn  - than to make the will save vs. compulsion, or burn your notes on the Silver mines.



For just this purpose, I had him make one extra Will save during "the dreams of eye tyrants". He knew something had been done to him, but not what. When he ran upstairs and gathered all of his notes... he found out.







> great chapter.  do you have a link to a pick of the "eye tyrants?"



Not yet. I think it would be a good idea, though .


----------



## seasong

*Beginning of the End*

*Peaceful Dawn*

The first dawn of summer saw the Tattered Tribe gathered about the base of the mountain. Theralis was prepared for a clever assault, and had spent weeks fashioning tactics and methods for dealing with them. Spies had reported on the composition of the Tattered Tribe, and specialized units put together to handle the various capabilities.

Nor had Theralis' spell casters been idle in the intervening years. An illusionist had developed a spell to conceal an individual from sight, even in plain view, although the spell was still too fragile to remain standing if the individual took violent action (or cast a spell)... and by late winter, every illusionist in Theralis had learned the spell. An illusionist was assigned to each group of arcanists, to cover them from sight during the battle.

Greppa was given a special mission by Captain Agina - now that he was Hurath's equal, he would remain high above the battle field, invisible and at the edge of fireballing range... when he saw the shamans cast a spell on the field, he would target them, then flee back to ground where he could be turned invisible again.

The Theralis soldiers were excited and ready...

...and were almost disappointed when the orc drummers stopped mid-beat, and an old orc, flanked by a pair of others, began walking up the hill alone and unarmed.

The Tattered Tribes did not care to go against the Theralis valleys again. It was too costly and, to their mind, unnecessary. Instead, they offered a deal - in exchange for a mutual promise of no attacks, and being allowed to set up just north of Eastpass, they would defend that direction from other tribes, and work with the Theralese to that end.

It was a good deal, and a few esper spells of truth later, an acceptable one. The Tattered Tribe left Theralis Ridge, and runners were sent to help set everything up... and get rid of the orcs who were already there, trying to make war.

*Bloody Evening*

Less than a week later, the Tattered Tribe sent a runner, a slender young orc barely in his hunting years, to inform the Theralis military that they were leaving to head north. No, no, Theralis had done nothing wrong, but the Buhkruhk tribe was coming, and the Tattered Tribe intended to be far away by the time they arrived.

With a thorough questioning, they learned this:

_The Buhkruhk tribe raised armorcats as companions, traded with giants, dealt death to all who opposed them. They were two thousand strong, but they had killed five times that many orcs in the past decade. Their leaders were strong, their shamans were many and powerful. None stood against them who lived. They were powerful, organized, swift, brutal. Why they would come here, some three hundred miles out of their way, was unknown... but coming they were, and the Tattered Tribe was leaving._

They arrived within the week.

Greppa had arranged for an illusionist all to himself, and he cast _fly_ on both her and himself. He'd been instructed to stay closer, since there might be giants, and Greppa wanted him in range for his strength-sapping _lesser shadow killer_. The illusionist was to keep him and herself unseen, for as long as she could.

Athan had been put in charge of a small band of "new Keraunesti", trainees who would be supporting the veterans, much like he had so long ago. Like the other Keraunesti, in anticipation of a grave battle, he had stripped to loincloth and spear, and had stained his scars with abrasives and grape juice to make them stand out.

Merideth, standing amidst the Keraunesti, her esper and healer powers ready, simply waited.

The Buhkruhk melted from the dense trees at the base of the slope without a word. No drums beat. Then, warband leaders at the front line began stamping their spears in unison. Bent down, they pounded the earth with all the great force their legs, backs, arms could muster.

Their warbands joined in the beat a second or two later. The orcs behind them, then, joined in. A thousand spears. One beat.

Then, and only then, the war drummers began the beat of war, matching the rhythm of the spears, dancing at the edges of the beat. The orcs roared, a cacophanous roar, and two dozen armorcats, burst from behind them, leaping over the bent over orcs, between the spears and clawing their way up the mountainside. As the Theralis troops tensed, the armorcats braked, skidding sideways, then loped lazily back to the orcs, heavy spiked tails flicking dismissively.

Captain Agina strode to the front, grabbing a spear from one of the younger soldiers, and began rhythmically beating on the front shields. Others followed her example, and soon the entire front line was beating iron spearhead on iron shield.

It wasn't unified. It wasn't particularly organized. But it didn't matter. The shields reverbrated with the beating, and a sound not unlike thunder rolled down the mountainside to the orcs.

The show was over. It was time for battle.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

Clan Armorcat. Clan BLOODY Armorcat.


----------



## seasong

*The Breaking Cat*

The orc army rushed up the slopes. Disciplined and organized, they formed into a pair of wedges. The weakest orcs were at the forefront, the most skilled immediately behind them. Like a pair of fangs, the two wedges charged upslope. Slightly before they hit, two giants rushed out of the cover of the trees to hurl huge boulders, one at each point of impact.

Greppa caught the male orc in the head with a trio of _lesser shadow killers_, weakening him sufficiently that he could no longer support the boulder he was slinging. "WHUFF!" The boulder dropped and rolled through an orc warband as the giant tripped, and the other giant, having heaved her boulder, ran to her mate and dragged him back into the tree cover.

Where the one boulder impacted, Theralese shields were scattered like leaves, and then the orcs slammed into the line.

When they hit, the weakest orcs formed a flesh shield for the heroes while the heroes hacked into the shield wall while it tried to reform.

But the shield wall had collapsed in areas before. Secondary shields swung into place behind the first. Spears were set against orcs attempting to penetrate through. A new secondary shield wall began to coalesce in the back ranks.

An orc shaman, hidden among the vanguard and protected on all sides by meaty orc heroes, called upon the icy northern winds, and the bitterest cold imaginable blew through the Theralese ranks. As the orc heroes slammed into the shields, iron and flesh shattered like glass. The newly formed secondary shield wall was as frozen as the first, and the orcs punched through both with ease...

...to unleash their real attack. A herd of armorcats leapt out from the orc ranks, flanked on both sides by orc heroes. The shamans continued to call upon the spirits and rend those who proved likely to be a real threat.

Captain's banners dropped like wheat chaff, as swords were drawn and battle cries rang out. Somewhere south of center, Agina found herself in dire battle with an orc hero easily twice her mass, and sword rang on spear as they fought. Around her, her soldiers died on orc spears, and gave the same back. She swallowed a momentary smile - her soldiers were doing well, all things considered. Her enemy made an error, stabbing her in her non-sword arm, and she gripped his weapon and stepped in, and swung the edge of her blade in an overhead arc that met his neck with a meaty thunk.

Athan, meanwhile, had seized upon a new tactic. A stupid one, but it was working. He grabbed an armorcat from behind, taking a spear in the back of his thigh for his pains, and hauled it up by scruff and armpits. Then he heaved backward, twisting to the left and slinging the half-ton beast like one might throw a child... up, over his comrades... and facing the other way, into the orcs, with a full mad on. It worked, and Athan was quickly healed and running to the next one, while others held off orc attacks on him. A new batch of orcs learned to respect the beautiful young boy. Most orcs can't lift an armorcat, much less toss one at the enemy.

In admiration, they jumped him as a group, stabbing him through the legs and, when he fell, kicking him in the face and pinning his arms. Bellowing with rage, Athan summoned up sufficient strength to haul the two orcs pinning his right arm off their feet, and was then stabbed with numerous spears and went down.

The orcs realized their mistake moments later, when Merideth unleashed a spray of telekinetic knives into their midst. It was her most powerful spell ever, and the results were impressive - every orc near Athan died. Then, exhausted, she set about dragging Athan back, healing him, and praying to every god she could summon to her lips that no one had seen her cast it.

The individual heroism of the Theralese was amazing. The churn of the battle, however, was going to the orcs. Winter wind continued to blast in unexpected places, allowing the orcs to continue penetrating the shield walls. Armorcats continued to rake hell... and few soldiers had Athan's divine-seeming strength.

From above, still looking for targets of opportunity, Greppa knew what he had to do. What had happened at Eastpass was happening again - the orcs were getting on the other side of the shield wall, and slaughtering his people. He could not allow it. He would not allow it, so long as he drew breath.

Greppa prayed.

"O Allas, who brings warmth to the earth, who brings fullness to the grape, who watches over us all. My people are dying. Soon they will fall. The armorcat tribe reaches for our throat, and soon it will find it. Please, guide me in this! Please, show me how to bring victory for my people!"

The sun, not quite at noon yet, struck him in the eyes with a shaft of light. "*What is asked, is given; where the soul burns bright, shadows can not live; where you are dark, I will fill you.*"

Greppa thought quickly; he understood only the bare minimum of religion, but he knew that he was being offered a contract... and suspected that it would mean the loss of some of his best spells. Then Allas' light touched him, and it became clear. He would lose his ability to tap or channel shadow entirely... and he would lose his independance as an arcanist.

Far below, orcs killed his people.

Greppa accepted, and light filled him. Each organ felt swelled and yet empty of weight, and fiery pleasure buoyed his senses. As he looked around him, the world brightened to almost intolerable levels, but his eyes were undiminished. He looked at the sun, and it was beautiful. He looked at the earth, and colors faded as the light of the sun continued to intensify.

He looked at the shamans, hidden from the Theralis, but easily visible to him. He felt a momentary curiousity as they began to burn under his gaze, but paid it little heed. Allas was with him.

He did not notice the illusionist moving a wide distance from him, unsure of what he was doing. He did not notice the battle stopping as people gaped at him. He only noticed when, finally, the orc army began to retreat and the shield wall restored.

He landed swiftly, and noticed an oddity - as he descended, the shadows lengthened away from him, and soldiers gave him a wide space. He paid it no mind until the shadows began to return to normal, and the tropical daylight faded... it was Greppa who had been glowing like a small sun, bringing Allas closer to earth and burning his enemies with her light.

And he also realized... every spell of shadow he'd known was gone, burned from his mind by Allas' light, and every spell of light felt stronger and easier than before. He mourned _lesser shadow killer_ for a moment, perhaps two, then turned to face his friends as they came running up.

Athan was slick with blood, both his and others', while Merideth, unable to fully heal him, supported him by the shoulder. Athan embraced Greppa, pounded him on the back, and yelled encouragement. Merideth hugged him next, asking, "Can we all do that?", meaning, of course, those bearing Allas' birthmark. Greppa just shrugged and grinned.

And then it was off to rest, for all three were well and truly exhausted, and the war was not yet over. The armorcat tribe hid in the trees below, planning their next moves.


----------



## Greybar

Eeep!

Praises to Greppa Sunborn, Light of Allas!

John


----------



## seasong

Quick note to say that I updated the rogues' gallery with Greppa's new devotional stats.

Necromancer, HAH!

_(And to quote WulfRatbane, "Up the sun!")_


----------



## Capellan

That still leaves Merideth.  And she's been my choice for 'straying into darkness' from day one 

So what was the telekinetic knives spell?


----------



## seasong

Capellan said:
			
		

> So what was the telekinetic knives spell?



The eye tyrants know telekinetic esper spells - it's a 2nd level equivalent to burning hands (1d6/lvl, same small area of effect), bumped to 3rd level since it's an esper spell.

It's not something that any other Theralis esper knows how to do (sort of like how Theralis illusionists didn't know how to do invisibility until they recently developed it for the war).


----------



## J. Anson

> Necromancer, HAH!




Yeah, and you've never run games where characters had extreme conflicts of interest, right?

You've _certainly_ not enjoyed with maniacal glee the opportunity to present characters with such conflicts...


----------



## Caliber

Hrmmm.

Greppa, Sun Mage and Necromancer Extrodinare! Has a nice ring to it.


----------



## seasong

J Anson: Exactly. Certainly. Yes. Never.

Caliber: It does, doesn't it?

Just so everyone knows, I am once again caught up to the last session. If I have time tomorrow, I will do some academia, otherwise I'll do it over the weekend. I'll also be updating everyone's 6th level over the weekend (heh, yeah, that was fast).

Hm...

Actually, anyone have any votes for world stuff/academia you'd like to hear about?


----------



## seasong

Note: I edited the last narrative post. Right before "Greppa accepted, and light...", I added some exposition that makes it clearer what Greppa is doing:

"_Greppa thought quickly; he understood only the bare minimum of religion, but he knew that he was being offered a contract... and suspected that it would mean the loss of some of his best spells. Then Allas' light touched him, and it became clear. He would lose his ability to tap or channel shadow entirely... and he would lose his independance as an arcanist.

Far below, orcs killed his people.

Greppa accepted, and light filled him. Each organ felt swelled and yet empty of weight, and fiery pleasure buoyed his senses. As he looked around him, the world brightened to almost intolerable levels, but his eyes were undiminished. He looked at the sun, and it was beautiful. He looked at the earth, and colors faded as the light of the sun continued to intensify._"


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: The Little Soldier*

Aggie's family, neither rich nor poor, owned a small patch of vineyard that made enough for them to get by. They supplemented themselves with a small vegetable garden, mostly peas and beans, and kept a goat for milk and cheese. When she was six, she used to play hide and seek among the vine trellises, sprinting madly to stay hidden as her father, his booming voice giving away his position, would calmly stalk around pretending to try to find her. When she was ten, the first goat had died, and she'd helped pick out and name the new one. They'd sold the old one's body, and she'd always avoided thinking about why - only the rich and the young can afford pets, really.

Now she was fifteen, and entering her year of Service. Never particularly strong or fast, and lacking sufficient aptitude for magic, she expected to learn the basics of the spear, and then master the intricacies of camp maintenance for a year. She stepped up to the rollmaster, and gave her full name, "Agina of South Falls", then moved on to get her military tunic and sandals.

That she might someday be a war hero of Theralis never occurred to her.


----------



## Indigo Veil

Yay! <gives chibi-Agina a big hug, then looks at grown-up Agina and melts into a little puddle on the floor>  ^^;;;;

I'm glad you decided to do the Agina vignettes after all, seasong. ^______^


----------



## seasong

No problem. There's some stuff going down with Captain Agina in the future, so I decided I might as well give her some vignettes to tie it together . Plus you and incognito are such fans of her, how can I not at least write up her background a bit! 

Note to everyone: I'm still waiting to see what kinds of world notes you'd like to see.

On another note: I updated the rogue's gallery for 6th level. Merideth picked up seven (7!) new esper spells (including 3rd level) and the Iron Skin feat (described for her character as 'wounds sealing as they are dealt'). Athan improved a bit here and there, but in particular now gets 2 attacks per round, and can throw 3 spears per round, and can sling those spears _even farther_. Greppa generally improved, picked up one new spell (summon servant of light), and finally improved his ability to dodge .


----------



## J. Anson

seasong said:
			
		

> J Anson: Exactly. Certainly. Yes. Never.




List of potentially serious conflicts of interest:

Merideth: Marked by Allas, ally to shadow-dwelling eye fiends.

Athan: Not too complicated, that Athan

Greppa: Marked by Allas, Sun Mage, and still marked for necromancy.

I'll believe that you don't enjoy it when... when... I don't think you could convince me


----------



## seasong

I like the mohawk, by the way . Can anyone believe that's my baby brother?

Athan: Theralese. Loves orc culture and fighting style. Speaks their tongue in moments of anger. Has adopted their "berserking spirit" in battle.


----------



## J. Anson

seasong said:
			
		

> Athan: Theralese. Loves orc culture and fighting style. Speaks their tongue in moments of anger. Has adopted their "berserking spirit" in battle.




I thought about that, but it seemed to have reasonably sorted itself out. The Orcs attack him, he attacks the Orcs, onlookers don't get confused


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Ha HA!*

*Greppa Sunborn, Light of Allas!* 

Also known as 

*Super Saiyajin Greppa* 

*prepares to dodge*


----------



## Indigo Veil

> Super Saiyajin Greppa
> *prepares to dodge*




You. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.

Trinity: "Dodge this."
<psychically heaves one of the world's most rare artifacts: the invisible, six pound _Magic Shoe of Sure Hits_>


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Oh Yeah?*



> Trinity: "Dodge this."





*Stands Pat* 

*Kame... ha... me... HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!* 

Why dodge when you can excessively parry?


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

*Scions of Allas*

"So can we all do that?" Late that night, Merideth's curiousity had gotten the better of her again.

Greppa shrugged, "I don't know. I prayed to Allas for aid when things seemed worst, and... Allas filled me. I don't think it can happen for me again - I had to sacrifice my ability to access Shadow, and I can only give that up once."

Merideth, eyes wide, "Really? But.. I mean, is that it? You give up shadow spells forever and you get one battle? Aren't your best spells shadow spells?"

At that point, grinning, Athan interjected, "Hethas' bones, no - _earth's strenght_ is much better... you didn't lose that?"

All three laughed, though nervously, and Greppa shook his head, "No, no, I didn't lose that. But yeah... I lost some pretty good spells. I won't be able to weaken the giants anymore, and I've completely lost contact with my _shadow servants_. But... I don't know. The process gave me some strong insight into tapping Allas' realm. I've got some ideas on how to do spells of light that may improve my capacities in that regard. So it's not all sacrifice.

After a moment, as the others thought on that, he added, "And we're all alive and not captured. That's got to be a plus."

"It is." The voice belonged to Thelanna, the deep-voiced _ellini_ priestess of Allas. Three youths, dressed in similar white silk tunics, flanked her, and were struggling under the burden of the Sun Stone. "I came as swiftly as I could when the sign appeared in the heavens. Greppa of Tartwater, there are vague hints in my dreams that you and your comrades are important to Allas, so I would lend you the Sun Stone for this battle, that you may act as a focus for Allas to smite your foes."

Greppa quirked an eyebrow, "And that means what?"

"You would place your hands upon the stone, and so long as they remained there, daylight would cover all that you can see. And as an arcanist, you are accustomed to channelling extraplanar forces - Allas would send spells through you into the field of battle, searing light to burn away your foes."

Deep down, Greppa trusted Allas. He knew that the gods used mortals, and indeed, had used Greppa to recover the Stone in the first place. And he was reasonably anxious to get his hands wrapped around it, now that he knew what kind of an artifact it was.

But Thelanna wasn't Allas - she was organized religion - and Greppa didn't think her grasp of strategy was all that sound. "Ah, well, I need to talk to Agina. They may need me on sky watch for giants."

Thelanna's freckled face soured, if only slightly, "Of course, but you would turn down an offer of the might of Allas...?"

After the situation was explained to Agina, with Agina carefully observing Greppa as he explained the Sun Stone in glowing terms in front of Thelanna, shook her head, "Greppa will be a lot more useful in the sky, riding herd on the giants and shamans, than firing random bolts of burning light into the orc army. The sunlight sounds damned useful, though - does that require Greppa, or just any priest of Allas?"

Thelanna, mouth open, closed it, then, "Anyone devoted enough can bring the sunlight down."

"Excellent. We could use that. Have your holy artifact ready - the orcs may attack tonight, and we could use some sun on the battle."

After Thelanna had stalked off, Captain Agina grinned and headed back to her tent. According to her scouts and Captain Hypatia's espers, the orc leaders were staying up all night trying to plan... making an attack tonight unlikely. But she trusted Greppa's opinion as an arcanist and soldier, and this would keep Thelanna busy and out of his hair.

In the morning, Greppa and his illusionist companion flew into the sky.


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: The Little Soldier*

Her year of Service was a surprise to everyone. Despite dire predictions of her own ability, Aggie turned out to be exceptionally fast and deadly with the spear, and what she lacked in strength, she more than made up for with devoted mastery of the forms.

Aggie _liked_ the heft of the spear in her hands, the violent dance of movements that allowed her to own the field of combat. She liked formations, orderly processions of shield and spear, the logical application of simple principles to achieve maximum fighting strength with minimum numbers.

She was vaguely considering becoming a performer, dancing with the spear, when her group was dispatched to drive off a black hound haunting a vineyard near Eastpass. The plan was to drive it into the open, where it could be set upon by the entire century of soldiers.

The first thing to die in any battle, of course, is the plan.


----------



## incognito

*seasong's world 101's*

Some stuff I'd like detail on:

1. Insights as to what's going on in the heavens
2. More on Giants (how strong are they?)
3. past history of Theralis - not ancient, maybe 200 years ago, to present.
4. Detail some known magic items, or legends of magic items.
5. Where are all the other ellini?
6 - oh yeah!  There is _never_ any 6

sorry for being _in absentinia_ -  there was a short recess for a rocky break up.  Anyone want to date a heartboken, gym fanatic with zero free time, who's alos *gasp*  - a 'gamer'
 - Ha!  

me neither


----------



## seasong

Hey incognito, sorry to hear about the breakup! You have my sympathies.

I'm leaving for home right now, but numbers 1-5 look like good post starters . And I was just bragging about you, too!


----------



## incognito

seasong: you should check out my pom-poms, they rock!

Looking forward to the 101s!


----------



## seasong

*Re: seasong's world 101's*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> 1. Insights as to what's going on in the heavens



I can't answer this one too thoroughly, so this will be somewhat short, and most of this stuff is years (in game time) from having an impact, but...

*Obvious/Known Interests*

Allas has taken an interest in our three young heroes (and possibly others?). They bear Her mark, and have recently begun to find themselves becoming more involved in events related to Her. They even wear Her cloaks, although the cloaks are ancient enough that the Order they once belonged to no longer even exists.

At the same time, Dianas is the patron goddess of Theralis. Goddess of grape and vine, She is involved in all affairs of the city... and Allas is allied with Her in this war against the orcs who would destroy the valley. Unless Dianas is hoping to shake things up.

*Signs in the Heavens*

Other than the above, there are signs that have been seen by priests and astronomers, but thus far only shared with the leaders of Theralis. Hethas' star in the south has burned brighter in recent years, and a falling star seen in its sphere of influence slightly more than twenty years ago has taken on special significance - some believe that Hethas has chosen a champion.

Some believe that all of the gods are choosing champions, and that Hethas was simply open about it.

Regardless, its obvious to anyone with eyes (and the accumulated astronomical knowledge of years) that there are some big events coming in the next decade, although what, exactly, is difficult to say.


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## seasong

*Breaking Cat, Day 2*

Before sailing into the sky, Greppa spoke with his grand-mentor, Inertas, the earthy generalist who'd taught Hurath, and she used one of her more powerful spells on Greppa and his illusionists. _Stoneskin_ was similar to _earth's skin_, she'd said, but "more like a crust on the skin than a bone-deep toughness". However it worked, he marvelled at his apparent invulnerability and chalk-white skin before calling up a _shield_ and flying into the sky, invisible and prepared.

Athan and Merideth, clustered among the Keraunesti, strained to see what was going on as the dawning sun rose into their eyes. During the moment of blindness, as Greppa floated serenely overhead, two giants burst from the trees, surrounded by orcs hauling boulder ammunition, and began flinging the smaller boulders into the sky.

Directly at invisible Greppa.

As the boulders ripped the air next to Greppa, his first instinct was to run. Instead, he made the fastest casting circle he'd ever made in his life, and called forth three tiny streaks of sunlight into the head of the giant that got closest, then followed that 'tracer' up with hundreds of fist-sized bolts of pure sunlight that swarmed into the monster.

His assisting illusionist's first instinct was to run, also... but she was a citizen of Theralis. And Theralese don't run when they are needed. She turned him invisible, and then they both ran, dropping back towards the earth as swiftly as they could.

They were almost to ground when several shaman-summoned _flaying spirits_ and a pair of boulders found their way to Greppa, catching him mid-air.


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## Talix

D'OH!  See invisibility at long range, and strategic targeting of the biggest threat - not good.   

Love the conversion, though, and I'm glad it's more of a Sun Mage thing than a "surprise, you're a priest now!" thing.  

"explained the Sun Stone in glowing terms" - heh.    BTW, when Agina decided to not have Greppa using the stone, she was watching him - did he manage to use innuendo (untrained ) to convey the fact that he didn't think he should sit on the ground?  Or did she just come to the same tactical conclusion?

Loved that she recruited the priestess, though.    That was great.


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## Delgar

Hey Seasong,

I just wanted to say I'm interested in hearing the answers to Icognito's questions as well. Also I feel a little bit snubbed as one of your fanboys, since I was pretty much here since the begining as well, just because you didn't have to sle...err buy me off to win an Iron DM competition doesn't mean I'm nothing .

Here's a question for you, seeing that magic items are fairly rare in your world (or at least it seems that way to me). Have you thought about using a mundane way to enhance weapons. For example rather than a Longsword +2 being magical it would just have a non-magical enhancement bonus for +2 hit/+2 dam and be created by master smiths. Just a very well crafted sword, after that any additional magical properties (ie, flaming, shock, vorpal) would have to be magically imbued. Anyway just thought I'd through that one by you.

Anyway, just want you to let you know to keep the good work I'm still reading! Also, I enjoyed the PDF version of Part I, I liked that the vignette's were lodged within the text. I think that if you wanted to add any world building information to it, I think it would be best to put it in an appendix at the back. That way those that are interested in it can read at their leisure and those that aren't don't have the juicy story interrupted by game text. You may also, want to add the players stats in the appendix and describe the spells being used. Just my thoughts.

Anyway, thanks for helping me out in my gladiator thread. Things are finally starting to fall into place. Hopefully I'll actually start to game soon and get to write my own storyhour! Need to find some players first.

Nuff said

Delgar

_P.S. Help a poor DM out with ideas! _ Gladiator Thread


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## seasong

Talix: System notes were answered in the rogue's gallery.







			
				Talix said:
			
		

> Love the conversion, though, and I'm glad it's more of a Sun Mage thing than a "surprise, you're a priest now!" thing.



Whoo... the player would've killed me . What happened, though, was this: The battle was planned out as the orcs doing some severe damage to the battle line and requiring a regrouping and highly targetted attack on the giants (to keep them hidden in the woods). Then Greppa, immersed in the Greek thematic, began to pray to Allas to help him turn the tide of battle back on the orcs. He was ready to promise whatever it took - he was really into the whole "citizens of Theralis" thing - and he asked me what he could sacrifice to get Allas to do what was needed.

So I described events on the fly, pretty much as I described it in the story hour, and then went back in and wrote the modifications to his character when I had some time to think about it. In game terms, this was a "special event", and one of the happy accidents that make roleplaying stories what they are.


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## seasong

Delgar said:
			
		

> Also I feel a little bit snubbed as one of your fanboys, since I was pretty much here since the begining as well, just because you didn't have to sle...err buy me off to win an Iron DM competition doesn't mean I'm nothing .



You're not nothing . What I was referring to was the almost daily posted requests for updates, questions, etc. If incognito were the only one, however, I probably wouldn't be updating so regularly .







> Have you thought about using a mundane way to enhance weapons.



Sure . Masterwork, for one, and I also allow smiths to take Craft X feats, and explain it as "putting a bit of themselves" in the item. I haven't written this stuff up much, yet, because it's so far in the background, but I probably should - the PCs have enough money to start trying to buy some of that stuff.

However, I will point out that magic items aren't necessarily that rare. Theralis only has 600 years of history, and most magic items (and even the augmented smithing) are by commission only. With an urban population base of a few tens of thousands, and only six centuries, starting from a penniless slave race... well, it's amazing they've got as much as they do.

Elsewhere, magic items are more common.







> Also, I enjoyed the PDF version of Part I, I liked that the vignette's were lodged within the text. I think that if you wanted to add any world building information to it, I think it would be best to put it in an appendix at the back. That way those that are interested in it can read at their leisure and those that aren't don't have the juicy story interrupted by game text.



Hm, good point. I need to get that done sometime soon, anyway, so thanks for reminding me!







> Anyway, thanks for helping me out in my gladiator thread.



Shucks, I only added one tidbit .


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## incognito

Hello _*Delgar*_ 

Maybe your think your writing is good enough to win you an IronDM title?  - I certainly would like you to get in on the next one.

If anything, I started each session with a slight bias agaist seasong, becasue I know when his writing is good, and when it sucks - and correct me if I'm wrong, I tell him in no uncertain terms.

if only there were some vixens to _try_ and sway the judges opinion...(sigh)

Of course, seasong-san, your writing is wonderful in SH, even if you won't post all the dirty little campaign secrets I ask for...


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## Delgar

I would really like to participate in the next Iron DM, even though I suck big time (not quite in the way seasong did to win mind you  ). I think I lack the imagination, will, ability and time of the previous winners. I would hate to dumb down the pool.

Delgar

_P.S. Help a poor DM out! _ Gladiator Thread


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## seasong

*Re: seasong's world 101's*

Easy answers first, I'm working on the last two centuries' history in a readable format for (hopefully) later today:







			
				incognito said:
			
		

> 2. More on Giants (how strong are they?)



STR 25-27 for the three with the Tattered Tribe; STR 29 for the pair with the Breaking Cat Tribe.







> 5. Where are all the other ellini?



_Ellini_ are a "rare human birth". They aren't a separate race, but instead a subrace of human who are occasionally born. There are likely less than 100 in all of the Theralis valleys. Thelanna is one, Greppa is another, and both are young yet for _ellini_ (who age at about half the rate of 'normal' humans).


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## seasong

Sorry for the short update. It's just been hard to write today. I'll write more this evening or tomorrow.

*Breaking Cat, day 2*

Dark, hungry spirits shrieked in the air around Greppa, as he tried to half-twist, half-fall away from their grasping, clawing hands... and then the first boulder hit, cracking his left leg at the thigh, and followed closely by its brother into his right arm and ribs. The illusionist managed to evade most of the _flaying spirits_, and sped ahead of him as he willed his flight as fast as he could.

As he flew upslope, fireballs streaked past him downslope to punish anyone staying outside the protective cover of the trees to target Greppa. A faint, stacatto whump rewarded Greppa's keen ears, and he sincerely hoped at least one of the shamans had gotten a faceful.

He bounced off the earth, adding an insulting landing to his injury, and thanked the gods for his foresight in asking Inertas for her _stoneskin_ spell - without it, he was fairly certain he would be dead.

Far down the mountain, the sound of Breaking Cat laughter could be heard.

*Breaking Cat, week 1*

They did not attack all that day, instead contenting themselves to trade the occasional _flaying spirits_ summoning for a _fireball_ or two, while the giants kept their eyes open for appearing Theralese arcanists. Every once in a while a boulder would lob gracefully and swiftly upslope when an arcanist's illusionist wasn't quite quick enough, but there were no actual casualties.

This continued, with two bouts of violence where the orcs attempted their two-pronged attempt again, but the lines held. Greppa, unable to safely enter the airspace near the orcs, alternated with Thelanna on the Stone, but did not attempt to channel it - a brief attempt had taught him that it was exhausting, and he preferred the flexibility of his spells.

By the end of the week, almost no one on either side had died, and tempers were beginning to fray. There was talk about a push to force the orcs into a toe-to-toe fight where the Theralis military machine could do some damage.

Captain Agina advised against it, but was overruled by the Generals. Ever loyal, Agina began to gather the people best suited to achieving the goals of her superiors.


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## Caliber

I know I've been quiet recently, but I'm still lurking about. 

Very awesome. The Generals never care about throwing some more people onto the line eh? Up and over boys!


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## seasong

*Re: seasong's world 101's*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> 3. past history of Theralis - not ancient, maybe 200 years ago, to present.




*The 4th Century*

Three centuries ago, Councilmember Mura declared the centennial birthday of Theralis to be a celebratory day, despite the then widely-held belief that the world would end. A century later, the first and most difficult Century Celebration took place.

In many ways, the end of the 3rd century and beginning of the 4th century was Theralis' coming of age. A few years prior to the year 400, Amalan was seen for the first time since Thera had dealt with him, and destroyed a village that had grown into areas not covered by Thera's compact. Amalan was fully prepared to destroy all of Theralis in retaliation (indeed, many, _many_ brave soldiers died trying to defend some of the northern outskirts of the valleys), and it was only after numerous entreaties to the dragon and the gods that he accepted a tribute of a hundred youths, and nearly all of the city's treasury at the time.

It was in response to this tragic sequence of events that the Olympiad developed.

With the Olympiad firmly entrenched, and trade with the north increasing, greater numbers of simple Theralese farmers began to shift more of their land to the grape, trading the more valuable wines for bread to the north. By 420, the grape had come to largely dominate the valleys, and Dianas, the "ancestor" or Theralis through Thera, came into full power as the patron of the city-state. In 424, during the 7th Olympiad, a statue of Thera twined in vines was erected and revealed in the southern Open Square, to commemorate the bonding of the city with its founder.

*Athana the Drunk*

Roughly in 440, the ruler Gaeas was childless after two unsuccessful marriages. Fearing that she would have no heir, she went to a temple of Allas and prayed there for seven days without stopping, until Allas gave her a dream. In it, she dreamed that she swam in a large bowl of crimson wine and that a smooth stone rose out of the surface of the wine.

When she awoke from her dream, she went to a fellow ruler, Pittanas, who instantly understood the portents of the dream, and that Allas was pointing to Dianas. Together, they got madly drunk and prayed to Dianas, then succumbed to the passions given by the grape goddess.

Athana was born a year later, a red-faced and troublesome child given to vast temper tantrums and violent mood swings... and great strength. When she was ten years old, she became angry with her _ellini_ instructor and, grabbing him by neck and one leg, heaved him over a balcony, breaking his head open.

Athana was then kept to a small room in a tower in Theralis, and lived on bread and grapes, although she managed to distill a bit of each into beer and wine. Still... the years in the tower mellowed her, and she came to regret her rages. A happy drunk, she learned to control the rage by the simple expedient of remaining drunk, and on her sixteenth birthday, she was visited by a servant of Dianas, who told her that it was time for her to go out into the world.

Dianas had many adventures during those first few years of freedom, but it was not until she was 20 that her name was forever etched in history. Bearing a broad-headed spear gifted to her by Dianas, she quested with numerous followers to defeat the powerful necromancer Math.

Math was from the distant north, and had settled near Theralis for his research, some of which included robbing Theralese tombs and desecrating their dead. Although at first (respecting his raw power) the citizens of Theralis tried to just get him to leave, he was apparently even less loved to the north.

The battle between the two was legendary. Hethas guarded the necromancer's power (for reasons still unknown, although some say he was Her son), Allas and Dianas were allied on one side, and the sun smote the earth as Athana and her followers fought Math's corpse legions. In the end, he attempted to flee, and Athan hurled her spear a full march* to pierce him between the shoulder blades, slaying him instantly. His body was swallowed by the angry earth, and the spear was never recovered.

This battle ensured her a statue next to Thera's (standing in a position as her favored servant) and that her adventurs thereafter, although not quite as important, possessed a certain celebrity status.

*_ a march is approximately 1,000 yards, and is a measure used by soldiers to gauge distances. It is slightly less than a kilometer._

*Dianas' Spear*

During her life, Dianas gifted her with a broad-headed spear during her quest to defeat the necromancer Math. The spear (including the haft) was made of celestial steel, and seemed perpetually stained by grapes. The spearhead itself was shaped like a grape-leaf, and a grape vine was sculpted along the length of the haft, along with a prayer to Dianas.

All of the spears abilities were never revealed to history, but those known were:
* The wielder could fight as well drunk as sober (this may have been an ability of Athana, rather than the spear, however)
* Stabbed deep into the earth, it could cause mighty grape vines to grow.
* A sacrifice of wine (poured on the spear) caused it to grow to immense length, allowing a chasm to be crossed, a giant to be killed, and a truly epic hurling of the spear.


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> Very awesome. The Generals never care about throwing some more people onto the line eh? Up and over boys!



Well, really, they do. You can't be a General without serving as a soldier for at least five years (the original term of Service - the Service period changed, but the prerequisite didn't).

They have their reasons, however, as will become apparent...

Ah, the heck with it, I'll just out it . They want the attack because (a), they believe it has a better chance of success than Agina believes, because (b) they know Agina will pull it off, and also because (c) they need a distraction so they can insert Akeros across the enemy line, and the orcs have been keeping far more disciplined guard than past tribes.

Akeros will have a vignette soon, as it's somewhat important to the future story .


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## Delgar

Just an editing note, I think you meant to say Athana had many...



> Dianas had many adventures during those first few years of freedom, but it was not until she was 20 that her name was forever etched in history. Bearing a broad-headed spear gifted to her by Dianas, she quested with numerous followers to defeat the powerful necromancer Math.




Anyway, keep up the good work. But come on give us some more man! Sheesh enough with the slacking, what do you have a life/job or something? 

Delgar


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## seasong

Hey, I'm just writing up what every Theralis child knows. I'm not going to write Athana's life history - that would be a whole additional story hour.

Now back to your regularly scheduled Slack 'n Hay gaming.


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## Greybar

Seasong:

Just jumping in with the usual kudos you are due.  I love the backstory as well as how the mainline adventures are developing.  I like how our heroes are becoming *HEROES* known to more and more of the population (at this point at least the army).

John


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## seasong

*Breaking Cat, week 2*

In the history books, Agina's small group's charge down the mountain would largely be forgotten. The battle was brief, and never actually made it to the giants. Still, it was heroic while it lasted.

The Amalan arrived. Literally appearing in the sky as if formed from the air itself, he floated down with wings outstretched for an uncharacteristically gentle landing on his hind legs. "*I... WOULD SPEAK... WITH YOUR LEADERS.*" The voice rumbled with power, and rolled across the earth to both camps. As he finished, he delicately set down the kobolds in his hands, eight in total, and folded his majestic wings in silence.

Agina's charge pretty much ended there, and she took her soldiers and retreated swiftly.

*Enter The Dragon*

The orc chief was the first to approach the dragon. An advantage of the orc command structure is that the true leader is right on the field of battle. The Theralese had to make due with their highest ranking general, Phitios.

The war chief was a seven-foot monster of an orc, with a pair of armorcat teeth shaped as knives at his side, and a green-tinted metallic spear slung from his back. One eye was white with cataracts, but he was an otherwise near-perfect specimen of elderly orc. A pair of orc warriors flanked him, and his personal armorcat "pet" padded along behind him, a lazily vicious gleam in its eyes.

Phitios, by comparison, was a slightly pudgy man with powerful arms, a shaved head, and solemn, dark eyes that rarely wavered from their goal. He was deadly in board games and politics, and still skilled enough with spear and sword to teach a young soldier a thing or two. He'd just run upmountain out of Theralis, and before striding downmountain to meet the dragon, he looked around him. "I need two soldiers who are not afraid of death to flank me. Who shall I take?" Clustered with the Keraunesti, Athan almost bit his tongue when the other soldiers shuffled and edged him forward. He took the first two offered, and Athan, dressed in a loincloth as all the Keraunesti, attempted to look dignified. He was swiftly dressed in tunic and coat, and he and one other flanked the general as they strode down to the dragon.

Amalan was monstrously, overwhelmingly large "in person". Clustered about his foreclaws were the kobolds, and it was here that the two leaders met him. Amalan did not speak directly, but instead allowed the kobolds to communicate to the small humanoids.

In orc and in Theralese, the kobolds spoke to both in unison, "The last time a battle lasted this long, the orc tribe damaged the land, damage that will be long in healing. It will not happen again. To ensure that, I will observe directly. My kobolds will accompany each of you. They will watch for me."

He then turned his ponderous head to Phitios, "Your people have done well by the compact for two hundred years. I understand that this is roughly ten generations, and that the eldest of that time are now long buried. It says much of you that you have kept the traditions without reminder for so long, and I do not expect that my kobolds will find any fault. You may leave now."

Phitios bowed, a brief sign of respect, and replied, "Your memory is long and accurate, great dragon, and we appreciate the boon of your respect. We will not disappoint you, although I would ask permission to remain until all matters are settled here."

Something like a chuckle, deep and rumbling, issued from Amalan's throat before the kobold replied, "I have many things to discuss with this new tribe. If there is something in the content of that discussion that is relevant to you, my kobolds will tell you."

Phitios bowed again, then, "Of course, great dragon. I will do as you suggest," and left. As he was leaving, he walked as slowly as a dignified stride could justify, and listened hard to the harsh orc words now being bandied. Phitios couldn't speak orc, but he had near-perfect memory, and a deep-seated desire to know what was being said.

Athan did the same...


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## Greybar

Eeep!

Aha, now a greater comes in to bring some sense to the situation.  Why all the orc movements and such...

nice

John


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## Greppa of Tartwater

stoopid Amalan, spoiling my fun.


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## seasong

Updated the last post.


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## incognito

Edited, now that seasong left a more reasonable cliffhanger.


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## Caliber

seasong said:
			
		

> *Well, really, they do. You can't be a General without serving as a soldier for at least five years (the original term of Service - the Service period changed, but the prerequisite didn't).
> *




Well yeah. But when you're going over the top, you have to blame someone right?


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## Greybar

> Phitios couldn't speak orc, but he had near-perfect memory, and a deep-seated desire to know what was being said.




Smart man!  Both in the clever sense, and in the mental capacity to remember an unknown language phonetically.  Of course, if he knew Athan spoke orc he'd feel better about it I'm sure.

John


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## incognito

Is it just me, or did you all notice the small 'seasong' tattoo on that dragon's ankle?

The reply: "I have many things to discuss with this new tribe. If there is something in the content of that discussion that is relevant to you, my kobolds will tell you."

was just a little tooo '"this is the voice of the DM telling you to get lost, and not spoil my plot development, human tribe" to go unnoticed.

even if it was an NPC that did the asking.

And...Greppa...C'mon - how many HP could the dragon _possibly_ have?


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## Greybar

incognito said:


> was just a little tooo '"this is the voice of the DM telling you to get lost, and not spoil my plot development, human tribe" to go unnoticed.




Nah.  The world is bigger than the heroes, and bigger than the humans.  Sometimes they might need to be reminded of that.

Besides, that way they get to be all clever and try to hear what's going on *anyway*, which is a lot more fun that simply being a silent listener on the original conversation.

John


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## seasong

Kind of boring, but I thought I'd throw this out. I've been seeing comments on the impact of _fireball_ on combat in other threads, and decided to post some of my thoughts on why it ain't all that (it can be effective, yes, but a competent army will by and large avoid the impact _fireballs_ can have).

*Fireball Tactics*

To the uninitiated, high-power area effect spells seem like they should dominate any battle field. _Fireball_, easily the weakest of any arcanist's grimoire, fills an area large enough to house an entire company of soldiers with flames hot enough to burn a person to death in under a second. A five-company force (roughly 500 soldiers) could be decimated by a single arcanist in less than a minute.

For the student of military history, however, such spells are only occasionally useful against those unprepared or insufficiently intelligent to devise countermeasures.

*Shields High:* The Theralis shield wall is roughly four soldiers deep (shields, spears, longspears, support). In the area covered by a _fireball_, there will be a rough maximum of 60 soldiers, and a more typical number of 50. Of those, 15 are the shield wall, and another 10-15 carry additional shields. Once Theralis got over the shock of seeing orc shamans throw area destruction spells, they began step locking their shields and preparing for it. When the spells come, everyone leans into the shield wall (which leans back), while the Theralese in the back raise their shields behind. The result is something like a brief turtle moment, giving nearly 75% cover (100% for those closest to the shields) against the spells... and a tendency for the orcs on the other side of the shield wall to eat most of the spell themselves.

*Scattered:* Well behind the shield walls, the Theralese military remains widely spread - at most, an area spell will catch 20 people in the same area, a rather severe waste of the energy required to cast the spell. The orcs do much the same, and their chaotic nature belies their capacity for maintaining spreads instead of knots.

*Counterstrikes:* As demonstrated recently, the most effective countermeasure is a counterstrike. Spells can be traced, and once traced, return fire will either destroy the caster or persuade her not to do it again.

As an example, in the last Battle of Theralis Ridge, Greppa was put on _fireball_ duty... not to throw them, but to target anyone among the orcs who did. That he did his job well is evident in the orcs' frustrated attempt to take him out so they could get on with the attack - the astute observer will note that when they failed to take him out... they also decided not to attack.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

Amalan probably has more hit points than that giant that survived a direct hit by 3D4+3 and 6D6 concurrently.  

Next time, I'm Quickening somthing more nasty.


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## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Is it just me, or did you all notice the small 'seasong' tattoo on that dragon's ankle?



Heh. Nice image  . However, the Icy Hand of the GM is trying to achieve exactly the opposite! I WANT the PCs to find out... In fact, I want them to find out RIGHT NOW. But I try not to just GIVE the answers, I present challenges that must be overcome.

The challenge: the dragon wants them to get lost.
The solution (demonstrated above): walk slowly, listen sharp.

Other possible solutions that might have taken place: Merideth is an esper, yes? Rather than walk slowly, they could have hauled butt upslope to get her to listen in on the conversation (while being careful not to alert the dragon to her psychic sensor's presence). Or Athan could have made an argument (or bluff of some sort) to be allowed to stay.

If I'd wanted to prevent any of that, I would have just had the dragon send the kobolds upslope and downslope to speak with each side individually, instead of calling them together and revealing that there might be a secret there! By the time the PCs stopped trying to figure out what the kobolds were saying to the Theralis side, the orc side would have been finished with no one the wiser.


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## seasong

*Vignette: The River of Pain*

The orcs had scouts arranged in pairs a hundred feet out in all directions, and single scouts another thousand feet out past that, two hundred scouts in all. The single scouts tended to stay up trees, where they were harder to find and take out swiftly, and carried war drums to beat warnings with. Akeros could sneak by them, given an hour or two, but he needed to know where they were, and he didn't like to rely on chance.

Akeros was a patient man.

In the distance, he heard war drums change rhythm, and waited. Soon enough, a scout began beating queries nearby. Akeros knew where he was now. As the scout beat on his war drum, Akeros slipped between trees, staying away from the orc's line of sight outward.

When the orc stopped, he was 20 feet from him, crouched behind a root, his hair and skin plastered with mud and stains. In one hand, a looped noose; in the other, a sharp knife.

As the scout sighed and stretched, arms overhead and away from the drum, Akeros moved in. He slashed the drum with the knife to prevent loud sounds, and dropped the noose over the orc's head. The scout struggled, and Akeros took some bruises, a knife in the leg, but death comes swiftly in Akeros' hands - the fight was already over, it just took time for the body to stop struggling.

Akeros was a patient man.

Swiftly and silently, Akeros began moving towards the orc camps. The paired scouts were less stealthy. They simply stayed within sight of each other, as a kind of living fence, and stayed in pairs in case of silent attacks on one.

Akeros, resembling a dirt mound, crawled directly between two "posts" of that living fence. He moved slowly and cautiously, blending as much as possible with the natural dips in the ground, occasionally taking a moment between trees to stretch or pick a new spot to continue. It took an hour to cover 50 feet.

Akeros was a patient man.

Then, ahead, his quarry. An orc carefully identified by loyal Theralis espers as the most powerful shaman in the Breaking Cat tribe. Akeros kept his mind blank, and thought of nothing. His body moved mechanically, taking the actions he'd told himself to, without thinking of what those actions were for.

The spirits had warned the shaman that today would be dangerous, so he periodically checked for ill intent nearby. Akeros attacked moments after he'd assured himself that there was none. A poisoned arrow, burning like acid, sprouted from his chest. He had time to realize that it had punctured a lung when the second one punctured his throat and, gurgling, he fell to the ground.

Akeros ran, and the two nearest warbands gave chase. Pursued by half a hundred orcs, all gaining, Akeros ran as straight as an arrow loosed from the bowstring. He had backup to get him out, an arcanist ready to summon a great bird to lift him away, but the sooner he called for it, the sooner the bird would wink out of existence. He needed it at the last minute, not before, to maximize where it could take him.

Akeros was a patient man, even with half a hundred orcs howling for his head.

Ahead, he saw freedom. He was still out of range of easy hits with the spear, and the bird could get him from here. He yelled the signal, and a giant eagle appeared, diving out of the sky for his position.

Then a spear, thrown from a few hundred feet away, with practically no chance to hit while running... hit. It stabbed into Akeros' back right between the shoulder blades, severing his spine, piercing his heart, and finished punching through to rest against the inside of his sternum. As his heart's blood burst into his chest cavity, the world went red, then black.

The eagle, with no orders other than to grab the human below, picked up the corpse as it flopped and rolled across the ground, and lifted Akeros into the sky.

Somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth, Akeros' soul was dragged, screaming, into the river he named himself after.

Hethas is patient, too.


----------



## Greybar

*That* is an amazing little vignette!

John


----------



## incognito

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

This vignette was very "Godfather"  one too many hits for the patient man.  

That was very very well written however.  

Uh, by any chance, do yyou actually make these rolls (to hit, damage, etc.)  Or are they deterimined events.


----------



## J. Anson

incognito said:
			
		

> *Uh, by any chance, do yyou actually make these rolls (to hit, damage, etc.)  Or are they deterimined events. *




I got the impression that in this case, Hethas passed along enough bonuses to the spear throwers that dice rolls would be impertinent


----------



## seasong

First: rolling dice vs story.

I normally adjust how much dice rolling vs narrative decision according to the needs of the campaign and the comfort zones of my players. With the superhero soap opera I'm running, that means virtually no dice rolls at all (maybe once a session or less).

With Theralis, however, one of the personal challenges I've set has been to make a story out of whatever the dice (or, in really insanely complex situations, averages) give me. Because the PCs are not comfortable with constant dice rolling, I roll a lot of things ahead of time, but the dice still fall (or rather, the spreadsheet random number generator does).

That's not to say that the events are not meaningful. If Akeros died, it was because Hethas sought his soul... and I'll work that into the narrative somewhere. The resulting narrative is a kind of confusion of randomness, my interpretation of it, and whatever goggle-eyed wrenches the PCs throw into the mix (the best part ).

Second: D&D is a difficult, complex system. Handling lots of rolls like that is tedious and boring. So for big battles, or tons of rolls, I tend to do something like this:

Spreadsheet:
A1: random number 1-20
B1: if A1 > 18, random number 1-20
C1: if A1 > 13, d8+5 dmg
D1: if A1 > 18 and B1 > 13, C1*3
E1: DR 10 (_stoneskin_)
F1: D1-E1 (minimum 0)

Twenty rows of that (for the 20 out of 50 orcs who decided to throw their spears at long range in a desparate gamble), and a SUM cell off to the right, and I know exactly how much damage Akeros took, and I can look down Column F1 to see if anyone did spectacular damage.

Most orcs did zero damage. One incredible, maxed out 13x3 crit did 29 hp (from 39) in a single shot. So while several spears clattered off his back, one did enough to kill Akeros in one shot. For purposes of the story, I went with that one as "the one", and narratively ignored the pinpricks from the others.

I love computers.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

What's kind of sad is that the PC's never knew he existed. We won't even know enough to mourn him...stupid orc critical hits.


----------



## Peskara

Great vignette! But I, for one, won't mourn Akeros' passing. I never liked him. I mean, I think he's a great character, but I don't really _like_  him. Especially not if we later find out he killed Chatham, who I really like.


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

"Great dragon, what is it you would speak with me about? Our humble tribe has observed and respected the ways of dragons in all places we have been. My ancestor..."

The kobold tilted its head, and spoke for Amalan in orc, "I am not interested in your history, humble or otherwise." It paused to sweep its arm across an arc covering the orc army in the distance, "Orcs have always been in the wild valleys. Orcs have always observed the compact. This is as it should be, and I do not care where they travel, so long as they leave no more trace than they have in the past."

The kobold hissed the next words, angrily, "But orcs have been careless! In the past four years, two tribes, desperately, have damaged the land. I have been forced to take a direct hand! I have had to heal scars in the earth!"

The war chief, ten times the mass of the small kobold, took a step back, "I, Great Dragon, we have not done these things! We are..."

"Silence! You have not done these things yet. And so it is that I will not destroy you yet. But I have observed carefully, these past few years. The tribes have shifted. They moved east and west like too many tadpoles in an orphaned pool of water, trying to find clear space, and tearing into each other to clear it."

The kobold looked intently at the war chief, "But mostly, the tribes move west. Most of the tribes that have done damage are new tribes, from the east beyond my lands. I would know why, and you have come from the farthest east of any tribe. You will tell me what you know."

Upslope, still trudging slowly and almost out of earshot, Athan almost fell backward for leaning.

The orc looked down at the kobold. It was such a tiny creature, pitiful even compared to the humans, and yet his survival, and the survival of his people, depended upon how he treated it. He was not worried about his people's opinion of him, should he grovel. His people had a long and glorious history of grovelling to dragons - it was simply how you dealt with creatures that could flatten entire tribes. But the appeals to pity and demonstration of humility was not working.

He thought of the human. The human leader had bowed, been respectful, but had calmly accepted judgement rather than beg for better. He could understand that, although it was almost will-breaking to speak so to a dragon. He straightened his shoulders, "Very well. You care nothing for my tribe. You care nothing for our history. I have spoken with two dragons before this. Neither made threatening sounds when my people had done nothing wrong. Neither treated my people's history as armorcat dung."

"I will tell you what you wish to know. You are powerful, and hold dominion over these lands, and I believe you have a right to know. But I will not bend my back to a dragon who can not return respect with respect."

The dragon leaned down, and his voice shook the earth beneath the orc's feet, "*FORGIVE... MY IMPATIENCE. I AM... TIRED... OF THESE PROBLEMS. I WOULD... SEE THEM... SOLVED.*"

The war chief suddenly felt many times better about this approach. A tiny voice in his head was still screaming in fear, but he silenced it, "Oh great dragon, your statement fills my heart. I will tell you what you wish without reservation!"

"Far to the east lies a tribe, the Buhkenahk. They hold a mountain sacred to all orcs, and are a powerful tribe. They are stronger even than us, although they have learned to respect our strength. Ten years ago, one of their tribe came to be known as a mighty warrior of legendary power. In battles, he was said to slay ten enemies with every attack, and to have hurled boulders as might a giant."

"That mighty warrior became their new war chief, and became greedy. He coveted larger lands, and had a vision of orcs united under one name: Buhkenahk. It is a grand vision, and he is not the first orc to have dreamed of such a thing. But I will not be called Buhkenahk, and so I and my people traveled west."

"The life of a nomad is harsh. We can not afford pity for another tribe. We have driven tribes before us as we travelled, and they have in turn driven tribes before them. These are the new tribes you speak of."

"I have grown tired of destroying orcs. I have grown weary of war with my own people."

The orc continued to say more, but Athan and the General had left earshot of the orc's strong voice.


----------



## seasong

Peskara said:
			
		

> Great vignette! But I, for one, won't mourn Akeros' passing. I never liked him. I mean, I think he's a great character, but I don't really _like_  him. Especially not if we later find out he killed Chatham, who I really like.



Heh. No, Akeros is not particularly likeable. Cool, yes, but not likeable.


----------



## incognito

Those orcs in the mountain - is that "THE" mountain?  Where a certian sombody might find a certain special piece of handwear?


----------



## seasong

Note: Unless things change, there is unlikely to be an update today - work is very busy, and I'm still absorbing the events of the weekend and considering how I want to approach them in a narrative structure. I'll take some time this evening to sit down and plot... but that still won't result in an update before tomorrow.

I have to ask my players not to spoiler anything .

_Edit: answer to incognito's question:_


			
				incognito said:
			
		

> Those orcs in the mountain - is that "THE" mountain?  Where a certian sombody might find a certain special piece of handwear?



They might not find handwear, and definitely not a ghost, but the mountain's name is Uggrahd ("up there" in orc), and the orc tribe is Buhkenahk ("broken knuckle" in orc). It's the place to the east that Olgah is travelling toward.


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

Four kobolds watched from various vantage points as the Theralis military planned its next move. They didn't care who won, not really, and it was plain in their bored looks. Somewhere down below, four kobolds did the same with the orcs.

Captain Agina ignored them. She was speaking with two Generals, her voice forceful but her posture relaxed, "The reason we're stalemated is because of the giants. They counter our spellcasters by their presence, and vice versa. What we need..."

"What we need, Captain, is to remove them, yes. Any first year soldier can see that."

Her face flushed, Agina interjected quickly, "What we need is to make them afraid to come out and target spell casters."

"Go on." The General was truly interested in a good solution... he just didn't believe it existed. The charge might have worked, save for the dragon, but now the orcs would expect it... be ready for it.

"I propose having as many flying, invisible arcanists as we can get airborne just within range, then lure the giants out with Kyriotes on the battlefield. As soon as they step out of the trees, the arcanists, our spear throwers, and our slingers hit one of the two with everything they've can in one salvo, then retreat."

"Didn't we already demonstrate that they can spot the invisible arcanists at casting range?"

"Yes... but some careful testing of ranges has indicated that they will only see them at the last second. When the arcanists strike, everyone will strike. We may or may not kill the giant we target, but we'll make them very, very leery of coming out to play."

"I don't like it. You are talking about risking a lot of arcanists for a chance to just _hurt_ one of the giants!"

"Begging your pardon, General, but I also wore out two hundred spearmen, beating on shields, for the sole purpose of rallying our people. Morale has immense power, and fear influences strategy."

"What about Kyriotes? Is he willing to present himself as a target for this? Should WE be willing to present him as such?"

Agina grinned. This part she'd already thought out, "More specifically, are we willing to create an illusion of him?"


----------



## incognito

> Agina grinned. This part she'd already thought out, "More specifically, are we willing to create an illusion of him?"




or even better a _clone_   anyone have some ice handy?

Kyriotes is what level-ish?  I was thinking a very safe way would be for Ky to cast _Project Image_


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Kyriotes is what level-ish?  I was thinking a very safe way would be for Ky to cast _Project Image_



Kyriotes is currently 11th level (he started 10th). However, _project image_ is not available to arcanists, only illusionists and espers. Instead, Agina plans to have an illusionist cast an illusion of Kyriotes casting a spell.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

> Kyriotes is currently 11th level (he started 10th).




*GASP* Damn, now that's a survivor


----------



## incognito

Are the spell lists on your website seasong, old buddy?


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## seasong

Fraid not. I'll try to work on that this weekend, as it's probably past due .

Post will be late today, but there will be one.


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

The plan failed to bring the giants out. For whatever reason, they didn't believe in the Kyriotes casting on the mountainside, and failed to come out of the protective forest... although one shaman did drop a _flaying spirits_ spell on his area, to little effect.

So Kyriotes, buffed as strongly as Theralis could manage, came out for real, and began summoning an _earth serpent_. The difference was amazing. The giants came rushing out as quickly as they could, eager to nail Theralis' most powerful arcanist.

Greppa, aloft and invisible with the other half dozen arcanists Agina was able to get airborne, noticed this and wondered... but by then it was time to drop spells into the head of the giant on the left.

Focusing with all his might, Greppa swiftly cast _sun streaks_ and _sun bolts_ in rapid succession. The first, three tiny motes of light, danced downward and formed a tracer that was swiftly followed by searing, fist sized bolts of light that burned through the air in erratic paths until they impacted the massive humanoid. A half dozen other attack spells, and a veritable hail of spears and sling stones, crashed into the giant shortly after.

Instead of falling, the giant roared, then turned and ran as shamans began unleashing fell spirits into the sky at the arcanists.

Below, Agina's face was grim. "ATTACK! DO NOT LET HIM GET AWAY!"

The century of men and women charged down the slope after the giant, hurtling spears, and Athan, among the Keraunesti halfway up the slope, made a quick bet. "Bet I can hit him."

"The hell you can."

"Celebration bottle?"

"Like it matters, sure."

Athan heaved his spear. It arced up, sailed for a moment, then dropped downslope and slammed through the giant's tough flesh, through the spirit wards the shamans erected on their best warriors, and through the giant's lung.

The other Keraunesti were silent - the spear had gone a good 300 feet for that shot, there was simply no way it was possible. As the giant went down under the assault, Athan just grinned. Giants didn't seem so big a threat, today.


----------



## J. Anson

seasong said:
			
		

> *Breaking Cat*
> 
> For whatever reason, they didn't believe in the Kyriotes casting on the mountainside, and failed to come out of the protective forest... although one shaman did drop a _flaying spirits_ spell on his area, to little effect.




OOG:Is this an effect of the orc's vision, that the illusion did not reproduce Kyriotes in the right range? Is it related to a very general and inspecific divination ("is that really the bastard high-power arcanist?" "no")?



> "Bet I can hit him."




WARNING: do not make bets with twink characters in their specialty. Bet they never saw someone with far shot X 3 before


----------



## seasong

Ack! First, off, typo: that was 300 ft, not 600 ft. Still darned impressive, though - how many people can hurl a spear an entire football field and hit a 12' target at the other end?

(I've editted it above, but... urgh!)

Regarding Kyriotes: Actually, nothing magical was involved, just knowledge and strategy. They were curious why they're most feared enemy would make himself available to their giants, so they held off a bit to see what was up. When no powerful creature came into existence, they knew _something_ was up, so they continued to wait.

Well, except for one shaman who took a pot shot, but he's been reprimanded.

When the earth serpent started to appear, they decided to go for broke - no way they were letting Kyriotes cast freely more than once.

And betting against twinks: Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: The Little Soldier*

Behind the barracks was a small copse of trees, and through the trees, one of the many reasonably sheer slopes that can be found throughout the mountains. It blocked the sun in summer, kept some of the barracks heat in winter, and was blocked off from the open yard. The original designers had chosen the barracks placement to create the spot, so youths in Service would have a place to hang out, out of sight.

Soldiers, of course, tended to use it for grudge fights, where their Captains couldn't see (that it might have been used for trysts as well is, of course, wholly and irredeemably false). Aggie had a grudge, so here she was.

Her opponent was Helanna, a big woman, half-orc and all jerk, whose first decision upon arriving was to find the smallest person in the group and pick on them whenever the Captain wasn't around. That someone was Aggie. Aggie would have said something to the Captain, but she was a Theralis citizen, so she toughed it out.

This morning, however, was too much. Helanna had been in a bad mood, and had quite methodically broken Aggie's spear, saying "What? It's not like you can use it. Would you rather I broke your head?"

Aggie had said yes. And here she was.

Helanna stood six feet, tall among Theralese but short among her orc kindred, with muscles everywhere that she took pride in flexing for Aggie. Aggie was half a head shorter, and while muscled from soldier's work, still barely topped half Helanna's mass.

Helanna sighed, "Let's get this over with" and sucker-punched Aggie, who went down, stunned and hurting. Blood trickled from her upper lip, and she rolled over onto her stomach to get up...

Helanna landed on her, one meaty hand on the back of her head, a knee on the small of her back, "Little prey, you stupid little prey! What made you think you could take me!? Huh!?"

"TO HETHAS WITH YOU!" Aggie grabbed the wrist on her head and rolled, and Helanna, not prepared to defend her balance, toppled off. Aggie didn't bother escaping, she jumped onto Helanna and began punching at the woman's head with her fists. The blows were pitiful, and Helanna recovered enough to kick Aggie off.

Aggie sprawled back, got up, and jumped on Helanna as she was getting up. Her right foot twisted, but she managed to get her left knee into Helanna's stomach, somewhere just below the sternum. Helanna gasped, doubling up, and Aggie, standing up again, kicked her in the face. The kick was not as pitiful as the punches, and Helanna stopped moving.

Some of the other soldiers (some watching for the Captain, some watching for an unfair fight), checked Helanna, then got everyone back into the cabin. Plenty of people fell when climbing some rock or another - unfortunate, but kids will be kids.

Helanna left Aggie alone. And Aggie learned an important lesson about estimating the enemy, and using fear.


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

As the giant fell, the Theralese called to battle, and the shield wall advanced on the orcs. Orders were simple - the orcs were not to have time to think, to regroup, to decide on new tactics involving only one giant.

For the orcs, it was very nearly too much. One giant had fallen to spears, the other was running deeper into the forest. And as they were absorbing the fact that one of their strongest had just fallen, had, indeed, been cut down like an armorcat kit that refused to acknowledge its master, the sound of thunder rolled down the slope as the human army, pounding spears on iron shields, came down to meet them.

Still, the Breaking Cat tribe was not weak. They rallied as best as they could, and soon the war drums were beating and the warriors were fighting... but they were losing the day's battle. They were driven straight to the tree line, before the Theralese withdrew a hundred feet and set up additional shield walls.

The message was clear: We will do this again tomorrow. And you will lose again tomorrow.

The orcs napped fitfully. Their shaman, drawing ragged breaths where an arrow had pierced his throat, suggested a plan to his war chief. The decision was made. In the morning, a sacrifice would be made.

Among the Theralese, Athan was on the shoulders of the Keraunesti. Given an honorary position at the forefront of their wedge (as reward for his spear hurling feat), he had proven himself admirably. He'd turned down a permanent role with them, but had agreed to fight with them anytime he could, and they were providing him a party before the morrow's fight.

For Theralis, it was a good evening.


----------



## incognito

questions. questions, questions

1. Can one 'ride' an armor cat?
2. Greppa's new spells: are they the 'light'  equivalent of his 'old' spells?
3. Orc gods: Where are they?
4. I take it the Theralese soliders are MUCH more experienced (even the average footman) then they were 2 years ago.
5. The vignette: Great!  Will we be seeing more of Aggie?
6.  Heh...you guys know the deal.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> 1. Can one 'ride' an armor cat?



Not built for it. Like Cringer/Battlecat in He-Man, this is one that's a cool image, but not very practical unless you are small enough to sit on the cat's neck.[/QUOTE]2. Greppa's new spells: are they the 'light'  equivalent of his 'old' spells?[/QUOTE]One of them is - _sun bolts_ is _magic missile_ in disguise, but he just lost _shadow strands_ and _shadow servant_. He also discovered recently that I wasn't going to let him acquire the _infernal flame_ spell.







> 3. Orc gods: Where are they?



Orcs recognize that the gods exist, and occasionally make offerings to them when they're about to do something they think the god might not approve of, but they tend to view the gods in much the same way they view dragons - big, powerful entities that don't really care about orcs. Orcs worship their ancestors, who are more generally helpful to orcs, and they venerate (and work with) wilderness spirits.







> 4. I take it the Theralese soliders are MUCH more experienced (even the average footman) then they were 2 years ago.



Straight up, yo. There's also a lot more of them - the past two years, a much higher percentage of soldiers didn't leave Service at the end of their year. For contrast, we will also be seeing a bit in Aglaonis sometime in the near future, where they are much more militarily relaxed.







> 5. The vignette: Great!  Will we be seeing more of Aggie?



You will.


----------



## Delgar

Hey Seasong!

Another great set of updates. I'm looking forward to see what the future holds (i.e. what else gets forced into Theralis!). Just out of curiosity how long have you guys been playing this campaign now?

Anyway, keep up the good work!

Delgar


----------



## seasong

My first post (in Part I) happened the week before we started. I've kept up by session since then (although I've occasionally fallen behind). What I've been writing this week is what we played last Saturday .

So not very long at all (3 months, I think?).

_Edit: Since mid-November, so almost 4 months now, and 6th level. At a wild guess, we should hit 20th sometime around Christmas._


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat, Day 17*

Morning.

At the edge of the forest, an old shaman, his breath whistling through the hole in his neck, led eight orc youths into a central ring of warriors. Upslope, Theralese arcanists panicked - it was reasonably obvious what he was doing, and while they weren't sure what shamanic sacrifices could call down, they knew that they didn't want whatever it was.

Fireballs and other long range attacks rained down the slope, only to be consumed by whatever spirits where protecting the shaman, disappearing in puffs of rent magical energy. Greppa exhausted himself casting, and sat down abruptly. He needed to rest, so he could be more helpful later. And then the youths, as one, raised blade to their own throats, and cut. As their life blood seeped into the ground, there were a few moments of quiet as the forest animals silenced...

An armorcat, ten feet at the shoulder padded out of the forest. It lowered its ponderous head to the shaman's, and Theralis could hear his gleeful laughter as he pointed upslope. The armorcat leapt, covering nearly a fifty feet in a bound, and sprinted into the Theralese shield wall before anyone thought to run.

Kyriotes, as coldly professional as always, began incanting, and the Keraunesti converged on him, protecting him with their meat bodies from however the orcs might try to stop him. The armorcat ignored them, a fatal mistake. Kyriotes summoned a serpent larger than even the gargantuan armorcat, with flesh of granite and eyes of emerald. It sucked in breath, a rasping noise like chalk on shale, and began whipping downslope to the armorcat.

Kyriotes disappeared, invisible again, and the Keraunesti moved in to help fight the armorcat, while the front shield line was assaulted by orc fighting wedges. When the serpent seemed to have things well in tail, Athan led a split-off group of Keraunesti further downslope to help hold a breaking wall.

As soon as Athan was near the front line, the female giant began to move. She'd marked the one who threw that spear at her mate, and had marked his movements since. He wasn't hard to spot - he was taller than most, broad of shoulder, and wearing a white cloak.

Hefting her club, rarely used in battle, she charged through the shield wall to bring it down on his head. Athan managed to shift enough to take only a glancing blow, but even that shook his muscular frame like gelatin. Looking up at her from slightly below the hips, Athan grinned fiercely, and stepped in, punching the butt of his spear into her ankle and shoving into her knee with his shoulder.

She went down, collapsing onto the ground, and soldiers swarmed in to stab her as best they could, though their spears mostly clattered off her shaman-protected flesh. Angrily, she caught Athan on the side of the head, knocking him flat, and together they struggled up, she to run away, him to pursue.

She got almost forty feet before he caught up to her again, this time stabbing the back her knee with his spear, and knocking her flat again.

Above, Greppa watched the fight and realized that Athan was in trouble - an unbelievable athlete, he'd outrun the other soldiers to catch the giant, and orcs were now converging. Using the last dregs of his strength, he began raining fireballs and sun streaks on the orcs that got close...

Athan lept upon the giantess' back, and as she rolled over, dropped onto her throat with his great spear. Her eyes were filled with fear, and an unspoken question died in her throat... how could a human do this?

Then the orcs moved in, and stabbed Athan. Their eyes were tearful, for they admired him greatly. Only the greatest heroes of their history were said to wrestle with giants. But they could not let him live while he was an enemy, and so they stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.

Merideth was practically on top of them before they realized it. The air around her shredded as her _kinetic knives_ found their way through orc flesh, and then she fell upon Athan, sobbing and healing.

For Greppa, the world swam and went black. His strength gone, he hoped he'd done enough, and idly, wondered what Merideth's new spell was.

Athan's body was healed, but his soul had fled. A hero of Theralis was dead.


----------



## Greybar

Wow.  Great sequence, and we certainly see what the dramatic change in the campaign is.  As a player you couldn't ask for a better warrior's death!

I hope we get a proper funeral scene...

John


----------



## Delgar

Woah! Wasn't expecting that one, not one iota!

I'll just shed a quiet tear.

Great read Seasong, keep up the great work!

Delgar


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## seasong

Unfortunately, as with many wars, funerals are one of the first things to become mass produced. Athan will get one more moment in the sun, though, so to speak.

_Edit:_ Also, just as a side note, I'll be posting the new character sheet under Athan's listing in the Rogue's Gallery thread as soon as Athan's replacement gets introduced.

And Delgar... yeah, and after such an impressive display of munchkinism, er, battle prowess, too! (weapon trip rules + rage + high initial STR = a giant that can't stay on its feet). If he'd hung back with the Theralis military machine, he'd be alive... of course, so would the giant.


----------



## SpaceBaby Industries

Let me add another vote for this turn of events both completely unexpected and sufficently dramatic to (hopefully for Athan's player) suffice as an appropriately heroic demise.

I also want to compliment you Seasong, not only for the quality of your posts, but the frequency of them.  The story stays fast paced, not to mention current in my memory.   There are several other well written story hours, but due to sporadic installments, the impact is significantly dilluted.  That is certainly not the case here.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*The Sunborn Mourns*

"Blood and Light"  

The sunlight faded from my eyes as I watched my gilded Athan die. 
Unable to fight by your side, I watched my gilded Athan die.
I had words for you kept in my head, but now they will be never said, 
With Hethas' hand, the orcs did strike, robbing our lives of your light.

I let myself see a time when we were not at the Line. 
Adventuring, the Olympiad, beer and wine, sporting events and such good times.
In the world, we chose, death was always close, 
However, now it hurts the most

I should forgive, but I'm too small for that. 
I will bring my might against Breaking Cat. 
And from my shoulders, their skins will ride.
And only then will my pain subside


----------



## Greybar

Thanks Greppa, that will assuage my need for much of a funeral scene for mighty Athan. [snif]

John


----------



## J. Anson

*tasteless*

*Don't read*

I _told_ you that nobody would accuse Athan of having a conflict of interest with the orcs.

A wonderfully heroic ending. I hope the replacement character lives up to his example. (I also wonder whether his replacement will be favored by Allas?)


----------



## seasong

*Breaking Cat*

As Athan fell, Theralis was closing the gap around the giant's body. The soldiers were tired of giants, tired of shamans, tired of giant armorcats and orcs that wouldn't just go away.

As the armorcat spirit died between the coils of Kyriotes' new extraplanar friend, Theralis soldiers dragged the giant's corpse out of reach of the orcs. And by nightfall, they had erected the corpse on a crude stand so that it hung, all twelve feet of it, in a pose of bitter defeat, the head tilted toward the heavens as if for mercy.

At dawn, Theralis attacked again, driving the orcs into the forest before retreating to their line a hundred feet upslope. Over the course of the day, Captain Agina led two charges, both targetting specific orc targets. For some reason, General Phitios had been distressed about the shaman, so that was her first target (several of her hand-picked men died, alongside one arcanist, but the shaman went down); her other was the war chief, but that failed miserably, and she was forced to retreat.

Still... Theralis smelled blood in the water. It was a rough time to be an orc.


----------



## incognito

HOLY CRAP!

Athan...dead?!!?

I almost can't believe it!...But I bet I know why Meredith was crying (insert evil smirk)

Q: Did the player know what was coming, and died heroically, or did he over estimate Athan gross-ness.

PS: Alas, poor Athan - I knew him well.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Q: Did the player know what was coming, and died heroically, or did he over estimate Athan gross-ness.



Got focused on killing the giant, thought he could make it back before the orcs jumped him, thought stoneskin would keep him alive... and started at near full hit points (despite smacks from the giant's club - low rolls + stoneskin).

As far as the heroism of the death... when Greppa went out on flying duty, when Merideth put herself between Athan's body and stabbing spears, when Athan charged and tripped the giant... any of these could have ended badly, and would have been heroic. The PCs _are_ heroes, and patriots, and soldiers. And they act it. All three characters would lay down their lives to save Theralis, if that's what it took (even Merideth, however much she might deny it).

Part of the fun is living vicariously in this more primitive, more primal, more exciting life .


----------



## J. Anson

Am I understanding the idea behind the orc sacrifices correctly? Is it, strictly, just a sacrifice to collect power to make the summons (or to power the communication with the ancestors/wilderness spirits, to ask for help), or is it using the slain orcs' spirits themselves to do the bidding? I ask because when it was described the previous time (Olgah's Revenge) it seemed like the orcs' themselves were recast as wolves, but this time there didn't seem to be any strong link between the armorcat spirit and the orcish sacrifices.

It would seem pretty twisted if the internal logic was "sacrifice an orc, he becomes an ancestor spirit with vested interest in the current affairs, get help from this ancestor spirit with the offer of future reverence."

And I sorta expect twisted internal logic.


----------



## Talix

GAH! 

I was getting all set to post great admiration for the awesomeness of the vignettes, and the heroism of the characters, and the general amazingness of the quality and quantity of your writing...

but GAH!  :-(  Poor Athan.  Definitely a heroic death, one that will be long remembered.

...and on that note, can't wait to see the replacement!


----------



## seasong

J. Anson said:
			
		

> Am I understanding the idea behind the orc sacrifices correctly? Is it, strictly, just a sacrifice to collect power to make the summons (or to power the communication with the ancestors/wilderness spirits, to ask for help), or is it using the slain orcs' spirits themselves to do the bidding? I ask because when it was described the previous time (Olgah's Revenge) it seemed like the orcs' themselves were recast as wolves, but this time there didn't seem to be any strong link between the armorcat spirit and the orcish sacrifices.



Olgah petitioned her ancestors for strength, and used that strength as an offering to the wolf spirits. To increase the strength of the deal with the wolves, she sacrificed the other surviving orcs. The armorcat tribe did essentially the same thing.

Among orcs, however, vengeance is a much more powerful "thing" than "help us win this war". Part of Olgah's deal with the wolf spirits was that her comrades would be able to participate in the vengeance.







> It would seem pretty twisted if the internal logic was "sacrifice an orc, he becomes an ancestor spirit with vested interest in the current affairs, get help from this ancestor spirit with the offer of future reverence."



That would be cool, but an "ancestor spirit" derives its power from that "future reverence". They start weak.

Note: all of this is, I'm sure, going to bring down a horde of questions about the game system for shamans . It's actually the same as for arcanists, healers, espers, etc.

Where the rules differ is that shamans have spells that let them interact with the spirit world, and make bargains with the entities there. It's sort of like when Greppa asks Captain Agina to help him find the Theralis citizens held by the Wolf Bit tribe - the small army she sent with him is vastly out of proportion to any creature he could summon. In BOTH cases, it takes time and effort and promises of various sorts; neither is immediately combat useful, but either can be very powerful with proper preparation.


----------



## seasong

Talix said:
			
		

> I was getting all set to post great admiration for the awesomeness of the vignettes, and the heroism of the characters, and the general amazingness of the quality and quantity of your writing...
> 
> but GAH!  :-(  Poor Athan.  Definitely a heroic death, one that will be long remembered.



Does that mean no admiration?


----------



## Inez Hull

Athan dead, dang didn't see that coming. 

Seasong, don't suppose Meredith got or will get the opportunity to make a sacrifice to Allas like Greppa did to bring back Athan?


----------



## Greybar

You know, there's an important element here that I think divides styles of campaigns.  I'm not saying that one way or another is better, but to illustrate and exagerate:

One style of game, generally high-action, ends with dead characters on every odd-numbered episode (maybe every prime-numbered episode).  The players let loose a few choice curses and roll up another one.

Another style of game can go for a year or more without a death, and when one comes everyone (including the GM) scrambles for a way to make the death not be permanent as soon as possible.  The cast of heroes is essentially constant throughout the story.

A third option is somewhere in the middle.  Death is rare, but when it comes it is shocking and permanent.  I think this is a great balance - the players know that death is real and a risk, and that hightens the experience.  Perhaps the death can be overcome, but it takes a campaign arc of player-months to bring the person back, or comes at the cost of something precious and plot worth (a hero's crown, or their soul).

I think it's a great testament to seasong and his players that all of us readers and hangers-on feel a shock and loss at Athan's passing.  If Merideth simply tries to mimic Greppa and succeeded, it would have cheapened both Athan and Merideth.  But leaving both Merideth and Greppa in tears is a wonderful ending to that scene (and very Greek tragedy!)

Anyway, end of rambling divergence, move along, move along.

John


----------



## Talix

Graybar - I definitely agree with your analysis.  I really don't understand the "kill a character every other session" style of play - don't you invest ANY personal involvement into your characters?  But like you said, the other extreme takes away from the enjoyment of the game.  Finding the balance is crucial.  

For instance right now the current group I game with tends to go too far into the "PCs never die" area.  I don't feel even remotely scared for my character very often.

But anyway, yes, admiration and kudos, seasong.


----------



## Serpenteye

Talix said:
			
		

> *But anyway, yes, admiration and kudos, seasong.   *




Indeed


----------



## seasong

*Dreaming*

Greppa slipped into dark slumber, still hurting from the loss of his beautiful friend, and found himself standing in bright sunlight, among the pillars of the Kept of Allas. The Stone was on a stone table in the center, and sitting upon the table, a hand lightly laid upon the stone, was Athan. But not Athan as he had died - here he was radiant and calm.

"Hello Greppa, Merideth." And Greppa looked, an Merideth was beside him.

They both ran to him, clasping him in their arms, and he laughed lightly as he hugged them back. Excited words were exchanged without meaning, until his face grew momentarily grave, "Worry not for me, my friends, my purpose is here and it is good. But you must continue to fight in mortal coils."

Merideth, eyes wide, "What do you mean?"

"Our work is not yet done. Allas still has purpose for us, and it must be completed. I... I can not tell you the specifics." And with that, his gaze passed through them to some distant point, soem vision, perhaps, that he saw from the realm of the dead, "I can not tell you that, but I can give you some guidance. There is another servant of Allas, in Aglaonis, whom you should seek out. He will be valuable in coming days."

Greppa furrowed his brow, working hard to think while in a dreamlike state, "What's his name? Where will we find him?"

Athan laughed again, "You will find him. He is guided, as you are."

Greppa and Merideth awoke simultaneously. With the barest minimum of words, they got dressed, and went to find Captain Agina. It was time to go back to Aglaonis.


----------



## seasong

Raising the dead and such is far, far more difficult in Theralis than in standard D&D. The _raise dead_ spell has been bumped to 7th level, and costs the caster a bunch of XP... and Kyriotes, at 11th, is the highest level caster of any sort in Theralis!

As for a sacrifice to Allas, I would expect something like giving her life for his or something similar - the gods don't like to give the dead back. In this sense, Theralis is closer to myth than standard D&D.

There are other ways of bringing someone back, of course. The necromantic gate to Hethas' realm to the far north, for example... but that's a legendary quest, and not one they are quite ready to attempt (especially given the Theralis views on necromancy and the cult near that gate). Greybar's analysis is pretty spot-on, although my campaigns tend to have less PC death, just by virtue of the type of campaign (more politics & relationships, less combat) that I tend to run.

Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful comments!

And Serpenteye, welcome to the readership .


----------



## Occam's Nail File

This is what I get for not reading the thread through most of the week.  Poor little Athan.  Still, the genuine threat of death occasionally has to be carried through in order to remain genuine...


----------



## seasong

Never posts Mondays,
The wind wills change, but then fades,
Inspiration dies.

Ugh... I'll try again this evening. Suffice it to say, we'll be meeting the new scion of Allas soon .


----------



## incognito

*possible to be a monk in your world?*

I was wondering if it was feasible for someone to generate a monk like character wusing your build system.  I did not notice a way to amke wisdom increase your AC, but there were other ways to build AC.

Wondering how you might simulate some of a monk's special powers.


----------



## seasong

Answered this in Rogue's Gallery.


----------



## seasong

*Trip to Aglaonis*

Captain Agina, her arm twisted so far it hurt, let them go, and tried not to let them suspect her reservations. Thelanna had invoked the fear of the Gods themselves with Phitios earlier in the night, and Phitios had made it clear to Agina that as costly as it was to lose to spell casters during a time of war, it would be costlier still to lose the perpetually lit battlefield against orcs.

Fighting orcs in the dark was hard, but could not be afforded against Breaking Cat orcs.

So she smiled, and nodded in an understanding manner, and let them go. And then she prayed and prayed and prayed that they made it safely through the wilderness with neither guide nor soldiers around them.

Thelanna had been clear on that, as well.

Unaware of the political currents about them, Greppa and Merideth arrived at Eastpass, and began to head north through the wilderness.


----------



## incognito

*I'm spoiled*

I'm spoiled becasue for 1,000 posts or so seasong has been all over this story hour posting vignettes, and whatnot.

After a brief Monday I thought we'd get a long long long update.  Awwww!  This one was nice, but felt like a percursor. Work is that busy, huh...



**Need to know who the 'new' Athan is!


----------



## seasong

*Sword & Stone of Aglaonis*

Surprisingly enough, the trip was surprisingly uneventful, despite the dangers of travelling in so small a group. Merideth and Greppa had plenty of time to think, and plan, and ultimately decided that the best place to look for Allas' new chosen was at the largest temple to Allas they could find in the city.

Finding it, in a city older, larger and even (if possible) less organized than Theralis, however, was a chore. Finally, Greppa managed to drag Merideth off the streets and into a shop, where Greppa asked for directions.

They met Bellos shortly after that, and developed an instant dislike for the person attempting to fill Athan's immense shoes. Taller than either of them, and reasonably athletic looking, he was nonetheless a midget compared to Athan, and an anorexic midget at that. Dark, curly locks framed a tan, unshaven face and dark, dangerous blue eyes. With an Aglaonese meat cleaver slung across his back, a fur-lined jacket and heavy oiled cloak, his intense gaze made him look like some madman fresh out of the wilderness.

It began innocuously enough. They ignored the wild man hanging out by the temple doors, and strode, twin white cloaks sweeping behind them, into the center. With chins high and eyes stern, they requested an audience with the head priest, and upon meeting with said august personage, explained their dreams and that they were looking for someone "guided" to the temple.

The priest grinned, and pointed at the door. Or rather, the guy standing by it. He was ignoring them, as well - to his eyes, they looked like just another pair of youthful acolytes. He wasn't a day older, mind, but he was weathered at least.

Greppa and Merideth walked back to the door, Greppa leading with, "Ah, hello. We had a vision that led us here, to meet someone. You, perhaps. Do you happen to have something like this?" And he pulled his tunic down at the neck to reveal his birthmark in the sign of Allas.

He just nodded, carefully measuring the pair, but said, "It ain't where I want to show yeh, though."

Greppa's already dark skin deepened a notch. Merideth just raised an eyebrow - healers don't get far without seeing some really ugly body parts. Regaining his composure, Greppa pressed on, "Well, in that case, we... and yourself, apparently... are the chosen of Allas. The birthmark is her sign to us. We don't know all of what we are intended for yet, but we know it starts in Theralis. Will you join us?"

"What's yeh name?"

"Greppa. And this is Merideth."

"Mine's Bellos. I'd love to go with yeh, but we've got a fight goin' with orcs at Trappin' Pass. I'm only here cuz o' the dreams. I was headin' back next."

Greppa, irritated, looked at Merideth. She knew how to stoke the fires of heroism better than anyone. Merideth, meanwhile, was looking appraisingly at Bellos. He seemed honest, if a bit backwater, so she counteroffered, "What if we helped with this fight? Would you come with us then?"

"Sure. I just ain't goin' to leave 'em in a lurch. They're expectin' my help."

That, at least, impressed the pair. Greppa, as valuable as he was to Theralis, could be done without - perhaps this young man was a worthy successor. The three left the temple, to see what they could do at Trapping Pass.

*"Field of Battle"*

Perhaps not.

Greppa and Merideth surveyed the battlefield, and it was all they could do not to sneer with Theralis superiority. Several dozen camps of humans, carrying those ridiculous swords over their backs, were scattered about the top end of the slope. The orcs, almost a mirror image of the Aglaonis "organization", we scattered about at the bottom end of the slope.

"It's between fights," Bellos offered helpfully. Somewhere down below, an orc, possibly betting with his peers, hurled a spear upslope, missing a camp by a few feet. The Aglaonese startled to their feet, yelling imprecations downslope while the orcs laughed.

As far as Greppa could see, what arcanists Aglaonis had were still safely in their towers. They certainly weren't here. "Bellos... I'm an arcanist. I can do some pretty impressive stuff. Would your people be offended if I routed these orcs?"

There was a long pause. Bellos just stared at him, then, "No, but we could ask one o' the captains."

Within minutes of that, Greppa was airborne, picking an altitude where he could drop _fireballs_ accurately without fear of spears. Within minutes of that, as he dropped conflagration after conflagration on the open areas, the orcs were howling into the woods. Greppa landed, irritation evident on his face, "You want to fight real orcs, come with us."

Bellos, quietly studying the tiny little black man, just nodded.


----------



## seasong

*Re: I'm spoiled*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> I'm spoiled becasue for 1,000 posts or so seasong has been all over this story hour posting vignettes, and whatnot.
> 
> After a brief Monday I thought we'd get a long long long update.  Awwww!  This one was nice, but felt like a percursor. Work is that busy, huh...



I was working on it while you were posting this . I feel another Aggie vignette coming on next. And possibly some background on...

HYDRAS. And let me just say, the PCs were thrilled (THRILLED, I tell you) to learn about the hydras of Greek myth.


----------



## Greybar

> Within minutes of that, as he dropped conflagration after conflagration on the open areas, the orcs were howling into the woods. Greppa landed, irritation evident on his face, "You want to fight real orcs, come with us."




SNORT!

Give the heroes a bit of power and they get this big attitude problem...

love it

John


----------



## Barastrondo

seasong said:
			
		

> *I was working on it while you were posting this . I feel another Aggie vignette coming on next. And possibly some background on...
> 
> HYDRAS. And let me just say, the PCs were thrilled (THRILLED, I tell you) to learn about the hydras of Greek myth. *




(puts envelope to head) "What has nine heads and counting, and more poison than the dealer's room of AssassinCon '34?"

Hee hee. Can't wait for this one.


----------



## seasong

*Monsters*

*The Hydra*

_In Greek myth, the second labor of Herakles was to slay (or at least end the terrifying reign of) the Hydra of Lernaea. The hydra of that myth was a creature of the swamp who would go out onto the plains of Lernaea and ravage cattle and country both. It had nine heads, eight mortal and one (the middle one) immortal. It was not killed, but instead trapped - Herakles cut off its eight mortal heads (while Iolaus used a torch to burn the stumps), then cut off and pinned its immortal head under a rock._

Theralis: The original Hydras is a long dead demigod, the spawn of Ogalos and Ophalas, respectively the god of deep currents and an shoreside fawn (female satyr). Hydras was born a fat-bodied serpent with goat-like forelegs, three coral snake heads, and three tails. Ophalos was horrified by the monster birthed from her womb, but Ogalos was delighted with its appearance, so he fogged her mind to let her see the child as beautiful. After a year and a day, the serpentine child bit her nipple as it suckled, and Ophalos bled to death.

Hydras fled the sea, fearful of its fathers' wrath, and hid in mountain swamps for several decades, feeding on those who happened by and the random forage into a village or two. Hydras was eventually killed when it was driven by a group of heroes to the sea, where Ogalos raised a mighty wave and dragged Hydras into the sea to die.

Before Hydras was slain in this way, however, it bore a number of young in the swamps who, while not quite like their parent (they took on the traits of different serpents of the swamp that Hydras bred with), possessed many of the same qualities. Those eventually became the hydra known today.

Dwelling in swamps, lakes, deep rivers and other places of the wild, the hydra is a dangerous brute. Most of them retain enough divine blood in their veins to regenerate wounds almost as swiftly as they are taken, and when one head is slain, two heads grow in its place, germinating in the body's flesh before pushing forth from the wound. Some species are poisonous, while others grow from the northern winter cobra (with white mantles and frosty breath, they are easy to discern) or the burnserpent (also easy to discern by its brilliant red throat), while still others stem from more harmless varieties of snake. All are dangerous, however, as they are generally 20-30 feet in length and nearly ten tons in weight, and terribly vicious.

Most are dully colored other than their heads, with pale underbodies and torsos spotted much like a young deer for camouflage. Although ponderous, they are capable of very rapid charges for short distances, and, while practically unheard of in Theralis (where no sizable lakes exist, and no swamps at all), they are known.


----------



## seasong

Barastrondo said:
			
		

> (puts envelope to head) "What has nine heads and counting, and more poison than the dealer's room of AssassinCon '34?"



A grant committee? (ow... sorry)


----------



## seasong

Ugh, no time left at work today, so it looks like no Aggie vignette today.


----------



## J. Anson

*Color me unsurprised*



> Surprisingly enough, the trip was surprisingly uneventful, despite the dangers of travelling in so small a group.




Don't you mean _surprisingly_ small a group?


----------



## seasong

It is surprising, because every other time they've set foot in the wilderness, something really nasty has been in their way (except those times they were in a very large group, or had a very good guide). Not that the movement of orcs from the east has caused a mass migration of things normally deep in the wilderness.

No, nothing like that.


----------



## Serpenteye

> And Serpenteye, welcome to the readership .




Thank you and, eh, thank you for your excellent SH. Thank you also to your skillful players for their essential contribution to your masterpiece.



> Greppa and Merideth surveyed the battlefield, and it was all they could do not to sneer with Theralis superiority. Several dozen camps of humans, carrying those ridiculous swords over their backs, were scattered about the top end of the slope. The orcs, almost a mirror image of the Aglaonis "organization", we scattered about at the bottom end of the slope.




In light of that military superiority why is it that Theralis hasn't yet conquered (or attempted to conquer) their softer yet richer neigbours? A few years without any orcish raids, a swift mobilization, some intelligent planning and victory would be pretty certain. It would seem reasonable that a society that is cohesive and militarized to such degree as Theralis would have the political will to expand their borders to increase their long term strength. The cost-benefit ratio to a successful invasion would be well worth it in the long term and the large military of Theralis shouldn't have much trouble keeping the population of the conquered country down until it has acclimated itself to their new masters. The common religion and similar culture of the two countries would make the integration of the two societies relatively easy. Theralis seems pretty goodly, though, maybe that's why.

Maybe I'm just a hopeless imperialist,  

Also, I've always wondered. Why hasn't Theralis fortified the passes leading into their valley (particularly the one the orcs are repeatedly trying to pass trough? A mere wall would do some difference. A couple of towers on the mountain-sides to throw stones from high enough that giants couldn't throw back and some arcanists for support and they could slaughter any number of orcs without a single casualty.

Oh, and btw. no offence was intended with my questions, just curious.


----------



## seasong

Serpenteye said:
			
		

> Oh, and btw. no offence was intended with my questions, just curious.



Believe me, I loooove questions .







> In light of that military superiority why is it that Theralis hasn't yet conquered (or attempted to conquer) their softer yet richer neigbours?



Partially, because this is D&D, and that there wilderness is damned dangerous - and Aglaonis is a good ways to the north, hence the trade route and fortified caravans (our favorite greedy merchant from Part I was unusual). The dragon (Amalan) is also a consideration. Any major military push through the wilderness would have to be very careful about how much damage they did on their way to the field of battle.

And Aglaonis isn't a pushover by any means - they could be conquered, but it would cost. Theralis has to weigh that somewhat unknown cost against an also unknown benefit. As they become militarily more strong, however, that will eventually become a serious consideration.

Particularly if the orcs can be shoved/diverted north, away from Theralis, to weaken Aglaonis and allow Theralis to swoop in, save the day, and "help rebuild".







> It would seem reasonable that a society that is cohesive and militarized to such degree as Theralis would have the political will to expand their borders to increase their long term strength.



Indeed, they have the military will to do many things we might find distasteful in our quiet modern age. Particularly once they've got their war dander up (which I believe they could be said to have, by now ).







> Theralis seems pretty goodly, though, maybe that's why.



Nah . What you're seeing in Greppa is the first stages of "their military SUCKS; well, that's because they are innately inferior; well, maybe we should help them; maybe we should rule them".







> Also, I've always wondered. Why hasn't Theralis fortified the passes leading into their valley (particularly the one the orcs are repeatedly trying to pass trough?



Eastpass is pretty well fortified by a human wall. It's narrow, and more easily accessed from the interior of the valleys. As has been proven, a few hundred soldiers can make it nigh-impassable. Any more fortification there would render it useless for trade... and Theralis HAS to have that trade.

Theralis Ridge is a bit different - it's steep enough that it hasn't needed walls, and it's useless for trade. The idea that it would be seriously attacked was ludicrous prior to a few years ago - and one of the difficulties the orcs have had in penetrating the shield wall has been the fact that the shields are above them on the slope.

Theralis itself HAS walls, but the idea of covering the entire ridge with a wall simply wasn't considered necessary until recently... and the idea has been slow to catch on, due to its expense, difficulty, and the niggling possibility that Amalan might consider a wall far enough downslope to be useful "encoraching".

On the other hand, once the Olympiad is over, a fair amount of funds may be freed up for just such a thing.







> A mere wall would do some difference. A couple of towers on the mountain-sides to throw stones from high enough that giants couldn't throw back and some arcanists for support and they could slaughter any number of orcs without a single casualty.



That's actually how they viewed the human shield wall up until recently (Theralis tactics haven't really had to evolve in warfare in several hundred years - they've only been facing western orcs). The idea of facing giants in war was considered ludicrous, and the idea of 800+ pound armorcats fighting on behalf of the enemy was considered ludicrous, and the idea that shamans could return _fireball_ fire was considered ludicrous, etc.

That Theralis is holding up as well as they are in the face of a changed battlescape says a lot for them. That they are going to improve drastically (and have improved drastically) is inescapable, and possibly something to be feared.


----------



## Serpenteye

Sounds like interesting times ahead.


----------



## seasong

Somewhat off-topic:

I've been running a macabre horror campaign for one of my (non-Theralis) players, and the player has been keeping a story hour. It's not something that I think I can recommend to y'all, because it's very different from Light Against the Dark, but I think the writing is very nice, and some of you might decide you like it, so I'm posting it here.

A few disclaimers:

*Not The Same:* It's not at all like Light Against the Dark, it's not D&D, it's not heroic power fantasy.

*Action Lite:* The story starts slow (there is a lot of buildup), and the action is mostly cerebral and emotional, rather than action scenes or booms.

*Academia Lite:* There's no _academia_ - it's all from the players' point of view - and things are only ever partially explained.

*Horror:* The easily offended should probably stay out. The imagery is at times macabre, sexual, and/or grotesque. The basic theme is that Lewis Carroll's Wonderland is a bright and cheery reflection of a darker truth, that numerous authors, madmen and prophets throughout history have caught glimpses of something that lay behind shadows and mirrors and dark dreams... and that the main character has stumbled into that.

There are torture scenes, gothy angst, vile characters. There are characters that make me feel sticky and creepy roleplaying. You may read this and decide that I and the player are freaks.

There is no victory planned at the end.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With all that said... it's a pretty good story so far. You can find it here: http://pub21.ezboard.com/fseasongsmusefrm9. Obligatory Warning: Not appropriate for Eric's Grandmother, children, or the easily offended.


----------



## Indigo Veil

> You may read this and decide that I and the player are freaks.




Hah. And if they thought that you and I were freaks _before_...? ^.^;;




> There is no victory planned at the end.




...funny how often you keep reminding me of that... ;;

<returns the thread to seasong's very fine SH, and whispers into seasong's ear, "more Aggie vignettes..."> ^_^


----------



## seasong

_Oops - I just realized I never completed this one. This happens AFTER her fight behind the barracks, which is probably why I forgot it. So... here it is again, completed this time._

*Vignette: The Little Soldier*

Her year of Service was a surprise to everyone. Despite dire predictions of her own ability, Aggie turned out to be exceptionally fast and deadly with the spear, and what she lacked in strength, she more than made up for with devoted mastery of the forms.

Aggie liked the heft of the spear in her hands, the violent dance of movements that allowed her to own the field of combat. She liked formations, orderly processions of shield and spear, the logical application of simple principles to achieve maximum fighting strength with minimum numbers.

She was vaguely considering becoming a performer, dancing with the spear, when her group was dispatched to drive off a black hound haunting a vineyard near Eastpass. The plan was to drive it into the open, where it could be set upon by the entire century of soldiers.

The first thing to die in any battle, of course, is the plan.

*Hunter and Hunted*

A black hound is a malevolent creature of lurking intelligence. While the soldiers were working their way through among the grape vines with spear and torch, it had dug itself a small hole and covered itself in dirt, further concealed by artfully arranged vines. A soldier passed by it, unaware - holding the torch near the vine had reflected back only dirt, and discerning the shape of the dirt was too difficult for so quick a glance.

When the soldier passed, the hound confirmed there was no one behind him, and then began stealthily padding the opposite direction toward the Captain.

Agina, fear welling like bursting song in her chest, gripped her spear and looked and looked. She half hoped she would stumble across it first, so that she would have a chance to test the half-formed fantasies of bracing the spear against its charge and heaving it overhead into a vine trellis.

Instead, she heard the Captain sob, the start of a scream, the low-toned intake of breath, cut too short to rise in pitch. While other soldiers were still not sure what they'd heard, Agina yelled, "ITS BEHIND US! TO THE CAPTAIN!"

They ran back, to find the hound pulling meat from the Captain's neck. It fled, and they stumbled after it as it smoothly shifted into a long-legged lope. It hoped to find another vineyard to hide in, to evade pursuit as long as needed.

The first thing that dies in any battle is the plan. Agina, after she'd yelled, had moved laterally, trying to determine where it might run to hide. While the hound was zig-zagging down the road and through vineyards, Agina made a beeline upslope, then down, cutting the shortest path rather than the easiest.

As she ran, she pounded on doors, yelling "Black hound! Help!" as they opened their doors. Not every citizen who heard her came, but Theralis was built on a militant citizenry, and a few had spears that they picked up and chased after her with, while others grabbed the nearest grape club or stone pestle.

As the hound rounded the mountain road as it wound its way along the edge of the valley, Agina and a few dozen civilians ambushed it. That held it long enough for the soldiers to arrive, and the hound died, and took too few with it to brag about.

Agina became a squad leader by the next morning. But she never got a chance to try setting her spear against the black hound.


----------



## seasong

*Breaking the Siege*

With the giants dead (one still gruesomely erected over the battlefield), the loss of their shaman, and the deaths of many armorcats and warriors, the Breaking Cat tribe decided that they'd had enough for now. Licking their wounds, they disappeared overnight, covering overland terrain in the way that only disciplined orcs can. They were gone to the east again, to rest, recuperate, and plan how best to visit vengeance upon their enemies.

Greppa felt cheated of some needed venting. Merideth was just relieved. Bellos, absorbing stories from Theralis soldiers, began to wonder what he'd gotten into.

As the remainder of the summer passed, the Tattered Tribe returned (shortly after Breaking Cat left) and began guarding the Eastpass areas again. Winter began to set in, and plans for the Olympiad began to set in motion.

Greppa and Merideth grieved briefly, for Athan would have been in many of the contests they would have wanted to see, but decided that the best send-off for Athan's spirit would be to live the Olympiad to the hilt.

As the day grew nearer, Greppa also made sure that Captain Agina was prepared for an orc attack... He was one of many, of course - Theralis was in no way planning to leave the border unguarded, and soldiers were working and playing in shifts, to compensate.

And then the celebration arrived, and spirits were high.


----------



## incognito

Is there _anyone_ who belive this olympiad will go as planned?

By the way, senor-seasong, kudo's on a lenghty update!  We have met Athan's replacement - but...we are in the dark about what he can do, aren't we?

Just three Q's today
1.  To what extent has Greppa's ability to fly hindered adventure design (little, medium, lots)
2. Was thier a 'level' penalty for Athan's player? I assume not, as this game is more about the playing than the power.
3. Can we get a vingette/insight into giant society?  Those big boys are dying, and it seems liek conscription into the orc armies is suicidal.  HOw to the giant's moms n' pops take it?


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## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Is there _anyone_ who belive this olympiad will go as planned?



Not among the PCs, certainly.







> We have met Athan's replacement - but...we are in the dark about what he can do, aren't we?



I forgot to write up their wilderness encounter on the way back - I'll try to do that tonight or tomorrow. It was just a straight up fight, with minor acts of heroism, so it just honestly didn't stand out to me... but it does showcase everyone's roles and abilities fairly well. It also features a hydra, which was a plus .







> 1.  To what extent has Greppa's ability to fly hindered adventure design (little, medium, lots)



Well, that depends on what you mean by the question . I have little sticky notes to myself on "things to keep in mind", and Greppa's ability to fly (or impart flight on someone else) is one of those things.

The ability to fly does remove certain _types_ of scenario I can produce, such as difficulty crossing a bridge, unless I'm willing to contort a bit (the "difficulty" is a toll giant with a lot of boulders to throw and a good, long range).

But for purposes of challenges... some of them I just design with the intent that if someone _isn't_ flying, it can't be done. Then I make sure that Greppa is tired from other spell casting before he arrives at the challenge, and he has the option of heroically exhausting himself casting _fly_, or trying to find some other way so that he can still cast when he reaches whatever I've put at the other side... .







> 2. Was thier a 'level' penalty for Athan's player? I assume not, as this game is more about the playing than the power.



You assume correctly.







> 3. Can we get a vingette/insight into giant society?  Those big boys are dying, and it seems liek conscription into the orc armies is suicidal.  HOw to the giant's moms n' pops take it?



Heh . I may write a vignette about the Breaking Cat tribe trying to hornswaggle a giant into helping them "with this little problem we're having out west". Not today, though - I've got deadlines at work .


----------



## Talix

Wow, cool stuff.  I really like how the new character is seeing everything from an outsider's viewpoint.  

Cool to have their orc allies back, and I look forward to the celebration!    Agina was awesome too, of course.


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## seasong

_Note: this happened BEFORE the party arrived back in Theralis from Aglaonis, AFTER picking up Bellos. I forgot to write it in, so here it is._

*Sign of the Times*

Greppa and Merideth were telling more stories about Athan. Bellos was attempting to listen, but really, there's only so many times you can hear about when Athan lifted _this_ big heavy thing or wrestled _that_ big strong thing before it got a bit weary on the soul. It was almost with relief that he saw something moving among the trees, and as he was pointing, the relief turned to fear.

It wasn't an earth serpent, coming up from the depths for a look about. It wasn't a black bear. It wasn't anything Bellos might have wanted to point at as a beautiful thing of nature to distract the two.

It was a gods-damned hydra. Easily twenty feet in length, with massive, hoofed legs in front and five fawn-spotted python heads, it spotted the trio about the same time they spotted it. Hissing with something between rage and glee, it charged at the group, heads grasping forward as it closed the gap.

Greppa didn't pause to think - he scrambled backwards and away from the monster, his hands prepping _sun streaks_ while his legs prepped distance. Somewhere in Greppa's brain, away from all of the action and adrenaline and anxiety, some part of him realized, _Damn, Bellos is fast..._

While Greppa was watching his _sun streaks_ sunburn the hide of the monster, Bellos was closing the distance to the hydra, a sling in hand. As he got close enough for a good shot, the sling, whistling in his hand, released the stone with sufficient force to force a grunt from the creature, and Bellos backed off to cover Merideth again.

Merideth just waited, hands crackling and eyes steady. And then it was upon them, missing Bellos with snake-like strikes. Bellos just yelled at it, egging it on, daring it to try again as he started to pull out his oversized meat cleaver. Greppa, taking a terrible chance, stepped close briefly to summon a spirit of elemental earth in the form of _stoneskin_ into Bellos. He took a bite for his trouble, but managed it, and retreated again.

Then, combat. Not pretty, not fast, just close teamwork between three seasoned warriors to take down an abomination of the gods. Merideth killed the life force of one head after another, occasionally pausing to heal Bellos or herself, while Bellos efficiently whacked off one to two heads at a time. After the first pair grew back, Greppa switched to _fire servants_ to cauterize the wounds the other two dealt and abort the growth of new heads.

When they were done, nine heads lay on the ground, and five blackened heads remained. Fourteen necks twitched in death throes, and, just to be certain, the trio whacked the corpse into bits.

The spell casters were exhausted, and Bellos was still gravely wounded, but they decided to move on rather than risk facing scavengers. Somewhere in Greppa's dim memories of Hurath's books, he remembered that wyverns were scavengers... They hurried on to Theralis.


----------



## seasong

Just a note: I probably won't be able to update anything else today, as I have major work to do and meetings to attend.


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## Greybar

Seasong,

Thanks for all of the updates recently.  There has been quite a frenzy of them, which just drives all of us fan-boys into a frenzy as well.  But yeah, that life thing comes along sometimes to.  We'll wait, even if we whine sometimes...

John


----------



## incognito

> as I have major work to do and meetings to attend.




...and miles to go before I sleep,

and miles to go before I sleep.


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: Big Stump*

Long ago, there was a giant named Big Stump. He would find a mostly dead tree, grasp the top and kick it apart near the middle, then pound the jagged top flat with a rock until he had a nice sittin' stump.

One day, another giant saw him do it, and thought it was a fascinating idea. They got to talking, and it turned out Big Stump had lots of cool ideas, just not much initiative to get them going.

Take armor cats, for example. Big Stump had seen an armor cat drop down on a big deer and kill it dead in seconds. It took a giant a whole day of throwing pebbles before nailing on of those deer. Big Stump was pretty sure that if you tied a long rope to the armor cat, and carried it around until you saw a deer, then kind of gently tossed the armor cat near the deer... you'd have a meal by noon. You'd have to yank the cat back, of course, and you'd have to hunt two deer, to feed the armor cat, but with so little effort involved, what giant would mind hunting two deer?

The only problem was getting the rope, and the armor cat. Big Stump wasn't real motivated to go to all that effort just yet.

Big Stump's BIG idea, though, was war. He'd seen little orcs fighting each other all the time, and they weren't very good at it. They'd run at each other, hollering and banging on their drums, and then they'd throw little prickly things at each other, and then some of them would die and the rest would run away.

Big Stump figured, orcs made pretty good beer mash, hunted better'n giants, and were pretty smart... they just couldn't fight worth a damn. So maybe a trade could be arranged.

The other giant thought about this some, wrapping his mind around Big Stump's convuluted trade agreement, then solemnly nodded. It sounded like a pretty good idea, as long as they weren't fighting each other.

Big Stump had thought of that, too. If two giants were working for orcs on both sides of a fight, they wouldn't target each other. It would be a gentle giant's agreement.

With a friend to help him on this new idea, Big Stump finally got motivated. He began looking for other giants, explaining to them his vision, and talking to orcs (the ones who didn't flee immediately) and making trade agreements. He learned a lot in that first year, like how to dodge boulders until he got in range to talk.

Now, a few dozen years later, Big Stump was getting on in years, and it was mostly his sons, cattle-fed muscleheads (he was so proud), who carried on war making for orcs. For the most part, Big Stump was pretty happy with life. Sure, a giant occasionally got killed by a swarm of orcs mad about some relatives' death, but giants were used to that anyway. It happened whether there was war or not, and this way, there was a lot more food and sittin' on stumps to go around.

Not that he sat on stumps anymore. A dragon had explained to him, about twenty years ago, that mountainsides were just as kind to the tush, and that giants weren't big enough to fight with dragons, either. But that was another story.

Today, Big Stump had a problem. A lot of orcs were moving west, and starting to hire giants to go with them. Word had trickled back, though, because giants were getting killed with alarming regularity. There was a valley, a very nice valley to hear orcs talk about it, that everyone wanted, but someone already had. And that someone was kicking everyone else's tush into powder, giants included.

Big Stump had sent a pair of his best stone slingers with the armor cat orcs when they'd declared that they were going to go take that valley, tail-kicking or not, to test the waters and see how well they did. Now his best pair were dead, and the armor cat orcs were kicking anyone's tail that talked about it... which meant it went badly.

Big Stump was going to have to think about that, and decide what to do. And that meant no sittin', for a while.


----------



## seasong

Yay, lunch break! Pity me, please!


----------



## incognito

giants: not to think-y

bet they're real popular with the ladies though


----------



## seasong

They prefer to be called "abstract-and-social-challenged". After all, each unique snowflake of a person is good at different things and less at other things. Giants just happen to be good at lugging things around and hurling small boulders. I'd like to see _you_ handcraft a stump, Mr. Thinky.


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## incognito

> I'd like to see you handcraft a stump, ...




I'm _handcrafting_ something right now, if you know what I mean, and I think you do...

[snort] Giants, are like little, gentle butterflies, thier seeming simplicity belies a greater artisic leaning...They do not 'hurl' boulders, they loft the smooth pebbles of the earth, in order to observe mother nature, and her natural laws, gently tug the stones back down 

The fact that a few dozen men/orcs are underneath the boulders when they land is just a bonus.


----------



## J. Anson

> I'm _handcrafting_ something right now, if you know what I mean, and I think you do...




I don't think we need to know about that, Stumpy.

Seasong! Updates to distract incognito! Stat!


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## seasong

As with yesterday, unless I get a good lunch break, or things change, I'm hosed for time.

This weekend I'm planning to...
a. Get the characters updated in the Rogue's Gallery.
b. Update my website with some spell lists, specifically healers and espers. I'll have a _base_ list for arcanists, but they're really variable.
c. Start writing the Olympiad. It was reasonably big, so depending on how the writing turns out, I may be posting it over the course of next week. Also, spoiler: Captain Agina was in one of the contests. You will NEVER guess what kind of contest, either.

Also, it seems likely that I will not be running Light Against the Dark this weekend, so I may not have a lot to update this next week (unless the aforementioned Olympiad takes a lot of writing). But I will have _something_ for you to read .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! No gamie for Hankie!!

*SNIFF* I guess I'll have time to work on that back up character.


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## Greybar

Seasong: I almost hate to see posts like that, but not for the reason you might guess.

I worry about the story hours that I enjoy, when the pressure appears to update, update, update.  If it stops being fun, and starts becoming work, then the story hour will die.  Thus, I don't want your story hour to become work.  This is something that worries me about starting my own story hour as well.

I have a feeling many story hours require more than an hour...

John


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## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> I worry about the story hours that I enjoy, when the pressure appears to update, update, update.  If it stops being fun, and starts becoming work, then the story hour will die.  Thus, I don't want your story hour to become work.  This is something that worries me about starting my own story hour as well.



Well, let me put it this way: if I think I'm going to be late/absent for a date, I call my significant other and let them know I'll be late/absent as soon as I know. if circumstances dictate that I be late/absent, I don't feel bad about it... but I would definitely feel bad if I didn't give adequate warning.

Same thing here. I enjoy writing the story hour, and if I miss a few days, it's not that big a deal to me... but I'd rather let y'all know as soon as I know, than boost my page views by letting you check and be disappointed.

If you look through the history, I think you'll see that this has been the case - I DON'T make every day, but I do try to let y'all know when I won't.

As for the "I'll have _something_", that may not have been clear - I have _something_ in mind already, that is not main story land.







> I have a feeling many story hours require more than an hour...



I've been told that I type too damned fast .


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## Delgar

O.k.

First off seasong, both you and your players need to quit your jobs and start playing DnD every day. That way no longer will we get updates once a day, but once every few hours!  

Anyway, keep up the good work seasong, both me and my fiancee enjoy your story hour. I have to say she liked wulf's better but she's very CN/CE. Her favorite character is Olgah, so anything else you can share about Olgah would be great!

Up the fist!

Delgar

_P.S. Help a poor DM out and give me some ideas! _ Gladiator Campaign


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## seasong

Delgar said:
			
		

> First off seasong, both you and your players need to quit your jobs and start playing DnD every day. That way no longer will we get updates once a day, but once every few hours!



I can think of no finer life. Until the money runs out, anyway. And I get tired of DnD and want to play something else. And my butt turns into a root. 


> I have to say she liked wulf's better but she's very CN/CE. Her favorite character is Olgah, so anything else you can share about Olgah would be great!



Ayieee! My heart! Tis broken!

Olgah will come back in the future, but when I can not say.


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## seasong

So, my parents were in all weekend, until Sunday, and on Sunday, I completely bombed out. I was frickin' tired. Anyway, I'm not tired this morning, and unless work is unexpectedly tough today, my head is brimming . Of course, now that I've said that... 

I've updated Bellos, and should get Merideth updated by this afternoon. When I update Merideth, I will also be posting the healer and esper spell lists.

And today I get to post stuff from the Olympiad. I've decided to post it as a series of vignettes, little stories from the session about individual characters (including some off-screen characters, and of course Captain Agina). We had a LOT of fun when we ran this a week ago, and I will try to get that across in the writing.

Teasers:
Greppa, drunk.
Bellos re-introduces beer.
Merideth, when did your mind get so strong?


----------



## seasong

A recap for those who have joined in the middle. This is just a cut-n-paste from Part I.

*OLYMPIAD*

The people of Theralis are a physically competitive people, even more so than many of their neighbors. When the Theralese first freed themselves from the orcs, their initial culture formed from a combination of the physicality of orcs and some jealousy for the educated learning and civilization of their northern neighbors. Over time, this hodge podge of goals and habits were forged by military dominance, the prominence of grapes (and heroes of Dianas), and the dangers of the wilderness into what it is today.

The Olympiad's origins stem from the Century Riot, 300+ years ago. At that time, the Council deliberated and set aside the Century Mark as a time of celebration - something to look forward to rather than something to panic over.

A century later, in light of an attack by Amalan (a village had encroached too far) and other signs of the apocalypse, the Council planned a party sufficiently incredible that people could forget. And to honor the heroes that had died against Amalan, they staged a mock mass battle between well known athletes and a "dragon" constructed of wood. Between the mock battle (which ended with a lot of injuries, smiles, and a small riot in the southern Open Square), informal contests of athleticism and skill (that spontaneously broke out between distant country folk), and the immense consumption of wine that occurred, a _tradition_ started.

Within a decade, that tradition gelled into the Olympiad, a two-day event sponsored by wealthy vineyards every five years (timed to coincide with Century Celebrations as well) in which athletes competed for grapevine wreaths while wine flowed like water among the spectators. Over the intervening centuries, this (like the Century Celebration) has been refined and extended, until it swelled to its current length of 10 days, with a dozen small rituals associated with it.

*The Dragon Play/Opening Ceremony*

Of the rituals of Olympiad, the dragon battle is the first and most prominent. It has evolved into more of a theatrical play, and encompasses more than just the one battle. Instead, it now covers the relationship between Amalan and Theralis (many citizens are curious how the latest development will be incorporated). Thera is almost always played by a prominent actress or poetess, but otherwise the roles are fluid. Each Olympiad, the play is put in the hands of a different playwright to interpret, although the most basic facts of history must be covered correctly.

*Contests*

Almost every conceivable athletic contest is present, from quarterstaffing to sprinting to heaving rocks and spears at targets. The captains of the military often hold sword fighting demonstrations, while the wine merchants often sponsor drinking contests (for stamina and taste). The most popular are the quarterstaff, wrestling, and feats of strength, although many others are very popular as well.

_Athan plans to participate in feats of strength and wrestling, and spear throwing. Greppa was thinking about quarterstaffing, until he saw the real competitors practicing!_

*Wine*

"At Olympiad, the rest of the world goes dry." For three days, roughly 200-300 Theralese athletes compete with each other. The remaining 20,000 to 100,000 people at the Olympiad drink. Wine tasting tournaments, cups purchased at the stadia, where ever there are people, there is alcohol. For most vineyards, this is the banner year for profits, and for merchants (who are unable to buy as much as normal for the north) it is usually a rotten year. Still, few complain. That's Olympiad!


----------



## incognito

(rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation)

Monday update.  Suh-weeet!


----------



## seasong

*Olympiad: The Opening Ceremony*

The dragon, kept hidden in pieces in a wine cellar for the past year and a half while the artisans who got the job worked on it, now stands assembled and covered with a tarp of stitched grape vines and leaves. Nothing of it is visible, save for the muscular young men and women who will operate it, squirming into its underbelly.

The playwright, Estellas the Short, is a _phastini_ woman of unusual girth and serious demeanor, and she stomps around among the other actors, double checking them for lines, positions, makeup. It will be perfect, or she'll flay the lot of them, of that most of them are certain.

Every five years, the Dragon Play is revisited at the Olympiad, interpreted in some fashion by the playwright who wins the honor. For the first time in a long time, there is new material. A lot of it. At the last minute. And Estellas the Short had a short temper _before_ all of this happened.

Then, the moment. Estellas collapses in the background, unnoticed, as the stitched grape vines...

Contract. They do not fall away, but instead pull inward, tugged by hidden ropes, and, in an immensely satisfying *rtchhh*, _become_ the dragon! It stands eight feet tall at the shoulders, and a massive, crane-like neck bobs up and down, left and right. The mouth opens, and a spray of red, paper streamers blows from the mouth, scattering faux flames over the closest audience. A pair of wings lift and drop...

But what most people notice is that it very closely resembles Amalan, as seen only months before, and they take a moment to admire the slumped Estellas before cheering. Many playwrights have had difficulties building a dragon - few have managed it without a hitch with only months to rebuild it.

Amalan and Theralis' early history is sketched in quickly. Thera, played by a well known actress, singer and athlete, delivers her lines with force and conviction, at first standing up bravely to the dragon, then coyly persuading him to let her people have a place to live. The Keraunesti, the most feared and admired shock troops of Theralis, stand in for the soldiers of centuries ago, and (sometimes laughing) are scattered about like rag dolls through a room by the swinging neck, flapping wings, and vigorous body slamming. The story is mostly overwrought drama, as it always is, and told more with actions than with words - the audience knows the words already, for the most part.

Then, the modern age. Flat, painted buildings are hastily made vertical, representing the city, and Amalan stomps down the central avenue (in truth, it was his kobold, but this looked better). He speaks the same words that kobold did a few years ago, saying "Dwellers in the city of Amalan's valleys, I bring you both warnings and thanks. In your war, you have observed the old treaties well. My friendship with your people is strengthened by this, and I thank you for your respect."

"However, I also know that war is a time of great temptation, and ask that you not, in desparation, forget the bonds forged in centuries of friendship between your people and Me. Do not think that such things can be escaped, as these orcs once did."

And then, another set of soldier-actors, these dressed as orcs in filthy hides and cruel, ugly spears, run in to fight the dragon. It blows red streamers at them, and they scream as if burning. Some of them fall over, some of them remain standing, their faces frozen in fear.

There was no other way to present it. The memories of the kobold's illusory retelling is still vivid in the city dweller's minds. After a moment of respectful silence, the buildings are flipped around to present flat, painted mountains.

And Phitios himself steps onto the stage, to parley with the dragon. The actor for the orc war chief is a well known comedic, and he overacts to the hilt. Laughter helps heal the memories of the burning orcs, and Phitios recites his lines with pomp and relish. Then, as Phitios and a large young man attempting to play the part of Athan walk off, hands to their ears and heads cocked back as if listening, the war chief takes center stage as a bumbling fool, attempting to impress the dragon by alternately cringing and blustering.

Finally, the dragon sends him off, shaking its head in a remarkably human gesture of irritation, and then the Olympiad is officially opened by the arcanists of Theralis, who unleash an impressive display of fireballs into the sky simultaneously (in most years, there are 3-4, but this year an even dozen fireballs erupt in the sky).

The Olympiad has begun.


----------



## Talix

Woot!  Can't wait to hear more about the Olympiad!


----------



## seasong

*Olympiad: The Valley Run*

Stretching in a lazy oval through the valley of the city itself is a single road. Originally two farm trails that happened to be useful for wine merchants in later centuries, they since merged into an important military road, as the unearthed granite that forms their base allowed soldiers to cover two fronts and the remaining valley with far fewer soldiers than would have otherwise been possible, during the first defenses against orc raids, in the days when Theralis was first struggling to grow into a full blown city-state.

Today, that road is still used by wine merchants, still maintained by the military (including short, defensible walls at various stops), and still used as a test of endurance, speed, and heart.

Had he been alive, Athan would have dominated the contests this year. This, Greppa and Merideth agreed upon whole-heartedly. The pair were sitting beneath the shade of a grape vine trellis, examining the runners with a critical eye. Lean and muscular, they resembled a collected assemblage of youthful demigods, the ideal blend of powerful musculature, light build, and long limbs that the Theralese admired so much.

Bellos, having discovered that some Theralese wines packed a bit more kick than the beers he was accustomed to, was snoozing lightly in the corner of the Trellis. He was missing out on one of the most demanding physical competitions in Theralis.

Shield-beating thunder, rolling down the mountain and through the valley, announced that the time had come. The play had ended an hour ago, and now everyone was prepared. The runners had stretched, bets had been laid, wine was being sloshed on chattering tongues. The thunder was impressive, and it was obvious that Captain Agina had unwittingly begun a new tradition.

The runners lined up like a row of hunched otters, bare skin glistening in the direct sunshine. The thunder stopped. The Run Master's arm dropped. The runners pushed off and began a swift, ground-eating lope.

Cheers, then milling about. It was going to be at least two hours before the runners came back around the other way, and people had other stuff to see in the meantime.

The startup and ending was usually impressive. The middle part, except for those standing along the road (who couldn't make it to Theralis for the Olympiad), wasn't more exciting for the runners pushing themselves.


----------



## seasong

*Olympiad: Athletics*

During the two hours between the start and end of the Theralis Run, they split up.

The athletes who had operated the dragon were doing gymnastic feats in the South Square, and Merideth gravitated, mesmerized, to watch them perform feats of agility. For the most part they weren't competing, so much as they were doing team performances... and it was oh, so pretty. Bellos tagged along, not certain he was interested in whatever Greppa was looking for, but unwilling to wander the confusing maze of streets alone.

Greppa might have found that interesting, except that there was an informal rock hefting competition going on in the North Plaza. Open to anyone, a merchant had offered a few bottles of rare wines to the first person who could fully lift a boulder he'd had dragged in, and had brought in a lot of smaller rocks for competitors to "practice" on. It had turned into something of a grunting match, with bets flying, wine sloshing, and rocks soaring a few feet at a time. For Greppa, it was a near perfect way to find the biggest collection of big, strong people to look at.


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## seasong

There will be an update, but I had to share this.

I. Just. Lost. 600+. Words. 

It's okay. I know what they are, and I can type them in again (in about 10 minutes or less, as soon as I have 10 minutes again). And they weren't the BIG stuff, like Greppa as a belligerent drunk or anything... it's just a weird feeling, like I'm missing something.

Ick.

Anyway, I'll have to post later.


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## incognito

Sympathy post:

I was copying files that help me in my campaign, from one folder to another, on my PC.  and one of them - the one where I compiled the 'experience chart', AND the 'wealth by level' chart got deleted.  Permanently.  Don't know how that happened.

So, I hear ya - and in case you thought (gasp!) I wasn't reading:

Citius, Altius, Fortius


----------



## seasong

Well, I ended up rewriting it anyway . Good thing it wasn't already posted . And it wasn't obvious, but I was being sarcastic about the "not important" thing.

*Olympiad: The Rest of the Day*

The first day of Olympiad is always devoted to pure and performance athletics. Although a few military tactics make their way in, the distance runners do not carry spears, the sprinters do not carry shields, the arcanists do not demonstrate any accuracy or stamina beyond "fireballs are pretty".

Greppa, born to a reasonably wealthy family, had always enjoyed wandering through the streets of Theralis in a haze of eye candy and alcohol. He watched sprinters with their powerful legs and gracile builds, hurlers with their broad shoulders and bull necks, gymnasts with their stocky power. It was all good.

For Merideth, it was a very different experience. She'd only been to Olympiad twice, once when she was _very_ little, and once immediately prior to apprenticing as a healer. Usually, Olympiad was when her family took few days off (except for a few minor daily maintenances that couldn't be avoided), a pleasant thing to be sure, but nothing quite like this. As much as possible, she followed the gymnasts - the feats they pulled off did not quite seem possible, and that helped her get over the small surges of jealousy for wealthy people who lived their entire lives with events like this.

Bellos, originally intending to stick to Merideth and avoid trouble, found trouble anyway in the form of a dark-eyed gymnast who thought his vaguely exotic looks pleasing. He missed most of the athletics after the first gymnastics performance ended.

Not that he minded.

Greppa and Merideth found each other slightly before nightfall, and, already full of wine and bread and cheese and eye candy, stumbled into Greppa's tower and broke open a rare wine Merideth had charmed* out of a merchant.

Greppa took a whiff of the wine, and after deciding it was probably going to put him to sleep, knocked the rest of his night's agenda off the list. "To our absent friend, who carried us all on his broad shoulders, may the gods find him in a good company."

Merideth, more than a bit drunk, clipped stone cups with Greppa, "So say all men."

And with that, they drank. They emptied the bottle, sucking up the pain and loss. They drank of their memories of Athan, of his life lived to the fullest. And Dianas washed away Akeros, as the alcohol soothed and burned away the pain. Falling asleep, tumbled together like kittens, Greppa and Merideth found some solace, as Athan watched over them from Allas' realm.

_* Normally it would just be assumed that she smiled prettily at him, but Merideth is an esper, and they sometimes go bad, so we have to be clear: she didn't muck up his brain to get the wine, she just smiled prettily._


----------



## seasong

Working on day two now. Tougher than I thought. Greppa participated in too much stuff! I may have to cut it a bit, to make room for Bellos & Merideth... Figures - everybody gets involved on the day of military athletics (2nd day was mostly military stuff, like upslope shield sprinting).

Anyway, hope that wasn't too jumbled - my thoughts are more focused in what I'm writing, I promise .


----------



## Capellan

> a rare wine Merideth had charmed* out of a merchant.




Missing footnote, seasong-san(g)?


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## seasong

Fixed. Still working on next post. Still tough.


----------



## seasong

I just can't write it succinctly. It's gonna take more text, and more posts, than I had expected. Oh well. We'll just start with Greppa .

*Olympiad: Service Day*

Although there is bleed over into the other days of the official Olympiad (Theralis being as military-oriented as they are), the second day is the formal day for all military tournaments, athletics and shows.

Stumbling out into the noonday daylight, Bellos, Greppa and Merideth stuck together more closely today, moving swiftly from event to event, and cheering each other on in those events they participated in. Then they went and watched the grappling contests, Bellos out of a manly love of watching butt-kicking going on, Greppa and Merideth for more prurient reasons.

*Conjuring*

Arcanists typically run three major competitions. In a fit of insanity, Greppa decided to participate in all three...

The first, of course, is a game fondly known as conjuring. A table is set up and both arcanists prepare themselves on either side. Using _prestidigitation_, they summon miniscule elementals and planar creatures, conjure tiny sandstorms, cause electrical crackles across the "landscape" of the table, and otherwise go to war with each other using only the most minor of extradimensional energies. More a game of concentration and creativity than power, the arcanists paired off with each other must attempt to take the other's "land" until one side or the other has gained at least three quarters of the table.

As the rules are almost non-existent (other than that only the one spell is allowed), fights are typically won in a matter of minutes, as one side manages to get an edge early on and destroys the opposing armies and energies in a violent clash of tiny, marching creatures. Underdogs have come out on top often enough, however, to keep it interesting.

Today seemed to be Greppa's day. In his first fight, he started with a veritable wavefront of barely visible flames, beating a path to victory for his inch-long fire serpents over his foe's unfortunately-chosen ice fortress and demi-infernal grublings. His opponent, smiling gently, simply remarked on the advantage a sun mage had over ice - at which laughter erupted, and Kyriotes, never caring about Greppa particularly, just said, "And so why did you use ice against a sun mage?"

His second battle, too, went well, although not so easily. He opened again with a miniature firestorm, but only to hide the tiny motes of light preparing their siege of stinging sunbursts and beams of light. His opponent, better prepared for the fire with vicious, finger-length earth serpents and a wave of moisture to carry them, was caught by surprise by the lights, but nonetheless managed an impressive (and very nearly fatal) assault before the Greppa, sending his motes flying over the heads of the serpents, took just enough undefended land to win the table.

His third round, however, he drew Kyriotes as his opponent, and Kyriotes calm concentration, level gaze, and immense experience in matters of summoning tactics, completely overwhelmed Greppa's forces with an immense, organized front of tiny creatures, an immense array of conjured elemental attacks, and erupting inch-high walls... all at the same time. Like all of Kyriotes' opponents, Greppa retired from the competition in under a minute, to watch the remainder of the battles, and to play variants with other arcanists (including "hop", in which the attempt is to force the opponent's summonings to move to one corner of the table - kind of a conjuring sumo).


----------



## seasong

I'm just posting this to put the image up. I'm sticking it back into my sig file .


----------



## seasong

*Olympiad: Greppa 2*

The next major event, the one Greppa honestly hoped to do better in, was ray-shooting. Also based around a cantrip, this one the various minor _rays_ arcanists learned early on. Kyriotes presided over this one, preferring the more strategic nature of conjuring to the brute athleticism of ray-shooting.

The concept was simple: An area large enough to accomodate the maximum range of the rays was cleared, the arcanist would stand in the center, and Kyriotes would summon a puff of light which would then swoop, dive and zoom through the area for exactly one minute while the arcanist threw ray after ray at it.

The puff of light (default color blue) flashed red on a direct hit (symbolizing blood, and worth 3 points), and white on a partial hit (symbolizing shock, and worth 1 point). Points were tallied based on how many hits and of what type, and the person with the most points won.

As Kyriotes and his apprentices watched dispassionately, the puff of light zipped through the circle, and arcanists, some of them more than a little happy on wine, laughed and tried to hit it. The serious competitors mostly scored between 10 and 20, and Greppa, starting early with a total of 24, felt hopeful.

Not of getting first, of course - Ophanara was in the competition, and she consistently scored in the mid-30s, often getting a ray off every three seconds, and targetting them with deadly accuracy. But he might make second or third.

Then, alas, two strong competitors came in and beat him by a hair, with 25 and 27 respectively, and Ophanara finally went and, in a veritable fit of no-missing, two-handed ray-shooting, scored a 38, easily the highest score in current living memory. That pushed Greppa out of the runners-up entirely, although he was still in the top end of competitors (and next year, he would be viewed as one of the strong competitors).

Then Aglaelos, a relative unknown from Little Lake, stepped in and began throwing _quickened rays of heat_ like there was no tomorrow. An evoker who specialized in elemental fire, he'd been among the pure fireball-throwing crowd during the war, and so had not had much of a chance to make a name for himself like those who were constantly boosting the soldiers did, but this lazy afternoon, he shone. His score had to be tallied twice - 43 points - and he took the grape vine laurel with a grin that could have fit the valley.

Greppa, meanwhile, was getting a back-pounding from Merideth and Bellos, Merideth because he'd done well, Bellos because he finally caught a glimpse of the grim determination Greppa put into his combat skills (it had been there during the fight with the hydra, but Bellos had been a bit distracted then). He suffered the sore shoulders, and grinned. He _had_ done well, and his talents, recognized by Hurath, were finally starting to really show.

In celebration, Greppa entered a wine tasting contest, got rather drunk, and failed to impress any judges whatsoever. But he didn't care - the important part about a wine tasting contest, to his mind, was _expensive wine for free_.

Now thoroughly happy, he and his friends stumbled off to the performance casting tournament, already in progress. He had a bleary idea, firmly embedded, that he was going to show them all how an arcanist performed...

Performance casting is an art form that involves more of impressing the audience and less of any kind of real power, but in which, as with many impressions, power does matter. Illusionists and arcanists both tended to participate, and illusionists tended to win, but not always.

Today, Greppa had a real beauty of a plan - he was going to summon Uripedes (the sun falcon from Allas' realm) in his largest, most glorious form. Summoning him in that form was harder, but Greppa had gotten pretty handy with the spells, and even drunk, was pretty sure he could pull it off.

Uripedes, he muddily thought, ought to be impressive enough for ANYONE. Greppa was a bit more loyal than sober, in this.

Upon casting, Uripedes burst from the arcane circle, glowed brightly, and landed next to Greppa, dwarfing the _ellini_, and... a few people cheered, but mostly, they waited for the kicker.

Mumbling to himself, _I'll show 'em a kicker_, Greppa began drunkenly casting fireball. He was saved by a tackle from his friends who, upon recognizing the starting words, did their best to prevent the conflagration, and his voice, squeaky with alcohol-induced-fury, could be heard over the laughter, "What! They liked it when I did it before! They'll like it now, yes they will!"

The rest of the afternoon went a bit better.


----------



## Serpenteye




----------



## Greybar

Yeah, what Serpenteye said.

I really like the magic competitions being done with low-level stuff (well, except for that last one).  It makes it more of a common-man thing, and therefore more acceptable and open.  A good example of how a world can blend having a reasonable amount of magic around without the "witchcraft" or "magocracy" approaches that come from the few and the elite being the only ones with magic.

John


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## seasong

Yeah, _cantrip_ and _ray of frost_ variants, that's about it . If you can't tell, I purchased _Tournaments, Fairs and Taverns_ before I ran the Olympiad, and spent about two nights reading through it. I was generally impressed (the rules for drinking and degree of success in competition were particularly good), but when I got to the magic section, everything was just... implausible.

A wizard spends most of his life being unable to even practice the skills needed for the contest, and THEN, suddenly, he's in a life or death transformation competition? That works in mythology, where being a wizard is an on/off affair, but in a world where the majority of wizards are low level and have a competitive spirit, they will develop competitions _they_ can play in.

The _conjuring_ game was obviously inspired by miniatures, _Magic the Addiction_, and the militant nature of Theralis .

The _ray shooting_ competition was suggested by Greppa, and overall I think it was rather excellent. A measure of reflexes, mastery of rays, and certain feats, it makes an excellent test for a particular kind of arcanist combat. It also gave me an idea for a northern tradition of spell duelling with rays & a 0-level shield (will save to interpose the shield between the ray and yourself). Ray duelling isn't done in Theralis, but Greppa may find himself in such a situation when they travel north .

The "impress the crowd" contest is mostly a matter of Perform skill and a good idea. Props to Greppa for an excellent portrayal of a drunk arcanist entering with neither one .

Next up, Bellos finds out that backwater Theralese know how to use a sling as well, and Merideth demonstrates remarkable development as an esper.


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## seasong

*Olympiad: Day Two, Other Stuff*

*Bellos the Slinger*

One tournament finally caught Bellos' eye, and Greppa and Merideth cajoled the merchant to let him in. Bellos was a damned fine slinger, able to generate sufficient power to make a hydra feel the impact through its hide, and he hoped to make an impression in the contest.

An impression was made on him.

Although rarely talked about in the way front line spearmen or shield carriers are, the Theralese slingers are an important part of the military force. A sling stone can crack skulls, has excellent range for mountain fighting, is useful in close quarters, and is extremely cheap and fast to make. The only problem is the skilled required to do any real damage with it... and the Theralese slingers do little else but practice that skill.

Bellos had trained his slinging for maximum power; he had honed his skill for short encounters with wilderness beasts. And when it came to that, he could put a dent in iron shields... but the Theralis soldiers trained for accuracy and consistency over the long haul. It wasn't important that they be able to penetrate the hide of a wyvern, or make a hydra feel it... it was important that they be able to hit the much softer head of an orc at fifty paces or more, over and over again.

The first few targets were okay, and well within Bellos accurate range, but as the targets got further and further away, he fell rapidly behind in points as the master slingers among the Theralese racked up an impressive number of bull's eyes.

Still... many of the slingers came by to admire the force he managed, and complimented him on his swift pull and aim at closer ranges. They talked shop, and Theralese and Bellos both went away with new ideas to train in and try.

*Merideth the Esper*

Among the espers, there is a similar contest to the arcanist _conjuring_, but its effects are more subtle to watch, less prone to chance wins, and far more exhausting for the competitors. To participate, both competitors summon up their inner energies to create a faint, barely visible cloud of ethereal plasm in the air between them. The clouds, tinted with the color of the esper's soul, begin to interact and, driven by the will of each esper, attempt to dominate the other cloud by sheer force.

The espers are typically exhausted within minutes, and many competitions are decided by collapse of one or the other; most competitions, however, are decided by raw will power.

Visibly, little happens. Two wispy clouds float together and then, in an almost creepy manner, begin to _consume_ one another. The competitors' brows bead with sweat, their faces taut and drawn, until one collapses or until one cloud envelopes the other. To help see the clouds, the room is typically darkened, lit only by candles, and a ring forms around the two competitors.

That evening, Merideth made her way into the small tavern where it was being held, away from the bustle and noise of the majority of the Olympiad. The owner of the tavern was happy to see them (it was a popular watering hole among espers), and swiftly made room.

The expected champion was Morphamos, a self-titled master of will and (given his abilities) reasonably arrogant and self-assured owner of a number of vineyards. He had won the past three Olympiads, and had only gotten stronger in the intervening years. Merideth, this being her first year to be old enough to participate in Olympiad, beat him, within seconds, in the first round.

She then went on to hammer her competition, stopping only for brief breaks before taking a sip of wine and stomping the next one. Round after round, her slender face tight with concentration, she completely failed to falter.

By the end of it, she had a crowd of espers gathered on her side of the table, and she spent much of the remainder of the evening discussing theory and enjoying her sudden popularity and the grape vine wreath upon her head.

*And Other Stuff*

After that, Bellos took his leave of Greppa shortly after spotting the dark-eyed gymnast from the night before, and Greppa took his leave from Bellos to watch a few final wrestling matches. Arkos* had made it into semifinals, and Greppa was damned if he was going to miss that. Afterwards, although Arkos failed to make it all the way to the finals, Greppa took him out for celebratory drinking, and ended up spending the entire night with him.

* For those who don't remember, Arkos was one of the Keraunesti who went with the party to hunt for an ancient, lost mine. He was a buddy of Athan's, and Greppa never really lost contact with him. Kyliados, Arkos best bud last year, wasn't around, but he hasn't died.


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## Greybar

> That evening, Merideth made her way into the small tavern where it was being, away from the bustle and noise of the majority of the Olympiad. The owner of the tavern was happy to see them (it was a popular watering hole among espers), and swiftly made room.




"where it was being held" I assume, just for a editorial note.

I had a wonderful image of this tavern.

"Oh, miss, I'll have one of..."
"I know, here it is"
Telepathic serving staff.  It's the way it should be.

I know, I know, that's not really the way it is in Theralis.  Now the image of a *totally silent* tavern is another fun one.  Only the click and clank of the wine and beer being consumed, perhaps with soft music played in corner by a musican, while clusters of espers have telepathic conversation occasionally punctuated by laughter.

John


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## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> "where it was being held" I assume, just for a editorial note.



Thanks, it's been corrected .







> I know, I know, that's not really the way it is in Theralis.  Now the image of a *totally silent* tavern is another fun one.  Only the click and clank of the wine and beer being consumed, perhaps with soft music played in corner by a musican, while clusters of espers have telepathic conversation occasionally punctuated by laughter.



I don't know if you've ever been to a deafness convention or party, but it's really... different. Especially if you don't speak the language (I didn't), and there's just these fluttering gestures going on. They look at each other's faces, read the hands out of their peripheral vision, and occasionally laugh (but more often just make the motions of laughing, mouth open wide with just a chortled breath coming out).

Espers are probably a lot like that when they get together. They're not well trusted by society at large, and so tend to be somewhat isolationist and cliquish - Merideth is mostly a healer, but that's slowly changing as she finds her way into the esper lairs in Theralis (there were none in Southbottom).


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## seasong

Note on the above: I am NOT an expert in deaf social conventions; that's written from my single experience at one event. I probably wrote it more authoritatively than I should - basically, I went to one a long time ago, it impressed me, I wrote down my impression above.


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## Talix

Wow, tons of info!  I love it!  

Heh, Greppa and Merideth are so lecherous!    It's hilarious.  And the drunk summoning was great, too.

Thanks for all the info, Seasong!  And I know how much of a pain it is to lose that much work, and it never seems to come out the same the second time around.  Kudos for pushing through it to give us great updates.  

Thanks!


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## seasong

A few notes on _Tournaments, Fairs and Taverns_ by Natural 20 Press, which I mentioned before. This is as short a review as I am able to write, and probably shouldn't go in the middle of my story hour, but I wanted to share .

Chapter One is 9 pages long, and includes all of the basic rules that will be used throughout the rest of the book. This is easily the best interpretation of D&D into _interesting_ competitions I've seen. The degree of success and drinking rules are excellent, and everything else is usable to a lesser extent in any campaign.

Chapters Two, Three and Four discuss a variety of traditional games and contests, medieval jousting (and grand melee), and a few other knicks and knacks. In general, a good reference, and a swarm of ideas to kick around and pick from to round out any festival. This, combined with Chapter One, are the primary reasons to buy the book.

Chapter Five covers magical competitions. I mentioned before that I was disappointed with it, and I am. It contains three games, of which the first is a mid-level ball game that doesn't seem well thought out, the second is "summon creatures and watch them fight", and the third is the game of transformation I mentioned. None are particularly inspiring, none are available to low level casters (especially apprentices), and none really offer much opportunity for cleverness or strategy (except the third, the Game of Forms, which has a very limited rock-paper-scissors strategy).

Chapter Six gets back to the good stuff, More Games. These are more fantasy-oriented, and some of them are pretty weird. That's good, though - games in a fantasy world SHOULD reflect the society that created them, and that will sometimes mean weirdness.

Chapter Seven covers running tournaments and whatnot. It's a pretty good primer, but more of an appendix - for me, it was only marginally useful, but for someone pretty inexperienced it makes a good starter.

Overall, this book made Olympiad far, far better than it would have been. The first three chapters, in particular, helped me put together all of the contests and whatnot (including the ones the players didn't participate in), and combined with a spreadsheet of rolls, quickly gave me results to interpret into description.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Now for something on an even lighter note!*

*For a terrible moment, imagine that "Light Against the Dark" had been turned into a weekly series by FOX. A commercial airs during "The Simpsons." It is footage of Clan Armorcat doing its pre-war performance number. Back to "The Simpsons." However, during the next commercial break, you don't see the thundering shields of Theralis. They start rapping on the shields with gong mallets and sticks, forming a bizzare, familiar rhythm that's completely out of place.* 

_Greppa, Merideth, Agina, Bellos, Kyroties and Thalanna (or rather their actors) appear. They're wearing standard military garb (however the top of the tunics are dyed bright blue and the bottoms are snow white). The actors have plastic "I can't believe we're doing this" smiles. There''s a grand cresendo and then they start to chant..._ 


I'm sexy, I'm cute, I'm popular to boot !
I'm bitchin', great hair, the orcs all love to stare! 
I'm wanted, I'm hot, I'm everything you're not! 
I'm pretty, I'm cool, I’ll dominate you fool! 
Who am I? Just guess! 
Orcs wanna crush my chest 
I'm rockin', great smile, I know you think I'm vile. 
I fly and I stomp! You can look but don't you punch, whoo! 
I'm major, I roar, I swear I'm not a bore! 
We kill and we lead and we fight like we're on speed 
Hate us cause we're beautiful? 
Well, we don't like you either! 
We're war-leaders, we are war-leaders! 
Roll call! 
Call me Agina!
I'm Th-Th-Thalanna!
I'm G-G-Greppa, rawr! 
Merideth ! 
I’m big bad Bellos, yeah! 
Kyriotes! 

We’re gonna kick…your…butts! 

We sizzle, We scorch, and now you eat the torch! 
The battles are in, and one side has to win. 
We’re perky, we’re fun, and now we’re #1 
Th-th-Theralis! 

_ Special thanks to "Bring It On." Now back to your regulary scheduled program _


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## seasong

Must.
Control.
Fist.
Of.
Death.

Seriously, pretty funny. I'll kill you last.


----------



## seasong

*Olympiad: Day 3*

The third day of Olympiad is always the shortest. And although rumors of orcs being spotted swept constantly among the revellers, nothing of the sort actually happened. Informal contests of strength and liver sporadically arose while small mystery cults held meaningful but puzzling rituals, and hundreds of small events took place.

*Wine Tasting*

Wine tasting in Theralis was an art form, and an aesthete's measure as a person. The subtle variances from one valley to the next, and indeed, one vineyard to the next, were as familiar to the expert wine taster as the geography of the valleys themselves. To say that a wine taster could tell where you were from by your breath is only a small exaggeration.

Although Greppa had learned his lesson about participating two mornings before, he still went to watch. His family's vine was on the table, and he wanted to know what the judge's had to say about this year's crop, and about the most recent older wines his family had released.

Mostly, it was good. Despite a hard several years with reduced labor and war-taxed crops, the family had buckled down and produced a smaller line of excellent vintages. A few judges were heard to complain about the lack of variety this year, but no one had expected any different... and many were astonished with how much care had gone into this Olympiad's offerings compared to the prior one.

When war looms, little things become important.

*Beer Tutoring*

Bellos, meanwhile, had realized his secondary mission in life. He was a professional brewer in Aglaonis (well, more of an apprentice), which put him second only to the gods in comparison to every man, woman and child in the Theralis valleys. He'd brought several micro kegs with him, and he'd noticed how happy that made Greppa and Merideth, but it wasn't until he'd tasted the swilled water they served in Theralis that he'd realized why.

So today, while the effete aesthetes of Theralis were swirling tiny shots of lovingly crafted grapes, Bellos was giving out small samples of his richest art, and chatting with the small crowd of home brewers who came out of the woodwork to admire it.

If he had to follow Allas into Theralis, he was damned if he was going to do it without beer.

*Front Lines*

Merideth, meanwhile, was back on duty. She planned to see the grape stomping event at the end of the day, but otherwise she was more worried about the possibility of orcs than whether Greppa's rich family gained or lost a few ranking points in the wine tasting competitions.

Theralis Ridge was quiet, though, and so she spent much of the day crafting fantasies of herself as a mighty hero...

...until she realized, with something of a start, that she was. It was not some bronze-skinned spear thrower who had thrown herself over Athan's body and shredded half a dozen orcs, nor was it mighty Kyriotes who had fought a groundmouth from the inside. Her shame at helping the eye tyrants was misfounded - she was helping her friends survive, and making weighty decisions in doing so.

She was wearing the cloak of a long-lost order of Allas, she was a mighty healer and esper, and if she wasn't quite the warrior-healer of her youthful dreams, perhaps she was something better.

The rest of that afternoon was very good.

*Grape Stomping*

The opening ceremony of Olympiad restates and affirms the relationship the people of Theralis have with Amalan. The closing ceremony, far less formal, does the same for Dianas.

A series of ten foot long troughs, filled with grapes from the finest vineyards, are arrayed in a line. The competitors are the ones who could pull the most strings to get funded, or who had the cash on hand to pay for the honor - this is a contest, but one in which the players pay to enter.

Phitios, as always, has the center trough, as do most of the other generals. A fwe wealthy merchants, hoping for success, have bought their way in, and more than a few famous wine tasters and well beloved athletes have been sponsored by this or that personage in hopes of luck. The money goes towards, first, making a limited collection of wine for sale at outrageous prices, and then towards the temple of Dianas, but the money is less important than the act.

Greppa's sharp _ellini_ eyes spot Agina first, in the far left. She waves, eyes bright with the grape, then gets back into position - someone must have sponsored her, and she obviously intends to win.

Winning is rarely a matter of finishing. The event is timed, for as far in the trough as you can make it before a small barrel of wine can be completely drained by pouring, usually about a minute, and most people rarely make it past the first six or seven feet of the trough. Phitios did, once, but the troughs had fewer grapes that year, and they are filled to bursting this year.

The wine casket turns. As the first splash of the libation to Dianas soaks the earth of the valley, the competitors begin stomping and mashing the grapes as quickly as they can. Agina, tunic hitched up over her thighs and the concentrated gaze of battle drawn across her face, begins a calculated, line-by-line drive through the grapes.  She's visualizing rows of orc heads, and it seems to be working.

Furious moments pass. Agina, her lifestyle among marching grunts serving her better than a general's life, pulls ahead. The barrel begins to empty, signified by less glugging bubbles and more rapid pouring. Agina, within a foot left to the end of the trough, briefly considers dropping to her knees for better surface area, but sticks with her original plan.

More orc heads splash into droplets of potential wine.

The last drop hits the earth and is sopped up by the thirsty valley. Agina, two feet ahead of her nearest competitor, finished the line. A cheer goes up, the laurel is wrapped on her head, and the good Captain receives what is likely to be several year's supply of wine from vineyards who want a piece of the luck of Dianas she has earned for the valley.

*After*

The next morning, thunder greets Greppa's delicate ears as light pierces his bleary eyes. _Someone_, he realizes, _is knocking on my tower door._ After a brief flirt with ideas of _fireball_, he makes his way downstairs. It's Agina, eyes streaked red but face and demeanor as upright as always.

Theralis is planning war.


----------



## seasong

*Elementals*

In the dim and distant past, it is said that mighty civilizations commanded the very elements themselves. The earth, sky and sea were the dominion of the empires, enchanted with words that shook the fabric of reality. Today, most arcanists are familiar enough with the elemental planes of the major gods to conjure from them various minor elementals, and occasionally one more powerful, but the <i>true</i> elementals remain largely out of reach.

The most common elementals known among Theralis include Greppa's <i>mud doll</i> and <i>flame servant</i>, and also small fragments of elemental wind and rain. But these are merely the weakest and most fragile of such creatures.

Elementals are the raw stuff of corporeal matter, given life. Wild, and possessed of creative and destructive aspects, an elemental is life force at its most primal. The largest elementals were said to be the size of buildings, and commanded in armies by the gods when civilizations needed destroying.


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## seasong

*Vignette: Uripedas*

_Since Greppa has been summoning him so much, I thought I'd flesh out what y'all know of him ._

Allas' Realm overlooks a vast and craggy mountain range, covered in steamy rain forest and eternally lit by a brilliant noonday sun. Night comes only in the form of the monsoons that wash through the realm, providing succor from the light.

Uripedas, a sunhawk weighing a half ton and measuring tens of feet from wingtip to wingtip, flies perpetually above it all. Here, in this land, he is immensely powerful. He feeds on the sunlight above, taking it into his golden feathers and providing brief passes of shadow below, and glides among the sunbeams themselves.

Swift and certain, he makes seemingly impossible banks, pulling out only long enough to regain altitude before he crashes into unforgiving rock. He is Allas' servant, and it is enough that She loves him and gives him Purpose. He is centuries old, but young in the ways of the world, and has rarely left Allas' realm for the mortal world.

Recently, that has changed.

The small, dark-skinned _ellini_, son of a great grandchild of Dianas, encountered him several years ago. When the then-child had opened his first portal and, face serious and arms in elementary casting stance, Uripedas had felt an urge, given by Allas it seemed, and had dove for the portal, compressing his powers so as to not overwhelm the fragile conjuring.

He had emerged on the other side, not powerful, but still _glorious_. The _ellini_ child, favored by Allas, and Uripedas then spoke for many nights, and Uripedas has come to love the child, now grown in the way of mortals, and powerful enough to summon Uripedas in his true size (if not his true power).

He has also come to love the mortal world. It is violent and clashing and exciting. Mortal combat against infernal spiders! Spitting Allas' light into the eyes of orcs! Diving for the jugular of giants!

Uripedas liked excitement before, but he had not known how _exciting_ things could be. Here, as he sailed gently upon a lifting wind, there were no fights, no mortal combats, no dodging spears or last minute saves.

Feathers ruffled as goosebumps ran along his wingskin, and he screamed a lilting note of challenge to any who would take on himself and Greppa as a team.

He felt the call, and dove for the conjuring circle appearing far below. It was time to have some fun.


----------



## seasong

Note: I'm planning a real narrative update, also, but I won't be able to polish it until this afternoon. Look for it around 3-4ish.


----------



## Talix

Nice updates!  The post-Olympiad relaxation sure got shafted, though.  

I like the fact that there is a bond between summoner and summoned creature, rather than just forced service.  Makes it more personal, and fun.


----------



## seasong

Depends on the summoning. The _mud doll_ is sufficiently far below sentient (or even "aware") that there's essentially no relationship at all.

Of course, Greppa may summon more than one giant sun hawk, and then I'll have to explain it away, like, "Yeah, well, you know, Uripedas has friends - when Greppa said he needed help, they all lined up outside the circle, hoping for some of this 'fun' Uripedas is always screeching about".



_edit: ezCodes fixed_


----------



## seasong

A complete ego moment: I just realized that we hit 3,000 page views sometime since Friday . That's about 40 page views per day that ISN'T me 

Yeah, it's true - about a 1/3rd of those are just me . I view every time there's a post by someone else, and about 3-5 times in the morning when I'm prepping my post, and and a miscellany of other times due to my own posting.

Oh well, anyway, my ego moment is done, now. Deep breath. Yup, all done.

To make this post worth reading, a few teasers:
- 100% of adventurers agree: Huge Elementals are NOT CR 7!
- Uripedas is one insane bird.
- An excellent non-combat use of a _summoning_ spell*.

* And just one more example of why Greppa's going to be the best arcanist 3V4R!!1!


----------



## seasong

*Militant Ascendance*

Uripedas burst through the portal, wings flaring with nascent flames and eyes gleaming with the might of Allas. Flexing his mighty talons, he glanced around for whatever enemy of Greppa he was summoned to destroy (or at least harry). It had been a week since last he'd been summoned, and he was ready for some *glory*.

There was no battle.

Greppa was standing on the mountainside, flanked by Agina and a handful of arcanists. Greppa stepped up to Uripedas and patted him on the side of his feathered shoulder, "Greetings, Uripedas! I was hoping to try something new with you today!"

"New fight?"

"More like new flight."

"Fight?"

"No, no fight today, just trying some things out with flight."

"No fight?"

Greppa laughed and hugged Uripedas, "Life is not merely a series of battles, friend. But I promise, if this works, it will be used in many battles in the future."

Uripedas considered this deeply, before replying, "But no fight?"

"Flight"

"Okay"

Greppa's idea, in essence, was this: Uripedas would carry Greppa in his talons, high above the field of battle, occasionally dipping to bring Greppa in range for attacks, then rising back up and out of range. He needed to know how much Uripedas could carry, and with what agility, and how quickly.

Agina had immediately suggested seeing if Uripedas could carry other arcanists, and the tests had been scheduled.

After the initial disappointment, Uripedas decided it wasn't so bad. He got to clutch a bunch of screaming ninnies in his claws and do horrifically death-defying loops, dives and banks. The ones who cried, passed out or vomited up the contents of their stomachs were kicked out of consideration, while those who passed then began working with Uripedas to learn to cast while flying.

Uripedas took it as a personal challenge if someone didn't cry, pass out or vomit up the contents of their stomach. It was fun.

Eventually, after complaints about painful shoulders, a kind of harness was devised, and Uripedas carried them around by that. It was even better, in his estimation - now he could grip as tight as he wanted, and with the new "swing" factor, he could try all sorts of new tricks.

When it was narrowed down to a mere four arcanists who could stomach Uripedas' enthusiasm, Agina called an end to it and Greppa, exhausted from continually renewing Uripedas' conjuring, hugged the great bird in thanks.

Uripedas didn't know it, but his performance had impressed Theralis captains enough that Kyriotes and every other summoner capable of managing giant birds were being approached for similar tests.


----------



## Caliber

Hey seasong! 

Still about, just with little time to actually post.

Great looking through the bird's eyes. Its a clever POV I've never actually considered. 

Still digging the academia too. 

Congrats on the 3k views!


----------



## mehrkat

*Ha Ha Finally caught up*

Seasong,

I finally caught up.  It has definately been a good read.  Don't think I will let you avoid running this world some time at a time when I can play  

You even did posts on beer.  Jon Aston you should be so proud.

Mehrkat
>>>>>
Everyone thought they were safe until they saw the meerkat warparty.


----------



## Esiminar

Seasong, you could explain the summoning of more than one sun hawk as Uripedas being able to manifest more of his power to aid Greppa by utalising annother body.


----------



## seasong

Hey everyone, work's busy today and I didn't wake up until pretty late, so I may not get anything written today. I may manage something over lunch, or this evening, but don't hold your breath .

Caliber: Thanks! I like Uripedas - he's a bit crazy, especially since "death" just means "respawn back home" for him.

Mehrkat: Good to see you here! I don't know that I would run another campaign in this setting, though. The eventual goal of this campaign is to turn the world on its ear... and like the Ell'jaret campaign, that kind of makes it more difficult to run anything in afterward .

Esiminar: Hm... I kind of like that . I'm hoping to have Uripedas more fully described in his celestial glory by the time Greppa has a reason to summon him more than once, so I'll have a better answer by then. Of course, I'm hoping to have that better defined by the time Greppa's casting interplanar travel spells, so I'd better get cracking!


----------



## Nail

seasong said:
			
		

> *Uripedas didn't know it, but his performance had impressed Theralis captains enough that Kyriotes and every other summoner capable of managing giant birds were being approached for similar tests. *




Seasong didn't know it, but _his_ performance had impressed Nail enough that "Light Against the Dark" became one of Nail's  "must read" story hours, alongside "Defenders of Daybreak" and "Abernathy's Company".


----------



## seasong

*Preparing For War*

The message went out before Olympiad ended. The decision had been made before Athan fell, but the Generals behind it had waited until the fervor was at its height. The content of the message was simple, an invitation to serve a second year of Service for all citizens, young or old, and an assurance that no one was required to do so. There was a further assurance that those entering Service for a second year would be given very generous time off, particularly if they had crops to maintain.

But what it said was more complex than the mere content. It meant Theralis was no longer fending off raids, training their youths, or driving off the occasional monsters of the wilderness. Theralis was going to war. A war they would win, possibly at grievous cost in lives.

In addition to the basic message, Captains from all over the valleys were sent basic qualification tests for arcanists, espers, healers, illusionists, and careful instructions on what qualified. They were told to test everyone they saw, and to be generous in their estimates. In the normal course of events, only the most talented would be allowed to join the ranks of each spell casting clique, but what Theralis needed now wasn't immense talent but immense numbers.

Merideth signed up for a second year of Service almost immediately. Not because she particularly relished being in a command structure again, but she relished being in a command _position_ within in a command structure - Merideth and two others were given the task of training the next batch of espers, the other two for their long history of excellent apprentices, Merideth for her immense talent.

Nor was she considered a healer on the front lines, anymore. There were plenty of healers, almost one per ten soldiers, but espers were few and far between... and Agina had been very insistent with the Generals that espers were a priority now.

As she tested and taught, and both children and adults, eager to learn how they could help Theralis by casting spells, looked up to her for her wisdom and knowledge... Merideth began to find something akin to happiness.

Bellos, swiftly manipulated into proving himself as a slinger (Agina and Greppa had asked if he would be willing to learn "a real weapon" in the form of a spear, so he could join the fighting), but not a citizen, nonetheless worked closely with the slingers he had competed with in Olympiad. It took a week to convert them to beer, and three more weeks to teach them moderation.

Despite the havoc he'd wreaked on their sense of order, Bellos was swiftly grasping the fundamentals of Theralis strategy, and was soon given an outside leadership position as advisor to Lykos, the almost invisibly average-looking slinger's Captain who'd hunted the wilderness in his youth with the same sling that served him now. The two, despite their wildly variant appearance, seemed as well matched as any soldier and Captain could be, and Bellos and Lykos were soon matching stories of monsters and places.

Greppa was in charge of numerous things, enough so that he was having a tough time of it just to run back and forth between them. Not skilled enough in any particular field of arcanist to be a full teacher, but having the most solid grasp of arcane theory of anyone in the valley (including Kyriotes, who was hopelessly specialized in just one aspect of it), Greppa was a natural for testing and teaching the basics to the hundred or so citizens who had tested "adequately" on the arcanist tests.

Plus he was attempting to teach flying to every arcanist who could learn it, and every illusionist they were paired with... and working with Agina on his Uripedas bombardment ideas. Only a generalist like Greppa would have thought of summoning something to help him as an evoker - bombardment was useless to a summoner, and largely impossible for an evoker.

And, just to add to the mess of his duties, Merideth and Bellos were pushing him to look for "ancient places we can loot during our promised vacation". That last, he'd already put off for weeks, and the month of time off was looming.

He put it off another day, and went back to explaining fundamentals of magic to an sharp-minded elderly gentleman who had somehow (Greppa had no idea how) been missed by any arcanist in his youth.


----------



## seasong

Hi Nail! Welcome to the readership, and thank you for the kind words .


----------



## seasong

*Leaders of Theralis*

*Important Council Members*

*Balthas:* The Grand General of Theralis, Balthas is an immensely quiet and studied woman, an accomplished healer, and a vicious opponent in any competitive event. Now grayed and shrunken, she is nonetheless in excellent shape, and continues to participate in sparring with Captains, although she no longer dominates in the same manner as she once did.

Balthas rarely speaks in Council. When she does, she is right, and when difficult decisions are placed on the table, many Council Members listen carefully for her soft voice, on the off chance she might decide to speak. She has never lost a debate in living memory... if she ever did, she's outlived it.

*Phitios:* Like many Council Members, Phitios is also a General. A senior Council Member, Phitios is not well known, as he mostly intervenes in any discussion only to remind of history or past decisions. General Daelas is considered more of an expert on the military, and General Ukeles is considerably louder. Still, when he does express his opion, it tends to have considerable weight, either counterbalancing an opinion by one of the other two Generals, or lending their statements greater force.

*Daelas:* Young and unspeakably brilliant, Daelas was Phitios' pupil in the methods of warfare, and has managed to rise swiftly since then. Her role as a Council Member is most often as a source of information and ideas, rather than decisions - she still lacks much pull among the other Council Members due to her youth, particularly on civil matters, with which she has almost no experience.

*Ukeles:* Self-described as a "charismatic madman", Ukeles travelled a great deal as a youth before settling back into the Theralis valleys and rejoining Service, and then, upon attaining a Generalship by virtue of the strong loyalty he engendered, set about becoming a Council Member. His role in Council is generally to express the loudest, rudest opinion - many Council Members take their tack from him, following his lead or using him as a compass of where not to go.

His most mercurial quality, however, is his ability to change his opinion midstream. Some think that he takes the side he doesn't want to win on occasion, in order to ridicule its position with his own extremism, before taking a more moderate view. Others aren't so sure.

*Furimenes:* Sometimes called "the only merchant with weight", Furimenes is a grossly wealthy man, who outright owns nearly a third of all business going north, and has sufficient assets that he can afford to hire other merchants to run his line for him. He is also a celebrity wine taster, a veritable travellogue of other nations and places, a skilled debater, and an unusually popular Council Member among the populace.

His primary focus during the wars has been to avoid heavy taxes to pay for the war effort, and to keep the trade routes open. That will soon change.

*Alleras:* An _ellini_ nearly as old as Balthas, Alleras is considered by most to be the expert on civil affairs. She is also Theralis' equivalent to a spymaster, blending effortlessly the twin duties of knowing what is going on, and maintaining the city affairs as usual. Like Balthas, she rarely speaks, but that is more because whatever it is that she wants to do, she is already doing.

The people of Theralis know her simply as a bar maven who trades gossipy bits in return for chatting about anything and everything. There are few regular patrons who don't know her and her lack of thrift where buying drinks is concerned.

*Menelaos:* The owner of the largest vineyard in Tartwater, Menelaos parleyed his patronage of the Olympiad into a Council seat a decade ago. His primary concern is, and always has been, the interests of vineyards, Dianas, and the wine trade. Priests are not allowed on the Council, and he barely qualifies.

*Important Generals*

*Phitios:* Born in Riverside nearly forty years ago, Phitios has aged into a muscular but portly man with a relaxed demeanor and sharp, hawk-like eyes. His primary talent is finding people with other talents, and drawing genius out of them like one might pull up water from a well. A skilled negotiator and orator, he is generally well-liked... more so since he dropped the stiff General facade long enough to ham it up in the recent Olympiad Dragon Play.

Phitios has recently acquired Captain Agina into his personal squad of Captains, a sign that many have taken as meaning that she is going to figure prominently in the upcoming war, possibly as his morale advisor.

*Daelas:* She is still not the Grand General, but is expected to take that position within a decade. Daelas is the driving force behind the current war push, buttressed by an enthusiastic Ukeles and cautiously optimistic Phitios. Her primary strengths lie in cunning plans and calculated aggression, and she is a monster in the various strategic board games the Generals favor.

*Important Captains*

*Agina:* A tough woman with alternately stern and boisterous manner, Agina has proven herself repeatedly in the some of the worst situations of the war. As a Captain, she is most valued by Theralis for her capacity to surprise and threaten the enemy, although there are some fears that she is insufficiently cautious. Recently retained by Phitios, it is believed that she will be placed in charge of general morale for his troops, particularly since she recently won Dianas' Luck in the Olympiad.

She is also an expert swordsman, matched by few other Captains.

*Kyriotes:* A Captain in name only, Kyriotes has no one in his command - the title is representative of his contributions to the Theralis military, and capacity for "commanding" extraplanar creatures in the service of Theralis. His title makes it legal for him to make decisions in battle on the scale that he is capable of, and frees him from the necessity of taking orders from anyone save the Generals.

Kyriotes is a charismatic summoner who has adventured extensively over the course of his long life, and taken thirteen apprentices, many of whom have since taken on apprentices of their own. He is currently in charge of training a batch of summoners, and will likely continue to extend his influence over arcanist interests in the coming years.


----------



## Greybar

> (Kyriotes has) ... taken thirteen apprentices




Oh, that can't be a coincidence.  Thirteen is just too much of a fun number for it not to mean something.  If he had thirteen apprentices and then dies, you know one of them at least has to go bad...
/end meta-gaming like I was a player

John


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: Decision of War*

The Council had convened to Menelaos home in the north end of Tartwater. An hour from Theralis, they had marked it as a day-long holiday in the record books, a social function for them to blow off some steam, get happily drunk, and debauche themselves in the time honored fashion of Council Members under the immense stress of war, politics, and leadership.

When Alleras confirmed that they had privacy, the gaiety of their manner dropped from them like shed water. Ukeles, true to his nature, was the first to speak, "The tribals will keep coming back. The only way for us, for our civilization, to survive... is to kill them before they kill us."

Phitios allowed a moment of shocked silence, then interjected, "At the very least, we must make certain we are safe, although I am not certain that Ukeles' solution is the best way to insure that."

Daelas smiled, "It is not possible in any case. There are too many, over too vast a land. We do not have the army needed to wipe them all out."

Menelaos and Furimenes were already jumping to their feet to attack the idea, when Daelas waved a hand, "I said, it's _not possible_. I doubt Balthas would ask of me to devise a plan that would wipe out our worldy possessions just to let us survive. Such a life is not worth living."

Ukeles, shook his head, "We must do _something_."

Heads nodded all around. The wars had been costly, both in the city's coffers and in terms of lost youths. Furimenes said, more quietly, "Daelas, the second year of Service is expensive. Are you certain it will be worth it?"

She shrugged, "As I have said before... At the very least, it will allow us enough manpower to, once we rout the Breaking Cat orcs, send a contingent to damage them severely enough that they can not come back for a generation or three. But that will be costly, as well, and I don't expect that we can do this twice - if there are worse tribes coming from the east, this may cost us our civilization."

Furimenes nodded, "I ask because many children of merchants, craftsmen and vineyards have re-entered Service. If we keep it up, in a few years we will not have the foundation of our society. I am not sure we can afford the cost even once."

Phitios, judging the mood was right for some strategy, added in, "If every citizen of Theralis marched this summer, we would have enough soldiers to march... Daelas?"

"We could crush perhaps four hundred miles worth of orcs, but there would be a swift shove back to fill in that gap - we would be as a brushfire, only ensuring that the strongest thrived better."

"...Just so." Phitios paused, "We need a longterm solution. We need to be able to maintain our vineyards, but we also need to be able to field a massive force, consistently. We _need_ those extra years of Service, but we also need to avoid them."

Heads nodded again - with limited human resources, the classic attrition between soldier and farmer was well known to all.

Balthas then offered, soft-spoken but deadly, "Put the tribes to work in the fields."

Within an hour, the decision was made, and the remainder of the day was spent planning the best way to present it to the people. The tribes would provide the manpower needed to maintain civilization while the people of Theralis marched to war.


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## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> Oh, that can't be a coincidence.  Thirteen is just too much of a fun number for it not to mean something.  If he had thirteen apprentices and then dies, you know one of them at least has to go bad...
> /end meta-gaming like I was a player



Heh. Actually, it's just a lovely coincidence, based on his age (from my XP charts for part-time adventurers; 36) and the assumption of about 1 apprentice per 2 years. He had only had 11 when the campaign started.

However, that's not to say that I won't use it for symbolism .


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## Indigo Veil

..Oh. My. God.

Nice updates, but *great* vignette. Greppa and Uripedas are gonna have some _fun_ then, eh? (well, fun if they live through the impending war, that is. ^^;;; )


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## seasong

*Academia: Politics*

Purely as a side note, and for those who like to get deeper into the politics of things, it should be noted that Balthas didn't have the idea of putting the orcs to work in the fields. Daelas did, and when she confided in Phitios, Phitios took her to chat with Balthas - the idea being, if Balthas thought it would go over well, they would present it to the Council. Balthas suggested that she should interject it at an appropriate moment, as Menelaos would likely respond badly to anyone else suggesting such a thing. They planned how to approach it, and Ukeles was brought in to voice support.

This was weeks ago. The current meeting was purely setup to get this passed through, and it was done at Menelaos' property so he would feel secure. Anyone who thinks the Council is running Theralis needs to have a look at the Generals.

_Edit - Typo._


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## seasong

Indigo Veil: Thank you . Actually Greppa and Uripedas are going to have some other fun before they have war fun. Fun, fun, fun, for the giant sun hawk!


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## Indigo Veil

Council member politics: I say again, "Oh. My. God." They're awesome, those generals, but after reading about that set up, I feel kinda dirty. >.<!

The first time I said that, I was more thinking about what seems to me a shift in Theralis from what it was to a more slave based kind of culture. (that's what immediately popped into my head, because no mention was made of the orcs getting paid for their work, since it seems to be just a switch of responsibilities from their pact, from guarding the borders and trade routes to farming.) 

Also, I'm curious to see how those proud, nomadic orc hunters will adjust to this new forced agrarian lifestyle, especially since the Council had this set up weeks ago, and no one asked the orc leaders for their opinions.  (poor orcies! ;_; orcs have feelings, too!) 

I could be wrong about all that, but anyway.

Sun Hawk fun: that's good to know. I'll look forward to that, and hope they live through the fun-ness. Funny how one's death can put an unhappy damper on one's enjoyment of things.

edit: these boards don't seem to like my anime styled emoticons. ^.^;;


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## seasong

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> The first time I said that, I was more thinking about what seems to me a shift in Theralis from what it was to a more slave based kind of culture. (that's what immediately popped into my head, because no mention was made of the orcs getting paid for their work, since it seems to be just a switch of responsibilities from their pact, from guarding the borders and trade routes to farming.)



They weren't talking about the Tattered Tribe, who are presently allies. They were talking about the Breaking Cat tribe, and any other threats to Theralis. Indeed, the Tattered Tribe got really insanely lucky when they allied with Theralis ^_~ ().


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## Indigo Veil

> They weren't talking about the Tattered Tribe, who are presently allies. They were talking about the Breaking Cat tribe, and any other threats to Theralis.




Eh-heh heh heh...oopsies. ^^;;;;

But then, why would they think that the enslaved orcs would actually do a good job of maintaining their enemies' source of wealth? If I were an orc, I'd immediately set the vineyards aflame as soon as I got my butt out there. I dunno, it prolly makes sense somehow, but I'm just not seeing it.

Nevermind...I've spoken enough here today to last me a months. <crawls back into her little lurker cave and returns seasong's board to his very fine story hour> ^_^

Ta!


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## seasong

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> But then, why would they think that the enslaved orcs would actually do a good job of maintaining their enemies' source of wealth?



The same way slavery always works - it doesn't change just because the slaves are orcs instead of humans. Keep those who know each other separated; prevent organization; beat the sullen and rebellious; maintain a small task force of civil soldiers to stomp out the occasional small group who manages something; give little rewards to those who behave better than their fellows.

At least... that's how the orcs kept the Theralese in line .







> If I were an orc, I'd immediately set the vineyards aflame as soon as I got my butt out there. I dunno, it prolly makes sense somehow, but I'm just not seeing it.



Of course you would. You're a rebellious little snot. You'd fight it and fight it and fight it - Merideth is much the same, and she'd agree with you. Unfortunately, that's the exception rather than the rule.







> Nevermind...I've spoken enough here today to last me a months. <crawls back into her little lurker cave and returns seasong's board to his very fine story hour> ^_^



Oh, but I like talking, too...


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## seasong

*Seasong is lame update:* I'm going to be in Houston this weekend, visiting a depressed friend. This means no game, and so probably fairly slow updates next week. I've still got stuff from last session, but I really don't think I should stretch it out so far .

Anyway, likely to be sparse. Just letting y'all know ahead of time.


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## J. Anson

seasong said:
			
		

> *Keep those who know each other separated; prevent organization; beat the sullen and rebellious; maintain a small task force of civil soldiers to stomp out the occasional small group who manages something; give little rewards to those who behave better than their fellows.*




My childhood just came rushing back to me...


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## Indigo Veil

Liking to talk, too: Ooh, goodie. That way I can respond to something and hopefully explain some of my reasoning to show I'm not a complete imbecile. ^^;;

you said: "The same way slavery always works - it doesn't change just because the slaves are orcs instead of humans."

Well, duh, I know that. ^^;;; But I thought that the orcs would be a much, much tougher group to keep in line that way, because they've shown that they CAN organize, despite tribal differences (tattered tribe); they're not some little wimps who got taken down because it was easy--they CAN fight (that's why they're a threat in the first place, yeah?); they're familiar with the land because of their more nomadic lifestyle, and so that makes running away easier (I think, anyway. wasn't that one of the reasons the three heroes couldn't get away, because they didn't know where to go from where they were, never having ventured far from Theralis?); and they're able fighters tending to the vines, crops and homes of Theralese who are away at war. I don't know that a single group of soliders would be able to keep down so many who were out to kill them in the first place.

fighting it and fighting it: would that be the exception for the orcs? from what you've given us so far of orc culture, I'd say that mentality is more the rule. (that's how it seems to me, anyway, especially with the orc reaction to the fight during which athan landed that lethal bite on his captor.)

anyway, that's enough outta me. ^^;;

have fun in houston.


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## Greybar

I gotta agree with Indigo Veil on this one.  I'll be waiting for the rebellion.

It wouldn't be the first time that high ranking folks didn't see forward to the consequences of their actions, of course.  May make for interesting moral dilemmas for the heroes!

John


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## seasong

So, if I argue my points too much, I risk sounding like I support slavery - the fact is, slavery as a condition is almost pathetically easy for a superior military force to inflict, and whether that is right or wrong, it is true. It is also true that Theralis is a superior military force - the orcs are a threat in the long term because of attrition. Individual tribes are really just bumblebees - fierce sting, but then _splat_.

And even with that, even the fiercest fighters can be kept down. Rome is an excellent example of this with their gladiators - they had problems with Spartacus because they got lax and allowed too much organization - there should not have been more than a hundred slaves who knew his name, and yet there were thousands.

Nor am I saying that it will _work_. I'm just giving insight into the decisions being made by the leadership of Theralis. They probably won't even call it slavery at first, just "war debts" or some such.

Anyway, I could probably write a full essay on how slavery works, how to keep slaves docile, etc., but I'm not sure I really want to do that here. The important thing, until Theralis actually starts doing it, is the fact that they made the decision to try.


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## Greybar

No problemo.  Get 'em, Beat 'em, Keep 'em down.
We're the products of a modern liberal society, so perhaps we forget how easy it is to do.
Right! Back to the story! [grin]


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## seasong

J. Anson said:
			
		

> My childhood just came rushing back to me...


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## Nail

DISCLAIMER: We are, in fact, talking about a _fantasy_ world, and not implying anything about how things should be in the real world.

Now, with that out of the way......

I'd be very interested in what you (Seasong) have to say about the "domestication" of the orcs.   How is it likely to start?  How is it going to be continued?  How can it work in a world filled with magic and adventurers running around?  Etc.

As an aside: do your orcs have the "light sensitivity" flaw?  How does that play in to this?



			
				seasong said:
			
		

> *So, if I argue my points too much, I risk sounding like I support slavery ....
> 
> Anyway, I could probably write a full essay on how slavery works, how to keep slaves docile, etc.,  *



Again, without giving away what your story plans are.......


----------



## seasong

Nail said:
			
		

> DISCLAIMER: We are, in fact, talking about a _fantasy_ world, and not implying anything about how things should be in the real world.



Heh. Yeah . Forgive me for getting on my Noble Savages kick .







> I'd be very interested in what you (Seasong) have to say about the "domestication" of the orcs.   How is it likely to start?  How is it going to be continued?  How can it work in a world filled with magic and adventurers running around?  Etc.



Again, it may not even get off the ground. At this point, the Council has convened and decided that it needs to be done, and they have decided on a method for spinning it to the populace. But they remain sensitive to the populace, and if the idea lacks any popular support, many Council Members will pull their support for it as well.

If it does get off the ground, it would most likely work through the military - they provide a central starting point. The military would capture orcs, charge them with "war debt", and sentence them to a period of time (or an amount of service) necessary to work off that debt, away from the war. Children would be free of war debt, of course, and it would all look very temporary.

The actual numbers, initially, are likely to be about 1 orc in the fields per 50 Theralese citizens, and since the orcs would be a lot cheaper to "hire from the military", the poorest vineyards (and the greediest) would likely be the first to adopt orcs in their fields.

Since there are orc citizens, who are immensely valued, a method of differentiating them would be needed - a simple iron band around the neck, thick enough to be "unbreakable", would be sufficient. If there were problems, branding might be used, with a date in the brand, so that anyone could look at the brand and know the orc was free now.

Orcs would be kept mostly separate, with any given orc mostly seeing humans during the 50:1 ratio period. As more war debtors came in, orcs would gradually begin to be put together, but even then they would not be allowed to speak with orcs in other regions, and an uprising in one area would be brutally put down, as an example to prevent it from happening elsewhere. After the first "rebellion" or two, it is unlikely that any orcs would be willing to be the ones to start anything.

At the moment, that's all theory, of course. As I said, support for it could disappear in a heartbeat.

As for magic and adventurers... (I assume you meant "heroes")

Magic doesn't change power relationships - at most, it changes who HAS the power, but not how that power is used. And Theralis is the one with the magic.

Powerful individuals (such as Kyriotes) can have immense impacts on society. And do. For example, Phitios is a powerful individual. He is about to attempt to change his society on a macroscopic scale.

Of course, the standard D&D adventurer is a little different - they have very modernist ideas and ideals, such as an innate sense of modern justice and sentient rights. If they were charismatic, they would likely have a sizable impact on the world, and the cost of maintaining slaves (adding "angry adventurers wrecking town" to the list of maintenance costs).







> As an aside: do your orcs have the "light sensitivity" flaw?  How does that play in to this?



Nope.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

How will it be done? Spartan Style!
We will defeat them.
Then we will remove memory of their culture and their past.
Those that cause trouble will be killed.
Those that attempt to organize will be destroyed.
Those that betray their fellows will be rewarded.
The generations that come after will be civilized in our ways and become contributing members of our society.

If they don't, they will wish they had joined their fellows at the foot of Ugrahd. (Yah I know it's spelled wrong, but I don't have the time to look up the name. I'll edit later.)

Don't expect sympathy from this generation of Theralies. They/we are very very tired and very very cranky!


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## seasong

Incidentally, before this turns into a riot ...

Theralis isn't the good guy, here. Theralis has never BEEN the good guy - it's just a city-state, which happens to have been the birthing place of some scions of Allas. Remember, Akeros wasn't born in a vacuum, and he worked for someone.


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## Nail

Thanks, *Seasong*.  More detailed than I expected, given this is a continuing campaign.

Excellent attitude, *Greppa*.  You'll go far, son.

IIMC, I've toyed with introducing a slave-race.  That is, a race that may have once been "free", but are now servants and slaves of the ruling race.  Thus I'm keenly interested in how such slavery would be "started" in a campaign.  In mine, it would have been going on for some time before the PCs started adventuring.

Given the common races, orcs actually seem like an excellent choice, given their ability score mods (+4 Str, -2 Int, Wis, & Chr) and natural alignment (CE).  Of course, I'm not entirely sure how they are in your campaign, *Seasong*, but those lowered mental abilities makes them less able to organize an effective uprising.  The low Chr would be the real problem for them.  ...Again, this is all "metagaming" and "given the core 3e rules", so it's probably not applicable.

You say orcs don't get "light sensitivity".....do they have Darkvision?


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## seasong

Nail said:
			
		

> Thanks, *Seasong*.  More detailed than I expected, given this is a continuing campaign.



Heh . It depends upon the campaign, of course, but I'm not revealing any dark secrets. For one thing, I'm just discussing the theory, not the facts, in how slavery can be handled .

Darkvision: Yup, they have it.


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## seasong

*Academia: Really Ancient History*

Before Amalan, and before even venerable Aglaonis, there was the dragon Kyrkolan. A massive beast who had aged and died before Amalan was born, he once oversaw tens of thousands of square miles, including the birth, rise, and fall of the Kithios Empire.

An empire Kyrkolan is believed to have destroyed, albeit indirectly.

The Capitol of Kithios was south and west of where Theralis lies today, on the peninsula's coast, and it was a mighty city that dwarfed all that have followed since, but now lies as only vague outlines of ruins and unusually square boulders. Three highways, unearthed from the bedrock of the land itself, stretched north, east and south, and provided safe travel to those who would do trade with Kithios or its many subject cities.

Kyrkolan oversaw, and they followed his laws, breaking only those areas of wilderness they were given, and restricting their own growth to remain within the tolerances of the dragon. And they grew very powerful. They bound spirits of the earth and sky to the roadways to guide and protect, summoned celestial and infernal creatures to perform, advise and do great tasks. They constructed granite fortresses, raised arcanists of unmatched skill, and eventually... became weary of the shackles placed upon them by Kyrkolan.

What happened after is not wholly known. It is believed that they sent a band of their best heroes, matched in might only by arrogance, to slay the dragon, and that they succeeded in this task... but that Kyrkolan had prepared for this day, and set a contingency upon his death. When the great dragon died, the land came alive. Roads ripped themselves apart, the coast collapsed into the sea, sharks feasted upon the drowning, while trees marched into every region of land outside and ripped buildings and people as one might tear paper. As it is said, nothing is certain, but this is what is believed to have happened.

Kithios died. The wilderness healed. Time passed, and dragons retook the lands, and watched civilized people more closely for a time. Kithios died, and many secrets were buried with it.


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## Greybar

Nice!  So satisfying to know that even if they kill you, your work will continue.

I think that "ancient ruins" are one of those things that are almost required for the fantasy genre.  I know that Ryan Dancey's submission to the Fantasy Setting Search involved creating a new world, but that's a different and very thought-requiring thing.

So then this is a very nicely done intro to what I hope will be a fun plot for the heroes one of these days...

John


----------



## seasong

*Kithios*

Greppa was in the city proper, studying books. Responsibilities to Theralis had taken up most of his time, and so he'd not had the chance to really start looking for places to go, but he had to find _something_. There were scrolls, books, ancient magics, all hidden out _there_ somewhere, in the fallen civilizations of the past. Weird coins, broken statuary, the faint scent of yellowed spell books...

And it didn't help that Kyriotes and his cotery had been seen flying out of the city twice in the past month, then returning to his tower with a ton of... _something_ piled on that magical carpet of his. Greppa frowned, refocusing his eyes on the tiny text, and allowed himself a bit of a pout. It just wasn't _fair_, that Kyriotes, so established already, was looting everything worth looting already.

"Ah, excuse... excuse me." The voice came from Irine, the library's guardian, of sorts. A tiny woman with a tiny voice, she was nonetheless known for her abilities as an esper, though she rarely used them. "But, the last few times you've been here... I noticed.. I noticed that you seem to be reading a lot of history?"

Greppa nodded, standing and deferring his head in respect.

"Well, I... why don't you have a look... ah, look at the maps, then? I know most adventurers.. they think... think that, perhaps, the written literature shows everything. But maps.. maps sometimes show holes."

Greppa was already following her, "Holes? You mean, holes in what's mapped?"

"Holes in the... in the stories."

For just a moment, Greppa fell in love. He was just about to hug the old woman when he saw the map she was leading him to. Tucked into the back of the library, away from the damaging sun, it was thinly sliced hide parchment, cracked almost its entire length by the wearing of time and spackled with spots and worn patches.

It was hideous. It was beautiful. He coveted it and, entranced, he drew across the floor until he was immediately in front of it. Symbols were marked across its length in a language he did not speak, lines of unknown meaning crossed patches of the landscape... he saw a shape he recognized. A faint squiggled lake in the upper right hand corner of the map, that he would recognize anywhere, the winding path of Tartwater and the river that passed through it. And a bit south of that Little Lake, and further from that, the canyons to Southpass.

And then, like a radiating sun along the middle of the map, symbols that might mark cities he'd never known existed. He turned to Irine, "How... But don't adventurers look at this all the time?"

"Oh... yes... yes, I've shown it. But only... I only know of them going..." and she showed him. Prominent symbols. Landmarks and cities. "They... no one goes for the smaller stuff. It might be... be as important, but, ah, no one reads the language."

Greppa smiled as an idea blossomed in his head. A beautiful idea. An idea that would only occur to a generalist arcanist, one who worked to slip across the boundaries of what magic was intended for.

He thanked Irine and gave her a hug, then set to work. Casting summoning circle after summoning circle, he interrogated dozens of _lantern archons_, until he found one who had been around at the time of the older civilization. The poor dear knew almost nothing of that civilization (nor, he discovered, was any other likely to), but it could read the language.

Greppa cracked his knuckles, and got the name of the puffball of light. He and it were going to be spending all night together, poring over the map.

He didn't stop grinning all night.


----------



## seasong

Quick side note: Greybar has a story hour that he has failed to pimp here for some reason. It's just starting, but looks nice . And the website is more informative than mine .







			
				Greybar said:
			
		

> Nice!  So satisfying to know that even if they kill you, your work will continue.



Rule 1: Never get in a fight you can't win.
Rule 2: You can't win a fight with a dragon.



Of course, that's not an absolute. It's just a caution not to underestimate a dragon, and to be utterly, completely prepared... because the dragon will be .







> I think that "ancient ruins" are one of those things that are almost required for the fantasy genre.



Well... short of a copper age culture, it's hard to imagine a world where there _aren't_ ruins of the past. And in a setting where magic items last forever... suspension of disbelief becomes difficult without the presence of things to explore .







> So then this is a very nicely done intro to what I hope will be a fun plot for the heroes one of these days...



Almost immediately, in fact - they have a break before the summer comes, and they plan to use it.


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## seasong

*Academia: Slavery*

This is a simplified look at slavery in general, and why it works. As with strategies in battle, I have more information and history at hand than Theralis does, so this isn't a primer on how Theralis slavery will work - it's just a preview of how I view slavery in a historical context, and what approach I'm taking in culture building in Theralis. It's pure fluff, in other words .

With that said, it's fairly frank, and probably politically incorrect. Many people would prefer that slavery _didn't work_, that it was impractical or only inspired by evil, and I don't much cotton to that blindered approach to reality. Slavery is what it is, and while we find it abhorrent as a culture enlightened by some 2,000+ years of human rights theory and "enlightened self interest" theory, Theralis (and most earlier civilizations) don't.

*Domesticating Human Beings*

At its heart, slavery is the process by which another person is convinced that their best interests lie in serving _your_ best interests for very little return. Since, on the face of it, there's no reason whatsoever for that to be true, you will usually have to create a highly specialized situation wherein _not_ serving your best interests is somehow _worse_.

The specifics vary somewhat by culture, of course. For example, a person raised to believe that freedom is the only path to heaven will have to somehow be persuaded that you can ensure they will go to hell anyway. And fanatics of any stripe are unlikely to be convertible - fortunately for the would-be slave maker, true fanatics are rare.

Once you have established this highly specialized situation, you must then maintain it. Only the dimmest of minds will fail to attempt to alter the situation until it becomes feasible to consider interests other than yours. Thus, maintaining slaves is a constant struggle, and often a costly one - the question is whether the gain (in labor) exceeds the cost (in your labor, and feeding and care of the slaves). In most primitive societies, it most often is.

*Breaking Communication*

Slaves who are allowed to communicate with each other have many options open to them, which would otherwise be closed. As in the modern age when the Internet allows organized revolutions and massive populations to coordinate over wide areas, slaves who are allowed to communicate freely will be able to stage revolts and actions simultaneously - and if you have enough slaves to break even on cost, you have too many slaves to stop all at once.

Thus, preventing communication over more than a small area is of tantamount importance. Well established methods include promoting illiteracy (except among specialized slaves who are further separated from the others), preventing mixing of slave groups, restricting travel (even outside the home!) and (in some extreme cases) removing tongues or otherwise enforcing silence.

By way of example, plantation slaves in the south were allowed to sing, but not to talk after dark; were usually not allowed to leave their plantation; were almost never sold in groups to the same person; were kept illiterate; and were sometimes isolated in small shacks when they misbehaved. They got around this in various ways, from encoding messages in gospels to sneaking out at night, and these methods were clamped down whenever they were discovered in a constant struggle.

*Obedience Treatment*

Almost as important is motivation. As mentioned before, it is very important that not serving your interests be worse than serving them. Generally, there are three approaches here: capital treatment, breaking treatments, and game treatments.

Capital Treatment is simple - slaves who disobey are killed or horribly mutilated, sometimes both. Babylon and Egypt both seem to have followed this route, as did many eastern cultures. When you first enslave a people, you end up killing a _lot_ of them, but by then the remainder are very, very complacent. In general, a culture has to view another group as subhuman, possibly even disgustingly so, in order to consider this approach. And while effective, it is not _efficient_ - slaves function better under the other approaches, and you don't have the harvest cost. There is also the side issue of how the slaves will treat you if they ever _do_ become free.

Breaking Treatment is convuluted, and useful only in small numbers at a time, but ultimately results in the most functional and permanent slaves. Essentially, the slave-to-be is targetted with a combination of mild torture ("mild" is judged on a case-by-case basis), propoganda and statements to the effect of "I don't want to do this to you, but if you can't be obedient, I have no choice". Some people call it brain washing, but the result is a broken and conditioned individual who has problems even _thinking_ about revolt. This is often combined with one of the others, as a way of handling slaves needed for sensitive duties.

Game Treatment is somewhat more difficult than Capital Treatment, but primarily involves appealing to self interest. Punishments for misbehavior are initially mild (beatings, isolation chambers, reduced food), increasing with the severity and commonality of the infractions. The emphasis is always put forth that the punishments are fair, and that slaves are treated for how they behave, rather than who they are. Then rewards begin, for those who are particularly obedient, _or who help others be obedient_. That latter part is important, because it helps the slaves enter the game as near-equals to their masters, and gives them a stake in the social structure that they would not otherwise have. And, irrational as it is, that stake _means something_ to the slave, particularly if there's room for advancement (even very little advancement).

*Tipping Points*

The above two primarily serve to keep revolts small and disorganized, and to reduce the number of slaves involved in the first moments of a revolt. Not all slaves will respond well to a treatment, but enough will that the hesitant ones prevent a unified uprising. Communication, similarly, prevents the uprising from occurring in all places at the same time.

It is _assumed_ that there will be revolts - the goal is to make sure that all revolts that occur can be stopped, and used as an example to lengthen the time before the next one.

In the first few moments of a revolt, assuming you have done the other things well, you will have a small group who are leading the revolt. They believe, for whatever reason, that they can succeed. Perhaps they feel that if they just show the way, the other slaves will surge behind them - and they would be right, if they were allowed to show the way.

Instead, they are killed, messily, while those who were still afraid, or not certain it would work, or just confused, watch on. It's a tipping point, and it usually ends the revolt fairly quickly.

*Escapees*

As with fanatics who can not be converted, there will be those you can not catch. While lacking the firm principles and moral strength of the fanatics, they are both more clever and more agile than you or your soldiers. They get away.

To a certain extent, as with shoplifting in retail, you just have to accept your losses and do what you can to minimize them. You can also make sure that those who try to escape and DO get caught are treated in the most horrible fashion your culture allows... so that fewer try, and therefore fewer still succeed.

Ultimately, however, the only cost with those who escape is actually that they might _come back_, because then they might help others, or help establish communication. Usually, they just run, and it's okay to put minimal resources on it, and then let them go; when they come back, a great deal of resources must be put forward to stop them, or you may end up with a successful revolt...

*Conclusion*

Slavery is a condition from which it is often nearly impossible to break free of. Even in most literature, it takes acts of God, an enemy at the gates, or some other outside force - the number of successful slave revolts can be counted on one hand, and most of them involved a failure of the masters to follow the above rules.

Of course, nearly impossible is not entirely impossible.


----------



## Greybar

Seasong, another aspect to consider might be indentured servitude.  This applies to many of the 17th to 19th century migrations, though I haven't done much recent reading to really state with details or authority.

Off the top of my head, I'd say that indentured servants might fill the domestication qualities you name because they know it's going to end.  Until their contract is violated, at least.

You mentioned the idea of war debt and tattoos that indicate and end to service, so that might match up as well.

There is an interesting side point as well.


> ... a culture has to view another group as subhuman ...



I'd say this applies outside of the Capital punishment area as well.  Yet in Theralis there are free (and full citizen?) orcs already, so it may be harder for the human and ellini to see the enslaved orcs as different and thus be harsh to them.  Yes, I know, this may be 20th century nature coming out.  I would note that as late as the 20th century, there are substantiated stories of white landowner children being taught that blacks couldn't feel pain and thus it was okay to beat them or stick them with pins.

John
p.s. Oh, and I haven't pimped my story hour too much because I guess I don't feel it's super ready yet.  I need to start actually posting session runs rather than background... [grin]


----------



## seasong

*Regarding the subhuman comment:* The others, you can get away with, _without_ viewing the slaves as subhuman. It's unlikely (chauvinism being what it is), but within the realm of possibility. The greeks, in particular, often had admiration for the qualities of certain slaves they acquired... and slavery was recognized by some greek cultures as simply "the status of the loser in a war", rather than a statement of their human-ness.

Compare to the Olmec, Aztecs and similar, who viewed all outsiders as beasts!

That doesn't limit one from using a different set of techniques on a people you view as subhuman - it only limits the techniques you might use on those viewed as human.

*Regarding indentured servitude:* I don't really differentiate between various _degrees_ of slavery as being anything different. If it's choiceless labor in return for less than the labor is worth, it's slavery regardless of the euphemism involved. "Slave for a day" is still a slave.

With that said, Theralis seems poised to approach it as a kind of indenturement.


----------



## Talix

Awesome updates, Seasong, thanks!  

I, too, like the Uripedas sections, and I hope we see a lot more of him in the future.  And summoning creatures to do more than just battle is brilliant. 

I look forward to seeing how well the populous takes the slavery idea, and how well it ends up working in reality.  You obviously have spent a lot of time thinking about it, so I know it will be interesting regardless of the outcome!


----------



## seasong

Not likely to be an update today. Upper boss type in office. Much gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair.

Tomorrow, I should be caught up with last session.


----------



## Nail

Thanks for the essays, *Seasong*.  I will be sure to enslave th....I mean, use them.  Very thought provoking.


----------



## seasong

Kind of a small, crappy update today. Sorry .

*Road to Kithios*

Visions of white-clad heroes marching through her head, Merideth was enthusiastically in support of Greppa's find. That he'd summoned a spectre of light to translate ancient maps to find it only made it that much more enticing. And while she planned and visualized just how she would return from the adventure, Bellos was...

Playing with his sling. Zwhipp! It spun one way around his finger to smack neatly against his palm. Perfect. He unravelled it in one motion, dropping it to hang beneath his hand. Zwhipp! Smack! Perfect. He unslung it again...

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sounds good. Never been that way before - always east, west should be good." *Zwhipp! Smack!* "When are we leaving?"

Greppa rubbed his delicate temples, glanced back and forth between the two, then rubbed them again. At least Athan had had good questions, sometimes.

He went over it again, and showed Bellos his hastily sketched map of where he was thinking they could go. According to what he could determine, there was a site that had once been a fortress against eastern invaders. That was reasonably well known, actually, because some of the ruins were still visible, but a whole lot of digging by others had turned up a whole lot of nothing. And just looking at the map, it was a small keep, likely not having much of worth.

The important thing was that the _name_ of the place, on a map no one knew how to read, meant "Sky Marker". As near as Greppa could tell, that meant a place of importance for its high visibility - likely a meeting ground or major trade route - and that meant there might be something better nearby, possibly a town or very small city, which might have a library.

Plus whatever assorted stuff the other two might be interested in.

Within a few weeks, as their down time came up, they went recruiting... unfortunately, their "in" to the Keraunesti was dead and buried. Arkos was up for an adventure, but no one else seemed particularly interested in following Greppa and Merideth into the face of danger in quite the same way they would have followed Athan. And Bellos was right out.

So the four (Arkos, Bellos, Greppa, Merideth) packed their things and prepared to head out into the wilderness. And when they finally began marching downslope, out of the protective ring of mountains of their home and into the untamed wilderness to the west, they all felt something of a tug to home.

Then it was primal, viridian-streaked mountains and seaward winds. They were off to the past.


----------



## seasong

Really, really off-topic, but if you substitute "spelling bee" with "arcane word studies", I can _soooo_ see Greppa as Millie (the little fox girl).

Ozy & Millie

In his dreams, at least...


----------



## seasong

*Road to Kithios*

The first part of the journey was the hardest. Bellos knew his way around wilderness, and they managed to avoid most of the worst of what might be found there, but it still took three days to get through the first pair of valleys outside of Theralis. Then they found the highway.

Once upon a time, long stretches of bedrock were cleared of dirt or raised from the earth by magic. The result looked like a naturally resulting street, two to three wagons wide and stretching for miles. The ancients had made highways out of it, the blood arteries of a nation larger than ten Theralis city-states combined. Now, patches peeked out from beneath grass and worn earth, with stretches of flat rock providing easy egress through the wilderness.

As Merideth stepped onto the first stones, she could feel the history embedded in its quiescent hardness, perhaps more so than Greppa or Bellos or Arkos. To her sensitized perceptions, the cataclysmic final days were still echoing in the stone. Phantom sensations of the earth rippling. Where a stretch of stacked stone blocks had remained standing along the edge of the highway, she could see the missing patches, rent from their place by elemental forces.

She resolved to never, ever, _ever_ take on a dragon without extensive prior planning, and remained uncharacteristically quiet. The others did not really notice - all were in awe at the scale of achievement necessary to create roads from the native earth itself. No one spoke much, in fact, and as they passed an area of highway more intact than the rest, the silence was almost palpable.

A lone sunglobe, set to brighten as the sky darkened (instead of the reverse, as was true of Allas' lost temple), continued to stand on a stone pillar, maintaining its watch over the highway. The others in that stretch, shattered by time and accident, lay dark and quiet.

Greppa stopped by the lone survivor and stared at it. He imagined, briefly, that when this civilization had collapsed, that the orc tribes (whose history was chaotic and likely longer than any living civilization) had taken those people as slaves. And that, one day, a slave named Thera had been born, to rise and build anew.

It inspired a dim and primal instinct for glory, one that he hoped to retain as time passed between seeing the sunglobe and whatever the future held for him.

Bellos was focused on something else. Never particularly fond of intuition, and trusting to strategy more than instinct, he was nonetheless getting very uneasy. Merideth seemed to feel it as well, and both stepped closer together as they walked on.

The earth trembled.

Pebbles on the stone chattered. One skipped high as an odd edge found its place, and beneath, the earth began to shake. As the four adventurers attempted to find their footing, rocky earth flowed _up_ from and out of the highway. Vaguely humanoid in shape, only its towering torso and arms rose above the surface.

One of those arms was beneath Merideth, and it lifted her high, her legs folding beneath her into its palm, then turned its hand over and smashed her against the earth. The other arm swept Bellos and Arkos flat, barely missing Greppa, though he felt the air suck behind the massive limb.

In Greppa's stunned mind, only one thing flashed through: it was an earth elemental, easily the largest he'd ever seen. And it was saying something in a language he didn't recognize.


----------



## Nail

> In Greppa's stunned mind, only one thing flashed through: it was an earth elemental, easily the largest he'd ever seen. And it was saying something in a language he didn't recognize.



Terran translation: "Hey, you stepped on my toe!  Watch were yer goin', buddy!"


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Reminder*

This is a reminder for me to post a statement about eyetyrants, deception and a huge underdark, beneath the mountains.


----------



## seasong

What underdark?

Eye tyrants?

Deception?

I don't know WHAT you're going on about. You meet a few friendly souls who look a little different, and you start getting all paranoid, I mean, _really[/]!_


----------



## seasong

*Road to Kithios*

Cold, unforgiving stone slammed the breath from Merideth's lungs. Pinning her to the stone was liquid earth flowing down upon her torso, crushing the remaining breath. The earth spirit Greppa had esconced within her held the near-corpse together as best as it could, and Merideth fought unconsciousness and pain to focus on the healer's art.

She wasn't healing herself, naturally. She was ripping into the life force of whatever was pinning her down.

It half-released her, jerking its semi-liquid appendage from her like a burned child, and she tried to scramble backward from a half-prone position, looking around as she did so.

Bellos was whacking into it with his oversized meat cleaver, and it was batting him back and forth like a rag doll. Arkos was sprinting towards Bellos, Greppa was flying high into the sky. _Oh good,_ she thought, _Greppa's gonna blow it all up_. Then she focused on healing herself and crawling away.

As she was reaching her feet, albeit unsteadily, the ground rocked again, and she fell down. Looking back, she saw that Arkos had bodily lifted the smaller Bellos and was beating his feet away from the monster. _Hey, that's a good idea..._ and then Greppa had landed next to her, touched her, and she was, very suddenly, hundreds of feet away, the space between having parted like mist for Greppa's will.

The thing came for them. Flowing over the stone like a wave, it rushed in their direction, its sonerous voice vibrating through the stones... and more elementals began rising from the earth. They flowed slowly, however, and Greppa helped everyone into the air, where they fled for their lives.

Miles away, and resting around a hastily constructed camp, Merideth was already grinning. Her's and Bellos' wounds were healed, she was rested, and that... whatever-Greppa-called-it... was in the way of their adventure.

"A korkanthosuellios; it's not THAT big a word!"

Bellos grunted and smiled, Merideth rolled her eyes. It was an earth monster, was what it was.

They prepared to go back... and Greppa was running through his arcane contacts list, looking for an archon that spoke earth elemental.*

_* Note: Archons can touch a sentient creature and instantly be able to speak their language; Greppa tried this during the combat and the elemental squashed the poor wee thing when it alighted on the elemental. So he's looking for one that can talk before getting in range._


----------



## seasong

Note: Greppa's player reminded me that he cast _dimension door_ rather than _fly_ on Merideth - I remembered that he'd flown in and saved her (the elemental was knocking/holding her down while continuing to beat the tar out of Bellos and Arkos), I just forgot which spell .

Oh, and just as a side comment, earth elementals who grapple are not CR 7. They're just lucky this one had never learned to throw rocks, giant style.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Shudder*

If it did throw rocks, I'd have to get all Texan on its butt.


----------



## Nail

Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> **Shudder*
> 
> If it did throw rocks, I'd have to get all Texan on its butt. *



Sure, but would Eric's Grandma approve?  Would Quentin Tarantino?

Given good strategy and ability synergies, CRs can be changed dramatically.  Grappling Earth Elementals.  I like it!  (Yoink!)


----------



## seasong

My next post is taking me a while to write. Might not be done until tomorrow morning. As a break from trying to write it...

*Cached Transit*

_Note: this is entirely OOC; the only reason I'm posting it is because some of it Greppa has already guessed at and figured out, and the rest of it is not germane to the plot._

Kithios was rich, huge, and heavily populated. Unlike Theralis, they were not particularly militant, and tended to focus more on magical solutions than manpower solutions (this may or may not have had something to do with their god-king-wizard leader). For example, they summoned and bound earth elementals to build and protect their highways, levitated towers to make them more defensible against ground-limited armies, and so on.

One of their other magical solutions was their cached transit system. The essential method was simple: an earth elemental was used to create a pocket of air deep in the earth, and then wizards would shape layers of stone and steel to support the cavern. Each pocket was fairly sizable, roughly a hundred feet across and a hundred feet high, with a flat, circular floor. They would then create permanent _teleport circles_ covering 50% of the floor, keyed to another cache point, and keyed to the surface of the land. These formed an unbroken chain across the width and breadth of the empire, starting in the regions near Kithios itself, and gradually expanding as funds and wizardly manpower dictated.

An army could march to any point in Kithios within a day, restock from the cache point, and then march out onto the surface. Within a cache point, there was usually sufficient supplies to arm a small warband, and sufficient food and basic goods to survive for a month or two. Some of the more lavish or well placed cache points also had water wells or carved apartments.

Although it might have made sense, from an eceonomic perspective, to open the cache transport system up to merchants and others, this was never done. It was more important to Kithios that the enemy not be able to use the cache points, and that the cache points be clear and open if they suddenly had to march a vast quantity of people through them.

When the dragon died and the earth began to shake, the cache transport system was the first thing to collapse. Most of them are nonfunctional today, even if someone knew to look three hundred to five hundred feet below the earth for them.


----------



## seasong

*Road to Kithios*

The second day went much better. Greppa got everyone airborne, despite bitter complaints from the unskilled Arkos and Bellos, and they flew back to the patch of highway where they had spotted the earth elemental. Merideth touched down and stomped around a bit, her hand crackling dangerously green, and then dashed upwards into the air when it surfaced, desperately dodging its grabbing limb.

Greppa sent a lantern archon down, and it began to speak with the elemental. Time passed. Then more. Merideth sighed and looked up at the sky, but the sun had not budged much. The light archon and earth elemental spoke for some minutes, and finally the archon zipped up to Greppa.

Its voice tiny and sweet compared to the earth-shaking bass of the creature below, it explained what the long conversation was about, "He apologizes. He did not know you were not the other spindly little things that are destroying his protectorate."

The heroes glanced at each other, "Other spindly little things? Protectorate? What?"

The archon dimmed in brightness, the celestial equivalent to slumping its shoulders, "I'll go ask..." and it zipped down for another long conversation. Merideth floated closer to Greppa, and soto voiced, "I take it the earth tongue is slow?" Greppa just shrugged. Hell if he knew.

Although, over the minutes, it became obviously so. Back and forth the archon zipped, passing bits of conversation before diving back in, while Greppa continuously renewed the gate holding the archon in this plane. It was a long process, and by the end of it, the poor little puffball of light looked ready to cry.

But duty called. They learned, gradually, that there were other humanoids of a size similar to the young adventurers, who were stealing stones from the road under the cover of a spell which prevented the earth elemental from approaching them. They also determined that the earth elemental had been here, in this spot, guarding this patch of long-forgotten highway, since before Thera had been a gleam in some slave boy's eye. That he was, in fact, a remnant of that ancient civilization, bound by duty and oath to protect the road no longer in use.

Greppa was not fond of Kyriotes, finding him an insufferably arrogant man with his dozen apprentices and tens of sub-apprentices, and his grandiose summonings.. but this poor elemental needed help, that Greppa knew he couldn't provide himself. And... it would be nice to have it working for Theralis. While he continued asking questions, Greppa's brain whirled furiously as he planned how to approach Agina to make sure that Kyriotes didn't get _all_ the glory.

As they learned what they could, the earth elemental made an offer: essentially, if they could stop the bad spindly ones from stealing his road bit by bit, he would reward them with treasures from his cache... he considered the situation dire enough to part with them, and the military had not needed such things in centuries. It was agreed, and they decided to camp hidden at the edge of the wood.

Greppa dismissed the archon to its pleasurably simple existence elsewhere, and Bellos put together a concealing leanto, behind which they hung out, napped, and watched. Finally, Greppa's keen ears caught something moving unstealthily through the woods on the opposite side of the road. Tapping the others to let them know, he soared into the sky for a better look.

What he saw were two hooded and robed figures, dressed darkly and keeping themselves covered against sight, and the faint echoes of esper magic... _an esper spell of warding, perhaps?_ he thought as he planned how to approach them. He decided on the bold approach.

He summoned _daylight_.

And as they looked up, impossibly long fingers shielding their faces from the glare, he saw too many eyes peeking from behind those fingers, and a small, lipless mouth that brought nightmares screaming back to him.


----------



## Nail

seasong said:
			
		

> *......he planned how to approach them. He decided on the bold approach.
> 
> He summoned daylight.*



Ah yes, the "direct approach".  What truely astonishing is how often this surprises me as a DM.  I'm always thinking: "Surely they'll know to do this, then this, then......"


----------



## seasong

*Road to Kithios*

Greppa screamed as his eyes met those of the eye tyrant, but he found his gaze focusing mostly on the mouth... a toothless, lipless slit, nightmare memories of susurrant voices surrounding him as his mind was raped bubbled up from somewhere inside. he didn't even think, his hands just traced the lines, and streaking bolts of pure light rained down from the sky and turned his nightmare into charcoal.

The other one said nothing, simply flew, silent and dark, back into the concealing forests. Greppa continued to scream, managing to say "eye tyrants" somewhere in his primal voice, and the other three raced through the woods to catch it.

Once they were out of sight, Greppa landed to make sure it was dead. Part of its right arm fell off at the middle of the upper arm, where small embers continued to glow.

The fight in the woods was ugly and one-sided. Arkos and Merideth brought the prey down, and Bellos whacked its head off. Then, in the time honored tradition of battle fields in all worlds, they stripped it of everything of value. A pair of rings, a slim wand tucked into a forearm sheath, some odd coins...

Greppa, the rage momentarily out of his system, caught up with them and looked the stuff over. There was nothing he was particularly interested in, but he did not, "It's all esper stuff. Merideth, you might want to take it, just in case it's useful to you."

Then Bellos, nodding at that, added, "If they were stealing rocks, there's likely to be others who needed the rocks. We should stay a few days to be sure." Merideth looked ill at the prospect. Arkos grinned at the idea of another chance at whacking one. Greppa, face as serious as death, simply nodded.


----------



## seasong

Note: likely no update today. Big Boss is in town (has been since around lunch yesterday), and I'm hard at work.


----------



## Talix

Heh, hope they didn't mind making enemies of the entire village just over that hill...  

I like the communication, and the personality given to the little summoned creatures.


----------



## seasong

Hey Talix . With how arcanists "work" in the flavor text (summoning creatures from specific places), it would be impossible for me to justify anything else .

As for the village over the hill... heh heh heh. You'll see .


----------



## Nail

seasong said:
			
		

> *Road to Kithios
> 
> Greppa screamed as his eyes met those of the eye tyrant, but he found his gaze focusing mostly on the mouth... a toothless, lipless slit, nightmare memories of susurrant voices surrounding him as his mind was raped .... *



Uhm...

Newbie here: What th' heck is an "eye tyrant", and how do I kill it?

For those of us without Lightning bolt spells........


----------



## mystraschosen

Nail said:
			
		

> *Uhm...
> 
> Newbie here: What th' heck is an "eye tyrant", and how do I kill it?
> 
> For those of us without Lightning bolt spells........ *



 Hahahahahaha ,that is funny!  How ya doin nail?Long time no speak.


----------



## Greybar

Pick up the old story near where it says:

Extradimensional Threats

John


----------



## seasong

I should have given some background, probably .







			
				Nail said:
			
		

> Uhm...
> 
> Newbie here: What th' heck is an "eye tyrant", and how do I kill it?
> 
> For those of us without Lightning bolt spells........



From the original post:







> *Eye Tyrants:* Eye tyrants are humanoids named for the eyes all over their skull which, chameleon-like, dart in all directions. They have moist, amphibious flesh of dark and muted colors, are taller and far more slender than humans, and possess long fingers with which they are very clever. With a hood, skilled disguise, and very little light or closeness, they could likely pass for a particularly ugly human. Eye tyrants are known as powerful espers, and are one of the reasons that espers are mistrusted - not that a Theralis esper would ever work with eye tyrants, but the history of the eye tyrants shows just how the powers can be abused. Eye tyrants are cold and calculating, and seem to base their society on their strength as espers.



For the rest, I suggest following the link and reading about 2 updates worth. Some eye tyrants did really nasty things to Greppa's mind, and Merideth was partially in on it (although Greppa doesn't know that). If you want to know why Merideth is so uncomfortable and Greppa is so psychotic, that's why.

I may or may not get an update out today. Don't wait up .


----------



## Delgar

Hey Seasong,

Just thought I'd say I'm still reading and looking forward to more installments. Definately keep up the good work!

Hopefully soon I can start my own story hour. I finally have a group and we start playing Sunday, should be fun!

Delgar


----------



## seasong

I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still writing, but that there probably won't be a post today or tomorrow. I didn't run Light Against the Dark this past weekend, and in general have not been up to writing much of anything.


----------



## seasong

*Road to Kithios*

They slept during the day, and maintained vigil each night. Back to back. Waiting for the eye tyrants.

Greppa, his back sandwhiched between Arkos and Bellos, kept his ears open, his eyes wide. He vaguely remembered the eye tyrants exerting their will over him, shoving his consciousness into sleep, and then the dark nightmares after that. He rubbed his eyes, grinding delicate knuckles into the bridge of his nose. He would _not_ let them put him to sleep again. He would kill them first.

Merideth found herself sweating, for the third time this night. She prayed to any god that would care, that these were not the same eye tyrants she had made deals with for the survival of her friends. If it got out, and here she stole a stealthy glance at her comrades, they would never want to be around her again. That scared her more than the idea of matching wills with an eye tyrant.

Bellos checked his sling. Leather was good, no scratches, nice and tight stretch to it... he leaned back briefly to look at the stars. Except for the warm backs next to his, this was almost like the old days, before. When he'd been alone. Still, he didn't mind hanging around these guys. Allas had reasons, he was sure, and in the meantime, Merideth was reasonably pretty, and Greppa and Arkos both knew their arse from a hole in the ground. He wondered, idly, why the other two were so scared of the eye tyrants. He'd heard tales, but the reality, cut in twain by his blade, had not really lived up to them.

Arkos leaned back and watched. He could sense Bellos' lack of anxiety, and it made him more anxious. Like Greppa, he had vague memories of the eye tyrants. They were the reason he and his lover had broken up - during his nightmares of them, it was Athan he called upon for protection. And Athan... was dead. Arkos prevented a shudder in himself - he was the de facto warrior here, and he could not show weakness to the fragiles. They needed his swift spear. And Bellos needed a butt kicking. At that thought, he finally smiled, if just for a moment.

Merideth called it first, "They're here."

Greppa was up and drawing arcane circles before the eye tyrant fully materialized, and Bellos, cat-like reflexes aside, had to find wonder in the speed with which the tiny arcanist brought light and fury down upon the head of the enemy.

It didn't matter. The eye tyrant was untouched. A psychic projection, rather than flesh that could be killed. "Pleass, no biolenss. Am peassful."

Greppa turned to Merideth, waiting for the esper to speak to the esper; she just looked at him helplessly and shook her head _no_. Sighing, he glared at it, arms prepped for spellcasting and legs aggressively apart. "What. Do. You. Want."

"Forgib uss. Iss not our way. We sseek peass, not biolenss. Our companionss are dead. We sseek to bury."

Merideth chimed in, "Why are you hurting the earth elemental?"

It looked surprised, its bright blue eyes widening slightly, "We hurt no one. It iss our way."

Greppa shook his head, "You are hurting the earth elemental. It is bound to protect the highway, and you are damaging the highway."

Its blue eyes, the eyelids now sliding half shut, turned back to Greppa, "Ah. We did not undersstand. We did not know purposs. Am ssorry."

Greppa narrowed his eyes... this _thing_ was getting a bit chummy, "Why are you doing it? What are you doing here?" and then, within half a heartbeat, "Merideth, check to see how many are backing him up - we don't want to get caught by surprise."

The grotesque, multi-eyed creature bobbed its head at Greppa, "Ob courss. You musst wonder... we are a peassful group. We sseek knowledge. Undersstanding. It iss our way. Our people are warlike."

It paused for breath, searching through the youthful human's mind for the right words, then hastily withdrew... it had wanted the name of the human's people, so it could compare the warlike aspects, but it sensed frayed emotions and immense patriotism. Such a comparison would be unwise.

It also sensed the bright mind of the human behind the first, and realized, with a start, that she was an esper. A good one.

"Becauss ob war, we can not be our way. We leab, come here, sset to learning of world." Another shuddering breath, and then, "We take sstoness to read hisstory. Only sstoness in highway hab hisstory."

Greppa continued to glare, but inwardly, he felt some doubt. The creature... its eyes were much like his own, and almost looked soulful. Blue in color, they gazed at him with sorrow and fear. But he could not trust them, "What do you mean, 'read history' in the stones?"

"Iss hisstory in sstoness. A... mindwork. Iss dibbicult to essplain."

Greppa shrugged and tilted his chin toward Merideth, "So 'essplain' to her. She can do your kind of stuff."

Pretending surprise, it looked at her, "Our kind? She? Ah... Am sseeing."

And with that, it took the opportunity presented to communicate with her silently. A few moments passed as it explained, in the mind tongue, that they sought only knowledge from the stones.

Merideth, working hard to keep up, finally broke off contact. "It says that they can return the stones. They seek only the knowledge, and if we can mediate with the earth elemental for them, they will begin repairing the damage they unknowingly wrought."

Bellos shook his head, "And if they break the agreement once we're gone?"

There was more to discuss. At this point, the eye tyrant began pleading for secrecy. Its people, he said, were peaceful, and sought no harm to any, but feared for their lives should the foursome tell others where they were.

It was a long conversation.

In the end, Greppa agreed to silence, and the others followed his lead. With the understanding that Greppa would be sending a lantern archon each and every day to this location, to confirm with the earth elemental that all was well, and that, should this eye tyrant ever see the warlike members of his kind in the area, he would alert the lantern archon Greppa sent.

It was a kind of moral compromise, and it did not sit well with any of them to not alert Theralis... but they were convinced of the need for secrecy. Even Agina would react... much like Greppa had, when first faced with the possibility of an eye tyrant.

The foursome returned the items they had looted from the corpses, and eye tyrants began to float in. It was eerie, as they silently carried their fallen into the woods for an unseen burial, and began repairing the highway.

It was then that Greppa's own acute memory picked up on their preciseness. They not only placed rocks in the exact spots they had been taken from, but shifted the pebbles around until it satisfied them. He approached the 'leader', and asked about it.

"Am not undersstanding? You looss memory?"

"Yes. We forget things. Do your people not?"

"We do not looss memory."

"Can you teach me how to do that?"

"Iss not... taught. Iss ssimply sso. We pass memory parent to child. Iss ssimply sso."

And, somewhat in awe, the heroes watched the reconstruction.

After the eye tyrants had left, the heroes stood with the earth elemental once again. Greppa had explained that they would come if he needed it, and how the lantern archons would work. The puffballs of light, it turned out, could easily _teleport_ the distance between here and Theralis, and combined with their communication skills, made near perfect messengers. In return, the ancient creature of the earth brought up treasures, unused for centuries upon centuries, from the depths of its cache point.

They were fine, indeed*.

Once they had bedecked themselves in the magic of a bygone epoch, Merideth strutted around and posed. The thick belt about her waist and silvered steel bracers made her feel more heroic than she'd felt in her entire life, and she did a few poses to celebrate. Greppa, similarly bedecked, was more interested in examining them, but he held off for now. Bellos and Arkos just watched them, and took turns complimenting Merideth. It was a fine day, and time to return home.

* _I'm going to come back and edit these in when I have the list in front of me; I gave them some pretty nice stuff, as the earth elemental/DM felt they had really earned the best it could offer._


----------



## seasong

Greppa, I think you owe everyone your underdark commentary now .


----------



## seasong

Note: some war stuff coming up this weekend, although as mentioned previously, the rules by which Theralis is playing the war game have changed. More importantly, Bellos will be unveiling his Beer Plan, which may well make the party filthy, filthy, _filthy_ rich. By Theralis standards, anyway  .

Anyway, because they might be rolling in disposable income within the next few game sessions, I thought I would share some of my thoughts as a GM about PCs and obscene wealth.

It gets touched on a lot on these boards, but in D&D, wealth = magic items = combat power. Too much wealth under this system, and the balance of the system breaks. Worse, there are items one can buy in standard D&D which essentially allow you to throw money at a monster to make it go away, not to mention the hordes of mercenaries and spell casting armies one can buy.

Theralis doesn't have hordes of spell casters to hire, and mercenaries (while they exist) are a mostly northern thing. The people of Theralis would likely frown strongly on the idea of such shiftless, landless criminals being relied on to defend Theralis lands. And magic items are generally on a per-commission basis, and take time to produce; those that already exist are usually in someone's hands already, and unless you can imagine Agina selling her sword (I can't), you are out of luck.

Something to consider, however, is the threat range they are to face. At 7th level, verging 8th, they have become regional heroes and are verging near legendary status. Realistically, if they spearhead a plan, they'll have many, many times their wealth in people who will back them on the plan. Realistically, if they need something to break the back of the enemy, the military will _buy_ it for them. And realistically, they're going to need it to win.

Another consideration is that wealth, properly done, gives the characters something to lose. I love to allow characters to invest in things and then threaten that investment. They're usually jumping all over the threat like ugly on an ape before I can finish saying what the threat even is. Wealth ties you down - to land, to your partners, to the survival of the community that makes your wealth meaningful.

And finally, wealth won't impact things that much from a challenge perspective. I've got whole armies of eye tyrants, orcs, giants, northern aggressors, and who knows what else. if the PCs, at semi-semi-legendary status, are too rich for more ordinary threats, I've got everything I need to achieve the destruction of all they hold near and dear. Balance is between party members, not between the party and the GM.

Whew! Didn't mean to make that so long. Just my two cents .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

Mine mine mine! Go go go!

I'm Rich! I'm a happy miser!

I'll get to the underthingie when I get home after work. I have to collect my thoughts and marshal my paranoia.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Update*

Sorry I haven't posted it. I got new RPG books last night and they slurped the awareness out of me. The post should be up late tonight.


----------



## Talix

Wow, that was surprisingly easy.  Good thing they're always meeting the nice eye-tyrants.  More like the eye-local-landlords.  

What is the translation for "biolenss", besides the obvious overtones of battle/violence?  I couldn't place it...


----------



## Nail

Good points, Seasong!  But the best is this:



			
				seasong said:
			
		

> *And magic items are generally on a per-commission basis, and take time to produce; those that already exist are usually in someone's hands already, and unless you can imagine Agina selling her sword (I can't), you are out of luck.*



This is key.  Many think the core rules assume "magic shops".  Well, sorry, but they don't.  They do assume characters have a certain power levels of items.....and that's not necessarily tied to a PCs gp hoard or land/business/title value.  A lord with millions of gp of worth need not own three +5 vorpal swords, or even have _access_ to such items.


----------



## seasong

Talix said:
			
		

> Wow, that was surprisingly easy.  Good thing they're always meeting the nice eye-tyrants.  More like the eye-local-landlords.
> 
> What is the translation for "biolenss", besides the obvious overtones of battle/violence?  I couldn't place it...



Hee hee hee .

The eye tyrants don't have human-like teeth, and their sibilants are sonorous. Without an even, hard ridge (like human teeth), 'f' and 'v' translate quickly into 'b' or 'p'. I went with 'b' because it's more understandable when spoken out loud. The sonorous sibilants also limits their ability to state 'z' sounds, and they tend to avoid sounds like 'th'. So 'biolenss' is 'violenss'.

As for the eye-local-landlords... heh. During the game, Greppa went off for about five minutes on a 'conspiracy of tyrants' after this happened. He's positive there's more going on.

Maybe he's right...


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Greppa's poisonous little thought.*

Theralis, at least as far as the players know does not have an underdark populated by drow, duergar, and mindflayers. However, there may be new, worse denizens under the civilized world. 

*Greppa's moment of paranoia.* 

As I watched the eye tyrants appear from the forest to return the stones they took from the road, a terrible thought emerged.

What if these two isolated incidents weren't isolated at all?

The first time we encountered an eye tyrant "colony" we were north of the Theralis valleys. They scrubbed over our brains and made sure that we couldn't find them again. They could have killed us but they captured us, tortured us, put some kind of geas on us and sent us out. 

Now, we run across these, "peaceful" specimens. Is it coincidence?

What if there was a large eye tyrant community under the Theralis valleys 

The Kithios empire stretched well across the valleys. What if it had stretched underneath them as well. If those underground caverns still existed, then the eye tyrants we met tonight could be the SAME eye tyrants we met up north. 

What if they weren't looking for general knowledge, but for something in particular, an artifact that will let their faction achieve supremacy in their home dimension. If they're peaceful then them taking over their home dimension would be fine, but if they're not and are being nice because they don't have the resources for war on this plane.

I can't believe that I oathed myself to keeping their secret, but they also said that I could keep an eye on things down here and I will...several pairs.


----------



## seasong

Note: the above almost sounds reasonable. As such, it fails to capture Greppa's brief rant in the game . And that's nothing against the player - I personally thought it was most excellent, although not quite long enough (a few minutes only) to qualify for _raving_ status.

In essence, the theory was thus: there are eye tyrants up north, and eye tyrants down south, and there are _probably eye tyrants beneath our fair city, just waiting to destroy us all!_ Also mentioned in the rant were an eye tyrant hivemind, a vast underground city, ancient Kithios artifacts, the oozelords, and other such unlikely things.

I mean, who'd believe all that?


----------



## seasong

Delgar said:
			
		

> Hopefully soon I can start my own story hour. I finally have a group and we start playing Sunday, should be fun!



Hey Delgar! Let us know here when you get it started!



			
				Nail said:
			
		

> A lord with millions of gp of worth need not own three +5 vorpal swords, or even have access to such items.



Darn straight! And while I have run settings with magic shops, one still has to remember that most economies are competitive, and magic items are typically a seller's market. A shop will have lots of the more commonly desired items, but rare stuff goes to the person with the most money and desire for it.

Update coming up.


----------



## seasong

*Between Times*

Upon arranging times and signals to the earth elemental, so that Greppa could track the adherence of the eye tyrants to the deal, the group left back for Theralis. They had spent too many days already to continue on, as they would be needed soon for the war effort at home.

On the way, Bellos was seeped in thought, his brow furrowed. It was an uncommon sight - not that Bellos thinking was uncommon, but they had become rather accustomed to Athan's lack of it. It ended when they arrived in Theralis, and Arkos parted ways with them to return to the Keraunesti quarters and Greppa, Merideth and Bellos returned to Greppa's tower.

"Greppa, how much weight can that glowing light creature carry with it?"

"About half of me. Believe me, I thought about that, but there's no good way to transport people."

Bellos took a moment to breathe, "Half of you!? That's... that's... oh, sweet gods, that's incredible. And how often?"

Greppa looked at him, "Bellos, what are you talking about? I mean, we could drop rocks, or have them scout out the enemy... I was thinking of suggesting the scouting thing to Agina, but the carrying thing is pretty useless."

"How. Often?"

"Well, all day long, really. It's mainly a matter of how long I can keep them here, which is typically less than a minute, if I'm having them do heavy stuff."

"And they can go... they can go all the way from here to the earth elemental?"

Greppa didn't dignify that with a response.

"Hear me out. Wine. Aglaonis. Beer. Theralis. Half your weight per trip. How many trips per _less than a minute_?"

Merideth, who had been quietly gazing into the innerspace where her heroic visions lay, woke up and shrieked deliriously. She wasn't big on math, wasn't keen on economics, and barely even tried to understand how Greppa did the accounting for the tower and team budget, but she understood naked profit well enough, and profit was very attractive naked.

Greppa just sat there, his mind dancing through the numbers, focusing on angles... He was interrupted by Bellos, "Well, we can't do too much. I think the archon's abilities outstrip our ability to utilize it - if we did too much of it, other arcanists would be jumping all over it real quick, and we'd end up with only a small fraction of the profit."

Greppa quickly agreed, "Yes. We would need to keep it concealed. Maybe work with Uridates again, see how much he thought would be reasonable."

Bellos quirked an eyebrow, "Uridates?"

"Oh, right... you weren't around. He's a merchant we worked for a few years ago, as guards. As best as we can tell, he's the greediest man in Theralis, who's still honest. And it would be in his and our best interests to keep this a secret, so he'd go along with it."

Merideth finally drifted back into the conversation, "Would it be better for Theralis if we shared?"

One heartbeat passed. Two.

"Naw."

*Note 1, Uridates:* From this post, "Uridates was a man of consumate greed. He knew the names of obscure, distant gods of coin, and had a lucky coin in every denomination he had ever encountered. He could identify precious metals by touch, taste, smell and sight, and could spot many forgeries merely by hefting it for weight. He also knew wine, as any Theralese merchant must, but more importantly, he knew how to sell it."

*Note 2, Greed:* The idea of open markets, open source, and the value of increasing public knowledge is not a common idea in this setting. In the characters' heads, if they shared their idea with others, the _same amount of wine_ would be traded, leading to a negligible gain in Theralis' wealth. The idea that easier trade would lead to even more trade is not something they quite grasp - who would have imagined that cell phones, for example, would have led to anything other than portable payphones?


----------



## seasong

The arcanist is an immensely flexible role, with plenty of specialist archetypes available to them. Kyriotes, for example, is a summoner of unparalleled finesse, although he knows squat about binding earth spirits into people or drawing raw energies from other planes - if it requires some sort of creature, he's the man for the mission. Greppa's mentor Hurath, on the other hand, was a non-specialist, and for a time it seemed Greppa would be, too, until he made a sacrifice and became a kind of "light bringer" archetype for Allas...

Quite some time ago, I mentioned, somewhat in passing and largely off the cuff, that one of the "darker" paths of specialization an arcanist can tread is that of infernalist. This little bit talks about that.

*Academia: The Diabolical*

The popular history of the gods is that the young gods, suited better to humanity, overthrew the dark and primal gods and freed humanity. Gods are hard to truly kill, however, and for the most part they were simply banished to the infernal realms, where they could have minimal impact on the material plane or the celestial heights. Most bad things in the world, from hydra to monstrous spiders to soul-eating dreamstealers, are blamed on those gods who were sent to the infernal planes of existence, leaving the remaining gods clean of any real crimes against humanity.

That's even truth, mostly.

Where arcanists enter the picture, is in the very nature of their magic. Where espers and healers draw upon inner reserves and enhance the natural powers of humanity, and where illusionists focus their will upon the ethereal and shadow realms to create quasi-real effects and images... the arcanist rips open holes in reality between the planes and brings forth that which lies on the other side.

Not just this plane, or that plane. Any plane of existence can be plundered by the arcanist for its useful qualities. Most arcanists, by nature, become somewhat indifferent to the shady morality of the planes. Often, they do not see the various planes as any different - at least for the purposes of the arcanist, that which can be summoned can be commanded, and then _sent home_, so no harm, no foul. And an infernal spider summoned to achieve a good end... is a good spell.

Some arcanists differ on this, of course. There are those who refuse to truck with anything moral at all, drawing only from the elemental realms; and there are those who eschew only the evil realms, or focus their powers upon the celestial realms (as Greppa does).

There are those who, finding the infernal realms to lend greater advantage, work exclusively with them... often even establishing longterm relationships and contracts with the denizens therein. And where a necromancer might be reviled for any and all of the magic he practices, the infernalist, so long as he does not bring about ruin, is simply tolerated among arcanists, sometimes with stiff looks and stern disapproval, but not action.

Infernalists, you see, are a lot better about not getting caught.

And even in this, there are gray areas. The gods and spirits and creatures and elemental forces that have been consigned to the infernal realms are not all evil. Many were merely on the wrong side of a lost battle. Others were sympathizers to the wrong god, or merely got on someone powerful's hit list. Being in the infernal realms does not guarantee that someone is evil... it's just a likely indicator.

*Belial*

_(this is OOC; the PCs are on their way to a library to find this stuff out, because of things that happened last session)_

At the dawn of the current era, many of the old gods were cast from the celestial courts into the infernal pit. Among these were the gods of spiders, of hate, and of ichor... but also among them, was the former goddess of Light, as written below:







> _Luccas the Red, cast down by Allas to bring about a purer light, one suited to beasts and people, rather than the reddish glow of a sun suited only to reptiles and creatures of darkness.
> 
> Luccas, stabbed through the heart and stomach with shining spears of Allas' brilliance, swore vengeance upon the white lights above. A loose translation, roughly, is "For this in my gut, dogs shall lick the entrails of the pure, and beetles shall crawl through their liver; for each beat of my pierced heart, blood will burst from the heads of the righteous, and those who cast me down shall burn in flames as black as the heart hidden by your white light!"
> 
> Luccas, however, failed to act upon these threats, for She was bound in chains of celestial gold, called Belial, and cast down into the pit. And there She moaned and gnashed Her teeth, for Belial would not release Her, nor allow Her concentration to focus Her will, for He constantly constricted Her and twisted Her limbs into knots and burned Her flesh as She writhed. Such was the will of He who was Bound As Chain by the gods, to protect them from the ill will of Luccas, most powerful of Her ilk._



And here:







> _called the Golden Chain of Heaven, Belial was forged by Phastas, goddess of fire and anvil, to bind the only being that She and Her brothers and sisters feared: Luccas the Red, most powerful of the old gods.
> 
> Phastas forged Him of celestial gold, and breathed fire into the links, giving unto Him part of Her own divine essence, that He might bind that which She feared the most. And when the time came, Luccas was struck down by Allas, and before Luccas the Red could recover or strike back, Belial was cast about Her, and he bound and twisted and burned, and She fell back and wept as She was thrown into the infernal pit, and Belial with Her._


----------



## Indigo Veil

Cool bit of academia. (See? I *do* read these things! ^_^) I have a (perhaps stupid) question about belial.

_. . .the will of He who was Bound As Chain by the gods. . . . unto Him part of Her own divine essence, that He might bind that which She feared the most. [Luccas] was thrown into the infernal pit, and Belial with Her._

...so is Belial every bit as sentient as the other Divine beings? 

;; 

Makes me wonder if the next bit involves him going, "Awww, my life sucks." And then a moment of ephiphany. "Hey, waitaminnit...what t'hell am *I* doing in this Infernal Pit? *I* didn't do anything wrong...!" and then him thumbing his nose at those who decided his fate. "Screw you guys, I'm going home!" <waddlewaddlewaddle in that weird, construction paper 2d kinda way> "I hate you guys."

... ... ^^;;; I could be totally wrong, of course (especially if he's really just a scripted construct of some kind, despite divine origins), but I was just wondering. ^_^


----------



## seasong

Indigo_Veil: Perhaps He is . But such lofty questions are beyond the ability of mortals to answer.

_Edit: I should have another update by tomorrow. Probably a long one ._


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*What happens to vengeance deferred?* 

"I can't believe those bastards didn't come back!" Greppa of Tartwarter ranted, punctuating each syllable with a kick to an inoffensive piece of furniture. 

Merideth of Southbottom shook her head at the little Ellini's violent temper. He'd been in a foul mood ever since fall arrived. They, indeed all of Theralis had been waiting and preparing for the return of orc clan Breaking Cat, and the savages did not even show up for their own party. 

She was philosophic about the development. War, while having plenty of opportunities for building heroic clout, is not a desirable state. Despite the drive to swell the ranks of the military, she felt that the additional time to train new soldiers, healers, espers and arcanists would be valuable.

Greppa took it more personally.  He wanted to lay waste to swaths of orcs and had been developing unheard of ways to get his nastiest spells in as close as possible without bring him into the range of the spells and flying boulders the orcs had at their disposal.  That the clan had not come at anytime during the summer left him seething with pent up aggression. 

The tiny man began kicking another piece of furniture when the front door opened and Bellos trundled into the main room of Hurath's Tower. 

"Well," he said jauntily, "Are we ready?"

Merideth smiled, "Anything to keep shorty away from the furniture."

Greppa looked at her and then kicked the table leg out of out of spite.

She rolled her eyes, "Ooo, you really showed that table what for."

"Let's go," said the Aglionian slinger. 
Bellos wasn’t thinking abut the trip, he was thinking about beer. Theralis being the wine cask of the region, Bellos was homesick for some nice home brewed hops. 

Greppa and Merideth were more concerned with the profit-centered nature of this trip. With the merchant Uridates and the help of Greppa's teleporting Lantern Archons, they were going to establish a beer and wine distribution chain between Aglionis and Theralis. The goal was to move enough product to be profitable and not arouse interest or curiosity.  If they became excessive, other arcanists would start to horn in on their schtick and squeeze them out. 

The trip itself was very uneventful, save for the red throated hydra they spotted on the road. They avoided conflict by the simple expedient of several flight spells. 

The wine-laden wagons were of no interest to the lumbering behemoth. The monster moaned and roared at its prey, periodically spitting a gout of flame at them on the off chance they were more like moths than humans and would come close to the light. 

"Make it go away Greppa!" Merideth said plaintively. "We're wasting time."

The little arcanist shrugged and let loose painful salvos of Sunstreaks and Greater Thrust.  Sore, famished and frustrated, the creature ambled off. 

The tiny caravan reassembled and continued into Aglionis. 

Their arrival was timely. Although the orc tribes had not returned to Theralis, one of the smaller tribes had arrived in Aglionis. The decision-makers quickly engaged Greppa to help out again with the war effort, paying him and the merchant and setting up the caravan members for the duration of the fight.

Not that there was much of one. The little arcanist flew into the sky and casually rained fiery death to upon the orcs until they would retreat for the day. 

He targeted their warriors and whatever camps that were closest to the city. He'd trained himself to the degree where he could cast a fireball at a target from 1,400 feet away.

The conflict also presented a chance for Greppa to use his newest spell.  On what would be the last day of the war, he swooped down to the main group of orcs and released a wailing wave of cold into the rear ranks of the orc phalanx. 

Those who could not get out of the way watched their skin blacken and  stiffen as cold seared into their flesh. The frozen flesh then shattered under the shrieking force accompanying the chill. The results were dramatic and horrific. Frostbitten orc troops stared at the blackened, broken bodies of the comrades who did not survive the strike.

Greppa was impressed with himself.  It was the first time he used the spell he dubbed, "Coldscream" in combat. He took inspiration from the Breaking Cat Shamans, who summoned freezing forces into the ranks of Theralis' fighters.  What impressed him more was the area, larger than a fireball, he could blanket. Unfortunately, he also had to be relatively close to the target. Against Braking Cat that could be a deadly weakness. Against this nameless tribe, the range was an ego driven risk he could probably survive. 

The nameless orcs gathered themselves up, and Greppa, slightly winded from the last casting, hit them with another wave of keening cold. 

The orcs, watching the child-sized monster tracing the air, pivoted and ran leaving behind many more of their number frozen in place with arms and legs shattered.

Bellos watched the battle and Greppa's handy work. Fireballs were nasty, but this was...just...wrong. Not that he'd tell anyone. Aglionis was his town, getting the orcs away from it was the first order of business. He did know that Greppa had saved that spell of his for this summer.  Despite the stories he heard, he did not understand what Clan Breaking Cat meant to Merideth and Greppa and how that contact could inspire Greppa to create such a nasty spell.


----------



## Caliber

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> *and then him thumbing his nose at those who decided his fate. *




What *I* want to know is how does a chain (even a golden, divine, sentient chain) have a nose? Or even a thumb, for that matter?

Cool new spell Greppa. Cone of Cold? Or some new Cold/Sonic admixture?


----------



## seasong

Just as a side note: I will be writing up about 80% of what is in the above post in my next post. There will also be some contradiction between the posts. There's no worries there, just giving fair warning that some differences (some significant) will be present.

For purposes of the story hour, the above is to be seen as Greppa's point of view, which may or may not agree with the facts . I think this quote sums it up best:







> _Originally posted by Greppa of Tartwater_
> Greppa was impressed with himself.


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> Cool new spell Greppa. Cone of Cold? Or some new Cold/Sonic admixture?



Mixed cold/sonic damage cone.

It was never actually used in game; Greppa swooping over the orcs and blasting them was all that was described, since they really had no chance - against low level orcs, Flying Greppa is about as monstrous as you can get.

In practice, it summons forth a howling, freezing wind from the plane of air, which blasts outwards from the arcanist's circle and freezes and abrades opponents. Whether that's as nasty as a choking ball of flame turning you into char is really just a matter of interpretation.

Although it should give you some idea why the plane of air is not the nice and happy place so many people visualize it as.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Humph!*

*It was never actually used in game; Greppa swooping over the orcs and blasting them was all that was described, since they really had no chance - against low level orcs, Flying Greppa is about as monstrous as you can get.* 

We glossed over the ork massacre so I felt I had plenty of wiggle room iand I was purposefully vague about some things. There shouldn't be that much to contradict.


----------



## seasong

*Re: Humph!*



			
				Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> We glossed over the ork massacre so I felt I had plenty of wiggle room iand I was purposefully vague about some things. There shouldn't be that much to contradict.



In the spell use, no . And I'd expect you to get that right.

Mainly, your portrayal of the other characters was off, and the 'tone' of the writing had Greppa as the best ever. To wit:







> "Make it go away Greppa!" Merideth said plaintively



and







> The orcs, watching the child-sized monster tracing the air...



I'm not saying you were _wrong_ per se, but there are some definite discrepencies in the game through your eyes and the game through mine .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*LOL*

*some definite discrepencies * 

That's only because you're afflicted with Gmyopia and I have the clever clear sighted view of the player.

* Mainly, your portrayal of the other characters was off, * 

 There are other characters? Well, they had lines too.

* and the 'tone' of the writing had Greppa as the best ever. To wit:
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Make it go away Greppa!" Merideth said plaintively
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*

Well I am the best ever...

*ducks*


----------



## seasong

*War? Orcs? Hello?*

After resting for an extra day from their adventure, and plundering some of Bellos' beer stash, Bellos, Greppa and Merideth went to Theralis Ridge to have a look around and find out where they were assigned.

And to see what they had helped build.

As summer had approached, Theralis had kept its soldiers on a continuous circuit, marching between the border posts and watching for the enemy. The goal was to hit the first one to show up, hard and fast, before others could settle in and take up military resources on multiple borders. Since Theralis Ridge was usually the first place attacked, that's where most of the preparations had taken place. The results were... unsettling.

Downslope, thick stone walls ran upslope. They were designed for one purpose: to break the enemy into digestible chunks, provide walls to either side for the shield wall, and to force the enemy into tighter quarters, for the next part of the military plan... a body of slightly over a hundred arcanists, most of whom had mastered the ubiquitous bursting spells of war in the past several years. They were housed behind a set of walls running parallel to the mountain ridge, designed to help repel the orcs, and to protect the arcanists while still allowing them to cast.

None of the walls were great feats of architecture. Nor were they _particularly_ or built to withstand a siege - they were present to help break up the enemy, and to enhance the more important wall of flesh that kept out invaders.

The apprentices, nearly six hundred of them in all, stood by the arcanists on watch. Since they were not yet advanced yet to cast proper war magics (less than a year of schooling simply wasn't sufficient), their duty was to assist the veteran arcanists, both in focused will and in more mundane tasks such as keeping them cool and unfettered to fight fatigue.

Slightly more than two hundred veteran healers and almost a thousand apprentice healers were also present, but these were mixed in with the ten thousand soldiers. The goal was that only instant death would actually kill a Theralis citizen; anything else would just kill the orc that did it.

A less obvious change was the plan. The military intended to take the first charge of the orcs to smash them as hard and fast as possible. Rain as many _fireballs_ as possible in as short a time as possible, to break the opposing army. And then the Theralis charge, a calculated risk to smash apart the enemy... and then follow the enemy into the forests.

Few soldiers were experienced skirmishers outside of the shield wall, but maneuvers had been practiced for nearly a year now. The shield carriers knew how to slip through trees without breaking cover or continuity, and a new spear (the shaft considerably shortened for very close work) had come into use for fighting in the more limited quarters. And more specifically, nets of heavy, leaded rope had been woven - once the forest was breached, the goal was not to kill, but to capture.

The orcs who fought Theralis today, would help make certain that the Theralese citizens were able to continue fighting tomorrow. Theralis wealth had suffered mightily the last few years from the loss of people in the fields. Now there would always be field workers.

And, preparations made, Theralis waited for the orcs to show.

And waited.

And waited.

And watched summer come and go. After the sound defeat of Breaking Cat, it appeared that no orc cared to try their luck, this year. Although vaguely disappointed... it was taken as a good sign, and as a victory, and a party was planned in the city proper.

But they partied in shifts, just to be sure.


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: Apprentice*

*One Year Ago*

Milanos of Southbottom was about as excitable as the _phastini_ get, which is impressive - they _earned_ their reputation as temperamental craftsfolk. But today, he could barely contain himself.

He'd always planned to be a wine maker, a patient art that his father (a proper human merchant) hoped would help quell his emotional, impulsive nature. Not that he was looking forward to it, as he wasn't, but that was the planned future. And it was said that _phastini_ found themselves the best when they were immersed in the depths of a craft. But wine, to Milanos, seemed to consist primarily of sitting around and waiting for it to do its thing.

Not that he complained. _Phastini_ births were rare, and his father dearly wanted a famous son, and it looked like Milanos was "it". Well, perhaps he pouted. And sighed, his dark eyes staring into the blue sky above instead of at the grapes held loosely in his hands, where he was supposed to be examining them for ripeness and readiness for crushing and fermenting.

Which brought his thoughts back to today. A Captain of the Theralis militia (Milanos was not quite old enough to have served) had passed through this morning, and administered some strange, and surprisingly easy, tests. She'd then spoken with Milanos' father, and he'd told Milanos to go out to the fields.

That was usually a bad sign - it meant _Father Having Important Discussions_, which usually led to _Father Being in a Foul Mood_. But... Milanos had heard rumors about the testing. Southbottom didn't get a lot of news, but Milanos had heard that Rykios, an elderly gentleman living near the Canyon Pass to the rest of Theralis, had been tested and sent to the city to train as an esper. If the captain was speaking to his father, and his father had sent him to the fields...

He might not be making wine when he grew up.

*Nine Months Ago*

Milanos was beside himself again. He'd been assigned to Greppa of Tartwater, an _ellini_ master arcanist who'd already had a bunch of tales spread about him. Milanos had first heard about him a year or two ago, when Kyriotes' servants had been gossiping with Milanos' father's servants. Apparently, Merideth of Southbottom was their daughter, and she and Greppa were close friends, and both of _them_ were friends with Athan of Little Lake, the Giant Killer.

It was a big world, and Southbottom servants weren't accustomed to being part of it.

Milanos had listened in - he'd heard of Athan, and sort of knew of Merideth (who in the region didn't? it was like not knowing about Kyriotes!), and he liked a good story, so.... Fine, so he leaned into the wall, a bit hidden, and listened to gossip.

But what had caught his interest best was the tale of Greppa of Tartwater, the tiny, dark-skinned _ellini_ who rained havoc upon the enemy with a twitch of his fingers, and turned orcs into corpses at an alarming rate. Greppa was said to be the primary motivator behind the rescue of the Heroes of Eastpass, and the youngest master arcanist in over a hundred years.

That Milanos had been assigned to learn from him... he had to fight not to laugh and cry. And when he met Greppa, he couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. Greppa was as delicate as a girl, with loose red hair and gracile features. His manner spoke of power, and he was as self-assured as any person Milanos had seen. He moved gracefully, and Milanos could almost swear he saw earth moving behind the tiny man's eyes.

And then the eyes swept past him, and over the dozen others Greppa was also going to teach.

*Three Months Ago; Summer's Start*

Milanos lazed in the shade next to a soldier's tent with a few other apprentices. He'd just finished his watch, fanning a master arcanist and making runs for wine, and he was just glad it was over.

He'd hoped to be assigned to help Greppa, who still managed to awe Milanos. He'd watched carefully, so many times, as Greppa casually, almost lazily, wiggled his fingers in a faint circle and sigil and mighty magics, magics Milanos couldn't even cast yet, came into being. He just couldn't do it - Greppa seemed almost to be _made_ of magic, the way he tossed it off.

Instead, he was assigned to Kyriotes. Everyone said the man was more powerful, and he was sure that in some esoteric sense that might be true, but in practice... Milanos had heard some stories about Greppa single-handedly driving off an orc army up north somewhere, and it seemed all Kyriotes did was summon monsters to kill a few orcs for him at a time.

Milanos might have pouted a bit, at that, but he managed to keep it under wraps. Kyriotes was politically powerful, if nothing else, and it was supposedly an honor to fetch wine for the man while his apprentices stood by and practiced summoning.

But he was off duty now, and decided it was time for some fun. "Who's up for a game of conjuring?"

The other apprentices grinned. Like Milanos, they never got tired of conjuring miniscule forces and flinging the tiny armies at each other. Sometimes they would pretend they were generals, and play at Orcs and Soldiers, but most of the time they just played the Game. And if Milanos was unusually talented at the game, it didn't hurt anyone's enjoyment. Losing to Milanos usually meant beating three other people later on.

Milanos found himself torn over whether the orcs should come or not. If they did, he'd see Greppa in action; if they didn't, he could continue to live like this.

It was tough, you know?


----------



## Nail

seasong said:
			
		

> *It was tough, you know? *



Not as tough as waiting for the story to get to the bloody bits......


----------



## Greybar

Don't you hate it when the bad guys don't show up for their pre-scheduled bashing?

Or worse, go slipping around a flank to avoid the hammer and anvil you have set up and instead raid the soft underbelly.

Or perhaps they're pausing to recruit more giants or train hydras or some such nasty escalation of the conflict.

well, we'll just have to wait and see!

John


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

_Now you see why Greppa was kicking furniture._


----------



## Talix

LOL!  Masterful plot telling, seasong - always keep the players on their toes!  

And it's always nice seeing new viewpoints to the characters' positions in society.  Merideth must be might pleased to be a common household name now.


----------



## seasong

*PC Place in Society:* Yeah, I've found that in general, players don't always realize just how much they've improved over the course of a campaign. I mean, it wasn't that long ago that Greppa was moving his spindly little legs as fast as he could while a _lone orc scout_ chased him down with a spear. Now he's raining death on entire tribes of orcs from hundreds of feet in the sky, summoning minions of Light to check on events weeks of travel distant, and discussing affairs of state with... wait, that last bit hasn't been written yet .

I vaguely remember discussing this during the beginning of Part I, I was asked about how the players felt to be observing the real events while they were the peons. My answer then was, essentially, that that would provide them with comparisons to measure themselves by later, so they would know just _how_ impressive and cool they really are.

Now is later.

*Bloody Bits:* Alas, the orcs don't show up for a while. But Breaking Cat will be back . And soon, all too soon, the Broken Knuckle tribe will be showing up.

But first, there's some political stuff to go through. Well, vaguely political. This isn't one of my more political campaigns .


----------



## seasong

*Need? Or Vengeance?*

Greppa kicked a chair. Stalked across the main room of the tower. Kicked a wall. Stalked back. Kicked the chair. He was muttering, punctuated occasional with a burst of "I can't believe those bastards didn't come back!"

Greppa was not happy. Had he not devised spells of furious destruction for them? Had he not spent countless hours practicing maneuvers with Uripedas? Had he not... He kicked the chair again, knocking it over, then absent-mindedly stooped and picked it up before continuing his stalking.

Merideth watched Greppa from the only safe chair in the room, cheek firmly pressed against heel of palm. He'd been ranting most of the morning after the victory party, and Merideth was waiting for it to die down so she could get back on the topic of teleporting wine barrels. That, or heal him if he hurt himself kicking furniture bigger than he was.

Bellos finally arrived, trundling through the door with Uridates in tow. The two had practically cleaved together when they met, well matched in both diverse talents and raw avarice, and once the summer was over Bellos had spent some fair amount of time in planning with the merchant.

Bellos ignored the disarrayed furniture, "Well, are we ready?"

*The Road North*

With a wagon full of wine bottles, Uridates had insisted that there be no outward change in his actions this year, the party headed north. With just the four of them (Uridates foregoing his usual mercenaries in favor of "heroes of Theralis"), the made good time... until they spotted a red-throated hydra, and it spotted them. With a half-growl, half-bleat, it began waddling as fast as it could towards what looked like an excellent food source.

Watching it approach, the group was airborne within a few seconds, and it finally arrived and stared up at them mournfully. One of the heads on the left gave a little bleat, almost as if to say, "Please come down food! I am hungry!"

The food didn't budge, and Greppa threw some sun streaks at it until finally it wandered off. It looked nearly heart-broken. When it was gone, they grabbed the wagon and trudged on.

*Aglaonis*

Uridates introduced Greppa to his wine cellar, purchased during the summer months after the party had discussed their plan with him, and Greppa introduced the lantern archons who dealt with him the most.

Allas seemed pleased for her servants to aid the scions to wealth and political power, so within moments, the cellar was filled with nearly four times what Uridates had brought with him. The poor man looked like his heart would burst.

After the business was taken care of, the group grabbed an inn room to wait on Uridates finishing his sales, and Greppa was approached by two elderly gentlemen of Aglaonis - they wanted to know if he would hire on temporarily to drive off some orcs as he had the year prior.

Greppa just smiled.


----------



## Nail

As an aside: Why didn't they do more than "drive off" the hydra?  Adventurers are usually so durn blood-thristy....


----------



## seasong

I think it was my pitiful rendition of it looking up at them soulfully, in the hopes that one might fall into its mouth. That and it would take forever to kill a hydra with only ranged attacks, particularly a pyro- version with a buncha heads, and they wanted to get moving.

Probably that more than the soulful look. As you'll see, Greppa is perfectly happy to nuke sad creatures from orbit.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Adventurer's Logic*

Beer?

Hydra.

Beer?

Hydra.

Beer?

*Think, think think*

BEER! 
Go away Lochnesmonster!


----------



## Nail

*Re: Adventurer's Logic*



			
				Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> *Beer?
> 
> Hydra.
> 
> Beer?
> 
> Hydra.
> 
> Beer?
> 
> *Think, think think*
> 
> BEER!
> Go away Lochnesmonster! *




An excellent player!  Many I know would have thought of it differently:

Money?

XP.

Money?

XP.

Money?

*think, think, think*

BOTH!


----------



## seasong

*Re: Re: Adventurer's Logic*



			
				Nail said:
			
		

> An excellent player!  Many I know would have thought of it differently:
> 
> Money?
> 
> XP.



Turkey shoots don't give much XP .

I don't know if I will get the next post up today, but the teaser is: Belial is involved.


----------



## Delgar

Hey Seasong!

Just again saying keep up the great work. I always look forward to reading your story hour.

Anyway, I've finally started my story hour. Well I've started posting the character backgrounds. Hopefully by the end of the weekend I'll be well on my way! Nothing major or epic, just a  group that gets together to blow off some steam.

Check out my storyhour here:

Unusual Suspects


----------



## dave_o

Dude, this is seriously one of the best story hours I've ever seen. KUDOS EXTREME.

Of course, I've got a few questions:
1. I read a little snippet earler about you using Excel to handle huge battles, and that you largely predetermine the results. As you can see from my sig, I'm running a mercenary company based game - and, of course, there will be BIG battles. So, care to go into a little more detail about just how you go about using Excel to do that? And, what about when those crafty PCs throw a wrench into the works, making a lot of your predetermined rolls useless? (Don't be afraid to use tricky Excel stuff, I'm a veteran of it.)

2. Are the PCs worried about their Beer Plan not working for very long? Sure, the demand will be high at first, but eventually people will begin to brew their own beer and wine, respectively.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot...*SUBSCRIBE!*


----------



## seasong

Delgar: I checked it out .

dave_o: Thanks!

Beer Plan first - no, they're not worried about it. A lot of wine gets traded to Aglaonis already, and they haven't started making their own . The issue is one of specialization - if Theralis makes the wine, and Aglaonis makes the bread, and they trade, it costs both of them _less_ than for both to split their focus between bread and wine. So the wine is a little more expensive in Aglaonis... but the bread is a lot cheaper, and they save more by specializing on the bread than they lose by having to buy the wine. Same for Theralis.

Excel: The spreadsheet sensitive may wish to shield their eyes .

I usually put down a huge column of d20s first (we'll say cells A2:A2000), each with: +roundup(rand()*20,0)

I put the average attack bonus in B1. Then I decide on the typical AC of the opponent. I type that into a separate cell, we'll say C1. And I put the soldier's base weapon damage (typically 1d8) in D1, and the damage modifier (typically +3 for STR 12 and weapon specialization) in E1. The crit range goes in F1. The crit multiplier goes in G1. The opponent's average hit points goes in H1.

Then, in B2, I put this: +if(A2+$A$1>=$C$1,roundup(rand()*$D$1,0),0)
Cut and paste that all the way down to B2000.

Then, in C2, I put this: +if(A2>=20-$F$1,B2*$G$1,B2)
Cut and paste that all the way down to C2000.

If I'm throwing Theralis soldiers against orc warriors, I then subtract the orc hide armor DR and orc DR from the final damage (in cells C2:C2000). Standard campaigns that don't have DR for armor can avoid that step, and I'll assume you are avoiding it below. I reverse the process (who's the attacker and opponent) in another set of columns.

Then I put this somewhere open on the sheet:
+countif(C2:C2000,">=30")
+sumif(C2:C2000,"<30")

The "countif" statement determines how many instant kills there were. I will subtract that number from the total orc tribe at the start of the next round (I assume all kills happen simultaneously). The '30' number comes from the average hit points in many orc army - substitute your own average hit points at will.

The "sumif" statement determines how many hit points of damage were done that _weren't_ instant kills. I generally halve that number, and then divide the total by the average hit points to find out how many people were killed.

A lot of times, I also break the battle into individual sub groupings; for example, the Keraunesti have their own column for damage they do to the enemy, as do the giants, and so if the Keraunesti attack the giants, I have a fair idea of how many people get killed.

If there's a chance someone important got killed in a fight, I usually roll a d20, and on a '1', that person got killed (I don't do this for PCs).

When the PCs enter the battle, I usually play out their immediate surroundings, and have about a hundred or so pre-rolled d20s listed on my palm pilot. When Athan died, it was because they focused on him, and he got out from behind the shields.

The Theralis strategy, generally, is: reduce casualties with shield cover, get the benefits of the high ground, use reach spears to avoid messy melee, and throw massive firepower and the Keraunesti at any sub-group that is too successful.


----------



## seasong

Something I forgot: In real life, armies don't usually clash constantly . In fact, charging cavalry has been known to slowly, slowly halt until they are stopped dead, before even reaching pike infantry. For mass melee combat, I generally shift rounds back to 1 minute per round, and have both armies take breathers.

I also assume average rolls for the healers, which neatly removes the excess damage that failed to kill.


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## Capellan

seasong said:
			
		

> *if Theralis makes the wine, and Aglaonis makes the bread, and they trade, it costs both of them less than for both to split their focus between bread and wine. So the wine is a little more expensive in Aglaonis... but the bread is a lot cheaper, and they save more by specializing on the bread than they lose by having to buy the wine. Same for Theralis.
> *




Wouldn't the _bread_ get stale?  And what does this have to do with the Beer plan, anyway? 

Good explanation of the economic realities, though.  Very Keynesian.  Now get back to the story hour!  *cracks whip*


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## dave_o

Seasong, you're an amazing GM. I would KILL to be in one of your campaigns.

I'd really like to see some Academia on Illusionist magic.


----------



## seasong

Capellan: Wheat, bread, beer. It's ALL good .

dave_o: Hm... I could do some damage with the illusionist stuff . I'll try to type up some of my thoughts on that, either tomorrow or sometime during the week.


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## J. Anson

dave_o said:
			
		

> *Seasong, you're an amazing GM. I would KILL to be in one of your campaigns.
> *




Yeah, I'd kill my _brother_ to get into Thomas's games.


----------



## seasong

I'm sick today, so I may not get much written, but I wanted at least this teaser up. Hopefully I'll be able to put down the actual conversation later this morning, when I wake up again .

_Edit: Typo._

*Belial*

The orcs plaguing Aglaonis' southern valley were some five hundred strong, one of the weak tribes being driven west by tribes like Breaking Cat. Greppa might have felt sorry for them were he not in dire need of action.

He flew high overhead, dropping balls of fire and shrieking blasts of cold on the scraggly groups who looked inclined to fight, and then chased them to the edge of the forest, a look of grim death on his face.

Afterward, however, he still wasn't... satisfied. Grumbling at a world where a man couldn't take out his frustrations on the enemy, he retired to his room at the inn. He'd very nearly fallen asleep when there was a knock at the door.

From his bed, he yelled at the door, "Yeah? What?"

"I would speak with you." The voice was a rich, chocolate bass, rumbling through the door frame and rolling around the corners of the room. It wasn't loud exactly, but it was powerfully present... and the accent, Greppa could not identify, but spoke of ancient lands and black forests.

Greppa was at the door faster than one might imagine, given his reputation for short legs.

The speaker turned out to be.... Greppa wasn't sure. Not human. Skin that belonged on an arab girl, impossibly smooth and the color of creamed coffee, was stretched over six feet of perfectly proportioned and muscled male. His eyes were black and deep, with almost no whites, his hair was a mass of black ringlets framing his face, and... a pair of wings, black feathered and folded into layers around his shoulders, sprouted from his back.

A choker necklace of square, black iron plates was taut around his neck, and a matching belt held up a loincloth. A pair of black iron bands covered his forearms from elbow to wrist. But other than the unmarked and plain dress... his presence seemed to fill the room.

The entity just stood there, for a moment, studying Greppa as Greppa studied him, then, "I would speak with you about your role in the conflicts yet to come. May I come in?"

Silently, mouth slightly open, Greppa widened the door and let Him in.


----------



## Indigo Veil

Oh. My. God.

<looks over at Hank and giggles>

<insert cheap and bad synths> Bao-shicka-_bao-bao_!

*I* would say, "No, Greppa! Stay back! He's evil, and you're going to fall right into his large, long-fingered, strong, competent hands!" ...except that I'm still in ECA mode. <laugh> At least Belial doesn't have an English accent.

Anyway, *very* nice. Can't wait to see what happens next. =^.^=


----------



## seasong

Okay, couldn't sleep, so here's the post. This will probably be the last narrative post this week. I was sick all weekend, so we didn't manage any gaming . I'm still planning some Academia posts, of course .

Note: For those who haven't picked up on it, Greppa is homosexual, and homosexuality is considered reasonably normal by the society he lives in. Just thought I'd give some advance warning for those who missed it previously .

_Edit: Forgot about Belial making a map for Greppa._

*Belial*

Belial began the conversation, his oddly accented bass flowing through Greppa like a particularly heady vintage, "I will be blunt. There is conflict coming, and we would prefer that you were on our side, rather than Allas'. That is my long term goal. My immediate goal is merely to open a channel of communication with you, in the hopes that, over the long term, this will help persuade you of our cause."

The entity paused, his eyes on some distant point, "Regardless, I wanted you aware of the end goal, so that we could discuss things more openly and freely."

Greppa, his brain slowly kicking into deal-with-extraplanar-creatures mode, managed to make his mouth move, "Your side? Allas' side? What do you mean?"

The creature smiled, showing perfect teeth around sensuous lips, "Right now you serve Allas. In the coming conflict, you will likely continue to do so. We would prefer that you served us."

Suspiciously, "And who is 'we', exactly?"

Again, the smile, "For now, 'I' am 'we'. I am a creature of the infernal pits... but not all who are there belong there, nor were all who were cast down deserving of their fate. In the grander sense, 'we' is those who I am allied with, but for now, you need only deal with me; there will be time later to consider your position with the others."

Greppa frowned. The gorgeous creature in front of him had _answered_, technically, but the terms were pretty vague... he shelved the question for the moment, "What do you want?"

"For now, merely an open line of communication. I would not ask that you do anything to jeopardize your current relationship with Allas, until you have decided to do so of your own will, and knwoing the full consequences and benefits."

Again, he paused to look into the distance, "I have things to make known to you, and questions to ask. I would discuss with you the nature of your role with Allas. If you will agree to further discussion in the future, and so long as I feel speaking with you is fruitful to my goals, that is all I want."

Then, a sly, sideways look at Greppa, "I seek to win you over to our side. So long as I make some progress towards that, I am willing to be... helpful."

Greppa thought furiously, and the entity waited patiently and silently. Greppa kept his eyes turned away - no use getting distracted - and thought, _thought_, _THOUGHT_.

The creature resembled a deva, but with black wings and an avowed infernal nature. It still had not given him a name. Quickly, he marshalled all he knew of the infernal hierarchy, and went through it, but nothing quite matched up to this elegant being. Most of the infernals Greppa knew of where hideous monsters, at least in.. the... texts. Texts of Allas, naturally - who else wrote as much about the infernal realms? They were the primary source of information about such things in Theralis.

The divinity section of Hurath's library, to which Greppa had recently added some slender books on archons, consisted mostly of Allas' authority books. Some scribed by Thelanna, the _ellini_ priestess Greppa sometimes dealt with.

More on a hunch than anything, he finally nodded his head, "I will agree to further discussion, so long as such discussion does not directly jeopardize my relationship with Allas, and does not require me to _do_ anything other than chat."

The winged man smiled, eyes aglint with some humor, "That is acceptable." And with that, he casually reached and plucked a feather from his right wing, "Put this in a fire if you have questions for me. It is not a summoning or conjuring - it merely tells me you wish to speak with me, and I will handle getting here. When I wish to speak with you, of course, I shall approach you privately, as I have done so here."

The smile got bigger, "Now, I shall share first, and then I shall ask, if that order is acceptable to you."

Greppa nodded.

The creature waved his hands at the back wall of the room. It was a negligent gesture, and Greppa got the feeling that most of the effort lay in making it look like he was making any effort at all. And as he did so, the wall seemed to fall away into nothingness, and Greppa gasped... he was looking over the land as if from a great height, and he recognized the Theralis valleys.

The creature spoke, and the land shrank, allowing an ever wider view, "This is where your city-state lies. Here" and small, dark flames danced where he pointed, "lies Aglaonis, and ancient Kithios, and here, among the northern lands, lies Tuoma. _Here_" and he pointed far to the east, "Lies the _uggrahd_, from which the _buhkenahk_ tribe drives the other tribes west."

For a moment, it almost didn't sink in. When it did, Greppa was suddenly alert. Very alert. As he calculated distance and direction, and memorized as many features of the landscape as he could, "Would you... focus in, on that part?"

Even as he asked, he was pulling out paper and quill, and sketching a hasty map of as much as he could see.

The creature smiled, as one might to an apt pupil, and snapped his fingers. Black fire began burning along the paper, leaving a dusting of fine ink traceries... a near perfect map of what they were seeing. Greppa just stared at the map before looking back up.

The map swiftly flew in. A lone mountain, surrounded by valley, towered over all others. Even from above, it was obviously an immense mountain. Greppa's voice turned a bit sharp, "So you know why they are driving the other tribes?"

"I do. But that is not the important question - they drive the tribes because they themselves are driven. As they are pushed to expand, other tribes must move. As Theralis is pushed to war, the history of the future begins to take shape." He looked at Greppa sidelong, "Eventually, Allas will direct you to fight them. She will not necessarily want you to survive."

Greppa disregarded the creature's propoganda, "Okay, then, the important question, is it 'who is driving the _buhkenahk_'? Or am I missing something?"

"Do you think your birthmark is coincidence? Or that Allas is the only one with scions? The gods heft themselves to conflict, and set mortal pieces to the fight. Allas has chosen a small number of you to this task, but so have the other gods, and not all of those servants are among the Theralese, as you know already."

Greppa, his mind running through conversations with Thelanna, with Athan, and all of the secrets at the edges of those conversations, felt a light dawning inside. It was not Allas' wholesome light, either, but a sickening realization. "The gods drive the orcs."

It was not a question, but the infernal beauty took it as one, "Yes. And Allas drives Theralis. There are others, elsewhere, who also participate."

"So why are you telling me this?"

"If you know only what Allas chooses to tell you, you will remain Allas' servant. There is no question of this. If I provide you with that information she chooses not to provide you, there is a chance you may choose a different path."

Inwardly, Greppa frowned. It was so true as to be painful, and he resented the narrow path of information Allas had provided thus far. "So who are the gods driving the orcs?"

"We are not yet to the point where I feel it is in my best interests to tell you. But Allas may."

Greppa raised an eyebrow, "So you're not giving me the complete story, either."

"No. I am not. What I do tell you, you may be assured is truth. What I withhold, you may be assured I will be honest about my withholding. And much of what I withhold, I do so only to retain something to dole out later - if I gave you everything now, you would have no further reason to speak with me."

Greppa, like quicksilver, changed topics, "What about the eye tyrants... we saw them, up north and down south. What can you tell me about them?"

"Only that they are there. They have their own purpose, one we might discuss later."

The creature smiled again, "So, it is my turn. You have some of the basic facts. You understand what I seek, and have some inkling of why I think you might choose us over Allas. But, at the moment, there are reasons you will not do so, and reasons you might have for staying with Allas. I would know what the obstacles are, in the spirit of our open discussion, so that I can see what compromises or actions might be possible to get around them."

Greppa already had the answer. An experienced dealer and contract maker (as all arcanists must be, at some level), he fired back, "I don't know who you are or why I should trust anything you say. I don't want to lose Uripedas. And I don't know what I can gain for Theralis."

Again, that beatific smile, and Greppa resolved to find ways to bring it out more often. "For who I am, I am called Belial. You may find me..." and the map swiftly shifted, to show Theralis and then Tuoma, "here, in Tuoma. My tale is not yet lost there." And as he spoke, the vision swept into the city itself, a line of black fire marking the streets to the library, and then even closer, until Greppa could see the front of the library, and the people lounging outside in discussion. The vision closed in, then passed through the doors, then paused, sweeping back and forth for a moment, before centering on a tome, "And this book has the clearest account. By my standards, naturally."

"For Uripedas... I believe I can safely say he is more loyal to you than you give him credit for. He will not abandon you because you choose a different path than Allas - he cares little for politics." The latter was spoken with what seemed, momentarily, to be almost personal knowledge, and Greppa was about to ask for clarification when the next words stole most of his brain power.

"And as for Theralis, we can provide you with equivalents, strong equivalents, to all that you now possess. Where you have spells of light, you shall have spells of darkness; where you speak with lantern archons, you shall speak with those fallen. But merely substituting is a poor offer, at best. And while Allas has more resources than we in a general sense, we are more willing to provide those resources to those who serve us. We offer what you have... and extend that, where ever possible."

Greppa swallowed. Swallowed again. He couldn't afford to drool in front of Belial - he was in delicate negotiations. Hastily, he said, "I see. I will consider your offer. I need to, uh... check out your story at Tuoma, first."

Belial nodded, "Then I shall take my leave, and we shall speak later, when you are ready."

And with that, he stood up again, muscles stretching in leonine fashion, and Greppa slipped. "Gods, you're gorgeous."

Inwardly, he got suddenly cold. He had not meant to say that. It had simply slipped out. As his irises narrowed to pinpricks, Belial took it in stride, as a matter of course, a simple stated fact from one equal to another, "Know that there are many... considerations... when mortals and my kind interact. Until we are on stronger ground as regards my longterm goals, I shall have to ignore your statement."

And with that, the creature stepped from the room. Greppa, ears burning, waited five minutes, and then ran to pound on Merideth's door. He had to tell someone, and he knew he could trust her with it.


----------



## dave_o

YES! Belial is SO COOL! ^_^

But, coolness aside - don't do it Greppa! The forces of darkness are notorious for their temptation!

I think all the bets on who's going to fall to the dark side just got shifted around a considerable amount. Unless, of course, Merideth demands to see Belial herself. Hmm. HMM. 

TANKS FOR TEH POST, SEASONG!


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## dave_o

GRR! Double-post.


----------



## Indigo Veil

> I think all the bets on who's going to fall to the dark side just got shifted around a considerable amount. Unless, of course, Merideth demands to see Belial herself. Hmm. HMM.




Merideth might well demand to see him. I, however, have _always_ had my money on Greppa falling to the dark side. ^o^

I know, Hank, that I warned you in an earlier post to keep Greppa away from such temptations, but c'mon, falling into those oh-so-capable hands is going to undoubtedly be oh-so-delicious. =*.*=

B'sides, I've got money riding on you, and Mama needs a new pair of (fetish, black leather, high-stiletto-heeled, platform-soled, laced-up-to-the-thigh) shoes.

Mmmm, bootses. ^_^


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## seasong

dave_o said:
			
		

> YES! Belial is SO COOL! ^_^
> 
> But, coolness aside - don't do it Greppa! The forces of darkness are notorious for their temptation!



But he sounds so reasonable, and his price, so low!







> I think all the bets on who's going to fall to the dark side just got shifted around a considerable amount. Unless, of course, Merideth demands to see Belial herself. Hmm. HMM.



Don't forget that Merideth is already stalking the dark side in her own way (*cough*eye tyrants*cough*) .

Teaser: I forgot a vignette I was planning to do this week. Maybe tomorrow or Wednesday. Title is "The Return of Akeros".

_Note to my players - that vignette is really REALLY OOC knowledge. Heh heh. But then, so is everything with Akeros._


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## Greppa of Tartwater

*You know what's REALLY wrong?*

The morality of the issue is cloudy too. If Allas and her ilk are behind the orc drive then they are directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of people...people from Theralis. If Belial is right, and they are responsible for this, then, well let's just say that Greppa is loyal to Theralis and not Allas.  

As for the temptation of "darkness," Thomas inadvertently summed up the cosmic poop we're about to bumble into when we were talking. 


_  Thomas: "Well it is a game called Light against the Dark".

Hank: "It doesn't seem like right against wrong."

Thomas: "Yes." _ 

Of course, he didn't elaborate.


----------



## seasong

Akeros' Passing

*Vignette: The Return of Akeros*

*Fifty Years Ago*

The celestial fabric trembled. Half-heard threats and words rolled through its very structure. The gods were angry, primarily with each other, and their passions warped and shook the firmament. Immortal servants scurried like unguided ants. Conflict was coming among the celestial planes.

Each of the gods, secure in their own dominion, foresaw this, and set about preparing for it. A decade is a trivial thing to the gods, and the first blows had not yet been struck. And as strength flows from mortals, so must preparations for war. Small families were guided to form. Children worthy of bearing the child of a God were born, and the gods watched them grow.

When the time came, small bits of divine essence streaked down from the heavens. Priests were prepared with visions and coincidence. The first children were born, marked by a god, and were guided into the professions where they could have the most impact. The gods needed things to happen in certain ways. They needed dominance and strength among mortals. They needed _power_. And for that, they needed mortal Servants to represent them.

The strategies varied from god to god, as they always do. Allas sprinkled small amounts of talent and beauty and sun-kissed _ellini_ into the populations. She cared for them, and developed them into heroes. People who love the heroes of Allas, love Allas.

Hethas took a different tack. She created only two, and she carefully crafted their lives. One of those was a boy who called himself Akeros, who murdered for his people and learned to love it.

*Today*

North of Theralis and Aglaonis, there is a cave to Hethas' domain. It is the _nekromanteia_, the gate of the dead. A mystery cult guards it against those who would enter its depths unguided, and defends it against those who believe it should be destroyed. They are among the most skilled fighters and priests of Hethas in the world, lacking fear of any living thing.

Death stalked them, and they became afraid.

The first sign was a priestess, young and still in training, who disappeared during her meditations in the shallower tunnels. It was not unheard of to lose initiates, but when her body was found scattered about the deepest altar, a worried frown creased some of the elder priests' brows. When an elder priest disappeared and his body showed up in the same fashion, worry became terror.

Over the weeks, it haunted them. What, they knew not. But it moved silently, passing from shadow to shadow like a wraith but immune to the strongest commands over the dead. Other than its shadow, only its eyes were ever seen, glittering dark, cobalt blue in the darkness. It killed every few days, always the same way, scattering the limbs and torso of the victim around the altar. As if it was not quite sure how to make a proper sacrifice, and so opting for sheer volume over propriety.

Some initiates even suggested taking a lantern down, to light the tunnels, before they were hushed by their elders.

Finally, the elders made a decision. It helped that three of them, among the strongest, had already died. They would help it make its sacrifices, and pray to Hethas that that was sufficient.

For three days, initiates were torn limb from bloody limb by the most ancient and primal of rituals, rituals that had not seen use in centuries, their methods only mentioned in dusty books of previous civilizations. On the third day, he showed up.

His skin as pale as ivory, his eyes darkest blue, his nails blackest talons. He was beautiful. He ripped apart the final initiate himself, following the ritual he'd watched for three days, and finally spoke.

"*I require clothing. And weapons.*"

These were hastily acquired and presented. When he had bathed, and clothed himself, and armed himself with his choice of the treasures of the deep, he nodded in satisfaction.

"*It is good. Hethas grant you life... and death.*"

A wave of anguish, spouting from the mouth of the river of pain, shook through the tunnels. Many died from the agony. More lived, but remembered the day for the remainder of their lives. Of the creature that had emerged from Hethas' dark realm, nothing more was known. He left thereafter, as the strong and the dead writhed on the floor.

Akeros had returned. He still had a mission to complete.


----------



## Indigo Veil

*Death and dying. Mmmm, yummy.*

Mmmm. I don't know why, Thomas, but I always adore your villains. 

.. .. Oh, wait, I know why! They're simply BADASS. ^_^ It's a nice thing, isn't it, to be a scion of a god...? Ooh, Allas is gonna have quite a headache or two with these people. ^^;; <performs an Allas cheer> Ganbatte, ne!

As much as I wanna get to the war scenes, and finally watch the orcs bring devastation to their human oppressors, this whole politics/bickering thing between the deities is really quite cool. Keep it coming! ^_^


----------



## seasong

Thanks . Although, who said anything about Akeros being a villain?

I'm working on the Illusion academia. It won't be as impressive as the Necromancy one, I'm afraid - I kind of slapped illusion into the setting, compared to necro .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

Christina, remember the bloody, buggery sod shagging orcs attacked US.


----------



## seasong

I gave a lot of thought to necromancy in Theralis. I looked into its origins in real world history, read some books on medieval and greek necromancy, read through the necromantic spells in the PHB and tried to rationalize them... Illusion, I kind of just slapped in there. Sad, huh?

I even made illusion "technologically backwards" in Theralis. When the game started, you couldn't find three illusionists in all of Theralis who could cast _invisibility_, although they _did_ win the "performance casting" contests every four years or so. With the advent of the war, however, the defensive capabilities of illusionists have begun to come to the fore, and a once disrespected "art profession" has started to gain social acceptance.

But you still don't hear much about great illusionist heroes in Theralis. So this Academia is about the Civilized North. It's also not quite as thorough as the necromancy one - more of an overview of what illusion is, and how it is used elsewhere. Like I said, I kind of slapped it in there..

But it's still cool  

*Academia: Illusion*


> _From the Theralis website_
> Illusion centers around the creation of phantasmal constructs, semi-real objects and things which fool the senses. As the illusionist grows in power, the constructions take on stronger reality, even fueling their own strength with the belief of those who perceive them, and can become quite powerful.
> 
> Illusion magic does not directly affect the mind; the illusionary construct is actually present, reflects light, and so on. It simply isn't entirely real. Belief can impact it, but the illusion is there even if no one can see it.
> 
> Casting: An illusionist shapes and controls her creations with her hands, and gesturing is continuous through the course of her spells. Skilled illusionists can dispense with this somewhat, and there are additional constructs which can be learned which operate constructs independantly of the illusionist.





> _And also..._
> The material realm is the one we are accustomed to. The mountains that you can see with your own eyes, the dirt you can pick up with your own hands. Everything that is well known is in this realm.
> 
> Co-existing with this is the ethereal realm, the insubstantial plane of ghosts and spirits. Your mind, anchored to your body and bound in its material "stuff", exists in the ethereal. Ethereal objects which are not bound into an object are insubstantially visible as wispy, transparent things.
> 
> The ethereal realm is one dimensional slice away from our own, and has unknown properties. Connected to it in other dimensional directions are the many planes.



The illusionist is more than he seems. It is his nature.

The art of illusion is, on the surface, the crafting of _ether_, carefully shaping it to your will and then expending that Will to force part of its existence into the crude material world, a phantasm given near-reality by the force of your personality, and further strengthened by the belief of others. Given sufficient strength and belief, an illusionist can even _shape_ reality, rather than merely fantasies.

Although uncommon among young nations at the frontiers of civilization, in the Old Lands, illusionists are respected in a staggering array of professions, from criminal to entertainer to soldier. The ability to alter perceptions is useful almost anywhere you look.

*The Arts: Morphestos*

Called _morphestos_ (shaper) in the Old Lands, many illusionists are content to focus on the artistic and performance side of their skills. Operating in troupes, they conceive and create vast tapestries of illusion, entire plays and events and "experiential moments" which take dozens of illusionists coordinating to pull off. Although some troupes are good enough to find a patron who sponsors them in a single location, most tour the Old Lands by "stage coach", vast, rumbling, rolling wagons which provide a simple, undistracting backdrop against which to present the illusions.

Shapers often specialize in particular fields within their troupe, and there are reknowned sound artists and musicians as well as those skilled in the creation and movement of "actors" or the skilled crafting of "scenery"... and most have a mood illusionist, who cunningly weaves lights, shadows, sound distortions, blurring effects and small, glinting details into the overall production to enhance its overall impact.

Most shaper troupes fall into one of three categories: vulgar, pure, and patroned.

The vulgar troupes are what you would expect. They tend to the tawdry, and more specifically, they tend to the _short_ and the _comedic_. They go for thrills rather than emotion, pander to crude humor rather than taste, and rely on gags more than narrative. Still, they do well, and are generally the most popular, although they almost never have a patron. And many vulgar troupes branch out into other forms of illusion to allow special "shock" performances - for example, one troupe became almost infamous for having an invisible person physically on the stage so that when the sea sprayed foam, he could toss _something_ on the audience.

Pure troupes tend to be short lived, although they do well in good years - the business simply isn't consistent enough without a patron. Pure troupes are where the real _art_ is, however, and enough people enjoy it that they will always be around, if not in a stable fashion.

Patronned troupes are most typically former pure troupes... former because, as one becomes patroned, one gains both a steady source of income, and the requirement that the source of that income be kept happy. Still, a patroned troupe has steady income, a place of residence which can be constructed to enhance their performances, and leisure time to construct their illusions. It is an enviable life for a shaper!

*The Arts: Adonesti*

The _adonesti_ (sensualist) craft experiential illusions on a more personal level. They rarely work with other illusionists, and tend to be part of a brothel community rather than a spell caster community. Still, the best ones are often as reknowned as the best known morphestos composer.

They hand craft physical sensations, phantasmal partners, and more bizarre fantasies. Some also utilize illusions to enhance the public relations of the brothel, the appearance of the servers and the clientelle (it is amazing what enhancing the client's appearance does for sales), and other small effects.

*The Arts: Idolates*

The _idolates_ (an etymological riddle; their role is actually that of _orakeles_) are shaved-headed guardians of temple joy. Meditating upon the divine, they allow divinity to enter them as they shape the ether, and the images they produce provide visions and guidance. The theory is similar to automatic writing and speaking in tongues... but is more vividly and directly experienced by the masses.

*Crime*

In Tuoma, at least, The Ten are the boogie men of law enforcement, a band (possibly a former troupe of morphestos) of illusionists who work together to rule the criminal underground of the city-state and organize it to a degree that is almost unheard of elsewhere. It is an accepted fact of life that only the wealthiest can hire the defenses needed to stop them, and that killing thieves is about the only way to reduce the problem... because they are almost impossible to keep locked away, and almost impossible to catch.

Shadows that coat the target area, invisible and silent burglars, false trails that appear from nothing, and streets that turn into shifting mazes... The Ten have never been found. They do all of their work through those they enhance with their magic. Even their number is suspect.

Other than Tuoma, illusionists rarely turn to crime. It simply isn't profitable in most cases, compared to other options. When they do, they typically operate as part of a small team of burglars, providing much the same service as mentioned above. The typical lifespan of a criminal illusionist is a few years before being caught, but with the right team, they can make a bundle before that happens.

*War*

In Theralis, illusionists have begun to be used in warfare to protect the arcanists.

Among the peoples of the Old Lands, this would be considered a waste. Here, illusionists _control_ the battlefield. They change the appearance of entire armies, provide invisibility to small squadrons to move into place, reshape the appearance of the land, often in subtly ingenious ways. A battle was won against tremendous odds (and superior enemy illusionists) when the smaller side built a physical cover over pits, then created illusions of the pits - when the enemy saw through the illusion and marched through, they died.

Invisibility, altered numbers and weapon types, shifted positions, terrain-scaping and even phantasmal assassins with just enough reality to kill... illusionists are one of the battle's mainstays.


----------



## Indigo Veil

Oh my. <laugh> Hank, I hope those words were coming from Greppa, and not you.  

We've already had this conversation, and I'm not too eager to have it again.  ^.^;; Remember, I'm curious to see what will happen with the orcs once the slavery commences, but I'm not actually interested in the morality of it, or the who-did-what-to-whom to bring about these events. I don't care who started it. I just wanna see how well the orcs deal with their new social conditions.  I want to see a bloody revolt. ^_^

Oh yes, I also want to see more bickering, and see each God dump buckets of sand (in the form of dead mortals) over the other Gods' heads. ^_^

*Edit*: back to the story. ^_^ Awesome bit of academia...you say the illusion bit was slapped on, but it is (or at least appears to be--hah!) really well thought out. I can see how it can be applied elsewhere, too.  

Oops. Had a question, but then I re-read your post, and got it answered there.

but what's the length of time that the illusion can last before it has to be recast? Or is that dependent upon skill/will/both?

thanks.


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## Talix

Re: Belial - seasong, have you been reading Rape of Morne recently?    Definitely enjoying your take on the temptation aspect.  And seeing as how we don't really see a whole lot of "doom for your immortal SOUL!" type of thing going on, I get the feeling that converting to the dark side isn't the horrible abomination that it would be in some other settings.  

And the other guy coming back from the dead was an excellent scene as well.  Thank you for sharing this kind of stuff with us, it enhances your story hour about 300%!


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## dave_o

Yay! Illusion academia!

^_^


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## seasong

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> but what's the length of time that the illusion can last before it has to be recast? Or is that dependent upon skill/will/both?



Different kinds of illusions last different amounts of time, and it also depends upon force of will (in the form of "character level"). Some illusions are simple enough or subtle enough that they can be maintained as long as the illusionist focuses on them.







			
				Talix said:
			
		

> Re: Belial - seasong, have you been reading Rape of Morne recently?



I have, and Wyre Book 2 as well. But Belial is not attempting to _tempt_ anyone - merely inform and persuade. That he offers power and good looks is merely a statement of the strength of his position.







> And seeing as how we don't really see a whole lot of "doom for your immortal SOUL!" type of thing going on, I get the feeling that converting to the dark side isn't the horrible abomination that it would be in some other settings.



Well, it's Greek, for one thing . When the Greek gods overthrew the titans, the world went from a Golden Age to a Silver Age. One of the titans, in fact, was referred to as "the friend of humanity"... and was chained to a cliff for Zeus' eagle to peck at for eternity.

Most Greek heroes got to be that way because they defied the gods, with a few kiss-up exceptions like Perseus.

In Theralis, it's a little different because some of the old gods are really, really alien (like Hsethmah, god of spiders) and the current gods are very, very _real_ (making stories about defying them a bit rarer)... but it's not THAT much different. Heroes just have to be more careful, and usually get further by being deific kiss-ups. Heck, if you check out the alignment section of the Theralis site, you'll find loyalty to Theralis at the top of the list... and if that means kissing up to the gods, so be it, but if that means telling the gods where to stick it and going with Belial, so be it also.

That's at least one of the reasons Allas put out so much propoganda against necromancy - if necromancy is thought to be bad for Theralis, and Allas is the best suited to fighting it, Theralis will push Allas' agenda harder than She could by Herself.

Heh. That was probably too much info. Sorry.







> And the other guy coming back from the dead was an excellent scene as well. Thank you for sharing this kind of stuff with us, it enhances your story hour about 300%!



 Not many NPCs get a good entrance AND a good death scene, and even fewer get them in reverse order .


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## Raphael

Akeros is back and he's <insert adjective> than ever!

Kudos on the Akeros thread.  I enjoy reading about that sort of pitiless violence, when there is an actual reason behind it.  When a story becomes an epic, the bad guys should be *bad*, and if you've gone to all the trouble to create a god of death, there should be death around him. 

It seems like celestial/fiendish emmisaries are coming out of the woodwork, and the world of Theralis becomes a lot more dangerous.


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## seasong

Hi Raphael, thanks for the kind words .

There is probably not going to be a lot in the way of updates until after this weekend. As I mentioned, I'm basically caught up, which feels... weird . I'd been running about one session behind until I got sick last weekend.

Also, I'm going to be trying to start a new story hour soon, with my core group. It's not D&D, but it is fantasy, and it is likely to be more political and less hack-n-slay than this one. I'll let y'all know when I've got the goods up .

If I manage to keep it up, I may be switching to a more weekly format with this story hour (longer posts, twice a week, instead of shorter posts, 3-8 times a week). I'd like opinions on that - whether you'd prefer fewer and longer, or staying the way it is.


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## Indigo Veil

i prefer longer posts, but  it doesn't _really_ matter to me either way, so long as I get *something* to read. 

Although, perhaps you should try out the new story hour first, and see how writing intensive it actually is. it may end up being less (or more), depending on how much you want to write about the background.  Also, I don't know about Linds or Billy, but I think Hank and I will be adding characterizations of our own every so often, so that might also cut down on how much work you have to do (not necessarily, though--no promises! ^_^). 

anyway, that little bit was my two cents' worth of input. ^^;;;


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## Delgar

I'll be honest one of the reasons I started reading your storyhour was the fact that it was updated so often. I like the fact that every other day you can read a new snippet of information. But that's just me of course! I'd prefer it small and more often or then we'd have to start calling you Piratecat or Wulf or jonrog!

That's just my two cents. By the way have you updated your .pdf version lately? As soon as you do that I can print it out and continue reading to my wife!

Delgar

P.S. Check out my storyhour  The Unusual Suspects 

There isn't much here yet but I'm working on it.


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## Talix

I prefer smaller, more frequent updates myself.  

And I'll be happy to read your new story hour, although I tend to be wary of non-D&D settings...


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## seasong

Greppa also voted for smaller, more frequent postings. Hm.

Honestly, I can't disagree with that. I like daily webcomics better than weekly, myself - there's just something about a daily (or in my case, quasi-daily) serial that keeps the interest going. Never a big enough bite that the writing abilities of the author interfere with the narrative pleasure, but always just enough to advance it a bit.

So... I'll try for that, and see how well I can do.

And Talix, as regards non-D&D settings...


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## seasong

Well, I've started posting the new story hour. I've got some backlog. We've played two sessions so far, so I'm going to be racing like mad to catch up. I will work this story hour first, then that one, but this weekend is a good time to start since I'm caught up on Light Against the Dark .

The character introductions will be posted sometime in the next few days, and that will intro the story itself. There will, of course, be academia and world details and all the gooey stuff there usually is here. I can't help that .


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## dave_o

Another vote for the daily/semi-daily format. There IS something about what you can read on a daily basis, and it gives me something to look forward to. 

The other story hour looks great. You're too rad, seasong. More and more I'd kill to play in one of your games.

Even moreso than Piratecat, jonrog, etc.  

Something to think about when RECURITING PLAYERS FOR YOUR UPCOMING ONLINE EPIC! *jab* Right, RIGHT?!

^_^


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## Serpenteye

I'm so ing impressed by this SH. There are many good story hours on this board but this one is at the top of the heap. Really, only Sepulchrave's SH is on an equal level and I think this one is gradually pulling ahead.
 The characters seem so life-like. Both the PCs (Greppa and Meredith particularly, but we havn't seen as much of Bellos yet) and the primary NPCs are almost flesh-and-blood people with real human strengths, weaknesses, desires and insecurities, and  still they manage to be larger than life. The plot is well crafted, the writing excellent and the house-rules brilliantly innovative. And the updates! It's really remarkable how you manage to update so often with posts of such quality. 
 What I'm trying to express, in my own semi-coherent way, is that I really enjoy this story and appreciate your, and your players, efforts in creating it.


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## seasong

I'll take that as two votes for keeping the current format. And thanks for the kind words! They help keep me going .

Quick teaser: This week, Bellos gets to use his sling! Uripedas gets to fight something! And Merideth gets an eyeful of Belial!


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## seasong

Ugh. It's going to be this afternoon at the earliest before I can do today's update.


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## Indigo Veil

Take your time. We'll be waiting, no matter how long you take. ^_^


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## Nail

...or rather: don't take your time.  As the case may be.

Here's another vote for "short and frequent".  Lots of things are good that way: this story hour is among them.


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## seasong

_Note: Short, but I've got another one planned shortly after this one; probably later this morning._

*Plans*

Hastily, the heroes of Theralis cancelled and re-arranged their planes. Bellos was sent to hire some mercenaries for Uridates' trip home, Greppa did some quick research on the states to the north (and turned up mainly historical references, and the fact that Aglaonis did some trade with them), and Merideth wandered around, "planning".

When Bellos asked why the sudden change of plan, Greppa was somewhat pensive, "I've had.. a visitation, I guess. There's information there that we need about the... orcs, and maybe their ancestors, or whoever is driving them to war." Bellos seemed to take this as satisfactory, and off they each went to handle their various arrangements.

While hiring a mercenary, Bellos also kept an eye open for a solid wilderness guide or trapper - he'd seen Greppa's idea of proper travel in the wilds, and while Bellos felt confident in his own abilities therein, he'd discovered that he wasn't that great at helping other people along the way.

So he needed, at the least, a second pair of eyes on Greppa and Merideth, and a second pair of skilled hands wouldn't be amiss around the campsite, either. Eventually, someone directed him to a massive, drunk orc... and despite Bellos' highly questionable opinion, he was assured that the orc (currently dozing lightly, a beer cradled to his rolling pectoral mountains) was easily the best wilderness guide available, period. His name was Chatham, and that summoned a vague memory of someone Greppa and Merideth had mentioned.

Bellos went back to check with them.

Later, Chatham stared with intense concentration through a haze of alcohol at the trio. Leaning in to Bellos, he commented, "Yoush ha' shrunk!" His perceptive analysis complete, he leaned back to hear the offer.

Greppa launched into it, "We need a guide to the far north - as far as Tuoma. We'd like to hire you to help us."

"Tuwha? How mush?"

Greppa named a very, _very_ reasonable price, and Chatham took it in stride, "Sh'okay. When yoush nee' ta go?"

Greppa looked at Merideth, "We'd like to go as soon as possible. Merideth could sober you up..."

"The HELL she will... I'sh earnt thish."

Bellos leaned in to Greppa's ear, "We can't really leave today anyway. It's taking a bit of time to hire mercenaries I trust with Uridates and our gold."

Greppa sighed, "Okay.. how about when you've sobered up naturally?"

Chatham seemed to consider, rolling the thought around in his head while beer rolled around his tongue, "Ish a deal. I'sh meetchu in... two daysh."

"It's going to take that long to sober up!?"

"Ish gonna be tha' lon' fore I'sh sober..."


----------



## TwoSix

Yay!  More Chatham!

Keep up the good work, seasong.  I'm hoping to start writing a Stroy Hour in the next few months, and I plan on modeling its organization after yours.


----------



## seasong

Chatham's first appearance, for those coming in late. He's a seven foot, good-looking orc with an erudite tongue... when he's not drunk.

*Road to Tuoma*

The first day of travel, the trio and Chatham hiked... east. A bit north. Everyone figured Chatham knew what he was doing, so no one said anything, until night began to fall, and they found themselves in as deep a wilderness as could be imagined.

Merideth spoke up first, "Chatham, uh, did you know there's a ROAD to Tuoma? It's not complete, but it goes through, uh, friendlier areas."

Chatham nodded, so Greppa chimed in, "So where exactly are we going?"

Chatham was an immense, muscular orc. His shoulders were broad enough to support both of his questioners, his hands large enough to crush their heads... he smiled at them in a manner more at home in an effete Theralis academy of actors, "Mostly, my small friends, I am awaiting the cessation of my payment to Dianas, upon whose teat I spent the past week. And in the meantime, a good, slow walk did well for my constitution. In the morning, we shall travel as swiftly as you could hope for, like an arrow loosed for the city you seek."

Bellos just grinned. He, like Chatham, felt more at home away from the crowded masses... although spending money and making beer were both also good.

Chatham failed to mention that the northern civilizations were taking a dim view of orcs at the moment, and that a orcish gentleman such as himself might be taken amiss. No need to worry the young heroes with the dooms of his people.

-

The next morning, Chatham had his three foot diameter wardrum out and tucked under an arm. "So, my fine heroes, once upon a time you ran with me; or rather, you ran beside me while I passed gently through the mother forests. Today, however, you are in even more luck!"

At this, Merideth and Greppa groaned as quietly as they could. If Chatham meant for them to run as fast as he could...

"For just recently, I have mastered an ancient drumming, one not often used in our crude modern age, one suited to the plains of our ancestors, and the coverage thereof. I shall play as we run, and I think you will find the poor beats of an aging drummer to be uplifting this morning!"

And as they began to jog (and Greppa flew), he beat upon his drum, a stocatto, rolling march that drew one in as fatigue set in and cradled one from the pain of the body. Greppa, to his consternation, began to find himself falling behind in the air. He pushed the magic, but was finally forced to land and start pelting after the others.

In time, the beat esconced him as well, and enraptured with sounds that were heard by orcs a thousand years ago or more, they ran. And ran. And ran.

The days swelled and fell away like leaves. The ground passed beneath them. The mountains were mere hills, to be crushed underfoot as they travelled north. In a matter of days, a journey of weeks was passed with only the faintest of fatigues, although all three noticed how ravenously they ate each night.

Finally, they arrived at a highway, with a steep, mountainous ridge that it passed over to the north. "Beyond that ridge, my young friends, shall you find the city you seek, if the maps you shared with me are accurate. I will remain here for a week to await your return, and you will find me thus." And with that, Chatham made a square of twigs, and carefully wove it into the bark of a tree. "May your path find you safe, and your hunt fruitful."

The trio left the oddball orc in the wilderness, and set upon the highway. Greppa noted, glancing at the road they walked upon, that it was a significantly more expensive endeavor than the best highways of Theralis. He wondered what these cities looked like, so far north, that they could afford such a highway...

The ridge beckoned, and they went.


----------



## seasong

TwoSix said:
			
		

> Keep up the good work, seasong.  I'm hoping to start writing a Stroy Hour in the next few months, and I plan on modeling its organization after yours.



Thanks! I'll keep an eye peeled for it .


----------



## seasong

I just noticed how many pages/replies this thing is at. I'd rather not prune it (that's what the PDF version is for, which, yes, I am working on this weekend), so I'm going to need to start a IIIrd part before Dinkledog gets to it (I like being able to modify the header with the last update date).

Anyway, I'd thought I'd've gotten further along by the time this happened, but I guess I've gotten wordier (_that_ boggles the mind). So, I'm going to try to figure out a good break point sometime in the next week. I'll also try to have the narrative PDF up and up-to-date at that point.

Anyway, needless knowledge, I know, but thought I'd give some warning.


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## Talix

Just make sure you let us know, and we'll follow you to the new thread.  

Was the drum beat a bardic-type spell/enchancement?  Is it described somewhere on your web site?

Now I'm off to check out your new thread...


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## seasong

I haven't updated the web page in forever .

It's a performance-based feat, much like the Drums of Thunder (which he also has). The game effect is to ignore fatigue for overland travel only... which means a x4 run is possible. It was inspired by the original _ring of sustenance_, with which a character of mine once crossed a continent in a very short amount of time, after being left behind by a no-good double-crossing teleporting magic-user.

I made it require a total skill of 20+, so with the skill focus feat I use, a performance-focused person could concievably pick it up around level 8. It has a limited radius of effect (30 ft), but get a couple of orc war drummers together with that, and they can move a pretty hefty military band about 64 miles per day through mountainous terrain.


----------



## seasong

*Tuoma*

At the top of the ridge, the trio looked, and an immense city rolled down slope and away from them. Easily three times the size of Theralis, and slightly more than twice the size of Aglaonis, it sprawled across the rapidly dropping hills beyond the mountain slope and spilled into a flatland bowl beyond. A quarter million people, representing the combined trade between North and South; the funnel through which everything passed. If you looked, a few arcanists might be spotted flying about the sky; horses built more for the flatter northlands pulling wheeled contraptions; espers in street stalls, selling fortunes; steel weapons rather than black iron; and much more. The first thing the young heroes noticed was the lack of proper architecture.

"Where's the high towers?"
"Or the arch bridges between them?"
"Are people supposed to live in those boxes?"
"I don't see any ducts... how do they get water into the city?"
"Forget about that, how do they get it OUT?"
"Ew."
"EW!"
"Hey, look, there's a tower about a stone's throw that way..."
"That's the library that, ah, I saw in the vision."
"Cool. At least it's one of the bigger buildings."
"If you call them buildings."

As they talked, they walked, passing people on the way through the wide open gates. A pair of oddly-uniformed soldiers, dressed in shiny ringlets of silvery metal, nodded in passing and continued on. Like the south, the cities were largely open when not repelling an attack of some sort, and for a trade city, it was even more important.

As they reached the library, however, another soldier stopped them. Built like a six-foot-six brick house, she towered over all three, but her manners, while brusque, were gentle. Merideth pegged her, almost immediately, as a kindly Captain type. "Sorry to bother you folks, but you're new here and arcanists?"

Merideth shrugged, "I'm an esper."

The soldier smiled, "Ah, of course. Well, I do apologize, but spellcasters without permits have to be peacebonded. You can get permits at the Arcanist's Guild, for espers as well, but I have to peacebond you here and now."

Greppa, his mind swimming with images of the gag and tied up fingers from his days as an orc slave, opened his mouth to protest when she pulled out two wrist bracelets. "These are the peacebonds. You have to wear these; if they are removed by an unauthorized entity they will begin to shriek."

And without further ceremony, she clapped the bracelets around the left wrist of Greppa and Merideth. "Again, my apologies for the inconvenience."

Greppa's mouth closed. Merideth fumed... and when she tested the limits of the spell casting, fumed some more. The bracelets didn't affect her ability to cast a spell at all, they just made it extremely difficult to resist the exhaustion that followed. _Extremely_ difficult.

Bellos grinned at them, but not when they were looking. The soldier hadn't even blinked at the huge iron meat cleaver he was carrying.

The library was quiet, but not abnormally so. A few children whispered to each other in a back corner, under the watchful eyes of an aristocrat's servant, while a pair of elderly men argued quietly but vehemently over the price of steel plate armor in "the Age of Kithios". And as Greppa watched, and _ellini_ girl pulled a book, the very book Greppa was looking for, and carried it over to a stack she was making, placing it on top.

As she walked back to the book shelf, hunting further books, Greppa walked over to the pile she'd made. It looked exactly like the pile in Belial's image. It was a bit disconcerting.

He picked up the book and began idly turning the pages. The girl walked up to him, her voice quiet, timid, but very serious, "I'm using that."

He turned and looked at her. She was smaller than him, and looked perhaps fifteen, just barely an adult, with black hair and intense brown eyes. The eyes were very serious, her mouth was pinched shut - an arcanist apprentice, then, he decided, and one not accustomed to dealing with people.

"I only wish to read one passage. I will not take it from your stack."

She nodded, and fled back to the shelf, stealing glances at him as he read. _Luccas the Red, cast down by Allas..._


----------



## seasong

I've done the first narrative update to the Book of Runes story hour. Go see! Go see!


----------



## seasong

*Belial*

It took only a few minutes to suck dry the entirety of information available on Belial in the book. As resources go, it was what Greppa would normally have called a dead end. He wandered over to the shelf to examine the books in the same area it had come from. The _ellini_ girl left the stack as he arrived, two more books in her hands, and zipped as swiftly as possible over to her pile. _Probably to check the book for damage_, Greppa thought to himself.

What he discovered, after roughly five minutes of skimming, was that she had every book he might have been interested in, in her pile. And she had laid them out in front of her, open to various points, while going through another book in her hands. She was cross referencing like mad, and Greppa watched her for a moment before taking a deep breath and approaching her again.

"Excuse me, but I'm new to the library, and..."

"I need these books."

"Yes... okay. I was just hoping for some information. It would be advantageous to me if..."

"Not to me."

"What?"

Exasperated, she shoved her hair from her face and looked up at him. He cut an impressive figure, for an _ellini_. Gleaming white cloak, steel bracers esconcing his forearms, an obviously magical belt holding his southern tunic tight to his body... "It would be advantageous to you. Not to me. I have to study."

Arcanists have a nasty habit of spending long periods of time in solitude. The result can be somewhat rusty manners, but Theralis culture helps ensure that an arcanist spends time outside his tower... if he doesn't, he can expect an intervention from concerned neighbors. Obviously, such was not the case in the North.

Greppa retreated and went over to where Merideth and Bellos were occupying themselves with thumb wrestling. Bellos was very fast, and winning, so Merideth was glad to see the tiny arcanist, "What's the matter? I thought you had books to read?"

"I would, except that the little minx sitting there has all of them. And she's not exactly well socialized."

"Not well socialized?" Merideth grinned at Greppa, remembering some of his outbursts mere weeks ago.

"Yeah, _very_ unfriendly. Doesn't seem to have the first inkling of how to deal with people in a reasonable manner."

Bellos interjected, "So, what? Do we come back later?"

"No, I need to wait here. She can't leave with them, so I'll just wait until she's done. Damn it." Greppa glared around at her. She sat quietly, continuing to cross reference points in the multitude of books around her.

Greppa finally went and grabbed a book on Tuoma history. _Might as well learn *something* while I'm here_. Bellos and Merideth continued their contest - Bellos was accustomed to losing to her, and was beginning to suspect that she used her esper abilities normally... he was starting to really like the peacebonds.

A candlemark passed, and the girl got up. Greppa was on his feet, waiting. She didn't look at him, in fact avoided looking in his direction, and walked out. Her face seemed to be burning, and Greppa remembered, belatedly, that while most people were deaf compared to him, most _ellini_ weren't. She'd heard everything. He sighed, but he needed the books more than he needed some half-grown girl in another country to like him.

The main book turned out to be a work of fiction. A rather torrid one, at that, about Belial and some trumped up demigoddess in the infernal realms. From the research she'd done, it looked unlikely, at best, to be true. Other than the fiction, there did not seem to be much information on Belial... although there was a ton about Luccas.

Goddess of the Red Night. Blood. Crawling beasts and verminous insects. Fertility, secrets... she seemed to have a hand in all sorts of pies, until Allas and Phastas bound her up and tossed her in the Pit.

But of Belial, precious little was there.

Irritated, Greppa started looking through the other books she'd accumulated. They were, quite naturally, in some barbaric tongue. Without thinking, he swished his fingers and summoned a lantern archon to translate. In its sweet, sing-song voice, it began translating yet another dead end. He shook his head, "What am I doing here, anyway?"

The sweet, sing-song voice answered, "I don't know. What _are_ you doing here?"

Greppa startled. _Archons are servants of Allas, dipstick..._ "Ah, checking some history. I thought it might be useful, but obviously not." And with that he let the spell holding the archon here expire.

Then, almost out of spite, Greppa pulled out the black feather Belial had given him, and ignited a finger beneath it. He'd have a talk with Belial, and see if there was a better source of information. Somewhere, Belial stirred and rose.


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## Talix

Heh, it'd be funny if the trashy fiction turned out to be the best account of the truth available.  

Neat interaction with the other _ellini_ - Greppa doesn't get much of that, does he?  And here I was almost expecting a romance to shape up.  

I also really like the peacebond - interesting take on controlling craziness in the city.  And it makes sense power-wise to be easier to tire mages than to try and actually stop them from doing anything.  I'm assuming that translates into a huge DC increase to the WILL save?  How much?  That'd be a useful thing to be able to get around...    Though I guess the first thing you'd be able to do is cast low-level spells again freely, and then you'd get noticed and subdued immediately. 

Good stuff!


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## seasong

+10 to the Will save DC. Cost is roughly equivalent to 2,000 GP, and they're paid for by the Arcanist's Guild; in fact, the entire process of peacebonding outside arcanists (and the high fees to be a member) was developed by the Guild to maintain stricter control over the pool of competitors. The reasoning given, of course, is "city safety", "insurance rates" and similar things. But the plain fact is that the Guild profits immensely from "restricting" itself and charging non-members for casting licenses.

The city doesn't actually mind if the arcanist casts spells, incidentally - they just want to make sure that if the arcanist starts doing something violent, the civil soldiery can take him down.


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## seasong

_Greppa, I may have forgotten some of what you asked Belial; let me know, and I'll edit it in._

*Library Fiend*

As the first licks of flame touched the edges of the feather, Greppa felt the weariness of the peacebonding bracelet upon him. _Perhaps_, he thought to himself, _now is not the best time to be talking to dangerous extraplanar entities..._ And as he finished the thought, Belial strode through the doors.

His wings were missing, or perhaps hidden, and he wore a set of full robes much like the people of this place... In fact, they were just like the _ellini_ girl's, and Greppa ran through the robes he'd seen on other arcanists. It was a match - and what an arcanist wore was a good thing to know, in case he had to do something unlawful with the bracelet.

Merideth had not yet seen Belial. And as she gawked, mouth slightly ajar, eyes rapidly dilating, she realized what she'd been missing. He was... celestial. Perfect features, creamed coffee skin, muscles as sculpted as any marble. She just gawked as the Beauty walked, or rather stalked, to Greppa.

Unnoticed by either of the heroes, Bellos was watching carefully. He was pretty sure that wasn't a servant of Allas, and Greppa had been very careful not to say his visitation was... anything, really. He kept a straight face - the other two tended to treat him like a poor substitute for Athan, but his experience had led him to believe that Athan wasn't the sharpest spear in the pile, and it was advantageous to let the other two think the same of him. So, his face remaining reasonably placid and easy-going, he began to plan how best to find out what was really going on.

Greppa, meanwhile, spoke with the entity.

"So, there is really not much here about you."

"No, as I said, I am largely forgotten. I provided you with what I could."

"Which isn't much."

"Yes."

Greppa growled under his breath, "Okay... so, who are you working with again?"

"It does not matter at this time."

"Right. Of course not. Look, I need some straight answers. What are you getting out of this?"

"The opportunity to persuade you that you are on the wrong side. If you disagree, it was still worth a try. You asked me who I was - that book tells you as much as any book can, and is a source outside of ME. Ask Allas if you must, but keep in mind her bias, as shown in that book."

Greppa thought this through, then, finally, "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I seem to have wasted my time."

Belial just smiled, and after some pleasantries, left. Merideth was practically on top of him the moment he was gone, gushing over his looks. Greppa just grinned, embarrassed, but could hardly disagree.

Bellos, smiling next to them, read as much of the open pages on the table as he could without alerting anyone to what he was doing. _Belial... celestial gold chains, looked more like black iron to me... infernal pit... Damn._ He continued to listen to the gushing, but his mind was on other things.

It was important that they find out what was behind the orcs. He'd spotted signs of orc warfare in the forest even here in the rotted North, so that was a BIG problem. But it was also important that the high priestess Thelanna be alerted to the activity of fiends in this issue.

He sighed. Greppa grinned at him, "Something up?"

"I just think I've heard enough about big, beautiful men to last me to the next Olympiad. Any chance we can take the next few candlemarks to sample local beers, instead?"

It was unanimous, and they took off. Bellos began mentally composing the letter for Thelanna.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

*Betrayed!!!!*

*Bellos began mentally composing the letter he would have carried to Thelanna.* 

What's sad is that Bellos doesn't know that Thelanna has been holding back in the information department. Admittedly we haven't been the souls of openess, but I can't believe that the little pube is tattling on us.  I hate it when the DM leaves with a player to do "secret stuff."


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## seasong

Naturally, Greppa quoted one of my more awkward sentence constructions, bringing my attention to it and forcing me to edit.


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## Greppa of Tartwater

*I almost forgot.*

Thomas, you forgot to mention the terribly creepy moment in the library. I was looking at books. I summoned an Archon, got frustrated and asked rhetoricly, "What the hell am I doing?" and the puffball went all spooky and stuff. Remember?


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## seasong

Thanks. Added it in to the pre-Belial post.


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## Nail

*Re: I almost forgot.*



			
				Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> *.... "What the hell am I doing?" and the puffball went all spooky and stuff.  *



Yeah.  Strange it should get concerned.  No reason for it, eh Greppa, servant of Allas?


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## dave_o

Belial should totally seduce Merideth.

I know *I* would.


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## dave_o

Psst, Miss Indigo Veil - add a target="_new" or target="_blank" to your Queen of Shadows linkz0r.

It'd be much appreciated. ^_^


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## Nail

dave_o said:
			
		

> *Belial should totally seduce Merideth.
> *



<insert with voice of rich, chocolate bass>:  * Done. *


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## Indigo Veil

Dave_O: Done. I think. ^^;;


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## seasong

*Lettered Men of State*

*Bellos*

In Theralis, one can generally offer a youth a few coins to carry something light (as a letter might be) from one end of a valley to another, or anywhere in the city itself. It's not a major facet of life, and it's the sort of thing the wealthy (particularly merchants) do to maximize their own time - one can sell to customers while a letter from you is delivered to someone else, rather than doing one or the other.

Bellos was hoping something similar held true here in the flat north. It turned out something did. And that something cost a great deal more than he'd expected - three month's pay for a soldier, roughly, to carry a letter.

Well, to be fair, that was the cost to carry a letter two week's journey through vicious wilderness to a foreign city, and find someone the courier didn't know... but still, it was rather expensive. He said he would consider it, and began considering how best to achieve his goal without relaxing the death grip on his well earned gold.

For a moment, he fumed. If he were Greppa, he'd just summon an archon of light and send the message directly himself. But he couldn't ask Greppa to do it, because Greppa was working with a fiend.

Five minutes later, Bellos was at a temple of Allas, cursing his own blindness. Ten minutes after that, the letter was gone from his hands, instantly transported to the south. The priests had seemed surprised at the idea - and indeed, none of their usual lantern archons knew the way, but Bellos gave them the name Greppa sometimes called, hoping that that one would know where Theralis was, at least.

It did. And indeed, when presented with the letter, and its purpose explained, had seemed mightily relieved, its glow brightening with the Purpose of Light. "I shall seek the first Temple I see, and ask that they bring the letter to Thelanna of Theralis of the Kept of Allas; and then shall I return to report to you that it has been done."

And with that, it had winked out, been gone, and returned. Now it was only a matter of how long it would take the letter to get to Thelanna directly.

His quest ended, Bellos left the temple, barely even considering that the priests there would soon send other letters, their own, and begin establishing communication with their southern brethren; that the convenience would overcome distance, and that the first beginnings of a communications infrastructure was being laid.

Entirely in the hands of Allas, no less.

*Greppa*

Greppa finished the last laborious page of his immense missive to Captain Agina. It covered, in as much detail as he dared, his suspicions about a war brewing among the gods, and how these things might impact Theralis and the loyalties of Theralis to the gods; and also where the information was coming from (Belial, that is, and books which had coincidentally been placed in front of him).

Completed, he hired a courier, paid the price without hesitation (to a trusted middle man, what the Theralese called a merchant, but who called himself a banker in the north), and put down an additional sum of half again, should the message be delivered within the next ten days.

He would have used a lantern archon, but he preferred to use a source removed from divinity.

Then he met with the others, and prepared for overland travel to the home of the Buhkenahk.


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## seasong

That's probably it for today. Work's kicking me in the &%$.


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## dave_o

Indigo - Thanks. 

Where's my Merideth? I need my gorgeous, severe yet beautiful Esper. Now! *pout*


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## seasong

*Leaving Tuoma*

As they left, Greppa and Merideth rubbed their off-hand wrist gently. The bracelet was gone. The ghost sensation of something restraining their will was not. A quick glance between them told the story - never again, no matter how much the "guild" cost to join.

Greppa hastily summoned earth spirits into each of his companions and himself, and everyone sighed as strength entered them. It had felt odd, having merely human strength...

As the trio spotted Chatham and waved, a mighty explosion was heard in the distance behind them. Turning, they caught a glimpse of smoke trailing from behind the mountain ridge when.. a strange bird, with wings in four directions, a tail and neck like a serpent, and easily the most graceless avian face one might imagine, spotted them and dove.

Lightning built along its ungainly beak, and then discharged into Merideth... she stood and took it, and began to smile. It was unlikely that this bird was going to be much trouble. Then it swooped past Greppa and... except that it didn't. It stopped dead, its wings acting as efficient brakes, and then began spinning and hovering in place as it struck Greppa with its beak. Small sparks bounced off his _earth skin_ and he fell flat.

The tiny _ellini_ scribed a quick circle and Uripedas burst forth from it, shrieking into the air at the avian monstrousity. "Yes! Yes! Fight! Yes?"

"YES!" Shouted Greppa, and Uripedas zoomed past the ugly thing, pricking its hide and shouting something in a tongue foreign to the mortals below. Whatever it was, it worked. The creature reversed direction in a heartbeat and flew up at Uripedas, taking several sling stones to the backside from Bellos as it did so.

As the creature chased Uripedas fruitlessly (it was astoundingly maneuverable, but few creatures could match the sun hawk's raw speed), Bellos continued to nail it with bone crushing shots from his sling, and Merideth healed Greppa. Finally, it took off, screaming its wrath and Uripedas landed next to the trio and Chatham.

"Re-summon me! Please!?"

Greppa did so, grinning, and then, as the spell renewed, Uripedas looked at the retreating avian, "That bird - it's a lightning elemental manifest. Very bad. Hurt a lot of people. We chase, yes?"

And so it was on. A merciless slaughter of the cruel beast, lest it hunt others less capable of driving it off. Greppa, swinging from Uripedas' claws, pelted it with spells from afar while Merideth swung next to him, healing what little damage it was capable of dishing out against them.

At the end, Greppa and Merideth both were grinning. It felt really good to have those bracelets off. They rejoined Chatham, and began to head east to Chatham's drumming.


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## Nail

seasong said:
			
		

> *And so it was on. A merciless slaughter of the cruel beast...*



So: the DM has a soft spot after all.  I knew it.


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## Nail

Yay, the boards are up!


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## seasong

I've started the new thread:
Light Against the Dark III


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