# Rel's Faded Glory III:  Glory Reborn (FINAL UPDATE 6/22 - SHE'S DONE, BABY!!)



## Rel

As always, I first want to thank Old One who gave me permission and encouragement to take his campaign material and run with it.  All of the folks in our game group, myself especially, owe him a huge thanks for a lot of the fun we’ve had over the last few years.  Plus, he’s just a plain nice guy.  If you get a chance to meet him and buy him a beer sometime, you should.  He likes Guinness.

You can find Rel's Faded Glory II (with links to the original story) here:Rel's Faded Glory II
And now our story resumes…

*Home*

Children played their games atop Kyndalyn’s Watch.  The rules of their games remained the same:  Whoever made up the story that captured the attention of most of his peers got to tell it his way.  The characters in that story were different.

Many of the adults were surprised at how little time it took for the kids to change their games from being “Legionnaires defending against the savage Fodor Barbarians” to “The Glynden Watch fighting the Orcish Horde” or “The Defenders of Glynden smashing the Army of the Dead”.  But it shouldn’t have surprised them.  Children always adapt quickly.

One thing that changed about the games was that nobody wanted to be the bad guys anymore.  It was one thing to pretend to be a savage Corritani warrior, fruitlessly assaulting the walls of Glynden.  It was quite another to place oneself in the role of the inhuman Orcs or the unfathomable walking dead.  For now, a nearby thicket of briars and bushes was portraying the armies of the evil foes of Glynden.  And the children were winning.  If those bushes survived another heroic charge accompanied by a barrage of thrown stones and the beating of stout sticks acting in place of swords, it would be just the most recent in the series of miracles that had benefited Glynden.

A couple of miles off to the north, in the woods that lay north of town, lived a man who may have disapproved somewhat of the rough treatment of those bushes.  But Speaks With Stone wasn’t home right now.  He had flown west to check on matters among the tribes across the Fodor and visit his sister, Tarsheeva and her employer, the merchant-wizard, Tadius Silvanus.

Which was not to say that the woods he called home were left untended.  The “Stone Wood” as the folk of Glynden were now calling it had a group of new guardians that assured that it would be given a great deal of respect from now on.  Dotted throughout the woods were short, thick, stone pillars that bore strange markings on them.  But far stranger still were the oaks that one might find had moved overnight or the wolves who might now ask one what business one had in the Stone Wood in unaccented Imperial.  Even if he were not somewhat of a local hero, the simple people of the Lost Northern Provinces would have had ample reason to respect the forest that he called home.

So much respect in fact that most had flatly refused to escort a group of strangers there who had recently arrived in town seeking the Druid.  The group that had gathered in town was an esoteric bunch but all had a bearing that showed they were men of experience in their respective fields.  They also had an air of impatience about them and they spent their time anxiously pacing the floor of Nan’s Tavern, often standing at the window and hoping that the reclusive Speaks With Stone would soon make an appearance.  Finally he did.

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

Speaks landed in his grove and greeted his four legged friends.  Jitterbug and Snuff bounded out of their cave as Whisper quietly slinked back into the grove from where she had been on watch a bit closer to town.  The wolves all began to talk at once, not having any of the manners about not interrupting one another that humans did.  Speaks was hard pressed to follow all of what they had to tell him about what had transpired during his absence but it was clear that some people were looking for him and they awaited him in Glynden.

He interrupted them long enough to ask a question:  “Did any of these people look like the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert?”

They answered in unison:  “No.”  Upon which point they went back to their unending stream of questions, comments and exclamations.  Speaks began to wonder if he would someday regret the solitude he had given up the day he began to _Awaken_ these friends of his.

Their chatter came to a sudden stop when they all began to sniff the air with great interest.  Snuff laid his ears back momentarily as a large form crept up to the edge of the grove.

“Scipio!” called Speaks as he ran over to greet the animal companion that he had left behind while on his trip to the west.  He embraced the enormous head of the Dire Mountain Lion who let out a rumbling purr as he lifted Speaks off the ground.  Nearly losing his balance, Speaks steadied himself by reaching below to grab the pair of huge fangs that made his companion look so fearsome.  Scipio set the Druid down and got a few more scratches behind the ears.

“Come on, Scipio, we’re going to town.”

*NEXT:  A Fellowship Formed*


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## Enkhidu

Oh sweet, there's more!


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## Jon Potter

Huzzah!!!

I was hoping...


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## Broccli_Head

I'm back!


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## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> I'm back!




AND BADDER THAN EVER!

Sorry, that just popped into my head.

I'm pleased to report that I followed some of my own advice from the past and I've done two things that should keep the Story Hour flowing for some time to come.

First, we started playing about a month ago and we now have 4 sessions under our belts.  That means that I've got plenty of material to write from but it's still fairly fresh.  It also means that I've got a better sense of the new characters' personalities than if I'd started writing after the first session.

Secondly, one of our players (Krase/Raven/Lazarius) has been writing up "battle reports" for me as we go along. That makes it much easier for me to write the story hour sessions that involve combat.

The post above takes us up through about the first ten minutes of the first session so there is a lot more coming down the pike.  I'll probably post 2-3 times a week for the next 2-3 weeks and then we'll likely have caught up to "real time" and I'll drop back to posting weekly.

So far this campaign has been a blast and I've got big plans for its future.  Also note that this will be our first forray into the "upper levels" as the party started out at 8th.  So expect some flashy special effects too.


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## Lola

"sorry, but I've been busy setting up my home office", hmmm? Very nice beginning, has a good hook to it. Now I have to go read the beforehand stuff... oh well, doesn't look like I'll be using my storyhour time to read jonrog's story anytime soon, anyway.   

Who knows, maybe I can get my storyhour stamina up to the point where I can begin to think about approaching P-kitty's story. Maybe.


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## Darklone

Huzaah!


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## Rel

Lola said:
			
		

> "sorry, but I've been busy setting up my home office"




Among OTHER things.  Sheesh, it's tough knowing folks on multiple forums.   

And I got some more SH written last night so if I get a chance to finish that installment sometime today, I'll post it.


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## Darklone

Eagerly waiting. Guys on similar forums? No problem, as long as the bastards would use the same nicks everywhere


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## Jon Potter

Lola said:
			
		

> Now I have to go read the beforehand stuff...




It's worth the effort, IMO.



> Who knows, maybe I can get my storyhour stamina up to the point where I can begin to think about approaching P-kitty's story. Maybe.




Urk! Don't forget to leave a trail of breadcrumbs!   

It's also worth the effort, though.


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## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> It's worth the effort, IMO.




Why thank you sir.  Your check is in the mail.  BTW, I don't think I've seen you post in the NC Game Day III thread.  You should correct that.   

*A Fellowship Formed*

Speaks donned the wooden mask that he often wore in town and confidently approached the gates of Glynden with Scipio close at heel.  There were a handful of guards atop the wall but none challenged the Druid as he passed through the gates.  He did notice a couple of them with their jaws slack at the sight of his companion.

Making his way up the main road into town, he could tell that there were more people about than usual.  With the lands across the Fodor now considered “friendly” territory and with Aquae Sulis having recently been reoccupied by a force of miners and guardsmen, Glynden was regaining its status as a crossroads instead of a dead end.  Several people screamed at the sight of the huge cat that walked beside Speaks and even more stared in astonishment.  Speaks ignored them all from safe behind his mask.

As he strode up to the front door of Nan’s Tavern, Speaks spoke firmly to Scipio, “Stay outside and don’t eat anybody.”  He entered to see Nan perched near a window with a scowl on his face.

“That cat is NOT going to be good for business!”

Speaks chuckled and quipped back, “Don’t worry, Nan.  He’ll keep a few people out but he’ll keep some in too.”  He glanced around the common room to find that he spoke the truth.  Several patrons were looking outside at the enormous mountain lion who lay outside the door.  None seemed inclined to depart via that route.  Another knot of people caught his attention by the fact that they were looking at him and not out the windows.  The group was eclectic in composition but it held at least one familiar face.

“Lazarius!  Good to see you again.  I thought you might have headed back south by now.”

The Imperial War Wizard rose to greet Speaks.  “I found that I had further business that kept me in Glynden for the balance of the summer.  And now I have business that will take me away, but not back to the south.  This matter is one that these other gentlemen and I wish to discuss with you.”  Lazarius gestured at the others gathered around a table and Speaks also noticed another man dressed in the garb of one of the tribes of the Fodor approaching them.  Introductions began.

The first to step forward was a gregarious seeming chap of slender build with the slender blade of a rapier hanging at his side.  His clothing was well made but built for the outdoors.  “I’m Marius Flavius of the Imperial Explorers Society.  I’ll get right to the point:  I am looking for a place that you may have heard of in legends – The City of Endless Summer.  My understanding is that you have traveled extensively among the lands of the b…” he caught himself as he glanced at the nearby tribesman, “lands across the Fodor.  Lazarius here also mentioned that the Orcs who attacked those lands may have originated from the very place I seek.  I’d like to see if you are interested in accompanying me to that area to see if what the legends say are true.”

Speaks regarded him for a moment.  He had been intending to investigate the City of Endless Summer himself now that he had secured his hold on his forest home.  But this young man spoke of walking into very dangerous lands with a light-hearted tone that sounded more appropriate when talking of a stroll in one of the well tended parks of the Empire.  His thoughts on the matter were broken as the other gentleman at the table broke into the conversation.

“My name is Marcus and I am in the service of St. Cuthbert.  I hail from Oar and my brethren have reported that there is corruption that lurks in the mountains to the west.  I mean to root out this evil and expose it to the Justice of St. Cuthbert.”

Everything about the young man spoke of action and there was little doubt in the mind of anyone present that “the Justice of St. Cuthbert”, as Marcus understood it, was to be found somewhere around the business end of the heavy mace that hung at his side.  Those who had spent time with him for the last several days knew that he spoke seldom but that his focus on the foes of his church was always on his mind.

“If some remnant of the Cult of Bane is behind the Orcs who assailed the Western Wilds then I shall see to it that they are eradicated.  To that end, I would ask that you assist me as you assisted the Inquisitors that preceded me.”

Speaks was glad that he still wore his mask for he knew that his expression would betray his true thoughts about the “assistance” he had rendered to the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert.  At least this Marcus fellow seemed to know where the true evil was to be found and was not making any implications that Speaks himself was the origin of it.  Marcus took a small but discernable step back away from the table as if to signal that his speech was done and he would resume his vigilant guard against any evil or corruption that dared rear its head in Nan’s Tavern.

A new voice took Speaks somewhat by surprise as it came from the periphery of the conversation where his vision was blocked by his mask.  It was also notable in that it spoke Fodoran rather than Imperial.  “I am Cathal (*pronounced “Ca-hall”, like alcohol without the “al”*) of the Brigantes.  It is an honor to stand beneath the same roof again, Speaks With Stone.”

Speaks turned and looked at the man for a moment before recognition set in.  This was one of the men who made up the other harrying force that had helped to slow the Orcish advance on Hrongar’s Hill, buying enough time for the men of Glynden and the tribes of the Fodor to complete their fortifications.  He had briefly met Cathal in the aftermath of the Winter War when he, Krase and Rhys were honored in the mead hall of Urdrax, chieftain of the Brigantes.  “Well met, Cathal.  You are far from home.”

Cathal stood unmistakably apart from the three Imperials who occupied the table, acutely aware of just how far from home he was.  “I have come seeking you to ask that you join me on a quest to aid a friend we share.  Ilrath and his party are still missing.”

Word had reached Speaks earlier in the summer that there had been no indication of the whereabouts of Ilrath and the small band of men whom he had led into the Black Peaks seeking the source of the orcish army that had invaded his homeland.  Based on the odd dress of the Orcs, that place of origin was presumed to be the same “City of Endless Summer” that Marius and Marcus both sought.  Speaks had hoped that, by summer’s end, Ilrath would have returned bringing word of that mysterious place.  It seemed that this was not to be.

“I suppose that leaves me,” said Lazarius.  “I too would be interesting in joining you all if you intend to travel to The City of Endless Summer.  If there are those who still cling to the worship of The Dead God, I suspect that my colleagues at the Imperial War College would like to know of it.  And clearly a place steeped in such mystery and legend as a city that remains warm year round despite being located in the mountains of the Northlands deserves my attention.”  The intensity of Lazarius’ gaze spoke of a burning desire to seek out the place.

Speaks glanced about at this odd group who all seemed to share a common goal, if for different reasons, and felt an almost palpable sense of fate.

“Perhaps we should sit.”  The three Imperials quickly complied but Cathal remained standing, leaning against one of the wooden pillars that dotted the common room.  Speaks began to further acquaint himself with Marcus and Marius but it was obvious that he had already committed himself to undertaking the journey west.  Cathal heard a noise from outside and moved slowly toward the window.

He saw outside the slender form of Kyndalyn the Younger.  The half-elf was one of the local men who made up the Glynden Council and also “captain” of the Glynden Guards.   He seemed to be having a stern conversation with the large cat that lay in the dusty road outside.  Cathal regarded Speaks’ choice of animal companion as somewhat interesting considering some quiet rumors he’d heard back home.

As Cathal watched further, Kyndalyn stared closely into the eyes of the cat and then abruptly ended the conversation, moving quickly to enter the door to the tavern.

“Speaks!”

The Druid turned to see Kyndalyn standing near the bar looking decidedly unhappy.  He spoke again, his words terse.  “A word please.”

Speaks excused himself from the table and approached the half-elf who immediately addressed him firmly but in a low voice.  “I've been talking to that damn cat for the last few minutes, thinking it was you!"  Speaks tried to keep from bursting out in laughter.  "You know that you have the gratitude of the town for all you’ve done for us.  And you are welcome here any time.  I’ve made no comment when one of your wolves was with you, even if one did startle the hell out of Briley Brathwaite when it told him to stop staring.  But that…cat is another matter entirely.  People are afraid to leave their houses!”

Speaks grinned behind his mask.  He had not always been so favorably looked upon by the people of Glynden as he was right now.  The notion that they might be scared of his friend Scipio gave him a certain mischievous joy that originated in the less mature part of his soul.  But Speaks had great respect for Kyndalyn and wanted to do nothing that would make his job harder or damage their relationship.  “You have my apologies.  I won’t bring Scipio to town with me next time.  But he really is very nice and well behaved, don’t you think?”

Glancing outside, Kyndalyn saw that Scipio was standing up now, rubbing his haunch against one of the hitching posts outside the tavern, purring loudly as he scratched what itched.  “Be that as it may, I’m not sure the townsfolk are ready for him roaming the streets.  But I’ll guarantee that his appearance here today will keep your woods free from any poachers that may not be scared off by talking trees or wolves.”

Kyndalyn glanced over the Druid’s shoulder.  “I’ve had my eye on that group for the past few days.  What’s their business?”

Speaks looked over at the table filled with Lazarius and his new acquaintences who were being served drinks by Nan.  “Ilrath still hasn’t returned from the Black Peaks.  I’m going to go west looking for him and to try and find the place the Orcs came from to make sure they don’t have another army coming this winter.”

Kyndalyn frowned.  He had seen plenty of battle during the Winter War and knew that the tribes of the Fodor were ill positioned to withstand another such attack.  “Ilrath is a good man.  I hope you find him.  But I pray you don’t find another army of Orcs.”  His brow furrowed in thought.  “I’ve got half the Guard in Aquae Sulis guarding the miners against Gnolls or worse.”  They both knew that by “worse”, Kyndalyn meant any stray remnants of the Army of the Dead, led by the Dark Druids, which had marched on Glynden in the spring.  “But if there’s another army of Orcs, I’ll try and spare some men to help Urdrax.  Gods know that he’s short on men after the Winter War.”

It was Speaks turn to frown.  “I pray that they have no need of our men again so soon.”  He nodded to Kyndalyn and returned to the table where Cathal had now reluctantly drawn up a chair and sat down.  “Alright.  I can be ready to depart in a couple of days.  We’ll need to secure some supplies…”

*NEXT:  Westward Into Danger  (Or “Can I Have Fries Instead of a Salad?”)*


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## Darklone

I never had awakened animals in my campaigns yet... but I think I will now


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> I never had awakened animals in my campaigns yet... but I think I will now




Just so there's no confusion, Scipio isn't awakened (in case that's what you were thinking).  He's a regular Animal Companion (well, as regular as a Dire Lion ever is).  Kyndalyn was just talking to him because he had seen Speaks transform into other animals before so he assumed that Scipio was him.


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## Darklone

Yeah, I meant the wolves... "Don't stare at me, buddy!"

Or the part where Speaks thinks about whether it was a good idea to have so many talking trees and wolves around...


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## Elder-Basilisk

It's great to see you back Rel. I look forward to seeing all of the rest of your party's adventures. . . .


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## Rel

Why thank you, Elder-Basilisk.  With fine gentlefolk such as yourself comprising my readership, I assure you that I cannot help but put my utmost efforts into the task set before me.  And I pray that I can do equal justice to the players who help weave our tale as those to whom I am honored to present it...

Er, sorry about that.  I've been reading "Guns of the South" and I find myself slipping into "General Lee" mode too often these days.  But the sentiment remains.  Thanks for reading.


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## Darklone

Keep it up, I liked books about the Civil war


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## Broccli_Head

Rel said:
			
		

> Er, sorry about that.  I've been reading "Guns of the South" and I find myself slipping into "General Lee" mode too often these days.  But the sentiment remains.  Thanks for reading.




I read that a while back. One of Turtledove's better works. I heard that there was a sequel. Never got my hands on it.

Wonder if the book will influence the direction of your campaign....


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## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> I read that a while back. One of Turtledove's better works. I heard that there was a sequel. Never got my hands on it.
> 
> Wonder if the book will influence the direction of your campaign....




Hmm.  You mean like if some Banites from the distant future used a time machine to travel back and provide the orcish horde with a trainload of AK-47's to use against the Barbarian tribes of the Fodor?  Hmmmm...

Nah.  I like how I leave the game session each weak alive instead of buried in a shallow grave in Speaks With Stone's back yard.

BTW, I got a bit more writing done last night so expect an update sometime over the weekend.


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## Ruined

Glad to see you back in the SH fold, Rel. I'll be keeping up from here on.

(also saw your message about lunch. Send me a mail when your topsy-turvy schedule straightens out and we'll hang out.)


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## Rel

*Westward Into Danger*

As the newly formed band of adventurers made their way out of Glynden and set their feet on the increasingly frequented road to Aquae Sulis, they were a quiet lot.  This was typical for Speaks who usually kept his own council when traveling (and couldn’t talk in any event since he wore the form of an eagle at the present time) and the other party members all seemed lost in thoughts of their own as well.

For Lazarius, those thoughts were of his family, particularly his older sister, Solvaria.  He came from a large family but seldom got a chance to see his siblings very often as his duties to the Imperial College had kept him busy for the last several years.  His posting with the 2nd Cohort of the Coastal Auxilia Guard along the Sythian border had been boring but he had been a time to relax and enjoy the camaraderie with the other men and his most recent mission to the Northlands had certainly been interesting at times.  But he worried about how the rest of his family was getting along, especially his older sister who had always been a bit of a “free spirit” to use a polite term.  He hoped she was staying out of trouble.  He felt there was plenty enough trouble on the horizon as it was.

Cathal was ahead of the rest of the group on point where he liked to be.  It would have been difficult to travel as slow as the rest of them even if he had wanted to for he wore a pair of magical boots that had been purchased on his behalf by his Chieftain in thanks for his efforts during the Winter War.  Those boots lent him incredible speed and he could outrun even the swift horses employed by the Almani scouts.  If they also kept him somewhat distant from the others in his current party, so much the better.  The folk of the Fodor may have made peace with the people of Glynden but traveling with so many men who hailed directly from the Empire made him nervous.  It was hard to forget that just a few generations ago, their forefathers made slaves of many of his people.  And the tribes east of the Fodor had been exterminated entirely.  To these men who now journeyed west with him, he would offer his aid freely.  His trust would have to be earned.

Marcus rode eagerly into the unknown ahead.  He had been itching to come to these lands for over a year and he was finally getting his chance.  Not only was he anxious to prove himself a devoted warrior to the cause of St. Cuthbert, but he had a personal stake in what lay ahead.  Raised as an orphan in a monastery in Oar, he had only recently learned that his father, a Holy Warrior for St. Cuthbert himself, had been slain by Orcs in the Northlands.  Further, his mother had fallen at his side and it had been revealed that she came from one of the Barbarian tribes of the Fodor.  Somewhere up ahead was part of his past and those who had robbed him of it.

Marius tried unsuccessfully to spark some conversation with Lazarius and Marcus but neither seemed in a mood to talk.  Just as well for he preferred to take in as much of his surroundings as possible to enter into his travelogue when time permitted.  Already his journey north had shown him things he’d never seen before, though certainly nothing beyond what he’d imagined.

Behind him lay the city of Opal, where he’d begun his journey, sitting upon the southern edge of the Crescent Sea.  It held the signs that the Empire was bootstrapping itself out of its long slide into decline.  The western part of the Crescent Sea now nearly swarmed with ships from the Imperial Fleet, even boasting a few War Galleons as hadn’t been seen in years.  It seemed that the Emperor’s son, Flavius was serious about trying to rid the Crescent Sea of the Corsairs that had so long plagued northern shipping.

In sharp contrast to Opal was his arrival in Oar, a city that was almost a caricature of the glory of the Old Empire.  It still maintained a veneer of the Imperial ways, but the cracks in that veneer were not well hidden.  Even a minor official such as himself, a representative of the Imperial Explorers Society received a handful of invitations to meet with various factions seeking advantage in the rat’s nest of intrigue that comprised the politics of Oar.  He was thankfully able to beg off of these meetings, citing the urgency of his journey if he were to arrive at his destination before the winter snows set in.

And thus he found himself on a road seldom traveled, bound west through a town that once was the northwesternmost outpost ever established by his once great country.  That in itself was a bit of a landmark, wasn’t it?

*To Be Continued...*

Sorry for the slightly truncated update.  It seems I've come down with a bit of a cold so I didn't get much more writing done over the weekend like I'd hoped.  But I'll keep pressing forward a bit at a time.  Hope you enjoy some insights to the personalities of the new members of the group.


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## gerg861

Hoodyhoo!  More Faded Glory!  This campaign is what originally got me hooked on EN world a few months ago.


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## Rel

gerg861 said:
			
		

> Hoodyhoo!  More Faded Glory!  This campaign is what originally got me hooked on EN world a few months ago.




Well golly, here's a reader I didn't even know I had.  I'm glad you have enjoyed the story, gerg.  And I'm honored that a full 50% of your posts are in my very own thread!   

Great to have you aboard!


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## Pyske

Well, here, have another reader you didn't know you had.  I just polished off the first two threads, so now I'm left champing at the bit for the third series.  Champ, champ.  Keep up with good work.

Any chance the PCs will have any better luck with complex tactics than the last time around?  Nahhh, that sounds too much like work.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric

PS -- Couple new players, yes?  Or have I mistaken some NPCs for players?


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## Rel

Pyske said:
			
		

> Well, here, have another reader you didn't know you had.  I just polished off the first two threads, so now I'm left champing at the bit for the third series.  Champ, champ.  Keep up with good work.
> 
> Any chance the PCs will have any better luck with complex tactics than the last time around?  Nahhh, that sounds too much like work.
> 
> . . . . . . . -- Eric
> 
> PS -- Couple new players, yes?  Or have I mistaken some NPCs for players?




Great to have you as a reader, Psyke.  So far in the latest rendition of the campaign, the battles have been hit and miss (as you are about to see).  The individuals are performing fairly well but I'm not sure I've seen too much in the way of cohesive group tactics yet.  But that's as it should be since the group is newly formed.

And yes, we've got three new players in the group, in particular those playing Cathal, Marcus and Marius.  There are no NPC's traveling with the party at present (unless you count Scipio, Speaks' animal companion).

Thankfully, so far, the cold has not hit me as hard as I was afraid it would.  I might be able to sneak in part two of the post above sometime tomorrow night.


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## Speaks With Stone

I think tactics would be a great plus - especially knowing how much thought Rel puts into the bad guy's tactics.  I also don't think you are likely to see any brilliant moves on our part.  At heart most of our players are very individualistic and we also have a lot of players who are fairly new to the rules and at least one of the new characters isn't really optimized for combat all that much.  Right now setting up flank attacks seems to be the extent of our tactics and that is rather hit or miss.

I hope that we can build up some synergy as everyone gets used to their characters - but we'll see.

On the up side, we have a lot of character building and interaction.  We all seem to have clear ideas of who we are and I think that is a fun part of the game.  We have always been a little less effective in combat, but we've always had good character reasons for being that way (if that makes any sense).

Oh, and as to the Awakened animals and tree . . .  I was really psyched at the end of the last campaign because I had made it to 9th level.  I loved the idea that during the downtime I'd be able to make the woods more "enchanted" with awakened critters and trees.  But then Rel informed me that he wanted everyone to start at 8th level.  Since I lost a level at the start of the campaign, Rel did allow me to rearrange a few feats and stats and gave me some awakened critters to account for the lost level.   I dropped my strength and improved my charisma to reflect the greater reliance on shapeshifting and spells as well as diplomacy.  I didn't really intend for Speaks to be so diplomatic - I mean he wears a wooden mask when he meets most people so it's a little hard to form trust - but it's a role he fell into in the last campaign.  Anyway, he's not much better at it, but enough to get by on.  I like to think of Speaks With Stone as his own political unit north of Glynden.  I came to see him that way during the Inquisition.  So the awakened animals gives me a more communicative population to lead.  Also, it allows me to make absences without worry of my wood being unprotected.


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## Darklone

Wow, the storyhour becomes crowded. So you lost a level, Speaks? Hmm. Guess we saw enough Flame Strikes already....


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> So you lost a level, Speaks? Hmm. Guess we saw enough Flame Strikes already....




This was not intended to be a punative measure in any way.  What happened was that in the intervening year and several months since we had last played this campaign, Speaks' character sheet got misplaced.  We tried to remember what level he was and knew that he was either just shy of 9th level or just barely over 9th level.

Lazarius was 8th level and I had three new players coming in who needed to make new characters too.  Speaks (the player) asked if it would be fine with me if he were to just remake Speaks (the character) at 8th level to the best of his memory but with a few minor changes (like his Str and Cha changes he mentions above).  I told him that was fine by me.

So everybody created their characters and just about a week before our first session, we found the old character sheet for Speaks.  He had indeed just made it into 9th level but, in the interest of keeping everyone the same level to start the new campaign, we decided to go forward using the "NEW and IMPROVED" 8th level Speaks.  But, in deference to those lost XP, I let Speaks have a half dozen or so Awakened wolves and trees in his woods.

It looks as though he'll make 9th level (again) next session.


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## Darklone

Ahh... Do you usually like to keep your characters at one level?


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Ahh... Do you usually like to keep your characters at one level?




Only at the very start of a campaign.  The alternate XP system that I use combined with the possibility of the occasional character death conspire to have the party advance at slightly different rates.  But in this case, even though we were continuing on with the same setting and a couple of the same characters, I considered it effectively a new campaign with more than half the party being completely new to it.  Under that circumstance, I prefer a level playing field.


----------



## Darklone

Hidden bump... 

Do you have the character sheets in digital form somewhere, e.g. will we see them in the rogues gallery without too much typing effort ?


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hidden bump...
> 
> Do you have the character sheets in digital form somewhere, e.g. will we see them in the rogues gallery without too much typing effort ?




I doubt it.  Most were done to some degree with PC Gen but there's been a lot of handwriting on many of them.  I could ask the guys if they wouldn't mind linking them somehow.  Actually, on that note, I should make sure they're aware that this thread has started...

Oh and the latter part of the week has been busy for me but I was a good boy and got the rest of my work done last night so I should have time to post an update this afternoon before my lovely wife and I go out of town for a weekend together (sans child) up in the mountains.


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> Oh and the latter part of the week has been busy for me but I was a good boy and got the rest of my work done last night so I should have time to post an update this afternoon before my lovely wife and I go out of town for a weekend together (sans child) up in the mountains.



Stories like these make me think about looking around for some girl to marry


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Stories like these make me think about looking around for some girl to marry




You should try it sometime.  I love being married and I'm not just saying that because I want you to be miserable too.   

How about a Story Hour update instead?  They say it's the next best thing to getting married:

*Westward Into Danger (Or “Can I Have Fries Instead of a Salad?”)* continued...

The group remained mostly quiet but they made good progress.  Thanks to a few magical _Mounts_ provided by Lazarius, they moved considerably faster than they would have on foot.  Thus, as the autumn sky began to grow dark, the group spotted the silhouette of the crenellated turret of the abandoned “Wizard’s Tower” jutting above the treetops ahead.  A few minutes later they passed by the tower.

It appeared that it was no longer abandoned as they could see light coming from a few of the narrow windows of the upper floor.  Speaks wondered who had taken up residence there but now was no time for a social call as the night fell around them.  They pushed on in the dark and quickly found themselves at the eastern gate of Aquae Sulis.

The Glynden guardsmen who manned the gate recognized Speaks and Lazarius and admitted them to the town without question, though they did balk somewhat at the sight of the giant mountain lion that strode at Speaks’ side.  The group moved quickly through the sparsely populated town as it huddled, tiny and neglected among its ruined walls.  As they went, they could hear a bit of noise coming from the direction of the gate that led to the mines.  Whatever was going on there would have to wait as the group sought shelter from the cold night of the Northlands.

Clearly the guardsmen must have been passing their spare time by doing some repairs on the walls and reinforcing the palisades installed by the former, gnollish, occupants.  But most of the buildings remained burned out husks with few having intact roofs.  Some bore timbers more recently scorched than others thanks to the various _Flaming Spheres_ unleashed by Speaks on his previous visit here.

While the guards and miners had clearly lay tarps and some thatching over the roof beams of a few of the smaller buildings for their own accommodations, the party would have to make due with camping in the semi-enclosed corner of one of the larger buildings.  The weather had started to take a turn for the worse with a cold mist turning into a light rain shower.  The remaining boards of a loft in one corner of the old store they occupied would not serve as a decent shelter for long but the group only planned to stay the one night.

Looking for some diversion from the increasingly nasty weather, the members of the party decided to see what was afoot over near the mines.  They headed that way and saw that a sizable group was gathered near the smelting works located outside the entrance to the mine.  Inside there seemed to be an argument brewing.

One piece of equipment that was housed inside the smelting works was that which pumped the mines clear of water.  A large windlass behind the building was hitched to a pair of mules.  The windlass turned a gear attached to a shaft that ran through the wall of the building where it turned another pair of gears that ran a series of buckets attached to a rope.  These buckets pulled water up from a sump shaft and emptied it into a trough that carried the water out away from the building into a small swampy area nearby.

The trouble was that one of the large gears inside the building had shattered due to age and rot.  There was apparently one faction among the miners who had urged the fabrication of a new set of gears, fearing (correctly it turned out) that the old ones wouldn’t last much longer.  Instead, the opposition had won out, instead voting to just patch up the existing gears in the hopes of pulling more silver from the mines for the year instead of spending valuable time making new gears that might not be needed.

Boss Brathwaite stood amid those arguing and finally lost his cool and told those arguing to “SHUT UP!!!”  He gathered the most skilled pair of carpenters from the crowd and asked them how long it would take to make a replacement for the shattered gear.

They looked appraisingly at each other before one replied, “Probably at least a couple of days.”

A young, red-haired man with a bushy beard yelled from the rest of the crowd, “The eastern shaft will be under water in a day!  With the time it will take to remove all the timbers we’ve carried down there and move the ore carts, we’ll lose nearly a week’s work!  I guess we can kiss goodbye the idea of sending one more wagon of silver south to Oar before the snows come.”  A low grumble of agreement ran through the rest of the men.  All of them knew that that would cut their earnings for the year by nearly a third, which sat well with none of them.  The fact that all had been separated from their families for several weeks left them in a sour mood and this did nothing to improve it.

“All the more reason to quit your gripin’ and get to work on the new gear!  Let’s get moving.  Pontius, take your crew down and start making ready to move the equipment out of the eastern shaft if we need to.  You others can take turns hauling buckets out of the sump shaft by hand.  It’s going to be a long night so the less you bitch and moan the happier we’ll all be!”

The party exchanged glances but none could think of anything immediately helpful so they retired back to their meager abode for the evening.  As the night wore on the light showers turned heavier and by morning there was a steady rain.  Speaks rose early and walked outside the western town wall with Scipio to conduct his morning prayers in the woods.  He returned an hour later and made his way back over to the smelting works.

He took a close look at the gear the men were trying to hastily fabricate, paying special attention to its various dimensions and the number of pegs around the perimeter.  He walked off into the woods nearby and found some cut limbs left behind from the timbers cut by the miners to use for reinforcing the mine shafts.  He began to hum a song and took the wood into his hands where it became pliant and easily workable.  Before long he had fashioned a seamless gear and then spent a few more minutes carving a design on one face of it that strongly resembled the mask he often wore (rolled a 20 on his Craft:  Sculpting check).  He then rolled his new creation out onto the path between the town and mine and up to the door of the smelting works.

Knocking on the door, he drew the attention of Boss Brathwaite who didn’t appear to have slept the previous night.  The halfling’s jaw hung open at the sight of the completed gear that also bore a fairly nice piece of art across one face.  “Bless my soul.  You’ve done us a good turn there, Speaks With Stone!”  The carpenters came around to see what was going on and looked in astonishment at the Druid’s seamless work.

Speaks nearly blushed but held his emotions in check.  “Well, I’ve got an interest in this mine too you know.”  He referred to the one percent of the mine’s proceeds that he had been gifted for helping to liberate the town from the Gnolls and the mines from the Kobolds.  He took a moment to wonder how Frakir was doing these days.

“Indeed you do.  Well thank you just the same.  Sonto, run in and fetch some of the boys so we can get this thing mounted and get the buckets moving again!”  With that, Boss Brathwaite went back to work and Speaks returned to his companions who were already risen and ready to move west.

The weather was growing more miserable by the hour but nobody considered stopping.  They were just glad it was rain and not snow that was falling.  It was still a bit early in the season for snow but it certainly wasn’t unheard of to get several inches of it a few weeks early.  If it were falling already when they were ready to ascend the Black Peaks, it would be a difficult journey.

By late afternoon it was already dark and the weather had gone from bad to worse as the darkness was occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning.  The group stopped to make camp and immediately came to the understanding that their preparations for this journey had not included a shelter.  “I thought about buying a tent,” Marcus said uselessly.

Lazarius came to the aid of the group by announcing boldly, “I’m damned if I’m sleeping in the rain.  My spellbooks must stay dry.”  With that he held aloft a piece of rope and spoke an incantation.  The rope rose a short distance into the air and he climbed it before disappearing completely from view.

“Neat _Trick_” said Marius.  He grabbed the rope and tested it.  It seemed to hold his weight even though it hung in midair with no visible means of support.  He climbed up and found himself in a small room with Lazarius.  There was no sign of the outside world, nor could he even hear the sound of the rain and lightning.  “Where the hell are we?”

Lazarius’ grin was visible thanks to a golden glow that sprang from his palm.  “Remind me to explain the nature of extra-planar spaces to you sometime.  Right now I’m hungry and tired and wet.  Speaking of which…”  The wizard spoke a few magic words and began to wave his hands over his clothing.  After a few moments he did the same to Marius who found that the water disappeared from his garments leaving them dry and fresh smelling.  “You’re full of neat tricks, aren’t you.”

Lazarius did the same for Marcus as he clambered into the confines of the magical space they shared.  Marcus was likewise pleased at being dry for the first time that day.  “It seems that Speaks and Cathal will be spending the night out in the weather.”

Marius and Lazarius both raised an eyebrow at such an insane notion.  But then again those two were more used to spending the night in the open than the three Imperials who now occupied the pocket realm that the wizard had conjured.  “As they like,” said Lazarius, “I’m getting some grub and some sleep.”

Outside, Cathal looked at the rope with a cautious longing.  He wished to remain dry as well but the idea of sleeping in close quarters with three men of the Empire who he’d only just met did not appeal to him.  And it wouldn’t be the worst weather he’d ever slept out in.  He wouldn’t melt.  He found a slightly elevated hummock and pulled his cloak over him.  He wasn’t terribly exhausted but the drumming of the rain finally lulled him into a restless sleep.

Speaks decided to make the most of the situation and transformed himself into the form of a large boar.  He then proceeded to find the muddiest spot he could locate and try his best to wallow.  While the action somehow suited his current form, he apparently lacked the instincts that must have made the activity truly enjoyable.  Still, he was able to settle down next to Scipio and eventually doze off to sleep.

It was not dawn that woke the companions who slept out in the rain, but rather a brutal assault that took them completely by surprise.

Scipio was the first to react and he leapt upon the nearest of his foes on instinct.  As he landed his claws found some purchase in the mass of vines and rotting leaves that comprised his enemy.  Cathal woke unpleasantly as a thick club of vines lashed across his midsection.  He scrambled to his feet and tumbled out of the immediate reach of his enemy, desperately trying to understand what it was they were up against.

Surrounding the three of them were at least five distinct, Mounds of vegetation that all appeared to be animated.  As Cathal watched helplessly, another pair of them Shambled over to Speaks and struck him where he lay sleeping.

It was all over nearly before it was begun.  After his initial assault, Scipio was thrashed mercilessly into unconsciousness as was his master.  Cathal lasted a few moments longer as he flew into a rage and began to lash out with Mailbiter, the hand-and-a-half sword passed on to him by his father.  But his foes outnumbered him and quickly swarmed him under.  He fell unconscious to the ground as lightning flashed overhead and rain pelted his body.

Hours later as the day was reluctantly yielding a grey dawn to the sun above, Marcus descended the rope to relieve his bladder.  He had donned his plate mail again for the day’s travel and hoped that its rattling wouldn’t awaken Speaks and Cathal.  But when his feet touched the ground he looked about and they were nowhere to be found.

“Where did everybody go?”

*NEXT:  Where Did Everybody Go?*


----------



## Lazybones

Nice to see you back, Rel.

And the (mostly) new cast looks like a good crew; I add my vote to those who'd like to see a Rogues' Gallery at some point.  It should be interesting to see the threats you come up with now that your players are both a) greater in number and b) high enough in level to take a bit of a pounding.


----------



## Henry

You won't get this until Sunday or Monday, but oh, well:

You didn't TELL us you nailed 'em RIGHT after Speaks fixed the gear!?!?! They got walloped right on a high note! 

Cruel, Cruel DM! Bad DM! Yes, it BURNS us, it does!



Great dramatic timing, by the way.


----------



## Old One

*Wahoo!*

Rel,

Glad to see you and the crew (some new, some old) back!  I always love to see how you have crafted FG into your own unique creation...

Way to open up with a nice arse-whuppin !

At least one Faded Glory SH is getting some updates...just finished three road trips which have kept me away from home for 18 of the last 22 days...bleah.  Hope to get some updating done myself over the next week or so.

All my best to you and your players...

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

Wow!  I come back from a fantastic weekend away and find some of my favorite posters have bumped my Story Hour.  I must be livin' right.  As for this:



			
				Henry said:
			
		

> You didn't TELL us you nailed 'em RIGHT after Speaks fixed the gear!?!?! They got walloped right on a high note!




I wouldn't exactly say I "walloped them on a high note".  Speaks fixing the gear was something that even he had some reservations about.  At first he held back because, if you recall from way back when, the party got cut out of a sizable chunk of the silver bars they recovered from the mines of Aquae Sulis when they finally (painfully) vanquished Frakir and her wiley band of Kobolds.  Speaks saw little reason to do them a favor after that.  But I suspect that the player's good nature overcame his reluctance a bit and he made the gear anyway.

It was only after the fact that I said to the player, "I guess you figured you wanted to keep your 1% share in the mine profitable, huh?"  To which he replied, "Actually I'd completely forgotten about that."  I tweaked the story hour a tad to make it seem the other way around.

The rest of the party gave not a damn about the mine of Aquae Sulis.  They lacked the ability to fix the gear themselves, (well, I suppose that Marcus could have helped them out with a Make Whole spell but that player hasn't played at all in some time so I don't blame him for missing that) and were more concerned about staying as dry as possible.  Isn't it cool when rain is still a motivating factor for a group of 8th level characters?

Anyhow, I'm having a blast running this latest version of the campaign.  The characters are interesting and so are the NPC's (especially some of the "bad" guys who the party can't figure out whether to thank or smite).  The players are all doing a superlative job of roleplaying and are great friends to boot.

Like I said, I must be livin' right.   

Old One, I'm glad you're home from your sojourn.  I look forward to more updates to your Faded Glory SH, the one that so inspired me a couple of years ago.

And Lazybones, your Story Hour productivity belies your username.  I've got to try and catch up on reading them one of these years.  Maybe I'll have some time around the holidays.  At least I can hope so.

Thanks for reading and keep your eye out for more to come.  So far everything I've posted happened on the first night.  My next update should carry us into "Night 2" while tomorrow will be Night 6 of the campaign.  Lots of neat stuff has happened and I hope you enjoy watching it unfold.


----------



## Raven_Khazundam

*Watch, who needs a 'tinkin Watch?!*

.....you'd think we'd learned by now that this is Rel, Rel who has earned the title of Rat Bastard DM Extrodinaire (my addition,   ).  Nope.....

By the by I am the player that ran Krase and then Raven.  Raven was really supposed to make it through to the end, but the evil of the Dark Druids took him to Moradin far too early and now their is Lazarius.

As to the shambling mounds, well A) we overlooked the RBDM syndrome and B) we had just, i mean just left Aqua Sulis, it was wet, miserable and I (Lazarius) had no intention of staying in the rain.  Being miserable tends to make one forget you can't hear a blessed thing inside a rope trick.

Lazarius Rameous.

Tactics, who needs tactics when you have a nuke in your back pocket!


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## Lola

Raven_Khazundam said:
			
		

> As to the shambling mounds, well A) we overlooked the RBDM syndrome and B) we had just, i mean just left Aqua Sulis, it was wet, miserable and I (Lazarius) had no intention of staying in the rain.  Being miserable tends to make one forget you can't hear a blessed thing inside a rope trick.




One would think that y'all would be wary at just such a time, but I guess that's probably because I just read the part II straight through, and I'm starting to see a trend. 

The title of the next update probably needs some tweaking, like so...

*Where did everybody go... and why am I in this handbasket?*


----------



## Riggs

*We're getting it...slowly*



			
				Lola said:
			
		

> One would think that y'all would be wary at just such a time, but I guess that's probably because I just read the part II straight through, and I'm starting to see a trend.
> 
> The title of the next update probably needs some tweaking, like so...
> 
> *Where did everybody go... and why am I in this handbasket?*




We are catching on to him now.  We play once a week and do forget stuff though. Marcus, Cathall and Marius have been away from RPing for a bit and some of us still say stuff like "now does this provoke an attack of opportunity or not?"  Or "If armor bonuses don't stack, then what's the deal with shields?"  When I say "we" or "us" I mean me, playing Marius.

The group has gotten a better feel for each other in a scrape, though tactics fluctuate from not at all to sort of to occasionally pretty good.  I'll let Rel sum it up though.  So far I think Marius' new book will be entitled: _"Reflex Save...*Good!*  Will Save...*Bad!*"_


----------



## Rel

Good to see you in the thread, man.

As for this:



			
				Riggs said:
			
		

> So far I think Marius' new book will be entitled: _"Reflex Save...*Good!*  Will Save...*Bad!*"_




At least you don't have to roll a d6 for your saving throws like Speaks apparently does.


----------



## Riggs

Hi everyone.

As the member of our gaming group newest to this edition of D&D (I'm only down one on Cathall since I actually tried to GM before reading the 3e books  ) I am easily distracted by random bonuses in stats and flashing skills that may never come up.  I would also like to include a "Marius translator" filter so when Rel, our RBDM as Raven put it, starts making up falsehoods  about Marius, you will know better.***

For instance, _"what was he thinking?!" _ should be taken as _"His brilliant plan is not apparent right this second"_

Another example,
_"Cowered like a twit after failing the Will save"_ should read, _"Was simply preoccupied while looking desperately for a barber's chair, smock and scissors with which to trick the scary baddies ala Shaggy and Scooby"_

I could go on, but I don't want to encourage him. 

*** Of course, his compliments of Marius are almost always true, if a bit understated


----------



## Darklone

Hellow again... 

Hah, Rel got some readers 

Riggs, if you need powergaming munchkinizing, gimme a call... ehem. Go with style 

Rel, if I ever make it to your general area, I'd love to get the adress of that little waterfall thingy you wrote about in General... Sounds grrrreat!


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Rel, if I ever make it to your general area, I'd love to get the adress of that little waterfall thingy you wrote about in General... Sounds grrrreat!





It was indeed great though I'm not sure that waterfall has an actual address.  As it was, we were lucky to be able to pick our way across the river without getting our feet wet.  My wife is not always the most coordinated person in the world.  Anyhow, I'd be more than happy to give you directions if you ever make it stateside.

Until then, you'll have to make do with a Story Hour update:

* Where Did Everybody Go?*

Marcus quickly ascended the rope into the odd little realm that Lazarius had conjured.  He awoke his companions and urged them to come help him search for Speaks, Cathal and Scipio.  The group was soon gathered on the muddy ground outside and began to cast about for clues.

Marius was an experienced tracker and he searched the ground for signs of where their companions might have gone.  “I see no footprints, but there are some odd markings on the ground over here, as though someone dragged a pile of sticks across the ground.  They lead off to the north.  What lies in that direction?”

The three Imperials exchanged glances knowing that none of them were in familiar territory.  After a moment Lazarius spoke up, “I think that’s the direction of the Dark Wood.”  Again they looked at one another as the foreboding name hung in the air.  Marcus spoke next, “Well we must try and find them and the day is getting no younger.”  He gathered the remainder of his gear and soon the trio was walking north, following the odd trail they hoped would lead to their companions.

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

It was light.  And he was alive.  And he hurt.

Speaks leaned over and spat blood from his mouth.  He was in the woods somewhere, but where?  And where was Scipio?!  And Cathal?!  He cast about for signs of his companions.

As he rose achingly to his feet, he saw that he’d been propped against a large fallen log and his eyes were suddenly drawn to something on that log.  Just a couple feet from where his head had been a moment ago were words carved into the log in a language few understood.  It was the same language he had used to carve his markers in the woods for his fellow Druids to someday follow.  And the words carved in that language left him cold:

_You have caused enough trouble.  Abandon that which you seek.  There will not be another warning._

Speaks regarded the carving for a few more moments as its ramifications sank into his mind.  But practicality took over soon and he realized that he would have to contemplate this further at a later time.  He reached into a pouch and drew forth a Goodberry, casually popping it into his mouth.  It made him feel a bit better and the sweetness took the taste of blood from his mouth.

He then turned his attention back to the message on the log.  He waved his hands in familiar patterns and spoke some words in the same language as the message before him and the wood became like soft clay in his hands.  With a bit of effort, he was able to carve the portion of the log away that bore the message and stow it in his satchel.  He used another of his spells to heal the worst of the bruises and fractured ribs that he had suffered.

That done, he turned his attention outwards once again and leapt atop the log.  A few dozen yards away, he spotted a large prone form that he recognized as Scipio.  He fearfully approached his friend, afraid of the condition he may find him in.  But the great cat yet lived.  He applied more of his healing magic and Scipio’s eyes opened wearily.  Speaks scratched him behind the ears lovingly and watched as the Dire Mountain Lion climbed slowly to its feet.

Wordlessly they began to search about for Cathal but the Brigante tribesman was nowhere to be seen.  Speaks knew that if he was going to find him that he stood a much better chance from the air.  He took the familiar form of an eagle, which made him feel better all by itself, and weaved his way aloft amid the branches of the trees. 

As he suspected, he was in the Dark Wood, just a half mile or so within the forest.  The rolling hills more sparsely dotted with trees extended off to the south.  He dipped back below the treetops and screeched in Scipio’s direction.  The cat dutifully followed his master who took to the air once again, his keen eagle eyes scanning the forest for signs of Cathal.

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

Cathal of the Brigantes had faced possible death many times in the past year, but had never come any closer to it than the previous night.  He regained consciousness somewhere in the woods and felt as though he had been trampled by a herd of Almani horses.  He rose to his feet and quickly reached out a hand to a nearby tree, preventing him from falling back to the ground.  His sword came into his hand as he cast about for possible enemies.  A moment later he appreciated the fact that he still retained the weapon passed down to him by his father.  He wondered why his enemies had not taken it.

He could not tell exactly where he was but he felt it likely that he was in the Dark Wood somewhere from the large trees that surrounded him.  It was still morning and so the thin fingers of sunshine that penetrated the trees were coming from the east.  That meant south was to his right and presumably in that direction laid his companions.  If they still lived.  He kept his sword drawn as he limped in that direction.

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

Below, a human form emerged from the tree line.  Speaks screeched and dove downward as Scipio picked his pace up to a trot and traced the path of his friend across the sky.  The Druid transformed back to human form as he touched down a short distance from Cathal.  “Thank the Wild that you’re alive my friend!”

The tribesman’s demeanor was more grim.  “Am I alive?  I was beginning to have doubts.”  Speaks used what little healing magic he had left and Cathal began to feel as though he might survive after all.  The two of them began to try and piece together what had transpired during the night when they were interrupted by a voice calling from a nearby hilltop.

They looked up to see Marcus, Marius and Lazarius trotting in their direction.  “What in all the hells happened to the two of you?” called Marius.  Speaks and Cathal explained that they were ambushed by some sort of plant creatures while Marcus used some of his magic to tend to their wounds.  Speaks concluded his account somberly by saying that their assailants had left a message for him to “abandon that which he sought”.

“Someone wishes us to give up the search for Ilrath and his party?” questioned Cathal.  “Perhaps this has more to do with our search for The City of Endless Summer,” Marius responded.  “I was unaware that there might be those who would oppose that mission.”  There was displeasure evident in the voice of the member of the Imperial Explorers Society.

Lazarius continued the conversation, “These ‘plant beasts’ that attacked you, those sound like the sort of thing I’d expect from the Dark Druids.  Do you think that some of their brothers have returned to have revenge for our slaying them and destroying their army of undead?”  The question was clearly directed at Speaks who wasn’t quite sure what to say.  He had some suspicions as to the identity of those who had attacked them and left the message but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share them at the moment.  After a moment’s further thought he responded, “Perhaps.  Regardless it may be prudent to try and put some more distance between ourselves and this place.  I’m not sure we can avoid this trouble but we might outrun it for a while.”

He explained to the group that he had an enchantment that would transform them all into birds.  It would allow them to cover the distance to the Fodor in a day rather than several.  While some in the party were reluctant to place themselves so fully at the mercy of the Druid’s magic, they were less willing to place themselves at the possible mercy of the Dark Druids or whoever had ambushed them the previous night.  Speaks had some trouble coaxing Scipio to accept the transformation but by using a spell to _Speak_ directly to the _Animal_, he explained his intentions and the cat agreed.  Moments later they took to the air and continued west in a small flock overseen by Speaks in eagle form.

*NEXT:  New Enemies and Old Friends*


----------



## Darklone

Now exactly HOW did this update escape my blind eyes???

Interesting that the players suspect the dark druids behind living plants though... shouldn't Speaks have known better?


----------



## Speaks With Stone

"Interesting that the players suspect the dark druids behind living plants though... shouldn't Speaks have known better?"

Speaks With Stone is still very unsure about a splinter group of druids that may or may not be officially sponsored by the druid order.  In the last campaign, we found a history that showed the druid order had a group running around exterminating anyone that could link the druids with Bane and the dark arts used in that conflict.  Not being sure if those suckers are running around (but strongly suspecting it now), I'm not sure I want to go blabbing about such things.  I am trying to maintain plausible deniability that I know anything about all that so that I and all of my friends don't get disappeared.

This character was a little paranoid to begin with (what with keeping a mask between himself and society to maintain a comfortable distance and control), but now he is just about over the top.  I have found ways of trying to protect against us "disappearing" along with all of the secret information - but I'm still trying to maintain plausible deniability.  As long as they never scry in when I'm not looking and overhear us talking about it, I figure they may assume I don't know a thing about it.  Then again, they sounded kind of p.o.'d last time I saw them, so we may be in trouble.

But anyway, I know better, but I'm trying to keep the others looking in the wrong direction.  Besides no sense in damaging the druid orders reputation if this old splinter group is now a distinct group not operating within the order.  I'm trying to figure that one out right now, too.


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Interesting that the players suspect the dark druids behind living plants though... shouldn't Speaks have known better?




Speaks pretty well covered this above, but just to clarify:

He feels fairly positive that the Shambling Mounds and the note left in Druidic were not the responsibility of the "Dark Druids" (no small indication of this is the fact that he was left alive and he can think of no reason why the Dark Druids would let that happen).  The rest of the party knows nothing of the evidence uncovered previously about the existence of a "Druidic Secret Police" group that exists for the purposes of covering up any links between the Druids and the Cult of Bane.  

This is not true for the players of course but their characters are (appropriately) not acting on that knowlege.  The only nasty Druids that they know anything about were the Dark Druids so they assume that they are the ones responsible.  Speaks is content to let them think that for the moment because to reveal the truth further spreads secrets that the Druids would obviously like kept quiet, exposes them to danger (because they would now know the same information that has put Speaks' on the hit list) and makes Speaks more of a liability to the party because of this baggage.

Very good roleplaying by all involved if you asked me.


----------



## Darklone

Right, and the new players don't know much about Blighters... 

Well ... we happily expect the next part:
*"Noone expects the druidic inquisition!"*


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## gerg861

Wait, what is my favorite story hour doing down here?  BUMP!


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## Darklone

Aaaaand another one.


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## Rel

Sorry gang.  There's plenty of story to write but the last week has been a busy one for me work-wise and I've also been having to do some organizational stuff related to the ENWorld NC Game Day.  I'll do my best to get an update in over the next few days.  The good news is that after mid-December, my work schedule is fairly clear and I should have plenty of time for updates over the holidays.


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## Darklone

Page 3? NEVER!!!


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## Darklone

Enjoy the NC gameday, Rel!


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## gerg_861

This has almost slipped off of page 2!


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## Rel

My undying thanks for the bumps, guys.  Well, at least today I'm pretty sure it's not dying.  Yesterday I was fully in the nasty grips of the grippe.  I'm feeling a bit better today and struggling to get done the remaining work I've got before I can call myself on holiday.  Trust me when I say that I'd far prefer to be writing Story Hour updates.

I promise that you'll be seeing some beefy updates as soon as my work schedule and my illness allow.


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## Darklone

Wooo, get better fast and merry Xmas!

Uhm. 3am in Germany. I better move my sore @§§ to Spain and win one hour.

C u later, chachos!


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## Rel

At last I've had some time to work on the Story Hour!  My work for the year is done and I'll be engaging in some much needed R&R for the next week.  I plan for this to include a healthy dose of much needed Story Hour writing.  Expect frequent and lengthy updates for the next several days:

*”New Enemies and Old Friends” – Part 1 – Old Friends*

The group flew west and the miles soared away beneath their wings.  Speaks looked down with his eagle vision as the Fodor River passed below.  Just over a year ago he had been struggling to get across the river just barely ahead of a pack of Gnolls bent on his destruction and that of his friends.  But they had escaped and their travels had taken them into the western lands and adventures they could never have imagined.  

Adventures, which only Speaks himself had survived intact.  Krase was dead, Arc had been killed and twisted into evil by the cursed leader of the Orc horde, Rhys was brought back from death only to have to come to grips with living in a body not his own and Ilrath was missing in the forbidding crags of the Black Peaks.  Speaks glided on the air and looked down among the small, helpless seeming bird-forms that his companions wore.  He wondered how many of them might be dead or worse before another year passed.  Speaks shook these dour thoughts from his mind as they came into view of Hrongar’s Hill a few hours later.  It would be good to be among the Brigantes again.

The party alighted at dusk and were greeted and welcomed into Urdrax’s mead hall.  He openly embraced Speaks and Cathal but looked on with curiosity at the Imperials.  Marius quickly put him at ease with his friendly manner and genuine interest in learning all he could about the people who populated the Western Wilds, as they were called in the Empire.  Marius had studied the tongue of the folk of the Fodor lands before departing from Emor and this showed a respect that Urdrax could admire.

Marcus found himself fixed with more than one cold stare as the gaze of the tribesmen fixed on his holy symbol.  The Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert had made a less than favorable impression when they visited the Fodor lands with their firm questions and arrogant manner.  There could be no doubt that the people of the Fodor and those who bowed to St. Cuthbert shared a common enemy, but they shared little else.  Or so thought these tribesmen.

Actually, Marcus was keeping his eyes and ears very open and his mouth very shut.  This was typical for he saw himself as a man whose service to his Lord came primarily in the form of vigilance.  But he had personal reasons to learn about the Brigantes and other tribes of the Fodor lands.   For now he was content to observe what was going on around him and bide his time.

Lazarius was already coming to the opinion that the rustic life of these barbarians was not for him.  The benches were not padded, the food was crude and he suspected that his cot for the night would be without the embellishment of a soft blanket.  The drink was fair if a bit gritty.  But he supposed that he had better get used to the idea that comfort was something to be enjoyed when it was close at hand because the way west into the Black Peaks was likely to see it in short supply.

As the various warriors that populated the mead hall departed for their quarters or succumbed to their drinks and slumped forward onto the tables, Urdrax drew the party close around the fire to ward off the chill of the night.  He knew why they had come and he wished to tell them what news he had from his tribe and the other peoples of the Fodor.

Unsurprisingly there had still been no word from Ilrath or his party.  Urdrax had asked after them from the Almani whose territory lay further west but the keen-eyed Almani scouts had seen no sign of the group.  They did indicate that Ilrath had taken a more southerly route into the mountains than he originally intended.  The exact reasons for this were somewhat clouded, but it seemed that Ilrath had come across the site of a large group of slaughtered Orcs that gave him cause for concern.  He decided instead to strike well into the Black Peaks before turning north in search of the City of Endless Summer.

Perhaps it had something to do with the disturbing reports from the Almani scouts that a large winged creature had been sighted soaring over the mountains in the last few months.  At first they were concerned that it was a flying serpent such as the one that led the orcish invaders in the Winter War.  But it was reported to have proper wings and be much larger.  Cold comfort that was.

The Suevi tribe, led by the brash young Relmar, had continued to show contempt for the other tribes who were attempting to trade with the people of Glynden and parts south.  Relmar had wed the Suevi shaman, Orthula, not long after the Winter War and the couple had had a son soon after.  (Speaks was glad the firelight hid the color rising to his face at this reference.)  The obvious “potency” of their young chief had filled the Suevi warriors with arrogance and swagger.  They openly mocked the other tribes for becoming “pets of the Empire” and “forsaking the old ways”.  These jibes were largely ignored, but there were some disturbing rumblings about a possible rift between those who cleaved closer to the ways of their ancestors and those who wanted to adopt a life of peaceful trade.

This situation was made all the more difficult due to the troubles that the people of the Fodor were having in producing goods and services that they could sell.  A small group of Corritani fishermen had finally opened a ferry service across the mighty Fodor River, though for the time being, it seemed little in demand.  A group of craftsmen had turned out a large collection of scrimshaw and wood carvings and these were soon to be sent by wagon east to Glynden and then south to Oar to see if a market for them could be established.

These would be accompanied by the elven Wizard-Merchant, Tadius Silvanus, whose small army of mercenaries, led by Speaks’ sister, Tarsheeva, would help guard them on the trip south.  Tadius was helping the tribesmen in whatever way he could and had even, astoundingly, decided that he was going to retire from being a traveling peddler of magic and set up a small school of wizardry to teach the more promising students among the peoples of the Fodor.  While welcome so far as Urdrax was concerned (he had seen for himself the Elf’s power in the Winter War), it provided even more fuel for the growing feud between those who wanted to stay with the “old ways” and those who looked to the future.

As Urdrax finished speaking, the reaction among the companions was varied.  Speaks and Cathal both listened carefully to the news of a land they held dear for different reasons.  Marius was paid rapt attention for such news was the very bread and butter of someone in the Imperial Explorers Society.  Lazarius was fairly detached about it all.  He supposed it was interesting if you were looking to develop a trade relation with the tribes of the Fodor, but it held little information that he deemed critical to their quest.

But it was Marcus who spoke up first, “I have a request.  My superior, the Abbot at the Church of St. Cuthbert in Oar, told me something of my past before I departed for the northlands.  I was raised as an orphan by the Church.  My father was a faithful servant of St. Cuthbert, which I had known since I was a child.  But it was revealed to me that my mother was a tribeswoman from the Western Wilds.  My parents settled down on a remote farm between Bremerton and Oar but were killed by a band of Orcs when I was a young child.  I never knew either of them.

Now that I stand within the homelands of my mother, I would know as much about her as I can before I press onward in our quest into the mountains.”

The whole group grew quiet.  This was more than the usually taciturn Marcus had said in one stretch since they’d met him.  Urdrax responded, “In the morning I shall take you to Irdgar, our shaman.  He is the keeper of the songs that recite the lineage of the tribe members.  If your mother was of our people, he should be able to tell you of her.”

Marcus nodded firmly and settled back into his chair having said what he needed to say.

Speaks took on the silence that challenged them, “I too need to speak to Irdgar in the morning.  The hour grows late for those with early appointments.  Perhaps we should get to bed.”  Lazarius groaned inwardly at the prospect of what his “bed” would consist of.

In the morning the group gathered and breakfasted in Urdrax’s hall.  The Chieftain drew Cathal aside and told him that as the group headed west through the Almani lands he wanted him to ask Chief Ilmarl if he would consider sending some of their fine horses to add to the trade caravan that would soon be headed to Oar.  The swift steeds the Almani bred for the rolling foothills of the Black Peaks were far superior mounts to the ponies of Glynden.  Perhaps a market for them could be found to the south as well.  Cathal agreed to do as his Chief bade.

Lazarius and Marius made ready for travel as Speaks and Marcus visited Irdgar.  The shaman of the Brigantes listened as Marcus described what he knew of his mother.  Irdgar told him that he couldn’t be certain, but he thought he had heard a tale of a woman leaving the tribe and settling with a Holy Warrior of the Empire among the Corritani.  He would have to seek more information from them.

Speaks talked at length with Irdgar and told him of the Druids who had attacked them on their way west.  Speaks had decided to send word south asking his superiors in the Druid Circle if they knew who these opposing Druids could be.  He wasn’t sure where he might be when they sent a response and asked Irdgar if he would be willing to act as keeper of any return messages they might send until Speaks could retrieve them.  Irdgar agreed to this.

Speaks hurried back to his quarters and gathered three small bundles he had prepared the previous night.  Each consisted of two notes wrapped around a shard of wood.  The pieces of wood were each parts of the threatening missive left on the fallen log by their Druidic attackers.  One of the notes was written in the Sylvan tongue:

_ Dearest mother,

I hope all is well with you.  Tarsheeva sends her love and she may be passing that way soon.  Things go well, but I hope to pass a message on to the Druid Order.  If you could relay the attached letter and wood sliver I would be much obliged.  I will write again soon.  If a return message comes I will likely be in the Brigante Lands, or somewhere near there.  Thanks, I will come and visit as soon as I am able.

 Love Quintus_

The other note was written in the secret tongue of the Druids, just like the letters on the scrap of wood contained within:

_ Greetings Brother Druids

It has been a busy summer and I have marked off a southern boundary for the Dark Wood.  The locals at this time are honoring an agreement to stay out of this area and an awakened wolf pack helps to watch the woods.  Ogres and gnolls to the north of this area are troublesome but have shown little impact on the local flora and fauna at this time.  North of that Great Root, the treant holds sway from his enchanted glade.  All looks well for the future of the Dark Wood.

 The same cannot be said of all matters here.  As I informed you before, the orcs that descended from the north wore plumage of tropical birds, which suggests the City of Endless Summer is a real place.  I and my companions are beginning a journey north from the Brigante lands to seek this enchanted land.  The location of such an enchanted biome is not to be abandoned to such despoilers as the orcs.  But I have been accosted by accomplished humanoids who appear to be druids.  They attacked us, captured us, and left a message in druidic that we should abandon our quest.   

Are there other druids that you have sent north?  How should I treat these individuals?  Clearly they could have killed me had they chosen and yet if I persist in my quest, they may decide to try it again.  I can assure you that I am prepared to defend myself, but I do not wish conflict if they are Brothers that can be reasoned with.  I have included a sliver of wood carved by the hand of one of these men so that you may scry and see them for yourself.  I wish to hear word, though with winter approaching I must continue north from Hrongar’s Hill.

 Thank you and may nature preserve and protect you as well as you preserve and protect nature.

 Speaks With Stone_

Speaks took his tiny bundles and moved off into the nearby trees and located three birds that he deemed capable of carrying them.  He said to them, “My friends, I ask you to deliver these messages for me.  I send you far from your homes.  But I send you to the warmth of the south.  Fly swiftly and safely.”  He fervently hoped that his last remark would be true.  But he wouldn’t have sent three copies if he were certain that these animals would not be targets for his Druidic adversaries...

*NEXT:  Part 2 – New Enemies*


----------



## Darklone

Aaaand ... another Xmas present 

Thanky Rel!

Big winged thing... Hmm, how far west from Dragonspire Mountain are we?


----------



## Rel

See?  I told you there would be frequent updates!

*NEXT:  Part 2 – New Enemies*
The group gathered outside the mead hall and made ready to leave.  Marcus approached and announced that he would not be departing with them.  He did not wish to come so close to the homeland and leave without any answers.  Urdrax had been kind enough to detail two of his bodyguard to escort Marcus to the Corritani village of Rilaga where he could speak with their shaman about his mother.  Marcus would then hasten to catch up with the group.  Without further comment, Marcus turned to descend Hrongar’s Hill and make his way back east toward his past.

“How’s he going to catch up with us?  He moves like a snail in all that armor,” commented Lazarius.  Marius was quick to answer, “Have you not noticed?  He almost never sleeps.  He almost walked me into the ground between Oar and Glynden.  He’ll catch up.  Besides,” Marcus gestured to the west where the steep walls of the Black Peaks rose in the distance, “I don’t think we’re going to be moving too fast once we get into the mountains.”

“Best we get moving then,” said Speaks.

The way west into the Almani lands was easy travel but the air was certainly starting to have a sting of cold in it.  Their passage north had better be swift or they’d be making it in the snow.  The tops of the Black Peaks, looming ahead of them, were already draped in white.

The following morning after they left the woodlands of the Brigantes lands, they encountered a group of Almani scouts.  The riders recognized Speaks and Cathal and bade them welcome to the lands of the Hawk.  The scouts had a string of fresh horses with them and offered to speed the group on the way west by providing mounts and an escort.  The group gladly accepted and covered much more ground than they anticipated they would by nightfall.

The next morning, most of the party was sorry they had accepted the offer.  None were at home in the saddle and all limped about their camp as they made ready to depart.  They rode out the morning wincing at every bump and glad for every break.  Out of pure courtesy the Almani scouts made no comments about this and kept their grinning to a minimum.  Considering the saddle sores Lazarius was nursing, this may well have avoided an international incident.

They rode into the Almani tent camp around noon.  They hid their limping as best they could to keep up appearances and made their way to the pavilion of Ilmarl, Chief of the Almani.  By his side was his son, Seshmarl, who had distinguished himself in the Winter War and become an ally to Speaks and the people of Glynden.  The party was welcomed and, thankfully, offered cushions to sit upon.

Cathal relayed the suggestion by Urdrax that the Almani send some horses to be traded in the south.  Ilmarl and Seshmarl conferred and agreed that this was a good idea.  Thus far they had contributed less to the trade caravan than any of the other tribes save the Suevi.  The nomadic nature of their tribe left them with nothing one could call industry and their craftsmen were few.

Marius was outgoing and inquisitive as usual, again making conversation and asking questions about the people of the Almani tribe.  In due course it came out that the party meant to follow in the footsteps of Ilrath and were trying to locate him and the City of Endless Summer.  Seshmarl told them that he had finally entered the Black Peaks well south of his original path.  As the Almani were near the southern part of their range, the pass Ilrath used was not terribly far from the tent camp.  He agreed to send them an escort and horses to guide them to the pass in the morning.

The companions spent the balance of the afternoon bartering for food from the Almani for the journey into the mountains.  The Almani were more than happy to do so and the food they traded the party was of good quality and already preserved for travel as the lack of permanent villages made this a necessity for the tribesmen. 

By morning the group was ready to travel if a bit loathe to mount their horses again.  But they hid their pain for the sake of pride and made the best of it.  Marius passed the ride by chatting with the guides while Cathal frequently dismounted to jog beside or ahead of the rest of the group.  The Brigante wore a pair of enchanted boots that let him run and jump like the wind and he was just as pleased not to be bouncing in the saddle.

In the early afternoon the group came to the foot of the mountains and saw a winding pass flanked by a trickling stream in a deep riverbed.  The guides explained that with the summer melt at an end and the snows in the mountains having refrozen, the streams were dry or low.  The companions dismounted and gave the reins over to the guides.  Seeing no cause for delay, they made sure their packs were secure and began climbing up into the pass.  The guides let out a whoop for good luck and galloped off to the northeast.

The remainder of the day was spend making slow progress into the mountains and coming to grips with how rugged they were.  Unlike the old, worn down peaks of the Dragontail Range that surrounded Glynden, these mountains were young and angry.  They grudgingly gave up each mile in exchange for bruises, cuts and fatigue.

The party members fared differently in response to these rough conditions.  Speaks With Stone simply flew from peak to ridge in the form of an eagle, keeping watch for potential foes from above.  Cathal was not the greatest climber, but his great strength made up for this as did his ability to leap like a mountain goat thanks to his boots.  Lazarius grumbled and cursed the rough ground.  He considered using his magic to simply _Fly_ above the ground as did Speaks, but his caution prevailed.  He wanted to save that spell until he truly needed it and it also seemed imprudent to be soaring across the sky when an unidentified, large winged beast had been sighted in the area.  He contented himself with using a less powerful spell to _Climb_ like a _Spider_ when the need arose.

That night they camped huddled beneath a shallow overhang and missed the presence of Marcus.  He would often take more than one watch and let the others get additional rest.  They hoped he would find the answers he was looking for and rejoin them soon.

At sunrise they began their trek again and continued to wrestle with the challenges of the Black Peaks.  They found themselves doing more climbing than walking in places.  If this sort of terrain continued, it would be months before they managed to make their way north toward where they suspected the City of Endless Summer lay.  They considered using Speaks magic to transform them into birds once again but decided that they had to wait at least until Marcus caught up with them.  Thus they continued to move westward, one rough cliff at a time.

In the afternoon, as Speaks flew overhead scouting, he spotted a hint of movement behind a sharp peak ahead.  He flew closer to inspect this and rounded the far side of the peak to find a pair of some sort of large, winged-lizard-men perched on a ledge.  He was further surprised when the creatures drew arrows across enormous bows and fired at him.  The shots went wide but Speaks dove downward and behind the peak, flying rapidly back toward the rest of the party.

He found them hiking slowly along a narrow canyon with steep walls rising on both sides.  He landed in front of them and quickly told them of the creatures that had attacked him.  Lazarius did not hesitate before doing a bit of defensive magic, transforming his _Skin_ into a hard texture resembling _Stone_.  The others began to debate whether or not these creatures might be reasoned with.

This debate was cut short when a cry rang through the canyon, "Die, makers of abominations!" (Speaks and Lazarius recognized this as the dragon tongue). One of the lizard-men leaned over the edge of the canyon above and fired his bow amongst them.  The shot scored a minor wound across Speaks’ forearm as an arrow the size of a javelin buried itself in the ground.  Before the party could react, another shot was fired from the far side of the canyon but it missed its mark.  A third lizard-man came into view atop the canyon wall.

Cathal was the first to react and literally leapt into action.  His jump carried him a third of the way up the right-hand wall of the canyon toward the lone archer and he rapidly began climbing the remaining distance thanks to the speed lent him by his magic boots.  Seeing the burly Brigante rapidly approaching, the lizard-man took flight and soared across the canyon, firing a haphazard shot at Speaks that missed.  The third lizard archer took aim but held his fire and a fourth appeared behind him.  This last one appeared to be smaller and albino as well.  To the trained eyes of Lazarius and Speaks, it looked as though it was performing some magic.

Speaks began some magic of his own, preparing a spell to _Summon_ one of _Nature’s Allies_.  Lazarius preferred a more direct approach and fired a _Bolt of Lightning_ at the winged foe flying overhead, escaping from Cathal.  The bolt struck the creature squarely but it did not fall from the sky.  Marius watched to see if the wounded creature would alight and he flipped a dagger into his hand almost quicker than the eye could see.  If it came down anywhere near him, he give it a little sting.  Speaks’ faithful companion Scipio also stood by to pounce on any of the lizard-men who dared come close to his Druid friend.

At the direction of Speaks, a creature formed of the element of Air appeared atop the canyon wall and attacked the nearest archer with little result.  Even as the Elemental appeared, Speaks heard a voice in his mind utter a compulsion:  “Your pet looks vulnerable.  If you value his life perhaps you should withdraw and fight us another day.”  Gripped by this _Suggestion_, Speaks called out, “Scipio!  To me!” and began to fall back up the canyon the way the party had come.  (Speaks has got the worst damn luck with the dice.  He needed about a 5 to make his Will save and rolled a 4.  Unfortunately, it won’t be the last time this problem plagues him.)

As Speaks withdrew from the combat, Lazarius heard one of the lizard-men cry out in the tongue of the Dragons, “This one is laden with magic!  Get him!”  At this command, the three large dragon-men charged Lazarius and assailed him with huge spears.  One of these was a mighty blow that sent cracks running through the stone-like skin of the Wizard as the other two chipped at his defenses.  Lazarius moved beyond the reach of two of them and dodged a blow from the third as he used another defensive spell he had prepared to cause him to appear _Displaced_ from his actual location.  He knew that he could not sustain another barrage of their attacks.

Marius stepped forward and flung his dagger at the closest of the dragon-men but it did little damage.  Cathal leaped down from the canyon wall, slicing with Mailbiter at the closest of the scaly warriors, cutting it deeply.  Marius prepared to step closer to the distracted dragon-man to plant his rapier in its flank.  But before he could do this, he was mentally spoken to by the albino, “One of your friends has fled and the others are surrounded.  You’d best surrender.”  Marius threw down his rapier and threw up his hands.

The dragon-men, incensed by their lust for magic, ignored Cathal and launched another series of attacks at Lazarius.  Two of these struck home despite the Wizard’s defensive magics and blood flowed freely from cracks in his stony skin.  Lazarius knew that he had but one more chance if he and his companions were to survive this.  He ducked out of their reach again as he thrust his hand into his magical haversack.  Out came his prized possession:  A thin rod carved with arcane runes.  His other hand summoned forth a _Bolt of Lightning_ again, but this time it was not fired at a single foe.  The rod flashed green as Lazarius used its magic to sculpt his spell and strike all three of the closest foes while leaving Cathal and Marius untouched.  Two of the dragon-men fell, smoking and charred, to the ground.

Cathal knew an opportunity when he saw one and charged the remaining winged warrior before he could strike the Wizard again.  Mailbiter struck home and the creature fell to the ground, blood pouring from its chest.  Almost before the creature hit the ground, the Albino was among them.  He seemed about to touch his fallen comrades, perhaps trying to do some healing magic to them.

Marius saw that the tide of the battle had turned and fought off the compulsion that had gripped him.  He grabbed his rapier off the ground and moved forward to level it at the Albino.  Marius grinned:  Now it was the lizard’s turn to surrender.

Lazarius was taking no chances however and let fly with yet another _Lightning Bolt_.  (You’d never guess that he was an Abjurer, would you?).  It sizzled through the Albino’s body and it slumped to the ground, unconscious and at the mercy of the party.  As it lay before them, Lazarius saw that it sported a barbed tail.  Gazing down at his own, blood-soaked robes, he drew his dagger as a vindictive grin took over his face.  “That tail is coming off!”

“Wait!” cried Marius.

“What?!” replied the wounded Wizard.

“Let him keep his tail for now.” said the Imperial Explorer with a roguish grin.

“Why?” asked Lazarius.  He wanted retribution and a trophy.  Besides, that tail might be useful as a component for some exotic spell.  Albino, spell casting, dragon-men were rare after all.

“Because if you cut if off now then we can’t cut if off later when he refuses to answer our questions.  There’s a lot about these mountains that we don’t know.”

Lazarius regarded the unconscious reptile and then his dagger.  “I hate it when you have a good point.  But I get to do the cutting when the time comes.”  He sheathed the dagger.

“Of course.” replied Marius.  He knew that violence was best used as a tool, not as an end unto itself.  It seemed some of his companions had yet to learn this lesson.  “Let’s get his wounds bound before he dies and makes it more difficult to question him…”

*NEXT:  The Unlikeliest of Allies*


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## Broccli_Head

Glad to see a couple of posts so close together!


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## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Glad to see a couple of posts so close together!




Thanks, Broc.  It has felt great to have the time to do some writing.  And I've got to crank as much out as possible over the next few days.  The events above don't quite make it to the end of Night 2 of the campaign and tonight we play the (I think) 9th session.  If I don't get a bit more caught up, I'm going to start forgetting stuff.

Fortunately, I've had a lot of help as the players of Lazarius and Cathal have both written up "battle reports" for the combats.  That allows me to focus on remembering the "story stuff" and gives my memory a crutch for the hacking and blasting parts.


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## Rel

NO FREAKIN' WAY!!  I'm posting two updates in one day!  Pinch yourself.  You might be dreaming.

* The Unlikeliest of Allies*

Speaks and Scipio caught back up to the rest of the group as Marius bound their captive a short distance away from the dead dragon-men.  Speaks prepared to use some healing magic on the Albino, “He’s going to be fragile so don’t rough him up too much.”  A green glow surrounded the Druid’s hand and he applied it to the black scorch on the creatures’ chest that stood in stark contrast to the rest of his white scales.  His flesh was cold to the touch.  The Albino’s snake-like eyes regained their focus and regarded the ring of captors arrayed around him.

Marius flipped a dagger into his hand.  “Don’t even think about trying any of that ‘messing with our minds’ stuff.  We don’t need you alive that bad.”

The creature cocked its head and spoke something that Marius couldn’t understand but consisted of lots of growling and hissing noises.  Speaks and Lazarius recognized the words in Draconic: “What does it say?”

“He doesn’t speak Imperial,” said Lazarius.

The creature spoke again in Draconic, “I can address all of you if I use my mind speech.  I would be a fool to try and assault your minds.  What if I failed?”

Speaks told the rest of the group this and they agreed to let the creature communicate with them telepathically.  But Cathal stayed ready for treachery with Mailbiter in hand.

“Why did you attack us,” thought Marius.  He said it aloud as well, having some difficulty adapting to this form of communication.  Would the creature be able to tell if he lied about something?

The Albino responded to their minds, “I didn’t attack you, my stupid compatriots did.  Their lust for magic and ability to smell it get them into too much trouble.  That’s not what we’re here for.”

“What exactly are you here for?”  Marius moved his lips this time but didn’t ask the question out loud.

The Albino hesitated for a moment.  “I’m not sure I want to tell you that.  If I do, you may do something that would be counter to my Purpose here.”

Marius spoke aloud once again, “Would death be counter to your purpose?”  He added as much menace as he could muster but he was already intrigued by what the creature was saying.

“It would be a significant setback, certainly.  I’m willing to gamble on your honor though.  I’m protecting something.  If you’ll agree not to harm what I’m protecting, I’ll tell you more.  Then I suppose we’ll see how much your word is worth and how good a gambler I am.”

Cathal gave a mocking laugh.  “You wonder what our word is worth when you attacked us without provocation?  Your word is the one that should be called into question!”

“Oaths and Pacts are part and parcel of my very existence.  I’m not accustomed to breaking them and I don’t intend to start now.  You can listen to what I say and believe it or not.  You can kill me or not, though I’d certainly prefer the latter.  I only ask that you spare that which I protect.”

The party glanced at one another.  Each in turn gave a nod.  Marius gave their agreement, “If you answer our questions, we won’t harm your charge.  Now what are you here to protect?”

The Albino regarded Marius for a moment before answering, “The Egg of a Dragon.”

Marius felt his eyebrows raise themselves involuntarily.  “What is the name of this dragon?”

The Albino answered quickly this time, “I don’t think she’d appreciate me telling you that.  She probably wouldn’t feel friendly towards you either if she knew you had that information.  Unless you want to count her as an enemy, perhaps you should call her the White Lady of the Black Peaks.”

Marius felt it a minor violation of the deal they had struck that the Albino didn’t answer his question directly.  But one didn’t go around making enemies of dragons lightly.  He decided not to press the issue for now.  “Why does she need you guarding her eggs.  I’d guess that a dragon would be more than capable of defending her clutch.”

“One would think so.  But those who are after her Eggs are exceedingly clever and resourceful.  They have become adept at snatching them from her lair.  She decided that the best way to ensure their safety was to hide each one individually.  Even so, her enemies have been able to locate a few of these hidden ones.  So I am her to try and help guard one of them.  As were my stupid allies.”

Marius considered who would have the audacity and need to steal an egg from a dragon.  Certainly whoever it was was not without considerable power of their own.  As he had just thought to himself, ‘one does not lightly make enemies of dragons’.

Lazarius interrupted, “Your allies, one of them said something about ‘Makers of Abominations’ or something.  What does that mean?”

The Albino turned to regard the Wizard, “They assumed that you were here to try and steal the Egg.  Actually, that might be giving them too much credit.  They smelled the magic on you and any pretext to kill you and take it would have been fine with them.  They probably assumed you were after the Egg as a matter of convenience.”

Marius took up the questioning again, “You, you’re not like them.  Clearly not as stupid as you claim they were and physically different too.”

“Obviously.  They are creatures of your mortal realm.  I am a servant of the Queen of the Dragons.”  The mental voice he projected took on a particular reverence at her title.  “I was sent to your world to watch over and protect the progeny of one of Her worshippers.  I take my duty seriously.  But you look nothing like they way the Abominators were described to me.”

“And how were they described?”

“Orcs with garish, colorful feathers adorning them.  But not savage as I’m told such creatures usually are.  Thoughtful and well trained in the arts of magic.”

“Orcs.”  Cathal spat the word as a curse.

“And from the City of Endless Summer too,” said Speaks.

“What do the Orcs want with dragon eggs?” asked Marius.

“I do not know.  My Queen regarded it as something too horrible to utter.  My duty is to make sure that they don’t get a chance to do whatever it is to the Egg in my charge.”

Speaks said aloud, “We need to let him go.  If we have any enemies in these mountains, they lie in the City of Endless Summer.  And the enemy of our enemy is our friend.”

Cathal quickly agreed, “And the enemy we have is plenty powerful enough if they’ve been snatching baby dragons from the breast of their mother.  We don’t need the dragon after us as well.”

Marius was pleased to see that his companions were willing to use words as well as weapons sometimes.  “You may return to your duty.  We have no quarrel with you.  And tell the White Lady that her enemies are ours.  Perhaps we can join forces to attack them when the time comes.”  He knelt and began to untie the ropes.

“I won’t presume to speak for a Dragon.  But I will tell her what you said and how you’ve treated me.”

Lazarius loathed the idea of letting the Albino fly away with his tail still attached.  But he could find no reasonable objection to the decision.

Speaks asked one last question, “We seek a way north toward the City of Endless Summer.  What can you tell us of the terrain ahead?”

The Albino was freed from his bonds now but saw no reason not to answer, “Follow this canyon until you see a crevasse leading to the north. It will take you to a river valley that flows from further north.  I don’t know how far it extends but it will carry you closer to your goal.  But beware of the creatures that dwell there.”

“What creatures are those?” asked everyone at once.

“I am not familiar with all of the denizens of your world.  But I’ve flown over that valley and seen green-skinned giants.”

“Ogres?” wondered Cathal.

“Trolls?” Lazarius speculated.

“Or worse…” said Speaks.

They turned to see the Albino disappearing over the top of the canyon wall.


*NEXT:  The Sad Song of the River*


----------



## Broccli_Head

Rel said:
			
		

> “I am not familiar with all of the denizens of your world.  But I’ve flown over that valley and seen green-skinned giants.”
> 
> “Ogres?” wondered Cathal.
> 
> “Trolls?” Lazarius speculated.
> 
> “Or worse…” said Speaks.





Athachs? !!


----------



## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Athachs? !!




Oooh!  Good idea, Broc! *Rel scribbles note*


----------



## Darklone

Hmmm.... Greenskinned Giants (scouring the Monster Manual) ... if you consider usually good aligned ones...


----------



## Riggs

*Will saves and you (or me)*

*One!*  One failed Will save! _ah ah ah!_ *thunderbolts*

I get worse.


Marius


----------



## Rel

Riggs said:
			
		

> I get worse.
> 
> 
> Marius




MUCH worse.


----------



## Old One

*Hah!*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> See?  I told you there would be frequent updates!
> 
> *NEXT:  Part 2 – New Enemies*
> 
> At the direction of Speaks, a creature formed of the element of Air appeared atop the canyon wall and attacked the nearest archer with little result.  Even as the Elemental appeared, Speaks heard a voice in his mind utter a compulsion:  “Your pet looks vulnerable.  If you value his life perhaps you should withdraw and fight us another day.”  Gripped by this _Suggestion_, Speaks called out, “Scipio!  To me!” and began to fall back up the canyon the way the party had come.  (Speaks has got the worst damn luck with the dice.  He needed about a 5 to make his Will save and rolled a 4.  Unfortunately, it won’t be the last time this problem plagues him.)
> 
> *NEXT:  The Unlikeliest of Allies*




Rel,

That sounds like just about everyone in my party!  If there is an attack or saving throw to be made at a critical juncture...they are almost guaranteed a failure...I have never seen anything like it in my 21 years of DMing !

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> Rel,
> 
> That sounds like just about everyone in my party!  If there is an attack or saving throw to be made at a critical juncture...they are almost guaranteed a failure...I have never seen anything like it in my 21 years of DMing !
> 
> ~ Old One




Speaks blames me.  I bought him those dice.


----------



## Lola

Rel said:
			
		

> Speaks blames me.  I bought him those dice.




Oh, you know it's true. I don't know if it's weights or voodoo, but I suspect you too. But that makes it fun for me as a reader, so go on with your RBDM self.


----------



## BSF

It's a new year and I decided I would treat myself to reading some new story hours.  

Nice job so far Rel.  I can't wait to see what comes next.  

Kudos to your players as well.


----------



## Darklone

We got that player here in our group... Dwarven fighter rogue with con 20 and a Fort save in the double digits... he never made even one Fort save, be it against Filth Fever, Alcohol, catching a cold... 

We bought him new dice last month, but it didn't help.


----------



## Jon Potter

So, Rel, I assume that the "stupid" dragon men were dragonkin. Correct? Their ability to "smell" magic seems to support that theory.

But what is the albino guy? Celestial Dragonkin or something else entirely?


----------



## BSF

I have a few ideas, but perhaps that would be a better discussion for a different thread?  Rel, do you have a Super Secret - Your Players Stay Out thread?


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> I have a few ideas, but perhaps that would be a better discussion for a different thread?  Rel, do you have a Super Secret - Your Players Stay Out thread?




Nope.  I either keep my mouth shut or I am perfectly willing for the players to know what the bad guys are.  They won't use that information in ways that their characters wouldn't.  That's one of the reasons I love my players.

Those were indeed Dragonkin.  The "Albino" was a White Abishai sent by Tiamut to help keep the "Abominators" away from the Egg.  Probably best that Marcus wasn't there that session.  He has an aversion to negotiating with known evil.


----------



## Darklone

Ouchy. Alignment debates. Arrrgh.

Update: The player I was speaking about lost his new character (monk/fighter = high Fort save) to a lost Fortitude save DC 13...


----------



## BSF

Rel said:
			
		

> Nope.  I either keep my mouth shut or I am perfectly willing for the players to know what the bad guys are.  They won't use that information in ways that their characters wouldn't.  That's one of the reasons I love my players.
> 
> Those were indeed Dragonkin.  The "Albino" was a White Abishai sent by Tiamut to help keep the "Abominators" away from the Egg.  Probably best that Marcus wasn't there that session.  He has an aversion to negotiating with known evil.




Heh!  I thought it was an Abishai.  

I had a cleric that never made a Will save.  It was hilarious when he failed his will save against hold person ... at 11th level.    He had a penchant for rolling ones.

In the same group, I watched 3 players all fail Fortitude saves, one after the other.  The Fighter/Cleric, the Paladin and the Barbarian all started their roll with the fatal words "So long as I roll higher than 3..."

Saving throw dice are so fickle!


----------



## Darklone

Yeah. Know those. Aladar "the Untouchable" self-declared group leader and hero lately failed (unharmed till then) his Will save against a puny DC 14 will save after the same fatal words. 

Luckily for him: I still use the houserule that you have to roll for CDGs... and he's not called Untouchable for nothing: because I roll bad against him... a natural 1 for the dude who wanted to chop his head off.


----------



## Rel

I figured I had one more chance to post an update before the holidays were over and I'm back to work.  So I hope you enjoy this one.  It is somewhat special in that it is something that most of the players didn't get to see.  This is what happened to Marcus while the rest of the party was off fighting dragon-men and allying themselves with creatures of Hell    :

_Interlude:  Heritage of a Warrior_

Marcus departed the burgeoning town of Hrongar’s Hill and headed east in the company of two warriors of the Brigante tribe.  The natives exchanged jokes in their tongue, making fun of how slowly the heavily armored Imperial moved.   How could so many of their people have been taken as slaves by those who walked like turtles and were not even capable of running?

Marcus did not understand the words they used, but he got the distinct impression that they were not being complementary.  But his stoicism and dedication to the task at hand turned aside their jibes in much the manner that his armor had turned aside so many lethal blows over the years.  He walked onward, enduring their jokes.

15 hours later when he walked into the village of Rilaga, the two warriors traveling with him were too exhausted to joke or speak in any manner at all.  Marcus set up the small tent that he had purchased in Hrongar’s Hill and lay down for a brief nap near midnight.  He awoke a couple of hours later and spent the remaining time until dawn cleaning his armor and weapons.  He was here on his own behalf but his actions and appearance reflected on the Church of St. Cuthbert.  He took that duty seriously, just as he did all his others.

He presented himself at the mead hall of Hrothan, son of Hrongar, the chieftain of the Coritani since his father’s death the previous winter.  Hrothan had to be fetched from his hut and showed some signs of having spent much of the evening consuming generous amounts of the sorts of beverages that Marcus felt should be taken in moderation.  But Marcus knew that his customs were not shared by many of his fellow Imperial citizens, much less the folk of the Western Wilds.

Hrothan regarded the adherent of St. Cuthbert with suspicion.  His lands had been visited early in the year by another pair of men of the same faith.  Those “Inquisitors” had asked pointed questions and made it clear that they were not in the habit of failing to retrieve the answers.  Those questions had called into question the honor of some of the men who had fought along side his father at the Battle of Hrongar’s Hill.  When the Inquisitors departed back across the Fodor, they had said they found nothing that would “incriminate without question” the lads from Glynden who had traveled so far to aid those they didn’t know.  But that did little to take away the bitter taste left in the mouths of the Coritani.

“What is it you seek here, Imperial,” asked the Chief of the Coritani.

“I come humbly seeking information about my mother.  I believe that she was once a member of your tribe.  I wish to learn more about her and about the people she came from.”

“Your mother was of the Coritani?!  What makes you believe this?  Who was she?” asked Hrothan, clearly having received an unexpected answer to his initial query.

“I’m afraid I do not know her name.  I was orphaned as a child and raised in the Monastery of St. Cuthbert in Oar.  My father was once a member of that religious order but had retired in the Northlands and taken a wife.  All that anyone knew was that she came from the west, probably from one of the barbarian tribes.”

Hrothan started to bristle at his people being referred to as “barbaric” but he was far too intrigued at the Knight of St. Cuthbert’s story.  “Why were you sent here and not to one of the other tribes?”

“I spoke to Irdgar, shaman of the Brigantes.  He told me that he thought he recalled a tale of a young woman who was an outcast of the Coritani tribe that would have been the right age to have been my mother.”

The young chief paused for a moment to consider this before giving a brief order to one of his bodyguards, “Fetch Krusk.”  He invited Marcus to sit at his table and share breakfast while the shaman of the Coritani was brought to the mead hall.  Marcus did not require the offered food but he felt that if he were going to gain some insight to the people of his mother it was best if he shared in a few of their customs.  He sat.

A few minutes later as he and Hrothan ate some course black bread smeared with goat cheese and some tasty salmon from the Fodor, Krusk entered the mead hall.  The shaman pulled up a chair and turned his attention to the other two men.  It was obvious that the bodyguard had told him why Marcus was here, “Your mother, was she tall and strong with long blonde hair?”

Marcus looked at the man for a moment, thoughtful, “I’m sorry.  She was killed when I was very young and I don’t recall much of her appearance.  But for as long as I can remember, I’ve always thought of her as having golden hair.”

“And how old are you,” asked Krusk intently.

“Twenty Five years as they are counted by the Imperial calendar.”

Krusk looked over at Hrothan for a moment and back to Marcus.  He began to speak about the mother that Marcus had never known:

_Her name was Sigra.  Her father, Ilgar, was one of the more powerful hunters of the tribe and well respected among his peers.  When Sigra came of age, she married another powerful man named Bolverk.  Bolverk was a hulking warrior who was best known in his youth for killing a pair of wolves with only his hunting knife.  He was never a brilliant man but he made up for it in sheer violence.

Sigra was ambitious and she encouraged her husband to use his power as a warrior to gain the good graces of the chieftain, Hragar, father of Hrongar.  Hragar was also a man of hot temper, one of the berserker warriors that the barbarians are know for.  Under Hragar’s direction, the Coritani raided across the Fodor almost every year, pillaging farms and destroying some of the scattered fortified towers that the Imperial Legions had built across the Northlands.  Bolverk participated in a great many of these raids and earned a reputation as a ruthless, dangerous warrior who would never retreat or surrender.

But a short time later, Hragar died from wounds received in the battle against Greenspire.  The position of Chieftain was taken up by Hrongar who most felt was very capable in that role.  But Hrongar differed from his father in that he had greater vision.  He could see that the constant raiding brought back a great deal of plunder for his people, but it also cost them warriors that they were slow to replace.  He felt it would be better to conserve the strength and power of the tribe by raiding less frequently and doing so in a more carefully planned manner.

This outlook caused some of the more aggressive warriors to bristle.  They had built their reputations on being fighting men and were afraid that less fighting would cost them some of the stature they had earned.  Chief among those who protested was Bolverk.  But Hrongar was resolute in addition to far-sighted and stuck to his convictions.

One night while the men of the tribe drank in Hrongar’s mead-hall, Bolverk, full of alcohol and bluster, declared that the real reason that Hrongar wanted fewer battles was because he feared death.  Things escalated quickly and Bolverk challenged Hrongar to a duel for the Chieftaincy.  Hrongar did not hesitate to accept this challenge, feeling that if he could best the leader of his opposition within the tribe that he could better unite them.  And if he couldn’t beat him, well, it was better than having to sleep with one eye open.

The men spilled out into the night and each drew his sword but there their resemblances halted.  Bolverk attacked like a madman, heedless of his own safety or any semblance of artifice.  Hrongar was more patient.  He dodged and ducked, only occasionally making a thrust at Bolverk, but each time drawing a bit of blood.  In less than a minute, Bolverk found himself tiring and unable to continue his wild rage.  Then Hrongar began to attack in earnest.  He landed several solid blows against the mighty warrior and these, combined with the cuts he had taken earlier in the fight, brought him to his knees.  Hrongar looked briefly into Bolverk’s eyes and then stabbed him through the heart.

Among the Corritani, there is no stigma attached to someone who is a relative of a criminal and Sigra had no reason to feel shamed.  But she could not live with the thought that she may have driven Bolverk to take such a rash act that could have led to conflict within the tribe.  She disappeared one night and was not seen or heard from again._

Marcus listened to the tale of his mother’s former life unfold.  He wondered how it was that she came to meet his father and how they fell in love and decided to settle down to start a family that would ultimately be cut short at a single son.  But these were answers he would never know until he was reunited with his parents in Celestia.  That was alright with him.  He could wait.

Marcus shared what little he knew about Sigra’s fate after she left the Coritani.  Hrothan and Krusk both seemed genuinely glad that she had found love and happiness, if only for a while.  They both frowned in knowing sadness at the tale of how Marcus’ parents were killed by a roving band of Orcs.  Both men had lost close friends and family in the Winter War to the savage sub-humans.

With that thought hanging thickly in the air, Marcus arose from his seat, “I must depart and rejoin my friends.  Thank you for what you have told me about my past.  I am honored to share the blood of those of the Coritani tribe.  I will go now and see if I can repay your kindness by seeking out the heart of those who marched against you last winter.”  He gave a shallow bow to each man and departed.

Hrothan and Krusk watched the broad back of the steel-clad warrior of the south as he moved toward the door.  He may have the trappings and training of an Imperial, but they were carried by the stout and strong body of a man who would have looked right at home in a Coritani hunting party.  His body was made to withstand and deliver punishment.  They looked at each other and shared a wan smile.  Neither had any doubts about what would happen when Marcus found the heart of their enemies.

*NEXT:  The Sad Song of the River*


----------



## Broccli_Head

Cool to here about Marcus's heritage. Didn't understand why the tribesmen had feeble [wan] smiles, however.


----------



## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Didn't understand why the tribesmen had feeble [wan] smiles, however.




It is a grim time for the peoples of the Coritani and other Fodor tribes.  They are facing a lean winter thanks to many of their warriors (whom they rely upon for hunting and fishing as well) being killed in the Winter War the previous year.  They are glad to have Marcus as an ally and certainly glad that he's headed off to seek their lost tribesman and the home of their enemies.  But they can't quite bring themselves to be optomistic of his chances for survival when he gets there.


----------



## Rel

Good news/Bad news time:

The good news is that I spent my final Christmas gift card today at the bookstore.  The bad news is that I spent it on the Fiend Folio...*insert evil DM laughter here*


----------



## BSF

Rel said:
			
		

> Good news/Bad news time:
> 
> The good news is that I spent my final Christmas gift card today at the bookstore.  The bad news is that I spent it on the Fiend Folio...*insert evil DM laughter here*




And that is bad how?

Oh, wait, I get it.  It's bad for the players.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

It looks like Rel will also be using the Book of Vile Darkness on us.


I never should have bought that book.



Or used it on Rel in the last campaign.  (That book is just wrong.  Even the 2nd level spells are insane - I don't want to experience the higher level ones.)


----------



## Rel

Speaks With Stone said:
			
		

> I never should have bought that book.
> 
> 
> 
> Or used it on Rel in the last campaign.  (That book is just wrong.  Even the 2nd level spells are insane - I don't want to experience the higher level ones.)




Morning, Speaks.  I'll be over to your house in about half an hour, by the way.

And don't worry, I don't hold a grudge about the BoVD.  I'll be killing your characters with the stuff in there for entirely non-vindictive reasons.


----------



## Rel

I've been working on this update for about three days now so I hope it holds you for a few more.  Enjoy...

*The Sad Song of the River*

The party paused long enough to see if they could _Detect Magic_ on their fallen dragon-man foes.  They discovered a potion and a ring that both gave off a glimmer of magic.  These items were quickly pocketed and the group proceeded cautiously down the gorge.  By late afternoon they discovered the branch of the gorge that ran off to the north but made camp before striking off in that direction.

During the night, Cathal was on watch when he heard a noise coming from up the canyon in the direction they had come from.  Fearing some treachery by the Albino, he roused the rest of the camp in time for Marcus to come clanking into the firelight.  He was warmly greeted by his companions and welcomed back into the group.  He joined Cathal for the remainder of his watch but kept to himself about what he had learned in Rilaga.  The rest of the night passed without incident and at dawn the group, whole once again, proceeded north.

The new canyon they followed had steep sides and was littered with sharp shards of rock that had crumbled from the walls above.  It wove to the east and west but largely held its northward course.  After the group stopped briefly for lunch, they noted that the canyon was sloping downward and at mid afternoon it ended above a steep river valley.  The slope below them was covered with scree that had spilled out of the canyon down into the valley.  The loose, sharp rocks stretched for hundreds of feet below them, ending in a rocky river that ran along the bottom of the valley.

Speaks knew that the way down would be difficult for Scipio whose large form was bound to cause some slipping and sliding among the rocks.  He returned to his human form to aid in guiding the great cat down the slope.  The two of them started down the steep side of the valley, sliding along and struggling to remain on their feet as they went.  They managed to keep from falling out of control but as they reached the bottom, they realized they had other problems.

A pair of large boulders lay just across the narrow river and from behind them came a pair of almost as large humanoids.  Their green skin was covered in warts and moles and their eyes were dark pits that held no compassion for the likes of Speaks and Scipio.  Speaks had never before encountered their like, but he had heard plenty of stories:  “Trolls!”

Above where the rest of the party stood helplessly, hundreds of feet away, Marcus saw the threat to his friends.  He paused for just a moment to impart himself with the _Strength_ of a _Bull_ before leaping down onto the scree slope.  Almost immediately the heavily armored holy warrior lost his footing and began to slide out of control down the hill.

Below, Speaks had not yet reacted to the threat when each of the Trolls drew a sizable stone and flung it at him.  One of these connected and Speaks barely kept his feet as bones creaked and flesh was bruised under the strike.  But he retained his senses enough to call down a _Flame Strike_ upon the green skinned aggressors.  Scipio prepared to go bounding across the river to attack them but Speaks held him to heel afraid for what may happen to his friend if he leap among the hulking humanoids by himself.  Speaks glanced upslope and saw that help was a long way off.

Marius leapt gracefully down upon the shifting, rocky slope but misplaced his foot upon landing and found himself sliding out of control just behind Marcus.  To be in the same lot as the comparatively clumsy, metal clad Marcus was simply embarrassing.  He decided that he would leave that part out of the travelogue that he was writing.

The Trolls decided that they had better get on with killing the lone human and his pet before his friends got there so they charged across the river, leaping from stone to stone.  But Scipio refused to let them attack his friend and leapt upon them just as they arrived on the near shore.  The Dire Mountain Lion sent strips of green flesh flying in all directions as his claws dug into the rubbery skin of one of the Trolls.  But even as he clawed the giant, he was clawed in return and felt the strength behind the dirty nails of his enemy.

Lazarius decided upon his best course of action and used his magic to _Alter_ him_Self_.  A huge pair of bat-like wings sprouted from his shoulders and he sent soaring out above the sloping valley.  Cathal was right behind the Wizard but not for long.  His magical boots sent him streaking down the hill at astounding speed and, unlike his comrades he managed to retain his feet as he charged forward.

Marcus pushed himself upright as he slid down the hill and for a few moments moved gracefully down the hill, shifting his weight from foot to foot and making the descent look easy (natural 20!).  Nearby, Marius tried to emulate this feat and failed.  This was definitely NOT going in the book.

Below, things were starting to go poorly for Speaks and Scipio.  Speaks did manage to evade the grasp of the Troll that was menacing him.  But the one that Scipio had attacked began to shred the Mountain Lion with his claws, rending huge patches of fur from his body.  Blood spilled down from the pair of combatants and began to stain the river.  Scipio tried to bite his attacker but his teeth could not penetrate the tough skin of the creatures shoulder.

Speaks could see that he would not be able to wait for his companions to arrive in time to provide martial support for him.  He stepped back from the creature and brandished his staff, uttering an incantation as he did so.  The length of the weapon became covered with long, sharp _Brambles_, “Come and feel nature’s wrath!”

Lazarius saw these events unfolding and knew that he had to get within range to use his magic as quickly as possible.  He tipped forward on his stygian wings and dove down the slope.  Below him, Cathal’s tremendous speed became a detriment as his foot caught a larger boulder among the scree and he stumbled, sliding out of control down the steep side of the valley.  Behind him, Marcus’ graceful stint at “scree surfing” also came to an abrupt end and he pitched over and began to tumble and slide out of control.  He did his best to ignore the pain of the sharp stones digging into the gaps in his armor and hold onto his mace.

Marius was glad to see that he was not the only one tumbling along helplessly and hoped to show that he was more agile than he had thus far appeared in their descent.  He bounded to his feet for a scant moment only to lose his footing yet again and fall, his forearms taking cuts from the sharp stones that surrounded him.  (Marius easily has the best Dex in the party and was suffering from a string of particularly bad rolls.)

The Troll locked in a bloody embrace with Scipio landed another claw but was unable to get a grip with the other hand and the cat suffered less damage than he had previously.  But it was still plain to Speaks that his friend would not last much longer in the grip of the giant he faced.  For now there was nothing he could do except try to delay them and buy time until their allies could arrive.  He continued to menace his foe with his staff and called on the Wild to supply a _Harrier_ to strike at the Trolls.

Lazarius was rocketing down so fast that he nearly collided with the ground.  He pulled out of the dive and continued to soar down the slope as best he could in his winged form.  He had not had much practice at flying and his maneuverability was questionable at best.

Cathal managed to regain his feet and leap forward again using the incredible speed of his boots.  Marcus struggled briefly to regain his feet but resigned himself to the fact that his armor was too encumbering to allow him to maneuver on such poor footing.  He looked alongside and saw Marius struggling as well, unable to regain his balance (another crappy roll).

Seeing that Speaks was casting spells, the Trolls decided that he was the real threat.  Both attacked him and ignored Scipio for a moment.  Each landed a razor-nailed grasp on the Druid and tore through his defenses leaving him bleeding.  Scipio stood shakily a few feet away trying to recover from the terrible damage he had sustained at the claws of the Troll.

Speaks saw that his friend was, for the moment, not being attacked directly and retreated along the riverbank a short distance before turning to use another of his magics.  The ground between he and the Trolls became covered in nearly-invisible _Stone Spikes_.  He hoped that it might slow them down long enough for help to arrive.  The winged _Harrier_ he had summoned did its best to attack and distract the Trolls but was little match for their thick hides.

And help was certainly on the way, if not in a particularly controlled manner.  Lazarius continued to soar downslope on his bat wings but was still too far out of range to use any helpful magic.  Cathal on the other hand made a grand entrance as he slid uncontrolled right into the midst of the trap Speaks had just laid.  His legs became riddled with thorn-like spikes of stone but he ignored the pain and tried to focus on getting to his feet.

Not far behind the Brigante warrior came Marcus still sliding and tumbling out of control.  Only his lesser velocity kept him from the battle now, although the manner of his arrival was still in question.  Marius in a face-saving show of agility sprang to his feet and managed to approach the bottom of the valley under his own power.  He surveyed the situation before him and didn’t like what he saw.

One of the Trolls, not realizing what he was running into, charged through Speaks’ trap after the Druid, landing a solid claw attack and bringing him to the brink of unconsciousness.  The other started to join his brother but suddenly found himself looking down on the prone form of Marcus who was just sliding past on his graceless descent of the scree slope.  A claw pierced a weak point in the armor of the warrior of St. Cuthbert and drew his blood.

Now that his friends had arrive to aid him, Speaks felt that he must escape if he was going to survive.  He called out an order to Scipio to keep his distance and moved further out of the reach of the Troll that pursued him.  Just as he retreated, both Trolls were enveloped in crackling lighting as Lazarius finally got within range to use his magic.  Cathal moved to aid Speaks and put himself between the Troll and his ally, Mailbiter flashing in his grasp.

Marcus slid to a halt but not before entering the area of the _Spike Growth_ and suffering some small wounds from the needle-like stones.  He came to rest very nearly at the feet of the Troll who had just clawed him.  Despite having been broiled by lightning moments before, the green giant laughed in jolly fashion.

Marius bounded down the hill and deftly tumbled to the side of the Troll facing Cathal, sinking his rapier in its side, dropping it to the ground.  Unfortunately for the luckless Marius, he tumbled right across the _Spike Stones_ that seemed to be doing as much damage to friend as to foe.  As if his bad luck were becoming a permanent fixture, the Troll he had just slain stood back up and slashed at him with its claw.  Marius was having a hard time envisioning how he was going to spin this whole encounter when he wrote about it in his travelogue.  He was sure he would think of something that could make his performance look better.

Nearby, the gloating Troll reached down with both claws and managed to again pierce Marcus’ armor with one of them.  There his reign of terror ended however.

Speaks had been _Summoning_ another _Ally_ and a fiery Salamander appeared behind the Troll and struck it.  Simultaneously, the _Harrier_ managed to pierce the creature’s considerable defenses.  Finally, lightning erupted around both Trolls once again at the direction of Lazarius who flew over the battle.  Both fell, one into the river where his body hissed and steamed.  Lazarius yelled from above the battle, “Burn them or they’ll return to life again!”

Marcus braved the needle-like spines of stone again as he dragged the Troll’s body from the river onto shore.  There, Speaks ordered the Salamander to stab them repeatedly with its flaming spear until the magic that held him on the material plane expired and he was sucked back into the flaming realm he called home.  The party sat on the banks of the river panting with exertion even in the frigid mountains.  Marcus and Speaks set about healing the many wounds they had suffered from the sharp scree slope and the even sharper claws of the Trolls.

Lazarius, untouched, landed nearby and drew a wand from his satchel, attempting to _Detect Magic_ on their slain foes.  He reported that one wore a piece of magical armor which explained how he had survived against the mighty teeth and claws of Scipio.  Pulling back the burnt and tattered remains of the creature’s filthy tunic, he revealed a large breastplate.  Turning his attention to the other body, he discovered a bag emanating magic hanging from the giant’s belt.  Lazarius ignored the armor and seized the bag and sat down along the river bank to examine his prize.

Looking within the bag, he saw a sizable stone, roughly as big as his own head.  He pulled out the rock and sat it along the river.  Beneath it was another, similar stone and he removed that one as well.  After he removed the third, he was convinced that the three stones would not fit inside a normal bag of this size.

“Woohoo!  A _Bag of Holding_!  I’ve heard tales of these back at the College of Wizardry.  They’re how we supply the Legions when they’re in the field.  They are similar to our Haversacks but hold much more.”  He set about removing the rest of the stones from the bag to make way for some of his own possessions.  Five minutes later he had already moved aside twice as the quantity of stones piling up began to take up a good deal of room alongside the river.  “How many rocks did those smelly bastards cram in here?”  Lazarius raised an eyebrow in thought and pulled his bedroll from his haversack.  He attempted to cram the bulky roll of soft furs into the newfound bag but it did not seem to fit.  He laid aside the bedroll and withdrew three more rocks from the bag.  Another sat at the bottom within easy reach.

“Um, I think I was mistaken about the magic of this bag.  It actually appears to generate an endless supply of rocks.  This is probably where the rocks came from that they threw at you, Speaks.”  The Druid approached to inspect the bag, which Lazarius handed over having lost interest in it.

Marcus and Cathal had removed the breastplate from the other Troll and were just about to start debating how to transport the great sheet of steel when they found it shrinking in their hands.  Cathal held it up to his chest and found it slowly change size to approximate his proportions.  “Handy that.”

From across the river, Marius called out to the others, “I think I see their trail.  They came from up the river.”  The others gathered their things and left the slain Trolls lying beside the running mountain waters as they waded across the shallow river.  At the other side they paused to examine the trail Marius had discovered while Lazarius used a cantrip to dry their pants before they froze in the cold mountain air.

“I can’t be sure but I think it was just the two of them,” Marius reported to the group.  “Should we try to follow?”

The party looked back and forth at each other.  Speaks answered, “Let’s follow the trail.  Maybe we can take someone else by surprise for a change.”

A half mile further up the river, they came upon a cave in the northeastern side of the chasm.  They cautiously inspected the entrance but found that the small cave was inhabited only by the fetid smell of its former occupants.  Inside they discovered a pair of filthy pallets and a couple other items of interest.

One was a sack of coins, bulging and ripped in a couple of places.  Lazarius used his _Prestidigitation_ spell that was still going to repair the bag and retrieve the coins that had leaked out.  He stowed it in his satchel for later counting.

The rest of the group were regarding a corpse hanging from a pole and partially flayed.  It was covered in small insects who were sharing in the Trolls feast.  “It almost looks like some kind of fish, but look at how the legs split apart and the bones were structured.  It could clearly walk.  It is no animal, that I can say for certain.”  Speaks informed them.  “We’ll keep an eye out for more of them,” said Marius, “Maybe they’ll thank us for dispatching the Trolls, if they don’t attack us for the way we smell.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”  They withdrew from the cave into the cool and refreshing air of the mountains and continued their northern march, following the river valley.

They stopped a short while later and made camp, most of them weary after a long day’s march and a tough battle.  Marcus offered to watch over them for most of the night as usual.  He doffed his armor and cleaned it before putting it back on.  Lazarius did most of the cooking before preparing to settle down to sleep.  Before he did, he opened the bag they had found and spread out the coins on his bedroll to count them.

“These coins are of a fairly old Imperial mint.  They date back to the reign of Narses or before.” Lazarius informed them.

“Really?” asked Marius, intrigued.  The others stared rather blankly at the Wizard.  “Narses was the Emperor at the time of the Sythian Secession and the Slave Wars.  Many blame him for the fall of the Empire,” explained Lazarius.

Marcus wondered aloud, “So that makes them over a hundred years old.”  He looked at the coins wondering how many hands they had passed through and what path had led them to be owned by Trolls in the crags of the Black Peaks.  He also wondered who their next owners would be.  The group lapsed into quiet and settled down to sleep.

Hours later as Cathal kept watch for the short while that Marcus needed to sleep, he found himself humming one of the songs of his people.  Most of his companions did not know it but he was considered an accomplished singer and storyteller among his people, not just a warrior.  As he finished humming the Saga of Velkain, he paused and thought he heard another thread of music.  He strained his ears and could just barely make out a low thrum of song.  It seemed to have no pattern to it.  Regardless, it meant that someone was out there singing and he awoke his companions.

None of the others could make out the faint song but Speaks who agreed that it sounded like some sort of tuneless song but that was about all he could tell.  It certainly sounded very distant and wasn’t getting louder.  That settled, the others went back to sleep and left Cathal to listen to the song.

He paid close attention to it and decided that it was a sad song, full of melancholy.  He also made the startling discovery that it did have a rhythm but one that was impossibly long.  The beat of the song did not repeat itself for nearly half an hour.  Whoever was singing it was incredibly patient and had an amazing memory.  He listened to the song long into the night, wondering what could have been so sad as to inspire such a thing.

The party awoke in the morning and set forth along the river as before, moving ever northward into the cold terrain of the Black Peaks.  As the morning wore on, the song continued faintly, drowned out when even the slightest wind blew through the canyon they followed.  But it began to become more distinct.  Fearful of what they may be walking into, Speaks offered to scout ahead.  He took the form of an owl and the silent beat of his wings carried him forward in search of the source of the dirge that filled the valley.

He spotted no one below but after a while noticed that the song was becoming fainter and coming from behind him.  He turned and flew downriver for a few minutes and again found the song growing quieter and coming from behind him.  He turned upriver once more and finally located an area where the song seemed loudest but still saw no signs of the singer.  Recalling the previous day where he had found himself alone against powerful foes, he wisely withdrew and found the party.  Resuming human form, he guided them to the source of the sound.

They searched the area for several minutes before they admitted to being stumped as to the source of the sound.  Speaks decided to try a little magic.  He saw a small juniper tree growing along the rocky slope near a large boulder.  He used his magic to _Speak to_ the _Plant_.  “Tell me little tree, can you hear the song that surrounds us?”

The wee conifer responded immediately and with an irritable tone, “Of course I can.  He sings the same song all day long.  I could sing it myself if I could sing.  Though I wouldn’t.”

“Who is it who sings the song?” Speaks asked in confusion.

“HIM.  The STONE.  He sings it day and night.  And I get to look forward to hearing it for the rest of my LONG life.  Do you know how long juniper trees live?”

Speaks was taken aback by the large amount of sarcasm for such a small tree.  “How long has he been singing like this?”

“For-EVER!  Since before I was just a cone.  It is interminable.  Sometimes I wish the spring thaw would send the waters high up enough to just wash me away.  And the ground here is fairly loose.  Maybe if I grow a little larger a gust of wind will topple me down the slope.  Anything to give me a break from that SONG!”

Speaks decided that he had learned as much as he was likely to from the small tree and did not wish to further aggravate it.  He turned his attention to the boulder.  “Hello?”  The music almost seemed to pause for a moment before resuming.  “Hello, can you hear me?”

The boulder began to move slowly and a pair of cracks opened to reveal pits in the stone that might have been eyes.  Another crack opened below them and a deep and ponderous voice came out, “Yes.”

“My name is Speaks With Stone,” Speaks paused to allow himself and everyone else to absorb the palpable irony.  “My companions and I heard your singing.”

“Yes.”  For so short a word, it seemed an eternity before the stone finished saying it.

“It seems to be a very sad song.”

“It is.”

Speaks felt the urge to ask his next question before the several seconds required for the stone to finish his last syllable were up but he resisted.  “What is the song about?”

“It is the Song for the Lost Innocence of the Stones.”  It took long enough to utter that sentence that some of the other members of the party sat down.

“And who are you?”

“I am the Singer for the Lost Innocence of the Stones.”

Speaks sat down as well.  “What caused the stones to lose their innocence?”

“The Blood of a terrible god.”

Everyone’s eyes widened at that last syllable.  Speaks continued his questions, “We’ve heard stories of the slaying of Bane.  Is he the god you speak of?”

“No.  His Brother.”

Speaks turned to his companions, “Bane has a brother?!”  Marcus answered, “None that I’ve ever heard of.”

Speaks spoke to the stone again, “When did this happen?”

“In ages past.  Thousands of years ago.”

“And you were here to see it?” asked Speaks.

“I came afterward to try and heal the stone and those who dwelled within it.  I failed.”

“You failed?”

“A creature was corrupted by the Blood and began to hurt the mountains.  I tried to bring it back to the ways of the earth but could not.  I had to kill it.”

Speaks could hear the regret in the creature’s voice, “What manner of creature do you speak of?”

“A Delver of passages in the earth.   It began to dig away at the roots of the mountains, collapsing them and tearing them down.”

“And so you were forced to kill it?”

“I chased it through the mountain for days, trying to get it to listen to reason and quit its rampage.  But it was tainted and could not be brought back.  I destroyed it before it could cause more harm.”

Speaks felt sympathy for the stone, “You did what you had to.  It could not have been prevented.”

The stone turned to regard Speaks for a moment, “That something could not be prevented is no reason not to regret that it happened.  I could not heal the damage done to these mountains.  They and the creatures within them now have hearts blackened by the God-Blood pooled within them.  It leaves an indelible stain.  And so I sing for their loss of innocence.”

Speaks considered for a moment.  “We seek to prevent further evil from being done here.  We travel north toward a place called The City of Endless Summer.  Do you know where it is?”

“I know little of the places your kind call ‘cities’.  But if you go north you shall find more evil than you like.  And I doubt you’ll be returning.”

“Why is that?”

“The mountains to the north are home to murderous giants.  They kill or enslave any who violate their domain.  I fear you are no match for their might.”

“Is there no other way north but through their lands?”

The stone paused before answering, “The way under the mountain remains.  The path the Delver took before I killed it.  I don’t know what evils may have crept from the bowels of these dark mountains to inhabit them.  But they may hold less danger than the lands of the giants.”

“How do we find our way into these passages?”

“Follow the river to a waterfall.  There you will find a cave that will lead you to the path of the Delver.  It runs long under the mountains and should take you beyond the giant lands.”

“That sounds like our best hope.  Thank you Singer.  And if I can find a way to heal the stones, I shall do it.”

The stone closed its eyes.  “Your promise makes me almost hope a little.  I shall sing of hope for a short while.”  The droning song of the stone filled the valley again, but it seemed a little less sad this time.

Speaks turned back to the juniper, “He sings another song for now, little one.”

“Thank you!  I reach my branches toward the sky in JOY!  Thank you from the tips of my roots!”

Speaks and the rest of the group stood and walked some way upriver.  Marius broke their silence, “I see now how you got your name, Druid.”

Speaks smiled, thinking of a young boy named Quintus left far in the past, “It seems to fit me more every day.”

*NEXT:  Murky Depths*


----------



## Darklone

Poetic.

*Strange sounds of Darklone abusing his handkerchief.*


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Poetic.




Why thank you, Darklone.  There have been those who have called me the "Maya Angelou of the Story Hour board".

I killed them of course...

(Note to self:  Next Christmas, buy Darklone a new handkerchief.  This one has been abused enough.)


----------



## Broccli_Head

Wow! Viscious battle with the trolls! They seemed really tough for them to last so long against higher mid-level adventurers...

love the history, mystery of the delver and the god's blood.


----------



## Rel

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Wow! Viscious battle with the trolls! They seemed really tough for them to last so long against higher mid-level adventurers...
> 
> love the history, mystery of the delver and the god's blood.




Howdy, Broc.

The magical Breastplate worn by the one Troll helped out a lot on his AC (he had a 24, I think).  Add to that the fact that they were only facing Speaks and Scipio for most of the battle and they were really tough.  Once the rest of the characters got there, they downed them pretty quickly.

Remember kids, splitting the party is BAD.

Much more history, mystery and blood to come.


----------



## Darklone

Wow, trolls lost 2 points natural armour in 3.5... nice. +3 breastplate? Woah


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Wow, trolls lost 2 points natural armour in 3.5... nice. +3 breastplate? Woah




Too bad we're playing 3.0 or that would have been a bitchin' piece of treasure.


----------



## BSF

Nice update Rel!  Looking forward to the next update.


----------



## Old One

*+3 Breastplate?*

Rel,

What am I going to do with you?  Clearly I can't let my players see this thread...the only thing they have ever gotten that gave more than +1 to anything was a magical frying pan that granted +10 to cooking checks.

What is wrong with you, Man?

_Old One walks away, leaning heavily on his cane and muttering, then stops...a sly grin spreading across his face_

Ahh...I see the brilliance of your evil plan...you will lull them into a false sense of security, shower them with gifts, allow them to drive their enemies before them...then you will crush their hope and make them beg for mercy!  Much better!

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> Rel,
> 
> What am I going to do with you?  Clearly I can't let my players see this thread...the only thing they have ever gotten that gave more than +1 to anything was a magical frying pan that granted +10 to cooking checks.
> 
> What is wrong with you, Man?
> 
> ~ Old One




*sigh*

No, no, no.  Darklone has succeeded in muddying the waters with his 3.0 vs. 3.5 Troll reference.  The breastplate is merely +1 (as the party is going to find out in the near future) thus giving a total armor bonus of 6.  Added to the normal AC of a 3.0 Troll gives an AC of 24.

This is not to say that I never give out juicy treasure.  Why just recently I said to the players, "Players, I've decided to start screwing you with even more vastly superior opponents (in terms of both quality and quantity) than is usual.  Therefore I shall grant you a few rather choice magical items in order to give you brief hopes of success before dashing these against the unstoppable force of all-powerful foes I intend to inflict upon you.  M-kay?"  Then they stabbed me with Cheetos.

Does that make things more clear?


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Nice update Rel!  Looking forward to the next update.




Thank you sir, and hopefully you shall not have to wait long.  I'm going to do my best to write another one over the weekend.


----------



## Riggs

*juicy treasure?*

Marius has more cool toys than any other character I can remember playing and yet he's been ***censors bleep out future story spoilers***...and otherwise totally hosed for circumstances and bad rolling.  

This was the entirety of the latest session for Marius:
Roll 2 skill checks...yadda yadda

"Make an Initiative roll"  4?! so that's 11 *sighs and sees Rel roll a 9*

"Make a Fortitude save"  *rolls a 5 and then rolls eyes so hard they bounce off his tonsils*   

"sh--"

That was it for him. Really. hehe 
I bought a new d20 die last night.


----------



## Old One

Riggs said:
			
		

> Marius has more cool toys than any other character I can remember playing and yet he's been ***censors bleep out future story spoilers***...and otherwise totally hosed for circumstances and bad rolling.
> 
> This was the entirety of the latest session for Marius:
> Roll 2 skill checks...yadda yadda
> 
> "Make an Initiative roll"  4?! so that's 11 *sighs and sees Rel roll a 9*
> 
> "Make a Fortitude save"  *rolls a 5 and then rolls eyes so hard they bounce off his tonsils*
> 
> "sh--"
> 
> That was it for him. Really. hehe
> I bought a new d20 die last night.




You must love the dice...yes...my precious...love them...then they make nicez with you...

~ Old One


----------



## Old One

*Hah!*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *sigh*
> 
> No, no, no.  Darklone has succeeded in muddying the waters with his 3.0 vs. 3.5 Troll reference.  The breastplate is merely +1 (as the party is going to find out in the near future) thus giving a total armor bonus of 6.  Added to the normal AC of a 3.0 Troll gives an AC of 24.
> 
> This is not to say that I never give out juicy treasure.  Why just recently I said to the players, "Players, I've decided to start screwing you with even more vastly superior opponents (in terms of both quality and quantity) than is usual.  Therefore I shall grant you a few rather choice magical items in order to give you brief hopes of success before dashing these against the unstoppable force of all-powerful foes I intend to inflict upon you.  M-kay?"  Then they stabbed me with Cheetos.
> 
> Does that make things more clear?




Whew!

Now I feel better !

~ Old One

_Bops Darklone on the head with the Flyswatter of Doom_


----------



## Plane Sailing

Old One said:
			
		

> What am I going to do with you?  Clearly I can't let my players see this thread...the only thing they have ever gotten that gave more than +1 to anything was a magical frying pan that granted +10 to cooking checks.




Fareena the cook, my character in the "stories from the steppes" storyhour would practically kill for a frying pan like that! Wowser!

Cheers


----------



## Darklone

Old One said:
			
		

> Whew!
> 
> Now I feel better !
> 
> ~ Old One
> 
> _Bops Darklone on the head with the Flyswatter of Doom_



Cool, you got one as well? I bought that thingy from our local salesdemon from the Abyss after we had too many Arcana Unearthed Faen in several groups... all going to start their metamorphosis to Sprytes... Pests, I tell you!


----------



## Rel

*Murky Depths*

The party moved cautiously along the rugged riverbank headed, to the best of their ability to tell, north-northwest.  The river bounced along below them, bitter cold and making just enough noise to hide the tell-tale signs of would-be ambushers.  The mountain air was turning colder and Speaks With Stone smelled the signs of snow in the air.  The land itself was their enemy in these mountains tainted with god’s blood.

In the early afternoon a sound began to manifest from ahead and they knew they were approaching the falls spoken of by the Singer.  They approached with caution and discovered that the stream spilled out of a large pool, the depths of which were clouded by the froth of the waterfall that tumbled down from some fifty feet above.  The pool was surrounded on three sides by steep walls and the only path forward was a narrow crescent of dry ledge that ran along the northern side to a crack in the canyon wall.

“This looks like the place,” declared Marcus.

“Indeed,” agreed Speaks With Stone, “that crevice over there must lead to the cave the Singer spoke of.”

They all eyed the shadowed crack in the canyon wall with suspicion.  These crags had been an inhospitable place thus far in their travels and they doubted that such a choice lair near an abundant water source would have gone unclaimed.  Given the malevolent nature ascribed to the inhabitants of the Black Peaks by the Singer, they deemed it unlikely that they would be warmly welcomed by the occupant.

(It’s almost like they know me.)

“I’ll scout the edge of the cave for any signs of habitation,” volunteered Marius.

“I think I’ll have a look myself,” said Cathal, drawing Mailbiter.  The two men moved along the narrow shelf of rock toward the crevice.  Marius noted in passing that there was a water mark above their heads.  A few months from now when the spring thaw hit the Black Peaks, this river would swell and returning this way would require a swim.  He did not relish the thought of that and made a note to consider an alternate return route.

Lost for a moment in this consideration, Marius did not see the water begin to stir at the edge of the pool.  His first sign of danger was a splash as several creatures erupted from the water onto the same ledge he and Cathal occupied.  Three large, green-skinned creatures the size of Ogres launched out of the water wielding swords and a half dozen or so smaller creatures with webbed hands and fishlike tails swarmed onto the ledge with nets in hand.  They surrounded Marius and Cathal on all sides.

The larger creatures swung their swords at the pair but failed to connect.  Marius managed to also evade the two nets thrown at him.  Cathal did likewise with the first pair of nets but the third landed squarely on him and he was entangled as the small, bone barbs sewn into the wet ropes of the net snagged on his hair and clothing.

Marius looked on helplessly as five of the fish-men ganged up on the Brigante tribesman and overpowered him, knocking him to the ground and dragging him into the water.  He was shaken from his horror as a large sword blade struck him and he was nearly knocked down by the impact.  He thanked his finely wrought chainmail for keeping him from being cleaved in twain but knew he would be sporting  a terrible bruise.  One of the fish-men added injury to injury when it delivered a thrust with its short-spear.  Pressed from all sides with his nearest ally captive and being drug into the pool, Marius drew his rapier and adopted a defensive stance hoping to parry their blows until his friends could arrive.

Marcus saw that his friends were in danger and charged forward toward the melee but was hampered by his bulky armor.  Scipio dutifully stayed at Speaks’ side to protect him, recalling what had happened the last time he had charged at large, green-skinned foes.

Suddenly, from nowhere, the battle was completely enveloped in crackling lightning and the smell of fried fish filled the air.  It cleared a moment later leaving Marius untouched, one of the green-skinned hulks down and all but one of the smaller fish-men dead.  Lazarius grinned as a wisp of smoke drifted away from his fingertips carrying with it the smell of ozone.  He quickly stowed the magical rod that he carried, which allowed him to shape his spells to such an advantage.

Seeing that Marius remained in danger, Speaks dashed forward toward the melee.  He ordered Scipio to remain with Marcus in case another batch of fish-men came out of the water behind them.

Apparently frightened by the powerful display of magic unleashed upon them, the foes all leapt back into the relative safety of the frothy water, leaving their dead companions behind but still towing the net containing the struggling Cathal.  The warrior strained against the fibrous ropes but did nothing but stretch them slightly.

Suddenly finding himself out of danger, Marius was overcome with anger and, thrusting his rapier before him, he dove into the pool in pursuit of his friend and foes.  Marcus came clanking up to the edge of the pool just as Marius dove in.  The steel-clad warrior-priest did not even consider leaping into the water.  He hefted his mace and waited to see if any more of the enemy would reveal themselves.

Finding himself without any bodyguards at the rear of their column, Lazarius decided to gain the advantage of height and consumed a small _Spider_ as he uttered an incantation that would allow him to _Climb_.  He scurried a few feet up the steep cliff overlooking the pool and scanned the water for enemies.

Speaks’ steps shortened as his legs shrank and his elongating upper body dropped to the ground.  He entered the pool in the shape of a crocodile.  He smelled blood in the water.

Marius found that he had leapt into deeper water and deeper trouble than he had anticipated as one of the hulking amphibians materialized out of the murky water and sliced at him with his blade.  The blow struck home and the water bubbled as sparks of lightning crackled along the length of the blade further injuring the already wounded Marius.  He felt mildly stunned by the strike but struck back in anger, missing as his poor footing in the open water denied him any leverage.

Marcus stood helplessly only a few feet away, seeing that some sort of struggle was taking place beneath the surface but unable to do anything about it.  Scipio stood at his side crouched low and ready to pounce on a danger that did not emerge from the pool.  Lazarius too began to understand that the balance of this battle would not take place above the surface of the water.  He joined Marcus and Scipio, bringing to three the number waiting and hoping by the side of the pool.

Speaks slid through the water, propelled by his thick, scaly tail and sank his teeth into the flank of one of the large attackers.  He tried to hold on and roll the creature but its mass was too big for this trick.  As he twisted and turned he caught a glimpse of Cathal still trapped in the net and being dragged toward an underwater cave near the opposite side of the pool.

The beast wielding the Lightning Sword struck again at Marius but the blow went wide as Mariuus kicked off of the bottom of the pool and toward the surface.  He didn’t stop at the surface as he grabbed the rocky ledge and pulled himself out of the water in one smooth motion.  Scrambling back from the edge of the water, he pulled the Wand of Healing that he carried from his belt.  Marcus came to his side to render aid to his sorely wounded companion.  Lazarius, unsure as to whether some of the fish-men may be pursuing Marius, used his favorite protective spell and his _Skin_ became as _Stone_.

Seeing none of his friends (aside from the helpless Cathal) and plenty of enemies around him, Speaks relented in his attack long enough to _Summon_ one of _Nature’s Allies_.  Having apparently suffered enough damage and with a captive in hand, the two larger creatures joined the pair that dragged Cathal toward the cave in retreat.

Still holding his breath, Cathal was carried far enough beneath the surface of the pool that the surface-froth no longer obscured his vision.  He could see a dark opening ahead and knew that he was being dragged toward the lair of the fish creatures.  His rage filled him and he strained mightily against the ropes that held him but they would not give.

Meanwhile on the surface, Marius was hastily describing Cathal’s dire situation to Marcus and Lazarius.  Marcus applied the divine touch of St. Cuthbert to the worst of Marius’ wounds feeling helpless to aid Cathal who was clearly more in need of assistance.  Lazarius let out a sigh of resignation and dropped his rucksack on the ground as he uttered another enchantment and stepped off the ledge into the pool.  His newly formed gills drank in the icy water of the pool as he looked about for his friends and foes.

A bizarre and nightmarish version of a turtle spawned in the pool and moved to lock its jaws on the nearest of the green-skinned giants.  Speaks followed his Tojanida ally into battle, latching his jaws onto one of the smaller fish-men with a satisfying crunch.

Taken off guard by the underwater assault, the large water-Ogre failed to free itself from the grip of the alien Tojanida.  The remaining water-Ogre approached to aid its brother as the last of the smaller fish-men ducked into the underwater cave.

With no one keeping a grip on the net, Cathal felt enough slack to move his arms into a better position and applied his rage-heightened strength and finally felt the ropes break and fall away.  Mailbiter was finally free and he lay about himself to clear the water of any enemies that might be ready to try and recapture him.

Lazarius could see the disturbance in the water ahead but could not make out any details.  Next time he used the _Alter Self_ spell, he would modify his eyes as well as add the gills.  He swam as best he could to get closer to the battle.

The Tojanida let the large amphibian fall lifelessly from its mouth and turned its jaws on the final foe, seizing it to prevent escape.  Speaks came in low and wrapped his reptilian jaws around the Ogre’s thigh as it helplessly swung its Lightning Sword at the hard carapace of the Tojanida.

Cathal prepared to launch himself toward the surface and the air when a grey-skinned humanoid loomed out of the water in front of him.  The rage still singing in his veins, he swung Mailbiter around in a wide arc and felt it crunch into the hard skin of the creature.  This one was not soft like its companions. 

The creature backpedaled violently, desperately trying to escape the wrath of the barbarian but Cathal would not be denied revenge.  He pursued along the bottom of the pool and struck again.  This time Mailbiter lived up to its name and its keen edge cleaved deep into the hard skin of the grey creature.  Cathal was certain he had wounded it though it obviously still lived as it retreated through the dark water.

Cathal realized suddenly that it was not the water, but his vision that was growing dark as his lungs burned for air.  He kicked off the bottom and returned to the surface, allowing the grey fish-man to escape for now.

Speaks and the Tojanida had slain the last of the amphibious foes and were circling looking for more near the mouth of the underwater cave as Cathal swam to shore to rejoin his friends.  He moved to the edge and wearily dragged himself out of the frigid water to lie gasping at the edge of the pool.  “Where’s…the…Wizard?” he managed between deep breaths.

“He went in looking for you.  You didn’t see him?” replied Marius with concern in his voice.  The heavily breathing Cathal shook his head.

Speaks and the Tojanida kept vigil outside the cave for a few more moments before being reasonably sure that no more of the fish-men were coming.  As the Tojanida vanished, returning to its watery home, he decided not to leave the matter to chance as he _Softened_ the _Earth and Stone_ that made up the roof of the cave.  It collapsed sending a rush of silt and water out into the rest of the pool.  Satisfied, Speaks returned to the ledge where most of his companions awaited.

Just as Speaks pulled himself from the water, Lazarius dragged himself ashore with the shining blade of the Lightning Sword gripped in hand.  He paused to use _Prestidigitation_ to dry the icy water from his stony, grey skin.  This gave Cathal time to say, “Uh oh,” before the Wizard turned on him.

“YOU LUMBERING IDIOT!!  YOU NEARLY KILLED ME DOWN THERE!!  Next time, I’ll leave you to drown rather than risk my neck by letting you swing at it with your sword!”  Lazarius drew himself up in a huff and stalked back down the stone ledge toward where he left his haversack.  It seemed that his protective spell had done a good enough job that he’d suffered no lasting harm at the hands of the Brigante warrior.

For his part, Cathal kept his sheepish look of embarrassment for a few more moments before turning his attention to what Lazarius had left behind.  “Nice sword…”

*NEXT:  The Queen Under the Mountain*


----------



## Darklone

Hehehehehehehehe... "friendly fire"!


----------



## Darklone

Bump


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Bump




Thanks for the bump, Darklone.  I've been doing my best to try and catch up a bit on Story Hour posts lately as I've been slightly less busy with work.  The only trick is that I've come to rely heavily on the "battle reports" that Raven writes up tracking the combats round by round.  And of course he's been swamped lately between work and getting his Arcana Unearthed game ready for the next NC Game Day so it has taken him longer to get them to me.  I'm still posting about one update per week but I need to be doing more than that if I'm going to catch up.

I'm tempted to just write them from memory but I've discovered something about the PC's as they get to mid-to-upper levels:  They are all capable of significant magic.  The combats are no longer like they were "back in the day" when Raven and Scar would just pound away on the bad guys in melee while Speaks dropped an occasional Entangle or Flaming Sphere.  There are Spike Stones and Insect Swarms and Lightning Bolts and Acid Orbs flying left and right.  Even the melee types are whipping out magic on a regular basis.  That doesn't even take into consideration the magics being flung about by their adversaries.

It all adds up to a very chaotic and confusing battlefield.  I could simply summarize the results and move on with the story but some of the most interesting and intense moments we've had during this campaign have come during combat so I want to do those situations justice in the write ups.  If I can get those raw notes from Raven, I should be able to pound out a few more updates in relatively short order.  There's some hope that I might be able to get my hands on them this weekend.

Thanks for your patience (as always   ).


----------



## Darklone

Tell him you'll kill his puny Sibeccai with your Lithorian Hawk Totem warrior if he doesn't finish them faster


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> It all adds up to a very chaotic and confusing battlefield.  I could simply summarize the results and move on with the story but some of the most interesting and intense moments we've had during this campaign have come during combat so I want to do those situations justice in the write ups.  If I can get those raw notes from Raven, I should be able to pound out a few more updates in relatively short order.  There's some hope that I might be able to get my hands on them this weekend.
> 
> Thanks for your patience (as always   ).




Rel,

I feel your pain...I am struggling to finish an update containing a significant battle replete with fireballs, hold person, alter self, charge and counter-charge...


Almost done, I think !

Good luck!

~ Old One


----------



## Darklone

Hah, Old One is spreading teasers in other storyhours already? Not enough torturing your readers in your own ?


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hah, Old One is spreading teasers in other storyhours already? Not enough torturing your readers in your own ?




His pimping is so sublime that it's almost a vulgarity to call it pimping, isn't it?


----------



## Darklone

Right, he's sooo good at it. We love it 

Precioussszszsss...

I can feel your pain about the battles. Last big one was a battle where my ten players group (average level 8) stormed unprepared into a fortress with several 100 guys... That battle was HUGE, with only one non-spellcaster nearly all PCs spend nearly all their spells... and got out again with luck. I have a good head for such things and like to recite the dice rolls of gaming evenings some years ago... but to retell this battle step by step... Big nonono.


----------



## gerg_861

No!  Cannot let Rel fall off of 2nd page!  Yup, I'm still reading and enjoying this story hour, thanks for all your work.


----------



## Darklone

Faded Glory team bump.


----------



## Cathal

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!  

[Raging bump from page 3]


When do we get new story hours, Rel!?


----------



## Rel

Cathal said:
			
		

> When do we get new story hours, Rel!?




Welcome to the thread, Cathal.  In answer to your question, kindly kick your good buddy Lazarius in the behind and tell him to send along those battle reports he's been promising me.


----------



## Darklone

Wizards... always taking notes about everything but if you really really need them...


----------



## Riggs

*Lazarius*

I hope Lazarius gets these notes  in there really soon!    

I also hope that the notes on the last session really bring out how much crap we gave him for not slinging spells like a man!


----------



## gerg_861

Bump attack!  Need more kinda-romanesque fantasy rpg action!


----------



## Rel

gerg_861 said:
			
		

> Bump attack!  Need more kinda-romanesque fantasy rpg action!




Thanks Gerg.  I did get the notes I needed from Lazarius over the weekend.  I should have an update done by mid-week and another to follow by the weekend.  Thanks for your patience.


----------



## Old One

*How Bout That Update?*

Rel,

Slacker...we need an update!

~ Old One

PS - Thread Hijack...any luck locating those files?


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> PS - Thread Hijack...any luck locating those files?




They're on your way.

And I should have an update up by tomorrow night.  Let's just say that reading ancient Sumerian and deciphering Lazarius' handwriting are of comparable difficulty.


----------



## Darklone

Does he call it "his own personal secret code" as well?


----------



## Speaks With Stone

The part I'm baffled at is that Lazarius types all of these notes into his laptop each night.  How he found the time to transcribe them into his own unique handwriting and then deliver to Rel is the real interesting question.

Apparently he didn't start using the laptop until later.  A lesser familiarity with his laptop might explain why he keeps accidently hitting the power off button while typing in the battle reports.


----------



## Rel

I believe I promised you folks an update:

*The Queen Under the Mountain*

The group took a few moments to rest and heal themselves from the harrowing battle in and around the pool before pressing ahead toward the waiting cave.  Marius preceded the rest of the group, studying the ground carefully and looking for signs of tracks and recent use.  He found something rather odd.

While there were no footprints or tracks that he could identify, there were dozens of small holes in the mud on the floor near the entrance.  It was almost as if someone had taken a sharp stick and randomly and repeatedly plunged it into the ground throughout the area.  But he could find no indication that this was done with purpose or represented writing or some kind of trap.  Puzzled, the group moved on.

They found themselves in a relatively narrow tunnel, some ten feet across and 15 feet high.  There were signs that it had been worked in places but largely seemed natural.  It trended generally northward and somewhat back to the east.

For some of the party, this was among their first experiences with spelunking and the group stayed close together as they peered into the darkness ahead.  Some 15 minutes after they had entered the cave, they heard a strange popping noise behind them.

Cathal was first to react and yelled out a warning as he ran back to protect the rear of the group.  He was still frustrated from being caught in the fish men’s net for the entirety of the previous battle and felt himself lose control of his anger and Rage.  As he charged back to see if the fish men had pursued them, he was surprised as he came face to face with a pair of handsome men whose good looks stopped at the waist and thereafter became a horror of arachnid evil.  He gained further insight as to their anatomy when a scorpion-like tail arched over each of their backs and attempted to sting him as a large pair of claws extended from below their humanoid torsos and sought to pinch him.  None of these attacks penetrated the Brigante’s armor.

Another pair of the creatures had materialized, seemingly from nowhere, and attacked Speaks and Scipio.  They were less fortunate than Cathal and suffered painful stings and Scipio was left with some scratches from the creature’s claw.  Both managed to fight off the numbness they felt from the stinger wounds.

Marcus launched himself toward the battle aided by magic from Lazarius that radically enhanced the speed of his movements.  But Marius was close enough to the fight already and he hurled a dagger at one of the creatures causing it a minor wound.  Speaks reacted by calling upon the Wild and a burst of green magic surged out from him.  Those around him felt their bodies filled with regenerative power.  Scipio pounced upon the one that stung him and slashed him with his claws, leaving bloody streaks across the torso of the creature.

Cathal bellowed a battle cry and slashed Mailbiter at one of the foes he faced.  The supernaturally sharp blade neatly parted the humanoid portion of the creature from the scorpion part and continued toward its companion.  But the other scorpion-man moved out of the path of the blade with nimble grace.  It backed up a further step and disappeared completely in a flash of red light and brief whiff of brimstone.

Marcus moved past Speaks with lightning speed and struck his adversary thrice, smashing the creature into a bloody, ichorous pulp.  The other scorpion-man saw this and lashed out once at Scipio with his tail before also vanishing in a burst of light and stink.

“What the hell were those,” asked Lazarius.

“I’ve no idea.  But I think after what Singer told us, we should get used to the unexpected.”  The party regrouped and moved forward even more cautiously than before. 

Just a few minutes later, they heard the same popping noise come from up ahead in the darkness.  This was followed immediately by the thrumming of two arbalest strings and a large bolt buried itself in Speaks hide armor.  The Druid let out a gasp from the impact.

Everyone froze for a moment.  These creatures had shown the ability to appear out of nowhere and they wanted to make sure they didn’t charge into a trap.  Speaks peered into the darkness ahead and could just barely make out one of their forms but that was enough.  He wove a spell and the creature was suddenly wreathed in unburning _Faerie Fire_, illuminating him and his companion.  “Sic ‘em!”

With them clearly in sight, Scipio growled and charged forward followed closely by Marius.  Each found himself under attack as the scorpion-men dropped their large crossbows and stepped up to attack with stinger and claws.  Each managed to land a hit on his target.

At the same moment, another pair of the enemy popped into view directly in front of the rest of the party, cutting off Marius and Scipio from their companions.  One immediately attacked Marius from behind but the Explorer’s instincts took over and he managed to dodge out of the way.  Marcus stepped forward to give the scorpion-men someone else to worry about and delivered another pair of solid blows, laying one of them low.  Lazarius let fly a volley of _Magic Missiles_ wounding another of them as Speaks charged in with his club, missing his target.

Though flanked by the scorpion-men, Marius found that the one behind him was in turn flanked by Speaks now.  He turned and thrust his rapier through the distracted creature’s torso, taking him through the kidney and dropping him.  This must have disheartened the other two attackers who had initially started the battle because they exchanged a brief glance before disappearing yet again.

“That crap is getting old!” said Marius.

The group managed to patch up the minor damage they had suffered but were pleased that they’d left half the enemy dead after each of the last two encounters.  Now if they could just figure out how the scorpion-men were appearing and disappearing like that, and why they were so belligerent in the first place, they’d be doing just fine.  They pressed on.

Not much further up the passage, a total of less than an hour’s walk from the waterfall, they could see that it opened up into a larger room.  They cautiously moved forward as a group, not wanting to leave gaps where the scorpion-men might suddenly appear within their ranks.  They stood in the mouth of the smaller tunnel, peering into the room ahead.  They could see a passage leading out from either of the far corners.  

Marius’ attention was drawn to one of the passages where he thought he saw a brief red light and then a gorgeous, regal looking woman appeared out of the tunnel.  Unfortunately she was rather scorpion-like from the ass backward.  Marius wondered if he’d ever meet a nice woman with non-arachnid reproductive organs who didn’t want to kill him (like there was a chance in hell for that!).  Before anyone could react, she waved her hands in mystical fashion and the roof of the tunnel above them transformed into loose earth and gravel and promptly collapsed on them.

*NEXT:  Queen Under the Mountain – Part 2*


----------



## Darklone

Waaah, Stingers? These spells look like Blinking... but not fast enough. Cave-ins??? Argh. That's pretty deadly by the rules. 



			
				Speaks With Stone said:
			
		

> The part I'm baffled at is that Lazarius types all of these notes into his laptop each night.  How he found the time to transcribe them into his own unique handwriting and then deliver to Rel is the real interesting question.



He writes it on his laptop but has handwritten notes???


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Waaah, Stingers? These spells look like Blinking... but not fast enough. Cave-ins??? Argh. That's pretty deadly by the rules.




And you know that I'm a "play by the rules" kind of DM, right?   




> He writes it on his laptop but has handwritten notes???




He doesn't always have the laptop.  Just most of the time.

And I'm not always a RBDM.  Just most of the time.


----------



## Riggs

*"they mostly come out at night...mostly"*

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Don't expend too much energy saying Rel is a RBDM at this point, it gets much, much better...

Not to be completely outdone, we roll a ridiculous amount of 1s on key rolls and even not-so-key rolls.

And I think Lazarius types in Wingdings font, hence the confused notes.


----------



## Riggs

*"they mostly come out at night...mostly"*

[I got caught during the shutdown, accidental repostings]

Target for deletion


----------



## Riggs

*"they mostly come out at night...mostly"*

[I got caught during the shutdown, accidental repostings]

Target for deletion


----------



## gerg_861

Never gonna let this fall onto page 3...blinking-scopion-men-BUMP!


----------



## Rel

*Queen Under the Mountain – Part 2*

Sensing doom descending from above, Marius dove forward and tumbled to his feet beyond the area of sliding stone.  He was followed by Lazarius and Marcus though they were pelted with large stones as they escaped being buried.  Cathal and Speaks were not so fortunate.

Scipio’s cat reflexes saved him as he bounded backwards into the cave that they had been following.   Even as he sprang back, he could see his human companion and the Brigante warrior buried under tons of stone.

For those now trapped in the room with the she-scorpion, things started to become very scary, very fast.  Before they could react further, she cast another familiar spell and a _Mist Obscured_ half of the room.  Though they could barely see beyond arms reach, Marcus, Marius and Lazarius knew a certain sound all too well:  *Pop* *Pop*.

One of the scorpion-men lunged out of the mist and caught Lazarius up in one of its massive claws as another did the same to Marius.  Neither were able to struggle free for the moment.

Beneath the huge heap of stone and loose gravel, Speaks fought off the crushing asphyxiation of his entrapment and focused on the Wild.  He shrank in upon himself and the stone settled around him as he assumed the form of a badger.  He quickly managed to tunnel through the loose gravel that had settled among the larger chunks of stone and dug himself forward into the room with most of his companions.

Cathal strained mightily as he attempted to move the stone that was crushing his chest but could gain no leverage against it.  He felt the rage building inside him.

Marius felt something building inside him but decided that it was probably just the pressure of his lunch trying to rise up his gorge as his belly was being pinched by the giant claw that held him.  He sucked in his gut and twisted, attempting to slip free but the hold was too strong.  He winced and prepared to dodge out of the way of the stinger that was arching over his foe’s back toward him.

With a *Pop!* and a *TWANG*, another scorpion-man appeared across the room outside the _Obscuring Mist_ and fired his arbalest at Marcus but the bolt shattered on his shield instead.  Yet another foe appeared in similar fashion and fired at Marius but the Mist obscured him sufficiently to make him a difficult target.

Marius breathed a sigh of relief as the bolt passed harmlessly by but it was quickly replaced with a grunt of pain as the stinger sank into his shoulder.  He could feel the strength draining from him as the poison took hold.

A few feet away, Lazarius was having no luck breaking the hold of the creature that clutched him either.  Any hopes of him escaping under his own power were dashed as his foe grabbed him in the other claw as well and stung him with its tail.  It was all Lazarius could do to fight off the pain and poison.

Marcus stepped up to aid his friends and smote the creature that held Marius.  It did not fall nor release the Imperial Explorer.  In fact, it appeared as though it had decided to finish him off completely before dealing with Marcus.  It squeezed Marius viciously with its claws and stung him again.  Marius could feel himself fighting to retain consciousness.

Seeing his friends in a great deal of danger, Speaks decided to let the scorpion folk have a taste of their own medicine.  He reached out toward the stone ceiling of the room with his magic and felt the cracks and fissures there.  He pulled the stone down upon the enemy in a rough circle surrounding his friends and those who held them.

There was a sickening crunch as one of the scorpions was pulped beneath a large stone.  The others scrambled to get out of the way and most were able to dodge the worst of it.  The one holding Lazarius was caught in the edge of the magical rock-slide and both he and the Wizard were partially buried.  The one holding Marius was slightly more fortunate (though this was a decidedly mixed blessing for Marius) but did have to move forward to escape the rock slide.  The group was now confined to very small area with some rather large scorpion-men.  Marius would have made a joke about a “knife fight in a barrel” if he weren’t reeling from the poison.

Cathal was in no position to laugh about any of this as he was now buried under even more stone.  He could feel bones starting to bend beneath the weight and could draw no breath.  His anger increased as he contemplated his death coming beneath a cave-in and not while swinging Mailbiter in battle.  But he held back the tide of rage for now.  If he were going to survive this he would need to keep his wits about him.

In the confusion caused by the latest collapse, the scorpion-man holding Marius loosened his hold just slightly but it was enough.  Marius flexed and dropped from the creature’s grasp, tumbling back a few feet.  As he stood along the edge of the collapsed area, he looked down to see Lazarius unconscious and bleeding still in the grasp of the scorpion who held him.

Marcus cried out for the vengeance of St. Cuthbert to fall upon their enemies and struck the one who had just released Marius.  His blow was glancing but it was enough to convince the creature that the battle was lost to them.  It vanished in a flash of red.

A moment later, the one that held Lazarius dropped the unconscious Wizard and disappeared as well.  Marius knelt next to the Imperial War Wizard and managed to coax some magic from the Wand of Healing he carried, patching the worst of Lazarius’ cuts.

Marcus turned in a full circle looking for friends and foes.  “Where is Cathal?!”  Speaks did not answer, feeling his badger conversational options too limited for any reasonable use.  He turned and began frantically digging back into the mound of stone that buried the Brigante.  It was only then that he fully realized that Scipio was nowhere in sight either.  He dug even faster.

Cathal’s breath was coming in short gasps when Speaks got to him but just a moment later he heard a loud scratching sound and then the stones and gravel began to fall away around them.  A small boulder was pulled away by a huge paw and Scipio stood there in the breach.  Another minute passed by as they continued to move the rocks and gravel from around Cathal but they got him free.

Lazarius spoke thoughts they were all having, “We need to regroup.  We can’t fight them like this with them appearing from nowhere and retreating if things go against them.”  Everyone agreed and they all climbed over the remaining stones clogging the hallway and moved back up the cave that had brought them to this ill fated place.

*NEXT:  Queen Under the Mountain – Part III*


----------



## BSF

Nasty little battle.  Those scorpion men sound like they are fun to play.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Nasty little battle.  Those scorpion men sound like they are fun to play.




I believe "annoying as hell" was the way they were described by more than one of the players.  So, yes.


----------



## Darklone

And the promised 1s and 2s were rolled for the opposed grapple checks?


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> And the promised 1s and 2s were rolled for the opposed grapple checks?




It's been a while but I seem to recall Marius rolling like crap even though he was good at Escape Artist.  Lazarius on the other hand, he was about as likely to escape as you'd expect for a Wizard.


----------



## Darklone

Looks like I have to grapple my spellcasters more... They don't have these problems yet.


----------



## Darklone

La ... La... Laaa... Bump.


----------



## Darklone

Hachump.


----------



## Rel

Thanks for the bump, Darklone.  I've been working on another update so expect to see one later today or this evening.


----------



## Rel

Rel said:
			
		

> Thanks for the bump, Darklone.  I've been working on another update so expect to see one later today or this evening.




You'll no doubt note that there was no update yesterday.  The snow storm we had here had my power flickering in the afternoon and I was not able to do any work nor write updates on the computer.  I'll try and get something up sometime tonight if my wife will let me.


----------



## Rel

Better late than never, as usual.   

*Queen Under the Mountain – Part III*

The party traveled only a few minutes before they decided to hole up and rest.  Speaks came up with a plan to protect one of their flanks.  As the rest of the group stood careful watch, he began drawing stone after stone from his Bag of Endless Rocks and stacked them in a low pile across the corridor.  After he had a good sized pile, he began to magically _Shape_ the _Stones_ into a solid barrier.  It would be thin, but solid and block off the passage between them and the Scorpion Queen.

They settled into an uneasy rest and tried to find some sleep among the dreams of claws and stingers.  This rest was short-lived.

Marius was keeping watch up the other side of the corridor when twin flashes of red preceded a pair of Scorpion Men who rushed toward him.  He called out a brief warning that was cut short as the area was magically _Silenced_ by a spell from the Queen who had somehow gotten behind their barricade.  He managed to stay out of the grasping claws of the two that had charged him and his rapier appeared instantly in his hand.

Lazarius awoke from his slumber thanks to the truncated warning but found the area supernaturally silent and he was unable to do his magic under such conditions.  He paused to see if the warriors could handle the threat.  As if in response to these thoughts, Marcus surged to the attack and his mace connected with carapace with an inaudible crunch.  Marius thrust his rapier at one of his foes and it may even have hit a vital organ.  He was unsure of where exactly these Scorpion Men kept their vital organs.

Scipio charged into the midst of the Scorpion Men, lowering his head and plowing them backwards as they clawed at his thick fur.  This bought the group a bit of space to maneuver in, but this space was suddenly lost again as two more of the Stingers appeared in the recently vacated area.  Cathal stood to challenge them but was grabbed in one of their claws.

Yet another of the Scorpion Men, this one slightly smaller than the brutish warriors who had guarded the Queen, appeared alongside Scipio and delivered a sting that failed to penetrate the Dire Mountain Lion’s fur.  But another of the ones facing him reached out with a pincer and sliced his flesh open.

Marcus grimly lowered his mace again and was rewarded as one of his foes crumpled before him.  He stepped forward slightly, trying to get within reach to threaten the Queen herself.

Speaks had disentangled himself from his bedroll and found a bit of room as the battle began to push in the other direction.  He would need it for the form he was about to take.  Marius meanwhile maneuvered to flank one of the Scorpion Men opposite Marcus and managed to strike a minor wound while avoiding its claw in the process.

Behind him, Cathal was crushed in the claw of one of the Stingers as it lowered its deadly tail and stung him in the chest.  He felt the poison take hold in his body and his limbs seemed filled with stone.  Rage overtook him as his frustration took over.  Too often in the last few battles had he been helplessly captive or buried while his companions did the fighting.  He gave a great battle cry and pushed against the claw as he ripped himself free.  He drew Mailbiter and gave another scream of rage in the face of his foe.

The creature’s eyes widened as the Brigante broke free and also because, just behind the warrior, Speaks took the shape of a huge, brown bear.  Things were taking a turn against the ambushers.

The pair of Scorpion Men protecting the Queen attacked Marius and Marcus respectively.  The two Imperials escaped harm thanks to one being nimble and the other heavily armored.  Because he was neither quite so nimble nor quite so heavily armored, Scipio fared more poorly and more of his blood ran onto the floor of the stone passage.

Marcus struck back with lethal force, his mace carrying through his opponents torso and into that of the one facing Marius.  The Imperial Explorer tried to take advantage of the situation but was distracted by the cramped quarters he found himself in and his rapier was deflected off the thick hide of the Stinger.

All this while, Lazarius had been biding his time for a moment to strike.  He hoped he had found it and made a bold move, darting past two live Scorpion Men and leaping over the dead body of a third.  One landed a claw on the Wizard but it did little to him thanks to the protection of his _Stoneskin_.  He could now see the Queen ahead of him, watching the battle and waiting to strike.  He could also hear the din of battle around him which meant that he could cast spells again.

Scipio turned his claws on one of his attackers and got revenge as he tore limb from arachnid limb, leaving his opponent in a bloody pile.  His Druid master was doing the same a few feet away in bear form, tearing apart another of the smaller Stingers.  Not sensing that he was now alone in the middle of the battle, the last of the smaller Scorpion Men struck at Cathal and was pleased to see his claw land a deep cut on the barbarian.  But Cathal ignored the pain and swung Mailbiter in a mighty arc that ended its path somewhere in the middle of the creature’s sternum.  It slid to the ground leaking black blood.

Lazarius dodged another claw as he prepared to unleash his magic.  Marcus ran in front of him and charged the Queen.  The Warrior Priest of St. Cuthbert found that the large Queen could reach quite a distance with her tail and was stung as he approached but the hearty warrior ignored her poison and kept coming.  He found however that the momentum of his charge was blunted by her attack and his mace missed its mark.  It was enough to take her attention off of Lazarius for just a moment though and that was all he needed.  His hand fished his Rod of Shaping from his Haversack and he dropped a _Lightning Ball_ behind her, engulfing the Queen and just missing Marcus.

Seeing Marcus facing the Queen alone, Marius tumbled deftly toward her and readied to move in behind her for a lethal attack.  Seeing this, she attacked him with her pincers but neither connected.

With his Queen in trouble, one of her bodyguards began to fall back to aid her but was pounced on from behind by Scipio who sank his claws deep into the creature’s insectoid back.  The Queen would be left to fend for herself.

Speaks roared the roar of a great bear and shredded the only other foe left in the party’s rear.  Cathal rushed forward to attack the one that Scipio was entangled with but slipped on some blood (whose is unknown) and failed to connect.

The Queen, though now surrounded, failed to retreat for reasons that she kept to herself.  She once again attacked Marius but he dodged and leaped out of her grasping claws.  Lazarius summoned an _Orb of Lightning_ into his hands and sent it flying at the Queen, it struck her and she seemed to be stunned for a moment.  She lashed out with her claws at Marius one last time but was falling to the ground even as she did so.

Scipio disemboweled the last of the Scorpion Men as he raked with his back claws, leaving the corridor clear of enemies for the moment.  All that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the combatants.

Bloody and exhausted, they decided what needed to be done almost without words.  They quickly gathered their things and retreated from the cave.  Picking their way carefully back alongside the pool where they had battled the fish folk, they headed down stream for a half hour and made camp well away from the lair of the Scorpion Men.

As they settled down to camp once again, Speaks summed up their thoughts briefly, “Singer was right.  Nothing good lives in these mountains.”

They slept restlessly huddled in their bedrolls as the sky clouded over and threatened snow.

*NEXT:  Underground Highway*


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## Darklone

Hah update 

Nope, didn't notice that you didn't update at once... was busy with birthday parties. Yeah, plural. And NWN and Diablo2 and Warcraft3 sessions during the days. No time for internet


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## Darklone

Bump.


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## Rel

Well, despite a chaotic and awful week, I'm going to manage an update.  Hope you enjoy it.

*Underground Highway*

The following day the party discussed their options and decided that if they could parley with the Scorpion Men and somehow buy passage through the caves they controlled into the passage under the mountains that they should.  Fighting was only delaying their quest and, with the weather threatening to turn sour, they needed to be on their way.  Speaks sent _Animal Messengers_ into the cave bearing their intentions to talk rather than fight.

Most of the day passed with no response as the party gathered a few small fish from the stream and Speaks found a few berries still clinging stubbornly to their bushes that he could use for _Goodberries_.  Resigned to the fact that they would probably have to do battle with the Scorpion Folk again, they readied their weapons and magic and returned to the cave once more.

They cautiously made their way into the caves, their ears and eyes keen for the telltale signs of the Scorpion Men appearing in their midst.  They came to the scene of their last battle and found that the bodies of the dead lay where they had fallen.  They carefully listened at the thin stone wall that Speaks had fashioned to shelter them as they rested but heard nothing.  Speaks used his magical ability to _Shape Stone_ once again and carved a hole for them to pass through.

They moved forward even more cautious than before and soon found themselves at the cave in the Stinger Queen had caused.  There was still no sign of the enemy.  Perhaps the death of the Queen had sent the remaining Scorpion Folk fleeing deeper within the caves, demoralized and unwilling to do battle?

As they explored further, this seemed more and more likely to be the case.  They found a large chamber that seemed likely to be some sort of common room and another that looked like a barracks that would have housed the more elite warriors they had encountered.  These rooms were laid out in a rather unusual fashion such that the passages leading to them curve back on themselves while sharply ascending or descending.  The end result was that it seemed the chambers were stacked on top of one another.  They also found that there were passages that precisely paralleled the one that led from the outside to their lair, but were directly over and under it.

Lazarius surmised that the creatures’ uncanny ability to _Teleport_ themselves may have been limited to only doing so through thin partitions of stone.  This led them to suspect there was a hidden room sandwiched between the common room and the barracks of the elite warriors.  Speaks plied his _Stone Shaping_ magic once again and found this to be the truth.

Beyond the hold made by the Druid they found an ominous chamber with a dark pool on one side and what appeared to be an altar and magical circle on the other.  Marcus moved forward toward the sinister looking altar and saw that a dagger with a vicious barb at the end lay atop it.  The dagger emitted a faint red glow that cast the whole room in shadows of crimson.  The Cleric of St. Cuthbert knew evil when he saw it but his training instructed him to make sure in such cases.  He began the incantations to try and _Detect Evil_ on the altar when the pool nearby erupted with frothing water.

The bloated form of one of the large Fish Men, whom they had encountered out by the waterfall, lunged at Marcus’ exposed back.  The holy warrior’s thick armor protected him from the creature’s claws as he turned to face it.

Scipio leapt toward the creature and raked its pale green skin with his claws.  To the shock and horror of all present, the Fish Man split open like the shell of a bean and out of its nearly hollow body poured a swarm of larval Scorpion Men.  These creatures spilled around the twitching remains of the Fish-Ogre as they raised their glistening claws to threaten the party.

Marcus swung his mace into the swarm and smashed at least three of the tiny creatures into pulp but it made little difference.  Speaks gave Scipio an order to “heel” and the Dire Mountain Lion sprang back to the Druid’s side in one mighty leap, but not before he was stung by several of the swarm.

Marcus was still standing in the middle of the swarm and was momentarily stunned into inaction.  There were so many of the creatures and they were starting to climb all over him, fruitlessly slashing at his armor with claws and tails.  He was startled into action by the sound of Lazarius’ voice.

“Get the hell out of there!”

He could see the Imperial War Wizard already starting to weave his right hand in a menacing pattern as he spoke words in the Tongue of Dragons and his left hand emerged from his haversack holding a familiar rod.  Marcus bolted toward the altar, doing his best to ignore the sickening crunch of the bodies of the Stinger young beneath his feet.  He had barely stepped out of the edge of the swarm when he saw his shadow starkly against the wall ahead of him and thunder roared from behind.

He turned to find that the newborn Scorpion Children were now as stinking, smoking ruin of corpses.  He felt his gorge rise but fought it down.  Nearby he saw Marius and Speaks swat and crush another pair of the hideous spawn that clung to Scipio’s fur.

Wanting to turn his attention anywhere else, Marcus looked again at the altar.  There was no question that the dagger lay in a pool of dried blood.  He lifted the blade in his hand and could feel the taint of evil upon it.  He dropped it back upon the altar as though it had stung him and raised his mace.  “Lord Cuthbert, give my arms strength that I might destroy this foul blade!”  He brought his mace down and the blade of the dagger shattered into pieces and its light faded.

The group retired from the room and the carnage inside for a few minutes to escape the acrid smell of burnt scorpion flesh.  None felt much like talking about it.  After a few minutes Speaks returned to the room and conjured a _Wood Wose_ and bade it to gather up the burnt bodies and throw them in the dark pool.  Soon the room was clear of the corpses though the smell of ozone and death lingered, if only in their memories.

The “magical circle” was ringed in stylized symbols of claws and stingers and was determined to be another area of thin stone with a hollow beneath.  Speaks had expended all of his magic capable of molding them a passage through the stone and they did not want to risk alerting any enemies ahead to their coming by pounding through the stone with brute force.  They retired to the barracks room to rest and see if there was anything interesting left behind.

The found little of value save an odd vest that, while not magical, seemed to have been woven through with gold threads.  They also found some coins of an unusual mint.  On one side was an image of what appeared to be a gate and on the other was the face of a bearded man.  On the edges (not merely at the edge, but *on* the edge where Imperial coins were reeded) were the words “DoKun-Ghul”.  Speaks knew the Dwarven tongue and said that it meant “Delve at the Crossroads”.  Intrigued, they stowed the coins away and tried to get some rest.

They arose when Lazarius indicated that he had rested enough to prepare his spells again, not knowing exactly how much time had passed in this sunless underworld.  They made ready and returned to the Queen’s chamber.  Speaks carefully carved a hole in the center of the circle and they gazed down into the darkness below.  It appeared that the hole opened into a chamber below that had another hole in it almost directly below this one with a broad ledge surrounding it.  It smelled terrible down there.

Cathal led the way, nimbly descending and leaping onto the wide ledge to find that some benches had been carved into the wall.  Upon them lay a variety of alchemical equipment.  Most of the remainder of the party descended the rope and joined the Brigante in examining the bench, while Marcus stood careful watch by the pit.  His mace was ready in his hand should any of the Scorpion Folk come up out of the hole and challenge them.  He felt his stomach lurch as a smell of carrion rot wafted up out of the hole.

Lazarius quickly determined that some of the alchemical components we of a kind he could use in crafting a magical wand if he ever got a bit of time.  He gathered these up and indicated that he was ready to proceed.  As the group regarded the stinking hole, none relished the idea of descending individually on a rope.  Speaks solved this problem by turning all but Lazarius into small birds using his _Feathers_ magic.  The Wizard had his own means of magical flight ready.  He led the way, descending into the dark hole, desperately trying to peer beyond the meager torchlight.

Some 80 feet below the top, he could see the hole open into a much larger chamber and descended into it as the rest of the party flitted from one small ledge to another above.  Just as Lazarius started to clear the entrance to the chamber below, a cluster of tentacles lashed out from the cavern roof.  He felt his body want to go rigid but somehow fought off the paralysis and flew down into the chamber away from the ceiling.

Marius, followed by Scipio both let go their perches and soared down into the darkness below, chasing the fading torchlight carried by Lazarius.  Once in the chamber, they sought to land and resume their normal forms as quickly as possible.  Neither enjoyed the prospect of trying to fight while in the form of a Swallow.

Speaks, on the other hand, was perfectly at home in bird form and his hawk-form dropped like a stone into the chamber before he flared his wings and slowed his descent.  His keen raptor-vision picked out several large, worm-like creatures atop a mountain of smelly detritus.  He summoned the power of nature and a column of _Flame Struck_ down from the cavern ceiling and engulfed them.

Marcus and Cathal both dodged around this pillar of fire and soared over near where Marius and Scipio, still in bird form had alighted.  As they descended, Marcus saw what looked like a giant centipede with an octopus in its mouth charge toward Marius.  Marius saw the creature coming and decided to forestall his resumption of human form.  He flapped his wings and flitted out of reach of the ugly creature.

Speaks was quite enjoying his position, high above the fray, as he swooped by and destroyed the worm threatening Marius and Scipio with another _Flame Strike_.  He could also make out the form of another of the carrion worms heading in the same direction but his piercing hawk-cry failed to get the point across to his friends.

Marcus landed and regained his human form just in time to be charged by one of the creatures.  It grasped at him with its tentacles but none of them managed to get through his armor to touch him.

Across the cavern a deafening explosion of crackling light erupted as Lazarius unleashed his magic on one of the worms, boiling its blood and causing hot ichor to spray that side of the cavern.  Marius couldn’t tell whether he wanted to be near any of his companions right now.  He decided that the safest place to be was away from the worms where all the fire and lightning was accumulating.

Marcus drew his mace and smote the worm before him but it still struggled.  It rose up on its back legs, bringing its writhing mass of tentacles to the level of his face.  Suddenly his vision was eclipsed by a wall of dun fur as Scipio leapt past him and onto his foe.  The lion’s foreclaws grasped the creature as his back legs kicked twice quickly, eviscerating the creature and leaving the cavern suddenly quiet.

Marius took off from where he had settled atop a tall stalagmite and swooped low to the ground as he changed form back into human.  He executed a mid-air tumble and…his foot caught on a chunk of stone, sending him sprawling gracelessly across the floor.  He stood and bowed to his laughing companions and resigned to leave that little episode out of his travelogue.

A brief search of the malodorous cavern revealed that the pile of refuse was comprised largely of bones from the Fish Folk.  The group speculated that these were the bodies of those who had been eaten or sacrificed by the Scorpion Queen and discarded.  Regardless of the story behind the pile of stinking bones, they were only too happy to find a way out.

At the other end of the cavern, a pair of large, 20 foot diameter, horizontal passages led in opposite directions.  Marius’ training by the Imperial Explorers Society was sufficient to determine that one led roughly north and the other roughly south.  They gazed in silence for a few moments down the long, regular tunnel.

The War Wizard broke the silence, “Well, what are we waiting for?  I’m already starting to hate the underground!  Let’s get on with it.”

*NEXT:  Crossroads*

I'll note that it seemed like Cathal didn't do much during this session.  I think he had to miss it.  Regardless, these were some fairly easy encounters compared to my usual rat-bastardliness and the swift blade of the Brigante hero was not as necessary as it is most of the time.  Don't worry, I get nastier later on.


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## Darklone

And I already thought you'd underestimated their firepower


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## ledded

Rel, I followed you here from your sig on a post elsewhere, and I'm ashamed that I havent been here before. I thought I had read at least part of all of the good story hours but I guess I had not. Now, maybe I have 

Great stuff, keep up the good work, and consider yourself subscribed to  

Scorpion Men and grappled spellcasters... oh, I so approve.

EDIT: Sheezus I can't even spell 'scorpion' right today.  Ugh.


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## Rel

ledded said:
			
		

> Rel, I followed you here from your sig on a post elsewhere, and I'm ashamed that I havent been here before.  I thought I had read at least part of all of the good story hours but I guess I had not.  Now, maybe I have
> 
> Great stuff, keep up the good work, and consider yourself subscribed to
> 
> Scorpian Men and grappled spellcasters... oh, I so approve.




I'll take that as high praise coming from you, ledded.  I've found that lately I've barely had time to write my own story hour, much less read many of the others on the boards.  But I've got to start making more time for it.  I read yours from start to finish earlier this evening and it was fun stuff.  I'm looking forward to more.

As for me and mine, I'll let you and the other (handfull) regular readers in on the good news/bad news:  My latest Faded Glory campaign will be drawing to a climactic finish on this coming Tuesday (this is the bad news for those smart asses out there who were about to start cheering   ).  The good news is that once my GMing responsibilities are over, I'll have more time to post updates to the story hour.  And believe me, I'm WAY behind so there are tons of good updates to come.  You guys won't even believe the directions things go from here.

Sometimes I even out-bastard myself.


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## Darklone

Ah well, I sniffed out some spoilers on other forums here on the board... something about a druid in hell... 

Who's DMing afterwards? Speaks?


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Ah well, I sniffed out some spoilers on other forums here on the board... something about a druid in hell...
> 
> Who's DMing afterwards? Speaks?




Raven (Lazarius) is running an Arcana Unearthed game next.  I'm looking forward to playing my Verrik Mind Witch in that one.

Speaks is talking about running a game after that one.  Probably a Mage:  The Sorcerers Crusade game.  I've run several Mage games in the past but never really gotten to play in one so that should be fun too.


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## Darklone

Bump.


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## Darklone

G'day I'm Little Bump, the younger brother of Lelas BUMP.


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> G'day I'm Little Bump, the younger brother of Lelas BUMP.




As usual, thanks for the bumps, Darklone.

Life has been busy around here.  I'm pleased to report that my campaign came to an exciting and satisfying conclusion.  You'll (eventually) be able to read about it here as I continue to update.  My ability to do this lately has been impaired by me gearing up my PC that I'm playing in Raven/Lazarius' new Arcana Unearthed campaign.  There's also been a lot of family oriented stuff and some good, old-fashioned goofing off.

But never fear, I will continue to post updates and now that my schedule is clear of GMing responsibilities I'm hoping it will proceed a bit faster.  I'll definately be posting an update before the weekend with more to follow next week.


----------



## Old One

*Slacker...get an update up!*

Rel,

You dern slacker...all this time...no update...

<glances over at own SH>

Er...nevermind !

~ Old One


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## Darklone

Ah well... only one Faded Glory update today... If I get bored too much I'll write my own storyhour...


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Ah well... only one Faded Glory update today... If I get bored too much I'll write my own storyhour...




If you do, I'll read it.  Hell, I'll even bump it and pester you to update it frequently!   

Least I could do.


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## Rel

An apology is in order since I didn't get an update up last week or over the weekend.  I failed to account for how hectic my schedule was going to be with us being involved in a wedding this weekend.  The early part of this week isn't looking much better with watching my daughter yesterday, gaming last night and the Jimmy Buffett concert tonight.

Looks like you'd better start writing that Story Hour, Darklone.


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## Darklone

Ooooh. Guess I'd write it in English... and let my players comment before I post it. Dang. 

Family weekend, eh... you a wedding, me a funeral.


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## Rel

*Crossroads*

On and on and on went the tunnel.  Its course was not perfectly straight but it did not curve appreciably up nor down nor left nor right.  It just shot off into the darkness, always the same width, always the same height, always appearing just at the edge of their torchlight and receding behind them into the darkness.

They had begun to lose track of time.  They walked until they tired.  They ate when they were hungry.  They slept until they awoke.  Marcus prayed when it seemed like it might be time.

At a time that may or may not have been approximately three days from when they started up the tunnel, the monotony was broken as a wall appeared before them out of the darkness.  Lazarius gasped, not in shock or horror, but simply out of surprise that this wall would have the utter temerity to break the monolithic monotony of this seemingly never ending passage.  This upstart wall did at least have the politeness to contain an opening barred by a portcullis, allowing at least the potential that the passage might continue beyond.  Lazarius raised an eyebrow and reach his hand into his purse to withdraw one of the strange gold coins they had found amongst the Scorpion Folk.  There upon the coin was stamped a wall, set in a circle, boasting a portcullis.  It looked remarkably similar to the view ahead of him, excepting the fact that the wall and portcullis were not made of gold.  Pity that.

Before the group could do more than close ranks a bit, a voice came from an indeterminate point ahead of them.  It spoke in accented Fodoran, “Your presence has been noted.  Unless we are mistaken, you have never before been here.  We are very rarely mistaken.”

The party exchanged glances for a moment or two before Marius stepped forward and replied in his own (differently) accented Fodoran, “Um, yeah.  We’re new here.”

“Indeed.  The information you are about to receive will be the last that is bestowed upon you without cost:  You have arrived at the great city of Do-kun Ghul.  We buy things and sell things.  Among these things are information, passage, provisions and protection.  If you do not wish to buy or sell any of these things at the present, you are invited to remain camped outside the entrance for the price of 50 pieces of gold for each period that we determine to be equal to a surface day.  If you cannot or will not pay this fee, you are invited to retreat back the way you came a distance that you can travel in the course of approximately one surface day.  You are not to vandalize, collapse, or otherwise deface or compromise the integrity of the tunnel through which you have the privilege to pass.  Any violation of these edicts will result in the cessation of any trade with our city and may result in our ending said violation through the use of physical force.  I hope I have made myself clear, however any misunderstanding of these rules on your part does not make you any less bound by them.  I await any reply or request you may have.”

The party looked back and forth amongst the group with more eyebrows raised than not.  While they were pleased to meet someone who was not bent on their immediate destruction for a change, they were not used to such formal rules.  Marius assured them however that he was trained in making contact with strange cultures and negotiating with them.  He stepped to the fore and addressed this mysterious voice, “Greetings, I am Marius Flavius of Emor.  I am pleased to make your acquaintance.  May I enquire as to your name?”

“Greetings to you as well, Marius Flavius of Emor.  You may enquire as to my name.  That particular piece of information will cost you only 200 pieces of gold.  Until you pay said fee, you may refer to me as The Gatekeeper.”

Lazarius let out a somewhat derisive laugh, “Way to go, Marius.  You told him your name for free.”

“Shut up, Lazarius!” barked Marius, loud enough for the Gatekeeper to hear.  He returned his attention toward the gate as Lazarius frowned at having lost the potential to sell his identity to the Gatekeeper, “I’m content to call you The Gatekeeper for the time being.  We are in search of a man from one of the tribes of the Fodor, a Brigante tribesman by the name of Ilrath.  Has he passed this way?”

After a brief pause The Gatekeeper responded, “I am in possession of information pertaining to this individual.  I am willing to part with all of it for the price of 500 gold coins.”

Marius consulted briefly with the rest of the group whereupon they decided that with their coins being so few and the information they desired being rather vast, they would rather not pay that fee at the moment.  Instead they sought to enlarge their supply of coin first to better establish their bargaining position.

Marius extricated himself from his knot of companions, “Leaving aside the issue of our friend, Ilrath, I believe you said that you purchased information as well?”

“That is correct.”

“Then I believe that we may have some information of value to sell you.  How much will you give us for it?”

“That, of course, depends entirely upon the nature of the information.  I’m afraid that here we must enter the realm of trust.  You must relay the information and I will place a value upon it and you will be paid accordingly.  Or that value will be paid against any further costs you incur by way of purchase you make from us.”

Marius considered this matter for long enough for Marcus to step up to his side and bellow some low incantations as he used a simple spell to _Detect_ whether those beyond the gate were _Evil_.  He determined decisively a moment later that they were evil an instant before The Gatekeeper spoke loudly and leaving little doubt about his displeasure.  “The price for whatever you next purchase from us has just doubled and I can assure you that these negotiations and your welcome here will come to an abrupt end if your companion directs any further magic at us or our gates again!”

Marius gave Marcus such a withering gaze that it would have sent a lesser man running.  In a feat of ventriloquism seldom matched in human history, Marius told Marcus to “get back over there with the others” without moving his lips at all.  His teeth never even parted.  Before retreating to the rest of the group, Marcus leaned in close to the Imperial Explorer and whispered conspiratorially, “They’re Evil!”

“They’re the LEAST of your worries!” Marius said as he gave Marcus a firm shove on the shoulder to propel him in the direction opposite that from which the diplomacy was supposedly taking place.  He then whipped back around in the direction of the gate, magically transforming from near-homicidal rage to smiles and sunshine in an immeasurably small period of time, “Pardon my friend.  He is from a far distant land and is poorly schooled in the local manners and customs.  Ahem, now as to the information we would like to sell…”

Marius proceeded to relate, in exquisite and exacting detail, everything they had learned about the Scorpion Folk, up to and including the fact that they had been killed, right down to the very last hatchling.  A few moments passed in silence before The Gatekeeper replied.

“We are in possession of much of the information that you related already.  However, the fact that the ‘scorpion folk’, as you call them, are no longer a force to be reckoned with is new information and is of interest to us.  For this information, we offer the sum of 250 pieces of gold.”

Marius had no idea as to whether that price was fair but, not wishing to offer any further insult, he accepted this price and proceeded to make a couple of purchases.  “We assume that Ilrath passed through your gates and proceeded on his journey.  If he had not, we would have encountered him on our way here.  We would like to know where he went after that and what lies in that direction.”

The Gatekeeper replied after only a short pause, “The direction in which he went we can sell you for the price of 200 pieces of gold.  How complete do you wish the information to be regarding what lies in that direction?”

Marius was guessing that as much information as they had would cost them more than they wished to pay (and perhaps even more than they had to spend).  “Just a general idea of what lies in that direction including any hazards.”

“Very well:  Ilrath proceeded on to a passage that leads generally northward.  In that direction lies the realm of the…Spider Folk.  For this additional information we require gold in the amount of 200 pieces.”

“I see,” replied Marius, “and what will it cost us to access that same passage?”

“200 pieces of gold for each of you.  The Wizard may bring his pet along at no additional charge but we require payment for the beast.”

All of their eyes turned to the hulking form of Scipio.  After that they began to search their purses in order to bring forth the required payments they had to make.  They all felt the pinch of the heavy toll they were being asked to pay but they were in a poor position to demand that it be reduced and getting what they wanted by force promised to be extremely difficult at best.  They gathered the gold necessary and, as instructed by The Gatekeeper, they placed it inside the portcullis and withdrew a respectful distance away.  A few moments later, the bags seemed to lift from the floor of the passage of their own accord and drift into the darkness beyond.  A door was heard to slam and a few minutes passed while the gold was presumed to have been counted.  At last The Gatekeeper spoke.

“Your passage has been duly purchased and you will shortly be free to go on your way.  Before you do, I have another proposition for you, by which you could replenish much of the coin that you have just parted with.”

Marius perked up at this suggestion, “We await your proposal.”

“There are caverns nearby that house a group of slavers with whom we occasionally have dealings.  They are despicable creatures who trade in the lives and misery of others.  We have determined that we no longer desire to have them as our neighbors and would be willing to pay well for their demise.  These creatures are called the Neoghi in their own tongue and among their slaves are these hulking, insectoid beasts known as Umber Hulks.  We would pay a bounty of 500 pieces of gold for the head of each Neoghi that you can hunt down and an additional 200 for the head of any of the Umber Hulks.  The toll for passage into the caverns that lead to their realm would of course be waived.”

The party conferred for a few moments at this offer.  All of them now had a need for coin and Marcus, having previously stated a preference for leaving a wide trail of slain evil beings in his wake, noted that these ‘Neoghi’ and their insect horrors would work fine in that capacity, seemed enthusiastic about this side jaunt.  The remainder of the group was less eager to deviate from their path however and now that they finally had some confirmation that they were on the trail of Ilrath and his party, they wished to press forward with all haste.

“I’m afraid that we must decline your generous offer, Gatekeeper.  Perhaps another time.”

“I cannot promise that these bounties will remain unclaimed for long.  But if you have a change of heart, please return and we will be happy to offer you the job at a later time.  You may now approach the portcullis and should proceed through the door to your right as you enter the chamber within.  Follow this down, then along a lengthy corridor, up a set of stairs and out of the gate at the other end.”

The group did as he instructed and concluded that they had very likely passed entirely beneath the city of Do-kun Ghul.  They emerged into the passage beyond to find it almost identical to the one that they had been following for what may or may not have been approximately three days.  They gazed back, almost longingly at the wall and gate of Do-kun Ghul before they turned and began to make their way up the tunnel.  It seemed to go on and on and on.

*NEXT:  Enwebbed*


----------



## pogre

Rel said:
			
		

> “Indeed. The information you are about to receive will be the last that is bestowed upon you without cost: You have arrived at the great city of Do-kun Ghul. We buy things and sell things. Among these things are information, passage, provisions and protection. If you do not wish to buy or sell any of these things at the present, you are invited to remain camped outside the entrance for the price of 50 pieces of gold for each period that we determine to be equal to a surface day. If you cannot or will not pay this fee, you are invited to retreat back the way you came a distance that you can travel in the course of approximately one surface day. You are not to vandalize, collapse, or otherwise deface or compromise the integrity of the tunnel through which you have the privilege to pass. Any violation of these edicts will result in the cessation of any trade with our city and may result in our ending said violation through the use of physical force. I hope I have made myself clear, however any misunderstanding of these rules on your part does not make you any less bound by them. I await any reply or request you may have.”




I'm pretty sure I heard this announcement the last time I went through the airport at Indianapolis


----------



## Darklone

pogre said:
			
		

> I'm pretty sure I heard this announcement the last time I went through the airport at Indianapolis



Soooo weird 

Nice way to lighten the burden of treasure your poor overloaded heros have to shoulder...


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Soooo weird
> 
> Nice way to lighten the burden of treasure your poor overloaded heros have to shoulder...




Actually, though it has been a while and I think I glossed over it in the update, they sold off a couple minor magic items that nobody in the party felt a need for.  They had a decent amount of cash and access to the best information brokers in the whole of the Black Peaks.

They barely spent a penny on any of this info.

Mistake?  You make the call...


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> They barely spent a penny on any of this info.
> 
> Mistake?  You make the call...



Reminds me of the oldies group here where the cleric never ever used Divination till his group forced him... he always said he would feel like a spoilsport not to find it out the traditional way


----------



## Rel

Heh, I've never for a moment gotten the impression that my players are particularly sportsmanlike.  They're just cheap.


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> Heh, I've never for a moment gotten the impression that my players are particularly sportsmanlike.  They're just cheap.



Or perhaps they didn't trust you. Offered information from a RBDM? Can't be true.


----------



## Darklone

*Kickbump* 

Weren't you guys supposed to game with Old One?


----------



## Old One

*Oh Hell Yeah!*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *Kickbump*
> 
> Weren't you guys supposed to game with Old One?




DL,

We played on 5/8 at North Carolina Game Day IV.  Rel's group provided many of our props and the enemy had fun storming the castle.  It was an interesting session, with several ground 0 fireballs, spectacular fumbles and other items.

I was hoping Rel would write it up...wonder what I can bribe him with !

~ Old One

PS - Rel, how 'bout an update (whistles innocently)


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> DL,
> 
> We played on 5/8 at North Carolina Game Day IV.  Rel's group provided many of our props and the enemy had fun storming the castle.  It was an interesting session, with several ground 0 fireballs, spectacular fumbles and other items.
> 
> I was hoping Rel would write it up...wonder what I can bribe him with !
> 
> ~ Old One
> 
> PS - Rel, how 'bout an update (whistles innocently)




NC Game Day IV was a blast all the way around and I particularly enjoyed gaming with Old One and a couple of his cronies from "the old days".  The adventure was relentlessly brutal, pretty much what you'd expect from a RBDM like Old One.  I briefly considered doing a write up of it but I've been so busy that I (obviously) haven't made time to even update my own SH.  Plus, I wrote up a Story Hour thread for the Return to the Dungeons of the Slave Lords, Old One.  It's your turn.   

I'm working hard for the next couple of days and trying to spend some time with my wife and child before they go out of town for a wedding for a long weekend.  That means that I should have some time to bang out an update or two over the upcoming weekend.  If I can find some time while I'm not revelling in my brief batchelorhood.


----------



## Old One

*Darn...*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> NC Game Day IV was a blast all the way around and I particularly enjoyed gaming with Old One and a couple of his cronies from "the old days".  The adventure was relentlessly brutal, pretty much what you'd expect from a RBDM like Old One.  I briefly considered doing a write up of it but I've been so busy that I (obviously) haven't made time to even update my own SH.  Plus, I wrote up a Story Hour thread for the Return to the Dungeons of the Slave Lords, Old One.  It's your turn.




:shakes his fist ar Rel:

Yeah...you're right...I will see what I can do about it !

~ Old One


----------



## Darklone

Umpapaaaah.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Rel said:
			
		

> Plus, I wrote up a Story Hour thread for the Return to the Dungeons of the Slave Lords, ...




Must've missed that one...


----------



## Old One

*Thread Hijack...*

Rel,

Swing by the Rat's Nest and drop by the new "Imperial Dispatch"...the forum for all things Faded Glory.  The direct link is in my .sig and the general link to the Rat's Nest is:

http://www.aquerra.com/phpbb/index.php

Feel free to use the Imperial Dispatch for discussions on your campaign, if you like and let me know if you want me to sticky an item or three.

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Must've missed that one...




Well allow me to introduce you:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=29529

And a note about my story hour in general:

I've decided that I'm getting too hung up on the idea that I've got to set aside a sizable chunk of time to write out my updates in discreet blocks.  It usually takes me at least two hours to crank out an average sized update.  About half of that is writing and half is time spent referring back to notes and that sort of thing.  I find that if I don't think I'll have at least two hours to write that I won't do it at all.

So I'm going to try something different for a while.  I'm going to write in smaller bits whenever I find the time and just post whatever I produce from that, even if it is only 2-3 paragraphs.  This will mean that I'll have a lot more updates but that the story will be more chopped up into little bite-sized chunks.  Expect to see the first "story bites" later today or this evening and let me know what you think of this style.


----------



## Darklone

SH snacks. Me will eat.


----------



## Old One

*Watching with interest...*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> I've decided that I'm getting too hung up on the idea that I've got to set aside a sizable chunk of time to write out my updates in discreet blocks.  It usually takes me at least two hours to crank out an average sized update.  About half of that is writing and half is time spent referring back to notes and that sort of thing.  I find that if I don't think I'll have at least two hours to write that I won't do it at all.
> 
> So I'm going to try something different for a while.  I'm going to write in smaller bits whenever I find the time and just post whatever I produce from that, even if it is only 2-3 paragraphs.  This will mean that I'll have a lot more updates but that the story will be more chopped up into little bite-sized chunks.  Expect to see the first "story bites" later today or this evening and let me know what you think of this style.




Rel,

I have been thinking about trying the same thing...more frequent, but shorter updates.  It will be interesting to see how it goes.

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

Here's the first "story nugget".  Hopefully this will be a good ongoing solution to my chronic lack of time.   

*Enwebbed*

Nobody was comfortable with the constant darkness.  The sameness of the tunnel and the monotony of the travel were almost hypnotizing and the group frequently found that they were snapping almost as if from a trance.  Nobody could tell how much time was passing except for the occasional moments when they realized that one of their protective spells had expired.

An indeterminate time, measured only by the fact that they had rested twice, after they left Do-kun Ghul, the sameness was broken by the tiniest of details.  Some 8-10 feet off the floor, at almost the mid point of the side of the tunnel, were a cluster of holes nearly a foot across.  Further examination by Speaks determined them likely to have been bored by Thoqqua, or “Fire Worms” as they were sometimes called.  He warned the rest of the group to be careful of them as the white-hot tips of their heads could be deadly dangerous of one was not prepared.  Lazarius warded himself against fire before they proceeded on.

They had progressed only a couple minutes further up the tunnel when they heard a noise.  Their eyes shot to the tunnel around them as Speaks called out a warning, “They can sense our footsteps so stay still and beware!”

But they found themselves surprised when the attack came from a completely unexpected quarter.  Suddenly the air was filled by dozens of small bat-like shapes.

Four of the creatures swarmed over Lazarius but his defensive _Mage Armor_ blunted their stingers and they clung ineffectually to his thick robes.  Scipio was less fortunate and three of the tiny beasts sank their proboscises into his furry hide and began to drink his blood in great gulps.  Cathal, Marius and Marcus, clustered further up the passage were swarmed as well and before they could so much as swing a weapon, each found at least two of the creatures sucking the lifeblood from their veins.

Without warning, the corridor exploded in blinding light and sizzling heat as pain shot through every member of the party.  Some of the blood-bloated creatures assaulting the group exploded as their bellies boiled.  Others fell to the ground as their thin legs and wings turned to ash under the blistering heat of the lightning.  The various members of the party staggered as their muscles spasmed involuntarily and their teeth felt as though they might explode as their jaws clenched in pain.  Most cast about desperately to discover where this latest assault had originated.

They found their answer as the smoke cleared and they could see crackling wisps of static still playing across Lazarius’ fingertips.

“Stirges.  I hate ‘em,“ said the War Wizard by way of reply.


----------



## BSF

Mwahahahah - Gotta love Lazarius' style on that.  

Rel, whatever works best for you as far as storyhour goodness goes.  I'll be happy to read them either way.


----------



## Darklone

Boom!


----------



## Tony Vargas

Rel said:
			
		

> Well allow me to introduce you:
> 
> http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=29529
> .




OK, I hadn't missed it, it was just a while ago.  Fun the second time around, too though.  I like the way it drives home just how insane sorcerers can be...


----------



## Old One

*Thread Hijack Alert...*

Rel,

A bout of complete madness had overtaken me and I am attempting to organize a MD-VA-DC Game Day.  Any words of wisdom - public or private - you can provide will be most welcome.

Emerging details here:

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=89869&page=1&pp=20

~ Old One


----------



## Darklone

Umpa umpa bumpapa.


----------



## Darklone

Anti page 3 bump.


----------



## pogre

something about shorter *more frequent* updates?


----------



## Old One

*Hah!*



			
				pogre said:
			
		

> something about shorter *more frequent* updates?




Yeah, slacker...what's up with that !

~ Old One


----------



## Rel

You guys are brutal.  However, things have slowed down a bit at work right now and I've been catching up on some administrative stuff.  It looks like I'm getting done with most of that so I'm planning on spending a chunk (or several small chunks) of the day writing Story Hour so I can keep you hungry wolves at bay.  There will be updates by sundown!

Count on it.


----------



## Rel

The monotony of the darkness was slowly broken by strands.  Ahead, thin, white strands contrasted themselves against the blackness and slowly resolved into a wall of webs.  The party halted.

They approached cautiously and peered into the maze of sticky webs that lay before them.  At intervals throughout the tangled barrier were rounded clumps of web that reminded them all of egg sacs.  “Looks like we found the realm of the Spider Folk,” said Marcus in a fit of obviousness that drew cold stares and rolled eyes from the rest of the group.

They began to debate in earnest what approach they should take.  Marius immediately proposed that they try to negotiate passage as they had no quarrel with the Spider Folk unless they had taken Ilrath captive.  Others in the party preferred a more martial approach.  The Gatekeeper of Do-Kun Ghul had already told them that the Spider Folk were dangerous.

Marius countered that the group of companions were _dangerous_ but that they were not unreasonable.  He proposed that the same consideration be offered to the Spider Folk unless and until they proved hostile.  After a bit more discussion, reason won the day and they called out to the Spider Folk to summon them for a round of diplomacy.

They did not have to wait long before a surprisingly human sounding voice called from behind the obscuring webs.  The voice was thin and reedy but backed with the resolve of one who is speaking from within their own home.  “What is it you want, Humans.”  The last word was just slightly spat as an insult.

Marius responded, “We seek passage through your realm as we continue under the mountains.  And we also seek information about a friend of ours if you’ve seen him.”

After a brief pause the voice replied, “Who is this ‘friend’ you seek?”

“His name is Ilrath of the Brigantes.  He and a group of his kinsmen came this way seeking the City of Endless Summer.”

Another, longer, pause took place before the next reply.  “They came this way.  It was some time ago though I know not how you reckon time.  They passed through our caverns and have departed to the north.”

“Can we gain similar passage?”

After a moment, an answer, “Wait.”

They waited.

A quarter hour passed and the party became nervous.  All of them loosened weapons in their sheaths and made certain that spell components were ready at hand.  All were startled when the voice came again without warning.

“Withdraw back the way you came for a period of a couple of hours.  Then come back after you have slept and we will have made way for your passage.  We will know if you do not heed these directions.”

Marius replied, “We understand.  We will be back tomorrow.”

The group headed back the way they had come but were no further than a few hundred feet when Speaks piped up, “This is trap.  I just know it.”

“How do you ‘know it’?”  Marius rebutted.

“I could tell when he spoke about Ilrath that they considered him an enemy.  I could hear it in his voice.  They know we are friends with Ilrath and they will probably try to attack us as well.  If not while we sleep then when we return to pass through their halls!”

As they continued their withdrawal they argued about whether the Spider Folk could be trusted.  Marius clung steadfastly to the fact that they had done nothing offensive toward the party and that it would be foolish and rash to attack the Spider Folk without provocation, particularly since they had no idea how many of them there were or how powerful they were.

Speaks responded by saying that Ilrath’s band was not much larger or well equipped than theirs and that if they had managed to battle their way through, so could the party.  Unless they gave up the initiative to the Spider Folk and allowed them to lead the group into a trap.

This battle of words continued for a long while but eventually Marius’ argument won and they agreed to stick to the arrangement they had struck with the Spider Folk.  They would place themselves at their mercy and hope for the best.


----------



## Rel

Rel said:
			
		

> This battle of words continued for a long while but eventually Marius’ argument won and they agreed to stick to the arrangement they had struck with the Spider Folk.  They would place themselves at their mercy and hope for the best.




I'll take a quick, informal poll and ask, "Does that sound like a good idea?"


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> I'll take a quick, informal poll and ask, "Does that sound like a good idea?"





Knowing you? I'd have to say: NO!


----------



## Darklone

I'd love to hear some players opinion about this... Though I guess I know what Speaks will say


----------



## Rel

Wish I had an update for you folks.  I'm just popping in to get re-subscribed.


----------



## Darklone

Hehe, you know we have patience. We are still reading Old Ones SH, after all


----------



## Darklone

ZatoBUMPichi is a nice movie.


----------



## BSF

The darklone bump!  It's like a dance and Rel is playing the music.


----------



## Dougal DeKree

...hopefully the music continues soon. It took me ages to catch up... stupid work, we hates it, it makes us slow readers! 

Rel, now that i caught up i have to thank you - i yoinked quite a bit (with the drawback that i could only drop those ideas when Darklone didn't attend our AU-Session). On the other hand i steal so much from so many SHours, he can't read them all, right? Right? 

So now that i have caught up, ehm, could you simply proceed updating? Soon? Please?


----------



## Darklone

Dougal DeKree said:
			
		

> Rel, now that i caught up i have to thank you - i yoinked quite a bit (with the drawback that i could only drop those ideas when Darklone didn't attend our AU-Session). On the other hand i steal so much from so many SHours, he can't read them all, right? Right?



Gnihihihi. Keep your illusions


----------



## Dougal DeKree

*Illusion...*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> Gnihihihi. Keep your illusions




Hmm, isn't that what gnomish Illusionists are all about? Duh...

But ok, your Litorian WILL have my Illlusions


----------



## Darklone

Luff Pah takes that easy. Everything where arrows go through are not worth being shot at.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Wow.  I had almost forgotten about that fiasco.  (Not really, but I'd like to).

Rel has been kind to our band of adventurers in his narrative (as opposed to on game night).  We all assumed there would be a fight because we were told they were dangerous so when we found the webs all of us magic types buffed our buttinskis off.  Then Marius began pushing for negotiation.  We argued for a not inconsiderable time before I yielded (with poor grace I must admit).  So we talked to the spider guys and they told us to back down and rest - all of our good buff spells would be entirely lost and they could catch us with pants down.  So I started arguing again - especially pushing the whole "Ilrath and his barbarian friends didn't negotiate - and you just called him our ally.  They are so going to toast us."  But since I couldn't PROVE that they were going to attack us, I had to concede that there was a small chance that they were honest.  No matter how small that chance, that was what our negotiater wanted to gamble on.  We were in deadlock and no one else was helping, so I gave up again.  

So we camped.  

I'll reserve further comments until the story hour pushes a little further along.  But I will say that nights that are primarily composed of us arguing are less fun than us kicking tail.


----------



## BSF

Speaks With Stone said:
			
		

> I'll reserve further comments until the story hour pushes a little further along.  But I will say that nights that are primarily composed of us arguing are less fun than us kicking tail.




I hear that!  As the person playing a PC the social skilled Bard, with a mere +29 to Diplomacy, and seriously considering trying to acquire some exalted feats, I can see the value of not attacking somebody that has not provoked you.  On the other hand, it is not much fun to discuss the relative merits of whether you should be fighting or not during the game session.  We recently spent a good portion of an evening trying to decide if we were going to ambush the Orcs that weren't aware of us, and weren't doing anything harmful to anybody else.  Definitely not a fun evening.


----------



## Rel

Here's a brief update with more to follow later this afternoon:

They were ready to jump at the slightest sign of betrayal as they approached the webs again.  Hands hovered near weapons.  Offensive incantations waited on their tongues.  Defensive magics had been layered on thickly already.

The webs loomed out of the darkness, a ghostly white.  There in the center was a darkness that resolved into a hole.  Closer inspection showed that the spider folk had fashioned a tunnel within the tunnel that allowed for them to proceed, single file, through the webs.  They paused briefly, exchanged worried glances and entered.

They moved slowly but steadily into the diaphanous corridor, desperately trying to see through the strands of web that walled them in.  After a few moments they could see hints of movement as many-legged things entered and left their field of vision.  They could tell that the walls had fallen away and they were now in a larger cavern but its true size could not be told from within the haze of webs.

Forward they went and another minute slipped by before they realized that the winding web corridor had brought them back within the almost comforting confines of the Delver tunnel.  A few moments later they found the corridor at its end on the other side of the realm of the Spider Folk.  Each member of the party released a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding.

They quickened their pace and began to move away to the north.  Marius paused a few steps away from the wall of webs.  “Thank you for the passage.”

There was no answer.


----------



## Rel

The remainder of their waking hours saw the same dreary procession of identical tunnel, always the same width, always the same height, always headed vaguely northward.  The creature that had made this tunnel was driven, persistent and, according to the Singer, insane.

The only break in the monotony was signs of more of the holes in the passage walls created by the Thoqqua.  They cautiously inspected these for any signs of Stirges and kept a close eye and ear to their rear as they moved past them.  None wanted a repeat of the previous Stirge attack and Lazarius was harshly told that his methods for defeating it were overzealous.  They bedded down a short time later, doing their best to find comfort on the hard stone floor.

Their sleeping was peaceful if uncomfortable and each of the men wondered if he had somehow been consigned to a sort of Hell where he would never see the light of day again and was instead cursed to follow the sameness of this corridor forever.  As they began to pack up their bedrolls Speaks made a puzzling and unfortunate discovery.  “Our food is gone.”

To a man, the others replied, “What?”  But it was as Speaks had claimed.  The pouch of Goodberries that he had been carrying was empty as was the remaining hard tack.  A careful inventory revealed that the others had a few pieces of jerky in their pouches but that was the extent of their food supplies.  The briefly debated turning back and bartering for food from the Spider Folk but they were not entirely convinced that they hadn’t been the ones to rob them in the first place.  They decided to press forward on the information that the Gatekeeper at Do-Kun Ghul had given them that a way out existed only a few days beyond the realm of the Spider Folk.  Cathal hefted his bedroll and cursed their stone prison as his belly already began to rumble.

They walked on through their waking hours, slept again and walked more.  Speaks did provide a scant bit of sustenance by _Purifying_ a few moldy crusts of bread they found in the bottom of a pack and using his magic to enhance the growth of a cluster of fungus they found along the way.  But now they were completely out of food and each man forced himself forward hoping that something edible would attack them.

The silence of their grim march was intruded upon by a drip-drip-dripping that began to grow louder as they approached.  They exchanged hopeful glances and quickened their pace.  Hope sprang within their breasts as they saw faint light from up ahead and the dripping became noticeably louder.  Within moments they stood at the end of the tunnel as they found themselves at the bottom of a broad and deep sink-hole.  From above the pale, white sunlight of winter filtered down a distance of nearly a hundred feet and snowflakes settled onto the floor of the chamber, some 80 feet across.  In the center was crystal clear pool roughly circular and 40 feet across.  Covering the bottom of the chamber were irregular stones that had fallen in from the sides of the hole and now formed a choppy floor covered in moss.

Cathal spotted a bit of movement along the bottom of the hole to his right and caught a glimpse of a reptile, roughly the size of a small dog, perch on a stone and look in his direction.  He wasn’t sure if it was edible or not, but he intended to find out.  He drew his sword and moved out across the slippery stones toward his quarry.  Using the cover provided by a few of the larger stones he crept to where he had seen the lizard.  As he carefully eased himself into view of the creature he heard a distinct “click-click” and a small nova of crackling electricity burst from the creature and gave him an uncomfortable shock.

The rest of the companions regarded each other as the light from the small, static burst illuminated the chamber brightly for a brief moment.  Marius moved forward to help his Brigante friend secure what would hopefully turn out to be their lunch.  Cathal overcame his astonishment from the shock he’d received and swung his blade at the reptile but his shifting weight caused him to slip on the mossy stones and miss his mark.  He did note that the small, crackling, bolts that ran up and down the blade of his sword seemed attracted to the skin of the small creature.  The little beast click-clicked in delight as the popping energy ran up its spine and terminated at the two thin horns that topped its head.

As if in response, similar clicking noises began to resonate throughout the cavern as more of the creatures began to pop out of holes throughout the rubble-strewn floor.  Speaks saw that this was going to be a bit more trouble than the Brigante tribesman had thought and used a minor magic to transform his cudgel into a magical _Shillelagh_ as he stepped fully into the chamber.  Lazarius used his own magic to _Alter_ him_self_ as wings sprouted from his shoulders and he prepared to take flight.  For his part, Marcus was eager to vent his frustration at having been cooped up in the tunnel for over a week with a bit of a row.  He used his magic to lend him supernatural _Strength_ not unlike a _Bull_ and marched forward drawing his mace.

Another of the lizards approached Marius with the apparent intention of biting him but the nimble Explorer avoided its teeth with ease.  A third leaped out of a hole between Marius and Cathal and with a click-click unleashed another nova of lightning.  This was was FAR stronger than the small shock Cathal had taken the first time and the broad-shouldered warrior was nearly knocked off his feet by the wave of energy.  The room filled with more clicking as a foursome of the lizards popped out of holes around Marcus and he was blasted by a similar wave of lightning.

Cathal was hungry and angry and had had enough.  He flew into a rage and his blade slammed into and through the lizard in front of him before bouncing off a stone.  Speaks was starting to understand just how dangerous these creatures truly were and eschewed the use of his club, instead called down a pillar of _Flame, Striking_ the other two lizards nearby Marius and Cathal.  The scales of the small creatures curled and burned as they went down.

As if to add symmetry to Speaks’ assault, Lazarius took to the air and unleashed an _Ice Storm_ upon the lizards that had moved in on Marcus.  The sharp shards of ice slashed at the creatures and sent them to their deaths.  Scipio laid back his ears and readied himself to attack as even more of the lizards began to pop up out of holes in the rocks but Speaks kept him close by his side not wanting him to get beyond reach where the great cat could be healed if need be.  The dire mountain lion bared his teeth and growled as another lizard came into view a few paces away.  Before anyone could react, it and three others let loose another burst of electricity that engulfed Scipio, Marius and Marcus, missing Speaks by only inches.

Cathal leapt into the midst of them as the tendrils of lightning faded away and brought his blade straight down through one of their heads.  Speaks saw that he was in danger and also felt that he would be better able to direct his area attacks from above.  His form sank in on itself and he took to the air as an eagle.  He saw Marcus smite one of the lizards with his mace, nearly driving it to the ground as Lazarius targeted another with an _Orb_ of _Acid_, wounding it.  It was starting to looks as though they were getting the lizards under control as no more had appeared.

As Speaks made a tight turn in order to keep from colliding with the wall of the sink hole, he was again facing the passageway through which they had entered.  Thus he was the only one who saw the Spider Folk launch their surprise attack from the rear.


----------



## Rel

Marius was closest to the passageway and was the obvious target for the Spider Folk.  First was a bolt of greenish goop that shot from the outstretched palm of one of the spider men.  It missed Marius but only barely.  Another of the arachnid assailants wove a ball of webs from its spinnerets and hurled it at him but he ducked out of the way of the attack.

Marius had time to call out a brief warning to his companions as another of the Spider Folk scurried forth and lay a hand on his arm.  Whatever foul magic it had attempted must have failed because Marius was able to jerk his arm free with no ill effects.  But the Diplomat ran out of luck as the fourth attacker was able to hit him with another ball of webs and root him to the spot.

Scipio had more immediate concerns than the treacherous Spider Folk.  No longer constrained to guard Speaks, he leaped upon the nearest lizard and shredded it with his claws.  His jaws closed around it and the blood of fresh prey dripped deliciously into his mouth for the first time in far too long.

Although Marius had not been able to avoid the web attack, he was well trained in escaping bonds and slipped out from the strands that attempted to hold him.  He stepped out of the enwebbed stones and held his blades at the ready as he shot he Spider Folk an arrogant smile.  His smile ended abruptly as he heard an all-too-familiar  “click-click” behind him and he dove for cover between the rocks, barely escaping the blast of lightning.  Others were less fortunate.

Marcus absorbed the blast fully and felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness as his muscles clenched involuntarily in agony.  Scipio caught the shock along his flank and his fur was badly singed.  And the arm-grabbing spider man who had come forward to attack Marius caught the burst full in the face and was flash-fried where he stood.

A short distance away Cathal received a far lesser shock from the sole lizard near him.  He responded with an two-handed chop from his sword that cut the creature in half.  Above, Speaks healed himself from a blast that he had absorbed earlier in the battle and prepared to dive back into the fray to aid his friends.  Lazarius continued to fly as best he could in the cramped confines of the sink hole.  He could see that his friends were having a tough time of it battling on two fronts and let fly with a flurry of _Acid Orbs_ at the Shocker Lizards, killing one and wounding another.

The Spider Folk launched another volley of magical attacks at the party starting with an explosion of _Glittering Dust_ that blinded Scipio and nearly did so to Marcus.  Another of them launched a second _Acid Arrow_ at Lazarius and struck him, inflicting a minor but persistently burning wound.  The third hurled another web wad at Marius and managed to entangle him yet again.

Scipio turned on these latest attackers and let the body of the Shocker Lizard fall from his mouth.  His muzzle went to the ground as he tried to pick up the scent of the Spider Folk.  He smelled the Empire Man close by along with a strange, musky smell that he associated with the webs these creatures wove.

Marius struggled to free himself from the webs and was startled to look up and see Scipio sniffing at him as though he might make a nice meal.  He was close enough to see blood dripping from the cat’s fangs and hoped dearly that it was that of an enemy.

Nearby Cathal, the last of the Shocker Lizards could smell the blood of its brethren thick in the air.  It ducked back beneath a rock rather than remain as a target for Cathal who stood nearby with a bloody sword.

Robbed of that target, the Brigante warrior bounded from stone to stone and brought his sword to bear upon one of the Spider Folk.  He dealt it a broad but shallow cut across the abdomen.  His own burns from the lizards screamed in pain and helped to fuel his rage.  And a good thing too for without it he would likely succumb to unconsciousness.

From above, Speaks dove straight down to arrive at the side of Scipio and attempt to treat his wounds before he sprang amongst the arachnid spellcasters.  Marcus likewise did his best to heal his own wounds before going hand to hand with the many-handed Spider Folk (he bottomed out at 3 HP during this fight).  Behind him he heard the heavy beat of wings as Lazarius swooped low to the bottom of the pit.  In one hand he held a thin rod and the other pointed at the Spider Folk.  He gritted his teeth and tried to focus his mind away from the pain of the burning acid at his side.  Bursts of lightning erupted through the ranks of the Spider Folk, skillfully avoiding the other party members for a change.  The foe facing Cathal went down twitching and the others looked badly wounded.

One responded by moving toward Cathal who felt himself gripped by mind-numbing cold before the creature used its magic to cover the ground beneath he and Scipio in a slippery _Grease_.  The other began to retreat up the corridor making high, chittering noises in the direction of its only living ally.

Scipio attempted to pursue but only managed to run in place and fall to the slippery ground.  Cathal kept his footing and moved toward his enemy and delivered another blow, wounding it even further.

Speaks flittered off of Scipio’s shoulder and alighted on another rock as he conjured a _Flaming Sphere_ that blocked the escape of the other spider man.  A moment later the fiery ball rolled into the creature, killing it.

The last of the Spider Folk raised its arms in a desperate act of spellcasting but was thwarted as Marcus stepped behind it and brought his mace down upon the creature’s skull.

The sinkhole filled with silence and stillness for a moment before Cathal grunted.  The others watched as he limped over to one of the lizards struck down by Speaks’ _Flame Strike_.  He dropped his sword on the ground and delivered a vicious bite to the lizard’s haunch.  He growled around a mouth full of charred meat and scales, “Tastes good!”

Then the last of the rage left him and he slumped to the ground unconscious.


----------



## Darklone

Bon appetit


----------



## Riggs

*shocking*

Those lizards were no fun to mess with once they got out in numbers.  

The good news about going through this part the way we did was that we avoided the traps the spider-folk set (the globes Rel mentioned stuck in the webs we were sure were of no good intent, and we thought that spiders would never leave eggs or anything of value out on the fringe like that). We also avoided most of the spider population, whatever number that was.

The bad news was that they ambushed us anyway, knowing how deadly the shockers were in numbers.  Had we successfully destroyed all the spider guys with the frontal assault proposed, we could have rested and then fought separate fights.  We were fully buffed up at that time, as SWS mentioned.

I think it would have depended on variables we couldn't know, like how damaging the traps were and how many hit us, and how many spiders were even there to fight us if we took them all on.  

To be honest, as the player of Marius, I think I pushed my argument harder than I normally would care to just because I felt (correctly or incorrectly) that Marius had had precious little chance to contribute his main role.  In a non-urban setting with most of the talking to date being Barbarians (where SWS was a hero and Cathal was a member) or a captive dragon-guy thing which was a bumbling community interrogation of sorts to begin with, but then diplomatic, or rockmen and animals whom only SWS could converse with, it was probably just me wanting to continue having fun with Marius' main skill after getting a little chance with it with the gatekeepers.  No whining or worries then or now, just me remembering- or trying to.

At this time in the campaign, Marius hadn't become the go-to guy for diplomacy or all things gabby. The other players hadn't had a chance to even see he could do that either. Many of the speaking encounters to that time he couldn't do or help with because of stuff like exotic language requirements or class specifics like Druids can speak with animals, etc.  Also, since I was married to the idea that I must waste my time with stupid prestige classes like the R.E., many of my early points went to requirements instead of things that could be helping right then, like speaking Terran :\ 


As Rel described here though, I only _thought_ that Marius' best skill was diplomacy and such. It turns out it was getting into-and out of-trouble, even if it took the entire combat or campaign.


----------



## Rel

Speaks’ panting breath formed small clouds in the frigid air that were carried away on the night breeze that seemed to cut into his flesh through the protection of his robes and armor.  He cursed out loud in three different languages though there was nobody around to hear them.  His fellow companions didn’t speak the languages of Earth and Fire creatures anyway.

It was clear now that the giant’s path was too unpredictable for him to successfully lay a _Snare_ and following any further in his wounded condition was simply asking for trouble.  Frustrated, he reached out for the Wild around him and assumed eagle form.  As he winged his way northward to the sinkhole he tried to piece together the chaos of the battle he had just participated in…

They had spent several days encamped at the bottom of the sinkhole.  It only made sense as winter had taken a firm grip of the surface world of the Black Peaks and thick snow stretched out in every direction from the top of the deep hole they had battled the Shocker Lizards and treacherous Spider Folk in.  While glad to be free of the confining monotony of the Delver Tunnel, they needed some time.  All were seriously wounded from the battle, their food supplies were low (not counting the slain lizards) and Lazarius insisted that the tome from which he prepared his spells was badly in need of updating.

They set up camp in the mouth of the Delver Tunnel but were mistrustful of another attack by the Spider Folk.  Speaks solved this problem by conjuring a _Wood Wose_ and instructing it to start removing stones from his Bag of Endless Rocks and piling them some fifty feet back up the tunnel.  As the pile grew higher and higher, Speaks would periodically _Stone Shape_ these rocks into a continuous wall.  It took nearly two days but the wall finally reached the top of the large tunnel and they were sealed off from they way they had come.

Meanwhile Marcus tended to the wounds of his companions until their encounter with the Shocker Lizards became only one more painful memory.  Once healed, Marius and Cathal joined Speaks on some short forays into the surrounding mountains to hunt for game.  Though they came from opposite ends of the world, both the Imperial and the Barbarian were skilled at woodcraft and they managed to bring down a deer and a brace of the large rabbits that inhabited the low valley thickets of the Black Peaks.  Once they managed to throw enough wood down into the depths of the sinkhole they set about preserving enough of the meat to carry them further on their journey north along the spine of the Black Peaks.

Marius reckoned that they had covered at least 200 miles as they had traveled in the tunnels beneath the mountains.  They still had no way of knowing exactly where Ilrath was but Lazarius promised that he would soon be able to fix that problem.  He had been diligently copying a scroll that he had been carrying for months and told them that they would soon be able to pinpoint Ilrath’s location and move to it far more rapidly than their progress had been so far.  He was just capping his quill and calling it a night when they were attacked.

The first they knew of anything being amiss was when they heard a rhythmic “whoomping” noise.  They rushed to the mouth of the tunnel and looked up to where the top of the sinkhole ringed a circle of night sky some hundred feet above them.  They saw a winged serpentine shape blotting out the stars and then everything exploded in flames.  The heat of the flames was not life threatening to most of the group but Scipio was badly burned and Speaks firmly commanded him to stay put until they could find out who or what was attacking them.  They recovered quickly and rushed out to find themselves confronted by a wide variety of fearsome enemies.

Marcus found himself face to face with what he could only describe as a dragon.  Atop its back was a thick bodied semblance of a man far larger than any of them had ever seen.  A giant wielding an enormous club.  Another such giant floated to the ground without benefit of wings or mount using what must have been some sort of magic.  The large chamber at the bottom of the sinkhole began to feel crowded.

Marius and Cathal rushed to try and flank the giant that was floating to the floor of the chamber as Marcus swung his mace at the steed of the other.  Speaks used his magic to conjure a column of flame that engulfed rider and mount alike.  Lazarius fired off a _Lightning Bolt_ that wounded the other giant before he touched the ground.

The enemies returned this hostility.  The giant mounted on the winged serpent dismounted and began to lay about him with the tree trunk he wielded.  The other did the same as soon as his feet were on the ground.  The dragon thing got its jaws around Marcus and followed up with an attack from its tail which was discovered to have a stinger at the tip, not unlike that of the Scorpion Men they had encountered some weeks ago.

Without warning another pillar of fire descended upon Speaks who struggled to see where it could have come from.  Above he saw a pair of birds gliding deeper down into the sinkhole.  Herons.

Marcus gritted his teeth as he felt the poison pump into his body from the tail of the dragon but he was hale and hearty and fought off its effects for the time being.  His muscled arm gripped his mace tightly and he brought it down squarely on the center of the creature’s head.  Bone exploded and blood flew as the creature slumped to the ground as if poleaxed.  (timely crit here for near maximum damage)

Marius and Cathal continued to circle and stab at the giant they faced putting their weapons precisely into its innards.  It landed a club blow on Cathal that jarred the Brigante’s bones but he kept his feet.  The other giant moved to attack Speaks, pursuing him across the jagged floor of the sinkhole.

Speaks backpedaled before the oncoming giant and called out to his companions, “Kill the birds!”  Lazarius looked skyward and found a target, engulfing it in a ball of lightning.  He grinned at his success but his satisfaction was cut short as a large, blue female form materialized in front of him and a _Cone of Cold_ burst from her outstretched hands to engulf Lazarius and Speaks.

Marcus pursued the giant that had gone after Speaks and caught a club blow on his shield as he closed the distance.  He managed to land his mace on its thigh and gain its attention.  Speaks took advantage of this brief reprieve and moved against the wall of the chamber where he unleashed a new magic for the first time.

The area around the new, blue combatant and also encompassing one of the herons that descended from above began to swirl with powerful winds.  Even the large, horned woman struggled to keep from falling down and the bird was flung against the walls of the hole.

Speaks lost track of what was happening in the battle for a few moments as he scrambled to heal the massive wounds he had taken thus far.  Just as he started to feel as though he might survive, a figure struggled out of the whirlwind that sheltered him and he looked into the face of one of the Druids.  In the man’s hands was a gleaming sickle and on his face was a cruel grin.  “Did you think our threats were idle?  Well now you’re going to pay for disregarding our warnings.  Just like your father.”

Speaks paled at the mention of his father and his mind flooded with questions and answers.  He momentarily froze in the face of his adversary who came forward to silence Speaks and end his quest for answers.  The Keeper of the Night never saw the mountain of feline flesh that plowed into him and ended his life in a flurry of teeth and claws.

Still slightly stunned at what had just been revealed to him, Speaks tried to clear his head and assess the progress of the battle.

One of the giants was down and the other was fleeing the same way he had come in, slowly rising skyward out of reach of the blades of Marius and Cathal.  The blue skinned giantess was down on the ground amid the swirling whirlwind, apparently the target of Lazarius’ magic and Marcus’s mace.  The dragon lay dead and the other heron or the Druid he could become was nowhere to be seen.

Speaks knew that if he were going to get any further answers this night they were going to have to come from that fleeing giant.  He used more healing magic on himself as the giant rose further, finally gaining the top of the sinkhole and moving out of sight.  Speaks’ form drew inward and an eagle shot out of the sinkhole alone into the night, leaving behind his battered and confused companions…


----------



## BSF

Woot!  More Rel story hour action.  That was a fun read.  It will be interesting to see how Speaks deals with all of this.

Riggs,
Somehow I missed your post a while back.  From some of the posts Rel has made, it does seem apparent that Marius is good at getting into trouble.  I am very much looking forward to reading about it.


----------



## Rel

Speaks rejoined the group to find them all awake and packed, ready to come in search for him if he didn’t return soon.  They were glad not to have to address the matter of how to climb the nearly hundred feet to the top of the sinkhole with the stony walls rimed with slippery frost.  They huddled in the mouth of the tunnel keeping a wary eye turned toward the top of the hole as Speaks told them of how he was unable to ensnare the fleeing giant.

In turn they told him that the blue skinned demon woman’s body had disappeared in a puff of smoke shortly after he had taken flight.  The body of the fallen Druid had been partially consumed by the very hungry Scipio (who hadn’t much cared for the charred lizard flesh).  The other Druid had been lost in the chaos of the melee and nobody had seen what became of him.

They began to discuss their options but soon decided that, with most of their spells depleted and still no good way to gain the top of the hole again, it would have to wait until morning.  They set a double watch and slept fitfully until morning.

As the pale morning light began to peer down into the sinkhole they noted that the sky was clouded over and Speaks felt certain that snow, perhaps heavy snow, would be falling before midday.  They began to debate what to do next.

Their first instinct was to get away from the sinkhole.  An enemy had escaped who knew their location and may return with an even greater force.  The problem was where to escape to.  They would be flying blind, further north into the mountains, into bad weather, with no guarantee that they could find good shelter.  Lazarius offered to solve that problem by preparing his mystical _Rope Trick_ that had last been used on their disastrous first night out of Aquae Sulis.

This would solve their shelter problem but it did not change the fact that they had no idea where Ilrath might be and their proposed mode of transport, flying using Speaks’ _Feathers_ spell, would leave them virtually no chance of seeing any signs of his passage.  They could of course travel on foot but that would mean having to attempt to cover their tracks or else be easily followed through the snow by the escaped giant and whatever forces he could gather.

Lazarius called again for the group to stay put long enough for him to complete his scribing.  He maintained that once he finished putting this latest spell into his book that he would be able to take them directly to Ilrath no matter where he was.  The others looked incredulous.

“I know that none of you have ever been around a *real* Wizard before, but let me assure you that this is possible.  It is among the more potent magics they teach at the Imperial College of Wizardry but I feel that it is within my grasp to use this spell once I have worked through it fully.  I’ll be able to _Teleport_ us right into Ilrath’s lap!”

All of them had been burned (literally) by Lazarius’s magic before but he seemed confident in his abilities and they had few options that looked better.  That left the matter of fortifying their position as much as possible while they waited for the Wizard to finish his studies and writing.  Speaks came up with an answer quickly.

He simply called forth another _Wood Wose_ and had it set about making another wall of stones pulled from the Bag of Endless Rocks.  They would wall off the mouth of the tunnel and stay camped between the two walls where any giants would have a very difficult time getting at them.

Thus passed another two days with the group nervously encamped within their walled off section of tunnel.  It seemed as though they would never actually escaped the confines of that damned tunnel.  Each found reasons to squirm through the narrow opening they had left allowing access to the chamber at the bottom of the sinkhole.  It quickly became obvious that they didn’t want to stay here much longer.  Despite the cold weather the enormous bodies of the giant and the sting-tailed dragon were starting to decay.  In another week the bottom of the sinkhole was going to stink to the top of Celestia.

Speaks would take time when he ventured out to get water to use the pool at the center of the sinkhole in order to _Scry_ for any activity at the top of the hole.  Early in the morning on the third day he spotted something that had him hurrying back to warn the others.  Gathered near the top of the hole was a strange but sinister looking group of enemies.  There were a pair of giants, two large wolves (dire wolves by Speaks’ estimation) and a man who Speaks was certain was one of the Druids hunting them.  In the midst of this group a thick pole had been pounded into the ground and a cross beam lashed to it.  Upon this pole a man was crucified.

“Who in the hells could that be?” Marcus wondered aloud.

“I’m afraid to guess,” said Speaks, his mind racing in horror at the possibilities.

“They’re clearly meaning to ambush us,” interjected Cathal.

“Clearly,” said Marius.  “Let’s ambush them first…”


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Riggs,
> Somehow I missed your post a while back.




I'm guessing that when the Subscriptions database got wiped out that it meant that many regular readers lost track of when posts were made to various threads.  I've noted a fair few threads popping up with new posts and saying, "Hey, I should have noticed that that thread was updated."  I've gone back to those most important and posted again, making sure to indicate that I wanted to subscribe (since the default is now set to not subscribe).

I'll let Speaks speak for himself about how he absorbed this information (if he doesn't post soon, don't worry - there's about to be somewhat of an info-dump in the story regardless).  I will mention that it is a dangling plot thread that was available since before the first session of the first rendition of this campaign.  It was a long time coming but I really enjoyed revealing a plot element that was so pivotal in how Speaks' character was shaped.

One other tidbit:  You may or may not have noticed that the update earlier that described the battle at the bottom of the sinkhole was somewhat less detailed than usual.  That's because I didn't have the excellent Battle Report notes that I've come to rely upon in writing these things up.  I don't know if Lazarius' player (he was the one who usually tracked this stuff) wasn't there that night or if it just got lost along the way.  

Anyhow, all the PC's performed well that night but I recall Speaks being hit hard with both damage and the revelation about the fate of his father.  I used that confusion as a mask for my somewhat poor recollection of the exact details of the battle.  So that's the "story behind the story" this time around.

Expect another update about "The Ambush of the Ambushers" soon (hopefully tomorrow).  The ironic thing is that, while I DO have a Battle Report to rely upon for this one, this battle was so memorable that I could probably have written it up without one!  Trust me when I say that the next update will be one that you find enjoyable.


----------



## Darklone

Uhm. I never subscribed...


----------



## Rel

Marcus shoved his fingers into a thin crack in the stone and felt pain on his raw knuckles.  He looked over his shoulder and saw the debris-strewn floor of the sinkhole some 70 feet below.  From this height even the bodies of the stinger-dragon and the giant looked small.  He said a small prayer to St. Cuthbert and continued to climb.  Despite Lazarius’ spell that he’d been assured would let him “_climb_ like a _spider_”, the warrior-priest knew that he wouldn’t feel secure until his feet were on solid and *horizontal* ground.  He looked over to his right and saw Cathal and Marius and could read similar thoughts on their faces.

Somewhere behind and below him Lazarius was supposedly circling the sinkhole on wobbly wings that had magically sprouted from his back.  No one could be certain of where the Wizard really was because he was invisible.  As for Speaks, he’d not even left the safety of their burrow yet.  Marcus hoped that the Druid was doing what he said that he would.

He moved forward as quietly as he could in his armor and was doing a surprisingly good job of it.  His silent movement was so successful that he could very distinctly hear the loud pops that rang out from the stone just before it began to disintegrate under his hands.  One whole side of the lip of the sinkhole came loose and began to tumble down into the hole, permanently entombing the dead foes they had left there and very nearly sealing Speaks With Stone into the confines of their hideaway.

In a scrambling panic Marcus thrust his hands through the crumbling stone seeking a firm handhold.  He caught a protruding corner of a boulder, firmly stuck in the earth around it, and managed to hold on as large chunks of earth and stone tumbled past.  He looked desperately over toward Cathal and Marius to see if they’d fallen to their almost certain deaths.

The Brigante had two hands thrust through the loose earth that poured around him and clenched his eyes shut against the dust and dirt that poured over him.  He needed a bath (all of them did really) but he was holding on well.  Marius looked for a moment as if the avalanche would take him down into the pit as he backslid nearly 20 feet but somehow, miraculously found the most tenuous of holds and hung on.

(I must interject a GM note here.  Marius’ player was not there that night and his PC was being run by someone else.  He easily had the highest Reflex save bonus in the party by a good margin.  But the dice were unkind and he failed the roll.  I hauled out a small pile of d6’s and started to roll some of the most brutal falling damage I’ve ever seen.  As the numbers began to add up it seemed very obvious that Marius was about to be very dead.

Suddenly one of the other players called out, “Wait!  Can he chip it?”  We use a sort of “Hero Point” mechanic represented by poker chips awarded when players say and do things that add to the game in some outstanding or humorous manner.  Marius’ player is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met and thus had built up a nice backlog of three “chips” that could be spent to re-roll any single die roll.

I let the player running the character spend one of Marius’ chips to re-roll the Reflex save.  He rolled horribly AGAIN and so spent another chip.  The die bounced to a halt showing a third result less than 5 in as many rolls.  A nervous look passed between the players as they spent Marius’ third and final chip and rolled the associated d20.  They finally got a decent result and Marius survived the first die roll of the night.

His player gave the others no end of grief about this upon his return but admitted that he’d rather have no chips than no Marius.)

As the last bits of dirt and gravel trickled past the trio of warriors, they knew that the jig was up and their attempted ambush had been thwarted.  They hastened to the top of the hole to attempt to bring battle to their enemies before more magic was leveled at them while they climbed.

Marcus was the first to gain the top and was immediately lunged at by one of the wolves, its white coat nearly camouflaging it against the snow.  Its teeth tried to find purchase on his armor but failed.  The other white wolf circled the rim of the pit and breathed an icy cone of cold air on Marcus and Marius, who still clung to the wall some 30 feet below (did I say “Dire Wolves”?  I meant “Dire Winter Wolves”).

Marius scrambled further up the side of the sinkhole wishing he was anywhere but trapped, clinging to this infernal wall and exposed to danger with no ability to fight back.  Cathal had the same feelings and was closer to the top.  He scrambled to his feet and took a moment to call on the his inner power to _Shield_ him from his enemies’ blows.  (Cathal’s hodge podge of multiclassing had now expanded to include Sorcerer.  But wait, it gets better)

Marcus and Cathal started to look about to see where they might best engage the enemy when the enemy saved them the trouble.  A giant charged each of them, not as they expected them to with clubs swinging, but instead simply bashing roughly into them with the enormous weight of their bodies.

Marius could see that he was one quick sprint from the top of the hole and reached out to grab his next handhold when he heard the bellowing of the giants.  He heard the clatter of armor from above the lip of the sinkhole and looked up in horror to see both Marcus and Cathal fly backwards over the edge and fall helplessly past him.


----------



## Darklone

Wozzah, it's hailing updates!

Someone got a Featherfall at hand?


----------



## Darklone

Hey guys, three updates and I bump twice in a row? Slackers.


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> He scrambled to his feet and took a moment to call on the his inner power to _Shield_ him from his enemies’ blows.  (Cathal’s hodge podge of multiclassing had now expanded to include Sorcerer.  But wait, it gets better)




"Hodge podge"?  I prefer to think of it as a buffet...


----------



## Jon Potter

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hey guys, three updates and I bump twice in a row? Slackers.




Hey now! The fact that I no longer receive an email when there's an update has really cramped by story-hour-bumping style.



			
				Cathal said:
			
		

> "Hodge podge"?  I prefer to think of it as a buffet...




And just what does this smorgesbord consist of? For that matter, what are the levels/classes of everyone else in the party? I may have missed that tidbit of information previously, but I'm mightily curous.


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> And just what does this smorgesbord consist of? For that matter, what are the levels/classes of everyone else in the party? I may have missed that tidbit of information previously, but I'm mightily curous.




Speaks is straight Druid and Lazarius is all Wizard.  Marcus was around Fighter 6/Cleric 3 (or 4) at this point.  Marius was Rogue 6/Royal Explorer 4ish.

Cathal was something like Barbarian 3/Fighter 2/Ranger 1/Rogue 1/Bard 1/Sorcerer 1.  And quite effective too.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Cathal was something like Barbarian 3/Fighter 2/Ranger 1/Rogue 1/Bard 1/Sorcerer 1.  And quite effective too.




YIKES!!!

He's the Brigante version of the "Renaissance  Man"!


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> Speaks is straight Druid and Lazarius is all Wizard.  Marcus was around Fighter 6/Cleric 3 (or 4) at this point.  Marius was Rogue 6/Royal Explorer 4ish.
> 
> Cathal was something like Barbarian 3/Fighter 2/Ranger 1/Rogue 1/Bard 1/Sorcerer 1.  And quite effective too.



Woah. Looks similar to my Bbn2/Rog3/Rgr1/Brd4/Sor1 in 3.0... 

But he beat me by one class


----------



## Rel

The more I think about it, he must have only had two levels of Barbarian.  Because I know that he never ran afoul of the XP penalty.  Maybe he'll chime in to correct me.


----------



## Darklone

He's human (right?), the highest class doesn't count for XP penalty purposes...


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> He's human (right?), the highest class doesn't count for XP penalty purposes...




That's right.  Forgot about that.


----------



## Cathal

I have a character sheet that shows Cathal at:

Barb:5 / Bard:2 / Fighter:1 / Ranger:1 / Rogue:1 / Sorc:1​
But I'm not sure if that's the final total...it looks about right, though.  


Think of him as a one-man heavy metal concert, complete with pyrotechnics!


----------



## Darklone

Ohooo, get another rogue level ASAP, then.... dang multiclass penalty


----------



## Darklone

Humpa.


----------



## Rel

The air seemed to pull at Marcus as his descent slowed dramatically and he began to _Fall_ like a _Feather_.  He spared a grateful glance at the ring on his left hand for half a moment before watching Cathal flailing helplessly toward the bottom of the hole.

Fate is a fickle thing and it seemed so unjust for Cathal to have managed to fight his way through the avalanche only to be swatted over the edge of the sinkhole by the giants moments later.  But fate had one other twist up her sleeve.  The avalanche probably saved the life of the Brigante indirectly.   The collapse had caused the edge of the hole to be beveled back somewhat and he had hit the side of the hole and slid for a short distance, slowing his fall.  And the mass of loose earth and gravel that had fallen into the bottom of the hole also served to absorb some of the impact.

Regardless, he landed with a bone-bending, muscle-jarring, impact that had him gasping for breath and struggling to remain conscious.  Through this cataclysm of pain and confusion both Marcus and Cathal remained aware the Marius was all alone up above them and would last for mere moments against the combined might of their foes.  Even as they lay sprawled upon the ground they saw one of the white wolves send another spray of sleety breath raking across the Imperial Explorer who clung to the wall 80 feet above their heads.

Marcus found his feet and he fixed his hands back upon the wall and began climbing again immediately.  Cathal cursed in his native Fodoran and did the same, noting for future reference that his magical _Shield_ had done nothing to save him from the impact of his fall.

Above them Marius let fly with a string of expletives unsurpassed by those he had heard spouted by the Imperial sailors on his journey across the Crescent Sea.  Knowing that to climb over the edge of the hole was almost certain death, he retreated slightly and looked down to see how soon he could expect Marcus and Cathal to catch back up again.  “HURRY UP!!”  And where in the nine hells was that Wizard?!  And where was Speaks with their backup?!  More cursing followed.

The bellowing laughter of the giants echoed down into the pit below as they mocked the fallen warriors and taunted Marius in their native tongue.  Their laughter ended abruptly as the ground all around them began to erupt with squat alien forms and the white-hot heads of Lava Worms.

Called forth from their home in a distant reality of soil and stone, the Xorn and Thoqqua were surprised to find a human who knew their speech.  His instructions were clear:  Upon his command they were to ascend to the surface of this world and lay waste to the foes who awaited there.  They were only too happy to be about this business before returning home.

This enemy arriving from beneath their feet cast confusion among the giants and wolves at the surface.  They struck back at these enemies as best they could but as soon as they had one of the stony creatures flanked it would duck back beneath the ground and resurface to strike from another direction.  Puzzled at this foe, the Winter Wolves looked askance at their master only to find that he had taken the familiar form of a heron and perched atop the crucifix that held the wounded man.  The giants too looked for guidance from their mistress but she was typically unseen.

This confusion bought enough time for the rest of the party to recover and Marius, Marcus and Cathal all sprang over the edge of the sinkhole just as an eagle shot skyward behind them.  They looked around to find that the Xorn and Lava Worms were doing their jobs well.  Two of the Xorn were closing on the crucifix and seemed to be about to strike at the large bird perched there.   Another was harrying the pair of wolves while the Lava Worms stung the legs of the giants repeatedly with their glowing hot heads.

Marius, Marcus and Cathal immediately engaged the distracted giants and sought to keep them off balance by surrounding them and cutting at vital tendons and muscles in their legs.  Speaks heeled over toward the battle and saw the Xorn closing on the crucifix.  He was at first concerned that they were about to attack the captive before he noticed the heron.  His eagle eyes narrowed as he dove toward the battle.  That heron had spoken of his father’s death and he was going to tell Speaks what he knew one way or another.

Before Speaks could draw within range to use his magic, a pillar of _Flame Struck_ out of the heavens and scorched the entire area surrounding the crucifix.  The heron seemed un-burned as did the Xorn who retreated beneath the earth once again.  But the flames washed over the man lashed to the cross.  He struggled in agony against his bonds briefly.  Then it was over.

Lazarius decided that it was time to act.  He appeared in the sky where he had been circling invisibly and a blast of crackling lightning shot from his outstretched palm, raking across the heron.  Feathers flew and it seemed likely that the heron would not survive another such blast.  A smile of satisfaction began to creep across the Wizard’s face before the sky around him detonated in a burst of fire.

Below, the tall blue form of the female demon appeared from nowhere and took her turn to smile as the bead struck home and exploded in a huge _Fireball_ directly next to the Wizard.  She could see that the battle was turning against them but decided to get a few shots in before parting.

Marcus brought his mace down across the thigh of the giant with a tremendous CRACK!  The huge man cried in pain and toppled to the ground where Marius’ rapier found his ear.  Cathal bounded in great leaps toward the other giant, absorbed a blow from its club and responded with a thrust of his crackling bastard sword.  A cry of Rage erupted from his mouth and bloodlust filled the Brigante.  Cathal’s cry merged with the shriek of an eagle as a glimmer of recognition swept over Speaks.  He too was filled with rage and dove at the heron with his claws outstretched.

Seeing the raptor descending upon him, the heron fluttered off the cross and alighted on a stone outcropping a few yards away, steadying himself to let loose another _Flame Strike_, this one striking down upon Speaks.  But the druid’s eagle form burst through the attack, singed but filled with hateful purpose.

Equally filled with hateful purpose was Lazarius who wheeled in the air and launched a ball of lightning at his blue nemesis below, catching the only surviving wolf in the blast.  The wolf fell to the ground, twitching as the demoness cried out in pain and resignation.  She knew that she had been bested this day and vanished.  Lazarius’ curses filled the air and even Marius was impressed.

The pair of Imperials closed on the last giant as Cathal dealt it another vicious pair of blows across the belly.  Marcus struck it in the arm as it swung its mighty club again and Marius hamstrung it.  All three warriors raised their weapons to end the brute’s existence.  A hundred feet away, obscured by the smoking ruins of the cross, a heron awaited an eagle to do battle.

But the battle between birds was not to be.  Before Speaks could close the distance, claws and jaws arose from the stones around the heron and shredded the life from the creature.  Then, their calling ended, the Xorn vanished beneath the stone and back to their home plane.  A deathly quiet crept across the carnage of the brief battle, broken only by the crackling of the burning cross.

As Speaks resumed human form and approached, the ropes burned through and snapped.  The body they once held tumbled forward and spun slightly, landing face up upon the scorched earth, right at the druid’s feet.  Sorrow swept over Speaks and his throat tightened allowing only one word to pass.

“Master…”


----------



## Darklone

Wow. Before this update I wouldn't have guessed they'd win so easily.


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Wow. Before this update I wouldn't have guessed they'd win so easily.




Well, I'm not sure that they would characterize it as "easy".  But the small horde of Xorn and Thoqqua that Speaks summoned sure gave them an edge.  As I recall, it took about 3 rounds or so for Marcus and Cathal to get back up the hole and the giants and winter wolves took significant damage during that time.

Also, Cathal was tottering on the edge of oblivion the whole time thanks to the big chunk of falling damage that he took.  I think he may have chugged a potion or two in there before starting his climb back up.  It wasn't listed in the battle report I was working from but he moves significantly faster than Marcus (thanks to being a Barbarian as well as his Boots of Striding and Springing) so I'm sure he had time.

One other notable thing is that this was the first time in ages that I knew I had a great recurring villian on my hands in the form of "The Blue Chick".  Lazarius was lurking around invisibly for most of the fight for the express purpose of waiting her out.  The hatred between those two was entertaining to watch grow.

I'm going to try and post another "info dump" style update over the weekend sometime and next week I'll be able to post a "guest update" written by Cathal.  He did a great battle report for me in prose that was so well done that I asked him if I could just post it in its entirety when the time came.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

It could have gone even better had our timing been a tad better.  The horde of Thoqua and Xorn were supposed to attack before our fighters tried to climb out of the hole.  We knew they were up there waiting to ambush us - so we were going to surprise them with an attack from the rear.  Then have our guys pour out of the hole while they turned to face the earthy critters.

I know I used all of my high level spells to summon those things - I want to say I cast at least 5 spells summoning multiple critters with each casting.  It was fun to have the horde of dice (we didn't have any good figures for them) march across the battlefield to attack.  It was an unseen wave until it crashed.


----------



## BSF

Meganifty.  

Losing the heron-druid must have been somewhat frustrating.  You always wonder if you might have been able to extract a little information if you had been able to capture instead of kill.  The recurring villian looks to be a promising development.  

I don't think I would characterize the battle as easy.  It was well-thought out by the players.  That's always a good thing!


----------



## Rel

Just wanted to pop in and give my standard apology for tardiness on the update.  However, this time around, I've got a pretty good reason.

Over the course of the last week I've been in the process of starting my own business.  This is something that has pretty much fallen into my lap and I'm going to run with it.  Thus far, "running with it" has involved a good deal of online research and some paperwork to be filed with the state.  So I've been somewhat preoccupied with that.

I'll do my best to post something before the end of the week.


----------



## Darklone

Woho!! Rel is getting rich, buying WotC and improving our games quality!


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Woho!! Rel is getting rich, buying WotC and improving our games quality!




We'll call this my "extremely long range plan".


----------



## Cathal

I'm ready for my closeup, Mr. DM...


Congrats on the new business venture, and don't forget the chef hats!


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## Darklone

... and don't forget frequent updates...


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> ... and don't forget frequent updates...




I think I'll update later today just to spite you, Darklone.


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## BSF

I double-dog dare you to Rel!


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## Belen

Rel said:
			
		

> Just wanted to pop in and give my standard apology for tardiness on the update.  However, this time around, I've got a pretty good reason.
> 
> Over the course of the last week I've been in the process of starting my own business.  This is something that has pretty much fallen into my lap and I'm going to run with it.  Thus far, "running with it" has involved a good deal of online research and some paperwork to be filed with the state.  So I've been somewhat preoccupied with that.
> 
> I'll do my best to post something before the end of the week.




Cool!  Congrats on the business.  Can you provide details?


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## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> I double-dog dare you to Rel!




Well, in that case, I guess I'm committed.



			
				BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> Cool! Congrats on the business. Can you provide details?




I can but I won't clutter the thread with it right now.  I'll be having dinner with you in a week and I'll give you the whole boring spiel then.  Whether you like it or not. 

I gotta run now.  My company is taking me out to lunch for Employee Appreciation Day.


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## Rel

Gah!  I get back from running my errands and now there's a nasty thunderstorm sitting on my house.  I'm gonna have to delay writing the update until the power to my house stops flickering.  Sorry.

My wife and child depart in the morning for a long weekend visit to Colorado.  So I should have plenty of time to post updates in the next couple days.


----------



## Rel

Well, I finally managed to get in some writing time after a weekend of little sleep.  Here's the first half of my next update and the other should follow tonight.  After that I'll slot in Cathal's excellent posts over the next couple of days and those will be the last updates until sometime after next weekend when I'm running the NC Game Day (number 5!).


Speaks With Stone knelt in the blowing snow with the body of his mentor, Feathers In Flight, laying before him.  His companions stood close to each other and away from him.  As dozens of questions swirled in their minds they clung to their silence out of respect for their friend.  They were on the verge of attempting to find a way back down into the sinkhole to seek refuge from the rising blizzard when they heard a sound begin to rise in Speaks’ throat.

His body began to sway in time to some internal rhythm and the snow began to swirl around him somehow parting to let him work and focusing the energy of the wind and ice into his hands.  A pale white light began to suffuse the air churning snow around him and then began a slow transformation to pale green.

The companions stood back in still amazement as this green intensified and became a deep, brilliant focus that seemed like the essence of all growing, living things was concentrated right on the tips of the Druid’s fingers.  Then he touched the corpse in front of him.

The light immediately sank within the flesh of the dead man and disappeared as the world turned silent.  Breathless seconds passed and then, the body began to take on an almost imperceptible inner glow.  Speaks moved back slightly, acknowledging that his part of this ritual was done.

The glow became brighter until it achieved the same intensity as it had upon Speaks’ hands.  It wasn’t blinding but it was bright enough to render the body indistinct.  Then it became somehow “larger” and brilliant green filled the air, reflected off of the ground, the sky, the snow and the faces of those present.  And then it faded, leaving the form of a large, brown bear, lying in the snow.  Breathing.

******************************************************

They huddled around the warmth of the small fire and inhaled the aroma of cooking venison.  Cathal had had to cut away some rancid sections of the meat, found in the satchel of one of the giants, but it was nice to have a meal consisting of something besides Shocker Lizard for a change.

The bear, Feathers In Flight, alive once more, slept nearby to try and regain his strength after having told his lengthy tale of what had transpired in the Empire in Speaks’ absence.  The group now began to contemplate how this changed what they were to do next.

Feathers had explained that Speaks’ actions had come to the attention of the Druidic Counsel and heated debate had ensued as to how it was to be handled.  For most of the party, this was the first they had heard of the history of the Druid Circle and how it was tied in with their own quest to find Ilrath and the City of Endless Summer.

Marius’ brow was wrinkled in thought and he spoke aloud, “Let me make sure that I understand what you’re telling us, Speaks:

There was a battle hundreds of years ago as the Empire began its conquest of the northlands.  The Elves who lived in what is now the Darkwood had some sort of civil war and spawned the Dark Druids.  Then, the _real_ Druids, _your_ Druids went to war with these Dark Druids with the help of the Cult of Bane.  But later they found out that the Banites were evil and turned on them at about the same time that the other religions, primarily those of St. Cuthbert and Pelor, did.  But they feared that their past alliance with the Cult would be exposed and therefore killed almost everybody who knew about it and covered up all the evidence of that partnership.

But now, us going to the City of Endless Summer threatens to expose those old alliances and put the Druid Circle out of favor with the Imperial government.  So this Oak Tree guy decides to send these Night Druids after us to kill us and keep the cover-up going.  And those are the guys who sent the weed-monsters after you and Cathal when we were just outside Aquae Sulis.  And they’re the same guys who sent the Giants after us that we just killed.

Does that all sound right?”

All eyes turned to Speaks.  “That is largely correct.  These 'Keepers of Night' have apparently been around since somewhere in the middle of the Bane War and their mission is to kill anyone who threatens to expose the past link between the Druids and the Cult of Bane.  They killed my father when his research through the Temple of Obad-Hai began to look in the direction of the Druid involvement in the Bane War.

And now the High Druid, Roots of Oak, has sent them after us because it is believed by many that some remnant of the Cult may have survived and fled to the City of Endless Summer.  This decision to silence us formed a rift in the Druid Counsel and Feathers In Flight became an outlaw when he tried to come and warn us.  A small number of other Druids on the Counsel also resisted the idea of killing us and they have now fled to Sythia.”

Marius nodded his head and continued, “From what the bear said, it sounds like they are few in number and, pardon me for saying so, somewhat leaner in power than the ones who sent the Keepers of Night after us.”

Speaks nodded his head solemnly, “Yes.  Other than Feathers In Flight, Tumbling Rapids is the only one of any true power among the exiled Druids.  Most of the rest are younger students who don’t wish to continue the sins of their elders into the next generation of Druids.”

Marius gave a wry grin.  “So the powerful Druids, the ones with the seats in the Imperial Senate, are our enemies who are sending Druidic Assassins after us.  And our friends are the bunch of kids huddled in the swamps of Sythia.  Great.”

Speaks responded, “Well, for what it’s worth, the Keepers of Night sound like they’ve always been a very small organization as was necessary for the intense secrecy they relied upon.  The pair that we killed were the only ones that I’ve been able to detect through my scrying.  So it may be that there are few others after us.  Perhaps none.”

None of the other companions spoke in response but it was clear from their faces that this was not a huge comfort to them.  Marcus spoke plainly as usual when he asked, “The question then becomes, ‘What do we do now?’”

Lazarius piped up almost immediately.  “As to that, I believe I’ve got an idea that will hasten our journey and simultaneously shake any further Keepers of Night off our trail.  But I’ll need a few days to prepare…”


----------



## Rel

Actually, it looks like there will be three updates before I start posting Cathal's.  Expect the third tomorrow morning.

Two days later Speaks and Lazarius huddled on the snow-covered rocks that surrounded the pool in the center of the sinkhole.  Though the blizzard had left several inches of snow at the bottom of the hole, the pool stayed clear of ice.  Speaks guessed that it was fed by a stream warmed by the heat of the earth below.

“Let’s make this quick.  It’s cold as an Ice-Demon’s horn out here,” groused Lazarius.

Speaks shook his head at the complaints of the Imperial Wizard, so used to the comforts of home and so ill at ease with the privations of living in the wilderness.  “You’ve studied this spell as well as I have.  You know that it takes time to do properly.”

Lazarius sighed in resignation.  “Yes, yes.  Well let’s at least go ahead and get on with it.”

Speaks began his incantation.  He called upon the waters before him show him things within their depths.  He focused his will and his power and shut out the howling of the wind above until, slowly, an image began to resolve itself in the dark waters of the pool.  An image of Ilrath.

_He looked haggard and dirty and tired.  His face was grimy, his beard unshaven and caked with ice at the tips.  Dried blood covered one cheek but it wasn’t obvious who it had belonged to.

He struggled along up a narrow defile, neither first nor last in the line he was part of.  He stopped as he reached a place where the defile leveled off and made a turn.  He gripped the shoulder of the man behind him and hauled him up the last few feet and did the same to the next one.  Both bore the clothing and look of Fodor tribesmen.  They were in no better shape than Ilrath.

Ilrath offered his hand to the next climber who reached out to take it…with a black-skinned hand with rough black nails on the tips of his fingers.  His cowl was pulled close against the bitter winter air but it fluttered back to reveal the grinning, fanged mouth of an Orc.  Ilrath gave a pull and helped the creature further up the steep path and did the same to the other five toward the end of the line.  He then wordlessly fell into line at the back of the group and continued his climb._

Speaks let the image slip back into the depths of the pool and looked with astonishment at Lazarius.  The Wizard was clearly just as surprised as the Druid.  They withdrew back into the cave and spoke of this with their companions.

“Orcs!?  Can you be certain of this?”  Cathal was incredulous.  “Why would Ilrath be aiding Orcs?  Are you sure he wasn’t their prisoner?!”

Speaks shook his head, “He bore no chains or ropes and he willingly aided them in their climb.  Also, I doubt that a prisoner would have been allowed to take a position as a rear-guard.”

“Why in Hell would Ilrath be allied with Orcs?  Weren’t your people just at war with the Orcs a year ago, Cathal?”  Marius too was puzzled at this surprising news.  It was Lazarius who ended the speculation.

“This conversation is pointless.  We can’t possibly guess the reason for this bizarre turn of events.  Let’s just go there and ask Ilrath ourselves.  Either he needs rescuing or he doesn’t.  Either way, let’s go find out.”

Marcus was still a bit unsure of the description that Lazarius had given as to their method of travel.  “And you’re just going to snap your fingers and take us there?  I’ve heard of this kind of magic before but never seen it myself.”

Lazarius wrinkled his nose at the characterization of his magic, “It has taken me years and years of study and thousands of gold Imperials of expense, the majority of which I’ve had to pay out of my own pocket, to become adept enough to master the Spell of Teleportation.  So no, I’m not just going to ‘snap my fingers’!  It’s vastly more complicated than that.  But yes, it will take us there, instantaneously.”

Marcus nodded his head slowly.  “If you say so.”

Speaks headed off another diatribe that he could see boiling within Lazarius.  “Did you get enough information from what we saw?”

Lazarius collected himself and responded, “I’ll need you to do it again in the morning.  Hopefully they’ll be stationary then and I can get a better reference point.”

Speaks replied, “We can do that.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go bid farewell to Feathers In Flight.”

Speaks exited the cave and found Feathers prowling around the bottom of the sinkhole, his ursine teeth crunching on the bones of some dead Shocker Lizards that he’d dug from beneath the snow.  He turned to regard the approaching Druid, “These really aren’t too bad.  I’d prefer they were warmed a bit, but they do taste rather like chicken.”

Speaks smiled.  His master seemed to have adjusted fairly well to his bear form.  That was only natural considering how much time that Feathers had spent shifted into forms other than human.  “Do you feel that your strength has returned?”

“Yes.  And I can use my magic freely now.  It seems that it was only the Fetter that kept me from using it.”  Feathers referred to a magic collar that the Keepers of Night had placed upon him, blocking off his abilities to do magic or shift his form.  “I do hope it can be destroyed, but I agree that it will be essential if you run across any more of the Keepers.  I’ll try my best to find out if there were more than the two sent after you.”

Speaks smiled.  “That would be appreciated.  And also, if you don’t mind, will you look in on my mother and make sure she’s alright?”

“Certainly,” replied Feathers, “after all, I’ll need to take refuge from the eyes and ears of the Circle and there are few places that I would not stick out aside from the Temple of Obad-Hai in Oar.”

Speaks chuckled for a moment before the sound died on his lips.  “Also, if I don’t make it back for some reason, tell her about father.”

Feathers' big furry head nodded in a very human gesture.  “You take care of yourself lad, and you’ll make it home to tell her yourself.”  He looked skyward and saw that the clouds had now parted revealing the bright stars above.  “Time I should be going.  Take care of your friends, Speaks With Stone.  And yourself.”  With that, the bear shrank to a fraction of its size and became a falcon.  With a flutter of wings the creature rose up toward the top of the sinkhole and disappeared over the edge.

Speaks quietly spoke into the sky, “And you take care of my family, Feathers In Flight.  And yourself.”  He turned and went back into the cave to pack his things and get some sleep.  They would depart at dawn for wherever Ilrath was.


----------



## Cathal

Yarr, matey!

Aye, thar be a sight for sore eyes--a brace o' updates for yer Story Hour!  These be a fine lot, an' the crew be thankin' ye proper soon enough.

Now, more updates, me hearty--man th' keyboard an' put yer back into it, lest ye feel th' lick o' the Cat!


----------



## BSF

Ah, it tis a fine evenin' when Rel be updatin' 'is tales of glory and gold.


----------



## Rel

How's this for a big, fat, chunky update?   


Lazarius leaned in close to Speaks’ Scrying Pool and took a careful look into the image within the waters.  

_He could make out Ilrath and a handful of other humans wearing the garb of the Coritani and Brigantes.  He could also see a couple dozen Orcs.  All looked as though they were trying to find a way to rest comfortably within the confines of a cave.  A small fire flickered on the floor, heating some strips of meat.  Fat sizzled as it dripped into the edges of the flames.

A deep, throaty voice chuckled in Orcish, “Ilrath, you humans ruin your meat by burning it.  How does it have any flavor left after you put it in the fire like that?”

“I only cook the meat as an excuse for us to light a fire to warm ourselves by.  We don’t skin thickened to the cold like your men do, Magdar.”  Ilrath smiled as he grabbed the stick that the meat hung from and walked around letting the other Fodorans pluck strips from it gingerly and juggle them to keep from burning their hands.

“I think it is not our skin, but our blood.  It runs hot from living so many years within the City.”  The Orc looked off in another direction, the faintest pale light showing on his wrinkled features.  “I think that we shall stay here today and let Hudgul see to the worst of our injuries.  We’ve not used this cave in many weeks.  I do not think the patrols will find us.”

Ilrath nodded and lay down on a thin pallet of furs.  He took a bite of the meat he held in his hand and began to chew.  His jaw worked a half a dozen times and he managed to swallow once before sleep overtook him.  A rumbling snore echoed through him.

The Orc smiled a sharp-toothed smile and walked away._


“I think that will be good enough,” said Lazarius.  Speaks nodded and let the image fade.  They walked back over to the cave entrance where the others waited impatiently, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them in the pre-dawn cold at the bottom of the sinkhole.

“Is everyone ready,” asked Speaks.

Marius replied, “They still look friendly toward the Orcs?”

“Yes,” answered Lazarius.  “But be ready in case they don’t have the same attitude toward us.”

Marcus took a few moments to call upon the protective powers of St. Cuthbert and Lazarius likewise layered on his magical protections.  When they were ready, Speaks spread his hands toward the group, excepting Lazarius and gave a high pitched whistle.  The green magic of the Wild reached out toward Marius, Marcus, Cathal and Scipio and they shrank into the shapes of Starlings.  One by one, they flitted onto the shoulders of Speaks and Lazarius.  The pair of spellcasters looked at each other and one last time around the sinkhole that had been a battleground and encampment for them for over a week.  Lazarius said a word and they were elsewhere.

A pop and slight rush of air accompanied their arrival in the cave.  Orcs stared wide eyed at these new arrivals but weapons leapt into their hands and they rolled out of their pallets ready to fight.  But Speaks and Lazarius had carefully discussed what they would do and Speaks immediately stepped forward, his hands stretched out away from him to show that he held no weapons.  In Orcish he spoke, “I am no enemy to you if you are friends of Ilrath!”

Time froze for an instant as muscles bunched to charge and weapons were leveled for battle.  Then a voice cut through the tension, “Speaks?!  What are you doing here?”

Before he could answer, another voice bellowed, echoing in the small cave, “Ilrath, who are these humans!?”

Speaks held his tongue for a moment until Ilrath answered, “This man is my friend.  He fought beside me against your misguided brethren when they came to kill my people.  He is no foe to you.”

Again in Orcish, Speaks spoke, “Ilrath, we have come to seek you out and discover what happened to you.  It has been many months since you left home and your people fear for your safety.”  As he spoke, weapons were lowered, but not sheathed or released.

Ilrath nodded and approached Speaks.  “Yes, my friend, it has been too long since I have drunk the mead in the hall of my chieftain.  But I serve another for now.”  He looked in the direction of the Orc who seemed in charge.  “This is Magdar.”

Speaks looked back and forth between the two and then addressed both of them, “It seems we have much to discuss.  Let us gather around the fire.  My companions have brought food and we can see to your wounds.”  Speaks gestured toward Lazarius and then his companions began to spring into being around the Wizard as they resumed their normal forms.  The Orcs, Magdar included, looked on with astonishment.  They craned their necks even after the group had all shed their bird forms, wondering if an entire army was going to manifest itself in their little hideout.

Marcus immediately set about tending to the wounded, human and Orc alike.  The others took seats around the fire and Ilrath’s tale began to unfold:

_They had set out in late spring, following the trail of the retreating Orc army that had come in the Winter War.  A few days into the mountains, they found over a hundred of these Orcs that had been slain.  Their bodies lay scattered throughout a narrow valley, many showing signs of having had trophies taken from them.  Ilrath decided to take another route into the Blackpeaks.

They had followed the same path as had the companions, finding their way into the caves inhabited by the Stingers.  They found few of them present and their Queen offered them passage through her caves for a small tribute.  Ilrath’s men complied and gave up a couple of finely crafted weapons in exchange.  They traveled north to Do-Kun Ghul and bought passage through there as well.  Ilrath recognized the Duergar and knew they could be reasoned with and trusted to a point from his experiences within the Stone Tooth.

Beyond Do-Kun Ghul, they encountered the Spider Folk and fought a vicious battle with them.  Ilrath’s band lost a couple of men but they wrought great havoc on the Spider Folk, slaying combatants and setting fire to webs as they made their way through those caves.  The passage branched within their lair but his band kept going to the north and made their way past the small flocks of Stirges that haunted that part of the trek.  Here again he used what he had learned in the Stone Tooth to his advantage and they blocked set small fires in the holes as they passed them to keep the Stirges from surrounding them.

They finally made it to the Sinkhole and that was where things went very badly for them.  The Shocker Lizards killed several of his band with their blasts of lightning and only seven of them survived to make the climb to the top.  Once there they rested and healed for a couple of days and then continued northwards.

They passed through the lands of some kinds of unseen hunters.  There were poles adorned by skulls of many varieties, mostly Orcs.  Another of Ilrath’s group was taken silently as he was on guard duty.  The sleeping men awoke to find his head on a pole just to the east of their camp.  They skirted the area to the west and continued north.  Later, Magdar explained that that area was inhabited by fearsome hunters called Braxat.  They hunted sentient creatures for sport but left alone those who did not challenge them.

Ilrath’s much diminished group finally made it into the northern reaches of the Blackpeaks and encountered some Orcs.  They ambushed a patrol they found and tried to get the survivors to tell them the location of the City of Endless Summer.  They got no answers but were fell upon the following morning by another group of Orcs mounted upon great stygian beasts.  These riders rained fire down upon them from above and they lost another man burned to death.  But then help arrived from an unexpected quarter.

Magdar and his men sprang from hiding atop a cliff where they had been observing Ilrath’s group for the last day.  They drove the Wyvern riders away with arrow fire and then led Ilrath and his men to a nearby cave to hide.  In exchange for saving their lives, Ilrath offered his service to Magdar for a year.

For the last several months, Magdar had led them all over the mountains east of the City of Endless Summer, ambushing a small patrol here and there, but mostly staying hidden and trying to stay alive.  In that time, two more of Ilrath’s original group had died and it was now just he and three others who continued to serve Magdar.

As for Magdar, his story was also interesting.  He used to be a shift leader for one of the groups of Orcs who manned the foundry operations north of the City.  He followed the teachings of Bane as did the other inhabitants of the City under the leadership of the Banelar and their Ogre bodyguards.  But then he was paid a visit by a being of great power.  “The Shining Lady”

The Shining Lady came to Magdar and his men as they worked the Foundry.  She told them of the evil ways in which their people had been shaped into a tool for the Cult of Bane and how the whole of the Black Peaks had come under the oppression of the Dead God.  She told them that soon a reckoning would come, a time when they might cast off the shackles of this oppression and lead their people into a time of peace when they could determine their own destiny.  Something changed in the hearts of those Orcs who beheld the Shining Lady and they knew that it would be their responsibility to try and find a way to break the hold of the Banelar over their people.

Knowing that to preach such things openly would bring them a swift death, they abandoned their post in the Foundry and took refuge in the surrounding mountains.  Here they had waged a ragged war, tugging at the fringes of the power the Banelar held in the City.  Once over a hundred strong, Magdar’s group of warriors was down to less than fifty.

But they know that the time presaged by the Shining Lady is close at hand.  Something new is happening.  The smoke from the Foundry has not risen into the sky for nearly a month and Magdar intends to go inside soon to find out what is taking place._

The group sat around the fire and listened intently as these tales unfolded.  They exchanged worried glances.  Cathal in particular was concerned.  He did not know if the Orcs intended to launch another invasion of his homeland, but he knew for certain that his people could not withstand it if they did.  He agreed with Magdar:  Someone needed to enter the City and find out what was being planned.

Magdar explained that the Foundry was located well north of the City of Endless Summer proper.  A cluster of mines in the mountains north of the City all fed back into the Foundry caverns and from there a long, straight passage headed south into the City where the iron ingots were brought to be forged into weapons and armor.  This “back door” was the only good way into the City.

The City of Endless Summer rested in a steep, bowl shaped valley with no natural exits.  There were no “city gates” and the rim of the valley was patrolled by the Wyvern riders.  Magdar also believed there to be some sort of magical ward that warned a beast they called The Watcher.  This fearsome creature would rally the Wyvern riders from their perch high atop the Temple of Bane and attack any who dared to try and cross over the rim of the valley into the City.

It was decided that the companions would take on the task of scouting out what was going on within the City.  They had magical means of stealth and ways to escape quickly if things went awry during their infiltration.  But first they needed to take care of a few other things.

With the possible threat of another Orcish invasion of the Fodor valley at hand, they needed to spread the warning.  And it was readily apparent that Magdar’s group, including Ilrath and his men, were badly in need of resupply.  The party spent the remainder of the day helping to patch Magdar’s warriors back together as best they could.  

Speaks also had Magdar sketch a map of how to get to the Foundry from the cave and scouted the location in eagle form.  A crevice in the mountainside provided an escape for the smoke produced in the smelting of the iron ore and a way to get inside.  No smoke came from within and Speaks made sure that he knew how to find the crevice from ground level.  He returned to the cave and the group rested through the night.

In the morning they bade Magdar and Ilrath farewell for the next couple of days.  Magdar told them that he could not afford to stay in one place for long and would have to move to another hideout further east.  But he agreed that he would check back at the cave in a few days to see if the party had returned with information.  Speaks and Cathal embraced Ilrath and his men and they somberly wished each other luck.  Then the majority of the group assumed bird form and Lazarius whisked them away on a word and a prayer.

They appeared with another pop and rush of wind to find themselves ankle deep in fresh snow in Speaks’ grove just outside Glynden.  All shook their heads in disbelief at this amazing new means of transportation.  To think of all they had been through in their last months of travel and how they had returned to the start in the blink of an eye was simply mind boggling.

Speaks talked briefly to Jitterbug, one of the _Awakened_ wolves who guarded his grove.  He asked that Jitterbug let Kyndalyn know about the Orcs possibly being on the move again.  Kyndalyn should be on the lookout for some sort of message about what was taking place.  It may turn out that the men of Glynden once again must aid the people of the Fodor in their struggle against the Orcs.

Speaks looked around wistfully, wishing he could spend more time in his beloved grove.  But he was needed elsewhere and he silently nodded to Lazarius that he was ready for the next leg of their journey.  They vanished…

…and stood in Urdrax’s Mead Hall, atop Hrongar’s Hill.  The Brigante chieftain was stunned to find this group back among his people so suddenly, but his sharp mind quickly adjusted to the reality of what they told him.  He shook his head in woe at the prospect of another invading army of Orcs.  “We simply cannot withstand another attack.  Our people are barely keeping fed after so many men and stores were lost last winter.  Even without an attack, we’ll be lucky to keep everyone alive through the winter.  If they bring an army, we will fight them.  But we cannot win.”

The party acknowledged this grim assessment and swore they would do whatever they could to avoid such a happening.  They also promised to try and convince Glynden to send aid, both for the possible coming war and food as well.  Urdrax was still holding out hope that the group of traders that had gone south to Oar would return with much needed supplies.  But so far there had been no word from them.

While in the lands of the Fodor, Speaks took a day to fly to Ilrath’s village along with Marcus.  They told Ilrath’s mother that he yet lived and looked forward to seeing her as soon as he could.  They did not share the fact that he was under an oath to an Orc.  It seemed more than the old woman could probably take.  They left her all of their remaining rations and took their leave.

Meanwhile, Cathal went to his own village, near to Hrongar’s Hill and returned Mailbiter to where it had hung over his father’s hearth.  “I wield my own weapon now, father.  And I fear that you may have need of Mailbiter before the snows melt if the worst comes to pass.”  He embraced his parents and left again, feeling the ache for home with a painful intensity.

When they had gathered once again at Urdrax’s hall, Speaks told the chief of the Brigantes to be watchful for a message borne by a little bird.  Urdrax nodded with great credence as the group all changed into little birds and vanished.

The room they appeared in would have been small with only Lazarius and the flock of birds that accompanied him.  The chambermaid who was changing the bed sheets made things even tighter.  She screamed and ran from the room before Lazarius had a chance to react.  Her cries caused other guests at the Laughing Gull Inn to poke their heads into the hallway where they witnessed five rugged looking men in armor and bristling with weapons, walk out of a tiny room with a single narrow rope-bed.  They could only guess at what the chambermaid had witnessed inside.

The group quickly dispersed.  Speaks went immediately to the temple of Obad-Hai where he found his mother in the garden.  He told her of his adventures in the northlands of late and of the rift within the Druid Circle.  She had heard rumors but was interested in getting all the details from Speaks.  After he explained what had happened with regards to the Keepers of Night, he steeled himself.  Then he explained that it was the Keepers who were responsible for her husband’s death nearly twenty years ago.  They comforted each other as best they could before Speaks had to return to his companions.

Lazarius went on an orgy of spending, replenishing his spell component pouch and buying up dozens of scrolls from the local campus of the Imperial College of Wizardry.  He also sent word south to Emor about a few of the things he’d discovered in the Northlands and would be updating them further soon.

Marcus visited the Church of St. Cuthbert and told of the ill tidings in the north.  They commended him on taking the battle to the enemy but warned him as always to be on guard against the forces of corruption.  There was no telling what manner of deceit might await him in the City of Endless Summer and the priest did not like the sound of the Orcish allies that Marcus was aiding.  Marcus promised to be vigilant and received the blessing of the Church in his further deeds.

Marius and Cathal went to the market and bought a pair of large casks and filled them to the brim with all sorts of durable provisions.  Dried fruits, meats, hardtack biscuits and such were in plentiful supply in a port that served the Imperial Fleet.  Cathal presence drew a lot of stares and soon Marius discovered why.  It seemed that the trade caravan had arrived from the Fodor lands a few weeks ago.  Shortly after its arrival there was some kind of disruption in the marketplace.  A fight broke out and when the dust settled, an Oarian merchant was dead and several of his body guards were wounded.  The Fodorans were blamed and one was arrested.  The others had escaped capture and fled town.  The man in custody spent very little time in jail before being hanged for murder.

It was rumored that the presiding judge was newly arrived from Emor and the trial was attended by a handful of high ranking Imperial military officers.  Oar was abuzz with rumors of reprisals against the Fodor Barbarians if there were further criminal acts.  With this in mind, Marius and Cathal concluded their business quickly and returned to the Laughing Gull to meet their friends.

They bought rooms and ate sumptuous meals.  Cathal, Speaks and Marcus all retired shortly after dinner more for reasons of seclusion than fatigue.  Marius and Lazarius somehow found the strength to seek out a local brothel that Lazarius knew of and employ the services therein late into the night.  Both made it back to the Laughing Gull in the wee hours of the morning and managed to sleep until well past mid morning before they were awakened by their companions.  Both also agreed that the way they felt this morning was a small price to pay for the excesses of the previous evening.

But it was still torture on their stomachs when Lazarius _Teleported_ them back into the cave in the Blackpeaks, now abandoned by Magdar and Ilrath.


----------



## BSF

Rockin' update Rel.  That is a lot of info.  Were you able to get through all of that in one session?

Edit:  Oops, I tried to PM you but I couldn't.  I'll copy/paste the message here.

Rel, Great update!  Though I think you might have a misspelling.  Highlighted below.  

_The passage branched within their lair but his bank kept going to the north and made their way past the small flocks of Stirges that haunted that part of the trek. _

Thanks for the Story Hour!


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Rockin' update Rel.  That is a lot of info.  Were you able to get through all of that in one session?
> 
> Edit:  Oops, I tried to PM you but I couldn't.  I'll copy/paste the message here.
> 
> Rel, Great update!  Though I think you might have a misspelling.  Highlighted below.
> 
> _The passage branched within their lair but his bank kept going to the north and made their way past the small flocks of Stirges that haunted that part of the trek. _
> 
> Thanks for the Story Hour!




Thanks for reading, BSF and thanks for catching the typo.  If that's the only one in there I'd be shocked beyond belief.

As I recall, most of that was handled in a single session.  But my players may have a different recollection.  I know the battle at the top of the sinkhole took almost an entire session and I think that Speaks Reincarnated Feathers In Flight at the end of the session and found out what he knew.  That was also the point at which Lazarius made it to 9th level and had the time he needed to scribe Teleport into his spellbook.  

Once they had Teleport, they went directly to Ilrath and then decided that they needed to head back to town to rest and refit as well as pass along some of this info.  I'll have to look back through my e-mails and see if I can find what they bought and sold in Oar.  It seems like it was a substantial list.


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## Darklone

Teleport... and your campaign changes.


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Teleport... and your campaign changes.






> To think of all they had been through in their last months of travel and how they had returned to the start in the blink of an eye was simply mind boggling.




Yep.  This is really the first campaign that I can recall in recent memory, perhaps ever among our group, where Teleportation became accessable to the party at will.  I don't think I was quite prepared for the impact.  But I adapted my playstyle to it as we moved forward and the players helped me out a lot by letting me know where they were going in advance so I could prepare.  They almost never just "up and teleported" somewhere unexpected.


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## Riggs

*Ah yes, now I remember*

Rel, was this the town trip to Emor where Marius went to see the ol REs and formed an opinion?

Good to see we are getting to the funny stuff!   

Lots of good updating there.  I have to get up and walk around after all that screen-reading...hehe

It was funny to remember that we all found out we had nearly exactly retraced Ilrath's steps, but made it through places completely backwards from how he did (we fought the scorpions, negotiated not so greatly with the duergar and talked through the spiders I mean).

I think at this point my d20 began to steadily reconstitute its numbers to have more than half below 10 and worse...

Everyone nag Rel more, his family isn't back yet I think.  He's just sitting around in a chef hat not updating!


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## Rel

The party set about executing the plan they had concocted.  Lazarius passed out potions to _Change_ him_self_ and the others into semblances of Orcs.  Speaks then transformed them back into bird form, personally taking the form of a tropical Quetzal bird, and they all flew from the cave to the ridge that held the Foundry within.  They located the vent-crevice and fluttered past the soot-stained snow at the edges to land on the floor within.

The stone floor was smooth with generations of use by the Orcs and the dim shapes of the huge bellows and cauldrons of the Foundry equipment hovered nearby in the darkness.  They pulled forth Everburning Torches from their satchels and could make out the long chamber running off to the north.  From Magdar’s description, that was the direction in which the mines themselves lay.  They could see a series of tracks that ran along the floor by which carts of raw ore would be brought into the Foundry to be smelted.

Another set of tracks resumed on the opposite side of the metalworks and ran toward a broad corridor headed south.  That was the path by which the iron ingots would be transported back to the City of Endless Summer to be worked into armor, weapons and tools.  It was into this dark passage that the party proceeded, disguised as a ragged group of Orcs.

(until further notice the remainder of this update is written by the player of Cathal.  Give him a big round of applause for his first entry into the Story Hour Forums as a writer…)

"Busted by Ogres", or "Who's Getting the Shaft, Here?"


A raid, in their opinion, would only cause the denizens of the City of Endless Summer to become suspicious, so the party decided not to take Ilrath and his greenskin companions up on their offer to cause a diversion, and instead, they changed their appearance to that of a party of orcish laborers and hoped that they could blend in with the rest of the orcs in the City.  Once they had made it safely down the vent of the foundry, the party traveled for nearly four hours through the mineshaft, a 20' wide hewn stone hallway w/ mine cart tracks down the middle, running from the foundry towards the City.  At this point, the hallway flared out to about 30'-40' wide and ends with a worked stone wall with a sturdy metal door barring their way.

Did I mention the ogres? 

Four Ogres wearing full plate and carrying massive shields stood guard here, and one of them stepped slightly forward, challenging in orcish, "Oi, what're you lot doin' here?"  Marius replied that "we were cleanin' up the foundry, as ordered.  Getting' all them tools and carts cleaned up."  The ogre, suspicious that he hadn't seen anyone go to the foundry or heard that it needed cleaning, said, "cleanin' up the foundry?"  Marius, with a mixture of orcish defiance and Emoran bravado, finished, "yeah, as ordered".  The ogre captain, having had enough of this charade [natural 20 on the Sense Motive check!] lowered his spear at Marius and shouted over his shoulder, " You, go warn the masters that the Infidels are here!  You two others, hold them here!"  The ogre guards, being surprisingly well disciplined, quickly formed two ranks, two advancing, while two turned to lift the huge bar on the door.  

[Turn 1]
Marius shouted in orcish, "Aiee, the guards hate us!",  mumbled in Imperial "back-back-back-back-back!" under his breath, and fell back to a narrower part of the hallway, hoping to minimize the possible frontage that the Ogres could bring to bear.  Cathal fell back to just in front of Marius, cast _shield_, and started a traditional Brigantes battle chant.  From the back of the party, Lazarius jabbered something about "Albatross," the previously agreed-upon rallying cry to signal that the party should teleport away.  Marcus fell back to beside Cathal and called on St. Cuthbert's _shield of faith_ to protect himself.  SWS cast _heat metal_ on the apparent leader of the guards, who then stepped up, planted his pavise, and assumed a defensive position as his lieutenant stepped up and planted his pavise, as well.  The two other ogres turned and grunted as they lift the heavy metal bar on the door, then swung the door open.

[Turn 2]
Marius squinted as he looked for a place to strike, and Cathal, still chanting the first phrase of the battlecry, entered a rage and launched a ferocious pair of attacks at the ogre lieutenant, hitting on both attacks [for a total of 39pts].  The mage, seeing a choice opportunity, cast _Electrical Orb_ at the third ogre, who was wracked by the lightning [for 36points of dmg] and slammed into the door with a resounding clang.  Marcus stepped up and attacked the ogre captain with all his might, denting the ogre's breastplate with his mace [critical hit for 29pts].  The druid looked back and forth between the ceiling and the hapless ogre who was still outlined with faint traces of arcing electricity,  smiling as the Ogre captain curtly commanded "back" and stepped back 5' in lockstep with his lieutenant.  The captain reached past his shield and jabbed Marcus with his spear [for 10pts] as his second swung at Cathal but was foiled by the barbarian's _shield_.  The ogre who had been struck by Lazarius' spell struggled ineffectually as his magnetized armor clung to the huge iron door, and his companion, understanding the situation, stepped through the doorway to go warn the masters.  Marius, seeing his chance, tumbled up beside the ogre captain and thrust with his rapier, but missed.

[Turn 3]
Encouraged by the success of his first flurry of blows, Cathal pressed the attack, chanting as he stepped up and attacked again, but failed to find his mark.  Lazarius cast _stoneskin_ on himself to ensure his further participation in the battle, and Speaks, cursing his concentration on one ogre that allowed the other to get away, waited for another chance to act.  Marcus moved forward and swung again at the ogre captain, his blows ringing against the huge shield and driving it back.  The ogre captain, somewhat startled by the ferocity of the attacks made by the poorly armed and armored orcs before him, fell back another step and made a few cursory thrusts at Marcus' face to distract him.  His lieutenant, too, stepped back to maintain position and jabbed at Cathal, hoping to keep him at bay for another few seconds, with grumbling and cursing filling the air as the third ogre pushed and shoved against the door.  Through the doorway, the party watched the last ogre trot down the hallway as Marius stepped forward to make another lunge at the ogre captain's armpit.

[Turn 4]
Frustrated by his inability to finish his foe, the barbarian growled and stepped in close to the ogre, cutting at his legs, unable to find a weak spot in the heavy armor.  Speaks uttered the words to _summon_ some friendly wolves to the battlefield as Lazarius sent a _lesser acid orb_  splashing through a chink in the armor of the ogre in front of Cathal [for 6 points].  Marcus, inspired by the spellcasting going on behind him, stepped forward and drove his mace into the ogre captain's shoulder [14pts], driving the beast back to the door beside the third ogre, who had managed to turn himself to face the advancing party as his comrade clawed at the burning acid and fell heavily to the floor.  Shouts of "Infidels, infidels are here!" echoed down the hallway as the fourth ogre continued on his way.  Marius lunged past the huge shield and struck deep into ogre captain's back [9pts], pulling his rapier free just as the ogre fell to the ground.

[Turn 5]
His way now clear to pursue the ogre sent to raise the alarm, Cathal leapt over the fallen ogre captain and stepped through the doorway into the hallway, where his quarry lumbered away, continuing to shout his warning.  Speaks' pack of summoned wolves arrived, and quickly launched themselves at the remaining ogre, snapping at his heels as Lazarius aimed his crossbow at the ogre's head.  Marcus ran up to the ogre's side, hoping to get around the massive shield as the ogre skewered one of the wolves and tried to shove his spear through and into Marius, wolf and all.  Marius easily sidestepped the awkwardly weighted spear and drove his rapier home for the kill [19pts].

[Turn 6]
Cathal's magic boots allowed him to easily outpace and charge the fleeing ogre, although his bastard sword glanced off the massive backplate twice as the ogre continued his flight.  Just ahead, wooden doors appeared out of the darkness, and the ogre lowered his shoulder, slamming into the doors with a thunderous crash as the two stumbled into what appeared to be huge abandoned forge with another pair of doors on the far wall and a door on each side wall.  Behind them, Lazarius (with Speaks on his shoulder), Marcus, and Marius began running down the tunnel... 

[Turn 7]
Seeing the doors on the far side of the room, Cathal knew that time was on the side of the fleeing ogre, so he charged again and slammed his bastard sword into the fleeing ogre's neck [24pts], but the ogre only stumbled briefly as he continued his dash across the forge.  Marius burst into the forge, drew up even with the ogre, and readied his net as the rest of the party continued to run down the hallway. 

[Turn 8]
Cathal charged the fleeing ogre again and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as his blade found its mark [27pts] and drove the ogre to the ground.  Lazarius ran into the forge room, panting, "We must get out of here!" as the remainder of the party entered just behind him to see Marius pointing dramatically at the two side entrances without speaking.


Speaks, still in Quetzal form, winged up to one of the vents in the ceiling and peered out, amazed at the lush green landscape above—it was a stark contrast to the frozen waste that they had crossed only four hours ago!  To get a better look, he flew through the gate and into the canopy of trees above, as his companions below heard a noise from the double doors and moved towards one of the side doors.  Marius opened the door as quietly as he could, revealing a dimly-lit room that showed signs if having been used as a coal bunker, but before the party could get through the doorway, the double doors behind them opened, revealing two more ogres, clad in enameled scale armor and covered from head to toe in blood.  In an attempt to distract the ogres, Marius tossed his clockwork burglar* down the mineshaft from which they'd come, but the ogres caught a glimpse of the motion of his arm and came over to investigate.

"You, there, come out!" one of the ogres commanded to the group huddled in the doorway.  Since they were unsure of what lay ahead, the party, still disguised as orcs, stepped out into the side alcove and Marius took up the conversation.  The ogre pointed at the body that lay in the middle of the forge floor, still bleeding from the two wounds on its back, and demanded, "what happened here!?"  Marius, who'd had a few breaths to think about this, quickly shot back, "the infidels!  They came from down there, and they attacked!" and pointed down the mineshaft, from which the clockwork burglar's* footsteps could still be barely heard.  The ogre nodded to the other and barked something in an unintelligible language, and the second ogre nodded and set off down the hallway to investigate.  "So, what are you doing here," the ogre asked Marius, who knew better than to try the clean-up angle again.  Instead, he tried a different tack, "we were down one of the side passages, and we heard some noise—when we came to investigate, we saw the infidels attacking the ogres, who told us to run in here.  Once they'd killed him, they must've heard you coming, because they ran back down the hall!"  The ogre, like his cousin down the hall, seemed skeptical, and suggested that the orcs should come with him back to the room beyond the double doors.  Reluctantly, the party filed towards the double doors until they had gotten about even with the ogre, who merely stood with his arm outstretched, pointing towards the doors.  On a sign from Marcus, they sprung into action…

(DM note:  *The Clockwork Burglar is a silly item from the Arms and Equipment guide.  It is a wind-up disk with “feet” circling the rim, designed to be released whereupon it will spin off down a corridor as a potential distraction.  It rather clashes with the general flavor of my campaign, but I was in a charitable mood and let it work on the stipulation that they were never to buy another one.)


----------



## BSF

Woot!  That was a fun little read.  I hate it when a plan completely jumps the tracks and runs off by itself.  Congratulations Cathal and thank you for the update.


----------



## Rel

Riggs said:
			
		

> Rel, was this the town trip to Emor where Marius went to see the ol REs and formed an opinion?




No, not yet.  You guys didn't make it all the way back to Emor yet.  Just to Oar.


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## Darklone

Woah!!! It's hailing updates! 

Hope you enjoy your free time, Rel


----------



## Rel

(Here's part II of Cathal's write up of the party's first delve into the much anticipated City of Endless Summer)

"Busted by Ogres: Reloaded", or "Hey, at Least We're Out of the Hand Basket"

[Turn 1]
Lazarius, seeing Marcus give the high sign, quickly readied his crossbow and fired [hitting for 5pts], which distracted the ogre who had been doing the talking long enough for Marius and Cathal to both make successful attacks [for 17pts and 19pts].  The ogre, more than a little startled at the attack, cast a green burst of badness that swept outward and engulfed Cathal, and Lazarius [for 16pts], but Marius was able to leap out of the way.  Meantime, Speaks (in Quetzal form) continued to flit around in the treetops with his new birdie friends while nominally keeping an eye on the Beholder, who was still making its rounds.  Marcus stepped up and deftly avoided the ogre's attack, responding with his own more effective strike [11pts].

[Turn 2]
Lazarius shook off the effects of the badness and fired his crossbow again [7pts] as Marius drove his rapier deep into the ogre's hip [26pts] for a killing blow.  Mindful of the second ogre's presence, Cathal stepped to the corner of the room and waited for something to appear from the mineshaft where the ogre had last been seen…and he only had to wait for a few seconds before the ogre obligingly stepped through the doorway.  Cathal charged the second ogre, hitting it as much with his shoulder as his sword [for 20pts], as Marcus ran forward to support the attack.  Speaks noticed that the Beholder is now moving towards him (or maybe towards the melee below) and flew back down through one of the grates into the forge.

[Turn 3]
Lazarius reloaded his crossbow and moved to get a better shot as Marius tumbled up to the combat, hoping to flank the monster.  The ogre took a swing at Marius and missed, while Cathal chose to wait for an even better opportunity to attack.  Marcus moved up to attack, again dodging the counterattack, and struck the ogre [for 18pts].  Cathal, seeing his chance, swung at the ogre but failed to connect.

[Turn 4]
Another crossbow bolt from Lazarius [for 7pts] and successful thrust from Marius [for 19pts] brought the second ogre to the ground as Speaks fluttered down to Lazarius' shoulder and began making "the Beholder sign" with his wings.

[Turn 5]
Lazarius, whose Imperial training had neither included Quetzal Charades nor Avian Pantomime courses, squinted in confusion at Speaks' feathery antics.  Speaks tried a different approach, chirping frantically, while Marius, Cathal, and Marcus kept a watchful eye out for new foes coming in through any of the doors.  Occupied with things on the horizon and fluttering birds, the party nearly missed the giant cloud of dust that formed above them when the Beholder _disintegrated_ the forge ceiling around the grate through which Speaks had fluttered.

[Turn 6]
Lazarius, catching a glimpse of the Beholder above, shrieked "ALBATROSS!" and began casting _teleport_ as Speaks twittered the verbal component of _feathers_.  Marius, Marcus, and Cathal, ran towards Speaks and Lazarius, who cast _feathers_ to turn the party into birds and cast _teleport_ to return to cave.

[Turn 7]
When they arrived at their destination, maroon skies wracked with lightning twisted above a landscape of pitted black stone, and below them in the valley, many twisted figures labored with picks and mattocks, tearing down a massive white stone pyramid.  Lazarius stated the obvious, "oh, heck, this looks bad," and Marcus corrected him, "oh, *Hell*, this *is* bad."


(DM note:  I came to refer to this session as "Operation Albatross". )


----------



## BSF

Absolutely delicious!  They finally made it to Hell eh?  I have been waiting for this part of the story forever.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> They finally made it to Hell eh?




Yeah, but like they say in your neck of the woods, BSF, "at least it's *dry* heat."   

I gotta say that this was one of those GM moments that you just live for.  It went something like this:

More Or Less All of Rel's Players:  "So you're saying that we *accidentally* teleported to Hell?"

Rel:  "Yep."

More Or Less All of Rel's Players:  "Huh.  Lazarius, can you teleport us back again?"

Lazarius:  "I could TRY.  IF I had another Teleport spell left today.  We need to rest!"

More Or Less All of Rel's Players:  "So, at the very least, we're spending the night in Hell?"

Lazarius:  "Yep."

More Or Less All of Rel's Players:  "Huh."

Rel:  "We'll pick things up there next week.   "


----------



## BSF

It is a dry heat, except this week.  We had two days with rain!  Oh yeah!  (for those readers at home that have no idea where Albuquerque is, we are a high-altitude desert.  Yep, just a tad over 9 inches of rain a year.  Not as dry as it could be, but not really all that humid either.)

I remember the threads you were posting when the group got teleport.  I also remember some of the other commentary about arriving in Hell.  As I said, I have been waiting to read this stuff.  

It sounds like the players have remarkable poise if that is how they reacted.  I think my players would be a little more distressed.  I am eager to read all this just in case it gives me ideas of my own.


----------



## Darklone

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> It is a dry heat, except this week.  We had two days with rain!  Oh yeah!  (for those readers at home that have no idea where Albuquerque is, we are a high-altitude desert.  Yep, just a tad over 9 inches of rain a year.  Not as dry as it could be, but not really all that humid either.)



Hey, last time I was in the area I got into a snowstorm. In summer.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> It sounds like the players have remarkable poise if that is how they reacted.  I think my players would be a little more distressed.  I am eager to read all this just in case it gives me ideas of my own.




I don't know if I would characterize it as "poise" or "calloused at the prospect of getting screwed at every turn".  Or are they the same thing?



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> Hey, last time I was in the area I got into a snowstorm. In summer.




I always said that it would be a cold day in Hell when Darklone came to town.  Let us know next time you get stateside so we can get out our winter clothes.


----------



## BSF

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hey, last time I was in the area I got into a snowstorm. In summer.





Really?  When were you here and where around Albuquerque were you?  We do get interesting weather conditions at times.


----------



## BSF

Rel said:
			
		

> I don't know if I would characterize it as "poise" or "calloused at the prospect of getting screwed at every turn".  Or are they the same thing?




I tried to post earlier today and it timed-out.  

Rel, that is a fair question.  Let's just borrow from Sialia.  The players made their Poise and Grace checks with decent rolls (plus bonuses), despite the fact that their carefully laid plans had been enexpectedly derailed.


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> I always said that it would be a cold day in Hell when Darklone came to town.  Let us know next time you get stateside so we can get out our winter clothes.



Hehe. 


			
				bardstephenfox said:
			
		

> Really? When were you here and where around Albuquerque were you? We do get interesting weather conditions at times.



Looong time ago there was a students exchange with some town in OK, the week before we spent in Albuquerque, Santa Fe and mainly Taos. First day in Taos, the teacher dropped us in midtown for shopping. Sunshine, hot, desert. Teacher drives back and asks everyone whether we want to come along. We say, nah, we stay around a little longer and walk back to the hotel (not even a mile). 

Well... we go into the next shop. We come out, it's snowing like hell. These few hundred meters against a raging snowstorm took us more than one hour. Next day: Sunshine again


----------



## Rel

The next couple of weeks look a little light work-wise so I'm going to do my best to catch up a bit on the updates.  I'll start you off with this:


The promontory on which the party found itself straddled two large valleys separated by a sharp, rocky ridge of black stone.  A narrow path winded up the side of the steep mount from a pass in the ridge to the overlook the group stood upon.  To a man they gaped in horror at this alien landscape.

“What happened?!” demanded Marius.

Lazarius shook his head in astonishment.  “I don’t know!  Perhaps something about the nature of the City of Endless Summer threw off my Teleport.  Strong magical fields can do that.”

“Well that’s just great!  What’s going to happen when you Teleport us back?!”

“I don’t know but it doesn’t matter at the moment anyway.  I won’t be able to try again until I’ve had some rest.”

The group exchanged nervous glances.  They were standing in the middle of Hell with a small army of what looked to be demons or devils hacking away at a pyramid in the valley below.  The bruised sky above crackled with purple lightning and looked as though it might rain fire at any moment.  It was not a restful situation.

“Did you hear something,” asked Marcus.  Nobody else had heard anything.  Surveying the terrain around them it appeared as though the pass that spilled into the valley with the pyramid turned into a road heading the opposite direction.  In the distance they could see that it crossed a river at some sort of bridge.  Thus far it looked as though they had not gained the attention of any of the creatures attacking the pyramid a half mile away.

“Uh oh, looks like we’ve got company,” said Cathal who peered down the winding path leading toward the pass below.  He gestured toward several stooped figures with pole-arms in their hands, ascending rapidly toward their perch.  All other avenues of descent were steep and would require a slow climb that they could not afford.  They’d have to stand and fight.

The warriors drew their weapons as Lazarius immediately used his magic to transform his _Skin_ to be as hard as _Stone_.  Speaks moved back from the edge of the path to give himself room and began to call upon the Wild to shapeshift.  His connection to the source of his magic felt strained in this place of death and sorrow, but it did not fail him.

The first of the creatures topped the rise and the group got a better look at him.  His face was a rictus of evil, with a beard of thick bristles jutting from its jaw.  Its twisted limbs held the haft of a vicious looking glaive, the blade of which had barbs jutting from every angle.

Marius was the first to react and dove forward, tumbling across the ground and gaining his feet behind the creature.  Cathal stepped to address the confused devil from the front as Marius thrust his rapier from the rear.  The Brigante found more success than the Imperial and left a deep cut in the creature’s shoulder.

At the rear of the group, Speak transformed into an enormous bear and shuffled forward ready to strike at the enemy.  Before he could do so however, the small group of devils reached into pouches that hung from their necks and each cast a handful of coins onto the ground amid the combatants.  As these coins hit the ground, hideous, slug-like, mockery’s of life sprang into being.  Their flabby flesh bore the faintest resemblance to female orcs with sorrowful expressions of damnation on their countenances.

The dozen or so new aberrations moved quickly to attack the party and nearly surrounded them.  Nearly half a dozen attacked Cathal but his armor fended off their relatively weak claws and he hacked back at them in disgust, their ichor-oozing flesh parted easily by his sword.  Others managed to draw blood from Speaks’ ursine form as well as find chinks in the considerable armor of Marcus.

One of the larger devils struck Marius with his glaive and ripped a terrible slash in his side that immediately began to bleed profusely.  Two more closed in on the Imperial Explorer who suddenly found himself hard pressed and surrounded by enemies.  Cathal fended off another of their glaives with a parry but he too was nearly enveloped in enemies.

Marcus ran to the aid of his companions, ignoring the slashing claws of the tortured souls the devils had called to aid them as another raked him across the thigh.  He brought his mace down upon the enemy that Cathal had wounded and dashed its brains from its evil head.  So powerful was his blow that it carried over into one of the many summoned creatures and stove in its chest.

Lazarius backpedaled from the melee before him and let loose a cluster of _Magic Missiles_, wounding another of the glaive-wielding devils.  But his withdrawal from the hand to hand fighting was short lived as a winged devil appeared out of nowhere and stung him in the shoulder with its barbed tail.  Lazarius felt this sting but the pain was blunted by his enchanted skin.  The flutter of the creature’s wings in his face nearly sent Lazarius into a panic but this assault abruptly ended as Speaks huge maw closed around the creature with a crunch.  The great bear batted away another of the lumpy, flesh devils and cleared the area around the Wizard.
Cathal raised his sword to a guard position and held it there for a moment.  As Marius somersaulted behind his foe, both warriors struck at the same moment and caught the creature high and low, killing it in tandem.  Cathal wasted no time in bounding over to the last of the glaive wielding devils and distracting it as Marcus smote it to the ground.  His follow through cut down the last of the coin-summoned flesh devils.

The battle ended suddenly with the rocky ground thirstily soaking up the spilled blood of friend and foe alike.  Marcus knelt to give the blessing of St. Cuthbert to the bleeding wounds Marius had suffered.  Lazarius and Speaks looked over the bodies of their fallen foes and found the pouches hanging from their necks still held a few coins and an odd looking, skull-shaped gem, which they gathered.  Cathal found himself acting as a lookout once more.

“We’ve got more trouble,” he proclaimed loudly.  The others flicked their gaze toward the path that the devils had approached from.  The Brigante corrected them, “NO!  THERE!” and pointed to the valley below.

A group of the creatures that had been assaulting the pyramid had broken off and were headed toward the pass below.  There were at least a score of them and they were coming fast.


----------



## Darklone

Congrats Rel, now you managed it. I got an update left to read and you post the next one. 

I will not call you a slacker for 6 months


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> I will not call you a slacker for 6 months




But you'll still bump the thread when I haven't updated it for 6 weeks, right?  I gotta have the occasional kicks in the rump to keep me moving forward!


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> But you'll still bump the thread when I haven't updated it for 6 weeks, right?  I gotta have the occasional kicks in the rump to keep me moving forward!



You think that would take 6 weeks ?


----------



## Rel

This post (and the one following it) are rated "M" for Mature. 


The party descended the path as quickly as they could without risking a fall down the rough, pitted stone.  Below was not merely a path, but a distinct road, made of a mottled looking material of varying colors.  Cathal bounded down ahead of the others and made it to the road first where he stared in horror at what he found.

The road itself was made from the tortured faces of the damned.  They were packed impossibly close to one another with their faces upturned, mouths open in eternal silent screams of agony.  Cathal flinched as one of the faces shifted its gaze to regard him with an expression of unfathomable sorrow.  He stood transfixed as Marius stepped up next to him.  “If we don’t want to wind up like them, we’d better get moving.  Half the demons in Hell are after us!”  Cathal tore his gaze away and the group hurried down the slope into the valley cut by the river ahead.  Cathal walked along the stone at the edge of the road.

They moved as quickly as they could but Marcus and Speaks were hampered by their heavy armor.  While Speaks could easily have shifted form to something faster, Marcus had no such option.  As the ground began to level out it became obvious that they could not win a footrace against the infernal beings that followed them.  They stopped to catch their breath as the bridge across the river loomed ahead of them.

Knowing that at any moment the pack of devils was going to crest the hill behind them, they had a decision to make.  “The bridge is too broad to provide a good defensible position,” said Marcus.  They looked to each other for a solution.

“Well,” said Marius, “we Run, Fight or Hide.”

They all knew that running was going to be futile.  Marcus probably wouldn’t even be able to doff his armor before the devils arrived.  “I’ve got damned little magic left,” said Lazarius.  The battles with the Ogres and the pack of devils they had just fought had clearly taken a toll on the party’s resources.  They would be down to their blades and wits if forced to fight again soon.

“Hide it is then,” said Speaks.  As the Druid spoke, Marcus’ face lit up in recollection.

“Wait!  I’ve got just the thing to help us out!”  He fumbled in a belt pouch for a moment and came up with a small silk bag tied with a delicate cord.  “This magical dust should hide our trail.  I’ve been carrying it around forever and had nearly forgotten it.”

Marius prodded the group, “That’s great.  But if we don’t get moving, they’re not going to have to track us.  They’ll just see us standing here having a town meeting!”  They hefted weapons and cinched their pack straps and immediately started moving upstream on the near side of the river.  The air filled with a salty tang that almost smelled of the ocean.

The going was slow along the barren, uneven stones at the edge of the river and they had to get out of sight of the road or the game would be up.  They could see a ridge that ran down to the river from the craggy mountains to their right.  The river took a slight bend there and if they could get over that ridge they’d be hidden from the road of the damned they’d left behind.  The only other saving grace was that the splashing of the river helped to hide the horrendous racket of Marcus’ armor scraping on the rough rocks.

As they scrambled over the ridge, Marius looked back and could see the band of devils milling around on the near side of the bridge.  “Better use that dust quick, Marcus!”  The servant of St. Cuthbert ripped open the silk pouch and threw it back in the direction they’d come.  Now it was just a matter of luck.  Speaks and Marius lay low between two basalt boulders and watched the devils.  After another minute of indecision, they proceeded across the bridge and away from the party.

As a sigh of relief passed their lips, they all suddenly felt a voice in their minds.  The intrusion was shocking but not entirely unwelcome for the voice in question was silky, soft and feminine.  “You boys are not from around here I take it.”

They looked around to find the source of the woman who had addressed them but saw no one.  The voice came again like a fantasy, “Looks like you drew the unwelcome attention of some of the Destroyers.”

Marius was the first to reply, “Do you know what it was they were destroying?”

The voice returned, full of humor and naughtiness, “I know all SORTS of things.  Just as a quick example, I know that if you remain here in the open, you’ll probably be spotted by an Imp and they’ll fly off to tattle on you.”

Marius kept up his end of the conversation, “We’d rather avoid that if possible.  Do you know of somewhere we could take cover?”

“Oh indeed I do, pretty man.  And I’d be only too happy to show you where it is…among other things.  But this is Hell after all.  Nothing comes without a price.  But only a small one in this case.”  The voice dripped in undisguised sexuality and promise.

Marius asked in reply, “What price do you ask?” knowing already that he’d pay it and happily.

“Just one little kiss.”  The voice was somehow the epitome of innocence.  But not.

Marius looked at his companions, all of whom it turned out had not just fallen off the turnip wagon.  They brimmed with skepticism.  He said aloud, “A moment to consider your offer milady.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, pretty man.  I might get bored and go tell your pursuers where you can be found.”  The voice held the casual confidence of a card player holding three Emperors and a pair of Centurions.

The party huddled close.  “I’m not sure she can be trusted,” said Marcus.  Marius regarded the Cleric with utter incredulity, “Ya’ think?!”  Lazarius interjected, “I’ve heard tales of fiends who can steal your mind with a single kiss.”  Marius turned to the Wizard, “Well then whoever does it had better stay focused on NOT losing his mind!”  Marcus looked at the Imperial Explorer with disbelief, “You’re not really considering going through with this are you?!”  “Have you got any better ideas?!” retorted Marius.  “If we don’t find someplace to hide until Lazarius can get us out of here, we’re going to wind up dead or MUCH worse.”  All of them remembered the road.  “Wish me luck,” said Marius.

They rose from the huddle and Marius called out to no one in particular.  “Your offer is accepted.  You show us safe shelter and I give you a kiss.  Only, I’m not used to kissing women whom I can’t see.  Would you be so kind as to show yourself?”

“Certainly,” came the answer as she appeared some thirty feet away.  Envy washed over all but Marius as she beckoned him with her finger and moistened her lips in anticipation.  Marius felt only Lust as his eyes raked up and down her naked body.  Marcus gripped the shoulder of his lucky companion, perhaps slightly harder than was strictly necessary, and prayed for St. Cuthbert to give him strength.  Marius shrugged off the grip and walked toward her, marveling at how her pale skin seemed to reflect the purple of the skies.

She playfully wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “My name’s Jalena.”

“Of course it is,” said Marius.

Then she kissed him.


----------



## Rel

Just so's we're all on the same page here, when Jalena made her first appearance, Marius' player asked, "So what does she look like?"

I replied, "Like the naked, unholy love child of Lucy Liu and Salma Hayek."

So there's your visual.


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> Just so's we're all on the same page here, when Jalena made her first appearance, Marius' player asked, "So what does she look like?"
> 
> I replied, "Like the naked, unholy love child of Lucy Liu and Salma Hayek."
> 
> So there's your visual.




Hah!

Even a righteous paladin might go for that!

~ OO


----------



## BSF

Mwahahahahaha

That's great Rel.  Many thanks.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Just so's we're all on the same page here, when Jalena made her first appearance, Marius' player asked, "So what does she look like?"
> 
> I replied, "Like the naked, unholy love child of Lucy Liu and Salma Hayek."
> 
> So there's your visual.




Uuhhh... drain my abilty scores?... Sure... Whatever! Now pucker up!


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Mwahahahahaha
> 
> That's great Rel.  Many thanks.




Oh, don't worry.  It gets MUCH better.  Or MUCH worse, depending on your perspective.


----------



## BSF

Better!  While I play in a game, I am a DM and I love to watch these conundrums come up.  Besides, I remember some of the posts from around the time this played out and I am anxious to see how the story unfolds.  It's one thing to get a brief snippet when you are posting for thoughts.  It is an entirely new level of deliciousness when you get to read the actual story unfold.  

It sounds like you guys had a great campaign and it is always a pleasure to read about great campaigns.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Better!  While I play in a game, I am a DM and I love to watch these conundrums come up.  Besides, I remember some of the posts from around the time this played out and I am anxious to see how the story unfolds.  It's one thing to get a brief snippet when you are posting for thoughts.  It is an entirely new level of deliciousness when you get to read the actual story unfold.
> 
> It sounds like you guys had a great campaign and it is always a pleasure to read about great campaigns.




Thanks, BSF.  Actually, would you mind doing me a favor?  I wanted to read back through the thread you're referring to in order to jog my memory on a couple of minor points.  But my community supporter status has expired and, until my new business starts to receive some of the money it is owed, I'm not renewing yet.  Would you mind doing a search for me and posting a link here?  The thread was called "How Fast Should He Turn Evil" I think.  Hmm.  Those are somewhat short words to search on, aren't they?  If it turns into a pain, forget it.  I can always search manually.


----------



## BSF

No problem Rel!
Actually I will link a couple of the threads I recall that refer to this Story hour.

Altering an encounter on the fly:  What would you have done?
It finally happened:  Party can Teleport
Help me be a Rat Bastard DM: You have one hour
How Fast should he turn evil?

Those are the 4 I can remember off the top of my head.


----------



## Darklone

Hihihi... can't we have Salma Hayek AND Lucy Liu?


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> No problem Rel!
> Actually I will link a couple of the threads I recall that refer to this Story hour.




That was fun reading back over those and they helped me realize that I'd made a couple of minor chronological errors to the last post or two.  But nothing that drastically throws things out of whack, EXCEPT FOR ONE EGREGIOUS ERROR!!

I can't believe I screwed up such a crucial fact and I am profusely sorry.  The text in the post above should read:

_"Like the naked, unholy love child of Lucy Liu and *Monica Bellucci*."_

Again, my appologies.  And this should in no way reflect poorly on Ms. Hayek, whose dirty bathwater I would gladly drink.


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hihihi... can't we have Salma Hayek AND Lucy Liu?




This is HELL, Darklone.  Not HEAVEN.  Try to pay more attention.


----------



## Darklone

Monica? Now you got me drooling. For Salma my Will save was good enough, for Monica I even lower my spell resistance!!!


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Monica? Now you got me drooling. For Salma my Will save was good enough, for Monica I even lower my spell resistance!!!




Funny, that's exactly what Marius said...


----------



## Darklone

"I'm on a highwaaaay to hell....!!!!"


----------



## Rel

It tasted like chocolate covered honey.  Jalena’s mouth was almost exactly as perfect as Marius had guessed it would be and he knew that she could use it to conjure almost anything she wanted from him.  Almost.  The kiss lasted for either an instant or eternity and then it was over.  Jalena pulled away from him and looked into his eyes.  For the most fleeting of moments he could have sworn that she was disappointed.  Then she smiled.

“Let me take you inside before you’re all spotted.”  Jalena led them up the steep, rocky slope to a stone that looked like every other blackened, pitted stone in Hell.  Except this one was different because it wasn’t really there.  She disappeared into the mountainside and the others followed her.

Inside was a very small, roughly shaped room with a single, low-ceilinged corridor leading deeper into the mountain.  She led them down this corridor into a large, circular room.  In the opposite wall there was another corridor, blocked by a curtain.

“Welcome to my home.  Make yourselves comfortable.  If you’d care to leave your armor and clothes in here, my bedroom is just beyond that curtain.”  She grinned at the men lasciviously.  The room filled with a deafening silence.

Marcus finally replied, “Uh…I think I’ll sleep out here.”  He nervously backed toward one wall and deposited his pack there.  He made no move toward unbuckling his belt or armor.  The others began to drop their packs and pull out bedrolls, making it their clear intention to bed down in the room at hand.  Marius looked longingly at the curtain.

Speaks’ voice rose above the bustle of activity.  “What is that pyramid out there that those creatures were digging at?”

A smile of incredulity spread across Jalena’s perfect face.  “You mean you don’t know?”

“No,” the Druid replied, “but I take it that you do.”

“Well of course I do.  I’ve lived here for quite some time and I try to keep abreast of the local goings on.”  She let a pause linger in the air.

“Are you going to tell us about it?” asked Speaks with a hint of irritation.

“I’d be more than happy to talk to any of you…who wish to join me in there…”  She looked meaningfully at the curtain.  She turned and paraded her naked backside past them as she wiggled her way toward her bedroom.  He reached out and gently raked her fingernails across Marius’ throat as she passed him.

Marius waited for a moment until both his heart and breathing had restarted before speaking.  “I’d better go find out what she knows.”

“Be careful!” Marcus stage-whispered to Marius’ back.

The Imperial Explorer paused at the curtain and turned back to the Cleric of St. Cuthbert and grinned.  “Relax.  It’s me!”

Marcus looked around at the others, “I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Lazarius beat Speaks and Cathal to the retort.  “STARTING?!”

The men set about making themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard stone floor.  At one point Speaks noticed a pattern of runes arrayed in a circle near the center of the room.  He regarded them carefully and then drew Lazarius’ attention to them.  “What do you make of these?”

The Imperial War Wizard gave them a close look.  “Well, they have a somewhat unusual look to them but I’d guess they had to do with some kind of Summoning or Transportation magic.”  He pulled out a well-traveled wand and waved it over the circle.  “Hmm.  It doesn’t appear intrinsically magical.  So chances are we won’t have any demons popping into the middle of the room as we sleep.  Probably.”  This was of somewhat dubious comfort to the rest of the group but they did their best to settle down to rest anyway.  They desperately needed their sleep if they were going to make it out of here tomorrow.

Several hours passed before Marius emerged from Jalena’s bedchamber.  (His player commented that he’d finally gotten some use out of the stupid Endurance feat he’d had to take to qualify as a Royal Explorer)  Cathal was on watch and looked at his companion.  His visage was the very definition of mixed emotions.  “Did you learn anything?”

Marius turned and slowly regarded the Brigante as one of his eyebrows crept skyward.

“Did you learn anything about the *pyramid*?” the Fodoran warrior clarified.

“I learned all sorts of things.  I’ll fill all of you in after the others wake up.  Have we got any food?  I’m starving!”  Marius cobbled together a sizable meal from the leftovers of the repast the others had shared.  Then he promptly fell asleep on the floor.

Cathal shook his head at this strange southerner who had become his friend along this journey that had carried them to Hell.  Hopefully it would carry them back too.  The Brigante suddenly became acutely aware that his back was beginning to ache from sitting too long on the stone.  He stood and walked over to where Marius lay and gathered the last few remaining scraps of food that had gone uneaten.  When in Hell, one always kept one’s eye on where one’s next meal was coming from.

As he scooped the last pieces of biscuit and meat into his haversack, he glanced over at where Marius lay sprawled on the floor and thought he saw just the smallest of crimson smudges across the fingers of his right hand.


----------



## Riggs

*I miss some posts and look what happened!*

I've missed a few, so nice job on the posts, JB.

I recall the "holy crap!!" factor that we all shared when the beholder came through the ceiling.  We all remembered the "Watcher" reference that Magdar gave us, but then there it was, dusting the roof and ready to kick our behinds.  Yikes.  I could have taken him though. Yep.   

Then Hell. After we Albatrossed away, we then see we were perhaps better off trying to gnaw off the eyestalks of the Watcher. We were all saying things like, "Hell? Really?  _THE_ Hell?  No kidding? Wow."

When Jalena spoke to us, I knew Marius was doomed.  He has the Will save of a schoolboy and the Charisma to think he could handle it. haha.  I even had Marius tell himself and the party that he was the most expendable since he was the least of the frontliners and had no magical ability to get us out.  Really though, he was half-seduced with the voice, and when it was Lucy+Monica??  Jeez he didn't stand a chance at all!  A quick memory of Lucy in Charlie's Angels wearing leather and Monica in Brotherhood of the Wolf wearing nothing was enough.  Getting to roll at all was just bonus.

One mechanical aside, Marcus gave Marius a Will save boost there for the kiss, but what he hadn't yet looked up in his scrolls was that it was once per day, not once an hour or such.  So Marius and Marcus thought Marius had the +9 or whatever the really good save boost was while in the back room there.  Of course, he had nothing on but his smile.


----------



## ledded

Fabulous.


Just fabulous. It's been a while since I stopped in here, having lost the subscription when all the sub's died a while back. Glad I did too. You're doing great work here man, and I am now firmly re-subscribed.


----------



## Rel

Thanks for stopping by, Riggs and ledded.  For my players, I strongly recommend reading ledded's Story Hour, particularly some of the recent updates!  I haven't loved a shield wielding character so much since Captain Texas ("Kiss Abilene, evil doer!" *Wham*).

I also wanted to mention here that, although I led Marius down the path of temptation in a Rat-Bastardly fashion (the whole Lucy/Monica thing was just plain mean), Riggs did an awesome job of roleplaying and was a great sport about the predicament he found himself in.  It turned what I thought would be a somewhat colorful sidetrack into a major plot point and one of my favorite things about this campaign.  Thanks again, Riggs (and sorry about your soul ).

Here's another snippet and there might be another later this afternoon if I get a bit of time while my daughter naps.


“Well we’re in Hell alright.  And not one of the nicer parts from what I understand.”  The group listened to Marius expectantly.  That bridge we saw out there is called ‘The Bridge of Regret’.  There are people…well, the manifestation of their souls anyway, who are shackled to it, damned to hang there and contemplate their regretful actions for all eternity.  The river itself is comprised of the tears of the damned.”

Marcus gaped in horrid amazement.  “You mean…”

Marius cut him off, “Yes.  We do NOT want to visit the headwaters.”

“What about that pyramid?  Is it some kind of temple?” asked Speaks.

“Not a temple.  A prison.  And guess who’s inside:  Bane.”

“That’s impossible!” Marcus interjected.  “Bane is dead!  St. Cuthbert himself smote him down!”

Marius held up a hand, attempting to calm Marcus from his dogma.  “Smote he may have been, but according to Jalena killing off a god just isn’t that easy.  Bane was somehow cast into Hell and a host of angels descended and made this Tomb around him.  I guess it is supposed to somehow cut him off from his source of power or something.”

Lazarius jumped in this time, “But those devils are tearing it apart!”

Marius nodded his head in grave agreement, “Yep.”

Speaks’ brow wrinkled in contemplation.  “But Bane has been dead…or, well, imprisoned I guess, for three hundred years.  Why are they just now getting around to trying to open his tomb?”

“Nobody ever paid them, until now,” replied Marius.  “You see, Hell is a rather mercenary place. Nobody does anything without compensation unless they have to.  And the coin of the realm is souls.  Those coins and that gem we found on those devils that attacked us?  Those are the local currency.”

Marcus gasped in horror, “You mean those are souls?!”

Marius continued, “Not exactly.  See, the rulers of Hell are these devil Lords.  When the average damned soul is consigned to Hell, the minions of these Lords gather them up and return them to their masters.  They are put into the large pens to await whatever fate the Lord decrees.  But the Lords also issue currency against the value of these damned souls and use it to pay those who serve them.  These coins can be cashed in for the souls in question, even at a great distance.  That’s how those devils we fought were able to summon forth all those pitiful wretches who we had to wade through atop the mountain.”

Marcus cringed at the horror of it all, “My dear god.  They literally traffic in the misery of the damned!  This is an outrage!”

Marius rolled his eyes, “Well this IS Hell we’re talking about!  And before you get all weepy, remember that you don’t wind up here without having done some pretty bad stuff.”  

Marius’ sarcasm seemed to falter just a bit at the end of his statement.  Speaks filled the ensuing silence, “But who is paying the devils to break open the Tomb of Bane?  And why?”

“Well, the local Lord is the one doing the actual paying.  But Jalena says that he just recently got a massive influx of new souls from somewhere.  The devils he has been paying have complained a lot about the ‘quality’ of these souls, whatever that means.  But the Lord has been spreading the cash around generously so they don’t complain too long or too loud.  And devils from all over Hell are starting to respond to his largesse.  Devils are going to be thick on the ground around here in the very near future.”

Lazarius was already in motion, packing his few belongings into his Haversack, “Then let’s get the…well, the Hell out of here!”


----------



## Rel

Marius spent a few more moments in quiet discussion with Jalena before the party exited her lair.  They paused outside along the mountainside and took a long look across the River of Tears.  It spilled along within its rocky banks, filling the air with a salty smell.  It was not nearly so large as the Fodor, but still to imagine that it was filled by the tears of the damned was simply stunning.

They had debated as to whether they could simply Teleport directly from Jalena’s lair or if there were something special about the promontory that required them to use it as their point of departure.  Lazarius had no definitive answer but he felt it most prudent to return to the lookout and so they had to retrace their path along the river.

They made it back to where the river intersected the road and paused briefly at the edge of the Bridge of Regret.  Cathal turned and dashed up the road toward the pass, his magical boots carrying him faster than a horse.  The others looked nervously back the other direction, across the bridge, for any signs of approaching devils.  As they gazed that way, something caught Lazarius’ eye and he felt his stomach plunge.  He stepped onto the bridge, walking away from the others.  “Uncle?”

The man had died before he was born, but there were portraits of him all over his childhood home.  Manilux Rameous was head of his house and among the most successful merchants of his day.  His business had survived the Slave War and near collapse of the Empire, only to emerge strong as many of his rivals had been destroyed in the war.  He was eventually appointed to be the governor of the scattered towns of the Northlands from Aquae Sulis to Bremmerton by the Emperor.  He held that post for a dozen years but relinquished it when the barbarian attacks became too fierce.  He departed the Northlands with the last of the Legions that left Glynden some 30 years ago.  It is said that his wagon creaked under the weight of the silver he took south with him, but he died before he could enjoy his retirement, leaving riches to his family and one small, mysterious chest.

Lazarius discovered this chest as he explored the basement of his family’s manor as a youth.  It bore some strange markings and an intricate lock.  But Lazarius was a clever boy and discovered that while the lock still held, the hinges were badly rusted.  They gave way to a little prying with a dagger and inside he found a torn document written in faded brown ink and a medallion.

His father had discovered him rooting around in the storeroom and quickly banished him from it, sweeping the parchment and medallion back into the chest and carrying them back to his personal quarters.  Lazarius never saw that medallion again, but Speaks drew a sketch of one just like it for him many years later.  It was the medallion worn by the orcish worshippers of Bane.  He knew in that moment that his uncle had been part of the Cult of Bane but had never spoken of it to the others.

“Uncle, it is I, Lazarious Rameous, your great nephew, son of Tyminnes Rameous.  I see that your worship of Bane has brought you to this.”  The man he looked upon was little more than a skeleton.  His skin stretched tight over ribs, his head hung down with a few limp, pitiful strands of hair still clinging to it.  He was chained to one of the many pillars that made up the bridge supports as were many others, though the manacles on either side of Manilux remained empty.

The head rose slowly to reveal a pair of eyes that burned with insanity that can only come from decades of damnation, “WHAT OF IT, WHELP?!  Do you think it surprises me to find others of my line damned?  Ours has ever been a family of individuals, smart but easily tempted by the easy path.  So welcome to Hell.  I hope you enjoyed the pleasures that your sins brought you in life.”  The wretched soul that was once his forefather glared hatefully at Lazarius who could not bear such a site.  He cast his eyes downward and saw his uncle’s name carved into the pillar and knew that he would hang here for eternity.

“I am not among the damned, Uncle.  I came here of my own free will and I shall return to our world in the same manner.”  By now, the rest of the party, save Cathal, had walked down the bridge and come to stand behind the Wizard.  Though they looked askance at one another when Lazarius used the words “own free will”, none contradicted him.

“It happens, Uncle, that I have come across some of the coins of this realm.  These coins and gems that buy souls.  Perhaps yours might be bought and you could be removed from your eternal vigil here on the Bridge of Regret?”

The eyes blazed with lust and desire for a thing so often dreamt of, so coveted and yet not to be hoped for.  “ANYTHING!!  I shall do ANYTHING!!!”  He panted with quivering breath and stared at his savior nephew.

“What can you tell me about the Cult of Bane?”

“I had little to do with them.  They contacted me after the War and told me that a strong governor would be needed in the Northlands if they were to be held together as the Empire fought so desperately for survival.  They told me that if I only just made a pact to do a favor for them occasionally, they could assure my appointment to a governorship.

What choice did I have?!  Other merchants were failing all around me!  I was in debt to the government and they told me those debts would be forgiven if I was made governor.  So I met with them and…and made their pact.  The things they did to me in that ceremony…but I did it for my FAMILY!”

Lazarius shook his head, “What did they ask in return?”

“At first, nothing.  I settled into governing the northlands and the silver began to flow from the mines like water!  I was blessed!  But then, one autumn night, a man in brown robes came.  He wore a strange pendant beneath his robes that he brought forth when we were alone.  It was the sign I was told to look for.”

Lazarius nodded in recognition.  “A twisted copper ring with three spokes running to the center, wavy like water…or fire?”

“The very one.  He wanted…unborn children.  He said that the Cult was recruiting and it was best to have the child from birth.  But I think I knew even then that his intentions were more sinister than that.”  Manilux hung his head and his chest rattled with sobs of regret.

“And you provided them?” Lazarius asked, already cringing at what he knew the answer would be.

Manilux’s voice quivered and his eyes grew distant, “It was so easy.  I just sent for a young guardsman from Glynden, a man who I knew to have a pregnant wife, to come and serve as my runner for a few months.  They never arrived and were never found.  It was only a few times over the course of a dozen years…”

The party shook their heads in disgust and their contempt for this pathetic wretch was easily visible in their faces.  But what punishment could they exact upon him that was worse than what he faced.

“After that I went home, back to Emor.  I used my riches gained in the north to have a palatial villa built, but I never lived to see it completed.  And the Cult never contacted me again, but the damage to my soul was done.  And here I have remained until now.  Now you have come to deliver me from my torment!”  His voice rang with fervent, monomaniacal hope.

“Perhaps, Uncle.  ‘Perhaps’ is what I said.  I’m not sure that we have enough of the local coin to buy your freedom.  And in any event, we’ve got to get out of here quickly now.  It may be that we will have time and opportunity later to see to your release.  For now, we must go.”

Manilux body writhed with superhuman strength, fueled by his rage and insanity, but his bonds held as he hurled the most vile curses from his lips at his deceitful nephew.  He strained and blood ran from his wrists and ankles as he tore them open against the unforgiving iron of his bindings.  It didn’t take long for his strength to run out.  Hell is a place that breeds resignation and no place is that more true than the Bridge of Regret.  Manilux hung limply from his chains, his blood and tears running down to fall upon the bridge that had soaked up so many gallons of them over the span of eternity.

None of the party could bear to look upon the man any longer and their gazes sought other places to rest.  Lazarius found himself staring at the vacant post to the left of that of his great uncle.  He saw that a name was carved there, indicating the person for whom the pillar and chains were destined:  Solvaria Rameous.  His sister.

Speaks too looked upon one of the vacant pillars and saw a name engraved for the one who would come to hang there in time:  Titus Pontius Macer.


----------



## BSF

Rel,
Very, very nicely done here.  If I ever end up sending PCs to Hell, I hope I can do it the same justice you have.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Rel,
> Very, very nicely done here.  If I ever end up sending PCs to Hell, I hope I can do it the same justice you have.




Much of the credit should go to the gang here at ENWorld.  I drew a lot of inspiration for the Hell material from one of the threads you kindly linked to earlier.

A couple GM notes are in order regarding the end of the last update:

First up, Lazarius was not hugely shocked to see his sister's name on the post next to Uncle Manilux.  Solvaria, his older sister, has long been known to have a dark side.  In his words she is "spiteful, dangerous and scheming...she wants power no matter how she achieves it".  She is very beautiful and is not bashful about using this beauty to get what she wants.  And he has long suspected that she has dabbled in dark magic of some sort.  But her current whereabouts was unknown to him.  Until now.

Marius is good at keeping his ear close to the ground in Emor and had heard rumors that the high ranking Senator Pontius had recently taken a new, young, gorgeous wife, almost immediately after his previous wife died under mysterious circumstances.  He knew only the first name of this new wife:  Solvaria.  After seeing her name upon the post on the Bridge of Regret, he and Lazarius put two and two together and came up with a full house.  This bodes ill for things back in the Empire because Pontius is a close friend and advisor to the son (Flavius) of Emperor Dartalus II.  The Emperor is in very poor health and word on the street is that Flavius is almost certain to succeed him in the near future, which will elevate Pontius' status even further.  But at the moment, the party knows nothing specific and even if they did, they're still in Hell.

The other name they saw, Titus Pontius Macer (don't confuse him with the senator), was significant mostly to Speaks.  In case you don't recall (and I'd be impressed if you did), Macer was the undead guy who the party (then Speaks, Scar and Raven) battled in the heart of the abandoned Temple of Bane, deep in the Darkwood.  His journal revealed how the Cult had been aligned with the Druids against the Elven Dark Druids and how the remnants of the Cult had fled west, probably toward the City of Endless Summer, after pretty much everybody began to attack them.

The eyebrow raising part of the whole business is not the fact that Macer would earn himself a spot on the Bridge of Regret next to other known Bane worshipers, but the fact that he wasn't already there.  This led to a quick exchange between Speaks' player and Lazarius' player (who also played Raven) that went something like this:

Speaks:  "Wait...Macer?  But we killed him!  Didn't we?"

Lazarius:  "Yeah, we even cut off his head and carried it away in a bag."

Speaks:  "What did we do with that bag?"

Lazarius:  "I don't recall giving it to anybody.  Did we lose it?"

Speaks:  "Wait a second...we lost it when the Dark Druids attacked us outside the Temple as we were leaving.  That was when the Dire Owls carried us to safety, wasn't it?"

Lazarius:  "Oh yeah...we left behind the bag with the head in it.  Damn.  That Macer guy is one tough bastard!"

Speaks:  "I think we'd better find out what happened to him.  After we get out of Hell I mean."

So it looks like the party has a bit of information gathering to do if they can make it out of Hell.  Look for an update later today that describes the attempt.  But I'll go ahead and warn you that a member of the party suffers...

*A Fate Worse Than Death!!!*

*cue dramatic music*


----------



## BSF

The RBDM help in one hour thread was a great thread.  Plenty of inspiration in it.  But you did a great job taking that inspiration and running with it.  The fact that you were able to toss in a couple of teasers for the game on the bridge is golden and I dig that.  All in all, a dem fine job sir.  Yes, a dem fine job.


----------



## Rel

Cathal was the one who noticed the devils coming up the road in the distance.  They had lingered too long on the Bridge of Regret and now a column of Hell’s minions was coming from across the river, deeper into the badlands.  They turned to flee back up into the pass toward the ascent to the promontory when Manilux called out weakly to Lazarius.

“Tell your sister that I’m waiting for her…”

The Wizard did not look back.

They made it up into the pass and if the column of devils had spotted them they certainly did not seem to be picking up their pace.  Marcus did peer into the distance and note that the approaching group of devils were carrying digging tools and were no doubt on the way to aid in the destruction of the Tomb of Bane.  The warrior-priest of St. Cuthbert knew that he must somehow fight his way home and warn his church that Bane was in danger of being set free.  And he would lead a Crusade back to Hell to stop that from happening if he had to.

They made their ascent up the pitted black stones and gazed down once more at the crowd of Hell-spawn that were hacking intently at the pyramid.  The mass of devils had grown noticeably just in the day that had passed since they’d been there and they knew that at least one more column of devil was about to join the effort.  They had no way of guessing how long the Tomb, constructed by the hosts of Celestia, would withstand the assault of the minions of Hell, but they all felt a sense of urgency.

“Ok, listen up,” said Lazarius, “I don’t think I can Teleport us anywhere outside the City of Endless Summer.  I’m guessing that the City’s tie to Bane is what brought us here in the first place so I’ve got to take us back into the City and then we’ll have to fly out while we’re still in bird form.”

Speaks interjected, “With the Watcher still floating around, not to mention those Wyverns, I think we should probably consider NOT leaving the City as birds.  You  guys don’t really fly all that well.”

Marius nodded, “Yeah, let’s just sneak out the same way we came in.  The place looked like it was nearly empty and hopefully they won’t be waiting for us when we return.  Speaking of which, where are we returning to?”

“The Forge,” replied Lazarius.

“The Forge?!  That’s where we departed from!  If they’re keeping an eye on any place in the City, that’ll be it!”

“I know that,” explained the Imperial War Wizard, “but it was the only place that we spent more than a couple of moments and we at least gave it a cursory search before they found us.  It’s our best shot of getting back without a mishap.  And look where the last mishap brought us!”  Lazarius explanation was punctuated as a wave of lightning rolled across the battered and bruised sky of Hell.

“I suppose you’ve got a point,” said Speaks, “But let’s make sure we’re all ready to do battle if we have to.”  Everyone nodded.  When they were ready, all but Lazarius joined hands and a moment later they were birds again.  They flitted to the Wizard’s shoulders and he said a single, unintelligible word.  They were elsewhere.


----------



## Rel

A “pop” accompanied their arrival in the Forge and barely a moment passed before the party stood assembled, weapons bristling and spells readied.  A heartbeat passed, then another.  No enemies awaited them.  They breathed.

They all gazed upward at the hole in the ceiling that the Watcher had disintegrated with its gaze.  They quickly moved to the perimeter of the room where they could not be directly seen from above.

“Let’s check that door where the bloody (GM Note:  This isn’t meant as invective, the Ogres were literally covered in blood) Ogres came from before we leave,” said Marius.

“Why?!  You were all worried that we might be found!  Let’s just leave,” implored Lazarius.

“We’re going to make a lot of noise as we depart.  Marcus sounds like a walking metalworks.  If they’re behind that door, I say we ambush them instead of them ambushing us,” explained Marius.

Not all the group agreed with this idea but they knew that a lengthy argument would probably draw more attention than a brief battle.  They formed up around the door.

(GM Note:  This may seem a bit incautious but the party had layered on the buff spells before leaving Hell, including some rather short term stuff.  So they figured that if a fight was going to happen, they’d be better off dictating the timing.)

The smell slammed into them as soon as Marcus opened the set of large doors.  It seemed to rush out into the Forge like a plague and they felt their throats constrict against the putrid odor of carrion and their eyes watered.  Marius wiped away the tears to find an enormous room stretching off into the darkness beyond their torchlight.  The shallow arch of the domed ceiling rose above and was supported by carved columns.  And the floor was piled with bodies.

Hundreds, possibly thousands of them.  Orcs.  And mostly women and children from the look of them.  They were not dead more than a few days at most and the floor was thick with a couple of inches of partially congealed blood.  It was an abattoir.  It suddenly became clear where the influx of souls to pay the devils had come from.  The companions reeled at the horrible stench of death and the enormity of the evil that had taken place here.  Then something moved.

“They’re Undead!” called Speaks.  “Get back!”

Marius scrambled back out into the Forge followed by Cathal who pulled shut the left door.  Speaks stepped into the breach and called upon the Wild to bring forth the little creatures of the world, whose duty was to cleanse the corpses of the dead and clean the land of their taint.  Marcus too fell back but stopped in front of the Druid who was vulnerable while he did his magic.

They came lurching out of the darkness, clawed hands outstretched and faces still holding the horror of their dying screams.  The undead Orcs tried to swarm past Marcus but he smote one and then another as they moved toward Speaks.  But there were many, many of them and in a moment they were all around him, grabbing and clawing, seeking revenge against any living thing for what had been done to them.

Marius fell back again before the onslaught of undead, regretting that they’d ever opened that door.  Cathal held fast near the doorway, waiting for an opportunity to push back the enemy if the opportunity presented itself.

Marcus held his mace high and the cross of St. Cuthbert flashed as a wave of holy energy surged outward.  Those undead closest to him halted their advance, cringing away from the light of righteousness.  Then the air became abuzz with a _Swarm of Insects_ as Speaks’ call was answered.  He wasted no time readying another of his magics to cut off the advance of the zombie horde.

The tide of evil undead began to wash away from the party as those exposed to the holy light of St. Cutbert attempted to escape its caustic rays.  Cathal and Marcus both smote down those who fled before them.  But for every one of the hideous abominations that they sent to flight, two more lurched toward them.

Speaks let his magic go to cut off their advance and a magical hedge, thick with briars and thorns appeared in front of them, forming a _Green Blockade_.  Marcus redoubled his efforts and held aloft his mace once again, sending the latest wave of undead crashing back upon itself, even as another group surged forward.  Cathal moved across Marcus’ path and grabbed the door pull with one hand and slashed down another zombie with his blade.

Marius and Lazarius both nervously stood in the Forge, their eyes glued to the hole in the ceiling, afraid that at any moment it might darken with the shadow of the Watcher.  Speaks stepped back, hovering near the double doors into the abattoir and waiting, hoping that his _Swarm_ would slow the advance of the undead.

Marcus let out a cry, “In the name of St. Cuthbert, I banish your unholy forms from this world!”  A powerful wave of silver energy surged outward from the Cleric and smashed into the oncoming undead, burning them where they stood with white flames, leaving only dust behind.  Cathal pulled the door shut and the Forge was enveloped in silence once again.

“Let’s get out of here!  NOW!!” cried Lazarius.  This time there were no dissenting votes.


----------



## Rel

Speaks used a minor magic to _Shape_ the _Wood_ of the door in such a way as to hold against the thumping coming from the other side.  Then they quickly retreated across the Forge to the doorway that led down to the long passage away from the City, back to the Foundry.  They moved along the broad corridor and soon found themselves approaching the intersection where the passage had split as they entered the City.  

Ahead the way looked clear in the direction toward the large set of doors where they had first encountered the Ogres.  They slowed their advance and Marius led them up to where the sharp corner doubled back and ascended, presumably ending at ground level in the huge open courtyard and gardens of the City.  The Imperial Explorer leaned around the corner and peered into the darkness of the passageway.  “I don’t see anything.”  A moment later, this was even more true as their Everburning Torches were snuffed.

“What?!”, cried Lazarius.  He, Speaks and Cathal all fumbled for some other light source but none came quickly to hand.  Then their torches flickered back to life and they saw before them a stone statue, holding the exact pose that Marius once held as he looked around the corner.  Marcus rushed forward to aid his friend but found that there was little he could do for him in his present condition.

Cathal summoned his mystical _Shield_ and dashed around the corner to face their adversary.  He found himself staring down the corridor at the abominable form of the Watcher, floating some sixty feet away, its mouth grinning and eyestalks waving.  The Brigante steeled himself and cried out in his native tongue, “You have not weakened us!  I now fight with the strength of my fallen brother in arms!”  He brandished his sword, which crackled with lightning.

Lazarius called upon his defensive magic and moved up near Marius as a half-dozen _Mirror Images_ of the Wizard sprang into being around him.  Speaks now knew only a fraction of what their adversary was capable of.  But he reasoned that if it was called The Watcher, it would be better if it couldn’t see them.  He called forth an _Obscuring Mist_ that enveloped the entire party.

Cathal was only at the outer edge of the mist however and could see as a ray shot from one of the eyes of the Watcher and struck him.  He felt it try to fill his veins with granite but he fought off the creature’s petrification magic.  He was still reeling from the joy of having survived as Marcus dashed past him and boldly charged up to the creature, shield and mace in hand.  Cathal too dashed forward, diving beneath the floating Watcher and coming to his feet behind it and slashing out with his blade in the same smooth motion.  He struck and saw translucent gray ocular material ooze from the wound.

Lazarius burst through the mist with some trepidation but was heartened to find his allies already having brought the Watcher to battle.  A crackling _Orb_ of _Electricity_ shot from the War Wizard’s outstretched hand but flew wide and missed the entire melee.

Speaks too hurried around the corner and burst from the mist.  He saw Marcus and Cathal locked in battle with the creature and moved to enter the fight.  As he did so, the creature floated from between the warriors and retreated further up the hallway, Cathal slashed another deep gash along its side as it passed and earned its ire.  A trio of rays blazed from its eyes and struck the Brigante warrior but whatever horrible effects they held (Slow, Charm Person and Finger of Death in case you’re interested) were deflected by his righteous rage.

Marcus knew that they had to keep the creature engaged in close battle if they were to stand a chance so he raised his shield and charged, slashing out with his mace.  His blow struck home and raised a tremendous welt along the side of the creature, just below one of the smaller eyestalks.

Cathal’s magical boots danced across the floor as he deftly maneuvered to flank the eyeball horror once again.  The creature had learned that this human was a slippery enemy and turned its gaze away from Marcus.  And thus its large, central eye was looking directly at Cathal as he brought his blade down in a two handed slash that clove deep into the eye and sent the Watcher crashing to the stone floor.

A celebration of their victory over the Watcher would have to wait however, as Lazarius heard the clash of large armored combatants approaching from the other direction, toward the Foundry Gate.  He drew a veil of _Invisibility_ (Improved) around himself and moved around the corner near the statue of Marius, hidden in the depths of the fog.

Speaks could not see the Ogres clearly yet, but he was fairly certain that Lazarius had retreated back around the corner from the echoes of his footsteps.  He decided that he would have to chance it and summoned forth a nearly invisible sheen of _Spike Stones_, blanketing the floor back in the direction the Ogres were coming from.  He called out in Elven to Lazarius, “Beware of the stone spikes in the corridor out here!”  He hoped that the Ogres had had no occasion to study that language.

From the sound of things the Ogres must have charged into Speaks’ trap as they heard one of them howl in pain and yell, “They’ve trapped the hallway!” in Orcish.  What looked to be a javelin, seemingly thrown at random, shot from the mist and clattered harmlessly to the floor.  But a moment later it seemed far less harmless as it grew into a huge constrictor snake.  It immediately coiled and bit at Speaks but the Druid leapt backwards out of its reach.

Marcus was closest to Speaks and struck at the snake with his mace, tearing away a cluster of scales where his weapon hit.  Cathal too dashed over to aid the Druid and landed a powerful blow with his sword, which seemed as though it were guided by the spirits of his ancestors.  (Cathal was hitting everything he swung at that night and doing great damage too.)

Lazarius crept closer to edge of the mist closest to the Ogres, wary of stepping on the spikes that covered the floor.  He began to be able to see the large shapes clustered in the hallway, trapped by the _Spike Stones_ that lay in front and behind them.  “Since you’re all standing so nice and close…” muttered the Wizard as a crackling bead of light leapt from his hand and exploded in a _Lightning Ball_ amid the mailed enemies.  They shuddered and smoked as their bodies were wracked with electricity.

Back in the other hallway, the melee with the giant snake became suddenly blanketed in utter darkness.  Who was responsible was a mystery Speaks knew that the snake was his major concern for the moment.  If it managed to get its coils around him, he would stand little chance against the creature.  He transformed himself into a large bear and could immediately smell the snake’s scent in the air.  His jaws surged out and closed on scale and meat, biting down on the serpent.

But the great snake was far from defeated.  It turned its own jaws on the thick fur of the bear it now faced and its teeth sank deep.  In the blackness, Speaks felt its coils encircle him and begin to squeeze the breath from his lungs.  Cathal and Marcus could hear the struggle taking place nearby but were unable to pinpoint where.  They moved blindly in the darkness, weapons outstretched trying to locate their enemy.  They called out above the sounds of battle, “Wizard!  They’ve shrouded us in blackness!  Help!”

Lazarius carefully withdrew from the edge of the mist and peered intently in the direction of the melee.  He could just barely make out the edge of the magical blackness that enveloped his friends.  Pulling a coin from his purse, he infused it with _Light_ and hurled it in the general direction of the fighting.  His heart sank as a voice behind him whispered evilly, “Ah, there you are!”  Out of the mist strode the towering figure of the Blue Demoness, her scythe raised high.

She struck at Lazarius but hit only one of his false _Images_.  Her swing continued, cleaving through another such _Image_ that burst like a soap bubble.  (Note:  If you’ve got some great ideas about how Invisibility and Mirror Image should interact, I wish you’d been there that night to help me out.  As it was, I decided to give Lazarius the benefit of the doubt and rule that the glow from the light-coin – which is how she located him – was replicated on all the images and therefore they’d kick in.)  She cursed in an unknown language and cried out in Orcish, “Over here!”

Meanwhile the battle with the snake continued, now with illumination provided by Lazarius’ coin.  Speaks’ ursine muscles surged and his teeth and claws slashed at the reptile, finally managing to pull himself free of its serpentine grip.  It lashed out at the bear again as the wounded Druid escaped its grasp but its teeth found only a bit of brown fur.  It turned on Cathal as the warrior menaced it with his sword but failed to penetrate his magical _Shield_.

The Ogres, seemingly in response to the call of the Blue Demoness came charging toward Lazarius.  The first managed to avoid the worst of the _Spike Stones_ and drew close enough to strike at the spot indicated by the Demoness but his blow lacked precision against an unseen foe and only hit the floor.  The second Ogre must have run through the thickest part of the _Spike Stones_ and his feet and legs sustained terrible damage.  Leaking blood, he slowed to a crawl and staggered toward the battle forming around the War Wizard.  The third fared little better and limped after his comrade, anxious to get into the fight.  Both were uttering a string of curses and threats as to what they would do to the Wizard when they got there but these were cut off in an instant as the area was shrouded in magical _Silence_.  “Oh Hells!” Lazarius yelled soundlessly.

Cathal spun as he ducked beneath the darting jaws of the huge snake and swung his blade in an upwards arc with all his might.  He felt it slow and then speed up again and blood poured down around him as the creature’s head fell from its neck. The head rolled over once and disappeared as the snake’s body shrank in on itself and became a staff.

Marcus knew that Lazarius was in trouble and dashed off into the misty melee as fast as his armor would allow.  But now it was his turn to face the magical trap laid by Speaks.  He felt the needle-like stone protrusions dig into and through his boots to slash open his ankles.  The pain was tremendous and he his will alone could not help him move faster than a limp.

Lazarius knew that he would die if he stayed where he was.  _Invisible_ or not, the huge weapons wielded by the Ogres and Blue Bitch would find him if he held his ground.  He weaved his way past their weapons, the magical _Silence_ concealing his footsteps and moved back up the hallway in the direction they had originally come from.  Once out of their reach and out of the _Silence_ he cast a spell to allow himself to _Fly_.

Speaks, still in bear form, called upon the Wild to heal some of his wounds.  He also moved to interpose himself between Cathal and the trapped area.  Not speaking Elven, it seemed that Cathal and Marcus had both failed to get the warning he had yelled to Lazarius.  The Brigante seemed to sense that the Druid was trying to tell him something and held back from running into the deadly mist ahead.  Peering ahead, he saw the limping shadow of one of the Ogres pass deeper into the mist.  Watching Marcus, similarly limping ahead toward the battle, Cathal suddenly understood what was going on.

Marcus felt like his legs were on fire from the pain of the _Spike Stones_.  He gritted his teeth against the agony and moved forward, looking for an enemy to share his pain with.  Ahead he spotted one and forced himself to keep going ahead, leaving a trail of blood in his path.

Lazarius continued to move back away from the misty mass of enemies in front of him.  As he did, he called upon another magic that would let him _See Invisible_ enemies as he knew the Blue Demoness was wont to vanish at the slightest opportunity.  Ahead he saw a flash of light in the mist, but could not make out who cause it.

Marcus was not so lucky.  He caught the blaze of _Searing Light_ emanating from the headband worn by the Demoness right in the chest.  The burning from it was almost a welcome distraction from the pain in his feet.  Almost.

Speaks stalked back and forth near the edge of the _Spike Stones_, sniffing the air for signs of any invisible enemies but finding none.  Cathal knew that the battle was unfolding without him ahead and was not going to let that happen.  He backed up and took a running leap, his magical boots propelling him much further than would be humanly possible.  He soared nearly sixty feet but still landed within the area blanketed with those accursed _Stones_.  His magically _Stony Skin_, enchanted by Lazarius before they left Hell, protected him somewhat but he still suffered enough damage to hobble him.  As if to add minor insult to minor injury, a shadowy figure, partially obscured by the mist gestured in his direction with another magical compulsion of some kind but he resisted the effects once again.

Marcus could tell that he was not going to last much longer against these adversaries in light of the many wounds he’d sustained just getting to the fight.  He called upon the _Divine Shield_ of St. Cuthbert to deliver him from his enemies’ blows.  And prayed.

In seeming answer to his prayers, the area in front of him exploded in crackling blue light as Lazarius unleashed more _Lightning_ upon the Ogres and the Demoness.  All of them looked badly wounded but none yet fell.

Speaks decided that he could no longer afford to wait while his companions fought up ahead.  He took the form of a large Owl and silently flew ahead to the battle at the intersection.  As he did so, he saw Cathal take another bound, deeper into the mist, and let go a battle cry.

The Brigante sailed inside the reach of the Ogre and slashed open his thigh with his crackling bastard sword.  Caught off guard, the Ogre scrambled away from the enraged barbarian and guzzled down a vial of some liquid, vanishing from sight.  The other enemies turned their attention to this latest arrival to the combat.

Marcus took advantage of the brief break to heal himself with the blessing of St. Cuthbert.  Further up the hall, Lazarius came closer to engage the enemy once again, gliding safely above the ground where he was sure to avoid the _Spike Stones_.  Speaks too was gliding above the ground and just when he needed a place to alight and survey the situation, he found one in the form of Marius’s petrified form peering around the corner.

The fog of war parted briefly and Marcus saw an Ogre lunge at him with its spear.  But the creature was gone again before he could react and it hurt too much to give chase.  Cathal had no better luck as he struck the area where his adversary had vanished and hit only air.  Then he heard fresh cries of pain and new blood as the invisible Ogre retreated back through the _Spike Stones_.

Marcus gritted his teeth with resolve and made his torn feet move him forward to confront his attacker.  His mace creased the creature’s armor and the Ogre cried out in pain.  It felt good to inflict some hurt for a change instead of simply absorb it.

Lazarius was suddenly cast into _Darkness_ but reacted in a brief moment, calling forth a magical _Light_ upon another coin.  He felt a breeze and sensed that someone invisible, and probably flying had just passed him, headed back toward the Forge.  He cursed in frustration at that infernal Blue Bitch’s ability to evade him.  He swore that he would not let her take him by surprise again today.

Cathal saw another hulking form looming in the darkness and tumbled past the creature’s spear to sink his sword into its hide and send it sliding to the ground, limp and dying.  Speaks could still hear sounds of Lazarius cursing from up the hallway and flew in that direction but was batted fiercely to the ground by the mighty spear of the Ogre that Marcus faced.  The Druid hovered on the edge of consciousness and retreated to the relative safety atop Marius’ arm.

Cathal limped over to aid Marcus but fell victim to the edge of the _Spike Stone_ trap and suffered severe damage to his feet despite the _Stone Skin_ that protected him.  Marcus needed no help but that of his god however.  He summoned up the Strength of his faith and let go a mighty blow against his Ogrish adversary and smote him down once and for all.

Lazarius hovered near the edge of the tattered remains of the _Mist_, his eyes peering through the darkness for any sign of the Demoness trying to return to the battle.  Crackling death awaited her at his fingertips.  She did not indulge him.

The only sound in the air was that of the ragged breathing of the party and then the brief command word given repeatedly as Marcus applied their Wand of Healing to the worst of their wounds.  They awaited nervously for more enemies to arrive as they silently urged Speaks _Spike Stones_ spell to go away allowing them to escape.  At length it relented.

They procured an ore cart from the Forge and carefully loaded the statue of Marius into it and wheeled him north, past the gate and off into the darkness beyond.  They were free of the grip of the City of Endless Summer.  For a while at least.


----------



## Rel

A couple quick notes:

First of all, please don't report me to BADB (that's Bothered About Disposable Beholders) for flubbing the execution of my first ever Beholder encounter.  I didn't realize that they could use so many eyestalks at one time and I only allowed one attack each round for the first couple rounds until I realized my mistake.  My bad.

Thankfully the party assisted me in keeping this encounter challenging by inflicting nearly as much damage on themselves with the Spike Stones as they did on the Ogres.

And I must say that this is the point at which I knew that the hatred that Lazarius bore for "The Blue Chick" was one of my crowning achievements for the entire campaign.  I knew that if I did nothing else right for the rest of the game that I could be proud of this one recurring villian.

And, in case you haven't noticed, I'm updating like a madman this week.  Don't expect this rate to continue into next week (I'm scheduled to do a lot of work then) but, for now, I'm going to keep posting at least one major update a day for the rest of the week.

Stay tuned!


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> I'm going to keep posting at least one major update a day for the rest of the week.
> 
> Stay tuned!





Woo-Hoo!!


----------



## BSF

I thought the initial "stoning" was great!  I kind of wondered what was going on after that, but it still read pretty well.   

An update a day?  Most excellent!


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## Darklone

Wow. I need more time to read that all


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## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Wow. I need more time to read that all




Who's the slacker NOW?!  Huh?   Well here's even more!!  (I sort of feel like a mad scientist somehow)


The party collapsed in near exhaustion in the Foundry.  Although they had not noticed it earlier, the long, straight tunnel leading from Foundry to the City gates was on a slight downgrade, presumably to make it easier to send the laden carts of ingots back to the city.  Once unloaded in the Forge, these carts could be sent back uphill on their half-day journey back to the Foundry while empty and light.  Their cart full of several hundred pounds of petrified Marius anything but empty and light.  Even taking turns pushing had done little to make their nervous journey back to the Foundry an easy job as they had struggled mile after uphill mile.

Speaks dragged himself over to a pool of melted snow and drank from the clear waters.  One minor benefit of the Foundry being located “uphill” from the City was that the warm air of the City wafted gently and continuously up the long tunnel and made the temperature in the Foundry more comfortable.  Staring into the rippling pool, Speaks began to get an idea.  His thoughts were interrupted by Lazarius.

“Speaks, I think we’re far enough away from the city that I can safely Teleport us now.  I’d rather be out of the Foundry just to be on the safe side, but there’s no way we’ll be able to haul Marius up out of the crevice we descended from so we’ll just have to go from here.  Are you ready?”

Speaks considered for a moment before answering.  “Actually, I’m not.  We can’t leave today.  I don’t have the magic prepared to transform us into birds again.  I knew you’d be able to try another Teleport if the first didn’t work but I had assumed that we would just remain in bird form if that happened.  We’ll have to stay the night and depart in the morning when I’ve had a chance to absorb more magic from the Wild.”

Lazarius sighed with resignation, “We’re going to be in big trouble if they send a group out after us.  Marcus and Cathal are both still wounded from our escape and we’ve almost completely exhausted our magic.”

“Well, we’re headed back to Emor after this, right?” answered Speaks.  “We’ll be able to re-supply there.  So let’s use our healing wands to make sure we’re not easy prey in the night.”

Lazarius agreed and they joined Marcus and Cathal who were resting nearby, having done the majority of the pushing of Marius’ chariot.  The soft, magical glow of their healing magic filled the dark Foundry and soon they all felt much better.

Some time later, Speaks returned to the pool of melted snow and began the ritual of Scrying.  He focused his will and the strength of the Wild on the pool and asked the waters to show him the location of Titus Pontius Macer.  The waters rippled and showed him greater waters…

_Macer stood on the prow of a ship as the spray from the sea whipped at his wrinkled, cursed, deathless face.  His black-nailed hand gripped the railing to steady himself against the hissing wind and rolling of the large vessel.  Behind him a huge, square sail stood fat against the wind that pushed the vessel through the water.  A score of Orcs stood ready with the shipped sweeps in case the wind shifted and threatened to push the ship into the shallows.

To Macer’s left, land was visible through the misty coastal air.  It rose steeply from its rocky shoreline and soon climbed up into the low hanging clouds, the closer peaks as black as their own name.  And thus they were headed south.

Toward the aft of the vessel where the rudder was manned, a pair of large serpents coiled, their heads close as if in conversation, their barbed tails coiled around the railing to either side for stability.  Speaks had only ever seen one such creature before, flying over the battlefield at Hrongar’s Hill and coming to do battle with them at the Ice Fortress.  Banelar.

Macer’s vessel did not travel alone.  To the left and right were other ships leading the flotilla, and more stretched out behind them, their decks crowded with Orcs, bare chested against the bitter-cold wind.  Dozens, scores, perhaps hundreds of ships, stretching out in a long armada.  All headed south._

Speaks recoiled from the pool in shock.  The Orcs were already on the move, but not as an army.  A mighty navy of them headed south.  But where could they be headed?


----------



## ledded

dun Dun DUUUN!!!


Oops sorry, just trying to throw in some dramatic music


----------



## BSF

Ooohh!  It sounds like this was a nice little twist to what the group might have thought was happening.  I'm looking forward to the next update.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

He's updating like a madman! A madman with megabytes of story-filled goodness.


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## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Ooohh!  It sounds like this was a nice little twist to what the group might have thought was happening.  I'm looking forward to the next update.




I don't mind saying that things are getting ready to get REAL twisty.  The last third of this campaign looks like a plate of spaghetti.

Mmmm.  Spaghetti.

Gimme a minute and I'll go write another update.  Actually, maybe more like an hour, but tonight anyway (I didn't get to write as much as I intended today.  It was gorgeous here and I couldn't stop myself from doing some yardwork.).


----------



## Cathal

*E-yep...twisty.*

WOOOOT!  Mad updates!

The only bad thing about this breakneck pace is that the end is coming sooner.


Keep'm coming, Rel! 
(it's been an hour...where's mah update!?)


----------



## Rel

Cathal said:
			
		

> (it's been an hour...where's mah update!?)




Got distracted by the wife. 

Plus, this ran a bit longer than I thought it would:


“Could they be headed for the Fodor lands?” wondered Lazarius aloud.

“If they are then they’re far more stupid than they’ve acted so far,” said Cathal.  “Not only does it make no sense to build such a fleet of ships when they only need to walk down out of the mountains, but they are bringing a much larger army than they’d need to defeat my people.  Another thousand like they sent last winter would do easily given how many men we lost.”

Marcus’ face darkened, “They’re headed for the Empire.  It’s the only other place that makes sense.”

Speaks shook his head, “But why attack the Empire?  They’re no threat to the City of Endless Summer.  Nobody is a threat to the City.  So why strike at the only country that is capable of mounting an army capable of defending against a force as large as theirs?”

Marcus knew.  “Revenge.  The Empire contains everyone who joined forces to bring down Bane.  And now they’re going to try and break him free of his prison.  And what would make him happier than to have those who brought him low in the first place come under attack by his worshipers?”

Recognition crept into Speaks’ face.  “You’re right.  The Druids, the church of St. Cuthbert, the church of Pelor, all are based in the Empire.  In fact all three have risen to prominence in part because they helped defeat Bane three centuries ago.”

“Well they’re going to get a hell of a fight!”  Lazarius’ eyes burned.  “I’ve been assigned to the Legions and know those in charge of the Imperial War College.  They are a powerful force and no army of Orcs is going to pose much of a threat to the might of the Empire.  Our big problem will be the same as the Slave War.  We’ll have to watch closely to make sure the Sythians don’t take advantage and try to hit us while we’re distracted!”

Speaks’ brow was furrowed in concentration.  “Perhaps.  But having faced the Banelar before, they are a cunning enemy.  I don’t think they’d be launching this attack if they didn’t think they’d succeed.”

Marcus stood from where they sat.  “What is important right now is that we’re the only people in the world who know what is headed toward the Empire.  We’ve got to make sure that we get back there to warn them.  That means surviving the night.  I’ll take first watch.”  He walked away as the others continued their speculation even as they spread out their bedrolls in a rough circle around the statue of Marius.

Marcus walked to the cart track that ran down the long tunnel back toward the City and stood astride it.  He focused his attention in that direction and stood still to quiet his armor, listening for any sign of an enemy approach.  He was still standing there some two hours later when Cathal came to relieve him of his watch.

“I won’t sleep long,” he told the Brigante.  He never did.  The magical ring, bequeathed to him by the Church, kept him ever fed, never thirsty, briefly tired.  “I only need a couple hours and I’ll be back to aid you in your watch.  We should let the others sleep to rest their minds and regain their magic.”  Cathal nodded and took up a position crouched at the edge of the tunnel.

Marcus lay down and said a silent prayer to his god.  *”Guide me, my lord, and let me bring warning to those who must hear my words to defend our Church against these coming invaders.  Give me strength to stand against them and to again defeat the enemy who you once saved our world from.  And let me stand guardian before those innocents who this enemy would cut down for the sake of revenge.”*  Then he slept.  But he did not rest.

_A door stood before him.  He could not tell if it was a plain door or an ornate door, iron or wood because it did not matter.  It only mattered that there was a door and that he needed to pass through it.  Since it was needed, he did it.

Beyond was a hallway and beyond that was a room full of light.  The hallway was of no consequence and then he was in the room.

In the room was a light who was a woman and she was what mattered.  She looked at him and if she had been a woman, she would have said, “I see you have come.”  But she was not a woman, only a light in the shape of a woman.  And so she did not greet him because it was not needed.

“Evil descends up our world.  You will stand against this evil because you have the power and the will to do so.  How and where you shall stand against it will be something you shall decide later.  What you will be when you stand against it is something that you shall decide here, tonight, in this place that is no place at all.  Do you understand?”

But he did not.  There was so much that he did not understand but was afraid to ask but needed to know.  And because he needed it she gave it without him asking.

In the beginning, the planes were populated by entities of unfathomable power.  One of these entities, who came to be known in time as Osirion, called into creation a place where chaos was tamed and objects and creatures took on a less mutable form:  The Prime Material Plane.  There he began to whimsically create objects of beauty like stars and planets and comets.  He toyed with these creations to pass the eons and soon became aware that some of them were developing in ways that he had not foreseen.

On one of his little spheres, creatures had formed and begun to differentiate into various races.  Osirion watched in interest.  Time passed and these races began to produce some truly unique individuals.  Some of these individuals managed to find ways to transcend the Prime Material Plane and become independent of its rules and confines.  They tapped the powers of the multiverse and became gods.  They could come and go as they pleased and work their will on the world.

As they became more numerous, the desires of these gods would often clash and there was sometimes open warfare between them.  The devastation wrought upon the world was legendary.  Whole tribes of humanoids or villages of demi-humans were wiped out by the direct power of the gods.  Sometimes the gods themselves would clash and the world would be ripped asunder, barely able to recover.  Civilizations would rise only to be smashed back into dark ages when gods would collide above them.

Not wishing to see his beautiful creation destroyed before his very eyes, Osirion gathered the gods together and offered them a pact:  If they would vow never to directly intervene in the affairs of the Prime Material Plane, he would give up his own power and imbue them with it.  This power was that of true immortality.  They accepted his offer and Osirion vanished and his power became that of the gods.

The gods were of course not content to stand by and refrain from meddling in the affairs of the world.  They quickly divided into three camps and began crafting realms of their own.  The gods of Good created Celestia and the Celestials.  The gods of Evil created Hell and the Demons and Devils that inhabited it.  The gods of Neutrality created the dream world populated by Spirits.  These agents of the gods could be sent to do their bidding in the material world.  But this was not without a cost.

The gods had unwittingly crafted these servants in such a way that they required Essence. Essence came in the form of whatever power had formed them (Good, Evil or Neutrality).  The gods found that they themselves produced this Essence slowly but there was another way to get it. When the races of the world worshipped them and made sacrifices to them, it produced Essence.  The gods quickly set about making rules for their worshipers designed to produce the largest amount of Essence.  Those who obeyed these rules most closely were rewarded as the gods had their Servants grant them powers to use in the service of their gods.

It did not take long before the various temples discovered that one way to forward their god’s plans (and thwart those of his enemies) was to attack the worshippers of other gods directly.  Various “Holy Wars” have been part of the different religions ever since.

One such Holy War of importance was the one against the worshippers of Bane that took place some 300 years ago.  His faithful had begun to corrupt the worshippers of other temples and they were figuring out ways to siphon off some of the Essence dedicated to the other gods and channel it to Bane.  When this was discovered, those who worshipped the gods in question were enraged.  They called for a Holy War against Bane and it was widely taken up.  His worshippers were hunted down and slain and his temples were torn down stone by stone.  

Bane could see that his supply of Essence was suddenly threatened when he had just been so close to domination.  Driven to rage, he violated the pact that the gods had forged thousands of years before:  He exerted his power directly upon the Prime Material Plane.

He cunningly forged a refuge for his followers in such a way that they could gather and plot and plan, beyond the reach of the minions of the other gods.  He crafted this sanctuary in a place that would come to be known as The City of Endless Summer.

The other gods banded together to exact retribution for this transgression.  Bane was smote down by St. Cuthbert and a tomb was crafted in the deepest depths of Hell.  It seems an odd place to imprison a god of Evil, but it was feared that any other place would be tainted by the presence of his Tomb.  It was fashioned to be impervious to the Essence so that Bane could not use his influence to barter with the Demons and Devils of Hell.  Being selfish creatures themselves, they saw no need to come to his aid now that he had nothing with which to reward them.

That left the City of Endless Summer as the last bastion of the faithful to Bane.  His power had rendered it impervious to attempts to see or travel into it with magic.  It was located in the most remote of locations where the weather conditions were most harsh so that it was exceedingly unlikely to be discovered.  The Servants of the other gods held little sway in a land so blackened by hate.  And so the City has remained undiscovered for three centuries.  Until now.

Now Bane’s faithful have burst from their hiding and are loose upon the world.  Worse yet, thousands of his worshipers were slain and their souls dedicated to one of the Devil Lords of Hell in exchange for his minions destroying the Tomb of Bane.  If he is set free, he will be weak.  But he will be free.  What he will attempt then, we cannot guess.  Our battle against him may be long.  And that is what brings us to your choice about who you will be.

All of this entered his knowledge as easily as water pouring into a cup, not instantly, but quickly and smoothly.  And as he finished knowing it he saw to either side of the woman who was a light, a stand.  Atop the stand to the left was a shield.  Atop the stand to the right was a mace.  Each item was as brilliant and bright as the purest silver, the mithral of the Dwarven mines of the east.

“Will you be the Protector or the Destroyer?”

He became aware of his answer more quickly than he would have thought himself capable of.  “I am the Protector.”

The light in the shape of a woman nodded, not to grant him his desire, for he had become who he would be at the moment he had made the choice, but to acknowledge it.  He nodded back and at that moment knew that what needed to happen while he was here was done and he turned to go back up the hallway that did not matter and through the door that did.  As he turned, she said something that she wanted to but did not need to.

“You will have to choose again someday.  You must decide who will suffer more:  The people of your mother or those of your father.”

He stopped but did not turn back.  And he only pondered that decision for a moment, not because it was easily made or already done, but because it did not need to happen yet.

hallway

Door._

“Marcus?  Did you want to get up and join me on watch?”  Cathal gripped him gently by the shoulder, speaking softly in the still air of the Foundry.

Marcus sat up, blinking in confusion.  “Yes.”  Shaking his head slightly and still reeling from the Vision, he reached to begin donning his armor.

“What happened to your shield?” asked Cathal.

It shone like the most brilliant silver mirror ever polished.  Like it was filled with light.


----------



## BSF

Oooh!  That was nice Rel.  Very driving moment in the game.  Any comments on how you ran that?  How much planning did you have for it?  It narrates beautifully, but it is not always as easy to pull off with the same impact at the table.  I would love to hear how the players reacted and what you did to make it successful.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Oooh!  That was nice Rel.  Very driving moment in the game.  Any comments on how you ran that?  How much planning did you have for it?  It narrates beautifully, but it is not always as easy to pull off with the same impact at the table.  I would love to hear how the players reacted and what you did to make it successful.




Well, I'll be the first to admit that the Story Hour smooths out a lot of rough edges.  For example, there was probably at least 15 minutes hammering out all the logistics for the Orcish Fleet with the party trying to make darn sure that they were not headed for the barbarian lands of the Fodor.  But you, the reader, don't want to hear all that junk, and I sure as hell don't want to type it (not to mention that I couldn't even if I wanted to).  I condensed that down to a fairly succinct conversation with Marcus being the one to put a pin in it.  I don't recall necessarily that Marcus' player was the one who pushed strongly on the idea that the Fleet must be headed for the Empire but it seemed to make sense that his character would due to his religious knowledge.

Just for the record, I do this in a lot of other minor areas too.  I have no idea who it was who Spotted this enemy or that monster.  I do know that Marius often scouted ahead a bit or that Speaks had a high Spot skill thanks to his good Wisdom so I'll just assign whoever seems appropriate for the moment as the one who saw the bad guys coming.

The "dream sequence" where he met the Shining Lady played out as somewhat less mystical than I've portrayed it above.  But that is mostly a product of the disconnect between the fact that we're sitting in a clean, well-lighted room with a big battlemat in the middle, drinking soda with bags of chips all over the place and Marcus being in a dreamcrafted room with a direct servant of his god offering him a choice that will change his life.  The player certainly roleplayed it well and was very impressed by coming into contact with the Shining Lady.  This also sets him up for some other important dealings with his Church as you'll see in the next update or so.

I guess my general assessment is this:  If you try and pull off a dramatic scene in your game, you really need two things, Mood and Impact.  I don't get all "method-acty" and dim the lights and wrap myself in a cloak and talk in a funny voice to set the mood.  Instead, I usually just talk normally but a bit quieter so that the players have to shut up to hear what I'm saying.  It makes the room nice and quiet and gives me some range to raise my voice a bit for dramatic effect.  We are normally a very joking group who cracks irreverent comments at every turn, so you've also got to avoid setting the scene in such a way that it lends itself to being made fun of.

For example, in the scene above, I specifically avoided mentioning anything about the Shining Lady's appearance other than the fact that she glowed from within.  If I say, "You see a beautiful glowing woman in a dress cut down to here and a bodacious set of knockers that must be held aloft by the power of Mount Celestia itself!" then I've pretty much ceded any chance of having the group take the scene seriously.  This can be a rough crowd sometimes and you've got to go over your description carefully to make sure that you avoid anything phallic or dung-like.  Otherwise they're merciless.

Then there's the Impact.  I generally don't throw in a lot of dramatic scenes just for the sake of coolness and style.  When I go into "dramatic mode" it usually means that something important and perhaps unexpected is taking place that has meaning to the party.  This means that I don't wear out my welcome by doing too many such scenes and it also means they know to pay close attention when I start talking in that somewhat quiet and reverent voice.

I suppose that the players can comment further if they like about whether I do an effective job at this.  How well I think I do is probably a lot less important than how well THEY think I do.


----------



## BSF

Rel,
Thanks for elaborating.  No truer words are said.  It all hinges on how well the players think you did.  I have run games with dramatic moments and meeting gods, etc.  I try to tailor it to the god, obviously, so there are differences.  

It is often a rough crowd around a gaming table.  I will be the first to admit that I am as much of that issue as any other player.    I just like to hear the tricks of the trade that others use.  I've only been DMing for 24 years and there are still tricks to be learned.  So thanks for providing a little insight!


----------



## Rel

Well, here's the last of the updates for my "Week of Mad Updates".  This has really helped me get some momentum and hopefully I won't have any long breaks between now and when I finish this Story Hour.  There is plenty more to come including some incredible political maneuvering, a hint that a major character will fall from grace and all out war.  Two of them actually.  


Dawn peeked dimly through the crevasse in the ceiling of the Foundry and the night, though eventful for some, had passed without the party coming under attack.  Marcus explained the general nature of his Vision to the others as they gathered their things and prepared to depart.  The others listened with interest and, although they did not witness the Vision directly, they acknowledged that contact with a direct servant of St. Cuthbert underscored the seriousness of the events at hand.

It was decided that they would undertake their trip in two distinct legs.  First they would _Teleport_ back to Hrongar’s Hill and let Urdrax and the others there know that the Orcish army was on the move but did not look as though it would strike them.  Then they would move on to Emor and spread the word there to the powers they were in contact with.  What they would do after that they did not know.

With the aid of Speaks’ _Feathers_ magic, they changed form to that of the smallest birds they could imagine.  Lazarius had explained that weight was a limiting factor in _Teleportation_ and it would be all he could manage to bring Marius along in his present form without them taking the form of eagles or hawks.  Every bit of weight counted.  With his fingers crossed, Lazarius did his magic.

And they stood atop Hrongar’s Hill.  The Brigante folk who were going grimly about their business upon the hill gaped at the arrival of this Wizard, his statue and his flock of birds.  They gaped even more as the birds transformed one by one into the other members of the battle hardened party.  Several of them scurried fearfully into nearby tents as they saw the Imperial markings on Marcus’ armor and the symbol of St. Cuthbert on his mace and shining shield.

The party members looked askance at one another for this strange reaction but none of them had any answers.  They climbed the short distance to Urdrax’s mead-hall and noted that no guards stood at the door.  They entered to find Urdrax and Hrothan, son of Hrongar and the new leader of the Corritani, hunched over a map at one of the thick, cedar tables.  They looked up with a start and their faces did not brighten as one would have thought they would at the sight of friends old and new.

Speaks decided that he’d had enough of this mystery and stepped forward to address the pair of Chieftains, “Hail, Urdrax and Hrothan.  I sense that we are less welcome and the mood seems dour here at Hrongar’s Hill.  What has happened?”

The two Fodor men looked at each other for a moment.  Urdrax spoke, “It seems that you have been long away and short of news, Speaks With Stone.  I take it that word has not yet reached you of the invasion of our homelands.”

The companions regarded each other with surprise before Speaks spoke again, “The Orcs!?  They’ve sent a band against you too?”

Urdrax scowled, “Not the Orcs!  The Empire!”

In near unison, the party blurted out, “What?!”

Urdrax answered, gesturing absently toward the map laid across the table, “They’ve crossed the sea and are encamped near the mouth of the Fodor.  We don’t know how long it will be before they begin their northern march but they appear to be coming in force.”

“How many,” asked Cathal.

“The Allmani scouts have reported seeing the banners of two of their Legions but they are encamped behind a palisade fort they’ve erected and we cannot get a precise count of their numbers.  They are many.”

Eyes turned to Lazarius and Marcus.  “How man men is that?” asked Speaks.

Lazaruis thought for a moment and answered, “Virtually all the Legions are under strength since the slave wars.  Most now only boast four or five Cohorts.  Two Legions would be maybe…five thousand men.”

“Five thousand!” cried Speaks.  “Those fools!  An army of Orcs headed their way and they’ve sent five thousand men to attack a defenseless nation with a tenth of that number of warriors, who have recently made peace with them!  This is madness!”

Marcus interjected, “There is still time to stop this!  We’ve got to get back to Emor!  If I can speak to the High Priest of St. Cuthbert and Lazarius can warn the Imperial War College about the Orcs, these Legions could be recalled.  But we must move quickly!”

Urdrax and Hrothan both seemed confused and the group took the next hour to describe what had transpired at the City of Endless Summer:  The Orcish Fleet, the sacrifice of the women and children and the impending release of Bane.  By the end the Chieftains seemed in better spirits.

“Let the Orc ships come then.  The Empire needs another reminder that they are not the power they once were.  This fleet of ships will give them something to concern themselves with instead of trying to take our land!”

“That may be,” said Marcus, attempting to contain his anger over their disregard for the fate of his country, “but if we don’t convince them to pull back those Legions then they may destroy the tribes of the Fodor even as they themselves fall to the Orcs.”

Urdrax’s dour visage reestablished itself.  “I’m afraid that what you say may be true.  I’ve sent word to the other tribes urging them to make our defense here, at Hrongar’s Hill, but Relmar of the Suevi has been stubborn as usual.  He refuses to give ground and insists upon defending his lands, which are the most southern and the ones that will first be encountered by the Legions on their march northwards.”

The Brigante Chieftain continued, “He says that if we are to have a chance at victory, we must strike at the Legions early and make them bleed for every step they take into the valley of the Fodor.”

“I fear that plan will not work,” said Marcus.  “There is one thing that the Legions do very well and that is to wage war against those who try to nip at their edges.  They will have ample food stores and guard them well.  They will fortify their encampments every night and defend them with skill.  They will march slowly, but inevitably northward.  The only way I can imagine them stopping is because they are told to.  We must make the Senate see the threat to Emor so they’ll pull those Legions back.”

“Then let us be off then,” said Lazarius.  “There is much to do and time is short!”

Cathal backed away from the table, deep in thought.  Then said, “I do not think I can go with you my brothers.  At a time like this, I will not be welcome in your Empire.”

“I suspect that the same may hold for me as well,” said Speaks.  “The Druid Council is still out for my blood so far as I know.  And there is some good that I might do here for a while.  I will travel south and try to meet with the Suevi and see if I can convince Relmar to bend so that his people will not be broken.  I have some…some sway with their Shaman, Orthula.”  Urdrax and Hrothan shared a knowing glance at this last remark.

Speaks continued, “Lazarius, you and Marcus both have powerful contacts that might be able to get the Senate to see reason and pull those Legions back to defend the Empire.  And Marius may too but first you’ll need to see if he can be made whole once again.  Cathal and I can do our best to try and keep things here from devolving into all out war between the tribes and the Imperials.”

“I’m afraid the time has come for our paths to part.”


----------



## Darklone

Aaaaaaaaaahhh nooooooooo!

Never split the party.

And if you do, make sure your RBDM has gotten some new whiskey bottles.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Oh, no.  Splitting the party is great fun.  The DM must juggle several things at once.  The best is when you split into two parties and then each of those parties split and have four scenes going simultaneously.  Great fun!


----------



## Riggs

*Stoned in Summerland...*



> Rel,
> Thanks for elaborating. No truer words are said. It all hinges on how well the players think you did.




Oh don't worry, Rel is often a RBDM, but he's good at it, and did a great job keeping this game fun and moving. Always there was another big time secret we found, like the navy or the undead guy around, or part to the plan of the bad guys.  Oh, and _*Hell*_ of course,  

The odd part to this last bit was that right after Marius had lots to think about from Jalena (ok _after_ that kind of thinking!), he gets petrified and can't do squat.  He was invisible and Rel did a good job with that too. He said "you are no longer invisible".  I had about enough time to say "Oh crap." then I was rolling a save and not making it. Seems standard but when you are likely taking a player out for the night, it pays to serve that dish smoothly and not like a slap in the face.  Though my night ended there mostly, it was handled well is my point.
And at least the guys carted me around instead of saying "Stay here, we'll be back with a scroll!!!" haha
I also vowed to Speaks that I would notice if I had any owl poop on my shoulder when I came to.  If I did, nobody mentioned it.


----------



## Rel

Thanks go to my players for chiming in about the latest updates.  I do recall the comments about Marius' statue being the sort of place one would find bird dung.  Particularly when they were teleporting around with him and the whole flock was perched on his shoulders.

I also noted something that was a bit of an oversight on my part.  You may have noticed that you didn't see much of Scipio during that last raid into the City of Endless Summer and Hell.  That's because he wasn't there.  If I recall correctly, he was left behind in the mountain cave because the premise on which they entered the City (disguised as Orcs) did not include a giant mountain lion being with them.  I glossed over the party where Speaks fetched him from the cave before they headed back to Hrongar's Hill.

To add a bit of a teaser, Scipio is about to become rather more significant to the plot than anybody could ever have anticipated at the outset of the campaign.  I'm smiling just thinking about it and I'm sure the players are too.

"Cat that smart, you don't eat all at once!"


----------



## Speaks With Stone

I'm definitely proud of old Scipio.  Best Dire Mountain Lion a guy could ever ask for.  It kind of sucks when he's smarter than you are, though.  At least he never rubbed it in.

I also liked the upcoming sequence quite a bit.  We were all primed to go one direction.  Rel knew we were going to do it because that's what heroes do.  I'll comment later so as not to spoil the surprise, but suffice to say, our least heroic act had the biggest impact on the world.  And I'm actually quite pleased with how it turned out.  Did I mention I'm true neutral?  I don't have to be the hero all the time.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I found your story hour after reading Old One's story hour.  It looks like you've taken the setting and run with it in your own direction.  I'm not sure what level it happens at, but decidedly a point comes where the party becomes movers and shakers in the world.  Here's to moving and shaking, I'm not looking forward to the end.

GW


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## Rel

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> I found your story hour after reading Old One's story hour.  It looks like you've taken the setting and run with it in your own direction.  I'm not sure what level it happens at, but decidedly a point comes where the party becomes movers and shakers in the world.  Here's to moving and shaking, I'm not looking forward to the end.
> 
> GW




Thank you for reading, Graywolf-ELM!  To answer your question, the PC's started off at 1st level (the original PC's in the first story hour) and ended at around 8th-9th.  The second half of the campaign (chronicled in this thread) the PC's started at 8th and went from there.  They are currently around mid-way through 9th or maybe getting close to 10th.


----------



## Rel

Lazarius and a little bird arrived in the bare room along with a statue that was the spitting image of Marius.  A moment later, Marcus appeared next to the Wizard and got a better look at the chamber they found themselves in.  It was devoid of physical furniture and there was a single exit door.  But the walls were covered in patterns that were simple, but unusual.  And each wall bore a different pattern.

“They’re tessellations,” explained Lazarius to the obviously dumbfounded Marcus.  “Patterns of the same shape repeated and fit together.  They help to make this room distinctive but easy to fix in your mind when you wish to teleport back to the College.  All the Journeymen are made to study it and must be able to draw the shapes from memory before they are allowed to graduate and serve in the Legions.  Though few of us actually gain the power needed to Teleport.”  A smile came to Lazarius’ face as he spoke that last sentence.  It now fully dawned upon him that he had achieved an understanding of magic that was seldom attained by most graduates of the College.  He was now a peer with the Wizards who had taught him.

He went and banged loudly upon the locked door to the chamber.  A few moments later, a voice hailed them in a language unknown to Marcus but one that he’d heard Lazarius use in doing his magic.  Lazarius answered in similar sounding words and the rattle of keys and the sound of heavy, metal bars being lifted preceded the door opening.  There stood a burly man in the livery of Legion XXX, the special guard assigned to the Imperial College of Wizardry.  He greeted Lazarius and bade them to exit.

“Actually, could you fetch a few of your fellow guardsmen and help me with this statue?  We must be very careful with it.  And send someone to ask for an audience with Chancellor Felix.  Tell her that Lazarius Rameous has returned.  Tell her how I got here and that I need her help.”  The guard hurried off to carry out the Wizard’s orders without delay.  Lazarius no longer wore any rank associated with his time in the Legions, but nobody exited this room that was not of importance.

Marcus turned to Lazarius, “I really must get going.  I need to seek an audience with the High Priest as soon as possible.  I can check back here later to make sure that Marius has been…restored.  If it becomes a problem then perhaps our Order has the magic to assist him.”

Lazarius smiled, “I assure you that the Chancellors will be able to return him to flesh.  But you can find me here when you are done at the Church.”  With that the Imperial War Wizard escorted the Warrior-Priest of St. Cuthbert up the hallway until they found another guard to escort him from the bowels of the College and out into the city.

Marcus found his feet upon the streets of the largest city in the world once again.  He had awakened this morning in the northern reaches of the Blackpeaks, the morning before that in Hell and the morning before that in Oar.  He shook his head and wondered at the amazing events that he was caught up in.  He strode toward the Capital and soon the steeple of the enormous Church of St. Cuthbert hove into view.

He entered and spoke to the priest on duty in the main sanctuary, “I need to request an audience with the High Priest.”

The priest regarded him, immediately recognizing the signs that this was more than a worshipper and his battered armor told of deeds martial done in the name of his god.  “I’m afraid that High Priest Novanus is very busy right now but I shall pass your name along to his seneschal.”

“I am Marcus Valerias Vitalis and I come with news of an urgent and grave nature.”

The sound of his name brought a look of shock to the face of the priest.  “Yes…yes, I’m sure he’ll see you at once.  Wait RIGHT here!”  He hurried away, looking back several times to make sure that Marcus was not leaving.

Only a couple minutes passed before the priest returned accompanied by a Herald of the High Priest.  It was the Herald who spoke to Marcus, “You are Marcus Vitalis?  Who hails from the Monastery of Oar and has recently traveled the Northlands?”

“The same.”

“The High Priest will want to see you very soon.  Please follow me.”  He escorted Marcus deeper within the halls of the Church and finally to a finely appointed antechamber.  Twin, carved, oak doors guarded passage into the hall where High Priest Quadratus Saturius Novanus held court.  “I shall inform the High Priest that you are here.  Do you require refreshment while you wait?”

Marcus did not need food at all and the prospect of having an audience with the High Priest, especially about such dire matters, did not make his stomach an inviting place for it.  “Thank you but no.”  The Herald passed beyond the two large doors.

Though it seemed far longer, perhaps half an hour passed before the doors opened once again.  But it was not the Herald who emerged.  “Greetings, Brother Marcus.”  The voice that uttered his name seemed filled with trepidation.

“Greetings to you, Brother Lucius.  How fare things among the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert?”

Capito frowned, “I believe we both know that there are dark times ahead.  But by the grace of St. Cuthbert, we shall prevail!”  His face mustered just a bit less confidence than did his voice.  After a moment he continued, “Tell me, Brother, do you still travel with the Druid known as Speaks With Stone?”

It was Lucius Capito who had warned Marcus before about the Inquisition that had taken place in Glynden involving Speaks and some of his previous companions.  He tried not to allow any defensiveness to creep into his answer, “I do.”

“Well when you see him, tell him that I spoke on his behalf before the Senate.  I believe that I’ve earned the ire of the Druid Council for doing so, but my investigations revealed none of the treachery that they accuse him of.  He is his own man, but not a bad one.”  As Capito finished speaking, the door opened and the Herald bade Marcus to enter.

“I’m afraid I must go no, Brother,” he apologized to the Inquisitor.

Capito reached for his hand in farewell and gripped it tightly, almost desperately.  “May the grace of our Lord be with you, Brother.”  The Inquisitor turned to leave and as he did, Marcus saw the mace, traditional weapon of their Order, swinging from his belt.  

It shone like the brightest silver.

Marcus entered his audience with the High Priest to find a man sitting on a troubled throne.  He was still hale and hearty for a man of his age, nearing sixty years.  But he looked as though he had not slept well and had much on his mind.  Marcus prepared to do his duty and add to that burden.  He knelt.

“Rise, Brother Marcus.  Tell me how it is you have come here on this momentous day when I was told that you were still in the Northlands.  You must have spent little time there to have made it all the way back to Emor.”

“I was brought here by the magic of one of my companions,” responded Marcus.

“Magic of your companion?  Was it this ‘Speaks With Stones’ fellow I’ve heard so much about?”

“No, my lord.  He has remained in the Northlands.  I came with Lazarius Rameous, an Imperial War Wizard.  He has mastered the art of travel and can pass from one place to the next in the blink of an eye.  It is truly amazing to behold.  But, if I may, my lord, the means of my arrival is far less important than the reason for my coming.”

“I know why you are here, Brother Marcus.  You’ve had a vision.”

Marcus was shocked that this news had somehow preceded him.  “Yes.  How did you know?”

The High Priest shook his head, “If you had been better schooled in our religious teachings instead of battle, you’d have been shed if this hubris, Brother Marcus.  Did you think you were the only one?”

Marcus shook his head, “Brother Capito?  He was also given the choice?  I saw his mace.  He is to be the Destroyer.”

“Yes.  He too had a vision, as did I.  He was offered the choice, just as you were.  I was offered only a Prophecy.”

“A prophecy?” asked Marcus.

“Yes.  I must say that I am somewhat baffled at our Lord’s choice in worldly representatives in this time of troubles.  Brother Lucius I understand, for his studies of the teaching of St. Cuthbert are extensive and his faith unwavering.  Whereas you, Brother Marcus, are barely educated enough in our faith to be appointed Priest to the smallest thorp in the Empire.  But it is not my place to second guess the will of our Lord.”

“But it IS my place,” continued the High Priest, “to pass along a warning.  She told me that ‘Where two are called to service, only one shall ever see the shores of Celestia”.

Marcus blinked as that settled in.  It meant that either he or Capito would fall from grace and not be allowed into the heaven of their god.

The voice of the High Priest pierced the silence of the hall, “I see no reason to keep secret my belief that it is you who will falter in your task, Brother Marcus.”

The pronouncement hit Marcus no lighter than a slap in the face.

“Brother Lucius has always held to the most rigid standards within our Church.  Always honing his faith with deeds of bravery and truthseeking.  I know you less well, but I’ve been given some insight into this band of _adventurers_ that you have come to associate with.  The Damned, The Wild, The Self-Serving and the Amoral.  These are not men of the sort that will keep your faith strong as you go forth to battle the foes that beset our faith and our people.”

Marcus throat felt tight as this indictment of his companions rang through the chamber.  He voice could not find the strength to come to their defense.

The High Priest continued, “But as I say, it is not for me to doubt that you are an appropriate choice for the task set before you.  The will of our Lord is to be done through you and, aside from this eclectic group you call your friends, I have no cause to doubt your faith.  I only warn you that the path ahead will be dangerous, both in body and in soul.  Tread carefully, young Marcus.”

No longer wishing to contemplate the fate of his soul or those of his companions, Marcus decided to address more worldly matters, “What of the armada of Orcs that descends upon the Empire?  Have our forces been mobilized?  And why do our men invade the helpless lands of the north when such dire threats are on our doorstep?”

The High Priest held up his hand and Marcus fell silent.  “As to your questions, I shall answer the last first.  Dartallus hovers on death’s door and Flavius is acting as Emperor until his father dies and he can be confirmed into that office.  He announced that he wished for his father to know before he died that the glory of the Empire was to be reborn and the conquests of old, renewed.  Thus he has sent two legions across the Crescent Sea to begin the conquest of the last remaining tribes that have so long threatened our settlements there.  He knew of their losses against the Orcs from last winter and felt it best to strike while they are weakened.”

“Whether they remain there in light of the threat to the Empire is not for me to say.  But I am scheduled to address the Senate this afternoon to make them fully aware of what my vision has revealed.  They will mobilize the Legions and decide how they are arrayed against this threat.  But our duty is to watch for the signs of the spiritual conflict that will accompany this clash…”  The tolling of the church bell interrupted the High Priest.

“I’m afraid that time is short before I must address the Senate.  If there is need, we shall speak again, Brother Marcus.  For now, go forth and seek your destiny as the hand of our Lord.”


----------



## BSF

Whoa!  So the High Priest already knows of the Orcish Armada heading toward the Empire?  And Brother Capito is the Destroyer?  Wow.  Big events back in the capital while Marcus was gone.  

Now I am interested in hearing how things are going for Lazarius.  

I would really like to hear what the players were making of all of this as it unfolded.  Were they scrambling to put pieces together?


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Whoa!  So the High Priest already knows of the Orcish Armada heading toward the Empire?  And Brother Capito is the Destroyer?  Wow.  Big events back in the capital while Marcus was gone.
> 
> Now I am interested in hearing how things are going for Lazarius.
> 
> I would really like to hear what the players were making of all of this as it unfolded.  Were they scrambling to put pieces together?




To answer a bit of this:

Novanus (the High Priest of St. Cuthbert) got his vision on the same night that Capito and Marcus did.  Marcus had already figured out via Speaks' scrying that the Orcish Armada was on the way.  This information was concealed from just about everyone (Celestials and the gods included) thanks to the "shroud of secrecy" over the City of Endless Summer and the immediate surrounding area (you can't scry into or out of the area thanks to the godly magic Bane used to carve the place out.  This is also why teleporting out has...unpredictable results).

As of the time of the visions, The Shining Lady knew of the Armada and told Novanus and Capito about it.  Rumors have been flying about "dire portents" and "threats to the Empire from her past" for some months but nobody knew exactly what they were referring to.  The party was largely unaware of this because they have been incommunicado up in the Blackpeaks.  When they did jaunt back to civilization, it was to Oar, which is separated from the Empire proper by the Crescent Sea.  As a result the rumors were less noticable there and Marius did not pick up on them while he was poking around the dock area for information.

What he did pick up on (and I think it was mentioned in passing) was that the Imperial Navy, stronger than it had been in years, was waging battle against the Corsairs of the Crescent Sea.  The Corsairs are independant pirates who use the many crags and inlets of the western Crescent Sea (where the Blackpeaks spill down to the ocean) to hide from the Imperial Navy as they prey upon the shipping between the north coast of the Empire and Oar (they attack the northbound vessels, loaded with finished luxury goods and leave alone the southbound vessels, carrying raw materials back to the Empire).

All of this was important for two reasons.  First, Flavius (the de facto emperor right now) has long been in favor of rebuilding the northern navy to better secure shipping to and from the Northlands.  He has been fairly successful at pushing this through the Senate and is now in the position to demonstrate the power of this navy by exterminating the Corsairs.  This had the additional benefit of making the crossing safe for the invasion fleet that delivered the Legions to the mouth of the Fodor in anticipation of a spring campaign to finally bring the barbarians under his thumb permanently.  The land and slaves that this would bring to the Empire will start it on the path to greatness once again.

The rumors that have been floating around about "threats from the Empire's past" are just the gravy on top.  Flavius has spun this and been able to spread the word that these are premonitions that ill will befall the Empire if they don't take care of old enemies now (i.e. the barbarians).  So that helped to drum up support for his invasion.

Further, once he learned that the barbarians were going to try and set up peaceful trade with Oar, he sent provocateurs north.  When the barbarians rolled into town with their trade goods, he made sure that they got a poor reception and provoked them into a fight.  His men were on hand to make sure that things escalated out of hand and people got killed (though it WAS the barbarians who did the killing).  That gave him the last little propoganda bit that he needed to justify his invasion.

You'll get a separate look at how things go for Lazarius when he alerts the Imperial War College as to what is going on.  I will say that they, unlike the High Priest of St. Cuthbert, have no clue that there are several thousand Orcs about to try and attack the Empire.

One thing that strikes me at this point is, given all the strategic considerations, this thread could benefit from a map.  I'll see if I can get a good scan of the one I've got and post it later today or tonight.  I'll note in advance that it looks absolutely NOTHING like Old One's map of his Faded Glory world.  If he had had one available at the time I started using the setting, I'd have stolen that whole cloth too.  But I didn't think to ask and by the time I'd drawn something up from the description he'd given, I had already committed myself to that geography.


----------



## Rel

Let me give this a try.  There should be two maps.  The first is a larger scale focusing on the Empire and showing Sythia to the east.  The second focuses on the Northlands.


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## Rel

Ok, crappy resolution I know.  To try and make things a bit more clear I've added some colored dots for points of interest.  In the first map we've got:

Green for Glynden
Pink for Oar
Red for Emor
Blue is Hrongar's Hill
Orange is the City of Endless Summer (approximately)
Purple is the Stone Tooth

In the second map we have:

Green for Glynden
Pink for Oar
Dark Blue for Hrongar's Hill
Orange for the City of Endless Summer
Purple for the Stone Tooth
Red is for the fortification guarding the invading Legions

In the second map the Crescent Sea is labeled and dominates the southern half of the map.  The Tractless Sea is to the west.  These bodies of water are separated by the narrow, rocky strip of land that is the southern part of the Blackpeaks.

The first map gives a better picture of how Sythia is located and where the Novantae lands lie off to the western half of the northern continent.

Feel free to ask questions about these poorly drawn and even more poorly scanned maps.


----------



## Rel

I don't have an update to post at the moment, though I'm working on one that I hope to have up by the end of the weekend.  But I am curious about something and wondered if my readers would help me out.

I've noticed that over the last couple weeks, since I went on my binge of posting last week and throughout this week as well, that the "Views" count on the Story Hour is going up at the astonishing rate of some 50-100 views per day.  I'm floored by this and I'm interested in finding out some reasons why it might be the case.

Obviously there are not 50-100 people out there who are reading the story and, while it would be somewhat flattering if there were, I'm not upset by this.  But I find it hard to believe that the half dozen or so people who do read regularly are popping 8-10 times a day too.  So that would mean (unless I'm wrong) that there are a number of people who read but don't post, or there are litterally HUNDREDS of people out there who pop in once to look at the SH and hate it, never to return again.  I'd like to think that this last one is not the answer so I'm guessing that the most likely is that there are some number of folks out there who are simply lurkers.

I'm not going to attempt to badger these folks out of lurkerhood, though I am happy to have them post if they'd like and I'm thrilled that they are readers of mine.  But I would be interested in hearing from the "regulars" as to how many times they pop in per day.  Do you just check in when there might be an update (i.e. a post by me that shows up in your "Subscribed Threads" list)?  Or do you check it each time anybody posts to read their comments?  Or do you simply pop in some arbitrary number of times per day, week or month and see if the story has progressed?

If you don't feel like posting about this (regardless of whether you are a lurker or regular or somewhere in between) then I'm not going to be too put out.  But the dynamics of these things fascinates me and I was just curious.

Plus I've got my ego to consider, so there's that.


----------



## ledded

Rel said:
			
		

> If you don't feel like posting about this (regardless of whether you are a lurker or regular or somewhere in between) then I'm not going to be too put out. But the dynamics of these things fascinates me and I was just curious.
> 
> Plus I've got my ego to consider, so there's that.



I stop in when there are updates, usually, but normally about once every 2 days on average, unless you are on a posting binge then I check in more often. Plus, you were on quite a nice roll there, I for one was enjoying it.

I know what you mean though, I've seen my views go up in my own SH after an update with nobody posting much, then there have been times when I've gotten tons of wonderful feedback about a post, but when I looked at the views they had not went up that much. Weird.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Rel said:
			
		

> I don't have an update to post at the moment, though I'm working on one that I hope to have up by the end of the weekend.  But I am curious about something and wondered if my readers would help me out.
> 
> I've noticed that over the last couple weeks, since I went on my binge of posting last week and throughout this week as well, that the "Views" count on the Story Hour is going up at the astonishing rate of some 50-100 views per day.  I'm floored by this and I'm interested in finding out some reasons why it might be the case.
> 
> Obviously there are not 50-100 people out there who are reading the story and, while it would be somewhat flattering if there were, I'm not upset by this.  But I find it hard to believe that the half dozen or so people who do read regularly are popping 8-10 times a day too.  So that would mean (unless I'm wrong) that there are a number of people who read but don't post, or there are litterally HUNDREDS of people out there who pop in once to look at the SH and hate it, never to return again.  I'd like to think that this last one is not the answer so I'm guessing that the most likely is that there are some number of folks out there who are simply lurkers.
> 
> I'm not going to attempt to badger these folks out of lurkerhood, though I am happy to have them post if they'd like and I'm thrilled that they are readers of mine.  But I would be interested in hearing from the "regulars" as to how many times they pop in per day.  Do you just check in when there might be an update (i.e. a post by me that shows up in your "Subscribed Threads" list)?  Or do you check it each time anybody posts to read their comments?  Or do you simply pop in some arbitrary number of times per day, week or month and see if the story has progressed?
> 
> If you don't feel like posting about this (regardless of whether you are a lurker or regular or somewhere in between) then I'm not going to be too put out.  But the dynamics of these things fascinates me and I was just curious.
> 
> Plus I've got my ego to consider, so there's that.





I tend to check in 2-3 times per day if you've been posting updates recently and there's a chance that some good or interesting comment might have been made and maybe once a week or so if you haven't updated for a while. Threads like Piratecats and Sepulchrave's which get updated every couple of months, I'll give a couple of looks per update and maybe once a month just to see if any interesting non-update discussion is going on.


----------



## BSF

I tend to check if my favorite story hours have had a new post.  If they have, then I usually stop in to check it out.  Since I check EN World relatively frequently throughout many days, I tend to get a view in between each post.


----------



## Rel

So I've uncovered another tidbit of anecdotal evidence to add to my little probing at the views count.  I just came from a sort of mini-game-day where I played in Belen Umeria's rendition of The Burning Plague and he is among my mystery lurkers.  He was kind enough to say "Your story hour rocks!"

So everybody wave to Belen Umeria out there in lurker land.  *waves at BU*

Just so's you know, I'm on tract to post my latest update sometime mid-day tomorrow.  See you then!


----------



## BSF

Hi Belen_Umeria!

New update coming soon eh?  Looking forward to it Rel.  (Also procing that I tend to look at the thread anytime it gets a post.)


----------



## Tony Vargas

I think I may have posted here once, maybe, I mostly lurk.  One thing I've noticed is that, when I try to go to the last post, the system invariably gives me one in the middle, so I probably end up incrementing the view counter twice.  

Since you don't put the date of the most recent update in the title, I tend to check when the thread bubbles to the top and the 'last poster' says 'Rel'...  yes, I've seen updates late as a result, but EN loads slowly for me, can't seem to take me to the last post,  and it's not worth it to read "bump!"


----------



## ledded

Hi Belen_Umeria!

Hey lurkers, pop in and and say hi every now and then. These SH's are a vanity device that works like a cat; feed and pet them and they just purr and hum and jump up on you 

Rel, again, you are doing a great job with this one.  I don't follow that many D&D Story Hours but this is a nice one for it.

Hey, at least you got to meet your lurkers Rel. I still believe I've got about 6 readers who just view often enough to make me feel better because they are WWII addicts .  

And a few not-even-lurkers, like BardStephenFox, who post in threads like Piratecat's to mention you in a nice light then say that they'd read but they "just haven't had time" to  (just picking at you BSF  )



			
				Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Since you don't put the date of the most recent update in the title,



Ya know, I do this very thing myself for that reason, but I never knew if anyone ever actually noticed or not.


----------



## Rel

Thanks for all the feedback on the "views issue".  I appreciate it.  And nice to see you again, Tony Vargas!  Glad you're still reading.  I may have to adopt the habit of posting a "last updated" date in the Title.  Anyway, here's the update I promised and I expect to be able to put up at least one more this week.  Probably on Friday.


Across the city, somewhere in the labyrinthine depths of the Imperial War College, Lazarius was admitted to see his one-time mentor, Chancellor Felix.  She wore a few more wrinkles than when he was a student but was still hale and carried an aura of authority with her.

“Greetings, Lazarius!  It has been too long since you have visited our halls!  Come and sit.   I am interested to hear of your travels in the Northlands!”

Lazarius bowed at the waist but not so deeply as he might have once.  He was no longer her student and had served his time in the Legions.  And he was rapidly becoming her equal in power if not status.  But she still had his respect and he needed her help.

“I’m afraid that the tales of my adventures in the north will have to wait for a time at least.  There are grave matters at hand and I must speak to the entire Chancellery.”

She frowned for she was an excellent reader of people and she read the seriousness in Lazarius now.  “I’m afraid that many of them have been deployed with the Legions for now.  As you probably know, Flavius has sent several Legions north to capture the western Northlands and expand the Empire.  Most of the Chancellors who did not go with them were sent to the eastern border to guard against Sythian treachery.  What is so dire that it requires all of our attentions?”

“The Empire is about to come under attack by a large army of Orcs from a direction that is almost entirely undefended.  I don’t know how soon they’ll be here but I expect it will be within two weeks.”

“What?!”  She was incredulous.  “An army of Orcs?!”

“A navy actually.  Hundreds of ships are sailing down the Tractless Sea coast.  I don’t know their destination but their generals are not stupid and I would guess that they’ll strike at the western coast.”

Felix paled.  “But the western coast is almost entirely undefended…the Legions who aren’t in the Northlands have been shifted to bolster the border with Sythia.  There are only a few guardsmen and levies to the west!  How big did you say this army is?”

“Somewhere upwards of ten thousand.  And they also have wizards of their own, mounted on small dragons, as well as the magic of their giant-snake leaders, the Banelar.  And these Orcs do not match those of legend.  They are well organized and well led.  I don’t know how much damage they are capable of doing but they are able to strike where we are weakest.”

Felix shook her head.  “I’ll call for the other Chancellors but I believe that only Scapula and Evilada are in the city.  They will want further confirmation of this you understand.”

“Of course.  You will want to Scry upon a man, well…once he was a man, named Titus Pontius Macer.”

“Very well,” she said and stood to leave her office.

“I’m afraid there is something else, Chancellor.”

“What?” Felix asked with trepidation.

“This army is comprised of the followers of Bane.  And the Dead God is about to return.  Even as we speak a horde of devils are smashing open his tomb in Hell and we do not know what will happen when he is freed.”

“Bane?!  How can this be?!  Are you certain?!”

“I am.  But I also have a witness.  Once you’ve sent for the other Chancellors you are free to question him.  There is just the small matter of returning him to flesh…”


An hour later they stood in a laboratory near Chancellor Felix’s office.  She held in her hand a well worn tome and scanned down the page.  “It has been many years since I had occasion to cast this spell.  I hope it works.”

Lazarius stood silently against the wall and waited for her to go over the rotes that she required to cast her magic.  His eyes rested upon the statue of his friend, still frozen in that surprised stance where he had been caught by the Watcher.  He said a silent prayer but wondered if Marius were not in a better situation now than before.

Lazarius was no fool and he knew plenty about dealings with infernal beings.  The way Marius had acted after his night with the she-devil spoke volumes about the trouble he was in.  Yet while he was in this stone prison he was held in a sort of stasis.  His soul was not yet spoken for and he knew nothing of the world around him.  Perhaps this way was better.  Marius’ dalliance with the hellish beauty may well have been something he would regret.  And they had both stood on the Bridge…

“I think I’ve got it,” Felix said, interrupting his thoughts.  “Stand back.”  She began her incantations and the subtle movements of her hands and body that would call forth the magic.  Finally she rubbed a pinch of blood-soaked earth across the eyes of the statue.  

It all took only a few seconds during which Lazarius held his breath.  Felix had showed him the details of the spell and he knew that not everyone returned to flesh withstood the shock of the event.  The stony hue evaporated from Marius’s skin and the Imperial Explorer stood in the flesh once again.  If his soul was damned…

Marius’ knees trembled and he fell to them, his eyes darting around the room.  Where was the passageway into the City?  Where were his other companions?  Who was this woman who stood before him?  WHERE was that floating eye-thing?!

He caught himself before he fainted and, finally, breathed.  He put that breath to good use.  “Lazarius, where in the hell are we?!”


----------



## Funeris

I must admit that I am partially to blame for the bump in viewers.  I started reading your thread last week...and caught up today.  Its a good read.  And just so you know, I'll probably check back in every post too (now that I'm caught up).  Looking forward to the friday update.

Keep writing.


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> I must admit that I am partially to blame for the bump in viewers.  I started reading your thread last week...and caught up today.  Its a good read.  And just so you know, I'll probably check back in every post too (now that I'm caught up).  Looking forward to the friday update.
> 
> Keep writing.




Always thrilled to have new readers!  Welcome, Funeris!

Did you go back and read both the earlier threads too?  If so, I'm very impressed.  I haven't done an exact count recently but I think the total page count for the story hour since the very beginning is somewhere around 450 in Word (granted this is pretty low density text).  I think the current thread is in the 130 page neighborhood but I might be wrong about that.

Anyhow, thanks for joining and I hope you will feel free to post any additional comments or questions as our story progresses.


----------



## Funeris

No I haven't read the first two threads...haven't had that much time on hand recently...although things are starting to slow down. So, I might just get around to it.

Wow. you gave me permission to ask questions. Destan probably would've warned you otherwise. But ok...here we go 

So, I take it this is a homebrewed world? And am I right in assuming this is Old One's world? I was just wondering how long you've worked on it...or did you take his idea and as you went along tweaked it a bit? Curious because I'm brewing my own world at the moment.

And I can only hope my world turns out....so dynamically cohesive 

Thanks.


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> No I haven't read the first two threads...haven't had that much time on hand recently...although things are starting to slow down. So, I might just get around to it.
> 
> Wow. you gave me permission to ask questions. Destan probably would've warned you otherwise. But ok...here we go
> 
> So, I take it this is a homebrewed world? And am I right in assuming this is Old One's world? I was just wondering how long you've worked on it...or did you take his idea and as you went along tweaked it a bit? Curious because I'm brewing my own world at the moment.
> 
> And I can only hope my world turns out....so dynamically cohesive
> 
> Thanks.




The first two threads are not absolutely essential reading to understand the events in this thread, just as having played in the first campaign was not essential to enjoying playing in this one.  But it does give some additional groundwork for these events and shows you the evolution of Speaks With Stone from the ground up.  All the other PC's in the current thread were not part of the original campaign except for Lazarius who made a very brief appearance at the buzzer.

As for how I put together this campaign world, much of it was stolen directly from Old One.  Mostly on a macro level though.  I loved the basic concept of his world and I used the Faded Glory of the Empire as the backdrop in general and the small town of Glynden as the starting point in particular.  I used most if not all of the named NPC's from that area though I made a few minor tweaks to them.

But I think that the direction that I went with the game is a lot less faithful to the intricately Roman feel of Old One's campaign world than I thought it would be when I started out.  I found myself striking a balance between the "standard D&D world" and the setting that Old One presents that just oozes Roman Empire from every pore.  I think this largely stems from expediency on my part because I love what Old One has achieved with his setting but, despite knowing a fair bit about Roman history, I don't have the innate familiarity with it that he does.  He has all the jargon down cold while I found myself having to study up on the aspects that I wanted to highlight most.

None of which is to say that I'm not happy with the results.  But I freely admit that a lot of what made these campaigns among the favorites I've ever run had to do with the players.  It was really their interest in various aspects of the story and setting that drove the campaign for the most part.  And they certainly brought it to life in ways that I could never have predicted.

So, to frame this all in a way that is relevant to the questions that you asked, my thoughts on putting together your homebrew world are like this:

1)  First you need to get some kind of concept as to the overall feel of the world and make sure that the rules set and any house rules you want to come up with are in accordance with that feel.  For example, I started to have to scramble a lot as this campaign got into the higher levels because the powerful magic that the PC's were starting to be capable of was in stark contrast to the generally austere feel that I had given the campaign world up to that point.  If I ever develop another homebrew setting, I'm going to make sure that I account for this in whatever fashion will best suit the feel I'm going for.  And make sure that the players are on board with that feel as well.

2)  Start small.  It is much easier in my opinion to start the PC's off at 1st level when their sphere of knowledge and influence is confined to a narrow slice of the campaign world.  Glynden was my fishbowl to start with and even though I immediately sent the PC's forth from it, they were well informed and grounded to this one spot.  Old One did an even better job of this because he had his early adventures set immediately around the small town.

3)  A few details go a long way.  I think it is best to describe the larger world around the PC's in broad brushstrokes and to add in the details where the PC's will actually come into contact with them.  It does you relatively little good to figure out all the political machinations within the High Church of Pelor, half a continent away from the PC's.  For example, early in the first campaign I knew that the PC's would come into contact with the Fodor tribes.  So I wrote down on a single page the names of the different tribes, their totems, their leaders and most important shamen along with a VERY brief description of their general attitudes.  From this short document I have woven large amounts of political struggle among the tribes and how they relate to the party.  I referred to this sheet very regularly throughout the entirety of both campaigns and it is a prime example about how just a few key details can shape a large chunk of a campaign.

4)  Let the PC's shape your story.  Never underestimate the divedends that you'll reap by letting the players decide what direction the campaign should take.  Once they pick a direction, feel free to write a distinct plot arc that will result from it, but build in some "crossroads" along the way and let the players choose their own direction.  The focus of the story in both parts of my Faded Glory campaigns could have been completely different if the players had picked other directions.

Anyhow, there are lots of other good bits of advice floating around these boards about setting up homebrew settings or writing campaigns.  Mine are neither the best nor the longest.  But these are things that I learned while developing and running these campaigns and I am forever grateful to the Faded Glory campaigns, my players and to Old One for what they've taught me that I'll carry into my games in the future.


----------



## Rel

Oh, one other thing that's been bugging me is an error that I made when writing up the story.  I'm not going to go back and correct it now because it is easily explained below:

When the party learned about the Emorian invasion of the Fodor Valley, the number of Legions invading was not two, but SIX.  That puts the number of Imperial troops encamped near the mouth of the Fodor at more like 15,000 than 5,000.  If this strikes you as overkill compared to the 500ish able bodied warriors among the whole of the Fodor Tribes then you're correct.

But that doesn't mean that Flavius is a fool by any stretch.  First remembering that he has absolutely no clue that an army of Orcs is descending upon him then consider:

 - He's been building up the military for some time and has the spare troops to mount this invasion and still keep a firm grip on the Sythian border.

 - The fierce naval campaign that the Imperial Navy (returned to some of its historical might thanks to his own programs) has waged against the Corsairs of the Crescent Sea has made the trade lanes to the northern continent safer than they've been in a hundred years.  Keeping his troops supplied will be easy and he'll be able to quickly ship home large quantities of slaves and raw materials (mostly furs but also high quality timber and medicinal herbs not found in Emor).  Thus the invasion will pay for itself fairly quickly.

 - His enemy in this invasion is comprised of troops who are highly skilled at living off the land, know it like the back of their hand and are used to using guerilla tactics to good effect.  Trying to hold the Northlands with a smaller body of troops is just asking for some small garrison to get masacred by roving bands of barbarians.

 - Even after the invasion is complete, he's going to have to withstand years of occupation with partisan attacks on patrols and such.  Better to invade with a huge force that can destroy as many potential partisans in the first engagement as possible.

 - A sound military victory that brings home lots of slaves with a small cost in the lives of his soldiers will make his confirmation at the next Emperor upon the death of his father a mere formality.

 - He is not blind to the dangers of the Blackpeaks.  He knows full well that they are rife with evil humanoids and that a thousand-strong army of Orcs invaded the Fodor Valley just last winter.  He will need troops on hand to defend the area once it is his.

 - Once the invasion is done, he'll want to shift some of these troops to re-occupy the towns of the Lost Northern Provinces (Notably Glynden and Aquae Sulis at this point) to encourage an influx of pioneers.  Having the Empire spant the northern continent from the Dragon's Tail to the Blackpeaks puts a VAST amount of raw resources in his hands that will make his reign as Emperor the one where the *Glory* of the Empire is *Reborn*.


I will also note that the players widely regarded Flavius as a real bastard for launching this invasion.  But that's not how I feel about him.  Sure, he's opportunistic and ruthless for hitting the Fodor tribes while they're down.  And he is unwittingly playing into the hands of the Banites (who he thinks are all but destroyed).  But he is doing what he thinks is best for his people and stands to increase the holdings and security of the Empire by an enormous ammount with little risk (so he thinks).  Unfortunately he doesn't have all the facts at hand that the PC's do and his "low risk invasion" is about to turn into a major debacle...


----------



## Belen

I just read the whole thread.  I reiterate that the story hour rocks.  

Actually, I usually do not hang out in the story hour forums.  I have attempted to read this thread since I met Rel at NC Gameday III, but one thing or another always kept me from getting on track.

Although I did post in the thread way back towards the beginning.  

Anyway, keep it up.  I am thoroughly enjoying it all.


----------



## Ziggy

Rel said:
			
		

> I'm not going to attempt to badger these folks out of lurkerhood, though I am happy to have them post if they'd like and I'm thrilled that they are readers of mine.  But I would be interested in hearing from the "regulars" as to how many times they pop in per day.  Do you just check in when there might be an update (i.e. a post by me that shows up in your "Subscribed Threads" list)?  Or do you check it each time anybody posts to read their comments?  Or do you simply pop in some arbitrary number of times per day, week or month and see if the story has progressed?




I usually pop in when I visit ENWorld (1-2 times a week) if there are new posts in the thread.

.Ziggy


----------



## Rel

Thank you all for your kind words.  I really appreciate that you took the time to post them and I certainly hope that you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds.  As always, please feel free to ask any questions or make any comments that crop up.  I'm never sure if the story is as clear and cohesive to others as it is in my mind when I'm writing it.


----------



## Belen

*Mini-game day*

You can't argue with such a great story hour.

As for the mini gameday, it was a blast.  I had no idea that Rel would show up and that made for a pleasant surprise.  I am hoping to badger the kind ladies at the store to have more like it.  I know that a few other GMs wanted to do the same and I think that could really help out their store.

In any event, I have the best party for the game.  We have one kid who was playing for the first time and had a phenomenal night with the dice and 3 experienced players who made GMing a joy.  It was the perfect amount of both RP and combat and I came out of the game happy with the way things went.

So, big thank you to Rel, who plays a mean halfling rogue.


----------



## Rel

Lazarius and Marius sat in an empty classroom, hunched over a broad desk covered in maps.  Both wore grim countenances.

“I don’t see how it can take them longer than a month at the absolute most, barring horrible weather or them stopping somewhere along the way.  And that assumes they are striking somewhere along the southern coast where the beaches are the best suited for a large landing.  They could easily land at one of the west coast harbors.  Those defenses were never strong to begin with and they were the first to be abandoned when things got bad during the Slave Wars.”  Marius shook his head and started rolling up his maps, knowing that little more could be gained by staring at them.

“I think you’re right about the west coast.  They will likely land there because that would be the furthest from any of the forces that could oppose them.  Most of the Legions still in the Empire are either bunched up along the Sythian border or scattered along the north coast in preparation for being sent to the Northlands.  That leaves only a couple of under-strength ceremonial Legions here in Emor and whatever Auxiliaries are quartered in the south coast garrisons keeping watch for pirates.”  Lazarius was no more optimistic than the Imperial Explorer.

“Well if that’s where they’re headed then I’d say they will be there in under three weeks.  How quickly can the Legions move to get there?” asked Marius

“They can march fairly quickly within the Empire.  The roads and existing forts with stocks of supplies see to that.  The real problem is going to get them moving in the first place.  That will all depend on how convinced the Senate is of the dangerous nature of the situation.”

As if on cue, the door swung open and a young student addressed Lazarius with a quavering voice, “The Chancellors will see you now, Master Lazarius.”

The two Imperials looked at each other and Marius broke into a smile, “Better get going, _Master Lazarius_.  I need to get on the street and see what I can find out for myself.  I’ll meet you back here by morning.”  He stuffed the last of the map cases into his Haversack and exited the room as Lazarius headed for his meeting with his former mentors.

They were seated in the Chancellors Audience Chamber, a room designed with great formality in mind.  But Felix dispelled any notion that etiquette and procedure would reign when she abruptly addressed Lazarius without any formal introduction.  “Sit down, Lazarius.  I know you’re tired and we may be here for a while.  I’ve already told the others the basics of your story but why don’t you run through it again so they have all the facts.”

Lazarius let out a sigh and recapped all he had learned about the City of Endless Summer, the Banites, the armada of ships and, of course, Bane being broken out of his prison in Hell.  Both Evilada and Scapula sat quietly, not interrupting as he revealed this information as though they either didn’t quite believe it or couldn’t figure out what questions to ask.

As Lazarius finished, Scapula nodded.  “Well that explains something else.  I was at the Capital when I got the message to return here at once.  As I was departing, I had just heard that High Priest Novanus of the Church of St. Cuthbert had called for an emergency session of the Senate this afternoon, that he may address as many of the Senators as were in town.  That is probably going on right now.”

Evilada squinted his narrow eyes, “We must gather as much information on this fleet of ships as we can.  Tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, the Senate is going to be howling about why we didn’t know this sooner.  I’d best get to the Scry Crystals and see what I can find.  Titus Pontius Macer you said his name was?”

“That’s correct,” replied Lazarius.  He continued, “We’ve got to get word to the Wizards among the Legions and tell them to get those men moving!  If they intend to land along the western coast then we haven’t much time!”

Scapula replied, “Lazarius, you know as well as we do that the War Wizards answer to the Generals, not the other way round.  And since we have no idea as to where they are going then it makes no sense to start mobilizing those troops anyway.  The last thing we want is to leave the Border vulnerable without a plan for guarding it as we pull out those troops.  And the Orcs must march and eat too.  The Auxiliaries will hold them until we can get the troops there.  If this army is no larger than you say then they can’t hope to win against us.  They just don’t have the numbers.”

Lazarius stood and started to exit the chamber in barely contained frustration.  He turned back as he got to the thick, rune-covered door, “What scares me is that they are smart enough to realize that.”


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> In any event, I have the best party for the game.  We have one kid who was playing for the first time and had a phenomenal night with the dice and 3 experienced players who made GMing a joy.  It was the perfect amount of both RP and combat and I came out of the game happy with the way things went.
> 
> So, big thank you to Rel, who plays a mean halfling rogue.




That kid's dice were really on fire.  It ALWAYS happens to the newbies, and a good thing too.  I liked at the end when somebody asked him, "So, are you hooked?" and he said, "Oh yeah!" with a big grin on his face.  Good stuff.

And I'll note that my Halfling Rogue for that game was not nearly as mean as the last couple I've played.  I didn't stab anybody in their sleep or kill off any other party members.


----------



## Darklone

Rel said:
			
		

> And I'll note that my Halfling Rogue for that game was not nearly as mean as the last couple I've played.  I didn't stab anybody in their sleep or kill off any other party members.



Getting old and soft, eh ?


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Getting old and soft, eh ?




Nah.  Pregen character who was Chaotic Good.


----------



## Darklone

Lol!


----------



## Rel

Lazarius sat in the library and pored over a scroll by the pale white light that trickled through the eastern windows.  He knew that he was at a point where some of the more powerful spells were within his capability but had spent too long away from the College of late.  He needed time to study them, master them and copy the rotes into his own book of spells.  But time was something that neither he nor anybody else had much of right now.

The slamming of one of the heavy, oak doors to the library snapped him from his focus.  He looked up to seek Marius coming toward him, looking as though he’d gotten little sleep but not entirely displeased.  “Any sign of Marcus yet?” asked the Imperial Explorer.

“Not yet.  If he hasn’t returned by noon I think I’ll send one of the students over to the Church of St. Cuthbert with a message.”

Marius smiled, “It must be nice to have become so important around here.”

Lazarius returned the smile and shook his head, “I keep thinking of my father.  He’ll probably be stunned when he finds out how far I’ve come.  He sent me to the Imperial War College to keep me out of trouble with one of my cousins who had a bent toward mischief.”

Marius’ smile faded a bit.  “I’m afraid that your cousin isn’t the only member of your family with a penchant for trouble.”

Lazarius lost his smile entirely.  “Solvaria.  What did you find out?”

Marius pulled up an opulent, cushioned chair and sat.  “About her?  Not too much more.  She’s now married to Senator Pontius and there is a rumbling of scandal around the whole thing.  Pontius’ first wife apparently drowned in the Tiber River while on a sail to Opal.  Her body was not recovered and Pontius married Solvaria less than two months later.  There are rumors that Pontius or Solvaria or both killed her of course.  But none of these are too loud considering that Pontius is Flavius’ closest ally in the Senate.”

Lazarius stared off into space for a moment.  “It was Solvaria.  She may have ordered it done or perhaps she did it herself.  But either way, she’s responsible for that woman’s death.  The kind of power she has now is what she’s always coveted and she certainly wouldn’t let a little thing like murder stand in her way.”

“Well,” continued Marius, “it certainly hasn’t done Pontius too much political harm having a pretty young wife who likes to entertain guests at their villa outside the city.  His star has been rising ever since he placed his backing firmly behind Flavius’ plan to rebuild the Crescent Sea fleet.  And he’s from the northeast provinces you know, the area south of Opal and Canera.  That’s where most of the timber for the new fleet came from so he’s popular at home and here.”

“Is there anybody who opposes them?” asked Lazarius.

“Not many.  But there are a few.  That faction is led by a Senator named Gracchus.  He and his allies were against the invasion of the Northlands on the basis that it made no sense to grab a large swath of land on the western side of the Fodor when they don’t even have the citizens up there to fully exploit the lands around Glynden right now.  They also feel that this is just a political move designed to assure Flavius the Emperorship upon his father’s death.  But Flavius and his friends are just too popular right now for these ideas to gain much momentum.  I suspect that’s all about to change though.”

Lazarius gave a wry grin, “War does that.  Maybe we should see if we can get an audience with Senator Gracchus.  He seems like somebody we have common ideals with and it might be good to be aligned with him before, during and after the war takes place.”

“That’s going to be tough.  I don’t have a lot of political pull around here.  My best shot was as a member of the Imperial Explorers Society but I’m not loved around there right now.”

“Oh?” asked Lazarius, “Why is that?”

“I’ve stopped feeding them information about the Northlands and haven’t turned over the last of my travel diaries from our journeys there.  They were giving that information over to the senators planning the invasion of the Fodor lands and I’m afraid I may have unwittingly aided that cause.”

“How so?”

“I reported on the numbers and disposition of the warriors in the Fodor lands in one of my early reports back to the Society.  I thought I was helping to protect them by showing how few warriors they had.  I thought I was showing that they were no longer a threat.  Instead I helped expose their weakness and gave Flavius all the information he needed to plan his invasion.”  Marius looked disgusted with himself.

“You couldn’t have known that.  And it’s done now anyway.  Besides, I doubt the invasion will continue once news of the Orcish Fleet hits the Senate.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.  Wh…”  Marius was interrupted as the door to the library swung open.  Marcus entered dressed in full armor.  It looked as if it had recently been cleaned and polished.

“Ah, you’ve returned,” said Lazarius.  “Speaks and Cathal will be awaiting our news back at Hrongar’s Hill.  I’m ready to take us there if you are ready to go.”

Marcus replied, “That all depends.  I wish to hear what Speaks, Cathal and the Chieftains have to say, but I must return here soon.  I need to try and get down to the south coast to warn the people of those regions and rally the Brothers of my faith to shelter the weak and innocent from the coming storm.”

Lazarius nodded gravely, “So you’ve made your choice of which people to Shield then.”

“I have,” said the Shield of St. Cuthbert.  “But I will do what I can for my father’s people first.”

Lazarius regarded Marcus for a moment and then spoke, “Well, you needn’t worry.  I will want to return here soon anyway to discover what actions the Senate has taken, what the Chancellors intend and to spend a bit more time here at the library.  We shouldn’t be gone for more than a day or two, I’d think.”

“Well that makes three of us who shall return,” said Marius.  “I’ll want to try and get an audience with Gracchus.  And there is another matter I may wish to look into…”  The sound of his voice trailed off, absorbed by the thick tapestries that lined the walls of the library.

Lazarius stood and rolled up the scroll he’d been reading.  “Then let us leave that we may return!”  He led the other two from the library, north to the Teleportation chamber and north to colder lands once again.


----------



## Rel

I'm hoping that all this political stuff isn't boring you guys.  In game this stuff was hashed out in an hour and several e-mails exchanged between sessions.  But trying to boil it all down into conversations between the characters that capture the essence of what was discussed seems like slow going.  But I feel like it is all necessary for setting up the action coming up.

I will also say that a couple of good twists are about to crop up in the political situation up north that should be fun to read about.

Have a nice weekend, everybody!


----------



## BSF

Rel,
I dig it!  I enjoy reading how the events unfold and how the PCs try to interject themselves into the stream.  There is some nice characterization coming forth and it is a great read.  So, don't worry about boring me.


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## Elder-Basilisk

Political stuff boring? Heck no. I find it makes the story all the more intriguing.


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## Rel

Some of you may wish to check out this thread, which has the potential to become my next Story Hour   :

The Adventures of my 3 Year Old Daughter


----------



## Rel

“South?” Lazarius asked.

“Yes,” Speaks replied, “in the lands of the Suevi.  It makes the most sense to hold the moot of the various shaman there since it still looks as though Relmar wants to try and stand his ground against the Imperials if they come.”

The group sat together once more around a table in the corner of Urdrax’s mead hall.  Marius had his maps out on the table.  He gestured at them and interjected, “If they come, they’re going to be at the Suevi lands in only a week or so at most if they march there unopposed.  The Legions travel slowly without the roads of the Empire, but it just isn’t that far to the southern edge of the Suevi forests.”

Speaks nodded in agreement, “That’s true but I already have some plans for how we can slow them down.  There are some tributaries to the Fodor that they’ll have to cross and I think I might be able to have them flood at just the right moment.”

Cathal took a turn to speak, “Well it sounds as though the Legions have no cavalry at present and don’t plan on bringing any up from the Empire.  That means that the Almanni should be able to nip at their flanks with little fear of retaliation.  Perhaps that will slow them down.”

Lazarius shook his head, “Slow them down – maybe.  But any direct confrontation between the tribesmen and the Legions will almost certainly guarantee the conquest of the Fodor valley.  The Almanni horse archers will attack the column who won’t be able to chase them down.  So the Generals will send out the War Wizards to attack the horsemen magically.  And things will just get worse from there.  Trust me, I’ve trained for this kind of battle.”

The War Wizard continued, “I still say that the best hope is for the Suevi to withdraw to Hrongar’s Hill.  Let Speaks muck up the terrain along the way to slow them down.  That might buy enough time for the Empire to decide that those Legions are needed to defend the homeland.”

Speaks agreed, “That’s true.  To be honest, at this point the sooner the Orcs attack Emor, the better off the people of the Fodor will be…”  The Druid got a far off look in his eyes and paused.

“What is it?” asked Marius.

Speaks paused a moment further before answering, “What if the Orcs began their attack on the Empire immediately?  Don’t you think that would hasten their withdrawal of the Legions in the Northlands?”

“Weren’t you listening, Speaks?” asked Lazarius.  “Our best estimate so far is that it will still be at least a couple of weeks before the fleet is far enough south to be able to make their attack.”

“I’m talking about US,” said Speaks.  “WE attack the Empire.  We can use the same trick we used to get into the City of Endless Summer.  We disguise ourselves as Orcs and begin marauding across the southern provinces of the Empire.  Not actually killing anybody of course, but burning some empty barns and putting on some impressive displays of magic.  For that matter, we might even be able to get Magdar and his men to help us!  A couple score Orcs, both real and imagined might go a long way toward getting the Senate to pull those Legions back across the Crescent Sea!”

Cathal was grinning at the notion and Marius raised a thoughtful eyebrow but Lazarius and Marcus were both shaking their heads.  It was the War Wizard who responded first, “It is a cunning plan, Speaks, but I fear it could have dire consequences.  With reports of attacks by small forces, they first ones they’ll send in are the local Auxiliaries backed by whatever War Wizards they can rush to the area.  Magic can do a lot and if any of us get caught then our credibility is completely wrecked.”

Marcus took up the argument, “Also, suspicion is already falling heavily on you, Speaks, thanks to the lies being spread by the Druid Circle.  Even if they don’t actually capture you, if they can put together any evidence that you’re involved then they might try and paint the entire Orcish invasion as your doing.  The Banites would love that.  And if Cathal is implicated then they will have further cause to invade the Northlands.”

Speaks was forced to agree with the Imperials.  “Well then we’re going to just have to hope that the Legions camped near the Fodor Fen don’t intend to start their invasion for another couple of months.  Otherwise I don’t think we’re going to be able to save your people, Cathal.”

Marius tried to cheer the mood, “Historically the Legions have almost never moved to attack in the wintertime.  And considering that we’re talking about the Northlands, I suspect they’ll wait until spring is well under way to assure that they don’t have to tap too heavily into the winter stores to feed the army in the field.  So I think we’ll have those two months, Speaks.”

“But will that be long enough,” answered the Druid.


----------



## Rel

The fire burned low in Urdrax’s mead hall and the companions were gathered close around with mugs of Brigante drink in their hands.  After a long day of exchanging information they had formed their course of action and prepared to embark upon it.  They had tired of talking far earlier in the day, far earlier than they had been able to quit talking.  Each now sat quietly thinking of the role he would play in the upcoming events.

Lazarius would return to the Imperial War College and gather what information he could about the movements of the Legions.  He would also try to use his time to master additional magics that my aid them in the coming battles against the forces of Bane.  And Marius had also said he had some sort of project he needed help with but had declined to elaborate further until they were back in Emor.

Marius was to try and gain an audience to Senator Gracchus and see if any ties could be made with him.  They had all decided that it would be best if they could somehow associate themselves with a legitimate authority in the Imperial regime in order to blunt the opportunities their enemies might use to call them outlaws.  Marius was also going to see if any further dirt could be dug up on Flavius, Pontius or Solvaria.  While such rumors had found little favor during their recent rise to power, once the Orcs attacked, they might be more vulnerable to political attack.

Marius also pondered a personal matter that would require aid from Lazarius and possibly some of his friends among the Chancellors of the Imperial War College.  He had been made certain offers during his liaison with Jalena and it was time that he came to a decision on those matters.  But contacting her was something that required magic and, as much as he wished to keep these matters to himself, he simply didn’t have those resources.

Marcus too would return to the Empire and intended to make his way up and down the southern coastal province, trying to bring warnings of the dire threat posed by the Orcs.  He hoped that his status as the Left Hand of St. Cuthbert would give him enough status among the parish priests of St. Cuthbert to have them pay heed to his warnings.  They would need to use every ounce of the Church’s influence to place pressure on the Imperial Army to be prepared for the threats posed by this coming Army of Bane.

Speaks would travel south to the lands of the Suevi to meet with the various tribal shamans and with Relmar if he would agree to such a meeting.  He had to try and make them see the reason in falling back to the north and staying out of battle with the Legions until the coming invasion could force the Empire to make some hard decisions.  And he was also going to do his best to forge a new order among the shamans.  He respected their culture and traditions but also realized that they were contributing to the tribes acting separately rather than in unison.  Better that the shamans at least take a broader view.

Cathal was going to journey northwards to the Stone Tooth and warn the Dwarves of the conflict that was about to take place in the south.  The small but growing enclave of Dwarves would no doubt wish to have some influence on who their neighbors would be in the coming years.  It was hoped that the budding trade between the Fodor tribes and Stone Tooth Dwarves would help push them toward offering some support.  But none of the companions held out much hope that the Dwarves would aid them directly in a battle against the Legions.  Still, it was worth the trip and only the hale and fleet-footed Cathal could hope to make the trip in a short enough time before their planned rendezvous in Hrongar’s Hill two week hence.

It was then that they would embark upon their next trip to the City of Endless Summer.  They had reasoned that perhaps the army of Orcs would be attempting some sort of dire rituals, sending aid to Bane in his attempt to break free from his prison.  They also felt that if such rituals were to have a focal point from which this power was to be guided to Bane’s hands that it would be through the refuge he’d set up in the Blackpeaks.  And so, once they had made the preparations they could over the next couple of weeks, they would journey there once more to directly oppose the will of a god reborn.

By some silent agreement, each rose from around the fire and went to his quarters for the night.  In the morning they would party ways again to do what good they could in the time they had left.


----------



## Belen

Nah, politcal stuff rocks.  Awesome updates!


----------



## Rel

Just a quick note about the last update:

I thought that Speaks idea to attack the Empire themselves was hilarious and inspired.  I think the points brought up by other as to why they shouldn't do it were valid but I gotta give Speaks some credit for thinking outside the box.  I'll also mention that, while I didn't go into specifics in the Story Hour, he also considered doing what he could to manipulate the weather in order to hasten the fleet toward its destination.

Just goes to remind you that Speaks' loyalties lie not in the Empire.

And I decided to post another update while I have time.  This week is (thankfully) going to be busier for me work-wise so I probably won't get another chance to update until next weekend or so.  So here you go...



In the morning they parted again, Lazarius, Marius and Marcus teleporting back to Emor, leaving Speaks and Cathal atop Hrongar’s Hill.  Speaks made certain that Cathal was ready for his journey and then used his _Feathers_ magic to transform the Brigante into bird-form to speed him on the first day of his journey.  After that he would have to rely upon his natural speed and endurance as well as that granted to him by his magical boots.

As the sparrow winged north toward the Stone Tooth, Speaks called Scipio to him and scratched the huge cat behind the ears.  “Come my friend.  We have a journey to make…and much to talk about.”  They fell in next to Urdrax, Hrothan, their bodyguards and shamans and began their trip south to the Suevi lands.

Lazarius arrived back at the Imperial War College to find things far more frantic than they had been last time.  Pages and young students scurried through the hallways with a distinct sense of urgency about them.  The three Imperials sought out Chancellor Felix to find out what was going on.

“The Orcs will be far enough south to attack in less than a week.  Maybe only three or four days,” she told them.

“WHAT?!” they cried in unison.

“We were looking at their approach only in terms of distance and what is the typical speed of warships along the southern coast.  But there are currents and winds that run down the western coast that brought them here much more quickly than we had thought possible.  And it looks like they were able to sail almost the entire distance so they won’t be tired from rowing.”

“Any idea of where they are headed?” asked Marius.

“Not yet.  But if they are intending on landing near Sutrium, it won’t be long.  Hopefully it will be closer to Carcioli but if their generals are as good as you say then that isn’t likely.  If they go that far east then our navy will be able to engage them and the troops being pulled off of the Sythian border will be close by.  So, unless they have a specific objective in that part of the country then our guess it that it will be further west.”

“I’d better get to the Church right now,” said Marcus.  The others nodded and he departed, jogging down the hallway with his mirrored shield clanking along his back.

Felix addressed Lazarius, “We’ve recalled some of the Wizards from their units but are leaving most in place to ease communication.  We sure could use you backing the Auxiliaries in Sutrium or Hadria…”

Lazarius shook his head, “I know but I can’t.  My companions and I think we may have a chance to take the battle to the enemy and disrupt some of their plans.  We’re going back to the City of Endless Summer in a few days.  And I’ve got to spend that time getting ready here in the library.”

She nodded in understanding.  Marius broke in to ask a pressing question, “What of the troops in the Northlands?”

“After we brought confirmation of the location of the fleet to the Senate, they ordered a partial withdrawal of troops from the Northlands.  But it is going to take several days just to get the ships in place.  After delivering those Legions to the Northlands, most of the warships headed west into the tip of the Crescent Sea to continue their battle against the Corsairs.  Emperor Flavius has issued an order that merchant ships in Oar and Opal be turned over to the Empire to use in bringing some of those Legions home.”

Marius raised an eyebrow, “*Emperor* Flavius?”

Felix nodded.  “The Senate made an emergency proclamation installing Flavius as the new Emperor.  They felt that in this time of crisis they could not continue to keep Dartalus as Emperor considering his health.  So Flavius was appointed Emperor.  I’m sure you can guess who made that motion.”

“Pontius, I’m sure,” replied Marius.  “How many of the Legions were recalled from the Northlands?”

“Four.  Any more would only increase the burden on the limited shipping.  And moving more than that down the roads once they’re back in the Empire would be nearly impossible.”

“Damn,” said Marius.  “That still leaves five thousand men west of the Fodor.  More than enough to conquer the valley come spring.”

“And what of it?” asked Felix somewhat indignantly.  “We’ll need those lands and resources to rebuild from whatever havoc is wrought by the Orcs!”

Lazarius headed off a potential argument between his mentor and friend, “Marius, I need to get to the library, there was something that you said you wanted to ask me about…”

The Imperial Explorer looked a bit sheepish for a moment.  He looked at Felix and decided to trust her, “I need to summon a Devil.”

“WHAT?!” cried the Chancellor.

Marius continued, “I’m sure that Lazarius told you about us crossing over into Hell when we were in the City.  I made a contact there.  They may be able to give us information about the assault on Bane’s prison.”

Felix considered for a few moments as Lazarius waited silently.  Nervously.  “Very well,” she said, “follow me.”

They went back down into the depths of the College, near the area where the Teleport chamber was.  Down a stairwell past a rune-covered and locked door they found a room with a large circle inscribed in the floor.  “Can you do the Spell, Lazarius?” asked Felix.

“Um, I believe it to be within my capabilities but I’ve not yet learned it.  I would love to observe you do it though.”  He smiled at his frowning mentor.

“Come here,” she replied with a sigh.  She opened a thick, leather-bound book and turned a few pages until she came to the proper incantation.  She conferred with Lazarius for nearly a half hour and Marius took his turn to wait silently.  Nervously.

Finally she was ready to begin the Spell and she asked Marius, “Does this Devil have a name?”

“I know her as Jalena,” said Marius, unable to keep the smile off his lips.

Felix hoisted a disapproving eyebrow and left it there as she began to utter the words to the Spell.  Several seconds passed before an indistinct shape began to take place in the circle.  As she finished speaking the necessary words, Felix admonished Marius, “Do your speaking quickly.  She will not remain long in our world.”

The gorgeous, naked Jalena formed in the circle and Marius approached the edge.  In the dim light of the candles that lit the room, he could see the sheen of sweat the covered her skin and knew first hand just how it would taste and feel.  He swallowed with some difficulty and spoke to her.

“We haven’t much time, Jalena.  I need some things from you.”

She slithered over to the edge of the circle and smiled at him.  From around her neck hung a strange looking knife in a sheath of leather.  It dangled between her perfect breasts and everything about it invited him.  “I know,” she whispered.  Her eyes cut to the other two humans in the room.  “Did you bring some friends to join us?  I can pleasure all of you…”

“Nnnnoo.  That…that is not why you’re here.  I…what…um, what is the status of the attack on Bane’s prison?”  Marius scrambled to collect himself.

Jalena crossed her arms over her breast in consternation.  Remarkably that helped Marius to pull his head from the fog.  “For you, Mari, I’ll give that information…since we’re such good friends now.  They are still hacking away at it and there are now hundreds of them.  But they’ve changed tactics and now seem to be hacking at the top instead of the bottom.  That’s really all I know.”

“Well thank you.  Please keep watch on how they progress.  I may need to ask you more questions again sometime,” said Marius.

Jalena was quick with a reply, “Well I’d love to chat again.  But I’m in the information business and next time it is going to cost you a little bit more.”  She licked her lips and made a kissing gesture at him.  As she did so, her form became somewhat less distinct as her grip on the world of men began to slip.  She swaggered deliciously back to the center of the circle and slipped the knife from around her neck.  She bent to place it on the floor and it fell the last few inches as she vanished entirely.  It hit the floor with a not-quite-metallic click.  The Spell ended and everybody took in a deep breath.

“What,” asked Felix, “is that?” her voice piercing the silence that had flooded in to fill Jalena’s departure.  Marius turned to see the Chancellor pointing at the Black Dagger that lay on the floor in the circle.

“Something for me,” said Marius.  He strode over and retrieved it from where it lay.

“Since it was my Spell that brought it here, I should like to know what it is,” said Felix.  Marius said nothing in response but held the blade protectively near his side.

The Chancellor raised that eyebrow of hers once more, “Do you know what it does?  It’s clearly not a normal blade.”

Marius looked for some purchase on the monolithic truth of her question and statement.  Finding none, he replied, “No.”

“Then let me find out for you.  And I assure you that I’ve got more important matters to contend with right now than getting you in some sort of trouble over this.  Unless, of course, you wish to try and tell me what I am not entitled to examine that was brought to MY laboratory using MY magic?”

Marius sighed and knew what must happen.  He strode forward and handed her the dagger trying, not entirely successfully, to avoid looking like a petulant child.  She took it and began her examination.

Lazarius cleared his throat.  “I’ll leave you two to sort this out.  I really must be off to the library.”  He made his way through the cords of tension that filled the room and out the door.


----------



## Funeris

great updates Rel.  And the politicking adds to the story.  keep it up.


----------



## Darklone

Bumplin. Little brother of goblin.


----------



## Rel

Marius hit the streets later that afternoon, still somewhat unsure about what Felix had revealed to him about the blade he carried.  But there was little time to concern himself with that.  He needed to find out whatever else he could about the political wrangling going on and try to get an audience with Gracchus.  He headed toward some of the taverns near the Capital buildings to see what he could turn up.

Among the first bits of information that surfaced was that the Druid Circle had just yesterday come forward with the bold proclamation that they would “stop the Orcish fleet”.  They indicated that their mastery of the elements and weather would allow them to take the battle to the ocean and sink the ships before they ever threatened the Empire.  They had departed this morning and it would probably be a couple days before anyone knew if they’d been successful.  Word of their success or failure would likely come from the Wizards at the Imperial War College who were attempting to keep up regular Scrying on the fleet as it came farther south.

This move by the Druid Circle would be a huge coup if successful.  They had fallen out of favor of late when it became obvious that there had been a split in the group.  They had gone before the Senate and explained that the exiles were an “outlaw faction”, led by Feathers In Flight and furthered by his student in the Northlands, Speaks With Stone.  These men and those who followed them were reported to have ties to Bane and were known to have visited an old Temple of Bane hidden somewhere deep in the Dark Wood where they were most probably continuing his worship.  However, they had not counted on a partial refutation of this from an unexpected quarter:  The Church of St. Cuthbert.

It happened that one of their Inquisitors had only just recently returned from the Northlands where he had had opportunity to observe and question this “Speaks With Stone” and found him lacking any taint of evil or corruption.  He further testified before the Senate that not only had Speaks been found free of corruption or any signs of being a Bane worshipper, but had been integral to an attack on an Army of the Dead, bent on the destruction of Glynden, the last Imperial stronghold in the northern Northlands.  Further, he had been told by numerous witnesses that Speaks and his companions played a large role in defeating an army of Orcs who *were* adherents of Bane that had invaded the Fodor Valley from the Blackpeaks.

This had cast all manner of doubt upon the tales woven by the Druid Circle and they had found themselves on shaky political ground ever since.  But if they were successful in destroying the Orcish Fleet then there was no doubt that all would be forgiven and they would have the thanks of the Empire and Emperor.

Marius also managed to find someone who knew a top aide to Gracchus and sent word that he had information that might be of use to the Senator.  By nightfall, word had returned to him that the Senator was impossibly busy until further notice as the Senate was in almost constant session as they attempted to come to terms with the Oricsh invasion.  The aide did ask that Marius send a location where he could be found over the next few days, expressing that the Senator would see him as his schedule allowed.

Frustrated but unable to see a better solution, Marius said that he could be found in The Eagle’s Rest, the finest inn in Emor.  He then proceeded to head there and rent a room for the next week.  It was expensive by normal standards, but for a man who’d been to Hell and back and turned to Stone, all within a day, it was a luxury that he happily afforded himself.  And there was a fine and equally expensive brothel down the street that he’d been meaning to check out.

The following day he made an appearance at the Imperial Explorer’s Society.  He found few members there, which did not surprise him.  Since most of the members spent the majority of their time in the field, it was never crowded in the first place.  And now the few officials who administered the place were over at the Capital, no doubt trying to give over what little information they had about the area from which this army of Orcs had originated.  They probably had some of Marius’ earlier notes on the Blackpeaks in their hands right now.

He conversed with those few who remained, attempting to determine their political stance.  Unsurprisingly he found them to be firmly allied in the camp of the Emperor and his top advisor, Pontius, on the matter of the invasion of the Northlands.  They seemed to view the Orcs as a minor problem that would cause an annoying delay in the conquest of the Northlands.  Once the Orcish Fleet was dispatched and any stragglers who made landfall put to the sword, they could continue plans for the spring campaign into the Fodor Valley where the scouts of the Imperial Explorer’s Society would prove most useful.

Marius departed having given no useful information in exchange for the useless information he had taken from the IES.  His frustration mounting, he returned to The Eagle’s Rest and found no message from Gracchus.  And that meant it was time to visit that brothel.


----------



## Rel

Cathal’s feet pounded the tundra rhythmically and tirelessly as he headed back south.  The sun was going down and an icy chill was settling across the late winter of the Northlands but he sweated profusely from the physical exertion of his steady run.  He would perhaps stop and make a small fire soon and melt some snow for drinking.  But he would keep running until well into the night before he briefly slept.

Behind him, just barely visible jutting over the horizon, was the tip of the Stone Tooth.  There he had given the Dwarven stewards of the Glitterhame the plea from his people.  The Dwarves had explained in return that they were already mobilizing the warriors they had present.  For an Edict Stone had arrived from the Novantae clans warning of a “Red menace rising in the west”.  They did not know what this was in reference to, but considered the possibility that it referred to the Crimson Eagle standard of the Empire.

Regardless, they stated rather unequivocally that they would not and could not directly oppose the Imperial Legions unless they came under direct attack by them.  Happy though they were to have the Fodor tribes as neighbors, they simply had no where near enough troops to oppose the Legions.  And unlike the tribesmen, they were ill suited for hit and run fighting.  And so, with a grim handshake, they had sent the Brigante back to his people to bear the news.

Now Cathal was running to his chieftain to tell him of his failed mission.  His step faltered for a moment and he slowed to a walk, his great loping steps still covering more than twice the distance of a normal man.  Then he set about finding a dead tree to break firewood from and hoped that Speaks was faring better in his attempt to talk sense into the Suevi. 

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

Speaks stood in the center of the gathered shamans as he concluded his address to them.  “I know that you are reluctant to put aside your tribal ways.  And I’m not asking you to.  But if you are to remain the strong trunk from which your tribes branch then you must act to make use of the strength that nature can offer you.”

They regarded him with expressions varying from rapt curiosity to abject suspicion.  He could tell that his words alone would not suffice and that did not surprise him.  The force of his words had never served him as well as the force of his actions had, even among those who respected him.  It was time that he showed then what his powers could do.

“Gather close around me,” he told them.  Then, “Come, Scipio.”

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

A sizable bonfire had been lit earlier and new logs were added to cast enough light that the gathered warriors could see the chieftains who would address them.  In the dim recesses of the night lurked the women who feared for the fates of their husbands and children in the coming invasion.  They could feel their whole way of life slipping away but, unlike their men, they would not be able to directly confront the invaders or be allowed the luxury of a quick death in battle.  They were consigned to slavery and, worse yet, witnessing the enslavement of their children.

Relmar sat upon a chair that had been draped in furs and clutched a thick, wooden club that had its head carved in the likeness of a mountain lion, totem of his tribe.  He magnanimously gestured to Urdrax, indicating that he could address the gathered warriors and shamans.  The gesture left little doubt that Relmar was the one holding court here.

The barrel-chested Brigante stood from his own chair and stepped near the fire.  “Time is short and so short shall be my words to you here tonight.  You all know that the Imperials are camped upon our southern shores and that they meant to take our land, our families, our ways from us.  But this may not yet come to pass.”

He continued, “I have received word today that ships gather to take these warriors back to their homes.  Homes that are threatened by the same Orcs who came against us only last year.  I do not know if they will all retreat or if they will march into our lands when the river swells.  But I do know that if we attack them then their pride will force them northward and that they will not stop until we are in their grasp.

Our hope lies in bending away from their march, like a tall tree bends in the wind.  We must give them time to understand that there is no glory to be had here on the banks of the Fodor.  We must give them time to worry for their families that live in their hot homelands, threatened by the foulness of the Orcs.  Let them think of those they love going into the cookpots of the Orcs and they will cease to think of us as their enemy.”

Urdrax’s voice rose in challenge, “But if we try to stand fast before their might then they will break us like the tree that does not bend!  And they will take from us slaves and treasure and land!  And they will have a reason to take and take until they have all of us!

Our hope lies in giving them nothing!  We will retreat before them, leaving no stores, no game, no battle, no spoils!  Only the emptiness of our cold homeland while their Empire is threatened by the inhuman Orcs!  That is not the victory they need and they will leave our lands with the names of our tribes bitter on their tongues!  And they will not return.”

A shout went up from some of the warriors, mostly those of the Brigantes and Corritani.  But the shouts were neither loud nor long for retreat was not something easily cheered for among the proud Fodor men.  As these cries died on the night, Urdrax sat and Relmar stood.

“I am troubled.  Troubled to hear such words uttered by a proud man like Urdrax.  Who led our people so well at his fortress where Hrongar fell.  But now that place seems more a prison than a fortress.  It has walled in his mind with thoughts of retreat and defense!

When have these been the ways of our people?!  When did we become _villagers_ who hide and peek from behind the trees while our homes are taken and burned?!  We are a warrior people!  And warriors make WAR!”  A cry shot up from the Suevi warriors and was carried on the voices of more than just a few others.

“If the Imperials wish to come into our lands then let them!  But they will find it no easy march through the country!  They will find our arrows raining upon them from the hills!  They will feel the bite of our steel against their sentries and those they send to forage!  They will find their baggage trains burned and looted!  Urdrax is right!  They will give up their attempt to conquer our lands!  But not because we have made it easy!  They will give up because they will know that these lands are those of WARRIORS!!”  Another cry went up and this one was louder than the last.

“If Urdrax or Hrothan will not lead this battle then I will lead it.  It is my lands that are most threatened by these Imperial marauders!  And my warriors will stand with me!  But if those of you from the north wish to fight like the warriors you are, then stay here with ME!  If your own leaders will only lead you away from your enemies, then come to my tribe and I will lead you to VICTORY!”  The cry this time came from a substantial majority of the warriors and more than just a couple of the shamans.

But a deep, growling voice came from the darkness, “You will lead them to death.”  Heads spun, eyes turned and peered into the darkness, searching desperately for whoever would defy Relmar in his own camp.  Out of the blackness stalked the enormous, prowling figure of Scipio.  

His growling voice boomed again, “Do you think these Legions came here thinking that you would not fight them?  Do you think they expect you to step aside as they conquer your lands?  They did not bring a band of skirmishers to take your valley.  They have an army of THOUSANDS!!  Even if they withdraw many to the Empire, they will be left with an army far larger than that of the Orcs you faced last year.  And you have how many men to oppose them?  Half of those who fought at Hrongar’s Hill?  Try and bring battle to them and you will be crushed!”

The gathered warriors stared in frank amazement.  Here in the circle before them stood the giant, menacing figure of the Suevi totem.  Relmar seemed a frail doll in the face of such muscled might.  Silence ruled the night until Scipio took up his speech once more.

“But that is exactly what the Legions expect.  And so you shall not give it to them.  Instead, let their own expectations work against them.  They expect attack and so they will travel slowly.  The further they go without opposition, the more they will get the feeling that you are planning something they have not foreseen.  They will grow more cautious still.

Their supply lines will stretch longer, requiring more men to guard them and STILL you will not attack.  Their advance will slow as they have fewer and fewer men to guard their lengthening flanks until they are moving at no more than a crawl.  And they will still not have bloodied their swords.  Still not have slain a single Fodor warrior.  Still not have a single bit of treasure to show for their efforts.

All the while, the Orcs pillage and burn across their homeland.  Their lands invite attack from their neighbors while they sit far, far from those threats in a cold and foreign land that has yielded NOTHING for their efforts.  Their morale will start to crumble and their army will begin to die.  Not from your spears and arrows.  But from desertions of men who long to be at home where they can defend their families, just as you long to defend yours.”

The Dire Mountain Lion paused and let the silence take hold again in the night.  “THAT is when it will be time to strike!  THAT is when your enemy will be weak!  THAT is when you will have some hope of making a difference with your battles!  But NOT NOW!

Right now, the Imperials can only offer you one thing in return for your battles and that is death…”  His voice trailed off, leaving only the ominous sound of the giant cat’s breathing.

There seemed nothing to say and so no one did.


----------



## BSF

Heh - Scipio joining the discussion is classic.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Heh - Scipio joining the discussion is classic.




Indeed.  This was one of my favorite moments of the whole campaign because the way it played out was entirely unexpected.  Speaks had indicated to me that he was going to Awaken Scipio as a demonstration of his Druidic power to the shamans.  He wanted them to fully embrace nature as a whole instead of the facets they were drawing upon represented by their totems.

But what was truly amazing was when we rolled the new mental stats for Scipio.  His Wisdom was about average and his Charisma was (I think) somewhat decent (maybe 12 or 13).  But his Intelligence was an 18.  So, in a single stroke, Speaks added the second most intelligent ally to their cause (after Lazarius).  Many jokes were made about this but I had Scipio take on a powerful persona and he becomes even more central to the struggle of the Fodor tribes as the story moves forward.

A brief heads up for what is to come in the next few installments:  There will be a brief interview between Marius and Senator Gracchus and then the Orcish invasion will begin in full.  After that, the party is back in the thick of the action and it is a non-stop thrill ride pretty much for the rest of the campaign after that.  Hope you enjoy.


----------



## BSF

I figured Scipio had been awakened.   

I really enjoyed the sheer shock value of his entrance.  Speaks' efforts are wonderful so far.  It is fun to watch Speaks operate because I appreciate the difference in perspective.  Of course, I say this with a fine appreciation of Druids.  

Stephen Fox, the PC behind my screen name, began as a Bard/Rogue type of character that eventually found spirituality.  There are a lot of campaign specific elements to him, but he is currently Brd 7/Rog 3/Drd 3/ Lom 4 - the last is a homebrew PrC.  In our campaign, Stephen's love is the party Druid (single class).  When we need to talk with people about the Druids, Stephen is a very forceful type. He is almost an evangelist at this point, and with high Diplomacy and Perfom skills, he is somewhat effective.  By contrast, Raven (the real druid) is quiet and wise, leading by example instead of lecture.  But when she needs to get something done, well she is a high level druid and her magic is pretty impressive.  

So I really appreciate the approach that Speaks took.  He spoke his piece and then he demonstrated his power.  Furthering that, he exploited a cultural element that would give him the opportunity to say something important that the tribesmen would have to listen to.  When your totem steps forward to speak, you have a tendency to listen.  It was well played and I appreciate the differing levels of persuassion that Speaks was working with.  

So kudos to Speaks with Stone, and kudos to you as well Rel.  It sounds like you gave Scipio a special mark in the game.  I am definitely looking forward to more story with Scipio.  

Not that the rest of the story isn't great.  It is.


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## Belen

Great updates.  These made for a really good Tuesday break.


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## Rel

“The Senator will see you now.”  Marius had already put out of his mind the name of the aide who invited him into the nicely appointed office of Senator Gracchus.  The villa he maintained outside Emor was modest but well maintained.  It seemed that Gracchus did not possess as great a flair for excess as did many of the other senators.  Or if he did, he displayed it in other ways besides his home.

The squat, thick-chested, grey-haired man did not rise from his marble topped desk as Marius came into the room.  He was thumbing through a thick stack of dispatches from informants all over the capital and around the Empire.  He absently gestured toward a comfortable looking, if somewhat worn, chair that sat opposite his own.  His eyes did not leave the page he studied for several more seconds.  Then, shaking his head, he laid the papers aside and turned his threadbare attention to the man in front of him.

“You’re Marius Flavius?  Of the Imperial Explorers Society?”

“I am, sir.  But it is not in the capacity as an official of the IES that I come to you.”

Gracchus raised an eyebrow, “That’s not what I was told.  If this is about some kind of personal matter then you’ve come at an incredibly inopportune time and I’m afraid…”

Marius shook his hands in front of him and interrupted, “No, sir.  What I’ve come to tell you is very pertinent to the crisis we face.  But it does not directly involve the IES.  I just used those credentials to get an audience with you.”

The Senator leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  “Speak then but I warn you that I have little time to waste and I’m not afraid to have you removed from my villa forcibly.”

“Fair enough, sir.  I’ll get right to the point then:  The lapse in the defenses of the Empire is no accident.  The fact that our Legions are in a poor position to defend our lands was purposefully wrought by enemies of the Empire.”

Gracchus gave Marius a stony stare.  “And who exactly do you think is behind this conspiracy?  The Emperor himself?”

“Actually, my suspicions fall far more heavily on Senator Pontius, sir.  And there may be a way to prove it.”

That clearly got the Senator’s attention.  “What?!  What is the proof you have?”

Marius knew that he had to handle this next bit carefully, but he had accomplished his first goal in identifying that Gracchus clearly was willing to gather information harmful to Pointius and the faction that supported the Emperor and his invasion of the Northlands.  “It is largely circumstantial at the moment, but I deem it likely that if we start digging that we’ll find something more firm.”  Marius saw the Senator’s face fall and quickly continued.

“Of course you know all about the rumors swirling around the death of Pontius’ first wife and his quick marriage to Solvaria.”  The Senator nodded.  “Well, I know for a fact that Solvaria is a Banite and I suspect that, if put to the question, that it would come to light that she had his first wife murdered.  It may be that Pontius himself is a Banite.”

Gracchus gasped despite the cool demeanor he wished to display, “Pontius?  A Banite?”

Marius quickly stepped in before Gracchus jumped to too many conclusions, “That is a possibility but is far from certain.  But what is certain is that Solvaria helped to convince him to proceed with his plan of clearing the Corsairs from the Crescent Sea and invading the Northlands.  And this was timed in such a way as to have many of our best, most battle hardened Legions across the sea just when they are needed here most.”

Gracchus was back on an even keel now and quickly drew the most obvious of conclusions, “If that is all true then it is certain that Pontius will be expelled from the Senate.  And it might call into question the entire succession of Emperor Flavius…but why?  Why would he do this?  Senator Pontius already holds more power than anyone save the Emperor.  Why put that in jeaopardy?”

“That is the reason that I suspect that he may be an unwitting dupe in the plans of his wife,” said Marius.

“’Unwitting dupe’?  I’ve not gotten this far in my political career by underestimating my opponents, young master Flavius.  Pontius is sharp as a gladius and I’ve seen him cut apart nearly all his foes in the Senate.  I’ve feared that I might be next.  An ‘unwitting dupe’, he is not.”

“But would you not agree, Senator, that sometimes the touch of a beautiful woman can make a man compromise himself in ways that all the foes in the world could not?”  By the end of the question, Marius had a somewhat far off look in his eyes and his voice was nothing if not earnest.

Gracchus smiled, “You may well have a point there.”

Marius snapped from his reverie, his hand absently straying to a new sheath that hung at his side, “The only way this can be proved is by getting inside their villa to see if Solvaria retains any of the trappings of Bane.  My companions and I believe it likely that she has an amulet like this one.”  He drew from a pouch one of the ‘three spoked wheel’ pendants that had drawn the Inquisition to the Northlands the year previous.  “They use them to communicate with one another at long distances.”

Gracchus eyed Marius with suspicion, “And how is it that you have one in your possession?”

“I cut it personally from the neck of one of their priests,” Marius answered coldly.  “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more cutting of Banite necks to do.”  Marius rose from his chair.  Ending the meeting on his terms was a bit of a breach in protocol and a gamble.  But he wanted to be taken seriously, as the representative of a force to be reckoned with rather than a mere messenger.

The Senator seemed a bit shocked that Marius was calling an end to the meeting but stood anyway.  His face was a distracted mix of emotions as the wheels were already turning as to how he could best exploit this new information.  “It will take a bit of time but I may be able to intensify the whispering campaign against Pontius.  If I can manage to get his wife implicated as a Banite then maybe the Inquisition will drag her sins into the light without me having to do anything overt…”

Marius nodded, “I have a highly ranked friend in the Church of St. Cuthbert.  I’ll see if he can put in a word with the High Priest about that.  Good day to you, Senator.  I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, yes.  Please do!  I’ll be happy to share any information I can turn up on my end.  Thank you for sharing this with me.  I’m in your debt.”

As Marius was escorted from the villa he smiled at a hook well set.  His fishing expedition had gone well.  Now it was time to do some hunting.

His hand went back to the hilt of his new dagger.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Didn't that dagger get Identified?  
I wonder just how bad it is...


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## Rel

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Didn't that dagger get Identified?
> I wonder just how bad it is...




"it"?  I think you mean "he".  And only Marius knows for sure...

But really, how bad could he be?


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## BSF

*laugh*  

That's funny Rel.

I really enjoyed the exchange with Marius and Senator Gracchus.  I see our heroes are working many angles at once.  It seems they are starting to command enough influence to be a political center of their own with a reach into several different groups and areas.  It should be very interesting to see how quickly this snowballs into play.


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## Rel

_Over the next few days, the pile of dispatches on Gracchus’ desk grew almost faster than he could read them.  Certainly faster than he could absorb them.  And the picture they painted was grim.

The day after his meeting with Marius Flavius, scattered tales of Orcish skirmishers in the southwestern coastal mountains began to crop up.  And there were tales of dragons darkening the sky, no doubt these were the “Wyverns” that his contact in the Imperial War College had briefed him on.

So far, every indication was that the invasion would be far to the west where it would take the longest for the Legions, pulled off duty at the Sythian border, to reach the attacking army.  It was too risky at this point to send any of the Legions stationed in Emor south to try and intercept them.  If they committed those troops too soon then they might find themselves south of the mountains with the Orcish army threatening the Capital itself.  And those Legions were largely ceremonial in any event, few of the men ever having seen any combat.

Then, overnight, two key bridges across the Arno River, those at Pistorae and Carcioli were destroyed with magic.  That would mean that the troops headed west from the Sythian border would have to divert to smaller towns and use bridges and ferries that were never designed to move so many men.  This would delay them by at least a couple of days.  Who was responsible for this act of sabotage was anybody’s guess so far, but Gracchus felt that it might have been done by agents of the Banites secreted among the population.  Perhaps at the behest of the wife of his rival Senator.

Word of the actual advance of the Orcs started to come in the following day.  Scouts reported that they were advancing rapidly but on a very narrow front, headed into the unpopulated areas of the central valley.  So far, no major engagements had been fought against them as they had avoided the larger towns that contained auxiliaries.  The only real negative impact that could thus far be perceived was that the refugees who had been fleeing northwards into the Salerian Pass were now turning back south in fear of being caught in the open.

In the north, word came that two of the six Legions that were part of the foolish invasion of the Northlands had boarded ships and were headed south across the Crescent Sea under heavy guard.  A third Legion might have been brought but the lessons of the Slave War were well remembered and cargo space was sacrificed for fighting power to some extent.  These ships would remain higher in the water should they have to fight or run.

By nightfall, the Emperor had ordered the Emorian Guard deployed in the fortifications south of the city.  He feared that the Orcs might be attempting a rapid advance to Saleria and could then turn northwards and come toward Emor.  But most of his generals indicated that if this were their goal they would likely have cut through the lower mountain passes further west and kept their distance from the border troops.

By breakfast the next day, dire news arrived:  The flying column that had been surging across the central valley was not the primary body of troops comprising the Orcish Army.  In the pre-dawn hours, two separate groups of ships deposited troops both east and west of the city of Hadria.  Approximately a third of them advanced on the city and put it under siege while the remainder struck off into the countryside in raiding parties.

Throughout the day these parties took captives from the surrounding farming communities.  In addition, many of the refugees who had turned back south from Saleria were caught up by these raiders and taken captive as well.  By nightfall, the Orcs had hundreds in the pens they set up north of Hadria.  And still the forces of Emor had not engaged in any major battles against them.

On the next day, the flying column suddenly doubled back to the southwest.  The main invasion force near Hadria swept to the west and caught several hundred more refugees in a tightening net between themselves and the flying column.  These new prisoners were herded back to Hadria.  At first it appeared that the Orcs were behaving in a relatively civilized manner compared to what was expected.  But when a group of Imperial War Wizards flew over to attempt a magical strike against them, they could see that they had interspersed the prisoners with their own troops, making the use of magic all but impossible without causing large numbers of civilian casualties.  As darkness fell, the Orcs had further increased the throng of captives in their pens, now numbering in the thousands.

Then, sometime in the night, they launched an all out assault on Hadria.  In the early going the Auxiliaries inflicted more casualties than expected on the Orcish invaders.  But the War Wizards were again hampered by fighting within the city where so many of their own people kept them from unleashing the largest of their destructive magics.  By dawn, the Auxiliary troops were defeated and the War Wizards were forced to evacuate.

The first Imperial city had fallen and her Legions were still nowhere close to the battle._


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> I really enjoyed the exchange with Marius and Senator Gracchus.  I see our heroes are working many angles at once.  It seems they are starting to command enough influence to be a political center of their own with a reach into several different groups and areas.  It should be very interesting to see how quickly this snowballs into play.




I made sure the players knew this too.  What I hoped they could understand was that the world around them was one at a low ebb.  The times of mythic heroes were past and there were precious few who dared venture past the edges of civilization to challenge the wild lands beyond.  And so they find themselves in the roles as the budding heroes of their age.  They are the ones who will make the difference in the coming stuggle.


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## Belen

Very cool updates.  Keep em coming!


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## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> Very cool updates.  Keep em coming!




Thanks, BU.  Hopefully I'll manage another update sometime this weekend.


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## Rel

_Some good news finally arrived on the fourth day after the Orcs had invaded.  The first Legions withdrawn from the Northlands arrived in Opal on the north coast.  They immediately disembarked and began marching south toward Emor and the lands beyond where the invasion had taken hold.

In addition, the Legions headed west from their posting along the Sythian border managed to reach smaller bridges across the Arno River and were again on the march toward the areas now held by the Orcs.  But it would still be at least three days until they were close enough to attack the Orcish army and they would be tired when they arrived.

Throughout the day the Orcs reformed the core of their army and struck north and inland again using the excellent Imperial roads to great effect.  They rapidly approached the city of Nepet that lay roughly half way from Hadria to Saleria.

Fearing that the fall of Nepet could put the Orc army only two days from attacking Saleria itself, the Imperial War Wizards ordered everyone withdrawn to the northern half of the city and proceeded to destroy the bridge across the small river that ran through the town.  This would not likely stop the Orcs but it would slow them a bit and make the north bank easier to defend from the bulk of the Orcish army.

That night the Auxiliary garrison at Nepet was bombarded from the air by Wyvern mounted Orcish wizards.  The Imperial War Wizards on hand returned fire with magic of their own and managed to down two of the Wyverns while suffering few losses themselves.  But the barracks was burned to the ground and scores of the Auxiliary forces were killed and more were wounded to badly to fight until they got treatment for their burns.

By morning, the Orcish flying column had forded the small river the small river that split Nepet and made their way around to the north side of the city.  There they proceeded to burn down a number of farmsteads and cut off retreat along the road to Saleria.  When the main body of the Orcish army approached the southern edge of the city, they sent a prisoner, the Regional Governor of Hadria, into Nepet to demand its surrender on behalf of the Orcs.  With most of their troops dead or wounded from the previous night’s attack, and with retreat cut off to the north, the surrender was given.  At dusk Orcs crossed makeshift bridges and occupied the town in force.  The War Wizards used their magic to escape the city, largely undetected.

As morning arrived on the sixth day most of the Orcish army remained encamped within Nepet.  A sizable occupying force still held Hadria to the south and the flying column surged north again on the road to Saleria.  But by late afternoon, the column left the road and turned to the west, striking toward the small mining towns in the foothills.  The populace there was forewarned of this by the War Wizards who had fled Nepet the night before.  Most of these people took refuge in the mines and caverns at the southern edge of the mountains.  

Fatigued and isolated with no supporting troops, the War Wizards decided they would join the people in their refuges and try to protect them if they could.  The tight confines of the mines were places where their small numbers would be best able to defend against the hundreds of Orcish attackers and they were tired of running.  As they huddled in the dank mines, they waited, hoping beyond hope that the Legions would arrive soon and begin to drive the Orcs back into the sea.

Late that night the fleet of Imperial Navy ships and the commandeered merchant vessels arrived once again in the northlands to take aboard the waiting Legions.  Men boarded the ships throughout the night using the hastily constructed floating docks the Imperial Engineers had been building for the last week.  At dawn they set sail for the Empire leaving the last two Legions in the Northlands.

That same morning, Scrying by the Imperial War College showed that most of the Orcish Army had departed Nepet and headed south again.  They left behind several hundred troops as an occupying force but it seemed too small to hold the town against even one of the Legions on their way to the region.

Scouts from Sutrium and Vulci, reported sighting the main body of the Orcish Army, now only some seven thousand strong, headed rapidly toward Hadria.  They made the city by mid-afternoon and continued without stopping toward Sutrium.

Sutrium held within its walls the largest concentration of Auxiliary troops in the South.  These men had been drawn down the coast and were rallying there for a possible attack to liberate Hadria if the largest concentration of Orcs had continued northwards.  Now they were about to find themselves on the defensive.

Sutrium was far enough west to have suffered few attacks by the Sythian privateers and piracy was seldom a concern.  Thus her defenses had not been well maintained.  But if a stand was going to be made anywhere, Sutrium offered the best chance.  That night, Imperial War Wizards began Teleporting from the War College into the city armed with whatever magics had been hastily crafted to aid them.  In the pre-dawn hours the troops manned the eastern walls of the city and prepared for battle._

Hundreds of miles north, in the tiny town of Hrongar’s Hill, a small band of friends also prepared to go to battle.  They were going to take the fight to the heart of Bane’s leadership, even if they had to go to Hell to do it.


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## Funeris

Beautiful...absolutely beautiful   
I'm glad someone around here updates...
*ducks as a yeti throws a book at him*
yeah, yeah...i'll get to updating sometime... :\


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## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> Beautiful...absolutely beautiful
> I'm glad someone around here updates...
> *ducks as a yeti throws a book at him*
> yeah, yeah...i'll get to updating sometime... :\




Beautiful...absolutely beautiful   
I'm glad someone around here *posts comments to my Story Hour*...
*throws a yeti at his players*
yeah, yeah...i'll keep updating...


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## Rel

By the way, check out my new Story Hour.  There's a link in my .sig.


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## Rel

As the companions prepared to depart, they exchanged information about what had transpired during their time apart for the last several days.

Lazarius had spent virtually all of his time in studying and scribing within the library of the Imperial War College.  While there he noticed that many others were doing the same, primarily scribing scrolls for use by the War Wizards in the upcoming battles.  He had been able to keep up with events as they unfolded thanks to regular meetings with the Chancellors, particularly his old mentor, Felix.  And on the eve of his departure for the Northlands she had given him a gift.

It was one of her traveling spell books that contained a few incantations that she knew him to lack.  She explained that he may have some difficulty understanding some of her notes but that he had a better chance to decipher them than anyone since he had studied directly under her.  She wished him luck and told him that if his duties in the Northlands were quickly concluded that he would be sorely needed in the battles to come within the Empire.  He promised to return if possible and they parted as peers.

Marius had stayed in Emor, continuing to gather as much information as he could from various sources.  He kept in loose touch with Senator Gracchus but they had made no further inroads toward implicating Senator Pontius or his wife, Solvaria as part of the Cult of Bane.  Marius also girded himself for the days of privation ahead by making full use of the amenities afforded by civilization in Emor, primarily its brothels and fine restaurants.

Cathal had spent nearly the entire last two weeks running from place to place at incredible speeds.  He had been to the Stone Tooth and back, then south to the Shaman Moot in the Suevi lands before returning with Speaks and Marcus to Hrongar’s Hill.  He had been able to rest for much of the previous day and felt ready and anxious to bring the battle to the enemies of his people within The City of Endless Summer.

Speaks had sent word via _Animal Messenger_ to the strange, white, dragon-devil they had encountered guarding the egg of the White Dragon in the Blackpeaks.  He asked that the creature inform his mistress that the companions would soon move against the City and that if she wanted vengeance against those who had plundered her brood she should head to that general vicinity.

With that done the Druid had entered the foothills of the Blackpeaks and gone about damming up on of the more sizable tributaries of the Fodor.  By collapsing a section of cliffs he constricted the flow somewhat in a small area.  He then set a few Wood Wose’s about the task of withdrawing stones from his Bag of Endless Rocks and pitching them into the river.  As these stones began to pile up above the water level, he _Shaped_ the heaps of loose _Stones_ into a more cohesive wall with his magic.  This reshaping of the flow of nature was not something that he enjoyed doing, but it was reversible and he kept his eyes on the greater good of preserving the Fodor tribes from being conquered.  For they would surely tread more lightly upon the land than the Imperials.

While he was going about this task, he noticed some tracks in the surrounding hills indicating the presence of some very large boars.  He spent a day near the end of his project in search of one of these creatures and was able to convince it to aid him in his task ahead.  Thus it came to pass that when he returned to Hrongar’s Hill, he had in tow his newest companion, Brutus the Dire Boar.

For Marcus these last days had been him traverse vast distances.  He had been transported to the south coast of the Empire and decided to spend most of his efforts in Sutrium as he had deemed it a likely target given how far west it was located.  He spoke publicly, brandishing the shining Shield of St. Cuthbert and asking the Auxiliaries to defend the city bravely and the citizens to follow the commands of their clergy and the military leaders.  He moved up the coast and spoke at other, smaller outposts, urging them to move south to aid in the defense where it could most make a difference.

From there he was transported, by one of the War Wizards who was a staunch ally of the Church, back to Emor.  He met with High Priest Novanus again, explaining that he felt that he could best enact his role as the Left Hand of St. Cuthbert and Protector by helping his friends strike at the heart of the enemy.  Novanus again insisted that Marcus’ path was his own to choose but that he should step cautiously within the stronghold dedicated to the God of Corruption.  The High Priest gave Marcus his blessing and sent him on his way.

Returning to the Imperial War College, Marcus was able to prevail upon them (with a bit of help from Lazarius) to _Teleport_ him to the encampment of Imperials in the Northlands.  There he found that there were still thousands of Imperial troops who appeared not to be making ready to depart.  He inquired of their leadership as to the reasons for this and was told that the fleet of transport ships did not have room for the last of the Legions.  Further, word had come from the Senate that they were to hold their position and make certain that the fortress that had been built was not occupied or destroyed by the barbarians.  Assuming that the Legions withdrawn from the Sythian border along with those pulled out of the Northlands were able to drive the Orcs from the Southlands then their invasion of the Fodor Valley would continue on schedule this spring.  The Empire would need those raw resources and slaves now more than ever.

Marcus barely kept his temper as he described how reckless these orders were and how every man was needed in the defense of their homeland right now.  But he knew before he began his diatribe that hit was a lost cause.  Orders from the Senate were nothing that he was going to countermand, Left Hand of St. Cuthbert or not.  In frustration he departed the General’s office and made his way toward the gates of the fortifications.

As he moved to depart he ran into someone he hadn’t expected to meet.

“Greetings, Brother Marcus.”

“Greetings, Brother Lucius,” Marcus regarded Capito with some surprise.  “I did not expect to find you within these walls.  I would have thought you to be in the Southlands preparing to defend our people.”

“And I would have expected the same of you, Shield of our Lord.”  There was a hint of bite in Capito’s words but he looked somewhat haggard and unable to make his remark as acidic as he might have liked.

Marcus straightened up and responded defensively, “The servant of our Lord made it clear that my conscience was to determine my destiny.  And so I have come into the Northlands to cast my Shield over the people who live in the shadow of the mountains that are home to our enemy.”  As he spoke, he saw a small group of young men dressed in the garb of his order gather to watch as the Left and Right hands of their god seemed poised to come into conflict.

The Inquisitor responded in kind, “I too have been given leave to choose where I might best serve our Lord.  It seems that our destinies lie along a similar path.”

Marcus saw an opportunity to end these bitter words and perhaps gain a valuable ally in what lay ahead.  “Soon my companions and I shall strike at the very heart of the Deceiver.  Come with us and lend your Mace to our cause!”

Capito’s eyes filled with fervor.  His faith had always guided him to strike at the core of corruption and evil and to carry the justice of St. Cuthbert into the dark places of the world.  But this was different and he felt the full weight of the burden of destiny upon his shoulders.  He could not act as he always had.  He somehow knew that if he was to fulfill his role in these battles that he must not act precipitously.  “I…I cannot.  I wait for a sign and until then I will not leave this post.  I am sorry, Marcus.  And I wish you luck.”  He half heartedly gripped Marcus’ arm and turned away.

Marcus stood and watched his counterpart leave, looking somehow defeated already.  Whatever differences they had he did not like to see a proud man such as Capito so clearly struggling with how to fulfill his destiny.  It was all too great a reminder about the inner struggle that he was experiencing himself.

As he watched Capito disappear into one of the barracks, he suddenly became aware of a young man kneeling before him.  Looking down and seeing the cross of St. Cuthbert emblazoned on his armor, Marcus spoke to him, “Rise, Brother.  I am not your Lord or commander.”

“But that you were,” the young man replied.  He rose and took a step back.  “I am Brother Albius of the Church in Opal.  You are Brother Marcus and I wish to serve under you in your quest.”

Marcus was somewhat taken aback.  “What?  Who is it you answer to now, Brother Albius?”

“I came north of my own free will to place myself at the side of Brother Lucius.  But now all of the other troops withdraw to defend the Empire and he wants to stay here.  If I am not to return home to defend my people there then I wish to at least go forward and smite my enemy at his heart.  But I have just heard Brother Lucius say that he will not join you in that task either.”

Marcus carefully regarded the young priest.  The symbols he bore showed him to have risen well above the rank of Acolyte but he also saw that his armor was free of creases and blemishes.  He may have been well taught but had he been battle tested?

Seeing the doubt in Marcus’ eyes, the youth pleaded with him, “I have served on the Sythian border with distinction!  And I would be more than willing to do battle with the Orcs were I home to do it!  But I am here and it is here that I wish to make a difference!  Let me come with you and stand by your side as you take the fight to the enemy!”

The doubt did not leave Marcus.  But he was a man of action and knew the turmoil this young man must be feeling.  “Get your things.  I depart within the hour.”

Without a word, young Brother Albius dashed away to collect his belongings.  He was going to war.

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

And so it was that their fellowship had grown slightly since last they parted.  Standing roughly in a circle outside Urdrax’s Mead Hall, they prepared to be transformed into birds and then _Teleported_ far to the north where they would once again enter The City of Endless Summer.

And by silent agreement they all understood that they would not emerge until they or the Banites were defeated.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Wohoo. I look forward to hearing whether they do or whether they die. And I want to find out what happens to Brother Lucius Capito. It would appear that he has been predestined for failure by the DM but that remains to be seen.


----------



## Rel

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> And I want to find out what happens to Brother Lucius Capito. It would appear that he has been predestined for failure by the DM but that remains to be seen.




Don't be so sure of that.  I had grown quite fond of Lucius Capito by this point in the campaign.  He and I went through a lot together.  I wouldn't just doom him to failure out of hand.

Or would I?


----------



## Tony Vargas

I think it's a little odd that the priest who's chosen the 'shield' role is striking at the heart of the enemy, while the 'mace' is hunkered down in a fort...  am I missing something?

I'm guessing they'll end up on opposite sides, that the defense Marcus has chosen will end up being defending the tribesmen against his own people, because the empire ends up playing into the hands of Bane...


----------



## Rel

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> I think it's a little odd that the priest who's chosen the 'shield' role is striking at the heart of the enemy, while the 'mace' is hunkered down in a fort...  am I missing something?




You are missing nothing and this is an astute observation that was not lost on the players during the campaign.  I won't give any further hints right now except to say that Marcus' player got a chance to make his choice first with the only foregone conclusion being that Capito would assume the role that he did not (though the player didn't know that at the time).

And I didn't push the players toward "striking at the heart of the enemy".

Make of that what you will.  But this question and many others will be answered in full by the end of the campaign.


----------



## Belen

Rockin updates.  I was wondering though, was Brutus awakened?  


Can't wait to see more.

Dave


----------



## Riggs

*Huh? oh*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> Beautiful...absolutely beautiful
> I'm glad someone around here *posts comments to my Story Hour*...
> *throws a yeti at his players*
> yeah, yeah...i'll keep updating...




*ducks yeti*
What?  I'm just sitting here reading and not mentioning the internet-lagging, brain-numbing possibilities of a Lucy Liu/Monica Bellucci love child!

I can also imagine Marius failing miserably at a "scared straight" meeting for those that want to consort with devil women.  

"Ahh, and you just don't want to go there because it's really not worth--Well It's probably not worth your....well...Freakin go for it!  It's better than you think!  I mean, ah, don't do drugs."


----------



## Speaks With Stone

I thought I'd add in a little more on the Scipio side.

During the Suevi meeting where Scipio made his appearance, Speaks With Stone basically insulted Relmar and called him a coward.  Relmar withheld his troops from the Winter War as he saw it as a concern for the other tribes.  So he now has the biggest warband.  He was making a play for control of all of the tribes (at least that was Speaks perception) by forcing them to come to him.  The rest of the tribes were bending that way because without the Suevi troops they were lost, but on the other hand fighting and dying to preserve Suevi lands when the Suevi gave nothing to the Winter War effort was a sticking point, especially in light of the foolhardy nature of it all.

So Speaks With Stone called him out on that and basically the meeting ended in a big shouting match and nothing got decided other than Speaks was persona non grata.  

Speaks convinced Scipio to offer his "service" as a peace offering.  The idea was that distrustful or not, Relmar could hardly turn down an incarnation of his tribe's spirit.  Meanwhile, Scipio's real mission was to protect Urthula and her son (who is also Speaks With Stone's son - long story, I'm sure Rel covered that ages ago).

That is why Scipio stayed behind.  I really liked this role for him, much better than being a target in combat that I had to watch over.  It's awful hard to keep those animal companions alive.  The only other ones that survived to date were the wolves that Speaks had Awakened and never took adventuring, so Scipio was a milestone in having survived the animal companion stage.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Brutus wasn't awakened.  It probably would have made things easier, but I had taken on the concept that I'd only awaken creatures if they wanted to be awakened.  I always asked first because in many ways I thought it alienated them from other animals.  With the wolves back home I awakened a whole bunch of wolves of different sexes.  Hopefully, intelligent wolves will breed, but maybe not.

But anyway, Brutus hadn't been around long enough to be able to make that decision.  I can't remember if I asked him and he was non-commital, or if I just assumed he'd need some time to adjust sort of one stage at a time.

Probably not the best strategy, but it seemed more in keeping with being a druid.


----------



## BSF

Excellent stuff Speaks!  Thanks for providing a little more insight into the entire situation.  

As for awakened animals, I always kind of figured awakened animals went from just being companions to more on the level of cohorts.  But RP isn't always about making the best tactical decision all the time.  It is about making the right decision for the character all the time.  Speaks wants to ask animals if they wish to be awakened?  Good for him I say!


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## Rel

I had this dream that my Story Hour thread made it to Page 20.  Wouldn't that be cool? 

So I've finally figured out that this thread is like a pot of water.  If I check it every few hours throughout the day then it is guaranteed not to get any new posts.  But as soon as I get busy with work and don't get a chance to pop in for a couple days, everything starts to boil over.

So that's it!  I'm leaving now and just going to leave the thread alone again.  Here I go...

I'm going.


See me leaving...


----------



## Rel

No new posts yet?


----------



## Funeris

I was about to ask the same thing, Rel.    

Nice to see your players dropping in to support your efforts.  Always good to have more points of view.  

Alright...I'll shut up now so both you and I can get to updating.


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## Rel

The Foundry was deathly quiet and biting cold but it was the smell that first caught their attention.  The reek of death permeated the place and there was little question that it emanated from the long rail-tunnel that led to The City of Endless Summer.

Albius had mace and shield in hand in an instant and strode toward the tunnel entrance.  “The dead cry out for justice!”

Marius shot a sidelong glance at Marcus, “You’d better reign in the Torchbearer there before he gets himself killed.”

Marcus nodded, “Wait, Albius.  Give us a moment as the others finish their preparations.”  Marcus wore the mantle of command uneasily.  It had been years since he had given orders among the Legions and he was not used to being responsible for the actions of others.

Lazarius and Speaks were conferring.  “The restless dead killed in that abattoir may be loose in the city,” said Speaks.  “We’d best be ready with means to drive them back if we’re to win our way past them.”  The Wizard agreed and they set forth with Marius and Marcus in the lead followed closely by Cathal.  The others trailed behind with the giant porcine form of Brutus bringing up the rear.

As they entered the tunnel, Marcus stepped close to Albius and gripped him by the arm.  “Listen Brother, you recall the tales I’ve told you of this place?  Of Hell and the Watcher and the thousands slaughtered here?  Remember them well and do *not* charge in without my leave.  Understood?”  The youth nodded.  Marcus hoped that he meant it.

The stench became almost palpably dense as they went forward.  They soon resorted to wetting cloths with wine and tying them across their faces.  A couple of hours into the journey, they heard a faint shuffling sound from ahead and the faces of the dead loomed into the edges of their torchlight.

Marius assumed a fencing stance and held forth his rapier but did not run forward to meet the undead.  Marcus never stopped walking forward and drew to within a few paces of the lurching zombies.  Holding forth his Shield bearing the symbol of St. Cuthbert, he cried out, “Let go your hold on this world in the name of my Lord, St. Cuthbert!”  A wave of silver energy ripped through the front ranks and disintegrated a dozen of the lurching undead.

Albius found himself confronted with the first walking dead he had ever seen and discovered that obeying Brother Marcus’ order not to charge in was easy.  He gathered himself and closed ranks with the others.

Speaks and Brutus moved forward, Speaks brandishing Long Tooth, his longspear gifted to him by Urdrax.  They were ready to crush any of the zombies that came within their reach.

Cathal took a less cautious approach and dashed forward into the midst of the undead.  The crackling blade he bore lashed out at the nearest zombie and sliced it cleanly in half, the momentum of the attack carrying through and felling another with the same stroke.  And the battle was joined.

Marcus and Marius quickly moved to keep the zombies from flanking Cathal and they formed a front line of resistance.  Speaks and Brutus moved in behind them to assure that aid was at the ready should they need it.  Lazarius hung back and kept a watch behind them.  This was exactly the sort of treacherous situation that the Blue Demoness would attempt to exploit and he was wary of being caught unawares.

Albius followed the lead of Brother Marcus and came forward brandishing his holy symbol.  Another surge of holy energy blasted through the front ranks of the undead leaving dust in its wake.  The boy smiled and moved forward ready to fight at the side of his leader.

Cathal and Marius stepped up through the swirling dust of the dead to meet the next set of foes.  Their blades sank into rotting organs but could not drive the unlife from their foes.  A moment later their enemies became motes on the air as Marcus hurled another blast of holy power into the mass of zombies.  Albius did the same and still more of them were destroyed.  But there were many, many more ahead.  Untold hundreds of dead, lurching and shambling up the tunnel toward those they hated for still daring to live.

Speaks called out above the din of battle, “Do not move to attack them!”  He wove together the magical strands of the Wild and summoned up _Spikes_ from the _Stone_ floor ahead.  “Fall back!” he yelled at his companions.

Those in the front rank hesitated to follow the Druid’s order.  They had not come here to retreat in the face of danger, particularly not when they had felled some fifty foes in the span of just a few seconds.  But as they gazed on, the zombies continued to shuffle forth into the murderous grasp of the stone spines lining the floor of the tunnel.  They watched as these razor-like spikes destroyed the feet of the dead who feel to their knees and hands that likewise became shredded until they finally wriggled forward on elbows as the spines cut apart their torsos.  What had once been Orcish women and children were now just so many tons of rotting ground meat.  The three hardened warriors withdrew from this scene until it was plunged mercifully into darkness.

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

Albius leaned against the tunnel wall, his breath coming in short gasps.  He stood as Brother Marcus approached and tried to appear less shaken than he was.

“Are you alright, Brother Albius?”  Marcus asked the young man.

“I…am.  Sir, I’m fine.”

Marcus looked back up the tunnel in the direction of the battle that had just taken place.  “It isn’t like fighting a skirmish along the Sythian border, is it?”

“No sir.”

Marcus paused for a moment.  “Are you sure you want to do this, Albius?  There is nothing but danger and death ahead and I don’t know if any of us are going to make it out of here.  You don’t have to be here.”

Albius stood up straight, “Sir, I do have to be here.  I can’t go back to the fortress just waiting for some sign that may never come.  I need to try to make a difference!  And with our faith, I think we WILL make a difference!  Sir, I’m with you until the end, even if it means I walk right into the heart of Hell itself.”

Marcus nodded silently.  Then, “It may well come to that, boy.”  He took a step back from the young man and slung his mace back at his belt.  “Rest up for a few minutes.  It will take a little while before the Druid’s spell is over and we can go forward.”

Albius nodded but did not sit down again until his leader had walked back into the darkness.

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

The gore was horrid and made the floor slick with things that they dared not even look at.  They plunged ahead into the darkness at a reckless speed but they simply had to get away from the awful pile of shredded undead as soon as they could.  It was the only thing that mattered, consuming every thought until they were finally, mercifully past it.

“Remind me to burn these boots when we get home,” said Marius in a faint attempt at levity.

“I don’t have that luxury, my friend,” replied Cathal.  He looked down and lamented the gore he’d had to wade through with his enchanted footwear.  He hoped that the leather would come clean of the smell someday.  If they lived that long.

The stench in the air was noticeably less now that they were past the dead.  Because of the slight incline of the tunnel toward the Foundry and the supernaturally warmed air of The City, a very slight breeze always flowed up and to the north, carrying away the ungodly stink of the wrongly slain.  They collected themselves and sipped drinks from their wineskins to clear the last of the smell from their heads.  Somewhat refreshed they made their way forward and within an hour found themselves at the smashed gates of The City.


----------



## BSF

Ah - High level PC's against low-level undead.  That is always fun.  Nice flavor buildup for all the nasty stuff to come as well.  

Nice job Rel.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Well, here we go. I was sitting thinking, "Rel always updates in between times when I post." So, I thought maybe if I go away for a while there will be an update waiting for me. 

It took a little bit of fighting the urge to jump in and check the thread, but it worked. Look, here's an update. And a fun one too.


----------



## Rel

There was no sign of any enemies at the gates and no indication that anyone had tried to repair them.  It was clear that The City of Endless Summer was all but a ghost town now that the invasion had been launched.  Nevertheless, the party moved cautiously into the Forge.

It too was abandoned and the hole created in the ceiling by the Watcher remained, casting an ellipse of warm sunlight on the wall.  The sounds of exotic bird calls wafted down from above where the garden-paradise of The City reigned against the winter that gripped the Blackpeaks.  Suddenly aware of the difference in temperature, the group paused briefly to doff their winter coats and stow them in their packs.  No doubt this was partly for comfort but they also sought any brief excuse to delay opening the door into the Abattoir ahead.  Lacking any further reasons to postpone the inevitable, they approached the large doors.

With weapons raised and spells at the ready, they pulled open only one of the thick doors.  Light from their everburning torches pierced the darkness beyond and they saw a sea of bones.  Although the smell was far from pleasant, there was surprisingly little odor coming from the huge room beyond.  But there still lingered a palpable sense of Evil at what they knew had happened here.

(GM Note:  In case you don’t recall, Speaks cast an Insect Swarm into this room before they left it the last time.  It devoured the thousands of corpses down to the bones before dissipating).

They waited for a dozen heartbeats to see if the bones would rise from their rest to attack them but none stirred.  Finally they began to cautiously move into the room, staying in a tight cluster and ready for any signs of movement.  It appeared that a shallow trench of crushed bone had been trod into the two foot deep tangle of skeletons that carpeted the floor of the huge, vaulted chamber.  It led off to the south.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to stride along atop this army of skeletons just waiting to pull me under like the tide!" announced Lazarius.  He worked some of his magic and floated off the ground, _Flying_ just above the group as they proceeded.

Moving along this channel amid the necropolis that surrounded them they could see at the edges of their torchlight that two other sets of huge doors led both east and west out of the chamber.  But they were here to confront the faithful of Bane left in the City and the group reasoned that it was they who had left this path among the bone.  They continued south.

At the south end of the cavernous room they found another set of large doors and a nearby altar, drenched in blood dried black.  They paused and wordlessly regarded the focus of the Evil that was done here.  Then Marcus stepped off the trodden path and picked his way across the field of bone toward the altar.

Marius called after him, “Marcus, this whole place is foul with Evil.  Just leave the altar and let’s go.”

Marcus did not turn back and only said, “This shall not stand.”  He kicked his way through the bone that covered the steps to the dais upon which the altar rested and drew forth his mace.  He slung his Shield across his back and gripped his weapon in both hands.  “My Lord, give me STRENGTH!” he cried out as he raised high his mace and power flooded into his muscles.  The enchanted steel came crashing down upon the stone slab with a flash of light and a loud POP.

For a moment the only sound in the room was the ringing of Marcus’ steel.  Then the grinding of stone on stone and a loud BOOM as the slab of the altar parted in the middle and fell free of its supports at the ends.  Without another word Marcus gripped his mace up near the head and turned his back on the ruined stone to rejoin the others.  Nothing was said as they left the Abattoir through the doors in front of them but they all felt just a bit better.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Look for this phrase to be repeated often in upcoming updates. . . 

"Lazarius hung back and kept a watch behind them. This was exactly the sort of treacherous situation that the Blue Demoness would attempt to exploit and he was wary of being caught unawares."

Lazarius had an overwhelming obsession with this chick.  He seemed quite happy to lurk invisibly around combats waiting to snipe her if she showed up.  Early in the game he fried everything that moved and half of us wondered if we'd ever actually close for melee.  Late in the game we wondering what happened to all of that artillery we used to have.  However, it was a lot of fun watching the neurosis develop and the ends to which he'd go to try to catch her.


----------



## Rel

Speaks With Stone said:
			
		

> However, it was a lot of fun watching the neurosis develop and the ends to which he'd go to try to catch her.




Ain't that the truth!


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Nice flavor buildup for all the nasty stuff to come as well.
> 
> Nice job Rel.




Thank you, BSF.  I enjoyed this part of the campaign a lot because I knew it was going to be exciting.  And the tension from the previous post was pretty accurate.  The players didn't know exactly what awaited them but they knew it wouldn't be good.




			
				Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> It took a little bit of fighting the urge to jump in and check the thread, but it worked. Look, here's an update. And a fun one too.




Well from here it is pretty much one big roller coaster ride.  Breaks in the action from now on will be few and far between and danger lurks around...

...every corner.


----------



## Rel

Beyond the Abattoir they found more of the large hallway similar to that in the Forge, sized for the easy passage of Ogres.  After a short distance the corridor turned and turned again to head south again.  This architectural oddity caught Lazarius’ attention and he paused to examine some markings along the wall at this latest turn.  As the others continued on up the hallway, a terrible recognition settled in and Lazarius cried out, “WAIT!”  But it was too late.

The hallway ahead of them lit up with flashing blue light as the _Bolt of Lightning_ surged through the corridor from ahead.  Even as Lazarius ducked to the side of the corridor, avoiding the worst of the blast, he knew that the worst wasn’t over.  As the wave of electricity hit this end of the hallway, the Glyph inscribed on the wall lit up and sent an identical _Lightning Bolt_ back up the hall in the other direction.

Except for Marius, who seemed to dodge like the very lightning itself, all of them were badly scorched by the twin blasts of crackling pain.  Albius went down in a shivering, smoking clatter of armor and lay still.  The others found themselves thrust into battle in an instant as a group of Ogres emerged from a side passage some eighty feet ahead.

Miraculously unscathed by the lightning, Marius was the first to react and assumed a defensive posture.  Cathal joined the Imperial Explorer and was ready to hold the enemy at bay while his companions collected themselves from the devastating pair of lightning blasts.  Behind this thin line of defense Speaks called upon the Wild to provide them with an ally who was not already on death’s door.

Lazarius soared above Speaks, Marcus and the fallen Albius, plucking a small grey stone from his Haversack as he did so.  Weaving magic around the inert rock it suddenly blazed with brilliant _Daylight_ and set it spinning around his head.

As this light filled the chamber, Marcus knelt at the side of young Albius and saw him draw a ragged breath.  Filled with elation that the boy was not dead, Marcus placed a hand to his chest and let a surge of holy magic flow into him, healing the worst of his burns.  But the young Cleric still lay unconscious.

The Ogres formed a phalanx with their longspears bristling steel death in the direction of the party as they advanced slowly up the hallway.  They stopped some forty feet away and seemed to await the party’s attack.

Not quite ready to charge into battle, the companions opted to take advantage of this brief respite to gird themselves for the combat ahead.  Marcus gave further healing to Albius who’s eyes fluttered open.  Standing quickly from the youth’s side, Marcus grabbed the lip of his breastplate and pulled him to his feet.

Cathal and Marius still stood shoulder to shoulder.  The Brigante gestured with his left hand and summoned forth his mystical _Shield_.  Just behind this pair Lazarius wove a charm around himself to _Resist Fire_.  As the Wizard completed his enchantment there was a faint pop at his side and he glanced down to see the _Ally_ that Speaks had _Summoned_.  There stood a badger the size of a small dog.  “This is all you could come up with?!” demanded the Imperial War Wizard.

Whether Speaks had a retort ready or not didn’t matter since he was already in the process of transformation into the form of a large bear.  He did let out a growl but it wasn’t directed at Lazarius and instead was a magical enchantment that caused the badger to double in size.

Lazarius glanced nervously at the line of Ogres with their spears but they seemed content to guard the hallway further ahead.  Perhaps they waited for reinforcements.  As he pondered this, the Wizard felt his muscles try and seize and he fought to keep from being paralyzed.  Certain that this was the work of the Blue Demoness, he withdrew from behind the front rank and quaffed a potion that healed some of his wounds.

Plenty of recovery was taking place from the lightning blasts as Marcus used his healing magic on himself this time.  Desperately wishing to be useful in their first real battle against the Banites, Brother Albius ran to support the front line.  Seeing the smoke still rising from some of Cathal’s wounds, Albius lay a hand on the shoulder of the Brigante and sent a rush of healing magic to soothe his injuries.

Speaks decided that it was time to carry the battle to the enemy and badger, bear and boar charged up the hallway toward the waiting Ogres.  The badger closed to within range of their spears and the others gathered themselves to charge in after the trio of large animals.  But they pulled up short and gaped in horror as Speaks’ bear-form suddenly vanished when the floor gave way and he plunged into the depths of a pit full of spikes…


----------



## Rel

Pit traps:  They Never Get Old!


----------



## Belen

Ah, the Power of Evil!  You have to love traps.  They make the world a brighter place.  Um....that's the GM in me talkin.


----------



## Funeris

Nice   
or..maybe evil if you were SWS.
I can imagine the annoyed smirk on his face....its great


----------



## BSF

Oh my!  That was fun to read.  I imagine the looks around the table were not happy when Speaks fell into the pit.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Oh my!  That was fun to read.  I imagine the looks around the table were not happy when Speaks fell into the pit.




It's hard to say.  I mean they certainly were not happy but it is hard to differentiate their usual "You're a Rat Bastard" glares from their "You're being a Rat Bastard in this particular instance" glares.

Oh, and this is just the tip of one of the longer running battles from this entire campaign.  I'll probably have to break it into at least two more pieces to keep the updates of managable size.

And for what it's worth, if you recall the party originally going into the first Temple of Bane they found in the Northlands and the continuous string of fights until they were completely scraping the bottom of the barrel of resources - the next several updates will be very similar.  Except that their barrel is bigger and deeper now.


----------



## ledded

Rel, I like your style man.

RBDM'ing at it's finest.

I bet they never even wondered why the Ogres didnt just charge up the hall screaming for blood, even after they spent a few rounds healing up.  Nice touch, I love smart mooks.

If you are anything like our GM OldDrewId, I imagine that at the point they are reaching for the scum at the bottom of that aforementioned barrel, that will become the nice time for you to start thumping said barrel with a Big Pointy Stick.


----------



## Rel

Toward the rear of the Ogrish phalanx one of their Clerics emerged and called out to _Bane_ to hinder his enemies in this battle.  Seeing that their clergy had emerged, Marcus felt there was no time to waste in bringing the battle to the enemy.  If they were left along any longer to get organized then they might stop the party cold right here.

Marcus stepped up to the edge of the pit and saw Speaks impaled upon several of the spears that lined its floor.  But the Druid yet lived and his bear form was already starting to shrink and grow wings.  Marcus hoped that what he did next would not prevent Speaks from getting out of the pit.  The Shield of St. Cuthbert was held forth and it glowed brilliantly with silver light as Marcus conjured forth an invisible concave field to bridge the pit.  He called out to his companions, “You can cross!  But do so quickly for my bridge will not last long!”

In response the Ogres shifted their longspears to their shield hands and hurled a flight of javelins across the pit.  These rained down upon Marcus and Brutus but their armor and hide were enough to turn the points of the missiles.  Albius wanted to heed the command of his superior but knew that he would fall to the Ogres in an instant in his current condition.  He hung back and used the blessing of St. Cuthbert to heal some more of his wounds.

Lazarius also did not wish to cross the pit without his more marital companions at his side.  Instead he wove his hands to call forth a stroke of _Lightning_ that would soften up the ranks of the Ogres.  But before he could complete the gestures he required he was blinded for a moment as a ray of _Searing Light_ shot from behind the ranks of Ogres.  As his vision cleared he caught a glimpse of the Blue Demoness, smirking at having disrupted his magic!  *OUTRAGEOUS!!*

Marius muttered to himself, “Ah what the hell” and stepped off into nothingness.  His foot came down on the invisible _Wall of Force_ that Marcus had conjured.  It was as slick as wet glass but Marius was nothing if not agile.  He kept his feet and scrambled across the bowl-like bridge to emerge on the opposite side of the pit just behind the enlarged badger.

Cathal decided that he trusted his own abilities more than some invisible bridge and leapt across the pit with the aid of his magic boots.  He landed right next to Marius, brandishing his crackling bastard sword and ready for battle.  Their position became the front line a moment later when a spear thrust and then an iron-toed boot crashed down onto the badger, snapping its spine.  Another of the Ogres took a step forward and thrush his huge longspear at Marius, catching the Imperial Explorer in the shoulder and wounding him where the lightning blasts had failed to do so.

Marcus rushed to aid his comrades but he slipped on the slick surface of his invisible bridge and fell into the middle of the bowl-like depression in its center.  There he seemed to hover above the sharp points below and he knew that he had better gain his feet and get across soon before his magic expired.  He spotted Albius step to the edge of the pit and glance down to make sure he was ok before casting a spell on one of the Ogres.  His target succumbed and felt a sense of impending _Doom_ take hold on him.

Even as this victim of Albius’ magic took a step backward in fear, a new Ogre, this one more feral in appearance, emerged from their line and stepped forward to attack Marius.  He brought his flail crashing down onto the human and the chain ground into his upraised left arm, peeling away strips of skin.  Marius cried out in pain above the clangor of battle.

Lazarius was again on the brink of unconsciousness and withdrew around the corner out of the line of fire.  He cried out to Albius, “Cleric!  Heal me!”

Marius collected himself and attempted to execute a forward roll to get inside the reach of the front line of Ogres and their spears.  But he tripped on the dying form of the badger and flopped gracelessly to the ground as two spears from the rear rank of Ogres sank into his ribs and thigh.  Blood covered Marius as he struggled to regain his feet but he still had some fight left in him.

Cathal stepped forward to flank the flail-wielding Ogre and Marius chose that moment to attack, sinking his blade deep in the creature’s kidney.  Cathal swept his blade at the creature as it roared in pain and was rewarded as his crackling sword plunged into its side.  But still they were badly outnumbered, severely wounded and desperately in need of the arrival of the cavalry.

Two thousand pounds of tusk-wearing pork hurled into the side of the lead Ogre as Speaks managed to coax the reluctant Brutus to charge across the pit and engage the enemy.  The Ogre still stood but he looked sorely wounded.

As Cathal prepared to attack again, his vision began to dim as the Ogre Cleric tried to magically _Blind_ him.  But he fought off the ensorcelment and prepared to dive further into the mass of Ogres.  Marcus managed to clamber out of the invisible bridge and charged into the battle, mace swinging.  His strike downed one of the front rank of Ogres and struck the one beside him.

Inspired by Marcus, Albius ignored Lazarius’ pleas for aid and stepped onto the invisible bridge, moving slowly to keep his feet.  It seemed that with most of the party having engaged the enemy that the tide of battle might be turning in their favor.

But the Ogres were not ready to fold yet.  One spearman struck at Cathal, failing to penetrate his armor but giving him a nasty bruise nonetheless.  Two others struck at Marcus including the one wielding the huge flail.  Both blows landed but were not enough to bring down the Shield of St. Cuthbert.

Back up the hallway Lazarius sensed that Albius was not coming to his aid.  Cursing he cast a spell to guard him from further attack:  A more persistent version of _Invisibility_.  He came back around the corner, his eyes keen for any sign of his nemesis.

With the Ogre phalanx falling apart a bit, Marius tumbled into one of the gaps and readied his rapier for another strike.  Cathal observed the movements of his partner and moved to flank the same Ogre.  They struck at nearly the same instant and the Ogre was hamstrung from behind a half second before Cathal’s blade struck him through the heart.

Brutus lowered his porcine head and charged into the Ogre wielding the flail.  The hulking giant tried to ward off the oncoming rush of pig flesh but was shoved backwards into the wall.  Marcus struck out at the Ogre as he was carried away and heard the crack of a rib snapping beneath his mace.  He pressed the attack and struck another pair of blows as the Ogre hovered just this side of oblivion.

The sound of Speaks voice caught his attention and he turned to see the Druid weaving a spreading cloud of blue energy.  A wash of hope poured out from the Druid’s spell as he completed it, filling the area around him that looked like nothing so much as a _Big Sky_.  As this aura filled the broad corridor, the remaining two Ogre spearmen turned and fled for their lives, leaving the Blue Demoness standing alone at that end of the hallway.  Marcus nearly smiled until he saw Albius.  He was still struggling to make his way across the pit and as the magical bridge of force expired he was dropped into the spiked pit…


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Alas, poor Albius.

I thought I'd add that the Animal Growth also affected Brutus so he was extra large and in charge.  The badger was summoned primarily to trigger traps, but Rel decided that even a badger with Giant Growth was not enough mass to trigger the pit trap.  So he ran across followed by me and I triggered the trap.  At least Brutus didn't fall in, cause I'm not sure how we would have gotten him out without a LOT of trouble.


----------



## Rel

Speaks With Stone said:
			
		

> Alas, poor Albius.




*Albius*:  "I'm not dead yet!"

*Albius*:  "I'm feeling much better!"


----------



## Funeris

OH....Its JUST a flesh wound


----------



## Rel

With no one fighting at her side for the moment, the Blue Demoness opted for the better part of valor and beat a hasty retreat before vanishing in a puff of smoke.  Marius slashed at her flank as she fled but his blade made only a thin scratch on her blue skin.

Marcus still found himself engaged with the flail-wielding Ogre whose back was against the wall and front was against a giant pig.  The Ogre ignored Brutus for a moment and swung his flail at Marcus, striking him but unable to bring him down.

Marius and Cathal were both nearby but Marius looked like he might topple over and die at any moment.  Rather than risk stepping inside the Ogre’s reach he attempted to use his Wand of Healing.  He drew the thin rod from his belt but was rewarded with only a tiny spark when he focused his will upon it.  Cathal, seeing his companion in distress stepped forward and offered him a healing potion that he kept handy.

It now appeared that one of the Ogres that had fled in fear was regaining his composure and turned to fight once again.  Speaks wanted to keep the momentum and charged but his shillelagh was largely repelled by the Ogre’s armor.  Fortunately Brutus came charging once again to aid his ally and plowed into the Ogre’s breastplate, rending steel with his mighty tusks.

Lazarius could see that the battle was starting to move up the hallway and that his primary target was gone for the moment.  He flew forward over the pit to see poor Albius struggling to escape and bleeding from at least two wounds inflicted by the spikes below.  In an uncharacteristic act of compassion, the Wizard flew down into the pit to aid the young Cleric.  “Maybe next time you’ll come when I call you?!”

Oordgul, the Ogre had been given one simple order by his superiors:  “No one goes beyond the Rune Door!”  And he knew the consequences of failing the High Priests of Bane.  Far better to die fighting in this hallway than live to face their wrath.  And if he died well then perhaps his masters would deem him worthy to be Raised as they had others.  He gripped his flail and charged after the Human who faced one of the Guard.

Speaks never saw the Ogre coming and was nearly crushed to the ground by the massive head of the flail as it clipped his shoulder.  Marcus ran to aid the Druid but the Ogre spun and swung the flanged head of the flail crashing into his armor stopping the Warrior-Priest’s momentum and rendering his attack feeble.

Albius seemed to be making some headway with the assistance of Lazarius.  Too weak to pull the armored Cleric by himself, the Wizard was at least taking some of the weight of his armor off the young man and making it easier to pull himself up the wall.  “Have you got it?” asked Lazarius.

“Yes, I think I can make it!” said Albius.

“Good, because I’m needed up top!”  Lazarius let go of Albius’ armored collar and flew back up out of the pit, drinking a potion to soothe his wounds as he went.  As the full weight of his armor sank back onto him, Albius struggled to maintain his grip on the wall.

Blackness clawed at the edges of Marcus’ vision.  He glanced back to see if Albius was close by and able to help him but the youth was nowhere in sight.  Marcus stepped backward from the hulking Ogre in front of him and drank another potion, hoping desperately that Albius was not dead in the bottom of the pit.

Cathal tumbled past Marcus to press the attack and stabbed the tip of his blade through the Ogre’s thick, hide armor drawing more blood but still the Ogre kept his feet.  Speaks saw that the Ogre with the flail was distracted by Cathal and kept up his attack on the one with the spear.  His long club struck the Ogre at the neck and there was an audible CRACK as the creature feel to the ground.




Oordgul could see that holding this end of the hallway was a losing proposition.  The Priest had retreated into his chamber and that was the best place for them to make a stand.  And he doubted that these intruders would try the Rune Door while he and the Priest yet lived.  He took his soul into his hands and fled into the side passage.  Cathal was not about to let the Ogre depart so easily and he pursued in two bounding steps.  But his foot slipped on the ample blood pooled upon the floor and his strike went wide of its mark.

The others were less eager to pursue.  All were bleeding and Marius still staggered, seemingly barely on his feet.  Marcus moved to his side and gave him the healing blessing of St. Cuthbert.  Marius was grateful but waved away any further healing.  “Go.  Get in there and help the Brigante before he gets himself killed.”

Marcus was reluctant to leave the hallway with Albius still unaccounted for but took heart when he saw a gauntleted hand reach above the lip of the pit and grab the edge.  Lazarius alighted next to the other two Imperials.  “What’s the plan?” he asked as he quaffed yet another potion.

“You two GO!  I’ll be fine!” insisted Marius.  As if to punctuate the fact that the battle was moving away from the party, Speaks and Brutus charged down the side passage after Cathal and his prey.

Inside the large room, Cathal found himself outnumbered.  In addition to the Ogre with the flail, the Ogre Cleric was also there and appeared to have summoned some sort of Demon, covered in spines and barbs, into a circle inscribed on the floor near the corner.  The Cleric stepped up next to the other Ogre and began to do some sort of magic upon him.  Cathal struck at the Ogrish spellcaster but his blade was turned by the giant’s armor.  The Brigante saw with frustration that two deep cuts on the flail-Ogre sealed themselves and quit bleeding.  The Cleric also said something in a guttural tongue to the Demon.  Whatever it was, it didn’t bode well for Cathal and his friends.

In response to the Cleric’s request, the creature in the circle let loose an _Unholy Blight_ that filled the room with a greasy, black cloud of corruption.  Speaks, Cathal and Brutus all felt their life force diminished by the evil magic and sickness welled up within them.  But they were seasoned by the evils they’d seen done by the Banites and refused to succumb to this malaise.

Back in the hallway, Marcus turned and dashed off in the direction of battle…just in time to miss Albius’ hand slip from the edge of the pit and hear his cry as he plummeted back down…


----------



## Cathal

That's what happens when you're standing on Albius' fingers...when you run away, he falls!

Albius was part cat...you'll have to do the math yourself.


----------



## Belen

I think Albius needs to look into the Union of Mistreated Cohorts.  That is one poor cleric.

Great updates, Rel!


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> I think Albius needs to look into the Union of Mistreated Cohorts.  That is one poor cleric.




The sad part is that Albius isn't actually a "cohort" per se (in the sense that he's a follower gained by the Leadership feat).  He just hitched his wagon to Marcus as a result of a rogue Diplomacy roll.



> Great updates, Rel!




Thanks, BU.  I've been in a crap mood all day and that makes me feel just a bit better.


----------



## Belen

A story hour like this one should never reach the third page.  Double bump.


----------



## Funeris

I agree.  It should never reach the third page.  Hey Rel, how bout an update?
Either here or the Samantha the Red Thread.  I've got a craving


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> Hey Rel, how bout an update?
> Either here or the Samantha the Red Thread.  I've got a craving




I'm afraid it's been a busy week and tomorrow isn't looking a whole lot better but I suspect that I'll be able to update both on Friday.  Sorry for the delay.


----------



## BSF

Busy happens to everyone.  

We just want more excellent story.  So whenever you have the time to get an update out, it will be read and appreciated.


----------



## Rel

Lazarius found himself already using the last of his healing resources and knew that this did not bode well for their quest to fight their way through to the High Priests of Bane here within the City.  He smeared some salve onto the scorch marks that covered his forearms and felt some relief from the pain.  As he did this, an azure flicker of movement caught his attention and he saw the Blue Demoness far up the hallway.  Before the small clay jar, now emptied of salve, fell to the stone floor and cracked, Lazarius was already in motion toward his hated enemy.

The Wizard rushed past Marius who was slowly gathering himself together after the crippling damage he had sustained.  Lazarius briefly noticed him moving toward one of the fallen Ogres but paid it no attention as he single mindedly pursued vengeance on the Demoness.  As he passed by the corridor leading to where the others still battled the Ogres, he heard a deafening BOOM and glanced up the passageway, wondering whose side had caused it.  When he turned back to seek his prey he discovered that she had vanished.

Cathal found himself reeling, his ears bleeding from the concussive magic.  The world seemed to swim around him and he wondered if he was about to die.  He hoped not because the one thing in all the world that he wanted before deaths embrace was to kill the damn Ogre in front of him.  The creature had sustained enough damage to kill a Tundra Bear and still it stood.  The Brigante tried to focus on his foe in order to strike him again but his mind could not hold the creature still as he struggled to overcome the _Burst of Sound_ that had been unleashed by the Ogre Cleric.

Just when things seemed about to turn very badly, Marcus came charging in to the room.  His voice rang out above the sounds of battle as he called upon his _Faith_ to _Shield_ him.

A blast of frigid frost exploded in the main hallway catching Lazarius and Marius.  The Imperial Explorer saw it envelop the Wizard and hugged the ground next to the dead Ogre he’d been stabbing.  As he popped his head back up he heard lilting, feminine laughter and saw the Blue Demoness standing further up the passage, mocking the Imperial War Wizard.

Fury seethed inside Lazarius and he wanted nothing more than to leap upon the giant Blue Bitch and choke the life from her.  But his training kicked in and he remembered his role as a War Wizard:  Disadvantage your foe and let the warriors do the real fighting.  His hands wove a spell that he’d prepared for just this occasion and the air around the Demoness exploded with _Glittering Dust_.  Now if he could just get the others to help him go after her she could no longer hide!

Cathal’s blurred vision began to resolve itself and he saw a bulky figure looming before him and struck.  It wasn’t until his blade landed that he realized that the spined Demon had moved into battle and it was not the flail-wielding Ogre who he had attacked.  He saw the Ogre had stepped back next to the Cleric and cursed as he saw healing magic flow into his foe.

Speaks and Brutus were still in the thick of the fray and the enormous pig gored the spined Demon with his tusks, getting a bloody nose from the creatures barbs in return.  Speaks stepped back for a moment and unleashed a spell upon the Ogre Priest.  While it had no immediate effects, Speaks hoped that it would start to severely impair the enemy spellcaster in just a few moments.

The spiked Demon struck back at Cathal and landed a thorny blow of its fist that left quills sticking from the Brigante’s flesh.  The Ogre Warrior moved to the other side of the battle and carefully moved to flank Brutus as he readied his flail for another strike.

Marcus saw the abominable Demon standing before him and knew that such Evil must not be suffered to live in his presence.  He moved past Brutus and engaged the hideous creature, striking it firmly with his mace, splintering spines and bending the flesh beneath.  He glanced to his flank and saw Marius entering the room to support them though his face seemed a mask of frustration pierced by murderous eyes.

In the main corridor, Lazarius moved back to give the Demoness a bit more room in case she decided to attack him bodily.  But he was not about to give her a true respite and his hands flashed with magic as a _Bolt of Lightning_ surged out to strike her.  He was aghast as he saw the bolt virtually fork around her and rejoin as though she were completely immune.  His mind cast back to his college days when he was taught about certain beings that had an innate resistance to magic.  Why oh WHY did the first one that he had met have to be this bitch!?

Cathal struck out at the Demon but, apparently not fully recovered from his loss of equilibrium, both slashes went wide of the mark.  But Brutus did not disappoint as his tusks dug deep into the side of the infernal creature, spilling hellish ichor on the floor.  Speaks saw that the boar was bleeding from a dozen wounds and spared a bit of his magic to close some of these.  As he did, he glanced over at the Ogre Priest to see the _Metal_ of his armor start to take on a faint red as it began to _Heat_.

The Demon bore down on Cathal with everything it had.  It first slashed out with its fists but, powerful though they were, they only succeeded in leaving rows of scratches down the front of his armor.  Failing that, the creature unleashed some kind of paralytic magic but the hale Brigante Warrior fought it off.

Marius moved up along the edge of the battle looking for a place to strike with the quick and deadly accuracy that was his trademark.  He saw no good opportunities yet but he could be patient…for a while.  

Marcus by contrast was in a fighting fervor, striking whichever foe entered his reach.  As the Demon pressed its attack on Cathal, a gap opened in the enemy line and Marcus stepped forward to smite the Ogre Cleric.  His strike hit the creature on the breastplate but the armor seemed to deform slightly under the weight of the blow and Marcus heard a hissing noise.  The smell of burnt flesh and a scream of pain filled the large room in which they fought.

Outside, Lazarius suddenly found himself confronted with new foes as another pair of Ogre Guards charged around the corner near the Demoness and closed in on him rapidly.  The Wizard lay a hand on the rod tucked into his belt and a small crackling ball shot from his palm to explode into a sphere of _Lightning_ amongst these latest arrivals.  Alas, the detonation was not large enough to catch the adversary he most wanted to kill.

Cathal prepared to strike back at his infernal enemy when he saw the creature start to become indistinct and seem to dissipate.  First thinking this was a trick, Cathal cried out to alert his friends but soon realized that whatever magic it was that had held the Demon in their world was fading and the creature was being pulled back to hell.  Cathal dove through the fading existence of the Devil and tumbled to flank the Ogre Priest that faced Marcus.  The Brigante came to his feet and thrust out with his crackling blade in one smooth motion, driving the sword deep into the Ogre’s side.  With a bellow of pain, the giant’s knees buckled and it toppled forward, it’s red-hot armor sizzling in the blood pooled on the floor.

With both Priest and Devil now out of the fight, attention could turn to their long time foe:  Ogre With Flail.  Speaks confronted the creature directly, stepping up to smash his shillelagh across the creature’s thigh.  There was a tremendous CRACK that had to be a bone fracturing but the giant stayed to his feet until a moment later.  Marius did a diving roll that brought him to the creature’s rear.  His rapier struck up into the giant’s vast chest cavity and with the gurgling of a pierced lung, the Ogre came crashing down.

All was still in the room for just a moment until another crackling explosion was heard from out in the main corridor.  “The Wizard and Albius are out there by themselves!” cried Marcus as he ran toward the exit.  Cathal was close behind as were Speaks and Brutus.

Cathal rushed past Marcus and into the thick of the battle, having flown into a full blown rage.  One Ogre landed a glancing blow with his spear but it was repaid an instant later by the Brigante’s sword.  A half second later Brutus crashed into the other Ogre in a blast of tusks and blood.  Marcus was the last to join the battle as he clanked forward in his heavy armor.

Marius knelt next to the disabled Ogre as the creature slipped rapidly into unconsciousness.  The last thing it saw was a black dagger appear, as if from nowhere into the glove of the man who had laid him low.  The last thing it heard was the man’s voice, “To Hell with you, you Bane worshiping bastard.”  Then the deepest oblivion.

The Ogres in the hallway were clearly outmatched but they had run out of options a long time ago.  One struck at Cathal but his spear was deflected by the invisible _Shield_ in front of the raging barbarian.  But the other had a softer target.  His first thrust ripped a gaping hole in Brutus’ belly.  Then the giant pressed forward with his shield, raising the giant boar onto his back legs and thrust again.  The spear went deep into the heart of the Dire Boar, killing it instantly and Brutus fell to the ground lifeless.

Cathal and Marcus struck as one and the other Ogre, already heavily wounded by Lazarius’ lightning, was struck low.  Speaks rushed to the side of Brutus, hoping he could yet save his companion but saw the thick torrent of arterial blood rushing from the hole in the great beast’s chest and knew it was over.

Lazarius was filled with hate at that moment.  He looked past the last Ogre and saw that the Blue Demoness had fled during the melee and looked down to see Brutus dead at the creature’s feet.  “Die, you ass hole!”  The _Bolt of Lightning_ took the Ogre high in the chest and the sudden blast of energy actually took the creature’s head completely off (43 points of damage!).

The headless Ogre staggered backward and collapsed in a clatter of armor and silence once again gripped the bowels of the City of Endless Summer.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Rel said:
			
		

> Marius knelt next to the disabled Ogre as the creature slipped rapidly into unconsciousness.  The last thing it saw was a black dagger appear, as if from nowhere into the glove of the man who had laid him low.  The last thing it heard was the man’s voice, “To Hell with you, you Bane worshiping bastard.”  Then the deepest oblivion.



 OMG!  That's what the dagger's for.  He's sending souls to her!


----------



## Funeris

sweet.  poor brutus though.  thanks for the updates Rel


----------



## BSF

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> OMG!  That's what the dagger's for.  He's sending souls to her!




Yeah, isn't that tasty!    

Damn fine update Rel.  That was a nasty battle and it doesn't look like they are quite done.  Whew!


----------



## Rel

I think what impressed me most about this session was that, in the aftermath of the battle, nobody even once suggested that they eat Brutus' remains.

It almost brings a tear to one's eye.


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> I think what impressed me most about this session was that, in the aftermath of the battle, nobody even once suggested that they eat Brutus' remains.




For the record, we did discuss having a post-game barbeque -before- Brutus' untimely passing.  I say "untimely" because there wasn't time to dig a proper pit nor to gather the necessary hickory chips.


----------



## Rel

Speaks stopped briefly to mourn the loss of Brutus.  Although he had known the creature for only a short while, Brutus had been willing to fearlessly lend his strength to a cause that had little to do with his own well being.  Speaks was continuously struck by the nobility of nature when called upon.

Marius lingered in the hallway for a short while as the remainder of the group headed in the direction the Demoness had fled.  Speaks could see him kneeling briefly at each Ogre, checking for any lingering signs of life and then extinguishing them with a dagger thrust.

The others moved ahead cautiously to see if any further opposition awaited around the next corner.  Instead they found another large room of approximately the same dimensions as the one they’d just fought in.  Hung on the walls were weapons of all kinds ranging from the exotic to a very large club.  All were sized for use by someone quite large.

A large pair of doors, also sized for the Ogre inhabitants, stood on one wall.  But unlike the other such doors they’d encountered, these were heavily inscribed with all manner of runes and sigils.  Some examination by Lazarius led the Wizard to believe these were likely trapped.  No one was ready to suffer the sort of damage they had at the last such trap and so they decided to wait for Speaks to catch up and examine the room further in the mean time.

The room’s other prominent feature was a large bed, draped in the furs of exotic animals.  As Cathal and Marcus examined this piece of furniture, they noticed a small hole at floor level behind it.  They shone a light inside and saw that this hole ran a short distance and turned in the direction of the enruned doors.  It likely led to the same place as the doors did but was far too small for any of them to hope to squeeze into.

Speaks came into the room to find his wounded and bedraggled companions waiting and wondering whether they should continue or withdraw in order to recuperate.  All were wounded, some severely and they had used much of their magic.  And yet no further enemies were emerging from behind the door.  Could it be that only the Blue Demoness remained in the City of Endless Summer?

After some discussion they decided that if she was the only one left then her death would mean little to the war in Emor anyway.  And if some of the High Priests had remained behind then facing them in their current state was likely suicide.  They decided to withdraw back to the Cleric’s quarters and rest there before continuing.

They removed the bodies of the fallen into the hallway, pitching the dead Ogres into the pit.  Lazarius used a bit of _Prestidigitation_ to remove the worst of the pools of blood from the floor and they rolled out their bedrolls.  They passed the next few hours in silence as the ominous feeling of being amid a place of great evil hung around them.  At last they were able to get to sleep.

But their dreams were restless and fitful and they awoke to find their nightmares come to life…


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> But their dreams were restless and fitful and they awoke to find their nightmares come to life…




Oh, Rel! You cliffhanging stinker!


----------



## Belen

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Oh, Rel! You cliffhanging stinker!




I am much in agreement here!


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Oh, Rel! You cliffhanging stinker!






			
				BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> I am much in agreement here!




Well guys I was planning on taking a chunk of today to pound out a couple or three big updates but my daughter came down sick so I'll be taking care of her for most of the afternoon.  But I promise to try and get *something* up during her naptime, even if it is just a few paragraphs.

And trust me when I say that from here it goes from nasty to nastier to nastiest in a remarkably short span of time (though a lot of stuff is happeing in that time so it'll be a bunch of updates to get there).


----------



## Funeris

Hope your daughter feels better.
Is she going to go on an adventure in the land of Mommyville for the cure??

Take your time with the update.  I'm sure we'll be here.


----------



## Rel

Marcus and Marius stood a silent watch.  There seemed little to say at this point and the few attempts at conversation by Marcus were uncharacteristically left alone by Marius.  Their Everburning Torches cast a flickering light across the room leaving shadows in the lees of their sleeping companions.  Marius thought for a moment that his eyes were growing tired as he saw one of these shadows seem to deepen and spread but a moment experienced simultaneous revelation and pain.  It wasn’t fatigue or imagination.

The _Damning Darkness_ enveloped all of them and the sleepers were immediately awakened by the prickling pain that enveloped them.  Lazarius didn’t even hesitate as he rolled instantly from his pallet and made himself _Invisible_ before he was fully on the stone floor.

The two men on guard moved to flank the entrance to the room, fearing an attack by the Blue Demoness and more Ogres.  Speaks put his back to the rear wall of the room and peered up the darkening hallway to see what they would be confronted with.  The badly wounded Albius attempted to rise from his bedroll but never made it to his feet as he was overcome by pain.  Cathal jumped to his feet and drew his sword in one smooth motion, ready to charge any enemy that presented itself.  A breath later one did.

Marius could not quite make out the details of the man as he was obscured by the shadows filling the room but his rapier struck home regardless and dealt a minor wound.  He struck again as the black form moved out of his reach but his blade seemed to pass through the foe without making contact.  The Imperial Explorer was forced for a moment to entertain the idea that his strike had simply missed.

But this idea was dispelled as he watched Marcus strike the form squarely and then stagger forward as his swing passed directly through the shadow-man.  Cathal added confusion to the matter by charging forward and delivering a blow that seemed to strike and cause damage.  Marius was about to call out his observations when the room seemed to suddenly fill with more of the shadowy foes.

They seemed to simply emerge from the shadows in all direction and begin striking at any within reach.  Marius and Cathal managed to avoid the first few blows but the less agile Marcus fell victim to a flurry of them.  As each shadowy strike landed he felt his mind and body weaken.  A moment later Marius was subjected to the same sensations as another pair of Shadowmen emerged from the darkness to assault him.  Another of the attackers halted in the entryway and a ray of blackness shot from its arm, striking Speaks and weakening him.

Lazarius suddenly sprang into view as a blast of _Lightning_ flew from his hands and struck a half dozen of their assailants as well as Marcus.  The Shield of St. Cuthbert felt like his teeth would explode as his jaw clenched involuntarily at the sudden jolt of electricity.  As to whether it significantly harmed the Shadowmen he could not know.

Speaks shrank and sprouted wings and his hawk-form flew toward the entrance to try and see if other attackers followed these but he could not pierce the veil of darkness that surrounded them, continuing to cause them pain at every moment.  As he did so he saw Marius strike twice at one of his foes but could not be sure whether they found purchase on the ethereal Shadowman.  But he did see Cathal’s blade lodge itself in one of them if only briefly, only to see him follow with a second strike that passed through his foe harmlessly.  Clearly the shifting, ephemeral nature of these creatures made physical attacks far from certain.

As Speaks continued to flutter just above the fray, he saw Marcus raise his mace and call to his deity to Turn away these creatures of darkness.  Two of them seemed to falter and attempt to flee.  Speaks swooped and his claw seemed to mildly scratch one of them in passing.  Cathal on the other hand sent his bastard sword blasting through the other and the shreds of darkness that composed it drifted away like wisps of smoke.  He spun from the momentum of his strike and managed to land another powerful blow on one of the swarm of Shadowmen that surrounded them.

Two more of the creatures moved in on Lazarius and attacked him, sapping him of his physical strength.  He could feel the weight of his own body pushing down heavily on him and recalled too clearly the tales that Speaks had told him of the fate of Raven the dwarven Cleric.  More of the creatures swarmed around Marcus and Cathal, striking through their armor and with each chilling touch draining more of their strength and will.

Lazarius stepped back from his attackers and loosed another blaze of crackling blue electricity.  He managed to destroy one of the Shadowmen that faced him but his bolt seemed to have no effect on the others caught by its blast.

Within the swirling darkness of the melee, Marius struck out again in desperation but managed only a feeble strike at one of his foes.  But Cathal and Marcus both connected hard enough to drive the unlife force from a foe, cutting their numbers down a bit.  They now only faced two of them as well as the Shadowmage who continued to shoot black beams of weakness at Speaks and now Lazarius.  Thankfully few of these had connected.

Just as the party seemed sure of victory, it was theirs.  All the remaining Shadowmen vanished into the surrounding walls and floor.  But the piercing pain of the darkness remained and none of the others felt that they had seen the last of their shadowy enemies…


----------



## BSF

Thanks Rel!  Great reading after having been on the road all week.


----------



## Riggs

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> OMG!  That's what the dagger's for.  He's sending souls to her!




My delicate sensibilities are offended!  Marius would never do something like that...some would argue vehemently that it would be evil!    

Clearly, Marius was left to his own devices after getting valiantly pummeled by ogres and he merely did the "usual business" of making sure said foes did not rise again, especially in this foul place of undeath!  What better job for the near-mortally wounded non-frontliner than looting and finishing off foes so our backs are safe!    

And, Marius didn't do anything...it was Albius ------> He was back there feigning to fall to his peril over and over, and didn't he jump in front of those lightning bolts just to linger near the back line??  Suspicious!!
 

Not that any advantage would be taken by the fact that I played Marcus as well that night...Too bad I didn't get another shot at using the shield, I thought of the Holy Soup bowl one night, then the Holy Wok of Asian Cuisine, the Heavy But Holy Frisbee, etc.


----------



## Rel

They had to get out of there.  Immediately.

The _Damning Darkness_ was slowly sucking the life out of them and they had no idea how far it extended.  If it blanketed the entirety of the City of Endless Summer then they were going to die here very soon.

In the thin illumination of their magical lights they grabbed only what was essential before escaping.  Cathal hefted the faint weight of his prized Mithral Breastplate.  Marcus heaved Albius over his shoulder.  Speaks had everything of import already on his person and was the first into the hallway where he felt his muscles drained of even more of their Strength as the Shadowmage blasted him with another ray of darkness.  Marius appeared at Speaks’ side and made ready to attack any of the Shadowmen who came within reach of them.

Lazarius reached out and lay a magically-infused hand on Cathal’s arm as they made their way to the exit.  He passed along the ability to _See Invisible_ things to the Brigante warrior in case the Blue Demoness decided to engage them anew.  Cathal gladly received the enchantment as he stuffed the breastplate into the improbably small space of his Haversack.  Handy that.

Marius noticed the others grunt in pain as they were continuously being damaged by the darkness around them but found himself starting to grow inured to the effects of the dark magic.  Perhaps he was nearing the edge of its effects.  But there was no time to contemplate this phenomenon further as a tide of Shadowmen surged from the darkness around them to invade their small island of light.

Marius and Marcus were both struck and felt their conviction weaken further.  Marcus felt that he could barely continue to stand under the crushing weight of the unconscious Albius.  Only his certain knowledge that if he fell it would mean both of their deaths kept him upright.

Unburdened by such weight or ongoing pain, Marius saw his chance to strike as the Shadowmage raised an arm to send a ray of darkness at Cathal.  His blade found purchase on the ephemeral creature and seemed to throw its aim off.  Lazarius stepped in to the space just vacated by the Imperial Explorer and layered on more of his _Protective_ magic, hoping to ward off the _Evil_ of the Shadowmen.

Cathal attempted to slip past the closest of the Shadowmen and confront the Shadowmage directly but his weakened condition caused him to slip and his artful tumble became a graceless flop.  The Shadows took the opportunity to swirl around him, leaving him barely clinging to consciousness.  As he lay on the stone floor and gazed up at the black shapes that closed in around him, he thought he saw a light.  A wave of despair washed through him at having failed his companions but it was punctuated by solace:  “At last, my release.”


----------



## Rel

The Light grew rapidly and pushed back the edges of the _Damning Darkness_.  She was among them now and they felt her presence in their hearts.  Marcus dropped Albius to the floor and smashed his mace into the nearest of the Shadowmen, now stark amid the light emanating from the Shining Lady.  The Shadowmen returned the attacks and most of the party were struck but they could feel the weakness starting to ebb from their bones and flesh already.  The Shadowmage let loose another blast of darkness into Cathal who still lay on the floor.

The Brigante felt the darkness pound into his remaining Strength but somehow found it within himself to rise to his feet.  He cried out above the noise of combat, “I AM NOT DEAD YET!!”  He brought his crackling blade down upon the Shadowmage and felt it sink into the inky substance of its being.  Then the air filled with more electricity as Lazarius loosed one of his _Lightning Bolts_ into the cluster of Shadowmen at Cathal’s back.

Speaks’ club felt like it was made of lead but he hefted it at his nearest foe anyway.  It seemed only to strike lightly but drove the creature backward to pin it against Marius who drove his own blade through the creature sending its shreds of darkness drifting away on the beams of light that shot from the Shining Lady.  Marius raised his hand to shield his eyes from the Holy Light as it surged from the woman.  The blast of brightness overcame the Shadowmen and the Shadowmage and their darkness was dispelled as sunshine melts away a morning mist.

As the brightness washed over the group they could feel the effects they had suffered at the hands of the Shadowmen begin to fade and their strength return.  They all stood panting in the hallway, some barely able to stand but growing stronger as they basked in the waves of light that rolled off of the Shining Lady.  Marcus sank to his knees and leaned in close to Albius.  The boy still breathed despite the toll the darkness had taken upon him.  Marcus thanked his lord for that at least.

*”Listen to me, for time is short”* spoke the Shining Lady.  

They listened.

*”The worshipers of The Imprisoned One have nearly finished gathering the souls they need.  And the minions of Hell will soon free him from his prison there.  If you are to stop his return then you must make your way into the dark heart of this place and prevent them from sending him the power they have collected.”*  Her voice was otherworldly and somehow both terrible and beautiful at the same time.

“Souls from where?” asked Marius, already afraid of the answer he would get.

Her piercing, glowing eyes of silver rounded on him.  *“Your countrymen have died by the thousands upon their altars.  That reservoir of energy will be channeled to Bane if you do not stop their ritual.”*

Marcus knelt at her feet in supplication, “My Lady, can you come with us and guide us?  Lend your strength to our cause in this desperate hour?!”

*”I can,”* as she spoke, a breath of hope leapt into their throats.  *”But I must then abandon the others who struggle here in the city.  Magdar and his men seek another way into the sanctum of the Banelar.”*

“Does Ilrath yet live?” asked Cathal.

*”He did when I left them last,”* she answered.

Cathal looked at the others and they all silently exchanged glances.  They all knew that it probably meant the death of Ilrath and the Orcs if they were left to struggle against the unending evils of the City of Endless Summer without the protection of their Celestial Maiden.  To have come all this way, seeking the return of their friend, and to rob his best chance of survival in this place…

It was Marcus who spoke for the group, “Tell Ilrath, when you return to him and the others, that we look forward to meeting him in the conquered sanctum.”

The Shining Lady nodded solemnly, *”I will tell him.”*.  Streams of light flowed outward from her into each of them and they felt their wounds heal, their fears quelled, and, for most of them, their souls restored.  Then the light faded and she was gone.

The silence that followed persisted for only a moment.  “What happened?” asked Albius as he climbed to his feet, looking around in confusion.


----------



## Belen

Poor Albius, he missed a goddess.

Great updates!


----------



## Rel

The large door was covered every inch in runes.  Some of them looked recently applied.  “This thing is covered in protective Wards.  Some look like they were added recently, probably by the Ogre Priest, but some have been here a long time.  And whoever put them here knew what he was doing.”  Lazarius climbed down off of the Ogre-sized chair he had been standing on and moved back away from the door with the rest of the group.  None of them relished the idea of what might happen when they opened the doors but it was the only path they knew of that could take them where they wanted to go.

Marius sighed, “Alright.  Everybody else out of the room.  I’m going to try and disable the Wards.”  His training at the Imperial Explorers Society had included dealing with magical wards but it had never been his strongest area of study.  But nobody else seemed to be coming forth with any better options.

The others withdrew from the chamber one by one.  Marcus was the last to depart and he reached out to Marius to give him the Protective blessing of St. Cuthbert.  Marius thanked him but hurriedly ushered him out of the room so he could get to work.  Right away he felt a bit out of his depth.  Some of the newer Wards were the sort of thing that he was familiar with but those that lay beneath were intricate, difficult to trace and completely alien in design.

The Black Blade appeared in his hand and he used it to scrape away at some of the outer markings of the newer Wards.  He got the feeling that he had managed to ruin one of them but as he started on the second his blade cut across one of the older Wards layered underneath.  He felt a brief panic as he saw a rime of white light surge across the runes and he pushed himself backwards with all of his strength.  As he flew through the air, he saw a shadow on the far wall and had a brief instant in which he realized it was HIS shadow and that the doors were exploding behind him.  Then there was light and fire and thunder everywhere.

He hit the stone floor and was able to use his momentum to send him tumbling beneath the huge bed along one wall as the room crackled with fire and electricity and thunder.  He smelled burning cloth and hoped it wasn’t his clothing.  As the torrent of energy subsided, he realized that he had miraculously come through it unscathed except for a bruise or two where he had hit the floor.  He was curled up underneath the bed with his dagger clutched to his chest and almost felt a kind of presence there near him, dark but protective and comforting.  He heard the footsteps of his companions returning to the room and the dagger vanished into his glove.  The presence now felt distant and muted but some kind of connection had been made and would remain.

“Are you hurt, Marius?” asked Speaks, peering beneath the bed.  Cathal and Marcus swatted the flames of the burning linens while Albius and Lazarius kept watch on what lay beyond the doors.  Marius crawled out from beneath the bed to find the entire room covered in a thin layer of soot where the walls, floor and ceiling had been scorched by the blast from the Wards.  He stifled a shiver and turned his attention to the opening in the wall.

A hallway extended beyond but after only a couple of feet it was completely obscured by a dense, dark fog.  They silently formed into a close group with Marcus and Cathal at the front and Speaks and Lazarius at the rear.  The fog enveloped them as they moved forward and within seconds they could barely see each other, much less what lay ahead.  After a short but indeterminate distance they came to a wall and realized that the passageway split and went both left and right.  Marcus chose left for no particular reason.

A moment later, Speaks whispered, “I hear something back here!”  Marcus kept his place as Cathal and Marius moved past Speaks.  Nobody moved.  Everybody listened and strained their eyes to see what the fog contained.

They came from both sides at once, blades covered in spikes slashed out of the fog and dark, but somehow they missed.  Marius and Cathal leapt forward to confront whoever held the blade and found themselves in close with a hideous creature.  It could almost have been a troll but wasn’t quite large enough.  What it lacked in size it made up for in ugly as its features were twisted into cruel deformity and its skin was the brownish grey of rot.  But they were no novices to the horrors of the City of Endless Summer and they brought their weapons to bear.

Marcus fought his alone for the moment but managed to land a pair of mace strikes upon it.  A moment later, Lazarius stepped up next to him as he completed the casting of his magical _Shield_.  The Wizard had been retreating from the melee at the back of the party and had unwittingly blundered into another one at the front.

In the darkness and fog, things quickly degenerated into utter chaos.  Seldom did anyone have much idea as to where his companions were, how the battle was progressing or whether he was now alone.  The disorganize melee unfolded not with any sort of plan or order but with brief moments of clarity quickly swallowed into the chaos and uncertainty again.

Marius and Cathal saw each other’s weapons emerging from the fog on either side of one of the Trollkin at one point.  They did their best to coordinate attacks but it was all but impossible under the conditions.

Albius engaged with his mace at one point and then screamed.  A moment later he came running past Speaks, covered in blood and filled with terror.

There was a flash of light and a half dozen popping noises as Lazarius sent a flurry of _Magic Missiles_ hurling into one of the creatures at point blank range.  The creature staggered backward and seemed to collapse but the fog swallowed it before anyone could be sure.

The battle swirled in confusion as the Trollkin constantly jockeyed for position to use their pole-arms and seemed to attack anyone with reach.  When the warriors closed with them then they happily eschewed their weapons in favor of clawing and rending and the fighting was quite literally tooth and nail.

An icy blast slammed into Lazarius and he cast about in search of the Blue Demoness only to find that he had set off a trap instead.  His cries of pain drew some of his companions to aid him and away from the battle.

Finally the last of the Trollkin was put to flight.  Marcus pursued the creature and triggered another Ward engulfing him in a tremendous blast of lightning that left him staggered.  He gave up his pursuit and returned to his companions.

All were hurt and they now understood that they were up against not only the guardians of these passages but the very hallways themselves were riddled with Wards that they had almost no hope at all of detecting thanks to the limited visibility.  “It’s almost like they don’t want us here,” said Marius, but his gallows humor found little laughter among the party.  They did their best to heal themselves and cast magical protections against the Wards they were encountering.

Lazarius had recovered a magical circlet during the battle.  He placed it on his head and pain shot through him as small spikes thrust from the inner edge to attach themselves to his skull.  He cried out and started to remove it but then noticed that he could suddenly see through the fog that surrounded them.  He was unsure as to whether he could safely remove it and even if he wanted to but the decision was made for him a moment later.

It was Albius who heard them coming again, “Prepare yourselves!  Evil is near!”

Lazarius wasted no time and fired a blast of _ Lightning_ down one approach.  As the streaks of electricity burned away the fog and darkness, he could see a pair of the Trollkin had fallen prey to his spell.  Heartened, Cathal burst into a battle chant spoken by the Skalds of his people.

One of the Trollkin charged into the waiting weapons of Marcus and Marius who inflicted even more damage to the wounded creature, causing it to miss a strike at Marcus.  The other withdrew back into the inky blackness.

Marius tumbled behind the one engaging them and sank his rapier halfway through the creature in a blow that would have killed a normal man.  But the hideous Trollkin merely twisted its torso causing the blade to rip out its side and come free.  Marius could see the flesh knitting itself back together for a moment but then the fog reasserted itself and everything was pandemonium again.

Another pulse of light as Lazarius fired his _Magic Missiles_.

The Trollkin moving past Marius as it retreated.

An explosion as Marius pursued and the party was engulfed by fire from one of the Wards.

Lazarius moved to keep one of the retreating Trollkin in sight and set off another Ward.  The explosion of lightning was tremendous but Lazarius avoided the worst of it thanks to quick reflexes and some help from the magical protections he had layered on.  As the lighting blast surged out from the Ward, Lazarius noticed a section of the wall further up the passage shimmer just a bit.  But there was no time to investigate further at the moment.

The others remained largely blind and disorganized as they desperately tried to bring the Trollkin to battle.  Now that Marius knew they were healing even as the battle raged, they knew that to allow them even a few moments of respite was to have to fight them anew at each engagement.

Lazarius was able to aid them somewhat because he could see through the darkness and fog to direct their movements and attacks.  He cut off the Trollkins avenues of retreat with magical _Webs_ and forced a pitched battle.

The party had never faced a nastier battle.  The chaos of the dark and fog filled the corridor with terror as blade, mace, tooth and claw clashed in a fury.  Cathal’s battle cry rang out constantly and the others knew that he had flown into a rage.  Marius did his best to look for openings where he could send his rapier into an exposed flank.  Speaks took the form of a huge bear and was doing his best to use his bulk and natural weapons to cut the Trollkin off from retreat.  Marcus plied his mace and healed himself and others wherever he saw the need.  Lazarius hurled _Orbs_ of _Acid_ at the creatures, one after another.

And Albius rushed in to battle in the hope of redeeming himself for his cowardly flight earlier.  Thus it was that the young priest of St. Cuthbert pressed his attack until he stood directly between a pair of the Trollkin.  Marius could see that Albius was about to be in trouble and lunged to come to his aid, but it was too late.  Both creatures turned their claws and jaws upon him and ripped him apart.

Marius took one of them in the eye and it recoiled, banging its skull into the wall before sinking to the ground.  The other attempted to flee past Speaks but the bear finally managed to land a telling blow and his giant paw bore the Trollkin to the ground, crushing its chest as black blood frothed from its mouth.

Cathal continued to cry out and spin around seeking a foe to plant his sword in.  It took a few more moments for Lazarius to convey that the battle was over and that Albius was down.  The only one who had seen what happened to the lad was Marius.

He leaned in close to the Trollkin he had downed and watched as the creature’s eye became whole again.  Marius drew his hand back and the Black Blade appeared in it at the same moment when the Trollkin regained consciousness.

The presence was back and Marius felt it in his hand, a living, thirsty thing.  He knew what it wanted and he let it have the Trollkin’s soul.  With pleasure.

He let the blade linger in the creature’s throat for as long as he dared until Marcus appeared beside him and hopelessly looked for any signs of life in the body of young Albius.  Marius gave Marcus the space he knew he would need and the dagger went back into the glove where it was quiet once again.

Quiet and thirsty.


----------



## BSF

Dang!  That was a nasty battle Rel.  I hate to think what kind of mumbling and cursing went on around the table.  Of course, that is probably countered by the glee everyone had as they began to gain the upper hand in a tough fight.


----------



## Funeris

Nice update.  Like the dagger...oh how i like that dagger 
of course...Marius has crossed over now...he's on the dark side


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Dang!  That was a nasty battle Rel.  I hate to think what kind of mumbling and cursing went on around the table.  Of course, that is probably countered by the glee everyone had as they began to gain the upper hand in a tough fight.




This was a rather strange fight and it highlighted how good the guys in our group are at keeping player and character knowledge separate.  We didn't do anything different in terms of how we used the battlemat.  All the figures were sitting out there just like they usually are including the party as well as the bad guys.  But the players generally had their characters bumble around somewhat haphazardly because the characters could only see 5 feet at any given moment.

Compounding that difficulty was an enemy who used reach weapons but could also attack adjacent targets with tooth and claw, plus see in the dark, plus see through the fog and regenerate.  So the Trollkin would hit and fade constantly, much to the PC's frustration.

Add to this the fact that there were Glyphs of Warding all over the place.  And they were specifically set NOT to go off when crossed by the Trollkin.  So when they would "fade" and the PC's would pursue, most often they would get 5 or 7d6 damage for their trouble.

If all of this sounds tedious and frustrating then that's exactly how it was meant to be.  Not meant for ME to frustrate the PLAYERS.  But the bad guys had a long time to set this place up and they know that if anything will mess up their plans that it's a bunch of do-gooders interrupting their nasty ritual at the 11th hour.  So this place was meant to thwart that and I'd say it did a pretty good job.

The net result was that, over the course of the entire evening, the party managed to move about 160 feet if you count things linnearly.  I think it was more like 90 feet "as the Thoqqa burrows".


----------



## Rel

Finally rid of the incessant attacks by the Trollkin, the group was able to proceed with greater deliberation.  With Lazarius still wearing the painful circlet that allowed him to see through the fog, he was able to determine the locations of another pair of Wards.  Marius had determined that these were beyond his ability to disable, but he tried anyway and his incredible reflexes were enough to allow him to dodge the elemental blasts that burst from them when they were triggered.  As a result, they were able to progress up the darkened hallway and approach the portion of wall where Lazarius had seen some sort of magical effect when one of the Wards had detonated.

It turned out that a broad section of the wall was illusory and beyond it was a set of stairs leading up to a stout door.  They gathered along the stairs and took a few moments to assess their wounds as they decided on their next course of action.  They had shed a lot of blood and used a large portion of their magic to gain the meager ground they had crossed in the last hour.  And they had lost young Albius, whose death hung heavy on the heart of Marcus.  The price paid demanded that they not relinquish this territory to the enemy again.  And they also knew that time was running out.  Wounded and drained though they were, they had to press forward.

The door before them was covered in runes, powerful ones by Lazarius’ estimation, and they doubted very much whether any of them could disable them.  Their effects would have to be suffered by whoever opened the door.  Marius volunteered reluctantly but his skill at dodging the earlier magical traps could not be denied.

They spent the next several minutes applying every magical protection and enhancement they had, knowing that once they crossed this final threshold that it would be an all out struggle to the death with the Banelar and whatever minions they still held close as bodyguards.

The others retreated around the corner leaving Marius alone in the alcove at the door.  With a sigh and a crack of his knuckles, he grabbed the door handle.  “Here goes nothing…”

He pulled.


----------



## Rel

Kind of a short update but I wanted to break in with a chunk of non-story style stuff to emphasize what I meant when I wrote "They spent the next several minutes applying every magical protection and enhancement they had, knowing that once they crossed this final threshold that it would be an all out struggle to the death with the Banelar and whatever minions they still held close as bodyguards."

Specifically various party members already had:

Endure Fire-Cathal, Marius, Sws
Endure Lightening all
Endure  Cold all
Endure Sonic all
Lazarius - Mage Armour

Then they added:

Lazarius - Protection from Arrows
Marius - See Invisible
Cathal - See invisible
Marcus - see invisible
Speaks - see invisible
Lazarius - see invisible
Daylight
Lazarius - casts fox cunning, add 4 to intelligence
Lazarius - Darkvision
Marius - Expeditious Retreat
Lazarius - Mirror Image, 6
Lazarius - Protection from evil
Lazarius - Improved Invisibility
Lazarius - Expiditious retreat
Lazarius - Ghostform

Apparently they were taking the threats ahead seriously.


----------



## Riggs

*Normal?*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> Lazarius - Protection from Arrows
> Lazarius - see invisible
> Lazarius - casts fox cunning, add 4 to intelligence
> Lazarius - Darkvision
> Lazarius - Mirror Image, 6
> Lazarius - Protection from evil
> Lazarius - Improved Invisibility
> Lazarius - Expiditious retreat
> Lazarius - Ghostform
> 
> Apparently they were taking the threats ahead seriously.




Aw, Lazarius casts all that except ghostform before he puts his boots on in the morning!


----------



## Funeris

Riggs said:
			
		

> Aw, Lazarius casts all that except ghostform before he puts his boots on in the morning!




Hell, If I were in a character in this story hour, I'd cast all that every morning too!!
 

Especially after the last couple of updates.  Rel, have you received that certificate in the mail?  The one that confers the legal title of Rat Bastard DM?  I'm still waiting for mine *sigh*   Soon though...very soon


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> Hell, If I were in a character in this story hour, I'd cast all that every morning too!!
> 
> 
> Especially after the last couple of updates.  Rel, have you received that certificate in the mail?  The one that confers the legal title of Rat Bastard DM?  I'm still waiting for mine *sigh*   Soon though...very soon




Heh, you may want to hold off on sending the certificate.  Not because I don't deserve it, but because, after the next couple updates you'll want to add the special gold seal at the bottom for "Conduct Unbecoming a DM".  I've pulled some rotten, nasty stuff in my day but I may have set a new low in the events about to unfold.

I'm going for the Lifetime Achievement Award.


----------



## Rel

It was Lazarius who got the first look into the room beyond and it was not what he had expected.  By virtue of his _Ghostform_ magic he was able to pass directly through the stone to the left of the door and emerge from the thick, stone wall into a large, circular chamber.  In the center of both the floor and ceiling was a circular hole some 20 feet across and he could see neither a bottom to the one in the floor nor a top to the one in the ceiling.  Across the room was an open corridor.  In front of it was one of the most bizarre creatures he had ever laid eyes on.

It was roughly man-shaped but towered even taller than the Ogres they had recently fought.  Horns and tusks jutted from its flesh and face at odd angles and the head was framed by a pair of almost comically large grey ears.  But most strangely of all was the huge nose that drooped down from its face and seemed to twitch and move of its own volition.  Whether this was some bizarre new race native to the Black Peaks or some creature of the realms of Hell, Lazarius did not know and there was no time to contemplate the matter further as he heard the door to his right open at the hand of Marius.

The setting off of magical traps was almost becoming routine for the Imperial Explorer and he resolved to improve his education about such things just as soon as he was able to return to Emor.  But just now there were more pressing matters requiring his attention, including, but not limited to, the roiling wave of black fire that burst from the runes covering the door.  He leapt backwards and then bunched his legs beneath himself, huddling as close to the stairs as he could as the swirling black cloud of flames hurtled over his head and crashed into the walls around him.  As it passed, he regained his feet and moved quickly but quietly into the room beyond the enruned door, hoping to take anyone inside by surprise.

Marcus had no such plans and stepped into the room, Shield raised high and glowing with the brilliance of the _Daylight_ spell Lazarius had cast.  He found himself staring across a broad pit at the bizarre guardian of this chamber.  Before he had time to do more than note its presence, the creature did _something_ and from nothing appeared a whirling, shining _Blade Barrier_ and its razor teeth clattered off of Marcus’ armor and shield, shards of metal finding the gaps in his protection and leaving his arm bloody in its wake.

Lazarius was outside the area of the spinning blades and made his first visible appearance as a quintet of blazing _Magic Missiles_ flew from his outstretches hand and unerringly flew toward the behemoth.  But, one by one, the darts of magic seemed to evaporate just as they reached the creature’s flesh and it appeared unharmed and unconcerned.

Speaks moved forward and saw that he would never be able to make it through the swirling mass of blades in his human form and quickly adopted the familiar shape of the eagle.  Even as his form solidified he saw Cathal charge past him and perform an enormous leap over the _Blade Barrier_ as he fearlessly engaged the towering, misshapen giant.

At the last instant, the Brigante spun in the air to avoid the sweep of an outstretched claw from the Guardian.  He landed on his feet and swung his blade at the creature but found his weapon repelled by the thick, leathery hide of his foe.  He noted with some relief that Marius was also moving to engage the Guardian but, as was typical of Marius, he was being careful and slow.  He could also see that Marcus was coming to engage the huge monster and, as was typical of Marcus, he was being reckless and swift.  It was good to have things you could rely upon at moments like this.

As Marcus rushed to engage, the swirling blades continuing to rattle across his armor and cut him in places, the Guardian swept out with a huge, clawed fist and raked the Warrior-Priest, slowing his progress.  With the other giant hand, the creature attempted to shove Cathal bodily into the _Blade Barrier_.  Cathal struck out with his crackling blade and hacked the creature’s arm, wounding it but unable to prevent it from shoving him into the cloud of slashing steel.  At the last moment, Cathal willing moved along with the push and ducked, rolling under the majority of the sharp bits of metal.  The Guardian turned its attention back onto Marcus and lashed out, this time with its trunk and raked the spike on the end of it down Marcus’ armor, leaving the metal scratched but not the man.

Lazarius could see that the _Blade Barrier_ posed as much of a threat to his comrades as did the Guardian and he reached out with his own magic to _Dispel_ the conjuration.  He smiled with satisfaction as the swirling metal returned to the nothingness from which it had sprung.  Filled with triumph, the Wizard moved quickly forward and his ghostly form made for the hallway behind the Guardian.  He intended to see what it was that the Guardian guarded.

Speaks’ eagle form flashed into the room as the _Blade Barrier_ vanished and he conjured a _Flaming Sphere_ between the legs of the Guardian to give it something else to worry with.  For so large a creature it moved with considerable agility and managed to avoid the fiery ball between its legs.  Even so, it did not move from the spot where it stood as doing so would have made it possible for someone to slip past into the corridor beyond.  It crouched slightly and adopted a Defensive Stance.

Cathal tumbled forward, away from the edge of the pit and made ready to strike at the Guardian when it was distracted by another attacker.  As he did so, he thought he caught a hint of movement or maybe a shadow near the pit but his attention quickly turned back to the giant Guardian as Marius tumbled in opposite the creature.  Cathal’s blade swung true but the bumpy hide of the Guardian once again turned it aside.  Marius too found that his rapier could not penetrate the thick skin of the creature.

Marcus had no such problems with his mace however.  He struck a pair of telling blows that left bloody dents in the hide of the Guardian.  Marcus was focused on his enemy and revenge for the fallen Albius so he did not notice the looks of horror on the faces of his friends as they gazed at what drifted down through the hole in the ceiling.

Marius saw his doom approaching once again as the Watcher’s spherical form hovered silently into the chamber.  A broad leather eye-patch covered the large, central eye where Cathal had struck his killing blow on the thing in the first encounter.  At least that was what Marius had been told since he had spent nearly the entirety of the previous battle with the creature as a statue of himself.  He stood powerless as one of the smaller eyes sent a piercing beam of power at him.  His limbs began to seize up, just like last time but he cried out, “NOOOOO!” and this time his body did not fail him and succumb to the stone that tried to bloom within his flesh.  A second ray found Cathal and a third connected with the flying Speaks but none of them were any more effective than the first had been.

The Guardian remained locked in battle and recognized Marcus as the threat that he was.  He rained down blows with his tremendous, clawed fists and Marcus heard something in his shoulder pop as he tried in vain to ward them off with his Shield.  Each blow had immense strength behind it and Marcus knew that he could not long withstand such punishment.

Lazarius attempted to push past the Guardian and enter the hallway beyond.  The Guardian was powerless to prevent the passage of his incorporeal form but where he failed, the other protections of the Sanctum did not.  Lazarius was overcome with an utter feeling of _Forbiddance_ and KNEW in his soul that entering the place was not possible.  Thus rebuffed, he turned to seek a new target and found one with the appearance of the Watcher.  

Knowing the immense danger of the creature he let loose with one of his most powerful magics.  The _Lightning Bolt_ that flew from his hands seemed more intense, more _Empowered_ than any the others had ever seen him cast.  It raked the across the body of the creature and burned away part of the eye patch it wore.  Beneath could be seen the milky, huge eye and the rent left in it in the wake of Cathal’s blade.  Speaks swooped around the perimeter of the room and let out a piercing cry as a column of _Flame Struck_ down and filled the pit both above and below the chamber they fought in.  The Watcher was caught in the conflagration and this time was utterly incinerated.

(GM Note:  The first time the Beholder got punked was my fault for accidentally nerfing its abilities.  This time it was just plain unlucky.  The PC’s made all their saves and it failed all of its own taking 91 points of damage between Lazarius’ and Speaks’ spells.)

As the roaring of the flames died away, it was replaced by a distant rumble and all of them felt a faint tremble.  Disconcerting though that was they still had the Guardian to deal with.

Marius and Cathal struck as one and the Brigante finally penetrated the thorny hide of the Guardian with his crackling sword.  Marius still could not force his own thin blade through its tough skin however.  Marcus was barely keeping to his feet after the punishment the Guardian had inflicted on him.  He saw the creature raising its hands for another strike and did the only thing he felt that he could.  He raised his Shield and cried out, “Protect me my Lord!”

The first couple of blows hammered into the _Wall of Force_ erected by Marcus but the Guardian quickly realized that he could not batter his way through to his chosen target.  He shifted his next attack toward Cathal and attempted to hurl the warrior back out of his reach but was repaid only with another cut across the wrist with the Brigante’s blade.

Lazarius circled behind Marius and let fly another brace of _Magic Missiles_ but these were no more effective than the last.  Speaks swooped in and landed on the shoulder of the beleaguered Marcus and healing magic flowed from his claws.  He was also pleased to see the _Flaming Sphere_ brush into the leg of the Guardian and smoke rose from its burning hide.

Marius and Cathal continued their coordinated attacks on a foe who seemed rooted to the same spot.  Marius finally managed to sink his blade into the flesh beneath the tough, outer shell of the beast though Cathal’s attacks bore no fruit.  On the other side of the _Wall of Force_ Marcus lent his own healing powers to those Speaks had used upon him.  He still felt far from battle-ready but no longer like he might fall down and die at any moment.  Still, he felt guilty for abandoning the fight and cringed with sympathy as Cathal absorbed a hit from one of the creature’s claws.

There was no question now that something below was rumbling continuously.  They could hear it and they could feel it and under no circumstance could they imagine that it was anything but bad.  A very tangible sense of urgency began to take hold of them.

Speaks continued to pump healing magic into Marcus as the others did battle with the Guardian.  Neither Marius nor Cathal seemed to be able to damage it much though Lazarius finally managed to get one of his spells to take hold on the creature as a _Coldball_ burst around it.

Cathal finally went from being merely focused and angry at the creature to flying into a complete Rage.  His next attack sank deep within the Guardian’s flesh and blood began to flow freely from the wound.  This small triumph was accompanied by the fact that the floor was trembling much more noticeably and continuously than before and they began to wonder if the entire City was about to collapse upon them.

Perhaps the Guardian felt the urgency as well for it launched into a series of desperate and vicious attacks that left bloody rents in Cathal’s armor.  The raging Brigante seemed not to care about these wounds and the blood only served to intensify his frightening countenance.  In fact Cathal now eschewed the use of his shield and gripped his sword in both hands.  Either he or the Guardian was about to die in an all out fight.

Lazarius had to find out what was causing the trembling and moved to the edge of the pit.  Some forty feet below he could make out what appeared to some sort of dark liquid that looked to be oozing upwards rather rapidly.  He turned and yelled to his companions, “We have GOT to get OUT of here, VERY SOON!!”  To punctuate his point he fired another volley of _Magic Missiles_ in desperation and was pleasantly surprised to see them actually impact the Guardian.

Locked in their titanic struggle, Cathal and the Guardian looked into each other’s eyes.  The Guardian’s eyes held utter resolve not to yield the passageway it was meant to protect.  Cathal’s eyes held fury and focus and certainty that he would destroy his enemy.  The Irresistible Force struck the Immovable Object.  The Irresistible Force won.  Cathal’s blade plunged into the creature’s chest in a double handed blow that buried the weapon up to its hilt.

Marius wasted no time as the creature fell.  He wanted to know what it was that Lazarius had seen in the hole to make him lose his composure.  He moved to the edge and looked down into the dark liquid rising from the shadowy recesses of the pit.  It was now only some thirty feet below and a faint smell hung on the air that was seemed familiar but as yet unidentifiable.

Marcus, feeling much better after a large dose of healing magic, plunged ahead into the hallway the Guardian had protected.  He instantly felt the wrongness of the place and found it utterly repellant.  The others followed and they too were nearly overcome by the sense of repulsion and _Forbiddance_.  It was as though they had entered the maw of Hate and it wished nothing more than to spit them back out.  And that is exactly what it did.

One by one the soul-rending damage they endured became too much and none of them made it more than a score of paces into the Sanctum before they were sent running, grasping for sanity, from its entrance.  As they gasped trying to recover from the ordeal, with the smell of blood and struggle filling their lungs, each felt his own version of the same thoughts:  To have come so far, through so much and to have sacrificed so much, how can we fail to cross this last threshold and confront our foes in their lair?  To this question there was no answer forthcoming.

Marius stalked away from the corridor seeking something, or preferably someone, to take out his frustration on.  Thus it was that he found himself standing at the edge of the pit and looking down into the rising sludge.  But the smell being pushed up from the pit was now intense enough to be recognizable as was the color of the liquid that rose from the depths.

It was blood.  And things moved within it.


----------



## BSF

Ewwww!  That's nasty Rel.

Good job!


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## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> nasty




If you're not into the whole repetition thing, you might want to have a thesaurus handy for the next few updates.


----------



## Rel

“Let’s GO!!” cried Marius.  “That is BLOOD down there and it is coming up HERE, FAST!!”

His allies scrambled to the edge of the pit and looked down seeing the oozing column of blood rising up from below.  What could it have come from?  The quantity was mind boggling and wherever it had come from there was more as it continued to rise at a rapid rate.

Cathal had not joined the others and instead was wresting the huge belt from around the waist of the Guardian.  The bronze buckle was the size of a platter but as it came free the whole thing seemed to shrink somewhat.  The Brigante draped it over his shoulder and joined the others near the pit.  Having heard their concerns and now seeing the source for himself he wasted no time in taking action.  He took a few steps back from the edge of the pit and then ran forward, his legs bunching right at the lip and sending him shooting upwards into the chamber above from whence the Watcher had descended.

He arrived in the smaller room above and whirled around looking for any signs of enemies.  Finding none he dropped a rope down to his friends and they immediately began to climb.  Marius was first with Lazarius and Marcus close behind.  Speaks was already in eagle form and flew up into the chamber to join Cathal.

The room appeared to have once been used as an armory and storeroom but the weapon and armor racks now stood empty.  A goodly number of crates sat around in small stacks.  Some were obviously empty and others looked musty and as if they had been undisturbed for a long time.  Regardless, there seemed little time to go through them in detail now.

The storeroom had another hole in the ceiling, presumably made by the Watcher to allow it access to the chambers at different levels.  But there was also a wooden door on one wall.  Speaks looked back toward Cathal to see Marius emerge from the pit but Lazarius and Marcus were struggling to climb the rope.  Given how slowly they were able to climb, Speaks decided that their best course was to move laterally for now and not attempt to ascend to the upper levels of this series of chambers.  He flew to the door but lacked hands at the moment in order to open it.  He let loose a piercing cry that echoed through the old armory.

Marius looked toward that end of the room and then back at Cathal and the others climbing.  Cathal nodded his head toward the Druid, “Go!”  His arms bulged and his jaw strained as he hauled on the rope, attempting to hasten his companions rise to the top of the pit.  Marius dashed away to see what Speaks was squawking about.

Lazarius was desperately wishing he had prepared his spell that allowed him to _Fly_.  He had another that served a similar purpose but the close confines made it impractical at the moment.  So he continued to pull himself up the rope, rising a few feet and then sliding back down to find himself sitting atop Marcus’ head.  For his part, Marcus was faring little better.  His muscles were powerfully strong but his armor was powerfully heavy as well.  In the end it was sheer willpower that made the difference.

Marcus was nearly ready to give up and try another means of getting to the top of the pit.  But as he glanced down he saw the churning, crimson blood rise up into the room below and spill out around the edges of the pit.  Man-shaped things within it clambered over the edge of the pit and moved fitfully around the room.  To descend the rope now was to drop into a world of blood creatures the like of which he did not wish to contemplate.  He reached up for another handful of rope.

“Locked dammit!” said Marius.  He pulled at the door once more in frustration and then dropped to his knee to get to work on the mechanism with his tools.  Speaks fluttered onto a nearby crate and watched expectantly.  The Imperial Explorer slid a thick hook into the lock and eased it back until it caught on something within…and hung there.  He pulled at it with increasing strength and cursing for a few moments before it pulled free.  He grabbed at the door handle and pulled with no results.  “Pelor’s fiery balls!”  He looked over at Speaks to find the eagle’s head cocked to the side.  “Go see what’s happening back there!  You’re making me nervous!”

Cathal had little strength left in his arms and now simply clung to the rope as his legs bunched and pushed in short bursts and he backed away from the edge of the pit.  With relief he finally saw one of Lazarius’ scrawny arms hook over the side as the Wizard scrambled onto the floor of the room and rolled onto his back, panting.  That left only Marcus on the rope but he was the heaviest.  Cathal continued to back up, pulling his friend to safety.

Marcus spared another glance down the pit as he neared the top.  He saw that smoke was coming from the rope where it touched the surface of the blood.  Not good.  He hauled with all his strength and finally managed to swing himself over the upper edge where he found Cathal panting from the effort and Lazarius regaining his feet.  Cathal gestured to the two of them breathlessly and hurried to the other end of the room where Marius continued to work on the door.

“Oh for Hell’s sake!” said the Imperial Explorer as his latest attempt to pick the lock failed.  He saw the others approaching and yelled out behind him, “This is going to take a little time!”

Marcus climbed to his feet and peered down the hole again.  The blood was on the rise once more.  How was that possible?  Shouldn’t it have been pouring through the open passage they had been unable to enter?  The bottom end of the rope smoked and dissolved and Marcus decided that they could not count on the viscous liquid below to behave as normal blood would.  “Time is a rapidly vanishing resource!” he yelled toward the others.

Cathal waved Marius aside and rushed into the door with a tremendous slam.  Despite his great strength, Cathal was incredibly tired from his battle with the Trollkin, the Guardian and helping his friends up the rope.  The door held.  On his next attempt, Marius joined the Brigante and they rushed the door again.  It still did not yield.

The Blood seemed to reach up from where it was pooling and immediately began to push upward into the last few feet of the pit they had just ascended.  Marcus backed away from the edge of the hole and drew his mace and Shield.  “Hurry UP!” he yelled over his shoulder.

The Brigante and Imperial slammed again into the door as the Wizard and eagle looked on.  They thought they heard a crack that time but weather it was the wood of the door or the bones of its assailants was unclear.

A half-dozen humanoid shapes, drenched in blood bounded out of the hole to land on the edge of the pit.  Marcus wasted no time and smote the first to land with his mace and was satisfied as its form yielded and blood splashed the floor.  The strength of his blow carried right into the next one but it seemed just a bit more solid than the first.  The Blood creatures attacked with inhuman ferocity and Marcus discovered that they had claws.  His armor and Shield protected him as best they could but he felt the jagged claws penetrate a couple of the joints in his mail.

Cathal and Marius saw these foes leap from the pit and looked at each other.  Cathal let out at great warcry and together they charged…the door.  Their combined ferocity was too much for it this time and the door slammed open into a broad, square chamber with doors on all three other walls.  The doors on the far wall were ten feet up off the floor and accessed by twin staircases to either side.  Marius dashed forward to these doors and Cathal dashed backward to aid Marcus.


----------



## Riggs

The only one that could justifiably moan and complain more than we could was that beholder.  
Not that I have any sympathy for that Koosh Ball of Death. 

Good thing the wizard types fried him right away, that guardian was quite enough given our time urgency and lack of rest and healing and spell refitting. Big, bad, spellcasting and resistant to magic and attacks, but other than that, he was a pushover.

 I recall feeling like we each were one blown save away from toast. You all may want to start thinking of a new title past RBDM, like WTFUSOBDM or the like


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just delurking to express my admiration to Rel for coming up with this stuff, and to his players for surviving it (... mostly ... so far).


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just delurking to express my admiration to Rel for coming up with this stuff, and to his players for surviving it (... mostly ... so far).


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Hi Rel- in the last two weeks I've devoured all three of your Faded Glory story hours with great relish. Incredibly enjoyable to read, and I am greatly impressed with both your DM'ing (and story writing abilities) and your players ability to pull portions of their anatomy out of the fire at the last instant 

Thanks for writing- I'll be eagerly awaiting any future updates.


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## Rel

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Hi Rel- in the last two weeks I've devoured all three of your Faded Glory story hours with great relish. Incredibly enjoyable to read, and I am greatly impressed with both your DM'ing (and story writing abilities) and your players ability to pull portions of their anatomy out of the fire at the last instant
> 
> Thanks for writing- I'll be eagerly awaiting any future updates.




WOW.  That is some serious reading right there.  I am humbled (my players probably won't belive that since they know how arrogant I am  and thankful for the compliments.

I've had a busier week with work than I anticipated but rest assured that I am still working on the next update.  Just today I was, via e-mail, asking my players, "Remember that session where you felt like you were getting screwed but you were really getting Royally Screwed?  Am I remembering that right?"  They replied, essentially, "Yes, but there was one more small way in which we got screwed.  So don't forget to add that in too."

I won't. 

And thank you reading.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Rel said:
			
		

> WOW.  That is some serious reading right there.  I am humbled (my players probably won't belive that since they know how arrogant I am  and thankful for the compliments.
> 
> I've had a busier week with work than I anticipated but rest assured that I am still working on the next update.  Just today I was, via e-mail, asking my players, "Remember that session where you felt like you were getting screwed but you were really getting Royally Screwed?  Am I remembering that right?"  They replied, essentially, "Yes, but there was one more small way in which we got screwed.  So don't forget to add that in too."
> 
> I won't.
> 
> And thank you reading.




What can I say- I have a poor work ethic  (and an addictive nature when it comes to engrossing stories). Don't worry about the accusations of arrogance, if I had of written this (and waded through job troubles and family obligations...) I would be bloody proud of myself too!


----------



## Rel

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Don't worry about the accusations of arrogance, if I had of written this (and waded through job troubles and family obligations...) I would be bloody proud of myself too!




After a quick perusal of my spelling and grammar in my last post, I find my ego curiously deflated... :\


----------



## Rel

Looks like my Story Hour made the transition to the new server.  Expect an update tomorrow.

And one of the characters WON'T LIVE TO SEE THE END OF IT!...

(that always works on TV)


----------



## pogre

Rel said:
			
		

> Looks like my Story Hour made the transition to the new server.  Expect an update tomorrow.
> 
> And one of the characters WON'T LIVE TO SEE THE END OF IT!...
> 
> (that always works on TV)




Calls wife in to help him set the VCR...


----------



## Rel

Marcus and Cathal were drenched in blood.  How much of it was their own and how much that of their enemy was impossible to tell but they were slick with it.

What they could tell was that their enemies were practically endless.  Each time they struck down one, another surged in to take its place.  And it somehow seemed that each new creature was more powerful than the last.  They could not guess at why this was but they did notice that as one would fall it would collapse into a pool of blood that would flow backwards to be reabsorbed by the oozing flood of blood that ran up the corridor toward them.

This tide of blood was becoming a concern all its own.  Where it had surged far enough up the passageway to come into contact with their feet, they found it to lash out and splash through the cracks in their armor, burning their skin with its acid touch.  As a result, they found that they were constantly being forced back up the corridor toward the larger room beyond.

Cathal glanced back over his shoulder as his blade split the head of another of the amorphous Blood Ferals and saw that they were within a dozen paces of the larger room.  Once there, the large numbers of the enemy were going to be brought to bear more fully and that would likely seal their fate.  “We cannot hold them much longer!” he cried to his companions.  As he did so he slashed at the floor where the pooling blood curled back to strike again.  His blade simply clanged off the floor doing nothing to the liquid evil that assailed them.

“I’m *DOING* the best I *CAN*!” Marius screamed back over his shoulder as he desperately worked to defeat the stout lock holding them inside the room that threatened to become their tomb.  His hands worked feverishly and he discovered that he was whispering to himself, “come on…come on”.

On the floor below Lazarius and Speaks were looking first one way and then the other, trying to gauge whether or not the door would be open in time.  Lazarius found his fingers twitching with anticipation and was about to interrupt Marius and tell him to get out of the way when he heard the Imperial Explorer cry out, “GOT IT!!”  

At nearly the same instant Marcus and Cathal scrambled backwards into the room, weapons dripping blood and ready to strike the pursuing Blood Ferals.  A voice behind them commanded, “MOVE!” and Speaks shoved the two men apart to give himself a clear view of the corridor.  His hands wove the Wild together and a band of reddish light snaked its way up the hallway before bursting into a _Wall of Fire_.  Within seconds it was accompanied by the popping and bubbling sounds of boiling blood.

Speaks beckoned to the pair of warriors, “Let’s go!  I don’t know how long that will stop them!”  He was disconcerted to note that the blood that dripped from the clothes and weapons of the two men began to ooze along the floor, right into the fire to join the giant flood that had spawned it.  They turned and ran up the stairs to find that Marius and Lazarius had already gone through the doors and into the room beyond.

The next room was flooded with greenish light that poured in from stained-glass windows some forty feet above the floor.  The room rose to a total height of sixty feet and was nearly a hundred feet wide and seventy deep, lined on each side by a row of large statues of Bane.  Staircases left and right descended in graceful curves to the floor twenty feet below them.  From there it was just a short dash to the huge pair of doors opposite them and, hopefully, freedom.  But just as they took the first couple of steps toward escape, they saw that the statues were taking steps of their own.

Marius was at the foot of the stairs when he noticed the movement and he never slowed down, bolting toward the enormous doors that marked the exit.  Lazarius was, unknown to anyone else in the group thanks to his _Invisibility_, right behind Marius, having flown down from the landing above using his magic.  The other three of the companions were not so fortunate and found themselves descending the stairs toward the waiting Guardian Statues.

Seeing that the numbers were against them, Lazarius summoned an _Obscuring Mist_ to conceal the others and called out, “Come toward my voice!  We’re at the door!”

Cathal considered making a dash toward Lazarius’ voice.  His magical boots certainly gave him the mobility to get there quickly before the Guardian Statues engaged them.  But that would mean abandoning Speaks and Marcus on the stairs.  The Druid might manage to win free in one of his bird forms but the heavily armored Marcus was in no condition to make a quick dash to escape.  Cathal braced himself and the onslaught of animate stone descended.

Marius got directly next to the door and could see that it was covered with the intricately scribed runes similar to those they’d encountered in the maze below.  “It’s Warded!  I’m not sure I can deactivate these!”  He looked across the vast expanse of dark wood and realized that he couldn’t even see the edges of some of these runes, thanks to the _Obscuring Mist_.

“There’s no time!  Get out of the way!” screamed Lazarius.  He floated some twenty feet into the air and reached his hand into his Haversack, calling forth an item that he had hoped never to find a need for again.  He held the circlet with its row of inwardly pointed spikes and steeled himself to place it on his brow.

In the mists chaos reigned in a scene all too similar to that in the dark and misty corridors of the maze they had recently fought their way through.  But there the Trollkin had hit them in brief assaults before sinking back into the black fog, waiting to strike again.  Here they were subjected to a constant and brutal onslaught of stone raining down upon them.  Each Guardian Statue held a thick, stone mace in one hand and the other was a gloved fist wreathed in green fire.  A blow from either felt like that of a stone battering ram.

In the first instant of the fight, Speaks had vaulted over the railing a few feet above the bottom of the stairs.  He left the stairs as a man but landed on the four hoofed feet of a giant boar.  He charged into the flank of one of the statues even as it closed and smashed its mace into the upraised Shield of Marcus.  Cathal moved to his right and got behind the towering colossus hoping to catch it in the flank while it was distracted.  But he found that was not capable of being distracted, focused only on the target it had chosen.  This one had chosen Marcus.  An instant later, two more of the Guardian Statues engaged from along the wall and Cathal tumbled into a maelstrom of mist and stone.

Pain seared through Lazarius’ mind as the spikes pierced his flesh and locked onto his skull beneath.  His training at the Imperial War College kicked in and he shut down the pain, focusing on the magic he needed to perform.  To fail this spell would place himself and his Legion in jeopardy.  He must not fail.  He would not fail.  The words came to his lips.  The magic shot from his hands.

The blow from the mace was tremendous and was followed a second later by one from the fiery stone glove.  Speaks’ porcine body was rocked by the attacks that left skin torn and bones broken in their wake.  His tusks had left gouges all over the breastplate of the Guardian Statue before him but he knew that he was in a battle that he could not win.  Suddenly, from behind him, he heard the crackling of lightning that frequently accompanied Lazarius’ magic.  An instant later it was followed by a fiery explosion that erupted both into and out of the Entry Hall.  Speaks felt the hairs on his flank singe in the blast.  But it had also blasted a hole in the _Obscuring Mist_ and he could see his way to open air for the first time in days.  He turned and ran for the exit.

Marius huddled against the wall, rapier in hand, looking all around him for the approach of an enemy and straining his ears for the stone-on-stone footsteps of the Guardian Statues.  What he heard instead was the crackle of lightning followed by a detonation that shook the thick, stone wall he leaned against.  He didn’t know if Lazarius was still alive but if the doors were ever going to open then they were open now.  Cringing inwardly at what he might find, he ran toward the explosion.

Everywhere there were enemies and Marcus lashed out at one after another.  His breath came in ragged gasps and he prayed with what little air he could spare from the battle.  He besought the blessing of St. Cuthbert as he fought these effigies of his ancient enemy.  He prayed for strength, guidance and aid.  And, failing those, a good death.  The blows came from every side and each had the strength to crush a man to death by itself.  His armor was creased and rent and his lungs bubbled with his own blood.  Still he fought on to the end, enduring far more than any human being was meant to endure.  He noted with some small shred of satisfaction that the Guardian Statue before him crumbled to pieces just as the green, flaming fist caught him from behind and drove him to the ground.  The mace blow that followed shattered his spine and ended his struggle.

Marius was the first to emerge from the Temple of Bane, onto its steps.  The vast courtyard that made up the center of The City of Endless Summer sprawled before him, the walls of the caldera rising up all around it.  But the huge expanse of cobblestones was marred at the center by a lake that had recently formed.  Fed by gushing fountains that had once been grates to allow light and air into the chambers below the City, a lake of blood now dominated landscape that extended from the bottom stairs of the Temple.  Its shores were within a hundred feet of where Marius now stood and it steadily inched its way in the direction of the temple.  Onto the stony beach thus formed began to crawl more of the familiar shapes of the Blood Ferals.


----------



## Funeris

WOW.  Edge-of-the-seat action.  Need cigarette...now....
Nice job Rel.  Good at conveying the hopeless situation and their struggles....
I am awestruck.  Keep it up.


----------



## BSF

*whistles long and softly*

Rel, that is just nasty.  The clerics are falling like cordwood.


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> WOW.  Edge-of-the-seat action.  Need cigarette...now....
> Nice job Rel.  Good at conveying the hopeless situation and their struggles....
> I am awestruck.  Keep it up.




I'll almost certainly have another update by later this week.  This one took me a bit longer to write than some other recent updates because I didn't have one of Lazarius' player's excellent Battle Reports to work from.  But as I wrote it I found that it came back relatively easily (this session took place about a year ago).

What I remember most is that this leads right up to the part where things turn *really* bad.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Day-amn that was intense!


----------



## ShawnLStroud

Rel said:
			
		

> What I remember most is that this leads right up to the part where things turn *really* bad.




Hmmm.  It gets *worse* for the characters after here?  Eeeek!


----------



## old school 1E

holy *bleep*!

Couldn't finish part 2 of the story due to server problems, so had to skip to part 3.

Man oh man!  I hate it when parties manage to scrape out of what appear to be hopeless situations all the time, because you get lulled into this mindset of "they'll get out of it... right?"

Shame to see one of my favorite party members go down   There's going to be a resurrection, though, right rel? *hopeful look*

Keep it coming! cant wait for the next installment!

edit: rel's next post will be his 3000th post! congrats!


----------



## Old One

*Finally Caught Up!*

Rel,

You are a mean, mean man...Bravo!  To be fair, however, they have had _many_ close calls (and you have run out of NPCs to kill ) and the law of averages catches up eventually.  I really like the blood-brood thingees...nice and disgusting.  I do remember some of the elements from a number of posts ago from our e-mail discussions from long ago.  

Where are you in the DM/Game rotation these days?  Is another round of FG coming up?  If so, feel free to pester me for evil ideas, since my own game is on hiatus...if I can't RBDMize my players, I might as well contribute to your cause !

I will try to let you know about GENCON befor pre-reg opens on 2/12...I am planning a secret spa getaway for the Missus...so should have some capital built up...but I don't want to spill the beans too early!

Have fun at the NC GameDay...I would love to make another one of those one of these years.

Take care,

~ Oldie

PS - If you haven't picked up the BCCS book yet...it just screams Faded Glory (my brand of FG, at least).


----------



## gerg_861

*a new link to Rel's FG II*

Hi all,  the link to Rel's FG II isn't functioning anymore, would it be possible to re-post a new one?  I just got computer access back a few weeks ago and now I'm trying to get caught up on all of the SHs.


----------



## Rel

Thanks for the flurry of replies, guys.  To summarize:  Yes, I'm a bastard.  Yes, the meat grinder was bound to catch up with them eventually.  Yes, things really do get worse after this.  No, I'm not wearing any underwear.

To answer specific concerns:  I don't know exactly how to go about restoring the links to the earlier SH's at the moment.  I can't search yet because I haven't renewed my Community Supporter account.  Maybe if one of you kind fellows would run a search for me...*looks at BardStephenFox with big puppy-dog eyes*...  Failing that, or in the eventuallity that the threads got somehow lost in translation, I still have all those posts in Word format.  If we can't restore those links somehow then I'll get the missing posts to the people who want to read them.  And I'll probably re-post them to new threads too.  But let's assume for the moment that we'll be able to find them and get new links established.

Old One, the GM rotation right now is such that we are playing in Speaks With Stone's _Mage: Dark Ages_ campaign after having played in Lazarius' _Arcana Unearthed_ campaign.  After this I'm slated to GM again but I think I'm going to take a break from Faded Glory next time and run an Eberron campaign.  I still love the Faded Glory setting and I'm sure I'll use it again someday.  But, as I've noted to you and in a few threads here at ENWorld, I find it difficult to maintain some of the feel of the setting (which is fairly austere) as the PC's grow in power to the upper levels.  As such, these PC's will not be appearing in any further FG campaigns that I run.  Their adventures will conclude with the end of this Story Hour.

As for when and how that will take place, well, you'll see.  But there will be another update later today.  Thanks for reading.


----------



## Old One

*Bummer...*

Rel,

Thanks for the update...sorry you have (temporarily?) reached the end of your Faded Glory rope!  If you need something for high-levels to do, just have them invade Sythia and try to obtain the 7 Ebony Eyes of the Scorpian-King of the Demon's Anvil !  How many more sessions do you have to cover for Rel's FG III?

Your first link is Rel's FG I and the second one is Rel's FG - Early Days and the third on is Rel's FG II

I think that's all of them...hope that helps!

~ Oldie


----------



## Riggs

It was just about that desperate in there, the statues were pounding us to dust after the ferals had worked over some of us.  One thing that happened was that when we could see as players that Marcus was taking the heat and was in real danger, we couldn't find a way to justify getting to him and healing him because of the mist, distance, etc.  I wanted Marius to use his healing wand but I was at the far door with Lazarius and couldn't even be sure Marcus had gotten into the room.  It sucked knowing that Marcus was doomed and Speaks too if he hadn't gotten through, with Cathal nearby on a different statue, unknowing of exactly what was taking place a few yards away to Marcus. Not to down the mist spell, that might have been perfect if the opponents were hindered by it, but as it was, it didn't work.
What did St. Cuthbert think about losing two clerics so closely together?  Was he playing on his PS2 and missed it?  I'm not writing this so you have to wait.


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> Rel,
> 
> Thanks for the update...sorry you have (temporarily?) reached the end of your Faded Glory rope!  If you need something for high-levels to do, just have them invade Sythia and try to obtain the 7 Ebony Eyes of the Scorpian-King of the Demon's Anvil !  How many more sessions do you have to cover for Rel's FG III?
> 
> Your first link is Rel's FG I and the second one is Rel's FG - Early Days and the third on is Rel's FG II
> 
> I think that's all of them...hope that helps!
> 
> ~ Oldie




Dude, you totally rock for the links that quickly.  I've fixed and checked the link at the start of this thread and everything should be working properly now.  Please let me know if it isn't.

As far as the high level play thing goes, I wasn't keeping my eye on the "big picture" in terms of how I implemented the rules and such when I started my first FG campaign.  If I had been then I would have placed a few limits on how the high level magic worked and might have taken further steps to emphasize how the "Empire in decline" atmosphere signified a loss of ready access to some of this stuff.  But it was our first full-blown 3E game so I wasn't really thinking about that stuff.

When the party reached higher levels and started to become very powerful from a magical standpoint, they began to effectively "elevate themselves beyond the setting" in many ways.  I was happy to roll with this but it was inevitably going to lead to a situation where the feel of the characters and feel of the setting became more and more divergent as time went on.  Add to this the fact that I just plain prefer to run groups at lower levels and I felt like my next stab at a FG game needed to start with a clean slate.

So, for the foreseeable future, I'll have to get my FG fix from you guys.  When did you say you were going to start playing again...


----------



## Rel

Riggs said:
			
		

> I wanted Marius to use his healing wand but I was at the far door with Lazarius and couldn't even be sure Marcus had gotten into the room.  It sucked knowing that Marcus was doomed and Speaks too if he hadn't gotten through, with Cathal nearby on a different statue, unknowing of exactly what was taking place a few yards away to Marcus. Not to down the mist spell, that might have been perfect if the opponents were hindered by it, but as it was, it didn't work.




Actually it did help out a bit.  The statues were unable to use their 10' reach because they couldn't see that far.  That meant they had to crowd in closer and that fewer of them could attack at once.  So see, it could have been worse! 

Also, I believe that Lazarius knew just where Marcus was (thanks to the circlet) but couldn't do much about it.  He wasn't strong enough to carry him (what with the weight of all that armor and so forth) and didn't have any magic left that could extricate him from the situation.  Thinking back on it, I think that Laz might have dropped a Shaped Lightning Bolt or two amid the combat that damaged (but did not destroy) a few of the statues.  He was able to target these around the PC's thanks to the circlet.  That would account for the round or two that I know Speaks spent fighting the Statues in Boar form.  But, as I said, I had not Battle Report for this one so I was just going on pure memory.


----------



## BSF

Rel said:
			
		

> To answer specific concerns:  I don't know exactly how to go about restoring the links to the earlier SH's at the moment.  I can't search yet because I haven't renewed my Community Supporter account.  Maybe if one of you kind fellows would run a search for me...*looks at BardStephenFox with big puppy-dog eyes*...  Failing that, or in the eventuallity that the threads got somehow lost in translation, I still have all those posts in Word format.  If we can't restore those links somehow then I'll get the missing posts to the people who want to read them.  And I'll probably re-post them to new threads too.  But let's assume for the moment that we'll be able to find them and get new links established.




EDIT:  Nevermind, Old One is already on it.  

I can do that!  But I am hip deep in busy right now.  Ach!  Maybe tonight at home?  Maybe at some point a little later?  If you already have a link and it doesn't work, just remove the /forums from it.  I will be happy to help get easy-to-use links setup though.  

Just remind me if I get space it and forget...


----------



## Rel

_Darkness was replaced by light…and…water.  He wasn’t under the water but then it was all around him, lifting him slightly and then receding.  His eyes fluttered open to see an endless flat plane of white.  And there was the water again.  What sort of place was this?

He sat up and WHERE WAS HIS ARMOR?!  THE *SHIELD*!!?  His weapon?...The next wave splashed gently onto his lap and he now understood that he was on a beach.  The sand swirled in the water, pure white and seeming to cast tiny motes of light from every grain.  He turned.  Further up the beach the flat plain of white smoothed by the tide gave way to small, fluffy, white rows of sand, sculpted by the gentle warm breeze.  And beyond that the white cliffs rose into the sky, drawing his eyes up the mountain beyond them.  A mountain that he had been taught of for many years – Mount Celestia.  He had arrived at the Shores of Celestia.  But that meant…

Movement caught his eye before he could finish his thought and he turned to see a man walking up the beach toward him.  Marcus stood to find himself dressed in a pale fabric, dripping water onto the beach around him, each drop making a tiny crater in the fine sand before being erased by the next incoming wave.  Every detail in every small thing seemed so distinct, so beautiful here.  He turned to look at the man again.

He was perhaps a few years older than Marcus but then again maybe not.  His face looked just a bit worn but whether by age, hardship, weather or worry Marcus could not tell.  As he studied the face, he couldn’t help notice a familiar cast to it.  But Marcus, always mindful of his duty to his Lord and companions, pushed away this as a trivial concern for the moment.  This man was his only source of information for the moment and he had dozens if not hundreds of questions that needed to be answered.  He opened his mouth to ask the first of these as the man drew within a few feet of him, but instead of a question, a simple statement escaped unbidden from his lips.

“Father.”

The man smiled more broadly, “Yes, my son.  I’ve been waiting for you.  But I hadn’t hoped to find you so soon.”  Unprompted and unchallenged, the man stepped forward and embraced his only child.  Tears ran unashamed down the face of the man as he clutched Marcus desperately in his arms.

For his part, Marcus stood shocked, warmed and bewildered by the powerful hug and yet somehow aware that he should be in intense agony from the ribs that were shattered within his breast only a few instants ago.  But he realized somehow that this moment was both long in coming and would also be far too brief to squander.  He returned the embrace.

Finally the man relented and held Marcus at arms length, studying him closely, as though meeting him for the first time and committing every feature to memory.  “I could look upon you for days, my Child.”  His smile faltered, “But I’m afraid my time with you is to be short for now.  I wither inside not to hear the tales that you might tell me of your life but there are things that you must know and I’m the one who must say them.”  His voice became that of a commanding father who required total attention and obedience from his child, “So *listen* to what I say now.”

“There was a time before the era of the Empire when bold men gained great power and ascended to become more than mere mortals.  And these beings, these ‘gods’, would sometimes clash.  The powers unleashed in these struggles are beyond your ability to comprehend but the damage to the world was devastating and, sometimes, permanent.

There were a pair of brothers, one as fiery and violent as the other was cold and conniving and both with hearts filled with evil.  They came into conflict with the Sun Lord, Pelor and they fought.  The power unleashed scoured the life from half a continent and, in the end, the hot-blooded brother was slain, his blood staining the mountains black with evil forever.  His brother plotted vengeance but before he could take action all of gods were summoned by the Creator, Osirian, to answer for the destruction they had wrought upon his world.

Osirian could no longer bear to see them struggle across the landscape of his creation, destroying each other and the mortals by the thousands.  He offered them a pact:  They would agree to depart the Mortal Realm and never return.  In exchange, Osirian would offer up his Soul, that which made him truly immortal, and each of them would become so.  So it was that the gods left the Mortal Realm and Osirian passed beyond his own creation.

The gods were not content to leave the Mortal Realm unmolested of course and it took them little time to find a loophole in the Pact of Osirion.  They crafted beings of pure magical Essence and sent them to do their bidding in the world of Mortals.  These are of course the Celestials, Spirits and Demons.  They taught the mortals to worship the gods and therefore supply them with more Essence that they might make more powerful and numerous servants and thus continue the cycle.  This Essence was channeled to the gods when worshipers made supplications and sacrifices that resonated with a given god’s nature.  Thus it is that by upholding the Law we channel Essence to St. Cuthbert.

Along the way, one of the gods found a way to subtly corrupt the rituals of others, siphoning off part of their Essence for himself.  His vile servants infiltrated many of the other religions.  When his treachery was discovered the retribution of the other gods was swift and mighty.  His servants were hunted down and he himself was struck down and imprisoned in the bowels of Hell for what he had done.  I’m sure you understand that I am speaking of Bane.

His imprisonment was never intended to be permanent.  He lives forever thanks to the Soul of Osirion, and three-hundred years was deemed enough of a punishment for what he had done.  Much longer and he could well turn insane and that would make him very dangerous indeed.  Better that he emerge sooner and oh so very weak thanks to the debts owed to the minions of Hell in exchange for breaking him from his tomb.  With so few worshipers he would have faint power compared to that of the other gods and at least he could be watched.

But the other gods did not anticipate the depths of his hate and desire for vengeance.  They could not have guessed what he would do with the power he had slowly hoarded away for the last three-hundred years.  He has not used it to benefit himself or craft new servants or to channel to his worshipers.  Instead he has channeled every drop of it into the unthinkable act of bringing back a long dead god.  He has brought back to life his brother, Bale.

And Bale was never a party to the Pact of Osirion.”

Marcus’ father paused to let all of that sink in and he looked for signs of recognition in the boy’s eyes.  These eyes darted left and right as his brain worked on this incredible information for another moment or two.  Then, “By the Mace of St. Cuthbert!  Bale will walk the world again!”  He looked directly into the eyes of his father, “The Blackpeaks!  Those are the mountains stained with his blood!  The rising of the blood from beneath the City was a sign of his return!”

His father nodded gravely, “Yes, my son.  Bale was the essence of Destruction and Murder and every evil thing done in the Blackpeaks for the past dozen millennia has fed his power in his absence.  Now he has returned and his Blood calls out for more of the same from all the creatures living and dead who have ever done evil within those cursed mountains.  Those lands are his and so is the blood of those who dwell there.”

Marcus’ mind was racing with the horror that threatened to overtake him, overwhelm him.  As he felt it all closing in around him, a small ray of hope pierced the flood of despair.  “You say that he was never part of the Pact of Osirion…he can walk the lands of Men.  But he can also be killed!”  His father nodded with a wan smile.

His thoughts turned to his companions and he pleaded intensely with his sire, “Father, my friends are standing at this very moment at the heart of the place where Bale returns from death.  They have no idea what is happening!  I MUST return to them to warn them and to tell them what we must somehow do!”

Marcus’ father nodded, his face falling as he held back tears of pride and loss.  “I know, my son.”  He reached out to hug him but already Marcus’ form was becoming less distinct as he began to be pulled from the land of angels back into a world of fire and blood and despair, carrying with him the word of Hope.

As Marcus realized that he was going back he realized that so many questions needed to be asked.  He had time for one: “Father!  What do we do!?”

The man’s eyes blazed with intensity and he yelled a single word, “*SURVIVE!*”

Then Marcus was gone.  Alone again on the beach with only the sounds of the wind and waves, the man whispered into the void left by his son, “Survive, my son, until the gods can figure out what to do…”_


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> EDIT:  Nevermind, Old One is already on it.
> 
> I can do that!  But I am hip deep in busy right now.  Ach!  Maybe tonight at home?  Maybe at some point a little later?  If you already have a link and it doesn't work, just remove the /forums from it.  I will be happy to help get easy-to-use links setup though.
> 
> Just remind me if I get space it and forget...




Yep, the problem has already been fixed but I thank you for you willingness to help anyway.  You're so Neutral Good, BSF.  It makes me look so Lawful Evil by comparison. 

That last post probably didn't do my image much good either...

I *told* you that things got worse!


----------



## Funeris

Worse?  Nay.  Better...for the readers


----------



## Rel

Funeris said:
			
		

> Worse?  Nay.  Better...for the readers




It will be several days before I have any chance to even think about updating again since I've got the NC Game Day this weekend.  In the mean time, here's a fun exercise for the avid reader:

You find out that the once slain ancient god of Destruction and Murder is being reborn beneath your very feet.  What do you do?


----------



## BSF

Woohoo!

That is a truly wonderful twist Rel.  Very nicely done.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Woohoo!
> 
> That is a truly wonderful twist Rel.  Very nicely done.




  Aw shucks.  Well, it's not always easy being a rat-bastard.  But I try.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Rel said:
			
		

> Aw shucks.  Well, it's not always easy being a rat-bastard.  But I try.




And a very good job you do at it too   .

Another great update - especially good to get more of the back-story filled in.

I wouldn't normally nitpick, but there is one typo, you might like to catch:



> In exchange, Osirian would offer up his Soul, that which made him truly immoral,




Unless that's meant as an even bigger plot twist   !!


----------



## Rel

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> I wouldn't normally nitpick, but there is one typo, you might like to catch:
> 
> Unless that's meant as an even bigger plot twist   !!




I don't usually "laugh out loud" at ENWorld posts but you got me that time, HalfOrc HalfBiscuit.  I'd better run change that...

...though it says something telling about the campaign, myself and OldOne if the Creator god is "immoral".


----------



## nakia

I've just caught up with part three of this story hour.  Great stuff!  Nice twist at the end!  Did the PC's have any clue that it was Bane's evil brother, not Bane himself, that was coming back?

Now I just have to read parts 1 & 2.

Looking forward to reading the "backstory," as well as finding out what happens to Speaks and Co. at the edge of this "blood dimmed tide."


----------



## Rel

nakia said:
			
		

> I've just caught up with part three of this story hour.  Great stuff!  Nice twist at the end!  Did the PC's have any clue that it was Bane's evil brother, not Bane himself, that was coming back?




That'd be a "no".

I had planned to try and update sometime this week but it probably isn't going to happen now.  Last night I found myself unexpectedly back in the GM chair and my new Eberron campaign gets underway next week.  So it'll probably be then before there's a new installment.


----------



## nakia

Rel said:
			
		

> I had planned to try and update sometime this week but it probably isn't going to happen now.  Last night I found myself unexpectedly back in the GM chair and my new Eberron campaign gets underway next week.  So it'll probably be then before there's a new installment.




Does this mean there will be a "Faded Eberron" story hour?  

Hey! 100 posts!  Go me!


----------



## Rel

nakia said:
			
		

> Does this mean there will be a "Faded Eberron" story hour?
> 
> Hey! 100 posts!  Go me!




Probably not.

I've still got my hands full with trying to finish out this Story Hour and continuing my Samantha the Red Story Hour.  Added to that the next NC Game Day is less than three months away and we've got to get the next three after that scheduled at the university before the end of February.  Also I'm putting together a solo-campaign (using Hunter: The Reckoning) for my wife.  A wedding to plan, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it.

I'm swamped!

None of which is to say that this is my last Story Hour.  But I may take a little vacation after I finish Faded Glory.


----------



## Belen

Ahh...good installment.  You should take up writing sometime.


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> You should take up writing sometime.




I thought I had?  Oh, you mean professionally?  I did that too but I didn't like the pay.


----------



## BSF

Rel said:
			
		

> Probably not.
> 
> I've still got my hands full with trying to finish out this Story Hour and continuing my Samantha the Red Story Hour.  Added to that the next NC Game Day is less than three months away and we've got to get the next three after that scheduled at the university before the end of February.  Also I'm putting together a solo-campaign (using Hunter: The Reckoning) for my wife.  A wedding to plan, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it.
> 
> I'm swamped!
> 
> None of which is to say that this is my last Story Hour.  But I may take a little vacation after I finish Faded Glory.




Get some rest.  If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything.


----------



## nakia

Rel said:
			
		

> A wedding to plan, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it.
> 
> I'm swamped!




Humperdink!?


----------



## Rel

nakia said:
			
		

> Humperdink!?




"You know I've told you never to use that name in this house!"


----------



## old school 1E

"ever since Humperdink fired him his confidence has been shattered!"


----------



## gerg_861

*that rocked*

I just read all of FG III, and I have to say that I love the way that all of your SHs build up to such thunderous, monumental conclusions.


----------



## Rel

gerg_861 said:
			
		

> I just read all of FG III, and I have to say that I love the way that all of your SHs build up to such thunderous, monumental conclusions.




I just wanted to tell you, gerg_861, that it made my day to read your post.  I don't always succeed in delivering it, but I really do try to make the game exciting and engaging for the players.  I hope I win more than I lose but I'll let them be the judge.*



*since I'm starting a new Eberron campaign on Monday I'll bet they say nice things about me.  They're such suck-ups    FREE XP to the first player to sing my praises!  GO!


----------



## old school 1E

Rel said:
			
		

> since I'm starting a new Eberron campaign on Monday I'll bet they say nice things about me.  They're such suck-ups    FREE XP to the first player to sing my praises!  GO!




are xp points transferrable to other campaigns? 

Anyway, I too agree.  this is a great story hour!  Im looking forward to new updates


----------



## Rel

old school 1E said:
			
		

> are xp points transferrable to other campaigns?




You'll have to talk to your DM about that one...but if he says yes then you can have 7, that's right *7* free XP.

Don't say I never gave you nothin'!


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> I just wanted to tell you, gerg_861, that it made my day to read your post.  I don't always succeed in delivering it, but I really do try to make the game exciting and engaging for the players.  I hope I win more than I lose but I'll let them be the judge.*
> 
> 
> 
> *since I'm starting a new Eberron campaign on Monday I'll bet they say nice things about me.  They're such suck-ups    FREE XP to the first player to sing my praises!  GO!






A lot of people call Rel a RBDM, but he's -the- RBDM for us--and we love him for it.  But, you know what I love most about Rel?  He's a brilliant, wise, and most of all, dead-sexy DM.  Sure, it's three things, but he's a total package...  

But seriously, Rel's a great DM--he's always got something cooked up, and his games are always a ton of fun!

Did I mention he's dead-sexy?


----------



## Rel

Cathal said:
			
		

> A lot of people call Rel a RBDM, but he's -the- RBDM for us--and we love him for it.  But, you know what I love most about Rel?  He's a brilliant, wise, and most of all, dead-sexy DM.  Sure, it's three things, but he's a total package...
> 
> But seriously, Rel's a great DM--he's always got something cooked up, and his games are always a ton of fun!
> 
> Did I mention he's dead-sexy?




Well then there's 7XP for you too, my friend!

And allow me to say something nice about you in turn:  Cathal's sucking up skills no know limit!


----------



## Belen

I would agree, Rel.  He has the sucking up down flat.    

Then again, DMs are on the recieving end of it a lot.


----------



## Rel

If Cathal could survive the next few moments and never have to fight a battle in a cloud of fog again he could die a happy man.  He may not have been in Hell but this was the next closest thing.  A green-flaming fist drove itself out of the mists at him and crashed thunderously into his long suffering shield.  He gave ground again, not sure exactly where he was in relation to anything now.

His left foot bumped into something and he suddenly had a reference point as he looked down and saw the pedestal that one of the Bane statues had been standing on before stepping forth to do battle.  That meant that the exit was behind him and to his right and the stairs, where Marcus was still doing battle with the Statues from the sound of things, were in front of him.

In the many battles he had fought, Cathal had often noticed little things that would somehow seem to occupy his attention out of proportion to their significance to the fighting at hand.  The way that a foes breath would drift on the cold air or the particular sound of a bird’s call would sometimes penetrate the rage and pain of battle.  In this moment he noticed such a detail:  At the base of the statue, carved in the severe letters of the Imperial tongue, were the words, “Praise be to Bane”.  The words couldn’t have occupied his attention for more than a quarter of a second because then he found himself scrambling to his right and preparing to head for the exit.

As he did this he heard a sudden cry of pain and anguish that could only have come from Marcus.  Then, ominously, the sounds of battle from the area near the stairs suddenly ceased.  Looking back over his shoulder Cathal could see light filtering through the fog - the exit.  The other direction was fog and stone and more enemies than he could ever hope to defeat.  And his friend.

Standing just outside the doors of the Temple, still unsure of what to do in the face of unspeakable hopelessness, Marius, Lazarius and Speaks heard the voice of the Brigante cry out at the top of his lungs, “*PRAISE BE TO BANE!*”  They looked at each other, eyebrows raised, unsure of what had just happened.  It was all too easy to imagine that some foul magic of the Temple had just turned their companion against them when they needed him most.  But their moment of contemplation ended an instant later when movement from overhead caught their attention and fire rained down from above.

Back inside the Temple Cathal wove his way between the giant statues of Bane, wincing as he moved past each one, expecting them to strike him down at any moment.  But they did not.  He saw the pillar that supported the bottom end of the banister and just to the left of that he found blood.  Lots of it.  And it was leaking from the lifeless form of Marcus who lay sprawled on the floor amid chunks of stone that he had struck from those who had killed him.

Cathal wasted no time.  He didn’t know if they were going to make it out of the City of Endless Summer alive or not.  But the final resting place of Marcus was not going to be inside the Temple of Bane.  His sword disappeared into its sheath and he hefted the enormous weight of the armor-clad Warrior-Priest over his shoulder, careful to ensure that he collected Marcus’ mace and The Shield.  Under the strain of this tremendous load, Cathal began to stagger toward the exit when battle erupted around him once again.

It took a moment to understand what had happened but he began to see shapes in the fog and knew that the Blood Ferals had caught up with them.  But now it seemed that the Guardian Statues were attacking them!  Cathal did not know to what he should attribute this rare slice of good fortune and there was no time to think about it anyway.  All that mattered now was that he get out of this accursed place.  He gritted his teeth and bore his heavy load toward the warm sunshine…

Outside…

The first _Fireball_ struck a cluster of the Blood Ferals that were emerging from the growing Lake of Blood and they boiled where they stood, collapsing to rejoin the pool that had spawned them.  A score of arrows followed, striking those who still stood, felling two more and leaving most of the rest wounded.

Marius and Lazarius looked on in astonishment and confusion as a flying carpet descended and a heavily armed warrior leapt off.  The carpet soared into the air again as another _Fireball_ shot from a wand held by the rider.  The warrior, a Half-Orc sprinted up to the two humans and dire boar…no, three humans as Speaks resumed his normal form just in time to cry out, “Scar?!”

The Half-Orc smiled a toothy smile and yelled, “NO TIME!  WE MUST GET YOU OUT OF HERE!!”

The stairs of the Temple started to get downright crowded as Cathal exited carrying the obviously lifeless body of Marcus and a moment later The Shining Lady appeared next to them.  Her appearance was punctuated by another flurry of missile fire from atop the temple accompanied by a whooping warcry from Ilrath, Magdar and the rest of the Orcs.
Even as these missiles struck down another of the Blood Ferals, a fresh group began to emerge from the Lake of Blood.  Half of these were immediately destroyed by another _Fireball_ from Rhys’ wand.

The cavalry, it seemed, had arrived.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Hooray, an update to start the weekend. Thanks, Rel.



> The cavalry, it seemed, had arrived.




On a flying carpet? Sounds more like the Air Force to me   .

Seriously, it's good to see the return of Scar. Especially as our heroes look like they need all the help they can get!


----------



## Rel

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Seriously, it's good to see the return of Scar. Especially as our heroes look like they need all the help they can get!




Well given that I'd put them through a lot I wanted to let them take advantage of the fact that they DID have allies who wanted to help them succeed.

It probably bears pointing out for some of the more recent readers that Rhys and Scar were the characters of our dear friend, Ted (who went by The Lone Corndog here at ENWorld) who died in 2003.  They were part of the first half of this campaign before we took a break from it and I wanted to let them make a cameo appearance in this campaign as a sort of homage to our pal.  I'd like to think that we did them justice in how they were played.


----------



## Belen

Nice update.  I have been looking forward to it ever since ol Marcus kicked the bucket.  You have the edge of the seat cliffhanger nailed, my friend.


----------



## Old One

Quit updating so much...you are making me look bad !

Nice touch with TLC's PC...glad I got to play a game with Ted.

~ OO


----------



## BSF

Rel,
Nice update.  That mush have been an agonizing choice for Cathal to make.  Do you speak the name of a vile god or not?  

Very nice touch with TLC's PCs.  I remember when you posted that he had passed away.


----------



## Rel

Thanks for the comments guys.  And look for another update tomorrow (no jobs or babysitting this Friday!).  Sorry, Old One, but I figure that if I can't praise you into updating your Story Hour then I'll try shaming you into it. 

Regarding this:



			
				BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> That mush have been an agonizing choice for Cathal to make.  Do you speak the name of a vile god or not?




I agree that it was a tough choice.  But Cathal was probably among the more pragmatic party members (surpassed only by Marius) and had no strong religious affiliation.  If that's what it took to bring his friend out of the temple then he was willing to do it.


----------



## Rel

(Guess what!  I'm EARLY with an update!  I figured I'd go ahead and post this.  Hell, I might even post another update tomorrow!  It's Krazy with a K!)

The smell of blood poured into his consciousness and his eyes fluttered open to behold the glowing radiance of The Shining Lady.  He felt her voice in his mind, “_Rise Shieldbearer, your task is not yet done._”  She hauled him to his feet and though her grip was as gentle as one might hold a child he felt that she could crush his arm to jelly if she so chose.  Marcus was among the living again and all around him chaos reigned.

He saw movement across the sky as an odd, fluttering rectangle of cloth soared through the air and an explosion of fire and blood ripped across the battlefield in front of him, punctuated by a whoop of joy from the rider of the carpet.  His mind struggled to get a hold on what his eyes showed him.  Where did that enormous lake of blood come from?!

It seemed that answers and understanding would have to wait for another time because suddenly Lazarius was in front of him, grabbing the front of his armor and bringing his nose within inches of his face.  “Listen to me Marcus!  We’re all going to die here in just a few moments unless you pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.  We have to get out of here.  NOW.  I’m going to transform you into a big bird.  When I do, grab Marius and FLY AWAY.  Do.  You.  Understand!?”

Marcus nodded mutely.  The Wizard had barely waited for his agreement before starting his incantations.  In that moment Marcus realized that he hadn’t told the others what his father had told him.  About BALE!  “Lazarius, wait!  Listen to mee_eeeeeeeee_…”  His voice became a screech on the wind as wings sprouted and the Imperial War Wizard’s _Polymorph_ took hold.

The others had not stood idly while this took place.  Speaks had _Summoned_ a Dire Bat and it came into being next to him awaiting the bidding of the Druid.  Marius and Cathal readied themselves to receive the charge that must be coming as the mob of nearly a score of the Blood Ferals scrambled toward them from the near shore of The Lake of Blood.  

Both were surprised when The Shining Lady ran right past them toward the oncoming horde of evil.  She held a flaming, two-handed sword that she had summoned from nowhere and she whipped it over her head as she charged to battle in a way that suggested that she knew how to use it.  She crashed into a knot of the Blood Ferals hacking through one and into a second.  Then suddenly their view of her was cut off as the air solidified into a _Wall of Ice_.  They turned to see Lazarius with his hands outstretched toward the _Wall_ he’d called forth.

“No more time to fight!  Let’s get OUT of here!”

But two of the Blood Ferals were trapped on their side of the _Wall of Ice_.  Cathal charged one of them and his blade crackled and sizzled as he cut the creature down in a single mighty slash.  The other rushed at the group but the next instant saw it riddled with javelins thrown down by Magdar’s Orcs.  It oozed to the ground, its blood disconcertingly flowing back in the direction of the Lake.

Huge wings beat the air and Marcus the Eagle lifted into the sky and awkwardly fluttered over to Marius.  The Imperial Explorer knew this was his only way out but still winced as the pair of huge, inexpertly wielded claws descended upon him.  “Be caref…OW!  Dammit!”  His further expletives were lost to the sky as Marcus dragged him skyward with the beating of his giant wings.

Another explosion rocked the far side of the _Wall of Ice_ as Rhys dropped another _Fireball_ into the midst of the Blood Ferals fighting The Shining Lady.  He knew that she was warded against such magic and hoped that the creatures of blood were not.

Speaks’ _Summoned_ Dire Bat took his orders and swooped in to grab hold of Cathal.  It lifted the Brigante from the ground like a toy and spun in the air turning south toward the nearest wall of the caldera.  Speaks was close behind having assumed the form of an Eagle himself.

Lazarius decided that it was high time he too took to the air and he wove one of his last magics as he _Altered_ him_Self_, sprouting large wings from his back.  He struggled into the air, noting that Rhys was maneuvering his magical carpet almost directly at him.  Like he was fleeing…

The next moment showed Lazarius the cause for Rhys’ hurry.  At least two score of the Blood Ferals now surrounded The Shining Lady where she fought on the edge of The Lake of Blood.  Knowing that it wouldn’t win the battle for her, Lazarius still found himself trying to help her in her desperate struggle.  He unleashed one of his few spells and sent a _Fireball_ shooting into the swirling melee.

It detonated with a thunderous crash sending Blood Ferals flying in all directions.  As Lazarius continued to flap his newborn wings, clawing at the sky for altitude, he saw cracks form all along the shore of the Lake.  Surely his _Fireball_ hadn’t caused that!  Had it?  He spared a glance below to see that Rhys had pulled Scar, the Half-Orc, aboard the Magic Carpet and now went rocketing past him screaming something about “outa heeeeeere”.

Suddenly the Wizard found his heart filled with hate.  Hate and a lust for destruction that would not be sated until everyone paid for all the wrongs that had been done to…HIM.

The world spun as Lazarius forgot to fly for a moment.  The ground started to rush up toward him and he focused his mind as he’d been taught.  FLAP YOUR WINGS.  FIGHT DOWN THE HATE.  IT CLOUDS YOUR JUDGEMENT AND FOCUS.  PUSH IT AWAY!  And he did.  He pushed out the hate forced on him by a long dead godling.  He pushed it away and it seemed to concentrate into a distant pinpoint.  A single black point of hatred and destruction that was focused…right in the center of the Lake.

He flew away but continued to look back at what he fled from.  There was the Hate, emerging from the Lake, now a solid ball of the darkest, most otherworldly blackness he could imagine.  It rose from the Lake on a thin spire of a staff.  And then the swirling blood seemed to gather and rise up to push the staff upward in a pillar.  A pillar that became an arm attached to a body and the body was the enormous form of Bale.

Reborn.


----------



## Belen

Dude...freaky. I want more.


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> Dude...freaky. I want more.




More insane, long-dead, gods of Hate and Destruction brought back to life to reclaim the blood that they shed ten thousand years ago?  Or more story?


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> More insane, long-dead, gods of Hate and Destruction brought back to life to reclaim the blood that they shed ten thousand years ago?  Or more story?




Is it wrong to ask for both?


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Is it wrong to ask for both?




You'll get more story for certain.  As to whether it is wrong to ask for more insane gods of Hate and Destruction, at the moment the party has one more than they'd prefer already.  So while not precisely wrong it might not be considered polite either.


----------



## Rel

(Here's a short update.  I might post another later today but if not then definatley by Monday.)

The cries that came from the blood-bathed throat of the reborn godling were unlike those of any infant in the history of the world.  And they resonated in the minds of the mortals nearby, summoning up a desire to destroy whatever was within their reach.  They felt his will to destroy the world and it threatened to become their deepest desire as well.

The wings of the party clawed at the sky, fighting for speed and altitude.  The hot breath of Hate was at their backs and thoughts of Destruction clawed at the edges of their consciousness.  They were not Bale’s creatures yet.  Not born of the mountains that were stained by his blood.  But they had drank of its waters and eaten food taken from its slopes and that was enough to allow them to hear his call to destruction if not succumb to it.  Here, in this place bathed by his blood and consecrated by his brother, Bale’s voice demanded attention and obedience.  All that mattered was getting beyond its reach.

But even as they struggled forward, they found themselves looking back.  There, standing atop the roof of the Temple of Bane, were Ilrath, Magdar and his Orcs who had fought so valiantly to free their brethren from Bane’s corrupting grasp.  They all gazed skyward, not waving or saluting, but simply looking to those they had helped to rescue when things were most bleak and hoping that they could figure out a way to save the rest of the world from the fate about to befall them.  Whether it was some moderating influence from the Temple itself or their previous contact with The Shining Lady, they too appeared to be resisting the call for death and destruction.

Bale came at them, his torso glistening with muscles and sinews seemingly made from blood itself and his lower body becoming one with the Lake of Blood.  He moved forward in the same manner as a slug, trailing a river of blood behind him.  But he did not move at the speed of a slug.  He covered the distance between the edge of the Lake of Blood and the _Wall of Ice_ in seconds and brought the head of his Black Mace down upon the barrier.

The swath of wall that his weapon touched was erased from existence.  In fact, it was so completely destroyed that those who beheld its destruction had a difficult time recalling that it had *ever been there at all*.  On came Bale, surging forward toward the gates of his brother’s Temple.  He bellowed his hateful howl into the sky and lay about himself with the Black Mace destroying flagstones by the hundreds as a small army of Ferals called from within his own blood surged around him.  Those atop the Temple fell back from the edge, hopelessly looking for an escape that simply did not exist.

Then she was among them, bathing them in her light and gathering as many around her as she could.  Tears streamed down the face of The Shining Lady, knowing that she could not save them all and she might not be able to save any for long.  But she would try.  The Shining Lady and the knot of those closest around her vanished leaving a couple handfuls of Orcs behind.  An instant later a huge, bloody hand gripped the top of the Temple and Bale’s Black Mace swept them from existence.

The party heard his cry begin to fade as they cleared the top of the caldera and started to descend toward the treetops below.  Each flew in a panic, going as fast as he could and none blamed those who surged ahead.  Evil incarnate was at their backs and he was out of things to slay.


----------



## Jon Potter

Yowza!

A short update. But oh, so flavorful.

And since I read in your Samantha thread that you had a little free time, I'll jump right into pestering you for more blood-dripping, hate god goodness.


----------



## BSF

I like how you have portrayed Bale and the Shining Lady.  Very nice all around.


----------



## Belen

See...I already dislike Bale and his mace of doom.


----------



## Darklone

Cute. Sooo many updates to devour. And Rhys. And Scar. Phew. This is not a bump!


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Cute. Sooo many updates to devour. And Rhys. And Scar. Phew. This is not a bump!




Well, look who's back in town!  Good to see you, Darklone!  I hope you enjoy getting caught up.  I missed my deadline to try and get another update done by yesterday (busier weekend than I thought) but I WILL get one up by tonight!


----------



## Belen

Rel said:
			
		

> Well, look who's back in town!  Good to see you, Darklone!  I hope you enjoy getting caught up.  I missed my deadline to try and get another update done by yesterday (busier weekend than I thought) but I WILL get one up by tonight!




Cool....more ways to distract me at work.  You're contributing to the delinquincy of an employee.

Ok, back to work.


----------



## Rel

They flew for over an hour until their muscles and magic began to fail them.  They alighted in a clearing on the slopes of the mountains and collapsed in exhaustion.  Their bodies, minds and especially their understanding of the world had all taken a harsh beating in the last day and they were still reeling from it.

Lazarius sat on a rock with his head hung down.  So tired.  Yearning for rest.  Wings fluttered before him and he looked up into the deep blue eyes of Marcus.  “What?”

A piercing scream came from the Dire Eagle’s beak and it hopped from one taloned foot to the other in frustration.  Lazarius thought he understood what his companion wanted, “Sorry Marcus.  I am out of spells.  I can’t transform you back until I’ve had some rest.  Try me in the morning.”  The eagle squawked angrily at the Wizard but knew there was nothing to be done.  He alighted on a pointy rock a short distance away.

All of them knew that they needed to discuss what to do next but few had truly collected their thoughts and none had the energy.  It would just have to wait until morning.

They did not even consider lighting a fire.  As night fell they could hear movement all across the mountainside.  Things moved in the darkness, answering the call of Bale and they could hear them moving north toward The City of Endless Summer.  They kept watch with weary eyes and it was still hours before dawn when the bushes at the edge of their clearing snapped an crunched beneath the tread of huge feet.

Marius was on watch and moved aside looking for an opportunity to flank the interloper.  Cathal stepped forward to block whatever it was from getting past him to where the others were hastily scrambling from their bedrolls.  Out of the night came the enormous form of a giant bear.  Cathal struck first and brought his blade raking down its neck and sinking into its shoulder but he did not escape a powerful swipe from the creature’s claw.

Marcus shot skyward on his great wings as Rhys, barely out of his bedroll, plied his wand on those who followed in the wake of the huge bear.  The night lit up with the blast from the _Fireball_ and revealed a pack of Ogres with eyes full of murder.  They did not seem much slowed by the blast and moved quickly to the edge of the party’s encampment.

Scar charged into the foremost Ogre, earning a clouting by the creatures club but striking it in return with Raven’s Revenge.  The Dwarf-made hammer left a horrific bruise across the giant’s belly.

Lazarius was filled with rage at this latest attack.  How was he supposed to regain his magic if they couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep?!  Angry and sleepy he moved out to the right flank of the engagement and used a rather precious scroll.  A _Cone of Cold_ blasted through the ranks of the Ogres and four of the six were killed in an instant.  Despite his bad mood, Lazarius could not stifle a yell of triumph.

Swirling blue light filled the night with color and filled their hearts with hope as Speaks called forth the magic of the _Big Sky_.  Emboldened by this boost in morale, Marius tumbled forward catching the Dire Bear in the flank.  His rapier sank deep but it would take more than that to kill the huge creature.  Cathal slashed back and forth across the forelegs of the bear and blood flowed as they strove to kill it or drive it away.  

Marcus came diving down upon one of the remaining Ogres but was intercepted by its club.  Feathers flew as his claws made it through the brute’s defenses and drew bloody streaks across its arm.

It seemed that the series of brutal strikes by Cathal and Marius had worked.  For a moment the great bear's eyes seemed more full of fear and pain than rage and hunger.  It bolted for escape and the two warriors hurried it on its way with a pair of sword thrusts to the rump.

The Ogres had not lost their taste for blood.  One charged at Scar and was intercepted by an _Acid Arrow_ courtesy of Rhys’ sorcery but it did not slow down.  Its club pounded into the Half-Orc who grunted with pain.  But Scar had not had enough of the battle either and he turned to smash at this latest foe with his hammer.  It struck a solid blow and was followed up by an attack by Marcus the Eagle.

The other wounded Ogre, now having been burnt then frozen and then pummeled snapped out of the Bale-induced rage and made a break for it.  Lazarius fired a volley of _Magic Missiles_ at the retreating giant and felled him in his tracks.

The others converged on the final Ogre, locked in battle with Scar and Marcus.  The great eagle flapped out of reach to ready another swooping dive attack but the Ogre nearly knocked him out of the sky with a bone breaking smash of his club.  Marcus managed a half-hearted slash to the creature’s wrist in return but then fluttered away wounded, deciding to wait until he was in his normal, steel-clad form to do any more fighting.

Rhys nailed the remaining Ogre with another _Acid Arrow_ that brought it to the brink of death before Scar finished the miserable creature with a final blow from Raven’s Revenge.

The night became still again as the shape of the retreating Dire Bear went crashing northward into the darkness.  The silence was broken when Lazarius let out a scream of frustration and fired another volley of _Magic Missiles_ at the bear that proved to be the death blow.  He yelled into the night, “I WANT to GET some SLEEP!  Anybody ELSE want to WAKE ME UP?!...HUH?...I didn’t THINK SO!”

He stormed back to his bedroll and lay down.  Then he lurched up again a moment later, gave the cloak-stuffed backpack that was serving as his pillow a vicious fluffing, punched an indentation for his head and lay down again, letting out a low growl.  The others looked at him, eyes wide, then at each other.  Then they followed his example and tried to get some rest as best they could.

At long last dawn arrived.  The sunrise had never looked so beautiful.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> At long last dawn arrived.  The sunrise had never looked so beautiful.





Ah yes... Nothing quite like the sun's rays reflecting off the gentle waves on the lake of blood.


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Ah yes... Nothing quite like the sun's rays reflecting off the gentle waves on the lake of blood.




Fortunately the scenic vista of their encampment did not overlook the lake of blood.  But I'm sure it would have been pretty. 

This last series of posts brings to a conclusion a Total Rat Bastard (TRB) part of the campaign.  Consider that the last time the party rested prior to this was just before they entered The Maze of Darkness and Fog.  That means that on one set of Hit Points and spells they encountered:

The Half Troll/Barbezu guardians of the Maze
About half a dozen Glyphs of Warding throughout the Maze
The Malephant Guardian
The Forbiddance that repelled them from the Banelar's Sanctum
A complete pack of Blood Ferals
The Bane-shaped Guardian Statues (6 Large Earth Elementals)
Another partial set of Blood Ferals
The Reborn Godling of Murder and Destruction (encounter might be a strong word)
6 Ogres and a Dire Bear

I don't know the CR's involved here (I could figure them out but I'm afraid to) but this was just plain nasty.  It's almost hard to look in the mirror some mornings.

Somehow I manage.


----------



## Belen

Rel said:
			
		

> Fortunately the scenic vista of their encampment did not overlook the lake of blood.  But I'm sure it would have been pretty.
> 
> This last series of posts brings to a conclusion a Total Rat Bastard (TRB) part of the campaign.  Consider that the last time the party rested prior to this was just before they entered The Maze of Darkness and Fog.  That means that on one set of Hit Points and spells they encountered:
> 
> The Half Troll/Barbezu guardians of the Maze
> About half a dozen Glyphs of Warding throughout the Maze
> The Malephant Guardian
> The Forbiddance that repelled them from the Banelar's Sanctum
> A complete pack of Blood Ferals
> The Bane-shaped Guardian Statues (6 Large Earth Elementals)
> Another partial set of Blood Ferals
> The Reborn Godling of Murder and Destruction (encounter might be a strong word)
> 6 Ogres and a Dire Bear
> 
> I don't know the CR's involved here (I could figure them out but I'm afraid to) but this was just plain nasty.  It's almost hard to look in the mirror some mornings.
> 
> Somehow I manage.





You are a godling among Rat Bastard's.  Now, I have been known for throwing some difficult encounters in the way of the party, but I do not think I have ever been so....nasty.

Dave


----------



## Jon Potter

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> You are a godling among Rat Bastard's.  Now, I have been known for throwing some difficult encounters in the way of the party, but I do not think I have ever been so....nasty.
> 
> Dave




And as a player in one of your games let me be the first to say, "Thank you!" followed by, "Don't let Rel give you any ideas!"


----------



## Belen

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> And as a player in one of your games let me be the first to say, "Thank you!" followed by, "Don't let Rel give you any ideas!"





Yet that would defeat the purpose of the DMs Council dinner on Friday.


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> Yet that would defeat the purpose of the DMs Council dinner on Friday.




You show much...promise, young Jedi...


----------



## BSF

Rel, 
Congratulations!  Your Story Hour just passed 10,000 views.  Can't hardly wait to see what happens next.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Rel,
> Congratulations!  Your Story Hour just passed 10,000 views.  Can't hardly wait to see what happens next.




Thanks, BSF.  I noticed we were coming up on that landmark.  I think I'll celebrate the occasion with a new update if that's alright with everybody.  I had a job cancel on me for today and I've got the fruitful combination of being a bit bummed out and having a bit of extra time so I'll try and put it to good use.

Look for an update by tonight.


----------



## Rel

I'll post more in a bit but here's a little teaser of what's coming next...


“We’re going straight to Hell.”

“What?!” asked Lazarius.

“Straight to Hell,” Speaks repeated.

“Speaks is right,” said Marcus as he stretched his badly bruised and aching body.  Still, battered though it was he preferred it to wearing the feathers of the eagle form that Lazarius had just liberated him from. “We know that The City of Endless Summer and Hell are linked near the site of Bane’s Tomb.  That’s where the Shining Lady took Ilrath and the Orcs and they’re not going to last long there without help.”

“Well that’s all well and good of course, but didn’t you just finish telling me that there’s a GOD back there?  An angry, evil, insane god of destruction and murder made of BLOOD!?  He very nearly made us turn on each other with HARSH LANGUAGE, to say nothing of that mace he’s got.”

Marius stepped closer to the others, “Lazarius, I’d agree with you if we were talking about going to fight him.  But we just need to get far enough into the City to make the Teleport to Hell.  Then we find Ilrath and the Orcs and get out of there immediately.”

Cathal said nothing and didn’t need to.  They all knew that he had not come all this way to find Ilrath just to let him perish in Hell.  He stood aside, arms crossed, waiting to find out if he would have to try and find his own way there.

The Imperial War Wizard nodded with resignation.  “Let me prepare my other spells.  Looks like it’s going to be another long day.”

Speaks walked past the bodies of the dead Ogres to relieve himself at the edge of the clearing.  “Uh oh,” he said.  Cathal and Marius hastened over to see what the Druid’s concern was.  Speaks pointed down at the slain Ogres, “Look.”

They saw the bodies were very pale by the morning light and the ground was soaked with blood.  Oddly it was not pooled and soaking into the ground but left long, thin streaks away from the bodies.  As they looked closer they could see it trickle like candle wax moving directly away from the dead Ogres and flowing…north.

“That can’t be good,” said Marius.


----------



## Rel

Another snippet until later this evening:

They broke camp quickly, an easy matter since there was no fire, tents or other niceties.  Speaks transformed the lot of them into avians with his _Feathers_ spell and they began winging their way northwest giving the City a wide berth for the moment.  It was nearly midday before they were at the entrance to the Foundry.

_I’m getting so tired of this place,_ thought Lazarius.  He was beginning to long for the days when they had merely been fighting an army of undead and Dark Druids.  At least that bloody affair was conducted on his native plane of existence.

They flew down into the darkness and alighted on the cold stone floor.  Speaks did some magic and light shone around him providing enough illumination for them to see. Then they took flight down the long, broad tunnel leading into the city.

Although their current mode of travel was far quicker than walking it still left them tired.  They were not used to these forms and their muscles grew weary from the constant flapping of wings.  Many of them were almost eager to return to Hell where they could at least wear their own skins again.

They flew past the ruined gates where they had done battle with the Ogre Guardsmen a lifetime ago and began to notice a strange smell starting to fill the air.  They did not have to wonder long at the source when moments later they found themselves at the edge of a pool of blood that stretched off into the darkness ahead.  They landed on the dry ground at the edge.

Lazarius resumed his human form and stood back away from the blood.  “I guess this is as far as we go.”  His statement may have been rhetorical or not, but either way his companions could not answer.  They stood mutely and watched him with their bird eyes as he began to layer on protective magics.

Nearly a minute passed with the Wizard casting spell after spell.  Marius rolled his songbird eyes in his tiny skull as Lazarius _Alter_ed him_Self_ into a semblance of a demon of some sort.  The Wizard looked down on the bird dismissively, “If I’ve got to go to Hell again, I’m at least going to look like a native!”  He wove one final spell about himself and turned _Invisible_ rendering the point rather moot.

The birds took this as a cue and fluttered into the space the Wizard had occupied, finding perches on his clothing.  With a final incantation they all vanished and…

Were in Hell.


----------



## BSF

Very cool Rel.  I think I vaguely remember some other threads about events around this time frame.  But I don't remember enough detail to have any real idea about what is about to happen.  I'm really looking forward to it.  

Sorry aout the cancelled job, but I'm not really complaining if you are updating your Story Hour because of it.  So long as you don't have too many cancelled jobs...


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Very cool Rel.  I think I vaguely remember some other threads about events around this time frame.  But I don't remember enough detail to have any real idea about what is about to happen.  I'm really looking forward to it.




I'm tempted to call this next part of the campaign "The Beginning of the End" but I'm not sure that's entirely accurate.  The end is in sight for certain but I'm not sure if I'm beginning it now or if I did so a while back.  For certain the appearance of Bale was a turning point of the campaign where things changed from "those pesky Banites are sure a pain in the butt" to "HOLY CRAP!  The world might end!"

Generally speaking I'm not all that hot on the "save the world" style campaigns.  But after a point this story kind of wrote itself and this felt like the only really natural direction for it to flow.  Hopefully the exciting conclusion will be worth the wait.



> Sorry aout the cancelled job, but I'm not really complaining if you are updating your Story Hour because of it.  So long as you don't have too many cancelled jobs...




Thanks.  Being self employed is very liberating in some respects.  But not having a regular paycheck to count on is kind of terrifying at times.  This week has been a bit of a roller coaster with one of the two jobs I had scheduled cancelling just hours in advance, another popping up to take its place and then that one cancelling immediately.  The one I've got tomorrow is still on and hopefully things will pick up in the next few weeks.

But if things stay slow then I'll probably keep updating regularly to let me feel like I got SOMETHING done.  And now that the end is in sight I'm kind of feeling like making a dash for the finish.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> And now that the end is in sight I'm kind of feeling like making a dash for the finish.




Strap on the running shoes, Rel!


----------



## Rel

The Tomb of Bane loomed before them and it had clearly been breached.  Rubble lay strewn around the base of the pyramid of white stone and the top no longer came to a point but was instead an irregular plateau some seventy feet across.  From the center, a thin column of green fire shot skyward into some sort of rip in the sky that hovered a hundred feet above the top of the Tomb.

Knots of demons and devils clustered at the base of the structure and small groups of them were climbing the sides to be met at the top by a small and desperate band of mortals, struggling through the final hours of their lives by fighting the unending minions of Hell.  The party launched themselves at the Tomb, determined to come to the rescue of these heroes who had valiantly come to their aid only a day earlier.

Although nobody saw him at first, Lazarius was the first to come swooping in to land atop the pyramid.  He was shocked and horrified when he suddenly fell from the hot air of Hell to land ungracefully atop the Tomb, visible, unshielded, in his normal form and stripped of all enchantments.  “Uh oh…”

Scar was not far behind and landed no better, tumbling over the rough, broken stones and nursing a fractured rib.  Cathal saw the fate of the Half Orc and angled away from him, hoping that whatever had caused Scar’s flying magic to fail might miss him.  No such luck was to be had as he fell, skipped off the edge of the broken portion of the pyramid and rolled to his feet.

Marius fared slightly better as he slowed his forward motion and when he suddenly resumed human form and fell he managed to roll with the worst of it, suffering only a bad bruise where a stone dug into his back.  Rhys was nearly as nimble and landed between Marius and Scar.  The young Elf looked around in amazement at the bloated purple sky and the desolate damnation that surrounded him.

Speaks and Marcus were jaded tourists of Hell by now and paid no attention to the horrible grandeur that surrounded them, instead focusing on trying to land as painlessly as possible.  Both did a passable job though Speaks fared the worse of the two when he was prematurely forced into human form and dumped on his backside from 15 feet in the air.

Ilrath faced down a demon that had made the top of the Tomb.  It already sported a pair of arrows sticking out of its chest and the blade of the Coritani warrior bit through its shoulder on main strength and sent it tumbling bonelessly down the side of the pyramid.  He spun at all the commotion and grinned at Speaks, “What took you so long?!”

Lazarius shared none of the barbarian’s humor and screamed out over the clangor of battle, “Get everyone over here by Speaks!  NOW!  We’re not staying here!”  He raised his hand toward another demon that was attempting to climb past a pair of Orcs onto the plateau atop the Tomb and spoke words of arcane power.  They hung in the air uselessly as his magic failed him.  “Dammit!”

Cathal moved toward the nearest demon that had made it to the top and was contending with Magdar.  His movement brought him perilously near the jet of green fire that gushed upwards.  As he came near it his blade crackled to life with the electrical energy that normally suffused it.  He waved it over his head and called out, “The magic works here!”

Marius wasn’t relying on magic at the moment.  He spun to his left and sank his rapier into the flank of a demon engaged with an Orc.  The thing died, flopping to the ground and the Orc grimly shoved it over the side with its foot.

Speaks stood and moved toward the center, wary as he approached the green flames.  He looked upwards into the rift and thought he could see the flames being absorbed by something but couldn’t make out exactly what.  He could see what looked to be stone walls framing wherever that place was that the rip led to.

Marcus climbed to his feet and moved toward the nearest edge of the pyramid, looking for evil in need of smiting.  He missed the fact that directly behind him one of the demons had come bounding to within arms reach of Lazarius.  Fortunately Ilrath was not about to let his ride out of Hell come to harm.  He bounded up onto the stone platform where the Wizard stood and cut down his foe in a single stroke of his two-handed sword.

Lazarius would thank him later, if they didn’t all die.  He went scrambling away to try and alert some of the others that they had already overstayed their welcome.  He climbed over the smashed basalt stones that lined the interior of the Tomb calling out to the combatants on the other side of the pillar of fire, “Come ON!  Enough fighting for now!  Come with me if you want to live!”

It seemed that the enemy could sense that they were trying to flee and were coming in larger numbers now.  In ones and twos demons and devils were now scrambling their way onto the top of the pyramid and lashing out with their claws, teeth and spines.  The Orcs stepped up to meet them where they could, afraid that the entire top of the pyramid could be swarmed over if they did not try and keep them from reaching the top.

Cathal moved to slip past the guard of a particularly horrid looking devil, horns protruding everywhere, but his foot slipped on some fragments of stone and he fell at its feet.  The Brigante gritted his teeth and held forth his shield as the devil rained a flurry of pounding strikes down on him.  Armor, shield and determination held and the warrior of the Fodor escaped unharmed.

Nearby, Marius was a dancer of death.  He spun left and right as he caught foes unawares who were already engaged in battle with the Orcs.  His blade drew blood and felled another demon in a pair of swift and deadly strikes.  The only problem was that where one of them died, two more clambered over the edge to take their place.  An instant later, Rhys gave voice to this concern, “Look!”

Those who could spare a moment of attention from the battle followed the Elf’s pointed finger and saw a column, at least a hundred strong, of Hell’s minions marching through the pass that they knew led up from the River of Sorrows and the Bridge of Regret.  In a few minutes they would be at Bane’s Tomb and that would be the end, one way or another.

It was clear to Speaks that they had to get out of there soon but it was equally clear that they were in no position to try and group up on the tiny island of magic at the center of the pyramid.  The spells that would allow them escape could only be used there.  But trying to disengage right now with so many enemies around them would be suicide.  There was only one way they could get a break from the stream of foes that threatened to close in around them.  He charged.

His shillelagh crashed down onto one of the devils as it tried to make it to the top of the pyramid.  Speaks could hear bones crack under the blow but the creature wasn’t finished yet.  At its side was another infernal creature, vaguely reminiscent of those they had fought in the Maze.  Marcus came crashing into it with his mace and the melee dissolved into a battle between raw steel and claws.  Here where magic did not work the battle was intense and without subtlety.

The Orcs were doing their best to battle back the enemy to give them the respite they needed in order to withdraw but the fatigue was starting to tell on them.  Unlike the recently arrived party, they had been holding the top of the Tomb for over two hours.  Now, out of arrows to fire down to soften their targets, things were down to axe versus claw.  The blood of Orcs and demons pooled in the cracks of Bane’s restless resting place.

Lazarius was truly in Hell.  Virtually everything he knew about battle revolved around magic.  And only a small area near the column of green fire allowed it to function here but he couldn’t use it on targets outside that area.  Growling in frustration he reached to his belt.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”  He blew a bit of dust from the firing mechanism of his crossbow and loaded the weapon.

Cathal and Scar found themselves fighting shoulder to shoulder.  Both raged.  The demons and devils that came within their reach paid for their mistake and blood rolled down the white stone of the pyramid before them.  Then to their right one of Magdar’s Orcs went down.  If something didn’t change he wouldn’t be the last.

Rhys climbed atop the center of the pyramid where magic still worked and rolled out his carpet.  Speaks and Marcus moved to join him, making a fighting retreat against the pair of enemies they fought.  Speaks could see one of them about to overtake him when a bolt suddenly sprouted from its chest.

“Ha HA!” Lazarius shouted with glee.  The devil wasn’t dead but at least he hadn’t completely forgotten how to shoot a crossbow.

Scar yelled above the battle, “I must go protect Rhys!  Can you hold them here!?”

In answer, Cathal slashed open the belly of his nearest foe and spun, cleaving into the one that had just killed the Orc.  “GO!”  Scar dashed and climbed aboard the flying carpet ready to embark on whatever foolhardy mission Rhys chose to undertake.

Ilrath landed a devastating blow that struck the head from a demon and sent it bouncing all the way down the side of the pyramid into at throng of others who had gathered at the base.  He could see them baiting each other into being the next to ascend to attack.  _Let them come_, he thought.  _This death is as good as any and better than most._

Marius spotted one Orc who still had arrows remaining.  He watched as an arrow flew from his composite bow and pierced the leg of an approaching demon.  But the demon was not alone.  That archer was about to have trouble and Marius bounded forward to try and hold the attackers off while he plied his bow.

Rhys and Scar shot almost directly upwards.  Rhys was afraid that if he got too far from the green fire that he would lose the magic that held the carpet aloft so he wove a tight spiral around the heatless, green flames.  He aimed for the rift.

Speaks and Marcus were holding one side of the pyramid on their own and were being forced closer and closer to the center.  They exchanged blows with the pair of devils that followed them but neither side landed a telling strike.  Lazarius moved toward the center of the pyramid until his back was a foot from the surging jet of green fire.  He pulled the crossbow into his shoulder and fired, scoring another hit.  Another bolt slammed into the devil that drew ever closer to where he stood but still the creature would not die.

Cathal was now alone and fought all who approached his position.  The latest demon to attack him brought down a claw onto his shield.  Cathal ducked slightly and then shoved the shield up under the creature’s arm and into its chest, shoving it off balance.  It stumbled backwards and fell, picking up speed as it hurtled toward the base of the Tomb.

Magdar fought among his men, doing his best to lend courage to their hearts and strength to their blows.  For months he had pushed them far beyond the limits of mortal endurance, always asking the impossible and always amazed that they seemed to somehow deliver.  It made him sad to think that they would likely all die here this day but he would not show weakness now.  His axe struck and a demon fell.

Ilrath swung at his newest foe and missed badly, overextending himself.  Fighting with this sword was different from the greataxe he was used to but the Shining Lady had given it to him and he would put it down when he was dead.  The devil stepped inside his reach and rammed a claw into his side.  The Coritani tasted blood and knew that something inside him was hurt badly.  He spat blood in the creature’s eyes and fought on.

Marius was slashing at one of the demons as the archer he protected moved from cover to cover behind him, plunking one arrow after another into his enemies.  As he fought, he thought he could feel the Black Dagger calling to him, begging to be used on the souls of his enemies.  It would have to wait.  Never bring a knife to a swordfight.

Speaks and Marcus had retreated to atop the center of the pyramid.  Their side of the plateau was no forfeit to the minions of Hell and all they could do was attack them and hope that they didn’t work their way around the flanks.  One of the two devils they had been fighting came closer to the edge, seeking a way to remain out of the range of their weapons.  The other moved around to the side and leapt atop the center of the pyramid, directly next to the Wizard that had been using him for target practice.

Lazarius stepped back to give himself room and fired point blank at the devil’s chest but his aim failed him this time.  One of the Orcs scrambled up behind the devil and prepared to strike it, knowing that if this Wizard were killed that none of them were going home.  He struck at the creature but his axe slid off its spiny hide.

Cathal pulled a fallen Orc over his shoulder and hurried him over to near where this fighting was taking place, dumping the unconscious Orc at the feet of their shaman who was huddled near the column of fire where his magic would work.  The shaman nodded to the Brigante warrior and went to work on the Orc.

Marius was not taking much damage but he was losing his fight all the same.  Unable to land a precise, lethal blow on any of his enemies, he was starting to become outnumbered and surrounded.  Looking over his shoulder he could see that the rest of the group was starting to concentrate near the center of the pyramid.  It was starting to look like time to leave.

Above the battle a scream of terror pierced the sky and they all looked up to see a horrified Rhys and Scar gripping the edges of their carpet and coming back down from the rift even faster than they went up.  What they had found up there was anybody’s guess.  At this point “horrors beyond imagining” were starting to become routine.

Lazarius cringed as the devil stepped up to him and unleashed a world of pain.  Stripped of his magical defenses, the Imperial War Wizard was an easy target and he paid the price.  Bleeding in at least four places, he scrambled back away from his attacker as fast as he could, clinging desperately to consciousness.

Faring little better was Ilrath.  But unlike Lazarius, pain was a way of life for the Coritani berserker.  Blood soaked spittle flew from his screaming lips as he cut down the devil that had its claws in his chest.  He moved toward the center of the pyramid, not retreating but looking for something else to kill.

The Orcs were now in a full, fighting retreat.  They collectively downed another demon and continued to withdraw toward the center where magic and escape awaited them.  Provided that their Wizard didn’t get himself killed first.

Cathal dashed back into danger to grab another Orc who lay in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life.  No point in coming all this way only to leave a fallen friend behind.  He hurried as best he could toward where the others were gathering.

Marius was the only member of the group still fighting on the edges of the pyramid.  He looked to his left and saw the Orcish archer get ripped to pieces by a pair of demons and knew that it was time to head for the exit.  He spun and delivered a final, deep cut to a devil close at hand and began to backpedal.

Speaks was not much for hand to hand fighting but now that he was in the area where magic functioned he could help in other ways.  He knelt near the Orcish shaman and green magic flowed into the body of one of the fallen Orcs.  The warrior’s eyes fluttered open and Speaks moved to the next one.

Marcus smashed his mace at any of the infernal creatures that came within his reach.  His powerful blows had felled more than one of the demons and devils and the rest seemed reluctant to approach his side of the center column.  That was fine with him so long as the others held their sides and they all got out of here soon.

Lazarius had retreated beyond the immediate reach of the devil that had come after him.  But that left it room to use its own brand of hellish magic.  Its clawed fist dug into a pouch it carried and it hurled a handful of coins onto the black stone and called out, _Summoning_ those whose souls it owned.  Where each coin had landed now stood a hideous, wretched creature that looked as though it were alive and melting.  All of a sudden the pinnacle of the pyramid was crowded and they were surrounded.

It was Lazarius’ turn to strike back now.  Standing in the area where magic worked and with foes in the same place, his hand went to his Haversack where it found the ivory rod that he valued so highly.  His hand stretched out and _Lightning_ erupted all over the peak of the pyramid, erupting with intensity and precision.  The blast destroyed the devil that had attacked him as well as all but one of the _Summoned_ souls it had poured forth.

This seemed to cow most of the other infernal minions who were pressing in around them.  None wished to draw close enough to taste that sort of magic.  That left only Marius outside the safety of the magic zone.

As he scrambled toward the others he was caught from behind by a demon, claws slashing down his back as the creature tried to hug him in a thorny embrace.  Though the Imperial Explorer managed to evade the grasp of the creature, he paid for it in blood.

Marcus dashed out the brains of the only devil to challenge their hold on the center of the pyramid and then spun to smite down the last of the _Summoned_ souls.  That left the party in sole possession of the center of the pyramid and if they could get Marius into the group they might just manage their escape.

Magdar bounded off the top of the raised area at the peak of the Tomb, leapt from another stone block and brought his axe down, two-handed on the skull of the spined demon that pursued Marius.  The creature fell dead and Magdar let out an inhuman shout of triumph.  The few demons and devils that looked on wanted no part of the magic and violence these mortals had to offer and they kept their places at the periphery as human and Orc helped each other back to the top of the pyramid.

Speaks reached out to everyone and cast his _Feathers_ spell once more, reducing them to a flock of small birds.  Lazarius looked around him as the minions of Hell tentatively began to close in on him where he stood at the very top of Bane’s Tomb, silhouetted by a surging pillar of green fire.  He thought to himself, _if I live through this, and if Bale doesn’t destroy the world, I’m going to buy a nice big estate on the north coast of Emor.  On the wall in my living room will be a picture of this scene right here.

It will give my concubines something to marvel at while I’m busy._

Then he vanished from Hell, hoping never to return.


----------



## BSF

Wonderful update Rel!  

Great battle and awesome heroics.  Though Lazarius'comment just before leaving cracked me up.


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> Lazarius looked around him as the minions of Hell tentatively began to close in on him where he stood at the very top of Bane’s Tomb, silhouetted by a surging pillar of green fire.  He thought to himself, _if I live through this, and if Bale doesn’t destroy the world, I’m going to buy a nice big estate on the north coast of Emor.  On the wall in my living room will be a picture of this scene right here.
> 
> It will give my concubines something to marvel at while I’m busy._
> 
> Then he vanished from Hell, hoping never to return.




Hah!

Now *THAT* is what heroes fight for...ale and whores!

~ OO


----------



## Belen

Sweet update.  You definitely have the gift of keeping the heroes on their game.  Now, I am wondering how in the heck they can stop Bale.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Old One said:
			
		

> Now *THAT* is what heroes fight for...ale and whores!




Right! That's my sort of hero!

Great updates, as ever, Rel. Keep them coming.


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> Now, I am wondering how in the heck they can stop Bale.




This was, without question, the big, lingering issue after that session.

It's bad enough having to face down the reborn god of slaughter.  But when he's got an entourage like MC Hammer then it looks a lot like impossible.

But our heroes always manage to pull something out of their collective asses at the critical moment.  (Typically it's the collective boot of their enemy.)  I'm sure they'll be fine.


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> But when he's got an entourage like MC Hammer then it looks a lot like impossible.



<<edit: OK, this made sense when I first though of it...>>

Hmm...fodder for a future DungeonMasterCard commercial?  

Bale: RRRRROOOOAOAOAOAAAAARRRR!
Party: When you need more magic weapons...
*biff, smack, thud, crackle, zap, BOOOM!*
Bale: NNNNNNOOOOOOOooooooooooooo!  *slosh, slosh, trickle*
Marius: "DungeonMasterCard...don't save Emor without it."​


By the way, I'm pretty sure we maxed out our DMCs in the next few episodes...


----------



## Belen

Cathal said:
			
		

> <<edit: OK, this made sense when I first though of it...>>
> 
> Hmm...fodder for a future DungeonMasterCard commercial?
> 
> Bale: RRRRROOOOAOAOAOAAAAARRRR!
> Party: When you need more magic weapons...
> *biff, smack, thud, crackle, zap, BOOOM!*
> Bale: NNNNNNOOOOOOOooooooooooooo!  *slosh, slosh, trickle*
> Marius: "DungeonMasterCard...don't save Emor without it."​
> 
> 
> By the way, I'm pretty sure we maxed out our DMCs in the next few episodes...




Did you guys use bribes?  "Rel...we have a tasty diet soda and sugarfree oreos just waiting for you.  Now where is the sword of god slayer, +9 against gods.  Are there any girls there?"


----------



## Riggs

*SPOILERS* on
Nah BU, we took a long look at Bale and his groupies and decided to get the heck right out of there!  Did Rel not mention we knew of a lass that was a combo of Lucy Liu and Monica Bellucci?!?!    Hey, she has sisters too!  We did the math and figured if Hell was up there, we'd cozy up below and enjoy.    

Rel -LOVED- this climactic conclusion to the epic tale!  

/*SPOILERS* off

Yes, we sternly looked at our grim path before us and struck brave poses and harrumphed boldly.  *Gazes thoughtfully (but bravely) to the east with a look of wonder, joy and horror*


----------



## Rel

Who the flock taught my players to post in color?!


----------



## Belen

Rel said:
			
		

> Who the flock taught my players to post in color?!




The flocking cat, dude.


----------



## Rel

BelenUmeria said:
			
		

> The flocking cat, dude.




Stupid cat...


----------



## Rel

How about a little update to start the weekend off right? 

The group reappeared right at the broken, underground gates of The City of Endless Summer.  Lazarius was afraid to appear any further inside the City because it could well have been that the rising Blood had covered up the location they departed from.  But a brief investigation showed that the Blood had in fact receded out of the hallway entirely.  What that meant was anybody’s guess but nobody was going into the City to follow up on this little mystery.  They began their flight back up the long passage leading to the Foundry.

A couple of hours passed with a few of the Orcs starting to lag behind.  Their tremendous endurance was being pushed beyond all normal limits and it was obvious that they couldn’t continue much longer.  Then the passageway opened into the Foundry with the faint afternoon light trickling down through the gap in the ceiling.  By wordless agreement they all exited through the crevice and turned northward, covering the final distance of their long journey.

They alighted at the entrance to the cave, hoping beyond hope that no foul creature had inhabited it in their absence.  Luck was with them for once and, one by one, they resumed their humanoid forms and staggered inside.  Magdar had his men light a fire and the group gathered around, sharing out whatever rations they had.

Though exhausted, Magdar and the handful of Orcs that remained each thanked the various party members personally for their deliverance.  None wished to discuss the fate that seemed to have been assured for them.  Whether they died in the coming days during the struggle against Bale mattered not.  At least they were not to die atop Bane’s Tomb in Hell.  Magdar himself took the first watch and the others hastily found what comfort could be had in the cold cave and slept the sleep of those who were exhausted now and whose work was far from over.

Speaks came to the edge of the cave at first light to find Marcus there already.  The Warrior of St. Cuthbert peered at the far horizon where the sun rose beyond the Fodor Valley and began to shine its light on the lands of both his parents.  In these dark days it seemed that each new sunrise was a gift all its own, and a challenge to try and stem the rising tide of evil that day.

Speaks did not interrupt the reverie of the younger man.  He too knew how to appreciate the rising sun in silence.  And he too had much to contemplate about how best to use the day.  At last Marcus turned to him and gave a faint smile and a nod.  “Morning.”

Speaks smiled back.  “I need to go see what is happening back at the City.  I’ll probably be gone for at least a couple of hours.  If I’m still gone at sundown, Lazarius should start Teleporting you all back to Hrongar’s Hill.  They are the closest to Bale and his army of Blood.”

Marcus frowned, “Be back by sundown.”  He reached out his hand and clasped that of Speaks.  Then the Druid took a couple steps backwards, became an eagle and flew into the air.  Marcus watched him fly southwards and wished him luck.  Now it was time for his prayers.

He found a dry spot on a nearby rock and turned so that he was no longer looking directly toward the sun as it continued to bring light to the late winter morning.  He drew out his holy symbol and bowed in supplication, drawing upon the faith that would strengthen his soul and empower his magic.  Never had he had so great a need for both.

As he opened his eyes from the final prayers, the day was full of light from more than just the sun.  Before him stood the Shining Lady.  She smiled upon him and he felt the aura of goodness that flowed from her like a wellspring.  And her voice was like that of a mother, stilling fears, dispelling doubts, promising protection.  “Good morning, Shieldbearer.”

His voice seemed to catch in his throat but after a moment he managed to croak out, “Good morning, milady,” as he kneeled and bowed before her.  He felt her hand upon his shoulder and heard that voice again.

“I am neither your Lord nor your master.  If anybody should be bowing, it should be me.  For now let us at least call ourselves equals.  Agreed?”

Marcus rose unsteadily to his feet, looking around and seeing that they were alone outside the cave.  For some reason he was glad of it.  “Very well, milady.”

She smiled at him again.  “As always seems to be the case, I have much to tell you and little time in which to do it.  Perhaps a day will come when we will have a chance to speak under better circumstances.  I hold out hope that such a day will come.”

Marcus did too but held his tongue.  Thus far every word she had ever spoken to him had held great weight.  He would not risk her having to cut short what she had to say by injecting further babble into the conversation.

“Bale now walks the world, trailing behind him those beholden to his Blood.  The time will soon come when he must be stopped.

Understand that there can be no war against him.  His very essence is that of destruction and death.  Every wrongful death feeds him as does every act of destruction.  A prolonged war will only make certain his victory.  Even now the war waging in the south feeds him.

The Orcs in the Empire have nearly ceased their sacrifices and are starting to act like a normal army.  They no longer are attacking unarmed cities to capture those who can be put to the knife on their altars.  Instead they are digging in, hoping to forestall the Imperial Legions until Bale’s army of Blood can turn their attentions away.  But they are a doomed army.

Even now the might of my people, the Celestials, is being turned against them.  And it seems that the forces of Evil are also jealous of Bane’s coup in bringing his brother back to the world.  The dark gods are sending their minions to assail the Orcs as well and reports of Demons and Devils slaughtering them in the night have begun to appear.

But the beings of the planes cannot be the primary instrument in defeating Bale.  He is a god, a minor one yet, but still a god.  And like all the gods he wields the Essence that can command those such as I.  If he focuses his will upon us then we will be his tools to be turned upon the mortals we seek to defend.  I’m afraid that it will be up to your people to destroy this evil.

The first people affected by Bale’s march will be those of your mother.  But they may not be able to withstand his assault.  They have been beset from many sides, within and without.  Worse yet, sometime yesterday the remaining Legions encamped on their southern borders began a march northwards.  They move quickly across the land and it may not be Bale who destroys the last of the Fodor tribes.

These Legions are led by the Macewielder and if they fall upon the warriors of the Fodor then Bale shall have an easy time indeed destroying this world.  It is this sort of unjust killing that feeds him the most.  And he must be struck down before he gains strength.

I can offer you one bit of hope against his might:  There exists a weapon that might prove effective against Bale if it is used soon.  It is known as The Bloodstone Blade and it was last known to lie in the lair of The Dark Dragon who lives in the Dragonmount.”

That name seemed familiar to Marcus but his expression told her that he could not place it precisely.  She came to his aid once more.

“It is the highest peak in the southern part of the Dragontail Mountains.  It rises into the sky above the town of Glynden.”


----------



## BSF

Rel,
You sir, are a rat-bastard.  The macewielder marches on the tribes of Fodor?  And the PCs need to return to Glynden after all this travel so they can have a chance of acquiring a weapon from a dark dragon.  Heh!  I love it.


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Rel,
> You sir, are a rat-bastard.  The macewielder marches on the tribes of Fodor?  And the PCs need to return to Glynden after all this travel so they can have a chance of acquiring a weapon from a dark dragon.  Heh!  I love it.




Thank you, sir! 

I have to say that designing this phase of the campaign was one of the parts I loved the most.  It reminded me that work put into laying the foundations of your campaign is never wasted.  I got to tie in old prophecies, revisit places that the PC's had been earlier in their adventures, let them drop in on old NPC's (as you're about to see) and pull out a few dusty old legends that they hadn't really heard much about in a LONG time.

I still recall the moment of joy when I was puttting together the whereabouts of the Bloodstone Blade.  My internal dialogue was something like this:

_"Hmmm.  Well it needs to be someplace kind of epic.  There's that old tomb that Old One mentions in his intro but it is WAY out east and the party has never been anywhere close to that.  I want this section of the campaign to really move and be exciting so I don't want to take a lot of time breaking in a whole new region.

What about a dragon's lair?  Yeah!  There's that white dragon that the party has an in with and she hates the Banelar.  But then why wouldn't she just give it to them?  That wouldn't be very exciting.  Maybe I could put her under some kind of geas that she has to protect it?  Nah.

Wait a second...I've got another dragon laying around!  The one from the Dragonmount!  He's been up there, looming over Glynden, doing nothing the entire campaign!  Well it's time to dust his lazy ass off and have him be a plot device!  Dragonmount, here they come..."_


----------



## Jon Potter

Well done! That's a nice little bow you've wrapped the campaign up with.

Can we expect to see a certain kobold sorcerer from w-a-a-a-y back in the day?


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Well done! That's a nice little bow you've wrapped the campaign up with.
> 
> Can we expect to see a certain kobold sorcerer from w-a-a-a-y back in the day?




I'll spill the beans a little and tell you that Frakir, the sorceress in question, does not appear in the remainder of our heroes tale.  But her name did come up.

Speaks was thinking that if they needed to bargain with this dragon they should maybe try and obtain the tapestry that the Kobolds had stolen from the Wizard's Tower in Aquae Sulis.  They were fairly sure that it depicted the Dragonmount Dragon and thought it might make a suitable gift.

Alas, the PC's never actually had the tapestry in their clutches and Frakir, per her agreement with the party, had moved her people from the silver mines of Aquae Sulis to parts unknown.  Speaks thought about doing some scrying to try and track her down but decided that since he didn't know exactly where she was (probably in some cave somewhere) he would need Lazarius to help him Teleport there.  Lazarius was going to be quite busy already Teleporting him and everybody else all over hell and gone.  And even if they were successful at finding Frakir and getting the tapestry from her somehow, they were not sure it would be a big enough gift for the Dragon to give up the Bloodstone Blade.

As a result, they dropped the matter.  Further down the line this would have some degree of consequences but I don't recall whether I ever touched on them during the remainder of the campaign.  If I don't mention it again later, remind me and I'll explain further.

And thanks, Jon, for noticing that.  It always makes me feel good when I can tell my player and readers have been paying attention and can connect the dots.


----------



## Belen

Nice update!  It will be nice to see them return to Glynden.

Frakking slow boards today though.  Reminds me of the bad ol' days.


----------



## Rel

Here's a rather short update to set the stage for the next phase of our story.  I'm in a bit of a "writing mood" today so I might post another later this afternoon.

Speaks returned by midday and gave his report:

There was now a gaping rift in the caldera wall of The City of Endless Summer.  The magnitude of the magic that would be required to cause this was terrifying all by itself.  Through the rift flowed a river of blood as it continued to well up from beneath the City.  This river flowed down the mountainside, generally following the path of least resistance and…things…swam in this river.

It was moving quickly and was already nearly two days march from the City.  Whether this was because of the steep slopes of the Blackpeaks or simply because Bale was that fast was as yet unknown.  Either way, he would almost certainly exit the mountains sometime later today and enter the Fodor Valley.  If this pace continued then he could be as far south as Hrongar’s Hill in no more than three or four days.

Speaks had not attempted to get close to the forefront of the advancing river of blood but his eagle eyes had been able to pick out the huge form of Bale as he crossed a meadow further down the mountainside.  He rode the foremost edge of this bloodflow or it somehow flowed into and out of him.  Either way it had the effect of leaving a trail, not unlike that of a snail or slug.  If only he moved so slowly…

Moving along the edges of the River of Blood were the hordes that answered Bale’s call.  Perhaps a couple of hundred primitive looking Orcs, a few dozen Ogres, Trolls, and what Speaks thought may have been some Dwarves all moved down the mountainsides, hastening to catch up to their new master.  The slopes of the mountain were alive with movement as more streamed toward the River to increase these numbers.

The fate of the world was racing ahead of them and the party reeled as they tried to puzzle out what they were going to do.

What was clear was that they needed to bring as much force to bear against Bale as quickly as they could.  That meant spreading the word to their allies and trying to stave off any additional enemies.

It was decided that the entire group would _Teleport_ to Hrongar’s Hill.  From there Lazarius and Marius would go on to Emor and martial whatever reserves they could from the Imperial War Wizards and Senator Gracchus.  Marcus, Rhys and Scar would move south to intercept Lucius Capito and the Legions that he led northwards, hoping to dissuade him from attacking the Fodor Tribes and attempting to kill him if he would not relent.  Speaks would travel east to Great Root in the hopes that the mighty guardian of the Dark Wood could send aid to meet Bale.  Magdar, Ilrath and the remaining Orcs would presumably stay at Hrongar’s Hill and help assist with whatever fortification could be done in the short time they had left.

It was agreed that they could spare no more than a couple of days for these errands before they needed to reunite in Glynden and ascend the Dragonmount.  Now that they had decided on their course of action, each man gathered his belongings in great haste.  It now seemed that every second that slipped by was a precious thing that demanded to be used in some way that might be meaningful.

They were ready in a handful of minutes and were gathered outside the cave entrance.  Speaks used his _Feathers_ spell to transform them all into avian form and they fluttered to perch on the arms, shoulders and even head of Lazarius.  The Wizard rolled his eyes.  What a way to travel!

He spoke the word of power that would carry them hundreds of miles in an instant and they left behind the cold, dark desolation of the Blackpeaks for the desperate uncertainty of the south and east.


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> Here's a rather short update to set the stage for the next phase of our story.  I'm in a bit of a "writing mood" today so I might post another later this afternoon.
> 
> Speaks returned by midday and gave his report:
> 
> There was now a gaping rift in the caldera wall of The City of Endless Summer.  The magnitude of the magic that would be required to cause this was terrifying all by itself.  Through the rift flowed a river of blood as it continued to well up from beneath the City.  This river flowed down the mountainside, generally following the path of least resistance and…things…swam in this river.
> 
> It was moving quickly and was already nearly two days march from the City.  Whether this was because of the steep slopes of the Blackpeaks or simply because Bale was that fast was as yet unknown.  Either way, he would almost certainly exit the mountains sometime later today and enter the Fodor Valley.  If this pace continued then he could be as far south as Hrongar’s Hill in no more than three or four days.
> 
> Speaks had not attempted to get close to the forefront of the advancing river of blood but his eagle eyes had been able to pick out the huge form of Bale as he crossed a meadow further down the mountainside.  He rode the foremost edge of this bloodflow or it somehow flowed into and out of him.  Either way it had the effect of leaving a trail, not unlike that of a snail or slug.  If only he moved so slowly…
> 
> Moving along the edges of the River of Blood were the hordes that answered Bale’s call.  Perhaps a couple of hundred primitive looking Orcs, a few dozen Ogres, Trolls, and what Speaks thought may have been some Dwarves all moved down the mountainsides, hastening to catch up to their new master.  The slopes of the mountain were alive with movement as more streamed toward the River to increase these numbers.
> 
> The fate of the world was racing ahead of them and the party reeled as they tried to puzzle out what they were going to do.
> 
> What was clear was that they needed to bring as much force to bear against Bale as quickly as they could.  That meant spreading the word to their allies and trying to stave off any additional enemies.
> 
> It was decided that the entire group would _Teleport_ to Hrongar’s Hill.  From there Lazarius and Marius would go on to Emor and martial whatever reserves they could from the Imperial War Wizards and Senator Gracchus.  Marcus, Rhys and Scar would move south to intercept Lucius Capito and the Legions that he led northwards, hoping to dissuade him from attacking the Fodor Tribes and attempting to kill him if he would not relent.  Speaks would travel east to Great Root in the hopes that the mighty guardian of the Dark Wood could send aid to meet Bale.  Magdar, Ilrath and the remaining Orcs would presumably stay at Hrongar’s Hill and help assist with whatever fortification could be done in the short time they had left.
> 
> It was agreed that they could spare no more than a couple of days for these errands before they needed to reunite in Glynden and ascend the Dragonmount.  Now that they had decided on their course of action, each man gathered his belongings in great haste.  It now seemed that every second that slipped by was a precious thing that demanded to be used in some way that might be meaningful.
> 
> They were ready in a handful of minutes and were gathered outside the cave entrance.  Speaks used his _Feathers_ spell to transform them all into avian form and they fluttered to perch on the arms, shoulders and even head of Lazarius.  The Wizard rolled his eyes.  What a way to travel!
> 
> He spoke the word of power that would carry them hundreds of miles in an instant and they left behind the cold, dark desolation of the Blackpeaks for the desperate uncertainty of the south and east.




Nice set-up...looking forward to the "end game".

~ OO


----------



## Rel

As promised...

They appeared in the usual place atop Hrongar’s Hill.  The place was bustling with activity but those passing by clearly were astonished to see Lazarius appear from nowhere with a dozen birds sitting all over him.  They were no less amazed when Speaks, Scar, Rhys, Marcus, Cathal, Ilrath and Marius fluttered one by one to the ground and resumed their normal forms.  By earlier agreement, Magdar and his Orcs retained their bird forms until it could be explained to Urdrax that they were not hostile.

Marcus, Scar and Rhys crowded onto the Magic Carpet and gave a quick wave to the others as they ascended into the sky and began to head southwards.  Marcus did not really know either of these two men, though he had heard Speaks speak fondly of them.  Marcus decided that if they were going to be risking their lives against Bale that it would serve him well to get a better sense of them.  He cried above the wind, “You have my thanks for taking me on this errand with your carpet.”

Rhys gave a wry smile and yelled back, “Don’t thank me.  Thank the King of Sythia.”

Marcus thought this odd, he responded, “Do you serve him?”

Rhys smiled and shook his head, “Not exactly.”

Marcus was even more confused now, “Then why should I be thanking him?”

Rhys continued to smile, “He’s the one I stole the carpet from!”

Marcus was taken aback.  Thievery was not something he approved of but he was in little position to complain about it now since this bit of larceny was helping him carry out his mission as well as the fact that it was a long way to the ground.  He still couldn’t help but respond in a disapproving tone, “I would imagine that the King is rather mad about that.”

The elf laughed, “Not half as mad as he was when his daughter rode away with me on the carpet!”

*******************

Lazarius and Marius needed to be on their way as well.  They exchanged a last batch of well wishes to the others before the Wizard reached out and gripped Marius’ arm.  Since he only had one passenger to transport the weight was manageable and it was not necessary for Marius to be in bird form.  Lazarius was just as glad since he didn’t relish teleporting into the Imperial War College looking like some sort of mad ornithologist.  They vanished from Hrongar’s Hill leaving Speaks, Cathal and Ilrath to move uphill toward Urdrax’s Mead Hall.  The small flock of birds that had arrived with them fluttered up to rest on the ridgepole of the lodge.

They mounted the steps of the Mead Hall to be informed by the guards that Urdrax and Hrothan were not there.  They were down at the southern edge of the hill meeting with the Suevi.  Speaks and Cathal exchanged glances at this.  Last they’d heard Relmar, chieftain of the Suevi, had been steadfastly against moving his people out of their ancestral lands.  Perhaps the marching Legions of Emor had changed his mind.

They descended the hill and exited the palisade.  They could see that it was being strengthened and expanded all down its length.  Whether that would do any good against Bale and his minions was anybody’s guess.

They entered the Suevi encampment and made for the chieftain’s pavilion located near the center.  The guards outside stopped them but recognized all three men a moment later.  They were openly astonished to see Ilrath had returned but held their questions and instead stepped inside to announce them.  A moment later they were all brought into the large tent.

Inside, seated on mats on the floor were Urdrax of the Brigantes, Hrothan of the Corritani, Seshmarl of the Allmani and Scipio the Dire Mountain Lion.  A scattering of maps littered the floor in the middle of the group.  They all stood and warmly greeted the tribesmen and the Druid.  There was clearly much to talk about but Speaks did not wish to have to repeat himself to those not present.  “Where is Relmar?  Are the Nervii coming?”

The others exchanged somewhat nervous glances.  Urdrax answered the second question first, “The Nervii are marching south to our aid and should be here by tomorrow.”

It was Scipio who answered the first question, “Relmar is dead.  I killed him.”

“WHAT?!” cried Speaks.

“He refused to take a course of action that would preserve our people.  I challenged him for leadership of the tribe and I killed him in single combat.  I am now the chieftain of the Suevi.  I have adopted the name Uthreld.”  Silence filled the tent in the wake of the great cat’s announcement.

Speaks was stunned as his mind raced to catch up to the consequences of this development.  As his brain closed the gap another question rose to his lips, “What about Orthula and…her son?”

Uthreld turned his gaze away from Speaks, “She fled.  I tried to make her understand that my quarrel was not with her and that she and her son were welcome to continue to share my lodge.  But she left that night and has not been seen since.  She took the boy with her.  I think she will be safe from the Legions.  A woman and baby, particularly a woman with her skills, will attract little attention.”

Speaks sank to the ground, speechless for now.  Urdrax sought to fill the awkward silence, “What news from the north?”

Cathal and Ilrath looked at one another.  Cathal addressed his chieftain, “None that is good.  I think we should sit and have food and ale brought in.  There is much to tell…”


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> The elf laughed, “Not half as mad as he was when his daughter rode away with me on the carpet!”




Hah!  I almost spit soda out my nose on that one!

~ OO


----------



## Rel

Since it's been over a week since I posted I figured that I should at least give a heads-up.  This has (thankfully) been a busy work week for me and that will continue through tomorrow.  I should be able to update the Story Hour on Friday though.  Looking forward to it.  When I'm denied time to write because of work I start jonesing for it.


----------



## Rel

Marcus could see the column of Legionnaires stretching out behind the banners that were in the vanguard.  There were doubtlessly Imperial Scouts scattered out in front of the Legions but they were not as easily visible as the mass of men that stretched over the next hilltop in front of them.  Still, something looked…odd about the Emorian soldiers.  It was impossible to tell what it was from this distance but the way they moved and the colors worn were just a bit off.

Rhys slowed the Carpet and Marcus asked him to descend.  They landed behind a copse of trees and climbed off the magical conveyance, stretching their legs from the hours they’d spent in the air, hunched together on the small rug.  Scar stepped to the edge of the trees and, no evil altars being handy, relieved himself on an unsuspecting shrub.

The Elf addressed the Human, “So it looked like maybe a couple of thousand men down there.  What if they decide that they don’t like us?”

Marcus unstrapped the Shield from his back and affixed it to his arm where it glittered in the sunlight, impossibly unblemished from hard fighting.  “I’m going to appeal to Brother Lucius’s sense of honor and duty as a long serving devotee to St. Cuthbert.  I know that you’ve had some bad experiences with him in the past but he is a man dedicated to the Law and I believe that he will relent when he sees the injustice of his actions.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah…but what about when that doesn’t work?”

Marcus gave the irreverent Elf a sidelong glance that was impressive in its ability to convey that, while he did not appreciate the lack of faith, Marcus too shared some doubts about whether Capito would halt his march on the tribes of the Fodor.

Rhys, who was no slouch in the sidelong glance department, appreciated the effort.  He nodded, “I’ll keep the Carpet handy.”

With the Elf’s reservations stated, the Human’s Shield strapped on and the Half-Orc’s bladder empty, there seemed little else to do but stroll down the hill and confront the army of thousands that awaited them.

They paused just inside the far edge of the copse to look at the oncoming troops.  The column was moving very quickly given the lack of roads.  And it appeared that the troops were spread out across a wider rank than was standard.  Marcus figured that this was to keep from muddying the ground so badly for the troops behind.

At the head of the column, right next to the Imperial Crest and the Legionary Insignia was the banner depicting the Cross of St. Cuthbert.  Marcus swore inwardly that if Capito had been corrupted by Bane that he would not carry that banner another step into the Northlands.  He strode forth out of the trees to cover the last few hundred paces to the vanguard.  Rhys and Scar followed a few steps behind, tense and ready for danger.

Hands went up from those on horseback at the head of the column and the troops behind halted.  This process continued back along the line of troops as the column contracted like a spring.

Marcus could see as he drew closer that those at the head of the column held their pila and wore their gladii at their belts.  But they wore no armor.  And they looked tired from their march.

Lucius Capito *was* wearing his armor and as he broke from the vanguard to ride over and meet Marcus, his hand held the Mace.  It held a certain radiance similar to the Shield but every angle on it spoke of its purpose:  To smite.

“Hail, Brother,” called Marcus though his voice held little brotherly love.

“Hail, Brother,” Capito said in return.  He reined his horse in some dozen paces from Marcus.  Close enough to hear him speak but not without speaking loudly.

Marcus decided that he would rather have Capito react to his words than the other way around, “Brother Lucius, as we speak a great Evil walks the earth to the north.  It is the reborn brother of Bane.  His name is Bale and he is destruction incarnate.

Even now, he moves south toward the valiant peoples of the Fodor Valley.  They intend to oppose him and they do not need the Imperial Legions seizing their homelands as they provide a bulwark between Bale and the lands of the Empire.

In the name of Justice, I ask that you order these Legions to cease their march upon these proud people and return to their fortifications on the shores of the Crescent Sea.  And if you would do the will of our Lord then come with me and stand against Bale.”  Marcus braced himself for the Inquisitor’s response.

“Your words strike hard upon my faith, Brother Marcus.  I will not ask these men to return to their fortress in the south.  Look upon their faces.  They are tired and hungry and footsore.  They have come far, fast and it shall not be for nothing.  Our destiny lies here, in the Fodor Valley.

But we do not come as conquerors as your words rudely suggest.  You forget that I too serve as a Hand of our Lord.  I am guided by him and it was he who showed me that I must take those men who would follow me and march north.

We have come to fight alongside the warriors of the Fodor, not against them.  We come to fight Bale.”


----------



## Belen

Awesome.  I was expecting this guy to turn evil and suddenly he becomes and ally.  That rocks.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

> We have come to fight alongside the warriors of the Fodor, not against them. We come to fight Bale.”




Cries all round for sense motive checks?


----------



## Riggs

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Cries all round for sense motive checks?





A few eyebrows were raised.  And don't forget the prophecy regarding the wielders of the mace and shield. We all suspected the "other guy"    

Without spoiling anything, I can say I was pleased with how Capito played out, and we were relieved when he said he was there to help, since we were thinking we were about to get our behinds handed to us in a most unkind manner from Bale.


----------



## Rel

Riggs said:
			
		

> Without spoiling anything, I can say I was pleased with how Capito played out, and we were relieved when he said he was there to help, since we were thinking we were about to get our behinds handed to us in a most unkind manner from Bale.




I really came to like this NPC during the course of these two campaigns.  He's a great example (in my mind anyway) of an NPC who is steadfastly pursuing his own agenda and sometimes it helps you out and sometimes it is a big pain in the butt.

On the update front, the only job I had scheduled for this week (tomorrow) just got cancelled so I'll be posting then.  Fortunately next week is going to be very busy and should offset my slack week this week.


----------



## BSF

Short update, but very nice Rel!  I was kinda hoping Capito would be bringing reinforcements.  Hopefully, it will turn out well.  

I love the games where the actions of the PCs force everyone to change plans and adjust to accomodate what the PCs just did, or didn't do.  It seems like this stage of the game is where all the work from earlier is starting to provide dividends for the PCs.


----------



## Rel

Ahead on the horizon the towering oaks of Great Root’s Grove formed a bulge in the even canopy of the Darkwood.  Spring was coming on and the treetops were becoming alive with a pale green that almost seemed to make them glow.  It was as if the land was oblivious to the darkness that stalked the world to the west.

Speaks alighted among the treetops and immediately noted that something was amiss.  The birds were not singing as loudly as was typical and he did not see so many flickers of movement as the squirrels and deer scampered around the edges of the Grove.  It felt abandoned.  Speaks’ pulse raced as he flitted from perch to perch looking for some sign of what had happened.

His eagle eyes picked out some telltale gouges in the earth and he flew down to the ground to inspect them.  After a few minutes of close scrutiny he determined that Great Root had left heading west and a large number of animals were with him.  Was he fleeing something or did he know of Bale’s return?  Only one way to know for certain.  Speaks took to the air once more.

It was nearly sundown when he saw the herd of animals moving westward.  In their midst Great Root’s crown swayed back and forth with his lumbering stride.  The other trees improbably never quite seemed to be in the way of his huge, oaken branches.  But that was one of the benefits of the close ties he and Speaks both shared with the land.  Speaks alighted nearby and resumed his human form.

The other animals continued to move while Great Root paused to greet his friend and ally, “I was hoping I might see you again before we go to our fate.”

“So you know about Bale?” speaks asked.

“The Destroyer walks the land again, as he did when my father’s father’s father was but an acorn.  It is a terrible responsibility that has befallen our generation my young friend.  And yet I would wish it on no other.”

Speaks felt the sense of calm pervade him as it always did when in the presence of the Guardian of the Darkwood.  “I had come to tell you of Bale’s return and to seek your aid if you would lend it.  I should have known that you would already be moving to stop such a force of death.”

“I shall do what I can.”

“We will need whatever aid you can lend.  The Tribes of the Fodor are thin in number after last years war with the Orcs.  And their Shamans lack much of their strength when outside their tribal boundaries.  I wish I could make them understand how to embrace the whole of the Wild instead of only the aspects represented by their totems.”

The bark on Great Root’s face furrowed.  “It may soon be that they have no choice my friend.  I have foreseen something terrible that may come to pass before this conflict is over.”

“What is it?”

“We shall discuss it later my friend.  It shall happen or it shall not happen but it is not something that you or I can change.  And so it is best that we put our strength to the things that we can change.”

“What you say is true, Great Root.  And there is little enough time to do the few things that can most make a difference.  Let me tell you a few things of which I have need…”

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

As dawn broke the following morning, Speaks awoke to the swaying motion where he rode among Great Root’s branches.  The Treant Druid stopped to let the human down and bade him goodbye.

Speaks thanked Great Root for his aid and reverently held in his hands the crown of thin, oak branches that had been given to him.  He gently placed it upon his head and walked over to a nearby oak tree.  He turned back to Great Root once more, “I will tell them to expect you at Hrogar’s Hill within three days.  They will be glad of your aid, great one.”

“I come as fast as my old limbs will carry me, friend.  I will be there.”

Speaks turned back to the oak and closed his eyes.  He stepped forward toward the _Tree_ and with a single _Stride_ he vanished to reappear far to the west amid a copse of trees.  He could hear chopping noises downhill and moved to the edge of the clearing.

An army was encamped in front of Hrongar’s Hill!  Imperial Legionary Banners flew next to a pavilion and all along the edge of the woods Legionnaires stood shoulder to shoulder with Fodor Tribesmen as they cut trees for the palisade.  For a brief moment Speaks cringed at the thought of the hundreds of young trees that were being cut down.  But their lives were sacrificed for a just cause and this was no time to start that argument.

He transformed into an eagle and flew the final half mile up onto the Hill.  He went straightaway to Udrax’s Mead Hall where he found the Chieftains, including Uthreld, in consultation with Marcus and Lucius Capito as well as a couple other men in the livery of Legion officers.  All of them looked to the Druid for news and he did not keep them waiting, “Great Root comes and he brings the creatures of the forest to fight along side him.  They should be here within three days.”

The others gave each other worried glances.  Marcus spoke for them, “It will be close but that should be in time.”  Turning back to Speaks, Marcus addressed their personal mission, “I am hoping that the others will have returned here by this afternoon that we may depart for Glynden.”

Speaks nodded.  “I have a few things that must be done before that.  I will be in the forest to the west if you need me.”

Marcus returned the nod and went back to leaning over the maps laid before the collected soldiers.

Speaks made his way into the forest and sat down with his back to a tree.  He took out a quill and a small vial of ink and in just a few minutes had written a handful of short notes.  His magic called out to the birds of the forest and as each came to him he tied the small notes to their feet and released them into the air.  Two flew west, two east, one south.  All carried a plea for help from old friends and enemies.

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

Bale came south and his minions flocked behind.  The constant bellowing had stopped.  He was out of the Blackpeaks now and the creatures of this land did not answer the call of his blood.  Instead they fled before him not needing to hear his malevolent voice to sense the coming evil.

The godling came within sight of the first Nervii village at sundown.  Aside from a few stray chickens the livestock was gone and there was not a human in sight.  But one never knew when there might be a stubborn farmer or lost child cringing in some shed or barn.  And even if he knew that not a sole remained in the village he would still tear it to splinters.  It was what he did.

A boulder came loose and rolled down a nearby hillock.  A moment later there was a rumbling from deep within the earth and the entire hill began to tremble and shake.  Bale stopped in front of it.

Before him the ground rose up and began to take the shape of some sort of four-legged creature.  It continued to rise until it stood some 30 feet high, just taller than Bale.  The form refined itself into that of a huge wolf made of earth and stone.

_It has been many seasons since you walked the land, Destroyer.  Your absence has not been cause for grief and you will not be missed when you are gone again.  Hate is all you sow and hate is all you shall reap.

I know that you are no more capable of turning away from me than water is of running uphill.  So come at me and let us see who shall prevail and who shall be destroyed._

A deep laughter came from Bale’s throat of blood.  He drew himself up just a bit taller than the Spirit of the Land.  _You know me too well, Wolf Spirit.  Hate me as you like, you have still seen your last of this world!_  Bale charged.

The Spirit of the Land knew this would happen and ducked under Bale’s swing.  Earthen jaws brought giant teeth of stone closing around Bale’s torso and began to clamp shut.  But the Blood that made up his body was not so easily harmed or seized.  

With a howl of hateful triumph, Bale brought his Black Mace down onto the side of the Spirit’s head.  He would have encountered no more resistance if he had struck at a shadow and the ebony sphere drove through the Spirit’s head and emerged from the other side.  The world stopped in shock for an instant before the earthen wolf collapsed into so much loose stone and dirt.

Bale’s blood sang with the destruction of so powerful a force.  If each Spirit challenged him as he entered its lands, he would soon be invincible!  He raised his voice to the sky and screamed his defiance.  Not to any purpose.  Not for any gain.  He screamed his triumph for the same reason he did everything.

Because he could.


----------



## Funeris

Nice update Rel


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

> Hate is all you sew




Cross-stitch I presume   .


----------



## Rel

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Cross-stitch I presume   .




Is it "sew" or "sow"?  I typed the latter first but I changed it when I became afraid that it might be interpreted as a female pig.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Is it "sew" or "sow"?  I typed the latter first but I changed it when I became afraid that it might be interpreted as a female pig.




It's "sow".

As in: 

To scatter (seed) over the ground for growing.
To impregnate (a growing medium) with seed.
To propagate; disseminate: sow rumors. 
To strew or cover with something; spread thickly.

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> It's "sow".




Well then I fixed it.

And when you're dealing with Bale, knowing is considerably less than half the battle.


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> And when you're dealing with Bale, knowing is considerably less than half the battle.





OW-ing, on the other hand, is more than half the battle.


----------



## Riggs

Cathal said:
			
		

> OW-ing, on the other hand, is more than half the battle.




You got that right.


And "drat" I say, on not getting on in time to catch the Sew smackage.  Ah well, I got to nail a person for "choosen" and "must" instead of "most" at work today.  

I refuse to lose, though once a week I have refuse to lose...on my curb.


----------



## Darklone

Hellow everyone, in the next few months I will finally have enough free time to read all the nice storyhours I missed 

Said in different words: PhD exam done and finished for good


----------



## Rel

Darklone said:
			
		

> Hellow everyone, in the next few months I will finally have enough free time to read all the nice storyhours I missed
> 
> Said in different words: PhD exam done and finished for good




Well I'd say that there's a very good chance that you'll come back in time to read "Rel's Completed Faded Glory Story Hour" then.

It's good to hear from you, Darklone.  And good luck finishing that PhD up.


----------



## gerg_861

Just a quick FG bump from someone that is really looking forward to finding out how this ends!


----------



## Rel

gerg_861 said:
			
		

> Just a quick FG bump from someone that is really looking forward to finding out how this ends!




It won't be too long before the end.  The last week has been crazy busy for me and so was the weekend since I was busy with Game Day where...I got to play an adventure set in Old One's Faded Glory setting!     I had a blast playing Brandis Tolhart the sneaky Halfling Scout.  There were Sythian warriors, Fire Witches and Giant Scorpions galore.  We very nearly lost our elven archeress to the Huge Scorpion conjured by a Fire Witch but thanks to Brandis and Vercinius of Osirian (I might have spelled that name right) played by our very own Riggs, we smacked down the Witch and poof went the Scorpion!

My schedule this week starts out hectic and finishes up light so I should be able to update by the end of the week.


----------



## Rel

Marius could tell that the mood was tense within Senator Gracchus’ villa.  From what he had gathered the initial chaos of the Orcish Invasion of Emor had now moved from the “utter panic” phase, through the “desperate marshalling of resources” phase and was now settling in flux somewhere between “mourning the countless dead” and “recriminations and blame laying with a strong eye toward political gain” phases.  It was almost enough to make one long for the simple desperation of doing battle against the demon-hordes of Hell.  At least you knew where you stood with them.

At long last he was admitted to see the Senator.  Gracchus looked tired and was fairly short tempered with his staff but managed a smile at Marius.  “Sit down, my friend.  I haven’t much time but I anxiously await whatever news you can bring from the north.”

Marius wondered whether this man truly considered him a friend or merely a political tool, a stance that many others had adopted of late.  Regardless, they were allies for the time.  “The tidings from the north are ill, Senator.  Bane has broken free of his tomb in Hell but instead of returning to his place among the gods he has brought his brother, Bale, back to life.  Bale is rampaging south toward the barbarian lands and I don’t think he plans to stop there.”

The Senator frowned, “Yes, I’d heard something of this from the Senate Liaison from the Church of St. Cuthbert.  Is it really as bad as they say?”

Marius was dumbfounded but had to remind himself that this man dealt primarily with earthly, bureaucratic matters, not the prehistoric, reborn, brethren of dead gods, “Sir, he is a force of destruction the likes of which has not been seen since before the dawn of the Empire.  He drinks in death and destruction like mothers milk and the very sound of his voice inspires murder in the hearts of men.  I know.  I’ve felt it.  If he crushes the barbarians and finds his way south then our nation will live or die at his whim.”

Senator Gracchus stared in amazement, his mind just not quite capable of comprehending a force that could not be legislated away or defeated by the Imperial Legions.  “Well…what should we do?  We’ve already got a hostile army on our nation’s soil!  Can this thing be killed?!”

Marius was pleased that at least the Senator seemed to want to help.  From the sound of things all that Flavius, acting on his father’s behalf, was doing was being glad that it was the barbarians and not his people who were being hit by Bale.  “We’re going to fight him.  In the Northlands before he gets any further south.  The Fodor Tribes are making a stand and my friends and I plan to stand with them.  If you can send any aid at all then it would help.  It may be a futile gesture but Bale is only going to grow stronger with each passing battle.  If he defeats us there then there is little hope that you’ll triumph over him later.”

Gracchus’ eyes narrowed in concentration.  “I’m not sure that there is much aid I can offer.  It is too far for the Legions to be deployed there quickly and we’ve concentrated all our efforts on taking them OUT of the Northlands.  We’re simply in no position to have them go back.  I might be able to pull some strings with those at the Imperial War College to have some War Wizards get up there to aid in the battle.  Beyond that I’m not sure I can offer any sort of help.”  The Senator’s eyes darted back and forth as he struggled to think of other resources that could be brought to bear.

_At least he’s trying_, thought Marius.  _It’s more than I can say for most of the Senate_.  “Whatever you can send would be helpful, sir.  As to the War College, I’ve got a friend there right now who’s trying to get help and hopefully he’ll have some luck…”

***************

Lazarius was having no luck at all getting aid from the War College.  He’d managed to browbeat a junior Supply Clerk into opening the vault on the basis that Chancellor Felix was his mentor but he’d found it nearly stripped of useful magic items.  A few scrolls and a half-charged wand were all he had managed to gain.  The War College was very nearly abandoned with every apprentice who could conjure a _Ray of Frost_ having been sent to aid in the battle against the Orcs.

Lazarius knew in his bones that this was no coincidence.  The timing was too perfect.  If the Legions had not invaded the Northlands to attack the barbarians then they’d have been able to repel the Orc invaders with relative ease.  And that would have freed up a great many resources to bring against Bale.

And who had made the decision to invade the Northlands?  Flavius.  And who was his closest advisor?  Senator Pontius.  Who was married to…Solvaria.

Lazarius sat in the College Library, head in hands.  “That greedy, power-hungry bitch I call my sister is going to destroy the entire Empire, if not the world!”  He banged his fist on the table in frustration and stopped himself before he did it a second time.

_DO NOT strike that table again.  It is a useless gesture and a waste of time.  Focus yourself like you were trained to do.

Now:  What is my primary objective?  Find a way to stop Bale.

Is there anything I can use from here that will help that cause?  No material aid and little chance that I’ll be able to round up more than a token force from among the Chancellors.  That leaves information._

Lazarius stood from the chair and walked toward the large desk that sat empty at the center of the Library.  He began searching the Index volumes that sat atop it looking for any reference he could find to the Bloodstone Blade…

*********

Lazarius sat hunched behind a heap of discarded books and absently reached his hand out to grasp the mug that sat at the corner of the table.  His eyes scanned the text before him as his fingers noticed that his coffee was cold yet again.  For the third time that night he performed a bit of _Prestidigitation_ that would heat the liquid up again as he brought it to his mouth.  The liquid never passed his lips as he sat the mug back down again with his attention focused firmly on the page in front of him.

_And so it was that an orphaned boy journeyed into the East and a hardened man returned.  His armor had been fashioned by the Novantae Dwarves in payment of his aiding their battle against the Fiend of Ghul Mithrak.  On the breast was the blazing symbol of his Lord, Pelor.

At his side hung his mace, a weapon that shone with light from within, forged from the strange, enchanted glass that made up the Plain of Glittering Stone.  He wielded it with pride as its inner light inspired allies who fought beside him and laid waste to the unliving.  But on this, his journey back to the West he had but one ally.

Hanging at his other hip he carried The Bloodstone Blade, taken from the hands of the Stone Sentinel that guarded the Tomb of the Shadowlord.  Whether he had gone inside or not is a tale that has never been told but he returned to the West a changed man.  A man set to right the wrong done to his people in his youth and to bring justice to a creature who had reigned in terror for so long.

None but he was there to see the battle unfold and he was not a man to brag of such deeds.  But when he came down from the Dragonmount, he no longer carried the Bloodstone Blade and the Dragon did not trouble those lands for generations to come.

With his people avenged, Cuthbert of Pelor left behind his homelands and moved south to champion a new people, the people of Emor, against the many foes that beset the Empire in its youth…_


----------



## BSF

Rel, that is beautifully done.  I very much enjoy the flavor you have in this update.  Mind you I am not saying that other updates have been without flavor, I am simply saying that this update is very nicely done in a very nicely written story hour.

Thanks!


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Rel, that is beautifully done.  I very much enjoy the flavor you have in this update.  Mind you I am not saying that other updates have been without flavor, I am simply saying that this update is very nicely done in a very nicely written story hour.
> 
> Thanks!




Thank you kind sir.

These last few updates I wanted to show that each and every member of the party had grown into somewhat of a political force in his own right.  As I explained to the players, the time of heroes is long past.  The empire is very much in decline and is rotten at its core.  The members of their party are the best the world has to offer against the force that is Bale and if he is to be stopped then they are going to have to play every card in their hands.

I was very pleased to see them going back to old friends and allies to bring every bit of strength to bear against a seemingly impossible enemy.

But the time for talk is over and the time of action has begun.  Next you'll see them ascend the Dragonmount to unlock a secret that has laid fallow since the Empire was young and vibrant.  I'm looking forward to writing it.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

And I'm looking forward to reading it. It's good to see this storyhour still going strong.


----------



## Rel

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> And I'm looking forward to reading it. It's good to see this storyhour still going strong.




It's also good to still have readers like you, E-B.  It seems like I haven't seen you around as much lately as I used to.  Am I looking in the wrong places?


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

My thoughts merely echo the words of BardStephenFox and Elder-Basilisk. So I'll just say ... um ... well nothing else actually   .

Keep up the good work, Rel.


----------



## Funeris

Aye, and I will echo all of the prior sentiments as well.  Great job Rel.


----------



## Rel

Thank you guys for the props.  It makes writing the story a bit more enjoyable when you know that others are enjoying it.

This coming work week is going to be crazy busy for me so I might try and get an update out before the end of the weekend.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> This coming work week is going to be crazy busy for me so I might try and get an update out before the end of the weekend.




Then by all means: write, man! Write!

I can't wait to see how this plays out.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

These days, I'm spending more time working to pay the bills and less time procrastinating on my thesis at the computer . That means less time on ENWorld in general, and some of that has been over in the Rogue's Gallery 100NPCs thread.



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> It's also good to still have readers like you, E-B.  It seems like I haven't seen you around as much lately as I used to.  Am I looking in the wrong places?


----------



## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> It won't be too long before the end.  The last week has been crazy busy for me and so was the weekend since I was busy with Game Day where...I got to play an adventure set in Old One's Faded Glory setting!     I had a blast playing Brandis Tolhart the sneaky Halfling Scout.  There were Sythian warriors, Fire Witches and Giant Scorpions galore.  We very nearly lost our elven archeress to the Huge Scorpion conjured by a Fire Witch but thanks to Brandis and Vercinius of Osirian (I might have spelled that name right) played by our very own Riggs, we smacked down the Witch and poof went the Scorpion!
> 
> My schedule this week starts out hectic and finishes up light so I should be able to update by the end of the week.




Just wanted to pop in and say how much fun it was to see Rel back as Brandis Tollhart, halfling scout extra-ordinaire.  This is the second time I have had the pleasure of DMing Rel in a Faded Glory 1-shot...and I must say he definitely elevates the level of play and discourse at the table...especially when "tricking" the groin area of unsuspecting Sythian guards !

Riggs also did a good job of running Vercinius, frequently mixing the holy word with the holy mace for celestial smacking !

Glad you guys had fun (if you can call fighting giant scorpions with unreal grapple bonuses fun).  I would be interested in any feedback on how you thought the GT Ruleset worked for Faded Glory and/or the inclusion of the BCCS magic/equipment system.

Rel, great update!  Waiting for the coming finale...

~ OO


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Then by all means: write, man! Write!
> 
> I can't wait to see how this plays out.




Alas, it was not to be.  My Sunday got spend working/having dinner at my in-laws so no time to update.  If I can chip away at writing an update in small chunks through the course of the week then I'll post it.  If not then I should have some time next weekend.


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> I would be interested in any feedback on how you thought the GT Ruleset worked for Faded Glory and/or the inclusion of the BCCS magic/equipment system.
> 
> ~ OO




I thought the setting and system went together perfectly.  Much more so than the setting fits with the core D&D rules.

Don't get me wrong, I love D&D and I'm happily playing it in Eberron right now.  But, particularly as the characters rose in level, it was difficult for me to retain the original feel of the Faded Glory setting with the magic that the PC's and NPC's were becoming capable of.

This sort of ties in with the upcoming conclusion of my Story Hour in that most of the players were wanting to possibly return to this setting and the surviving characters when next I ran the game.  I told them that I just couldn't do that because I didn't plan well enough from the start for the setting and system to mesh well at higher levels.  I think that doing so with the BCCS and GT would have been much easier.

I don't know if that means the you're considering converting things in mid-campaign or not but if I was one of your players I would certainly consider doing so.

Hope that helps.


----------



## Belen

Great update.  It will be nice to see how they do on the dragonmount.


----------



## Riggs

Old One said:
			
		

> Just wanted to pop in and say how much fun it was to see Rel back as Brandis Tollhart, halfling scout extra-ordinaire.  This is the second time I have had the pleasure of DMing Rel in a Faded Glory 1-shot...and I must say he definitely elevates the level of play and discourse at the table...especially when "tricking" the groin area of unsuspecting Sythian guards !
> 
> Riggs also did a good job of running Vercinius, frequently mixing the holy word with the holy mace for celestial smacking !
> 
> Glad you guys had fun (if you can call fighting giant scorpions with unreal grapple bonuses fun).  I would be interested in any feedback on how you thought the GT Ruleset worked for Faded Glory and/or the inclusion of the BCCS magic/equipment system.
> 
> Rel, great update!  Waiting for the coming finale...
> 
> ~ OO




Thanks, I had a great time, including failing nearly every Coordinate roll when I only needed 7 or better!

As for the system mixing, I thought it went really well and smoothly.  I don't really know too much about GT actually, but did have to jump into BCCS and like that system.  It's tricky to be a mage since you have different things to consider: gone are spell slots and memorizations, and now you worry more about casting time and drain..makes for a more choosy mage.  We had lots of props and I blew through most of mine.  I am curious about how warrior-types and wizards progress in a BCCS campaign...kinda of the scale we use when describing a class "coming into its own at around Xth level"
I liked that you included some other mechanics, like Battlefield Events on Init 1's. I think that makes combats more unpredictable, though not extra dangerous usually.  It's fun to all moan "oh crap" when we see a 1, but this doesn't kill you usually so it's a nice effect (don't try to tell Brandis that,  a 1 roll made him fall into the swarm )  For that matter, the exploding 6 variant was cool too, and I'm not just saying that because Verc got to be dramatic with it at the end.  Maybe a little.
I do like the levels of equipment quality there are in BCCS too.  It's not too complex, but adds a cool touch in a limited-economy and low magic availability setting.

And sorry Verc took away your character-kill...I bet that Prop won't be in the next bag Verc carries!      just kidding.


----------



## Old One

Riggs said:
			
		

> Thanks, I had a great time, including failing nearly every Coordinate roll when I only needed 7 or better!




But you kept trying...that's what matters !



			
				Riggs said:
			
		

> As for the system mixing, I thought it went really well and smoothly.  I don't really know too much about GT actually, but did have to jump into BCCS and like that system.  It's tricky to be a mage since you have different things to consider: gone are spell slots and memorizations, and now you worry more about casting time and drain..makes for a more choosy mage.  We had lots of props and I blew through most of mine.  I am curious about how warrior-types and wizards progress in a BCCS campaign...kinda of the scale we use when describing a class "coming into its own at around Xth level"




The spell system definitely takes some getting used to...

I had jotted down ~ 6 effects for enemy casters (basically one "quickfire" effect and one "memorized" effect), but it was still tough to juggle.  The drain mechanic adds some book keeping that was tough to keep up with (for me) since I was really watching the clock.  I eventually just hand-waved it and essentially let low-levels cast 3 spells, mid-levels 5 spells and BBECasters 8 spells until they exhausted themselves (unless they were hooked up to the Demon Scorpion energy source).

That said, I think working with it from the ground up would make this a lot easier (ie, starting with a 1st or 2nd level party and working up from there).

It was pretty interesting seeing the choices that both you and Henry made in balancing out "big booms" with the nasty drain of higher level spells.



			
				Riggs said:
			
		

> I liked that you included some other mechanics, like Battlefield Events on Init 1's. I think that makes combats more unpredictable, though not extra dangerous usually.  It's fun to all moan "oh crap" when we see a 1, but this doesn't kill you usually so it's a nice effect (don't try to tell Brandis that,  a 1 roll made him fall into the swarm )  For that matter, the exploding 6 variant was cool too, and I'm not just saying that because Verc got to be dramatic with it at the end.  Maybe a little.




Agreed.  The melding of the BCCS and GT action points/battlefield effects/exploding action dice was fun.  The only thing I didn't incorporate, which I might in the future was the number of action dice rolled.  In BCCS, the higher level you are, the more dice you get to roll (taking the best of the rolls).  The flip side is that I probably wouldn't include the exploding dice option...since that makes it a bit too easy to pick up an exploding die.



			
				Riggs said:
			
		

> I do like the levels of equipment quality there are in BCCS too.  It's not too complex, but adds a cool touch in a limited-economy and low magic availability setting.




Agreed. I really like this aspect of BCCS.  I would probably expand on it significantly and add various abilites through "times x" power components and the "Imbed Magic" rules in BCCS.



			
				Riggs said:
			
		

> And sorry Verc took away your character-kill...I bet that Prop won't be in the next bag Verc carries!      just kidding.




Truth be told...I completely forgot about that Prop!  In a real campaign, I probably would make that much more expensive to use...something like a DC 30 Heal Check and a permanent point of spell energy or something equally grievous.

Glad you had fun and thanks for the comments!

~ OO

PS - End thread hijack!


----------



## Old One

*Hijack Alert!*

Rel and Riggs,

Would you mind swinging by this thread and adding any thoughts?  Thanks!

GT + BCCS = Fun

Thanks in advance,

~ OO


----------



## Riggs

Old One said:
			
		

> Rel and Riggs,
> 
> Would you mind swinging by this thread and adding any thoughts?  Thanks!
> 
> GT + BCCS = Fun
> 
> Thanks in advance,
> 
> ~ OO




Done! At least initially


----------



## Belen

We cannot let this get to the 3rd page.


----------



## Old One

Vo ist Herr Rel?

One might think he is working for a living !

~ OO


----------



## Funeris

Er ist wahrscheinlich bei der Arbeit. 

Note:  My german is horrible....its definitely slipped in the past few years...so if this translates to something along the lines of:  He is herding chickens for ice cream soup, I apologize.


----------



## Riggs

He *loves* chicken ice cream soup!  But only sugar-free.

My German is bad too, but are you missing a verb there or is it an expression?

Such that "Er ist wahrscheinlich verbraucht bei der Arbeit" would insert a verb 'consumed' that 'work' could refer to.

Hey, no criticism, just wistfully wondering at something I should have learned better...


----------



## Funeris

Well, my original statement was:  He is probably at work.  At least that's what I was going for....so i hope it turned out alright.  My German is about as good as my Latin now (which never having a Latin class you could probably imagine my Latin is horrible ...not that I don't try).


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> One might think he is working for a living !
> 
> ~ OO




He has indeed been working for a living.  I've gone the entire length of the state over the last week doing various whatnot.  It will be good to have some "Administrative Time" for the next couple days (this is when I sit in my home office and do about 2 hours of work in an 8 hour day).

I'll see if I can't get an update done in the next couple days.


----------



## Rel

Well, folks, there will be an update but not today.  Today is my 10th wedding anniversary and I have some chores to do for the little party we're throwing tomorrow as well as a few nice things I'm doing for my wife.  One of her gifts was actually made by a fellow ENWorlder:

Check it out. 

If you're totally jonesing for some Faded Glory action then I STRONGLY recommend you read Henry's account of the one shot game that Old One ran at the last NC Game Day, in which both Riggs and I participated.  Riggs played Vercinius and I played Brandis and we had a blast.  You can find this Story Hour HERE. 

I hope you all have a nice weekend and I promise a definate update by Monday.


----------



## Riggs

Happy Anny, and see ya tomorrow.

DtR is anxious to play with StR there she said.


----------



## Rel

Cross posted from Henry's new Faded Glory Story Hour:



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> Woot!
> 
> Two Faded Glory updates in one day...now we just need Rel to get off of his duff and we will have a hat trick !
> 
> Good update, Henry...hooray!
> 
> ~ OO




I'm afraid that isn't going to happen.  I got "babied out" today (though technically I guess she isn't a baby anymore).  Samantha the Red would not take a nap this afternoon and that equalled no time for daddy to do any writing.  So you'll have to be content with 2 out of three Faded Glory Story Hours updated.  Still not bad...


----------



## Rel

Yikes!  Nearly a month since I got this thing updated.  Well, unlike the last several weeks this week is fairly lite for me in the work department.  So hopefully this won't be the last update you see this week....




Finding the lair had not been difficult at all.  The Dragonmount was easily the tallest peak at this end of the Dragontail range.  And now the entrance yawned before them, ancient and pitted with age and acid.

It was a far cry from Nan’s Tavern where they had been just a scant two turns of the hour glass prior.  Speaks thought back on that place that had now become so familiar.  The tables were old and all the rough edges had worn off.  The beer was just a bit watery but it flowed in generous quantities, day and night.  And it was where adventures were born.

He cast his memory back to what seemed a lifetime ago when he and two boys from Glynden had eavesdropped on the Town Council as they met to determine whether or not to come to the aid of the Fodor Tribes against the Orcs.  They had journeyed for over two weeks to travel from Glynden to meet with the Coritani then.  And this morning they had covered the same distance in an instant as Lazarius had _Teleported_ them back to Glynden for their ascent of the Dragonmount.

Those simple times, less than two years past, seemed a lifetime away.  And in many ways they were.  None of the three who had departed Nan’s Tavern for the barbarian lands had survived unscathed.  Krase was nearly a year dead.  Rhys now wore the body of an Elf and it remained to be seen if his sanity would survive the transition.  And Speaks had to admit to himself that he was not the same man either.

His early days near Glynden had held the simplest sorts of tasks.  He kept the wolves from eating too many of the villagers sheep and he wandered the closest edges of the Darkwood, marking places that held the glory of the Wild with small, stone markers and noting them on his map that he intended to give over to the Druid Circle.  And now that Circle had collapsed upon its own rotten core.  It had killed his father in his youth and his mentor as an adult.  It had tried to kill him too.  And though Speaks had survived this attack by those he had trusted the most, he could not say that he was the same.

In the face of such betrayal, entering the Dragonmount seemed like not so great a task after all.  They alighted upon the small ledge at the entrance and dread swept through him like the harshest winter wind.

The signs of crippling fear were easy to read upon the faces of Marius and Lazarius too as they returned to human form.  Speaks huddled close to them and [/i]Spoke[/i] with the _Animal_ who was now his companion, commanding it to return to its natural form.  Beside him the small bird became a fierce Dire Boar, snorting and eagerly looking for a foe.  Speaks gripped at the coarse hairs of Trufflesnout’s flank as he tried to conquer the lump in his own throat.

The darkness coalesced into a stygian horror before Marius and dark power roared from its hate-filled jaws to wash over him.  But Marius’ reflexes were enhanced, not dulled by the fear and with a cry of desperation he hurled himself out of the blast of blackness.  The battle was joined.

Marcus strode boldly forth, his mace held high and the Shield at the ready.  Marius by turn dashed to take cover behind a huge pillar that ran from floor to ceiling.  Cathal joined him there a moment later as the pair tried to gain an understanding of the layout of the room and their foe who still remained indistinct against the darkness.  From the deep shadows of the cave they heard the voice of the Dragon, dripping with venom.

“It bears the Mark of the HATED ONE!”

Enormous blackness launched itself with incredible speed and closed its jaws upon Marcus.  The Warrior-Priest felt bones creak under the pressure but his armor kept the teeth at bay for now.  As he swung his mace at the great creature he could see that it was indistinct, as though born of the shadows themselves.  His weapon found no purchase upon the creature and he began to feel a sense of dread.

The draconic nightmare burst into greenish flames as Speaks’ loosed the _Fire_ of the _Fey_ upon the creature.  Lazarius loosed a blast of _Lightning_ upon the creature but it fizzled as it touched the immortal blackness.  The illumination showed all of them that what they dealt with here was nothing like they had expected.  This creature wore shadows, not scales and it moved in ways no creature of flesh could have, seeming to melt back into itself before springing forth with impossible speed.

But swift or not, Marius and Cathal charged forth to engage it.  Each of them felt their weapons bite whatever lay beneath the shadows but telling blows these were not.  Lazarius’ next magic caused frost to fill the air as the blast from a _Ball of Cold_ erupted next to the creature.  Whether this had any effect upon the creature could not be told but it certainly did not act as though injured.

Speaks released his hand from the flank of Trufflesnout and the giant boar launched itself into battle but its tusks passed harmlessly through the Shadow-Dragon.  Speaks attempted to fling a fiery acorn at the creature but succeeded only in adding a scorch mark to the floor nearby.

The Dragon ignored these petty assaults and focused on its hated foe, a minion of St. Cuthbert.  It sank its jaws and claws into Marcus’ armor and the man felt the icy grip of undeath in his soul.  He shrank back away from the great beast and warded himself against the cold he had felt in its grasp.

Marius and Cathal continued their assault along the Dragon’s flank but with little results.  Those of their attacks that found purchase seemed to do little damage.  Lazarius and Speaks fared little better as each of their spells seemed to evaporate just as it touched the shadowy skin of the Dragon.  Failure was not yet assured but tendrils of doubt began to wind around each mans courage.

The Dragon had no such doubts as it flew into another series of attacks on Marcus.  Black teeth, claws wings and tail swirled around the man and everywhere he was touched he felt the evil shredding at his flesh.  He gave up any attempt to harm the creature and instead just did what he could to survive, hoping that his companions would find a way to kill it as it concentrated its attacks upon him alone.

Marius and Cathal kept up their attacks but still found it almost impossible to score a sound strike against the indistinct Dragon.  Another _Lightning Bolt_ flew into its flank from the flying Lazarius but it was again brushed aside by the creature’s innate power.  An instant later, the Dragon vanished as it dove right down into the stone of the floor.

The party reeled as they attempted to recover from the sound whipping they had been receiving.  Marcus healed some of his wounds with magic as Marius and Cathal spread out, eyes peeled for the return of the dragon.  Cathal noticed that there were heaps of treasure including a rather odd looking piece of sculpture that seemed made from a mass of weapons.  Any chance of getting to explore such loot seemed distant at best.

Lazarius began using his magic to try and locate where the Dragon had vanished to.  He was bombarded with a sense of _Magic_ as he _Detected_ it all over the room, scattered throughout the piles of treasure.  Speaks used the calm to _Summon_ a Unicorn guardian of the Darkwood.  He pleaded with it to give succor to Marcus’ wounds and the Unicorn did so just as the Dragon reappeared.

It sent another blast of black energy sweeping through the room, this time catching Speaks, Marcus, Trufflesnout and the recently summoned Unicorn within its blast.  Each could feel the strength being sapped from his bones as the dark magic did its evil work.  Marcus knew that his companions had fewer defenses and would never withstand the damage that had been inflicted upon him.  He had to draw the Dragon away from them.

“Is that the best you can do?!  I thought that you were the ‘Terror of the Dragontail’?!  If you think you can best me then my mace awaits you!”

The Dragon let go an evil laugh and bunched itself, preparing to strike.  Cathal charged the creature before it could move, his battlelust throwing aside all caution.  The blade strike something within the creature’s form and felt a faint sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing that if you must die that your foe at least suffered from doing battle with you.

Speaks began to _Summon_ more aid feeling that strength for this battle would lay in numbers.  He reached out toward the plane of Fire and called for help.  Marius moved closer to strike but before he could close the final distance, the Dragon launched itself at Marcus.

Trufflesnout tried to gore the Dragon as it hurtled by but was trampled by the enormous shadow beast.  But the break in the attacks momentum was enough to allow Marcus to escape the jaws of the Dragon for at least a few moments longer.  He tried to strike the Dragon in return but was off balance and barely managed to avoid hitting himself.

Cathal charged again, attacking from the Dragon’s rear.  He suffered a vicious tail-slap for his efforts but managed to sink his blade into the creature’s hide, again feeling the resistance that told him something had been hurt by his attack.

Lazarius continued to soar over the battle, marveling at the enormity of the magics he was detecting.  He continued searching for anything that might be The Bloodstone Blade so that they might escape with it even if they could not defeat the Dragon.  Beneath him, he saw a new ally appear, wreathed in flames, as Speaks’ _Summoned_ Salamander charged into battle against the Shadow Dragon.  The Unicorn dug its horn into the Dragon’s flank as well while Trufflesnout picked himself up an charged into the fray once more.  Speaks immediately began to _Summon_ another Salamander, determined to bring an entire army against the Dragon if necessary.

The Dragon single mindedly attacked Marcus, ignoring all other foes.  A series of blows rained down on the warrior and nearly drove him to his knees.  Only by the strength of the Shield did he remain standing.  But the attacks had done their work and he had no choice but to forego any counterattack in favor of healing himself further.

The Brigante Warrior continued to unleash all his fury at the Dragon’s flank, this time his shield spikes came away with shreds of Shadow clinging to them.  He looked to his left and saw a flaming Salamander dig a spear into the Dragon’s form and suddenly another fiery ally appeared to his right.  The Unicorn lunged forward again, stabbing deep with its lifegiving horn, anathema to this creature of death.  Marius appeared alongside them and the Dragon was now nearly surrounded by enemies.

And still it ignored these enemies and focused its hate on the only one that mattered.  For hundreds of years its shame of defeat had festered and now it had a chance at some small measure of revenge against the one who had slain and imprisoned it all at once.  Bones cracked as the Dragon once again closed its jaws upon Marcus.

Marcus strained to keep conscious and gave ground again to buy himself room to heal from the terrible wounds inflicted by the Dragon.  He didn’t know how much more he could take but he steeled himself to give all that he had in the service of their cause.

Cathal howled in rage and triumph as he buried his sword to its hilt in the Dragon’s shadow-flesh.  He twisted the blade and drew it out again leaving a wound that he could almost see against the blackness of the Dragon’s body.  Inspired by this attack, Speaks’ many minions struck with a vengeance.  It seemed that the Dragon’s form was starting to tatter.

But the creature wasn’t done for yet.  Its black teeth descended upon Marcus once more and left terrible wounds in their wake.  This time Marcus did not yield.  He had no more healing magic anyway and he could not face his lord in Celestia if he didn’t at least try.  He struck out with his mace with every ounce of strength he could summon.  The weapon smote the Dragon on the side of its head and it seemed to waver for a moment…but it was not enough.  The evil visage of the Shadow Dragon grinned down at the exhausted Marcus and it bunched for the killing blow.

Such a blow was struck but not by the Dragon.  Cathal struck for a final time and this time he leaned into the strike, pushing forward with arms and legs, driving his blade to find something within the Dragon that could be cut and broken and destroyed.  The Dragon’s black heart was pierced and it became like so much smoke, drifting away on the wind as the triumphant warriors tumbled forward and fell panting to the ground where the Dragon had stood an instant before.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Hooray for the heroes! But surely that can't be it...


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## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Nice update, Rel. I particularly liked Speaks' reminiscences of how it all began. Keep up the good work.


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## Rel

Here's a little something to chew on over the weekend and I should be able to update again next week despite a busy schedule:


The fear that had gripped them from the moment they entered the Dragon’s lair gradually subsided.  They moved cautiously toward the rear of the chamber and saw the hoard that ringed the room Their eyes filled with wonder at the treasures they beheld.  Antiquities, armors, weapons, gemstones and rolling hills of coins were piled before them.  It was simply dumbfounding the wealth that they beheld.

Lazarius interrupted their reverie, “I don’t think the sword is in there.”

The rest of the group managed to tear their gaze away from the mounds of treasure to address the War Wizard.  “What?” asked Marius.

“The Bloodstone Blade.  I don’t think it is in this pile of treasure.  The magic I’ve detected so far has shown a few fairly powerful items but none of them matches the description of the Bloodstone Blade that I found in the War College Archives.”

“Well there is one way to find out for sure,” said Cathal with a grin.  He dropped to his knees and began to sift through the nearest mountain of coins.  The wealth glittered and jingled as the money cascaded from his cupped hands and fell back to the floor sending copper coins of antique mint rolling in all directions.

“Wait,” said Marcus, maintaining his focus on their objective.  What about over there?”  He pointed to a large passageway recessed into the shadows at the rear of the room.  It led into darkness and uncertainty.

Marius let out an impressive sigh.  “Wouldn’t it be nice if just ONCE we could have an easy battle and get LOTS of treasure and NOT have to go chasing off down some dark, gods-forsaken HOLE?!”  He shook his head and let loose another sigh.  Drawing his rapier again he stepped toward the opening.  The others fell into line behind him.  Cathal looked back mournfully at a shining, silver breastplate that jutted from a heap of gold coins.

The darkness ahead seemed to yield reluctantly to their torchlight, as though it was at home here and would not give up its lair without a struggle.  The passage ran for a couple dozen paces before the walls and ceiling receded into darkness.  The group stood close together in fear of what horror might lay ahead.  They crept forward and a towering menace of bone and stone appeared before them.

“By the BEAR!” Cathal exclaimed in his native tongue.  He stepped cautiously to the fore of the group, his sword drawn and shield held close.  The others spread out to the sides somewhat and the collective light of their torches forced the darkness to give up its secret.

Standing some twenty feet high was the skeletal form of the Dragon.  But the entirety of the skeleton was laced in a tracery of thin stone branches that seemed to stretch out from the chest and cover every part of the body from thicker branches in the neck and limbs to a nearly gossamer lace on the wings.  The Dragon crouched in an awkward pose as though trying to crane its neck to reach something down near its chest.  There, front and center was the thick handle of some sort of sword that had split the sternum and was lodged in a large, irregular hunk of stone just inside the chest cavity.  It seemed to be the source from which the stone branches extended.

The party stood in awe for more than a minute.  Then they exchanged worried glances and wordlessly began to creep forward, closer to the skeletal statue.  Beneath the creature there was a covering on the ground that shimmered in their torchlight.  Glimmering on the floor were thousands of scales, looking for all the world like thick leaves that had fallen from an autumn tree.  Tense moments passed as they covered the dozen paces and they finally stood almost beneath the great head of the creature, just out of reach of the hilt of the sword that pierced its breast.

They could now see that the pommel, hilt and thick, single edged blade of the weapon were all carved from a single stone.  It looked heavy and awkward but menacing nonetheless.

“Nobody touch ANYTHING,” commanded Lazarius.  “I believe this must be the Bloodstone Blade.”

“Ya’ think?!” Marius asked in mockery.

Speaks With Stone leaned to the side, peering into the Dragon’s ribcage.  He looked at the stone in which the sword was buried and the branches of stone that seemed to grow from it.  His voice filled with awe and amazement, “That is the heart of the dragon.  The Blade turned it to stone along with every vein and vessel.”  His eyes followed the ranches that started from the stony heart as thick as his legs and forked into the forelegs and wings.  At each split the stone vessels grew smaller until they were as thin as his wrist, his thumb, his fingers, a twig.  He reached out and gently grasped one of the thinnest stone branches that ran to the base of one scimitar-sized claw.  He gave a quick twist and it snapped off in his hand.

He jerked his hand back and scrambled backwards as the blood began to flow.  A cry escaped his throat as he watched the skeleton, certain that it was about to seize him in its jaws.  But it stayed completely still, regarding him with its malevolent, orbless eye.

He looked down at his bloody hand as the others gathered around him.  “Didn’t I say not to TOUCH anything?!!” demanded Lazarius.  Speaks held up his unwounded hand, covered in crimson and looked back at the Dragon.  “Not the vessels.  The blood!”

“What?” asked Marius.

Speaks looked at him with a mix of horror and wonder, “The BLOOD!  The sword turned every ounce of the dragon’s blood to STONE!”

“And Bale.” whispered Marcus, “is made of blood…”


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Speaks looked at him with a mix of horror and wonder, “The BLOOD!  The sword turned every ounce of the dragon’s blood to STONE!”
> 
> “And Bale.” whispered Marcus, “is made of blood…”




Now that's just too cool! I can just imagine the big grins that must have spread around the gaming table at this revelation. Probably a lot like the one on my own face as I read it.

Brilliant! And I love the imagery of the dragon skeleton surounded by a network of petrified blood.


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## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Now that's just too cool! I can just imagine the big grins that must have spread around the gaming table at this revelation. Probably a lot like the one on my own face as I read it.
> 
> Brilliant! And I love the imagery of the dragon skeleton surounded by a network of petrified blood.




Thanks, Jon.  Honestly I felt a bit like the "Bloodstone Blade" telegraphed its own form and function a bit too much to be a powerful revelation but it's easy to think that something will be obvious from the GM's side of the screen.  The players can say for themselves whether it was a big surprise or not.  I can't say that I recall if there were any looks of "sudden understanding" on their faces or merely nods of "that's pretty much what I figured."

EDIT:  Pretty prosaic subject matter for my 4,000th post, huh?


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## Rel

“On three,” said Marius.  He looked to his right and saw Cathal ready with sword crackling in hand.  “One.”

Off to the left he could see Speaks speaking the words of the Wild, already weaving magic.  As the Druid finished his spell, the _Stone_ beneath the giant skeleton turned _to Mud_.  “Two.”

Past Speaks stood Marcus with mace and Shield in hand, ready to do battle with the undead monstrosity if it turned out to hold any of the essence of its former, draconic might.  Marius glanced around and saw Lazarius lurking near the rear as usual.  “THREE!”  He pulled with all his strength on the hilt of the Bloodstone Blade and with the grinding sound of stone-on-stone, it slid free from the heart of the Dragon.

The muddy floor of the cavern was immediately drenched with blood as the petrified tracery of stone that encased the skeleton became sanguine once more.  Marius staggered back under the unwieldy weight of the awkward, stone weapon and was off balance when the attack came.

The Dragon had been waiting for hundreds of years to complete his attack and so he did.  Claws like swords tore into the man who held the blade that had been the doom of the Master of the Mountains.  Talon tipped wings slashed at him too as his hind limbs settled deeper into the mud and his head dove in to try and finish this intruder.

Even as the Dragon lost his coating of stone, Lazarius gained one, warding him against the creature’s physical attacks.  He moved to get a clear shot as Cathal tumbled beneath a massive bone wing and struck at the ribcage of the Dragon, sending splinters of bone falling into the bloody mud.  An instant later these fragments were embedded in uneven stone as Speaks reversed his spell and returned the floor to its natural state.  Now the Dragon’s skeleton was rooted to the spot.

Marcus went to work on the opposite flank and his mace sundered a pair of ribs from the skeleton sending them clattering to the floor.  He let out a triumphant cry but it was a bit premature.

The Dragon had sensed the Druid’s magic and was not at all pleased to find that he could no longer maneuver.  He displayed his anger through a devastating series of slashes and bites that left the Druid staggering backwards, bathed in his own blood.  As Speaks fell back away from the fight, a bolt of azure _Cold Lightning_ surged from the hands of Lazarius and crackled across the Dragon’s naked vertebra but didn’t seem to slow the behemoth down much.

No longer having to be wary of getting mired in mud, Cathal stepped in close to the Dragon’s flank and lay about himself with sword and shield.  His fury filled him with strength and resolve but a hint of uncertainty still made a home in his heart.  Could they truly defeat such an immense foe?  And if they could not then what hope did they have against Bale?  This doubt manifested itself in the strength of his blows which did little more than leave nicks on the Dragon’s bones.

Speaks continued to retreat out of the creature’s reach and armored his body with _Barkskin_.  As soon as the enchantment was in place his hands went to weaving the next.

Marcus stood his ground and continued his assault with the mace.  More bones broke and flew as he plied his blunt weapon in a task for which it was well suited.  But his success came with the price that the Dragon understood who it was who most threatened it.  Despite the hate-filled assault that was unleashed on the Warrior-Priest, the awkward angle and Marcus’ considerable defenses saw to it that he suffered only a minor slash from one of the Dragon’s claws.

Lazarius feared that these intense attacks on Marcus might force him to relent in his attacks and he cautiously moved up and placed a hand on the Warrior of St. Cuthbert.  Beneath his armor, his _Skin_ became as _Stone_ and Marcus knew now that he was a match for this fearsome beast.  He gathered his strength for his next attack.

Cathal kept up his attacks but found that his sword was ill suited to attacking the thick bones of the skeletal beast.  His shield formed a better weapon for bashing and cracking the brittle bone and he focused on using it to hammer away at the thick thigh bone that was trapped in the stone.  The room above was suddenly lit with a brilliant fire and Cathal turned to see Speaks unleash _Seeds_ of _Fire_ that slammed home into the arching neck and chest of the Dragon, charring bone and setting it ablaze.

Marcus saw his chance to strike a telling blow and stepped forward inside the Dragon’s ribcage.  His mace hammered up into the spine of the creature at a spot where one of Speaks’ _Fiery Seeds_ had started a smoldering blaze and he heard a loud “POP”.  He struck again in the same spot and with a thunderous CRACK, the Dragon’s skeleton broke in two, falling motionless to the ground around St. Cuthbert’s minion.

At last the Dragon was no more.


----------



## BSF

Catching up with a few moments to comment:  Very nice Rel!  It sounds like the assault was a fun encounter filled with tension.


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## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Catching up with a few moments to comment:  Very nice Rel!  It sounds like the assault was a fun encounter filled with tension.




I think the tension was derived more from how hard the players thought the Dragon encounter(s) would be than from how it truly played out.  Both the Shadow Dragon and the Skeletal Dragon were reasonably tough encounters on paper but played out as being relatively easy in the session.  In both cases the party was buffed to the gills because they were able to pick when the fight was to take place.

Marcus took a hard beating from the Shadow Dragon since it focused all its attacks on him but he managed to keep himself on his feet by foregoing attacks in favor of healing.  The other party members took very little damage in that fight.

The Skeletal Dragon managed to lay some serious damage on Marius in the first round (which is why you don't see him engaging it after that) but Speaks trapping it in the mud meant that this battle was really won in the first couple of rounds.  Again, good planning by the party combined with lots of buffing made for a fairly easy battle.

One thing that I'm not sure came out in the updates was the nature of the Dragon and how it came to be this way.  Essentially the Dragon, who was once the terror of this part of the world, was "slain" hundreds of years ago by St. Cuthbert as part of his rise to divinity.  But the spirit of the Dragon was strong enough that it managed to free itself from the body of stone and bone that the Bloodstone Blade had turned into a prison.  That facet of the Dragon became the Shadow Dragon they fought.

But the innate magic of the Dragon also animated the skeleton that was left over.  Once freed from its stone bonds it was able to attack the party but it was only a bone shell, fairly mindless and not using much in the way of tactics.

The only remaining matter pertaining to the Dragon is the considerable hoard.  I'll lay out the nature of all this treasure in my next post but I should preface it with a couple of things.  First, it might seem a little strange for the PC's to be counting money and magic items even as Bale was marching on the Fodor Tribes but they felt like they needed to grab any advantage they could, including any magical goodies in the hoard.  In addition I should mention they they had received almost no treasure for the past 7-8 game sessions (maybe longer).  Their frantic flight from the City of Endless Summer cost them a lot of disposable magic and they recovered almost nothing in return.  They were due for a big haul and they most certainly got one.

So...


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## Rel

The Dragon Hoard:

(*** enchantment, necromancy) 
Shortsword with a very dull iron blade; plainly wrapped hilt with no ornamentation and no visible runes. You could probably club someone to death with this easier than you could stick it through them. This is clasped in skeletal hands protuding from the far wall. A poorly made leather scabbard lies nearby.

_This is a Sword of Softness,(Ghost Touch and only Ghost Touch). Any damage inflicted by this sword is tracked separately, as it is not felt by the victim. When the wielder snaps his fingers, all "soft" damage materializes simultaneously. This can trigger a massive damage save if the damage totals more than 50 points._

(**Abjuration, enchantment) 
Ornate, beautiful, perhaps ceremonial dagger with large cut emerald on the base of the mithral-silver pommel. The mithral-steel blade is curved slightly, and shimmers slightly in the gloom. Engravings on the blade is the symbol of the Imperial College of Wizardry This has no scabbard, and is found thrown into a large pottery urn.

_This is Bassilla’s Dagger of Blade Turning once carried an Imperial War Wizard. She disappeared sometime during the Slave Wars and was never seen again. It is a +2 Defending dagger._

(** abjuration, alteration) 
Brown rabbit’s foot, attached to a gold rune-carved cap. One of the symbols of Olidammara (God of Trickery and Luck), a 6-sided die, is clearly engraved on the base. A thin gold chain is attached to the gold cap. This is wrapped around the neck of an intact skeleton.

_This allows the player to reroll one die once per day, just as though the player had spent a “chip”.  _

(** Conjuration) 
A unicorn holy-symbol of Ehlonna, carved from dark wood, attached to a bit-through rawhide necklace; found near the same corpse as the one wearing the Spiral Torc.

_casts cure serious wounds 3/day_

(** transmutation) 

Belt with bronze links with a buckle showing a mountain lion rampant. Bears the hallmarks of being made by one of the Fodor Tribes.  Lying near a broken skeleton wearing a breastplate.

_”The Belt of Keltharl” This belt allows the user to pounce (full attack after a charge) once per day._

(** alteration, enchantment) 
Large, ancient, floating stone throne. Many settings for gems cover it, but all the gems appear to have been removed. It looks made for a big person, and looks uncomfortable. A symbol of a coiled horned serpent below a crown adorns the seat back.

_It acts like an Immovable Rod.  When the command word (“Ulastogir”) is spoken it will hover, weightlessly in the air.  When spoken again, it becomes “fixed” in space wherever it is._

(*** alteration, enchantment, conjuration) 
A malachite statuette of a hippogriff in flight, about the size of a kitten. The carving is excellent and appears fairly delicate. It is found balanced on a slightly larger, broken beholder statue.

_Figurine of wondrous power: hippogriff. Functions similarly to the Gryphon Figurine._

(***)
Paper-thin (and sword shaped) sheet of rigid garnet, covered with black runes; found carefully covered with a latched, thin silver case of elven design.

_This is a permanent scroll of Mordenkainen's Sword (Caster Level 15); when used, the words fade and slowly reappear over the next month. If the caster fails a Caster Level Check against DC 15, he becomes the target of the Sword for the full duration._

(*** Alteration, conjuration) 
A shimmering blue gem set on a silver chain. Deep in the gem, a faint imperfection that looks like a spiral can be seen, and a very faint murmur comes from the gem. This necklace is found amid a pile of plate mail.

_A periapt of health_

(** conjuration) 
A thick silver ring, tarnished but engraved with the symbol of a hand; found in an open chest filled with low-quality precious gems.

_Ring of Servants. Allows the wearer to cast mage hand and unseen servant 10 times a day each._

(*** abjuration) 
A ring of gold wire, shaped in a spiral around the finger of a prone skeletal figure.

_Ring of Counterspells_

(**** transmutation) 
A somewhat plain, cheap looking necklace made from gray metal (possibly an iron alloy). It is surprisingly heavy. This is found dropped inside a gilt ceremonial helm.

_Necklace of Iron Body, 1/week; only works on an arcane caster (spell completion item), and the effect is not dismissable until it would normally wear off (15 minutes). All equipment, including the necklace, melds into the iron and becomes unusable while the spell effect is in place._

(*** enchantment, abjuration) 
Heavy, battle-scarred breastplate. Utilitarian design, but extremely well crafted. The metal appears to be mithril, as does the spiked full helm. It bears the coat of arms of one of the Novantae Dwarf clans.

_Mithril Breastplate of Command. (Light Armor, AC 7, Max Dex 5, ACP 1, ASF 15%, Wt 15lb.)_

A broad belt made of stout leather with large links of mithril laid overtop.  The buckle contains some Dwarven runes marking the wearer as one of the Stone Hammer clan.  It is found amid the scattered bones beneath the Breastplate above.

_Belt of Dwarvenkind_

*** A spiraling wooden torc, made from dark and solid wood, and covered with small carvings of mistletoe. This dangles from a skeleton’s rib cage.

_Allows the wearer to speak with animals at will._

*** A finely carved bow with a broken string.  It has writing upon it in an unfamiliar script but has two carvings of cacti on it.  It barely protrudes from a pile of silver coins.

_“The Long Needle” +1 Bow of Sure Striking – Does an extra 1d6 Piercing damage to any target struck._

***A pair of rings, apparently carved from bone.  They have many small, pointed protrusions that make them look as though they would be uncomfortable to wear.

_“The Bone Shield of Senecio” – When both rings are worn, they cover the wearer in a layer of sharp, barbed bone.  This inflicts 2d4 damage on the wearer every round and gives him a Natural AC Bonus of 4.  It also causes any creature that attacks the wearer with an unarmed attack to suffer 2d4 damage._


Over a dozen pieces of jewelry, including pins, tiaras, rings, necklaces, anklets, earrings, bracelets, hair pins, belt buckles, and torcs. Quality ranges from average to breath-taking (including a matched set of emerald, diamond and sapphire jewels in an earring - necklace - broach - ring combo that is an elven master-work).

More than a hundred loose gems and precious stones, most are of relatively low quality. 

Literally tons of coins (about 4 tons total), lying in great heaps and molded in the dragon’s shape. Most of these are copper (319,000) and silver (68,700) coins, although quite a bit of gold (8,450) is visible in the piles as well. Even a cursory examination can turn up coins minted in over a half dozen countries, over hundreds of years.

Artwork, ranging from tiny to huge, including:
- A large, beautifully sculpted, life-sized statue of a rearing horse. The head of the horse has been seamlessly replaced by a large octupus head. The horse head is nowhere to be found.
- A stone reproduction of a huge gibbering mouther, complete with odd bulges and gaping stone maws. This leans up against a cavern wall, out of the way.
- A beholder statuette with tiny gems in the eyestalks; there is a place for a gem in the central eye, but it has apparently fallen out or been removed.
- A 4’ tall bronze statue of a horned snake, coiled to strike.
- A hideous, yet fascinating, angular sculpture of men fighting a beast, made from nothing but fused-together bones.
- Dozens of swords, daggers, shields, maces, breastplates, helms, and other assorted adventuring gear, all fused together into a looming tower of menace, precariously balanced in the corner of the cavern.
- A beautifully made, gilt mirror frame 9’ tall and 5’ wide. Only a small shard of mirrored glass remains in the heavy frame.
- A small silver hand mirror with a handle shaped like a leaping fish.
- A large silver platter, and a full set of silver tableware, engraved with drawings of mythical monsters and abominations, all looked over by the Horned Snake.
- Dozens of painted porcelain vases and pots, some of which have been cracked or broken.
- Three small silver sickles

_GM's Note:  Credit for most of this hoard goes to Piratecat.  He posted the large majority of this stuff in a thread that I started about what this big treasure should contain.  I think that the Bone Shield of Senecio came from the Small Beginnings Story Hour group but I'm not entirely certain of that any more (this was over a year ago now).  Once again the combined intellectual might of ENWorld helped me in a big way and it is one of the many reasons that I'm glad to be a part of this place._


----------



## BSF

Heh - I thought some of that treasure sounded somewhat familiar.   

It did sound like the PCs went into the battles well-prepared.  Still, there also seemed to be a certain amount of tension.  You are probably correct though with expectations helping drive that.  But it is the hallmark of a good DM to allow a well crafted plan to succeed when the PCs put one together.  So, good work!


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Heh - I thought some of that treasure sounded somewhat familiar.
> 
> It did sound like the PCs went into the battles well-prepared.  Still, there also seemed to be a certain amount of tension.  You are probably correct though with expectations helping drive that.  But it is the hallmark of a good DM to allow a well crafted plan to succeed when the PCs put one together.  So, good work!




Thanks, BSF.  Now it just remains to be seen whether they can put together a plan to defeat Bale...


(and if you think it's merely a matter of "poke him with the Bloodstone Blade" then you've got another thing commin')


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> (and if you think it's merely a matter of "poke him with the Bloodstone Blade" then you've got another thing commin')



Ironically, we actually tried that in a fit of "it's so crazy it just might work!"   

.


----------



## Riggs

Rel said:
			
		

> Thanks, BSF.  Now it just remains to be seen whether they can put together a plan to defeat Bale...
> 
> 
> (and if you think it's merely a matter of "poke him with the Bloodstone Blade" then you've got another thing commin')





So, since we were faced with a blood dude, we decided to arm everyone with styptic  swords and band-aids and some of that bactine spray that hurts like a mother... and well I don't want to ruin it.


----------



## Riggs

*Hizzy Bizzy to Rel*

Don't look now, but instead of updating here, Rel is sitting at home relaxing _*just because it's his birthday!!! * _ 
The nerve of some RBDMs is astounding.

So jump on his back and give a few swift kicks to our 80* year old RBDM!  At least we might get another update out of him!

Happy Birthday

* + or - around 50 years


----------



## BSF

Rel is celebrating a birthday?  Well, it was yesterday for his time right now, but I still have almost 15 minutes.  

Happy Birthday Rel!  Congratulations and all that fun stuff.


----------



## Belen

Sweet updates!  And a happy belated birthday!


----------



## Rel

Thanks for the birthday wishes, guys.  As Riggs implied, I've been enjoying a bit of leisure time for the last few days and my wife is preparing to sweep me off on some secret, whirlwind adventure for the day.  She's being very mysterious about the whole thing and I'm starting to get excited about what's going to happen.  I'll let you know how it turned out assuming the entire thing isn't X-rated.

Hopefully you won't be hearing from me.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> I'll let you know how it turned out assuming the entire thing isn't X-rated.
> 
> Hopefully you won't be hearing from me.




I'm gonna assume that no news is good news.


----------



## dshai527

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> I'm gonna assume that no news is good news.




You're right. He's probably tied up at the moment if he's lucky.


----------



## Riggs

he's probably grouting the downstairs bathroom 

Just kidding. I know Mrs. Rel, and she isn't the RBDM so it's probably a very good deal.  

He'll be in such a good mood for our gaming session tonight it will be like this:

"roll for Search"
"a 4"
Ok well the trap is poison, roll em"
" a 2, wait, 3"
"Ok well it's a slow poison, roll again"
"a 9?"
"Alright, well anyhow, the door opens and the BBEG liche walks out and asks you what you are doing there?"
"Ummm, recovering the artifact of Swizlstik?"
"And ridding the land of evil!"
"Ok thanks Paladin, um well he explains how he's really just tired from all that transformation stuff and if you'll go away he'll hand you the artifact and promise not to hurt the town."
"sweet!"
"Huh?"
"Yeah, he says 'Here you are, now off you go, and mind the pit trap at the front door...see you!'"
"what about my poison"
"Oh yeah, he cures you too."

"umm, pizza anyone?"


----------



## Rel

I'm happy to report that I had a very pleasant weekend that included a trip to a local winery, some <censored>, a picnic and walk at a local lake, then I got to buy a new computer game before we saw Star Wars again after which we went to spend the night at a Bed and Breakfast.  It had a big jacuzzi tub where we took a long, hot <censored> and a bath.  We had a dinner at the appropriately named "Satisfactions" after which we went back to the B&B for <censored> and <censored> and a long nights sleep before <censored> in the morning, breakfast and heading home.  Then my wife let me play my new computer game all afternoon and evening since I was too tired to <censored> any more.

All in all a fine <censored> weekend if I do say so myself!   

And my ambitious goal is this:  I'm going to FINISH the Story Hour by weekend after next (June 19)!  Expect regular posts that bring us to our exciting finale over the next two weeks.


(clearly all that <censored> has given me delusions of granduer)


----------



## Rel

I can see that you're all waiting in silent anticipation for the flood of new posts to come pouring forth.  

My weekend was filled with a combination of non-stop child care while my wife was out of town in Virginia and my latest computer game addiction, Guild Wars (if any of the readership are GW players then we should hook up online sometime.  The players of Speaks, Lazarius and Marius are all into it as well).

But I still remain true to my intentions to finish the story hour by the end of the weekend.  Tonight is game night for us and I have a bit of prep to do for that so expect the first big update tomorrow.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

REALLY looking forward to the next updates- congrats on enjoying such a sensational weekend- ahhh it is grand to be looked after by a loved one


----------



## Rel

It had been nearly three days since the heroes had arrived back at Hrongar’s Hill and the place had been utterly transformed.  What had once been a small collection of buildings sitting in the open atop a small hill in a big valley was now a fortification designed to halt an army and kill a godling.

East and west of the hill proper, the palisades had been extended and reinforced by the strength of the thousands of Legionnaires who had felled trees, dug ditches and generally plied the skills at fortification that they had drilled so long to perfect.  And now their shovels and axes had been laid aside in favor of sword and pilum.  They had done what they could and soon their efforts would be judged by whatever Bale and his minions could throw at them.

No less profound were the changes wrought upon the land by Speaks.  A quarter mile out from the palisade stood another barrier, this one a thicket of brambles and creepers dense enough to halt all but the most determined advance.  It stretched the entire width of the valley and was reinforced along the near side by a low wall of loose stones that had been constantly pulled from his Bag of Endless Rocks by conjured _Wood Woses_.  On the far side of the thick wall were a series of wells that had been dug with magic, stretching all the way down to reach the _Sweet Water_ of the Fodor Valley.  These had been covered with mats of branches and grass to disguise them with the hopes of trapping the unwary among Bale’s army.

The near side of the thicket wall between it and the palisade was a complete and utter swamp.  The Decanter of Endless Water had been running non stop for three days and the land was inches below the water.  Only the earthen walls erected by the Imperials kept this from flowing down the draw on the east side of the hill and on into the Fodor.  In another day the water would likely seep through the barriers and flood the trenches behind.  But in another day they would not care.

Atop the Hill were gathered the leaders of this improbably army.  Urdrax and the other chieftains stood shoulder to shoulder with Capito and the man he had appointed to act as general for the Legions.  And always near Capito were his band of faithful, the Paladins of St. Cuthbert.  They had flocked to his cause when it was discovered that he was the Right Hand of St. Cuthbert and they were never beyond the call of his voice that they might serve the hand of their lord in whatever way he commanded.

Lazarius Ramius, Imperial War Wizard, had been hard at work making certain that these men would be able to follow their commander into battle.  A group of Hippogryphs stood in a small paddock that had once held pigs.  They were securely tied around the necks and hooded to keep them from taking flight to hunt horses, which seemed odd since they had been horses themselves only the day previous before Lazarius set his magic to work on them.

Marius stood near the Chieftains and Commanders listening in on their plans for any signs of stupidity.  He had a firm understanding that what was about to unfold here today was not to be a traditional battle and wanted to make certain that those in charge did not treat it as one.  A short distance away stood Marcus who just couldn’t bring himself to be comfortable around Capito and his worshipers, particularly after what had happened to Albius.

And apart from everyone stood Cathal.  In his hands he held the Bloodstone Blade, turning it over, running his fingers on the slate-like blade and trying to get comfortable with its awkward balance and heft.  So very much was going to come down to this enchanted piece of stone and it was he who was going to be the one wielding it.  He besought his ancestors and the spirits of their lands, “If I must do this thing then let me do it well.  And if I must die doing it then let that death be one that aids my friends and tribesmen.”

His thoughts spoken, he let out his tension where it hung in the cold morning air along with a cloud of hot breath.  The silence that followed was filled by the approaching footsteps of Speaks.

“It is time,” said the Druid.

“I know,” said the warrior.

“It is going to be a long day,” said the Druid.

“I know,” said the warrior.  “Let us begin it.”


----------



## gerg_861

sweet, then let it begin!


----------



## Old One

Swwweeettttttttttt...

~ OO


----------



## Henry

Good God, Rel, I thought YOU were the tactician!  Was Speaks the one who came up with the concepts for the "no man's land," or was it a group effort?


----------



## Rel

Henry said:
			
		

> Good God, Rel, I thought YOU were the tactician!  Was Speaks the one who came up with the concepts for the "no man's land," or was it a group effort?




That was mostly him.  He sent me a lengthy e-mail in the days before this session wherein he detailed how he was going to use his spells and items to make life very difficult for Bale's minions.  Actually his machinations stretched much further than that but I didn't want to bog things down in the million details of the prep for the battle.

One key thing that I did forget to include was that in the center of the new swamp was a small raised area where he used a Quall's Feather Token:  Tree to make a Live Oak and that is the rally point for his dozen or so Awakened Trees.  So when I start talking about that once the battle is joined, don't be surprised.


----------



## BSF

Very nice setup by the players!  Excellent description as well Rel.  I am very much looking forward to the upcoming battle.


----------



## Rel

Cathal and Speaks huddled close behind the Elf as he guided the Flying Carpet over the mix of fortifications provided by both man and nature below.  The shimmering surface of the flooded valley floor was broken only by the small island that jutted barely above the shallow lake.  A very small but very intelligent forest had relocated itself there and the _Awakened_ trees stood sentry, willing to do their part against a foe who destroyed indiscriminately and did not spare even the land itself.

They crossed over the barrier of thicket and Speaks was pleased to see that he could not identify the locations of any of the pits that lay in wait for Bale’s army.  Moments later Hrongar’s Hill and the fortifications were left behind as they continued north.  Perhaps, if this risky gambit worked, those barriers would never be tested.  Perhaps.

Several quiet minutes passed before they crossed one of the many rolling ridgelines that separated the valleys draining into the Fodor to find themselves looking down upon the might of Bale’s army.  Their hopes fled like smoke on the wind.

Bale was alone in the forefront, trailing a bright, wide streak of crimson blood that stretched off behind him to the north, defying nature and decency in the way that it seemed to willingly flow up and over hills and ridges.  It neatly divided Bale’s army into two trailing hordes that tumbled after their leader like the frothing wake of a large, fast ship.  These loose mobs were in stark contrast to the neat rows and columns exhibited by the Imperial Legions they had just left behind but it made them no less terrifying.  Creatures of every description had answered the call of Bale’s Blood and they rolled south to do his bidding, covering the land with a blanket of evil.

Masses of Orcs, the tribes who had not already been absorbed into the City of Endless Summer, surged alongside the Duergar Dwarves of Do’Kun Ghul.  Dotted amongst them were the larger figures of dozens of Trolls, Ogres and a few Giants.  Then there were the more bizarre forms of what were guessed to be the Neoghi and their Umber Hulk thralls, lumbering near the rear with great claws that nearly drug the ground.  

Also near the rear were a struggling cluster of the strange “Fish Men” the party had encountered near the mouth of the underground highway beneath the Blackpeaks.  These seemed much worse for wear having been out of the water for so long.  A couple of handfuls of the Scorpion Men also dotted the ranks as well and there was a large, lizard-like biped that crashed along the left flank.  And scattered all amongst the hordes on both sides of the blood trail were hundreds of the Blood Ferals, dashing aimlessly amid the crowds before diving and swimming in the bloody river at Bale’s back.

Rhys kept the carpet moving northwards, high above this evil army.  Behind him, Speaks and Cathal looked at each other knowing that even without Bale at the head of it, this army might well crush the men and fortifications they’d placed in its path.  With Bale in the lead there was no question as to the outcome.  They gripped the thin edge of the carpet as Bale howled up at them, beckoning them to his call.  But they had not been residents of the Blackpeaks for long and they had been out of the cursed mountains for nearly a week.  The call failed to take hold of them and on they flew.

Once they were a couple miles further along, they found an open clearing in the next valley through which flowed the river of blood.  Rhys brought the carpet down what he deemed to be a safe distance from the crimson stream and Speaks and Cathal stepped off and began to cautiously approach the Blood.  Speaks looked at the Brigante, “Ready?”

Cathal nodded.  The time for talk was over.  It was time for this battle to begin and he was going to strike the first blow.  He drew out the Bloodstone Blade and thrust the tip into the Blood.

A heartbeat passed, then two.  Then the blood surrounding the tip of the blade began to turn grey.  And the grey began to spread.

Speaks form shrank and his wings beat the air as he went aloft as an eagle.  The Wild sang in his veins as he climbed as quickly as he could.  At the top of his climb he winged over and spared a downward glance to see that the stone was racing both north and south of the clearing below.  The magic of the sword sought out blood and petrified it wherever it could be found.  Speaks followed the trail to the south and crossed the ridgeline, once again bringing Bale and his army into view.

His eagle eyes looked below to see that the stone had crossed the ridge and was now running downhill toward the termination of the river of Blood even as it continued to recede behind the reborn godling.  Bale was fast.

But the stone was faster.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> His eagle eyes looked below to see that the stone had crossed the ridge and was now running downhill toward the termination of the river of Blood even as it continued to recede behind the reborn godling.  Bale was fast.
> 
> But the stone was faster.




Beautiful! I'd feel optimistic for our heroes if you hadn't already said this:



> (and if you think it's merely a matter of "poke him with the Bloodstone Blade" then you've got another thing commin')




Actually, I'm still feeling optimistic, I just realize that it's foolish of me.  :\


----------



## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Beautiful! I'd feel optimistic for our heroes if you hadn't already said this:




Aw, c'mon, Jon, do you really think that after all this buildup that I'd just let Bale go *poof* like that?  That's a good way to get your RBDM card revoked!

But just to show that I'm deep down a really nice guy, I'm going to update again after I finish my lunch.  That way you won't have to spend too much time in suspense.


----------



## Rel

It wasn’t working.

The stone transformation caused by the Bloodstone Blade caught up with Bale but he was not petrified himself.  It seemed to stop just at the point where the Blood rose up from the ground to form his enormous body and would go no further.  It did seem to have an adverse effect on the Blood Ferals who could no longer leap into and out of the river of Blood.  Some of them attempted to merge with Bale himself only to find themselves rebuked with a giant backhand that sent them splattering across the ground and onto the horde of minions who were slowing down as their evil lord bellowed his rage at the world.

Bale pushed onward and though the petrifaction of the stone seemed to slow him somewhat he did not stop.  It gave the slower of his minions a chance to catch up with him and the long, strung out army began to clump up a bit more.

Speaks turned and dove back toward where Cathal and Rhys awaited.  A minute later he resumed his human form and stood before them.  “It isn’t working.  Bale is only slowing down and his army is clustering more tightly around him.”

Cathal shook his head, “Then our plan has failed.  We must isolate him if possible.  We cannot allow him the full strength of his army.”  He started over toward the broad, smooth expanse of stone that had been a river of Blood only a few minutes ago.  But before he could reach for the blade, a blast if icy frost ripped across he and Speaks.  Both men were utterly surprised and cast about for the source of the attack.

Appearing in mid-air above them was the Blue Demoness, eyes filled with mindless hatred.  She began to surge toward them with her giant scythe in hand.

Cathal reacted first and stepped in front of where the Bloodstone Blade remained plunged into the stone river, drawing his crackling bastard sword.  He would not let her try and steal the weapon that they still hoped might be their salvation.  He made ready to strike if she came any closer.

Speaks wasted no time either.  He feared her weapon far less than the possibility that she might try and take the Bloodstone Blade.  Knowing how slippery she could be, he called immediately on the Wild and limned her in a faint, flickering _Faerie Fire_.

The Demoness bore angrily down on the Druid and chopped at him with her huge weapon.  He avoided the worst of the blow but suffered a cut across the arm as he backpedaled, doing his best to draw her away from the Bloodstone Blade.  Cathal slashed at her as she went by leaving a deep cut across her abdomen that smoked with the lightning that played across his blade.  He was reluctant to pursue her any further lest he leave the Bloodstone Blade unattended.

Many times she had fought these men and never had they killed her.  Gella had cheated death since first they met at the bottom of the sinkhole in the Blackpeaks.  But her frustration had grown with each failed confrontation and now as she was held in the unwilling thrall of her new master who instilled hatred and rage in his followers, she was determined that they would be the ones who were defeated this time.  She raised her scythe high overhead and chopped downward at the robed one in front of her, delivering a terrible slash to his shoulder.

Speaks grimaced under the weight of the attack but glanced past her and knew what he must do.  He spun away from her, barely avoiding another slash from her lengthy weapon and scrambled a dozen paces away from her bringing his arm up to shield himself.  She started toward him preparing to finish him off but only managed a couple of steps before the world exploded around her.

First one and then another _Fireball_ shot from Rhys’ outstretched wand as he plied his deadly magic swiftly, aided by magic that would _Haste_n his actions.  Not all of his time in Sythia had been spent wooing elven princesses.  Only most of it.

The heat of Gella’s rage was surpassed by the heat of the twin explosions and her body was torn completely in half.  She spun, landing in two places.  Her torso raised itself up on her arms for a moment as her hair burned away and she at last collapsed onto the flaming grass, never to rise again.

Cathal did not wish to waste any further time during which others of Bale’s minions might come to assault them.  He sheathed his weapon and gripped the hilt of the Bloodstone Blade in both hands.  Bracing both feet against the ground, his muscles strained and with a grinding sound the blade slipped free of its stony sheath.  Cathal staggered back away from the Blood River as it began to resume its sanguine consistency.

The three men hurried back aboard the Flying Carpet and Rhys took them back into the air to return south where the true battle was to take place.  As they rose into the late morning sky, Cathal leaned close to Speaks.  “I fear,” he said, “that Lazarius is going to be furious with us for killing her without him.”

Speaks managed to actually laugh and wondered if it would be the last time.  “If we’re still alive tomorrow, we’ll tell him then.”

And so it was that three friends went to do battle for the fate of the world with smiles on their faces.


----------



## Rel

The companions stood ready in the shade of the Live Oak and Treants on the small island amid the marsh they’d created.  They very nearly crackled with magic from all of the protective enchantments that had been placed upon them.  Every possible ward they thought they might need and several they desperately hoped that would have no call for using had been applied as the hour of battle grew near.  A full half dozen Lazarii shifted from foot to foot waiting for his next chance to ply his magic, thanks to his _Mirror Image_ enchantment.  Cathal stood with much of his gear laid upon the ground before him.  In his hand he held a necklace of thick, plain metal links.

None spoke as they all listened to the noises of Bale’s army approaching past the rise to the north.  At their backs were all the allies they could muster.  The thousands of Legionnaires, the hundreds of Fodor Tribesmen, the dozen Orcs they’d rescued from Hell and the handful of Paladins who followed Capito.  Thus far there had been no sign of Great Root and his forest allies nor the Dwarves of the Stone Tooth.  Everyone just hoped that they had not blundered into Bale already and been destroyed.

Two more brave warriors had joined them upon the island.  Magdar had left his men behind the battlements, on the far left flank where they were far enough from the prejudiced glares of the humans.  His honor demanded that he face the danger of Bale directly and his warrior spirit cried out for revenge for what had been done to his people.  It was their blood that fed this horrid abomination and he intended to see that it was stopped.  Ilrath of course stood alongside Magdar as well as Speaks with whom he had braved many dangers already.  This was the group that stood at the tip of the spear when the ripples began to spread across the marsh at the approach of the monstrous footsteps of Bale’s army.

The top of Bale’s head was the first thing to become visible above the ridge.  Then came the Nothingness of black that comprised the head of his massive mace.  Moments later the heads and torsos of Giants and Ogres came into view to form the rest of Bale’s vanguard.  The great Lizard-Thing lumbered forth at his left hand, eyes full of hateful intelligence.

“Good luck,” said Marcus as he mounted his Hippogriff, “and have faith.”  He took to the sky with the reins in his right hand and the Shield held close in his left.  More of Bale’s army crept into view beyond the thicket wall as Marcus and his mount strove skyward and forward.  The Warrior-Priest of St. Cuthbert swooped across the right flank of the battlefield and raised his voice:

*“Bale, brother of Bane, long have you been dead and, before this day is done, dead you shall be again!  With you, you have brought Evil and Destruction!  On our side is Right and Order!  These things will not succumb to your reign of terror!  Prepare to meet your final end!”*

Bale paused, his expression unreadable at this distance were it even possible to guess the mindset of the reborn godling of hate, murder and destruction from facial features that were, after all, comprised solely of blood.  One would have to conclude from his bellowing laughter that followed that he was not in any way intimidated.  He proceeded to make what must surely have ranked among the top few most casual gestures ever witnessed and unleashed a hail of fire and stone upon Marcus and his mount.

From the cloudy sky descended a column of red hot stones that struck the lone rider with a horrific display of destruction that instantly slew the Hippogryph and left Marcus reeling with pain.  Thankfully Lazarius had had the foresight to enchant him with a spell allowing him to _Fly_ even without his mount.

Leaving a thin trail of smoke behind him, Marcus retreated toward friendly lines.  The first blow of the battle had been struck and already one of their most powerful warriors was nearly dead, his mount slain from beneath him.


----------



## Rel

Still howling with laughter, Bale charged forward.  His army charged as well but were not nearly so fast.  Thus it was that he arrived first and alone to the thicket wall Speaks had raised over the last few days.  The godling swung his mace in a low arc before him and the closest part of the wall was gone.  It ceased to exist and, although no one realized it, any memory of it *ever having existed* was also gone.  Bale charged through this gap trailing his river of Blood behind.

He pointed his mace in the direction of the left flank fortifications and another barrage of _Meteors Swarm_ed out of the sky.  Upwards of a hundred Legionnaires were incinerated in an instant leaving only craters and fire to fill this gap in their formation.  The palisade wall was burning in the few places where it still stood along that part of the line.  Steam filled the air as water ran into this area from the broken wall holding back the temporary swamp.  And fear filled the hearts of men to see such power and destruction wielded with barely a thought.

Speaks spotted the gap in the defenses left by Bale’s mace and couldn’t believe he had missed such an obvious flaw.  He reached out with his magic and the area became alive with vines and roots, reaching out to _Entangle_ any who tried to follow Bale.  As his magic took hold, a horn sounded behind him.

Capito and the Paladins took flight on their steeds.  Lances projected from each rider except the one in front.  Capito held high the Mace and gave praises to his lord, St. Cuthbert for strength and justice as his Pegasus mount pulled slightly away from the slower Hippogriffs.

Bale paid no attention to these oncoming riders and let loose more meteors from the sky, destroying another swath of an Imperial Legion near the center of the army.  Sweat stood on the brows of Lazarius and his _Mirror Images_.  He had tried and failed again to counter the magic of Bale who was simply too strong for him to stop.  But he would continue to try because even a single success would save the lives of hundreds.

The frontrunners of Bale’s army were pushing their way through the edges of the gap he had created in the thicket wall despite Speaks attempts to plug it.  The Druid called upon the Wild again and _Flame Struck_ from the heavens burning many where they stood.  Still others were getting through and there was little he could do about it.

A pair of Giants ripped through on the left side of the gap and were quickly followed by a score of Ogres and the Lizard-Thing.  A flight of Dragonkin soared over the wall as well, the call to the Blood of Bale having overcome their loyalty to their dragon mistress.  At the same moment, a half dozen vortexes appeared in the waters of the marsh near the thicket.  A second later, the insectoid forms of Umber Hulks burrowed up through the wet ground and shook themselves free of water as their burrows were immediately swamped again.

Bale turned his attention to the rider who was coming directly toward him and another _Meteor Shower_ burned through the clouds above and hurled itself at Capito and his Pegasus.  Both withstood burns but the magical wards provided by Lazarius kept them alive.  Lazarius was glad to see that as he had once again tried and failed to counter Bale’s magic.

Along the eastern side of the battlefield a blaze of silver light filled the sky as the Shining Lady came to the aid of their cause.  _Flame Struck_ down in a pillar to smash into Bale but he seemed more surprised than harmed at the attack.  It seemed that this at least distracted the murderous godling from Capito’s charge for a moment and the Right Hand of St. Cuthbert urged his mount forward.

Bale gave a cry of rage and made a gripping motion toward the Shining Lady with his left hand.  Whatever foul magic he did, she managed to resist if only barely.  It kept his focus on her for an instant longer and that was enough.

Capito howled in triumph as he prepared to smite Bale in the name of his lord.  As he closed within Bale’s reach, the godling brought down the destruction incarnate of his mace to strike this insolent whelp from existence.  Capito’s martial training kicked in and he tried to bring his own weapon across to block the blow.  But too late. 

The Sphere of Annihilation swept through man and mount, wiping them mind, body and soul from creation leaving the Mace hanging for the barest instant without a wielder before it too was struck by the impossible Nothingness of the weapon.


----------



## Rel

Those who had barely known Capito would recall only seeing the shining Mace hanging in the air before Bale.  But about what happened next, there could be no doubt.  The explosion was tremendous and seemed to knock the orderly progression of time out of its normal track.  The world stood still.

Both Mace and mace were destroyed in the blast.  Bale again seemed more shocked than harmed but the same could not be said of his closest minions.  A score of Blood Ferals were blasted to liquid and nearly ten Ogres were rendered boneless corpses by the detonation.  The foot-deep marsh was blasted back in a spray that left the ground bare for sixty feet in every direction from Bale before the water rushed back in to reclaim its place.  Bale held his once mighty weapon in front of him and now held only a shattered staff.  His howl of rage chilled the blood of every many present and seemed to cue time to resume its normal course again.

The Paladins of St. Cuthbert plowed their lances into Bale but his body of Blood offered little resistance and their weapons served only as an annoyance.  He smote one of the riders from his mount to land senseless in the mud below.  This man tried to rise but was surrounded in seconds by a fresh batch of Blood Ferals who swarmed from their master’s blood to do his bidding.  These were joined by the swooping Dragonkin who dove down to attack the other Paladins who fought fearlessly despite impossible odds.

The companions stood back, hoping that the Paladins would and could disengage and fall back.  Their attack was brave and none could deny that Capito’s Charge had deprived Bale of one of his fiercest weapons.  But it ran against the careful plan they had made.  All of them knew that the only way to defeat Bale would be to separate him from his army and the best way to do that was to let him charge ahead of it, not fight in place and allow them to catch up.  If only the Paladins would fall back then they could all engage Bale himself without having to defend themselves from his countless minions.

But the Paladins fought on amid the blood and mud.  And they found that aid had arrived from an unexpected quarter.  The air around the Dragonkin filled with feathers as they were slashed by beak and claw from the dozen or so Dire Owls and Dire Hawks that now beset them.  Great Root’s army had arrived.

But these new allies could not delay the fate of the Paladins for long.  Bale struck down two at once while the Dragonkin killed another pair.  The last one stood, hopelessly battling against two score foes.  He struck out with his sword, hacking away at Bale’s invulnerable body of Blood when a shadow appeared over him in an instant.  The Lizard-Thing appeared out of thin air and slashed him down with its daggerlike claws.

The fallen Paladin was incinerated as Holy Fire washed over the entire cluster of evil creatures at the guidance of the Shining Lady.  She would meet that valiant knight again in Celestia and commend him for his bravery.


----------



## Rel

Well, my goal of course was to finish this thing by tonight.  I don't think that's going to happen.  I'm getting close to the end but I don't want to rush through it tonight after a pretty exhausting weekend.  There is plenty to chew on for the next day or so until I can finish and make sure that I do the finale justice.  It'll be done by Wednesday for sure.

And I think it is entirely in keeping with the theme and pace of this story hour for me to miss a deadline, don't you?


----------



## BSF

Oh sure!  OK, we will let you slide on this one.  

Quite a beginning to the battle, that is to be sure.  Don't leave us hanging too long, please?


----------



## Rel

BardStephenFox said:
			
		

> Oh sure!  OK, we will let you slide on this one.
> 
> Quite a beginning to the battle, that is to be sure.  Don't leave us hanging too long, please?




Don't worry.  There won't be any updates today but there definately will be tomorrow and I'll likely finish her up on Wednesday.

I had forgotten how long the final battle ran.  The Battle Report by Lazarius' player ran for over five pages.  I'm about two pages into it so far.


----------



## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> I had forgotten how long the final battle ran.  The Battle Report by Lazarius' player ran for over five pages.  I'm about two pages into it so far.




Looking forward to the final write-up, Rel...you make us look so good!


Oh, btw, most of those five pages in the final battle were entries like "Lazarius casts _Improved Invisibility_ on himself", "Lazarius renews his _Stoneskin_", and "Lazarius pre-casts _Teleport_"...


----------



## Riggs

haha you know it.  
Also, in case you all didn't know it, you got the treat of learning what the plural of Lazarius is...



> A full half dozen Lazarii shifted from foot to foot waiting for his next chance to ply his magic,


----------



## Rel

With the brave band of Paladins all dead, Bale howled in victory and charged forward.  Before him scattered the Dragonkin who soared off chasing the Dire Owls and Hawks.  The only minion to keep pace with Bale was the Lizard-Thing who vanished and reappeared at the left hand of his evil master.

It was time to act.  Bale was pulling away from his minions and the companions wanted to keep it that way.  Speaks stepped forward and from the marsh and thicket he conjured a cloud of _Insects_ to _Plague_ the Orcs, Giants and Blood Ferals who struggled forward after their master.  Just behind him his friends prepared for their roles in the coming confrontation with Bale.

Marcus, having healed himself somewhat in the moments since the battle first started, landed next to Cathal and performed an minor ritual that would allow him to _Shield_ the wounds of an_Other_.  So warded, Cathal lowered the necklace over his head and his _Body_ became as _Iron_.  The belongings he still wore seemed to merge with his newly metal body and he knelt to retrieve the things he had need of in the coming fight, most importantly the Bloodstone Blade.

Marius puzzled his way through a scroll that Lazarius had prepared and wings sprouted from his back as he plied the magic to _Alter_ him_Self_.  The others held their ground, awaiting their moment to strike.

The Shining Lady swooped in to confront those who continued to follow Bale on the near side of the thicket wall.  Here flaming sword slashed at one of the Giants leaving a terrible wound.  Beneath her the Blood Ferals ceased attempting to fend off the plague of insects that they were beset with and dove into the River of Blood to escape.

Bale glanced back to see that his troops were coming under attack by this lone Celestial.  With a snarl of contempt he gestured with his left hand and unleashed his foul power upon her.  It was as though her body was turned inside out.  She died a merciful instant later, her form dissolving in a cloud filled with motes of light.  Marcus cried out at the loss of an avatar of his lord as the others came to understand and fear how mighty was the destructive power that Bale wielded.

Bale and his army continued to push toward the island unabated.


----------



## Rel

Just a quick note to give some perspective on this battle thus far.  If it seems like the PC's are not doing very much except continuing to layer on the protective magics then you're right.  The confrontation thus far has taken place at extreme range.  It is only at this point that Bale has approached closer than 3-400 feet.

The entire strategy of the party was to let Bale's rage and desire for destruction lead him out away from the bulk of his army who are having to struggle to and through the thicket wall to follow him.  Their hope is that Bale can be isolated so that they only have to worry about being slain by him rather than having enemies at every side.

I'm hoping that I've managed to paint a fairly vivid picture of the action but if there is anything that you don't understand then I'm happy to answer questions to clarify things.


----------



## Rel

Battle raged in the skies above as the Dire Owls and Hawks clawed and bit at the Dragonkin.  Whenever one of the scaly beasts strayed too close to the fortifications a swarm of arrows and javelins surged skyward to attack it.  But this encounter was merely a sideshow.  The fate of those who stood against Bale was about to be decided as he charged forward to within a hundred paces of the island.

Speaks transformed into a huge bear as Lazarius vanished from view.  Cathal struggled to use one of his own enchantments on himself but found that is _Iron Body_ made magic very difficult.  Marcus was in prayer, focusing his will for the task ahead.  Marius and Magdar fired arrows at the Dragonkin circling overhead with the Imperial neatly skewering one in the head.  With a smile he slung his bow and readied himself for close combat.  His took his rapier in hand and felt the reassuring presence of the Black Blade in the other.  Win or lose, it would drink its fill of souls today.

Suddenly Bale was nearly upon them, barely more than a dozen paces from where they stood.  He towered over them to a height of nearly thirty feet and with a bellow and gesture he called the fires of heaven down upon them.  _Meteors Swarmed_ down upon the island, charring wood and scalding flesh.  The magical wards against fire that they had placed upon themselves saved them from the worst of the blast but they still felt the wrath of Bale upon their skins.

In the next moment, the minions of Bale were among them.  The Lizard-Thing appeared from nowhere within twenty feet and the Dragonkin dove down to land among them, lashing out with their long spears.

Lazarius popped into view as a _Bolt of Lightning_ leapt from his fingertips to blast Bale.  Blood boiled from the godling’s flank but he did not slow.  Cathal and Marcus moved together to engage Bale directly.  As they went, Cathal managed to get one final protective magic into place that he hoped might _Shield_ him from Bale’s might.  Marcus continued applying healing magic to himself knowing that he would share in whatever wounds the Brigante withstood.

Marius took to the air on his new wings and a thrust from his sword took down one of the Dragonkin who were alighting among them.  From his vantage he saw Bale rush forward wielding the shattered remains of his mace and slash at Marcus, staving in part of his armor and nearly knocking the warrior from his feet.  Things were about to get ugly.

Trying to thin out the other attackers, Ilrath, Magdar and Speaks all charged the Lizard-Thing in a rush.  Axe and tooth sought weak places in the creature’s thick scales and Speaks’ ursine jaws attempted to plant a _Kiss of Death_ on its hide.  The Lizard-Thing proved resistant to such magic and slashed Speaks in return.  The two great beasts were now locked in a titanic struggle.

A pair of Treants joined the low altitude aerial battle that Marius and the Dragonkin were now engaged in.  Branch and spear traded blows with Marius trying to stay clear of the worst of it, swooping in to flank the Dragonkin and provide a telling blow with his rapier whenever possible.  One of the Dragonkin dove in toward Marius, leading with his deadly spear but just before his blow could strike home a flurry of glowing _Magical Missiles_ struck him dead from the sky.  Lazarius nodded to Marius and turned his attention to the other minions who were starting to catch up with their master.

Marcus continued to provide healing for himself and Cathal as the Brigante warrior confronted Bale directly.  His first slash with the Bloodstone Blade struck home but the magic did not overcome the power of the godling.  But for the first time it seemed to register with Bale that a mighty weapon was being brought to bear that could possibly hurt him.  With a cry of rage, he lashed out with his broken haft and left a gouge in Cathal’s iron skin.

Fire pierced down from the heavens as _Flame Struck_ close to Marius, incinerating a pair of Dragonkin.  He looked up to see Great Root standing inside the eastern tree line.  Animals of every description flooded past the Great Guardian of the Darkwood and dashed to battle Bale’s army.

Speaks saw his old friend had arrived at last and delivered a vicious series of claws and bites to the Lizard-Thing.  At first he thought that his attacks had driven the creature from battle as it recoiled in mass of scale and blood.  But a moment later he understood that the beast was only buying itself room to unleash a brutal assault on their minds.  Pain shot through the heads of those who had attacked it and the _Mind Blast_ left Ilrath and Magdar stunned.

Just as they were losing a pair of their warriors, Bale was gaining a pair of his own.  Two Giants had outdistanced Speaks’ swarm of insects and pounded their way to join the melee that took place at the island in the marsh.


----------



## Old One

<chanting>

Go...go...go...go...

Good stuff, Rel...keep it comin'!

~ OO


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> <chanting>
> 
> Go...go...go...go...
> 
> Good stuff, Rel...keep it comin'!
> 
> ~ OO




Look for one more post, probably this evening when wife and daughter go to swim class.  And thanks for the encouragement.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

*Does the happy-lurker dance*

Awesome stuff!


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Thought it was time I dropped in again to say how much I'm still enjoying this tale.

And the climactic fight, so far ... truly excellent   . Keep up the good work, Rel!

One question, re Capito and the paladins swooping in and getting minced. Had the party not communicated their plan to let Bale outdistance his followers, or were they trying to get the glory ... or had you planned it all along to get rid of Bale's mace before he hit the PCs?

OK that's three questions   .


----------



## Mark Causey

So, would now be a good time to start reading this series?


----------



## Cathal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Thought it was time I dropped in again to say how much I'm still enjoying this tale.
> 
> And the climactic fight, so far ... truly excellent   . Keep up the good work, Rel!
> 
> One question, re Capito and the paladins swooping in and getting minced. Had the party not communicated their plan to let Bale outdistance his followers, or were they trying to get the glory ... or had you planned it all along to get rid of Bale's mace before he hit the PCs?
> 
> OK that's three questions   .




Oh, no doubt, we told repeatedly Capito of the plan, and he made the decision, himself, to charge ahead--something about valor, striking down the unholy, etc.  Meantime, our own paladin (the wise and mighty Marcus) knew that discretion is the better part of valor and stood his ground with those whom he knew could help him defeat the BBEG at hand.  [Capito was the "Spanker" and Marcus was the "Planker", if you remember your recent St. Cuthbertian history lessons]

From a metagame standpoint, there's probably some _DM ex Machina_ activity on the whole mace thing(which Cathal called the Mourning Star, briefly), but you never know with Rel at the helm.


----------



## Rel

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> One question, re Capito and the paladins swooping in and getting minced. Had the party not communicated their plan to let Bale outdistance his followers, or were they trying to get the glory ... or had you planned it all along to get rid of Bale's mace before he hit the PCs?
> 
> OK that's three questions   .




Who is Capito?  I can't seem to recall...oh yeah, that guy! 

Capito and the Paladins of St. Cuthbert knew of the party's plan and made no objections to it.  But Capito was listening to a higher power and his own conscience about when was the moment for him to strike.  In the end he understood that he had the only weapon that could destroy Bale's weapon of utter destruction (the Mace Capito was given as the Right Hand of St. Cuthbert was also a Rod of Cancellation).  But the only way he had of delivering it was to charge out ahead of the others.

The Paladins also understood that the man they followed had an important role to play in this affair.  They joined in the charge to try and assure that none of Bale's minions could stop Capito from getting to his target.  They knew that doing so likely meant their own deaths but that was considered a trivial matter.

I think that at first the PC's thought that Capito was being a showboating glory-hog or possibly even defecting to the other side when he charged out ahead.  Because of the prophecy they'd been told, they had braced themselves for him to turn to the "dark side" the whole time.  It wasn't until the explosion that left Bale with the shattered haft of his mace that they understood Capito's Sacrifice.  And there was a round of almost reverent "Ah ha!"'s since they now understood why only one of the Hands of St. Cuthbert would see the shores of Celestia.  At least that is my impression of what they knew and when they knew it.  The players themselves might have a different recollection.

As to whether this was the plan all along, I'll just say that being a GM or a god has its advantages.  Perhaps St. Cuthbert knew all along that nobody stood even a chance against Bale so long as he wielded a Sphere of Annihilation on a Stick.  Perhaps knowing that, he sought to put a weapon that could counter Bale's in the hands of a follower.  Perhaps he chose someone whose dedication to the Order had forced him to make tough decisions his whole life and who had purged any sense of fear or doubt from his psyche, making him a rather arrogant jerk.

Or maybe they just got lucky and the right person was in the right place at the right time.  Who's to say?

But the real question is "How would things have played out if Marcus had opted to take up the Mace rather than the Shield when the Shining Lady offered him the choice?  Would he have been destroyed?  And did Capito get a choice too or did he have to take whatever Marcus left behind?"

OK that's three questions   .


----------



## Rel

adamantineangel said:
			
		

> So, would now be a good time to start reading this series?




I'd probably wait another hour or two when I post the FINAL update.  If you read REALLY fast then you might wind up finishing and having to wait a full ten minutes or so for the next update, which can very tedious if you ask the other posters in this thread.


----------



## Rel

The bulk of Bale’s army had still not even gotten within sight of where the true battle raged.  They were doing their best to hack and clamor their way through the thicket wall.  In some areas the plants seemed to come alive to rip and tear at those within, becoming an impenetrable _Web_ of _Briars_.  Sometimes an individual Neoghi or cluster of Duergar would suddenly plunge into a watery pit to be dragged under by the weight of their armor.  All were driven by Bale-inspired bloodlust but even through the haze of hate they could tell that they were not supporting their master well at the present.  Some near the rear thought they heard a horn sounding behind them.

Above the marsh, the shimmering cloud that remained where the Shining Lady had been slain was finally starting to fade but as it dissipated three of the motes of light within refused to vanish.  These glowing balls descended toward the battle at high speed, heading directly toward where Cathal and Marcus stood fighting Bale.  Marcus noticed them coming but did not know what to make of them.  Cathal was too busy to notice or care.

He struck again at Bale, delivering a blow that would have laid low any normal foe.  But to Bale it was only a slash into his liquid body that was whole again a second after it was delivered.  Cathal gritted his iron teeth together and braced for Bale’s counterattack.

Bale cast aside his broken weapon and unleashed his fists upon the insolent human who dared to assault his godliness.  Fists like charging bulls crushed down upon Cathal, striking him with force unlike any he had ever known.  Had Marcus not been siphoning away a goodly portion of the pain that his _Iron Body_ withstood, he would have died then and there.  But with the aid of his friend he managed to hold on for a few moments longer.

(I truly hate to break up the narrative with GM commentary, but I feel compelled to point out that Bale hit all four times with his fists and did 128 points of damage with this series of attacks.  Never before had the party even come close to seeing this much damage done by or to anything they had fought.)

In the air, Marius slew another Dragonkin and saw two more fall to the combined assault of the Treants and Dire birds that aided them.  They were nearly starting to outnumber their foes if only that pack of Giants and Ogres were not about to swarm in to overwhelm them.  As if in answer to his prayer, a thundering herd of animals swept across the marsh and plowed into the Ogres.  Great Root himself engaged one of the Giants, smashing at him with his huge, oaken arms.  Lazarius stepped forward and unleashed a cloud of _Glitter_ing _Dust_ upon the lead Giant and immediately followed with a surging _Bolt of Lightning_ that struck the blinded behemoth.

Speaks charged the Lizard-Thing, crouching and then springing up at the last moment to close his huge jaws on its scaly throat.  It struggled briefly before Speaks magic overtook it and it felt the _Kiss of Death_.  It flopped lifelessly from the Druid’s bloody jaws and lay still as its blood began to flow through the water to strengthen and nourish its cruel master.

Back along the thicket wall, a breakthrough was taking place on the far left flank.  A mob of Duergar had finally hacked a hole with their axes and charged ahead to rally with their mighty master.  Behind them a loose horde of a hundred Orcs also began to run through this gap in the fortifications.

With a great cry, Magdar’s Orcs, led by Scar the Half-Orc charged around the end of the palisade to crash into the Grey Dwarves.  The battle hardened crew brought axe and hammer pounding into the unshielded right flank of the Dwarves who began to fall in increasing numbers as they ran about confused as to whether to stay and fight the Orcs or rush ahead to the call of Bale.  This disorganized mob threatened to be overrun by the oncoming horde of Orcs for a moment before the front rank of Orcs suddenly exploded in fire.

Rhys soared above on his carpet blasting fire hither and yon with abandon.  His wand had killed fifty Orcs in mere moments and he showed no signs of slowing down.  From his high vantage he could see that a phalanx of Legionnaires were maneuvering to the end of the palisade, ready to come to their aid if the breakthrough continued.  But he could also see that more breakthroughs were coming all up and down the thicket wall.  The marsh was about to become a very crowded place.


----------



## Mark Causey

I'm glad you'll be done soon. It'll give you little excuse not to start planning games to run that I can participate in 

Okie dokie, I'll wait for the end to post.


----------



## Rel

Everything converged on the island in the center of the marsh.  Ilrath and Magdar overcame the clouding of their minds and charged into knee deep water to attack Bale’s flank.  The Giants and Ogres continued to struggle toward the melee with Dire Wolves, Bears and Elk biting and clawing and goring them all the while.  The Shining Lady’s dying gift of the Lanter Archons swooped in to surround Marcus with their light and bolster his body with their magic.  Speaks huge bear form crashed forward and he infused all within this _Circle_ with _Healing_.

And in the center Cathal began to sing.

Not all present understood the words to the Brigante Battle Hymn but its meaning was clear:  *Death is all around us but we shall not stop.*

Another barrage of blows rained down from the godling to land on the warrior.  If there was one thing that Bale could not abide then it was Hope.  And if there were two things that Bale could not abide then the other one was Singing.  His crushing attacks landed upon the iron warrior but they seemed to lack the strength of his earlier assault.

Despite the fact that this series of blows were not as strong, Cathal was barely standing.  He knew that the next attack would be the one that destroyed him and he only hoped that Marcus or Ilrath or someone could take up the Bloodstone Blade and succeed where he had failed.  He struck again weakly but his blade did not bite deep and Bale shrugged aside its magic again with ease.

The battle continued to rage all around the central confrontation.  Lazarius swooped to the side and sent another _Lightning Bolt_ sizzling through both Giants.  The one fighting Great Root howled at the terrible burns it withstood.  The blinded one died as blood boiled out of his mouth to spray the marsh with gore that immediately turned to crawl to its giant master.  Marius skewered the last of the Dragonkin through the chest leaving him gasping.  A giant limb smote the creature from the air in the next instant leaving the sky clear of foes for now.

Cathal delivered another weak thrust with the Bloodstone Blade, doing no noticeable harm to Bale.  Cathal felt every ounce of the weight of the stone sword as his strength fled from him.  The tip of the weapon dipped down to rest upon the ground as the Brigante looked up at the wall of blood before him to see Bale raise his fists high above to deliver the final blow.  Cathal’s vision seemed to blur in the face of the oncoming attack and he mustered his last breath to continue belting out his song of hope.

Blood splashed outward from the impact of Bale’s fist.  The godling roared in frustration as Marcus’ _Wall of Force_ warded off the smashing blow.  He held forth the Shield in grim determination, knowing that he had bought them not minutes but seconds to live before Bale recovered.

Sensing the desperation, Speaks resumed human form that he might crowd in close enough to provide healing to the failing Cathal.  Even Marius swooped in on his great wings and managed to activate a Scroll of Healing that he had obtained from the Church in Emor.  Lazarius was busy dodging blows from a very angry Giant or he might have tried to assist them as well.

The Giant swung at the flying Wizard in a rage that would have been present even if Bale had not.  One, two Lazarii were struck from the air.  But not the one that truly mattered.  That one let fly with his final _Lightning Bolt_ and the Giant fell with a great splash, dead in the marsh.

Bale had been thwarted on his last attack but he was not the reborn godling of hate, murder and destruction for nothing.  With but a thought he _Disintegrated_ the _Wall of Force_ that Marcus had thrown up and resumed his assault.  His next blow struck Cathal hard but not hard enough to overcome the healing that had been applied to the Brigante in the last few seconds.  Even as Bale drew back to strike again the Lantern Archons swarmed around the human to give him the strength he needed to fight for a few moments longer.

Those in Bale’s army who had tried to rally to him were starting to falter.  The herd of Dire Animals were dying well, taking a terrible toll on the Ogres.  The Treants were now free of the Dragonkin and surged forward to attack as well, while Great Root himself stepped between the column of Ogres to prevent them from attacking those who fought Bale directly.  Blood flowed thick in the shallow water and it flowed in one direction:  To Bale.

Fed in strength by this influx of fresh blood he drew himself up to his greatest height yet.  His voice boomed over the battlefield and was directed straight down at Cathal.

“I grow tired of toying with you!  Your end is near!”

Fists of blood hurled themselves at the Brigante warrior and drove him to the brink of destruction.  Even with the combined healing powers of nearly every member of the group, the assault unleashed by Bale was enough to place Cathal back on death’s door.  It was becoming too familiar a place.

He gathered himself as best he could and something that was either Conviction or Desperation manifested itself in his song.  He struck a final time and felt the Bloodstone Blade bite deep.  Very deep.  And it seemed to strike something hard.

The “something hard” was stone.  And it very quickly became a LOT of stone as the magic of the Bloodstone Blade finally took hold and spread upward and outward.

Bale’s howl of rage took on the distinct sound of panic and he flailed his arms at his own body as if this might stave off the magic that was overtaking him.  One arm became stuck as the blood within it caught the magic and conducted it right up into his shoulder and then his huge, amorphous head.  His cry lingered for a moment, echoing from the stony confines of his throat before it faded away entirely.

Cathal’s voice faded too as he collapsed in exhaustion next to the massive monument he had created.  Bale had been defeated.  Somebody else would have to deal with his legion of minions.


----------



## Rel

The palisade burst like a dam.  Fodor warriors charged forth with whooping battle cries.  Legions poured out and attacked in a fashion that appalled their commanders.  All sense of formation was lost as the Legionnaires surged across the water to attack the Stone God’s army as it wallowed in utter pandemonium.

They were suddenly free of Bale’s compulsion and chaos reigned.  Bale’s army had been tied together by one thing and one thing only – their allegiance to his Blood.  They now found themselves having forced marched for nearly a week while eating nothing but a steady diet of hate and rage to keep them going.  Furthermore they now stood shoulder to shoulder with creatures who they had been at war with or the prey of for centuries.

While this may have been an opportune time to lay aside old grudges and animosity, few availed themselves of that option.  The grip of hate and rage was all they had known since Bale’s return and what were a few more minutes anyway?  Bale’s army collapsed in on itself as Duergar fought Orc and Ogre throttled Neoghi.

None of this was helped by the fact that into their rear charged the tired but anxious Dwarves of the Stone Tooth.  Their short legs had carried them a long way in a short time and tired though they were, they were equally heartened that they had not missed all of the killing.  They fell upon the rear ranks, killing those who were not busy killing each other.

Great Root calmed those animals closest to him.  They had already fought so hard and given up so many of their number that he hated to see any more die in the closing minutes of the battle.  But many were outside of the call of his voice and many an Orc and Duergar fell dead in the jaws of a Dire Wolf that afternoon.

When the masses of the Legions and Fodor Tribesmen came crashing through the gaps in the thicket wall it was all over.  Gladius and pilum fought next to axe and sword to finish what tooth and hammer had begun.  By dusk it was only the fastest and cleverest of Bale’s army who yet lived.  Marius personally saw to it that any who lay wounded or unconscious on the field of battle would not rise again as he knelt next to each and gave the _coup de grace_ as only he could.

As darkness fell there was a gathering in Urdrax’s Mead Hall the like of which had never been seen.  Imperial Legionnaires clashed mugs with Fodor Tribesmen who pounded the broad backs of Dwarves who grudgingly nodded and raised a drink to the knot of Orcs in the corner.  The laughed and drank like condemned men given parole and not one of them understood a single damn word the others said.  And that was just fine.

Not far away on a muddy and torn little hummock amid a rapidly draining marsh there was a much more quiet celebration going on.  Cathal, Marcus, Marius, Lazarius and Speaks all stood on the island beneath the limbs of the Live Oak and gazed at the enormous statue that dominated the field.  Out behind it to the north ran a stone highway leading high into the Blackpeaks.  They knew all too well Bale was not exactly dead but merely petrified.

“What in the Nine Hells are we going to do with the bastard?!” asked Marius irreverently.

“I have no idea,” answered Marcus but knowing already that just as Brother Lucius had sacrificed himself to give them the chance to defeat Bale, he might have to make some sacrifices to keep him defeated.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” said an exhausted Speaks.  He slowly rose to his feet and along with the others started back toward Hrongar’s Hill.

“That reminds me, Lazarius, there’s something we need to talk with you about tomorrow,” said Cathal as they departed.

“What is it?” asked Lazarius.

“We’ll talk about it over breakfast…” said Cathal with a laugh.  Speaks smiled in the darkness.

“WHAT?!” demanded Lazarius.  But laughter fading into the night was his only answer as the heroes departed the field of battle.


the end


----------



## BSF

Very nice Rel.  

Thanks to you, and your players.

I will leave it at that for the moment.


----------



## Old One

*Woot!*

Rel,

Well done and truly epic!  I have said it before and I will say it again, you have done great things with Faded Glory...

Rest on your laurels, but not too long !  What is next on the agenda?  Eberron?  Faded Glory redux?  Prodding a prodigal Faded Glory author to get off his arse?

~ OO


----------



## Jon Potter

Wow! Great stuff, Rel. 

But I shared the same thought as Marius: "What are they going to do with him?" All it'll take is somebody to pull out the sword to unleash a whole world of hurt.

But that and the fate of Marius and his dagger seem to be questions best answered by another campaign, eh?


----------



## Rel

Thanks for the kudos, guys.  I really appreciate all the comments that you have provided over the years that I've been writing this thing.  Just to put things in perspective, the Story Hour is approximately 650 pages in Word (12 point type with one extra return between paragraphs just like it appears here).  It's been a labor of love and I'm glad I didn't know the scope of the thing when I started it because I doubt I'd have had the courage to write the first word if I knew what lay ahead.

I'll try not to wax all sappy but it is worth mentioning again that the guys I game with are my very best friends in the whole world and I love them as players and friends.  I've been gaming with them for well into the second decade for most of them.  I am constantly frustrated and delighted with their varying gaming styles and I love every minute of it.  And I dearly miss our departed friend, Ted who was my very oldest gaming buddy.  But it makes me smile to see his characters finish out this campaign even though he could not.  And a great many of my best memories of him are gaming memories.

Another gamer in my life who doesn't get to play nearly enough is my wife.  She NEVER reads this thing but maybe someday (when she's really bored), she will.  It can be very easy to take for granted a spouse who goes out of her way to facilitate my gaming habit but I try not to.  I take every chance that I can to sing her praises and crow about how nice it is to have a wife that encourages your interests.  She is a fantastic woman and a lot of what is written here is owed to her.

Big thanks also go to Old One whose campaign setting inspired me to steal it and who has always encouraged me to run with it, even if I'm running in a very different direction than he would have.  I am also very pleased to have had the opportunity to meet and game with him and I hope he moves to North Carolina again to make this a more easily regular occurance (*nudge, nudge, *).

Thanks to everyone who has ever posted to or even just read the Story Hour.  Your words and sometimes just the "Views" count going up really helped to keep me moving forward to the end.  And your questions were insightful and I think helped me become a better writer and storyteller.  As to some specific questions:



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> What is next on the agenda? Eberron? Faded Glory redux? Prodding a prodigal Faded Glory author to get off his arse?




Probably mostly that last thing for a while.  I definately will NOT be writing a Story Hour about my Eberron campaign.  I like the campaign and all that but I have not kept notes or had any Battle Reports and I hate to start this far behind anyway.  The next thing I write may well be from the perspective of a player in a campaign rather than the GM.  It is very challenging to try and both prepare for the next game and chronicle the last one all at once.




			
				Jon Potter said:
			
		

> But I shared the same thought as Marius: "What are they going to do with him?" All it'll take is somebody to pull out the sword to unleash a whole world of hurt.
> 
> But that and the fate of Marius and his dagger seem to be questions best answered by another campaign, eh?




Will there be another Faded Glory campaign run by me?  Maybe.  I love the setting but I also love a lot of other settings too and I'm not the only GM for this group.  There stands a good chance of someday being another Faded Glory campaign that I'll run but it won't be with these characters.  As for what become of them, much of that is hinted at in the Epilogue that I intend to post in just a bit.  The players all seemed to enjoy the future histories of their characters and I hope you will too.  They resolve a lot of dangling thread but they leave enough questions unanswered to provide fodder for a follow up campaign if I ever get the hankerin'.

Thanks again for all the posts and I'm more than happy to answer any other outstanding questions that linger.  Also, raise your hand if you'd like to see Bale's stats...


----------



## Old One

*raises hand*


----------



## Riggs

*Ah, here we are at the end*



> Another barrage of blows rained down from the godling to land on the warrior. If there was one thing that Bale could not abide then it was Hope. And if there were two things that Bale could not abide then the other one was Singing.




...and don't get him started about whistling!!! 



One can't help but like reading about something one has participated in, but this write-up was, in the words of Summerall about my favorite team, "just very good". 

This was fun to read and it was fun to play.  I especially was glad on a personal level that I let Marius run down a path that turned out to be very fun and interesting to me.


One last thing I'll throw in, and that is how we all got reminded of how far our characters had come when Bale started casting meteors on the soldiers in the palisade.  We were typically smarting after being in one, but not devastated (on average dice), but those poor saps that were the Pride of Emor got fried in their boots.   It was a nice touch by Rel in the thick of it to underline how bigtime this was and to reinforce what he'd laid out from before, that we were as epic a hero band as the world got in that era.

Well done, Rel. Pleasure to play and read.


----------



## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Also, raise your hand if you'd like to see Bale's stats...





Well, heck yeah!


----------



## pogre

Nice job Rel & crew! Looking forward to the Epilogue, but let me just say I enjoyed reading this.


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Way to go, Rel!

That was a long row to hoe, but you made it.  And it was a lot of fun to read.  You need to post a picture of Bale for everyone's edification.  I won't hint, but the model is well worth showing.

Also, I had a lot of fun playing in the game as I am having fun in the current Eberron Game.

I thought you showed our plan of pulling Bale away from his army well even without the sidenote.  It's funny, I had set up the potential flooding of the ground to the south of the battle to keep off the Imperial Legions and wound up having to flood the land to the north instead.  Oh, well.  I guess it's good to be prepared.

I also liked Riggs dagger problem and thought it was well played.


----------



## Rel

Alrighty then.  Mind you, this isn't a complete stat block, just what I had written on the card that I ran the encounter with.  His range of abilities goes considerably beyond this but I boiled it down to what he would likely find useful during the battle:

*Bale - Reborn Godling of Hate, Destruction and Murder (not necessarily in that order)*

Initiative: +5
Speed: 40 (Ignores Difficult Terrain)
AC: 24 (+5 Dex, -2 Size, +11 Natural)
Hit Points: 390 with DR 25/+2 and 20 Regeneration on any round when a creature of his Blood is slain within 30 feet.

Attacks:

Mace of Annihilation +30/+25/+20/+15 - Damage (Target ceases ever to have been.  Acquaintences make Will Save DC20 to recall ever having known the target.  Circumstance modifiers apply.)

Huge Greatclub (broken haft of Mace of Annihilation) +30/+25/+20/+15 - Damage (3d6+19)
Bash +30/+25/+20/+15 - Damage (2d6+13 + [3d6 Acid])

Saves:  Fort... +19  Ref...+14  Will...+13

Spell Like Abilities:

_At Will_:

- Meteor Swarm (6d6 x4) DC23 Ref for half
- Implosion DC22 Fort save or die from fatal inversion
- Disintegration (I didn't jot down the DC for this one but it's comparable)


That's pretty much it.  One of the things that makes Bale extra nasty is that when he thinks about it he can deploy a batch of those Blood Ferals.  I grabbed the idea for those guys out of the Sword & Sorcery Creature Collection.  Basically they're 2HD critters with an AC of 12 who make two claw attacks at +4.  But every time one of them dies, all the other members of the pack gain +1 Str, +1 HD (6 HP) and +1 AC immediately.  The players had a hell of a time understanding why the first couple went down easy and they could barely kill the last one or two.  Kicking out a batch of these guys causes Bale to lose 20 Hit Points while they're outside him and he also gives up any Regeneration for that round, which is why he didn't do it while he was fighting the PC's up close and personal.

Oh and here's the pic that Speaks requested.  Bale looks a bit less crimson and a bit more pink than he might have in your imaginations.  And yes, that is a golf tee in his pudgy little hand.  When he first made an appearance the tee had a black marble glued onto it.  I snapped it off dramatically (well, as dramatically as anyone ever snapped a black marble off an orange golf tee) when Capito destroyed the Sphere.  Anyway, try not to laugh at my modeling skills, pogre.


----------



## Rel

Here's the Epilogue that I promised.  It contains a goodly number of inside jokes, many of which were references to events of the campaign itself.  I hope you enjoy hearing what came after.

EPILOGUE

Tadius Silvanus walked down the hillside with a gaggle of his youngest students clustered around his feet.  “Come this way, children.  There’s somebody special who is going to give your lesson for today.”  The group made their way to the base of the hill where a thin copse of oaks stood along the banks of the Fodor.  Their eyes adjusted to the shade after a few moments and they saw a large feline form dozing in the summer breeze.  Dapples of sunshine made their way through the leaves above and played across the silvered flanks of the cat.

One of the students, a young girl, gasped, “It’s Uthreld!”

“It is indeed,” said Tadius gleefully.  “He’s here today to give you a bit of a history lesson about the end of the Blood War and the years after that.”

Uthreld, opened his eyes and a feline smile crept across his face.  “Come closer children.  I don’t wish to yell.  Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”  The cluster of children gathered around and took their places near the Dire Mountain Lion.

“You’ve all probably heard the legends from your parents and grandparents, but I’m here to tell you the story my way.  I was there and I saw what happened.  And I saw what happened after…

In the days immediately following the defeat of Bale, the defenders of Hrongar’s Hill went far and wide to try and hunt down the remains of his army.  The Duergar of Do’Kun-Ghul were among the largest groups but they agreed to withdraw peacefully back to the Black Peaks and their city beneath the mountains.  This truce was facilitated by the Great Druid, Speaks With Stone and Rhys.”

“You mean Prince Rhys of Sythia?” asked one of the boys.

“The very one.  But he wasn’t ‘Prince Rhys’ back in those days.  And, in fact, he was considered a criminal in Sythia at the time.  But that’s a story for another day.

The Dwarves of the Stone Tooth Clan were loathe to see their enemies get away like this but their numbers were few in those days and they were exhausted from their march from the Stone Tooth all the way to Hrongar’s Hill in only five days.  Instead, they hunted Trolls along the banks of the Fodor, driving them into the river and out of our lands.

Along with the Trolls, many of the Ogres fled eastward into the Darkwood.  That’s one of the reasons that it remains so dangerous to venture there.  There is rumored to be a city in the far north of the Darkwood ruled by the Ogre Lords and their Gnollish minions.  But they stay well north of the Oakwash and keep vigil along the southern slopes of the Pillars of Heaven, always watching for signs of the Dark Druids.

Most of the rest of Bale’s Army of Blood was destroyed although the Neoghi and their Umber Hulk slaves managed to escape underground and make their way westward where they still haunt the slopes of the Black Peaks.  The others were hunted down and slain by the remaining defenders of Hrongar’s Hill.

Once it became apparent that Bale and his army were no longer a threat, the Imperials quickly turned south toward home where they hoped to aid the other Legions in driving the Orcs from their country.  They were accompanied by Lazarius of Aquae Sulis who they say slew three hundred Orcs by himself at the battle of Hadria.  He stayed for a short time in the Empire before he returned back to the north to join his companions on their journey back into the Blackpeaks.

It was a few weeks after the Blood Battle of Hrongar’s Hill that the Heroes went north again to the City of Endless Summer.  There they fought against the servants of Bane, the Banelar and their undead minions.  They killed a dozen of the foul worshipers of the Imprisoned One and destroyed hundreds of their unliving servants.  Scar of Fenhold and the remaining Orcs who had helped defend Hrongar’s Hill destroyed the altars and symbols of Bane scattered throughout the City of Endless Summer.  When the last of these symbols was destroyed, the volcano that held the City erupted in a tremendous blast.  The Heroes barely escaped with their lives, thanks to a timely warning and some Teleportation magic by Lazarius of Aquae Sulis.  When the ground started to heave and tremble, he called out to his companions, “Albatross, Albatross, ALBATROSS!!!”

One of the children let out a chuckle, “So THAT’S where that saying comes from.”

“Indeed.  Since the day that tale was told, it has become commonplace for those who desperately wish to escape from a situation to use the phrase, ‘Albatross, Albatross, Albatross’.

After that, the Heroes began to drift apart and go their separate ways.  Marcus, Holy Warrior of St. Cuthbert, vanished completely for a short while.  He was taken to Celestia by The Shining Lady and honored by St. Cuthbert himself.  He was saddened to learn that St. Capito never saw the shores of Celestia as his soul was destroyed by the Black Mace of Bale.  Capito was canonized however and of course the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert were renamed The Order of St. Capito.  Doubtlessly you’ve seen them on their pilgrimages to The Shrine.

And, as I’m sure you know, Marcus was appointed the Steward of the Shrine of Stone.  He still lives there today with his wife, Ilsa of the Corritani…”

“She’s so pretty,” blurted out one of the girls.

“Indeed she is child, although you should have seen her in her youth.  She was like a celestial come to earth.  They say that when she was born, she was touched by the gods and has glowed from inside ever since.  Marcus fell in love with her the moment her light touched his eyes.  Some of his friends say that it was only his love for her that could keep him in one place rather than scouring the Blackpeaks for any remnants of the followers of Bane or Bale.

He has not lacked for excitement though.  You probably know that there have been two attempts by the followers of Bane to remove the Bloodstone Blade from where it sits, lodged in Bale’s belly.  The Shield of the Steward kept them at bay long enough for Marcus and the Brigante Guardians of the Shrine to send them to see their god’s prison though.  For a man of nearly 60, the Steward’s mace is still able to send most Cultists to Hell with a single stroke.

I think the day is soon coming when Marcus will pass the Shield on to another.  His son, Lucius, has spent years doing what his father could not, ranging throughout the north and battling the Evil of the Blackpeaks where it lives rather than waiting for it to emerge again.  There is talk that the Stewardship may pass from father to son.

Lazarius of Aquae Sulis was seen sporadically in the weeks after they returned from the City of Endless Summer.  People say that he would appear every few days with bulging sacks of coins from all over the world, some of them dating back centuries.  He shared this wealth with the other Heroes though he also spent princely sums on ale and whor…um, entertainment.  He disappeared from Emor and was not seen for months after that.

Then one day, he came soaring over the treetops at the edge of Aquae Sulis, seated upon an enormous throne that floated in mid air.  A large tower stands there and it was the home of a man by the name of Nacalius.  Lazarius is said to have dropped three enormous sacks of gold outside the door and then unleashed a hail of lighting into the forest surrounding the place.  Nacalius accepted Lazarius’ offer to purchase the tower almost immediately and that is where Lazarius of Aquae Sulis lives to this day.

Lazarius and your master are good friends and I’m sure you’re familiar with some of the body of work that the Wizard of Aquae Sulis has produced over the years.  _Lazarius’ Lavishly Large Lightning Lash_ and _Greater Stoneskin That Doesn’t Cost So Much_ are fairly widespread at this point.  I also hear tell that he is working on a powerful transportation spell called _Teleportation Without Planar Translocation Complication_ after he rather flippantly jaunted out of Speaks’ grove and found himself trapped in the Spirit Realm for a few weeks.

With a small fortune in hand, Marius Blackblade made his way to Oar and sailed across the Crescent Sea back to the Empire.  The days after the Orc War were dark and chaotic in the Empire.  Not since the Slave Wars nearly one hundred and fifty years ago had the lands of Emor seen such turmoil.

The frail Emperor Dartalus II, finally died and the succession by his son, Flavius, was disputed by a group of Senators led by a Senator Gracchus.  He made scathing accusations that Flavius’ incompetence and hunger for personal glory had led him on adventures in the north where he sought to attack, without provocation, the peoples of the Fodor, with whom the Empire was just starting to have profitable trade relations.  This lust for power and glory had left the Empire defenseless against the invasion by the Orcs and cost the lives of thousands, indeed, very nearly causing the total collapse of the Empire.

It was into this political turmoil that Marius Blackblade returned when he arrived in Emor.  He was quickly elevated to the status of “Personal Advisor” to Senator Gracchus.  He informed Gracchus that he had it on good authority that those who allied themselves with that attack on the northlands, which was clearly the unholy inspiration of the evil brothers Bane and Bale, would suffer “the wrath of the gods”.  This premonition proved true when a number of Senators who still favored Flavius died horribly while giving speeches in his support.  Those present at their deaths said it was as though, all of a sudden, these men were covered from head to foot with a hundred slashes.

The final blow to the ascendancy of Flavius was when his closest supporter, Pontius was found dead.  Investigators said that he was ritually sacrificed to Bane by his very own wife.  A short time later, his wife, Solvaria, was hunted down and killed by Marius Blackblade.  Her head was laid before the Imperial Senate the same day that Emperor Gracchus was crowned.  

They say that Marius Blackblade hunted down dozens of Demons and Devils that had helped the Empire against the Orcs but refused to return to Hell when their duty was done.  They also say that he infiltrated and destroyed at least two sects of the Cult of Bane that were still operating in Emor.  It is almost impossible to say how much of this was true.  His name was spoken in whispers and he soon became surrounded by legends.  It was said that he wielded a Demon for a sword and his consort was a Devil who walked the lands of men at her leisure.  Nobody knows whether he still lives or not.  But once in a while, a body will turn up, killed by a single dagger thrust.  And that person will almost always be found out to have been a supporter of Bane.

As for Cathal Godslayer, he stayed a while in the lands of the Brigantes and hunted the Neoghi in the Blackpeaks alongside Seshmarl, the great chief of the Allmani.  But he found himself ill at ease within his tribe.  His people were in awe of him and few could speak to him directly.  What does one say to a man who has slain a god?

He went south along with Scar and they organized a group of defenders to take over the fortifications abandoned by the Imperials at what is now Fenhold.  He used his renown to shield his people from the avarice of the Empire.  “I have traded blows with Bale.  I live and his stone corpse stands where I slew him.  If you wish to take the lands of the Fodor, you first face me.”

As I’m sure you are aware, no attempt to land so much as a single legionnaire has taken place since Cathal’s proclamation.  Fenhold rapidly grew into a prosperous trading town as the tribes of the Fodor began to trade their goods up and down the river rather than the long, overland route through Glynden and Oar.  It soon became a target for the few corsairs that remained upon the Crescent Sea.

When the pirates attacked, they were met at the docks of Fenhold by a “statue come to life”.  The corsairs were defeated and their captains captured.  A week later, both of the surviving pirate captains were dragged, kicking and screaming, into the surf by a man made of iron.  He held them beneath the waves until they had succumbed to the ocean and strode out of the sea leaving their bodies to the crabs.  The folk of Fenhold sleep well at night knowing that Cathal Godslayer, Iron Protector of the Fodor stands ready to defend them.

That leaves my friend, Speaks With Stone, Great Druid of the Fodor.  After his return from the north Speaks visited his friend, Great Root of the Darkwood.  Great Root had been tutoring many of the animals who Speaks had Awakened in the days before the Blood Battle.  They were learning the Druid ways in order to become the defenders of the Darkwood.

Speaks found that he had few ties to Glynden any more and, after saying goodbye to his friends, Kyndalyn and Father Tomas, he left his grove near there in the capable paws of Jitterbug, the wisest of the wolves whom Great Root had trained.  The crops near Glynden thrived and grew with supernatural abundance.  And if the occasional sheep went missing, nobody complained about it too much.

Speaks returned west across the Fodor and found a number of people waiting for him.  The shamans of the Corritani and Nervii wanted him to teach them the ways of the Druids that they might shepherd their people, even without the guidance of the Spirits of the Land.  There were also those among the other tribes who wanted to learn what he had to teach.  With the blessing of Feather In Flight, head of the Order of Druids in Emor, Speaks formally broke ties with his old master and began his teachings in the north.

He founded a new grove in the deep forests of the Suevi lands.  The new chieftain of the Suevi liked having him close by.  After all, I would never have been more than an animal had it not been for him.

Not long after he had founded his new grove and begun to accept students, a very special student arrived from the west.  Orthula of the Suevi returned to us with her son, Ormgar.  Speaks With Stone adopted the boy like he was his very own.  I was never more proud than the day when I officiated their wedding.

And here, all these years later, the two of them look almost the same.  Their students have aged and certainly I have, but they seem to be steady as an old oak.  Thankfully their son grew older and with age became a great warrior and leader in his own right.

As a matter of fact, that’s what brings me here to Tadius’ school along the Fodor.  I’ve just abdicated my position as Chieftain of the Suevi and Ormgar has taken over.  I’ve got a few good years left in me yet and I always thought I might make a good Wizard.

So, children, I guess I’m your newest classmate…”


----------



## Speaks With Stone

Yayy!!

Go team!  Go us!


----------



## BSF

"I’ve got a few good years left in me yet and I always thought I might make a good Wizard."  

That's great!  

Nice Epilogue Rel.  It is a little sad to reach the end of the story hour because I won't be able to come read up on the happenings of the game now.  But I have very much enjoyed reading what did occur.  

Again, my thanks to your gaming group.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Well, it's been a good read while it lasted. Thanks to you and your group and I hope you grace these pages with another story soon.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Thanks for the Story Hour Rel, it's been great


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Rel, thank you very much for a highly entertaining storyhour, which you topped off with an excellent climax and a beautifully crafted epilogue.

Throughout, I have been impressed with your skill both as a DM and as a writer - I hope you do take up the storyhour "pen" once again for some future campaign.



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> Lazarius of Aquae Sulis was seen sporadically in the weeks after they returned from the City of Endless Summer. People say that he would appear every few days with bulging sacks of coins from all over the world, some of them dating back centuries. He shared this wealth with the other Heroes though he also spent princely sums on ale and whor…um, entertainment.




I'm very glad to hear it ... Heroes should always get there rewards!   

One final (probably) question: mechanically, what was it that caused the Bloodstome blade to finally hit stone and do its work when it did? A critical? Cumulative damage? Or ... umm ... dramatic licence?


----------



## Rel

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Rel, thank you very much for a highly entertaining storyhour, which you topped off with an excellent climax and a beautifully crafted epilogue.
> 
> Throughout, I have been impressed with your skill both as a DM and as a writer - I hope you do take up the storyhour "pen" once again for some future campaign.




Thank you (and the rest of you who have posted) for the compliments.  I'm sure that my haitus from starting a new story hour will run for at least a couple more months or so unless my Eberron campaign comes to a crashing halt.  But in the mean time I intend to finish writing up a couple more of the adventures I've done for my little girl and you can read about those in my Samantha the Red story hour.  Samantha the Red is turning 4 in July and growing more sophistocated all the time, so making adventures for her is becoming more challenging and more fun.  I also just recently introduced her to some new movies that are providing a lot of fuel for her adventuring fires, those being _Willow_ and _The Princess Bride_.  She loves em'.




> I'm very glad to hear it ... Heroes should always get there rewards!




That first bit is something that I'm not sure came out in the Story Hour.  The Dragon Hoard was so huge that there was no way that the PC's could haul it out when they departed to go fight Bale.  They picked up most of the magic items including those that would prove most critical in the upcoming battle (notably the Necklace of Iron Body, the Figurine of the Hippogriff, the Belt of the Suevi, the Lucky Rabbits Foot and of course the Bloodstone Blade).  But some of the bulkier magic items like the Floating Throne and the huge mounds of coins simply had to wait.  

So Lazarius made a point of returning to he hoard to slowly bring out all the loot to share with the party members and others.  As I recall, some of the copper was handed over to the Fodor Tribes to facilitate them getting trade going with the Empire as soon as possible.  As a funny aside, they immediately paid over a goodly chunk of this to Tadius Silvanus in payment for some of the magic he had given them as "Emergency War Supplies" and he immediately paid it back to secure the land upon which he intended to start his academy.

Lazarius had been eyeing the Tower of Aquae Sulis, once owned by one of the Dragon's victims, since they first saw it.  But Nacalius, one of the Glynden Council members had moved in and was setting himself up as the de facto Mayor of Aquae Sulis.  Nacalius had been a pain in their collective ass since the very first night of the whole campaign and it gave Lazarius no small measure of enjoyment to buy the property from beneath him under threat of Lightning Bolt.




> One final (probably) question: mechanically, what was it that caused the Bloodstome blade to finally hit stone and do its work when it did? A critical? Cumulative damage? Or ... umm ... dramatic licence?




Interestingly enough, Cathal actually rolled an inordinately large number of criticals agains Bale.  At least three including that final blow.  But that was not what triggered the magic of the Bloodstone Blade.  Bale was getting a Fort save against it every time it struck and only had to roll above a 3 to make it.  Since I roll in the open, the players waited with bated breath at each save and each time were disappointed.  When it got down to Cathal's last critical I think that Bale made that save as well.  BUT, I give out these "Fate Chips" that you can use to re-roll any d20 roll.  The players usually kept these in reserve to save thier own characters and had already burned quite a few avoiding the Meteor Swarms and so forth during this encounter.  But they also knew that one more Full Attack by Bale and Cathal and probably Marcus were going to be dead.  So, they spent a Fate Chip to make Bale re-roll his save and I rolled a 2.  Bale gets stoned.

This is one way in which I seem to get lucky over and over again.  Rolling in the open is a blessing and a hazard because it provides a lot of tension but things can easily end in disaster.  But somehow, some way, the players in my games (including my one-shot Game Day games) always seem to pull out that critical roll or cause an essential failure on a save that ends things in dramatic victory.  It is fairly uncanny and probably accounts for a sizeable chunk of my reputation as a good (but Rat-Bastard) GM.  If the dice fell just a bit differently then I would likely be regarded as a Killer GM.


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## Funeris

Well Rel, I'm sad to see it end.  But glad it ended so very well.
It was a great story.  I'll now lift a drink to you and your tortured victims...er...i mean players....yeah, that's the word...that made this magnificent.  When next you write, I'll be there.


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## gerg_861

Congratulations on finishing this excellent story hour, and thanks for all the free entertainment, it was great!


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## Cathal

First off, I'd like to take a second to thank Rel for running this Faded Glory campaign for us--and to thank the other players...I really love playing with these guys--Rel's got a way of keeping things interesting...to wit:



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> So, they spent a Fate Chip to make Bale re-roll his save and I rolled a 2.  Bale gets stoned.
> 
> This is one way in which I seem to get lucky over and over again.  Rolling in the open is a blessing and a hazard because it provides a lot of tension but things can easily end in disaster.  But somehow, some way, the players in my games (including my one-shot Game Day games) always seem to pull out that critical roll or cause an essential failure on a save that ends things in dramatic victory.  It is fairly uncanny and probably accounts for a sizeable chunk of my reputation as a good (but Rat-Bastard) GM.  If the dice fell just a bit differently then I would likely be regarded as a Killer GM.




I was just telling PO:Marius the other day that there're few significant combats that go by in which I don't feel (and frequently say) "well, this one's a TPK for sure"...and yet, at the end, almost all of us are able to get back up and carry on.  I also appreciate that the threat is real--Rel doesn't pull punches (much?), so if the dice are out to get you, you're done.

And, it's not just the combats...the plotlines are well-conceived, the characters are deep, and there's not much that we can do to throw Rel off--and we try, believe me, we try.  If you get a chance, either at an NC Games Day or at the upcoming GenCon'05, play with Rel.


But, back to the teary kissing-up...  This campaign was a blast (thanks, too, to Old One!), and while I'm glad to finally be able to see all 600+ pages together, it's a little sad to see 'the end' written.  

Keep 'em coming, Rel...


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## Tony Vargas

I'm going to miss Speaks.  I played Druids a lot in the 1E days, and was not too happy with the direction they went subsequently, but, in spite of that, I found Speaks to be a well-played and interesting example of the class.


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## Belen

Very well done!  It has been a great ride.  Both the writing style and utter shock at what Rel is capable of doing to his players has made for an addicitve story.  I will be sad to see that is has come to a close.

Kudos to all of you!


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## Fimmtiu

I just finished reading all three installments at once, and boy are my eyes sore. Couldn't stop reading once I got started, though. Beautifully done! I admire the tenacity with which you kept working on your Story Hour.

Question: So if Bale wasn't present for the Pact, and is therefore mortal and can be killed... why are they leaving him there as a big statue with the key still in the lock, so to speak? You'd think the gods could come up with a more permanent solution than that.

Other question: Did they ever find out what happened to Titus Pontius Macer?

Love the way you used Scipio. Hmm, I wonder what the ECLs for various Awakened animals would be...


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## Rel

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> I just finished reading all three installments at once, and boy are my eyes sore. Couldn't stop reading once I got started, though. Beautifully done! I admire the tenacity with which you kept working on your Story Hour.
> 
> Question: So if Bale wasn't present for the Pact, and is therefore mortal and can be killed... why are they leaving him there as a big statue with the key still in the lock, so to speak? You'd think the gods could come up with a more permanent solution than that.
> 
> Other question: Did they ever find out what happened to Titus Pontius Macer?
> 
> Love the way you used Scipio. Hmm, I wonder what the ECLs for various Awakened animals would be...




Here I am posting WAY too late at night after a game session.  I came down to the computer to hook up my substitute mouse after the old one crapped out (thanks Cathal for the mouse).

So anyway, thanks for the kudos, Fimmtiu.  To answer your questions:

The gods can't interfere in the mortal realm precisely because of the pact.  They can only act through intermediaries like the Celestials or Demons.  It could be that there are relatively good ways to have Bale destroyed for good.  But they'd probably have to take out the sword and let him momentarily return to life to execute them.  For now it seems well enough to simply leave him as a big hunk of well guarded stone.

They never did discover the fate of Macer.  He accompanied the Orc Army on the invasion of Emor but his fate during the war was never revealed.

And lastly as a general note that is particularly ironic in light of me mentioning how many close scrapes my player have been through...tonight I had my first TPK ever.     I'll give some more details tomorrow after I'm home from work.  I'll only say that the guys were all good sports about it and the Eberron campaign will continue on, almost without a pause.


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## Cathal

Rel said:
			
		

> And lastly as a general note that is particularly ironic in light of me mentioning how many close scrapes my player have been through...tonight I had my first TPK ever.     I'll give some more details tomorrow after I'm home from work.  I'll only say that the guys were all good sports about it and the Eberron campaign will continue on, almost without a pause.





Yep, TPK.  

I think that the bad luck just got all piled up in one corner over the years and finally toppled over onto the table last night!  We've lived on the breathless edge of disaster for so long that it was bound to happen at some point, and this one was a doozy.


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## Belen

Cathal said:
			
		

> Yep, TPK.
> 
> I think that the bad luck just got all piled up in one corner over the years and finally toppled over onto the table last night!  We've lived on the breathless edge of disaster for so long that it was bound to happen at some point, and this one was a doozy.




TPKs are never pretty.  I have never had one myself, but I have suffered that fate twice as a player.  The first time, the party disintegrated and we ran afoul of the authorities in Sigil.  You never want to want to be a stupid berk.

The second time, the GM caught us between a group of nightstalkers, and a 22 level cleric with timestop for a domain spell!


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## Rel

Cathal said:
			
		

> Yep, TPK.
> 
> I think that the bad luck just got all piled up in one corner over the years and finally toppled over onto the table last night!  We've lived on the breathless edge of disaster for so long that it was bound to happen at some point, and this one was a doozy.




Well, technically it wasn't a TPK because Cathal's Warforged was not destroyed, merely rendered inert while the rest of the party was killed.  But we'll call it "close enough".


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## Riggs

Rel said:
			
		

> Well, technically it wasn't a TPK because Cathal's Warforged was not destroyed, merely rendered inert while the rest of the party was killed.  But we'll call it "close enough".




Two statues on the island of Krapa-ptui...motionless and timeless but undying except for the frailty of the artificer. One dies and truly is an statue and the other awaits help forever.


Sorry Ravage, I only had 23 hit points  :\


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## Jon Potter

Rel said:
			
		

> Well, technically it wasn't a TPK because Cathal's Warforged was not destroyed, merely rendered inert while the rest of the party was killed.  But we'll call it "close enough".




So... are you going to enlighten us? What happened? One last bit of daring-do recapped for the old FG audience before this thread is lost to the netherpages?

And I'm not very familiar with Eberron, so forgive me. But when I saw the name of the island mentioned in Riggs' post I couldn't help but think: "I'd be going "PTUI!" too if I was on an island of Krapa!"   


Hey! Keep it down. I can hear the groaning from way over here!


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## Rel

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> So... are you going to enlighten us? What happened? One last bit of daring-do recapped for the old FG audience before this thread is lost to the netherpages?




You can read all about it here. 

And Riggs was just making up the name of the island.  It never had a name that the PC's knew of except "The Island Where We All Got Killed".


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## Rel

For those of you playing along at home, you might wish to revisit the link in my previous post about the TPK thread.  It seems that some of my players have exacted a sort of "revenge" if you will. 

Look for Cathal's post #30.


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## Rel

At the request of BardStephenFox in another thread, I thought I'd post the current XP system that we're using as opposed to the system that I long touted in many a thread here.  For the record, I still like that system in some respects but I understand now that it has some areas where it falls short for our current group.  We've been using this new system for 2-3 months now and it seems to be working well.

*Rel's NEW XP System*

The mission statement of this XP system is to award XP for a wide array of situations (from RP heavy to Combat Heavy) with minimal fuss and on a sliding scale based on PC level.  It is also designed to fit in well with the vaguely cinematic flavor I'm trying to achieve in my current (Eberron) campaign.

At the end of the session, the DM divides the events that took place into "scenes".  Each of these scenes is designated as having been "Minor", "Average" or "Major" based on the events that took place therein.  I call this the "degree" of the scene.  Then I look at a spreadsheet I've made and award XP for each scene based on the degree of the scene, cross referenced with the average PC level in the party.  Each PC involved gets that much XP for that scene.

For very general guidelines I use the following:

For combat, foes with an EL below the average party level count as a "Minor" scene.  Those of approximately the same EL as the party level are "Average" and those above are "Major".

For roleplaying encounters, I base the degree of the scene on the length of the interaction and the usefulness/relevance to the PC's current situation.  For a very brief exchange with someone of little real relevance to the ongoing plot (like a brief haggle with a merchant) I won't consider that a "scene" at all.  For short conversations with important NPC's about topics relevant to the PC's, I'll award a "Minor" scene.  For similar conversations of a longer nature or ones that are vital to the current plotline I'd award an "Average" scene.  For lengthy interactions with NPC's that are detailed and of a critical nature to the PC's, I'll award a "Major" scene.

As an example of how this works, a couple sessions ago the PCs did the following:

1) They were attacked by Sahuagin on their ship headed to Saltmarsh.
2) The arrived in Saltmarsh and got into a drinking contest with some locals that resulted in one PC going unconscious and another becoming a "local hero" within the bar.
3) Chatted briefly with 3-4 NPC's about their plans to hunt Lizardfolk for a bounty.

I awarded an Average scene for the Sahuagin attack based on their numbers and the numbers of the PC's and their level.  I awarded an Average scene for the drinking contest (which was quite lengthy and funny in nature).  I awarded a Minor scene for talking to the NPC's.

Checking the chart I've made (and I'll attach it if anybody is interested), I noted that an Average scene for 4th level characters is worth 210 XP and a Minor scene is worth 120.  Each party member got 540XP except for one character because his player had to leave early and missed the part where the rest of the group asked around town about the bounty hunting.

So there you have it.  As always I'm happy to answer any questions.


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## Funeris

If you would, please post the spreadsheet 
I'm always looking into different ways to award experience...I hate the standard system....


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## Rel

okey dokey...


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## Darklone

Greetings 

Nice piccies btw, Rel... and grats to your first TPK, I'm still waiting for my first one (my players learn to run fast and it's really hard to catch a halfling riding on a cheetah even if you're a dragon ).


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## Richard Rawen

*Whew!*

Well, I realize that this thread has been quiet for awhile but I just Had to add my 
Thank You!
to the long list of accolades you rightly deserve for this Epic tale.
I have spent hours un-numbered happily reading that would have otherwise squandered working.   
Also, I thought perhaps to let you know that though the story is finished, we readers are still quite enjoying your efforts!
Since this post might attract a few casual viewers, may I just say to them, Read it from the beginning!

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=25689

Again Rel, Thanks a million for all the laughs and drama and just plain good storytelling.
Blessings
M < > <
Richard


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## Rel

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> Well, I realize that this thread has been quiet for awhile but I just Had to add my
> Thank You!
> to the long list of accolades you rightly deserve for this Epic tale.
> I have spent hours un-numbered happily reading that would have otherwise squandered working.
> Also, I thought perhaps to let you know that though the story is finished, we readers are still quite enjoying your efforts!
> Since this post might attract a few casual viewers, may I just say to them, Read it from the beginning!
> 
> http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=25689
> 
> Again Rel, Thanks a million for all the laughs and drama and just plain good storytelling.
> Blessings
> M < > <
> Richard




Wow.  Thanks so much, Richard.  I really can't tell you how much I appreciate your words.  I just came from a post in my Samantha the Red story hour where somebody posted about enjoying it and now this.  The folks here at ENWorld come through again to cheer me up when I'm feeling kinda rough.

Thank you for reading and thank you for posting.


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## Quartz

Arise! I've just re-read this from start to finish having half-remembered it and it's still awesome.


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