# Tsunami's Story Hour: Legions of the Damned! (Updated? Whaaaa?)



## Breakstone (Feb 11, 2003)

Well, I figured now that I've actually got a steady group to write about, I might as well try out this whole Story Hour thing again.

So, anyway...

*Kevin Breakstone presents...* 

a harrowing tale of the death-defying journey of a simple group of adventurers through nigh-impossible challenges...







...

There we go, is that cheesy enough?


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 11, 2003)

*Chapter One
A Fateful Introduction at the Wolf's Den...*

 Kenzo Otso was having no luck. He scratched his balding head as he glanced about the seedy bar properly entitled “The Wolf’s Den.” Surely, someone here must be desperate enough to accept his proposal. Maybe the barrel-chested bartender. Or the one-armed dwarf chugging pints of ale. Or even the mandolin-player picking strings in front of the fire place. No one else in the trading town of Crossing Winds seemed helpful.

 Meanwhile, Keith Goodfellow rolled his eyes. “Sir Furivel,” he sighed to the immaculate elf sitting next to him, “I have sworn to your father to keep you protected, but I did not promise to follow you to certain doom. This bar… it’s much too true to its name. I don’t think Feridun would appreciate you being here.”

 The elf scoffed. “_Keith,_” he spoke in Elven, “_if you do not think you can take on a pack of dirty humans and a one-armed dwarf, then maybe you’re not fit to be my bodyguard?_” Arudan Furivel gave the residents of the bar one single glance. “_And anyway, there is one elf._”

 Keith followed Arudan’s gaze to the black-cloaked man sitting in the shadows of the corner. “Sir Furivel, you can’t even tell if that’s an elf or not. His head is covered by his hood.”

 “_Us Elves know these things, Keith. Anyway, he’s much too refined to be a simple_ human.”

 Keith rolled his eyes once again and turned to the bard strumming a mandolin. He let his imagination ride the currents of the music, until he was brought back to that night, long ago, the night of rain and fire. The night that his platoon was sent after the half-orc battalion of mages. The night he lost his entire-

 The mandolin-player strummed faster.

 The night that he met Feridun Furivel, the elven noble, and his son Arudan. Keith’s life had been saved, but at what cost? He was now trapped as the bodyguard- no, the chauffer of this elitist elf snob. The music reached a crescendo. Ears in the audience picked up the fast-paced concerto.

 Keith could just leave Arudan here in this grime-ridden bar, surrounded by thugs who wouldn’t give a second thought about slitting the elf’s pale throat. The mandolin-player began the climax of the song, fingers dancing amongst the strings like so many pale sword-fighters.

 In fact, Keith _should_ just- no, no, it wasn’t the honorable thing to do. Keith Goodfellow was good to his word, and his name. The bard finished his score, and received a roaring ovation. Keith joined in on the applause.

 As Keith returned to his deep ponderings, the bard wandered over to the bar to find a fresh drink waiting. “That,” bellowed the bartender, “was an amazing performance. What’s your name, son?”

 “The name’s Bryant.”

 “Well Bryant, feel free to come back any time. I think you even attracted a few new customers to this dump!” The bartender waved with a broad hand to the armor-clad man sitting next to the smooth-skinned elf, the old gentlemen decked in oriental clothing, and the black-clad fellow cloaked in shadows. “That last feller, he came in with a flock of crows. Darndest thing I’ve ever seen. The crows are silent, just like their master, and are perched up on the rafters. But, hey, as long as they don’t do their business on my business,  I’m fine with anything.” Bryant and the bartender shared a chuckle. “Truly though, it’s the dwarf that I’m worried about. I don’t think he likes that armored feller staring at him.”

 Keith didn’t realize he was staring at the dwarf until he was face to face with three solid feet of one-armed drunken rage. “YOU STARIN’ AT ME, BOY?” the dwarf let out a belch that shook the tavern. “WE DWARVES DON’ LIKE TA BE STARED AT, BOY!” Spittle splattered as the dwarf waved his stub-of-an-arm in Keith’s general direction.

 Keith took a deep breath (not to be advised around belching dwarves), and confidently placed a hand on the dwarf’s armored shoulder, and stared deep into the pair of glazed brown eyes before him. “My friend, you’re drunk, and should definitely go home.”

 The tavern went silent.

 The dwarf stared back into a pair of bright, calm blue eyes. He stared for a long time.

 “…yes, sir…”

 Head lowered in shame, the dwarf stumbled out the door.

 Kenzo Otso knew he had his man.

 Kenzo approached Keith with a proposal. “I have been sent by a village to the east, which is being attacked by a ruthless gang of half-orc bandits. The odds of our survival is low, and the pay is minimal. There is absolutely no reason you should come with me, other than to protect the innocents of the village. Do you accept?”

 If Keith hesitated, it did not show. “Of course.”

 “Excellent. The villagers say that there have been twenty bandits in the past. We shall need at least three more skilled warriors to defend the town.”

 “_I can wield weaponry better than any human you may hire,_” Arudan boasted.

 Keith translated for Kenzo, then added, “Eh, what he means to say is-” 

 “- _No, I said exactly what I meant to say, as I always do! Are there any other elves here whom shall follow me into battle? Victory and honor shall be brought to your names._”

 The black-clad elf finally stood. “I am Uel. I shall join you.” After a chorus of caws from above, he added, “My brothers wish to battle, too. We once were scarred deeply by such bandits that you seek.”

 Bryant put down his empty glass and announced in elven, “_I am skilled in combat,_” for effect, he added a strum of his mandolin, “_and music, and magic. I, too, will join you._”

 “Very well then,” Kenzo spoke as if regretting every word, “we shall march to the village tonight. It will be a two day travel. The bandits attack in seven nights.”

 There was a share of nods, and then with a flap of wings, a click of boots, and a single note, the five were gone.


----------



## Cyronax (Feb 11, 2003)

Good stuff Tsunami! I usually don't read more than a handful of tried and true favorites, but you've got the two most important things so far: interesting characters and good writing. I'd love to read more 

C.I.D.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 11, 2003)

Wow!

A reply! And praise!

Thanks, Cyronax!

I've got to give credit to my players- they made excelent characters. I love the interaction between Keith Goodfellow and Arudan Furivel.

And thanks for the compliment on my writing! It does the heart good to hear things like that...

Excuse me as I wipe a tear away from my eye...


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 11, 2003)

*Chapter Two** 
A Troubled Town*

The trip to the village took two days. Arudan rode on his pony, while everyone else walked. During the days they traveled, and during the nights they ate Uel’s blessed berries, which his crows collected. Bryant played tunes to travel by as Kenzo filled them in on the village’s locale.

When he finally reached the village, Arudan was quite surprised. “_It’s… tiny,_” he whispered.

“Not all villages live up to your elven home, Sir Furivel,” said Keith. Arudan simply frowned, and urged his pony on.

The town truly was tiny, only a quarter of a mile across, and consisting of a total of thirteen houses, one of which was a mill, and one of which was a stable. A river cut through the northern section of town, severing it cleanly into two parts. Fields of wheat danced in the breeze.

As the five travelers journeyed into town, the villagers poured out of the wheat fields. A swarm of peasants soon surrounded the party, like a blizzard of moths drawn to a flame. There was an awkward silence, and then a scoff.

“These are who we’re trusting to defend our town?” a man, hidden in the crowd, cried.

A murmur spread through the villagers.

“Please, let me explain-” Kenzo Otso was interrupted by a woman’s shrill voice.

“Master Nivers has a point! I mean, look at this one!” Here she pointed to Arudan. “Skinny as a starving child!”

Keith Goodfellow, armor shining in the sunlight, stepped forward. “Now listen, folks! This kind man Kenzo has collected the best warriors he could find! I mean, look, you’ve got two elves who have journeyed from far and wide-”

Master Nivers again shouted, “Elves? He brought elves? Great Pelor, why not just hire a bunch of girls to protect us?”

Arudan simply smirked. “You petty commoners ought to be honored to fight alongside the great race of elves, let alone a noble such as myself! Why, here we have not only a master of the wilds,” he gestured to Uel, silent amongst his crows, and then to his fellow adventurers one by one, “but also a traveling minstrel with enough sense to learn the high language of my people. Not to mention my servant; a once mighty general who, through unfortunate happenstance, wound up in a state of servitude to me! Finally, by the measure of the man who brought us here, I would say we have a complete fighting force capable of taking well over twenty bandits! This town may be yours, but because you are weak we are here to teach you how to protect it.”

The silence was deafening.

Keith cleared his throat. “Well then, we shall be required to speak with your town leader.”

The crowd parted, and an old man, shakily clutching a warped cane, shambled forward. Kenzo introduced him as Grandfather Ash.

After a brief introduction, the villagers returned to their work in the fields and farms, and Grandfather Ash sketched a map of the village into the dirt road. “How,” he whispered between ragged breaths, “can we defend an entire village with only five warriors?”

“I shall train the men of the village how to use spears,” Kenzo announced.

“We should raise four towers, at these points,” Arudan drew in four squares on the northern and eastern sides of town.

“I can help with their creation,” spoke Bryant, pulling out his mandolin, “and my music will raise their spirits before the oncoming battle.”

“Good idea,” Keith thought back on his days enlisted, “A catapult should help. Two, if we have time.”

Uel cocked his head to the side, hooked nose pointing towards the northern forest. “Obad-Hai provides many defenses himself. I will search the forest with my brothers.”

“Very well then,” sighed Grandfather Ash, “the bandits attack on Friday. The always have, in the years before…” The old man stared off with faded eyes for a moment, then pulled himself back to reality. “Good luck, my friends, and may we all survive this very last attack…”

Kenzo, Keith, Arudan, Uel, and Bryant stood up, and glanced around the quiet village. A plum tree blossom floated down on a silent breeze to lay still at their feet. The peace would not last for long…


----------



## Cyronax (Feb 11, 2003)

I guess I'll chime in again Tsunami......seems like I've been on the boards a lot these days  

Another good update, and I must say I love the setup so far. I see not a few nods to the Seven Samurai/Magnificant Seven, and I have always thought that such a plot is a great idea for an adventure.

And btw, the crows for companions are a cool touch.
C.I.D.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 12, 2003)

Cyronax said:
			
		

> *Another good update, and I must say I love the setup so far. I see not a few nods to the Seven Samurai/Magnificant Seven, and I have always thought that such a plot is a great idea for an adventure.*




Yup, you've got me there! A few weeks before this campaign, I watched The Seven Samurai for the first time, and thought to myself, "Now _that_ would make an awesome campaign!

This whole first adventure is similar to the movie, even down to a few of the NPC's you'll be meeting.

But after that, it's all original.

I swear.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 14, 2003)

*Chapter Three 
Scouts! *

And, indeed, the next few days were filled with work. Arudan lead a troupe of villagers in raising two towers. While most seemed educated to at least the point of conversation, one man stuck out like a sore thumb. Arudan was informed that his name was Hobbs (for the man did not speak himself), and was “a few bees short of a full hive.” Arudan later described Hobbs as having a “silly grin plastered to his face,” and being like sap, for “he’s quite annoying, but he sticks to you.”

While Arudan raised towers on the northern front of town, Bryant worked on defending the western. With his music raising spirits (not to mention winning him a large child fan-base), two towers were soon raised by joyful villagers. Although normally a traveler, Bryant had to admit the perks of living in a tight-knit community like this.

In the center of town, Kenzo Otso taught a select few to use wooden spears, leading them through rigorous exercises. Meanwhile, in the forests surrounding the small village, Keith and Uel were grazing the forest. Keith directed a few villagers in logging the trees of the forest, planning out the construction of the catapults in his head. Uel spent time with his crow “brothers,” training them to attack in formation. “Revenge will be ours…” he grimly spoke. A cacophony of caws seemed to agree.

The days passed. Friday loomed, a towering menace, cloaking the end of the week in a shadow of doubt and fear. During the days the adventurers labored, and during the nights they shared supper with Kenzo Otso in the village’s stables, run by a loyal man by the name of Aberdale. On one particularly memorable night, Kenzo, with eyes glazed by memory, told a tale of his last battle with his former army. His militia had been sent to defend their territories, but had been slaughtered by the opposing forces. Kenzo had witnessed the death of many a friend that fateful day, and had almost died himself. After hours and hours of battle, he had passed out on the battlefield. When he awoke, one of the enemies had stolen his ceremonial helmet. Gone with the helmet were his friends, his rank, and his honor. He was now a lone warrior, wandering forlornly from conflict to conflict until he passed his last breath…

Kenzo said nothing more the entire night, for he had said all there had been to say.

On Thursday, while strolling through the forest, Arudan came upon three horses. “_Scouts!_” he cried in a hushed tone. He called quickly for Keith, who signaled to Uel. Bryant followed, readying his bow. “We should wait for them to return,” Keith formulated, “they will not be expecting an attack.”

And indeed, the bandits- squash-nosed half-orcs in mismatched armor- shambled up from the direction of the town.

Keith charged, flail whirling over his head. With a clash, he smashed his weapon into the bandit’s helmet, sending the half-orc sprawling. Uel stepped from behind a tree, reciting a prayer to the forest from beneath his shadow cloak. Vines and roots clawed out of the soft soil, entwining around the legs of two of the bandits. An arrow whistled through the air, burying itself in bandit armor. Uel, with an undulating cry, commanded his crows to dive, tearing half-orc flesh with hooked talons. In no time at all, the bandits were defeated.

“Quick!” Keith cried, “Heal the bandits if you can Uel. We should bring them back as prisoners for interrogation.”

Although Uel rushed to stop the flow of blood, one of the bandits had perished, a victim to the vines that still gripped his flesh.

Keith hoisted both unconscious bandits onto his shoulders and strode back to town, Arudan and Uel trailing behind him, with Bryant leading the three horses. When they entered town, a hush fell amongst the villagers.

“It’s… it’s the bandits…” a man whom the adventurers had gotten to know as Lyman whispered.

“Bandits?” one woman shrieked. “Kill them! Kill the bandits!”

A cry raised amongst the townsfolk as a mob rushed towards Keith. But Keith stood tall, and thrust a hand forward, fingers skyward, palm facing the angry horde. “Stop!” he commanded.

And the villagers listened.

“To kill these bandits is to become one! These are better kept prisoners, as to give us an upper hand during battle.”

“He’s siding with the bandits! That traitor!” Nivers cried.

“Shut up, old man,” a woman retorted.

Keith couldn’t help but smirk.


----------



## Stone Angel (Feb 14, 2003)

I like this story hour, Tsunami. Whoda knew you went from undead mount to a good author. Legions of the Damned indeed.

Look forward to more.


----------



## Despaxas (Feb 14, 2003)

This is one groovy story hour, keep it up /lurk mode on


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 14, 2003)

Whoa... more readers...

Thanks for the compliments, folks! I'll try and write more tonight!


----------



## Rangler (Feb 15, 2003)

this was good, keep it coming Tsunami cause i'll try to follow up what happens to the group, i like they way they work together 

/me begins to Lurk ere


----------



## Lela (Feb 15, 2003)

Each character his own person, each warriar goes his own way.
The heart of truth and might of the light will bring us vicotory this day.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 15, 2003)

*Chapter Four 
The Storm*

Keith dragged the bandits to Aberdale’s stables, relieving them of their weapons and armor. He tossed one into a pile of hay, and with a resounding slap, woke the second.

“Wha- huh? Huh?” the half-orc grunted.

“Where are the bandits attacking from?” Keith demanded, pinning the bandit to the wooden wall. “Tell me!”

The half-orc simply grinned, revealing an arsenal of jagged teeth. “I won’t tell you nothin’, human!”

Keith took a deep breath, dropped the bandit, and reconsidered his options. “How about this?” he asked, “You tell me the bandits’ strategy, and I let you go, free of charge.”

The half-orc’s brow furrowed for a moment as he mulled over the proposition. Keith waited patiently, hands spread before him.

“Eh… okay, human. You got a deal. Five of us are gonna attack from the north, along with our leader, Oizuk. The rest o’ us are gonna attack from the west. You happy now?”

“Yes,” Keith spoke, stepping to the side. “You are free to go.”

The bandit shuffled out the door, leaving only a dirty glance in Keith’s direction.

Outside, Arudan’s trained ears perked to the sound of heavy foot steps. His keen eyes picked up the burly shape of a half-orc sprinting across the middle of town. With a shrug, a pull, and a _twang_, the bandit was down, an arrow soundly buried in his back.

Keith sighed. “I’ve got to give that elf a talking to…”

Friday came.

High above, clouds collected. The sky darkened. Thunder roared. Condensation collected, amassed, and finally formed a single drop of water, which hurtled towards the earth below.

Kenzo absently scratched his thinning hair as a rain drop slammed into the dust near his feet. “A storm is coming,” he announced.

“’Tis unlike any storm I have seen before,” Uel pondered, glancing warily at the dimming sky. “It’s almost… unnatural.”

Keith turned to face his troupes. Once he had commanded an army of his own, filled with skilled warriors and keen blades. But now, his battalion was simply a village of peasants, situated in make-shift towers and simply armed with sticks and stones. The storm in the distance growled, a monstrous beast lurking above. Spirits were down, and a thick fog of anxiety clouded the minds of the villagers. Keith scratched his chin and licked his lips. He knew exactly what was needed.

“You know something?” he questioned the villagers in a deep, booming voice, “Those bandits don’t stand a chance! They think this is a simple raiding mission! They have no idea that you, my friends, you have been trained, have been guided, are prepared to fight! Only a dozen hairy, half-bred _brutes_ against _us!_ Yeah, I say we’re going to send them running with their tails between their legs!”

Smiles broke out, and a cry rose amongst the townsfolk- only to be silenced by an enormous crack of thunder, so loud it shook Keith down to his bones.

But not his spirit.

“Hell,” he cried, “even the GODS are with us!”

A ragged cheer grew into a thunderous roar, as if to rival the storm itself.

Keith turned back to the forest with a worried look in his eyes. He had a bad feeling about this…

At sundown, Lyman was the first to spot them.

“The bandits!” he cried, “The bandits are coming!”

And indeed, like a shadowy blight upon the earth, the bandits seeped from the forest. Almost all were half-orcs, contorted faces barely visible in the dimming light. The readied their weapons, snuffling, shouting, and beating their chests. A man on a horse rose before the masses, wielding a wicked scythe and sinful grin. On his head, worn like a crown of bloodied royalty, sat a helmet of oriental design.

"Oizuk!" Keith gasped, "He's the thief who stole Kenzo's helmet!"

The bandits and the villagers faced each other, neither making a first move. Tense. Wary. The air was thick with anxiety. Like the calm before a storm.

Lightning streaked across the clouds, blinding fingers spreading wide to grasp the sky in an all-encompassing hand of light. Before eyes could clear, the battle had begun.


----------



## Lela (Feb 15, 2003)

The fires rage and the storm drags on,
Weapons clash while the fight seems long.


----------



## Cyronax (Feb 20, 2003)

Good update! Looks like you're a hit Tsunami! 

Waiting for more,
C.I.D.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 20, 2003)

Look for a new update today!

I've had lots of sleep and a big box of chocolates, so my fingers are ready to type!


----------



## Lela (Feb 21, 2003)

Lela looks but does not see,
It seems Tsunami's teasing me.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 23, 2003)

Sorry about that Lela, Cyronax, Rangler, Despaxas, and Stone Angel! The night before last, I got horribly addicted to a new computer game, and then I spent all last night reading Mutants & Masterminds...

But I'll try and pump out something soon!

I swear!


----------



## Lela (Feb 23, 2003)

Mutants & Masters galore,
Cold comfort to those who want more.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 23, 2003)

Lela rhymes with every reply,
"Hyuk hyuk hyuk" chortles I.

Although my promises may be lame
I have no speakers to hear my games,

Mutants & Masterminds I no longer crave
Instead this story hour I shall save!


----------



## Lela (Feb 23, 2003)

Over updates, all day will Tsunami chore,
Finding them here, Lela will pour.

Players with divination are soon to come,
In preperation, Lela practices some.

Writting a prophecy, when this thread first found,
Got it right here, still a whole future to expound.


Weekends are light, though I don't know why,
Post soon, lest, come Monday, everyone cry.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 23, 2003)

*Chapter Five- Part 1 
The Bandits' Surprise...*

“Hold your ground!” Keith’s thunderous voice combined with the roar of the rain as the storm pounded the ground, churning the soil into a sea of mud.

Oizuk, the bandit leader, raised his scythe in the air. The keen blade reflected the torchlight of the village. With a deafening roar, he cried, “Attack!”

The bandits charged.

The horsemen reached the catapult first, thrusting their shortswords through villager flesh. Hay spilled unto the muddy grass. “False humans!” he hollered.

The townsfolk had only been able to build one catapult, positioned near the middle of the village. A faulty version had been put together hastily, and placed at the front of the battle, with scarecrow villagers situated in attacking positions. The dud had worked.

An arrow whistled through the air, striking a horseman in the shoulder. The half-orc flew off his mount and splashed into a puddle, only to be trampled by charging bandit boots. Bryant reached for another arrow, and began bellowing a battle song, loud enough for the entire village to hear.

Arudan and Uel met glances, each quenching their fear with a single nod. But Arudan was still nervous (not that he’d admit that to any of his companions, of course). “All right men, ready your rocks. Let’s hope one of the bandits falls for our surprise.” The two villagers joining him in the tower shared nervous grins.

Oizuk kicked his horse’s flank, forcing it into a heavy gallop. Four bandits followed after him, short swords drawn. All five broke into a sprint- straight for Keith.

“Hold your position, men,” Keith commanded the three spearmen behind him as the five bandits rushed towards them, only sixty feet away. “Hold it…”

Forty feet.

“Not yet…”

Twenty feet.

“Ready…”

Five feet.

“NOW!”

Keith, muscles knotted in tension, swung with his heavy flail, shattering the closest bandit’s jaw. Two villagers thrusted with their spears, stabbing Oizuk in the chest and leg. Oizuk growled deep in his throat as lightning streaked across the sky, silhouetting the bandit leader. He swung down with his war scythe, a symbol of death gleaming in the rain. Keith attempted to raise his shield in defense, but it was too late. The blade touched the flesh of his neck, cold steel raising goosebumps, then with a quick pull carved deep into his throat.

Keith’s breath was blockaded by a wave of blood that gushed out his mouth and through the wound in his neck. He gasped vainly once more, but lost his balance, slipping in the mud with suddenly numb legs. He did not feel his back hit the ground. He did not feel the rain hitting his eyes.

All was black.

With a barking laugh, Oizuk raced towards the center of town, two bandits in tow. Thunder shook heavens and earth. A bolt of lighting, a behemoth existing for all but a blink of an eye, crashed into the forest, leaving charred bandits and tongues of flame in its departing. Arudan stared with silent fear at the limp form of his companion, protector, and friend, then whipped his head back towards the battlefield. Keith was dead. Mourning would come later. Right now, he had a town to defend.

A single half-orc was left on the northern front, although Arudan’s keen elven eyes picked up the shadowy forms of three more in the forest. The solo bandit grinned back at the weaponless Arudan in the tower, showing filed teeth. He stepped forward into the ring of brush surrounding the tower and, with a startled cry, vanished. Leaning over the side, Arudan chuckled at the half-orc, sprawled at the bottom of the ten foot pit. The bandit seemed unharmed, but not for long. Arudan released a bottle of oil, which crashed and shattered over the helmeted head of the half-orc. It stood, spine curved back to allow a snarl at the pesky elf. But the elf was holding another object, something that was… burning.

And indeed, the elven tindertwig exuded a soft glow upon Arudan’s smooth face. Arudan grinned, and released the flame, which twirled towards the oil-soaked orc, smoldering in the night.

There was a roar, like that of a pouncing predator, and then silence from the pit below.


----------



## Hammerhead (Feb 23, 2003)

Excellent! Too bad Keith died. What level are these bandits, and the characters?


----------



## Stone Angel (Feb 23, 2003)

Ahhhh good old scythe. x4 crit. Getcha everytime.

Good update, loved the false catapult bit.


----------



## Lela (Feb 23, 2003)

Death, pain, orcs, and war,
That was great Tsunami, when shall we see more?


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 24, 2003)

Hammerhead said:
			
		

> *Excellent! Too bad Keith died. What level are these bandits, and the characters? *




The characters were all first level at the beginning of this adventure. If I recall correctly, the bandits were 1st level half-orc warriors, while Oizuk was something like a 2nd or 3rd level fighter.


----------



## Hammerhead (Feb 24, 2003)

They were first level?

I thought Keith was a general or high-ranking officer?


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 24, 2003)

Well, Keith is a Commander, a class from a Sword & Sorcerery book, and he's twenty-something years old, so I allowed him a bit of a history.


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 26, 2003)

Hullo! Just a little bump to say I'm updating today!

In fact, I'm most likely writing as you read this (unless I'm not).


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 26, 2003)

*Chapter Five- Part 2 
A Death in the Village*

On the western front, both storm and battle raged. Uel called to Obad-Hai in the ancient tongue of Druids, and was rewarded when the ground erupted, hundreds of mud-drenched vines snaking out and entwining the boots of the bandits.

As the villagers positioned in towers slung rocks at the half-orcs below, a boulder flew through the air, launched by the solo catapult. With a thud and a splat, rock met ground, with two of the bandits caught in between.

Bryant continued to sing and shoot, however his lyrics distracted him, and his aim suffered. One of the half-orcs ripped free of the entangling roots, and fired an arrow back at Bryant. The arrow pierced the wooden beam a foot below the bard’s face- a close call.

As Oizuk and the two bandits charged over the bridge, bent on pillaging, Arudan leapt over the side of the tower, sliding down the slick wooden ladder. He reached the bottom, and leapt off, landed in the mud, and dashing towards town.

The charcoal clouds above rumbled, and a fierce wind blustered through the village, pushing back the bandits while lending a helping hand to Bryan’s arrows. Uel’s crows took advantage of the sudden gust, darting through the pelting rain and swarming an entwined bandit. The birds dove at the half-orc, slicing at his skin, pecking at his eyes, weaving and swooping in precise, practiced maneuvers.

The storm thundered, roared.

Arudan quickly reached a river. He glanced right, and saw the bridge, more than one hundred feet away. There was no time. Without hesitation, the elf plunged into the river, shivering as the freezing water reached his knees, wincing as it rose to his hips, yelping as it enveloped his chest in an arctic grasp. Suddenly, his feet slipped off the slick surface of the river bed, and the current took hold of his flailing form, dragging him down the river. With a desperate hand he reached for the passing bridge, but his numbed fingers passed fruitlessly through the hanging vines. The bridge faded away in the stormy night.

As another boulder sailed over his head, Uel turned to check on the town. His eyes widened as he observed Oizuk and two bandits galloping straight towards the solitary Kenzo Otso. “Keep fighting!” he cried to the two villagers next to him, then clambered down the tower’s ladder.

Bryant launched another arrow, which struck, and pierced, the half-orc archer’s armor. The bandit growled, and readied his bow.

The three half-orcs charged out of the northern forest, one releasing an arrow that flew straight towards one of the villagers, striking him in the chest. With a groan, he toppled over the side of the tower, landing face-first in a puddle of brown rainwater.

“Lyman!” another villager screamed. “Come on, men! Charge!”

And with spears clutched in shaking hands, the three townsfolk scrambled through the mud, towards the oncoming bandits.

The half-orc bellowed, and lunged towards Kenzo. But with a single, swift motion, the aged fighter drew his katana, sliced cleanly through his assailant’s neck, and calmly sheathed the blood-soaked sword.

Oizuk grinned from beneath his mask. He remembered this warrior. And it would be a pleasure killing him a second time.

Arudan coughed, retching water onto the moist sand below. He had been washed up onto a bank in the river. With watery eyes, he reoriented himself. To his right, the river vanished into a forest, which became a field of wheat a few hundred paces in front of him. Arudan immediately knew where he was: the northwest corner of the village. He rose on shaky legs, and started to run, trying not to fall to his nausea. He had to reach the center of town. He had to kill the bandits- before it was too late.

The bandits roared as the wooden spears pierced their flesh, entered their stomachs. The villagers were fighting back.

Kenzo’s eyes gleamed, reflecting his stolen helmet. He readied his katana, and struck- only to be deflected by the long, twisted hilt of Oizuk’s scythe. Kenzo suddenly felt an intense pain along his right shoulder. A large gash had been sliced in his flesh, an agonizing laceration by the scythe of the bandit leader. Blood dribbled down Kenzo’s arm, dripped into the mud by his feet. Black spots unfolded before his eyes. But he still had strength, and the night was not over yet.

With a deep breath, Kenzo rose and sliced again, but felt a sharp pain in his back, then a deep burning sensation. Oizuk pulled his scythe from Otso’s back, laughing.

Kenzo fell to his knees. The rain splashed into the puddles surrounding him, but all was silent to his ears. He felt so… very… tired…

With a startling crash, a wooden door slammed open. A grow echoed from inside and out stepped a knife-wielding- Hobbs!

The remaining half-orc let out a laughing bark. “I’ll take care of this one.” He advanced upon Hobbs, weapon ready, only to feel cold steel sliding into his gut, and Hobbs grinning up at him. “Wha?” grunted the bandit, falling to the ground with a splash.

Hobbs smiled vacantly at Oizuk, who readied his bow…


----------



## Breakstone (Feb 27, 2003)

*Chapter Five- Part 3 
End of a Beginning*

The arrow flew straight, burying itself in the forehead of the half-orc archer. “Finally…” Bryant sighed, “Now for the others.” Surveying the battlefield, the bard reached for another arrow.

Uel arrived at the center of town just in time to see Oizuk fire, and Hobbs fall over, clutching his chest. “No!” he cried, grabbing a half-spear from his back.

Kenzo Otso saw, and yet did not. He saw the mud, the clouds, the legs of Oizuk’s mount. But he also saw lights, and a tunnel, and a creeping blackness. He knew he was alive. Yet he also knew he was dying.

Kenzo Otso closed his eyes.

And Keith Goodfellow opened his. With a gasp, Keith crawled onto his knees, and coughed blood. His neck hurt.

Hobbs fell back, peacefully smiling in the quiet darkness that enveloped his mind.

The half-orc at Hobb’s feet stood with a groan. His chest was bleeding painfully, and his head swam. He gripped his sword and growled. Someone would definitely pay for his pain. The bandit turned towards the nearest building, and charged through the door. Screams echoed from inside.

With a silent scowl, Uel launched his half-spear, and watched as, with a resounding _thunk_, the spear sunk into Oizuk’s chest. The bandit leader sagged, clutching the buried spear.

From a nearby building, a half-orc scrambled out of an open door, limping. A frying pan flew through the air, crashing into the back of his skull. A mob of village women swarmed around the bandit, armed with pans, pots, and rolling pins. A dinner plate shattered against his head, and the bandit’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed. 

Suddenly, with an echoing roar, Oizuk tore the spear from his flesh. “No _elf_ will defeat me!”

The weapon was drenched in blood that flashed red in a burst of lighting. Oizuk sent the spear twirling through the air. Uel grimaced as the spear struck him in the shoulder and the ground slammed into his back.

The world began to fade away, but Uel didn’t mind. He’d died before.

The bandit leader snorted. “As I said, no elf will de-”

Oizuk fell forward into the mud, arrow half-way buried in the back of his neck.

Arudan smirked and lowered his bow.

The crows circled above the battlefield…

It was morning, and the sun shown down from its heavenly perch. The storm had vanished, spent, as all storms do, and the village had slept. But now, with breakfast eaten and the battlefields cleared, it was time to mourn.

Despite their victory, the three deaths still hurt the village. Kenzo, Lyman, and Hobbs were buried side by side in the village cemetery. Keith, Arudan, and Bryant stood with the villagers, while Uel watched from afar. Two of his crows, family members in the dearest sense, had died during the night, but no villager shed a tear.

Arudan stood rigid by Keith’s side, no emotion on his face. Although he promised himself that no human death would make the slightest meaning to him, Hobb’s last words still echoed in mind.

“He said he was on guard…” Arudan recalled in a whisper. 

“What?”

“Er… nothing, Keith. Nothing at all.”

When the funeral had ended, and the villagers began to drift away, Keith bent on sore legs and picked up Kenzo Otso’s helmet.

“Kenzo…” he spoke, as if the helm hosted the spirit of the elderly fighter, “I know you survived many battles with this helmet. Although I, too, have lost my army, I shall wear this helmet myself, and fight in your honor.” With that, Keith donned the helmet.

Kenzo’s life may have ended, but Keith Goodfellow’s was just beginning.


----------



## Lela (Feb 27, 2003)

The dawn comes and the light wins out,
Veterans all, they give a hearty victorious shout.


----------



## Cyronax (Mar 6, 2003)

*Good Update!*

That went well for the adventurers I should say. Too bad about Kenzo, but an orc fighter with a scythe can be pretty deadly I would imagine. 

Tsunami, I hope you keep writing,
C.I.D.


----------



## Stone Angel (Mar 8, 2003)

Hey just caught up. Love this man. Keep it going bra'h!

The Seraph of Earth and Stone


----------



## e3_Jeb (Mar 14, 2003)

*A possible addition to the reading roster*

I have proposed the idea of posting what "Actually" happened courtesy of the memory of Arudan Furivel to Tsunami, and he said he'd be alright with it, but first I'd like to ask the current readers if they've any objections to it. Well thank you much for your input.


----------



## Lela (Mar 14, 2003)

*Re: A possible addition to the reading roster*



			
				e3_Jeb said:
			
		

> *I have proposed the idea of posting what "Actually" happened courtesy of the memory of Arudan Furivel to Tsunami, and he said he'd be alright with it, but first I'd like to ask the current readers if they've any objections to it. Well thank you much for your input. *




Keep the grammar good and spelling fair,
And I'll be there on my undead lover of meres.


----------



## Breakstone (Mar 14, 2003)

Hey, Alec, you finally posted!  

Anyways, I'd just like to say Sorry for the long wait, folks, and I promise a new update soon!


----------



## Cyronax (Mar 24, 2003)

BUMP! 

Waiting for more Tsunami, I hope you haven't given up (like I did for my SH  )

C.I.D.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Mar 25, 2003)

*Soon...*

Tsunami will be posting soon, or I've some arse to kick, and I'm sorry but I've decided my writting skills aren't up to par so I've unfortunately decided to back down from the offer to write some of the story from Arudan's point of view. Well other than that there isn't much to be said, hold your breath while you wait for Tsunami's next post...


----------



## Lela (Mar 25, 2003)

*Re: Soon...*



			
				e3_Jeb said:
			
		

> *Tsunami will be posting soon, or I've some arse to kick, and I'm sorry but I've decided my writting skills aren't up to par so I've unfortunately decided to back down from the offer to write some of the story from Arudan's point of view. Well other than that there isn't much to be said, hold your breath while you wait for Tsunami's next post... *




Sarrow overcomes our hearts,
As the hope of Arudan's view departs.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Mar 25, 2003)

*Maybe some day*

But only if there's actually a need for it... And if Tsunami thinks it a wise decision... And no need to feel glum, chum, we're about to have another gift from the fuzzy little got way up there, Tsunami...


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 6, 2003)

*Oye...*

It is truly sad that our undead friend has not been able to post in quite some time, but this is simply because soon after being dismissed from the Knights he was dealt a further blow in losing his computer privileges. But I will still be here to give you false promises of further reading pleasure.


----------



## Lela (Apr 6, 2003)

Pain and loss we once again feel,
As exhostion and boredom overcome our zeal.


----------



## Despaxas (Apr 21, 2003)

so eh .... is it dead? please say no ... please ....  *starts screaming* and fades away


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 21, 2003)

*Nope...*

Hopefully the pressure that Lela and I have put on our friend will motivate him to begin writing immediately... He just got out of negotiations with his higher ups so now he's able to write. I may need to post for him, but the story hour should be relatively functional soon. And boy oh boy are there some wicked turns ahead.


----------



## Lela (Apr 21, 2003)

*The aformentioned preasure. . .*

Mom and Dad have relaxed their hold,
Now fill us in on how the dice rolled.


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 22, 2003)

And... I'm back.

Terribly sorry about that folks, but I'm afraid that the writer's block bug had bitten and buried deep beneath my skin. Fortunately, it's now loosened it's hold, and I'm happy as a clam at the keyboard again!

In fact, I'm (most likely) typing as you read this!


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 23, 2003)

*Chapter 6 
Winds of Fate*

Joshua Lyman dropped the flower onto his father’s grave. “Well Dad,” he whispered, throat sore from the night of terror, “at least you can be with Mother now.” Mrs. Lyman had died a year before, from an infected wound received in a bandit attack. “But… now I’m all alone…”

A crow cawed.

Suddenly, Joshua felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find a figure cloaked in black, crows perched on his feather-caped shoulders. “Joshua,” Uel spoke, staring straight into the boy’s brown eyes, “I have come to make you an offer. Your father died in combat, and you may feel that you are alone here in the village. How would you like to travel with my brothers and I? We could always use a helping hand on the road.”

The hollow feeling in the pit of Joshua’s stomach began to fill with hope. “R-Really, sir? You wish for me to travel with you?”

“I must warn you, for the path ahead is teeming with danger. Are you prepared to face your worst nightmares?”

“I… I already have, sir.”

Out of the stables, Aberdale sprinted towards Uel. “Quick! Keith, Arudan, Uel!” he cried, “The prisoners have awoken!”

The adventurers, Joshua in tow, filed into the musky stables to see the three half-orc bandits, stripped of their weapons and armor, conscious again. One bandit grinned, boasting a mouthful of needle teeth.

“Hey, you finally came!” he barked, “Have I got a proposition for you!”

“What is it you want, bandit?” Keith asked, hand hovering above the hilt of his flail.

“The name’s Shark, buddy, ‘cause of my double-row of teeth,” to prove his point, Shark clacked his army of incisors together, “And I’m officially leaving those bandits as of now. I never liked them anyways. I joined just for the pillaging myself.” Shark grinned, but no one else seemed to share his brand of humor. “Anyways, how ‘bout a deal? I tell you where the bandit barracks are, and you let me go with a horse and a full day’s pack of food. Sounds good?”

Keith glanced back at Uel, who shrugged in his usual neutral manner. He turned back to Shark, a smile spread across his face.

“Shark… Shark… say, haven’t I heard of you before?”

The bandit began to speak, but was interrupted by Keith’s amiable voice. “I remember now! You’re famous around these parts! Shark the bandit! Shark the Devourer! I had no idea it was you!”

“Er… eh… I’m not _that_ well-known…”

“Bah, don’t be modest!” Keith cried, advancing on the discomfited half-orc, “You’re the most famous bandit I’ve ever heard of! You’re such a powerful warrior, that I bet you don’t even _need_ a horse or food!”

“Great Gruumsh!” Shark muttered, peering around Keith’s massive frame at the silent Uel and the chuckling Arudan, “Listen, just get this guy off of me and I’ll tell you anything you want, and never return to this town again!”

“Sounds good to me,” Arudan laughed.

Eventually, Shark located the bandit barracks to the north, over the Horsehead Mountains and through Saltmarsh Valley, built on the Hill of Broken Souls. Keith consulted with Arudan, Uel, and Bryant.

“Actually,” Bryant spoke hesitantly, “I won’t be coming with you.”

Keith was surprised. “Why not?”

“Well, I think I’ve actually found a niche for myself here in the village. The townsfolk themselves need a bit of cheering up, and I could always use an audience myself, so…”

“You’re going to spend the rest of your life with these villagers?” Arudan raised a fine eyebrow in disbelief. “You know, I’m never going to understand you humans…”

Keith found himself nodding. “It’s okay, Bryant, I know how it is.” They shared a handshake, and Bryant hurried off, mandolin music trailing after him like a cape of harmonics.

There was a moment of silence, interrupted by Keith standing and speaking. “Well men, shall we be off?”

Grandfather Ash suddenly appeared, as old wise men are prone to do. “Adventurers,” he whispered, “I have heard over the winds that you are traveling northward. I wish to ask of you a favor.”

“But of course, Grandfather,” Keith spread his hands respectfully.

“Chester- Hobbs as you knew him- has a brother, Mason Hobbs, who lives in the town of Steinbruch. If you would give this to him…” with a frail fingers he handed a silver key to Keith, “Hobbs always told me it was important to his family.”

Keith took the key and tucked it into a pocket. “We shall do our best to find Mason.”

“Now then,” Grandfather Ash traced a map into the dirt road with his warped wooden walking stick, “I believe you should know where you are going. Take the Way of the Horse’s Hoof north for four days until Steinbruch, then follow the Rider’s Pass through the Horsehead Mountains. That should get you over to Keaton’s Path, a large trading route that connects with much of the country.”

A breeze picked up, blowing loose leaves and petals to the north.

“Follow the wind, adventurers,” Grandfather Ash whispered, “it will bring you luck.”

Keith took a breath of the crisp morning air, and met glances with the smirking Arudan, who turned to nod at Uel, who placed a reassuring hand on Joshua’s shoulder.

With a silent pact binding them together, the four adventurers followed the winds of fate northward.


----------



## Lela (Apr 23, 2003)

Ah, a new beginning and a fresh start,
Soon we will see the strength of Joshua's heart.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 23, 2003)

*Keen... (Or not...)*

Cool Beans we're back in business... And I am no longer the messenger boy for the undead horse... Yippee!!!


----------



## Cyronax (Apr 23, 2003)

Tsunami, that was a great update! It really was well written and had a kind of subtle quality that i dug!

I hope you keep your PC priveleges,
C.I.D.


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 23, 2003)

Y'know Cyronax, you have to be one of my favorite posters...  

But seriously, thanks for all the compliments, folks! It really makes an aspiring author proud...


----------



## Lela (Apr 23, 2003)

We love watching Tsunami's writings skills grow,
Soon there'll be an award winning author I know.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 23, 2003)

Lela I must thank you for posting, it's a pleasant surprise every time...


----------



## Despaxas (Apr 23, 2003)

ah ... its back .... *Burst his bonds that bound him to an flaming pillar, unfurls his wings and flies into a hellishly lit skies into freedom once more* "Goodbye hell of no posts. Free at last!!"

hehe ... dont mind me, I'm just weird


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 23, 2003)

> hehe ... dont mind me, I'm just weird  [/B]




Oye... Have you found the right crowd of people.


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 24, 2003)

*Chapter 7 
Ruskin*

Ruskin pulled an arrow from his quiver with deft, mud-caked fingers, and silently slid it into place on his bow. It had taken him weeks to perfect the weapon, but finally the aim was true. Now he could finish the chase, and kill the beast.

Movements quick yet subtle, Ruskin parted the branches of the bush to peer at his hidden prey. Suddenly, his keen ears picked up the sounds of footsteps and heavy armor. His hunt would be spoiled.

“Damn!”

“What?”

“Nothing, Keith. I’m just deciding a name for my horse,” Arudan patted his horse’s deep brown neck as he cycled through ancient elven names in his head. “Ah, I know what to call you! From now on, you shall be Thranoberry! Can you say ‘_Thranoberry_,’ Keith?”

But Keith had stopped.

“There’s something in the bushes,” he whispered. “I think we’re being spied upon.”

Arudan fell silent, and Uel motioned for Joshua to ready his spear. Keith tip-toed towards one of the bushes on the side of the road, bringing his hands forward to part the thick leaves-

-exposing a black-faced feline with fierce yellow eyes and a thousand needle teeth.

Keith cried out in pain as a claw tore across his face, pushing away more of the bush to reveal a long muscle-bound body cloaked in dark twilight fur, featuring six wiry legs and two wicked, barbed tentacles stemming from its shoulders. As the beast moved, it left a trail of fading images in the air that hid its true location.

Arudan leapt off his mount, pulled loose his rapier, and leapt towards the monstrous feline, thrusting the tip of his sword precisely into the beast’s neck- only to find with dismay he had hit a false image. Joshua hurled a spear, which missed the cat by a few feet and clattered onto the dusty road. Uel charged through the bushes, deftly avoiding brambles and roots in ways only one native to the forests know of, and sliced low with his scimitar, but the feline dodged forward.

Summoning his courage, Keith hefted his mace, twirling it overhead and slamming it into the side of the beast cat’s face. A growl rumbled deep in the feline’s throat as it crouched back then sprung towards Keith, digging into the flesh of his neck with pointed teeth and deadly strength. As Keith fell back, an arrow flew through the air, piercing the twilight hide of the cat.

Uel struck again, but the hellish predator had ducked low, leaving ghostly images of itself floating above. Arudan focused and stabbed the beast in the leg as an arrow tore across its back.

The feline rose, growling from its blood-splattered maw, and assessed the situation. Five-to-one odds set fire to its fight-or-flight instincts, and monstrous cat knew it had to choose.

Another arrow sunk into its collarbone, and the feline turned to leap over Uel and sprint off into the hills.

Uel called upon nature’s blessings to heal Keith’s wounds, while Arudan turned to find the archer who had saved them all. After searching back and forth for this brave warrior, Arudan’s gaze finally settled upon the mud-caked halfling crouched on the road, nonchalantly splashing mud from hand to hand. 

“Hi! I’m Ruskin!”


----------



## Lela (Apr 24, 2003)

We needed aid and a Halfling heard our call,
For Joshua's aim isn't that good at all.


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 24, 2003)

Heh, yup. Joshua actually has 9 dexterity. But his Strength is pretty good (as you'll see in a few sessions).


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 25, 2003)

Say folks, I'm going to be down in L.A. for a bat mitzfah for the weekend, so, unfortunately, the next update will have to wait 'til Monday...


----------



## Lela (Apr 25, 2003)

Perhaps the wait is for the best,
As it's Finals Week  and I have Tests.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 29, 2003)

Well everyone's back now... C'mon Tsunami, I'd like to see how people respond to the addition of Ruskin!!!


----------



## Stone Angel (Apr 29, 2003)

Great to see that I did not miss much, while I was away on my purchasing binge, I bought a house and a business. Perhaps I should change my name to Stone Mogul, anyway I digress.

These updates have been great, my favorite character has got to be the Druid Uel, for one it is a cool name, and I can't help but think that there is a bit of a dark side lurking there.

Anyway keep the updates comin'!

The Seraph of Earth and Stone


----------



## e3_Jeb (Apr 29, 2003)

Stone Angel said:
			
		

> *...my favorite character has got to be the Druid Uel, for one it is a cool name, and I can't help but think that there is a bit of a dark side lurking there.*




Sure! Everyone loves UEL!... Silent and menacing! Couldn't... Well I guess I can't say much... But he's!!! Well, _too_ indifferent, in my opinion, to be very dark...

Arudan forever!


----------



## Cyronax (Apr 29, 2003)

Hey Tsunami, I know you're a Kirosawa fan. I wanted to recommend one of his movies that I just saw this weekend. Its called "The Hidden Fortress," and I think its one of his lesser known movies over here (maybe I'm wrong), anyway it had lots of cool inspirations for D&D and whatnot. In some ways its as good as Seven Samurai....at least in the sense of an adventure movie.

Cheers,
C.I.D.


----------



## Breakstone (Apr 29, 2003)

Thanks for the suggestion, Cyronax. I'll be sure to check out "The Hidden Fortress."

And folks, I _will_ get to writing today!


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 3, 2003)

Tsunami has to take a few days off for a wedding, he'll be back at full strength_, if you know what I mean,_ but then he'll be back and posting. Well that's all I've got for now... Hope this doesn't make you nice people too sad...


----------



## Dyluck (May 3, 2003)

Yeah! great work so far, Tsunami!
See, the great thing about the story is, it's everything our group does, except minus all the bad stuff!  (All the adventuring stuff is in there, but all the "I cast power word: Shut Your Face" and "If I don't pee now, my bladder will explode" are all taken out).  And let me tell you guys, there are some very cool adventures coming up, believe me!

     -Dyluck (the guy who plays Uel)


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 11, 2003)

All right fine! Once again I'll save this story from the neglect of the second page... Tsunami has recently recieved information that he has a large following of readers outside of ENworld so he's rather psyched about writting now which means that we get another post. I've also recieved word that he's about 75 percent done with the next post. Well 'till then... Toodloo...


----------



## Lela (May 11, 2003)

Each post, we wait, a long time inbetween,
Tsunami, still writing, has yet to be seen.


----------



## Stone Angel (May 12, 2003)

I actually like all of the characters, but I like Uel because I have never had a character quite like him so I am very curious about him. But as I am reading through the story a second time I am taking more of a liking to Arudan as well, but I am still a Uel fan and Druids seem to be underdogs as far as fantasy stories go, not to many about a bad ass DnD druid!!

Lets see an update,

The Seraph of Earth and Stone.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn (May 12, 2003)

I'm sure most people would agree that Nym isn't too lacking in the bad-arse department 

Great story Tsunami, keep it up!


----------



## Dyluck (May 12, 2003)

Stone Angel, you were saying you've never had a character quite like Uel - the strange thing is, that's kinda the same with me - I've played a character or two similar to Uel, but most of the time, (and my group will agree) I use quasi-action-hero sort-of wannabies, where they jump through glass windows and get in bar fights just for fun.  For me, Uel is comparatively sedated (he still does stuff, just quieter and more solemn).  Oh yeah, and he's still a LOT of fun to play.


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 12, 2003)

Hehe... I'm fine with taking a back seat to a character as cool as Uel, though Arudan would be rather jealous to hear this... Anyways I did a drawing of Uel a few weeks if not months ago and it seems it would be well received here so I'll post it tomorrow when I get it from school. 

Well I hope Tsunami starts posting tonight or tomorrow it's kinda weird having to with-hold information because you all know so little. Toodloo


----------



## Breakstone (May 13, 2003)

*Chapter 8 
Interlude and an Angel*

Keith rubbed his neck, and cleared his throat. “So… Ruskin, was it? Thank you for your help in defeating that beast. We would truly have been doomed had it not been for your skills in archery.”

Ruskin stared, wide-eyed and silent.

“Er… we’ll be off then. Goodbye, Sir Ruskin.”

An awkward moment passed as nobody moved.

“Er… well then…”

Somebody coughed.

Keith sighed, and rubbed his neck again. Although healed, it was still sore from the week’s battles. He’d have to ponder investing in some sort of neck guard soon.

Another lethargic moment floated by in the soft breeze. Arudan tapped his foot impatiently, and Joshua retrieved his spear.

“Say, Ruskin,” Keith broke the silence with a proposition, “would you care to travel on with us? We could always use another skilled warrior to fight by our side.”

“Meh,” spoke the halfling.

When nothing else was said, Keith announced, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then, I suppose. Anyways, on to Steinbruch!”

“_Finally!_” Arudan cried as the group marched off.

Two days passed as the adventurers traveled towards Steinbruch. The sky was shrouded in a blanket of gray clouds, casting a harsh light upon the road.

Keith glanced towards the sky and noted in a cheerful voice, “Nature seems a little depressed today, doesn’t it Uel?”

“Nature’s mannerisms cannot be defined by simple human emotions, Keith,” Uel spoke, ever stoic.

“Right, right…” Keith mumbled, and inwardly rolled his eyes. ‘_Elves…_’

Later that night, a rumble was heard in the group’s camp. “Thunder?” Keith asked, awakening from a light sleep.

Uel, who was on guard duty at the time, squinted at a large shape in the darkness and answered. “No. It’s a cart, coming down the road.”

“Maybe it’s a trader…” Keith pondered, rousing Arudan and Joshua awake, “I think we could use some supplies.”

Arudan patted his pockets and frowned. “I hate to be the cautious one, Keith, but we don’t have much gold. Those peasants only rewarded us with a few silvers.”

But Keith simply smiled. “Just leave it all to me, my friend…”

In the torchlight, Tomakin could barely make out the wide, friendly grin on the armored fellow’s face. “Howdy, folks! The name’s Tomakin, and I’m a trader of goods! Need a horse? I’ve got one! Need a sword? I’ve got that too-“

“Tomakin?” Keith Goodfellow interrupted, drawing closer. “Tomakin, the world famous trader? Wow, I’ve heard all about you!”

Tomakin smirked, and chuckled to himself, ‘_This is going to be an easy profit…_’

…It was only the next day, in the middle of a trade with a needle-toothed half-orc, that Tomakin realized just how much money he lost that night…

Over the next few days of travel, as Steinbruch grew closer and closer, Uel sent his crows out to gather more of their kin. He was rewarded with an entire nest of crows, a bit smaller than his original flock, who decided to join his league. Joshua found himself drawn to the crows, and soon befriended the entire flock Ruskin followed behind, watching in wide-eyed silence as Keith and Arudan, both riding on the only horses, went through their usual routines of bickering.

And thus, no one expected the angel to fall from the sky.

It was Uel who spotted him first. His eyes, shrouded in the shadow of his hood, picked up a flutter of great white wings against the monotonous gray sky. A giant egret? Uel glanced about the group, but no one else seemed to notice.

Except for Ruskin, who followed Uel’s gaze to the sleek body with long green hair falling from the clouds. “Hm?” he grunted.

Keith and Arudan finally broke their debate to notice the angel crash into the road ahead of them.

“Great Gods above…” Keith gasped, and urged his horse forward. He found the angel, splashed with mud and blood, twitching on the ground. His wings- brilliantly white- convulsed, shedding feathers which twirled to the ground in a blizzard of ivory. Keith pulled the winged man out of the mud, eyes widening in horror at the multitude of puncture wounds, red and swollen, that covered the angel’s skin.

“Help!” the angel gasped. “Stein… bruch!”

He blinked rapidly, and his eyes were glazed, pupils dilated, refusing to focus on a single spot. A thin layer of sweat coated the his pearly skin, and Keith found it hard to keep a grasp. Finally, the celestial gave one last hoarse cry, and collapsed.

When the others caught up, the ghastly expression on Keith’s face was enough to explain the situation. “Arudan and I will ride ahead to Steinbruch to deliver this angel to a temple,” Keith announced. He’d faced troubling situations on the battlefield before, and he wasn’t going to loose his cool now. “Uel and Ruskin, we’ll meet you in Steinbruch when you catch up.”

“And me?” asked Joshua. Although almost six feet tall, the village boy had a meek presence that was easy to overlook.

“Oh, yes, Joshua… stay with Uel.”
“Right!”

With that, Keith lifted the angel over his shoulder. The body was surprisingly light for its size, but Keith didn’t take too much time to reflect on this as he and Arudan rode towards Steinbruch…

…oblivious to the horror that awaited them ahead.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn (May 13, 2003)

"Keith rubbed his neck, and cleared his throat. “So… Ruskin, was it? Thank you for your help in defeating that beast. We would truly have been doomed had it not been for your skills in archery.”

Ruskin stared, wide-eyed and silent.

“Er… we’ll be off then. Goodbye, Sir Ruskin.”

An awkward moment passed as nobody moved.

“Er… well then…”

Somebody coughed."

I like Ruskin already . Players with a sense of humour make the game so much better!


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 13, 2003)

Hehe... The amount of humor that this group possesses often becomes a problem as it detracts from the seriousness of certain situations. 

Oh and I'll have that picture by the end of today, I didn't check how to post images on enworld, so I was a bit unprepared.
.


----------



## Breakstone (May 17, 2003)

Hooray! We're back in business!

And guess what? I've got an update all ready for you! I'll post it in just a minute!


----------



## Breakstone (May 17, 2003)

*Chapter 9- Part 1 
A Touch of Evil*

The monotonous stone buildings of Steinbruch reflected the dull gray sky above. Men and dwarves wandered about, silent and focused. As Keith and Arudan arrived on horseback, carefully keeping a hold on the unconscious angel, their gazes drifted from the stolid faces of the townsfolk to the large yet colorless church north of them, then to the twin peaks of the Horsehead Mountains towering in the distance.

However, like embers in a bed of ashes, two men stood out. One was a cheery-looking oriental man in a bright red and yellow flowing robe, blissfully smiling at the drab village. By his side stood a stoic figure, dressed in the crimson clothes of a jester, but adorned with a black and white mask that hid his entire face from view. A careful observer would note the missing eyeholes, if they rallied the courage to stare long enough.

The oriental man suddenly met gazes with Keith, happily-squinted eyes locking with pale blue irises. “Oh, you brought back Abadon!” he cried in a surprisingly gentle voice, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “Come Dmitri!” he gestured for the masked jester to follow him, “we must help our friend!”

Keith dismounted, and carried the angel forth. “Who are you, and how do you know this angel?”

“Oh?” the robed man continued to smile, “I am Sun Mao Tsu, a, eh, traveling priest, mm-hmm!” Arudan raised an eyebrow at the priest’s gleeful giggle.

Sun Mao Tsu continued. “I was healing this, eh, angel, as you called him, when he flew out the window in one of his feverous hallucinations. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring him back into the temple and, eh, continue the healing. Mm-hmm!”

Keith put a hand to his jaw as Dmitri silently carried the angel away. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, then asked, “You say you are a traveling priest, correct? Why have you come to this town?”

“And just who _is_ Dmitri?” Arudan added.

“Ah,” Sun Mao Tsu folded his hands under his chin and chuckled like a child, “I came to cure this town of a, eh, serious illness. And Dmitri, well, he volunteered to be my, eh, personal assistant. Mm-hmm!”

Sun Mao Tsu turned with a flourish of his robes, and ushered Dmitri, laden with the angel, into the large temple.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arudan…” Keith whispered.

“Me neither!” Arudan hissed back, and pointed at one of the local men dressed in dull gray. “No self-respecting elf would wear _those_ colors!”

Keith simply rolled his eyes and followed the jovial priest and his masked assistant through the great stone doors of the temple. Arudan tied the horses to a post, then ran into the darkness after the three.


Back on the road, Ruskin poked at something buried in the mud. “What’s that?” Uel asked, catching up with the fast-footed halfling. Ruskin answered by playing a few random chords on the buried object. “Oh, it’s a lute. How… odd.” Uel bent down and pulled the instrument from the puddle, and wiped away dust to reveal an interesting design.







	“That’s strange… there seems to be an eye painted on this, but with a hole instead of a pupil…” He glanced down at Ruskin, who splashed in the mud gleefully. “Should we bring it to Keith and Arudan?”

	“Meh…” 


	The temple was empty. Pews sat in rows, devoid of praying men and children attempting to hide giggles behind splayed hands. At the north of the church was a stone stage, with a pedestal lacking a heavy religious tomb or a preacher to teach from behind it. Keith and Arudan entered to see Dmitri, angel in hands, step though a back door to another room. Sun Mao Tsu turned, face still glowing with simple delight.

	“Why are you following me?” he spoke in a voice devoid of anger.

	“I don’t believe your story,” Keith announced, accusation echoing between the empty stone walls.

	“I’m just following him,” Arudan smirked and pointed at Keith.

	But Sun Mao Tsu’s smile did not falter. “The people of Steinbruch believe me. Go ask them; they can answer any questions that trouble your mind. Mm-hmm!” Again, he laughed a childish giggle. “Now, be gone!”

	Keith took a breath to argue, but found himself already outside.

	“Whoa…” Arudan spoke with awe.

	Keith shook his head to free his mind from troubling thoughts, and surveyed the town. “Let’s go ask some townsfolk about this Sun Mao Tsu character.”

	“You can do that, Keith,” Arudan reached into his pocket to fish for change, “I’m going to visit the tavern. That Sun Mao left me with a dry throat.”

	The two split ways, and thus neither heard the tortured screams muted by the thick stone walls of the temple…


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 17, 2003)

Awsome update! It's cool beans... And now we're on page three... I've that picture for you guys too. 

This was originally drawn by me and colored by a friend a few months ago.







Hmm... Somethin' wierd happened to the quality but I hope it's still enjoyable...


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn (May 19, 2003)

"The two split ways, and thus neither heard the tortured screams muted by the thick stone walls of the temple…"

Ack, shivers down spine!!
Was the PC's mistrust engaged by the insane giggling?

Awesome drawing e3_Jeb, very shiny. Well not shiny so much as evil and broody, but. Yeah. Shiny. *mutters under breath about people with ability to draw*.


----------



## e3_Jeb (May 19, 2003)

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> "The two split ways, and thus neither heard the tortured screams muted by the thick stone walls of the temple…"
> 
> Ack, shivers down spine!!
> Was the PC's mistrust engaged by the insane giggling?




Nope. Arudan knew something was up when he realized _Everyone!_ in the town was happy.



> Awesome drawing e3_Jeb, very shiny. Well not shiny so much as evil and broody, but. Yeah. Shiny. *mutters under breath about people with ability to draw*.




Thank you much...


----------



## Lela (May 19, 2003)

Agony, torture, terror, pain,
Happiness, laughing, evil, maim.

Those who giggle cannot be trusted,
And those who twittle will be busted.

Giggles of agony, laughter of hate,
Our feathered friend is trapped behind that gate.

Who will ride forth and bring him back,
Who will kill that blithering, giggling bat?


----------



## Stone Angel (Jul 19, 2003)

Great updates and great illustration. I love this story hour. Keep it up Tsunami.

The Seraph of Earth and Stone


----------



## Breakstone (Dec 19, 2003)

Hey look! An update! Whoda thunkit?

*Chapter 9- Part 2
The Sins of Sun Mao Tsu*

	Keith scratched his stubble with a broad hand, deep in thought. So far, the citizens of Steinbruch had been helpful, if not distant. As far as Keith could figure, Steinbruch had been suffering from a deadly sickness, when Sun Mao Tsu walked into town, presenting a smile and a cure. However… there was something missing from the equation, a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit precisely. As Keith pondered, his hand drifted down to his sore neck, and began fiddling with the silver key given to him by Grandfather Ash.

	“Maybe this Mason Hobbs fellow will reveal more…”

	After searching for a bit, Keith found Mason’s stone house northeast of the large well in the center of town. He knocked at the door, and when no answer echoed from inside he called out, “Mason? Mr. Hobbs? Are you there?”

	When he tried knocking at the door again, he found it unlocked. With a simple push, it creaked open slowly.

	Keith Goodfellow stepped into the gloom.

	Arudan Furivel found the tavern easily enough- it was a large stone building labeled “Bier’s Tavern.” He had a hankering for some fine wine, and a nice strong cheese to go along with it. Maybe even a little bread, to satiate his hunger.

	He strolled towards the bartender, who was in the middle of a conversation with a drab dwarf and an equally dull human. “You!” he cried, interrupting. “I wish for your best wine. And I don’t mean the one you keep on display for these simple peasants,” Arudan, nose held high in the air, ignored the cold stares from the Steinbruch townsfolk seated next to him, “I want the wine you keep hidden beneath the floorboards for hope that some famous noble will pass through this dreary little town, and find a sliver of time in his busy schedule to delight you with a visit and a purchase.”

	“Sorry sir,” the bartender sighed, eyes calm and voice monotonous, “We don’t serve alcohol here.”

	Arudan felt his heart skip a beat. “But… this is a tavern,” he almost stuttered, “you _must_ have some sort of alcoholic beverage!”

	“Not in Steinbruch,” the three townsfolk answered.

	A cold sweat broke out on Arudan’s pale forehead, and he brought his hands to his mouth in horror as the world he once knew swirled before his dilating pupils. “What’s _wrong_ with this town?”

	Keith’s eyes focused on the broken chair in the corner of the living room, the slightly torn curtain near the window, and the looming closet across the room. There had been a fight here. A poorly covered one. And the closet- now that was just screaming with suspicion.

	He edged towards the closet, large and dark, towering like a monolith of wood and dust. He reached towards the knob, licked his dry lips, found his mouth parched but his brow moist with perspiration, and yanked the closet door open.

	A body tumbled to the floor.

	Mason Hobbs.

	Uel and Ruskin arrived in town to hear a shout from a villager. “Someone’s broken into Mason’s house!”

	“Mason?” Uel recalled. Ruskin glanced at him inquisitively, and the druid quickly explained. “We have to deliver this key to this man named Mason, because his brother died in this other town. Well, he didn’t just die, he was killed by some bandits. And that’s why we met you. Well, we met you because we were traveling north to go to their barracks and- never mind, let’s just follow these villagers.”

	As the two ran off after the townsfolk, they met up with Arudan, sprinting in a similar fashion. “I think Keith’s in trouble!” he cried.

	And indeed he was. When they arrived at the scene of the mob, the angry villagers had already swarmed Keith after breaking in through the window of Mason Hobb’s small stone house. One man had found a sap and with an echoing _crack_ brought it down upon Keith’s head.

	“Ouch!” Keith hollered, “That really hurts!”

	Uel sent his crows to block the window in a swarm of feathers and talons as Arudan and Ruskin attempted to control the crowd, swinging in with fists and kicks. Inside Mason’s house, the sap-wielding man brought his weapon down again, muttering, “I’m sorry we have to do this, but Sun Mao Tsu-”

	“-Is, ah-ha, here.”

	The mob froze, then parted like the sea before a holy man, letting the amiably smiling Sun Mao Tsu and the ever-silent Dmitri stroll through unharmed. With a surge of strength Keith threw his assailants from him, and roared, “What the hell is going on here?”

	“And where’s all the alcohol?” Arudan added.

	“Keith Goodfellow and Arudan Furivel,” Sun Mao Tsu beamed, “please come back with me to the temple, and I will, ah-ha, explain everything. Mm-hmm!”

	“How’s he know our names?” Arudan whispered in fear as his feet carried him behind the cheerful priest and his masked assistant.

	Keith and Arudan followed Sun Mao Tsu back to the great stone temple, leaving Uel, Ruskin, and Joshua with the somber townsfolk. “I don’t like this one bit…” a man complained. There was a general murmur of agreement as the villagers took a seat in the dusty road.

	“Quiet!” another man whispered. “Sun Mao Tsu hears all!”

	“But is this worth it?” the first man spoke again, tossing a rock in defiance, “I mean, we nearly killed our friend Mason, and the angel…”

	Another murmur fluttered through the mob, but Uel had an idea. After his last adventure, he knew what to do in situations like these.

	“Friends, listen!” he stood and shouted, “Sun Mao Tsu has been a thorn in your sides for too long. It’s time you take a stand! Who’s town is this anyways?”

	“But he cured us of a plague that would have killed us all!” a woman cried, “And who are you to tell us what to do, stranger?”

	“Hm… yes. Er… well then,” Uel sat again and whispered to Ruskin, “Where’s Keith when you need him?”

	The great stone doors closed behind Keith and Arudan, slamming shut at the hands of the masked Dmitri. Sun Mao Tsu stood before the adventurers, wide smile still lighting up his face. “Dmitri,” he commanded, “please go and guard our angel. Mm-hmm!”

	“Ah, ha!” Keith cried, pointing forth an accusational finger. “So you’re keeping Abadon prisoner, eh?”

	“Oh, yes!” Sun Mao Tsu chuckled, “It’s been quite a delight ‘healing’ such an, ah-ha, angelic figure. Mm-hmm!” As his laugh echoed, Sun Mao Tsu pulled a long, gleaming needle from the sleeve of his bright-colored robe.

	“But… why?” Arudan asked, recalling the numerous puncture wounds that marred Abadon’s otherwise immaculate skin.

	“Why?” the priest let out a giggle, “Why, but for the fun of it!” It seemed impossible, but Sun Mao Tsu’s smile widened as he drew his deft fingers along the length of the silver needle in his hands.

	Arudan watched that needle, and felt a memory, long ago buried under years of aging, resurface. When he was very young, Arudan had wandered into the deep forest on his own and gotten lost in a briar patch. While attempting to find his way out, he’d slipped down a hill and careened towards a dry bush with thorns as long and sharp as the needle before him now. Fortunately, Arudan had grabbed a thick unearthed root and suspended himself just inches above the briar, barely saving his own life. Now the elf felt as if he was sliding down the same hill, except no roots were in sight.

	Meanwhile, Ruskin found a puddle of mud to splash in.

	Back in the temple, Keith was searching for the missing piece of the Steinbruch puzzle. “All I want to know,” he spoke slowly while pondering, “is what all this has to do with Mason Hobbs.”

	“Mason Hobbs?” Sun Mao Tsu seemed surprised, yet still delighted, “I’d ask the villagers if I were you. Mm-hmm! I never questioned how they, ah-ha, achieved possession of the angel. I was simply happy to receive such a… gift. Mm-hmm!”

	A muffled moan echoed from the back of the temple, and Keith new he had to take action. But it was just him and Arudan against this madman and his masked assistant. Keith was used to leading armies- not fighting solo.

	Outside, Uel suddenly stood. Ruskin glanced up from his mud pile as the druid announced, “Keith and Arudan are my friends. I’m going to help them, even if none of you follow me.”

	As Uel turned to stride towards the church, his crows following in v-formation, the villagers started to make eye contact, nodding and smiling as if all sharing the same idea. “I’ll grab some pitchforks,” one man spoke.

	“I’ve got some torches,” another stood, and ran off towards his house.

	Soon enough, the entire mob was darting back and forth, finding and exchanging simple weapons and riot gear. Ruskin grinned, and loped after Uel in his usual crouched fashion.


	Keith felt sweat slowly dribbling down his brow. Sun Mao Tsu stood before him, still smiling from ear to ear, still fiddling with the long silver needle in his thin fingers. He wanted to take action. He wanted to unleash the fury of his flail, to defeat the evil that stood so passively before him. But Sun Mao Tsu seemed a step ahead at every corner. Keith felt utterly helpless, and Arudan looked no better. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him ghastly pale. Pale as a corpse. Keith shook his head quickly, to clear such thoughts from his mind.

	“Sun Mao Tsu,” he began, summoning all his might to stare the priest in the eyes. _‘Sum Mao Tsu what?’_ the little voice spoke inside his head. _‘What can you do? He’s got you beat. Might as well surrender and hope to get out of this in one piece.’_

	“Yes, Keith?” Sun Mao Tsu chuckled. There seemed to be no hesitation to his voice, no end to his confidence. This was a man who knew his sins, who had tamed his conscience, who had conquered his morals with an iron fist. Keith licked his lips nervously, a shiver working its way up his spine. He took a ragged breath to speak again, when-

_BOOM!_

	The entire temple shook as the door buckled inwards. Keith could hear the shouts of villagers outside.

_BOOM!_

	Dust, disturbed by the pounding at the door, floated down from the rafters, descended through the columns of light cascading from the stained glass windows.

_BOOM!_

	Keith grinned. “Sun Mao Tsu,” he declared, power back in his voice, “the entire town is sick of you.”

_BOOM!_

 	“You are an infection, spreading your evil wherever your presence is felt.”

_BOOM!_

	“And even the common man knows how to take care of infections.”

_CRASH!_

	The towering stone doors burst open as villagers spilled in, clutching pitchforks, torches, and whatever makeshift weaponry they could find. Uel and Ruskin rode the wave of the mob, each enthused but a bit flustered by the spirit held in these townsfolk. “Sun Mao Tsu!” one villager yelled above the hubbub of the crowd. “Your terror ends now!”

	The smile never left the priest’s face. That was the truly frightening thing, Keith would reflect upon later. With a few gestures, he chuckled, “Dmitri, we have company,” and vanished with a giggle.

	“Stay on your guard,” Keith shouted, assuming the commanding role immediately, “Sun Mao Tsu could be anywhere!”

	But Arudan Furivel’s attention was drawn to the crimson figure rounding the corner of the doorway. It was the masked Dmitri, and Arudan watched with curious eyes as the jester unsheathed a long, shining rapier from his belt. Immediately, Arudan’s face flushed with color. Things were on his terms now. “It’s all right, Keith,” he haughtily laughed, “I excelled at swordplay in school.” With a flourish, he flicked out his own rapier.

	The two fencers stepped towards each other carefully, left foot crossing over right, right foot sweeping the dusty floor with silken boot. They edged towards each other, passing through pools of dim, dusty light, past thick stone columns etched with the records of ancient battles, over a broken stool and around a spilled puddle of holy water. Their sword tips quivered, eager for blood. Arudan’s mind whirled as he recalled lesson after lesson of fencing technique and etiquette. Thrust, flick, parry… it was all coming back now. Finally, the two swords crossed. Dmitri stared with his cold, flat mask from one side. Opposing him smirked Arudan. With a flourish of swords, so fast they seemed blurs of steel, the fight began.

	“I know you’re there, Sun Mao Tsu!” Keith cried, brandishing his shield and flail in guard positions. “Come out and face me!”

	“Oh, Keith,” the voice of Sun Mao Tsu echoed from… somewhere, “I did so hope you didn’t think me such a fool.” A giggle followed, floating in the air like a cold breeze- invisible, yet still raising goose bumps on Keith’s flesh. “Now I’d like to introduce you to something dear to my heat, Keith,” came the voice again. “It’s called the Needle of Endless Pain. Forged from hellburnt iron, it leaves a wound that never heals. I keep it around for… special occasions. Mm-hmm!”

	“I’ll consider myself lucky then,” growled Keith, eyes casting around in the chaos of the mob of villagers.

	“Oh, I hope you will!” Sun Mao Tsu giggled, directly behind! Keith twirled, but it was too late- he could feel a surging pain in his neck, just above his collarbone. Sun Mao Tsu grinned, rolling the blood-stained black needle between his fingers, admiring it in the tainted-glass light. Keith grimaced in pain, placing a palm on the wound at his neck. His hand came away doused in blood. “Tell me, Keith,” Sun Mao Tsu cried joyously, “how does it feel?”

	In answer, Keith let out a roar and swung forward with his flail. Sun Mao Tsu raised his arms in alarm as the head of the flail came crashing towards him. Keith growled deep in his throat and continued to strike, pain gripping his mind.

	Arudan leapt forward, thrusting with his rapier towards Dmitri’s shoulder- but the masked fencer side-stepped and pierced Arudan’s chest with his own sword. Arudan bit his lip, attempting to ignore the pain. His shirt was already stained with blood from other wounds- he wouldn’t last much longer. Arudan twirled and flicked high, but Dmitri ducked, slicing along Arudan’s thigh as he circled on his own. Arudan leapt backwards, passing by the raging Keith, and struck out with his rapier, barely catching Dmitri in the arm. But Dmitri pushed forwards, slashing twice, opening wounds along both of Arudan’s shoulders. As the elf’s vest blotted with crimson blood, he felt the world fade around him. The church began to twirl, scarlet tapestries smearing with amber-glassed windows, Dmitri’s mask staring blindly through the blackness closing in. Arudan spun once and fell into Dmitri’s arms, a rapier at his throat.

	Sun Mao Tsu began to giggle again. Keith, agitated, lifted his mace to strike, but was interrupted. “Take another look at the one you, ah-ha, swore to protect, Keith,” Sun Mao Tsu called out. Keith turned to see Arudan held hostage by the masked Dmitri. “Make one move,” Sun Mao Tsu continued, jubilant as ever, “and his fine throat with be slit.”

	On any other day, Keith might have retreated. On any other day, Sun Mao Tsu would have chuckled slowly, collected his angel and his masked assistant, and walked free. On any other day, Keith would have left an evil man to do his evil business elsewhere. But today, Keith was in a bad mood. The angel, the mob outside Mason’s house, and above all else Sun Mao Tsu filled his mind, stifled his caution, and pumped adrenaline through his veins. With a leap of faith, Keith dove through the air, barely soaring over Arudan and tackling Dmitri to the ground. “No!” Sun Mao Tsu cried, the smile finally fading from his face. With grim glee shining in his wicked eyes, he brought a handful of needles from beneath his robes. “You’ll pay for that, you retched scum!” Sun Mao Tsu slowly advanced upon Keith, but the commander smiled back. For behind the priest, eight crows rose into the air, melting from the shadows. Sun Mao Tsu cried out as the birds dove, talons slicing, beaks stabbing. Uel stood in the corner, calling out orders in a language only his crows could understand.

	As the chaos unfolded in the middle of the temple, Joshua edged his way to the back of the room. All this battle was far too much for him. He couldn’t survive a sword to the shoulder or a needle to the neck. These heroes were crazy! The back room would be a much safer place to hide. Peeking through the doorway, Joshua found an unfathomable sight before his eyes. The angel Abadon was strapped to a stone table, wings bound with cords, hands tied to his sides to expose his chest. His skin was pale, and the puncture wounds that dotted his hide looked fresh- crimson blood ran from many. The angel glanced with foggy eyes at the boy in the doorway, and in a hoarse voice whispered, “Life… I need… life…”

	Well, Joshua didn’t know quite what to think of this. The angel almost reminded him of the wilting plants in his mother’s garden after she had passed away. And Joshua only knew one way to take care of wilting plants. He glanced around the temple, spotting a pedestal of holy water only a few yards away. “I’ll be right back, sir!” he replied to the faint figure on the table. Joshua sprinted through the angry mob of villagers, plowing over an overweight pillager in the process. Joshua turned to apologize, and tumbled over the back of a pew. “Oh, dear,” he muttered, picking himself up and running to the pedestal. Scooping out the glistening water in a clay bowl, Joshua made his way back through the crowds, careful not to spill. Finally, he reached the angel again. “Life…” the celestial being continued to murmur, face beaded with sweat. Joshua lifted the bowl over the angel’s face, and began to pour. “I hope this works…”

	Keith towered over the cowering Sun Mao Tsu. Ruskin prodded at the unconscious Dmitri, peeking beneath the solid mask and unsheathing his sword with child-like curiosity. Uel rustled through his pack, seemingly intent on finding an object. However, their commander’s attention was fully focused on the priest before him. “You…” he growled. “You…”

	“Y-you can’t kill me!” Sun Mao Tsu sniveled. His smile was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear. “Y-you’re one of the good ones! You can’t kill me!”

	“Listen up, you angel-defiler!” Keith roared. The townsfolk rustling through the temple stopped cold at his thundering voice. “You are the worst human being I have ever come upon. You deserve nothing better than death!” With this accusation, Keith raised his flail over his head for one final blow.

	“No.” a voice spoke, cutting clear through the anger and aggression. A white light burst through the back doorway, and Abadon the angel in his full glory flew out. His wings were expansive, white as snow, slowly sweeping up and down, sending swirls of dust fleeing from his floating feet. His skin literally glowed- the puncture wounds vanished. A slight steam seemed to rise from him, and his eyes burned with holy might. “Keith,” he spoke again with a voice reminiscent of church bells. “Put the flail down. This man is a token of sin, injustice incarnate. We must use the law to defeat him.”

	The fury seemed to melt away from Keith’s face at the sight of the angelic being before him. Abadon continued, “I will take him to the celestial courts, where justice shall be served. Come with me, Sun Mao Tsu.”

	The priest’s face was ghastly pale in the light of the angel, and he cried in a desperate voice, “No! No!” No longer in power, Sun Mao Tsu was as vulnerable as the angel he had tortured only hours before.

	“Justice is at hand,” Abadon announced, enfolding Sun Mao Tsu in his glowing arms and flying slowly out of the church. As the angel and priest rose towards the heavens, the light slowly faded from the ravaged temple.

	“Amen…” someone sighed from the crowds.

	The silence was interrupted by a strum of a mandolin. Keith glanced over to see Uel with an odd instrument clasped in his pale hands. “I found this on the road. The eye on the mandolin is blind, just like Dmitri- this might just work.” He strummed again, and the crowd let out a collective gasp as a transformation took place over the fallen Dmitri. The gaudy crimson costume and black and white mask faded away, replaced by an old, weathered face and simple traveler’s clothes. A dirty cloth was tied over Dmitri’s eyes, and long peppered hair lay in a halo about his head. The blind man stirred, and, sitting up, rubbed his forehead. “Where am I?” he asked in a gruff voice.

	“It’s a long story, friend,” Keith sighed, taking a seat on one of the stone pews. “And it’s best told over a drink.”

	A man spoke up, “We don’t have any alcohol-”

	“Water will do fine,” Keith interrupted, letting a slow smile illuminate his face.


----------



## e3_Jeb (Dec 19, 2003)

Well this might just be my insider information. But I think I know a certain pasty faced elf, and a timid lip-quivering commander that might've described the fight a little differently... Regardless... It's good to see you writing again, I see our last session inspired you...


----------



## Lela (Dec 24, 2003)

Return to us, he does indeed.
 Once again, my bad poetry is freed.

 Caught up from finals, I too return,
 To watch that giggling evil git burn.

 Blood pours and even angels scream.
 But in the end, once again, heros bring dreams.

 Welcome back to us, oh skeletal hoofed master,
 Spiel us a yarn, but this time, spiel it faster.


----------

