# The Dark Messiah Rising (updated 20/10/03 (twice!))



## andrew_kenrick (Aug 15, 2003)

Welcome to the Dark Messiah Rising, a story hour of prophecy, destiny, apocalypse and high adventure!

This campaign story hour leaps in to the game mid-way through – the game is run online once a week, which makes it quite slow but very in depth, and has been running like this for a little over a year now.  Before that we played in real life, face to face, for a year before most of us graduated university and drifted away.  

The party are unofficially and out of character known as the nature boys – officially they have no name, as yet – for they are comprised mainly of ranger/druid types and are in the service of the Council of Rahana, the NG goddess of the woodlands.  The year we gamed in real life climaxed with the head of the Council of Rahana attempting to pull one over his goddess and steal her power from her.  After being exposed by the party, Rahana herself showed up and some major smackdown was laid.  The heroes remain in rather high favour with her Church now and have been marked as ‘chosen’ ever since.

Since starting gaming online, the focus of the game has been the group’s journey to the ruined city of Murkady where several of the Church of Rahana’s greatest warriors are being held captive by forces loyal to the Dark Messiah, the great Lord of the Void whose rise is prophesised to bring about the destruction of the heavens and the fall of heaven.  Understandably, the party is eager to prevent this, but for now they will settle for releasing the prisoners of Murkady.

Here is a summary of the party members.  When the story hour begins they are all in the 10th – 12th level range.

Aramil Meliamne (NG eastern elf cleric of Rahana/divine disciple) - a wandering elven cleric of Rahana, goddess of nature, who has been with the party since their second adventure. A dedicated and devout priest, Aramil burns with anger and a thirst for vengeance against his nemesis - the cleric of Horak, Morgala, who slew his family and burnt down his village. He has encountered her recently, a shock for he thought she was dead, and this has renewed his quest to bring her down.  

Ertai (CG human illusionist) – the most recent PC to join the party, first appearing – literally – in the first session detailed.  Held captive for many weeks by Errowin, Ertai seizes on the opportunity to escape his grasps and seek refuge with the party.  Once released from Errowin’s slave ring, his potency as an ally becomes all too clear.

Fervil Tirnarnen (NG wyld gnome druid) - a kindly and down to earth type, Fervil is the only member of the original (and we're talking first session here) party still adventuring. Resourceful and crafty, and with a strange penchant for flame strike, Fervil is renowned for his superhuman resources of strength which first appeared when he wrestled an earth elemental to the ground.

Fyanilin (CE tiefling/halfling rogue/shadowdancer) – a carefree and chaotic fiend-blooded halfling, Fyanilin joined the party after rescuing Waldair from the dungeons of the Warlock of Maan.  Unbeknownst to the rest of the party, he is a servant and spy for their nemesis, Lord Errowin, planted to watch over them when they were out of his sight.  As is about to become apparent, his treachery is not absolute and their exists the hope of redemption.

Gwylith (N dryad ranger) - until a little while ago Gwyl was a happy go lucky male human ranger with a vicious streak. Assigned to help guide the party on their quest he barely lasted a day before he was crushed to death by a falling tree. Reincarnated days later by Fervil in a ritual which went awry, binding his soul with the party's recently acquired magic acorn and forming him into a dryad. Needless to say it has taken some getting used to.

Heb (NG half-elf? ranger/horizon walker) - the mysterious half-elf, if that is what he truly joined the party at the behest of the Council of Rahana, assigned to lead a group of rangers by Yanath Tiraban, leader of the Order of Leaf and Thorn. A skilled woodsman, Heb is rarely seen unless he wishes it. He also spends more time in conversation with his horse than with the others, except when reprimanding them.

Marenon (CG eastern elf ranger) – another of Heb’s rangers and, along with Gwylith, one of the party’s ranged support fighters, excelling with his bow.  Quick witted, if a little sarcastic, Marenon is nonetheless a much valued warrior.

Niltsiar (NE western elf conjuror) – one of the most recent additions to the party, Niltsiar was sent by the Mage’s School of Querrilaine to study the magic acorn bound to Gwylith.  In combat he is a valued ally, but out of combat he is exceptionally arrogant, haughty and rude.

Owyn Nailo (half-elf ranger/Templar of the Leaf & Thorn) - Owyn joined the party a third of the way into their first year on his quest for his father, who he has never met before. He was in for something of a shock recently when it turned out his father was the head of Rahana's templars, the Order of Leaf and Thorn.  Until recently he wielded an intelligent sword possessed by the spirit of a vile devil, although he has managed to lose both it, and his reputation for being the party’s charm magnet.  Owyn is staunchly, perhaps blindly, loyal to Aramil and is the group’s main frontline fighter, to his chagrin.  

Waldair D'Spyre (CN human ranger/bard) - an extravagant rogue with a taste for women and adventure, Yanath instructed the party meet up with him in Vuul to act as a guide across the Archian Plains. At first he was a little unreliable, with a habit of getting them into trouble, rather than out, but his uses are becoming apparent as he has a quick tongue and a brave heart.

When the story hour picks up the party are a mere 12 days ride from the gates of Murkady, but one of their allies has just been unmasked as their greatest foe – Lord Errowin of Murkady, Champion of the Dark Messiah.


----------



## andrew_kenrick (Aug 15, 2003)

*Errowin, part 1*

“Die you Void-loving sonofabitch!”  Yells Owyn in his usual, tactful way, before lashing out with his blade at the dark paladin standing next to him.  Until but a moment ago he had been their erstwhile ally on their quest, Captain Morgaine of the Knights of Hirana, but then he dropped his disguise and ‘morphed into the party’s nemesis, Lord Errowin of Murkady, long time foe and Champion of the Dark Messiah.  As Owyn reiterates his abuse, Marenon looses a volley of arrows at Errowin which clatter off his armour, and Waldair D’Spyre  activates his Breastplate of Calling with a loud “Huzzah!”

The party begin to rally and ready themselves for the melee, and are somewhat taken aback when a wretched looking man suddenly appears next to Errowin. He is a bedraggled individual, blonde hair lank with grease and rain, deep dark rings around exhausted eyes, clothes tattered and torn. He gestures a ringed hand towards Owyn, "Please, please help me. Cut off this damn thing! Cut it off, finger and all, please!" He runs a few steps towards the templar before collapsing to his knees in agony.  Owyn curses and slashes with his longsword, bringing his blade round in an arc to neatly slice off the outstretched finger.  There is a sizzle of electricity between the ring and Errowin and a smell of burned flesh as the magic binding the wretched prisoner is undone.

Mallisent, a human mage met scant minutes ago in the gnoll village where battle is now erupting, yells out to the party. "We must leave, NOW. We cannot take him, not here. I will try and create a distraction" 

“No chance!  I have waited too long to kill him!”  Counters Fyanilin before melting into the shadows and skulking towards Errowin. "I will NOT leave now that I have a chance to end the horrors he has caused!"

Errowin motions with his hand and his blade leaps from its scabbard to his hand, its length glistening with frost.  The dark lord raises his voice and appeals to the gnolls to come to his aid to defeat the party and the gnolls draw their weapons in response. Aramil, raises his own voice in opposition and suddenly the gnolls don’t look so sure that they want to help Errowin. "Do not listen to his lies - that man is a fiend responsible for the murder of innocents! Help us bring the monster down"  Gwylith the dryad, interrupts Errowin’s speech with a well timed arrow, followed by another volley from Marenon which embed themselves in the metal protecting his midriff.  

The second recently encountered mage, the elf Niltsiar, who has been sent to assist the party by his mage school in return for a chance to examine the acorn, leaps into the sky and vanishes with a gesture and an arcane phrase.  As he does so, Heb whirls round and shouts a warning as Errowin’s fiendish raven servant sneaks up on the party.  Errowin’s dark paladin followers begin to advance on Owyn and the newly appeared figure, whose name is Ertai – he too is a mage.  The dark paladins leap upon Ertai, attempting to enslave him once more, but the mage is too quick and looses a stilled phantasmal killer at one of them.  The dark paladin briefly screams and claws at his face before dropping to the ground, quite quite dead.

The party look determined, and with the gnolls dissuaded from joining the melee the odds are in their favour.  It doesn’t last long, as a column of smoke and flame leaps upwards from the ground in front of Errowin, and in between Owyn and the rest of his comrades.  The column coalesces into the shape of a large, hideous, scaled creature with bat like wings and a vaguely humanoid like appearance.  The party immediately recognise it as another long time foe, the cornugon Aristarxis, inadvertently released from his earthly prison by Aramil a long time ago and subsequently enslaved to do Errowin’s bidding.  The party had recently struck a deal to help free it in return for its support in the coming war, but with its appearance in the midst of combat, all bets are off.  "He's on our side right?" Ask Waldair, but nobody is really sure.

Heb remains concerned with the fiendish raven and, deciding that attack is the best course of action, throws his spear at it, driving the creature flapping back into the sky.  As Errowin strikes repeated, carefully calculated blows against Owyn opening up cold-numbed wounds rimmed with frost, Owyn thinks the opposite course and beats a hasty retreat.  Mallisent, concerned with the safety of Ertai and Owyn, quickly casts a wall of iron which erects itself between the dark paladins and the party members stranded on the other side of the cornugon.

The raven wheels back round and speaks to the party in Errowin’s voice. "You needn't flee this night friends, we are allies in this venture. We all want the gate to be opened and our loved ones released. And the rest of the journey will be so much fun.  That’s a promise."  He speaks of the party’s quest to the ruined city of Murkady, in which many members of the Order of the Leaf and Thorn and the Knights of Hirana are held prisoner, including Owyn’s father Erindhol, the head of the Leaf and Thorn.  Rather worryingly, it seems that Errowin wants them to rescue the prisoners, but the party do not have time to let this concern them at the moment.

The party’s druid, Fervil, who has been quiet up and until now, turns the ground beneath the dark paladins’ feet to mud, miring them up to their waists and making the earth for many feet around them difficult to walk through.  Waldair was on the verge of charging at one of them, but seeing the quagmire skids to a halt at its edge.  The mud does little to impede Aristarxis, who flaps his wings and lazily eases himself into the air, cracking his flaming whip at Waldair, the blow singing the bard’s breastplate but little else. Errowin is more bothered by the mud and calls his mount, a jet black nightmare appearing from the ethereal a foot above the swampy ground.  Errowin swings up onto his back and surveys the battlefield.  Some distance behind him, Ertai launches another phantasmal killer at the second dark paladin menacing him, but this one is made of sterner stuff and refuses to believe in it. 

Owyn finishes his withdrawal and moves around the mud to stand next to Waldair. “You looked a little lonely” He remarks, winking at the bard.  

“You just don't want me to take all the glory”  Waldair replies.  

“I just don't want you to die.”  Owyn quips back, prompting a wink from Waldair before the bard wades into the mud towards the devil, provoking a painful attack of opportunity from the fiery whip.   Both Gwylith and Marenon continue their rain of arrows against Errowin, who doesn’t seem overly concerned by them although his armour is dotted with arrowshafts and holes.  Fyanilin joins in, appearing out of a shadow some 10ft behind Errowin and launching a sneak attack with his shortbow which misses as he precariously balances on a piece of floating.  Aramil arrives next to Owyn and, taking one look at the injured templar casts heal.

A few seconds later the summoners of the party spring into action, Niltsiar summoning a mean looking fiendish girallon and a couple of lesser fiendish apes to attack Errowin’s dark paladins, and Fervil unleashing a summoned swarm of centipedes on Errowin himself.  The apes and the girallon make short work of the dark paladins, but Errowin seems unperturbed by the swarm, urging his nightmare to drop into the ethereal, taking them both out of sight and out of harm with a disturbing popping sound.  Ertai suddenly flies into the air from behind the wall of iron, evading the two remaining dark paladins who are moving to engage him.

Owyn then joins Waldair in combat next to Aristarxis, even as the devil lashes out with a flurry of blades and flames and stinging tails at the surrounding combatants, but to little avail.  Mallisent emerges from behind a building and contributes to the combat by casting a dimensional anchor on the cornugon, although he rather wished he’d used it a moment earlier on the nightmare.  Waldair takes advantage of the devil’s distraction by launching a devastated paired attack with his twin longswords, the Sword of Echoes and the Sword of Visions, badly injuring Aristarxis.  Just as the archers are finishing off the mired dark paladins, Fervil decides to be cautious and protect all those not in melee from the predations of the invisible Errowin, calling down a sleet storm to conceal them all.  

Niltsiar’s menagerie, swelled by the appearance of an arrowhawk and a fiendish wolf, join in the attack against the cornugon, who, looking a little worse for way, detonates a fireball at his feet, scattering and scorching his opponents.  Owyn remains standing and lunges at Aristarxis with longsword and shortsword, deftly avoiding the cornugon’s parrying and plunging his blades deep into his hide.  With a long, drawn out sigh the cornugon crumples to the floor, his wounds beginning to close even as he does so.  

Aramil steps forwards, glancing to the heavens for a moment before asking. “Do we slay him here and now?  Or shall I free it from this place ... from his servitude and send it home?”

Waldair, ever the pragmatic, replies. “Whatever, providing it doesn't come back and bite us in the ass sometime I don't care.”

“Free him.  We made a promise.”  Answers Owyn, pulling his swords from the devil’s body.  

Aramil looks at Owyn. “Agreed.” Then he touches Aristarxis and begins to incant a prayer.  “I cannot be sure to free him, I have never used this power before. By the Lady, unshackle this foe so he may be tempered as a willing ally in the coming war.”  A greenish-white glow suddenly arcs between the cleric and the devil and with the smell of sweet sweet dewy grass he pops out of existence.


----------



## andrew_kenrick (Sep 15, 2003)

The eastern slope of the hill is little more than a blood-soaked morass in which most of the party now wades, surrounding the charred and dried patch where the body of Aristarxis lay until a moment ago.  The bodies of  three dark paladins lie sinking slowly into the mud nearby but of their master, the fallen paladin Lord Errowin, there is no sign.  An eerie calm begins to descend on the surroundings, but the party remain alert.  

Heb, the elusive, fey-like elf, stalks the battlefield, his keen eyes scanning for signs of Errowin and his features concealed by the shroud of invisibility he has conjured about himself.  He considers their situation for a moment.  It had escaped his attention, that Errowin had been with them all along, masquerading as Morgaine, and it had needed the promptings of a stranger – Mallisent – to reveal the truth.  He begins to mentally sift through the truths that had been revealed to them scant minutes earlier.  Lord Errowin was Captain Morgaine, or at the very least had been impersonating him.  He had used a magic item – a torque – to alter his appearance as well as protective wards to prevent detection.  On arriving in the gnoll settlement earlier in the night Mallisent had ushered the party into his quarters and weaved spells about the place to prevent their conversation from being scried upon.  He had then come out and said it – that the party must flee the paladins’ escort because their captain was none other than Errowin.  The party had disputed this accusation at first, but the more they had thought about it, the more it seemed likely.  Morgaine had been eager – almost too eager – for the party to get to Murkady without any sort of delay and knew more than he should have about the party and its history.  Heb chastised himself for not piecing it together himself sooner.

Suddenly there is movement from behind Mallisent’s iron wall and two more dark paladins emerge, up to their waists in mud.  The party cannot act swiftly without getting mired themselves, but this does not sway them.

Fervil speaks up so the dark paladins can hear.  “Your master has fled, Hiranans, if you truly are who you claim to be. You need not fight us, we do not oppose you.”  They appear unswayed and eager to fight on to the death.  The party are only too happy to oblige, Owyn and Waldair wading onwards through the quagmire to attack them.  Elsewhere, above the battlefield, the two mages, Ertai and Niltsiar circle on magical wings, the illusionist searching for the invisible Errowin whilst the conjuror scans the ground below for targets and threats.  Ertai spies Errowin emerging from the ethereal and shapechanging into a gnoll.  The illusionist mentally notes which gnoll is Errowin.  Fyanilin, well hidden in the darkness, severs the spine of one of the dark paladins with a well aimed arrow.  The girallon and its fiendish ape pack-mates close on the one surviving dark paladin, pummelling him into the mud with their flurried claws.

The gnoll-like Errowin begins to appeal to the other gnolls for help, inciting them to draw their axes and bows and rally about him.  Seeing this turn of events, Niltsiar charms the leader of the gnolls in an attempt to sway the gnolls away from fighting for Errowin.  Ertai aids him by illuminating both Errowin and his nightmare with a well placed glitterdust, lighting them both up like candles and blinding Errowin’s mount.  Heb, unsure whether the rest of companions have spotted the glowing gnoll, snaps out of his contemplation and asks Aramil to attempt to dispel the magicks effecting Errowin.  He then hurries over to Mallisent and Niltsiar to attempt to garner their assistance in 
un-enchanting the fallen paladin. 

Niltsiar beckons for the charmed gnoll’s attention, before appealing for his aid against Errowin. “My companions and I are good people, attempting to defeat this creature,” he gestures at the Errowin-gnoll.  “He is an untrustworthy foe, and whatever bargain he made with you he will not keep. He is just using you in this, an extreme time of need for him, then he will turn on you and vanquish you and your clan. Help us destroy him, or at least stay out of the fight so that innocent lives may be spared.”  The gnoll leader looks inspired, although none of his clan are on his side, and hefts his axes and leaps to attack Errowin.  The gnoll leader is surprised as he is joined in combat by a host of apes.  

Fervil shudders briefly and leaps into the air, ‘shaping into a red kite as he does so.  He climbs swiftly before diving at the fiendish raven flapping about over the battlefield.  Ertai waves his hand in one smooth gesture, muttering a short phrase of True Archian. There is a slight ripple in the air, and Errowin grunts in pain, as wounds open in his side.  Ertai then glances at the still-ethereal but blinded nightmare staggering across the hill towards Errowin and marks it as his next target.  The Errowin-gnoll gestures subtly with one hand and the newly opened wounds close once again, prompting a grunt of annoyance from Ertai.  Owyn barks an order for the gnolls standing between him and Errowin to move out of his way.  They decline and Owyn smoothly removes the arms from one and the head from a second.  

Mallisent, following Heb’s urgings, flings a hand at Errowin and the fake gnoll’s fur shrivels away from him and he is revealed as Errowin once more.  “See!” Yells Mallisent.  “See!  See the beast for who he truly is!”  Errowin’s gnoll allies look unconcerned.  Heb nods in approval and begins to track across the battlefield back towards Aramil, bending down partway there and whispering to the grass.  In response, the grass all across the hill begins to move of its own accord, wrapping itself around the legs of a group of gnolls who are attempting to outflank the party and dragging them to the ground.  

As he finishes urging the grass to aid him, Heb looks to Errowin and then to Aramil, recalling the vision of the pair he had so recently shared with Aramil.  It was barely a tenday ago that Aramil had lain on the ground, sequestered out of the Real by a spectre of his past, and bound in chains of Dream Heb had looked down at his friend, and then looked again - opening himself to the gifted sight of the tattooed eye on his forehead.  He had included Captain Morgaine in his vision and had been taken aback by what he had seen.  Only now was the true significance of the vision clear to him.  He had witnessed the two as either great allies or great foes, each one having sworn his soul to a higher purpose.  Although the object of Aramil’s piety was clear, that of Morgaine’s was not.  Now, of course, it is clear to Heb why this is so – the worship of the Dark Messiah and the Void brings with it obfuscation and deceit.  

Meanwhile Marenon and Gwylith have by now emerged from the stinging sleet which engulfed their hiding place and are casually picking off gnolls with their bows.  The fiendish raven attempts to escape the Fervil-kite’s clutches and begins to dive-bomb the gnoll leader attacking Errowin.  Fervil swoops after it and the two continue dogfight low above the melee on the ground.

“And this is for all the pain you caused me during my captivity.” Ertai moves his arm slowly back, an ice cold smile playing across his face. The air ripples and crackles with magical energy and the gashes on Errowin’s side reopen. 

“Treacherous wizard! I shall make you pay for this!”  Errowin shouts back across the din of the combat.

“Treachery! Don't make me laugh. I certainly did not swear any loyalty to you. Everything I did was under duress. And you WILL suffer as much pain as you caused me.”

Owyn seizes upon Errowin’s distraction, stepping into combat with him and planting a solid blow across his foe’s chest with his longsword.  Errowin looks down at Owyn with disdain, shrugging off the strike.  His fiendish raven is not so fortunate.  As it changes its tactics to attack the nearby girallon, it is simultaneously struck by Fyanilin’s Dagger of Returning, the Fervil-kite and the girallon’s large fist.  With an explosion of feather and bone, Errowin feels his empathic link vanish – if the loss of his companion irks him, he does not let it show.  The girallon follows up into Errowin, leading its pack of fiendish apes with it and the fallen paladin shifts his stance to better dodge and parry the claws of the menagerie.

As he does so, the bonfire to his left erupts into a great column of fire, narrowly missing the combatants and its target – Errowin’s nightmare.  Owyn shudders as he recognises Fervil’s trademark spell.  “I hate fire,” he thinks to himself, having been caught in flamestrikes and fireballs far too often.  Ertai, noticing the nightmare’s escape from the flames, remembers that he had marked it as a target. 

“What is a nightmare’s worst nightmare?”  The illusionist asks himself before flinging a phantasmal killer at the fiend.  The demonic horse begins to bellow with fright before collapsing to the ground, still, leaving Ertai none the wiser.  He shrugs, and then smiles as Errowin begins to shout in rage. “Adequate revenge? Not... quite... yet...”

The fallen paladin brings his hands together in brief prayer and the party’s world goes out, plunged into the darkness of the Void. Errowin whispers in the darkness.   “I can see you! I see you all!” His voice seems to echo about.  “Ask yourself this Owyn - if you kill me now, who will open the gates to Murkady? Do you think you will ever see your father again if I were to die now? Is that a price worth paying to see me dead?” Owyn swings out in response, two shots clanging off of Errowin's armour, one nearly sending his shortsword flying, a third slash misses in the total darkness but the final thrust finds the target grazing Errowin across the shoulder.  “What is it to be? Would you rather see me dead or your father alive? Answer me that!”  Owyn curses in reply but does not answer.

Heb shouts out to Aramil in the darkness, instinctively moving towards his horse as he does so.  Somewhere in the distance the horses begin whinnying loudly in distress.  “Aramil, can you remove the darkness?”  asks Heb.

“I shall try, I shall try.”  The cleric then drops to his knees and plunges his hands into the cold earth.  “May the Lady light our darkest night and strip bare the magic foul from this land!”  The resulting dispel strips bare the magic from the land, but not entirely as planned.  Niltsiar is left the worst off – his charmed gnoll snaps out of the enchantment, all of his summoned creatures vanish back to the fiendish planes once more and the mage begins to plummet to the ground as his magical wings are dismissed by the divine power.  Yet after Rahana’s magic has scoured the area clean of friendly magicks, the inky blackness of the Void remains.  Ertai finishes off the job Aramil started, drawing on the stuff of the shadow plane to mimic the effects of a daylight spell and bringing light back into the area once more.

As he moves stealthily towards the horses, Heb glances back towards the combat and his mind turns to all that he has learnt about Errowin in his time with the party.  He had never encountered the fallen paladin himself, but the tales Aramil had told him were vivid enough in his mind.  The party had first met him a little over six months previously, whilst they waited out the winter in the mining village of Duvik’s Pass, located far to the north.  He had entered the village masquerading as a Knight of Hirana, as he had been until tonight, and set himself up as the law in town.  Errowin had engaged with the party as a benevolent patron and dispatched them to do his bidding, sending them to clear out a local dungeon.  There the party had inadvertently released an entombed devil – Aristarxis – although at the time they believed it to be a genuine mistake and not as the result of Errowin’s machinations.  On returning to the surface the party witnessed Errowin battling with the devil, before dismissing it.  It was only later, as Aristarxis came to Errowin’s rescue as the party chased him from the village, that they realised that he had actually bound the devil.  Errowin’s true colours were first revealed to the party after he began to brandish his own form of justice about the village, hanging alleged criminals whose only misdemeanours were to learn too much about the knight.  

Errowin’s true allegiances were not to the Church of Hirana – although he had once served the Lady of Justice – but to the Dark Messiah.  When the party finally drove him from the village with the aid, and the life, of a great white dragon they expected him to return to haunt them one day.  It was only when stopping in the port of Saam some months later that they encountered Aristarxis once more and learnt that Errowin also ventured to Murkady.  The devil threw his lot in with the party that night, promising his services in the coming war in return for the group securing his freedom from Errowin.  With Aramil finally freeing him earlier tonight, Heb wonders if the devil will honour his end of the bargain.  

Heb focuses his attention to the present once more, surveying the party’s situation.  Errowin is in the process of backing away from the party, seeking an escape from the overwhelming odds.  “I do not believe that you would throw away the one chance of freeing your father from an eternity of torment to exact such petty emotions as revenge. Revenge? How would you feel afterwards? Hollow, revenge is hollow. Emotion is hollow.”  

His blade draws a purple arc in the air as he brings it down in a flurry of precise strikes against Owyn, the ranger's parrying attempts made to look clumsy and slow by comparison.  Owyn drops wordlessly to the ground at the fallen paladin’s feet, scant minutes after provoking the fallen paladin into this combat.


----------



## Jak Shadow (Sep 18, 2003)

As I play the part of Owyn in this little drama I should probably be pimping this by replying to it right? 

Okay, seriously now folks these sessions we do each Thursday are a blast, often slow moving but always fun.  Hopefully if we can get it togwether and have some free time we can actually get a background up at some point as there is a huge amount that has gone on before these posts begin.  Unfortunately quite a lot of that isn't recorded but with enough of us we could probably figure 90% of it out...


----------



## andrew_kenrick (Oct 20, 2003)

Events are moving swiftly, far too swiftly. The unnatural veil of darkness invoked by Errowin has just been lifted by the mage, Ertai, and Owyn lies still, felled by the fallen paladin’s blade. Aramil is the first to react, stepping forward to stand guard over the body of his fallen companion. He eyes Owyn and then glances up to Errowin before beginning to chant a prayer of vengeance to his goddess, Rahana. Behind him, and unseen by all but the keenest eyes, Fyanilin the Shadow Dancer works his way silently round behind Errowin and the gnolls. As one were needed, an added sense of urgency is added to the proceedings as the sounds of hoofbeats grow ever nearer – no doubt more of Errowin’s cursed servants.

Marenon and Gwylith continue to keep the gnolls at bay, sniping any who venture too close to any of the party members. It is all the gnolls can do to keep down and avoid the lethal archer’s gaze. Behind Lord Errowin Fervil, wildshaped into a bat, swoops silently about, weaving a natural spell as he does so. The bat then swoops down, clattering off Errowin's breastplate ineffectually. The sharp-eyed amongst the party notice a small patch of brown appear in the metal armour where it was touched, then it quickly shrinks and is gone. Elsewhere Niltsiar prepares his escape, should it become necessary, by summoning a mount.

Lord Errowin shifts his stance to face Aramil, hefting his greatsword menacingly. “He made his choice.” The fallen paladin sneers, motioning towards the still form of Owyn. “Now you must do the same. What do you value more? Slaying me or freeing your comrades in Murkady. If you do one, you cannot do the other.”

Aramil looks up, his prayer complete. “And why should I believe you deceiver? Your charade is at an end - we will never do anything that will help you. If that means our comrades are lost, then so be it”

“So ... be ... it” Errowin lunges forwards to strike at Aramil but slips on the uneven ground, going down on one knee before the elf cleric as if in submission. “Treachery!”

Waldair seizes the opportunity to strike at their foe, leaping and dancing between the axes of gnolls before slashing at Errowin with one of his longswords. Despite his display of bravado, the blow lands awkwardly and glances off the thick armour.

Aramil is not so unfortunate, reaching out a hand to touch the kneeling Errowin. “Fitting. Now my Rahana curse you until the end of your days.” As his hand settles on the fallen paladin’s head there is a flash of green light, a rustle of wind and the whisper of trees and a thousand ethereal voices mutter “the goddess take you, the goddess take you, the goddess take you.”

And then she does. Errowin's eyes bulge green and burst, sap running like tears down his cheeks and then his body topples backwards, his skin pallid and thin as parchment and his very life oozing into the earth around him. The grass begins to grow about the body and in but a few seconds the corpse is decaying at an unnatural rate. First becoming a rotting corpse, then a skeleton, and then nothing more than dirt, blowing away in the wind.

For a moment there is silence, and then the shock is broken by a loud cheer from Marenon, quickly echoed by the rest of the party and a loud “Huzzah!” from Waldair.

Aramil turns to the encroaching gnolls and speaks, a great air of command and authority in his voice. “Stop. It is over. Let there be no more death this day.” The gnolls pause and then, one by one, begin to howl but whether in mourning or victory nobody knows. Niltsiar moves to speak with the leader of the gnolls, previously charmed by the mage, and implores him to calm his followers down, urging him that the party mean them no further harm.

At Aramil’s feet, Owyn begins to stir and groan in pain. Aramil looks down in surprise. “You still live - the Lady be praised.”

Owyn groans once more. “A..aramil? What's going on, where's Errowin?”

“We kicked Errowin's ass for ya.” Comes the reply from Waldair.

Owyn smiles at Waldair. “Good to hear it my friend.”

Nearby, Fyanilin emerges from the shadows and profers a healing elixir to Owyn, but the ranger waves it away. The halfling  puts away the potion, then kneels on both knees, touches his forehead to the ground, and softly utters out, “Please forgive me.”

“What ails you friend?” Asks Aramil. “What need have you for forgiveness?” Aramil helps Owyn back to his feet as Fyanilin sits back on his feet, a single tear falling down his cheek from his orange eyes.

 “Thank you, friends, for your efforts, and for slaying that monster. I now beg your forgiveness.”

As they speak, Fervil and Waldair move to a better vantage point and spot at least a hundred horsemen approaching the camp. They do not look like allies. Waldair shouts a warning down to the party and hurries back down the slope to rejoin them. Fervil follows him, now back in his gnome form.

Ignoring the shouts of alarm, Aramil continues to question Fyanilin. “For what could you need forgiveness?”

“I say again, I beg your forgiveness. Since before I came to adventure with you and yours, I have not been entirely …”

He does not have time to finish as Fervil interrupts. “There is much I would like to know about what's happened, but right now there are a hundred horsemen approaching.”

Mallisent echoes his sentiments, preparing a spell as he does so. “As welcomed as his defeat is, I suggest we leave. Gather round, if you feel you can move and I shall make us all vanish. Gather up his belongings - we may be able to turn them against him.” The party do so and prepare to be made invisible.

As they do so, Fyanilin and Aramil continue to talk. “I have served, for many years, the man whom I knew until today as The Knight, and whom you knew until today as Captain Morgaine. He, who we both know to be Lord Errowin.”

“Many were deceived by him, including I. I will not blame any for following his lies. Hush. There will be time for apologies and explanations when we are all safe.” The elf cleric gestures for the halfling to join the rest of the party. 

“You served Errowin?” Asks Owyn, suspiciously. “Was it voluntary?”

“It was my voluntary choice at first, but then I could not stop, lest I lose my life in trying.”

Niltsiar completes his discussion with the leader of the gnolls and moves to the party’s side. The gnoll leader snarls and quickly regains control of his warriors and they begin to move to engage Errowin’s horsemen. 

Waldair nods towards Niltsiar, Ertai and Mallisent and asks, “ I know we fought with these new guys, but we know squat about them. We just going to let them join us blindly?”

“For now yes - unless you fancy your chances against an army? Or perhaps have some better means of escape?” Aramil replies calmly. Waldair shrugs in reply.

Mallisent prepares to cast an invisibility sphere centred on Niltsiar, urging the party to tie themselves together so they do not become separated. The party do so as Mallisent turns them all invisible. Marenon works a spell, and the horses tracks vanish from the party's wake, completing the illusion.

Mallisent’s voice sounds nearby. “Now go. There is a settlement of gnomes a days ride to the west of here - they are allies and will shelter you. You can lie low for a day or two until Errowin's men finish searching the area. I cannot come with you, but I shall delay these men as long as I can.” At that moment the horsemen become visible to all of the group, leaping the rudimentary barricades erected around the village and charging at the gathered gnolls. Mallisent appears as he hurries out of the invisibility sphere and towards the combat, trying to buy valuable time for the rest of the party with his magic.

_[Notes: for those of you keeping track of the actual game mechanics here, this combat featured an example of what we like to call "The Dice Love Cinema!" rule. Errowin ended up on the floor in front of Aramil by fumbling his attack roll, and then failing his Dex check. Then, once Aramil hit him with the bestow curse he could only fail his Will save on a 1 or a 2. Guess what he rolled? A 1. So, his dropped by 6 points, which caused enough hit points to be lost to take him seriously into the minuses. Ick. Bye bye one big bad guy.]_


----------



## andrew_kenrick (Oct 20, 2003)

The party ride into the night, their invisible mounts carrying them swiftly away from the combat behind. The party have had a long day, and it was already past midnight when they first entered the gnoll camp. It is not long before the adrenaline of the fight begins to wear off and weariness and tiredness to creep into their bones. 

“I can go on no more.” Pronounces Niltsiar, drawing his horse up sharply and forcing the others to do the same. “I have been riding all day, and am exhausted. Please can we stop now.” Similar sentiments are expressed by many of the others.

Aramil concedes. “It seems further flight is beyond us - I suggest we find somewhere concealed to make a short camp.” Owyn finds a good spot and the party members begin to unpack their bedrolls and blankets. Niltsiar clears a large space and begins to incant a spell.

Fervil is first to speak. “Right. What exactly was it you, or your goddess, did to Errowin?”

“I cursed him that from this day forward Rahanna's gift life would be withdrawn from him. The strength of the curse went far beyond anything I thought I was capable of calling.” He adds, almost as an after thought. “Though I cannot say I am sorry to see him meet such an end”

“Did the Lady intervene?” Asks Owyn.

“She must have - I ask her aid but she acts as she wills it, Errowin must have offended her greatly in his service to the Void”

“The Void is a blight upon this existence, I have no doubt that it offends the lady.” Comments Owyn. 

As he does so, a sizeable hut appears in front of Niltsiar, seemingly from nowhere. Niltsiar looks pleased, and moves over to the door. “Seven of you can find a bed inside here. the other two, I’m afraid, must use the floor. I will light the fire. And don’t mess with the windows, you'll set off the alarms.”

Aramil declines, as do all the party except Ertai and Waldair. Aramil apologises but Niltsiar looks offended all the same. “I hope I will not offend you by choosing to sleep outside. I feel the need to be close to my goddess this night” He turns to face Fyanilin, who is quietly rooting about in his pack. “Come sit with me a while if you would...” Fyanilin comes over to join him as Owyn, Fervil and Gwylith contemplate Errowin’s fate and wonder if the Void will return him to life. The question remains unanswered, for no one wishes to think that he may once again return. 

Aramil pays little heed to their conversation and begins to speak with Fyanilin. “If you would Fyanilin, please tell us fully of how you came to work for Errowin?”

Fyanilin sighs a sad sigh and stands, dropping his pack to the ground. He reaches behind himself and snatches at something unseen. “It begins, with this.” He pulls forward a long, thin, tapering black tail with a sharp-looking tip. “This is the legacy of my grandfather. You will understand already if you know of the Fiendish Domains.” Fervil frowns in confusion and Aramil looks somewhat pensive. Fyanilin continues. “I am of the race which you might know as Tiefling. I am a direct male-line descendant of a devil.”

“You grandfather?” Asks Owyn.

Fyanilin nods solemnly. “He was powerful, or so I have heard. He was also a servant of the Void.”

Owyn shudders. “Born into the service of the enemy … You have my sympathies Fyanilin.”

“My father, being a first-generation son of a Devil, was a monstrous beast of a halfling. Scaly, black, and winged like a bat, he was all that mothers would seek to comfort their children about, screaming in the night. My mother, the poor woman, was simply in the wrong place at the wrongest of times. Raped and nearly killed in the process, she was made pregnant by the hell-beast I loathe to call my father. But this tail ... this forsaken tail ... is my legacy of the evil residing in my very blood.”
Owyn nods thoughtfully before asking. “So how did Errowin find you? What did he offer you and what did you do for him?”

“Living as the spawn of a half-fiend and a forsaken woman is not an easy task, in any situation. One is shunned by all. As badly as my village hated the devils, they all hated me. All save my mother. She raised me as she would raise any son, with love and discipline, but the rest of the town hated the both of us for our circumstances. A bad year came, and with it, a disease that killed many animals and plants, destroying livestock and crops. There was naught we could do to defend ourselves. The villagers decided that it was our presence that brought the deaths of the crops and livestock, and so they came knocking at my mother's door one dark night, with pitchforks and torches.

“It is a sorrowful thing when out of fear blame is laid at the door of innocents.” Comments Aramil.

Owyn agrees. “Awful and all to frequent in this world”

“I will not relate to you what kinds of things befell my mother, nobody deserves to hear such a gruesome tale. I was... ‘Lucky’ ... in that I was out that night, and came back only in time to look in through the window to our home, and watch. A young boy, close to 4 years younger than I, was out that night, mayhaps wondering where everyone was. He had the misfortune of being there just after they finished with my mother. He no longer lives, and but a single cry of pain came from his lips as my anger took me. I know not what I did to that boy. After I came back and saw more than red, heard more than the blood pounding in my ears, dripping from my nose, I fled. I ran far, and I ran fast. I stumbled, but got up and continued running. I did not stop for over a day, when I fell and passed out from exhaustion. I know not how, but I found my way first to a stream of fresh water, and then into a large city. A youth with no place to live and nobody to rely on in such a place become exactly what I did, a common street-urchin thief. But, I was more than a common thief, I was gifted, or so it seemed to the local thieves guild.”

Those of the party who remain awake listen intently. Only Marenon, Ertai and Niltsiar sleep unawares.

“Years passed, I grew older, smarter, better at my new-found ‘craft.’ I know not, to this day, whether it was misfortune or if it was planned that I should meet the Knight, who we now know to be Errowin.”

“Planned I'd wager...” Says Owyn.

“But meet him I did, to my own misfortune. At a tavern, I hoped to steal his purse, which for a man of so great of obvious stature would be large and heavily laden with gold. I succeeded, thinking he was drunk, and walked out of the bar with the large sack of gold in my hands. I thought it was gold, but opening the purse, I found naught but copper. I knew I had been deceived, when I suddenly felt pain, and then blacked out. When I came to, I was bound and sitting in a very uncomfortable chair, staring at the hateful grin of Errowin. He had pulled loose my tail, which I had always sought to hide, and silenced me before he began to talk. He told me about myself, about how wretched my existence had been and about the torment which I had witnessed and endured in my short life. Then, knowing all this, he offered to employ me. You may not know how it feels, all of you having lived in the light all your lives, with devotions far beyond those of coin or flesh, but that a man would willingly employ a being borne of evil …”

Aramil looks sadder and sadder as the tale progresses.

“It was indescribable, such as being given a, though very clichéd, second chance at life.”

“And you jumped at the chance...” Sighs Owyn.

Fyanilin nods. “So I followed this man, whom would have me only refer to him and know him as The Knight. He was my saviour, my benevolent master. It was that way, at least, until he started having me do the work he truly wished.” The tiefling closes his eyes in memory for a moment before continuing. “Do you know how it feels to walk behind a man and end his life in the coldest of blood? Do you know what it feels like to push a small, sharp dagger through a man's spine, to see the surprised look of pain and anguish, that goes beyond a scream? To know that man had got up that morning hoping to do the best he could with his life, knowing that he would have a great day of doing whatever he did?”

Aramil looks aghast. “No. Of course not. But then we have not lived as you have had to.”

“I do, because The Knight wished it to be so. I have taken, in cold blood, the lives of dozens of men who did not suspect such a thing could even come to them. I have ended bloodlines, all because the Knight wished it so. And even after all I did for him, I rarely saw him....he always sent his "pet" raven to give me the instructions.” 

Shocked, Owyn asks. “Could you not have stopped yourself?”

“Did you not hear him Owyn? This man gave him a chance when no other would shelter him - when all hands were turned against him because of his blood. Why should he not serve the only man who had showed kindness?” Replies Aramil.

Fyanilin continues. “Could you, on a whim, stop serving your god? Could an angelic servant of a god just stop doing what it's master wills? Can the sun stop shining because it wishes for darkness?”

“My Goddess would not ask me to murder in cold blood.” Responds Owyn, bowing reverentially.

Aramil’s answer does not fill his heart with joy. “We do not know what She may require of us. If she did would you? Would I?”

“Cold blooded murder of an innocent? If She required that of us would She deserve our loyalty? She would not ask it.” Replies Owyn.

“I didn't say of an innocent. And remember the schism within the church was fought over the simple question 'do the ends justify the means'. Regardless can you blame Fyanilin for what he has been forced to do?”

“I remember the schism and I remember the outcome. And no, I cannot and do not blame Fyanilin completely for his life nor what he has done yet he must shoulder some of the blame and responsibility. They were his actions in the end.”

“Please stop assuming that I am trying to relieve myself of any blame. My choices were my own, and I was not powerless, but still weak.” Replies Fyanilin.

Aramil turns away from Owyn and back to Fyanilin. “Much as it saddens me to hear, please continue - I would know how despite everything you came to stand with us at the end”

“And I am sorry for interrupting you, please do go on, much as your tale distresses me I feel that we need to hear it's conclusion.” Apologises Owyn.

Fyanilin continues. “I had given up my soul the moment I tore the life from that young boy. I was never given the chance to question the Knight, things simply were as they forever would be. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but would I give mine own life for someone who would shun me if they even had the slightest idea, the smallest hint, at what I was, what I was born to be? No, I could not bring myself to protect with my own life those whom I would be hated by. But, it seems, there was a small problem with the last assignment I was given. His raven flew to me in Maan, and brought with it my last quest. I was to infiltrate and travel along with a band of adventurers some ways outside the city. They had sent one of their own in to retrieve supplies, but he had been arrested that morning. You all know most of the story from the moment that I rescued Sir Waldair up to this very point”

Owyn’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment. “Yes, but what changed? Why did you find the strength to defy Errowin at last? Why did you help us fight?”

“Why did you turn against this master who had so ruled your life. What did we do to earn your trust?” Asks Aramil.

“While travelling, even the small amount we did together, I finally realised that there were people who would be able to help me rid myself, and this world, of the Knight.”

Fervil raises his voice for the first time and asks “What was your task once you had infiltrated us? Simply help slay us?”

“Errowin did not want you slain, because one, or maybe more of you, is required to open the gate to The Void, to unleash the nothingness upon all. I was here to report to him, to do his bidding, and eventually slay whomever he needed gone.”

“But now it is he who is gone, by the power of the Goddess and Aramil through whom that power is channelled. So what shall you do with yourself?” Asks Owyn.

“A man can live only so long without his own soul, and I have reached my time. If I was going to die, I decided, it would either be at my own hand, or in a battle to destroy Him. I have given up on it all. If I hadn't made this decision, more than likely some, or all of you, would be dead now, save for whomever is needed to open the gate.” Says the tiefling.

Fyanilin suddenly jumps at Aramil, pulling forth his shortsword and driving it tip-first into the ground directly in front of the cleric. Gripping the handle with his left hand, he braces himself, then slides his right hand from tip of the blade to the hilt in a long, slow motion. He uses his left hand to spread a small streak across his own forehead, then a singular dot in the middle of Aramil's. 

“I now bind myself, by my very blood, to you. Your judgement is now, to me, law. In your service, from now forward, I live. You are my only master, and I shall obey no other before thee.” Fyanilin then withdraws the blade and proffers it to Aramil, kneeling in front of him as he does so. 

“You have done an incalculably brave thing.” Begins Aramil. “To have come to stand in the light, though you began in deepest darkness. It is easy for one who has always stood in the light to continue to walk in it - but for one to willingly move from darkness, that is true grace. It is I who should be kneeling to you. I am no master to rule men - I am a priest and I can offer you only what a priest may offer.”

Fyanilin remains still in front of the priest.

“Do you regret your actions in the past Fyanilin? Do you repent the evils you have done? No matter how they came to be - are you sorry?”

“Yes, Master Cleric.”

“Then take my hands.” Aramil offers Fyanilin his hands, palms up and Fyanilin drops the bloody sword to the dirt and does as Aramil says. “Stand up.” 

Fyanilin stands slowly. Aramil breathes in deeply and begins his prayer. “Mother and Daughter. Here stands one who seeks the light. There are shadows in his past but he has overcome them to stand before you as himself. His heart is pure and his intention true. Welcome him into the light.” Aramil gently releases Fyanilin’s hands as the others look on silently. 

“You have forgiveness for your past deeds Fyanilin. The shadow is gone from your soul – nothing remains but the blue of grace.” Even though it is the middle of the night, a warm breeze blows and the party feel the dawn light on their faces, although the sky remains black. Fyanilin again kneels with his chin to his chest, on one knee. “From this day forward you are as one reborn - your path in life is yours to choose as you will.”

“Thank you, Master.” Answers Fyanilin.

“Please rise - you are free of all masters now. You belong to yourself, no longer bound by your past. I could no more command you then I could command the trees or the rocks - your path is your own to walk.”


----------



## Jak Shadow (Oct 20, 2003)

Ah, good to see some more posts up finally! Keep 'em coming Andrew, although don't negelect the archives, even if you have more fun writing up the story hour posts


----------

