# [Story Hour Sampler] Post Your Favorite Story Hour Installment



## el-remmen (Nov 23, 2004)

So, I was thinking it'd be cool to have a sampler thread, where people can post a sample installment from their story hour in one place where folks can "taste-test" various story hours and see what they are like.

*So here are the guidelines:*

1) Choose your favorite installment from your story hour (not session or snippet, but you favorite complete post to your story hour - this will also give people a sense of how long your installment usually are).

2) Post it with a very brief explanation of why it is your favorite and any brief exposition required for it to make sense (keep this very short - there is no way to avoid a certain amount of confusion, and more than a line or three of exposition may cause eyes to glaze over).

3) Only post one installment per story hour/campaign, please - as to not crowd the thread with many posts from the same person.  If you have more than one distinct story hour (not just more than one thread for the same story hour) then feel free to post one from each - but try to space them out so they are among others, instead of a block of posts all from the same person.

4) If a story hour _reader_ wants to post a personal favorite of an installment please try to get the permission of the author in question, as he or she may have her own in mind to post (Some authors may be to busy to post something here, but may not be against someone else choosing and posting something).  If you are a reader and not the author, please identify yourself as such.

5) Post a link to your story hour.

6) Comments and questions are welcome. . .

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*Here are the excerpts we have already*: (I will be updating this list as more are posted)

*Star Wars: Heroes of Another Kind*
_Chapter 16: Just When You Thought It Couldn't Get Any Stranger..._
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By: Ankh-Morpork Guard


*Out of the Frying Pan / The Fearless Manticore Killers & The Necropolis of Doom*
_Session #48 – Escape From the Necropolis of Doom_
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By: Nemmerle


_Excerpt From. . . _*Don't laugh..... it's coming.*
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By: Hairy Minotaur


_Excerpt From. . . _*Of Gods and Devils*
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By: Drioid101


*Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way*
_Patronage_
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By: the Jester



_Excerpt from. . ._ *Barsoom Tales* 
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By: Barsoomcore

_Excerpt from. . ._ *Wild Stewardess Action* 
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By: Barsoomcore


*The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions*
_[Realms #232] Gate Crashing_
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By: Jon Potter


*Prison of the Firebringer*
_Chapter 12_
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By: ltclnlbrain


*Shackled City Story Hour *
_Cauldron_
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By: Berandor


*Revenge, Renewal and the Promise of a New Year*
_Chapter Five, “The Comstock House Ambush”, January 2nd , 1882, 7:30 A.M. _
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By: Silver Moon


*DARK•HERITAGE *
_Module I, Part I: "Blasphemous Rumours" _
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By: Joshua Dyal



_Excerpt From . . ._*Orcs on the Rampage - Tales from the Broken Lands*
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By: Graywolf-ELM



_ Excerpt From . . ._ *We were like gods once *
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By: ledded



_ Excerpt From . . ._ *Avarimorion Maranwen'tyene *
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By: Angcuru



*(Forgotten Realms) Rise of the Snakemen*
_Part Seven_
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By: Brakkart



_ Excerpt From . . ._ *OD&D Campaign *
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By: howandwhy99



*The Golden Key: From the Casebook of Nigel Spenser/b]
the third installment
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By: Kid Charlemagne*


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## Ankh-Morpork Guard (Nov 23, 2004)

Neat idea. 

Tough pick between two of my favorite posts(they're actually one after the other) but I'll go with the second. So...just to preface it, this is a Star Wars story hour set roughly 10 years after the Battle of Endor. This is from fairly early on in the game, right after a sparring match between the two characters(Akan Tavos, a self-taught Jedi working for with a mercenary group and Shadow, an assassin of a strange feline species). The match ended up getting dangerous, ending in the apparent death of Akan...

*Star Wars: Heroes of Another Kind
Chapter 16: Just When You Thought It Couldn't Get Any Stranger...*

Ow. Ow said it all for Akan. Ow pretty much described the extent of his existence for the last...the last long time. How long? Wait...the last moment he remembered was Shadow’s claws digging into his neck, then nothing. Then...this. But ow. Why ow? Why anything? That was...death wasn’t it? One shouldn’t feel anything after that. Or...should they? Honestly, how would you know? Sure, there were stories of Force spirits, but Akan doubted they existed in a state of ‘ow’. So again, the question of why ‘ow’ returned to his...mind? Thoughts. Yes, thoughts.

[You’re going to have to move or we’ll be stuck like this...] a voice said. It was in his mind....he’d heard a voice similar to that before, only not in his mind. Thoughts. Whatever. [Its your mind, you are alive you know.] the voice interrupted his thoughts again. So he was alive again, and now completely crazy. Hearing voices. Wonderful. But...Akan could feel other voices. Distant and strange, like thoughts that weren’t his own. He latched onto one for a moment and got an image.

The training room. Blood was still on the floor and wall in places, but the focus was on...a body, face first on the floor.. Off to the side of the body was a pile of clothes. His clothes. Wait...that body...it looked like Shadow’s yet...male looking. And the hair. And...and...the arm moved. Akan could have sworn he did that. Then the image faded and he was left in the nothing of wondering what the Sith was going on.

[I’ll explain after we’re completely separated] the voice said again. That voice. He pinned it. Shadow’s. But why in his mind? Too many why’s. [Our tails are still connected...I can’t do that part on my own.]

Huh...? He felt something in his mind....Shadow. She was searching something out. She found it, and he felt a strange energy growing from where there had been nothing. He could...feel his body again. But it was different. Stronger. Bigger, too. And something...his thoughts trailed down, and he found a series of muscles and bones that had never been there before. That...shouldn’t be there. He moved them.

[Hey! Stop playing with the our tails and move forward!] Akan hadn’t realized he’d been moving that muscle for a few...minutes. It was strangely entertaining. That was awkward. He seemed like he was getting distracted much more easily. Wait. Focus. Task at hand. Tail. Right. But why ‘our tails’? Wait...stuck. He let his min travel farther down, and it all got even more fuzzy. Stuck! Tails were...fused? Connected? Stuck! Why? Not another why...FOCUS! Move. Alright. Forward.

He did. Carefully and with eyes still closed. One arm moved up, and dragged him across the floor while the other did the same. As he did this, he could hear...feel, just generally know that Shadow was doing the same thing in the other direction. Then, it was gone. Well, not completely, but the part of him that somehow understood what was going on figured that the ‘stuck’ problem was solved. He stopped moving. Feeling was ‘returning’ in a way to his entire body, and he was noticing many differences that he’d last checked. Mostly, this was along the lines of muscles that were never there before. 

He heard movement and shifted his ear towards it. What? Shifted his ear? How did he...? Hmm...there was another new muscle. And the ears were...different. He could hear better, and was surprised at how much louder the ship was. He twisted the ear the other direction to see if it worked. It did. Another sound behind him, and Akan quickly moved his ear to listen. Shadow. How did he know? He could feel her thoughts, and knew she was moving.

[You’ll get used to the link...can you say anything?] Akan heard Shadow ask him as she stopped moving. Say anything...?

[How’m I s’posed to talk? Everythings all...all...] suddenly Akan realized that was his ‘voice’. He’d just thought about it...at her. In a way. Not in any way that much different from the Force, but...he could tell he wasn’t using that for this communication. He just thought at her.

Akan then felt a hand on his shoulder, then heard Shadow’s actual voice, “It’ll probably be very...um...confusing for a while. Can you open your eyes at all or speak?”

Akan did manage to turn his head so his nose wasn’t crushed on the floor. Or at least, he was pretty sure that was what he’d done. But eyes opening was somehow very hard to do. As was working the mouth at all. [What...happened?]

“Well,” Shadow’s hand left his shoulder, and Akan could feel her thoughts race through how to explain things. She tried sending images, but it did nothing but confuse him more. Realizing this, she sighed and tried explaining it as best she could in words, “You um...I...got a little a carried away. You kind of...well...”

[You killed me?!] Akan’s mind had caught on to that much, and though it had made sense considering, it was still shocking and insane in more than one way.

“No! Yes...well...” her voice became accusing, “You told me to! Argh...look, that’s not the point. Just listen because this is um...important. Before you were completely...gone, I sort of made you a new...well...you.”

Again, this was confirming what he was slowly figuring out on his own(with the help of her thoughts), but hearing it was just more to add on to the current feeling of chaos. [How in the Force did you do that?!]

“Not in the Force...” Shadow trailed off, obviously not catching the expression and taking it literally, “Listen it’s a technique of my...our species.”

[Our species?!] alright, now it was going to far.

He felt a strange emotion from Shadow then. Almost like she was hiding behind a wall and talking quietly around it with large amounts of things in the way to deflect any attacks that were sure to come, “Um...yes? We’re the um...same now. I didn’t...I mean, it was the only way! And...and I didn’t mean for things to get so crazy and I...it was the only way...”

There was a silence. Obviously, she expected him to murder her at this point. Then, he broke the silence. He had spent the time doing a mix of thinking and figuring out how to get his mouth to work. Akan managed it, and his voice even sounded different. This was because he was talking through sharper, slightly longer teeth, “...its okay...”

That got a surprised reaction out of her. Akan could feel Shadow’s mind racing trying to figure out what to do. She’d expected a much harsher reaction. Carefully, she said, “Um...you need to know. We’re essentially the uh...same person now.”

[Its why we can...talk like this] she continued in his mind, which surprised him but at the same time was somehow normal already. [The big thing is that um...well, we’ll live as long as each other, really.] Shadow suddenly noticed that made little sense, and tried again. [What I mean is that...well, when one of us dies the other will too...so we’re kind of stuck in that. But it was the only way...]

Taking this all in, Akan finally managed to get an eye open. He was, in fact, face first on the floor. Shadow was sitting crossed legged on a brown pile of what were most likely his clothes. She was wearing her usual skin-tight suit, but it was smaller than usual. No longer did it cover her entire body(minus feet, hands, and head), but started just above her knees and ended a little below her neck with short ‘sleeves’ on her arms. It also looked...different in a way. Less colour to it.

“My morphsuit was...strained,” she trailed off and he watched her reach over to him. She put her hand on his back, but it felt different, “It split itself, so you have one too. Its sometimes hard to tell you’re wearing it...but it won’t hurt you. Both of them will grow back in time, but they’ll be...small for a while,” she caught onto another thought of his, “Yes, they’re alive. Not intelligent, but alive. Now, its really designed to give you something to wear when you morph....but you should wear it all the time because of the cold.”

Morph? Wait...she meant. But he didn’t know how. Maybe it was simple? No...not right now. Focus. Some things still confused him. [Can you...help me up?]

Shadow nodded and as Akan strained muscles that had never been used before(which was odd in its own right), she helped to pull him to his feet. He nearly fell onto her, but Shadow held him up as he got used to the balance difference.

“Tail for balance...” she said quietly, still sounding slightly worried like she expected him to kill her at any moment.

He managed a nod, but wasn’t sure how to use said tail for said balance. So he just let things happened. In a few minutes, he’d worked it out, and was able to stand up, mostly, straight. There was a large mirror on the far side of the training room, which was a remnant of the old quarters that had never been removed. Shadow caught onto his thoughts, and helped him to walk over to it.

When he got to it, his mind finished computing everything and put the last pieces together. There stood Shadow, looking the same as usual. Not too tall, shoulder length white hair with a black stripe down the center, two feline ears and purple eyes with feline pupils, long tail, and her smaller morphsuit. But next to her, was what Akan knew to be himself but still wasn’t sure of. 

He was about the same height as before, but it was obvious he had newer muscles in most places. Of course, the skin tight morphsuit probably helped that some, but it would have been noticeable either way. His hair was about the same length as before, scruffy as usual, but...white like Shadow’s. Except no black stripe. Well, there was a stripe but it was a metallic blue colour. He decided not to ask where that came from. He realized the reason his hair looked so much scruffier was the fact that he no longer had human ears to keep it back more. His ears were now up higher on his head, and feline like Shadow’s. His eyes, too had the same slit...but they were the same blue colour as before. More of an ice blue than the colour of his stripe. His skin was darker, like hers was. In fact, exactly the same colour...almost no surprise. He opened his mouth to confirm that his teeth were in fact much sharper, then looked down. Flicked that muscle that had never been there...a tail flicked, with the same white/blue markings as his hair. Okay...um...

[Now what...?] he asked, not sure if his voice would have managed the confusion that was finally settling.

Shadow looked at him in the mirror, then up at him. She had an arm holding him up still, and it was strange how she was so much...different than before. She managed a shrug, then a grin appeared on her face. Not the dangerous grin from before, but a more friendly one. It almost looked out of place, “Your guess is as good as mine...but um, probably should tell Ansion. And well..welcome back as an Alraxian.”

Alraxian. So now he knew the species name. From Raan the young pilot...to Akan the mercenary Jedi...to...an Alraxian. No knew name. He’d died enough. Reborn was an understatement. A grin started growing on his face. Never had he ever needed to ask for an interesting life. Now, he got to live a second interesting one.

((Link to Story Hour in sig))


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## el-remmen (Nov 23, 2004)

_Here is my favorite installment.  Typically my posts are about 2/3 of this one, but when I posted this I wanted to put a whole session as one installment because of the nature of events - where the escape from a subterreanean complex took one entire session all of which was spent in the same basic initiative order.  

I wasn't sure if I should keep the footnotes in this version, but since it is how I usually post my installments I decided to keep them (they can be safely ignored).

At the end of the session before this Ratchis had decapitated and destroyed the vampire whose imprisonment and suffering were mystically keeping the decrepit complex together._

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*Session #48 – Escape From the Necropolis of Doom*

“You are truly blessed by your gods!” Kazrack said in awe of Ratchis’ mighty blow, but there was no time for congratulations. The walls rumbled and shook again, and the cracks spidered everywhere. This place was going to collapse. The Fearless Manticore Killers and the dwarven company knew they had a long climb out before escaping. (1)

“We need to make for the main shaft,” Captain Adalar yelled over the increasingly loud rumbling.

Derek, however, went in the opposite direction, hoping to search for something in the sarcophagus that might stop the collapse of the structure. Martin handed him a torch.

“Blodnath! Baervard! Jeremy! Hurry ahead and get to the ropes and go up as quickly as you can,” Ratchis ordered. “We’re going need you to pull up those who are bad climbers.” 

And as if to emphasize he meant for them to do what he said immediately, he spoke a quick word to his goddess and patted Jeremy’s shoulder. Suddenly, the Neergaardian’s cloak gave off an aura of bright light.

Blodnath had already snaked past everyone and was making his escape. He pause just before a large square stone that was the floor where the two narrow halls joined. 

“This floor is gonna go soon,” he pointed at the clouds of dust bursting up from around the seams of the stone and then took off up the stairs. There was a deep yawning sound punctuated by crashed from deep beneath them. Baervard and Jeremy were right behind him, but the latter turned back, for everyone else seemed to be reacting too slowly for his tastes.

“Come on!” he said with some panic in his voice.

Kazrack stepped over and began to run his hands through the dust and rags inside the sarcophagus. With Derek and Martin the Green. The moved frantically and strained to see any detail about the sarcophagus that might help them in this predicament. But there was only one very clear thing about it. The inside was lined with fist-sized rubies that gleamed in the torchlight.

Ratchis cast his miracle of light once again, this time placing it on Beorth’s helmet. A second later it rang out, as a stone fell from above sending the paladin reeling towards the exit. He fell and seemed stunned. He held his head and tried to straighten his helmet. Jolnar, Golnar and Tolnar ran into the room, were yelled at by Adalar and then went back to follow Baervard and Jeremy up and out of the narrow corridors that led into this place. Helrahd stepped over to help Beorth to his feet.

“Gods!” said Kirla. She had made her way over to the sarcophagus just as Derek fled for the door giving up his search and pushing Martin in front of him. She reached down and place her calloused palm on one of the rubies and tried to turn it loose some.

Belear was moving to the exit past Ratchis, who stood his ground waiting to make sure everyone was at least heading out before sprinting for the exit itself. Kazack moved to the door, while admonishing Kirla. 

“Leave the gems,” he said. “We have to get out of here!”

Kirla just screwed her face up with more determination and pulled a small chisel from her belt and went to work on it with that. To her trained eyes, she could tell this stone was loose and worth a great deal. 

Ratchis looked to Kazrack and then to Helrahd who was point Beorth in the right direction, and then back to Kirla. He then turned and followed Beorth up the narrow steps. 

Behind him, the stone statue in the corner fell over, widening the crack beneath it, and partially blocking the way out of the sarcophagus room for Helrahd, Kirla and Kazrack.

The half-orc came up to the main chamber above, just in time to see the floor give way beneath Martin and the watch-mage tumble into the darkness of the smaller room below. 

“Oh!” cried the watch-mage.

“Martin! Come to me! We’ll get up the pillars,” Jeremy cried out in the dark, hearing his companion fall. He had already fallen into the lower level with Baervard, who was fending off the zombies to make it to a pillar of his own. Martin crawled behind Jeremy and stood, making his way over the bodies of countless zombies. More were falling from the dirt ceiling above them, and still others were still trying to dig their way out of the collapsing side tunnels. Jeremy kept an area around him clear with a wide arc of his blades.

Above, Ratchis leapt over the hole, but barely made it. Flailing his arms to regain his balance he hustled towards the gate-like door to the chamber that led to the shaft to the surface, counting on Jeremy and the others to make sure Martin made it out.

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“Damn it, woman!” Karack reached for Kirla’s wrist. “Leave the stone be! We know not its purpose!”

Behind them Belear squeezed past the fallen statue, stepping widely over the crack, as Helrahd held levered the statue a bit with one of his axes. He began to make his way up the narrow and rapidly cracking steps to the upper chamber.

“It is going to take time for you to squeeze past that statue. I’ll be right behind you!” Kirla said, jerking her hand away and continuing to work on the gem. It was turning much more freely now.

“Just leave it girl!” Kirla’s older brother, admonished. Kazrack had never heard real concern in the grizzled dwarf’s voice before.

Captain Adalar had made it across the upper chamber, but seeing that all but Tolnar were having trouble making it across, he ran back down the steps, grabbing pointing to Blodnath. 

“Get a rope around a pillar,” he commanded. “We need to get those people up from down there!” However, the floor beneath him gave as he stepped back into the large chamber and soon he and Tolnar were down there with Jeremy, Blodnath and Martin.

“No!” Ratchis, slapped his forehead in shock.

“Lentus!” Martin cried, and slowed a group of zombies, keeping them from mobbing the stunned dwarves that had just fallen. Jeremy made his way over there, cutting a swath in the undead limbs, and a moment later Blodnath’s rope came down.

“Martin! Up the rope!” the Neergaardian cried. Martin hurried over, lighting a torch as he went.

“Thomas?” the Watch-mage reached out with his thoughts to his frightened familiar, which was hidden in the hood of his cloak.

“Yes?”

“If I can’t make it out, I want you to run.”

“I’m not leaving you,” the squirrel replied adamantly. “At least not yet.”

The watch-mage took a moment to scratch his familiar lovingly behind the ear. 

Derek was beside Blodnath, and looking down at the horror beneath. 

“You can make your way up this way,” he instructed. “There are some beams to help support you. I’ll hold the rope.”

“I don’t like zombies,” Bearvard said, pushing past Martin and grabbing the rope. Martin was agog. The dwarf had never spoken a word that the watch-mage had ever heard the whole time he had been with the group. Now, he was climbing up the rope.

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“I got it!” The fist-sized ruby popped into Kirla’s hand, and the room shook, more. Kazrack barely stepped out of the way of a piece of ceiling. And despite this, Kirla paused to admire the gem and smile broadly. “Beautiful.”

“Put the stone back!” Kazrack commanded. “We don’t know why it was there in that formation.”

He snatched the stone from her hand.

“You have no right to take that from me!” Kirla replied, with a look of indignation.

“I will be happy to discuss propriety when I don’t have stones falling down around my ears! Now go!”

“You should not grab things out of my sister’s hands like that!” Helrahd said angrily, and snatched the gem out of Kazrack’s hand and handed it back to Kirla in one smooth motion. “Now come on!”

Kazrack’s eyes opened wide with incredulity. “You are being foolish, girl!” He followed the siblings to the partially blocked exit to the room. Helrahd squeezed through first. 

“Go!” Kazrack motioned to Kirla to follow her brother, but she shook her head stubbornly. 

“You go,” she replied.

The whole place shook again, but this time with a deeper rumble and the demoness statue fell over onto the stone sarcophagus, shattering it. (2)

Kazrack sighed and squeezed under the statue, but the wall on his right gave way some and he had to thrust himself forward to avoid being crushed. A huge section of the wall fell off and the statue fell through the floor, revealing a deep chasm below. A great cloud of dust rose, and Kirla stepped backm placing an arm before her face. When the dust cleared, she could see Kazrack struggling to hold on to the edge of the new chasm. Helrahd had already made it around the corner to the stairs, so without help Kazrack was barely able to pull himself up.

He turned to Kirla. The statue no longer blocked the way, but the chasm was over five feet wide. 

“You’ll have to jump,” he called to the dwarven woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

Kirla took a few more steps back and tucked the large ruby in her cloak pocket. She screwed up her face with determination and began to run at the gap. 

Helrahd came back around the corner, “Where’s Kirla?”

“Stay back from the edge,” Kazrack said, looking over his shoulder at the dwarven scout. “The floor may be weakening.”

Kirla came hurtling over the gap and was just a few inches short. She went tumbling down the chasm. Kazrack turned back around, but too late to reach out for her.

“This is all your fault!” Her voice echoed up the shaft at Kazrack, and she pointed at him accusingly. 

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

Ratchis started tying people’s packs to the bottom of one of the ropes. He had made it all the way across the room, and was determined to get up to the surface to be able to pull up others with his divinely-enhanced orcish strength.

Blodnath left his rope to Derek and made his way to the bottom of the shaft and began to climb up one of the ropes, hand over hand.

Jolnar and Golnar moved to flank Derek and look down the hole.

“What is going on?” Jolnar asked.

“Are they okay down there?” Golnar asked.

Beorth came around the other side of the hole as Bearvard pulled himself out, grabbing onto Golnar and Jolnar’s outstretched arms.

Below, even more zombies fell out of the chunks of collapsing ceiling.

“Anubis! These lost souls wander aimlessly and seek the life force of the living. Guide them away from my companions!” The paladin aimed the divine energy down the hole, but at the moment he chose to lean over the hole the whole place shook, roaring as if trembling with anger. He tumbled down to join his friends, landing with a bone-jarring ‘oof!’ 

“Beorth! Get up!” Jeremy yelled, hacking into yet another zombie. Captain Adalar finally shook off his own dizziness from his fall and hacked an approaching zombie with his great axe.

“Has everyone escaped?” Belear asked, finally getting up the steps to the main chamber. He looked around and took in the scene, answering his own question. He gave a silent prayer to Natan-Ahb, touching his pouch of runestones about his neck. (3)

“Get away from the edge!” Derek told Golnar, Tolnar and Baervard. “The whole floor is going to go soon.”

As Ratchis grabbed the rope to begin his ascent, he heard a crack and a cry above him. He looked up just in time to see Blodnoth come hurtling down atop him with a huge chunk of a fallen stone railing from one of the levels above. (4)

Martin grabbed the rope and Derek pulled him up.

“Beorth, you go after the dwarves,” Jeremy said to the paladin. “I’ll find another way up.” He hacked another zombie to pieces, ichor and blood dripping from his blonde locks.

Jolnar made his way up next, as Martin hurried to the shaft, and helped Ratchis to his feet. Blodnath shook off the fall and immediately began to climb again, even though blood flowed steadily from a gash in his forehead.

Bearvard grabbed the third rope in the shaft and began to climb, but the blood on his hands made gaining traction hard and he made little progress. Ratchis began his ascent, while Martin held the rope for Baervard and gave him a boost on his shoulders.

However, at that moment there was another rumble and another piece of stone, nearly a foot in diameter tumbled down the shaft. Ratchis and Blodnath swung out the way, and Baervard leapt off the rope and off Martin’s shoulders, letting the mage take the full brunt of the blow in the face.

Martin the Green fell to the floor bleeding. Baervard stepped around him and began to attempt his climb again, not saying a word.

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

“What did you do?!?” Helrahd cried to Kazrack, hurrying to look over the edge. Fortunately, Kirla had landed only about twelve feet down on a rocky outcropping, but behind her the chasm was falling away and becoming deeper and wider. There was a shudder and the earth swallowed the entire statue, sarcophagus and raised dais. “We need a rope! Go get a rope!”

“Grab this!” Kazrack said, and thinking quickly he got down on his knees on the edge of the widening gap and pulled off his cloak and holding it down to the dwarven shield-maiden. Kirla got up, and rubbed her head, shaking it back and forth. She leapt up and grabbed the cloak, and Helrahd grabbed at Kazrack’s end to help pull her up.

However, there was another rumble, and Kirla swung back and forth, and as the cloak ripped she tumbled back. Once again she landed on the rocky ledge, but it slid down another ten feet away. 

“Grab my ankles!” Karack said to Helrahd, and the other dwarf complied. Kazrack cursed under his breath,. As he was lowered into the hole, for he could see that the cloak, now ripped would not quite reach.

“You are going o have to climb some!” He called down, but Kirla was already looking for a handhold, and she pulled herself up about four feet and grabbed the cloak again, this time more near the middle, and with more cloth. 

Helrahd pulled up Kazrack, who pulled up Kirla, and they all lay there beside the gap for a moment trying to catch their breath.

Kazrack looked at Kirla, “Just as it incited Natan-Ahb to split the Dwon, it is fascination with shiny things that caused this, not I.” (5)

Kirla rolled her eyes and stood. 

The three dwarves hurried up the stairs as the hole behind them cracked open even wider, and they could hear large stones tumbling down into the gaping maw, knocking away swathes of lower stones to create an increasingly yawning abyss.

Kazrack was the first to turn the corner and come to the top, “What’s going on? Where is everyone? Have we all made it out?” He turned to Derek who still held the rope, “What are you waiting for?”

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

In the meantime, Ratchis had made it over thirty feet up the main shaft, only to have a huge chunk of stone balcony strike him in the shoulder as it tumbled down and send him hurtling down the rest of the way. As he lay at the bottom, stunned, Belear hurried over and cast a healing blessing on the half-orc, spitting to one side in disgust as he did so.

Below, Jeremy decided he could not wait down there any longer. Huge chunks of the dirt ceiling continued to fall, and with it came loose more zombies. And still, even more zombie were managing to force their way through the rubble strewn side tunnels into the increasingly cramped chamber.

“Quick, before more the ceiling goes and traps us all!” He leapt onto one of the pillars that stretched from above and down into the lower chamber and started to make his way up.

Beorth and Captain Adalar were still too busy fending off zombies, while Tolnar was amid the beams trying desperately to get up to Derek and his brothers.

Martin looked back and forth, not sure what to do. He grabbed for one of the ropes to begin to try to make his way up to the surface, but again the whole complex shook and he fell to his knees. Below Beorth and Adalar both fell, as did many of the zombies, and Tolnar had to stop climbing to merely hold on and keep from falling back down. Cracks began to spider across the main floor above and Derek gulped with fear and anticipation of the worst, and the rope still in his hands moved towards the broad steps leading to the shaft.

There was a deafening crack, and suddenly the whole center portion of the main room between the four pillars collapsed. A mountain of dirt and crack tiles fell into the lower room, Beorth scrambled against a wall avoiding the majority of the rubble, but Captain Adalar disappeared beneath it, and Tolnar fell amid the beams he had been climbing only a moment before atop the pile.

Over 60 feet above, Blodnath swung over to the stone railing of the highest level before the last part of the climb that led to the top of the stone obelisk above. Bracing himself there, he took a moment to rest.

Golnar and Jolnar had rolled out of the way of the collapsing floor, and Martin looked through the broad doorway in shock.

“The floor went ‘boom’,” chittered Thomas.

It was barely half a moment later that Kazrack came hurrying into the room. Helrahd and Kirla came in behind him and passed him and moved to the edge of what was now a huge hole. However, Helrahd misjudged, and stepped in a place where the floor was still in the process of cracking even further and with a flash of dust and mortar, he plummeted down as well.

“Helrahd!” cried Kirla.

Beorth began to frantically try to dig out Adalar, ignoring the zombies, most of which were either buried as well or awkwardly struggling to get back on their feet.

“Beorth, I’m coming back down to get you!” Jeremy called down into the hole. “Get your armor off. I’m gonna carry you out there if I have to!” And with that he grabbed hold of one of the pillar and began to shimmy back down.

Derek wrapped his end of the rope about one of the chains that held the counterweights for the door to the main shaft, and then started making his way out. Jeremy only went halfway down the pillar, seeing that Derek’s rope now secured, and waited there to give those who came up a final boost up.

“Arrrgh!” Blodnath’s blood-curdling screaming echoed over the incessant rumbling as he cam tumbling down the entire length of the shaft. He had lost his grip on the rope and landed, a bloody pulp, at the bottom of the shaft. He was unconscious and barely breathing. A shower of smaller stones, followed him, wounding him further, as well as Belear and Jolnar who tried shielding him with their own bodies. Martin pressed himself against he shaft wall and avoid the stones, and Ratchis swung out their way, cursing. 

Captain Adalar burst out from under the ruble with a rasping gasp, blood flowing from several wounds on his body, and his armor dented and rented in many places.

“You are going first,” Beorth told him. Dazed, the dwarf did not argue, but in a moment he was grasping the rope and being pushed up from below, while Jeremy reached down from above. 

Kazrack found his progress across the room blocked by the great hole, and running to leap across a narrower section, found himself tumbling down painfully. 

“Kazrack!” Jeremy cried.

“I’m fine,” Kazrack said, getting to his feet. “Get Tolnar up that rope.” 

The young dwarf began his ascent, while Adalar hurried the best he could up the steps to the main shaft, accompanied by Derek.

Kazrack turned to the paladin of Anubis, “Beorth, you are more important to the success of our mission than I am. You go after the dwarves!” 

Beorth did not respond.

Way above, Ratchis finally made it to the surface. He squinted, as the sunlight painfully stabbed his yellow eyes. He looked around quickly, and noticed that not only the great block of stone was shaking, but the various pointed -pillars of stones that littered this dead land were tilting in the ashen earth, and shaking on occasion. Furrows were spidering out in all directions from the stone, and clouds of dust would burst up from the earth in places.

“Somebody grab my rope so I can pull them up!” Ratchis cried down with all his might, cupping his mouth with his hands. He prayed to Nephthys that someone heard him and then spitting on his hands grabbed the rope, waiting for the tell-tale tug that would let him know when to pull.

Helrahd made it back up to the collapsing upper room, by climbing another pillar, and grabbing Kirla’s hand.

Derek began climbing the rope that Blodnath had used to climb most of the way up.

“I don’t expect an argument from you, Beorth,” Kazrack added. “You are going next.”

There was another yawning rumble, and one of the pillar’s upper portions, cleaved straight off, bringing a huge chunk of ceiling with it and ripping right through the floor of the lower chamber, only a few feet away from where Beorth and Kazrack stood.

Kirla and Helrahd’s escape was even further blocked now, and Kirla swearing, ran at a place where the hole was narrowest, but as before, she did not make the jump. 

“Kirlaaaaaaa!” Helrahd cried, as he watched his sister fall down into the abyss below. However, she was able to catch herself at the very lip of the lower hole, and keep herself from joining the rain of dirt, rock and zombies that was now disappearing into the impenetrable darkness of chasm.

Kazrack tuned and looked, but Kirla was far from his reach. Helrahd started to make his way down the partially broken pillar to reach his sister, but his weight was too much for it, and finally it creaked and groaned and tipped over, bringing another chunk of floor and ceiling with it. The top of it slammed into where Kirla held on for dear life and the brother and sister disappeared into the abyss below.

“Noooo!” cried Kazrack, and then without skipping a beat turned to Beorth. “You are next. Go!”

Beorth began to take off his splint mail, hurriedlym letting straps snap, and cutting others with a knife. “You go, Kazrack,” he said. “I will not make the climb with this on.”

Above Jeremy hefted Tolnar up, and the dwarf ran to Golnar who waited for him on the steps and the two of them ran to the main shaft.

“You should not have waited for me brother,” Tolnar panted.

By now, Baervard was being pulled up along with several packs, by Ratchis. He gripped the rope and sat with the packs beneath his rear like a seat, twisting around and around as he slowly made his way up. 

Ratchis seeing who was on the rope, called down, “Baervard, when I get you up untie the pack immediately and throw it back down, I am going to start pulling up whoever is on the rope on the right!”

Martin helped Tolnar up onto another rope, and he began to try to climb it as well, but he was weak from his many falls and soon lost grip tumbling back down. He landed with a painful thud at his brothers’ feet. “I am not going to make it. Go on without me,” he croaked, and fell unconscious.

Below, the yawning chasm stretched even further. Kazrack glanced back at it nervously, and then up at Jeremy who had also stolen a glance at it, as he felt the column he was on begin to buckle.

“Hurry!” The Neergaardian called down to his companions. “Just take my hand. I’ll help you up!”

“Beorth, the likelihood of my delaying you is too great,” Kazrack tried explaining to Beorth as if the world were not collapsing around them. “You must go first. Lords and lady, please help this most dwarf-like of my friends inn his climb.” And with that the rune-thrower, cast the miracle of guidance on the paladin as he still worked on his armor.

“Kazrack, your pride will be the death of you,” Beorth said.

“Call it pride if you will, but better the death of me than the death of you,” Kazrack handed the rope to Beorth, who sighing began to climb.

Derek came tumbling back down the shaft, banging his head painfully against the wall. He had lost his grip, and tried to us his acrobatics to slow his fall.

He managed to land on his feet. “Ratchis is going to pull that other rope, I heard him telling Baervard. Someone grab it!”

Martin sighed and grabbed it, while Belear who had just finished staunching Blodnath’s wounds, healed Tolnar, who sputtering regained consciousness, though he spat blood.

Golnar began to climb the rope his brother fell from.

“I can take more than one on a rope!” Ratchis called down, as he pulled Baervard to the surface and grabbed the next rope. The taciturn dwarf began to untie the packs to throw his rope back down. No one could hear Ratchis’ cried over the distance and rumbling.

Beorth grabbed Jeremy’s hand and then climbed past him, reaching the tattered floor of the upper chamber, but unfortunately, he grabbed a splintering wooden beam for support and came tumbling back down, just inches from the what now seemed like a bottomless pit.

“Argh!” cried Jeremy, sweat dripped down his nose, and he looked nervously around. “Help him! Help him! Get him up!”

Kazrack lowered a hand to help up the clumsy paladin, “My desire to see you to safety has not been diminished by your difficulty. You go first.”

“My cowardice and my god’s displeasure have landed me here, Kazrack. You go first!’ Beorth replied standing.

“Will one of you come on! Stop fighting already! Make up your minds! Let’s go!” Jeremy was now scolding them like children.

Kazrack ignored the young warrior, who risked himself to aid them and continued to argue with Beorth. “If anyone has been abandoned. It is I! Now go!” And with that he sat on the shaking floor and folded his arms across his chest.

Beorth simply stood there not replying.

There was another crack, and Kazrack was forced to roll away from the edge of the hole to keep from going down with some stone. While Beorth clutched his head, as a remaining portion of the ceiling fell on him, drawing more blood.

“Please!” Jeremy begged. “It’s now or never! You are going to kill us all!”

“Beorth!! Go already!” Kazrack yelled. The earth shuddered as if to reinforce his command. “Do you realize what you are doing? Who is the proud one now?”

“I am headed to meet my maker,” Beorth replied calmly, and the laying a hand on his own chest said. “Anubis, give me bit of your strength that I might see the light of day again, or at the very least ensure my companions do.”

“Please?” Jeremy begged again, and he blindly sought purchase for his left foot on the pillar, for piece of it had fallen away. “I want to see my mother again!”

This seemed to stir Kazrack’s heart, and sighing he stood and grabbed the rope and started making his way up, as Beorth boosted him.

“Finally,” Jeremy said, grabbing on dwarf’s hand and helping him past him to what remained of the upper room.

The floor below Beorth shook again. A crack appeared right beneath his feet, so he did not wait for Kazrack to complete his climb, before beginning his own.

“Bes, stack the deck in my favor,” he prayed softly.

Jeremy could hear cries of pain and horror echoing from the main shaft, where progress up to the surface was progressing in fits and starts. A cloud of dust billowed out through the broad door, and one of the chains holding it open snapped, causing the metal door to slid down askew.

Much as Beorth did, Kazrack reached the crumbling floor and trusted it to hold too much weight at once. There was a snapping sound and back he fell into the lower level. Both Jeremy and Beorth reached out to grab him, but they could not. He slammed painfully on the floor and it cracked more beneath him.

Beorth paused, and appeared to be considering heading back down.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jeremy said, and grabbing Beorth by the shoulder yanked him up. The paladin sighed resignedly and made it up to the broad stairs. He looked back at Jeremy. “Keep going! Get out!” Jeremy commanded, and the Beorth turned and hurried through the cloud to the main shaft. 

Jeremy risked going a little further down the pillar and tired whipping the rope in Kazrack’s direction. The dwarf stood and leapt away from a piece of floor falling out from under him at the rope. He tried to pull himself hand over hand, but kept slipping. For a moment his fingers laced with Jeremy’s, but then slipped loose and he fell back to the unstable floor.

“Jeremy, my fate is in the hands of gods. Go!” Kazrack called up.

“No! Come on Kazrack, you have to do this! I am not leaving you behind!” Jeremy insisted. 

Kazrack roared and leapt for the rope again, and pulled himself up to Jeremy’s feet, but another portion of the pillar rack off, and Jeremy had to hurriedly move to keep from falling himself, and again Kazrack fell back down.

“You are just in my way!” Kazrack panted. “Go! At this rate the entire floor will collapse!”

“I have an idea!” Jeremy called down beginning to climb up to the upper floor. “Stay where you are. I’m gonna cut the rope and pull you up!”

“Just go!”

Jeremy clambered up dexterously, and made it to the where the rope was fasten to the remaining chain. He cut it free and moved carefully back to the edge of the hole, swinging the rope towards Kazrack, who he could see was once again trying to climb, but this time the bare pillar. Seeing the rope drop near him again, Kazrack grabbed it again.

Grunting, Jeremy pulled the heavy dwarf up hand over hand. Soon they both lay on the steps breathing hard.

“Let’s go,” Jeremy said, standing and helping Kazrack to his feet. “And don’t look back.”

The column they had been on just moments before, groaned and tipped over, taking most of what remained of the floor on this and the lower level with it.

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

Beorth came through the dust cloud into the lower end of the shaft to the surface, and the light shining from his helm pierced the darkness and revealed the owners of the frantic dwarven voices around him. Belear lay bleeding and unconscious, and Captain Adalar was seeing to him. The elder dwarf had been being pulled up as he grasped Blodnath’s unconscious form and both had tumbled down when struck by falling stonework.

Above Ratchis, was yelling down for three people to get the rope he was about to pull, while Baervard and Derek pulled up Golnar, who held Blodnath, and Martin who was already up was dragging the party’s packs away from the monolith as quickly as he could. Tolnar and Jolnar had already made it to the top, and were making ready to grab the third rope, when there was another great tremor, and they fell on the blood-stained flat surface of the stone above. (6)

“Oh Nephthys! Oh-Siris, Oh Isis! Give me strength! Give me strength! Give me strength!” the watch-mage repeated as the earth shook around him. Craters began to mark the ashen earth around him, and several times he had to change his direction to avoid them.

“Beorth! Help me tie Belear to the last rope,” Captain Adalar said, as he grabbed the end of a rope. The paladin helped, and then tugged on the rope. Adalar hefted the elder dwarf and held on to the rope and in a moment Ratchis was pulling them up.

Beorth began to wrap a rope about his arm as Jeremy came into the shaft chamber.

“Is Kazrack behind you?” Beorth asked. Jeremy nodded, and turned to gesture, but at that moment there was an explosion of stone as another of the great columns fell and a shower of dust burst into the chamber. In a second they were all covering their eyes and coughing.

“There is no way anyone survived that,” Golnar said, above helping to pull a rope. A plume of dust was rising from the shaft, and the whole stone groaned as it sunk into the earth askew.

“We are going to keep pulling people up until all of my friends are here!” Ratchis said.

Derek shook his head discouraged, and looked up at the plume of smoke. “We have to get out of here. This is just a signal for someone to come and get us.”

Ratchis glared at the young ranger.

“Kazrack!” Jeremy cried, and turned to go back into the main chamber, but the dwarf came stumbling in, his helmet gone and his head bleeding profusely.

“There is not room back there anymore,” he coughed. “Just a pit, and you should be up the ropes.”

Beorth was startled as the rope he was attached to began to pull him up. Another rope was dropped beside him. “Take the rope that just came down! Hurry!” he called down to his companions as he disappeared into the darkness above.

Jeremy grabbed the rope and started pulling himself up hand over hand.

“Someone is on this rope!” Derek said, looking back down and feeling the weight of Jeremy on it. Hope filled him again.

“Adalar! Help Derek!” Ratchis commanded, straining as he pulled Beorth up.

The Captain handed Belear to Golnar. “Get moving,” the dwarf told him and his brothers. “Bring him and Blodnath out of the area. Follow the mage!”

They obeyed.

Jeremy felt the rope jerk and looked back down frantically, but the dust and the darkness did not let him see if Kazrack had grabbed on. Far below, the metal door to the main chamber fell, and the floor of the shaft cracked open, sending another rush of dust up. The Neergaardian did not want to leave it to the speed of being pulled up and he again began to go hand over hand to quicken his ascent.

In a moment, Beorth came up over the side of the shaft, taking deep rasping breaths between lung-shattering coughs.

Ratchis hurried over. “Where are the others?”

Beorth shook his head ambiguously, but there was still weight on the remaining room and the hulking half-orc stepped over and helped Adalar and Derek pull on it. Soon, Jeremy appeared, coughing as well.

He let go of the rope and crawled away from the hole.

There was still weight on the rope.

“Kazrack?”

The dwarf was pulled up.

“Where are the others?” Ratchis asked, doing a quick headcount in his mind and realizing he had not seen Helrahd and Kirla.

Kazrack just shook his head. “Let’s go.”

The Fearless Manticore Killers hustled off the great monolith as the earth rumbled around them and great rents appeared in the ashen soil. The pointed columns fell inward, and the sand slid down towards the center. The scrambled up and away from the increasing incline like ants fleeing their hill when it has been carelessly kicked.

They could all feel and hear a secondary rumble that seemed to be growing from behind and beneath them, just below the groans and crashes they could still hear coming up the shaft. It cressendoed until it was the only sound to be heard, and throwing themselves in the dirt in fear and exhaustion, they looked back to see the great black monolith swallowed by the ground. Several rows of pointed columns followed after it, along with tons of the ashen earth, sending a secondary black plume that rose up even taller than the first gray one.

The earth gave one final hard shudder, and those who tried to stand to keep running were knocked back down.

In a moment, it was eerily quiet.

“I think I just lost ten years of my life getting out of that place,” Jeremy said between gasps.

End of Session #48

----------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*Expository Note:* This entire session (approx 6 hours) was done in the same initiative order in rounds, based on the initiative rolled the session before. As the PCs made their way out of the Necropolis of Doom, I rolled an initiative for the collapse of the place itself. And when its number came around I rolled an increasing chance of an ‘effect’. Effects ranged from simply a cinematic description of something breaking or crashing, to the whole place shaking (calling for balance checks) to pieces of the floor or ceiling collapsing. There was a tense atmosphere of fear and excitement around the table and when it was all over, the players gave me a round of applause because they had enjoyed themselves so much and were impressed with what I had come up with. I never received around of applause from players before. I was taken aback and felt like Pirate Cat was about to step out of the bathroom to award me some kind of DMing plaque. But, if I can for a second imagine that Kevin Kulp did come out from lurking in my bathroom like a three-legged spider in the drain, indulge me this little humble acceptance speech: I’d like to thank my players because without them this would all be impossible, or I’d be a little weirder than I already am.

(2)	*Expository Note:* As the action was happening in separate places, I took some license to describe several rounds of action in one area and then in another, while in game it took place simultaneously. I tried to use specific events to tie together PC/NPC action chronologically.

(3) Natan-Ahb is the head of the dwarven pantheon.

(4)	Remember, the shaft to the surface had four levels that held masks and sarcophagi.

(5)	Kazrack refers to the time before the First Age, when all dwarves were united under one king and there was but one immense island in the world. However, in punishment for their greed, Natan-ahb smashed it with his great hammer, making Aquerra into the many islands it is today.

 (6) The party first came upon the monolith in Session #40.


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## Hairy Minotaur (Nov 23, 2004)

And here's mine.   

This is my most recent post, The "hero" in this post is Paquito a minotaur who is feeling the effects of having his will crushed by the evilness of the altar he waits to be sacrificed upon. All the combatants are minotaurs. Most of my posts are a little longer than this one. This part of the story was broken over 2 posts. 



The pain has left my body, but the oppressiveness of Taurranous's arrogance weighs me down like a waiting grave. The one thing that has saved me from many ill fated outcomes, is the one thing that escapes my mind currently, my glibness can only be successful if I speak it. I wish things had turned out differently, I wish I could do something useful. 

If my spite were a weapon, Taurranous would die a thousands deaths while he chants over me. I wonder what his weapon of choice will be, and how much more pain I could endure. His power lies in his ability to effectively intimidate his fellow clan members, I sense his intent to intimidate me and I spit out at his failure. If only my tongue would move, it might have been impressive.

With hope fading I search within me for something tangible to pour what is left of me into. Alas all my lies are plain to see now, two-dimensional cut outs of what I thought they should be. The memories of the last people I thought of as friends, get washed away with the tidal darkness sweeping over me. My deeds laugh at me as though I was something less of creature and more of a joke. I languish in a sea of contradiction, lost within it's waves, false truths, and double meanings. 

But, within that cacophony of torment, a bloodied body coalesces from the memories. It's minotaur shape is plain to see, great horns well over half again it's body's length grow from a head of black coarse hair. The great man pushes off from the bottomless pit of my despair, and I see the visage of Baphomet. His voice thunders not in my head, but through every organ of my body.

"Your complacentness appalls me, I do not lie here in wait just for you to fall to me. You are of my blood, I expect you to charge to me or perish trying." Blood rains constantly from numerous wounds on the Fiendish minotaur's body. 

The dark crimson liquid turns the bleak landscape of my anguish into a slow beating artery of hate. The oppressiveness increases as it tries in vain to make my body into a two dimensional mockery of my parentage. I understand now why I am tortured thusly. I understand why I shall not let this end upon the cold stone hand of Asmodeus.

Baphomet throws his head back as the force of deception pummels his form in front of me. "Get up, get up and charge unto me. You are of the maze, and you are never lost." 

My consciousness is shoved off the cliff of hopelessness and slams into the face of reality. The din of battle replaces the ringing in my ears, I smell the dusty stench of fiendish stone, my hands are free to move as the leather bonds have been severed. My eyes adjust to the bright light of distant torches, I see Taurranous, before I discern his screams. 

The bull lord fights to remain standing in a field of thick black tentacles which undulate of their own volition, seeking out the flesh of Taurranous to pull him flush with the floor. 

"Kill the cow!" Taurranous shouts to his Minotaurs. 

Two Minotaurs turn and race towards Corridorian, only to be tripped up by the jabbing thrusts of the minotrices' long spears. The remaining minotaur moves up and grasps Taurranous' hand and braces himself in an attempt to free his lord. Corridorian spies this opportunity and unleashes a blinding bolt of lightning that arcs through the bull lord and into his supposed savior. Taurranous escapes with nary a signed hair, while the minotaur falls to the floor cooked medium-well. Black tentacles erupt from beneath the minotaur and cover it in a mass of lightlessness, the sounds of flesh sluicing off of the dead body renew Taurranous' efforts to free himself from the maze mage's spell. 

I lock onto Taurranous' eyes, I wait until his stare is unblinking in it's menacing glare. I wait until he perceives my strength of will as I stand before him. I relish in the knowledge he is beaten, yet his laughter still mocks me. 

"The little calf wants to play with the bulls now eh? Your spirit will taste best crushed like that of an elf's." Taurranous speaks as he rips his way through the magical bonds that appeared to hold him so fast mere moments ago. His massive hoof stomps out the essence of another tentacle as the bull lord rises up to peer down at me. 

I don't hesitate, I focus only on where his heart should be. One step and my hands go out from my sides, two steps and I reach the edge of the stone hand. My hoof pushes off from stony index finger and I drive my immature horns into the belly of the beast. Taurranous laughs as he prepares to catch my smaller body, his laughter turns to a bellowing pain as one of my horns gouges across his rib cage. His massive hand, instead of snapping my spine, flares out and swats me away towards the floor. I slam into the cold stone and feel the inky black tentacles rising up from the ground to encase myself as well. 

"Not bad for a cur runt." Taurranous says pivoting to face my prone body

Before I respond, I gaze intently on the wound I caused, and see that my motive has gone unnoticed by the bull lord. "My aim was not to cut you. It was to poison you. No?"

Taurranous' eyes shot down at the bleeding wound on his chest, green foam had already frothed out of the gash, spilling it's wasting power through the veins of the minotaur. 

"Arrr!" The massive bull lord bellows and the walls tremble with a fear they've known for far too long. Taurranous kicks away another tentacle and bends down to heft me off the floor. 

Corridorian ends her _Evard's Black Tentacles_ spell and sends a flare through Taurranous' field of vision. The bull lord's attention is turned away from me and focuses on the small firelight that flits through the air in front of him. I grab his muscled arm with both of my hands, and twist my body in his grip, allowing my mouth to run across the back of his hairy claw that holds me upright. Finding a soft spot I bite down and break his skin, the magic of my collar sends another round of poisonous fluid into Taurranous' bloodstream.

Taurranous reflexively drops me and I land hooves first onto the floor, as the bull lord writhes in agony. I watch as he seems to shrink, what was once a six foot height difference has now become half that. The bull lord staggers and strains to keep himself standing, even his bellowing of pain sounds more like a panicked plea for help, than a commanding cry of intimidation. Taurranous grasps his bitten hand like a tourniquet, trying in vain to stave off the wasting effect that roils through his body. 

I grab the throat of the once great bull lord, and pull his face down to mine. Taurranous coughs and wheezes as the poison strains his lungs. "This is my tribe now. No?" My words cause Taurranous to open his eyes in anger. I mouth the words of a spell slowly, enunciating every syllable as if to defy the depths of hell. In the instant before the effect is unleashed, the palm of my claw illuminates and in the growing light of arcane energy, fear finally settles in the eyes of Taurranous.

The _scorching ray_ spell sears through the soft flesh of the bull lord's neck, and strikes the ceiling above him. Taurranous' head lops off as the bull lord's body crumples to the floor, his head seems to hang in midair for a second longer before coming to rest alongside of the defeated minotaur.


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## Droid101 (Nov 23, 2004)

Here's my entry.  Quick background:  the Heroes have are assaulting the Iron Fortress for the third time.  The last time they went in, they killed a few of the leaders, and one pit fiend got away.  They're going back in to finish off the pit fiend, steal the relic blade they're rebuilding, and get out of the plane of Archeron back to the prime material.  Off we go!

(I update my story every weekday, so read up if you like frequent updates!)

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

After a good rest, the Heroes gather.

“Bloodthorne, where were you yesterday? We could have used your help!” The Necromancer seems annoyed.

“So, are we goin’ back in now?” Bloodthorne stays oblivious.

“Impossible…” The Necromancer is quite flustered.

“Okay, okay. Blaze is down, but we’re going back in to steal that sword in the foundry. We’ll teleport in. This time, we’ll have _protection from fire _ spells going to help us if that pit fiend is still there, and so we can go into the forge without getting hurt,” Eltharion takes charge.

“Stealin’ is my specialty,” Bloodthorne chimes in.

Eltharion casts _protection from fire _ on everyone who needs it. He also casts _barkskin_ on himself. The Necromancer casts _mirror image_, _haste_ and _fly_ on himself. He then casts _fly_ on everybody else.

“Ready?” The Necromancer asks. The Heroes nod, and The Necromancer _teleports_ them onto the balcony of the two-story chamber.

The female duergar they killed is sitting down on the first level, cross legged. Her eyes dart up to the Heroes as they arrive. A wry smile crosses her lips.

From the far side of the chamber on the second level, four magical meteors materialize and streak toward the Heroes. Their eyes widen and they all try to dive out of the way, but to little avail.

One of the meteors strikes The Necromancer head on, and he is killed instantly. The explosion from the impact sends his limp form flying across the room and tumbling down the iron stairs. His charred body lets out a puff of ash into the air.

One of the meteors strikes Ogrim squarely in the chest, but being the stalwart dwarf he is, he doesn’t budge. The pain from the burns and subsequent explosion urges him to grit his teeth, but he hardly flinches. The flames pour over everybody else. Eltharion jumps, ducks and dodges, but still takes heavy burns from the fire and staggers to one knee, coughing from smoke inhalation. Grog doesn’t fare much better, staggering but not falling.

Bloodthorne seems unaffected. He jumps down to the first level and strikes out at the female duergar, cutting her on the arm.

Eltharion casts aside self-preservation and casts _faerie fire _ near where the meteors originated from. Sure enough, the artificial fire illuminates the invisible form of the pit fiend.

Ogrim runs around the balcony, straight toward the pit fiend.

Eltharion closes in, and Grog does the same.

The duergar lashes out with a flurry of punches and kicks, attempting to stun or trip Bloodthorne, but to no avail. He stays standing and dodges deftly.

The pit fiend flies down and bites into Bloodthorne, injecting his vile poison.

“ ‘ey mate, that stuff don’t work on me,” Bloodthorne throws off his hood to reveal his undead nature.

Ogrim jumps down to the first level, following the pit fiend. He crashes into the devil with his axe on the way down, cutting deep into one of its leathery wings.

Grog and Eltharion get on either side of the balcony and leap off as well, both of them also scoring wounding hits on the fiend.

“You ‘ave to be the most pathetic excuse for a devil I’ve eva seen. You ally yourself up with a dwarf and ‘ope to win?” Bloodthorne chuckles. The pit fiend roars in anger.

That gives Bloodthorne the opening he needs. He thrusts up with one of his enchanted longswords, digging it deep into the fiend’s neck. It roars out in pain, and launches a combination of attacks at Bloodthorne. Its claws rake deep into Bloodthorne’s decayed flesh, and its wings bludgeon his old bones. And a final bite tops it all off, or rather, bites Bloodthorne’s top off. Bloodthorne’s head is nearly separated from his shoulders, and his body falls limp to the floor.

“NO!” Grog yells out, his rage has been building since the first explosion. His muscles bulge, his eyes go bloodshot, and the veins on his forehead become all the more prominent. He grits his pointed teeth and swings his katana over his head with all his might. The powerful attacks hit home, leaving huge gashes all over the fiend’s legs and stomach.

Eltharion lets fly from the other side, slicing his Moon-scimitar and Sun-sickle at blinding speed. After a whirlwind of seven attacks, the pit fiend stumbles backward.

“We’ll meet again…” the fiend teleports away again, and the female duergar follows suit, vanishing from view.

Grog collapses to the ground, and Ogrim leans heavily on his axe. Eltharion looks at Bloodthorne and The Necromancer’s bodies.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…” Eltharion mumbles.

“The cold iron floor feels good on all those burns…” Grog tries to make light of the situation, pressing his face against the metal.

“How are we supposed to get off this cube, when The Necromancer was the only one who could teleport us?” Ogrim asks.

“Maybe the ant-guys can teleport us home,” Eltharion reasons.

Ogrim carries The Necromancer’s body over and puts it next to Bloodthorne’s.

“I guess we should start walking…” Grog says, slowly getting up.

“Walkin’ where now?” Bloodthorne’s voice pipes up.

“Hey, you’re alive!” Grog exclaims.

“ ‘course I am,” Bloodthorne hobbles to his feet, the terrible wounds all over his undead body slowly healing.

“That’s good news. So, can you be killed at all?” Grog asks.

“Not a chance! Not before we steal that big sword of theirs!” Bloodthorne flies down to the exit door that leads to the forge. He opens it and flies on in. His undead body immune to the heat.

He flies through, but doesn’t see all the workers that The Necromancer did. All the anvils are empty, and only the raging fires provide any kind of noise. He flies around until he finds the foundry, and flies on in.

Four huge pillars of flame surround the large floating scimitar. Bloodthorne flies on in and grabs the blade, then flies on out. The pillars of flame start to move and spout small appendages. However, Bloodthorne is long gone by the time they animate fully.

“ ‘ere it is. Now, let’s get back to those ants,” Bloodthorne says. He leads them through the forge, and back out quickly, Eltharion protecting them from fire once again before they go. They get out and exit the fortress. They start the long walk back, Ogrim carrying The Necromancer’s body.

“Anybody know which way it is?” Eltharion asks.

“The ant thing teleported us here, we never walked,” Grog responds.

“I’ll see what I can see,” Bloodthorne flies up several hundred feet, looking around for the large hive-like metal complex of the formians.

“I don’t see anything on this side of the cube that looks like the ant’s place,” Bloodthorne says when he returns to them.

“Great. Well, let’s walk to the closest edge and check out that side, see if it’s there,” Eltharion says. The Heroes begin to walk.

Will the Heroes find the formians? Will the formians be able to get them home? Will they be stuck on this strange cube-filled plane for the rest of eternity!? Find out next time!


----------



## the Jester (Nov 23, 2004)

From "Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way," this takes place sort of 'between' major story arcs.  It's a teaser- if you want to see how it comes out, go here.  This post highlights the roleplaying in the campaign, with a few bits of humor as well- there's lots of that in this campaign!  I hope everyone enjoys it...

*Patronage*


Airhead Ed skips happily along, the bottle of wine that was awarded to her clutched in her hand. It’s a fine halfling vintage, bearing the Redgrape label, and Ed just knows that it’s going to be great! A wide grin splits her face as she sings to herself and skips along the path between the wagons and tents. 

The gathering is a riot of color, with brightly-painted wagons and dyed tents on every side. The folk largely recognize her, though her face will likely be forgotten by many in a few months; but for now she’s a hero! And thinking of the letter of introduction that she was awarded (like all her friends), she knows that she can count on halfling allies anywhere she goes.

“Oh!” Ed exclaims, catching herself as she nearly bumps into a short old woman with a scent like apples. “I’m sorry, old grandmother!”

“It’s all right, dearie,” the halfling matron sooths. “Say, you’re one of those younguns who got the bell, aren’t you?”

Ed blushes. “Yes,” she says modestly. 

Beaming, the old woman says, “Oh, that was so nice of you! Well done, too- from the stories you kids have been telling it was very dangerous!” She opens her handbag and digs around for a moment, finally pulling out a bottle. “Here,” she says. “I don’t need this anymore- my days of adventuring are over! But you may. It’s a potion of healing. Take it as a token of my thanks.”

Speechless, Ed takes the proffered bottle. She watches gratefully as the old lady hobbles away humming to herself.

***

“Well, well,” says Gregory Yellowflower. “You seem to have made a bit of a name for yourself, Phenol.”

Phenol Sandybanks- Sandy to his friends- is relaxing, trying not to look nervous and doing a fairly good job of it. The Yellowflowers are well known as one of the moderately powerful and fairly wealthy clans, and- or so Sandy’s heard rumored- at least some of the money comes from less, well, legal activities. Not that there’s much law these days to worry about, but there are still tax collectors- as Sandy knows all too well! 

“So what are your plans now?” Gregory continues. The two of them are in a large tent, full of comfortable but light furnishings. Gregory is seated behind a light writing desk and is opening a small box of polished mahogany. From it he withdraws a pair of cigars, snips them and offers one to Sandy, who accepts gratefully. The sweet aroma of the tobacco is almost as nice as that of Mama’s famous pancakes. 

There’s a moment of silence as both cigars are puffed upon, broken only once both are nicely cherried. “I don’t know,” Sandy admits. “Take a little while off, maybe... I don’t really have any plans. Why?”

“Well, it seems that you’re developing some pretty useful skills,” Gregory answers blandly. “Skills that might be useful at times. Now, I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but you just never know.” He grins. “Perhaps I could offer you a retainer? And then you could be available to help me out with various tasks that your skills are suited for?”

Sandy studies the Yellowflower for a moment. It wouldn’t be wise to alienate someone with the kind of connections he might have... and besides, the Yellowflowers are a pretty successful clan. It can’t hurt to hitch one’s fortunes to the successful guys, right?

With a smile, Sandy graciously accepts a 50 gold piece retainer.

***

Ed is almost back to the wagons that the Flapjacks clan have set in a semicircle when she bumps into a beautiful beautiful man. 

“Oh my!” she exclaims. 

He’s... he’s...

Old enough to be mature, but young enough to be... well... young. Not a boy, he’s definitely a man. (Well, a halfling man, but you know what I mean.) His hair is a luxurious reddish-brown, set in little ringlets. He wears a proud purple cloak, a bright tunic and hose. A hat set at a jaunty angle almost completes the picture, but it’s the dazzling smile that really tops it off. “My apologies, my lady,” he says smoothly. “I was not watching where I was going!” He sweeps Ed’s hand into his and presses his warm lips to it. Ed’s heart is all aflutter, her head swimmingly light.

“Oh... I... I’m Ed,” she gasps.

“Zenvo Dalais, at your service,” and he bows sweepingly. “If only I had more time to talk with you!” Somehow both of her hands have become lightly clasped in his. She threatens to swoon. “But alas,” and he releases her, and a poignant yearning shoots through her, “I have many things that require my attention.” He takes a step back, his eyes seeming to hold her like a lover. “Perhaps we shall see each other again.” His smile again! -So warm and open, it’s irresistible! 

“Oh... I...” Ed doesn’t even know what to say. So she gives up, leans forward, pecks him on the cheek and runs away.

***

A few hours later, on the outskirts of the camp, Ed and Sandy are walking together. She’s caught up in thoughts of Zenvo, and he’s caught up in thoughts of Gregory Yellowflower, so they aren’t talking too much. They’re actually, oddly, good company for each other because of this. But both are knocked clean out of their reveries when they hear a high-pitched scream. The two of them rush towards it and find a female halfling crying in fear. “My baby, my baby!” she shrieks.

Following her gaze, Ed and Sandy spot the child in question. He’s young, probably no older than four. Somehow, he’s gotten up a tree- high up a tree. 

“What are you doing up there?” cries Ed. Thinking of climbing makes her think of her dead twin, Coco, and she bursts into tears, as usual. 

“Kitty!” the child calls down, and claps his hands.

“Come down, kid!” Sandy shouts. 

The child looks down. His eyes grow to the size of saucers. “Nuh-uh! I’m scared!” He sits down, then looks around sniffling. “Kitty?”

Sandy groans. “We’re going to have to climb after the kid,” he tells Ed. And while his face is turned from the tree, something hits him in the head. “Ow!” he cries angrily, turning to look.

“Kitty!” the boy cries gleefully, pointing.

Sitting on the branch, having emerged from a hollow in the tree, are a pair of squirrels. 

Four-foot long squirrels, that is. 

As Sandy and Ed gape at them, the dire squirrels spit rocks from their cheeks into their hands and start throwing.

“Kitty?” asks the child.


Next Time: A fight with dire squirrels, a party at the Featherheads, and introducing the Bakeswells!


----------



## barsoomcore (Nov 23, 2004)

This is from my *Barsoom Tales* Story Hour. Our heroes, in the employ of the del Maraviez family, find themselves captured by pirates. And, as ever on Barsoom, things turn out to be stranger than anyone had first expected...

****************************************

All tied up, bound hand and foot, gagged, placed in a circle facing each other, Isaac, Elena, Nevid, Arrafin and Etienne pondered their situation.

Pirate John had turned out to be less blood-thirsty and more charming than anyone had expected. His ship, dwarfing their little fishing vessel, drifted alongside and aboard came swinging Pirate John -- bluff, hearty and with a twinkle in his eye. As pirates went, he was practically a good guy.

Bound and determined, however, to hold his new captives for ransom, especially when he heard they were del Maraviez employees.

"del Maraviez, eh? And just what do they pay you for, I wonder? Delivering messages, perhaps?"

He yanked the document from Nevid's belt and perused it.

"The King himself? Very nice."

With an elaborate flourish he handed back the paper.

"I'm sure the family would pay handsomely to have that returned to them in a timely fashion. No more than they would pay for your health and well-being, of course. I don't mean to imply that they would value some musty document more than your own self."

He bowed. Arrafin giggled. All of them, struck somewhat confused by their captor's courtesy, filed aboard the pirate ship and waved goodbye to the captain who'd surrendered so easily.

"The stars! The stars have fallen! The nine-fold stars have fallen!"

"That's Crazy Adil. Don't pay any attention to him."

Pirate John waved at the raving Naridic man. The other crew members grinned and seemed to treat the elderly maniac with tolerant sympathy, pushing him gently aside whenever he got in the way, and agreeably nodding to all his dire pronouncements.

"The nine-fold stars have fallen! Awake! Awake! Tabbadur has been thrown open! Awake! The stars!"

"Thanks. We'll ponder that. This way, please."

Now here they were, trapped, tied up and stuck in a sort of attic chamber on Pirate John's island. A makeshift wooden door led to the stairs down to water level, and one entire wall of the chamber was open, revealing a drop of eighty feet or so to the water. The island was peculiarly put together, with a sort of a grotto cutting through it, high enough for John's ship to berth inside, forming a natural hiding place, complete with a dock, various chambers for crew members and loot, and this upper chamber where they were currently imprisoned.

With Crazy Adil, who seemed to have attached himself to Arrafin.

"Hejan of tomorrow! Awake! The stars! The stars!"

Elena growled through her gag. "Rrrr. Rrrr. Rrrr, rrrr."

Isaac answered. "Rrrr. Rrrr."

Pirate John's ship was not in the grotto; the pirate had left immediately, promising to bring word of their ransom.

"What if the del Maraviez won't pay for us?"

John shrugged.

"Then I let you go. I'm not a savage, my dear sir. Merely an honest businessman."

He considered.

"A dishonest businessman, I suppose. Pirate, you know."

With a jaunty salute, Pirate John strode from the chamber and then his ship sailed away and here they were, watching each other try to speak through their gags. Pirate John had cleverly lashed them to each other so they were unable to reach each other's bonds and so they sat for a while, listening to the guards left downstairs sing a sea shanty.

Arrafin looked around for a pencil to jot down the words.

Nevid hoped Isabella wouldn't be too disappointed in him.

Isaac replayed the duel with Juan Antonio in his head, grim satisfaction filling him as he watched the del Orofin's head tumble to the cobblestones.

Etienne, entirely new to this group, watched his compatriots carefully. They seemed strangely non-plussed at their sudden captivity. He knew very little about them, only that they were agents of the del Maraviez, as was he himself, and that he was to bring them to Pavairelle safe and sound.

Not doing so well on that one, he mused.

Elena concentrated. She could recall the way in which she had touched Juan Antonio's mind, and it seemed to her that she ought to be able to do something similar to physical objects. She tried to focus.

Pirate John had left three candles burning up here. One was no more than a few feet away. Elena stared at it, the slick wax dripping down onto the brass holder. A small flame but probably enough. If it would just... come here.

A quiet scraping startled her. It had moved. She tried again, tentatively, groping for the "muscle" in her brain that would make the candle draw towards her. Again, the round brass plate on which the candle stood scraped across the stone towards her. And again. Elena's confidence grew as she guided the candle behind her, twisting to watch its progress. At last it sat just an inch or so away from her wrists, and she turned back to face forwards.

To confront five very cautious stares.

Elena was suddenly glad nobody could speak. She held her wrists out behind her, hoping the intense heat on her wrists meant that the candle flame was near enough to burn the rope. Wincing, gritting her teeth as the pain grew, Elena started to yank her wrists apart rhythmically, and was rewarded at last with a simple, quiet tearing sound and her hands were free.

She clawed at the gag in her mouth and tore it loose, then disentangled herself from the ropes binding her legs.

With a look round at all her friends, still bound uncomfortably, Elena stretched and yawned a deep, satisfying breath.

"THAT'S so much better, I gotta say."

She smirked at the angry glares all around and then set about untying her friends.

Queries about how she'd managed to make a candle move across the floor she handled by saying "Kalibar taught me some tricks. Path of the mother, you know." Eventually the others stopped asking and started looking around their prison.

Etienne made a quick motion and led Elena and Isaac to the back of the room. Behind some crates he'd noticed an opening. The others understood and began silently moving boxes and barrels aside. Soon they'd exposed an alcove. Within sat a sort of marble box, eight feet long and about three feet across, waist-high. Situated on top of the box a human skull grinned at them.

Even more interesting than all of that, beyond the box another opening showed a flight of stairs leading up. The three looked at each other in cautious excitement. If they could just keep everything perfectly silent.

"The stars! The nine-fold stars have fallen! Awake!"

Isaac hissed, "Arrafin! Can you shut him up!"

Arrafin shook her head, dark curls going in all directions. Adil followed her everywhere and kept shouting these crazy statements. She turned to him and spoke in Naridic.

"Hush! Stop that!"

To her surprise, the elderly man immediately closed his mouth and stood silently staring at her. She smiled and put up a hand to wave at him.

"Hi."

"I am Adil. Adil al-Mula beni Nasir."

There was a moment of silence.

Arrafin looked around at the others, but nobody had anything useful to suggest. She turned back to Adil.

"Hi Adil. How are you?"

Looking more closely at the poor man, Arrafin noticed his face was covered in an incredible network of scars. It was as though he'd been shattered and put back together somehow.

"I'm tired."

For just a second he seemed completely rational. Then he smiled at her, and turned and raced off, over the edge of the room, into the grotto. They heard him splash, and a sudden thrashing punctuated by screams. Arrafin started for the edge to look down, but Nevid grabbed her, put a finger to his lips and shook his head.

Down below they heard startled voices. Standing perfectly still, only a few feet from the lip, Arrafin heard one of the pirates clearly say, "It's only Adil, getting eaten again."


----------



## barsoomcore (Nov 23, 2004)

....and this is from *Wild Stewardess Action*, one of my OTHER Story Hours. This one takes place in the same setting (believe it or not) as Barsoom Tales, but the connections between the two are few, and they are separated by a hundred years and a few thousand miles...

The players are mostly Air Canada flight attendants that my wife cajoled into playing "just one" session to see if they'd like it. I am now subject to regular demands from them for more. I don't mind too much. 


*******************

The inn rested a few yards back from the road, a ramshackle affair of bamboo slats, thatch roof and rickety railings around the verandah outside. Smoke curled from the stone chimney in the dusk air, rising slowly and steadily and revealing the stillness of the atmosphere. Wei-Yong, Mau Li padding silently at her side, frowned as they approached.

"Not enough birds."

"I can hear birds."

"Yeah, but there should be more."

Lin Lin nodded, trying to be serious. "Yeah. Okay. More birds."

Soon they were close enough that the music coming from within the roadhouse drowned out any number of birds. And the delicious smell of roasting meat was making even Ming-Wa's mouth water. As a group they strode up the steps and threw open the doors.

The music did not stop upon their entrance. They found a wide common room, floored with rough planks, centered around a large firepit that fed into the chimney overhead. A crowd of barbarians sat at one end, weaving back and forth as they played their instruments or banged their fists on the low tables, keeping time with the young woman singing. Several turned their heads to inspect the new arrivals, a couple grinning at the sight of five women suddenly in their midst.

"Ah! Respectable guests! Beautiful ladies! Welcome, welcome!"

An elderly Tianese man, grinning toothlessly, bowed his way up to where they stood. He gestured, keeping well clear of Mau Li.

"Please, sit down, and be welcome. All are welcome at Kam's. Please, please."

The five Angels (and the wolf) followed and sat at a table as old Kam indicated. Shan asked for wine and food and the old fellow tottered off, only to return in seconds with cups, a loaf of bread and skewers dripping with fat, fresh from the fire.

Long experience together had taught the women that being polite only meant Shan would eat everything herself, so for several minutes there was no talking while they satisfied a days' worth of hunger. As Ming-Wa was wiping her fingers on the hankerchief she always carried, somebody stepped between her and the fire. She looked up to find the barbarian woman staring down at them all. She held a throwing axe in either hand.

"Strangers. This is a peaceful place. If you have come seeking trouble, I promise you you will find it."

The five women watched in silence as the barbarian twirled her axes around her wrists, sending the sharp edges whirling in a deadly pattern of flashing steel.

Wei-Yong nudged Shan, "Show her yours, Shan. Yours is better."

The barbarian jumped back as Shan started to draw her sword, but Fa restrained her friend with a gesture. She turned to the visitor.

"We are servants of the Goddess, barbarian. We seek trouble only for her enemies."

Shan and Wei-Yong tore off chunks of bread and held them at the ready.

The woman eyed the Angels suspiciously, but nodded.

"I have heard of your Goddess. We are not her enemies."

Ming-Wa tried to begin a sermon, but choked as Shan and Wei-Yong stuffed the bread chunks into her open mouth.

The barbarian woman sat down.

"I am Haan Shi. Perhaps you are seeking the stranger who came here two days ago?"

Fa nodded. Everybody ignored Ming-Wa's half-verbalized comments as she tried to swallow the bread. Haan Shi studied the group, then nodded, some decision made.

"We didn't see him, but Kam told us about him. Perhaps it was he who denied me my betrothed. Chow Siu-Keung was to come and meet me here last night so that we could be married in the manner of my people. He did not come, and so I sing here, hoping he will come to me."

Wei-Yong scribbled a couple of notes and waved the elderly innkeeper over. Several of the barbarian men were trying to catch the eyes of the Angels. Lin Lin smiled at everyone, while Shan sized them up like a breeder looking over the latest batch of puppies.

Kam nodded as he joined the conversation.

"That man... Yes, yes, he came here, two nights ago. He was strange. I did not like him, but I was afraid. He stayed overnight, upstairs. The next morning he went on -- the village is only a few more hours up the road. I was glad he left."

The old man's eyes lowered and his face seemed to sink in upon itself.

"Until I found Hsu Ki. She was wandering on the road, crying. She said, she said that everyone joined the stranger. They... tore down the statue... "

Ming-Wa touched his hand.

"What statue, sir?"

"The statue of the Goddess."

"Where is this Hsu Ki now?"

"Dead."

Fa stood up.

"I knew it. Spirits. Come on, let's take a look at this room he was in."

They had crossed perhaps half of the room and were between the firepit and the haphazard staircase to the second floor when both Wei-Yong and Lin Lin stopped in their tracks.

Bowstrings went taut outside then released.

Wei-Yong recognized the sound a split-second before Lin Lin did. She threw out an arm and slammed Ming-Wa to the ground, kicked over a table and dropped prone next to her startled friend. Arrowheads thudded into the tabletop.

Lin Lin flexed her legs and leapt straight up to snatch the bottom of one of the banners dangling from the rafters. She flipped herself up just as barbed shafts bulletted through the room, splintering the bamboo walls and buzzing angrily through the air.

Fa stood unmoving, not flinching even as one buzzed past her face, but Shan grunted and swore at the impact of an arrow breaking itself on her breastplate. She looked once to make sure Ming-Wa was safe, shoved Fa at the steps and ran for the doorway. Wei-yong leapt up and joined her friend. They threw open the doors and looked out at the torchlight yard.

Eight swords hissed out of eight sheaths. The tall bald man, bulging with muscles, gestured with both fists and his minions roared and charged the doorway.

Shan grinned.

"I thought we'd never have any fun up here."


*****


"Fools! Return the Codex at once! Bring it forth and we might not slaughter you where you stand!"

The big bald guy laughed as his minions neared the inn.

Although Shan and Wei-Yong tensed for the onslaught, neither drew a sword as their opponents charged. Shan frowned in disappointment as six of the eight approaching thugs veered off and crashed right through the loose bamboo walls to either side of the door. Slats bounced across the floor in a rattling fury as the attackers split up, swords waving, and drove for the other occupants of the inn.

Wei-Yong flipped an arrow out of her quiver and snapped up her bow, releasing the thin shaft without apparent effort or care. A sudden ringing cut through the general cacophony as the warrior's sword sprang from his hand, knocked away by her careless shot. The weapon sparkled as it spun through the air to land point-first in front of the bald man where he stood, glaring at the two women. The suddenly disarmed thug's glare lost a good deal of its fire and he froze for just a second.

Shan's frown turned into a gleeful smile as another swordsman charged her. She leaned back just enough to let his blade cut deep into the doorframe beside her face, and then her expression turned fierce enough to startle the man. He stood frozen, sword embedded in the doorframe, as she whipped her katana up and out in a back-handed cut that opened him up from his waist to his shoulder.

He sputtered and fell backwards as Shan flicked the blood of her weapon and smoothly resheathed it. The sword was back at her hip before he hit the mud in the yard.

She sneered.

Behind her, inside the inn, the swordsmen had met equally stiff resistance. Fa, standing at the top of the stairs, turned her imperious stare on the two charging for Ming-Wa. Inky tendrils of shadow oozed around her as she summouned the dark power that served her will, and the two men froze, their swords banging off the floorboards. Across the firepit, two others had run into the barbarians and the clash of steel told of an issue still in doubt.

Shan heard a familiar growl behind her and casually leaned away from Wei-Yong. The fellow her friend had disarmed turned his amazed stare from Wei-Yong to gape over Shan's shoulder. A split-second of terror and then he disappeared in a flash of grey fur as Mau Li cannoned into him, two hundred pounds of angry wolf digging in and holding on as he flew off the verandah, screaming.

Wei-Yong beamed.

"Good girl."

Fa called from inside.

"What's going on out there?"

Shan yelled back, "Bald guy wants his Codex."

"His what now?"

"Hang on, I'll check."

Shan nodded at the now-fuming bald man. "Hey. What's this Codex? Got any more friends?"

He stamped, throwing up a great splash of mud. Neither of them paid the slightest attention to Mau Li's ongoing mauling of the unfortunate thug off to the side.

"My mistress will tear you apart! She is not one to forgive easily and you will die deaths of agony as she tortures you. Return the Codex, thieves, if you wish to live."

Shan leaned back in through the door. "He won't tell me."

Four unarmed men, all bald, all impressively muscled (though not so much as to outshine their leader), stepped out from behind the big guy. They clenched their fists, then exploded in a sudden rush for the inn door.

Neither Shan nor Wei-Yong had time to react with anything other than pure unconscious reflex. Which in Wei-Yong's case meant she put an arrow in either eye of one of the new fellows, while Shan nearly cut another in half. The two surviving leapt right past the women at the door to land in front of the fire-pit. They both struck poses and opened their mouths to begin long, intimidating shrieks.

Shrieks that were unceremoniously cut off when Lin Lin let go of the banner and landed on their heads. Giggling.

The girl bounced to her feet, lashing out in a blinding kick, and a sudden flurry of fists and knees and shins and foreheads blurred back and forth between her and the two men, who managed to circle around and flank her. Lin Lin's eyes were nearly closed, an ecstatic grin on her face as she deflected one attack after another, weaving and ducking between her opponents.

Nearly everyone watching stood in fascination, watching the contest. Except for Shan, who heaved a sigh of boredom. She noticed that there were two of these guys, and only one Lin Lin, and after a bit of math decided that was one bad guy too many.

Shan couldn't accelerate too fast, but she had enough steps between where she stood at the door and where the fight was happening in front of the firepit that she could build up considerable momentum. Shan in motion was pretty nearly an irresistable force.

Two steps into her charge, Shan saw Lin Lin send one of her opponents flying into the firepit. She chuckled and poured on the speed, leaning forward and extending her arms.

Both Lin Lin and her remaining opponent noticed the onrush of muscle and armour. And both stepped back to let it by. Shan screeched to a halt on the very lip of the firepit, windmilling her arms like mad as she attempted to avoid a faceplant into hot coals.

Lin Lin grabbed a ridge on the back of her friend's armour and snap-kicked herself into the air, planting her left heel solidly under her opponent's chin. His head snapped back and he dropped to the boards without a sound as Shan stumbled back from the edge.

Wei-Yong leaned against the doorframe, keeping one eye on the now-enraged bald man watching his minions get dispatched with such ease.

Ming-Wa got to her feet and set about tying up the swordsmen Li Fa had immobilized. She looked up as the barbarian woman, her embroidered cloak flying, feathered turban flashing, stormed by to stand next to Wei-Yong at the door.

Haan Shi spat noisily and shook her fist at the bald man.

"Leave us in peace, smelly Tianese trash!"

Wei-Yong nodded in approval.

The bald man looked in danger of exploding from apoplectic rage. His face turned red as he shrieked, "The Jasmine Witch will not be denied! You will return the Codex at once or die!"

"Are you watching the same fight I'm watching?"

Wei-Yong looked on as Haan Shi yanked out her throwing axes and went through the same impressive routine she'd used before, spinning the hafted weapons around in a blur of steel before releasing both.

The axes whirled through the air, deadly and true.

And he caught them. Both.

Wei-Yong's eyes widened. She turned back just in time to see both axes hurtle back and plunge themselves into Haan Shi's torso. Knocked backwards by the impact, Haan Shi crashed to the floor and sat staring at the weapons embedded in her front. She gave a quiet groan and collapsed.

Two arrows flew from a single string before Wei-Yong had even consciously acknowledged the event. She seemed to turn to the bald man just as he weaved aside from the shafts.

"Mau Li! Take him down!"

The wolf looked up from the corpse she was still tearing at, followed Wei-Yong's gaze and hurled herself at the man standing there.

And crumpled up with a yelp as his fist connected with her skull.

Ming-Wa heard her friend's cry of anger, and looked up in time to see Shan and Lin Lin fly out the door as Wei-Yong unloaded a stream of arrows, her hands blurring between the quiver and the bowstring.

They had done this a million times before. Shan felt Wei-Yong's arrows buzzing past her head, and brandished her sword, yelling as she charged straight at her opponent. As she neared him, she felt a sudden press against her back, and grinned as Lin Lin leapt onto her shoulder and then tumbled up and over the startled bald man. She plowed into him swordfirst, and lost herself in the ever-thrilling dance of combat, peripherally aware of her friend on the other side, Wei-Yong's shots somehow finding clear space and nicking his arms and face, Lin Lin's shouts and giggles as she kicked and punched and spun like a crazed toy.

Shan wasn't precise like Wei-Yong and she wasn't fancy like Lin Lin. Her sword moved in simple, predictable arcs. Arcs cut with such power that her opponent was forced to retreat, stumbling back from blows so strong the sound of the blade cutting through the air was as loud as Lin Lin's yells. As he back-pedalled, he kept running afoul of Lin Lin, who nearly tripped him flat several times.

He broke free of them both and staggered back a few steps, real fear in his eyes.

"My mistress will boil you alive! You have incurred her wrath and you will pay!"

Wei-Yong lowered her bow, exasperated.

"Would you stop it? You're embarrassing yourself."

They all took a step back as he brandished what looked like a small black bead.

"You have not seen the last of me!"

He threw the bead to the ground and vanished as shadowy darkness coiled up from all around.

"Hey, we're not done with you!"


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## Jon Potter (Nov 23, 2004)

*My submission*

Fantastic idea, Nemm! It's nice to take a peak at story hours that I've never looked at before and I can't resist an opportunity to solicit more readers for my own efforts. So...

This is from a while back in my story hour. I chose it because it represented a turning point in the campaign. The set-up is this: The characters have discovered a gate in a cave that leads (among other places) to a wooded area complete with an altar to a dark god, and a rather large guardian of said alter. Things did not go well for them.


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*[Realms #232] Gate Crashing*

"Golly wilikers! I knew I should have brought a bigger piece of cheese!" Vade stammered as he stared, slack-jawed, at the enormous creature.

Draelond unsheathed his great sword and quickly wiped his brow with a massive forearm as the beast went into motion. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said to no one in particular. The words hung around him in the air like a prophecy from The Great Book.

The thing moved with surprising swiftness and it was in their midst before anyone had any real chance to react. It didn't help that its 10-ft. long arms allowed it to reach them while keeping its body out of harm's way. Vade's luck seemed to have run out as he found himself the target of the rat-thing's attacks. The quick-footed halfling dodged the first swipe, but the creature's second claw savagely opened his guts.

"Yaaah!" the halfling squealed. Vade doubled over and took a step back. He fumbled one of his special glass bullets into his sling and let fly. Instead of striking between the giant's bulging yellow eyes, the tiny missile went up and over the creature's head, shattering harmlessly on the ground behind it.

Ixin, since she was not immediately threatened by the thing, reacted quicker than most of the others. Of course, she wasn't sure what she could do on the cave-side of the portal. She decided to perform a quick test of her limitations and drew some of the nexus' power into her body while her hands traced the relatively simple somatics that would activate one of her most minor spells. She conjured a tiny droplet of vitriol and cast it out at the monster that was currently rampaging amidst her friends. The green globule dissipated as soon as it intersected the flat plane that formed the portal's surface. Magic wasn't the answer, she grumbled as she began fumbling in her Cloak for her crossbow.

Ledare saw none of what Ixin had attempted. The Janissary was too busy sizing up their situation and closing with the rat-headed giant. "Ruze, mayhap this creature guards the altar!" she shouted as she advanced, silver-iron longsword at the ready. "Concentrate on the altar and do your business while we engage this thing!"

Even as Ruze nodded and forced his attention back to the unholy block of stone, Ledare came within reach of her opponent's claws. She cried out in pain as its filthy nails found a gap in the armor at her left knee. She faltered, but didn't stop until she was within sword's reach of the creature where her blade cut a vicious arc through the air. The blow, however, was turned aside by the creature's rubbery hide and caused it no injury.

Ruze heard the Janissary's cry of pain, but he forced himself to seek the inner calm that would allow him access to the divine energy needed to destroy the chaos altar. It was no easy task, but he managed. "Blessed be Shaharizod!" he cried out, brandishing his holy symbol in his fist. "Blessed will this shrine now be! Bathe it in thy light!' He felt the flood of positive energy pour through his soul and into the altar. The connection was strong and would have sent a dozen zombies cowering in fear. Against the unholy power of the altar stone, it had absolutely no effect.

Draelond finally gathered his wits and charged the giant rat-thing's flank. It was too preoccupied with Ledare to take an opportunistic swing at the warrior as he closed, and Draelond intended to make the creature pay dearly for overlooking him. He swung Ravager two-handed with all of the might within his divinely-enhanced body and buried the saw-toothed blade in the creature's kidney. It roared and turned on him as he withdrew the sword. Before he could do anything to react, it was upon him, grabbing Draelond like a mean child might grab a toy it no longer fancied. It brutally ripped his arms out of their sockets. Draelond screamed in agony for only a moment before the creature dropped his broken body onto the ground at its feet. He didn't move.

"Nooo!" Vade screamed as the big warrior fell. The halfling's sling whirled over his head and he let fly with his amber bullet. It struck on the thing's right hip and shattered releasing a greasy blossom of fire on the creature's leg, causing it considerable pain.

Ixin aimed her crossbow through the portal at the enraged behemoth and fired. The quarrel shattered against the surface of the portal much as her spell had done. Short of stepping through into The Spiderwood, Ixin was powerless to help her companions.

Ledare swung her sword at the giant once more, but her aim was off and the weapon sliced only air.

Disgusted with the unholy vigor of the chaos altar, Ruze turned with determination to face the creature. He called upon Shaharizod's divine favor, "My Queen grant me thy sword arm!" Holy power suffused his being and he drew his scimitars to face the altar's guardian.

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The link to the story hour's in my sig below.


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## ltclnlbrain (Nov 24, 2004)

*Prison of the Firebringer*

Hard to choose a good one without spoiling things too much.  I think this installment is a good indication of my Story Hour as a whole.  A good mix of intrigue, roleplaying, and combat.  Enjoy!

Chapter 12

The High Conflagration sat behind his desk, Degradzel seated opposite him. A hulking troll in chainmail stood behind the High Conflagration, his arms crossed across his massive chest. Their eyes were on Durzhul, bruised and bloodied, as he paced about the room. The durzagon's eyes glowed red as he gave his report.

"That thrice-damned mage! By the Abyss, that man is crafty! Xorfilstaarg is dead. The blues and reds are all dead. Though I managed to take out two of their number, I barely escaped intact, and now we are all that are left! Save for a few whelps seeking out the last mage, we are all that remains of the cult!"

Degradzel turned to the bald man, fear and anger in her eyes. "This is all Thornridge's fault! He sent them here on purpose! I bet he's a double agent, working for Acessiwal or some other--"

"That is enough!" roared the High Conflagration, nearly leaping out of his chair. Both Durzhul and Degradzel shrank before their master's awesome wrath. "I don't want to hear another word of complaint from either of you! The cult is not doomed. We remain alive. The scepter of the ar-magus is in our possession. There is still a chance the Firebringer may be freed. I have just received a sending spell from Yarrick Zan."

Durzhul gasped at the mention of the name. "Yarrick Zan?" he asked. His voice was little more than a frightful whisper, as if even saying the name might have brought doom upon him. "He actually exists? I had heard stories, but I never thought they were true."

"He does exist, or she does, for all I know. The forms Zan takes are always just a disguise: nobody knows his true nature. But we were able to make contact with him and hire his services. Even as we speak, he closes in on a mage who will be a suitable candidate for the ritual. We merely need to hold out for a few more days until Zan delivers him to us. Then, he, Durzhul, and that wretch Philosten will conduct the Rite of Unbinding, and everything we have worked for these past months will finally come to fruition. The Firebringer will walk Faerun once more, with us as his allies, and woe to anybody who dares stand before us!"

"As for Thornridge, he will be getting a visit from Zan once this business is complete. A very brief visit."

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With a flash of light, the battered forms of Allanon, Gillian, Grundar, and Terenon appeared outside of Baldur's Gate. Their clothing was torn and burnt from the battle with Durzhul and the slaad, and vicious scars and bruises adorned their bodies. At least they had managed to survive; the bodies of Berek and Rhys laid within Grundar's portable hole. Solemnly, they made their way through the crowded streets of the city, ignoring the stares they got from the townsfolk they passed.

Terenon's breath came in ragged gasps, his skin pale and stretched across his face, his eyes sunken and hollow. Durzhul's enervation ray had taken its toll on the mage, and it would be a few hours before the effects wore off. He leaned heavily on Grundar as they walked, his knees threatening to buckle with each step. They were almost at the Temple of Torm, and the mage knew that relief was only a short distance away. To distract himself from the pain in his body, he concentrated on an image that had been on his mind for the past few days: an image of the aasimar sorceress, Serrila Destare. Despite having only spoken to her for a short period of time, Serrila had left an indelible mark on the mage’s mind, and he found himself thinking of her quite frequently during the slow periods of the journey. Her face hovered before his mind’s eye, and he could have sworn he heard her voice in his head. _Safe in Silverymoon_, she seemed to say.

Terenon blinked in astonishment. He was not imagining things: that was Serrila’s voice! As he listened, the words continued to form in his mind. _Thornridge is not what he seems. I’ll tell you more on our next meeting. How goes the battle? Good luck! Serrila._ It took Terenon a few moments to realize that the sorceress had contacted him via a magical sending spell, and it was now his turn to reply. Forming the words in his mind, he sent a response back to Serrila: _In Baldur’s Gate. We’ve suffered losses. We’ll meet you tomorrow morning outside Silverymoon’s south gate. Be careful: Acolyte spies may be about town. Stay safe._

Grundar paused and cast Terenon a worried glance. The mage had suddenly stopped in his tread and had a faraway look in his eyes. “Are you alright?” the duelist asked. “What is it?”

Terenon smiled at his friend. “A plan,” he replied. “I’ll tell you more later. For now, let’s get to the temple.”

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Rhys Thurn stood among a throng of petitioners, souls of the recently dead yet to be claimed by their patron deities. A flat, featureless plane of endless white stretched off in all directions to the limit of his vision, almost completely filled by the horde of the milling souls. Though he knew he was dead, Rhys was not frightened; he had spent his life in devotion to Torm, and he was confident that his god from come soon to take him to a better place. Meanwhile, the priest drank in the details of his surroundings, awed by the life that followed death.

The aasimar was distracted from the contemplation of his surroundings by a faint buzzing at the back of head. At first he tried to ignore it, but the buzzing grew in volume and intensity. Soon, he could make out words against the background noise: somebody was calling his name! Rhys strained to listen, and he heard the resonant voice of a High Priest of Torm calling his soul to return to Toril. Rhys was strangely saddened to leave this place before he reached his lord’s realm, but he knew that he would lose all memory of the experience when he returned to his mortal body anyway. “My duty is not yet complete,” he told himself as his soul began to ascend back to his body.

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Rhys awoke with a start, cold sweat plastering his features. It took him a few moments to realize that he was in the chapel of a temple dedicated to Torm. He lay naked on a cold slab with a blanket draped across his body. A smiling priest hovered over him.

“Welcome back, my son,” the priest said. “You certainly took your time to return; we were uncertain whether or not you actually wanted to come back.”

“Where am I?” asked Rhys.

“Baldur’s Gate. Your friends brought you and the dwarf here to be raised. You must have been in quite a battle judging by the nasty wounds that adorned your body.”

“Berek!” said Rhys, suddenly remembering seeing the valiant dwarf fall shortly before he did. Twisting on the pallet, he saw the body of the berserker lying a few feet away from him, completely covered by a sheet. The body was completely still.

"I am sorry, but the dwarf's soul refused to be brought back. All his life he dreamed of death in glorious battle, and he felt he had achieved that. There is nothing we can do if the soul is unwilling to return."

Rhys stared at Berek’s corpse, his face grim. Though the dwarf had been a wild card and might have accidentally killed them all when gripped by a battle frenzy, he had always been a staunch ally and a valuable asset to the group. His loss would be a hard one to take.

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The happiness that surrounded Rhys’ return to the group was tempered by a sense of regret at the loss of Berek. Allanon seemed particularly saddened by Berek’s death, and remained sullen and morose throughout the day. Laden with mixed emotions, the group headed about the city, attending to various errands that needed to be taken care of. It was early evening when they finished their tasks and, upon Grundar’s suggestion, decided to retire to the Elfsong tavern for the night, hoping to hear the tavern's ghostly resident's legendary haunting melody. They sat themselves at a table in the corner.

“So Terenon,” asked Grundar, “what’s this plan of yours?”

"Earlier today,” began the mage, “I received a message from Serrila Destare. I decided to keep it to myself until I was fairly certain that we weren’t being followed or scryed upon. If you remember, I asked her to keep an eye on Thornridge. She has dug up some information on him. Tomorrow in the morning we will make a detour to see and get the report from her. Depending on what she says, we may or may not confront him." 

“Ah, I had forgotten about that duplicitous merchant,” said Allanon. The wild mage’s gaze suddenly turned distant and she added softly, “Deirdriel…now that I think about it, I have some business to take care of in Silverymoon as well.”

"Fine, we can take care of it when we get there,” said Terenon. “Now, from the conversation I had with the green slaad before he broke my charm, I have deduced a few things. The red-eyed dwarf is named Flame Lord Durzhul. His boss is the High Conflagration. I'm not sure who that is, but we do have a card up our sleeve. I would bet money that Flame Lord Durzhul has protected himself from scrying, but Moskogg’s secretary is another story. I believe she is the key for a surprise attack. Scrying on her will give us a location to teleport into and kill everything we see.”

The discussion was interrupted by a beautiful voice singing in Elven. The song was hauntingly beautiful, and the tavern fell silent as all the patrons were overcome by its power. The party listened, transfixed, as music filled their souls with powerful feelings of sadness and longing. As suddenly as it started up, though, the song ended a few minutes later. There was a brief moment of silence, then activity in the tavern resumed.

Grundar inclined his head, tears flowing freely down his face. “It was…more beautiful than I had thought possible.”

Allanon was about to comment when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning to look, she saw a scrawny man standing over her, shaking unsteadily on his feet. His clothes and hair were unkempt and his breath reeked of alcohol.

"Beautiful song, isn't it?" he asked, tongue thick with inebriation. "Almost as beautiful as ye are, purty lady. The name's Vortimer; may I have the pleasure of yer company this evening?" He leered drunkenly at the sorceress.

Allanon gaped at the man, her mouth open. Up until a few days ago, she had been a man, and as such had no experience in dealing with lechers like this Vortimer. She wondered how to let him down easily without hurting his feelings. Her thoughts were interrupted by Terenon’s voice saying, “She’s my woman. If you don’t leave now, I will disintegrate you where you stand.”

The drunk reeled backward on his feet, nearly losing his balance as he scurried away from the table. Rhys chuckled heartily as Allanon whirled on Terenon, fire burning in her eyes.

“[i[Your[/i] woman?” she asked incredulously. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

Terenon merely shrugged, smiling thinly. “I believed that it would be the most expedient way to deal with the situation. No harm, no foul, my lady.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, Allanon settled back in a huff. “As soon as we get back to Silverymoon, I’m getting my manhood back,” she muttered.

Gillian had been quiet for a while, but now she decided to speak up. "I'm afraid that once we get back to Silverymoon, I'm going to have to leave the group. There is no telling how far the Acolytes' influence has spread. I must return to my people to prepare them for the worst if you should fail in your quest, and to enlist aid for our cause if it is needed. I am sorry I cannot venture with you further, but our paths are not the same from here on out. I hope you can understand."

The others were shocked by the halfling’s announcement. "If you are sure you must leave, we cannot stop you,” said Terenon. “I am saddened by your decision. Your prowess in battle will be hard to replace."

“Yes, it has been quite an adventure we have shared,” added Grundar. “However, our strength is now even less than before. Perhaps we should look into finding new members to accompany us back to the Dungeon.”

“You are right, of course,” said Terenon. “I don’t believe we can just advertise a job opening though. Trusting an unknown with what we are facing is ill-advised. Who knows if a stranger that accepts the offer is not an agent of the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame?" Turning to Rhys, the mage said, "Perhaps the temple of Torm has a few reputable fighters it could suggest. Maybe Serrila knows of someone who can join with us, too."

Rhys simply shrugged. “It won’t hurt to try, I suppose. We should check into it in the morning.”

“I’ll keep watch tonight after my Reverie,” said Grundar. “It would be best to be cautious.”

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Sitting in a chair in the tavern’s hallway, Grundar watched through a window as the sun slowly creeped its way up from beyond the eastern horizon. The others still slumbered in their beds, recuperating from the vicious fight of the previous day. The elf’s ears perked up as heavy footsteps began to sound on the stairs. He silently got to his feet and put his hand to his rapier in case it was trouble. Several uncouth voices floated up the staircase to the hall.

"I'm telling ya, this is the floor where that purty lady is staying. That uppity mage is probably with her, too."

"Now, you sure this guy won't make good on his threat? I hear tell of powerful mages and what they can do! I don't want to be turned into no newt or nothing."

"Relax, we just sneak in there and brain the guy so he don't wake up, then we take the girl. What could go wrong?"

Four men reached the top of the staircase, taken aback by Grundar's presence. They all were the thuggish type: greasy, unkempt, and probably still a bit drunk from the previous night. They sized up the elf a bit before turning to one man nervously. This man was apparently their leader, the same drunk guy who had accosted Allanon the previous night.

“Good morning gentlemen!” called Grundar, his hand still on the hilt of his rapier. “Looking for somebody?”

The man, Vortimer, grinned broadly, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "We don't mean no harm, elf, we just came for a little bit o' fun with yer wench. I suggest ye stand aside: we've got ye outnumbered, by my count."

Grundar smiled mirthlessly. "Well, my ‘wench’ happens to be a powerful sorceress in her own right. I doubt you'd have any fun with ‘her’ unless you'd like to have parts of your anatomy burnt off. Now, it seems to me you still have a little drink left in you, so I would suggest that you guys head on back to where you came from and sleep it off."

Vortimer frowned in consternation. He seemed to be deep in thought (a rare experience judging by the look on his face); finally he looked back at Grundar. "Alright, elf, no need to be rude. We don't want to start nothing with ye. We'll be on our way; no hard feelings, right?" With that, the men stumbled off down the stairs and out of sight.

As they left, Grundar heard a door creaking open behind him. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw Allanon peeking out from her room, clad only in a thin nightgown that hugged her lithe form and brandishing her quarterstaff. “What was that about?” she asked.

“Well, Allanon, you seem to have made quite an impression on the local folk. Given that outfit you’re wearing, I can’t rightly blame them,” the elf said, chuckling.

Allanon frowned angrily. “Just shut up,” she said, slamming the door.

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The group made their preparations for the day ahead and, after a hearty breakfast of sausages and gravy, they left the Elfsong tavern and began to make their way to the Temple of Torm to see if they could recruit another adventurer to their cause. The crowds began to thicken as they made their way through the streets of Baldur’s Gate. As they navigated the busy street, Terenon was nearly bowled over by a teenage girl covered in dirt and wearing the clothes of a beggar. The nondescript girl looked nervously to and fro as she scrambled to her feet. Exhausted and frightened, she blurted out, "Help...please. He's chasing me...wants to kill me..."

Terenon felt his initial irritation give way to sympathy as he sensed the girl’s fright. “Calm yourself child. No harm will come to you in our presence. What is the matter?"

The girl saw the sympathy in Terenon's eyes and forced herself to calm down. "My name's Lisa. There's a man chasing me. A man with a big club. He broke into the room where I was staying and has been following me around the streets for hours. I don't know what he wants! I don't know why he's chasing me! You've got to help me!" She looked at the mage with pleading eyes.

Nodding, Terenon began to scan the crowded streets for anybody suspicious-looking. “What does this man look like child?” he asked.

“There he is!” said Lisa, pointing to a middle-aged man in merchant’s clothing who had just appeared from around a storefront. He was portly, handsome, and appeared to have no gear other than a fancy mace strapped to his side. Seeing Lisa, he pointed his finger at the young beggar girl.

"You there! Young lady!" said the man. "Come here. Step away from those people. I must speak to you!" The man cast a stern look toward the girl and grimaced. "Come now, I tire of this game!" he said impatiently, gesturing for Lisa to approach him. "I won't hurt you!"

Before the group could react, a burly voice shouted from behind. "You there! Halt!" A captain of the Flaming Fist, the mercenary company that guarded and patroled Baldur's Gate, stood behind them, brandishing a large polearm. Four other guards stood behind him. "Stay away from that man, Lisa," the captain said. "He's dangerous." The captain of the watch then pointed at the adventurers. "You people! Help me apprehend that scoundrel now, and the city has a 10,000 gold piece reward for you!"

“It would be my pleasure,” said Terenon, casting a spell intended to freeze the merchant in his tracks. The spell did not work, though, and man began to move toward them, snarling, “You foolish, plane-bound idiots!”

The guard captain shouted out, "Men, aid these people and attack that fat merchant." The guards hustle up through the adventurers’ midst and readied their halberds. The merchant drew his mace and moved quite quickly at one of the guards, who slashed at him with his halberd as he approached. The merchant dodged the attack easily and bashed the guard with the hilt of his mace in a powerful blow that dropped the man to the ground, unconscious. The remaining guards regarded the merchant nervously.

The guard captain moved over to Lisa. "Come along, Lisa," he said. The girl shied away from him though, a look of confusion on her face.

“I don’t know who to attack,” whispered Gillian. “I can detect no evil auras.”

Allanon cast a spell at the merchant, trying to dispel any enchantments he had up, but there were no obvious results. Grundar stepped in the merchant’s path, drawing his rapier. “What do you want with the girl?” he asked.

"There is no time for these childish shenanigans,” the merchant replied. “You have no idea what's at stake here. Bring the girl and come with me before someone gets hurt!"

Rhys began to send a blast of searing light at the merchant, but Grundar grabbed his hand to stop the spell before he could finish. “Wait! I don't think he intends to hurt Lisa! Didn't you see him use the hilt of his mace on that guard? Something doesn't look right here."

The guard captain made a grab for Lisa, but she hopped back. "How do you know my name?" she asked. "I've never met you before in my life!"

The guard captain growled with anger. "Give me what is mine!" The captain's form then began to shift, blossoming outward into a massive creature. Its form stabilized into a tall, bipedal mantis-like creature with clawed hands and feet, powerful mandibles, and a long, thick tail covered in razor-sharp spikes. Terenon and Lisa felt a wave of fear flood their minds: Terenon resisted it, but Lisa screamed and cowered before the monstrosity. The creature jabbed at her with its massive spear, but she fell over in fright just in time and the spear passed harmlessly over her head.

The crowd around the group screamed in horror at the bug-like creature. They began fleeing in terror, along with the three guards who remained standing. The merchant yelled, "Don't just stand there, fools! He's going to kill her!"

“Grab on to me!” Terenon cried to Lisa, but she remained on the ground, quivering with fright. Acting quickly, he wrapped his arm around the girl and cast a spell, instantly transporting them both to a far away rooftop. The merchant moved to Grundar and Rhys' side, his form changing as he went. By the time he was next to them, he had changed into a beautiful, extremely tall man with long, feathery wings and a very supple and lithe body that glowed with an inner power that made it hard to look directly at him. He readied his mace against the foul creature.

“An angel,” breathed Rhys. In all his years of service to Torm, he had never seen such a beautiful creature as the one that now stood beside him. He breathed a prayer as he turned to face the insectoid creature, bolstered by the presence of this celestial ally. Unfortunately, the thing had teleported away and currently stood a scant few feet from Terenon. “Give me the girl!” it shrieked as Lisa whimpered and cowered behind the mage.

“Terenon’s up there alone! Do something!” shouted Grundar.

Allanon frowned, knowing that the mage would not last long by himself. She looked over to the others and nodded. “Everyone grab hold of me. I’ll take us over there.” Gillian, Grundar, and Rhys quickly grabbed hold, but the angel hesitated. “You can trust us,” said Allanon, and finally the celestial being consented. With a flash, they appeared behind the creature, which Allanon recognized as an ice devil.

The devil raised its spear to strike at Terenon, but the mage hastily cast a spell and erected a hemispherical wall of force around him and Lisa. The weapon was shunted off the invisible force field, and Terenon flipped the creature a rude gesture as it shrieked in rage.

“Give it up, Felespar. I will not allow you to take the gem," the deva intoned, brandishing its mace.

"I will not be so easily deterred!" the devil roared. It held out its hands and a cone of intense cold blasted out at the group. Grundar and Gillian evaded the blast of cold and the angel seemed unaffected. Rhys took the edge of the blast, though, and Allanon took it full on, the cold numbing their lifeblood and shards of ice tearing at their flesh.

Grundar tumbled up to the devil and stabbed out with his rapier, but the creature’s hide was too thick and it merely shunted the blade aside. Gillian rolled around the things legs and came up, calling upon Yondalla’s holy power to smite the devil with her chain. The weapon left a glowing scar across its chest, and the devil howled in pain. The deva charged in, taking the devil’s spear in its side, and bashed it across the face with his mace.

Allanon almost passed out from the pain caused by the barrage of ice cold air and shrapnel. With what little feeling was left in her arms, she cast a quick spell and began floating into the air, away from the devil.

“By Torm’s might, send this creature back to the hell from which it was spawned!” cried Rhys, holding his holy symbol aloft. The devil felt a tugging sensation as the magic took effect, but he resisted the banishment with a great effort of will. Snarling, it lashed out at its assailants with teeth, spear, and tail. Gillian took several blows, and a nasty wound in her shoulder and side opened, staining her shirt red.

Terenon cradled the terrified Lisa close to him, watching through the wall of force as his companions battled the ice devil. It seems that his friends were having a tough time with it; Grundar and Gillian were having trouble getting past its thick natural armor, and Allanon and Rhys’ spells simply sputtered against the thing’s magic resistance. Even the angel was having a tough time landing a solid hit with its mace. The devil lashed out again, striking Gillian in the chest with his spear, and now the halfling’s entire shirt was stained with blood as she struggled to keep on fighting.

Then the tide turned. Grundar focused his full efforts into his attack, finally managing to pierce the devil's thick hide. The rapier slid in deep, and while some of the damage was negated by its fiendish nature, the elf managed to hit a vital organ that drew a great cry of pain from the devil. Seizing the advantage, Gill delivered two quick slashes to its back that scored its hide with holy energy. The deva scored a good hit with his mace, too, crushing the devil's arm with the holy weapon.

Allanon blasted the beast with a powerful gout of chain lightning. Not expecting the attack to bypass its resistance, the devil made only a half-hearted attempt to dodge it. The lightning bolt caught the devil square in the chest, and the beast convulsed as the electricity coursed through its body. The devil shrieked in rage in pain, leaning heavily on its spear. "You win this round, celestial! The baatezu will not be spurned so easily though!" With a flash of light, the creature disappeared.

The angel reattached his mace to his belt, rubbing the spear wound in his shoulder. His hand began to glow, and in a few seconds the wound disappeared. "Trust it to mortals to believe the devil, just because he takes on the form of an authority figure." The angel turned to Terenon and Lisa, a stern expression on his face. "Now then, come out from behind that wall and let us have a discussion like civilized people."

Visit my story hour here.


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## Berandor (Nov 25, 2004)

*My German Shackled City Story Hour*

I'm the author of a German language Story Hour. I detail my group's exploits in the Shackled City Adventure Path, even though I have somewhat heavily customized the advnetures and Cauldron with my own metaplot.
The post below is our heroes' arrival in Cauldron, the second post in this fledgling tale. I think it successfully establishes the tone I want to keep during this Story Hour. 
I promise regular, if somewhat shorter updates, narrative combat instead of round-by-round, frequent humour and of course drama, epic and tension. I also plan to include goodies like music selections, NPC conversions or food menues for the various locales. And finally, here are the link and the installment:

*Cauldron*

Die vier Nachkommen der Schätze Tethyrs zogen früh los, um ihr Ziel noch vor Anbruch der Dunkelheit zu erreichen. Zuerst unterhielten sie sich noch angeregt, doch schon bald bemächtigte sich ihnen eine große Anspannung, und sie schritten nur noch schweigend nebeneinander her. Für den späten Sommer war es schon recht kühl geworden, was in Tethyr jedoch nur bedeutete, dass man Rüstung tragen konnte, ohne einen Hitzschlag zu erleiden. Ein steter Nieselregen lag über dem Land, und schon bald war die Kleidung der vier außen vom Regen, und innen vom Schweiß durchnässt. Der dichte Dschungel, der den Glücklichen Affen umgab, wurde langsam dünner, während das Gebirge, das wochenlang als Wegweiser ihrer Route gedient hatte, endlich spürbar näher rückte. Gegen Mittag hatten Felsen die Bäume als häufigste Wegbegrenzung abgelöst, und am frühen Nachmittag rasteten die Gefährten am Fuße des erloschenen Vulkans.

"Da rauf?" fragte Anna und sprach damit aus, was alle dachten. Sie blickte die Flanke des Berges hinauf. Der breite Handelsweg, auf dem sie reisten, wand sich die steile Flanke hinauf wie eine betrunkene Schlange, bevor er kurz vor der Spitze nach Süden hin verschwand.

"Vom Warten wird er auch nicht flacher," sagte Dirim, und schulterte sein Gepäck. "Gehen wir."

Weitere Stunden später hatten die Vier endlich die Stelle erreicht, an der die Straße um den Berg lief, um dann stetig ansteigend auf das Südtor der Stadt Cauldron zuzulaufen. Die 'Heimatschleuse'.

Das Erste, was man von Cauldron sah, waren die großen schwarzen Mauern. Sie erhoben sich fünfzehn Schritt über den Kraterrand, schwarzes Malachit - Vulkangestein, dass jegliches Licht zu verschlucken schien. In dieser gewaltigen Mauer wirkte das große Tor wie ein Maul aus hellem Licht. Das Tor, so breit wie drei Karren und so hoch wie drei Mann, ließ sich im Boden versenken. Bevor Dirim aber die Handwerksarbeit gebührend bewundern konnte, rollte der Karren vor den Vieren wieder an und über die Schwelle zur Stadt, und die vier Wachen wandten sich ihnen zu.

Der Hauptmann trat zu ihnen hin, das flammende Auge der Stadt stolz auf Brust und Helm.

"Den übernehme ich", flüsterte Anna und zwinkerte Helion zu. Schaukelnd trat sie vor.

"Guten Abend, Wachtmeister."

"Guten Abend." Der Wachmann strich über sein mit Edelsteinen verziertes Armband und musterte die Vier, einschließlich Dirims Packpony.

"Abenteurer, wie? Für euch kostet die Passage fünf Silberklingen - oder einen König, wenn euch das lieber ist -, das Pony noch mal zwei Klingen. Außerdem", schnalzte er mit der Zunge, "habt ihr Magie dabei. Dafür müsst ihr Zoll bezahlen."

Anna atmete tief ein, und das ohnehin schon enge Mieder spannte sich noch ein wenig mehr. Sie sah dem Wachmann tief in die Augen.

"Hallo," sagte sie, "ich bin Anna. Und wie heißt du?"

"Ich... Essuth. Wieso?"

 Anna zuckte mit den Schultern. "Du bist süß. Können wir uns nicht mal treffen?"

"Was? Äh, ich meine, natürlich." Ein zufriedenes Lächeln erschien auf seinen Lippen, während die anderen Wachen in seinem Rücken grinsten. "Wie wäre es morgen Abend, im Krummen Krug?"

"Ich werde da sein," versprach Anna. "Enttäusch mich nicht." Sie lächelte ihn an, er lächelte verzückt zurück. "Hast du nicht etwas von einem Zoll gesagt?"

"Hm? Ach ja. Wisst ihr was?", fragte er in verschwörerischem Ton. "Vergesst den Zoll dieses eine Mal. Aber lasst euch im Stadthaus eine Besitzrolle ausschreiben. Dann müsst ihr die magischen Gegenstände, die ihr nicht verkaufen wollt, nicht jedes Mal bezahlen."

"Danke, Essuth. Dann bis morgen."

"Bis morgen..."

"Männer", sagte Anna, als sie durch das Tor waren.

"Menschen", sagte Dirim.

"Wachen", sagte Helion.

Thargad sagte nichts.

Ein breiter Weg führte vom Südtor an den ersten Häusern der Stadt vorbei, hohen imposanten Bauten aus ebenfalls meist schwarzem Malachit oder Obsidian. Über die ganze Straße verteilt boten Händler ihre Waren an, allesamt aus kleinen Ständen oder Bauchläden. Besonders regen Zulauf hatte ein Mann mit frisch gebackenem Brot, während zum Ende der Straße hin eine Gnomin die Dienste ihrer Wäscherei anpries.

"Braucht ihr einen Führer?", erkundigte sich eine hohe Stimme, und selbst Dirim musste den Blick etwas senken, um den etwa achtjährigen Straßenjungen zu entdecken, der vor ihnen stand. "Für ein Donsar führe ich euch, wohin ihr wollt, und für ein Paxar bleibe ich sogar den ganzen Tag."

"Eine ganze Silbermünze?" fragte Anna, als Dirim an ihr vorbeitrat.

"Wie heißt du denn?"

"Pellir, Herr Zwerg." Dirim lachte. 

"Hör zu, Pellir, ich mache dir ein Angebot." Pellir blickte Dirim gespannt an. Helion lächelte zufrieden. Es war doch immer gut, einen Zwerg dabei zu haben.

"Heute bringst du uns umsonst zu einem Wirtshaus, und morgen kommst du wieder. Dann kriegst du zwei Klingen von mir."

"Zwei?", fragten Helion und Pellir gleichzeitig. Dirim nickte.

"Zwei. Und jetzt bring uns zur Messingtrompete."


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## Silver Moon (Nov 25, 2004)

_From the western Story Hour "Revenge, Renewal and the Promise of a New Year" (which uses hybrid Boot Hill and D&D rules).   It's really hard two pick a favorite chaper (I was torn between posting this one and Chapter Twenty-five "A Cure for Intoxication").    This chapter concluded our first game night of the campaign and several players were shocked when my wife's character became the first casualty.   This chapter helped set the tone for the successful campaign that has followed.   

In the first four chapters we met the characters as they arrived in Promise City, Arizona on January 1st, 1882.   The elvan Indian named Nanuet has told his companions of his quest for vengeance against the soldier who murdered his family and they have agreed to assist him._

*
Chapter Five, “The Comstock House Ambush”, January 2nd , 1882, 7:30 A.M.* 

The group only has to walk one hundred feet down the street to reach their destination. The Comstock House is a twenty by twenty-five foot three-story brick building. From the street they are facing the front, which has a door and open window with calico curtains. Nanuet heads up to the window, and moves the curtain a few inches to peer inside. The ground floor consists of a dining room with a small kitchen in the side corner and a wooden staircase going up to the second floor. There is also a back door. There are four people in the room, a woman in the kitchen and three men seated at a table eating breakfast. He immediately recognizes one of these men as his nemesis Jim Johnson. 

Nanuet heads back to the street and tells the others “It’s him” and then describes the building. “So what’s your plan?” O’Dell asks. Nanuet replies “I need to go confront him about what he has done.” O’Dell replies “Sounds dangerous. Why not find some high ground and pick him off with a rifle shot on his way to work?” Nanuet replies, “I will not shoot a man in the back.” O’Dell says “You don’t have to do the shooting, and we could make it a head shot.” Nanuet responds, “No, that would not be honorable.” O’Dell says “I don’t see the problem. You want him dead. He will be.” Nanuet replies, “No, he has to know why he is being punished.”

Storm says to Nanuet “This is wrong. You must move on with your life.” Nanuet tells her, “If the man known as Noah Walsh dies today then my past will be behind me and I will be free to live my life in a manner that you approve of.” Duncan mutters “You’re going to be pretty annoyed if he gets away then and is still around after midnight.” 

Nanuet announces “I need to confront him.” Duncan says “An Indian charging into a boarding house and making accusations against a resident? That doesn’t sound like a very safe plan.” O’Dell says “I’ll go inside and call him out. Why don’t you women head around the building to keep him from escaping out the back.” 

The centaur and three mounted ladies ride around back. The eastern side of the building shares a wall with Gilsons’s Bath House, which in the back extends fifteen feet further south than the boarding house. The back door to the Comstock House is in the corner beside that wall so that anyone exiting from it could only go south or west. Katherine and Al stay on horseback and position themselves on both sides of Storm fifteen feet south of the back door. Both take out their guns as Storm readies an arrow in her longbow. 

Ruby decides to dismount and position herself alongside the building by the southwestern corner. That way she is still able to cover if they decide to run west. She keeps her derringer up the sleeve of her dress and her revolver in a dress pocket so as to appear unarmed and less of a threat. 

Out in front, Duncan moves over to the northwestern corner of the building. His gun is at the ready on his belt, although he plans to primarily play healer rather than gunslinger. Chow positions himself near the front door in anticipation of using his martial arts moves to disarm Johnson. Nanuet stands in the street facing the door, drawing his bow and knocking an arrow. 

O’Dell walks up to the door and enters the building. A woman is serving breakfast to a little man wearing eyeglasses seated along at small table. The three men that Nanuet saw are still eating at another table. O’Dell notes that each of them is wearing a sidearm. He walks up to the table, stands across from the man known as Noah Walsh, and says “Johnson!” Walsh’s body becomes visibly tense but he does not look up at O’Dell. One of his companions looks up and says, “Are you talking to us?” 

O’Dell says, “Johnson. You’re wanted outside.” Walsh now looks up and says, “Name’s Walsh. Do I know you?” O’Dell replies “I know who you are. There’s a man out front who wants to have a word with you. Something about you killing his kinfolk. We’ll be outside waiting.” O’Dell heads back out the door. He goes and stands alongside Nanuet, ready to draw his gun when necessary. They continue to wait. 

The four women continue to guard the back when the door opens up. A large man matching Nanuet’s description of Jim Johnson is the first one out the door followed by two other men. They are no more than five feet from the door when Al says “Stop where you are.” The men stop and look up towards the three women, the man on the right glances to his side towards Ruby and then back to the other three. Johnson then reaches for his gun.

Storm lets an arrow fly, striking Johnson in his copious chest. The arrow does not stop the giant of a man who raises up his pistol and fires a shot into Storm’s torso. Katherine and Al each fire their guns at Johnson, both missing. His two companions both draw their own guns. Ruby lets her derringer slide down into her hand as she raises her arm and fires. Her shot is perfect, striking the head of the man on Johnson’s right, who falls to the ground. 

The sound of the four gunshots alerts those in front. Duncan was by the corner of the building so starts to run along the side wall towards the back. O’Dell vaults up onto his horse while Chow kicks in the front door, deciding that through the building is the quickest way to the back. Nanuet has the same thought and begins to run after Chow.

Al fires off two more shots, both of them also missing their mark. Katherine’s next shot isn’t any better, but unlike Al she never claimed to be a gunslinger. Ruby puts her hand into her pocket, releasing the single-shot derringer and grabbing her revolver. Storm readies another arrow and Johnson fires at her again, this shot missing. His remaining companion takes a shot at Al and also misses. 

Chow barrels through the building, ignoring the little man with glasses who is now hiding behind a table and the woman in the kitchen area holding up a cast-iron frying pan. Nanuet has reached the front door and charges inside, bow and arrow in hand. Duncan is almost to the back of the building and O’Dell kicks his horse into high gear to get around as fast as he can. 

Ruby lifts up her arm to take another shot at Johnson. However, before she pulls the trigger her peripheral vision catches movement from the building as Chow dives out the window and tackles Johnson from behind. The burley man is actually able to stand back up again despite the half-orc on his back and Ruby takes the shot. Her aim is again perfect and he falls dead. 

Meanwhile, Al takes two more shots, one being a non-lethal hit to the man’s side. Storm had been ready to fire her next arrow when Chow came onto the scene. So as not to risk hitting a companion she shifts targets to the remaining man. He in turn catches her movement and changes his own target from Al to her. Both fire, Storms arrow grazing the side of his face. His shot however is well aimed and a red circle appears on her forehead. The centaur’s body collapses onto the ground. Duncan charges out in her direction to see if anything can be done for her. 

O’Dell finally arrives on the scene and begins to bring his horse to a stop. He sees only one standing enemy and lets off a shot at the very first opportunity. The poorly aimed shot only travels five feet, hitting Ruby’s horse in the head and killing it instantly. The horse falls to the right and directly on top of Duncan, possibly breaking his legs and knocking him unconscious. 

Katherine appears to have gone into shock over the fact of Storm’s demise. Al feels no such remorse and takes another shot at the remaining opponent, again missing. Ruby takes a shot at the man, hitting him at the top of his right arm near the shoulder. Nanuet has reached the back doorway and lets fire his arrow, skewering the man through the heart. Chow had been moving to grab the man and catches his corpse. Ruby turns around and exclaims “My horse!” O’Dell has dismounted and rushes by her towards the enemies. 

Nanuet exits the building and confirms for himself that Johnson is dead. He then looks up and notices Storm. The Indian’s face suddenly turns pale and his jaw drops. Chow stops O’Dell and gets him to assist in pulling Duncan out from beneath the horse. “He is still alive,” Chow states. O’Dell casually says “I hope nobody is hurt too bad, we’ve lost both healers.” 

Nanuet goes up to Storm and cradles her head in his hands. “What should we do now?” Ruby asks. O’Dell says “The Marshall’s Office is only a block away. He’ll be here soon.” Katherine states “From what we’ve heard of this Marshall we’d be better off turning ourselves in to the Sheriff.” Al rides up to O’Dell and says “We should get the hell out of here. Climb on.” He hoists himself up behind her and calls over to Ruby “Sorry about the horse, you can have mine.” The horse with the two gunslingers then takes off and disappears into the hills south of town, leaving Chow, Katherine, Ruby and an anguished Nanuet behind with their dead and unconscious companions.


The story:
http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=99053


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## el-remmen (Nov 26, 2004)

I've updated the list of excerpts in the first post, and look forward to reading still more samples. . .


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## el-remmen (Nov 29, 2004)

No more samples? 

Come on!  I want more to read!


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## Desdichado (Nov 29, 2004)

This is the third installment of my Story Hour, and the first part of the first "module" we played.  In fact, it's good enough as the introduction of both the PCs themselves, and the feel of the setting.  To date, I've got about 12-13 entries written up, with at least one more to type before we're caught up again.  The game has taken a small break, but will start up again in December, with any luck.

This isn't actually my favorite installment, but I don't want to give that one away.  

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*Module I, Part I:  "Blasphemous Rumours"*

The _Blue Dart_ was an unfortunately named ship, but the Captain had taken her in with good graces, even making sure the bright blue paint that coated the hull was smooth and unblemished. And the little ship did dart, as it turns out -- she was a fast ship, although small. So the Captain had decided that his niche was in passage, not cargo. Airships were already few and expensive, so if one wanted to travel between the islands, booking passage on a freelance ship like his was the best way to go.

This particular voyage was not one of his better ones; the passenger hold had only three takers for a four day flight to Razina, one of the most important towns in the kingdom of Cassant, and one that was perched on the very edge of the Great Island, a continent sized chunk of rock that floats unmoving in the Day Realm. The _Blue Dart_ was making good time, and if his navigation was accurate, the Captain believed he'd beat his schedule, arriving in just a few hours. He put the glass to his eye again, scanning the sky in front of him to see if there was any sign of his destination.

Clear, brilliant light bathed the entire world around him; far below was a puffy floor of clouds that stretched out as far as the eye could see -- which in this clear air was very far indeed -- in every direction. Above him, the brilliant yellowish white sun made him squint; although he saw the brightly striated orange and tan globe of Fallare suspended like a gigantic moon in the sky. Later today, it would obscure the sun, giving a relatively short nightfall; an event that only occurred once a week in Razina. A small chunk of rock; an island no more than a few miles across, rose off his port bow. Through the glass, he could see a bank of gray fog ahead, dank, forbidding and cold. He shivered a bit, but accepted that his destination most likely was lying just within that bank of fog.

He heard the ringing of the cook's bell; the passenger's meal was served. He stuffed the glass under his belt, and determined that as the Captain, he should share this final meal with them, and tell them the news that he expected to arrive before lunch. He clambered down the stairs into the passenger's hold. Three small cots were folded up and out of the way, and three sat at a table bolted to the floor, talking and eating a meal of salt pork sandwiches, liberally seasoned with lemon juice, and reasonably fresh water. The fare on ship wasn't great, but it was healthy enough. The Captain decided he would seek out a good hot meal as soon as he was berthed.

"Good morning, fellows!" he said as he sat next to them. They nodded and continued eating. The three passengers were nothing if not an unusual group, but they seemed to have hit it off fairly well during the course of their journey, and were now talking animatedly of seeking lodgings in the same inn, and even helping each other in their various goals in Razina. 

"Good morning to you, Cap'n," said Tson, clapping him on the back. Tson was a hulk; one of the Bred folk. His ancestors had been selected for their strength, endurance, and ability to withstand harsh conditions. He was fairly large, as were most of his race, and the sharp definition of his enormous muscles was hidden by a fine layer of down-like fur. Tson was albino, however, and instead of the reddish brown that most of the hulks sported, his fur was a strange pale gray. The large fellow was normally taciturn, and the Captain had not expected him to give him the first friendly welcome. Rumor had it that he was an escaped, or perhaps freed, slave in some far-off place, where he fought as a gladiator. He rarely wore more than a ragged kilt around his waist, belted with a chain, and the Captain could believe that he was a former gladiator. His unclothed chest was criss-crossed with a fine network of scars, most of them old.

"Indeed, 'tis a fine morning! The view from the deck was spectacular," acknowledged Roshan Boh. Also one of the Bred folk, Boh was in many ways a complete opposite of Tson. He was quite garrulous, to the point of often not knowing when to shut up. The Captain was initially suspicious of having a gray on the ship, but Roshan was a friendly enough sort, and the Captain had come to like him over the course of the last few days. He was short, and quite gracile, with chalky, colorless skin, piercing blue eyes that darted about like a hyper-alert hawk as he spoke. His short hair was dark, and his body was wiry yet hard and supple. He did not speak of his background, and the Captain wondered what this one used to do, although he privately suspected he had been trained as a spy, assassin, or both at some point in his life. Regardless, his motives for traveling to Razina seemed to be his own.

The final traveler was also a quiet one for the most part, Konrad, the only Unbred human of the bunch. The Captain privately wished he could follow him around for a while to see how he reacted to life in the extremely large and populous city of Razina. Konrad clearly had not spent much time in high society; he was dressed in leathers, and had more hair on his head and face than any four other men the Captain had ever seen. When he did speak, as often as not he made some obscure reference to outdoor life, as if the others could possibly understand metaphors or sayings related to the mating habits of a wild thuin, or the truculence of a herd of inwns.

Still, for all their idiosyncrasies, they were a good lot, and the Captain had enjoyed giving them passage more than many he had booked over the years. He would almost be sad to reach his destination and drop them off in the urban wilds of Razina. "We're making better time than I expected," he said, which prompted an impromptu toast with their water cups. "This'll be our last meal on the _Blue Dart_, I'm afraid, so I thought I should spend a few minutes with..."

He stopped as Collins came barreling down the stair, his face flushed and nervous. "Cap'n!" he said. "Another ship, off the port bow and up 30 degrees. They're heading is straight for us."

The Captain stood, his face a bit nervous. "If you'll excuse me a moment, gentlemen..." then he walked upstairs. The three passengers watched him go, only Tson continuing to wolf down his food as fast as he could.

"That doesn't sound good," said Konrad sourly. "Suppose we should see what's up?"

Roshan waved aside the suggestion. "Surely the Captain and his crew are qualified to deal with these types of things more than we. There's no reason we should interrupt our last meal on the _Dart_ is there?"

Tson grunted. "If it does mean trouble, we'll be glad we ate, anyway." Indeed, Tson had finished his food, and began rummaging through the hold looking for anything they could use as a weapon. He found a long chain, rusted and dirty, but made of heavy iron. "Here, Roshan, this little girl's sword looks like it might be your style." He handed the gray a slim blade, with bad balance and dotted with orange rust. Roshan smiled mirthlessly. Indeed, he did prefer the dancing rapier to the next shoddy blade Roshan found in a chest, a huge piece that Konrad looked pleased with. 

"What's that for, chopping wood?" Roshan asked innocently. "Because I can't imagine that would do you any good in a fight."

"Wood or bones, what's the difference?" Konrad leered, but their banter was interrupted by a sudden lurch in the floor that sent them crashing. The heard a sickening splintering sound, and the _Dart_ did not right herself.

Tson was the first to hop up, but all three quickly followed up the stairs. "Glad we found these; I could feel trouble coming..." the large man said. They burst out on the tilted deck to see that they had been nicely rammed and grappled by a larger ship. The Captain stood on the deck shouting orders to his small crew, who were valiantly trying to hold off a swarm of boarders. Collins was the first to go down, hit by a pirate swinging on a line, and pushed over the side. His screams took a long time to fade as he plunged into the void. Then Bradburn was shot in the face with an enormous blast from a pistol that another of the pirates wielded. The tide of invaders rushed their deck; at least six or seven.

Tson swung his chain in a wide arc, first causing the one with the pistol to duck, then catching his arm on the return stroke. The pistol fell from his arm to slide across the deck, and Tson yanked the man down, where he slid as well to land at Tson's feet. The hulk kicked him cruelly, a blow designed to break his neck. Then he waded into the melee, his chain sending the pirates flying. Roshan Boh also dived into combat with a grin on his face. The sword he had was not good, but he wielded it like a dervish. It danced through the pirates, leaving pierced lungs, slashed throats and severed hamstrings in its wake. Konrad, on the other hand, decided he needed to take the battle to the enemy, so he leapt into the air with one of the pirate's own grappling lines in his hand. He slipped attempting this bit of derring-do, though, and slammed into the side of their ship. Only through purest luck, he was able to grab the edge of their deck with his fingertips, where he held on for dear life, the echoes of Collins' screams as he disappeared into the void filling his ears.

Everyone paused for a moment as a strange, clunking noise came from the bowels of the _Blue Dart_, followed immediately by "Rat" Galloway, one of the nastier members of the crew. "The lift engines!" he shouted hysterically. "They're gonna blow!" For the less ship-savvy passengers, the meaning of this was not clear, but obviously it was not good news. Even the pirates who still stood blanched, turned and ran back to their own vessel. Tson and Roshan knew how to take a cue from them, and climbed along the great wooden ram to climb up on the deck of the pirate ship. The Captain and the Rat also pitched themselves over the railing just as the lift engines exploded with a thunderous blast. Everyone was thrown to the deck, even Konrad, who was lifted over the railing by the explosion, landed heavily on top of one of the pirates. Then the deck tilted sharply downward.

The two ships were stuck together, and with the lift engines gone on the_ Dart_, it was dead weight. The pirate ship angled sharply, as everybody and everything loose slid along the deck to smash into the front railing. Konrad pitched one of the pirates who had slid into him over the side. Then with a lurch, the ship righted and seemed to bounce for a moment. The ram had broken finally, and the _Dart_ had fallen. The Captain sobbed slightly as he leaned over the rail, watching his fortune plummet down into the cloudbank, many hundreds of feet below them, to finally disappear for good.

The three passengers stood and shook their heads. There were only two pirates left; a dispirited and wounded group that offered no more fight. Roshan Boh took his crappy rapier and held it under the chin of one of the pirates. "Maybe you can tell me what the meaning of this is?" he said quietly, but very chillingly.

"Right," said Tson. "Konrad and I will just see if this barge has anything of value we can loot, eh?" The two larger men disappeared into the bowels of the pirate ship, while the Captain and the Rat went to inspect the ship they found themselves on. In just a moment, the Captain came running back upstairs, his face slightly green. 

Roshan Boh turned from his uncommunicative prisoner to see what the problem was. "Well, now I know why they were so desperate to board us," the Captain said. "Their lift engine's going out. We'll be lucky if we can make it to land in this piece of junk." With that, the ship suddenly dropped ten feet before straining to catch itself.


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## Graywolf-ELM (Nov 29, 2004)

*Excerpt From - Orcs on the Rampage - Tales from the Broken Lands*

_This is my favorite update because players were able to submit their character's response to the Tribe leader, and I was able to integrate them into the Story Hour update.

This session is the culmination of a coming of age ceremony, where the young in the tribe are sent out to prove themselves. Upon returning, they must boast of their accomplishments and earn tribe names._

<<The link to this Story Hour is in my .Sig at the end>>  

I hope you enjoy,
Graywolf

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

Up ahead, Rhgl sees a human fall to the ground mid-stride, just outside the gates.  *“Maybe Rhgl was not the target? Hmm?”*  He slows a little after passing the body, to see if the Orcs stop there.  Scrag, and shortly after him, Gorga and Tyco come to investigate the body.  Rhgl comes skittering back. Hiding a look of relief he reports in *“Great Gorga, no others escaped ahead of this one.”*

*“Be useful Rhgl.  Strip this one of weapons, and tie him securely, we will take him back to the tribe.  He is strong and will make a good slave.”*  All of the Orcs have seen the slaves back at the home tribe.  None looked as hale or strong-willed as this one surely was.

*“And save that Bow for me.  I can use it best.”*  To the rest of the warband and newfound pariah, *“gather up all the treasure, weapons, food.  Anything of value to the tribe will be taken.  More pinkskins will come soon, many more, and we must not be found.”*

Short work is made of gathering nearly anything that is not securely fastened to a wall or door hinge.  Almost every thing here has some value to the tribe.  Gorga gives the order to move out, and after leaving the path into the open lands to the North, Drusilla and Gorga begin the work of covering tracks of the passing Orcs.  It is slower going, but once the Broken Lands are reached the chances of pursuit drop to almost nothing.  Travel is pushed through the first night, and into the next day.  Rest is taken once, due to the injured Orcs, but the trip, back to tribal lands, is made in just over two days.  During the trip home, Tyco warns Gorga of the unusual relationship between FillexHulkil and the three Orcs who follow him. *“They listen too close, and guard him like a tribe chief.”*  Gorga keeps an eye on them when he is not busy at the enormous task of keeping everyone moving.

As the warband comes nearer to the heart of Vile Runes country, a patrol is seen.  They salute the younglings, and head straight back to the home tribe at a run.

Gorga warns everyone *“They will let the tribe know of our return. We return with victory and spoils, let us hope they are enough to discharge our trial.”*

The gates are open as the warband returns.  Women and young line the palisade and call to the returning younglings.  *“Did you bring weapons?  Treasure?”*  Cheers and shouts are leveled at the returning Orcs.

Garnash One-Tusk sits on his outdoor seat of honor, with the Shaman, Hargul Wolf-Tongue standing nearby.  The elders Caasz Iron-butt, Huzzk Elf-Ripper, and Raorr Scare-Belly are all present to help judge the worthiness of the returning younglings.  The warband in charge of security directs the younglings and new pariah to place all treasure at the feet of the elders, and to step back near the fire pit.  The tribe gathers round the pit and a low rumbling of Orc voices can be heard, discussing the value of the treasure and the likelihood that these ragtag Orcs would soon be Vile Runes.
Garnash speaks *“You return knowing what will happen if you have not gained enough weapons and armor for the tribe.”*  Hargul jumps down from the platform and approaches the younglings.  *“They have returned with pariah for the tribe, and a prisoner for me.”*  He eyes Sharraxtharkul and the wandering Wicca, FillexHulkil with a measuring stare.  *“Grown in magic already Sharrax… you will do well to learn your place.”*

Meanwhile the elders are going through the treasure in front of them.  Grunts of satisfaction are made, and the elders turn and nod to Garnash.  Huzzk offers *”It is as we expected, padded armor and skinny swords favored by the Darokin pinkskins.”*  Caasz announces, *“Gold and goods make up for the shortfall.  If any of these pariah prove themselves, the tribe grows more.”*  It is obvious to everyone that the pariah will not be included in this ceremony.

Garnash speaks again *“You younglings have proven yourselves to the tribe, tell us of your battles and you will be given fitting names in the tribe.”*  Hargul begins to dance around and pray to Wogan to see the truth of the new tribe members’ words.

Gorga steps forward and begins, 

*“Oh Great Garnash and honored tribesmen, this is my tale and that of my warband. 

I lead our band through the lands, finding food, water and shelter.  We found good strong trees and with the great skill of Rhgl were able to fashion weapons with which to slay our enemies. 

We soon found the pinkskins' lands and dispatched many of them easily with both stealth and strength. We took their leader hostage and made their only brave warrior cower in fear. We allowed the village to stand so that we could plunder them again in the future. 

Then, I lead the mighty band through the border lands where we scouted the pinkskin's fortification. We ambushed one of their patrols and slew them easily with use of our weapons and some magic from Sharraxtharkul. 

Then we proceeded to attack their fortification. We used the spiritual leader as a hostage and demanded them to allow us entry. Although they hesitated, eventually they forsaked the leader to protect their lives. A mistake, for we left none alive. His usefulness at an end, I ended the leader's life myself. 

The great Ierkh leveled the door to the fortification and allowed us entry. We slaughtered all the pinkskins weakening their outpost. We then captured their leader, freed the other orcs and plundered the fortification for the glory of the tribe. We brought back the leader of the fortification for you to do as you see fit.“* 

Gorga grabs him by the arm, and pushes him forward, and continues with his speech. 

*”All of the band acted bravely and brought honor to the tribe.“*  He points to the piles of treasure and goods at the feet of the elders.  *“We returned with these spoils to enrich the tribe.  I, Gorga, hope my actions and those of my band please you, Great Garnash.”*

A grin splits Garnash One-tusk’s face.  Hargul continues to dance around and suddenly rushes up to Gorga looking into his eyes and announces. *“I name you ‘Gorga Manhunter’, you honor the tribe.”* With that he spins back around and continues dancing and praying as only an Orcish Shaman can do, Gri-Gri flailing, and Wolf skin flapping as he goes.

One of the elders directs a nearby guard to take the human prisoner to Hargul’s hut for questioning later.

Garnash continues, *“Gorga, as our Shaman says, you honor the tribe.”*  Pointing at Drusilla Garnash commands, *“You darkskin, tell us of your battles.”*

Drusilla steps forth and speaks.  *“Great Garnash, I have traveled with these Orcs, hunted food for them, and killed with them.  Humans fell at my hands, and I yearned to kill more.  I used my skills, learned while hunting in the lands of our tribe, to disguise our trail, and keep the humans from following us back here.”*  Somehow the Dark Elf managed to keep a level of refinement, even after living with Orcs since her childhood.

Garnash nods to her, and Hargul dances up to look in Drusilla’s eyes.  *“You do honor to the tribe, your name is now, 'Drusilla Wolf-kin'.”*  He abruptly turns away to return to his dancing and prayers again.

Garnash points to Scrag. *“You there, what did you contribute?”*

Scrag ambles forward and begins what he thinks are his exploits. *“Scrag looking forward to maiming of unworthy creatures, leaping up from the dead and being the bane of all bent twig with string wielding creatures. Mostly, Scrag thirsts put down all who cowardly refuse to bring their challenge axe to axe and instead fling treachery from a distance.”*

Garnash looks on in astonishment at the Barbarian, and looks to Gorga, who explains. *“Scrag fought bravely and fell to many arrows.  He was healed by the Wicca FillexHulkil and has hatred for archers now.”*  Garnash nods, and Hargul comes dancing up again to look in Scrag’s eyes, not seeing much more than his reflection he announces. *“You do honor to your tribe, and you did service for your warband, your name is 'Scrag Limp-stick'.”*  A roar goes up from the relatively quiet surrounding tribe, and laughter is heard at this name.

Garnash silences them with a quick wave of his arm.  *“Enough... Limp-stick is one of us now.  He can earn a new name in future battles.”*  Hargul returns to his dancing and praying, while Garnash calls upon Ierkh, *“Ogre, come forth and give us your words of battle.”*

Ierkh tells his _“Tail.”_ 

*”O Garnush won tux: warband leave home to siek pinkskin viillig az ewe no. We are finding little hut, two pinkskins making strange noises insiid. Little goblin doesn't let Ierkh crash door, insted climes wall and opens from inside quietlee. We smash pinkskins while they sleep, it is most satisfying crunching noyz when Ierkh hit with his gud rok. Shardaxbartool tells Iirkh to eat little red fruits from plants outsiid, but Iirkh eat bit of pinkskin insted. Pinkskin tastee. 

We then attack pinkskin town, kill more miserable pinkskins as they sleep. But little orx and puni goblinz make too much noise, Ierkh has to chays pinkskin servints to gathering place where filthy pinkskin starts hitting big mettal can to waik warriors. Ierkh crush one under his great foot, pull off otherz hed with his mighty fist. Iirkh like to kill pinkskins. Iirkh glad to kill pinkskins for glory of traib. 

Filthy pinkskin shaman comes out of hut, tries to talk to warband like they are pinkskins. Little Gorga gets shaman to surrender, Ierkh makes sure tiny pinkskin no he will face quik deth if not listen. We get villig to set down weponz, they are so afraid of Ierkh. Shaman leads us to little pinkskin fort. Little Sharxmexbarkul thros magic into pinkskin patrol, tangles up orcs and Ierkh with filthy pinkskinz inside thorneevines, but we crush their hedz with mighty rock swings and stikpokes. We takes their spears and Gorga planz attack on fort. 

Mighty Ierkh leaps over little gate, tramples pinkskinz and makes mash of their braenz. Little pinkskin warband leeder tries to exkape, but great Iirkh breaks his flying stik with Rok. Sharnextarmool has no magiks to stop little pinkskin, other little shaman -- Felnixbignose -- makes it sleep insted. We take all wepuns and relees ork priziners from pinkskin cage. Ierkh strong, carry many trophies for band, for little orcs and puny goblinz can't carry prizes on their backs. 

Ierkh proud to swing Rok for honor of Vile Runes!”*  Cheers go up at this Ogrish mangling of what happened.  Nearly out of breath, Ierkh smiles at the response and hefts his rock for all to see, stained dark from all the recent blood.

Hargul dances near and looks up at the huge Half-Ogre.  *“You honor your tribe.  You are now known as 'Ierkh Stone-Fist'.”*  More cheers from the tribe, and Gorga pats Ierkh on the arm. *“Good show Ierkh.”*  Ierkh is beaming at all the praise.

Garnash calls for quiet again, and points to Sharraxtharkul.  *“You Goblin... What did you do?”*  Hargul dances around Ierkh for a second longer and casts his eyes towards Sharraxtharkul.

Sharraxtharkul steps forward, with his wolf companion at his side. *“Oh Great Garnash One-Tusk, I have traveled far with these Orcs, and used magic to aid them.  I made the plants come alive to trap Darokin pink skins for an easy kill, and to heal Ierkh when he would have fallen in battle.  I humbly submit my magic to the tribe and this warband.”*

All take notice of the powerful totem of the Wolf that Sharraxtharkul has at his side.  Their God Wogan was known as the first and best rider of wolves, when the horde was searching for a home.  This new spark of power could mean a shift in the tribe if Sharraxtharkul continues to gain in his abilities.

Regardless of his feelings, Hargul dances up and looks into the eyes of a possible future rival for power in the tribe. With an evil grin, Hargul begins  *“You have brought honor to your tribe, I name you 'Tangle-foot'!”*  A shock rushes through the tribe at this insulting Halfling-style name.  Hargul dances happily away to continue his prayers, knowing he will hear about this from Garnash later.  But tradition is tradition, and none will gainsay the shaman’s naming.

Still slightly shocked, Garnash points to Rhgl *“Goblin, the other one.  Tell us what you did.”*

Rhgl moves quietly forward and puffs himself up with a big breath.

*”Our Great Lord Garnash One-Tusk, this is my humble tale of a party of great warriors sent to invade the pinkskins.

After we leaving the safe-safeness of our home, we, the small band of young and eager warriors headed to the most dangerous borders. Gorga and Drusilla are able to gather what good we needed, while little ol' Rhgl was tasked with fashioning the first weapons that we are to use, simple spears. 

Finally we made our way, after a few days journey, to the edge of the pinkskin village. A small hut made of wood and clay stood before us. Poor, little ol' Rhgl sneak-sneak over to the hut. Peering inside the hole, I see our first pinkskin. Sneak-sneak back to the rest of the young warband, I tell them what is inside. Gorga, being the smarted of the group, agrees we should kill what is inside. 

Poor ol' Rhgl sneak-sneak back to the hut, and up up and inside the opening I did enter. Making my way to the door, I opens it for the band. Inside Ierkh lifts his massive rock, and BOOM! Off comes the head of the pinkskin. Off comes the head of the second one. 

Soon after we make our way to the village. We see a hut, with walls around.  Gorga thinks this place has something we want. Gorga is wise. Up up over the wall, Little Rhgl goes. I open the gate and lets us all in. Gorga, wise, heads around to the front, I go the other way. We make sure no pinkskins are around. 

Gorga spots a pinkskin, and with his weapon in hand, he cuts off the head of the pinkskin. The head rolls-rolls to my feat, and stares blankly up at me. Inside we sneak-sneak. Entering the sleeping chamber, we see more of these ugly pinkskins. Ierkh easy mashes head of one of the pinkskins. I not see what kill the other, but it's head came off as well. Who would have known pinkskins die-die so easy...?”*

Garnash waves his hands in the air, *“Enough, we will be here all night.”*
Hargul dances forward to look at Rhgl.  *“You honor your tribe Goblin.  Your name is now 'Rhgl Story-teller'.”*  He then dances off, with both Goblins staring death at his back, to finish the prayer.  As he finishes, Garnash One-tusk stands to address the tribe.

*“Vile Runes!!  I give you our newest members.  They will make up a new warband to join the others.  The Eagles.  Gorga Manhunter has proven himself to be the most fit and will lead this warband.” * 

The tribe begins cheering again, and fall silent with a wave of Garnash’s hand.  

*“Tonight we celebrate our growing tribe, we will grow and take over the lands around us, the Ogre lands to the West, The Fat Lips and Kobold lands to the East, and Human lands to the South.  The Vile Runes will be known and feared throughout the Broken Lands.”* 

After the cheering and yelling die down, Garnash finishes. *“You will be given all the benefits of tribe members from this night forth, see Gynk Lip-biter on the new day, for your first assignment. You may keep the weapons you have used for your own as your share.  Let the feasting begin!!!”* 

Hargul Wolf-Tongue points at the fire pit and begins chanting and waving his Gri-Gri.  A fire roars into being and the celebration begins.

*Next Up:  A visit to the Wayrest Trading Post*


----------



## ledded (Nov 30, 2004)

*We were like gods once...*

Here's a post from my story hour.  It's a strange mix of World War II and supers, and the main characters in this post have just gotten dropped into Arnhem and are essentially testing out their 'powers' for the first real time as they approach the central part of the city where their mission lies.

There were other posts I liked better, but because of the slightly psychotic way that I break up the story line, they would not have made enough sense in a small sample.

Link to the whole Story Hour is in my sig below.

*We were like gods once*

...

John halted, quietly going to one knee and raising a hand, open palmed, then curled into a fist.

Moose and Hank stopped and also went to a knee, Moose slowly scanning the surrounding area for Germans with his BAR. Another BAR was strapped to his back as well as loose bandoliers of grenades, ammo, several satchel charges and magnetic mines. Hank marveled at the ease at which Moose carried this load, but hell, he was over six-and-a-half feet and thick as a tree, he ought to be able to carry a few things.

They had been walking for close to a couple hours, stopping and starting, Smitty ghosting out in front of them and occasionally appearing out of nowhere to signal them forward. For the last thirty minutes they had been inside the city, but moving slowly so as to not attract a sniper’s attention or step into an ambush.

So far they had avoided contact with anyone hostile, though they did come across a couple groups of Dutch civilians heading out of town who warned them that the British were taking quite a beating up near the bridge. The bridge they should be getting pretty close to by now. They had heard distant sounds of tank or artillery fire, and occasionally a little bit of small arms fire, earlier in their walk. Well, Smitty said he could hear a good bit of small arms fire as they got close to the city; his senses were unnaturally acute, and Smitty didn’t say a whole lot but when he did you had a tendency to believe him, come hell or high water. So if he said there were British .303’s, PIATs, Brens, Stens, German MP40’s, Kar98’s, or MG42’s firing in the distance, as far as the boys were concerned it was a friggin’ fact.

Smitty silently moved back to John while Moose and Hank moved up when he motioned to them from the hidden lee of a ruined building. Hank had the map out and was looking for landmarks that matched the detail of the city map Smythe gave them with the bookstore on it; his finger was on one building and he was staring directly at a tall stone tower, possibly a clock tower of some kind, ahead and to their right about two blocks. Quite a few buildings had been torn up during the fight or before; there had been some shelling of some kind recently.

“Well thar, dingdangit it looks jes like we done found us a dang ol’ landmark thar boys”, Hank whispered, apparently proud, or surprised, that he’d been able to lead them this far by his map skills alone. “What say we dingdang spread out a mite and use that thar danged ol’ tower as a point to turn up thataways toward that thar bridge?”

Smitty, lighting a smoke, was the first to reply.

“Sounds good. We’ll just do this like we planned. I’ll go a little bit ahead and get up in that tower, see what I can and signal back to you. Be careful, boys, I could’ve sworn I heard tank treads on that bridge a few minutes ago and they were German by the sound of ‘em”.

No one questioned him; actually Moose took that as a cue to hand out a few satchel charges and magnetic mines to the others. Moose casually put one in Hank’s hand like a loaf of bread, who promptly overbalanced at the unexpected weight; the mine _clanged_ on the ground at Hank’s feet with him holding it. He grabbed it with his other hand and hefted it back up a bit shakily. Hank smiled sheepishly at the other’s startled faces and looked around for a moment before whispering, “Heh. Sorry ‘bout that. Damn, Moose, warn a dingdang feller ‘fore you start huckin’ 20 pound mines at ‘im.”

Smitty waited until Hank settled himself and then continued.

“Look, I betting the Brit’s have either withdrawn or fallen; I haven’t heard a British weapon fired in a while, which means the Krauts are probably heading down that very street soon to mop up. We need to get into position fast, but let’s be as quiet as we can. We’ll try to spread out around that tower; Moose, you’re gonna pick a covering position on the left where you can see the street, right? Hank, you take the right side and be ready to hit any armor on the flanks. John, back ‘em up and have yourself ready to move in quick to that shop if we can spot it from the tower. Sound like a plan, fellas?”

“Yeah dere, Smitty, I got ya covered, eh”, replied Moose.

“Yup. Got it”, John answered.

Hank looked up from where he was fiddling with the mine he dropped and dented, the other three looking expectantly at him.

“Um… yeah. Dingdang got it thar, partner… ‘cept all that last part, ‘bout dingdang coverin’ and movin’ and sech…”, Hank said.

Moose snorted; John shook his head and let out a sigh. Smitty just stared at Hank like Hank had suddenly grown a horn out of the middle of his forehead. Smitty’s look said he wasn’t all that alarmed about it, however wouldn’t mind pulling it off for him. 

And re-attaching it. 

Somewhere else. 

Somewhere… uncomfortable. 

Smitty could say a lot with just a look.

He took a deep breath and started, “Hank, what I…”

“Aw hell Smitty, dingdang I’s just messin’ with ya”, Hank shot back at him, grinning, as he slapped Smitty’s leg with the back of his hand. He arranged his gear and got ready to go.

John nodded at Smitty, his eyes crystal blue like a wolf’s. “Good hunting” he breathed at Smitty, and Moose couldn’t help repressing a slight shudder at the predator rasp in his voice. John smiled at them, a smile more feral than friendly, and loped off towards his position. 

Smitty clapped Moose on the shoulder, grinning, and headed out like a rapid ghost, a mere shadow of color on the grey city landscape as he moved silently and swiftly towards the tower. 

Hank took off in a crouching quick-walk towards where Smitty had directed him. “Meet ya up thar Bullwinkle”.

Moose just shook his head and moved off at the double towards a good covering position at the end of the street. _Heck, those boys are looking forward to this. To gettin’ at the Krauts. Bunch o’ nuts_, he thought as he moved his hulking frame into position.

Moose could hear the growling of distant engines as he started to peek out around a building corner next to the tower. He saw a darker shadow move in front of a third storey window of the tower that was most likely Smitty, and thought he might have seen shadows moving in the half-ruined buildings on the other side of the street. Moose caught sight of John, who motioned to him with a closed fist, made a sign for “tank” and counted “three” on his fingers. He then made the sign for infantry and motioned as if to say “a whole friggin sh*tload”. _Time to get to work_, Moose thought, and ran around the corner sliding behind a low wall, facing down the street towards the Arnhem bridge several blocks away.

As soon as he registered the fact that there was a Tiger and two Panzer tanks moving slowly down the street in single file several blocks away, infantry walking the sidewalks beside them, Moose was flinching away from hot-stinging lead and bits of rock as the MG42 he missed opened up on his position from across the street and a half-block away. Moose took a few quick, deep breaths, blowing them out forcefully, then gritted his teeth and rose up from behind the waist-high wall, opening up a long stuttering stream of suppression fire from his BAR. Nazis caught out in the open scattered as several of their number fell under the withering sleet of .30-06.

Their plan had been simple; Smitty would take a position in the highest building nearest the main street leading to the bridge. Moose would get into position at the end of the street, providing cover and drawing fire from the unfriendlies so Hank and John could move up the street towards the bridge, and the book store that was only a couple blocks from it. He also was going to draw out fire from any Krauts squirreled away in the buildings across the street so Smitty could pick a few choice targets. Hank and John would move up the right side, hopefully out of sight, and only engage if Smitty or Moose needed a hand.

As Smitty settled into position at the top of the tower he recalled a saying once about the best laid plans of mice and men.

…

He could see that Moose was going to be in trouble and quick. There were 3 tanks rolling down the street with at least 20 infantry providing them a screen. The opposite side of the street from Smitty, on Moose’s left, had Nazi’s crawling all over it, and several had set up nice ambush positions. On his right side, near where John and Hank were supposed to be, was a halftrack moving slowly down the alleyways, several Krauts running a scouting screen for it. _I bet it’s one of those flamethrower Hanomags,_ thought Smitty. _That’d be just our luck_. They were late, and Jerry had prepared them a little surprise.

_No matter_, thought Smitty_, we’ll manage_. _First things first_.

Smitty brought up his scoped Springfield 1903 and immediately sighted in on an MG42 nest that was ripping lead at Moose while a couple half-squads moved quickly towards his position. A Kubelwagon with an MG34 mounted on it zoomed down the alleyway towards the street. 

Smitty brought the MG42, tripod mounted with at least a three man fire team, into his scope. They had set up on the second floor of a bombed out building, and he could see movement between the shattered brick and masonry. He let out his held breath and fired, noting the spray of blood out of the gunner’s helmet as he toppled sideways and the firing stopped. Smitty heard Moose’s BAR firing, and immediately swung that way. There were four Germans moving double-time down an alley to Moose’s left, probably just out of his sight meaning to catch him on his flank.

Smitty sighted up the rearmost and fired so as not to alert his forward companions as they ran in a straight line. The man crumpled to the ground when Smitty shot him in the throat, and his companions kept moving. Then the next one’s head jerked backwards, his helmet clanging as it flew off of his head. _A little high,_ thought Smitty as he sighted up the third German and fired. The soldier had stopped and turned when he heard the helmet, and was just looking towards the tower coiled to spring towards cover with a “where the hell did that come from?” look on his face when Smitty shot him through his gaping mouth, open to shout a warning. The leading German dove for cover through a shattered doorway before Smitty could draw a bead on him. Smitty heard more machinegun fire, and swung his Springfield back towards the action after yelling a quick warning to Moose. He hated giving away his position, but he’d hate it more if that yellow-bellied Nazi got the drop on Moose.

The loader from the MG42 nest he had fired at before had taken over and was firing. Smitty could see he was crouching more and had pulled the gun back from the exposed edge a little, and at least one more German was trying to spot where Smitty’s fire was coming from. _Like that’s gonna do you any good. Man, I hate machine guns. Jeez, you’d think these b*stards could take a hint_.

…

Hank moved as quiet as he could across the alley between the tower and the next building, what looked like an old church of some kind. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the relative silence was broken by the staccato ripping of a German machine gun, followed by a barrage of small arms fire. He saw John at the other end of the alley signaling back towards the end of the street, (_aw crap, dingdang ol’ tanks again_, Hank thought) and then as he turned to rejoin Hank a second machine gun starting raining death on him from another building.

Hank took off running behind the church and stopped. He peeked through the broken windows, and could see a tank rolling by on the street on the other side. “Dingdang that feller’s gonna give ‘em sum trouble fer sure Itellyouwhat”, he said to himself, and began to concentrate.

Metal debris in the surrounding area began sliding and flying towards Hank, and as it began to revolve around him in a rough sphere of swirling debris Hank took the two magnetic mines that Moose had given him, one in each hand, and added them to the mix. He looked towards the roof of the church, and exerting his control over the magnetic energy in the surrounding area, raised his arms out by his sides, leapt upwards with a low hum, and rose steadily off the ground.

…

John wasn’t that used to running with the ground-pounders, but he was faster than anyone he had ever met now, and could move pretty quiet also. Leaving Hank at the back of the alley, he had skulked up towards the mouth, noticed the tanks and the infantry, and signaled Moose so he wouldn’t get caught with his pants down.

No sooner than he had signaled Moose and turned, the ripping sound of a second MG42 came to him and bullets _whizzed_ and _spanged_ under his feet and on the wall of the alley’s mouth. Chips of stonework sprayed painfully against his skin as he bolted for better cover.

He was smart enough to realize that the MG42 had good field of fire down the alley. He juked left out of the next volley of lead’s path as it tore into the paving stones and jumped through the broken front window of a church that made up the other side of the alley from Smitty’s tower.

John was just about to breathe a sigh of relief as he landed, cat-like, on the other side of the window when he realized he just landed behind someone wearing a grey uniform whose back was to him. A Wermacht grey uniform, with a black death’s-head patch on it.

Immediately John lashed out with both hands, wrapping his arms around the soldier’s neck and calling forth the aura of killing cold almost as a reflex. The Nazi threw his head back as if to scream, but frost was forming on his tongue and teeth as John crushed his windpipe like a cardboard tube. 

The soldier’s companion yelled and lowered his MP40, firing a burst at John. John quickly flung the body of the first soldier at him, bullets _thudding_ into the half-frozen corpse, following it with blinding speed. The Nazi barely had time to swing the butt of his submachinegun at John ineffectively before the pale-eyed man was on him, grabbing both sides of his head with hands cold like death and eyes as merciful as a glacier wall. John _moved_ the power of his killing frost differently, concentrating it, and the German’s eyes flew wide in shock, feeling his strength drain from him as his internal organs began to freeze from the _inside out_.

John let the body slide from his fingers and took a deep breath. Glancing out of the broken window he could see Germans firing down the street, moving, and a Panzer rumbling by right in front of him. Just as was he was reaching for a grenade or anything to use on it, he heard, more acutely _felt_ a strange vibration, looking up to see Hank floating over the shelled-ruined roof with a spinning globe of protective metal around him and two magnetic mines orbiting his waist in the sphere of metal.

He smiled, understanding what Hank was up to, and unslung his Garand. Taking aim, he quickly began shooting the infantry to scatter them away from the clanking monstrosity in front of him as they looked up at Hank. 

John just barely noticed the Hanomag pulling up on the opposite side of the church, leaving him with a Panzer on one side and a halftrack on the other. He took a quick second to peer at it through the windows of the church, wondering what was that nozzle where the machine gun was usually mounted? And why was it… burning?

“Oh damn, that can’t be good”, thought John.

…

As Hank floated past the apex of the Church’s destroyed roof, he gestured at the lead Panzer with both arms, teeth gritted in effort, squeezing his hands into clenched fists and slowly _pulling_ them apart.

The tank responded, shaking and shuddering violently while making strange _CRREEAAUUNKK_ noises of protesting metal. Several sections of armor crinkled and warped free from their bolts, the protective _shurtzen_ on the left side sprang off entirely, and a hatch twisted loose from its hinges as the engine went dead. Confused exclamations in German rose muffled from the interior. Several Germans on the ground looked around in confusion, and one pointed up at Hank, incredulous eyes goggling wide and screaming in German. Hank just smiled at them and yelled down “Hey, how ya’ll doin’?”, waving amiably as he saw John shoot several of them dead while they stared at him like hics at their first country fair.

Then he watched as the Tiger coming from behind the Panzer finished leveling its main gun straight down the street, and with a deafening *PHOOM!*, fired. Straight down at Moose’s position.

Hank didn’t dare spare a glance to see the results; he set his mouth in a grim line and dove down towards the ground in between the tanks.

…

Meanwhile, Moose had been firing relentlessly at the horde of Nazis now popping up in windows all over the left side of the street and the ones accompanying the tanks. He’d dropped several, saw Smitty pop a few more, but they were still laying heavy down fire on him. 

A couple Nazi’s sprang out close to him, charging and firing wildly with their MP40’s. The small caliber submachinegun rounds slammed all around Moose, a stream of them walking up his left side as he grunted in pain.

The Nazi’s looked at him, confused, as they saw their rounds pillow into Moose’s leg and ribcage, his skin and muscle rippling like a small stone dropped into a pond before the skin sprang back, unharmed, and the bullets fell _plinking_ to the ground next to him.

They had only a second to contemplate this phenomena before Moose deftly turned his BAR towards them, muttering “Dammit *that* sting’s a bit, eh?”, and shot them both dead with a burst of high-caliber fire.

Moose was having a little trouble catching his breath; he had been moving very quickly, firing-reloading-firing, ducking in-and-out of cover, and several rounds from the Germans had hit their mark. While they didn’t punch big holes in him like intended, they still hurt. He thought one might have even cracked a rib, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down. Nope; as they used to say in football, he was just _hitting his stride_ now.

The MG42 and some of the rifle fire that had been plaguing him had dropped off, _thanks Smitty_ Moose thought, though a Kubelwagon with an MG34 mounted on it just careened around an alley and began rushing at him, machinegun spraying wildly and hitting the building behind him.

Moose was just taking aim at the Kubelwagon when he heard Smitty’s voice yell out, “Moose! Left!”

Without thinking, Moose snapped out his left hand and glanced quickly. The sweater-necks back in England had given him a little going away present before he left: A large metal contraption, an oversized brass knuckle-looking thing made of some dull whitish metal. They said it would keep him from hurting his hand if he had to hit something harder than he was. 

He thought it a bit silly-looking but breathed silent thanks now; Smitty’s warning was for a lone German soldier that had flanked him. The Nazi had a panzerfaust not 30 feet away, and was just depressing the trigger as Moose spotted the Kraut, rocket screaming away from him in a cloud of smoke and flame right at Moose’s chest.

As Moose’s left hand snapped out, he felt a jarring impact to his knuckles. He had swatted the rocket out of the air to explode behind him, showering him with rocks and debris. That brass knuckle has just saved him a world of hurt. The Kubelwagon fired another burst at him, one round glancing off of his leg as the MG34 jammed with a _ker-chank_.

This was getting just a bit too intense for Moose. Time to even up the odds a little.

“Oh, so ya wanna play *rough* now, eh?” growled Moose, rapidly losing his patience with the Nazis. He flexed his mighty shoulders and _heaved_ against his own form, mentally _pushing_ against the boundaries of his own flesh, feeling the power within him light his skin on prickling fire as he felt it flood his body and _expand_ outwards in a violent surge.

The Nazi who fired the Panzerfaust fell back on his rump in surprise, scrabbling for his rifle, muttering “Gott in Himmel… Gott in Himmel…”

The large American he was sure he had just killed had just exploded outwards in a ripple of skin and flesh and now stood before him holding a paving stone ripped from the sidewalk that was the size of a medium table-top. 

He was now over *nine* feet tall.

And five feet wide.

And very, very angry.

The German scrambled, hands shaking, for his rifle, and had just flipped the safety off of it when he looked up to see the paving stone heading straight for his head and chest. He then saw nothing but a flash of light, then darkness.

Moose turned, dusting his hands, satisfied that he had taken care of *that* Nazi. He heard the three Germans in the stopped Kubelwagon, grinding its gears in front of him, screaming at each other in their panic to clear the jammed MG34. He tore a large chunk off the wall in front of him off with two massive hands. At least now he saw why those brass knuckles were so big and his uniform was special made and hung like a potato sack on him, why the Materials scientist had warned him not to tighten his bandoliers any tighter than _this _mark as it all stretched tightly across his much-larger body. He raised the huge chunk of stone over his head and turned towards the Kubelwagon, grinning.

The grin slid off of his face as he heard the _whirring_ of a tank’s turrent suddenly stop.

He saw the Tiger down the street, big gun aimed right at him.

Moose flinched, snapping the chunk of wall down in front of him reflexively.

“Oh shi..”

*PHOOM!*

There was a tremendous impact and explosion, the Nazis in the Kubelwagon ducking for cover as bits of rock and steel rained everywhere. The form of the immense American streaked backwards from the impact to _CRASH_ into the building facing fifteen feet behind him, which promptly fell in a shower of bricks leaving a large gaping hole.

They all cheered and looked for a new target as they turned away from the smoking crater where Moose had just been standing, one smoking and torn jump-boot the only testament that he had ever been there.

...


----------



## Angcuru (Nov 30, 2004)

Well, it's hard to pick a favorite installment from my Story Hour, seeing as how I wrote every single word of it (mostly), and each post has its own feel to it, but I like the pacing of this one.  Basically it's based on the Baldur's Gate CRPG storyline with a lot of stuff shifted around, changed, and a WHOLE lotta stuff added.  Link to the whole thing is in my sig if you want to read the whole story thus far.

**************

Angcuru could not help but sigh with comfort as he lay abed. Soft feather down pillows, a firm but comfortable mattress, and lots of fluffy quilts were a much welcome change from cold earth. It had been a long time since any of them had enjoyed such luxuries. Luckily, Jaheira had been able to contact the local sect of harpers and tapped into their funds. For such a secretive organization, they sure had money to spare.

So great was his comfort that he did could not perceive Imoen creeping into his room with a pillow of her own, raised high to strike.

*WHUMPH* The pillow impacted Angcuru’s face, and feathers went flying all over the room. He leapt out of the bed and landed on the floor in a tumble of quilts, feathers covering him from head to toe. He spat several out of his mouth, coughing and choking.

*HAAACK COUGH COUGH COUGH* “IMOEN! *cough* what the *cough* HELL did you do that for?!”

Imoen shook with laughter as she leaned against the doorjamb. “Oh, that was great! You should have seen the look on your face! *ahem* Anyway, it’s almost noon, and you’re the only one still in bed.”

“And you woke me because . . . ?” Angcuru disentangled himself from the bedding and began to clothe himself. New clothes too, Jaheira sure had some generous allies.

“A representative from the local harper group is here to see you, says he needs to talk to you.”

“Damn it. I told Jaheira not to tell them I was with her. Well, they do have spies all over the whole length of the Sword Coast. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Hurry up before they stop serving breakfast. If there’s anything left in the larders, that is. I know Minsc is a big guy, but DAMN can he eat. He even insisted that they bring out some cabbage for Boo. Anyway, make with the hurrying.” Imoen darted out of the room.

Angcuru stumbled out of bed. It never failed. Any time he found a bit of comfort, it was snatched right away from him. He removed the last of the feathers from his hair and headed for the common room. Minsc had a whole table to himself, with empty bowls and platters taking up what room wasn’t covered by a huge rack of lamb he was currently devouring.

The room was almost full of people chatting and eating, mostly merchants and other folk in the commerce business. Imoen was standing at the bar sipping on a glass of mulled wine chatting with the bartender. Jaheira and a well groomed dwarf in very fine clothing were sitting in a secluded corner speaking in secretive tones. They appeared to be busy, so he sat down at Minsc’s table, cleared away a small area for himself, and motioned for the servant girl.

The girl is very pretty, half-elf, by the look of her, and being the only table waiter, she was dashing about taking orders for everyone present. “Hi, how was your rest? That’s nice. We’re still serving breakfast, but you can order whatever you want. What’ll you have? Don’t worry about paying; Mr. Fancy Pants dwarf over there is picking up the tab.” She didn’t even wait for him to reply to her first inquiry, and now stood there vibrating with impatience.

“Ham and cheese omelet, lots of pepper. A side each of crispy bacon and sweet sausage, the sausage blackened. An apple, glass of chilled milk, and a mug of hot mulled cider.”

She wrote furiously on a small pad of parchment, and the moment he stopped speaking she dashed off, dodging between tables and stepping over the morning drunks.

Angcuru sat back and waited for her to return with his order, and observed Minsc devouring an entire rack of lamb on his own. “Are you sure you’ve got enough food there, Minsc?”

Minsc wiped the grease off of his mouth with the table cloth. “Minsc is not sure. He is quite hungry, and is not satisfied yet. Boo is the same.”

“And where is Boo?”

“Minsc does not know.”

Angcuru reached for a seemingly untouched biscuit, and was about to bit into it when it squeaked. “GAAAAHH!” The biscuit hit the table, crumbled a little, and four furry legs broke through the crust. A small nose then poked through the side, and the biscuit proceeded to crawl towards the gravy by Minsc’s lamb. Angcuru suddenly felt a lot less hungry. He saw Jaheira motioning him over to her table, which was decidedly less cluttered with bones and dishes than where he sat now.

Angcuru sat down with Jaheira and the well-dressed dwarf, noticing that the dwarf had bright eyes and a very curly mustache which extended almost to his shoulders. “Ah, you must be Angcuru. Pleased to meet you, I’m Councilman Kinomer.”

“Kinomer is an odd name for a dwarf, in my experience.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but then again my family has always been rather odd, culturally speaking. We prefer to live in lavish luxury instead of in a filthy mine, and Athkatla has suited us very well through the years. But that’s not the core matter of this discussion, now is it?”

Angcuru’s food arrived at table, and the half-elf servant girl was gone almost as suddenly as she appeared. “The service here is quite good, I must say.” He began to eat. “As is the food.”

“Isn’t it though? I thought you might like it. The Mithrest Inn has been in my family for quite some time now. When my agents identified Jaheira at the site of the disaster in the Promenade, we wasted no time in finding accommodations. Now, I need to discuss some things with you, concerning recent events. This will take some time, so please continue eating while I speak.”

Angcuru found the eggs and sausage cooked just the way he liked them, good and burnt. Most people disdained burnt food, but he found that if they were overdone just a tad, more flavor came through. He nodded to Kinomer and continued to eat.

“Good. Of course you know that a demented and extremely powerful mage has recently been captured by the Cowled Wizards.”

“I wouldn’t say he was captured.” Jaheira said. “More like he let them take him in.”

“Oh? That’s quite odd. Irvencoia would know just as anyone else at his level would that Spellhold is not the type of place one goes willingly. Hmm. That does complicate the matter somewhat. Eligre! A pint of the house’s top ale over here, quick like!” The servant girl nodded as she scrambled by, laden with a tray of cider.

“Ecstasy?” Angcuru inquired. “That’s an unusual name. No one would name their child in that manner, why does she go by that?”

“Stop by after hours and you’ll find out, handsome.” Eligre chirped with a wink as she passed their table again.

Kinomer chuckled. “Oh, you’re in for it now, Angcuru.”

“How do you mean?”

“Once Eligre sets her eyes on someone she’s attracted to, she doesn’t let up. Ever.”

“You mean . . . ?”

“You won’t be lonely tonight, if she has anything to do with it.”

Angcuru swallowed hard, mumbled incoherently under his breath, and returned to his breakfast.

“Well, back to the matter at hand.” Kinomer accepted his ale from Eligre, took a healthy swig, and slammed the tankard onto the table. “The Council of Six, which more or less runs this city, has an understanding with the Cowled Wizards. We don’t levy taxes on their organization and gave them a small island a ways off the coast to set up their operations, and they police the use of magic in our city. They arrest anyone who uses excessive magic, hold them at their base of operations, and at the end of each month send us a list of the offenders. Those who were wrongfully imprisoned are released as are those whose offense was minor. The rest are kept at Spellhold, for whatever the Cowled Wizards see fit.

“However, the situation with Irvencoia isn’t something they were prepared for. He is far more powerful than anyone they have dealt with before. They have wards against powerful magic they can erect they may reduce the threat he poses, though such things take a good deal of time to prepare. We on the Council of Six are concerned with the possibility that Irvencoia may overpower them and take control of the facility, turning it to his purposes.

“The problem we have is that we don’t possess a full idea of what Irvencoia is capable of. He was first brought to our attention by Elminster, who in his infinitely meddlesome nature had been scrying all around Faerun for anyone who might be in a position to jeopardize his near monopoly on extremely advanced magic. He found that this Irvencoia character has apparently appeared from out of nowhere, with a capability seemingly on par with his own. This of course was very startling, and with no clear idea of his real power, we could only observe.

“For some time we had been monitoring his activities, until we lost track of him several months ago. Considering that he had a full laboratory, prison cells, a staff of constructs and dark dwarves, and most likely a great deal more than this, beneath the very heart of our city, is very disturbing. ”

“So where do I come in?” Angcuru asked.

Kinomer sipped at his ale and twirled his mustache. “We need to know about Irvencoia’s intentions. He has taken a great interest in you, obviously because of your lineage, but for what purpose we have no idea. In the event that he . . . neutralizes the Cowled Wizards, he will very likely come after you.”

“What do you expect me to do, then? Wait around and see what happens?”

“Precisely.”

“Come again?”

“We need to keep track of Irvencoia, to make sure that we know what to expect of him.”

“So you want me to be your insurance policy.”

“For lack of a better explanation, yes.”

“And why should I place myself in danger just for the peace of mind of a bunch of over-privileged fops such as you?”

Kinomer frowned. “Because you will be well compensated for your trouble. Our organization is offering you and each of your companions fifty gold pieces a fortnight just to stay within Amn. Plus you may stay at my Inn at no cost. It is quite a generous offer, as I see it, since you are more or less a hero to our nation.”

Angcuru stared at his food, which now tasted less of good cooking and more of extortion. He pushed it away. “Then you can forget about it.” He stood up and began to walk towards the door.

Jaheira’s hand grasped his wrist firmly. “You would reject such a generous offer? After our ordeal below, such an opportunity to rest should be welcome.”

“Then why are you not in mourning for your ‘beloved’ husband?” Angcuru’s words turned Jaheira ashen-faced. He removed her hand from his wrist and faced Kinomer. “Ever since my lineage was revealed I have known naught but malice, whether by word, coin, or steel. I would have been willing to help you, had it been for the greater good, but you have slain that possibility as surely as with an axe. You will receive no aid from me.”

Angcuru was halfway to the door, when Kinomer called to him. “That’s too bad, then. I wonder how the common folk will react when they learn that their hero is murder incarnate?” Kinomer sat calmly at table, now puffing on a clay pipe.

Angcuru’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the table. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You will stay within our borders, as a corpse if need be.” Kinomer tapped a pouch of coins he had placed in front of Angcuru. “I suggest you accept my offer.”

Angcuru’s glare at Kinomer would have curdled fresh cream. He snatched the pouch and stalked out of the Inn, slamming the door behind him. He was sick and tired of being manipulated by those who valued their cause above all others. It was always the so-called ‘noble’ people who did this, never the common folk, who were blessed in their ignorance.

To blow off some steam and clear his mind he walked through Waukeen’s Promenade, the prime center of commerce in the city of coin. Vendors of weaponry, silk, exotic creatures, jewelry, every conceivable commodity were present. Angcuru realized that not having finished his breakfast, he was still hungry. He bought a fresh loaf of bread and snacked as he walked. Hero indeed, nobody gave him a second glance. Not surprising, though. It was not as though anyone had a clue as to what he looked like.

The screaming started when he passed by a large circus tent.


----------



## Jodo Kast (Nov 30, 2004)

*First Sight*

This is a clip from the _First Sight_ thread penned by Lamprolign and me.  The story is set in Chicago.  Several of our heroes are tracking a mysterious menace who has killed several of their number and recently threatened another.  Our cast (for this installment): Gabe, intrepid crime scene investigator who recently became aware of startling psychic/mystic abilities; Mary, teenage witch who finds herself in the predicament of being stuck as a disembodied spririt inside Gabe's head, but still able to exercise her sorcerous powers through him; Poe, vampire as lethal as she is lovely; Piotr, Russian hitman (who just happens to be a werewolf).  Mind you, this installment was imagined, written and posted well before the _Underworld_ movie hit the scene.  Please drop in on our humble little story hour and let us know what you think.

018

_Do you care what the line is,
Do you care if you won't,
Lesson one is let's stop waiting for the sunlight
It's not crazy to bow down in the full moon, in the full moon

Do you care what the riot is,
Do you care if its falsefied,
Lesson one is let's stop waiting for the sunlight
It's not crazy to bow down in the full moon, in the full moon

Hey, hey I'm dead on arrival,
Hey, hey I'm distant
Crawling right back, yes, I'm crawling right back_

- Urge Overkill, _Honesty Files_

"Where are you going?"

"Hunting."


****

"More coffee sir?" The waitress waved a half-full carafe towards the man's cup.

"No thank you," the man responded with an accent that she thought was Slavic.

She considered asking him where he was from. She had just started a Russian language class at university and was curious. The man turned and looked at her for a brief moment before staring back out onto the street. His gaze chilled her to the core. She turned and walked quickly away.

Piotr glanced at the young woman as she disappeared into the cafe's kitchen. Her revulsion amused him. He looked at the clock that hung above the counter of the small cafe. Midnight. He began to wonder if Asher was going to leave the building this night. _No matter. We can finish our business indoors...._

****

The northeast wind bit through Gabe's coat, causing him the shiver violently. "Where the hell are we going?"

"Asher said he needed to work. He'll be in his office. We're going there to watch and wait. He'll be our bait."

"I don't suppose this guy knows that he's bait?"

"He made it clear last night that he didn't want our help," Poe said with an edge in her voice. "I'm out to stop this freak before he goes after somebody else from the Haven. We're not here to protect Asher."

"_Poe,_" Mary protested, "_he's still a person. We can't just let him die._"

"He should have thought of that before he turned his back on us," Poe shot back. "His loss will be well worth it if it allows us to stop the beast."

"Why am I following a psycho?" Gabe's mumble was heard only by Mary, who remained uncharacteristically silent.

****

Piotr sighed. Too many people, he thought as he walked past the building's rear entrance. Trucks were already there, lining up in preparation to deliver the morning edition. He turned the corner out of the alley, heading back toward the cafe. A blast of cold wind greeted him, cold that would have sent most hurrying indoors. Piotr raised his face to the wind and embraced the chill despite his relatively sparse attire consisting of a gray turtleneck and faded jeans. A dark blue toboggan pulled over his brow covered his head. He weaved his way quickly between the numerous pedestrians crowding the sidewalks. _Perhaps you will live yet another night, comrade._

The wind shifted direction as it eddied around the buildings. Piotr stopped. A familiar scent triggered a short burst of adrenaline. _Have you come out to play little girl?_ Piotr scanned the faces surrounding him to no avail. A twist of wind carried the scent to him. With the wind swirling there was no way he could discern where she might be. He didn't believe it was a coincidence that the vampire was in his hunting ground again. She would have to be dealt with before Piotr could continue the hunt. A thin smile creased his face at the thought.

****
Poe stood quietly in the shadows of a darkened doorway. The werewolf paused ten yards from her. He slowly looked around, turning a full circle, and then he moved on. As he moved past, she slipped out into the flow of people behind him. She could hear her pulse beating in her head, feel the strength coursing through her. Her recent feeding had replenished her beyond the cost of regeneration. Poe grinned wickedly. The werewolf had toyed with her. He would pay dearly.

Gabe followed a few paces behind the vampire. He wondered again why he had tagged along. He supposed that part of it was professional interest. A crime had been committed, and even though this was not exactly conventional investigation, the bad guy needed to be stopped. Maybe part of it was something Mary had said. _They're your people too_. He wasn't quite ready to admit that to himself, but it lurked in his subconscious. 

"_I've got a bad feeling about this,_" Mary said quietly.

"Me too," Gabe whispered. 

****

Piotr continued to walk. He passed the cafe where he was seated earlier, and then turned down a narrow alley that led off of Adams into shadows. _Follow, little girl_.

****

Poe watched the man in the gray sweater pass into the shadows of an alley. She slipped silently into the dark lane. A stygian mist gathered around her, swirling up from the ground, until she disappeared. The black mist spread from the dark recesses of doorways and from under overhangs. Tendrils filled the alley, blocking the light from the thoroughfare behind her. She smiled, pleased by the darkness.

The slightest scraping sound gave scant warning as several hundred pounds of fur and claw rushed toward her. She sidestepped, testing his ability to see in her shadow mist. He changed direction immediately, bearing down on her. Leaping to the side, she barely evaded the swipe of razor talons. _Damn! How can he see me_?!

Poe rolled to her feet. She spotted her quarry skidding around for another charge, fully transformed, a mass of bristly fur, sharp teeth and claws. In a single leap she closed the distance between them. Her booted foot landed squarely on the monster's eye with a wet crunching sound and the spatter of blood. He snarled in rage, swiping sideways with his tooth filled maw. Poe bounded away, landing on a second floor fire escape platform. 

The beast angled its head toward her. One eye was bloody but the other transfixed her with a baleful yellow stare. It leapt, easily clearing the distance to the platform. Poe sprang away at the last instant, sailing across the alley to find a tenuous perch on a third floor windowsill. No sooner had the beast's feet made contact then it jumped again. Poe somersaulted into midair, arcing gracefully to the pavement below. The creature crashed through the window and inside the building. 

****

Gabe stood on the sidewalk where the alley disappeared behind an inky veil of unnatural darkness. Sounds of a struggle pierced the black veil, followed by the crystalline refrain of breaking glass.

"_We have to go in there,_" Mary said. "_Poe could be hurt._"

"If we go in there, I could be hurt. Poe's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Gabe responded. Several minutes passed and the darkness in the alley dissipated. He saw no sign of Poe or the beast. 

"."

Gabe cautiously walked down the alley. About fifty paces brought him to a spatter of blood on the pavement. _I wonder whose..._. There were gouges in the pavement where the creature's claws dug in as it leapt. A shard of broken glass caught his attention. He looked up and saw the shattered window. 

"!" 

Gabe stared at the window three stories overhead, and then looked around at street level. There was a steel door opening into the building a few yards away. He knew before he tried that the door would be locked.

"_Fosgail an dràstar_," Mary spoke.

Gabe heard his voice speaking in time with hers. The door crumpled inward, ripping from its frame and crashing against the wall of what looked like a hallway.

"_Oops._"

"Nice Mary," Gabe said. "Why don't we get some trumpets and firecrackers to announce ourselves while you're at it. You could ask before you hijack my vocal cords, you know." He stepped through the door.

**** 

Piotr's right eye was useless. He could feel the blood trickling down his cheek, taste it in the corner of his mouth. Moving swiftly, he crossed the long narrow room. By the light of computer monitors he could make out a door at the far end. The corners of his mouth turned up in a horrific parody of a smile. The tight quarters here would work to his advantage. He slipped through the door into the corridor beyond. 

****

Glass crunched under her feet as Poe stepped from the windowsill. Scattered spots of blood led away from the window into a long narrow room lined by desks. Poe stood for a moment listening. Silence. She moved across the room toward the only door. The blood trail continued down the corridor beyond. A multitude of doors opened on either side of the hallway, black openings through which her quarry might be waiting. 

****

He heard the faint scuff of a booted foot. He became still, his breathing a barely audible whisper. The central heating carried the smell of fresh earth to his nostrils. She was near. The muscles in his legs tensed, readying to spring. His ears strained to hear her approach.

****

Poe stopped. Did she hear something? Every nerve was strung snare-tight. Then she heard the soft sound of exhalation. She whirled and saw the beast hurtling toward her. There was no room to dodge in the close confines of the corridor. It slammed into her with bone crushing force. She was pinned between the beast and the wall. One arm under the creature's snout barely kept the jagged teeth from her face. Blood seeped through her coat where talons had raked her shoulders. She brought her knee up hard into the creature's rib cage. Bones gave way beneath the blow and Poe heaved the beast back. She felt the walls pressing in. She couldn't maneuver in such tight quarters.

It charged again. At the last moment Poe dropped to the floor with her legs pulled tightly to her chest. As the creature pressed its attack, she uncoiled explosively, planting both feet in the creature's chest. Up and over it went, carried by its own momentum. Its back tore through the drop ceiling. Pieces of plaster tile and steel frame rained from above. The beast's trajectory carried it through a steel door into a stair well.

Before the rain of ceiling had stopped it scrabbled to its feet again. Poe considered her options quickly. She had to get out of this building. It would only be a matter of time before the werewolf's greater weight and weaponry won the battle in the enclosed space of the hallway.

It leapt. Poe could not evade this time. They rolled down the hallway, Poe trying desperately to keep the toothy muzzle away from her throat and face. She was unable to land any blows of her own. The talons ripped long gashes on her shoulders. Its hind feet lacerated her legs. The gray carpeting of the hallway floor turned dark with Poe's blood.

****

Gabe had just entered the stairwell when he heard the door above him explode open from a great impact. He looked up to see a light rain of white dust float down from the third floor landing.

"!" 

Gabe ran up the stairs, wondering exactly what good he was going to do when he got there. He skidded through the ruined third floor door into a hallway. There was Poe, pinned under the beast and from the looks of things not doing too well.

"_POE_!"

It seemed to Gabe as if Mary's voice had split his skull in two. He felt an incredible surge of emotion coarse through him as Mary's thoughts spilled into his consciousness. Gabe's arm raised before him, his fingers and hand held flat, pointing toward the creature.

"_Balaas aingeal_!" their voices intoned together. 

Red light swirled around his hand and then surged forward to strike the beast in the shoulder. It howled in pain. The air reeked of burnt hair and flesh. It turned a baleful eye in their direction. Gabe's other hand swung around as if throwing.

"_Ròiseal viitahea_" 

A compression wave, outlined in pale blue light, streaked outward from the arc of Gabe's arm. It tore down both sides of the hallway, shattering drywall and steel frame. It struck the still smoldering beast, sending it flying to the opposite end of the hallway with a sickening crunch of breaking bones and tearing flesh. Gabe brought his hand in front of his face and gawked at it as if it were some alien thing suddenly grafted to his body. 

The beast rose from the floor, staggered two steps, and then disappeared through the far door. Poe climbed to her feet, dripping blood but still moving.

"Don't let it get away!"

Gabe sprinted after the werewolf, Poe a step behind. They burst through the far door. A trail of blood drops made it a simple task to follow the creature. It led to another stairwell. The trail went up. Gabe thought they must be at the fifth floor when the trail exited the stairwell. The door deposited them on the top floor of an adjoining parking building. Gabe skidded to a halt. An image flashed across his mind of the creature flying through the air. He turned in time to see the beast leaping from a dark corner where the parking building connected with the building they had just exited. Its jaw clamped down hard on Gabe's left arm as he failed to dodge the attack. Gabe felt a great pressure and was sure he heard bones splintering. Then he was slung from side to side as the beast began to rip him apart. Suddenly it released him.

Gabe saw Poe on the creature's back. With both arms locked around its neck she clamped its windpipe shut. It thrashed wildly for a moment then jumped straight up, flipping over onto its back and pinning Poe between itself and the concrete floor. Her breath was taken away as the impact forced all the air from her lungs. Her grip loosened enough for the beast to roll away. Poe sprang to her feet, landing in a crouch, ready for another attack. 

Gabe lay still on the concrete. He was still conscious but he couldn't move. His left arm was a shattered ruin from the elbow down. He could see bits of broken bone protruding from several places. Blood pulsed out. Gabe's battered brain registered that an artery must be cut. He had to stop the bleeding.

"_Voraes ni tuagh banigh_."

"_Gabe_," Mary's voice seemed muted, as if she were speaking through a wall. "_Gabe, you have to stay with me here_."

"_Voraes ni tuagh banigh_."

Gabe felt a tingling in his arm, and a small measure of strength returned to him. He looked at the shattered arm. Blood continued to ooze out of the many lacerations, but it no longer surged. He looked over to see Poe and the werewolf warily circling. Each looked for a weakness in the other's defenses. Gabe could not stand. He crawled back toward the wall and propped himself up against it. 

Poe kept her eyes locked on the creature's left eye. The right eye was swollen shut in an angry red mass that was still dripping blood. As they circled, Poe gradually closed the distance between them. She dropped straight down, catching her weight on her hands, swinging both legs around. The kick caught the creature on the end of its snout. A tooth flew out and skidded across the concrete. 

The werewolf lunged, its jaw snapping shut inches from Poe's face. She fell back on her shoulders, pulled her legs to her and kicked out. This time the blow landed solidly in the creature's throat. It made a gasping rasp and backed away. Poe was up in a heartbeat, catching the beast just below the ear with a roundhouse kick. It faltered for a moment and then lunged, seizing Poe's leg in a crushing bite. It thrashed Poe from side to side, slamming her into the concrete. 

Gabe saw the vampire fall with the creature latched onto her leg. He raised his right arm, fingers outstretched.

"_Caer’aroon naes naeor_," Gabe said in time with Mary.

Bolts of blue light shot from Gabe's hand, striking the creature in the ribcage. Howling, it released the vampire. It turned to face Gabe. Poe rolled away and regained her footing. Her leg was broken. She nearly fell when she tried to put weight on it. Poe balanced on the good leg and looked around. The edge of the deck was only a few yards behind her. If she could only get the beast near enough.…

Gabe's arm hung limp at his side. He'd lost a lot of blood before Mary slowed the bleeding ... too much blood. 

The beast watched Gabe's head loll to the side. This one was no longer a threat. He turned back to face the vampire in time to receive a vicious kick to the head. Bright lights exploded in its vision. It turned, snapped blindly and felt fabric tear through its teeth. It saw the vampire standing just a short distance away. She seemed to be favoring one leg. A final attack should finish her. He leapt toward the vampire clawed forelimbs fully outstretched. He would tear her apart. More swiftly than his eye could follow she feinted to the left. Where his target had stood now he saw only open space and lights far below. 

Poe crawled back to the edge and peered over. Bakayaro, she thought. She could just make out a crushed form on the sidewalk far below. Good riddance. Poe looked at Gabe's unconscious form. Maybe he wasn't such a loser after all... 

****

Gabe opened his eyes. He saw a varnished tongue and groove pattern above. That's not my ceiling. Sunlight was flooding the room through windows that were out of his line of sight. He heard a sound to his side.

"Well, I see that you are finally awake Gabriel." The Sister's voice floated from across the room.

"How...?"

"...did you get here?" the Sister finished for him. "Poe carried you."

Gabe's eyes widened and he felt his neck for wounds with his right hand. At the same time he realized his arm was bound in an elaborate splint. 

"I think Poe might be offended by your reaction," the Sister chuckled softly. "As amusing as it was."

"_How is Poe_?" 

"She's fine, Mary," the Sister answered. "She is much more durable than our unfortunate public servant here."

"Thanks," Gabe said. "What happened to the hairy-scary?"

The Sister allowed the spinning wheel to coast to a stop. She looked out the window before answering. "He disappeared. No body was found."

"Lovely," Gabe replied, "meaning he could be and probably is still out there."

"Yes," the Sister continued looking out the window. "He must be severely injured though. I don't believe we will see him for some time. The most troubling aspect of these events is why. Until we know that it will be very difficult to guard against." The Sister paused and looked back at Gabe. "I fear there is something more at work here than the werewolf, I just don't know what or who...yet."


© Austin Hale

First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour


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## Enk&D'Shai (Nov 30, 2004)

*Small Beginnings*

Well, I guess we should get with the program and throw our hat in the ring too.

Good idea. But you better let me throw mine instead.

What?

Your hat. It would be better if you left it on.

What in the nine hells are you talking about?

Just trust me.

Oh no. I haven't trusted you since that time in...

Do you really want people to see your bald spot?

I do not have a bald spot.

Sure you will... I mean do.

Good grief! I fall for the Nair-in-the-shampoo-bottle trick one time...

Now don't go pulling your hair out over it.

I hate you.

I'll just push the button.

Yeah. You do that.

****

What follows if an full post excerpt from Small Beginnings, a mid length and complete story hour. It is reproduced in its entirety, including the sometimes entertaining introduction that the SH later become known for.

****


Hi all!

My cohort in crime, Dshai527, suggested that we make a concerted effort to start posting more often (two times a week if possible) until we catch up, so here we are with another update.

Once again, it comes with a switch of point of view, this time through the eyes of your favorite sorceress. Hopefully these frequent switches are giving you a taste of what's underneath the exteriors of these characters!

Well, I'd better get to posting before D'shai (who's standing over my shoulder this very second) decides to make me put in another one of those...

Dang it, he already came up with one.

OK - "tip of the day"

Beavers don't live in pajamas. Unless invited.

Don't ask me - I have no idea where he comes up with these things.

Enjoy!

*****

Aurora’s thin brow furrowed in concentration as she finished her quick incantation and pointed at the last rat visible on the stairs. She felt the surge of magical energies swell in her fingertips and lash out, taking the form of a single purple dragon’s maw, just as she envisioned it. The eldritch missile streaked unerringly toward her target, and burst into its side: with a squeal, the huge rodent fell heavily to the iron lattice floor. Exhausted from the channeling of multiple spells, yet at the same time tingling with lingering pleasure, Aurora let her arms fall heavily to her sides, while she peered over the edge to her companions on the stairs.

“My thanks, Aurora. I do believe that is the last of them.” Ashrem’s silky tenor carried up from below, confirming what the young sorceress had already surmised. “And I have good news. Brother Theo is moving down there, and the rats that fell with him are not.”

On hearing that Theo was still alive, Aurora let out a long, relieved sigh. She looked over at Pack, standing close by, and saw that the halfling could barely contain his joy at the news – the red haired spellcaster imagined he might burst at any moment – and she could see him visibly fight the urge to run right down the rickety staircase.

Ander called out from the stairs, “As long as you take it slow, you should be able to get down without a problem.” As if to dispute the exotic woodsman’s statement, the iron railings creaked in reply, but Aurora saw that Pack was already on his way to the first landing. With a shrug, she followed him down the switchback.

With Ashrem in the lead, the four made their way down the stairwell. Aurora stretched her limbs as she walked after her companions. It had been quite some time since she had worked this hard. This was definitely more exciting than life in the city, studying books and dusting shelves in the library. The young sorceress paused to examine the carcass of one of the bloated rats as she came down to the third landing. A wicked grin was locked on the dead rodent’s jaw, while pus oozed from the burn mark that her missile had left. Aurora felt her stomach tightening at the sight and tried not to retch as she hastily continued down the stairs.

A flurry of wings descended on the railing next to the fleeing sorceress as she hurried from the grisly scene. The sight of Athena, her trusted companion, calmed the maiden’s nerves and she stopped to ruffle the owl’s head feathers. Her hand stopped short as Athena sent her a grim message. Mistress Sunrise, the bloated food is hunting the old wise one.

Aurora gripped the rail and leaned over to view the area where she suspected the cleric might be. At first glance the concerned mage saw no sign of the priest through the mists. Then a lone figure rounded the base of the plateau at a full run, a pack of rabid rodents on his heels. Panic gripped the young sorceress as she watched the old warrior turn to face his attackers. She shrieked a warning. “Ander! Ashrem! Theo’s in trouble! He needs help, now!”

Without hesitation, both warriors rushed to aid their companion. Aurora gasped as the pair leapt over the railing of the fourth landing and fell the twenty feet toward the ground. Ander hit the ground softly with wisps of smoke billowing out from under his boots that the sorceress automatically recognized as a magical effect. The shadowy feloine amazed the naïve maiden by gracefully landing on his feet and then tucking into a perfect roll that left him standing with his short blade drawn and ready. Then the two rushed off toward the hard pressed cleric.

The young mage turned her attention back to Theo, who had managed to out maneuver the rats following him. He had turned to face them in a narrow part of the gap between the plateau and the ravine wall, and this had stopped them from surrounding him completely, but he still looked overmatched. Rats snapped and bit at his legs and torso, while he sought to fend off their teeth with quick movements of his shield. Even as far away as she was, Aurora could tell he was tiring quickly.

Suddenly, Ander was there, rushing up behind and then leaping over the cleric just as the old campaigner stepped back. The handsome woodsman rooted himself in Theo’s place and his quarterstaff became a blur as he fended off attack after attack. While Ander covered the retreat, Ashrem pulled Theo away from the fight and back to relative safety. Aurora could barely hear the old priest’s booming voice warning the young warriors that these were no ordinary rats.

A tendril of mist passed between Aurora and her companions, obscuring her view of the fight below. Quickly – a bit too quickly, as the staircase rocked with her motions – she climbed down another flight of steps and onto the next platform of the switchback. Her view now unobstructed, she saw the skirmish take a turn for the worse.
Ander still stood his ground, but the rats had managed to surround him even in the tight confines of the gap. They clung to vines and rocks in the walls near the ranger, and nipped and clawed at his shoulders, while one large rat in front of him, standing atop the brown furred carcass of another rodent, kept him busy with a flurry of bites at his midsection. From her vantage point, Aurora saw that Ander had a large bite on his shoulder, and it seemed to pain him as he fought.

Behind the exotic young man, Aurora saw Ashrem fending off any attempts by the rats to completely surround the woodsman, but he was not quite close enough to his targets to cause any harm. The rodents seemed quite content to gnaw on the human in front of them, rather than the dangerous looking feloine behind their easy meal. From the fray, the mage heard Ander cry out in pain, as one of the rats on his flank sank teeth into flesh.

Then the music began. Pack’s high voice washed over Aurora as the bard began to sing. His clear, bell-like pitch tolled out the words to a song the sorceress had heard only one time before, during the raid by the kobolds; but where Theo’s voice had carried over that battlefield like a cry to the gods for help, the halfling’s version of Trennor’s Triumph rang out with something much more. It carried hope.

Aurora found herself singing along in a low soft voice, and the priest also joined in, thundering out as if the words alone would defeat the enemy. Ander began swinging his quarterstaff almost rhythmically, cracking home one blow and then another at the rat on his left, and Ashrem finally managed to bring his sword down on that same rat, toppling it lifeless from its perch.

The red haired sorceress maneuvered herself into a more advantageous position as she nervously gripped the wand Lizon had given her and brought it to bear. With a word in Dragon’s Tongue she activated the wand, and two snapping dragons flew from its tip and sped toward the rat on Ander’s right as it climbed higher in the vine lattice. With a squeal it fell limp, its hide smoking as it hung caught in the vines.

Theo had not been idle, and he now stood tall, seemingly cured of his wounds. As Aurora watched with wide eyes, he held his shield out in front of him and stopped singing long enough to shout out to Zuras. Even in the sun, the flash from his shield nearly blinded her as a thin stroke of lightning arced out and caught another of the rats, causing it to screech in pain. Immediately after, she heard a thump and saw it fall to the ground. Glancing back down at Pack, who stood on a landing lower than the sorceress, she saw that he was recovering from a sling throw.

The remaining two rats then broke and ran, but fell in their tracks from a combination of another pair of dragon’s head missiles, a bullet from Pack’s sling and another arc of lightning from Brother Theo.

Aurora made her way down to the ground more slowly as she saw Ashrem move cautiously forward around the plateau, beyond her view. He seemed to be sniffing, and his large, cat-like ears swiveled in response to what the sorceress assumed were various sounds. Pack had ended his song, and the companions looked at one another with tense smiles on their faces. When Ashrem returned, the companions all glanced over at him.

“I do not sense any more. I believe that we have dealt with the last of them,” he stated. Aurora heard Pack breathe a sigh of what she thought might be relief, and she immediately joined the halfling in a broad faced grin.

“Then we made it!” the bard shouted, almost child-like. “We made it! Did you see how far we came down?” He pointed up at the top of the plateau. Aurora followed his finger up, and could barely make out Athena circling the grassy top through the mists.

Ander’s smooth baritone broke into the conversation. “I think the real question is ‘where are we now’, and I for one would like to find out,” he stated nonchalantly, as if he had not just been in a battle for his life. Brother Theo stood close by the woodsman, and was busily wrapping his more serious bite marks. Aurora could tell by the older man’s face that young man’s condition was probably worse than the ranger was willing to admit. “What’s up ahead, Ashrem,” he directed at the rag wrapped once-beggar.

“Around this bend, there is a vine covered courtyard, and a door set in a fortified stone wall. No sign of anything alive.”

“Then we need to check it out.” The rugged woodsman looked at Aurora with deep set eyes as he stretched his legs and set off towards the bend. He held her gaze for a moment: “Coming?” Then he was out of sight.

Aurora followed closely after, falling into line behind Ashrem. She spied Ander already well into the courtyard, picking his way through the vines that covered the ground up to the knee. The ranger made a beeline straight for a door set in the wall.

“Looks like this is the place,” the young man called out, stopping to turn around and look at back at the trio. “Don’t worry about the vines. It’s all solid flagstones underneath. No problem at all.” Then he turned around and took a careful step toward to the door.

With a surprised shout, Ander disappeared beneath the vines.

*****

Next Time!

“Pitfalls,” or “Good Thing I’m Not Afraid of the Dark”


----------



## Capellan (Dec 1, 2004)

You know all those story hours that covered the Adventure Path?  This is their red-headed step-child ...

*X-PATH: Stick Your Citadel Where the Sun Don't Shine*

(I picked this because it's the first post and if it doesn't get you interested, nothing will   And this story hour is short, and complete, so there's nothing to lose from reading it, except possibly your bladder control)

*Prologue*
Jacobsen shivered.

He tried to tell himself it was the cold.  This far down in the basement levels, the only heat came from the bare fluorescent lights in the concrete ceiling.  The General preferred it like that.  But then the old bastard didn't feel it any more, did he?

The General.  Like it or not, there was the real reason for the shiver.  He was _not_ going to be pleased with the younger man's news.

Jacobsen hurried along the plain, white-washed corridor, the scuff of his patent leather soles sounding loud in the silence of Basement 7.

The huge, stainless steel door at the end of the corridor swung open as he approached it.  He swallowed, trying not to let his anxiety show in his face.  Straight in with no wait meant the General was impatient.

The room beyond the door was almost as bare as the corridor that preceded it.  The only item of furniture was the vast, stainless steel desk, its surface studded with dozens of video screens.  Every screen flickered with life, all 37 channels of GPE programming playing simultaneously.

Jacobsen hated that desk.  The constant flicker of images drew the eye, distracted the mind.  The old man knew it, and used it.  Another weapon in his arsenal.

"Jacobsen.  What do you have to report?"

As if the old man didn't already know.

"There's a problem with the prize for next month's WCX pay-per-view, GS." He took a little pride that he'd kept the tremor out of his voice.

"Yes, so you told me in your last visit." There was a soft whir of gears as the old man descended from the ceiling.  He sat in a cast iron chair - he'd owned it during the war, they said - his gnarled, bone-white hands clutching the arm rests.  Jacobsen had never seen the old man lift those hands, but he'd heard the stories.  "You said the matter was 'under control'."

He swallowed.

"I thought it was.  The team of negotiators has never failed me, before."

"Never send a diplomat to do a soldier's job.  That was Eisenhower's problem: he kept trying to be one when he should have been the other."

"Yessir." Despite the cold, Jacobsen could feel himself sweating. "But we've had a good working relationship with this tribe for several years, now.  I thought that negotiation -"

"We had a good working relationship with Joe Stalin, too." The old man spat the name, "Didn't change the fact that he was a son-of-a-bitch."

"No sir." The first thing you learned at GPE: _never_ argue about the reds.  Not that Jacobsen had any intention of doing so, "He was a commie bastard, sir."

"Don't patronise me, Jacobsen." The voice turned cold, "Not when you've come lookin' for me to pull your stones out of the fire."

"Yessir.  You have a suggestion, sir?"

"Seems to me like this tribe of yours needs to be a taught a lesson.  The kind of lesson that ass Montgomery learned at Arnhem.  Don't get greedy."

"Yessir."

"WCX players have to abide by certain rules.  Sometimes, an athlete comes along who has all the skills to go to the top, but who can't stick to those rules."

"Sir?"

"I'm sure you have a few people like that on your books, Jacobsen.  People who are a danger to themselves and their fellow athletes.  People who are a drain on our profits.  People who are _expendable_."

"Yes, sir.  I can think of a few."

"Kit them out, open a gate, and send them through.  Tell 'em to teach these little bastards a lesson they'll never forget.  And tell them to bring back that - what is it they're supposed to get?"

"A golden apple, sir.  It has magical healing qualities."

The old man snorted,

"Stupidest thing I've heard since Market Garden.  Tell them to bring back that apple.  And Jacobsen -"

"Yessir?"

"Send a camera.  We may not be able to broadcast this, but I want to know exactly what happens."

"Yes sir, I will sir."

"You'd better.  Because if you _don't_ teach those freaky little bastards that nobody messes with George Patton, then I might have to teach _you_."


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## Enkhidu (Dec 1, 2004)

Capellan is right. Go read any of the story hours centering on the Sunless Citadel.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Now go and read Capellan's version. You won't be disappointed.


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## spyscribe (Dec 1, 2004)

My story hour is "Welcome to the Halmae" and I would like to apologize now to anyone who has ever clicked on it hoping for something in the Buffyverse.  

At this point in the story: the party is a group of third-level adventurers and have just (for the first time in their collective careers) found themselves in the middle of a tavern brawl.   It's over now, and the update opens with the accounts of everyone _else_ in the bar telling the local law enforcement officers what happened.  For the record, the story Anvil gives to Steadfast is completely true.

I chose update because frankly, I loved writing Steadfast.  Plus, it was one of those great times when nearly every PC had something fun to do.  This update is a bit longer than I usually go, but there was no good place to cut it.  Link is in my sig.

****************

*Part the Forty-Fourth*
_In which: an irresistible force meets an immovable object._

“I’ve never seen them in town before.”

“—Been asking questions all over the place.”

“_Said_ they were looking for a guide.”

“*She* was the one who was cheating, Officer.  *We* were just having our usual friendly game.”

“He cast something.  Then, all of a sudden I’m hitting this guy.  I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t help myself.” 

“That little freak called me stupid!  And then he tried to kill me.”

“_I_ was just trying to keep things from getting out of hand.”

“There were two other women with them, but they both split soon as the fight started.”

Steadfast the Just strokes his beard as he surveys the riff-raff in the Thirsty Watchmen.  Another brawl.  The second tonight, in fact.  There are days when Steadfast is tempted to shut-down the taverns, in Kettenek’s name, the better to preserve the tranquility of Noran.  But no, his superiors insist such an act would only incite more violence.  And he must admit that it is not Just to punish those guilty of no wrongdoing for the misdeeds of a few unsavory elements.  Unsavory elements against whom Justice must now be meted out.

After questioning the tavern staff and regular customers, Steadfast has a pretty good idea what happened.  He turns to deal with the miscreants directly, but first, he speaks to one of the members of the Watch who first arrived to subdue the scene.

“Two of the possible instigators have fled.  Track them down.”

With a quick nod, the man leaves, and Steadfast turns to the six travelers gathered in one corner of the room.  Clearly a suspicious lot.  He will hear their side of the story, and pass his judgment.  Kettenek’s Justice demands no less.

**********

Meanwhile, outside the tavern Lira and Eva try to come up with a plan of action.

“The guard just seems to be waiting there.”

 Hey, Boss?

“How much longer do _you_ want to wait?”

Boss?

“If they’ve been arrested we should find out where they’re going to be taken—”

Boss!

_What?_ Lira finally turns her attention to her familiar.

You ah… wanna get out of sight, maybe?

_I *am* out of— Oh… Ehkt’s balls!_

As Lira realizes she was not as hidden as she had thought, she also realizes that the guard by the door has been joined by two other members of the Watch, who are now making their way towards the alley where she and Eva are waiting.

Eva reaches for a concealed dagger in her cloak.  She didn’t mention she was carrying it to the guards at the gate, and so they didn’t ask to peace-bond it.  “Should we run?”

“You run.  They already know I’m here.”

Eva quirks an eyebrow.  “You sure?”

“Go!”

Eva takes to her heels as quickly and quietly as she can.  Lira (and Euro) turn to face the approaching watchmen.

You got a plan, Boss?

_Of course I have a plan._

And as the first Watchman comes around the corner, Lira takes a deep breath… and screams. 

###

“I am Anvil the Just, of Dar Pykos.” Anvil informs the local Justicar who has arrived on the scene.

“I am Steadfast the Just, of Noran,” he replies, sizing up the foreigner.

“It is good that you have come here to restore order and lawfulness,” Anvil states.

Steadfast tries to determine if the other man is mocking him.  It is true not all members of his order are as… serious… as he.  Still, there does not seem to be any sarcasm in the other man’s manner.  “I am glad you approve of lawfulness.  There are those here who believe you to be the cause of its breech.”

Anvil’s reply is flat and immediate:  “They are mistaken.”

“That is what I am here to determine.”

Behind Anvil’s back, Thatch notices Moira trying to catch his eye.  He looks over to see the bard mouthing, “Oh my.”

###

Outside the in alley, Antonio the watchman tries to reason with the seemingly hysterical girl before him.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, hands up in what he hopes is a non-threatening pose.  “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.  I just need you to *calm down* alright?”

The girl, although hyperventilating slightly, does stop screaming.  “What do you want?” 

“I’m with the Watch—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Antonio takes a deep breath.  He really hopes that she doesn’t start screaming again.  “I’m sure you didn’t.  But there was a fight in the tavern, and the Justicar is going to need to ask you a few questions.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re a witness.  And there was a woman who ran away before we got here.  Did you see her?”

“See who?”

Antonio keeps himself from groaning, barely. “Why don’t you just come inside for a bit with me, okay?”  

She gives him an uncertain look. “I don’t want to go back in there.”

“The fight’s over.  It’s safe.”  He extends a hand.  Reluctantly, the girl comes over and allows herself to be led inside.  Antonio lets out a silent sigh.  This is going to be a long night.  He can tell.  Still, if he has to baby-sit a dim bystander, at least she’s cute.  

###

Steadfast listens, skeptically, to the party’s story.  It’s original, he’ll give them that.  But credible?  Hardly.  Kings and wizards and vast conspiracies of magic-haters?  Perhaps a Justicar in Dar Pykos would buy such swill.  Maybe a Justicar didn’t and that is why this motley band is now on the run.  But Steadfast the Just is no fool to be swayed from Kettenek’s will by such transparent lies.  And those who come to spread their unlawful ways to _his_ city, live to regret it.

The thought occurs, that resolving this case might be just the break he needs to get his promotion to Third Order.  Then, at last, he might finally be allowed off of market duty…  With an act of will, Steadfast returns his full attention to the task at hand.

“I suppose you have proof of this vital mission you are on?”

“Certainly,” Anvil replies, and he reaches for the staff which contains his letters of introduction from the King and Temples of Dar Pykos.

However, before he can bring them out, a member of the Watch comes over and taps Steadfast on the arm.  Reyu listens closely as he whispers in the Justicar’s ear.  “….found one of the women, just outside… Doesn’t _look_ dangerous, but she’s got a set of lungs on her.”

Across the room, by the bar, Reyu sees Lira being brought in, guided by a Watchman who keeps a heavy hand on her shoulder.   She’s either very nervous or putting on a good show of it.  There’s no sign of Eva.

###

Eva runs as quickly and silently as possible through the alleys of Noran, but she can’t seem to shake her pursuers.  The city is laid out in a straightforward pattern, but that doesn’t overcome the fact that the Watchmen simply know how to get around better than she does.

She sees a pile of discarded crates behind a building that might allow her to get up on the roof-tops, but she doesn’t think she has enough lead time to get up before someone comes down the alley after her, and once on the roof, there’s no cover to speak of.

She ducks behind the pile.  There are ale casks, old straw, and produce crates…  Must be another tavern…  Eva curses her own stupidity.  She’s standing at the back door of some kind of inn or tavern, with any luck, one filled with people.  If the Watch doesn’t have a good description of who they’re looking for, getting lost in a crowd is probably her best shot of escape.  As quickly as she comes up with the plan, Eva slips through the door at her back, and in a few moments, hears running feet passing through the alley behind her.

###

Steadfast questions the red-haired girl from the alley.

“What’s your name?”

“Lira.”

“Just Lira?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you run out of the tavern?”

The girl stares at him just a little incredulously.  “There was a big fight going on.  I got scared, and my friends told me I should leave.”

“And what scared you so much that you just _had_ to leave right then?”

She gestures to her 98-lb frame.  “If you were me, would _you_ stand around in the middle of a bar fight?  Besides,” Lira lowers her voice a bit, “these big guys had been giving me looks all evening; it was creepy.  I just wanted to get out of there.”

“Who are these ‘friends’ you came in with?”

Lira indicates the six strangers across the room.  _Just as I suspected, _ Steadfast thinks.  _Clearly there’s more going on here than these strangers would have me believe…_  Aloud he asks, “Couldn’t they protect you?”

“They were busy enough trying to keep things under control without worrying about me.”

“If you’re so delicate, why do they travel with you?”

A pause.  “I have other talents.”

“I see.”  

Steadfast leaves her by the bar and returns to consult with the watch.  _Evasive *and* impudent._  Well, it would all be dealt with soon enough.  He finds the head Watchman, and takes him just outside for a consultation.

“Have you found the other one?”

“Not yet.  Our men have a good description, though.  Your orders?”

“Kettenek’s Justice demands she be found.  Keep looking for her.  Take the seven travelers into custody at the Temple of Justice.  Tell everyone else to go home for the evening, but the barman can reopen in an hour or so.”

The man salutes smartly.  “Yes, Justicar.”

###

The tavern isn’t particularly crowded, but it isn’t empty either.  It is also, Eva notes gratefully, quite dimly lit.  She slips into a table near the back with a good view of the door, getting a glance or two from some men playing cards in a corner, but none of them come over.

Although Eva’s posture is a comfortable slouch, its takes an effort of will to get her heart rate down to something approaching normal.  Luckily, it’s a skill that Eva has some practice with.  She’s just trying to work out her next move when two members of the Watch come in the front door.

One of them goes over to talk to the men playing cards.  They exchange a few words she can’t make out, and then one of the players nods in her direction.

Eva is about to bolt when— 

“Something to drink, ma’am?”

The kitchen scutt is at her elbow.

“No, thank you.”

Eva rises and takes a step towards the back door when a hand suddenly wraps around her upper arm.  “Going somewhere?”

###

Thatch stares at the featureless stone wall in front of him, then glances around at his equally subdued companions.  “Umm...  Slavery isn’t legal in Noran, is it?”


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## Americano (Dec 1, 2004)

*Meepo's Journal, part 10: The Standing Stone*

*The New Adventures of Meepo: Meepo's Journal*
Yes, it's another story hour following the adventures of everyone's favorite kobold, Meepo. This one is told entirely from Meepo's perspective, in the form of a journal he keeps after one of the PCs in my grounp taught him to read and write. Download the PDF linked above if you want, it has text formatting made to look like Meepo's writing.

PCs:
Daelewyn: Half-elf Rogue. Meepo calls her 'Sneaky Lady.'
Kah: Half-orc Barbarian. Meepo calls him 'Big Orc.'
Lady Everlove: Elf Cleric. Meepo calls her 'Pretty Elf Lady.'
Derrida: Elf Wizard. Meepo calls him 'Magic Elf Boss.'
Torrell: Half-elf Ranger. Meepo calls him 'Man-elf with Sword.'

Some credits: I owe Samnell's Meepo's Story Hour a debt for much of Meepo's writing style, as well as Wizardru's Savage Sword of Meepo. And probably others that I'm forgetting also.

*Meepo's Journal, part 10*
Meepo no write for many sleeps. Master Rolwin make Meepo practice writing letters for many many sleeps. Says Meepo need write better be bard. Also learns about differnt words. Human words very strange. Many words must change for no reason. No be like kobold words. Meepo write so much hands feel like they die. Master Rolwin say Meepo get better so Meepo happy. Friends leaving soon so Meepo go shopping in town. Meepo has many many golds from fighting magic kobold. Magic Elf Boss gives golds and armor and new pretty crossbow to Meepo. Meepo no can carry so many golds. Pretty Elf Lady takes cloak Meepo Wants but Meepo die much if no for Pretty Elf Lady so Meepo no mind. Meepo buy very very pretty neW mandolin. Also buy more ink for Meepo Writes storys. Meepo no want run out of ink away town. No one write friend storys if Meepo no ink. Meepo finds man in allee Who sell many many tasty dead rats in bag. Meepo throw away old food now since finds tasty rats. Meepo also buy new clothes. Meepo new clothes green and ornge and red. Very very pretty. Meepo hope peoples like him more now.

Meepo trying new thing Master Rolwin teach him call paragraf. Master Rolwin say Meepo skip space after writes some. Human writes be strange. Meepo and friends ride away from city. Meepo say goodbye to Master Rolwin. Meepo sad leave Master Rolwin. How Meepo learns more now? Meepo ask Magic Elf teach. Rides for six sleeps threw forest. Forest make nice to Meepo. Trees block light from nasty sun. Meepo eyes only hurts small in forest. Meepo very bored riding so practice playing mandolin and shooting crossbow at trees. Meepo almost fall off pony when hear scream. Old man runs at friends say help help save us. Big Man on Horse ride up at kill old man with big sword. Meepo shoot crossbow at Big Man on Horse but arrow go threw him. Big Man on Horse be ghost? Meepo sing songs so friends fights more good. Friends try fight Big Man on Horse but he ride aWay and disappeer. Meepo no know how.

Rides more finds human house. Knocks on door old man let friends in. Also be Pretty Red Lady in house. Old man talk about Big Man on Horse and elfs attaksing toWn. Meepo try write notes but spill ink. Meepo move plant cover ink on floor. Old man say friends sleep in house. Pretty Red Lady and Sneaky Lady talk lots go in room with bed talks all night. Sneaky Lady smile lot after talk Pretty Red Lady.

Rides to town. Many many humans comes wants food. Meepo gives rat to human hatchling. Old Furry Man talks talks talks about Big Man on Horse and elfs and fights and food. Maybe other stuff. Meepo get bored no listen. Arrow comes threw him. Meepo wonder how Old Furry Man do that but then he dead. Birds attaks. Birds shoot arrow? Meepo no know how bird use bow. Gos to tall house. Talks Old Magic Man and SWord Lady. Old Magic Man talk lots but Meepo no know what meen. Magic Elf talks Old Magic Man. Sword Lady show sword to Man-elf with Sword. 

Rides to big round hill. Go in door to maze. Fights many Ugly Dead Mans. Roof fall on Sneaky Lady but no die. Meepo lost in maze. Meepo hope friends know Where go. Down stairs finds dead human bed. Old Dead Human fights Big Orc. Old Dead Human beat Big Orc like young kobold from Wrong tribe. No kill Big Orc. Old Dead Human say you honorabbl so me no kill. Old Dead Human talk about dragons and druids. Meepo like storys about dragons. Old Dead Human say no be Big Man on Horse. Man-elf With SWord say Old Dead Human give me sWord. Old Dead Human laugh. Friends tired so sleeps by dead human bed. Meepo no tired talks Old Dead Human. Meepo ask Old Dead Human tell more dragon storys.

Meepo learns lots in forest and town and dead human place. Meepo climb tree lots learn how. Meepo also think maybe Meepo do more bard magics now. Meepo try new magics after sleeps. Meepo maybe try do spell Magic Elf call summon useless owl. Meepo make nice to useless owl. Meepo being bard is funs! Meepo write more when happens.

-- 

Download the PDF version here.


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## Lazybones (Dec 3, 2004)

_The Shackled City_ is a story set in the Adventure Path series of modules in _Dungeon_ magazine. It's a fictional SH based on 3.5e mechanics, and traces the adventures of a small group of heroes of unusual and diverse backgrounds, brought together in the struggle to preserve the city of Cauldron against a growing evil. 

The cast:
Zenna, tiefling wizard/cleric
Mole, gnome rogue
Arun, gold dwarf paladin
Hodge, shield dwarf fighter/expert (cohort)
Dannel, moon elf bard/ranger

This excerpt is from Book 3, _Zenith Trajectory_, when the heroes have been trapped in a side room by a black dragon. Zenna's just been restored to consciousness, and the others are filling her in on what happened while she was out. 

Chapter 124

“Well, I know you managed to overcome it, somehow, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Zenna observed.

“Sheesh, will you let me finish the story?” Mole said, returning to her narrative.

* * * * *

Its hide was as black as night, its head angular and malicious, with twin horns jutting from its forehead and jaws lined liberally with razor-sharp teeth. Its head swiveled back and forth as it scanned the chamber for its enemies, but they missed Mole, who had darted reflexively into the shadows where the wall met the floor, the dragon’s field of view partially blocked by the opening of the door. The dragon did catch sight of Arun and Hodge, however, and opened its jaws in an angry roar.

Before it could move more fully into the chamber, however, Mole, using her magical boots to cast her into the air in a broad leap, sprang up from behind the door, her sword slicing upward in a fast arc that caught the dragon off guard. In the instant that the gnome sprang past, the dragon’s neck jerked up, revealing a shallow but nonetheless bleeding gash a foot beneath the base of its skull.

The dragon had immediately turned toward the gnome, who landed with a splash and tumbled forward. For a terrible instant Mole looked upon the full rage of the creature, and saw death glistening in the ebon orbs of its eyes. But then it was knocked to the side as Arun impacted the door, thrusting it closed. The dragon, caught off guard, with only its head and neck thrust through the door, was at first caught off balance, and it drew reflexively back, its head clearing the door a moment before it slammed shut hard. Hodge, sending a plume of water up around him with every splashing step, arrived with a spike that Arun slammed into the doorjam with a quick blow from his hammer. The door thrummed with the impact of the dragon a moment later, and the spike slipped out half its length as the door trembled. But both dwarves hurled themselves against the narrow portal, setting another spike and driving the first one back into place. The door continued to pound, for the better part of a minute, but held, the inexorable equation of leverage versus force working out in favor of the companions. A fizzing spray of angry green droplets emerged from under the thin crack at the base of the door, acid that sizzled and bubbled as it hit the water, but the construction of the door in its heavy stone threshold meant that the dragon’s breath could not reach the spikes set into the jam on this side.

“And thus we reached a stalemate,” Mole said, concluding her account of the battle. “We reinforced both doors with everything we had, but there haven’t been any more attempts to force entry that we can detect. It’s still out there, though, waiting for us... or at least it was a few hours ago.”

“How do you know that?” Zenna asked.

“I used that potion we found, remember? In the ruins where we battled Triel Eldurast, under Cauldron. It gives the power of seeing things over a distance. It worked great, but that dragon was still sitting out there on one of the higher balconies, watching. I think it sensed me watching it, for it stirred and made an awful roar—the kind that doesn’t sound like it was very pleased with the situation, or planning on leaving anytime soon.”

“At least there haven’t been any more kuo-toa,” Zenna said. She tried to walk, and was able to manage a few steps before she reached the edge of a great stone basin set into the center of the floor. It offered a welcome respite. The basin was filled with several feet of water, and as she stared into it, the blue light of the magical flame glistening off its surface, she felt as though she could just sink into it, all of her problems falling away...

“Zenna!”

Dannel’s voice of concern shook her out of her reverie, and she straightened, drawing away from the elf’s reassuring hands. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace, but knew that if she let her guard down, even for a moment, she would collapse.

She turned to where the others had laid her pack, against the wall. Grateful that she was able to make it without falling, she knelt and undid the clasps, revealing her spellbook—carefully wrapped in oilcloth—nestled inside.

“It’s gonna be tough,” Hodge growled. “Betsy’s out there in the water somewheres, the elf ain’t go no more arrows, and half our knives are stuck in them doors.”

Zenna looked up at her friends. They were all beaten down, ragged and exhausted. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten in over a day, and her stomach rumbled. It was almost comical, through the haze of pain and stiffness that suffused her body. But there was no choice, except to give up, and that was no choice at all.

She reached up to her throat, to the symbol that hung there around her neck, her finger tracing the one cut there in silver. “I need some time,” she told the others. “Then we’ll have to see about that dragon.”


Links to the story are in my sig.


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## el-remmen (Dec 3, 2004)

dem bones said:
			
		

> It's a fictional SH based on 3.5e mechanics,




So, no one actually played out the events of your story hour?


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## pogre (Dec 3, 2004)

Let's start at the beginning. The pictures in the story are thumbnail linked to larger photos.

Zandyrium
Episode 01

Sweat poured down Micon’s face as he concentrated on the ritual. Two zombies stared forward with vacant, lifeless eyes at the wizard’s activities. This ritual would be Micon’s crowning glory, the attestation that he deserved recognition as the greatest of mages. The components had cost him nearly everything: physically, economically, and emotionally - but now it all seemed worth it. Carefully, ever so carefully, the mage traced the last of the symbols on the ground. Six days of constant preparation and attention to the tiniest detail had culminated in this moment. Micon was so close, and then, he stuttered. It was only a momentary lapse, but the mage stumbled over a chant as his concentration failed.

Micon, the rebel wizard, braced himself for the eldritch results of his misstep. 

Nothing came. 

Micon smirked slightly and exhaled in relief. He prepared to recommence the ritual, but a blinding bright light interrupted, rushing through his mind. Micon reeled around the chamber grabbing at pieces of furniture and tapestry, anything to help maintain his balance. Twirling and shrieking, Micon felt his mind being pulled to pieces and his soul tugged from a negative power. The mage was ensnared in some mad maelstrom and he cried out as he left the world of the living.

Micon awoke. He could not remember much. “What was I doing?” he wondered to himself. Any remembrances were immediately overtaken by an overwhelming hunger rushing over him. A hunger deeper and stronger than any desire he had ever experienced – a hunger for flesh! Micon only dimly understood what had happened and shook in rage at his failure.

*****

128 years later…

“Quit shoving!” Ginny complained to the Dwarf behind her.

“Get your feet moving then,” Mōrguhn countered. “My whiskers will give your backside a rash if you walk any slower.”





There was a smile on the Mōrguhn’s face, he really liked the young human female and she was quite right to be cautious down in these foul sewers. Mōrguhn reflected on how he had come to this spot. Mōrguhn had come to the crown city for an education in arts seldom explored in Buldarvalt. The dwarf wished to pursue the arcane arts and he had been practically laughed out of the Hold.

And so, now the young dwarf was traipsing through the sewers with this odd group…

“There is the source of the explosion,” Ginny whispered back.





Ginny inched her way forward and saw that a large blast had emanated from the sewer wall and the remnants of a human male was pinned beneath a pile of rubble. As the corpse was missing half its head, she safely assumed him to be dead.

“Something blowed ‘dis area up,” the human fighter, Thoren observed. Thoren wielded a huge two-handed sword that looked large even against his impressive frame.





“Nothing gets past you Thoren, old boy,” Wassabe the northern sailor quipped.





The elven ranger Githraldul jumped across the sewer’s effluent to gain a better vantage point over the blasted area.





Underground areas made the ranger very edgy. “What do you see?” he loudly whispered to Ginny.

“I suspect our dead friend here triggered an ancient trap,” Ginny reached down and pulled a pouch from the corpse’s belt. She then opened the pouch deftly and held some tiny tools aloft, “These would indicate he was a thief.”

“What are they?” Githraldul asked.

“Thieves’ tools, and a very nice set too,” Ginny answered sliding the tools and picks into her cape pocket.

_It’s amazing, she looks nothing like a thief_ Githraldul thought.

Justinius the cleric of Gravitas Morte worked his way forward to gain a view of the corpse. Justinius leaned down and said final rites over the man’s body. “He has not been dead long. I suspect the blast we heard in the Greater Market was what killed him.”





The group had minutes before been prowling the markets looking for bargains when the blast had belched forth from the sewer grate. It was Mōrguhn who had agreed with the young vigils* that the group of adventure-seekers should check into what happened. A short trip in the sewer had led them to this scorched scene.

Heinrich, cleric to Siegphorus, looked over Justinius’s shoulder as the cleric of restful death finished a prayer to his deity over the deceased. “Technically,” Heinrich began, “you all realize we have more than fulfilled our civic duty here.”





“This man died trying to break into this place and has courteously set off a very dangerous guardian trap. The least we can do is check it out,” Ginny smiled.

“Agreed!” Thoren stated and boldly walked into the tunnel beyond the explosion.

“Will someone please tell the thug with the big sword where there is one trap there are bound to be more?” Wassabe asked sarcastically.

“I heard ye’” Thoren called back. “I’m waiting. Ginny get yer’ rearend up here!”

“First, I have not heard a consensus among the group,” Heinrich stated loftily. “Second, what about the authorities?”

“Who wants to explore a place formerly guarded by a powerful magical trap?” Ginny asked loudly. 

Mōrguhn spoke up, “Heinrich, the structure is sound. You need not fear a secondary collapse.”

“That’s not the point,” Heinrich corrected the dwarf. “We were asked in the market to quickly check out what might have set off such an explosion. We have discovered the source.”

“Hold up Thoren,” Ginny called out. “I’m taking point. Heinrich you go tell the vigils* if you want. The rest of us are heading in.”

“Justinius?” Heinrich asked his fellow cleric.

“It could be,” Justinius paused, “interesting.”

“Oh, very well,” Heinrich said resignedly and followed the rest of the group into the passage.





Ginny called back to the group, “I think the passage is clear of traps. It opens up into some sort of chamber.” Thoren, the human fighter, was clanking along loudly behind Ginny. Ginny turned and said to Thoren, “Could you spare me some space here Thoren. It is really tough to move silently dragging a set of bottles behind me.” Thoren nodded and stopped, allowing Ginny to go forward a few more feet ahead. Ginny continued to edge ahead of the group and slipped into the small chamber. A moment later she came running back past the rest of the passage.

“What is it?” Thoren asked.

“I don’t know,” Ginny replied. “But I’ve done my job, now you do yours.”

Thoren squinted into the darkness and could barely make out a couple of figures. The bipedal creatures stood and Thoren called for them to stop. The fighter then noticed the creatures had wounds that should have killed them already, and the stench of their rotting flesh filled his nostrils. 





Thoren, Mōrguhn, and Wassabe charged the undead creatures and managed a few solid shots. Justinius stepped forward. This was the cleric’s moment. Everything he had trained for led to a showdown with the greatest enemy of his deity Gravitas Morte. Undeath was the foulest sin of all and now he would send these cursed beasts away. 

“In the name of the Final Rest I banish thee!” Justinius was practically screeching over the din of battle. 

The Zombies fought on.

Heinrich also moved into the chamber and held aloft the holy symbol of Siegphorus and called out, “The God of Law and Victory demand your defeat!”

The Zombies fought on.

“Quit preachin’ and start whackin’!” Wassabe yelled at the clerics.

The elven ranger, Githraldul moved up and shot an arrow into one of the Zombies. This came just as one of the monsters managed to slightly wound Mōrguhn. Heinrich charged into the fray with his mace, following Wassabe’s advice.

“By all that is holy from the Father of Eternal Bliss I rebuke thee foul constructs of evil!” Justinius cried out again to turn the zombies.

The Zombies fought on.





Thoren managed to bring his blade down on one of the foes and it fell to the floor with no sign of movement left in it. Their efforts now concentrated on the final Zombie, Githraldul plunked an arrow into it, Mōrguhn and Wassabe also landed shots on it.

Justinius needed to try rebuking the walking corpse one more time; it was a matter of pride now. “Bring the peace of the True God of Lasting Rest upon this foul creature of undeath,” Justinius yelled.

The Zombie fought on.

“Powerful god ye’ got there father,” Wassabe stated as he dodged one of the Zombie’s attacks. Thoren’s blade hit home again and halted the last Zombie.

The group gasped, trying to catch their breath, as the rogue Ginny began looking the chamber over. “Not much here. Only this door they were guarding,” she reported to the group. 

Heinrich stood slowly, “We can still go to the authorities. There is no reason for us to pursue this further.”

“Except, we have now come passed a magical explosion trap and two formerly dead guys guarding this very door,” Ginny answered.

“I must continue,” Justinius announced. “The presence of undead changes everything for me. It is no longer my choice, but my duty.”

“Yeah,” Wassabe interjected, “good thing too - we would sure hate to lose ye’, considering how helpful ye’ were in that last scrap, your holiness.”

“My failures do not reflect upon Gravitas Morte,” Justinius retorted.

“That’s a relief. I’d hate fer the old boy to be the laughing stock amongst the gods and all,” Wassabe replied.

Justinius merely shook his head. He doubted whether there was a serious thought in Wassabe’s head.

Ginny announced that the door was not trapped, and Thoren opened the door wide.

To be continued…

*vigils – city watch


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## Lazybones (Dec 4, 2004)

nemmerle said:
			
		

> So, no one actually played out the events of your story hour?




That is correct. Though a few of the characters are based on archetypes played by former players in past campaigns.


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## Emperor Valerian (Dec 4, 2004)

Its rather hard for me to pick a good section out of my story hours as well.  This is out of my most recent one that is still ongoing... The Celestial Empire .

Basic background:  Nayu (PC), Felonca (PC), Liu and Chou are fleeing to the south to avoid of a bunch of undead... as well as searching for Nayu's parents, whose town was burned by the employer of Captain Li (their prisoner).  Chaos and trouble ensues.


===============================================
*Dire Need*

“The bonds are quite tight... would it be possible to persuade you that they should be loosened?”

Nayu growled his disapproving reply towards Captain Li, the noise and the young man’s eyes conveying hatred deeper than the Western Sea.  Even though they were three days from the desolation that was the remains of Red Lotus, Nayu could still smell on his clothes the twin stenches of burnt wood and rotting flesh.  For two days the ex-Captain had been requesting the bonds holding his arms tightly behind his back be loosened, and for two days Nayu had glowered his fury.  Today, the young man had enough, and reached into his pack.

“Nayu, what are you doing?” he heard Felonca’s worried voice as he pulled out a small bolt of cloth.  Quickly, the same found itself wrapped around the Captain’s mouth.  When muffled protests came, Nayu merely tightened it.

“Was that necessary?” Felonca asked, looking with pity towards the Captain _and_ Nayu.  A look then flashed towards Chou, riding just ahead of his father.  The tall sergeant did not even look back, his eyes still holding the blank look of loss that had covered his mirth for the past week and a half.

“Very much so,” Nayu grumbled in reply as the troupe rounded a turn in the main highway.  The road was narrow but relatively level, with a wide field of view all around, something that set them all at ease.  The last thing any of them wanted was to be caught spending the night in a dark wood with undead running about.

Nayu’s eyes then gave a glare back to the Captain, the only symbol present of those he hated... the Military Governor, his soldiers that had burned Nayu’s home, and all the prefects who had tried to raise undead.  _It’s all their fault!  If it wasn’t for them, I’d be at home right now!_

His mind was so focused on the dark thought that he didn’t notice that his comrades had reined up until he realized he was quickly drawing away from the Captain.  He spun around, heart in his throat and magic crawling on his lips, only to see up ahead a large cart, slightly to the side.  A man was beside it, foul curses thundering from his mouth, many of the same curses that were threatening to come from Nayu’s mouth as well.

“Hello!” Felonca called.

“Move that thing!” Nayu called momentarily, galloping forward.

“I would, if my wheel wasn’t broke!” the peasant shouted back as Nayu cantered to a halt, quickly dismounting from his horse.  The peasant momentarily gestured towards left front of his cart, where the wheel, indeed, had snapped after running over a rather large stone.

“Hmm,” Nayu groaned.  _He CAN’T move out of the way... maybe..._  “Liu?  Chou?  Can you run to the woods off thataway,” Nayu gestured vaguely to the copse of trees about a hundred yards off, “and fetch me some large sections of timber.”  The trader/sorcerer then knelt down beside the wheel itself, his mind searching through memory.

_Father said one of the most important things for a trader to know is how to fix a broken wheel... the axle is fine... good.  Its just the rim and the lower spokes that are broken, and we have blades that can carve those... at least to the point this guy can get out of our way and get to a nearby town..._



Felonca crouched beside Nayu, watching her friend as he stared intently at the broken wheel, wondering what was going on in his mind.  

_Poor thing... he’s been through so much..._ She breathed in deeply to give off a sigh, but suddenly her nose wrinkled, as a smell she wasn’t used to wafted into her sensitive nasal passages.  The wrinkle quickly changed, as he eyes widened in alarm.

_Blood!  Fresh blood!_ her mind realized.  As Nayu and the peasant both looked intently at the wheel, Nayu now explaining how it could be fixed, Felonca edged towards the back of the cart, and her eyes widened further.

The large cart’s cargo was covered by a cloth tarp, with fresh, brown stains speckled across its surface.  She couldn’t tell what was under the tarp... beasts, or something far more sinister, as the smell of fresh blood flooded through her nose, overwhelming her mind.  Gingerly, with a touch of revulsion, she reached for the cloth and began to slowly lift it...

Only to have it tugged out of her hands.  Confused, she spun around to see the peasant behind her, setting his wide brim hat on the edge of the cart.

“Interested in these little things?” he asked, flipping the cloth up.  Inside was a brace of the largest, strangest rabbits she had ever seen.  They were easily the size of small dogs, and each had a large horn rising from its forehead.

“These things were tearing through my garden, and the other day they attacked my daughter when she threw a stone at one of them.  So I culled them, and I’m taking them to market to see if they’re worth anything.  Now, you want one or not?”

“Um... no... thank you,” Felonca managed to sputter out, embarrassed at her suspicion.



Four days later, when the party spotted another traveler on this desolate stretch of road, Felonca initially was hesitant to be suspicious again.

They’d spotted him at a great distance, due to the dust his steed was raising.  She, like the others, assumed it was merely a courier of some kind as they dipped into a shallow gully, obscuring him from view.  However, when the horse and rider suddenly appeared at the top of the shallow ridge ahead and reined to a hard stop, Felonca’s heart stopped as well.

The small creature was barely large enough to manage the big mare he sat astride.  As soon as his small, dark eyes laid their gaze on her, his small squirrel ears gave a twitched, and he suddenly yanked hard on the reins, wheeling his horse around.

Memories flooded back into Felonca’s mind... of one day not long before, when she’d seen those same eyes flashing at her in anger.  The eyes that made her doubt whether she belonged in a Military Academy, and prompted her to decide to run away.

_What is Nixu doing here?  He’s barely into his second year at the Academy... they wouldn’t let him leave the Academy grounds, let alone be this far south, nearly one hundred MILES from the Academy!

Did he run away too?  Did... did Master Hsiu hurt him because I ran?_  The Academy’s master was known to be strict, but Nixu’s yelling at her incompetence was something far different than him helping her plan to escape.  He had no way of knowing his tirade (one she admitted she rightfully deserved) would have anything to do with her escape, along with her warfans, Master Hsiu’s kimono, and his prized silver dagger.

“Nixu!” she called, even as the horse and rider disappeared behind the ridge, the thundering of hoofbeats already receding.  With a growl, Felonca put her own spurs deep into the flanks of her mare, and thundered after him.  As she topped the ridge and caught sight of him again, she heard the shouts of confusion from her friends receding as she pulled away.

_I need to talk to him!  I need to find out if Master Hsiu and the Academy know anything about these undead!  I need to know why he is here!  Will he report me to Master Hsiu?!_

True, the last time she’d seen him, he was furious with her.  The Floating Stone test was one of the hardest for newer students to finish, and she had completely ruined his carefully constructed creation, the Court Common character for “patience.”  It had taken him hours upon hours of work, all ruined because of a prank. 

_Damn me,_ Felonca’s mind flew into instant regret, remembering his face, so upset he was nearly crying.  _I need to talk to him.  To apologize!_

“Nixu!  Wait!  Please!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her mare straining onward under her as the figure of the squirrel hengeyokai and his mount grew smaller and smaller in the distance.  For one last instance, he turned around, and she swore she could see a look of fear in his eyes before he turned around and his horse pulled away for good.

_Why was he here?_ her confused mind asked as she finally reined up, hoofbeats rumbling closer signifying her comrades were finally catching up.  She didn’t know it, but her face was full of confusion when she turned around, to see a worried Nayu canter up behind her.

“What was that all about?” he asked, looking between her and the distant figure that momentarily vanished.

“That... that was a friend,” she managed to say, her own eyes turning back to watchi Nixu disappear below the horizon.  “I need to talk to him.  I think... I think he’s in danger.”



The next night, Felonca was still wrapping her mind around that new development.

_Why was he here?  Is Master Hsiu nearby?_  She felt herself shudder slightly at the thought.  If Master Hsiu indeed had come this far south to find her, she knew that the chances of her seeing a hangman’s noose were increasing by the day.

“Dammit,” she cursed softly, realizing her shudder had ruined her attempt at whittling to pass the time.  She took second watch for the peace and quiet, but sometimes it grew too quiet, the only noise being the sounds of crickets and the light snores of her companions.  Tonight she was especially bored, and had hoped some attempts at whittling would help.  They hadn’t.

“Well, Felonca, you need a new stick,” she muttered to herself, and carefully she looked about the camp, hoping to find a stick outside of the pile reserved for the fire.  Growling in dissatisfaction when she didn’t find any, she looked up over the blaze towards Nayu’s bag, hoping one would be there.

Instead, she froze.

Momentarily, in the gloom, she saw something.  Something tall, human-shaped.  She squinted, but the light of the fire blocked her view.

_Nixu?_ she thought, eyes frowning as she reached for her warfans and clambered around the fire.  Without its orange fingers blinding her view, she could now make it out clearly.  Not one, but two figures, human-looking, were edging their way closer to the camp, carefully, from the side.

_Not Nixu... then who?_

“Who goes there?” she called, her challenge meant to wake her companions as well.  She heard a few growls and grumbles from immediately beside her, but no noise came from the two strangers, save one turned and looked right at her.

_More undead?_ she thought, warily edging closer, her nose sniffing the air for any scent.  Indeed, she found one, but it was not the dank, rotten smell of death, or the bodily smell of a humanoid.  Instead, she smelled something like wild mushrooms, powerful and pungent.

“Thirty feet out ahead of me, human shaped” Felonca whispered, “and I’m getting the smell of... mushrooms,” she added warily.  She heard Nayu give a grunt of surprise at her statement, above the soft clings and clangs of Chou donning his armor.

“Mushrooms?  Are you sure you didn’t eat too many mushrooms?” she heard Chou grumble.

“I’ve heard of dangerous molds before,” Nayu said, standing beside her half-dressed, “but none in the shape of a human before.  Strange.”

“Well,” Felonca replied, suddenly reaching into her quiver for an arrow, “I’d like to make sure they’re human.  I’m thinking its an undead trick.  Fetch me a bit of cloth, we’re going to check them out.”

Nayu did as requested, and momentarily a small dart of flame landed directly at the feet of the closest.  In the dim light the burning cloth provided, seemingly normal, bare human feet were visible, causing Nayu and Felonca more confusion.  As they watched, both creatures continued to shuffle forward, and quickly were within thirty feet.

That’s when Felonca saw their eyes.  Bright, piercing blue, a sickly, unreal blue, glowing in the night.  Moments later, she had to resist the urge to sneeze violently, as her nose was assaulted by a new smell... not just mushrooms, but the overpowering, debilitating stench of mold.  Just within the orange glow of the firelight, she could see the two gaunt figures of men, their skin pasty and emaciated.  Most alarming were the numerous tears, rips, and holes that besot their skin.  From these numerous sores fluffed large clumps of a yellowish colored substance that looked like mold.

She heard words forming on Nayu’s mouth, but she couldn’t see any magical flashes or lights play from his hands onto the beasts.  Instead, she heard another grunt of confusion.

“They’re not undead, at least,” Nayu grunted, and she heard more magic coming to his lips.  

“Don’t come any closer!” she called, deciding to be more direct, her bow once again drawn, an arrow notched.  As soon as one of the creatures stepped forward again, an arrow flew.

An all hell broke loose.

One of the two creatures charged, a strange, incoherent roar within its lips.  Felonca coolly tossed her bow back, and snatched out her warfans, the lessons from the Academy flowing through her muscles with ease.  A series of loud clanks revealed Chou right beside her, as she didn’t need to turn to know Liu was on her opposite side.

“You take the close one!” she heard Nayu call, just before a long, powerful tongue of flame leapt from his hand, scorching the furthest of the two beasts (_scorching ray_).

As for the other creature, it found a greeting that likely it would have preferred to forego, as Chou’s blade, Felonca’s warfans, and Liu’s fists slashed, cut, and pummeled it, cutting off one hand, breaking its shoulder, and slashing apart its face.  

None, however, realized that this is merely what the creature wanted.

The noise was simple.  Nothing fancy, nothing showy.  It was a mere _puff_, far quieter than the roar of the burning prefect.  The results, however, were no less deadly, for with this noise, the stomach of the creature broke open, and suddenly Chou, Felonca, and Liu found yellowish mold flying into their faces, their eyes, their noses, down their throats.

Somehow, Liu managed to hold his breath, his fists still swinging, pummeling the creature.  But both Chou and Felonca gasped in surprise... the worst thing possible, as thousands and thousands of the tiny spores were sucked deep into their lungs.

Felonca felt an immediate burning in her lungs, and doubled over, vicious, hacking coughs wracking her body.  Beside her, Chou clutched the ground, spitting up globs of yellow spittle as his larger form was also wracked by the painful coughs.

_What’s happened to me?_ Felonca thought, before her mind, despite the pain, realized that as long as she and Chou were down coughing, Liu and Nayu were facing two of the creatures alone.  

_Dammit, Felonca!_ she mentally snarled, forcing herself up after a few seconds.  Her lungs felt as if they were scorched, and coughs still rumbled through her form, deep and hoarse.  Nonetheless, she threw herself forward, slashing once again at the nearest beast.



_What the hell was that?_ Nayu growled, his fingers now outstretched to the beast that had knocked down Felonca and Chou.  With a word of power and a sharp crackle, flames once again leapt from his hand to the beast’s chest.  The smell of burning vegetables filled the air, as smoke blotted out the creature’s chest.  However, when it momentarily lifted, Nayu could see more mold oozing out of the burn holes covering the creature’s chest.

“Felonca! What are you...” he started to shout before Felonca, still hacking and coughing furiously, was back into combat, leaping and twisting, her warfans once again in the midst of a deadly dance.  Only seconds behind her, Chou jumped in as well, the coughs that had wracked his body decreasing as he swung his blade in great, powerful arcs.

_That girl... I could have accidentally burned her!_ Nayu fumed for a second, as his fingers flashed back to the creature still standing aloof, burning it yet again.  A second later, he hears a _squish_, sounding much like when he’d squished his mother’s rotten tomatoes as a child.  A quick look to the first fight revealed the creature tumbling to the ground, its head crushed by Chou’s blade.

Nayu felt the magic already draining from him.  _This new spell is taxing me,_ he thought, trying to focus his mind.  He felt magic upwelling in his hand, until into his view flashed a furiously coughing Felonca and a normal appearing Chou.  Nayu moved his hand back, and the blast of fiery power flew awry.

“Felonca,” he growled, reminding himself to let her know about, ‘magical friendly fire,’ if he got the chance.  He closed his eyes, and decided next to launch a smaller, simple brace of _magic missiles_, to avoid the friendly fire issue altogether.

As he was yet concentrating for his next blast, long unmoving, suddenly leapt forward grabbing Felonca and thrust her towards the ground.  Another _puff_ echoed just barely above the din of battle, quickly followed by Felonca’s coughing increasing in volume and power.  

_FELONCA!_ Nayu panicked, his brace of missiles flying earlier than he planned but slamming the creature square in the back.  As the creature and Felonca wrestled on the ground, Chou swung his blade down... and suddenly Felonca’s coughs were coupled with a sharp scream as his sword cut open her shoulder, blood now coating the grass.

Undeterred, Chou swung again, and once again there was a _squish_ as his blade crushed in the creature’s head.  Within seconds, he was tossing the beast off of her, as Nayu dashed forward.



It was an hour later, and still Nayu heard the deep, throaty cough coming from Felonca, as well as the hushed, worried murmurings coming from Master Liu.  Angrily, the young man kicked a pebble into the smoldering fire, and resumed his pacing.

_What WERE those things?  Other than Chou’s accidental cut, Felonca wasn’t hurt... except for this coughing.  What was that yellow mold stuff?  Liu should’ve been able to get it out of her system..._

Nervous, Nayu glanced towards Chou, only to be greeted by the warrior’s nervous eyes.  

_Chou is fine... and he inhaled the same stuff!  Why isn’t she fine!_  Worries filled Nayu’s head, building into a crescendo that he couldn’t ignore.  Finally, he spun around and marched over to beside the monk.

“Listen... listen to me, Felonca,” the monk was saying quietly, his voice full of concern.  One of his hands held her head, pointing her mouth downwards.  “What does your chest feel like again?”

“B...*hack*  b... *cough* burning!” she sputtered out, pain etched onto her face.  Nayu watched in alarm as one of her hands clutched at her chest, the other balled into a fist at her side.  Worried, he took her balled hand into his own.

_Of the people here, I’ve known you the longest... what... four weeks?  You helped save my village!  I’m... I’m lost and scared... please be okay!_ Nayu prayed to himself, as her coughing fit continued to rise in volume, until she finally went into a long spasm.  When the paroxysm was finished, her breathing slowed.  Every now and then, a hacking cough emerged.

_Good... maybe she coughed up whatever it was,_ Nayu thought hopefully, looking at her, only to have his heart break again.  Tears were streaming down her face, the hand that was on her chest now covering her mouth as she softly coughed again.  

Then Nayu heard Liu give a grunt.

“What is it?” Nayu asked softly as the monk bent down and picked up something from the ground in front of Felonca.  Liu held the item up, and slowly brought it closer to the firelight, his grunts changing from surprise to concern.

“Yellow mold,” the monk finally said grimly.

“Mold?  Well, she coughed it up, didn’t she?” Nayu asked hopefully, his mind ignoring the soft croaks of Felonca behind him.  “And beside, my parents had mold in their house.  Ugly, but not that bad.  Right?”

The monk stared in the flames in response.

“Right?” Nayu repeated, worry back in his voice.  Liu gave a cough of his own, and when he turned to face the young man, Nayu could see a deep worry, and bottomless sorrow in his eyes.

“Felonca, please... come here.  I must tell you something,” the monk said grimly.  His dark, hopeless tone knocked the last bit of wishful thinking from Nayu’s mind.

_Something horrible happened to her... oh no..._

Gingerly, Felonca stumbled to where they sat, and almost collapsed, her body worn tired from the paroxysms.  Her eyes, however, were still bright and alert, and filled with worry and fright.

“Felonca... you’ve inhaled a large amount of yellow mold... a mold that is extremely virulent, and extremely deadly.  I’m... I’m...” the monk stopped speaking, his voice breaking apart for a second.

Nayu looked quickly between the monk and his friend, fear rising in his own heart.  With the finality of a funeral bell, Liu turned back to Felonca, clearing his throat.

“It is... fatal, and I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”  The monk’s soft voice faded into nothing.  
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Ok, the rabbit bit was thrown into the game by me to deal with my overly paranoid players.  I like tossing in occassional, random spot and listen checks as well, to keep them on their toes. 

The creatures the players met in this section are called dusanu, found in the Creature Catalogues here on EN World.  Part of me was a rat bastard, as I know the way my players play and I knew one of them would charge the creatures and get hit by this surprise...   

Don't worry, as soon as I get time, I'll post more of the adventure later on.

And yes, I’m a rat bastard.


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## el-remmen (Dec 7, 2004)

Just a little bump to say that I got my first reader as a result of the sample I posted here. . . so other authors are encouraged to add more. . .


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## el-remmen (Jan 5, 2005)

Hey, it has been about a month without any more samples. . . 

I am slowly working my way through all of these, and I don't think I am the only one - so feel free to add to it. . .


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## Enkhidu (Jan 5, 2005)

For those doing the same thing as Nemm (slogging through them all), don;t be afriad to post comments and such - I'm sure the writers will appreciate it!


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## megamania (Jan 5, 2005)

THE CREATION SCHEMA

This is an Eberron Campaign that I am DMing twice a month with a group of five players.  These players have between 5 and 0 years of experience with DnD.  Play style is clearly reflected as some think out the problems and want intrigue and others want to kick down doors and destroy whatever is on the otherside.

The Creation Schema is planned to run from 1st level to about 16-18th level and thus will take a good two years to complete.  I try to use as much pre-made adventures as I can due to time restraints and because I never have and thought it may be fun to do and fun for readers to see how different it turns out.

The Creation Schema is a puzzle that aids in the creation of warforged or placing life into a non-living construct.  Anyone with this power has a great deal of advantage and influence.

Factions thus far revealed are two seperate branches of House Cannith, The warforged lead by Lord of Blades, The Emerald Claw and now one of the PCs hoping to gain introduction to the semi-secret spy network of the gnomes of Zilargo- The Trust.  Another faction has been introduced but not revealed to the players.

Intrigue.   or at least a good game of " Hot Potato"

I try to keep the action fast and free with many laughs.

I use an unique logging method for my ALL my Storyhours (3 running- 1 to begin this summer) called Segments.  It makes reading easier and researching easier.

The lead up-

Of the five members, only two have survived the trip to the ruined country of Cyre (Mournlands).  They are Boddynoc Grinkle and Cedious.  Boddynoc hopes to use the Schema to further the power and influence of his race the gnomes.  He is the team leader and thinker.  Cedious is a halfling rogue whom likes anything to get a buzz and often gets the group into trouble.  The three new members will be introduced on the ship they are boarding.

Boddynoc just made a grievious error and thus has been robbed of most of his schemas and most importantly- the baseplate.  Unknown to him, House Cannith is on the verge of fracturing.  Three heads are currently trying to gain power to become THE head of the House.  Whomever has the Creation Schema will most likely be the head.  

They were set up by an agent of Cannith South and as a result, Boddynoc has been taken captive on a prisoner ship.  Cedious, as always, managed to escape but hid outside the ship using an invisibility potion.

There are many dangerous prisoners on board including (unknown to them- a serial killer of Gnomes known as Fracture Makker- An Ogre).  Boddynoc has given to despair while Cedious is attempting to board the ship.  Unknown to anyone, another figure is doing the same thing.

To top it off, it is night and a severe storm has risen that threatens to destroy the massive armored ship.

Then it gets difficult .....


EBERRON
01/01/05
SEGMENT 032
STORMS OF DECIET

The two guards were very used to this kind of storm.  The rise and fall.  The rocking.  Even the vibration of crashing into waves and walls of the swells.  Boddynoc was not.

What set him off was not the weather.  It was looking at the bald human next to him whom was green.  The barbarian next to him ate something green.  From across the cells a smell of something worse was rising.  It was a storm.  A bad one.  Boddynoc had heard of such storms.  Even when overhearing a House Lyrandar member was aboard didn’t help his unease however.  This Dragonmarked House controlled weather and thus was greatly involving in agriculture and …trade.  Especially sea trade.  They could influence the very weather.  However, there was a limit and Boddynoc was certain this storm exceeded that limit.  In a perverse way, he was glad the captain was going to die with him.

His negative introverted thoughts are interrupted by the rage of the barbarian next to him.  He is convinced the ship is going down and he wants free.  The guards do little as the ship swells.  They merely steady themselves and wait it out.

Then Boddynoc picks up on something.  It is not the warforged playing mindgames with the monk.  Nor is it the frightened barbarian next to him.  No –something he can hear.  After each thooming thud of the ship falling back into the water something else is striking the ship.  Something nearby.  Boddynoc, now with something to interest him sits upright and pays attention to everything happening around him.  He spots the food brought to them long ago.  The creature across from him has a clay plate and carefully has broken it to create a sharp edged stabbing weapon.  The far warforged is looking at the bars carefully.  He sees they are attached to the wooden hull and floor using large heavy and strong spikes.  The guards are also watching a vent more carefully than before.  Then looking carefully, it is just a vent-  There is a large holding cell there.  Something big and possibly dangerous is within an enclosed holding cell.   

Suddenly, Boddynoc has new insight –maybe there can be a way out.  If these people will not give up yet- why should he.  After all- he is a gnome damn it. 

The creature across from Boddynoc gives up on the idea of slicing up a guard.  The bastards are keeping a good distance from him.  He gets up and the chains hang heavily on his arms and upper body.  Still, it seems to be thinking of something.  Even the warforged that rarely moves turns to him.   

“RAAAARRRRGH!” and he rushes the bars.  WHAM!  And he stumbles back a few steps.  The guards glare at him as if that was enough to silence it.

“RRRAAAARGH!” and he rushes the bars again and strikes it even as thunder crashes overhead creating an eerie moment of silence.

The warforged stands up and looks over head.  A bolt has been broken!  He calls out to the creature- but the storm makes it impossible to hear.  He motions for him to do it again.

Boddynoc has no idea what is going on.  But still- the warforged is alert and seems to note everything that happens and suddenly has an idea or thought of action.  Maybe he knows something that eludes him.  Boddynoc watches with intense emotions.

BOOOOOOM!  A board cracks within the secret holding cell.  Suddenly the guards look panicked.  They are ignoring the Creature and warforged now.  One staggers back to a pull string and begins to yang on it several times.

BOOOOOM!…..aghhhhh! Yells Cedious as the thunders hurts his head.  He has finally made it to the top rail.  He begins to climb over when suddenly the ship pitches and he is thrown over   …again.  This makes the third time.   Someone is going to die for this.

The creature’s screams of rage hide the sound of two more bolts that break.  The creature, a warforged with adamantine plating and one of the barbarians are now charging and striking the cells in unison.  With their combined force they are breaking the bolts that hold the entire iron cage to the ship!  The other barbarian has noted a 3-inch gap that was not there before and is trying to force it wider.  A guard finally notices there is a method to the madness and goes for a crossbow.   

= be prepared to act=

“huh?!?” thinks Boddynoc.  That was from within my head.

The warforged that is aiding in the attacks on the cell thinks he saw something in the shadows in the hallway but dismisses it and goes back to pounding the cell.

BOOOOOM  another board cracks and a large pale hand reaches out and tries to wrench more boards free.  A guard fires at the hand but misses as the ship pitches again.  The guard stumbles back to the wall for support and goes to reload.  Excitement getting the better of him, Boddynoc reaches out with his magic and castes a fusion onto the armor of the guards.

[I forgot to gag him darn it!   And not all spells require use of hands   errrrr  my bad]

THROOOM! And over he goes again onto the deck.  Cedious spots the long haired youngman trying to control the ship and one crewman doing his best to secure lines and equipment.  Cedious unties himself and tries to sneak up on the man.  There is just no way to do this, thinks Cedious as he half stumbles into the man as the ship pitches forward.  He nearly losses his last meal as the ship rises and falls thirty feet!  The man is unarmed and easily taken out.  Cedious considers killing the pilot whom has seen him but notes two things-   

1- The man is too occupied controlling the ship to do anything else
2- Without this man- the ship may go down.

Let him live ...at least until after the storm.

He stumbles and slides across the upper deck and nearly becomes airborne as he strikes a ballista.  He rolls and fumbles to the rail overlooking the main deck.  There he sees 6 men working their way to the stairs leading down.

Cedious smiles.  It has to be Boddynoc.  He is escaping.



Go to the links below in my Signature to find out what else lead to this moment and how they get off ...they do.


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## megamania (Jan 5, 2005)

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI

I once sat down and thought about how different "my" Forgotten Realms was compared to "John's".  Then how different it was from the published books to stories I have read here on En World.  And I began to think.....

I had always wanted to try an Epic level story but never had the core idea.  What could happen to bring Epic level heroes together for a campaign.   

I also thought alot about how different game worlds were different and why.

Then on one boring afternoon at work it came to me.....

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI

The idea of this Storyhour (Which I DM and roll/role play also) is simple-

What if there were alternate timelines and histories?  The published work was the core line and how we as players and DMs created "branches" from this creating alternate realities.

Yes I know-  it's been done before in movies, TV and books  ...but in DnD?

Now what if I created a threat that wanted to destroy these branches (thus all of our stories and games?).  What could be done to stop this?

Enter Strikeforce: Morituri.   The arch-goddess of realities (Infiniti) has chosen several special protectors of the multiverse to stop this force from gaining power.  How will an arch-god gain power?  Through arifacts he/it created.  These artifacts were caste throughout the multiverses to stop his resurrection from ever happening.  But he has his own strikeforce.

The Heroes-

The Captain
Think Captain America  (oh yeah-  mixed types of games also)  He died at the end of WWII when The Red Man (now the Red Lich) discovers magic.  He is resurrected and made the team leader.  He is 20th level fighter.

Storm Weilder
A sorcerer from Kalamar whom specializes in weather.  She loves life and all it's about.  Recently she was made into a Corpse Creature and now loathes her exsistance.  She is a 18th level sorcerer with +1 for Corpse Creature

Vander Stormbringer
A psychic warrior / fighter from the world of Darksun just as the Cleansing Wars began.  He has lived a rough and morbid life.  He may be the unluckiest man alive.  He has been a devil's plaything, lived on Acheron and traveled to many worlds he dosen't know or understand.  He lives by two things-  his psionic armor and his psionic Falchion.  Look out when he says "I defy you."   Body parts tend to go flying.  He is a 9th level Psychic Warrior and 9th level Fighter.

Christina
Where to begin....?  18th level cleric of Infiniti.  She originates from Ravenloft.  She had a powerful curse placed on her.  Her mother is too suffer or die horribly before her.  Sounds bad right.  Now think about the fact she travels the multiverse.  Her "true" mother died and became a ghost that travels with her.  Another time within Ravenloft, she found her mother's essence forced into a powerful Mace.  Another time her mother turned out to be a cat familiar from a very powerful mage.   So she has three "mothers" that travel with her.  Currently she has become romantically (and then some) involved with another party member-

Megamania
Born 1969 in a small town in Vermont ....
He has a strange origin also.  He has incredible reflexes and a destiny.  He was to kill the antichrist.  He became a US spy and troubleshooter then began to have horrid dreams.  Eventually he learned the dreams were true and tried to convince the government to "remove" a dictator.  Didn't happen.  He tried on his own and failed.  He was dishonorably discharged and placed in military prison.  Escaped and tried again.  Died this time.
He is now a 10th level rogue.  He doesn't believe in magic, dragons or elves.  He is sarcastic and at times mean hearted.  Anything to cover his fear.  He has also discovered something new-  he has Spellfire.  10 levels of it.  He is still trying to learn how to use it and needs to quickly as he is running out of ammo for his energy gun.  Once a ladies man, he is having a hard time dealing with his deep emotions and feelings he has for Christina.

Sasha
Newest team member.  Still largely a mystery.  She seems to be highly clairvoyant.  She seems to know a lot of everything but won't discuss it with anyone.  She is the teams only none human.  By birth, she is an Oathbound Aurad.  She is a cleric of Infiniti/mage and Theuromage with a total of 18 levels.

Villians include  Peter David's future Imperfect evil Hulk, Red Lich, Vandal Boc and Jarella (a psionic assassin doppleganger)

Favorite moments include Megamania's introduction to elves and his strange healing magic of-  CPR,  Vander vs The Jaws of Sorrow (Jaws but much, much, much worse) and this one-

Here the team is near the worst defeat they have ever had.  Vander is dead (he'll be back but in 3.5 format), Christina is missing (found within the lair of a possessing Horned Devil) but the good news is rating are high.  They are currently within a large "Running man / X-Crawl" game televised throughout the planes.

As mentioned before with The Creation Schema, I use numbered Segments to track stories, plots, characters and etc... which helps readers also know where they left off.

Now-  for the Admantine Golem

STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI
SEGMENT 069
“Adamantine Might”

The Golem only shudders a bit as the three blasts from Megamania’s energy gun strikes it.  Jean unleashes a large lightning bolt, which strikes but crackles around the Golem.  It is immune to her lightning!  The captain unleashes his artifact.  It strikes true in the massive chest of the Adamantine Golem.  As the Golem looks down to see what has struck it the shield whirls away and strikes it again on the arm.  The Golem, now aware of it’s attacker, tries to swat away the insect.  Though it misses, the shield swoops but only skips off two more times before returning magically to the Captain’s outstretched hand.  Fae and Celion take cover.  They know this is beyond their abilities.

The huge construct turns its attention to the Captain whom it goes to kick.  The Captain moves away keeping the golem at range.

Megamania fires away again hoping against hope against what to his mind is a giant well-armored robot.  The shots all strike its knee and discolor the armor there.  If it hurt it, it doesn’t show. Jean tries a new trick- she calls up the icy air and moisture from high in the sky and calls it to strike the Golem.  Thick ice develops on its back and arms.  The arm holding the limp minotaur becomes frozen to its side.   The Captain unleashes his shield again hoping for the power of truth and justice to guide his aim.  The shield flies true but strikes ice as it forms (rolled a natural one) and becomes incased in the ice.  The magic of the shield causes it to move to break through the ice storm before returning to the Captain. The elves ponder what to do.  Fae knows better but pulls out his bow and arrows.  Celion prepares healing spells feeling these will be in great need soon.

The Golem reaches the Captain and steps on him.  He uses his shield to brace himself but finds the great weight forces him and shield into the ground.  The Captain can feel an arm snap and several ribs go as the shield is used against him.  The Golem takes another step then turns to locate the other subject that shot it several times.  Its limited intelligence knows these gnats want what it guards and it will not relinquish it to them.

Megamania notes the shadow that over takes him and he runs for it.  It is not a wild run without reason.  He hopes to lead it to soft ground and slow it down.  Jean concentrates once more.  She is going to strike the golem with the fury of nature.  She tries to maximize the energies involved as best as she can.  Her now undead hands flak and crack as she rapidly twists and wriggles them in the arcane patterns needed.  Though the words are correct, the sweet innocent sound is replaced by a dry voice of an undead thinking zombie.  Ice and wind form around the head of the golem.  A mini but powerful blizzard has magically started.  Hail the size of large fruit pummels at it and ice several inches thick form.  The minotaur is now frozen to its hand.  Jarella, the shapechanger begins to awake as the fierce and unnatural cold creeps to her.

The elves wait for the Golem to take a few large steps away from the fallen Captain.  Fae puts down his bow and arrows to pull the shield literally out of the captain.  The shield speaks to him.  The Lawful Good essence of it speaks to the Paladin.  This human has no idea what he holds thinks the elf as he considers using and keeping the artifact.  Celion is quick to remove pieces of the scale armor from his ravaged and crushed body.  She directs her most powerful healing powers into him hoping to seal up his torn open stomach.  She fears the worse as the Captain shudders and twitches.  His body has taken a lot of damage and it is going into shock.

Megamania leaps and tumbles over pieces of broken wall and column trying to lead the golem to a patch of very wet ground.  Several Orcs are there, all wet and bloodied.  They are angry and have just only crawled out of the underground river.  The leader sees Megamania running with his head turned over his shoulder.  An easy target.  Then the wall bursts and the 30 foot tall Adamantine Golem appears.  Now becoming tired, Jean tries more ice as she substitutes electricity for cold and castes that at the golem.  The golem is immune to the direct damage but it is carrying tons of ice and snow now on its massive back and shoulders.  It is not slowing down yet but its steps are shattering the stone walk it walks on.  The Orcs scatter and become airborne as the golem steps onto one end of a column they had climbed onto.  Like a great catapult, the three surviving orcs find themselves airborne and land past the others in a wet and messy thud.  Fae can only give a quick curse of satisfaction seeing their dead bodies.  

Celion tries more healing magic.  The Captain has stopped shaking but is still very pale.  Then Fae hears something.  He hears a great and powerful voice in his mind.  His eyes go wide and kneels beside the Captain.  Celion, now too tired to stop him, leans back.  With a look of rapture and tears , he goes to Lay on Hands.  The shield glows and somehow channels positive energy to him then to the Captain.  Bones reform and torn organs nit and pump.  The adrenaline pumps fast and furious as the Captain’s own eyes open up wide.  The Rapture now spreads to him.  The armor itself begins to rethread and reattach.  The power of the gods are being channeled!

Jarella looks from the safe distance of a broken building.  She admires the efforts of the heroes.  Vander is dead.  Jean is a mockery of her beautiful body.  The Captain is nearly dead put is healing through sheer will.  What is their reward?  She will be paid a kingdom’s ransom.  They fight now …out of caring and fellowship.  She puts her head down in disgrace and dishonor then pushes the button to return to her employer with the prize.  The great staff.

It is not until the golem has sunken to its thighs that it computes its situation and how the blue humanoid has escaped with the prize it was to protect.  As close to anger as an unfeeling construct can feel, it tries to tear through the soft mud.  All it does is free space for water, which causes it to sink further.  The tons of ice begin to push it down deeper and the water freed up by melting makes the ground softer.  It is trapped  …but not destoried.

The heroes meet in a semi-circle.  Megamania goes to retrieve something that has fallen.  The flag of victory.  He brings it to the two elves and thanks them for saving the Captain.  Fae looks at the shield then at the Captain.  “I am honored to meet you.”

The Captain replies likewise and takes the outstretched shield.  It feels good to hold the shield.

“How do we leave?” asks Jean.  “Christina is gone.  She had the ability to planeshift.”

“Vander”

“What was that Jim?” asks Jean.

“Vander had a gem that was encoded for returning to home.  He should still have it on him.”

After a few moments of searching the body, they find a gem they do not know.  “How do we activate it?” asks Jim.

“Think of home.  It is psionic afterall.” Answers the Captain.  A new glint of hope in his eye.

The surviving members of the Champions of Infiniti think of home and slowly phase out of view.  The two elves are left alone as the winners of The World Below.

“The Captain is a good man.” Sighs Fae.  “He carries a means of touching the gods directly.  I ..I..I heard the voice of Corellon Larethian.  He said I would do the …right thing.”

“and you did.” Replys Celion.  “and you did.”


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## Droid101 (Jan 5, 2005)

As Nemm and Enk said, post comments.  We love 'em.


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## megamania (Jan 5, 2005)

ooops-   STRIKEFORCE: MORITURI Link is within my siginature below.


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## megamania (Jan 5, 2005)

Enkhidu said:
			
		

> For those doing the same thing as Nemm (slogging through them all), don;t be afriad to post comments and such - I'm sure the writers will appreciate it!




I personally live on it.  Even critism (constructive that is) I enjoy.


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## megamania (Jan 5, 2005)

UNDER A DARKSUN

Athas has always been my favorite game world and I wanted to do a storyhour about it.  I wanted to drag in the Dragon-kings, Avangions and everything that goes with it.  How to do this?

I created Mania.

Mania is a mystery.  He is incredibly fast, quick and charming (stats all = 18) but he is immature and hasty at times.  He is also the center of a legend that suggests the sun of a Dragon-king will bring an age of hope and peace.  How this is done is up for comment.  Many think it will be through rebellion of the slaves and others think he will simpily overtake the evil and replace it with his own.

Now throw in the Pyreen whom are trying to sort this out and some others and you get a story going.

The segment I decided on has nothing (at least currently) to do with him.  It has to do with a teammate whom has been kidnapped.  She is a bard and the king of the Hej-kin heard her singing and wants her to sing for him and his bride at their wedding.

I decided on this one to show my strange sense of humor I use.

Currently, the story revolves around Mania whom has learned his father was Bane, a powerful Sorcerer-King.  He has learned he is over 50 years old but looks about 18 only.  He has learned of the myths and legends but doesn't believe in them.  Cosa, a Veiled Alliance member of Nobenay is his guide, lover and best friend.  She joined him when reading about him in a journal that predicts he will forever alter the world of Athas.  Belinda is a psychic warrior that is a thrill seeker and bored with life.  Wherever Mania and Cosa go however, someone wants to kill them which breaks up this boredom.  

Currently they are in Balic.  Mania has become a slave and is set to battle in the arena there.  Cosa has been chosen by an occultist of fire to use in a rite.  Belinda is trying to figure out how to save either one of them.   

I have not updated this one in a bit but hope to soon to complete it/end it at a good point.

Links are below





UNDER A DARKSUN
SEGMENT 093
“Secret Admirers” 

[Translated for reader’s ease]

“Eyyyye!   There was no harm to come to her!  He will be so unhappy with us!  Pray she is not dead!”

“”Prince!  Prince, we found her this way!  We felt her strike the stone gate and we found her prone at its base!  We have done nothing wrong!”

The four ugly short squat humanoids shuffled forward carrying a very prone and unconscience Glaze on their hard shoulders.  Their noses were long and warted with hair growing from within it.  Their small eyes say well in the darkness.  Their short legs made them waddle instead of walk.  Their fingers and toes each ended in long chipped nails.  Their skin was rough and textured.  They were Hej-kin.

Hej-kin were cavern dwellers that kept to themselves and their worship of the earth.  They disliked and distrusted other humanoids due to the use of magics and construction using earth and stone.  They phased in and out of solid stone and earth at will.  Few knew they existed at all.

“Eyyyye!  We are late with her!  The king will not be happy!” they voiced in unison.

They phased from one pocket to another with enough precision to impress any earthen cleric.  They carried her carefully being sure not to drop her or lose contact with her.  To do so would soil the very stone and earth they worship.

Finally, after forty minutes of travel, they reach a large dark room and place her carefully on the ground.  Their darkvision reveals the stern angry look of a fat cloaked Hej-kin sitting on a rock slab.  His face brightens as a soft murmur escapes from her lips.  She rolls over onto her stomach.  All watch her carefully.

Still hazy she listened carefully before moving further.  She was alone and possibly in the dark.  She remembered leaning over to avoid getting the sand in her eyes and she hit her head hard on the rock she was using to shield herself.  She then remembers hearing guttural murmurs and then found herself on the cold hard rock.  When she opened her eyes she say nothing but complete darkness.  

She was not alone however.  She could hear them.  One especially whom sounded like a fat man breathing after walking a long distance.  Concentrating, she listened carefully.  She could occasionally hear something-hard scrap on stone.  It was everywhere.  She was surrounded!

“Why does she not make pretty sounds?  I want pretty sounds!” said the fat Hej-kin.

“Eyyyye!  It is not a toy sir.  She will make pretty sounds only when she wants too. Says a Hej-kin in tattered leather armor.

“Make pretty sounds!”

She moans again.

“Ohhh!   Pretty sounds begin!”

“Eyyyye!” thinks the clothed Hej-kin to himself.

Silence.

“No more pretty sounds?  It is broken?  Fix!   Grakt fix pretty sound!  Grakt!” screams out the fat ruler.

Scrapping sounds can be heard.  She peers with her eyes mostly closed.  Nothing.  It is as dark as Dessantee’s globe.  The scrapping comes closer.

Grakt waddles up to her.  He stops and peers at her then decides to go closer.  “Fix!” he hears from the king.

Grakt looks up and down her prone body.  The king catches him staring at her rising and falling chest.  “Fix not watch!” he howls.

He leans over her with his razor sharp claws inches from her head.  “I’m afraid.  I might hurt it more with my touch.  It is so soft.   We are so tough.” He pleads to the ruler.

“Fix! Or I fix you!”

“Eyyyye.  Sir…he may be right.” Comments the armored one.

The other Hej-kin now grow wary, as the king is becoming unhappy.  When he becomes unhappy, others do also.

Grakt leans over her, his claws now a mere inch from her face.

She can smell and feel his breath and opens her eyes.  She sees nothing but gets an earful still.  “A!   Pretty thing fix itself!”

“Eyyyye” mumbles further the armored Hej-kin.  He steps down from his rock and walks slowly to the fixer and the pretty sounding thing.  “She awakens, “ he says.

“What is pretty thing doing now?” asks the ruler.

“Ahhhhh!    Casting spell she is!” screams the fixer Grakt.  He leans in to attack but is stopped by the armored one.  Both of them and the other 15 hej-kin all scream in unison as several balls of light pop into existence and wave about lighting up much of the room.  

Even prepared for it, Glaze is blinded by the burst of light.  Her dancing lights encircle her evolving close then away then close to her again.  “Uggggh” is all she can say once she sees Grakt and the armored humanoid.  “You guys are ugly!”  She pulls out her dagger now and says “Dayglow”.  The dagger glows a soft green light.

“Ohhhh….pretty!” says one Hej-kin whom is then struck by a fellow hej-kin.  “Magic…bad magic.”

Her eyes adjust to the darkness and light sources now.  She looks about and sees a total of 15 creatures.  Worse, fifteen naked and ugly creatures.  She figures the ruler and the two closest to her to be the smartest and leaders.

“Where am I?  How did I get here?  Who are you are?”  She tries to pantomime her questions as she repeats them.  Looks of wonder and confusion cross their faces.  

“Where is pretty sounds?” asks the ruler.  

She hears a guttural mumble then sounds like he has a mouth full of stones while talking.  Looking at their teeth, maybe those are stones and not teeth.  She sees no exit and realizes this is going to be a long day.

“I am Glaze.  I am from Nibenay.  I don’t know you.”  She pantomimes while saying.

The armored Hej-kin wobbles past the other and cocks his head to the side.  In a hard tone he says “Eyyyye”.  

“Yes…I-  am Glaze.  I- am from Nibenay.  I- don’t know you or your other disgusting naked warted buddies.”

“Eyyyye.  His eyes blinking rapidly in the bright light.  He points at himself and says “I”.

Her shoulders sag in defeat.  Not being one to let this stop her she sits down and watches them for a moment.  “You know, you guys seem very curious about me.  You seem to be expecting something also.”  A long pause.  “Am I correct?”

“Eyyyye” Says the armored one pulling his armor over his head to block the light.  His nakedness exposed within a few feet of her face.

“Ugh.  Okay “I” is what I will call you.”

“Eyyyye?!?” he says peeking out from his armor.

Not able to hide it anymore, she begins to laugh long and hard.  The sight of this short ugly creature with his clothes bundled up in his arms and face is too much for her. He stops and peers and shrugs.  He tries to laugh but finds it hard to do so.

The ruler is now bronzed in the face.  This is his pretty thing.  Yet she talks to him.  “My pretty thing!” the ruler shouts and stands up on his rock.  “I” bows down low and shuffles backwards.  His long toenails dragging the whole way.

“Jealous?”  Suddenly she stops and looks again.  15 ugly and some obviously horny male humanoids and one decent looking female.  Now scared herself, she fumbles with her dagger and curls up bringing the bright lights closer to her.  They may not last too long.

Nervous, she unknowingly begins to hum the song she is working on about Mania.

It has an immediate effect on them, especially the one in a cloak.

From under the Dark sun
Will come a legend
From under the Dark sun
Will come a hero


“You like that?” She says to the robed one.

He mumbles a reply while rubbing his large tummy with his knuckles.


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## Piratecat (Jan 5, 2005)

This is a shorter post than normal, but it's one I particularly like. This is the first time that the Defenders of Daybreak faced any of the ghoulish army that been rumored to be raiding the surface. It's effectively the beginning of a two year story arc that's just being finished in the story now. 

The group gathered around a graveyard in a small town, where the earth has just opened up and begun disgorging intelligent undead. . .

-- o --

The ghouls swarm upwards, probably eighty or a hundred scrabbling into sight. Most seem to have once been dwarves or gnomes; their small hands now sport long claws, and sharpened teeth can be seen through the rat’s nest of sparse dwarven beards.  With them come tiny flying balls of fire, swooping and spiraling out of the pit as if alive. Scrying devices? Impossible to say, and the _hasted_ Defenders don’t waste any time trying to find out.

Tao prepares to slow them down by casting _plant growth_ on the short grass of the cemetery, and Raevynn  follows up with the exact same thing. Velendo summons a huge fire elemental, which wades into the advancing ghouls and sears them with its fiery arms.

From up on the hill, the group waits until close to a hundred are in sight… then Malachite, _levitating_ slightly, slams his bracers together. 

*“Lux Smaragdi luceat eis!”* Emerald light bursts from his bracers as Malachite becomes the heart of an emerald sun. For just a second, the shadowy battlefield is lit up in a flash. And then, before the light fades, everyone sees the sight of dozens of undead blasted out of existence instantaneously. Flesh flies from rotting faces, bones shatter and disintegrate like ice in hot water, shrieks fill the air as the breath is driven from four-score sets of lungs. The tiny flying balls of fire seem unaffected, but the ghoulish tide is slowed; perhaps eighty or so undead perished instantaneously.

Everyone looks at Malachite with new-found respect. He might, just barely, be smiling.

While TomTom places _inertial barriers_ on people, Nolin flies high above the battlefield, and then swoops down. Hovering above a company of ghouls that survived the blast, he can see down into the pit, and sees more than a hundred more starting to climb out. Nolin casts _healing circle_, destroying more than ten, and then flies upwards as Agar drops an _acid fog_ neatly over the entrance to the pit.  “That’ll hold ‘em,” says Agar with pleasure, and summons his own _extended_ fire elemental to be on the safe side.  Velendo, upset that the ghouls might now decide to wait - thus causing all the spells that the Defenders have active to expire - stops grumbling at Agar long enough to notice that the ground is shaking. 

“What the…?”

Before he can do anything, the hillside under their feet erupts into a shower of dirt and a rising juggernaut of slimy, rotting gray flesh. At first the group thinks it’s an undead purple worm; as both Tao and Velendo disappear into its huge mouth, that’s certainly their first impressions. But as the creature engulfs them, they realize that they’re wrong.  Like grasping cilia, the inside of the worm’s mouth is filled with ghoulish arms, clutching and tearing, and dozens of screaming heads that barely poke their way out of the fleshy wall and tongue. 

Someone screams.

To the horror of people watching, the outside skin of the worm pulses grotesquely and then _turns_… shuffling itself around and revealing that each 5 ft. section of the worm’s body is the torso of a ghoul, somehow flesh-merged together. Now the worm looks more like a humongous centipede, only with ghoulish arms clutching anything nearby, instead of a centipede’s legs. The monster throws its blind snout skywards, and hundreds of half-seen gibbering mouths slobber and drool in hunger.

Inside its gullet, Tao manages to lock one hand around the razor sharp bone-like protrusion of the lip; Velendo, who has never been terribly strong, isn’t as lucky. The raising of the snout breaks his grip, and dozens of clawed arms grab him and force him down the long throat, tearing at his flesh as he goes.  He feels negative energy coursing through his body, and his screaming muscles lock in place.

_to be continued…._

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

*The Necropede* by David Hendee (Littlejohn)


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## megamania (Jan 6, 2005)

Neat P-cat.  I like the image also.  I've wanted to read your Storyhour but find it overwhelming to even begin.


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## Shemeska (Jan 6, 2005)

*You'll like this. Trust me, I'm a Yugoloth.*

This is one of my two favorite entries for my storyhour, Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour. I started writing it on a whim about two years into the campaign, and it's allowed me to flesh out some of the behind the scenes details of the campaign, better understand the PCs and NPCs motivations, etc and its spawned a few side stories as well. Most of the action takes place in Sigil and the lower planes, though this particular update took place in Elysium's 3rd layer of Belarian.

The campaign, and by extension the storyhour, is dark and sometimes skirting the lines of what won't offend anyones' grandmothers. I've seriously enjoyed it though. Building up to this point the PCs had gone to Elysium based on some information found in the posession of several mercanes that led them to believe that something was afoot in the largely sealed planar layer that dealt with fiends and a fallen guardinal and former factor of the transcendent order. During this time the yugoloths have slowly been moving towards all-out civil war as Anthraxus gathers an army to retake his former position as Oinoloth. In the bloodshed to come, some see profit and a way to benefit themselves most deeply.

But, on to the story: 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			








"One man's death is a tragedy, a million deaths are a statistic." -Josef Stalin responding to Churchill at the Potsdam conference

****​


6 Hours before the slide:


Shylara the Manged looked out across the flooded lowlands of Belarian and then back to the face of the Ebon. “I have come my love, just as you requested. Anthraxus has joined his forces at Center and marches now on Khin-Oin. The two armies will clash in perhaps a few hours from now. Soon the Oinoloth will wonder where you are.”

“No. No he won’t. The fool has more things to worry about, and all of the troops I promised him have been provided, and they will fight loyally to him. For now at least.” The archfiend smiled knowingly at his protégé. “That changes in six hours.”

“Explain my lord, for while I’ve been privy to portions of your plans, you’ve never told me the full scope of it; you’ve reserved that for your two compatriots…”The Manged sneered at the mention of those two and Vorkannis chuckled.

“Jealousy becomes you darling. Trust me and look around you. What do you see?” He said.

She looked out over the landscape and frowned, “Misguided righteousness that begets weakness. That is what I see. A barren land that the guardinals have used as a prison for what they could not kill. After all, what troubles them not and troubles the rest of the planes not is not a trouble at all. They lock their problems away and hope they cease to exist if the multiverse forgets about them. That is what I see.”

“Then we are in agreement. Consider this then: what better place to hide the marshalling site of evil than under the very noses of the purest of the pure. A prison and hiding place of their own making, too easily put to our use, and possession is 9/10 of the law…”

	The Ebon smiled down at his apprentice as they both looked out over the plane surrounding them where neither of them should have rightfully stood. Neither should there have been the fortress there that rose above the swamp nearly a quarter of a mile across with spires that rose into the sky almost as far. None of it should have been there, but there it was and the guardinals of Rubicon were blissfully unaware of it all; warded by The Ebon’s spells, the entire citadel was shrouded from sight and the very nature of Belarian itself prevented divinations and the like. Evil sat within Elysium, unknowingly aided by the motives of the pure.

	Thirty miles to the east stood the empty remnants of the smaller tower, a decoy that would suffice to convince Rubicon that all was over and quiet. It would convince them that all the blood that had been shed was all that would be. The fallen lupinal, Tarnsilver, who was now dead at the hands of Rubicon’s servitors, had been wholly unaware of the full scope of the fiendish involvement on the layer. He hadn’t known of the portal to Carceri that sat within the central courtyard of the other, much larger fortress to the west, framed by its three massive towers. He hadn’t been aware of that portal, ripped into the fabric of Belarian’s original wardings by the Overlord of Carceri himself, that now stood open and glowing a sickly reddish light up into the sky like a bleeding ulcerated wound. He hadn’t known of the sheer volume of traffic through that portal either, and neither would Rubicon till it was too late.


****​

6 hours later:

	They all awoke with a feeling of dread and nervousness, especially Fyrehowl and Tristol. While none of them could pin it down exactly as they rose from bed and wandered out into the hallway, they could sense that something was terribly amiss. All across Elysium it seemed for those minutes that the multiverse itself was holding its breath, but out of fear and dread rather than anticipation.

	Nisha yawned as she got up from the floor where she’d been curled up with her bed’s mattress in the hallway. “… what’s everyone doing out here? If I was snoring I’m sorry, and if it’s about the bed, well, I just felt like it on a lark. But I just had the weirdest damn dream…”

	Fyrehowl looked at Tristol, then Clueless, and then to the others as well. From a flicker of eye contact she knew the truth of the matter and said as much, “We all did…”

	“We’ve seen him before in Garroth’s sensory stones, and heard his voice in the Mercane’s demiplane. He’s had his hand in all of this, but I don’t know what for.” Clueless said warily.

	“Who were the two others with him?” Florian asked.

	“We’ve seen the one in the red robes before in Garroth’s material too, he was the Keeper of the tower arcane in Gehenna. Pretty much the head of his sub-race of fiends.” Tristol replied.

	“Not that he seemed to be calling the shots there…” Fyrehowl said.

	“No, he wasn’t. The third one was the bitch back in Sigil who f*cked me over in the first place… you know the name, I won’t repeat it.” Clueless said bitterly.

	“So what the hell do you think that meant? It was just to all of us it looks like. If a Yugoloth had sent dreams to anyone else this place would be jumping with every guardinal in sight.” Florian said.

	“I don’t know, but it isn’t good. I think we should tell…” Fyrehowl paused as she felt something strange. For a brief moment it seemed as if the Cadence, the heartbeat of the planes themselves, had trembled and skipped a beat. A second later her head swam with nausea and she felt sick like a piece of herself had just been ripped away and violated. Tristol likewise paused and felt ill before Toras helped him regain his balance.

	“Are you ok?” Skalliska said up to the lupinal.

	“No. No I’m not. Something horrible just happened, or will happen soon. It feels like something’s missing. We have to go back to Rubicon and warn them that something terrible is about to occur.” Fyrehowl said in a panic as she dashed down the hallway and back to the portal linking to Belarian.

	They all ran to the portal and arrived a minute later to find the pair of Avorals stationed by the swirling nimbus of light feeling sick themselves for reasons neither of them could explain either. With looks to one another of worry and concern, the group dove through the portal to Rubicon, or rather, what was left in the aftermath.

	They arrived on the southern slope of the hill leading up to Rubicon with the air heavily laden with brimstone and a sharp, coppery scent. As the acrid smoke of burnt flesh drifted over them they realized that they were not within the fortress as the portal had originally led but standing below and looking up into a scene wrought in hell. The island was seemingly sliced in two down the center, with half of the fortress simply missing and the rest of it in devastated ruin littered with the corpses of its defenders.

	“Oh powers above…” Fyrehowl said with a cracking voice.

	Amid the craters and scorch marks of spells that dotted the fortress and its surroundings, the stones of the walls of Rubicon were glowing in the rising light of dawn. Glowing red with the rising sun, the walls were coated and awash in the still sticky blood of tens of thousands of guardinals who hung crippled, dead and dying, crucified upon the battlements of the fortress. Moans of despair, anguish, and immortal agony echoed across the ruins from where the defenders of Elysium had been left to suffer and die, surrounded by the corpses of those they would eventually join in oblivion there, nailed to the walls of Rubicon by the hands of Yugoloths.

	Smoldering pits and outlines of bodies dotted the rubble, the bodies of fiends dissolving into nothingness. One of the towers of the cathedral-fortress still stood and crashed into its parapet was a dead slasrath, its manta-shaped body hanging limply over the ramparts to leave no doubt about who was responsible for the slaughter.

	“Oh powers above…” Fyrehowl said as she fell to her knees and wept.

	“Where’s the rest of the plane?” Tristol said as he too tried to choke back his emotions.

	“What do you mea… sh*t… look at the bay, look for the mainland.” Clueless said as he looked past the blood soaked island and out beyond it to the bay where Oceanus ran red with the aftermath of the massacre. The layer of Belarian was gone, vanished, and only a pale grayish mist swirled above the tarnished and bloodied waters of the holy river where Elysium’s third layer had once been.


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## Piratecat (Jan 6, 2005)

megamania said:
			
		

> Neat P-cat.  I like the image also.  I've wanted to read your Storyhour but find it overwhelming to even begin.




It's a problem, although a thousand of the posts are probably comments I need to delete. I prefer to think of the length as meaning "Why wait for an update?"    

I'm getting a lot of good stories out of this thread. Thank you for doing this.


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## Berandor (Jan 6, 2005)

nem: Now that my SH has some more installments under its belt, would it be possible if I switched them?


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## el-remmen (Jan 6, 2005)

Piratecat said:
			
		

> It's a problem, although a thousand of the posts are probably comments I need to delete. I prefer to think of the length as meaning "Why wait for an update?"




Why not start to re-post it one session every few days for those who like to be guided along their way through a story hour?

Kinda like I started doing with "Out of the Frying Pan" (which I will be moving on to the next section over at the Rat's Nest really soon)


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## el-remmen (Jan 6, 2005)

Berandor said:
			
		

> nem: Now that my SH has some more installments under its belt, would it be possible if I switched them?




Do you mean switch out what you already posted? Why would you want to do that?


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## Berandor (Jan 6, 2005)

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Do you mean switch out what you already posted? Why would you want to do that?



 Forget it. Just a question.


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## Graywolf-ELM (Jan 6, 2005)

Sounds like he has a new favorite from his story hour, and wants to swap in the newer one.  Just a guess.

I'm liking the variety here, Several that I follow are noted here and are among my favorites.

GW


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## el-remmen (May 13, 2005)

Just a bump for those that might not have seen this. . .

Authors that have already posted but have a new favorite should edit their post to replace the old one. . . .


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## Spider_Jerusalem (May 13, 2005)

Well, thanks for the tip off el-remmen... there need to be more of this kind of thread.

Hello everyone, my story hour is A Chronicle of Ice, Luck and Honour and it's an unashamedly high fantasy Forgotten Realms campaign that lies somewhere between _The Princess Bride_, _George R R Martin_ and _Babylon 5 - but without the spaceships and silly first season graphics_ (well, at least in my mind...  ). Throw in an extra handful of DnD and there you go. I love everything about it. I hope you like reading it.

This chapter is just after our unsure heroes have rather unenthusiastically decided to like each other and travelled to Darmshall (Northern Realms, below the glaciers). A marketplace chase has resulted in a drow-enslaved Minotaur about to rampage through the morning crowd   . 

I chose this chapter because it is full of fighting. I know my audience. Enjoy.


*A marketplace brawl and an execution*

Thalin drew his crossbow and levelled a bolt at the creature. A group of town guards rushed from the recesses of a foodhall and dropped into a two-tier crossbow formation. The minotaur snorted decisively, then charged into the crowd, horns spread low. An unfortunate woman was dashed aside before she even had time to move. 

The beast roared again as the woman was slung into a rations stall. Dry fruit and meats spilled around the ankles of the minotaur. 

The crowd exploded into chaos. 

A hail of crossbow bolts whistled into the beast from the combined efforts of Thalin, Milo and the town guards. A young elf in blue whirled his hands limply, and a celestial goat blazed into being only yards from the minotaur, it's Sigil-bell ringing meekly beneath its alarmed eyes. Two dwarves trudged into a defensive stance with their halberds, ushering women and children behind them. A javelin hummed through the air from a Gnoll trader, but skittered wide. A heroic Ulutian charged to the attack, but fell to his knees on the slippy fruit. Thalin's nerves jarred as a dark energy washed over the Minotaur, one of it's half-drow captors having aimed a thin bone staff at it. Everyone else ran screaming.

Torious quickly decided to release Mikka in order to defend the townsfolk. With a cheeky “See you later”, Mikka limped quickly down a side alley and disappeared in a rustle of red velvet. 

Without further delay, Torious circled to his left as the minotaur landed a hoof through the face-guard of the unfortunate Ulutian. Smelling blood, the minotaur stooped low and violently decapitated the celestial goat with a swipe of its claws. The elf wizard clicked his fingers in frustration, then ran away. 

Torious rolled to a stop. With a grim look on his face, Torious sparked a line with _Justicar_ on the paving stones and stared at the hulking minotaur. Dislodging its hoof from the Ulutian, the minotaur paced forwards, then readied to charge the Aasimar.

The crowd scattered in all directions. Another wave of bolts (and a javelin) slammed into the minotaur. Its hulking form sprung into momentum and it lowered its head to skewer Torious on its mighty horns. 

The town guards began to retreat in haste.

Thalin punched into the mind of the beast in an attempt to force it to sleep, but the levels of rage and hatred made the mage gag. His spell was useless against such a creature.

Milo finished his prayer to Tymora and loosed a magically-imbued bolt. It flew beautifully and thudded to a halt in the monster's forehead. But it was not enough.

With a deft dodge backwards, Torious evaded the plunging horns and chose his spot, driving _Justicar_ forward. His sword slid into the monster's calf. With a thunderous crash, the minotaur slid to the ground in a plume of dust. Spasming in anger, the minotaur tried to right itself but fell again and again. Another shower of bolts slowed the minotaur's movements. Thick legs limply kicked against the cobbled ground.

Milo went to fire again, but his nerve failed at the helplessness of the creature. Thalin fired twice, his first bolt shattering the base of a horn and the second thudding wetly into its flank. He went to fire again, but stopped.

The man in red armour strode forwards, slinging his crossbow onto the ground as he withdrew a wide, bronze short sword. Milo tried to call 'halt', but the man had already plunged the sword into the base of the minotaur's skull. With a final grunt, it died. 

The man grinned in triumph, and pulled his sword free. The man in red was the only one not suprised as the sword wound ignited and the beast's body was consumed in a thick yellow blaze.

The screams of the crowd died down as the guards ran to the casualties and reassured the townspeople that they were safe. Torious picked himself up and looked for the thief, but he was nowhere to be seen. Thalin and Milo dashed over to Torious to make sure he was okay. Not a scratch.

Thalin blinked wearily around as the guards began to question people about the cause of the disturbance. Coughing through the smoke of the burning minotaur, the three companions watched the man in red stride across the square, a handful of townsfolk thanking him for defeating the beast.

“Perhaps we should leave now,” Thalin said, nodding in the direction of the guards.


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## Kid Charlemagne (May 13, 2005)

Here's a post from Like Father, Like Son: Kid Charlemagne's Story Hour, Pt. III.  This is pretty early on in Part III.  The PC's are around 9th level here, I believe.

The PC's are Jovah, a cleric of Bes the god of luck, Reana, a female half-elven ranger, Jalea, a very chaotic elven rogue, Sir Brennen, a fighter/Sword of Kelanen (a reigious warrior homebrewed PrC), Gavin, a wise-acre horseman (recently knighted) and Corwin, a human wizard who is a recent addition to the group at this point.

They're investigating Arlen Kentfield, a demon-cultist who has been making things tough in the city of Ulfang...

*Cape Varna, Princedom of Krone, June 11th, AE 420*

The next day, Corwin attempts to _scry_ on Kentfield, but gets no result.  He then spends the rest of the day in the University of Cape Varna’s extensive libraries, courtesy of Tolaro Telegar.  The libraries there are among the most expansive in the known world, thanks to the elves’ long-lived nature and love of learning.  Corwin is looking for more information on Mordax, and he is joined by Jalea and Brennen.  They find it rough going, though, slogging through piles of books.  They find little new information, although there are piles more books to look through, and they plan to continue.

In the meantime, though, the party plans to look into the note in Quinn’s robe.  They are fully expecting that this could be an ambush.  Corwin _scrys_ Kentfield again the next day around sunset, and this time he finds him.  He is on board his ship, eating dinner with Quinn and the ship’s officers.  Very dull stuff, until just before the spell ends.

“You doing another _divination_ on them in the morning?”  Quinn asks.

Arlen Kentfield nods affirmatively.

“Damn,” Jovah says.  “They’re doing the same things we’re doing.  How are we going to fix that?”

“Well,” Gavin offers, “we could decide on a course of action, and then the next morning randomly change our plans…”

“You mean we let Jalea lead?” Aris quips.

That same evening, they _fold_ to Ulfang again in order to check out the “112 Silversmith Lane” address that they found on a piece of paper in one of Quinn’s old robes.

“So where precisley are we going?” Corwin asks Jovah.

“I’m not sure precise is the right word,” Jovah replies.

They decide to _fold_ to the courtyard of the Gregarious Gargoyle, since Jalea estimates it is about ten blocks from Silversmith Lane.  Moments later, they are there, none the worse for wear this time.  They notice that the tavern is closed, _Orders of the Office of the Constabulary, Ulfang._

As they file out of the courtyard and onto the street, Jalea notices a horse-and-buggy pull out from an alleyway several blocks down.  It isn’t so late that they are the only people on the street, but Jalea quickly decides that the buggy is following them.  He informs the others, and then slips into the shadows to try and get the drop on the pursuer.

Shortly afterward, the buggy veers off in another direction, no longer following the party.  The bulk of the group continues on to 112 Silversmith Lane.

“Check me on this,” Aris says to Reana, “But didn’t we just determine that Jalea shouldn’t be doing _exactly_ this kind of thing?”

“Yup,” Reana replies.

They arrive at the address on the note.  This section of Silversmith Lane is inhabited by the apprentices and menial workers of the silversmithing trade, and it is a poor section of town.  112 Silversmith Lane appears to be a rickety wooden tower, three stories tall.  It has apparently been subdivided into 112B and 112C, but it would appear that 112 is the top floor.  A questionably secure stair winds around the outside of the tower until it comes to an end in front of the door.  Jovah casts _detect magic_ to see if he can get a sense of any surprises from outside the building.  He can tell that there is something magical inside the apartment, but not its exact location.

Jalea returns unscathed.  “That was the constables.  They’ll probably be looking for us, but they don’t know where we went.”

Jovah casts _fly_, and grabs the elven rogue.  They fly to the doorway, and Jalea begins chcking for traps and picking the lock.  It’s a better lock than he would have expected in this neighborhood.  The others clamber up the rickety staircase.  Soldago stays downstairs to watch, bow ready.

Jalea gets the door unlocked, and Jovah opens it.  As he does so, he finds the source of the magic he saw earlier; a ghostly black panther leaps from the rafters of the tower’s peaked roof onto the gnomish priest!

“Yikes!” Jovah yells.  He swings with his heavy mace, and lands a blow – which is lucky, considering the thing’s insubstantial nature.

The others start rushing up the stair at the sound of Jovah’s battle, but are bottle-necked towards the top.  Brennen gives in to his desperation, and chops a hole in the rickety wall with his longswords, and crawls into the room.  Jovah and Jalea have, however, made short work of the beast, and it’s ghostly form blows away in the wind.

“There’s something under the bed that’s magical, too,” Jovah says.

Jalea searches the room, and finds a battered trunk under the bed, and a pouch hidden under the loose cap to a bed post.  They take the items, and _fold_ out, before the constables can arrive.

“Where are we folding to?” Gavin asks.

“I’ll let you know,” Jovah responds.

The Priest of Bes takes them to Tolaro’s house again.  They check out the trunk – it’s _fire-trapped_, of course, and Jalea once agains learns this the hard way.  Inside is a red leather bound book with a gold clasp.  It proves to be a spellbook (although it radiates magic itself, as well).  Several loose sheets of paper are stuck in the book as well.

Victoria VanDeVeer – possible contact with Graz’zt?
No one in area has suitable diamonds, Falco will have to find them elsewhere
Quinn and I are of one mind, re-empowering Mordax is the first step.  Quinn has a plan on how to do it, we just have to wait for the right moment to act.
Dahloss, 42 Shaded Lane, Tor
They also score 300 platinum pieces, and a few gems, most notably a 1,000 gp black opal.  Corwin does some alchemical testing on the potion bottles found in Kentfield’s safe.  They prove to be a _potion of clairaudience/clairvoyance_ and a _potion of fiery breath_.

“I’ll take the fiery breath one,” Jalea suggests.

“I think that falls under the category of, ‘If you _want_ it, you _don’t_ get it’,” Brennen replies.


----------



## carpedavid (May 13, 2005)

My Land of the Crane story hour is set in an oriental land known as Tanayari. The heroes, who are representitives of their clan, have embarked upon a journey to take an offering to the spirit guardian, Hi no Tsuru. The following entry is from the beginning of their journey, and we join them in the middle of their investigation into the sowing of salt into a town's rice fields.

--------------------​
"Wait, Fu-chan," Kakeru suddenly said, "Let me go with Takashi." Fukasu looked at him, puzzled, and he replied, "You can fly over there quickly, but it'll take me longer to get there. So I should probably go first."

"Ok, we'll cover you."

Kakeru nodded, and he and Takashi crawled up over the road, down the other side, and began wading slowly through the rice paddy. Every time one of the saboteurs paused, Kakeru and Takashi paused as well. Kakeru could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his own breathing sounded like a hurricane in his ears. Musashi and Fukasu struggled to control their own breath as he readied his bow and she drew her ninja-to.

Takashi closed to within striking distance a moment ahead of Kakeru. He braced himself, took a deep breath, and lunged at the closest black-clad figure. The ninja looked up just in time to dodge out of the way of Takashi's powerful fist. Unfortunately for the young monk, this gave the ninja the perfect opportunity to jab his blade into his opponent's ribs. _Uh-oh_, Takashi thought, as the ninja-to pierced his side.

Now aware that they were under attack, the other two ninja reacted. One identified herself as the leader by barking out orders to the other, who rushed Kakeru. The ninja slashed at the young shaman, but missed wildly. Emboldened, Kakeru projected his will into the spirit world and beckoned the dancing spirits of flame and fire to come to his aid. He could see them dancing toward him, scurrying across the hazy terrain of the sprit world, when he felt a stabbing pain in his torso.

His vision snapped back to the material world, and he looked down to see a ninja-to sticking out of his stomach, right above his navel. The ninja smiled and ripped the blade out, sending a spray of blood out across the water. Kakeru coughed once, spit out a mouthful of blood, and collapsed.

"No!" Fukasu screamed as she launched herself into the air. Her powerful wings sent a spray of water out around her with each beat. Musashi nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring, paused to let his breath synchronize with the beat of Fukasu's wings, and then let fly. The arrow zipped across the water, passing just under the half-oni's right wing, before missing the lead ninja's head by less than an inch.

While the shot missed its target, it provided Takashi with the distraction he needed, and he slammed an open palm into the leader's solar plexus. Even from his potition across the water, Musashi could hear the breath burst from her lungs. _Should I charge?_ he wondered for a moment. _No_, he realized, _crossing the water will take too long. I will better serve my friends from here._

The ninja followers tumbled into position to flank Takashi, and were just about to strike when Fukasu swooped in from above. She landed in the middle of the group, which caused the two followers to cower in fear, and then tumbled behind the leader.

The first ninja, who Takashi had jumped, screamed and swung wildly, catching the young monk in the side of the face. "Ow!" Takashi cried as blood poured down over his chin. _I can't take many more of those_, he thought. The ninja leader swung at Takashi as well, but a well timed gust of wind from Fukasu's wings threw off her aim.

The monk from the Temple of Thunder and Lightning looked to his left to see one of Musashi's arrows pierce the second ninja's neck. The young man collapsed, his arterial blood creating a slick on the surface of the rice paddy. Takashi looked back to see the ninja leader staring at her fallen companion, and he took the opportunity to slam an elbow into her nose, causing her to yelp in pain.

"You die!" she screamed as she swiped at Takashi once again. This time, he easily sidestepped the wild swing, but he ran right into the first ninja's blade. Blood poured out into his robes as the blade was withdrawn, and he began to feel woozy. _Concentrate, Takashi_, he warned himself.

"You motherless dog!" the lead ninja screamed at Takashi. He raised his arms in an attempt to defend himself against another slash, but watched her face contort in pain instead. She gasped, gurgled, and fell face-forward into the warm, copper-colored water. Fukasu placed her foot on the woman's back and pulled her ninja-to from between the corpse's shoulder blades.

The first ninja screamed again as his leader's lifeless body joined that of his friend, and he slashed wildly again. Takashi tried to move, but the loss of his own blood slowed his reactions, and the blade cut deeply into his chest. _Oh, hell_, he thought as the world went gray.

Fukasu ignored the half-mad ninja and dove to the ground next to Takashi. She placed her hand against his neck to check for a pulse and found one, albeit weak. _Thank you, great ancestors_, she thought, _for keeping my friend alive_. She looked up at the remaining ninja and wondered if she would have to kill him next.

A third arrow from Musashi answered that question. The man cried in pain as the arrow sliced through his thigh. He turned and started to run, screamed in pain again, and hobbled as quickly as he could move. Fukasu turned her attention back to Takashi and Kakeru, and she began ripping off pieces of her robe to bind their wounds.

As she tightened the first of the makeshift bandages, she heard another scream, followed quickly by a splash, and looked up to see Musashi standing over the body of the last ninja, the string on his bow still quivering.

"Fu-chan? Are they still alive?" Musashi yelled as he sprinted toward Fukasu, who he could see was hurriedly bandaging their two fallen companions.

"Yes, but we need to get them back to town."

"Will they make it back?"

"They're stable, at least for now," she said as she picked up the young monk's body and placed it on the first cart. "Help me with Kakeru-kun," she said as she grabbed the young shaman's feet. Musashi knelt down and grabbed his childhood friend around the shoulders, and then grunted as they lifted his substantial weight.

"We need to burn the bodies," Musashi said, nodding toward the fallen ninja.

"We should probably save one to see if Takayama-san can identify it."

"Good idea," Musashi grunted as they set Kakeru down. "Let's burn the two of them, and then I'll stay here with the remaining one."

"Why not bring it with us?" Fukasu said, puzzled.

"I would not disgrace Takayama-san by bringing the corpse of a criminal into his town," Musashi said, indignant. "Once you get Kakeru-kun and Takashi-san taken care of, you can ride back with him. He may also be able to identify anything out of the ordinary about this area."

"I'm not convinced, but this isn't time to argue," Fukasu shrugged.

The two travelers from Kurosawa pulled the corpses of the ninja onto the road. They poured lamp oil over two of them, and then Fukasu ignited them with a spark from a set of flint and steel. They watched the corpses burn for a minute, hoping that it would be enough to sever the tie between the bodies and Yomi, the realm of the dead.

"Will you be ok?" Fukasu asked as she climbed into the cart with her unconscious friends.

"Yes, Fu-chan," Musashi replied, seemingly without concern, "Just hurry."

***​
Fukasu entered Takayama's manor with as much bluster as she could manage. Rice-paper doors slid open all over the house as the young half-oni carried Kakeru and Takashi's unconscious bodies inside, shouting for Takayama all the while.

"What's going on?" Takayama yelled as he ran toward the group. Various servants crowded the hallway, and it took him a minute to push through. "Oh, great ancestors!" he exclaimed once he saw Fukasu standing over the limp bodies of her companions.

"Do you have anyone that can help?" Fukasu implored.

The kuramoto of Takayama sakagura stared at the scene mutely for a moment before answering, "What? Oh yes, of course!" He turned to one of his young servants and said, "Go fetch Chuichi-san. Quickly!" The servant ran out into the village, and Takayama knelt down next to the three adventurers. "What happened?"

"We ran into three of the ninja that were salting your fields," Fukasu said.

"Ninja?" Takayama looked shocked.

"Yes, ninja," Fukasu said matter-of-factly, "This is the work of someone dedicated to hurting you."

Takayama stared at the two bloody bodies at his feet and let out a great sigh. "This is unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. "Wait, where's Musashi-sama?"

"He's waiting back in the field. We need you to come back with us to see if you can identify the any of the corpses of the dead ninja."

Takayama looked disgusted, "Why would I know any ninja?"

Fukasu shrugged, "We're just trying to eliminate all possibilities."

After a moment, the servant returned with a middle-aged man dressed in robes similar to Kakeru's. "Chuichi-san," Takayama stood up to greet him. "Fukasu-sama, this is Chuichi-san. He is our town shaman. Please allow him to help."

Fukasu nodded as Chuichi knelt down next to her. He looked at the bodies of her companions, and then looked over at her and nearly jumped out of his skin. Fukasu sighed, and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"My apologies, Fukasu-sama," the shaman said as he recomposed himself.

"It's ok - just help my friends."

The shaman nodded, and Fukasu watched as he summoned the same blue energy that Kakeru had always used to heal her. Less than a minute later, both of her companions were up on their feet. While Fukasu filled them in on the events that had transpired after they had been knocked out, Kakeru looked down at the hole in his robes. He poked one finger through, and gently rubbed his belly. _Well_, he thought, _that didn't work out too well_.

***​
Musashi leaned against one of the remaining carts. _I hope they get back soon_, he thought, _it's getting cold out here_. A chill ran up his spine, and he shivered involuntarily, which caused him to look around. He couldn't see anything out in the darkness, and he couldn't hear anything splashing through the field, so he took a deep breath. _Get control over yourself_, Musashi. _Fear is not an option for a samurai_.

The wind whipped across the fields, rippling the standing water. The horses snorted nervously, and a low, deep drone, like a tree groaning in the wind, caught his ear. He looked around in alarm. _I can't see any trees_, he thought. _Was that one of the horses? What was that sound?_ He looked at the cart he was leaning against, at the corpse of the ninja rising to its feet, at the road stretching off into the darkness, at the two horses, and then back at the reanimated corpse... _What the? Oh, great ancestors!_


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## Felikeries (May 15, 2005)

I find some of the first and last quite more entertaining,however that's too
typical so a found this.

The Quest Begins II

“tell me Kelidor what brings you to the services of Eiweyes,she is a sorceress
herself,though I don’t doubt the reasons for the choice of thee and Zea were
a greatly entrusted account of thyne’s own talents”Kreth asked as they sat
at the campfire,each rather dissillusioned by the first encounters as to what the rifts and their creations may hold.

“there is little reason,Zea was accompanied by myself from the South,durring
our stay at an Inn she had met with me of charms grace,and we discovered that Gethree was our destination,….the governess was aloting a pay to those who’d serve as a spellcasting guard for her,though we didn’t have much ineterest,there were no other plans”

“The story of the rifts and that we were to meet with the Fraith and thief that had arrived was a great answer for us to complete our vow,and find again the virtues for adventure that I know I live upon finer than the wholly waters of a fresh april river”Zea then answered the bantar,with her impressions,and Thea made her words voiced..

“little worth for the living if they can’t make away with the living who
step in their way….a fight to the death you’ve joined you realize,the rifts
have a dark source of power,and nought and dire eyes will hail those who
find victory…that we may”Thea set the mug whence they each responded and gathered their first toast and sentiment that this was a fine way to take the faith of their fighting souls to adventure’s fate.


The path was no more….the Delvins didn’t respond to the natural ground in any chagrin but,they had to be much more carefull,about finding their way,and as they did so what was to be when they approached Elven lands.The simplicity of this was not an unkempt switch for any who passed however,for they realized that with the ways for travel not there for most,the problems escue within the area must be great,perhaps even the result of the weaves they were looking for,or the beings affected reaction,and fear for their safely kept villages to be found by the commonor-who may bring with them the unwanten-this twist unconforming to help as the group offered,non the less did not take away from what they were there to do,and when they met the first intimidated elf to find them,they knew there were words of charismatic gith to be made,if they were to be fie and hey to the mission they intended.

The shrubs were misconcieving at a spot reached at mid-day,the air calm,no breeze,and the dirt almost too natural looking;so they stopped to have a closer look.

“we’re perhaps standing within the makes of the original path,finaly,to be certain 
on our way with no err,….hmmm I shall dispell this with air elements,take the 
Delvin beyond the area”Kelidor stated the purpose and force of arcana to be
used,and the others moved to beyond the clearing.Concentrating with intention that nary stiffled the image of a chastizing battle,the air fell into etheral trinklets that floated earthward,then another casting swarn into effect with words and hand waving surged an imploding crash before the ethers touched the ground,and vortex’s of wind dancing with arcana ripped about for a awhile then vanished.The air settled
it’s discomfort of dust and fleckery finally revealing as all looked upon it the lay way bricks of a path settled at each side of the plain dirt,10 ft –and upon a few the remains of a blood-magityne deposit,that sat in grimly rasputine to the avail just made upon the discovery.

“though we go now with direction,we know not to what,the Elves beist as they may,have
little interest in leaving scars of the slain on the trade routes,another day and we’ll
be met by scouters if they still live”Zea stated,as Kelidor spoke not looking at
the glops upon the path perimeter,and they made off at a quickened canter,speeding the mighty Delvin beasts at sure enpowered interest to travel miles that day.

As they suddenly slowed with Thea leading the group,a worn bit of ruffened ground forming a path of sorts had been the making for aways,-they knew there was a reason for this,as each felt the intention to travel this new route to great means before the sun was
spent.

“there are Teacateyles,harrowing might forms,I’m not certain”Thea stated as they realized the strange scream of a frightened birds,and a low barely heard growl,for this to be of the wyrms they were not sure.

“eiey….the shadow dances…there….we are in danger the unseen enemy is near”Kelidor made the motion,and there they viewed a shadow,unaturely scratching it’s huant across the ground,-a tree,the branches,beyond the path,darting images that beckoned danger.

Zea dismounted first and cast a spell that sent a wasp of cloud like material forward towards the last place the shadow was seen,as it made to 60 ft,it fell upon the creator
of the shadow it’s invisibility being uncalibrated by the mists forming,which then finally broke the sorcery.A black scaled 10 ft troll,with horns and glowing purple eyes,and a silver wand in one hand and a black dagger at waist,with an evil stare looked upon the party and this time growled with damnation,taking them aback,and foretelling
of the battle.

“demon….what be your intentions”Zea asked,as they each took to fighting proclivity.

“Speak not…..fools I am not alone,there are demons who follow me they will kill thee with great calor,if not you fall upon my dagger first”it took the dagger,and waved the wand,this sent a wave that threw them back 15 ft,but they didn’t fall,and weren’t very certain however about their next trick against this troll foe.

“what demons….you speak in fear for you’re life,but we have no such fear,the
first strike landed upon thee for preaching of attack,will be far worse than
you’re meager trickery”Kreth spoke as approaching,with copper sword forward and shallow carefull steps.

“we will fight,they will fight each of us,there is no attack that will wait….see it approaches”the troll motioned and the sound of gurggling anger was nearing,then the shouts of elves,and an arrow flew past them and dug into a tree.

Within a moment the 4 beasts were there,engulfed in an undead type field,but they were fully alive,a refuse from the rifts,it looked as though-3 elves were chasing them,each with an arrow set for attack,and two met the Chenexfer’s but fell away from the power
shielding that was still there.

The Troll jumped upon one,and dashed the dagger about wildly as the Chenexfer scuttled in no way hampered,leering at the enemy to gash a poisenous wound.Spells were cast by Kelidor and Zea,the elements did no use for the group as they knew the weapons could not injur the creatures when their fields were still alive,however Zea’s spell did affect this
very needed counter,causing the flickers to die away,as the creature leaped forth and slashed at her,Thea cut at it blocking the attack,and the two girls stepped away as Kreth took to battle with it and soon the foes were able to be attacked,dispondent from the lacked defense at first,but wildly angry,and moving about making attacks reliant on
weakening the adventurers with a poisen imbued gash.As Kreth finally sent a sword bransting into the chest,he backed away and made the ethereal familiar dash into the flurry and attack with ferver.

“thank you….the beasts are weakened –we lead this to an end now”one elf called,and fired an arrow into the one Kreth had gotten,finally killing it.

The troll finally stood,limping with a wound,obviously poisened,but the Chenexfer was
worse,it was not alive.An elf soon fell to a poisen attack that left it convulsing on the ground,and Thea swishing in great arcs,bade an opening on that same beast,and chopped a wound spilling it’s blood and poisen slop from the pealed flesh.

‘no….the poisen will kill our friend….please do you have a flask of curing or spells that can help”one elf stopped from taking arrow shots,and called to them,as tugging the now motionless elf to the side.

Zea approached,as the troll,Kreth and Thea bared down on one,untill it was pinned against a tree,and with a same swooning mighty swipe the Fraith and the theifess severed the Chenexfers nap,sending the morbid visoning from it’s finall sights scurdling across the ground.

The final creature knew there was a problem,and made away,no followers,alive for now,but vengence may be what they were considering,for now as they gathered at the
Elf,it looked as though it was not a poisen surge that it could survive.

The group rode into the village area,nestled against a 400 ft hill,with many trees not but a few feet beyond the perimeter gate.The troll,who was still a devious lot,was allowed to 
attand as well,but they kept a watchfull eye,more than likely it was not of any truelly
good intentions.The three scouts had been looking to do just as that which they encountered them as –tracking and defending the village from the new terrible monsters that arrived in greater numbers now than in the seasons past.The path it was explained was deemed too easy for the enemy to make damning passage about the lands,and so a great invocation was cast that made dirt cover it entirely,and some trees were teleported to offset any clue of it’s being there.The nightime was worse,so they had chased,and then nearly been chased by these Chenexfers way beyond the normal task,but the field which
denied any weaponed attack was making them in fear for the battle,untill Zea had found the way of undoing it,they had won,however one elf had not made it,and that night,the ways of the cultutre and their acceptance as an ally was borne of the funeral,and dancing and drinking,that trumpeted the scour of luck and the court of victory in means for celebration within the scars frought.Beheld of images of the elves,they drank through the
night,the air still and dark,as the fear for the lands that fell under the patterns of death the rifts created was taken to the grave for mortem extritiux,better now than they had first imagined the immersion of their worth to lend a strength for any of the lands was met with approval,the troll lost the vile sneer,and danced with a playfull femme d’elf
and their mission for understanding was made,as they spoke of their quest,and the elve’s told of the nature of the wrath that had been fallen upon their land.


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## megamania (May 15, 2005)

This Storyhour has only just begun.  I will list the first two since the first one gives hints to the force behind the Pathfinders and the second shows what I am looking to do with the storyhour that is different.  DRAWINGS!

As a qyuickie for those unfamiliar with Eberron Dragons.  They are the sages of the world whom are trying to figure out the Draconic Prosphecy.  Some dragons are happy to figure it out and watch it unfold.  Others are not.  Some want things to happen faster or slower, to the betterment of the world, for the betterment of themselves.  This story is about a dragon whom has a family line that aids it in "fixing" the history / fate of Eberron.  It is  a patron to two adventurers sent to see to it things occur and for the right reasons.

THE PATHFINDERS
SEGMENTS 001
“Finding the Path”

The stars were full and clear on this hot and humid summer night. The stars seemed to wink and twinkle as two figures walked up the grassy hillside. The father and his young son. The father, very large and majestic, paced himself as the much younger and smaller child tried to keep up. He spoke softly and gently as they arrived.

“Do you see the village there- by the shore line my son?”

“Yes father. They look like little ants from here.”

“Yes, I suppose they do. Does that make them any different?”

“No father. They are all a part of creation.”

“Go on.” Says the proud and wise father.

“They are a part of the great circle of life. They all share in Khyber, Eberron and Siberys creation. They share it will us.”

“Very good son.” And he places a warm arm on the young son’s shoulders. It nearly drives the child to the ground.

“Is this why you brought me here? To see the humans?”

“No my son. It is time you learned of your heritage, potential and the Prophecy.”

“The Prophesy?”

“Yes. I study it daily. Most often from this very spot.”

“woooooow.” Says the wyrmling as he looks to the night sky. “How do you study it?”

“It is within the stars. They speak to you.”

“But they are so far away! How do you hear them?” The blue wyrmling’s large eyes grow wider in amazement and awe.

“Hahhahahahahaa. You have much to learn. Today you take your first steps. Today you choice your human aid.”

“Aid? But we’re dragons. We don’t need help. Especially from human fishermen. They smell all fishy and yuck!”

“Not all men fish. And not all men smell of fish. Have you ever seen the male human visit me?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

The large blue looks down with raised spiked eyelids.

“I saw him once from the bushes near our home. Who is he father?”

“Paploose is MY human aid. He helps me make the prophecy clear”

“Really?” Says the small dragon. “He must be very smart!”

“Hahahahaha… indeed but as smart as I.”

“Paploose travels the world and tells me if what I have foreseen has become true. He is very important to me.”

“wow.” Says the blue wyrmling in deeper and more serious thought.

“Today- it is YOUR turn young Axiom of Argonnessen. Today you are to study the stars. Allow them to reach out to you. To fill your mind. You will see riddles and cryptic messages emerge within your mind.”

“I will?”

“Oh yes. And most importantly, tonight you will choose the human family that will aid you.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, by dawn you will know whom to reach and contact. They will be on the island somewhere. Possibly a fishermen or a barbarian. Maybe something else. The point I am making is you will know on sight once the stars have touched your mind and soul.”

“wow” says the little dragon. Suddenly he realizes his father is leaving. “Where are you going?”

“The stars will not speak to dragons that remain too close together. This is a private pact you make. I will be within the valley near the ford collecting goods from the farmers for your mother. I will wait for you.”



And thus did Axiom sit and stare at the stars ….this was 800 years ago. Today, the war still goes on with no end in sight. The year- 986 YK.


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## megamania (May 15, 2005)

and now for something different- please check out Segment 002-
Attached Thumbnails


looks like it won't send over the attachments so you'll need to click it to see.


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## talien (May 16, 2005)

*Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons and Treasure Runs*

1) This installment is titled "Dark Bargains."  

2) I chose it because it sums up all six characters.  The problem is, they've just gone through a lot of trouble to finish a quest, and then realize at the end that the right thing to do is abandon it.  

5) Story hour link: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=103252



> As they entered, the smell of decay and mustiness of the ageless seemed to engulf them.  Swirling miniature dust storms formed and died with every move.  Kham sneezed.
> 
> The chamber was titanic in its size; large enough to swallow entire buildings whole and still have room left over.  Thousands of scrolls, tomes and books occupied an entire side of the room.
> 
> ...


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## Angcuru (May 16, 2005)

_This is the first post from my PbP Story Hour: A New Power.  Although it is a prologue to the actual game, I chose it because it introduces the reader to some of the themes central to the game._



“Master Tabano, does his mean we won’t see you again?” The padawan asked the question that had been nagging his mind ever since they had landed on Coruscant.

“It may, Arias. I’ll be taking a new padawan learner, but we may see each other more often than you expect. You and Miera are more than ready for this and you know it. If not for the strain of preventing a full scale war, the council would have summoned you both for the trials long ago.” The togruta replied.

“I hope that is the real reason why we weren’t called earlier…” Arias looked down past his feet, through the clear shell of the turbolift at the early morning sun shining past the countless buldings.

“I hope so too, Arias.” Miera spoke up.

“Now now, Miera. If the council disapproved of my taking two padawans when I did, they won’t have the same sentiment now. Not only is the need for Jedi greater than ever in these strained times, but you two are the most gifted padawans I have ever had the privilege to train.”

“Ha. We’re the only padawans you’ve trained, master.” Arias said with a grin on his face.

This brought an amused grin to Tabano's multi-colored face as. "True enough. Even so, I have never heard of anyone completing the training as rapidly and thoroughly as you two have."

"You give us too much credit, master." Miera smiled. "It was due more to your persistance than anything else."

Tabano smiled at his two human padawans. "Now you give me too much credit."

The turbolift slowed to a halt, and the doors opened to the lobby, with the Jedi Council just past a set of doors on the other side of the room. The receptionist indicated that they should be seated until the Council called for them.

After several minutes of waiting, the doors opened and shut as a familiar figure walked out, rubbing the sides of his head.

"I take it the council is becoming more thorough in its debriefings, Obi-Wan?" Tobano asked.

"Hmm?" Obi-Wan Kenobi looked up, surprised. "Torm Tabano? With Arias Falm and Miera Pannar too? Of course its you, you're the only rainbow with two padawans in the order!" He stepped forward with a grin and clasped hands with the togruta. "It's been a long time, old friend."

"It most definitely has been, Obi-Wan."

"Ah, Miera, Arias. You're looking well."

"So are you, Master Kenobi." Miera and Arias replied in unison.

"Ah, don't be so modest. You don't think I've forgotten how you came to aid Anakin and I last year, have you?."

"Well, they're only droids, sir. It wasn't anything extraordinary." Arias said.

"Wasn't it?" He patted Tabano on the back. "Ah, I wish I could stay and chat, but I'm running on a tight schedule."

"Yes, that seems to be the case with so many in these times. Be safe, Obi-Wan." Tabano returned the gesture.

As Obi-Wan entered the turbolift, the receptionist gestured for Arias and Miera to enter to council room.

Miera took a deep breath as they stood up. "Wish me luck."

"You won't need it." Arias smiled at her.

***

Several years later on the Ice Planet of Hoth...

"I REPEAT: Our entire battalion has been pinned down by at least 2, no three dozen droidekas!" The clone trooper yelled into his comms reciever. "Casualties are at 27 percent and piling up fast! We need support NOW!"

"Any response, trooper?" His commanding officer queried, crouching behind a wall of dead troopers piled on the rim of the crater they were holed up in long enough to replace the power pack on his blaster rifle.

"None yet, sir. There's too much chatter on the com network to get a clear signal." The comms trooper slapped the side of his wide-spectrum communications transmitter in frustration.

"Keep trying, then."

After several minutes of repeating the same message into the transmitter, he barely heard the response over the hellish blaster fire. "Message recieved, trooper. Put your commanding officer on the comm."

The trooper tapped his commanding officer on the thigh, and handed him the comms reciever as he crouched down.

"Yes sir. Casualties are currently at...35%. If this keeps up we'll be slaughtered within the hour. Firing coordinates, sir? Hold for a moment." The trooper commander stuck his head up over the barricade or corpses to point a guidance laser at the nearest cluster of droidekas, and nearly had a fix when a blast hit him square in the neck, decapitating him in a shower of blood combined with scorced flesh and armmor.

The comms officer went to retrieve the transmitter, only to find that it had been disintegrated. The trooper discarded the comm unit and took up his blaster, trying to get a bead on the droidekas, but he could only see the blinding white snow of the raging blizzard. No use trying to sense them with infrared either. The cold cooled the droids' frames to the point where they were indescernable from their surroundings, but at the same time lit up the clone troopers like a cluster of stars gone nova.

There was simply no way that they could survive this, and the trooper knew it. It's a good thing that clone troopers are incapable of fear. He aimed his blaster toward the nearest source of droid baster fire and hoped to hit something other than snowflakes. Out of nowhere, a blue light suddenly shone from behind the group of droids. Two blue lights extending from a single point, actually, and that could mean only one thing.

The dual blades spun in a rapid, continuous arc as they rushed the cluster of droidekas so fast that the trooper could barely follow them. The tight cluster of half a dozen droidekas fell apart almost simultaneously, as if their joints had suddenly decided to separate.

A crashing noise from the opposite side of the barricade caught the trooper's attention. A pair of droids lay in a smoking ruin, as another was suspended in the air at least ten meters above a fourth droid, and suddenly fell to collapse onto another two, destroying all three.

"All troopers cease fire! Grendades concentraded on points 6.0 and 12.0!" The remaining troopers hurled their last grenades, alltogether taking out at least fifteen droids. The comms trooper, now the commanding officer, then hurled their last thermal detonater, but unluckily the winds changed precicely as it left his hand, blowing the explosive directly towards the exact center of the troop formation. It was a VERY good thing that clone troopers were incapable of fear.

Just before the detonater was about to hit the ground, it halted and shot off in a completely different direction. In fact, it was headed towards a group of droidekas. The grenade detonated in a flash, showing that at least five droids had been melted down in that blast.

With that last flash, all was silent. The blue light disappeared, and two figures strode out of the snow toward the trooper.

"Generals Falm and Pannar, thank you for your assistance!" The comms trooper stood stock straight and saluted. Not that they could likely see him in the snow, what with his white armor and all.

"Report, trooper!" Arias demanded.

"Casualties at 45%, ammunition-"

"Noted, gather your troops for evac. A transport is on the way. All resistance has been eliminated, prepare to return to your ship." Miera said.

As the trooper gathered the remaining troops and equipment, Meira and Arias headed back towards their airspeeder.

"Well, that's another planet conquered for the glory of the Republic." Arias grumbled.

"Arias, it's not like we set out to take it. The seperatists tried to set up a staging area here, and we stopped them."

"Obviously. And now to prevent them from setting up another, we set up a permanent defense station in orbit and utilize the planet for "The Republic"'s purposes."

"You've been more and more critical of the Republic lately, Arais. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, especially." Miera help up a datapad indicating their fighters' position.

"You would be too if you didn't blindly follow your orders like you do."

"What? You follow them just as I do."

"True, but you never question them. You never even try to figure out why the war is turning out the way it is." Arias spotted their craft.

"Just what are you getting at?" Miera tapped in the entry code to her starcraft.

"I'm not entirely sure, but there's something suspicious about the whole war. There's something rotten at the core of it." Arias sighed as he entered his starfighter. "I need more time to think on it."

"Then you can think on it on our way to Coruscant."

The two Jedi took of with not another word between them.



Once they landed their fighters in the docking bay of the RCS Interdictor, they headed for the command deck.

Arias could never get over the fact that every damned officer, deckhand, technician, and soldier on these things looked exactly the same. It was just downright....creepy. Sometimes he even thought that the droids looked like them.

As they entered the command deck of the cruiser, it was of course the officer in charge of plotting the ship's course that recognized them, instead of vice versa.

"Generals, do you have orders?"

"The planet has been taken, officer. As soon as the occupation force has arrived, we depart for Coruscant." Miera said.

The CP officer did a few quick calculations before replying. "Sir, we are too low on provisions to head directly to Coruscant. We will have to make a brief resupply stop at Alderaan first. ETA once occupation forces arrive, approximately two weeks, plus or minus three days."

Arias smiled. "Perfect..."

"Sir?" The CP officer said.

"Nothing, good work. Carry on, officer." Miera said, hiding a smile.

Arias poked Miera in her shoulder. "What're you smiling about?"

"The same thing you are." She grinned knowingly.

Arias noticed the CP officer looking curiously at them. "Ah yes, sparring time. Shall we?" He held out a hand down the corridor that eventually (after eight or ten thousand turns it seemed) lead to a sparring room they had had installed on the ship.

"Yes, lets." Miera said after looking at him quizically for a second.

Fifteen minutes later, they were facing each other, wearing their simple Jedi garments, sans cloaks in a room that looked more like an ancient... dojo they were called on some worlds than it did the inside of a starship.

"So what shall we practice with today, Arias Falm?" Meira said mockingly. "Lightsabers or Force Techniques?"

Arias gave her a mock scowl. "I suggest lightsabers. You haven't been using yours enough lately. I must admit though, I did like the idea of using droids to bludgeon other droids into submission."

"You liked that, did you? But you're right, I do need to practice my swordplay." Miera flicked her wrist, bringing her blade to her hand from a shelf on the wall.

Arias did the same. They ignited their lightsabers with the always-familiar snap-hiss. Arias' being a blue double-blade, Miera's a green single blade.

"Would you prefer defense or offense first?" Arias said.

"I'll take defense." She said, just before he dashed forward with a swing to her side. She blocked it easily. He always went easy on her, though.

Arias preferred to go on the offense more than the defense, mostly because Miera needed the most work in that department, but also because it was so easy with her that he had time to think about whatever vexed him.

Today it was a culmination of what he had been pondering for the past few years.

High overhead swing, blocked.
This is the third system this month that had come under the direct control of the republic.
Low slash to the side, blocked.
That wouldn't be so vexing if it wasn't for the fact that the republic in this case was the Grand Army of the Republic, commanded by the Jedi, who were more or less commanded by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, whether the Council openly accepted this or not.
Quick jab to the abdomen, dodged.
Wasn't it Master Windu who said that Jedi are keepers of the peace, not soldiers? Weren't soldiers exactly what the Jedi had become?
Slice from below to the knees, blocked.
It started just after Obi-Wan had discovered the oh-so-convenient clone army that was just waiting to be used. Obi-Wan had told me that Jango Fett, the original, had been recruited by a man named Tyrannus, in some moon or whatever, but it was outside of Republic space.
Spin around, chop to the neck, dodged. She's getting better at this.
But the Camino had said that Saipher Dias had comissioned the army on behalf of the Republic. Saipher Dias was a Jedi from Naboo, always a great supporter of Palpatine, helped him to become a Senator, even. Saipher dias later turned to the Dark Side and was killed.
Another spin with another attack the the neck, a stab this time. Blocked.
Palpatine became Supreme Chancellor more or less because the Trade Federation attacked Naboo while in an alliance with a Sith Lord.
Whip around, stab to the hip. Dodged.
A Naboo senator who opposed the formation of a republic army was the near-victim of several assassination attempts. Palpatine himself had suggested that Obi-Wan and Anakin investigate this, which lead to the discovery of the clone army, and that the bounty hunter who had attacked the senator was the same who was contracted to be the original for the clones.
Now she's going on the attack. A swing to the waist, dodged.
Obi-Wan tracks the bounty hunter to Geonosis, a seperatist world where he is captured and put up for execution. An attack on a Jedi by a near-hostile world is considered an act of war. Mace Windu heads a rescue operation, while Yoda gathers up the clones to provide backup. The war is begun. Supreme Chancellor is voted Emergency Powers, becoming something of a temporary dictator voted into office.
Slice to the wrist, blocked.
The seperatist leader is revealed as a Sith, who suggests the the Senate is under the control of a Sith Lord...WHAT THE?!?
Thrust to the shoulder...connects.

"DAMN IT ALL!" Arias cursed aloud, not even noticing the wound, and that he has dropped is blade and fallen onto his rear..

Miera dropped her lightsaber to the floor and hurriedly inspected the wound. "I'm sorry I thought you were going to block it you could have blocked it why didn't you block it are you alright does it hurt a lot-"

"I'm fine!" Arias growled. Actually, now it's starting to hurt. "Ooh....maybe not." He began to feel dizzy, and lay back on the floor.

Miera placed a hand on the wound, and the new hole in Arias' body began to regenerate itself. "I'm sorry, I was too serious about it. I hope this doesn't hurt too much."

Arias noticed that she was crying. He reach up with his non-wounded side hand and stroked her cheek. "I know you would never purposely do anything to hurt me, Miera."

She smiled weakly and held his hand against her face. "So you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. It was a lapse in concentration on my part."

"That's some lapse. I almost killed you."

"Well, I'm not dead and there won't be a scar, so lets imagine that it never happened in the first place." Arias smiled.

"Sounds like a good idea. So what broke your concentration?"

Arias stopped smiling.

"What? Is it something I did?" Miera looked concerned.

"No, nothing you did."

"What then?"

"You know how I've been thinking about what we've been doing all these years? This whole war, what it's all about?"

"Yes, we're fighting to protect the Republic."

"No, no we're not. I've been thinking it all over for years now, and it just hit me."

"What did?" Miera prodded the spot where the wound had been, to make sure it was fully healed.

"This...everything. The whole war, the army, the seperatists, the Jedi...everything's part of a impossibly elaborate coup."

"What are you talking about?"

So he explained to her what he had been considering as they had been sparriing, every little coincidence that he had found. When you put it all together, they weren't coincidences. It was a conspiracy, a plot. A plot to slowly eat away at the Republic and remake it as Palpatine's personal Empire. Little by little, just so that noone would notice unless they were unjustly paranoid and had access to all the information and resources that Jedi had. And Jedi weren't supposed to be paranoid. Arias just happened to be that lucky exception.

They lay slumped against the wall. Arias worked his shoulder to make sure that it was in working order. Miera stared into space, a picture of disbelief.

"It's just....it's....too much to take in."

"Now do you still think I was wrong in questioning what we're doing here?"

"No, I believe you. You've never lied to me about anything. You have every reason not to lie about this. It just seems so...impossible."

"And there's not a damned thing we can do about it."

"Why not? We could take this news to the Jedi Council and-"

"You know that they're suspicious of us already. They think that we're in danger of falling to the Dark Side, just because we broke one little tenant of the Jedi code."

"Hmph. 'There is no passion; there is serenity.'"

"And what is love but the ultimate passion?"

Miera smiled weakly and rested her head against Arias' shoulder. The non-stabbed shoulder, she knew better than that. "Well, we haven't fallen to the Dark Side, have we?"

"To think that the Jedi Order has become the tool that brings the Sith to power. That's irony for you."

"Makes you question your faith, doesn't it?"

"I was just thinking the same thing." Arias stood up and retrieved his lightsaber.

Miera did the same. "So what do we do now?"

"The only thing we can do." Arias said. "We leave."

Miera just nodded in agreement.



Several hours later, they lay abed. Arias held Miera close, abentmindedly stroking her hand.

"We'll have to leave it all behind, you know. Everything." Miera said.

"Yeah. There's no way to avoid it. We'll have to leave Republic Space. Maybe not for good, but for a long time."

"Arias, once I knew the truth, everything became clear. Not just my thoughts, but my visions, the future."

"What do you see?" This is the way it always was for them. The was the fighter, the action, he did the planning and got things done. She was the more mystical one, seeing what would happen, where, and what might be done to stop it.

"I see the Galaxy like a disc of light, with little blue spots wherever the Jedi are. There's a darkness creeping in. The light is growing dimmer, and the blue spots are slowly disappearing, one by one. The light turns to black, and the blue spots soon follow the light into oblivion. Now, in the black, there are two spots that are perfectly red. But there is light still. So little, but still there. Two dots, neither red nor blue, but white, at the edge of the black, barely detectable, so very dim, but undeniably there."

"Those two white dots. Those are us, aren't they?"

"There's more. There are more white dots eventually, around the two. It looks like there is another blue dot showing up far, far later, but I can't be sure."

"So the Republic will fall, and Palpatine will have his Empire."

"It can't last forever though. No matter how long he reigns, he will fall in time. That's his one huge flaw, but he doesn't see it that way, I think. When he is gone, the black will fade away and be again replaced by the light. But no matter to him. If he's gone, he doesn't care what happens. It could burn for all he cares. And he will fall. Tyrants always do." She snuggled closer to him.

After a few minutes, Arias asked the inevitable question. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."


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## Brakkart (May 16, 2005)

*Comments*: This has to be my favourite seesion of the campaign thus far, simply because I got to use Dracotaurs, one of the coolest new monsters 3rd edition has produced. The looks on my players faces when shown a picture of one of these things (from MM3) made my day!

The party are investigating why the Yuan-ti have been stealing spell components from a merchants warehouse in Baldur's Gate, and have just raided the merchant coster that the snakemen were using as a front company for their activities. But as the players have recently realised (many sessions later), the Yuan-ti did not send the Dracotaurs after them...

*(Forgotten Realms) Rise of the Snakemen - Part Seven*

Making their way back to the Inn, the party found it locked to them at 2am, and so snuck into the stables attached to it and crashed in a couple of empty stalls. Zamtap meanwhile concluded his part in a ceremony designed to dedicate a new mechanical clock intended for the cities main marketplace, and was offered a cloister room to spend the night in. Accepting, he gratefully slipped into the oblivion of sleep.

Everyone was woken only a few hours later, Zamtap for morning prayers, the others by the stableboy bursting in on them, and then promptly making his excuses seeing the amount of blood most of the group were covered in. They made use of the horse trough and scrubbing brushes to clean the worst of it off themselves, and gathered their things from their rooms, setting out then into the city. Noob and Gylippus went off to sell the various loot they had gathered during the night, Elena headed to the temples to buy a supply of potions, whilst Aeron, Ki and Jebodiah made a beeline for Buckman's store, to report their success to him.

Zamtap declined an offer to take part in any more of the dedication festival, as several more inventions were to be commended in the days that followed, saying that he had stayed in one place long enough and that as a travelling priest he should really be off to see more of the world. With the well wishes of the temple ringing in his ears, he headed back to the Blushing Mermaid to meet with the others (making only a short stop at the Temple of Mystra on the way to purchase a healing wand), only to find upon arrival that they had already left. After a quick conversation with the stableboy, he gathered that at least some of them had gone to talk to Buckman and he decided to head there also in the hope of catching up to them, somewhat alarmed by the boy's graphic description of how bloodied his comrades were.

Reaching Buckman's store as it was opening, the wizard, monk and barbarian were shown inside and up to their eastwhile employers office, whereupon they explained their activities of the previous evening and handed over the letter that they had recovered from Broca House. Buckman grew increasingly pale as they related the massacre of the cultists, and he dropped a bag of coins onto his desk, telling them it was payment for sorting out the theieves who had plagued his business. He then re-read the letter and growled, seeing the part about Waterdeep, and he asked the group where they were headed. Aeron replied that he did not know about the others, but that Waterdeep was his home and he intended to follow this trail to there.

Glad to hear it, Buckman asked the others to go and continue what they had started, he not wishing to start losing supplies from his Waterdeep store to fuel the Yuan-ti's plans. At that Zamtap arrived at the store and was sent upstairs to meet with the others, who brought him up to speed on what had transpired in his absence, along with some earnest pleas from Jebodiah for healing which the cleric duly granted, patching up the dwarf to the best of his ability.

Buckman being well connected informed the group that he had little fear of reprisals for the slaughter from the Flaming Fist, as afterall most of the wizards in the city he knew by first name, and wizards commanded much power and respect as many served in the citys defence force. He also told the group about Esau Enoch, a man wanted in most of the cities along the Sword Coast for unspeakable crimes as he fancied himself a scientist. Authorities had on numerous occassions discovered his grisly laboratories, but never the man himself.

Too he told them that Wolfhill House was a well known ruin, located in the Mere of Dead Men north of Waterdeep, and that it was supposedly haunted.

With that additional knowledge to ponder, the group bade him goodbye and they set out for Kelvin's Thorp, meeting Elena, Noob and Gylippus enroute to Kelvin's Thorp, the lady pirate complaining the whole way that they should have taken a ship. Reaching the village at just past nightfall, they opted for the first tavern they came too and staggered into The Greasy Ferret, each of them slapping down 1 silver for a bed in one of the two large bunkhouses and heading straight to bed. Well all apart from Zamtap, who made sure he had a few beers first.

Woken early the next morning by a bell clanging as one of the caravan masters awoke his men for an early start on the road, the group groaned and made their way into the tavern for breakfast, only to be informed that the tavern didn't serve it, as the vast bulk of their customers were from caravans that usually had a cook waggon with them. Muttering curses, the group split up with several of them knocking on villagers doors and offering them coin to join them for breakfast. Elena and Jebodiah had a different idea, and they joined the queue for cooked breakfast at a cook waggon and getting themselves a free breakfast of bacon and eggs as the cook had not yet had the time to memorise who was in his caravan, it only having left Baldur's Gate yesterday.

Walking over and joining them, Zamtap put forth the idea of hiring on with the caravan as guards and before the others really had time to discuss this he headed to the caravan master, a big man who having already donned his half-plate was pulling on a tabard... a yellow and black tabard, bearing a familiar looking Z insignia. Immediately wary, Zamtap succeeded only in annoying the man, before heading back to the others. He did not drop the idea of signing up with the caravan though,but Aeron was having none of it, and the rest of the group breathed a collective sigh of relief as the caravan moved on out of the village, leaving them behind.

At that, Noob decided to buy a horse, and the others, all flush with coin from the monies that Noob and Gylippus had divided out, followed suit. Heading to the large stables, each purchased a suitable mount, saddle and tack and as a group they set off, soon passing the Zhent traders and heading towards Waterdeep, many days ride away.

After four days of easy travel, things got more complicated a few hours after passing the spur in the road that led east towards Scornubel. A thundering noise approaching the road from the east alerted them, and the group spurred their mounts to a gallop, intending to outrace whatever it was that as yet remained unseen by the crest of a ridge. Unfortunately, while they were able to stay on a mopving horse, neither Ki or Zamtap possessed any real skill at horsemanship and their mounts steadfastly refused to speed up. Just then the source of the noise burst over the crest, a large pack of scaled draconic centaurs, led by a brute with a battleaxe who upon seeing the group snarled out "Thats the ones we are looking for, kill them all!!". With that the Dracotaurs roared and thundered down the slope towards the two groups.

With no time to waste, the groups dismounted and sent their mounts packing, as they took up defensive positions, those that had ridden ahead racing to try and make it back to the stragglers before the Dracotaurs reached them and overwhelmed them. Taking it upon himself to draw the attention of the uncoming creatures, Jebodiah snarled and ran straight for them. As Gylippus and Noob drew the attention of a couple of the approaching beasts on one flank, so the other six , including the chieftain charged into the others, the chief giving into his battle rage as he slammed into the dwarf, battleaxe tearing a gaping wound in the small barbarian. With two Dracotaurs bearing down on her, Elena grinned as Aeron empowered her with a bulls strength and she leapt at her opponents, dancing amongst them, their attacks meeting thin air again and again, as her cutlass slashed here and there, swashbuckling at it's finest.

As Ki and Jeb battled without much success, one of the creatures that had been been going for Noob and Gylippus, spotted Aeron spellcasting and ran around the outside of the battle to get at him. Seeing the creature thunder towards him, the air genasi grinned and sailed skywards, his natural ability to levitate serving him well and putting him beyond the creatures reach... or so he thought until a ball of fire was spat up at him, narrowly missing him, even as he shouted out "They can breathe fire!!" to warn the others of the new development.

Gylippus and Noob meanwhile were fighting a guerilla style battle away from the others, having drawn off one Dracotaur from the pack, harrying the creature with arrows, making use of some trees to keep it from charging them. Proving successful they soon felled the creature and moved to help out the others, even as Elena's luck finally ran out and after felling one of the Dracotaurs that she was battling, the second landed a series of blows on her. Still, she remained standing and with a nimble step, moved in and finished off her second opponent.

Aeron had been only momentarily distracted by the Dracotaur underneath him hurling a spear up and through his left leg, and he gritted his teeth as he dropped Gedlee's electric loops onto his foes, stunning them. With his opponent finally vulnerable, Ki eviscerated one Dracotaur, freeing himself and Zamtap to rush to the aid of Jeb, who was standing fuelled solely by sheer force of anger by now. As Ki drew the attention of the chieftain, the cleric did his best to patch up the dwarf, even as the remaining Dracotaurs encircled them. Things looked bleak for the trio, as their companions raced to reach them, in time...


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## el-remmen (Sep 2, 2005)

Just bumping an old thread for those who might never have seen it. . .


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## howandwhy99 (Sep 2, 2005)

_Thanks for bumping this.  I actually have something to post now.  Below is from the OD&D storyhour I'm sorely behind in.  Regardless, it's posted to daily.  So please feel welcome to read along, if you like what you see here.  (what follows are 3 installments)_



Ben’s bed was soft and welcoming at the temple. Fasting and praying the previous two weeks had really taken a toll on his body and he relished the chance to sleep in the next day before the ordination. Unfortunately, he slept for less than half an hour before he was shook awake. Surrounded by total darkness, fear welled up in his gut. Darius’s voice spoke. He was collecting the party again for an urgent meeting. Exasperated, Ben dressed and followed the dwarf to the barracks of the keep. The group had been given a room of bunks for their own use within. Everyone inside looked very tired. Then Ben noticed one new person, a rather strange woman who was dressed in animal skins and what looked like tree limbs.

“This is Holly Greenwillow”, Darius said. “She has heard rumors of us from, uh… different sources. She sought us out to join in our fight. She wants to help us defeat the Giant and those at the caves.” Ben looked at Darius. “This is why you woke me up?” Darius grimaced. “No. Igor has learned something very important. We were waiting for you to arrive before beginning.” Ben sat down grumpily next to the others. Darius began telling the story of how the team had met and their adventures at Outpost Xavier. As Holly listened intently, Dram, Dalin, Mirel, and even Brother Ben took a part in explaining all of the details. Ben felt a little in awe of everything that had happened now the whole story was voiced at once. Afterwards, Holly related how she had learned of the party’s deeds and explained further about the carnage the Giant’s forces were inflicting on the surrounding wilderness. Listening to her Ben felt tired, but he could understand why the others had trusted her intentions.

Pointing to the barrack’s walls, Darius revealed how they were now paying for the privilege of staying within. He had found out earlier in the week from one of the sergeants that militia soldiers were to serve for only one month. Then they were free to return to their families and homes. Several groans were heard around the room. Ben rolled his eyes and Igor’s left eye began rolling in a completely different direction than his right. Darius went on about how essentially they were operating on their own. “We no longer hold any rank within the military of Margrave County. You will need to remember this when dealing with the soldiers here and if or when we appeal for aid with the Chaos Caves.”

Darius nodded to Igor and the chef stood up. Holly was escorted out of the building for the time being as they felt she was still too unknown to them for what would be said. Igor began by telling them in his raspy, whispery voice that the message had to remain secret at all costs. “We ‘re bein’ ‘unted. And the Good Man Barth ‘s one o’ those ‘unting us.” He would not explain how he knew they were being hunted, but Kayla backed Igor’s assertion completely. A number of people were looking for the team. These hunters had two motives in mind. One was to find out what information the party knew. The other was to stop them from giving that information to anyone else. Kayla said if one of them were caught, he or she would be tortured and killed. Dram spoke up anger. “And we sat and discussed our own plans right in front of them!”

Igor continued with another piece of news he believed was related. He had visited Mouse’s shop before calling the meeting. Only Mouse had not been there. In fact, Mouse had packed up and left the keep. “Only none o’ the watchguard saw ‘im leave”. His shop was locked and his supplies stored away. Igor explained how earlier in the morning he had learned some of the books from Quesquaton had been traced back to Mouse’s trading post. When Igor informed Mouse of the news, he acted strangely and kicked Igor out of the shop for the rest of the day. “I was tryin’ to get ‘em books back,” but Mouse must have started packing directly afterwards. “Well, what happened to the books then?” asked Brother Ben. “And how did he get them in the first place?” Igor would only say Mouse had sold them several weeks ago and the books were no longer in the Keep.

It was a lot of information to digest. It was agreed it would be better to discuss what they needed to do in the morning when everyone was more coherent. As they were finishing talking, Mirel hurried to her family’s house. Holly was brought back inside told to find a bed near the others. She explained she preferred the outdoors and would rest on the floor if necessary. Darius and Kayla kept watch and talked in hushed tones in the corner. It was only then Darius really hit on the reality of their situation. A much tighter security needed to be kept and it had to start immediately. Igor volunteered to keep watch and to fetch Mirel back to the barracks for safety. He pulled out a potion he had purchased from the alchemist shop. “NO SLEEP” Ben read on its label. Downing the mixture, Igor’s body tensed and his eyes began to water and spin like never before. Brother Ben wondered just what ingredients were in the elixir. Igor bounced up and ran out the door and into the street. For all the world, he looked like a madman on the loose.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sweet embrace of sleep was again enveloping Brother Ben as he lie on the hard barrack bunk. An irritating noise was bothering him though. Ire… Ire… Ire… “FIRE IN THE KEEP!!!!” Darius was shoving people awake and pulling them up to their feet. “THERE IS A FIRE IN THE KEEP! OUTSIDE!! AT THE INN!!” Ben shuffled to the door in his nightrobe. A bright blaze lit the street and sky down to his left. The tall, three-story Inn was cloaked in black smoke and orange flames. Fearing an attack Brother Ben put on his shoes and grabbed his flail. “There’s no time for armor”, he thought as he ran out the door towards the flames. As he headed down the road he realized the fire was beginning to spread to adjacent buildings. “The temple is right by the Inn!”

Igor was escorting Mirel back from her parent’s house. She guessed she should not be surprised he knew where her home was, but Igor was looking more paranoid than usual. When they turned the corner to the main street they saw the fire coming out the windows of the Inn ahead. “IIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEYY!” Igor screamed in lunacy. “We need to raise the alarm!” cried out Mirel. Igor let go of her and bolted towards the Inn. Mirel trailed after and started pounding on the closed doors along one side of the street. “Get up. There’s a fire! Please…get up!” People started coming out of their homes and pointing at the flames. As Mirel kept moving closer to the Inn, she spotted the front of the keep temple. Oddly, its large front doors were open and a figure lied on the ground in the shadows within.

In desperation, Igor sprinted with wild speed to the front of the burning Inn. A wooden sign with the picture of a man with fire in his hands still hung outside it. Igor dumped the water barrel outside the door over his entire body and ran into the building. Inside the flames covered most of the walls and were licking the ceiling. Near the tables in the common room several bodies were piled on the ground. Igor inspected them. They were the innkeeper and his family. All were stabbed in either the heart or throat. Bounding up the smoky stairs he began banging on doors. Opening each as he ran along he noticed every occupant had been stabbed. “The fire is only a diversion’, he thought. “They mean to kill everyone in the keep.” Pulling a cloth over his mouth and a couple of blankets over his body, Igor hurriedly looked for any possible survivors.

Darius was having difficulty waking the others inside the barracks. Kayla relieved him and he ran out after Brother Ben. Also fearing the fire was a sign of an attack the dwarven paladin stopped and ran backwards in the direction of the inner bailey instead. Quickly covering the short distance, he began pounding on the door. “It seems my life’s work is to forever pound on this damnable thing!” A watch called out from the near central gate. Darius answered, “We’re under attack! Where is Lady Devereaux? Is she okay?” The guardsman said he would pass on the message. Frustrated, Darius began running back towards the burning Inn.

Cautiously Mirel moved to the front of the temple. Lights like flame flickered within. Looking down at the floor in the vestibule she saw the body of a man with no head. It wore the clerical robes of a Brother. A scream built in Mirel’s throat but froze when she looked back up and straight at Turko and Zerk. The two men were holding torches on the far side of the entrance room. A rotund form with a cane in one hand was walking from the shadows into their light. Mirel’s feet grew wings as she flew from the temple’s doors. She ran up the road towards the Inn and her friends inside the barracks. People were congregating in the streets now. Some stared in shock. Others were talking about the fire. Mirel saw a form of a man in robes backlit by the Inn’s flames and running directly towards her. As the form drew close Mirel saw light flash over its face, the face of Brother Ben. Mirel screamed in terror.

“What? What’s going on?” Ben checked over Mirel who had gone white with fear. “Go to the barracks! Go to the barracks! Don’t go to the church!” Mirel shouted back. She started running again and arrived at the Inn where a crowd of people had gathered. Darius ran up to her from the other side. Shouting orders and moving people into a line he started a rough bucket brigade to help put out the Inn. Ben’s head swirled in emotion and pain. He had to know what was happening at the temple. Running forward he saw its main doors were open ahead. CRASH! Sound reverberated through the entire keep and a goodly, bright light cascaded out of a hole in the temple’s roof. Ben was slightly deafened by what he thought was a thunderbolt landing next to him. Across the entire keep faces turned startled by the noise. Mirel ran back to Brother Ben’s side and readied her sling as he pulled out his flail. Booming laughter echoed out over the Keep and its inhabitants. Evil laughter.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Heading back down from the third level to the second, Igor looked for any rooms he may have missed. He believed he had inspected all the guests staying at the Inn. Every room had been full of visitors hoping to celebrate Midsummer’s Day Feast and to either watch or partake in the games. Now he knew all of those people were dead. Coughing and gasping for air, he fought to stay awake. Fortunately, the NO SLEEP potion helped Igor from passing out from the smoke, but it was also making him shake uncontrollably. He picked up the last body he found. “We’ll need evidence. Something to prove this was not an accident.” Stuffing it in his pack, he pulled over the thick blankets he had draped over himself to protect from the flames. Breathing in the fumes, he began to feel dizzy again. His reddened eyes searched for the nearest exit they could find. Locating one Igor leapt through.

Outside Darius was shouting at the bucket brigade to keep tossing water. But every eye in the keep was turned toward the light shining out of the top of the temple. No one saw the flaming body leap out of the Inn’s second story window until it was too late. Igor landed on three of the onlookers and buckets went flying. Back at the barracks Kayla finally managed to rouse Ormand the Redd. She asked him to watch Dram and Dalin who still slept in their drunken slumber. Holly had left hoping to escape the keep altogether. She believed it was an unsafe place even under normal circumstances. “I hope she made it out okay”, thought Kayla. Going to the door she looked up at the mysterious white light flowing towards the night sky. Suddenly, startlingly, a figure appeared in the brightness as if from nowhere.






A large black reptilian flying creature hung in the light. It was as dark as the night sky above it. Upon seeing the creature, an ice-cold shiver of fear ran down the backs of every onlooker in town. The wave of fear was almost visible as those closest were affected first. Mirel closed her eyes and bravely ran torward the temple. Brother Ben panicked and chased after her hoping some safety could still be found in that holy place. The crowd near the Inn began to scream. Terrified, the people began running in different directions, some even went inside the Inn. Igor ran under a covered alley close by, huddling in the shadows. Kayla and Ormand the Redd dived under bunks when the wave of dread reached them. Only Darius was not afraid. He eyed the creature, daring it to make the first move. “No one comes in to my house…” he thought.

Dram and Dalin sat bolt upright waking from their stupor. Dalin began pulling on his armor, but Dram simply grabbed his sword and shield and ran outside in his nightclothes looking for the source of danger. Brother Ben grabbed and crestled Brother Thom’s headless body in the doorstep of the temple. Mirel moved past him into the vestibule and hid underneath a bench. Looking around she was glad not to see anyone else. All the fear suddenly drained from her body. The crowd’s screams stopped from the street outside too. Darius saw the light go out from above the temple. He could not see so far in the dark, but he felt the creature had disappeared too. Captain Radcliffe arrived at his side and said in awe, “That… that was a Dragon! A real true Dragon!” Darius dragged the captain behind him and ran to the temple.

Inside Brother Ben saw all the interior doors were closed, but the main one leading to the congregation hall. It had been torn off its hinges. Father Hedrach appeared in its doorframe just as Darius and Radcliffe ran in from the outside. The Father was bloodied, swelled up, and wobbling on his feet. Ben ran over and tried to hold him up as Darius’s hands sent healing power into the old man’s body. BOOOM! Father Hedrach expanded and exploded blowing away the entire front half of the temple. Brother Ben experienced a weird floating sensation, as time seemed to slow. Bits of six different bodies floated in the bloody mist as the blast continued to expand. “I am dead”, Ben realized. Then he felt his soul detach itself from the last fragments of his natural form. He began floating upwards way from the carnage below.


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## Kid Charlemagne (Sep 2, 2005)

Thanks for bumping this, Nemm!  Er, Remm..  er... OK, I'll just post.

This is a brand-spanking new Story Hour, *The Golden Key: From the Casebook of Nigel Spenser*.  I am a player in this campaign, which is a mere 3 sessions old.  The DM is eris404.

The setting is Victorian England, 1888, but with a magical twist.  Elves, dwarves, and the like walk the foggy streets of London, and danger abounds.  Sherlock Holmes is a real person, and that well-dresed fellow you see in the corner pub?  He might be a gold dragon.

The characters are independent investigators working for Lloyd's of London, the famous insurance company.  The main characters are Nigel Spenser (my PC), Orla Taoseitch (I hope I spelled that right), Artimis Swain, and Sandor Kertesz.

In their first case, they are tasked with recovering an item stolen from a London locksmith's shop.  

A key, that in the words of its (legal) owner, "opens _everything_..."

This is the third installment.

**********************************
Orla leaned forward.  "What exactly do you mean?  It's a skeleton key of some sort?"

"No, no…  Well, yes, I suppose, after a fashion…"

"It's enchanted," Nigel replied, more statement than question.

"Yes.  It is capable of opening any lock that it is touched to, any kind of lock that I have ever attempted to open."

"Who knew of the key, and more specifically, who knew of its properties?" Nigel asked.

"Very few.  My shop assistant knows of its existence, but not of what it does.  I try not to use it very often, in fact I haven't used in almost two months."

"Where was that?  And I'll need the name of that assistant; we'll have to ask him some questions, as well."  Orla jotted the details in a notebook while Nigel stood up and paced around the back of the shop.  He noticed the cash register, and hit the lever opening it.  The till was full.  Curious.

"Do you mind if I look through these files, Mr. Melthorpe?" he asked, indicating a filing cabinet.  Melthorpe nodded his assent.

"Adrian Poole is his name, I'm sure he had nothing to do with it; he's been with the shop since my father's days.  And the last time I used the key…  that would be at the British Museum.  They had an unusual old book with a very strange lock on it.  They couldn't figure out how it opened.  They've been a good client over the years, some of the more unusual jobs that I've done."

"Who was present there?" Orla asked.

"The curator was there, and a young man."

"And his name?"

"Gerald Whisk.. wait, no…  Wist.  Gerald Wist."

Nigel thumbed through the files in the cabinet.  He noticed right away that one file was not neatly placed as were all the others.  He pulled it out, and examined it closely.  It was a bill of sale, and Nigel was just about to put it back when something caught his eye.

"Do you have the letter you received luring you here?"

Melthorpe nodded, and pulled it out from his jacket.  Nigel examined it, comparing it to the bill of sale.  Then he smiled a wide grin.

"I can at least put your mind at ease that your friend, Mr. Hunt had nothing to do with this," he stated plainly.  "Observe here, on this bill of sale.  There are impressions, here, over the signature, which happens to be that of George Hunt.  The size and shape of the impressions, and of the letters themselves, match perfectly with the signature on the letter you received.  This bill of sale was used as a template to forge the signature on the letter."

"Your attacker, can you give us a description of him?"

"He was an Orkling, tall, very large… olive skin, long hair, tied back like a sailor.  Rather shabbilly dressed.  He had a single tusk sticking out of his mouth, very odd.  It was capped in iron."

Orla grinned.  "I'm sure he'll be hard to find."

The investigators examined the rest of the shop for any other clues.  The found a small leather pouch inside one of the torn up chairs, filled with small diamonds.  Melthorpe identified them as being part of his savings; the Orkling thug had apparently stolen several others, but had missed this one.  They thanked the locksmith and stepped out in the street where Artimis and Sandor waited.  Sandor was interrogating the urchins, amusing them by juggling several of his vast collection of knives.  The children were clearly enjoying it, swarming around him.

"The children saw the Orkling arrive," the knife-thrower explained.  "He threatened them to keep them quiet."

"Well, that worked," Orla quipped.

"I gave the older boy one of my knives.  One of the smaller ones."

"Lovely.  Arming the urchins," Cass muttered.

Sandor turned to Nigel.  "I saw no marks to indicate that the shop was broken into.  His story seems to hold up."

"But if no one broke in," Nigel said, "how did the forger get Mr. Hunt's signature?"

"Time to go see Mr. Poole, I think" Orla replied.  "About the key, does that symbol mean anything?"

"The raven in flight?" Nigel asked.  "Yes, I think it does.  The raven is the symbol of the Raven King."

"Who is that?" Artimis asked.

"He's a sort of mythical former King of Northern England," Nigel explained.  "A powerful wizard.  The folks in the north are fond of reminding others that they do not truly consider Queen Victoria to be their Queen.  The Raven King rules the north, even though he disappeared four hundred years ago.  Victoria is merely a steward."

Meanwhile, Amanda sized up Sandor.  "Just how many knives do you carry, anyway?"

Sandor opened his jacket.  Glittering steel covered nearly every square inch.

"Twenty.  Well, nineteen, I just gave one to that boy."

"Hmm.  I count two empty sheaths," Amanda responded.

Sandor stared at her, then inventoried his armaments.  "Basszameg," he swore, looking around for the now-long-gone children.

"Fooking urchins."


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