This conversation happens two weeks after Ricin wakes up from his coma, which in turn happened about two weeks after everyone got back from the encounter with Specter. After you told him what happened, he left for two weeks without communicating anything to anyone. This is what is happening moments before where we will start on our next game evening.
Key things to know: The Pentad is the name of the Wizard's Guild.
He stood in the ruins of his old home. Once the finest bar in the city, now a withered husk, a description that seemed to match himself. Balthor would never walk again. The proud old dwarf's injuries were to extensive, even for magical cures. Already he was finalizing the plans to return to the Dwarven Undercity in a few days. Ricin turned and thrust his fist into a charred post that still stood in the wreckage. He didn't flinch at the pain or at the blood that began to drip down his knuckles; his mind was overrun with all of the happenings of the past month.
They had told him everything...
He knew it was true. He had scoured their minds for any details that they may have left out, omissions or even half-truths. There were none, they were honest. He could now recede into his mind and "watch" the events unfold, reconstructing them from an objective standpoint. Indeed, it was though he himself were there with them. Yes, they had told the truth....
.....but was that enough? How closely did they resemble the lawless guilds now? Were there any differences now? What separated them now from those they had once sought to stop?
....SHOULD THERE BE?....
The thought shook him from his contemplation.
...OF COURSE WE MUST BE!...
...ARE YOU?...
He had no answers for the second question. He stood in place, agonizing over the question. He replayed his every action since he had started his campaign. He walked through them all, until he came to what lay ahead.
Specter
Again the stories of the capricious entity came to his mind. No, not entity, rather Specter were his own inner demons awakened and manifest. Deep down in the darkest corners of his mind, was he really any different? And further still, did he possess the discipline to control that potential within himself? Specter had indeed toyed with every member of the party. He had made them each face their worst fears, their deepest regrets, biggest failures, or whatever else would cause them the most pain. He had even known of the potential for sending the group back, to relay the news, to plant the seeds of doubt and guilt that could potentially give birth to himself in the first place. Ricin understood that Specter had played the game perfectly, that HE had played the game perfectly.
He let his mind wander, unable to control the direction of his thoughts no matter how hard he may try. He tried to find solace in the chaos, to let his mind think of everything and therefore nothing, to get lost in the white noise of his own thoughts, but to no avail. Just when he thought he had regained his presence of mind it was interrupted by a single thought:
...What now?...
Indeed, that seemed to be the only important thing left to decipher. What should he do about his companions? What should he do about himself? He pondered the options: reconciliation, abandonment, wiping their minds of any memory of him so that they could move on without him in whatever path they chose.
No, that is not an option. Try as he might, he could not blame them for what had happened. The Pentad came for Balthor, but not because of what they had done to a peon from the Efreeti. No, he knew that they had come for him. They had finally pieced enough about him and his plans to decide he needed to be removed. Unfortunately, that put everyone else in the scope of their wrath as well.
...This is not their fault... he thought as he looked again at the burned out bar... this is mine...
"Boy", a rough voice called out from behind him. He turned to see Balthor approaching, leaning heavily on the crutch tucked under his arm, his right leg dragging limp behind him as he came on. "It don't do no good to be lookin' fer a reason"
"I'm not trying to..."
"Bah! Don't ye try and lie to meself. I'm older an' wiser than yerself by a few centuries at least". A small smile crossed both of their faces at the truth of the obvious statement.
"Ye canno' be knowin' everything boy. Nor can you stop all the bad in this city from happenin'. No one is askin' ye to.."
"You know they came here for me! You were nearly burned alive because of MY arrogance", Ricin interrupted him before Balthor could finish his attempt as relieving his inner turmoil. Undeterred, the old dwarf stubbornly pressed on.
"Bah! Shut yer head! I was nearly killed because a good fer nuthin' sneak cut me legs out and then burned me Cellar. Weren't yer arrogance did that".
"No, but I am the reason they came", Ricin shot back. Balthor puffed out his chest and barked back at him, "Quit yer whinin'!"
He softened a bit a took a second to study the young man. Ricin had his eyes exposed, the blue light shining like to points of fire. He knew that he was in pain, it was clear to see. He saw the blood dripping from his clenched fist, noticed the slight lean to the left to relieve the pressure on his back. The fall from the roof had damaged him, more than he was letting on. Balthor did indeed feel pity for his young friend, but not enough to at least try to talk some sense back into his clouded mind.
"Ye can stand here and feel guilty all ye want, but it ain't helpin' nobody. They came here fer you, there is no doubt, but it wasn't for any other reason other than their evil bastards who are used to not being opposed".
"And?"
"AND Y'OPPOSED THEM YA DOLT! For someone who uses his mind for nearly everything, ye sure are thick in the skull sometimes", the surly dwarf finished.
Ricin showed no indication that he appreciated the humorous attempt to break the tension between them. Still, the old dwarf had come to have a few words with his young friend, and like it or not, they were going to be said.
"Ricin, you cannot stop. Listen to me hard boy. I have no regrets from my time here, nor should you. They need you boy, have no doubt. That group we gathered can do this, and from what they tell me of the future, ye ain;t for much time to get somethings sorted out".
"What do you propose we do about it"?
"That's fer ye to figure out be me guess".
"Very helpful".
"More helpful than yer being to anyone at the moment, includin' yerself. What do you expect outta me, eh? A full battle plan? No one has done anything like this before, remember?"
"Fair enough".
"Though, as to yer impending war, reminds me of a predicament from my adventurin' days with Marahir"
Ricin turned slowly to listen closely to him. Rare was the occasion when he talked about his time abroad; rarer still did he mention the old bard.
"Party and meself caught wind of an upcoming tribal feud between two giant clans"
"So what?"
"Exactly! If anything we were more interested in watching the scum kill each other. Unfortunately, there was a small village of settlers between the two tribes' territories. Were a battle to start, they would surely be caught up in the midst of it"
"So what did you all do?"
"Well, Marahir came up with a solution. He asked us a question. The same question I am about to ask you. 'What is the best way to have two giant clans not kill each other'"?
"Have them kill someone else"
"See, ye haven't lost yer whole mind"
"Well who volunteered for that wonderful job"
"We did"
"So I assume it worked"?
"Aye. Marahir went on and on about the songs he would compose of our heroic
deeds. Of course, they only get sung out there in that settlement now."
Ricin took a moment to contemplate the dwarf's strategy. Mad though it may seem, the plan actually had some merit. But he couldn't do it alone....
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Phantom Menace
He's here.
One hundred years later.
He finally found me.
He towers over me, gloating.
"Hello, love," he purrs.
I shudder. What can I do?
He taunts me, teases, inquiring into the life I tried to hide from him.
I let his voice flow over me, wondering how I could possibly survive this.
He's taking me home, he says. That place I had hoped to avoid the rest of my life.
The place where scars were his gifts to me.
The place where I was branded his for all time.
The place where I lost the ability to see beauty.
I try to wrest the brand from him -- I can't, I can't go back.
He's too strong for me.
I reach into my pocket and hold onto a shuriken, forming a desperate plan.
How I hate him.
Another voice whispers to me. Do I trust it?
I strike. He bleeds. He's real.
How can he be real?
More words. Talking, talking, talking, edging ever closer with his favorite toy.
My husband leans over me, hungry, eager to begin. It's now or never.
I close my eyes and steady myself. This is my last chance.
This is his last mistake.
Seeing him did freeze me, at first.
Knowing he was real took my breath away.
He's bigger, stronger, faster than me. How could I possibly fight him?
But when he talks of home, something in me rebels. I can't, I will not go back.
I may look like I've given up. I may look like I'm weak, powerless, unable to defend myself.
I may look it.
But I haven't, and I'm not.
As soon as he touches me with that red hot metal, that's my signal. I'll strike twice, just like the slithering snakes he loves so much. My resolve has hardened into granite. I WILL NOT GO BACK.
I close my eyes.
I can feel the heat on the brand. I tremble. It will only hurt for a second. He won't hurt me after that, ever again. I open my eyes and stare into his coal black eyes. Prepare for death, my eyes signal.
But as he reaches for me, a curving, evil grin on his face, he dissipates.
Wisps of smoke. That's all he is.
Instead of relief, anguish floods my body.
I had him! I had him in my sights! Why wasn't he real? Thoughts course through my brain.
He's still alive, somewhere. Somewhere, he's hunting me. He can still find me. He can still hurt me.
My brain explodes with terror.
All the resolve I felt, though still present, is not enough to dam the rising flood of insanity.
They find me and after navigating the library, we enter the graveyard room. I rock back and forth, the panic barely contained. The spectre continues to spitefully assist us in our quest for knowledge. Ricin is alive? Now I know we are to be sent back. To our time. To the time where he still lives.
What can I do? We are needed there. If I can't protect myself, I can still, for a time, protect those who don't have the resolve that I do. Those who are still bound by their helplessness.
For while I haven't kept the terror at bay, the encounter with a vision of him has broken me of my chains.
He can try to hurt me. He can try.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Before the Orc Battle...
After her husband’s murder, Kirsi had wished for death. Maybe that’s why she took to patrolling the
streets. But at the end of each battle,
as she looked around, she was always the survivor. Now, years later, she didn’t think about that
as much. Death did not bother her,
perhaps that’s why she didn’t find Grim terribly unsettling, but she had not
sought it out in a long time. When Ricin
spoke to her before the battle she was comforted that he did not ask if death
bothered her or if she wanted out of the impending battle. She was sure he had
asked some of the others but was grateful that he knew her better than
that. And in that she found some
comfort. He knew, as she did, that she
had come beyond that point. It was no
longer a fight between life and death, or maybe even just between good and evil.
It was a fight for sanity, to know that against all odds she would strive to
prevail, to seek out a just course, and pray others might follow in it.
100 years later...
“You look like the Lady in White, one of The
Deliverers.” The small voice startled
her. 100 years later, it looked like Danno
had been true to his word. Recognition
was never something she had thought about, or sought after. In this moment, the recognition felt like a
betrayal… they had failed these people… she had failed them. As they huddled in fear, listening to the
screams in the night, she wanted to run, to destroy the Rounders and save those
they were attacking. But she knew it was
too late, and that doing so would surely lead to the destruction of those who
were trying to protect them. So she
waited out the night, praying for the morning light to bring some sort of
clarity to the situation.
But, now taunted by the capricious being before them,
clarity seemed even more distant.
Looking around the temple of Ioun, she thought again of Ricin. Ricin was dead. At least, that was the likely
conclusion. But she wasn’t convinced,
she didn’t feel it. Time would
tell.
I don't have a breaking point
Evelyn looked at the coffins.
Even if we managed to go back, this would have still happened.
I'd still be the woman who lost her mentor, her father (for what else had Balthor been?), her boyfriend.
And lived in the future without a past.
Standing in a room full of coffins.
Whatever this spectre was, it fed off of manipulation. Games. Fear. It was trying to scare her, obviously.
Because the names on the coffins...were familiar. Except for one that was unmarked.
She was tired of this being's schemes.
"Come at me like a man!" she screamed, unsheathing the spikes of her gauntlets. "You want to break me, to scare me, but you can't. I've got nothing left to lose, which means I have nothing to fear!"
And a haunting song reverberated through the old wood of the coffins.
Even if we managed to go back, this would have still happened.
I'd still be the woman who lost her mentor, her father (for what else had Balthor been?), her boyfriend.
And lived in the future without a past.
Standing in a room full of coffins.
Whatever this spectre was, it fed off of manipulation. Games. Fear. It was trying to scare her, obviously.
Because the names on the coffins...were familiar. Except for one that was unmarked.
She was tired of this being's schemes.
"Come at me like a man!" she screamed, unsheathing the spikes of her gauntlets. "You want to break me, to scare me, but you can't. I've got nothing left to lose, which means I have nothing to fear!"
And a haunting song reverberated through the old wood of the coffins.
DM POST... Humble Beginnings.
1 year ago.. [or 101, depending on from where you are measuring ;)]
He walked in through the front door fully aware of the many crossbows and eyes trained on him. Surveying the room he quickly made his way to a dark corner to a small figure sitting in the shadows.
"Eventually, you will learn some sense of protocol for walking in here uninvited", his host stated flatly as he approached the table.
"Eventually, your guards may muster up the courage to actually confront me. Though I have no doubt they have been both warned of the repercussions of such an action. Nor do I doubt you had ample warning of my impending arrival".
"Nevertheless, it would be nice if at least once in a while you paid me some measure of respect in my own household. You are just a man, regardless of whatever else may be wrong with you", the small one finished with a chuckle.
"This is true", he answered, his tone indicating that the statement had flung his mind far afield, "I am just a man...."
"Oi... here we go again. I take it you have not deviated from your course then. You still mean to proceed with 'him'?"
"You know I must".
"I do not think he will bring you the satisfaction. That one seems fiery, no doubt, but like fire, his aim is wild. My sources say he is not all together... stable".
"And what other news do your 'sources' have for me?", he asked as he dropped a pouch of gold on the table.
"Nothing that meets your specifications to be sure. The same news really. The hooded rogue still prowls the streets, no news yet of his loyalties. He does well to cover his tracks. I honestly have considered if he would welcome my employ"
"No"
"You cannot presume to tell me to..."
"No", he stated evenly, the look in his eyes indicating that in no uncertain terms he was not to be questioned on this matter.
"Interesting. Have you information then? More news of that one that you have not yet shared?"
"A hunch, yes, that you may have just confirmed. Still, Silvus Highblade is our first priority"
"Why? In all seriousness my friend, you must tell me, why him?"
The question was simple enough yet it challenged him to reconsider everything he had been planning to this point. Silvus Highblade.... was he really the answer to his problem? Could he really deliver what he so desperately craved right now?
"You know my designs. Zarcharis can be fixed. If the Prosecutor can be provided with better evidence and more opportunities to put guild members and even leaders into the Prisons, would not the city fare better?"
"Certainly, until the guilds form around a new leader, or the Wraith's simply make him disappear"
"There is always that. My plan was never to make a martyr out of him, but the first Prosecutor to stay for a second term. If ever there were a moment it would be now"
"I can't disagree with you. So, have you approached him yet?"
"No. I have been waiting for the opportune moment. I have come from another "meeting" with Amir though. He is on board, even if he does not fully trust me yet".
"No small feat, to be sure. Your pieces fall into place, are you now ready to play your game?"
"I can only hope".
They sat together in silence for a time, each consumed with his own thoughts. Eventually he stood and took his leave without a word.
6 months later
He rushed through the door and ran to the usual corner, yells and more than a few insults following him through the room.
"Come in. Have a seat. Can I get you something?"
He took a seat on the opposite side of the table but he could barely keep his excitement at bay.
"My friend, you have either just met with the woman of your dreams, and the gods know it would be about time you had finally spoken to her, or are under some terrific spell of which I must learn the caster, should it make everyone as "excited" as you happen to be right now", he greeted with a knowing smile on his face.
"I know you have news. One of your couriers found me and delivered a cryptic message, as usual".
"Well get to that, surely. Tell me, did you finally 'speak' to her?", he asked with a knowing smile and just a hint of provocation.
"Your attempts at humor still fall remarkably 'short', dear friend.".
"So, instead you continue to watch her from afar, she who has inspired all of this planning and dedication"
"For now. I aim to ensure her safety, until the time is right"
"How romantically... creepy... of you"
"Have you had enough fun at my expense yet?"
"Hardly. Though I know your intentions are not purely founded in her safety, I did hear a rumor that you had recently intervened on her behalf".
"How so?", he asked with sudden urgency.
"Relax, its an internal source. A random Gatherer was out, saw your Lady in White following the trail of what appeared to be some simpleton muggers. Little did she know of the ambush that awaited her down that alley. According to my sources, a fight she had planned to just be three on one was quickly developing into a slaughter, for the other three bandits closing in behind her surely would have been the end of her. Remarkably, one turned on the other suddenly, plunging a dagger into his back before he fell to the ground clutching his head. The third began to run to the others before he also found himself standing in the middle of the alley with no memory of where he was or who he had come there with. A rather fortunate moment of treachery and sudden amnesia for her, don't you agree?" He continued to look at his visitor with more than a little amusement in his eyes. He had never seen him take to anyone as quickly as he had to this person, the coincidence that it was a woman just added to the humor.
"Enough of this. You have news for me. I came to know what it is".
"Well, forgive me for trying to participate in just a little gossip. You really should open up more my friend. People are going to start wondering if you even have friends"
"I would prefer it if "people" did not know I existed at all, as you well know. Now, the news...".
"Very well. You told me to keep an eye open for "person's of interest". Well, I may have one for you. A talented individual, very specific skill set. I have had him under "surveillance" for a few months now. Came here, with a vendetta. He may fit the bill. I warn you though, he is more unstable than the other one. Put the two together, and I wonder if you will be able to control them"
"Its no matter, I have to try. You know that"
"Yes well. I never figured you might actually succeed in this little venture of yours. And what, pray tell, is your plan for this little band of yours? These.... do you even have a name for them yet?"
"I figured I would leave that to you"
"Ahh, I'll have to work on that I suppose"
"Indeed".
"Well, my friend, perhaps that will have to be my new source of income, naming groups of foolish people. For if this plan of yours ever comes to fruition, I may very well find myself out of a job"
"Oh, I am sure your resourcefulness knows no bounds. Sooner or later, you will find yourself in a lucrative business yet again".
"I appreciate your vote of confidence".
"You are very welcome".
"And the others?"
"Balthor has recommended two others to me. He has even employed them at the Segrac, to keep them close by. I have observed them. One is fearful, stealing glances over her shoulder, watching every shadow as though at any moment something or someone will spring out and drag her away"
"Doesn't sound like the type of behavior that suits your needs"
"On the contrary, it is that brokenness, that fear that I need. I have looked into her mind and I see her fears. There are gates and doors there that once opened will threaten to consume her mind and soul"
"Better that they stay locked then. Don't go probing around too much, you may break the dam"
"On the contrary, the day when she unlocks those gates and faces the fear behind them, is the day that I believe she will become a force that not even she knows she could do. Her skills have been forged in fear and survival. The day where she can use them for the good of others, will be a brighter day in this city"
"I never took you for an optimist"
"That's because I am not."
"Could have fooled me"
"Then you are easily fooled"
They both chuckled at that ridiculous notion. Danno may be many things, easily fooled was not one of them. After a few rare minutes of mirth, the conversation continued.
"And the other..."
"Now who is more than a bit interested?"
"Well, can you blame me? Not that I would expect you to understand, you who are so confused by the ways of women".
"Yes, certainly you are a master in the subject. It is so rare to see you without at least a dozen hanging around at your beck and call".
Again they both chuckled. Danno realized indeed that his visitor was in high spirits, rarely did he allow this much humor in their meetings. Rarer still were the occasions when he would even offer a joke or jest, yet here he was, even employing a bit of sarcasm, a skill he thought lost on his visitor.
"Yes well, what am I to do? Its so hard being me you know. Single, rich, incredibly attractive. Its all I can do to keep just those dozen satisfied, never mind the other 3 dozen I have on the waiting lists".
"I am sure they cannot wait until it is time for their moment in the sun, to stand in awe of your glorious presence".
"My, we are in a good mood this evening aren't we? No doubt remains for me now, you have seen her again this evening, have you not?"
"I have. I ran across her on another one of her patrols. This evening she prevented what looked to be a certain murder and theft of a young tiefling. Truly she has renewed my hope for this city"
"Truly you should stop skulking in the shadows and work up some nerve".
"Its not that simple, and you know it".
"Well then, I will arrange a double date then. I with that fascinating bard at the Cellar, and you with your white-robed vigilante-princess".
"No", and with that simple rejection the mirth of the conversation ended. Clearly, he had struck a nerve here, one that he should tread carefully around.
"Well, back to business then Mister Killjoy: your prospective Bard, beauty and talent aside, what can she offer to this plan of yours?"
"Balthor recently told me of her prowess, and heart. She felled three goblins on her own two nights ago. Speaking of which, I need you to look into how they got here. Any information could be important".
"Certainly. So, beautiful, talented and deadly. I shall definitely have to meet her now"
"I am sure there is nothing I could do to keep you away"
"And what of the dark one?"
"The Reaper? For all intensive purposes, he stalks the Stoneyard for to be sure, but to kill its inhabitants. Apparently it is not enough for him for the creatures to be confined, they must all be destroyed".
"So, a rogue cleric? For the temple has made no declarations of his affiliations. Rumor is, they are even trying to hunt him down"
"That would be my guess, though I think there is probably more to him than just a cleric of the Queen."
"You still wish for his help then"
"I do. I have many other components, the Hood brings aggression and swordplay, as well as some "other" assets. Evellyn and Zorah are both competent, each gifted in their own ways. The White Lady is raw firepower... well... you know what I mean. As for your friend Hernando over there, its easy enough to explain his roll. Though I still do not trust him completely..."
"...You shouldn't....", he interrupted.
"....good to know. Now what I need is an element of fear. An individual that fights as much with presence than with a blade".
"He fits the bill perfectly then"
"Indeed. I only hope my appeals to the Raven Queen do not go unanswered. If he is indeed a servant, perhaps she will see fit to steer him in our direction. I only hope that my designs and hers can at least run parallel for a time"
"Who can know with her?"
"Hopefully he can"
"So now what? Do you plan to just convince all these people to come sit in the room with you and have a little chat? Because I hate to say it but that is not necessarily your strong suit".
"Clearly. No, now we set a plan into motion, just the two of us. We need to gather all these people around a single cause, get them to work together. Then I will appeal to their sense of justice. Then perhaps we can begin to save this city"
He walked in through the front door fully aware of the many crossbows and eyes trained on him. Surveying the room he quickly made his way to a dark corner to a small figure sitting in the shadows.
"Eventually, you will learn some sense of protocol for walking in here uninvited", his host stated flatly as he approached the table.
"Eventually, your guards may muster up the courage to actually confront me. Though I have no doubt they have been both warned of the repercussions of such an action. Nor do I doubt you had ample warning of my impending arrival".
"Nevertheless, it would be nice if at least once in a while you paid me some measure of respect in my own household. You are just a man, regardless of whatever else may be wrong with you", the small one finished with a chuckle.
"This is true", he answered, his tone indicating that the statement had flung his mind far afield, "I am just a man...."
"Oi... here we go again. I take it you have not deviated from your course then. You still mean to proceed with 'him'?"
"You know I must".
"I do not think he will bring you the satisfaction. That one seems fiery, no doubt, but like fire, his aim is wild. My sources say he is not all together... stable".
"And what other news do your 'sources' have for me?", he asked as he dropped a pouch of gold on the table.
"Nothing that meets your specifications to be sure. The same news really. The hooded rogue still prowls the streets, no news yet of his loyalties. He does well to cover his tracks. I honestly have considered if he would welcome my employ"
"No"
"You cannot presume to tell me to..."
"No", he stated evenly, the look in his eyes indicating that in no uncertain terms he was not to be questioned on this matter.
"Interesting. Have you information then? More news of that one that you have not yet shared?"
"A hunch, yes, that you may have just confirmed. Still, Silvus Highblade is our first priority"
"Why? In all seriousness my friend, you must tell me, why him?"
The question was simple enough yet it challenged him to reconsider everything he had been planning to this point. Silvus Highblade.... was he really the answer to his problem? Could he really deliver what he so desperately craved right now?
"You know my designs. Zarcharis can be fixed. If the Prosecutor can be provided with better evidence and more opportunities to put guild members and even leaders into the Prisons, would not the city fare better?"
"Certainly, until the guilds form around a new leader, or the Wraith's simply make him disappear"
"There is always that. My plan was never to make a martyr out of him, but the first Prosecutor to stay for a second term. If ever there were a moment it would be now"
"I can't disagree with you. So, have you approached him yet?"
"No. I have been waiting for the opportune moment. I have come from another "meeting" with Amir though. He is on board, even if he does not fully trust me yet".
"No small feat, to be sure. Your pieces fall into place, are you now ready to play your game?"
"I can only hope".
They sat together in silence for a time, each consumed with his own thoughts. Eventually he stood and took his leave without a word.
6 months later
He rushed through the door and ran to the usual corner, yells and more than a few insults following him through the room.
"Come in. Have a seat. Can I get you something?"
He took a seat on the opposite side of the table but he could barely keep his excitement at bay.
"My friend, you have either just met with the woman of your dreams, and the gods know it would be about time you had finally spoken to her, or are under some terrific spell of which I must learn the caster, should it make everyone as "excited" as you happen to be right now", he greeted with a knowing smile on his face.
"I know you have news. One of your couriers found me and delivered a cryptic message, as usual".
"Well get to that, surely. Tell me, did you finally 'speak' to her?", he asked with a knowing smile and just a hint of provocation.
"Your attempts at humor still fall remarkably 'short', dear friend.".
"So, instead you continue to watch her from afar, she who has inspired all of this planning and dedication"
"For now. I aim to ensure her safety, until the time is right"
"How romantically... creepy... of you"
"Have you had enough fun at my expense yet?"
"Hardly. Though I know your intentions are not purely founded in her safety, I did hear a rumor that you had recently intervened on her behalf".
"How so?", he asked with sudden urgency.
"Relax, its an internal source. A random Gatherer was out, saw your Lady in White following the trail of what appeared to be some simpleton muggers. Little did she know of the ambush that awaited her down that alley. According to my sources, a fight she had planned to just be three on one was quickly developing into a slaughter, for the other three bandits closing in behind her surely would have been the end of her. Remarkably, one turned on the other suddenly, plunging a dagger into his back before he fell to the ground clutching his head. The third began to run to the others before he also found himself standing in the middle of the alley with no memory of where he was or who he had come there with. A rather fortunate moment of treachery and sudden amnesia for her, don't you agree?" He continued to look at his visitor with more than a little amusement in his eyes. He had never seen him take to anyone as quickly as he had to this person, the coincidence that it was a woman just added to the humor.
"Enough of this. You have news for me. I came to know what it is".
"Well, forgive me for trying to participate in just a little gossip. You really should open up more my friend. People are going to start wondering if you even have friends"
"I would prefer it if "people" did not know I existed at all, as you well know. Now, the news...".
"Very well. You told me to keep an eye open for "person's of interest". Well, I may have one for you. A talented individual, very specific skill set. I have had him under "surveillance" for a few months now. Came here, with a vendetta. He may fit the bill. I warn you though, he is more unstable than the other one. Put the two together, and I wonder if you will be able to control them"
"Its no matter, I have to try. You know that"
"Yes well. I never figured you might actually succeed in this little venture of yours. And what, pray tell, is your plan for this little band of yours? These.... do you even have a name for them yet?"
"I figured I would leave that to you"
"Ahh, I'll have to work on that I suppose"
"Indeed".
"Well, my friend, perhaps that will have to be my new source of income, naming groups of foolish people. For if this plan of yours ever comes to fruition, I may very well find myself out of a job"
"Oh, I am sure your resourcefulness knows no bounds. Sooner or later, you will find yourself in a lucrative business yet again".
"I appreciate your vote of confidence".
"You are very welcome".
"And the others?"
"Balthor has recommended two others to me. He has even employed them at the Segrac, to keep them close by. I have observed them. One is fearful, stealing glances over her shoulder, watching every shadow as though at any moment something or someone will spring out and drag her away"
"Doesn't sound like the type of behavior that suits your needs"
"On the contrary, it is that brokenness, that fear that I need. I have looked into her mind and I see her fears. There are gates and doors there that once opened will threaten to consume her mind and soul"
"Better that they stay locked then. Don't go probing around too much, you may break the dam"
"On the contrary, the day when she unlocks those gates and faces the fear behind them, is the day that I believe she will become a force that not even she knows she could do. Her skills have been forged in fear and survival. The day where she can use them for the good of others, will be a brighter day in this city"
"I never took you for an optimist"
"That's because I am not."
"Could have fooled me"
"Then you are easily fooled"
They both chuckled at that ridiculous notion. Danno may be many things, easily fooled was not one of them. After a few rare minutes of mirth, the conversation continued.
"And the other..."
"Now who is more than a bit interested?"
"Well, can you blame me? Not that I would expect you to understand, you who are so confused by the ways of women".
"Yes, certainly you are a master in the subject. It is so rare to see you without at least a dozen hanging around at your beck and call".
Again they both chuckled. Danno realized indeed that his visitor was in high spirits, rarely did he allow this much humor in their meetings. Rarer still were the occasions when he would even offer a joke or jest, yet here he was, even employing a bit of sarcasm, a skill he thought lost on his visitor.
"Yes well, what am I to do? Its so hard being me you know. Single, rich, incredibly attractive. Its all I can do to keep just those dozen satisfied, never mind the other 3 dozen I have on the waiting lists".
"I am sure they cannot wait until it is time for their moment in the sun, to stand in awe of your glorious presence".
"My, we are in a good mood this evening aren't we? No doubt remains for me now, you have seen her again this evening, have you not?"
"I have. I ran across her on another one of her patrols. This evening she prevented what looked to be a certain murder and theft of a young tiefling. Truly she has renewed my hope for this city"
"Truly you should stop skulking in the shadows and work up some nerve".
"Its not that simple, and you know it".
"Well then, I will arrange a double date then. I with that fascinating bard at the Cellar, and you with your white-robed vigilante-princess".
"No", and with that simple rejection the mirth of the conversation ended. Clearly, he had struck a nerve here, one that he should tread carefully around.
"Well, back to business then Mister Killjoy: your prospective Bard, beauty and talent aside, what can she offer to this plan of yours?"
"Balthor recently told me of her prowess, and heart. She felled three goblins on her own two nights ago. Speaking of which, I need you to look into how they got here. Any information could be important".
"Certainly. So, beautiful, talented and deadly. I shall definitely have to meet her now"
"I am sure there is nothing I could do to keep you away"
"And what of the dark one?"
"The Reaper? For all intensive purposes, he stalks the Stoneyard for to be sure, but to kill its inhabitants. Apparently it is not enough for him for the creatures to be confined, they must all be destroyed".
"So, a rogue cleric? For the temple has made no declarations of his affiliations. Rumor is, they are even trying to hunt him down"
"That would be my guess, though I think there is probably more to him than just a cleric of the Queen."
"You still wish for his help then"
"I do. I have many other components, the Hood brings aggression and swordplay, as well as some "other" assets. Evellyn and Zorah are both competent, each gifted in their own ways. The White Lady is raw firepower... well... you know what I mean. As for your friend Hernando over there, its easy enough to explain his roll. Though I still do not trust him completely..."
"...You shouldn't....", he interrupted.
"....good to know. Now what I need is an element of fear. An individual that fights as much with presence than with a blade".
"He fits the bill perfectly then"
"Indeed. I only hope my appeals to the Raven Queen do not go unanswered. If he is indeed a servant, perhaps she will see fit to steer him in our direction. I only hope that my designs and hers can at least run parallel for a time"
"Who can know with her?"
"Hopefully he can"
"So now what? Do you plan to just convince all these people to come sit in the room with you and have a little chat? Because I hate to say it but that is not necessarily your strong suit".
"Clearly. No, now we set a plan into motion, just the two of us. We need to gather all these people around a single cause, get them to work together. Then I will appeal to their sense of justice. Then perhaps we can begin to save this city"
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Darkness Falls
Zorah awoke to the quiet whisper of snowfall.
She fluttered her fingers, feeling the dry, powdery chill.
Her head popped up out of the snow and she spied Gromm.
They were the only ones awake.
Zorah reached for a weapon but one by one, the others awoke and she decided to keep her question to herself.
For now.
She followed everyone off the roof and into the street. Something was different.
A group of large, black beetles rushed them but before Zorah could even pull out a shuriken, Kirsi had blasted the bugs into individual molecules.
That's the second time today, thought Zorah.
"Pssst."
Zorah craned her neck to peer at a crack in the door of a nearby building.
"It isn't safe out there. Come inside."
They were probably right. And the voice sounded like it belonged to a small creature. She saw doubt and distrust flicker on the others' faces. Silvus stomped away, attempting to cover up his tracks. He was unsuccessful. The voice called them again and all of them, even Silvus, went inside.
They were in a hive of halflings.
Hive isn't the right word, thought Zorah. Graveyard is more like it.
The one who'd spoken to them questioned them about their intentions -- it was dangerous to be outside after the sun went down.
With growing concern, the group plied the halfling with questions and discovered, to their horror, that not a few hours but several YEARS had passed since the Goblin-Orc attempted invasion. The halfling, who had been surviving for the last few years, had not kept track of the passage of time, so it was possible they had been gone for almost one hundred years.
Zorah's first thought was, At least my husband's dead.
Relief washed over her. Then doubt brushed away the relief and painted her into a dark corner.
The group began to speak of time-travel and the potential to go back. The wizards who'd sent them into the future must have had a reason. Was there something they were sent here to do? Would they be able to find a way back?
What if I have to face him again?
The thought was unbearable.
Zorah kept silent, hoping that between the monsters outside and the arguments within, she could prevent her nightmares from preying on what was left of her sanity.
She rocked back and forth, back and forth on the floor, eyes shut. She couldn't keep herself together much longer.
The fighting within the group was a distraction. Silvus wanted to visit the remains of the Segrac. Balthor would be long gone, wherever the dwarves had taken him. Would the ruins of the Cellar still be there? Death had received a vision from the Raven Queen. Although she was no longer present in the city, she was still with him. Or so he believed. He wanted to visit the temple from the vision and gain some clues as to his deity's whereabouts. Gromm was busy pointing out the stupidity of each plan, while Kirsi begged for them to wait just another few hours so that they wouldn't endanger the halflings who'd given them shelter. The city had become a necropolis, a city of the dead. Traversing the city at night was a death sentence.
Morning arrived some time later -- with ghoulish screams. The monsters inhabiting the city were going their final rounds before retiring for the day. Zorah sat, massaging her temples.
She heard a child speak with Kirsi about the legendary figures of the Goblin-Orc Invasion Attempt -- the league she, Silvus, Death, Kirsi, Evellyn and Gromm were part of. They wouldn't be legendary without Ricin, and now that he had disappeared (or died), they didn't have a great chance of reaching that status again.
They said their farewells and Silvus finally decided to accompany Death to the mysterious temple. They walked through the ruins of the once-beautiful city of Zarcharis-Taoul. The wizards had ripped it apart after the invasion attempt. It looked as if all natural disasters had gathered here and partied hard. Wide trenches dug through the city, showing its undersides. Ramshackle buildings were in the slow act of collapsing, and the inhabitants were now starving, frightened survivors.
Pellor and the Raven Queen had vanished, leaving little hope that the city would survive. Several quarters were already overrun with the undead.
When they reached the temple, Evellyn realized it was the one Ricin had lived in as a child. She shared information about what she'd uncovered the last time she'd been here. Were they here to find out more about Ricin?
They tried stepping inside but a paralyzing fear pushed them back. Zorah took a firm step within and gulped down her fear. Something was in here.
She made her way carefully through the ruins. Her heart hammered. Someone peeked around a door and stared at her. Zorah gasped and pointed to where it had been. An investigation into the other room provided no information. The person had vanished.
Zorah pulled on her Climbing Claws -- they made her feel a little safer. She gripped a shuriken in one hand and almost threw it when a large crash sounded nearby. They rushed to the scene but once again found no evidence of a presence.
"Why are you here?" asked a voice.
A spectral figure floated into view. Zorah clapped her hand over her mouth to keep in a scream.
The figure taunted and teased them, answering some questions and ignoring others. It batted them back and forth like a cat with a mouse, finally offering them the chance to visit the library deeper within the temple. As long as they left the spectre alone.
"But let's level the playing field," it said, snapping Death's sceptre. It had flung Silvus outside and crunched his bow for all of Silvus' smart-assed retorts, and then brought him back inside so it could gloat. It took Kirsi's staff ("I like this one. This one goes in my collection," it said, before it made the staff vanish) and when it turned to Zorah, she pulled out her shurikens.
She presented them in one hand, simply saying, "These are my favorite."
It was the truth. Her weapon of choice allowed her to stay further away from her enemies. Distance protected her.
"Let's have something a little more...meaningful."
The dam burst.
All the memories of her wretched, wretched husband and his insidious treatment of her flooded Zorah's mind as she howled in anguish. She fell to the floor, head in her hands, screaming for help. Nothing could protect her mind.
Zorah felt her lungs protesting. She couldn't stop. She kept screaming, screaming, screaming in agony, all the torturous little details growing larger inside her mind until her brain threatened to explode.
And all of a sudden, the pain ceased. And Zorah's mind fell to pieces.
She got to her feet and swayed unsteadily.
The others glanced at her with concern but before anyone could reach out to her, they were all confronted by their own inner demons. Silvus faced a maniacal version of himself. Kirsi saw the group that had murdered her husband. Zorah's brain focused on these events before registering that someone was standing in front of her.
"Zorah," said a smug voice. She lifted her eyes to see a wicked grin slide onto the face of her husband.
"It has been too long," he purred.
She turned her head to see how the others were coping (a strange, distant feeling was creeping over her) and saw that she was alone.
Her body crumbled. She fell in a heap. All hope was extinguished.
He had finally found her.
She fluttered her fingers, feeling the dry, powdery chill.
Her head popped up out of the snow and she spied Gromm.
They were the only ones awake.
Zorah reached for a weapon but one by one, the others awoke and she decided to keep her question to herself.
For now.
She followed everyone off the roof and into the street. Something was different.
A group of large, black beetles rushed them but before Zorah could even pull out a shuriken, Kirsi had blasted the bugs into individual molecules.
That's the second time today, thought Zorah.
"Pssst."
Zorah craned her neck to peer at a crack in the door of a nearby building.
"It isn't safe out there. Come inside."
They were probably right. And the voice sounded like it belonged to a small creature. She saw doubt and distrust flicker on the others' faces. Silvus stomped away, attempting to cover up his tracks. He was unsuccessful. The voice called them again and all of them, even Silvus, went inside.
They were in a hive of halflings.
Hive isn't the right word, thought Zorah. Graveyard is more like it.
The one who'd spoken to them questioned them about their intentions -- it was dangerous to be outside after the sun went down.
With growing concern, the group plied the halfling with questions and discovered, to their horror, that not a few hours but several YEARS had passed since the Goblin-Orc attempted invasion. The halfling, who had been surviving for the last few years, had not kept track of the passage of time, so it was possible they had been gone for almost one hundred years.
Zorah's first thought was, At least my husband's dead.
Relief washed over her. Then doubt brushed away the relief and painted her into a dark corner.
The group began to speak of time-travel and the potential to go back. The wizards who'd sent them into the future must have had a reason. Was there something they were sent here to do? Would they be able to find a way back?
What if I have to face him again?
The thought was unbearable.
Zorah kept silent, hoping that between the monsters outside and the arguments within, she could prevent her nightmares from preying on what was left of her sanity.
She rocked back and forth, back and forth on the floor, eyes shut. She couldn't keep herself together much longer.
The fighting within the group was a distraction. Silvus wanted to visit the remains of the Segrac. Balthor would be long gone, wherever the dwarves had taken him. Would the ruins of the Cellar still be there? Death had received a vision from the Raven Queen. Although she was no longer present in the city, she was still with him. Or so he believed. He wanted to visit the temple from the vision and gain some clues as to his deity's whereabouts. Gromm was busy pointing out the stupidity of each plan, while Kirsi begged for them to wait just another few hours so that they wouldn't endanger the halflings who'd given them shelter. The city had become a necropolis, a city of the dead. Traversing the city at night was a death sentence.
Morning arrived some time later -- with ghoulish screams. The monsters inhabiting the city were going their final rounds before retiring for the day. Zorah sat, massaging her temples.
She heard a child speak with Kirsi about the legendary figures of the Goblin-Orc Invasion Attempt -- the league she, Silvus, Death, Kirsi, Evellyn and Gromm were part of. They wouldn't be legendary without Ricin, and now that he had disappeared (or died), they didn't have a great chance of reaching that status again.
They said their farewells and Silvus finally decided to accompany Death to the mysterious temple. They walked through the ruins of the once-beautiful city of Zarcharis-Taoul. The wizards had ripped it apart after the invasion attempt. It looked as if all natural disasters had gathered here and partied hard. Wide trenches dug through the city, showing its undersides. Ramshackle buildings were in the slow act of collapsing, and the inhabitants were now starving, frightened survivors.
Pellor and the Raven Queen had vanished, leaving little hope that the city would survive. Several quarters were already overrun with the undead.
When they reached the temple, Evellyn realized it was the one Ricin had lived in as a child. She shared information about what she'd uncovered the last time she'd been here. Were they here to find out more about Ricin?
They tried stepping inside but a paralyzing fear pushed them back. Zorah took a firm step within and gulped down her fear. Something was in here.
She made her way carefully through the ruins. Her heart hammered. Someone peeked around a door and stared at her. Zorah gasped and pointed to where it had been. An investigation into the other room provided no information. The person had vanished.
Zorah pulled on her Climbing Claws -- they made her feel a little safer. She gripped a shuriken in one hand and almost threw it when a large crash sounded nearby. They rushed to the scene but once again found no evidence of a presence.
"Why are you here?" asked a voice.
A spectral figure floated into view. Zorah clapped her hand over her mouth to keep in a scream.
The figure taunted and teased them, answering some questions and ignoring others. It batted them back and forth like a cat with a mouse, finally offering them the chance to visit the library deeper within the temple. As long as they left the spectre alone.
"But let's level the playing field," it said, snapping Death's sceptre. It had flung Silvus outside and crunched his bow for all of Silvus' smart-assed retorts, and then brought him back inside so it could gloat. It took Kirsi's staff ("I like this one. This one goes in my collection," it said, before it made the staff vanish) and when it turned to Zorah, she pulled out her shurikens.
She presented them in one hand, simply saying, "These are my favorite."
It was the truth. Her weapon of choice allowed her to stay further away from her enemies. Distance protected her.
"Let's have something a little more...meaningful."
The dam burst.
All the memories of her wretched, wretched husband and his insidious treatment of her flooded Zorah's mind as she howled in anguish. She fell to the floor, head in her hands, screaming for help. Nothing could protect her mind.
Zorah felt her lungs protesting. She couldn't stop. She kept screaming, screaming, screaming in agony, all the torturous little details growing larger inside her mind until her brain threatened to explode.
And all of a sudden, the pain ceased. And Zorah's mind fell to pieces.
She got to her feet and swayed unsteadily.
The others glanced at her with concern but before anyone could reach out to her, they were all confronted by their own inner demons. Silvus faced a maniacal version of himself. Kirsi saw the group that had murdered her husband. Zorah's brain focused on these events before registering that someone was standing in front of her.
"Zorah," said a smug voice. She lifted her eyes to see a wicked grin slide onto the face of her husband.
"It has been too long," he purred.
She turned her head to see how the others were coping (a strange, distant feeling was creeping over her) and saw that she was alone.
Her body crumbled. She fell in a heap. All hope was extinguished.
He had finally found her.
Quotes from 9/25 Game
"Did we get there yet?" -- Death
"You shouldn't be here." -- NPC
"You should be answering my question." -- Death
"Mother-effer, WE'RE the justice system." -- Death
"LOGIC??!" -- Gromm
"Are you rolling to make him let you leave?" -- Michael
"No, I'm rolling to shut him up." -- Death (about Gromm)
"We don't have a Delorean -- WE HAVE A CART!" (not sure who said this)
"...Well, I do have a strong personality." -- Death
"You shouldn't be here." -- NPC
"You should be answering my question." -- Death
"Mother-effer, WE'RE the justice system." -- Death
"LOGIC??!" -- Gromm
"Are you rolling to make him let you leave?" -- Michael
"No, I'm rolling to shut him up." -- Death (about Gromm)
"We don't have a Delorean -- WE HAVE A CART!" (not sure who said this)
"...Well, I do have a strong personality." -- Death
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Wedge
B E F O R E
Alendar looked up from the cot where the young, burned elf lay. He gently took his hands away from the traumatized one’s forehead, cheeks and lips and narrowed his eyes.
“How is he?”
The Chief Healer must have come while the exchange was happening. Alendar looked at her and was glad to see concern etched in her old features. Many had been suspicious of this young survivor at first.
The concern was warranted.
“His mind is deeply fractured. The attack was sudden, and the violence of it has driven a wedge into his psyche. I believe this is why he remains unconscious. His mind has literally lost the ability to weave together his will with the rest of himself. He may wish to wake up. But the mechanism to act is disconnected.”
The Healer mulled that over as she pulled fresh potions from the pouch slung around her shoulder. She applied them to the survivor’s wounds. After several long moments she asked, “Can you help him?”
Alendar nodded. “Perhaps. I can attempt to reconnect the two, but I cannot guarantee that it will not begin to come unraveled again. Something may trigger a disconnect later, or it may slowly come apart again. The mind and the spirit are complicated, as you well know.”
“I do,” the Healer said. “Let us try.”
“As you command,” Alendar said, and he began preparing himself to merge minds with the survivor again.
The Healer began to leave, but paused. “Alendar, have you gleaned any information?”
“Only a name. One he keeps hearing screamed at him by someone as he relives the attack. His name, I believe.”
“What is it?”
“Silvus.”
Alendar looked up from the cot where the young, burned elf lay. He gently took his hands away from the traumatized one’s forehead, cheeks and lips and narrowed his eyes.
“How is he?”
The Chief Healer must have come while the exchange was happening. Alendar looked at her and was glad to see concern etched in her old features. Many had been suspicious of this young survivor at first.
The concern was warranted.
“His mind is deeply fractured. The attack was sudden, and the violence of it has driven a wedge into his psyche. I believe this is why he remains unconscious. His mind has literally lost the ability to weave together his will with the rest of himself. He may wish to wake up. But the mechanism to act is disconnected.”
The Healer mulled that over as she pulled fresh potions from the pouch slung around her shoulder. She applied them to the survivor’s wounds. After several long moments she asked, “Can you help him?”
Alendar nodded. “Perhaps. I can attempt to reconnect the two, but I cannot guarantee that it will not begin to come unraveled again. Something may trigger a disconnect later, or it may slowly come apart again. The mind and the spirit are complicated, as you well know.”
“I do,” the Healer said. “Let us try.”
“As you command,” Alendar said, and he began preparing himself to merge minds with the survivor again.
The Healer began to leave, but paused. “Alendar, have you gleaned any information?”
“Only a name. One he keeps hearing screamed at him by someone as he relives the attack. His name, I believe.”
“What is it?”
“Silvus.”
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Suspicion
I don't trust him.
Popping up out of nowhere, offering unsolicited help, tagging along where he isn't needed...
why is he here?
So far, we seem safe. All this moving has kept me out of the line of sight and for that I'm grateful. Even ploughing through bodies is somewhat of a relief. It gets my mind off of something like that happening to me.
I'm getting better at it. Turning off the part of my mind that screams at the horror of knife-plunging, blood-flowing, killing, killing, killing. Turning off the part of my mind that scampers into a corner and cowers in fear as someone edges closer and closer.
I'm getting better at protecting, defending, hiding, sneaking, surprising. I'm getting better at carving, slashing, hacking, slicing.
...but why is he here?
Who is he?
Was he sent by that maggot who called me his wife?
Was he hired by thugs to drag my dead body back home?
Is he someone we can trust?
Time will tell.
But in the meantime...
...I'm getting better.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Intriguing
She lay lounging in her tower, staring out the over the balcony rail to the beauty of the Feywild. Content in her laziness, Aailon began to drift off into a Reverie, until a sudden knock on the door disturbed her serene afternoon.
"Enter", she commanded, her voice dripping with annoyance.
A young Eladrin male came in to the room bowing respectively. He blushed as he came to realize that she had not yet taken the time to dress herself today and only a thin blanket covered her beautiful form. She smiled with recognition of his nervousness, like she did with so many messengers who came to her private chambers, she thoroughly enjoyed her little games. He tried to keep his eyes above her shoulder line, but he could not resist looking back to that thin blanket and letting his mind wander.
"Keep your eyes and your mind focused, young one", she said sternly, "Tell me why you have disturbed this most relaxing afternoon". He gulped in sudden fear and began to stammer a response to this most beautiful woman. "A message has come from the distant city, a summons for a 'Volunteer'. It seems that they are in need of a new 'Prosecutor' for their courts." She sat impassively, amused at his inability to form his sentences without having to close his eyes to keep his focus. He continued to go on through more details, the city's name, the "Volunteer's" salary and accommodations, and so on and so forth.
Finally, growing bored with the endless report of details she asked what seemed would be the most obvious questions. "Who was the former Prosecutor? And why are they no longer in their post? Surely the term is not over yet"?
"No milady, it is not. Lord Silvus Highblade was the former Prosecutor for the New Hope City, but by all accounts he has been murdered in the city, his body never recovered, and no further information".
She sat up quickly, the blanket shifting down to her toned stomach, causing the poor young man to break out in a cold sweat. This news was certainly shocking, an Eladrin, murdered in a distant city, but not just any Eladrin... no, it was Silvus Highblade, the lone survivor of that long ago blaze in a distant section of the Feywild. This certainly made the invitation far more... intriguing.
"You, gather an entourage to prepare for my departure and alert the nobles that I will go as the "Volunteer" to this "Zarcharis-Taoul...", the young man began to shake his head quickly, trying to raise a hand to interject something, "...what"?
"The city is currently under seige milady, a great host of Goblinkin. Only one of the message-bearers made it through alive, and he is gravely injured.
"Well, that does seem to complicate things. Still, prepare for my departure and send word, somehow, of my impending arrival and that I expect my quarters to be prepared for me".
The messenger left without question. She sat up and moved over to her closet to choose her most elegant "traveling gown". Yes, this would indeed be a very, entertaining, term for her life. Perhaps she could find a few intriguing lovers in this new city, the ones here had begun to grow boring. Not to mention, if her suspicions were correct, Lord Silvus was somewhere to be found, and by all accounts, he was certainly one she would not pass up the opportunity to meet.
"Enter", she commanded, her voice dripping with annoyance.
A young Eladrin male came in to the room bowing respectively. He blushed as he came to realize that she had not yet taken the time to dress herself today and only a thin blanket covered her beautiful form. She smiled with recognition of his nervousness, like she did with so many messengers who came to her private chambers, she thoroughly enjoyed her little games. He tried to keep his eyes above her shoulder line, but he could not resist looking back to that thin blanket and letting his mind wander.
"Keep your eyes and your mind focused, young one", she said sternly, "Tell me why you have disturbed this most relaxing afternoon". He gulped in sudden fear and began to stammer a response to this most beautiful woman. "A message has come from the distant city, a summons for a 'Volunteer'. It seems that they are in need of a new 'Prosecutor' for their courts." She sat impassively, amused at his inability to form his sentences without having to close his eyes to keep his focus. He continued to go on through more details, the city's name, the "Volunteer's" salary and accommodations, and so on and so forth.
Finally, growing bored with the endless report of details she asked what seemed would be the most obvious questions. "Who was the former Prosecutor? And why are they no longer in their post? Surely the term is not over yet"?
"No milady, it is not. Lord Silvus Highblade was the former Prosecutor for the New Hope City, but by all accounts he has been murdered in the city, his body never recovered, and no further information".
She sat up quickly, the blanket shifting down to her toned stomach, causing the poor young man to break out in a cold sweat. This news was certainly shocking, an Eladrin, murdered in a distant city, but not just any Eladrin... no, it was Silvus Highblade, the lone survivor of that long ago blaze in a distant section of the Feywild. This certainly made the invitation far more... intriguing.
"You, gather an entourage to prepare for my departure and alert the nobles that I will go as the "Volunteer" to this "Zarcharis-Taoul...", the young man began to shake his head quickly, trying to raise a hand to interject something, "...what"?
"The city is currently under seige milady, a great host of Goblinkin. Only one of the message-bearers made it through alive, and he is gravely injured.
"Well, that does seem to complicate things. Still, prepare for my departure and send word, somehow, of my impending arrival and that I expect my quarters to be prepared for me".
The messenger left without question. She sat up and moved over to her closet to choose her most elegant "traveling gown". Yes, this would indeed be a very, entertaining, term for her life. Perhaps she could find a few intriguing lovers in this new city, the ones here had begun to grow boring. Not to mention, if her suspicions were correct, Lord Silvus was somewhere to be found, and by all accounts, he was certainly one she would not pass up the opportunity to meet.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Rebuilt in the Ashes
He stood surveying the city...
...that "great city"..
"The time has come for you to fall", he muttered to himself. The legions were ready, even now the front lines had begun to invade the outlying buildings, quietly, so as not to alarm the city proper... not just yet....
It had taken him decades to pull the tribes under his sway, and decades to find the right time to attack. Now, though, the city had revealed its helplessness. And She had made it clear that it was time do so. She had been bringing their spies in, arranging the carnivals... She had given Grakk what he had always wanted, the chance to rebuild his ancestral home...
...Foolish woman... she trusts us to uphold our end of the bargain.... The arrangement was clear, Grakk gets to rebuild Thragtusk... She gets the treasures of the city...
A simple trade... if he had any intention of going through with it....
The warning flares went up into the night. His troops had advanced far enough for one evening. This would be a war of attrition, a siege that would bring this city to its knees, and only when they pleaded to surrender peacefully, would he burn it to the ground... and in its ashes..
...Thragtusk...
Yes, She was useful, but Grakk... was strong, Grakk commanded every tribe of the mountains, and even many from the Underdark itself, with unquestioning loyalty... his armies would swarm this city... and nothing would stop him....
...that "great city"..
"The time has come for you to fall", he muttered to himself. The legions were ready, even now the front lines had begun to invade the outlying buildings, quietly, so as not to alarm the city proper... not just yet....
It had taken him decades to pull the tribes under his sway, and decades to find the right time to attack. Now, though, the city had revealed its helplessness. And She had made it clear that it was time do so. She had been bringing their spies in, arranging the carnivals... She had given Grakk what he had always wanted, the chance to rebuild his ancestral home...
...Foolish woman... she trusts us to uphold our end of the bargain.... The arrangement was clear, Grakk gets to rebuild Thragtusk... She gets the treasures of the city...
A simple trade... if he had any intention of going through with it....
The warning flares went up into the night. His troops had advanced far enough for one evening. This would be a war of attrition, a siege that would bring this city to its knees, and only when they pleaded to surrender peacefully, would he burn it to the ground... and in its ashes..
...Thragtusk...
Yes, She was useful, but Grakk... was strong, Grakk commanded every tribe of the mountains, and even many from the Underdark itself, with unquestioning loyalty... his armies would swarm this city... and nothing would stop him....
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Quotes -- From 7/10/12 Game
Balthor: "What's this?"
Kirsi: "Oh, just a dying man's blood..."
Balthor: "Hm. Sass."
---
Silvus: "Just in case anyone wants to know what it's like to enter a room with naked GOD ESSENCE -- THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!"
Hernando: "It's hard to pee!"
---
"We almost died...FOR BEER." (Silvus & Evellyn)
---
Grimm/Death: "Does the halfling district have a store for reacher-grabbers? We could open a kiosk -- 'reach the shelf you've never been to before!'"
---
Silvus: "Hernando carved his initials into the floor..."
Hernando: "NO, I DIDN'T!!" (Robbie's mouth full of chips)
---
Lorthis: "Do any of you know the whereabouts of Lord Silvus?" (Jolly and Gina both burp)
---
"She's going to the Raven Queen's temple in WHITE?"
"It's her away Jersey!"
(Stu and Robbie)
---
"Pull a Magneto and freeze the water in his bladder!" (Stu)
---
"I can't look at how schooled you got!" (Stu)
---
"She took a 19th century boxing feat..." (Stu)
---
Balthor: "You all still look like hell."
Evellyn: "How'd you expect us to look?"
Grimm/Death: "I'm still not in there and I look great."
---
"This DOES look like a private show -- half-orc 'Bow Chicka Wow Wow!"
(Alright. Who's responsible for this one?!)
Kirsi: "Oh, just a dying man's blood..."
Balthor: "Hm. Sass."
---
Silvus: "Just in case anyone wants to know what it's like to enter a room with naked GOD ESSENCE -- THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!"
Hernando: "It's hard to pee!"
---
"We almost died...FOR BEER." (Silvus & Evellyn)
---
Grimm/Death: "Does the halfling district have a store for reacher-grabbers? We could open a kiosk -- 'reach the shelf you've never been to before!'"
---
Silvus: "Hernando carved his initials into the floor..."
Hernando: "NO, I DIDN'T!!" (Robbie's mouth full of chips)
---
Lorthis: "Do any of you know the whereabouts of Lord Silvus?" (Jolly and Gina both burp)
---
"She's going to the Raven Queen's temple in WHITE?"
"It's her away Jersey!"
(Stu and Robbie)
---
"Pull a Magneto and freeze the water in his bladder!" (Stu)
---
"I can't look at how schooled you got!" (Stu)
---
"She took a 19th century boxing feat..." (Stu)
---
Balthor: "You all still look like hell."
Evellyn: "How'd you expect us to look?"
Grimm/Death: "I'm still not in there and I look great."
---
"This DOES look like a private show -- half-orc 'Bow Chicka Wow Wow!"
(Alright. Who's responsible for this one?!)
Thursday, July 5, 2012
New and Old
Silvus entered his apartment and dropped his case files on the in the main room.
He paused. Looked around. Tugged on the collar of the fashionable human tunic he wore to the office every day. His office.
No.
Their office.
The Prosecutor was a human position, created by humans to enforce human laws.
He pulled the tunic off, held it up, studied it.
When did he become this? When did he decide to split himself in two? Of what use was this behavior? He imagined his Eladrin brethren looking at his actions, and Eladrin pride welled up in him. What kind of Eladrin would skulk around in secret to accomplish what should be done? Yes, should. Should more than must. The Hood was moral, a dispensation of the spirit of justice, but not a human spirit with human laws and human restraints and impersonal human systems.
The Hood was pure. The Hood was Eladrin.
Silvus realized what he had become in that long moment, and he threw the tunic down in disgust. He had become human. There were good humans in the world, to be sure, but it was not what he was. Warmth flooded his face, and he took a deep breath. Eladrin blood, hot, searing, roiled through his veins at the command of his heart- the heart of a warrior. The heart of an Eladrin.
The Hood's gear was all that was left of his old Eladrin life, his old Eladrin home, his village, his family, his line. He gathered it up and changed into it, latching his bracers tight. pulling the strap of his sword sheaths in close.
Do you remember?
In his mind's eye, he was a boy again. So long ago. His grandfather stood beside him on a beach near the woods of his people, somewhere deep in the Fey. A stag stood atop a formation of massive rocks, looking down at them. They looked up and met its gaze.
"Feel it," his grandfather said.
He slid his feet along the sand.
The stag scraped the rocks with his hooves.
"I do," said Silvus, and he did. He felt another heartbeat falling into rhythm with his own. The stag's. The beast turned and leapt and bolted off.
Silvus felt the raw power race through him, and his feet carried him off, his arms pumping wildly, cold, crisp air bursting in his lungs with every breath.
Oneness. With the world.
Eladrin.
The night blurred around him as he made his way across the rooftops. The apartment trashed, the Prosecutor left for dead. Silvus Highblade would hide no more. He was one with the wild Eladrin blood of his fathers and their fathers and generations of his race back to the very dawn of everything.
He paused. Looked around. Tugged on the collar of the fashionable human tunic he wore to the office every day. His office.
No.
Their office.
The Prosecutor was a human position, created by humans to enforce human laws.
He pulled the tunic off, held it up, studied it.
When did he become this? When did he decide to split himself in two? Of what use was this behavior? He imagined his Eladrin brethren looking at his actions, and Eladrin pride welled up in him. What kind of Eladrin would skulk around in secret to accomplish what should be done? Yes, should. Should more than must. The Hood was moral, a dispensation of the spirit of justice, but not a human spirit with human laws and human restraints and impersonal human systems.
The Hood was pure. The Hood was Eladrin.
Silvus realized what he had become in that long moment, and he threw the tunic down in disgust. He had become human. There were good humans in the world, to be sure, but it was not what he was. Warmth flooded his face, and he took a deep breath. Eladrin blood, hot, searing, roiled through his veins at the command of his heart- the heart of a warrior. The heart of an Eladrin.
The Hood's gear was all that was left of his old Eladrin life, his old Eladrin home, his village, his family, his line. He gathered it up and changed into it, latching his bracers tight. pulling the strap of his sword sheaths in close.
Do you remember?
In his mind's eye, he was a boy again. So long ago. His grandfather stood beside him on a beach near the woods of his people, somewhere deep in the Fey. A stag stood atop a formation of massive rocks, looking down at them. They looked up and met its gaze.
"Feel it," his grandfather said.
He slid his feet along the sand.
The stag scraped the rocks with his hooves.
"I do," said Silvus, and he did. He felt another heartbeat falling into rhythm with his own. The stag's. The beast turned and leapt and bolted off.
Silvus felt the raw power race through him, and his feet carried him off, his arms pumping wildly, cold, crisp air bursting in his lungs with every breath.
Oneness. With the world.
Eladrin.
The night blurred around him as he made his way across the rooftops. The apartment trashed, the Prosecutor left for dead. Silvus Highblade would hide no more. He was one with the wild Eladrin blood of his fathers and their fathers and generations of his race back to the very dawn of everything.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Quotes from 7-3-12
DM to Kate/Zorah -- "You're still working the circus."
Zorah -- "I'm getting fat on circus food then...as part of my disguise."
-----
Harlan/The Hood -- "Aaaugh!"
K/Z -- "What?! What's wrong?"
H/TH -- "...no, that was in character!"
K/Z -- "...I thought you were upset about the chips."
H/TH -- "Aaaaugh! THESE CHIPS ARE NOT TRIANGLES! THEY ARE MOST DEFINITELY QUADRANTS!!!" (Munches on a few)
------
H/TH -- "I go to the potion aisle to look for hair dye."
DM: "Hair dye?! Try the nature/chemist shop."
(laughter over confusion of where hair dye would be)
DM: "You're in the metrosexual part of the magic shop..."
------
Hernando -- "I shit in your pants."
(A phrase used throughout the night in various forms)
Zorah -- "I'm getting fat on circus food then...as part of my disguise."
-----
Harlan/The Hood -- "Aaaugh!"
K/Z -- "What?! What's wrong?"
H/TH -- "...no, that was in character!"
K/Z -- "...I thought you were upset about the chips."
H/TH -- "Aaaaugh! THESE CHIPS ARE NOT TRIANGLES! THEY ARE MOST DEFINITELY QUADRANTS!!!" (Munches on a few)
------
H/TH -- "I go to the potion aisle to look for hair dye."
DM: "Hair dye?! Try the nature/chemist shop."
(laughter over confusion of where hair dye would be)
DM: "You're in the metrosexual part of the magic shop..."
------
Hernando -- "I shit in your pants."
(A phrase used throughout the night in various forms)
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Never Going Back
He knew.
After all this time, across thousands of miles -- he knew.
And he was coming for her.
Zorah felt as if she'd never sleep again. The assassin or kidnapper or whatever her loathsome spouse had hired could be anywhere, any time. And he would be just as ruthless as her husband.
It was difficult to speak or even think about him -- her husband. The memories had eventually faded and settled, stuffed deep in a dark cellar where she would never go. But now they were waking up.
She recalled the wedding ceremony -- a sordid affair. Her filmy dress's sleeves hid the manacles but no one could mistake the sound.
She had tried to escape the night before but was caught and thrown in a tiny, airless closet to await the wedding day. When threats of bodily harm did not dissuade her from running when the guards came to get her, her sister Celia's life was threatened, and she knew only too well how the groom delighted in carrying out his threats.
Now, Zorah put her hand over her heart, her fingers finding the branding scar her husband had made to claim her as his own, forever. She would always have that scar. Always be marked by his evil. Always know that he was out there, hunting her, wanting her.
She remembered the shining, black claws tracing her skin, stopping to pierce her so he could hear her gasp in pain. She never screamed, even when he began to do worse.
But there was one day he went too far.
The house staff discovered her unconscious and dragged her to the servant's quarters. One of them had a son (unknown to the Duke) and contacted him to take Zorah away.
Zorah awoke in a coffin.
Her muffled scream stopped the wagon and a voice from above calmed her.
"You're safe."
The coffin lid lifted and she saw the night sky in patches around the silhouette of her savior.
They had taken months to reach a safe haven, where the young man said goodbye and made his way back home. Zorah found work as a waitress and sometimes-artist. She bartered her way to Zarcharis and had been lucky enough to find work at the Segrac Cellar.
And now...this.
After all this time. He wanted her back again.
But instead of helpless despair, a tiny spark of rebellion lit in Zorah's chest, burning away the wretched memories, replacing them with a resolution. No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do...
...she was never going back.
After all this time, across thousands of miles -- he knew.
And he was coming for her.
Zorah felt as if she'd never sleep again. The assassin or kidnapper or whatever her loathsome spouse had hired could be anywhere, any time. And he would be just as ruthless as her husband.
It was difficult to speak or even think about him -- her husband. The memories had eventually faded and settled, stuffed deep in a dark cellar where she would never go. But now they were waking up.
She recalled the wedding ceremony -- a sordid affair. Her filmy dress's sleeves hid the manacles but no one could mistake the sound.
She had tried to escape the night before but was caught and thrown in a tiny, airless closet to await the wedding day. When threats of bodily harm did not dissuade her from running when the guards came to get her, her sister Celia's life was threatened, and she knew only too well how the groom delighted in carrying out his threats.
Now, Zorah put her hand over her heart, her fingers finding the branding scar her husband had made to claim her as his own, forever. She would always have that scar. Always be marked by his evil. Always know that he was out there, hunting her, wanting her.
She remembered the shining, black claws tracing her skin, stopping to pierce her so he could hear her gasp in pain. She never screamed, even when he began to do worse.
But there was one day he went too far.
The house staff discovered her unconscious and dragged her to the servant's quarters. One of them had a son (unknown to the Duke) and contacted him to take Zorah away.
Zorah awoke in a coffin.
Her muffled scream stopped the wagon and a voice from above calmed her.
"You're safe."
The coffin lid lifted and she saw the night sky in patches around the silhouette of her savior.
They had taken months to reach a safe haven, where the young man said goodbye and made his way back home. Zorah found work as a waitress and sometimes-artist. She bartered her way to Zarcharis and had been lucky enough to find work at the Segrac Cellar.
And now...this.
After all this time. He wanted her back again.
But instead of helpless despair, a tiny spark of rebellion lit in Zorah's chest, burning away the wretched memories, replacing them with a resolution. No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do...
...she was never going back.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Search for Answers
3 months in meditation. 3 months of searching, of prying, of seeking any glimmer of hope.
... Have I really found nothing?
The city is as bad as it has ever been. Its history has shown its decline, it spirals towards decay and fire. There is no hope for its return. The guilds will soon make their moves, each vying for the power, to fill the gaps left by those who stood for justice, for the right, for the ideal. The gaps beckon for authority, for those who seek to rule, who seek power, control....
...and there are too many who want to fill it...
Will the guilds fight for it... share it..... will there be a war in the streets, or a juggernaut of diabolic cooperation we will never be able to overcome...
....do they even want too..
The though shook him, an event the now Elan did not experience regularly. He had spent countless hours dedicated to searching out these individuals. He had held hopes that they would combine to be Zarcharis' reckoning.
...my faith in them wavers...
Hernando was a lost cause... he knew it would not be long now before he gave in to his selfishness...
The Hood... his decisions may have caused more harm than good, and his desire for the big picture seems lacking.
Zorah... he knew her past was dark and dangerous... but unfortunately... it had finally caught up with her... as it always does. He just needed to figure out why....
Evellyn... one of the few party members who he did trust, and pitied. Her eyes were awakened, but the truth is not kind. She is weathering it well... but for how long?
Kirsi... her moral center seemed to be rekindled. He could only hope she would be more proactive in her fight against this city's decay
Grim... his resolve is founded in the Queen, he could only hope that their plans continued to stay parallel.... but these voices... these temptations and now the vampires.. There is a dark force in this city, and it has set its sights on Death's very soul....
...we are outmatched... and we cannot hope to stand against these odds, these forces.... we stick our necks out to far in this city now, and if we are not ready, they will take our heads. We are unraveling at the seams....
...... how can we be ready?
The question plagued him, and so in his desperation he sought he decided if hope could not be found, it would have to be made. And so he made a plan... he chased an old legend and he enlisted his only friends to help him... failure at best meant a bitter struggle, at worst death or imprisonment.
But success... could mean everything
... Have I really found nothing?
The city is as bad as it has ever been. Its history has shown its decline, it spirals towards decay and fire. There is no hope for its return. The guilds will soon make their moves, each vying for the power, to fill the gaps left by those who stood for justice, for the right, for the ideal. The gaps beckon for authority, for those who seek to rule, who seek power, control....
...and there are too many who want to fill it...
Will the guilds fight for it... share it..... will there be a war in the streets, or a juggernaut of diabolic cooperation we will never be able to overcome...
....do they even want too..
The though shook him, an event the now Elan did not experience regularly. He had spent countless hours dedicated to searching out these individuals. He had held hopes that they would combine to be Zarcharis' reckoning.
...my faith in them wavers...
Hernando was a lost cause... he knew it would not be long now before he gave in to his selfishness...
The Hood... his decisions may have caused more harm than good, and his desire for the big picture seems lacking.
Zorah... he knew her past was dark and dangerous... but unfortunately... it had finally caught up with her... as it always does. He just needed to figure out why....
Evellyn... one of the few party members who he did trust, and pitied. Her eyes were awakened, but the truth is not kind. She is weathering it well... but for how long?
Kirsi... her moral center seemed to be rekindled. He could only hope she would be more proactive in her fight against this city's decay
Grim... his resolve is founded in the Queen, he could only hope that their plans continued to stay parallel.... but these voices... these temptations and now the vampires.. There is a dark force in this city, and it has set its sights on Death's very soul....
...we are outmatched... and we cannot hope to stand against these odds, these forces.... we stick our necks out to far in this city now, and if we are not ready, they will take our heads. We are unraveling at the seams....
...... how can we be ready?
The question plagued him, and so in his desperation he sought he decided if hope could not be found, it would have to be made. And so he made a plan... he chased an old legend and he enlisted his only friends to help him... failure at best meant a bitter struggle, at worst death or imprisonment.
But success... could mean everything
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