Rakjat stood in the center of the "tribunal," the gang of semi-elders who had cornered him in the godforge. They stood around him, backing him up against a brasier, filled with coals and blades.
"A trial?" he said. "As if we believed in such things?"
"She wanted this to be 'official,'" said the eldest of them, a grizzled old gish named Senkajar. "After all, we wouldn't want you waltzing back in claiming that none of this ever happened."
Another of them spoke. "Rakjat, you stand accused of speaking against the beliefs and ideals we hold sacred, as well as not paying proper respect to the Lich Queen."
Rakjat snorted. "The Lich Queen can cunniling herself, for all I care, and I've never said anything that wasn't true."
Senkajar raised his eyebrows. "So, you deny that you stated that we should avoid punishing the slaves?"
Rakjat laughed. "I did say that slaves work better if they're not unconcious. I also said that they learn to obey better of you only beat them when they're doing something wrong, rather than all the time." He looked from face to face. "And yes, I did say that the best slaves are the ones you never beat at all, the ones who believe that they're doing what they want instead of what you want, the slaves who think they're not slaves. The ones like all of you."
All of the assembled githyanki gasped, and then Senkajar raised his hand into the air. "The accused has been found guilty." His hand lowered, and he stared at Rakjat, malice in his eyes. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Rakjat the Exile. You are hereby banished to the material plane, and if you ever return to the Astral, you will be subject to immediate execution." Senkajar waved his hand, and a portal opened behind Rakjat.
Several of the members of the tribunal stepped forward, raising their hands as if to push him back, but Rakjat swept his hand across them. It was a gesture, nothing more, but they stopped for a moment. Rakjat sneered. "The Exile? Fine. I'll relish the name." He reached out to his side and grasped the handle of one of the silver swords lying in the brazier. It was unfinished, he could tell, not yet full of the power their full swords possessed, but the blade still glowed white-hot from the heat of the coals and the magic of the enchantment.
He held the sword out before him. "And when I return to the Astral Plane," he said, stepping back, "that isn't a choice you're going to be able to make." Rakjat turned, and stepped forward through the portal.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Alkadian Entaris Beldier III: Of Birds and Stones
For weeks now Alkadian had been far from the OTHERS. He was starting to FORGET what it was like out on the road of adventure. He indeed felt the wander lust but was bound TO his POST.
Entaris keep was in the final stages of furnishing, and men had come in good supply to stay within it's walls and take part in its maintenance. Alkadian had checked over the supplies, and knew that his warriors would easily survive the winter with the current food stores. Some of those now calling it home were great hunters, and others fine bandits, so more food and supplies managed to trickle their way in. It was a well maintained cycle. Sir Vharkas had proven to be a great asset in gaining strength for the fortress as well. He took some of the other men below daily to improve their fighting skills, he was very intelligent (which helped with all the paperwork), and his music filled the halls at night keeping men happy and at home. He wasn't sure who had sent Vharkus to find him, but he gave them silent thanks often over the past days.
His plate had indeed been piled high with tasks and responsibilities since he founded his new home, but slowly the plate crew encrusted with gold and gems, symbolizing his ascent to Lordship in this new land. It was a plate he would gladly stack labors upon.
In time the need for excitement became too much for him to contain. He didn't miss the danger against this life, but he did miss the feeling of surprise around every corner. Every day out there proved to be a new challenge for his skills, and along side his allies it seemed there was no challenge too great. He decided it was time to travel back to the new town (currently being rebuilt by Steelsmith's armies) and see if his fellow entrepreneurs of adventure had discovered any interesting leads. He sure as hell hadn't buried here in this cave of raucous sell swords.
To simply transfer himself there magically would have been a simple act (so to speak) but the promise of a few days ride by night through the untamed land gave him all the motivation he needed to pack up his personal belingings and make for the road. He would simply be killing as many birds as possible with the fewest number of stones available. With that thought he went to find Peldra to ready his Warhorse...
...But she was nowhere to be found. He shouted and looked from top to bottom, even having Rog'Beal aid him in the search, yet she was no-where on the premesise. A cold feeling stirred in his stomach and suddenly the idea of the ride wasn't as grand as he had been planning. It was going to be hard work. Perhaps the spell was in order....
"Where is that thrice blasted wench!"
Entaris keep was in the final stages of furnishing, and men had come in good supply to stay within it's walls and take part in its maintenance. Alkadian had checked over the supplies, and knew that his warriors would easily survive the winter with the current food stores. Some of those now calling it home were great hunters, and others fine bandits, so more food and supplies managed to trickle their way in. It was a well maintained cycle. Sir Vharkas had proven to be a great asset in gaining strength for the fortress as well. He took some of the other men below daily to improve their fighting skills, he was very intelligent (which helped with all the paperwork), and his music filled the halls at night keeping men happy and at home. He wasn't sure who had sent Vharkus to find him, but he gave them silent thanks often over the past days.
His plate had indeed been piled high with tasks and responsibilities since he founded his new home, but slowly the plate crew encrusted with gold and gems, symbolizing his ascent to Lordship in this new land. It was a plate he would gladly stack labors upon.
In time the need for excitement became too much for him to contain. He didn't miss the danger against this life, but he did miss the feeling of surprise around every corner. Every day out there proved to be a new challenge for his skills, and along side his allies it seemed there was no challenge too great. He decided it was time to travel back to the new town (currently being rebuilt by Steelsmith's armies) and see if his fellow entrepreneurs of adventure had discovered any interesting leads. He sure as hell hadn't buried here in this cave of raucous sell swords.
To simply transfer himself there magically would have been a simple act (so to speak) but the promise of a few days ride by night through the untamed land gave him all the motivation he needed to pack up his personal belingings and make for the road. He would simply be killing as many birds as possible with the fewest number of stones available. With that thought he went to find Peldra to ready his Warhorse...
...But she was nowhere to be found. He shouted and looked from top to bottom, even having Rog'Beal aid him in the search, yet she was no-where on the premesise. A cold feeling stirred in his stomach and suddenly the idea of the ride wasn't as grand as he had been planning. It was going to be hard work. Perhaps the spell was in order....
"Where is that thrice blasted wench!"
Monday, July 20, 2009
Alkadian Entaris Beldier III- Sword and Soul
The halls of Entaris Keep echoed with the ringing of hammers that night. Word of Alkadian's deeds in the recent war had spread quickly, and men had come to pledge their services to him. Their efforts now furnished and developed his Stronghold from an empty stone compound to a flourishing sanctuary for the wars exiles. Some outcasts from the military forces of Jason Steelsmith's army, while others had served the armies of Thesk, and lended their allegiance to the Lord of house Beldier in the name of their black emperor. They now made their home here, filling the many rooms, and bringing with them the weapons and armor of the fallen forces. Spoils of war and tools of battle stacked high. His rise to power was quickening.
For the first time since he was a child, men were once again calling him Lord, and meaning it. His family had a reputation back in the dark kingdom, and many had just assumed they were all killed by a warring household. News that the son of Entaris Beldier II was indeed alive, and tipping the scales of battles in the new untamed realm caused commotions amongst the neighboring towns. A few gold coins ensured that men returning from battle brought with them news of a powerful Mage gaining influence and land beyond mankind's borders. He used this gossip and mystery to fuel the fires of his greatness. Words were very powerful tools. He was again feared.
He sat alone in the audience chamber, studying a map he had made of the Green Wild. Calculating the distances between outposts and looking for regions that promised adventure and wealth. His thirst for power was yet quenched.
He folded up the map after a time and pulled out the rod he had received from Milo's chests before the battle had started. It was ancient. He knew that much. The craftsmanship put any item made by his hand to shame. The power sleeping inside was weak after no doubt decades of dormancy. Patterns along the shaft led him to believe it was part of a set. Somewhere out in the wilderness there may be more like it, possibly crafted by the same hand. This idea exited him. Alkadian loved wands.
Uttering a few magical words, his eyes began to glow with a blue heat. The world before him unfolded into a tapestry of arcane design. Invisible threads of magic that held this plane of existence together became clear to him, and everything around him hummed with dull energy. Looking over the rod again revealed a vast history of powerful markings. The very frame of the device seemed to unfold and reveal its construction, whispering secrets about how and what made it. Just then he sensed an intense increase in magic from the doorway behind him.
Spinning on his nimble feet he turned to face a dark figure hiding amongst the shadows of the far wall. Cold empty eyes peered out at him. The darkness did nothing to hide the man from his arcane vision. Sneering, Alkadian drew power from the rod in his hand and without a sound projected a massive spear of magical energy towards the intruder from the tip of his outstretched finger. The room seemed to go silent as the shadows and air appeared to suck into the tip of the spell before it struck the man, pinning him to the wall through his chest. Even the screams from the pain were swallowed by the imbibing force of the spear.
Wand in each hand, Alkadian stepped forward to confront the unseen trespasser. The thought of it being one of his new men mattered not to him. No one dared to sneak up on Lord Beldier. Thoughts of the enemy mages throne room ran shivers down his spine.
"Name yourself." His voice was calm and powerful.
"I... I am...your servant my master..." His voice was full of terror, and as the blood poured from his body the strength seemed to drain from his words. "I have come..to.....serve you.... Lord."
Alkadian recognized the man now. He was the white haired fellow Jason Steelsmith had introduced after the death of SamDread. He could sense power in this man. He was strong, and arcane energies coursed through him. The spell would have killed any lesser man, yet here he stood, wounded and pledging his life to Alkadian. Caution got the better of him.
"And why do you wish to serve me? Why would you throw away a life of freedom to live under the service of one like myself?" Alkadian questioned, wands at the ready (should his answer displease).
"You...are destined....for power." He urked out under the pressure of the still humming magical spear. "I look upon you and...see the dark shadows of strength...like rays on the sun....And I must..keep my oath..."
He lowered his wands. Suddenly he sensed a connection he had not felt before. Some distant and cold voice seemed to whisper to him. A gift. A blessing. Embrace my strength child. Your day will come. He is here to guide you. He looked down to the humming energy of the black sword strapped to the mans side. Uttering the words under his breath, Alkadian summoned forth another spell. Their eyes locked, and like an orange Alkadian peeled back the layers of the man's mind. He saw a long and deadly road that lead from a grave, across the countryside, and to Alkadians new home. He sensed terrible fear, and great dark power hidden all around him. A strange yet familiar name met his lips...Vharkus....
"You swear to serve my will? You swear by your life that in service to me you shall spread the words of my greatness, and live only to aid me to my seat of power?" He asked with razor sharp seriousness.
"My master...I am yours. Let me......serve...my.........master..." Tears were pouring down the man's long face. He was shaking with terror and confusion, but his words were sincere. The man fell to the ground as the spear of energy vanished. He landed on his knees, and simply lowered his head in surrender and pain.
A new wand protruded from Alkadians sleeve, and with a small flash of light the mans wounds began to heal. Placing his hand under the injured stranger's chin he lifted his head to look him dead in the eyes.
"Your life is now mine, and through me you shall sit in the seat of greatness. You will be my chosen. Pledge your sword to me, and you shall be my left hand." Slowly Alkadian unsheathed the elven blade he wore at all times. A blade that never saw the face of battle, but marked his rank as high lord of the Beldier family. He then proceeded to place the blade on the man's left shoulder, followed by his right, as only a lord could. "Now arise and serve me, Sir Vharkus Grey of House Beldier."
"My sword and my soul are yours to command my Master" He spoke with a new found strength, and the fear seemed to leave his eyes.
**********
In a far off place, where darkness hung thick and commanding, two skeletal hands clasped in a gesture of success. The pieces were beginning to fit together.
For the first time since he was a child, men were once again calling him Lord, and meaning it. His family had a reputation back in the dark kingdom, and many had just assumed they were all killed by a warring household. News that the son of Entaris Beldier II was indeed alive, and tipping the scales of battles in the new untamed realm caused commotions amongst the neighboring towns. A few gold coins ensured that men returning from battle brought with them news of a powerful Mage gaining influence and land beyond mankind's borders. He used this gossip and mystery to fuel the fires of his greatness. Words were very powerful tools. He was again feared.
He sat alone in the audience chamber, studying a map he had made of the Green Wild. Calculating the distances between outposts and looking for regions that promised adventure and wealth. His thirst for power was yet quenched.
He folded up the map after a time and pulled out the rod he had received from Milo's chests before the battle had started. It was ancient. He knew that much. The craftsmanship put any item made by his hand to shame. The power sleeping inside was weak after no doubt decades of dormancy. Patterns along the shaft led him to believe it was part of a set. Somewhere out in the wilderness there may be more like it, possibly crafted by the same hand. This idea exited him. Alkadian loved wands.
Uttering a few magical words, his eyes began to glow with a blue heat. The world before him unfolded into a tapestry of arcane design. Invisible threads of magic that held this plane of existence together became clear to him, and everything around him hummed with dull energy. Looking over the rod again revealed a vast history of powerful markings. The very frame of the device seemed to unfold and reveal its construction, whispering secrets about how and what made it. Just then he sensed an intense increase in magic from the doorway behind him.
Spinning on his nimble feet he turned to face a dark figure hiding amongst the shadows of the far wall. Cold empty eyes peered out at him. The darkness did nothing to hide the man from his arcane vision. Sneering, Alkadian drew power from the rod in his hand and without a sound projected a massive spear of magical energy towards the intruder from the tip of his outstretched finger. The room seemed to go silent as the shadows and air appeared to suck into the tip of the spell before it struck the man, pinning him to the wall through his chest. Even the screams from the pain were swallowed by the imbibing force of the spear.
Wand in each hand, Alkadian stepped forward to confront the unseen trespasser. The thought of it being one of his new men mattered not to him. No one dared to sneak up on Lord Beldier. Thoughts of the enemy mages throne room ran shivers down his spine.
"Name yourself." His voice was calm and powerful.
"I... I am...your servant my master..." His voice was full of terror, and as the blood poured from his body the strength seemed to drain from his words. "I have come..to.....serve you.... Lord."
Alkadian recognized the man now. He was the white haired fellow Jason Steelsmith had introduced after the death of SamDread. He could sense power in this man. He was strong, and arcane energies coursed through him. The spell would have killed any lesser man, yet here he stood, wounded and pledging his life to Alkadian. Caution got the better of him.
"And why do you wish to serve me? Why would you throw away a life of freedom to live under the service of one like myself?" Alkadian questioned, wands at the ready (should his answer displease).
"You...are destined....for power." He urked out under the pressure of the still humming magical spear. "I look upon you and...see the dark shadows of strength...like rays on the sun....And I must..keep my oath..."
He lowered his wands. Suddenly he sensed a connection he had not felt before. Some distant and cold voice seemed to whisper to him. A gift. A blessing. Embrace my strength child. Your day will come. He is here to guide you. He looked down to the humming energy of the black sword strapped to the mans side. Uttering the words under his breath, Alkadian summoned forth another spell. Their eyes locked, and like an orange Alkadian peeled back the layers of the man's mind. He saw a long and deadly road that lead from a grave, across the countryside, and to Alkadians new home. He sensed terrible fear, and great dark power hidden all around him. A strange yet familiar name met his lips...Vharkus....
"You swear to serve my will? You swear by your life that in service to me you shall spread the words of my greatness, and live only to aid me to my seat of power?" He asked with razor sharp seriousness.
"My master...I am yours. Let me......serve...my.........master..." Tears were pouring down the man's long face. He was shaking with terror and confusion, but his words were sincere. The man fell to the ground as the spear of energy vanished. He landed on his knees, and simply lowered his head in surrender and pain.
A new wand protruded from Alkadians sleeve, and with a small flash of light the mans wounds began to heal. Placing his hand under the injured stranger's chin he lifted his head to look him dead in the eyes.
"Your life is now mine, and through me you shall sit in the seat of greatness. You will be my chosen. Pledge your sword to me, and you shall be my left hand." Slowly Alkadian unsheathed the elven blade he wore at all times. A blade that never saw the face of battle, but marked his rank as high lord of the Beldier family. He then proceeded to place the blade on the man's left shoulder, followed by his right, as only a lord could. "Now arise and serve me, Sir Vharkus Grey of House Beldier."
"My sword and my soul are yours to command my Master" He spoke with a new found strength, and the fear seemed to leave his eyes.
**********
In a far off place, where darkness hung thick and commanding, two skeletal hands clasped in a gesture of success. The pieces were beginning to fit together.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Milo - One Little Indian
"I don't know what to do, Bobo. Everyone's gone." The small halfing wandered his way down the long hallway. Every now and then, he would stop and cock his head like he was listening to something, or perhaps for something.
"Another one, Bobo? Yes, I see it." Milo picked up a small pebble and tossed it on a floor panel, setting off a torrent of darts that whizzed in front of him and hit the wall on the other side harmlessly.
"Someone certainly doesn't want me to make it through here, Bobo. And maybe I'd disappear like everyone else? That melty thing that Siris did sure looked like a lot of fun. Monks can't actually do that themselves, can they Bobo? ... No, I thought not. Which means something isn't right."
Just at that moment, a click sounded and instinctively he ran one foot to the wall and kicked up into the air as a bolt of electricity the size of his head flew by him. Milo landed with a surprisingly soft thud, looking longingly at the door at the end of the passage.
"Close one, Bobo. I told you to watch for pressure traps! Anyway, I sure hope Alim is okay. He didn't follow my lead across that ravine and the wind blew him down that pit. Falling is easy though, Bobo. It's the hitting the ground part that's tough. I hope he didn't hit too hard."
"But what if they ARE all gone and I'm all alone again? That would be scary. No one to keep me company at night...yes, other than you, Bobo. But I'd miss Alim telling me stories about the forest when he gets that funny look in his eye and he smells like mothballs and Hogsveil weed. I always liked Alim's stories. They needed more dragons though. There's only ever that one, and it's only a half-one anyway. That's not that scary. But Drevlin got eaten by that shark, now that was pretty cool! Well, except for the eaten part. And it was scary! I wonde3r what it's like inside a shark."
Milo stopped suddenly, looked down and stepped carefully over a tripwire set about an inch off the ground. The traps were good, but he was really good at this stuff. He'd gotten excellent marks in trap avoidance and debilitation. They'd given him a gold star and everything! Well, he'd taken it off the professor's desk, but still! He'd earned it!
"Well, if we're alone, Bobo, then there's nothing for it. Maybe this whole place belongs to a dragon and he'll be our friend for getting through his dungeon! I bet that's it! I bet there's a dragon behind the door! Al said that there were dragons around here. Hmmm, I wonder where Al is. When I get out of here, I should find him and tell him about all of this. Okay! That's the plan, Bobo! We're going to get to the door, make friends with the dragon, have him fly us on his back to wherever Al is. And then we'll all have tea! Yes yes, dragons can find those types of things out, Bobo. They ARE magical. Duh. And I always wanted to ride a dragon! I sure hope the dragon likes me!"
At his final words, he reached the door. A quick inspection showed the door locked but not trapped. He pulled out the dullspoon and his tumbler and a few seconds later, the lock clicked and released itself.
"Here goes nothing, Bobo."
He opened the door and immediately frowned at the lack of any sign of a huge scaly dragon or it's even bigger pile of treasure. He however brightened when he heard the grumblings of what he quickly realized were his friends!
Now he could ask Drevlin what it was like to be eaten by a shark!
"Another one, Bobo? Yes, I see it." Milo picked up a small pebble and tossed it on a floor panel, setting off a torrent of darts that whizzed in front of him and hit the wall on the other side harmlessly.
"Someone certainly doesn't want me to make it through here, Bobo. And maybe I'd disappear like everyone else? That melty thing that Siris did sure looked like a lot of fun. Monks can't actually do that themselves, can they Bobo? ... No, I thought not. Which means something isn't right."
Just at that moment, a click sounded and instinctively he ran one foot to the wall and kicked up into the air as a bolt of electricity the size of his head flew by him. Milo landed with a surprisingly soft thud, looking longingly at the door at the end of the passage.
"Close one, Bobo. I told you to watch for pressure traps! Anyway, I sure hope Alim is okay. He didn't follow my lead across that ravine and the wind blew him down that pit. Falling is easy though, Bobo. It's the hitting the ground part that's tough. I hope he didn't hit too hard."
"But what if they ARE all gone and I'm all alone again? That would be scary. No one to keep me company at night...yes, other than you, Bobo. But I'd miss Alim telling me stories about the forest when he gets that funny look in his eye and he smells like mothballs and Hogsveil weed. I always liked Alim's stories. They needed more dragons though. There's only ever that one, and it's only a half-one anyway. That's not that scary. But Drevlin got eaten by that shark, now that was pretty cool! Well, except for the eaten part. And it was scary! I wonde3r what it's like inside a shark."
Milo stopped suddenly, looked down and stepped carefully over a tripwire set about an inch off the ground. The traps were good, but he was really good at this stuff. He'd gotten excellent marks in trap avoidance and debilitation. They'd given him a gold star and everything! Well, he'd taken it off the professor's desk, but still! He'd earned it!
"Well, if we're alone, Bobo, then there's nothing for it. Maybe this whole place belongs to a dragon and he'll be our friend for getting through his dungeon! I bet that's it! I bet there's a dragon behind the door! Al said that there were dragons around here. Hmmm, I wonder where Al is. When I get out of here, I should find him and tell him about all of this. Okay! That's the plan, Bobo! We're going to get to the door, make friends with the dragon, have him fly us on his back to wherever Al is. And then we'll all have tea! Yes yes, dragons can find those types of things out, Bobo. They ARE magical. Duh. And I always wanted to ride a dragon! I sure hope the dragon likes me!"
At his final words, he reached the door. A quick inspection showed the door locked but not trapped. He pulled out the dullspoon and his tumbler and a few seconds later, the lock clicked and released itself.
"Here goes nothing, Bobo."
He opened the door and immediately frowned at the lack of any sign of a huge scaly dragon or it's even bigger pile of treasure. He however brightened when he heard the grumblings of what he quickly realized were his friends!
Now he could ask Drevlin what it was like to be eaten by a shark!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Alkadian Entaris Beldier III- Lost and Found
Looking up into the heart of the colossal azure sky made it almost hard for Alkadian to remember he was deep in the bowels of a mountain stronghold. The clouds and birds glided naturally on the wind, yet here he was surrounded by walls of the finest artisan stone. He had been exploring the structure for the better part of a day, and was overjoyed to discover it was fully abandoned, save for a few crawling undead, a pit full of sleeping Otyughs, Himself, A Stone Giant ally, and his beloved Rog'bael. He was already mapping out the floor plan of his new base in his mind, seeing as how he had been the only one capable of opening the door in who knows how many decades. The rights of discovery dictate that this dwelling was now his, on the basis of "finders keepers". Alkadian liked having things.
The sewage system and the water well all functioned normally. The design was practical, if not quite foreign in engineering. The audience hall seated a very large crowd. The sleeping chambers (though small) were plentiful and warm. He knew it was his destiny to have followers, and this place was practically made for accommodating such endeavors. In the pursuit of cutting a swath through the untamed wilderness, this was indeed a fine sanctuary. Not too far from the borders of mankind, yet still inside the unknown.
The origins of this structure remained a mystery to him. The stonework revealed no hint of culture. The histories depicted on the tapestries, both mundane and enchanted, held no clues as to the creator. The size of the furnishings all seemed to be made to accommodate those of human size, but would be acceptable for those larger. Indeed a unique structure, and a very practical for his needs. Almost too convenient....
In the deepest parts of the final corridor, an obnoxiously long hallway that declined for what seemed to be miles, Alkadaian came to the strangest of his discoveries. One single diverted doorway in the seemingly endless decent into darkness. He could hear the noises inside instantly. Heavy breathing. Three, maybe four creatures. He whispered ancient words and could sense the magic pulsing from the next room. With slow careful movements he produced his deadliest wand. With a thought he commanded his guardian construct into the room, following closely in step.
His elven eyes cut through the darkness of the chamber, and the architecture told him it was designed as a series of holding cells. The gates were barred, and he could sense the figures inside each one. He cast fear aside, and stepped forward, his monstrous bodyguard nearby. He turned to face the prisoners of this ancient structure and simple stared in a moment of disbelief. The cells contained his Allies. Stripped of their belongings and locked behind the heavy steel doors. He noticed that behind him, their gear was stacked into a few baskets, pulsing with magical energy. They looked at him in equal surprise. The cold and empty stone halls rang and shook as the echoes of his diabolic laughter flooded through the dark stone corridor.
The sewage system and the water well all functioned normally. The design was practical, if not quite foreign in engineering. The audience hall seated a very large crowd. The sleeping chambers (though small) were plentiful and warm. He knew it was his destiny to have followers, and this place was practically made for accommodating such endeavors. In the pursuit of cutting a swath through the untamed wilderness, this was indeed a fine sanctuary. Not too far from the borders of mankind, yet still inside the unknown.
The origins of this structure remained a mystery to him. The stonework revealed no hint of culture. The histories depicted on the tapestries, both mundane and enchanted, held no clues as to the creator. The size of the furnishings all seemed to be made to accommodate those of human size, but would be acceptable for those larger. Indeed a unique structure, and a very practical for his needs. Almost too convenient....
In the deepest parts of the final corridor, an obnoxiously long hallway that declined for what seemed to be miles, Alkadaian came to the strangest of his discoveries. One single diverted doorway in the seemingly endless decent into darkness. He could hear the noises inside instantly. Heavy breathing. Three, maybe four creatures. He whispered ancient words and could sense the magic pulsing from the next room. With slow careful movements he produced his deadliest wand. With a thought he commanded his guardian construct into the room, following closely in step.
His elven eyes cut through the darkness of the chamber, and the architecture told him it was designed as a series of holding cells. The gates were barred, and he could sense the figures inside each one. He cast fear aside, and stepped forward, his monstrous bodyguard nearby. He turned to face the prisoners of this ancient structure and simple stared in a moment of disbelief. The cells contained his Allies. Stripped of their belongings and locked behind the heavy steel doors. He noticed that behind him, their gear was stacked into a few baskets, pulsing with magical energy. They looked at him in equal surprise. The cold and empty stone halls rang and shook as the echoes of his diabolic laughter flooded through the dark stone corridor.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Siris Illum - Entry 1 (Sessions 2-3)
Siris sat, his legs crossed below him, his hands in his lap palms up, one atop the other. He breathed slowly, his eyes closed, and tried not to think. He could hear Alim in the next cell, bemoaning his lack of "medicine," and even though the dwarf was choosing not to speak, Siris could hear Drevlin's heavy breathing on the other side of him now that he knew he was there.
Siris shook his head, closed his eyes again. In the monastery, he had never had any trouble calming his mind and shutting everything out, but when he was with his companions he felt as though he could never let go of the world around him. Perhaps it was just that he didn't trust them not to go destroying everything while he meditated.
No, Siris thought, that wasn't it. Something had been bothering him for a while now, every time they met with an opponent. He had been sent out as an emissary of Ilmater, to be his strength in the world, but whenever they faced an opponent it seemed his strength was overshadowed by the others. Were not the hands of right a match for the blades of an assassin? Did not the power of his god match the magic of an upjumped lich?
Siris scowled. No. That wasn't the right line of thinking. Ilmater was not to blame; he was. If he was weaker than expected, he should look inward, should refocus himself on growing his strength. Siris raised his hands from his lap, pushed them out to his sides, and then slammed them down on the stone floor of his cell. The force of the strike propelled him easily to his feet, and as he looked down, he could see in the glow from his skin that even though it was enchanted, his fists had left slight cracks in the stone. Siris nodded.
"Hey guys!" A familiar voice echoed down the cell block.
'Ah,' Siris thought. 'And now, we are all together again.'
Siris shook his head, closed his eyes again. In the monastery, he had never had any trouble calming his mind and shutting everything out, but when he was with his companions he felt as though he could never let go of the world around him. Perhaps it was just that he didn't trust them not to go destroying everything while he meditated.
No, Siris thought, that wasn't it. Something had been bothering him for a while now, every time they met with an opponent. He had been sent out as an emissary of Ilmater, to be his strength in the world, but whenever they faced an opponent it seemed his strength was overshadowed by the others. Were not the hands of right a match for the blades of an assassin? Did not the power of his god match the magic of an upjumped lich?
Siris scowled. No. That wasn't the right line of thinking. Ilmater was not to blame; he was. If he was weaker than expected, he should look inward, should refocus himself on growing his strength. Siris raised his hands from his lap, pushed them out to his sides, and then slammed them down on the stone floor of his cell. The force of the strike propelled him easily to his feet, and as he looked down, he could see in the glow from his skin that even though it was enchanted, his fists had left slight cracks in the stone. Siris nodded.
"Hey guys!" A familiar voice echoed down the cell block.
'Ah,' Siris thought. 'And now, we are all together again.'
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Milo - Mr. Whuffles Revisited
As the small halfling snuck his way through the shadows of the town, he was a little hurt to find no traces of Siris anywhere. It had become one of Milo's favorite games. Whenever Milo would leave the group, the monk would eventually follow him to "make sure that he wasn't causing any trouble", which Milo would have taken offense at if he didn't enjoy the chase as much as he did. It was always fun to slip the poor Siris's notice, make a circle around him or cut over a rooftop, "carelessly" leave a track behind him and send him on a random direction while Milo giggled to himself and ate an apple or loaf of bread that had been left abandoned in some locked house or stall. Of course, he'd get bored with this eventually and get back in front of the monk and leave another sign of his passing for Siris to catch and then make their way back to the group.
However, the monk was nowhere to be found tonight. Milo slumped down on a stall table and pouted, his left hand absentmindedly picking the simple lock on the stall's enclosure and poking his fingers around inside.
Milo looked down to his lap to find a small dog's toy laying there. "Oh, Bobo! I almost forgot! The doggy! Alim got a horsey and when I said I wanted one too, he said I was too small for one and I should get a doggy instead! Alim's such a smart guy, so we have to find a doggy, Bobo!"
The halfling jumped up and began his search anew, this time checking out stables and private residences for a suitable new playmate. After a few hours of searching, Milo honed in on a stable that sold the riding dogs in question. After a quick drop to a shadowy corner and a sap to the back of the head of the young stable boy who had been assigned to watch against thieves that night, Milo took his time examining the three riding dogs in the stable.
"What do you think of this one, Bobo? He's awfully pretty. Back all straight and it says here that he does tricks! Oh he'd be wonderful, Bobo! Does doggy want some meat?" he asked as he grabbed the rare piece of horse steak that the stable boy had just sat down to eat before abruptly deciding that he needed a good nap.
Milo was just about to leave with his new friend when he heard barking and a voice from outside. He left his would-be riding dog in his stall and climbed up to the roof to have a look.
"Ya thrice-cursed son of a bitch! Shut yer yapper, or I swear by Shar 'erself, I'll cut me losses and find me hammer at the back of yer skull!"
When the dwarf's insults did nothing more than to turn the dog's barks into whines, it's head bowed, he got off the blasted thing and pulled his warhammer from it's straps.
"Ya useless broken flea-bitten canine! I'll sho-..." The dwarf's anger was cut short.
The dog looked up as it's owner's voice stopped to see the dwarf standing over it with a surprised look on his face. In his hand was a piece of horse steak that had apparently just hit him square in the face.
The dog could smell the meat. It had been so long since it'd been fed a decent meal and his ribs had began to painfully poke out from it's sides. To make matters worse, the dwarf himself was not getting lighter and indeed all the trips to the taverns had increased his girth. Something feral inside it swelled. Enough was enough. The dog licked his lips.
"What the hell do you think you're looking at, ya damned mutt!?!"
Just then the dog pounced it's angry, abusive master who smelled so much like meat.
"Isn't he just the greatest thing ever, Bobo?" Milo floated down to where the doggy was finishing his meal of horse steak and dwarf head, having found armor quite difficult to chew through, but managing a bit just the same. "He's so smart and nice! And he's got little fleas and everything! He's just like Mr. Whuffles back home! And this time we won't feed him any herbs, will we Bobo? Let's call him Mr. Whuffles 2!"
The doggy looked up at him almost ashamed as it licked it's lips of the dwarven blood.
"It's okay, Mr. Whuffles 2! He was a bad man. YOU SHOULDN"T HURT DOGGIES!!!" The last he screamed at the dwarf's headless remains.
"Oh, sorry Mr. Whuffles 2, but some people have no manners! I'm going to be your new friend now, okay? Are you thirsty?" The halfling tossed the small dog chew toy he'd found earlier as he reached in his backpack and pulled out a waterskin and, picking the bits of bloody dwarf out as best he could, filling the dwarven helmet with fresh drinking water.
"You'll never be treated like that again Mr. Whuffles 2! We may have a long trip ahead of us with all my friends, but you'll like them. Even Drevlin! He's a dwarf too, but he's nice enough to doggies! And Alim can teach you tricks! And Al...well, he'll probably not like you but he'll leave you alone. And Siris will like not having me on his shoulders when we travel, although I admit, Mr. Whuffles 2, that was a lot of fun! And we'll have lots of food for you to eat so you can be big and strong for the journey! Oh we're going to be the best of friends Mr. Whuffles 2! You, me, and Bobo! Say hi, Bobo!"
Milo's attention drifted to the dwarven corpse sitting in the middle of the alley and he quickly moved it to a more hidden location. Looking down he saw the dwarf's quite well made warhammer on the ground.
"...and we can use that to buy you some food and stuff for the trip tomorrow!"
The halfling mounted his new friend with the warhammer shoved firmly in his backpack and they trotted off towards the rest of the party, the dog's bloody footprint trail eventually fading to nothingness in the dusty streets of town.
However, the monk was nowhere to be found tonight. Milo slumped down on a stall table and pouted, his left hand absentmindedly picking the simple lock on the stall's enclosure and poking his fingers around inside.
Milo looked down to his lap to find a small dog's toy laying there. "Oh, Bobo! I almost forgot! The doggy! Alim got a horsey and when I said I wanted one too, he said I was too small for one and I should get a doggy instead! Alim's such a smart guy, so we have to find a doggy, Bobo!"
The halfling jumped up and began his search anew, this time checking out stables and private residences for a suitable new playmate. After a few hours of searching, Milo honed in on a stable that sold the riding dogs in question. After a quick drop to a shadowy corner and a sap to the back of the head of the young stable boy who had been assigned to watch against thieves that night, Milo took his time examining the three riding dogs in the stable.
"What do you think of this one, Bobo? He's awfully pretty. Back all straight and it says here that he does tricks! Oh he'd be wonderful, Bobo! Does doggy want some meat?" he asked as he grabbed the rare piece of horse steak that the stable boy had just sat down to eat before abruptly deciding that he needed a good nap.
Milo was just about to leave with his new friend when he heard barking and a voice from outside. He left his would-be riding dog in his stall and climbed up to the roof to have a look.
"Ya thrice-cursed son of a bitch! Shut yer yapper, or I swear by Shar 'erself, I'll cut me losses and find me hammer at the back of yer skull!"
When the dwarf's insults did nothing more than to turn the dog's barks into whines, it's head bowed, he got off the blasted thing and pulled his warhammer from it's straps.
"Ya useless broken flea-bitten canine! I'll sho-..." The dwarf's anger was cut short.
The dog looked up as it's owner's voice stopped to see the dwarf standing over it with a surprised look on his face. In his hand was a piece of horse steak that had apparently just hit him square in the face.
The dog could smell the meat. It had been so long since it'd been fed a decent meal and his ribs had began to painfully poke out from it's sides. To make matters worse, the dwarf himself was not getting lighter and indeed all the trips to the taverns had increased his girth. Something feral inside it swelled. Enough was enough. The dog licked his lips.
"What the hell do you think you're looking at, ya damned mutt!?!"
Just then the dog pounced it's angry, abusive master who smelled so much like meat.
"Isn't he just the greatest thing ever, Bobo?" Milo floated down to where the doggy was finishing his meal of horse steak and dwarf head, having found armor quite difficult to chew through, but managing a bit just the same. "He's so smart and nice! And he's got little fleas and everything! He's just like Mr. Whuffles back home! And this time we won't feed him any herbs, will we Bobo? Let's call him Mr. Whuffles 2!"
The doggy looked up at him almost ashamed as it licked it's lips of the dwarven blood.
"It's okay, Mr. Whuffles 2! He was a bad man. YOU SHOULDN"T HURT DOGGIES!!!" The last he screamed at the dwarf's headless remains.
"Oh, sorry Mr. Whuffles 2, but some people have no manners! I'm going to be your new friend now, okay? Are you thirsty?" The halfling tossed the small dog chew toy he'd found earlier as he reached in his backpack and pulled out a waterskin and, picking the bits of bloody dwarf out as best he could, filling the dwarven helmet with fresh drinking water.
"You'll never be treated like that again Mr. Whuffles 2! We may have a long trip ahead of us with all my friends, but you'll like them. Even Drevlin! He's a dwarf too, but he's nice enough to doggies! And Alim can teach you tricks! And Al...well, he'll probably not like you but he'll leave you alone. And Siris will like not having me on his shoulders when we travel, although I admit, Mr. Whuffles 2, that was a lot of fun! And we'll have lots of food for you to eat so you can be big and strong for the journey! Oh we're going to be the best of friends Mr. Whuffles 2! You, me, and Bobo! Say hi, Bobo!"
Milo's attention drifted to the dwarven corpse sitting in the middle of the alley and he quickly moved it to a more hidden location. Looking down he saw the dwarf's quite well made warhammer on the ground.
"...and we can use that to buy you some food and stuff for the trip tomorrow!"
The halfling mounted his new friend with the warhammer shoved firmly in his backpack and they trotted off towards the rest of the party, the dog's bloody footprint trail eventually fading to nothingness in the dusty streets of town.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)