Luned Octavia glared at her sister through the prism of her
glass prison, seething at being held prisoner by her sibling and not for the
first time since awakening here, wondering where here was. Her sister had for years been part of Luned’s
plots and schemes, advancing Luned position in the Black Crown. Although now Luned understood that she was advancing
her sister and not the other way around.
Since her sister kept Luned alive, unharmed, and well kept, she
understood that despite their differences, her sister still either cared for
her or more likely, has additional plans for her. It pained the elder sister to realize that
her younger sibling was the smarter more devious of the two.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Tycho has a thought
Tycho Nikias knew that The Collectors of the Lexicon were
active in Stormhaven, yet the master chessman had yet to figure out from where
they were gaining entrance, nor how many.
The elf was frustrated with his progress and knew that The Kingmaker’s
would be disappointed as well. How
Myrddin had known to place him here all those years ago caused Tycho to marvel
at the breadth of his friend’s foresight. Smiling to himself, he was consoled to realize there were several names he was
prepared to add to Myrddin’s book.
<====TYCHO NIKIAS
Tycho now realized he had been slow to see all the pieces in
play. All these years and he had never
realized Tiamat was on the board, let alone the Queen. This Queen has many suitors, be they would be
kings or opponents. The “Age of Dragons”
no longer seemed such a romantic turn of phrase for the times the elf wizard
lived in.
Myrddin Og===>
Monday, December 23, 2013
Tales of Men of War
Fires burned everywhere in the Cinder Block. Red and orange tongues of flame
danced on sconces, braziers, even some of the exquisite collection of liquors and
ales seemed to simmer with a low yellow radiance. Music danced on of the many patron’s
shoulders causing them to move and sway rhythmically with the song while hired servants tended
their beverage or pipe smoke necessities. Large squat candles burned slowly at every
table where raucous party-goers toasted, wagered, and played at games of chance
in Durg’s honor. At one of these tables sat Spade and Farley who spoke conspiratorially
where only they themselves could hear each other amidst the party tumult.
“Manowar?” asked Farley incredulously. His tone was one of
sincere outrage.
“That is what they are calling themselves they have a
reputation in certain circles with a pretty fantastic past as a matter of fact.”
Spade agreed, now amused at Farley’s strange offense of this group of
adventurers and their moniker. What is it to Farley if they called themselves
Manowar, Triforce, or Three’s Company? All Spade knew were rumors though they indeed
were latecomers to the Neutral Grounds Tournament.
Nonplused Farley continued, “They should call themselves ‘MENowar’
or ‘Men of War’ not Manowar that sounds stupid.” Spitting as he talked Farley
refreshed his parchment with a long drought of Pilini’s best Dwarven ale then
wiped the froth from his mouth.
“They once numbered four,” Spade began, “proclaimed as Kings
of Metal and War where they come from. They would sing boisterously while in combat
chanting war psalms charging into battle working as a team to glorious
victory.” Spade said as he drowned a grin under a furious gulp of ale followed by
a rich deep belch.
“Well they seem to have taken to Durg.” Farley said motioning to
the group in question as they toasted Durg the Destroyer, Durg the Furious, or
Durg the Dracarian for the umpteenth time.
Spade watched as Farley unconsciously clenched and
unclenched his hands.
“It is said that the time before Stormhaven they fought for a King Randor who was corrupted by a magical ring that seduced him into creating six
summoning circles from the blood of neighboring kings from which the ring could
summon its minions. When Manowar discovered the nefarious plot they turned on
their king, each landing simultaneous killing strikes unknowing of the dominating
ring’s power over King Randor. It was his blood that either anointed their weapons or cursed them.” Spade was delighted with Farley's response. They ordered another round.
“Sooo wh-what happened to the fourrrrrth MAN of war?” Farley slurred curious now that there was a story and another round.
Spade gave Farley a look of earnest gravity, “The ring had
to have a new owner.”
Sunday, December 22, 2013
The Architect
Evaristus Phocas listened to his Lordmaster, silently praying that
he would only be admonished with words and knowledge, not tormented by the
wracking pains of Evaristus’ Truename being used against him.
“The Architect is moving forward with his plan and it is a
brilliant one. It is of no use to try to
learn his truth, yet his plan’s only flaw is if someone beats him to the
punch. He has the advantage, he knows
the Truenames of his children, which obviously is his path to the names of
Sin.” The Lordmaster explained.
“Lordmaster, the whelps don’t use the magic and the wizard, while
of course not approaching your intelligence, is quite formidable.” Evarisus
reminded. “How am I to trick them into
revealing what they do not know?”
“Is the whelp as smart as Tiamat? For that is our opponent!” the
Lordmaster hissed. “Her failure is my destiny.
We will use Jaren’s intelligence against him. Make sure this book finds its way to the
whelp wizard’s attention. If Jaren
tracks down Eystein , we may not need to get our answers from Jaren!”
“Lordmaster, you were successful?! Truly you will rule. Have you revealed your control to Eystein
yet?”
“No Phocas, I think I will hold that surprise until a more
opportune moment. “
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
On The Far Side of the World, Ages ago in the Future...
The old man wrapped the red and orange robes around him, not for warmth, although the alpine climes would surely have frozen lesser mortals, but to keep him from stepping on them and falling to his death among the rocky crags. His breath puffed out in huge, white clouds as his wizened eyes picked his path, his feet as nimble as the goats that the monks shared these slopes with. There, on an outcropping of rock, was his destination, and the man he sought. As softly as as a feather falling on water, the ancient monk stepped up behind his prey and waited.
The man kneeling before him wore the grey robes of a novice or visitor. His hair, once well groomed, has since grown long and shaggy, tied back in a ponytail, covering his faintly pointed ears. An unkempt beard covered his thin face, helping hide his mixed elven blood. He opened his eyes onto the distant vista of granite peaks. "Even here on the mountain side, you sound like a herd of elephants, Mi Yogi san," the kneeling man whispered, a slow smile spreading across his face.
The elder chuckled, his eyes disappearing in the mass of wrinkles as he too smiled widely. "I once was able to creep up on a spider, when I was young... "
Jerit McCaugh, turned and stood, facing his friend and mentor, "What brings you to my cliff, disturbing my morning meditations?"
Mi Yogi looked down, his face clouding w/ concern, his brows drawing down. "You have spent years traveling the world, studying magics of different peoples... the sand magics of Al-Tahira, the dark magics found in the jungles of Kush... why is it so difficult to accept that there's a magic that even you cannot learn? You have been here 17 years, and yet you still have not been able to lift a feather with your mind..."
"I know I am close, Mi Yogi san, but I have been distracted of late." Jerit began, he too looking embarrassed down at his feet.
"Yes, this growing dread you've spoken of before, this unknown gnawing at your mind... have you come any closer to an answer, in your meditations?"
The mage sighed and shook his head, "No, I have not... There's something there, in the back of my mind, something bad is coming... i just have no idea..."
The old monk sighed as well, nodding and turning back to the monastery "Perhaps it is time for you to go back home, live your life... find a wife, raise children... Our mind magics are not to be shared with you, it seems. But that is no reason to put the world on hold. And besides, the coming terror may reveal itself to you out there...:
The man kneeling before him wore the grey robes of a novice or visitor. His hair, once well groomed, has since grown long and shaggy, tied back in a ponytail, covering his faintly pointed ears. An unkempt beard covered his thin face, helping hide his mixed elven blood. He opened his eyes onto the distant vista of granite peaks. "Even here on the mountain side, you sound like a herd of elephants, Mi Yogi san," the kneeling man whispered, a slow smile spreading across his face.
The elder chuckled, his eyes disappearing in the mass of wrinkles as he too smiled widely. "I once was able to creep up on a spider, when I was young... "
Jerit McCaugh, turned and stood, facing his friend and mentor, "What brings you to my cliff, disturbing my morning meditations?"
Mi Yogi looked down, his face clouding w/ concern, his brows drawing down. "You have spent years traveling the world, studying magics of different peoples... the sand magics of Al-Tahira, the dark magics found in the jungles of Kush... why is it so difficult to accept that there's a magic that even you cannot learn? You have been here 17 years, and yet you still have not been able to lift a feather with your mind..."
"I know I am close, Mi Yogi san, but I have been distracted of late." Jerit began, he too looking embarrassed down at his feet.
"Yes, this growing dread you've spoken of before, this unknown gnawing at your mind... have you come any closer to an answer, in your meditations?"
The mage sighed and shook his head, "No, I have not... There's something there, in the back of my mind, something bad is coming... i just have no idea..."
The old monk sighed as well, nodding and turning back to the monastery "Perhaps it is time for you to go back home, live your life... find a wife, raise children... Our mind magics are not to be shared with you, it seems. But that is no reason to put the world on hold. And besides, the coming terror may reveal itself to you out there...:
Monday, December 16, 2013
Barabbas Unchained
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| Barabbas |
Barabbas the Sarglagon stood unbelieving- freed from his prison, staring into the eyes of
his most hated enemy- the Silver Paladin.
Through the ages the devils of hell
could not corrupt him or could confirm if the Silver Paladin was just one
ageless man, a mantle that was passed down through the generations or something else. Incorruptible, he attracted several apprentices all wielding identifying silver long swords and hunters of devil kind.
Barabbas tried to piece together what was going on as the Paladin stood there still as a statue, his hand resting comfortably at his sides looking across his bow and at the city that broke the horizon. There was no sea breeze.
From the lower deck two more confused Devils gathered by Barabbas. Dysmas and Gestas, Magaav devils with twisted horns upon a monstrous skulls; noxious fumes
leak from between their yellowed fangs; they hovered with impossible control, each of their vicious foot talons clenched and unclenched as they looked hatefully and quizzically
at Barabbas.
“His last words to me
before he imprisoned me,” Barabbas croaked, he had a
watery voice. “Was ‘I will not kill you
devil, but take you to where one may utter your vile truename and end your existence-
erase your place in the multiverse.’” His words had an effect like a sermon to the faithful.
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| The Silver Paladin liked to travel in style. |
The three devils gathered around the Silver Paladin who
stood motionless like the rest of the crew and even the ocean waters around them- it was like they were
frozen in time.
Barabbas could not recon that the paladin's statement was the one time in his existence that he felt the slightest tremor of… trepidation. This uncomprehending unease enraged
him to his core- what was going on here?
Dysmas, “I know that place- that is Stormhaven.”
In the distance they could see Stormhaven like a still-life
paining, silent with out a frame, and larger than life.
Gestas, “Many times have I come here to collect on infernal
contracts.”
“Yes,” Barabbas
agreed. “Yon city is also home to the
Knights of the Wave who have fought me at every turn as guardian of Hell’s waterways-
they must have some truename magic.”
Barabbas looked to Gestas and Dysmas, “are there others below deck?”
Gestas, “Yes but they are too ignorant to escape, we
will have to free them.”
“Then go and free them!”
Barabbas croaked in his watery voice. When he said this the Sarglagon Barabbas
slammed his muscular arm into the Silver Paladin for emphasis knocking the helpless
warrior down onto the exquisite deck. “Free
them and tell them they may begin feasting on this one, and then we will
draw contracts out on the Knights of the Wave and I will own the oceans of this
plain.”
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Flashback: In Good Company
The ogre-oxen-centaurs came at them in a ground shaking charge,
howling in blind blood rage. Trees surrendered to the lumbering monstrosities
as they attacked from each side of the marooned Waterdeep adventurers.
Blain and the others had stopped for a short respite bedside
a natural spring from a formation of natural rock; however before their
survivalist Sanford was able to warn his companions of their danger, the half-ogre/half-oxens
attacked hurling primitive javelins as big as tree branches as they trampled
everything in their path.
To the dwarf Blain they were as big as giants; smelled like
giants; and too were possessed of their strength judging from the intimidating
javelins they threw. Before Blain could react one of the javelins impaled his
leg knocking him down in sprawl of confused pain and anger.
To his left Tyrus Skullborn looked stunned and horrified at Blain’s
leg wound when a similar weapon flew by
narrowly missing the wizard as he stood-
oblivious as to how close he came to dying right then.
Sanford, the only one here with enough time to react, was also
the target of two opening volleys of angry javelins. Picking out the largest of
their quarry two of the ‘ogren’ chose Sanford; one javelin was easily dodged
however the other penetrated Sanford high on his left arm causing him to let
out a cursing grimace of pain.
Blain, now reduced to hobbling on one leg, rolled to the
left and pulled leather. His deadly shots could not have been farther from their
mark, but the sound of his sterling revolvers seemed to unsettle and anger the ogren.
How many rounds did he have left? He hoped it would be enough.
Elad saw the battle around him with a kind of extrasensory eye.
There is a unique stage-play at work during combat where everyone had their places
and everyone had their lines; as in dueling, dancing or politics… that was how Elad
Edals perceived the battlefield and how he waited for an opportunity to cut in.
Instinctively Claudia Kelton reached for her trustworthy bow,
it seemed to gather the shadows around her, and raised it level to the beast
bearing down on Tyrus. She lamented her diminishing arrow supply but let fly
nevertheless. Unfortunately for the Red Wizard her slight hesitation affected
her aim and she missed cleanly, another arrow lost to the great forest beyond.
Tyrus snapped out of his momentary shock at Blain’s wound
and pulled out a crimson parchment scroll and swung it at the approaching
brute. Covered in sigils and glyphs of war Tyrus brought the scroll to bear as
it took on the likeness of a two dimensional sword; as impressive as it looked
the ogren dodged it easily. The beast seemed to become suddenly distracted so Tyrus
tried to take advantage of the opportunity but pulled the crimson scroll to
himself where it changed into a semblance of a shield shape of parchment.
Standing protectively near Meaghan, Shar cleared his drow mind
and focused his magical energies where it would be the most effective… he
decided on two of the ogren monstrosities flanking the warrior Sanford. Suddenly
a vivid cone of flashing dissident purple colors lanced out from Shar’s outstretched
palm. One beast bore the full dazzling effect falling blind and sunned to the
ground while the other ogren escaped behind the bulk of its unfortunate mate.
Sanford, thankful for the support where ever it came from nodded
toward Shar then switched his full deadly attention on his remaining ogren. He
roared striking true with his oddly curved kukri swords, weapons that were now
both sheathed in grey fire and then sidestepped to put the creature between
himself and…
It was time to cut in. Elad produced two exotic curved swords,
weapons won from a Calashite pasha, and stepped
deftly out from cover and swiftly flanked the beast in a grand ‘you’re welcome
very much’ fashion- only it clearly was just for show because his weapons just fell
short and actually situated himself
where the beast could easily attack either Elad and Sanford or both.
Yes Sanford thought to himself, he was the only fighter in
this adventuring company.
The ogren completely ignored Elad and roared in after
Sanford striking the warrior with a loud crack of its tree-like club. Sanford
reeled off balance as his breath was suddenly stolen from his lungs but Sanford
was tough and managed to regain himself quickly.
On the other side of the camp Meaghan, standing stern and protectively
near Shar, bespoke divine words of guidance to her allies. Her motivating words
flooded into her allies in this sudden life or death struggle. She looked and
saw Shar was also using magic and thought of how that effort must be draining
him.
The first two ogren were indeed distracted they had caught a
scent and both turned to its source; one ogren –the closest- turned toward
Meaghan while the other ogren reached for Claudia who was unaware of her new attacker.
Meaghan saw that the smaller of the two brutes bore red
warpaint above its brow as it reached out and grabbed her. Its grip was
unforgiving and when it finally had her struggling under control it made an odd
wet whistling noise from its capacious nose. Meaghan began to scream.
The larger of the two ogren had no warpaint but bore several
battle scars over its broad harry chest; it easily grabbed Claudia in its vice
like grip then it too snorted deeply. Claudia tried first to break free, but
the iron grip of the beast was beyond anything she had ever felt; she too began
to scream for help.
Blain now reloaded stood, squared up, and began to fire silver
death at the ogren that held Claudia. Taking care not to hit the girl, Blain’s
shots missed but the thundering gunfire startled the creature giving Claudia
enough of an opportunity to escape.
Tyrus, undiscouraged by his earlier production in combat spun
and threw his crimson scroll at his former
Shar took a protective step away from the large beast that
held Meaghan and whispered mild, sobering words in order to induce magical sleep
in the ogren. As he completed the spell the ogre-beast lazily dropped Meaghan
and collapsed to the ground like a sack of manure. His breath labored heavily
through its vile mouth.
Sanford meanwhile held to his old reliables and waded into his
opponent, his twin blades flashing. Leading a spin his left kukri Sanford cut
savagely across the beast’s left flank; then following that up with a second
attack nearly slicing away the creature’s left arm with his right blade. The
beast staggered drunkenly a step then fell with a crash. Sanford roared to
Tempus in victory.
Seeing how battle was now turning in their favor Elad moved
to Shar’s blind and stunned beast and ended its suffering. To Elad’s right he
could hear Meaghan uttering magical words healing upon Sanford who had suffered
a javelin strike to his lower shoulder.
Blain watched as the beast that once held Claudia now turned
his blood rage on him. Blain who had the terrible thunder-makers! He held up guns
in futile defense but his weapons felt heavy and stupid in his hands but before
Blain could ponder this curiosity further the monstrosity swung its bestial club
down slamming full-on into the chest of helpless dwarf.
------------------------------------
Blain Brightmantle suddenly awoke; he had fallen from a low
rock in his sleep but now sat up rubbing his chest, eyes casting about. His
hand went to his guns as it often did these days after their battle with the
ogre-oxen; the ogren. Blain took in his surroundings as the fog of sleep
cleared. Was that smokewood he smelled?
Their dwindling gear, ammunition, and equipment troubled
Blain greatly but it was the utter absence of modern resources like gunpowder,
alchemy, and serviceable tools that has kept Blain up at odd times for the past
weeks and days.
As a result, Blain often volunteered for longer night watches
and maintained their traveling camp, such as it was. The routine calmed Blain’s
anxiety somewhat but what he really found himself doing was taking a mental
inventory of everything and sizing up everyone.
The fact is they were all marooned with only the clothes on
their backs, and the equipment in their sacks. Supplies were hastily dwindling
and in his estimation that made those things crucial to their survival… and melairkyn dwarves
are survivors.
The breeze calmed and the summer heat swelled in the
mysterious forest; tonight was going to be hot again. Blain stood and raised
his face to the air; the smell of smokewood was gone as if it was never there
at all. Twenty yards away Blain watched as Sanford and Claudia returned from
scouting the foot trail ahead, they acted excitedly and spoke enthusiastically.
Blain silently wondered if they would confirm what he already suspected from
the presence of smoke.
From beside Blain a thickly accented eastern voice spoke
lazily but directly. “You don’t believe we are going to find a settlement or keep
out here… wherever ‘here’ is… that will supply for our specialized needs do you
dwarf?” Tyrus asked. The wizard had his
own ways Blain mused; Tyrus had obviously identified the signs on his own.
“No,” Blain answered. “but what is your point… Thayan?”
returning his crass ethnic regard.
The Red Wizard appeared amused but his only reply at first was
a glance toward Shar Auvryndar, calling the dwarf’s attention to the drow, he
was greatest potential liability of the party in Blain’s estimation. Everyone
knew the drow was weakened because of the surface environment; and Meaghan, who
wore a piecemeal outfit of clothing they happened to have, was somehow caring
for him. The drow and woman seemed to have formed a bond that was not physical
but something else.
“How do you think people out here… if they are people Blain…
are going to react when they see a dark elf or a Thayan for that matter?” Tyrus
stated frankly.
“That only a few of us approach this settlement or whatever there
is to discover what’s what. We all see the signs but let us consider and not
blindly walk into…”
“Split the party? We just had this conversation Tyrus.”
Blain reminded the Red Wizard.
“Yes you needn’t remind me but you and I have special needs.
It won’t be long before they realize the truth. That we- you and I Blain, are in
fact our greatest liability.” Tyrus motioned to Sanford, Claudia, and Elad- but
mostly to Sanford.
“Strictly speaking if it was not for Shar’s weakened
condition his sorcerous blood actually makes him crucial to our survivability
and by contrast further weakens our value. In short Blain you and I encumber
our resources and yet provide no return.”
“But that is about to change.” Blain retorted motioning to
the others who were holding their own council on how to proceed. Were they
coming to the same conclusion? He hoped so.
“Is it? For them yes.” Again the Red Wizard motioned to the
others, “but for you and me…” Tyrus let Blain reason out the rest. He and Tyrus
would still be marooned without resources such as gunpowder for him and spells
for Tyrus- they needed firepower.”
“I have already spoken with Elad Edals who agrees that one
individual should be sent to investigate any civilization we encounter- I
believe he reasons for more profitable gains but I think he sees the overall logic
in caution.”
“Who else?” Blain asked skeptically.
Tyrus shook his head regretfully, “It is unlikely we will persuade
anyone to delay now that the news is apparently out,” Tyrus said now hunkering
down leveling himself with the dwarf. He motioned to the rest of the party as
they packed their belongings. “I want to
know if our needs are going to be met, if not we need to be proactive here
wouldn’t you agree Blain?” He asked in a low voice.
Blain nodded skeptically waiting for the other boot to hit
the ground.
“I want to know what everyone has.” Tyrus said greedily. “we
do not want to be taken unawares by some magic or device we did not account
for. Do we Blain? We need firepower.”
Review (12/11/2013)
Gear from the evening: oil of greater magic weapon, oil of keen edge, potion of magical vestment +5,
masterwork cold iron great axe and 15,000 in gold and gems.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The Platinum Ring of Elensar "The Bright Evening Star"
Judging from the style of the setting and the form of the Elven letters in the inscription, Elensar, meaning Evening Star is of high-elf craftsmanship. The name “Alenea Elensar” is the full inscription, Alenea, elven for pure or bright light, is possibly a reference to the sorcerer Alenea. An adventurer, Alenea was also the lover/wife? of the wizard Eldarniel Elensar. Eldarniel, a legendary elven crafter of magic items, is likely to have created Elensar for Alenea to aid and protect her during her travels.
Martera Iracudia
Filii Invidia salutem Martera Iracudia
We are most pleased to present ourselves to your grand presence. It should be explained that recent movements of the disc has exposed your halls to some surface people of Stormhaven. These citizens, like most of their brethren, have come to depend on my brothers and myself to enlighten them to realities beyond their ken, and so came to us for help. Most, of course, are paralyzed by such a majestic presence as yours. Out of discretionary caution we advised them to stay away so that we could investigate further. We revealed no details of our observations, nor of this hopeful correspondence.
If it should please you, we would welcome an opportunity to personally introduce ourselves, at a time and location that is most convenient for You.
On behalf of my brothers
Durg, Vercel, and Auge
cura ut valeas
Jaren, Magister of Draconic Relations
We are most pleased to present ourselves to your grand presence. It should be explained that recent movements of the disc has exposed your halls to some surface people of Stormhaven. These citizens, like most of their brethren, have come to depend on my brothers and myself to enlighten them to realities beyond their ken, and so came to us for help. Most, of course, are paralyzed by such a majestic presence as yours. Out of discretionary caution we advised them to stay away so that we could investigate further. We revealed no details of our observations, nor of this hopeful correspondence.
If it should please you, we would welcome an opportunity to personally introduce ourselves, at a time and location that is most convenient for You.
On behalf of my brothers
Durg, Vercel, and Auge
cura ut valeas
Jaren, Magister of Draconic Relations
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