Lobo's Elven Space Invader's Game

This is the world: Over 6,000 years ago, Gregor the Lion conquered what is now known as the 12 Freeholds. The Freeholds sprawl across the Khineblack Mountans and down into the verdant Boar Plains. Each of the Freehold stand beside, near or astride one of the 12 great rivers of of the gods.

To the East... [sBlock]Far to the east, over trackless wastes and freezing deserts lies the dwarven kingdom of Khalided. The dwarves aren't travelers and thier prediliction for hard work and unity is well known amongst the people of the Freeholds, though no one has actually seen a dwarf in several decades, save for the odd merchantile concern and high-dignitaries of each freehold.

Khalided's borders have always been closed and the dwarves always ignore any pleas for aid or refuge.[/sblock]

To the South... [sblock]To the south, in the land of the river deltas, lies the savage goblin kingdom of Gnash. Goblinoid farmers trade the fruit of thier labors all over the world and are well-known as excellent sailors and warriors (hobgoblins anyway). Gnash's king has worked hard over the last six decades to protect his kingdom from outsiders (borders being well-defended and closed to non-goblinoids) and to raise a defensable and self-sustaining civilization to compete with the other humanoids; he has been largely successful in this endeavor. Gnash produces most (80%) of the fruits, vegetables, beers and breads consumed by the other kingdoms and has grown rich and fat off of its profits.[/sblock]

Freeholders tend to think of thier country (or rather, thier city-state) as the center of the world. Through trade pacts and simple location, they control most of the transport and shipping throughout the lands and thier diplomats are often consulted by the other humanoid races. Halflings and Gnomes, while nominally members of Freehold city-state near them, generally set themselves apart. While not everyone in the Freeholds has actually seen a Gnome or Halfling, everyone at least knows someone who's actually met and had an ale with one.

There are two other human nations, Natal and Tariqasia in the Western mountains and in the desert beyond the goblin-kingdom of Gnash. Freeholders don't know too much about them though due to thier isolation and distance; thier governments maintain diplomatic ties and embassies, however.

The Freeholds have enjoyed over 300 years of peace and prosperity. King Jerod the fifth has reigned for 40 years as his wife has born him 12 children (all daughters), as is custom.

Two weeks ago the King and his 12 Lord-Marshals sought a portent from the 12 great temples. Two weeks ago the gods fell silent. One week ago the sky rained fire. One week ago the Elves came.

Each of you hails from one of the 12 Freeholds. Each of you has lost family and friends to a lightning-quick invasion by intelligent, magically-apt humanoids who harbor a hatred of humans so intense that they take few prisoners and kill all diplomats. There will be no negotiation. 7 of the Freeholds have already fallen. As the greatest hero of your city-state, one whos name is uttered in hope by your fellow citizens, you were summoned to King Jerod's side yesterday. By means magical or mundane, you are here at his bedside surrounded by several of his daughters and thier remaining guardians. The sound of fighting can be heard outside as magical blasts detonate and war horns are sounded.

An old, balding white-haired man wearing the crimson and gold of the Kingsguard kneels at the Kings side and says, quietly, "Sire, they've arrived."

Ancient blue eyes, filled with terrible pain, regard you. "Thank you for answering my summons in these most difficult times." He pauses and laborously takes a breath. "I am not long for this world but I would see my daughters and my legacy survive."

"I want you to take them and the good captain here away, to safety. These invaders have outmatched us and I doubt we will survive another week of this." He pauses before continuing.

"They," he indicates his older daughters "... they'll want to do something, to fight back; Help them... but not today. Today get them to safety. To Gnash, to Tariqasia or Natal, or maybe just to the mountains. Get them away from here, round up the survivors and rebuild."

He coughs violently and when he removes his hand his lips are are flecked with blood. "This is the dying wish of your king. The Lord-Marshals are fighting back, they may win but I don't want you to concern yourself with that. Your concern is for my daughters, they must survive. Will you do this for a dying old man?"

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Recently aquired knowledge:
* Invaders call themselves Elves.
* Invaders are, to a one, magically adept.
* Invaders seem intent on killing every man, woman and child.
* Invaders seem to make exentive use of magical rods and wands.
* Invaders are aided by Djinn.

Lobo Lurker said:

Two weeks ago the King and his 12 Lord-Marshals sought a portent from the 12 great temples. Two weeks ago the gods fell silent. One week ago the sky rained fire. One week ago the Elves came.

Click to expand...

The last week had been pure hell. So many deaths, injuries. Lost parents, lost limbs. Charles, with Pelor's help, had helped those he could, but there were always more. And it was no use in praying that these invaders, these 'elves', would show mercy or help the wounded. Word was they left no prisoners, no witnesses. The summons to the king's side was a relief, although it was painful to see the king in such bad shape and unable to do anything for him.

Lobo Lurker said:

He coughs violently and when he removes his hand his lips are are flecked with blood. "This is the dying wish of your king. The Lord-Marshals are fighting back, they may win but I don't want you to concern yourself with that. Your concern is for my daughters, they must survive. Will you do this for a dying old man?"

Click to expand...

Charles, a man of average height and weight with brown hair and eyes, kneels down at the king's side. He is armored in a mithral shirt. The well worn clothes underneath cannot hide splatters of blood from the many fallen he has come across. A symbol to Pelor hangs around his neck. "I shall serve as you command, Your Majesty."

Kneeling beside the king's deathbed is a young woman of unusual appearance. Dressed in tight black leathers that cover all save her head, yet reveal a comely atheletic figure, her face is so pale it seems white. Oddly, it's not an unhealthy, chalky complexion though...rather, it gives her an otherworldliness, an almost ethereal quality. Her hair is a wild riot of black...the same slightly glossy ebony shade as her eyes. When the King finishes speaking, she raises her lowered head and gazes at him with an unreadable expression.

Lily left her Freehold the day the summons was pronounced to her. She had little in the way of belongings, and less still in the way of friends or family. By the time she'd arrived at the king's palace, she was well aware that the sky-men, the so-called 'elves,' might have attacked Arborast, and if so that it was likely gone, or close to gone. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. The week of war had been strange for her. Part fear, part anger, part savage thrill of combat, and part remorse. More emotions in the past week than she had had in her entire 'life' up until now. It had been...interesting.

To the king, she says quietly, "By my life, sire, I shall be a sword in your hand." It was the oath she'd sworn another time, another place, to another man. A time long gone, a place that was burning, and a man who must now be dead.

It was a week in which his world had changed. Anderson had lost friends, what few he had, and his purpose had changed. No longer was it necessary to be a fighter, to be the champion of the people. What good was it if there were no reason to keep up the charade.

It was a week of hellfire and death. Blood pooled along streets, the dead lined the roads. Shock had given way to anger, anger to grief, and grief to complacency. When the summons from the great King Jerod came, Anderson answered.

He had a reason. The people who live need a champion. Anderson can be that man.

In the massive room, ornately decorated, gloom hung heavy. He immediately recognized Charles and a secret smile privy only to himself warmed him in this dark hour.

After the request by the king, a request no sane man could refuse, Anderson bowed politely and stood tall. "If by my life or death, your family will remain safe. Your people will live. Your country will prosper. If by my life or death, I will see these things true."

Quandrus the Unfathomable, AC15, hp44 AP:9/9

Quandrus takes a step forward and drops to one knee majestically. "But of course my lord, you had but to ask. Your line shall be insured, I swear it."
From under his cloak steps the demure form of Inharra. She unassumingly steps toward the kings bed with wide, innocent eyes full of wonder. "His fire is weakening Quan..." she whispers as a tear wells up. And the gentlest of breezes passes through the chamber as her hand brushes the kings own.
Quandrus awkwardly gathers his familiar back to him casting a worried glance toward the king's personal guards.

Before...

Three weeks into the expedition to the Barrier Mountains, Franklin Payne had noticed something was amiss. Something... odd about the sky. The smell of it. Smoke, it was, and lots of it. But this far up, and this far away, into the old ruins? It was maddeningly odd.

Nightfall had made things even more unsettling because, well, because frankly, the sky glowed. Glowed red and orange and even occasionally blue. From far away, back towards civilization. Hunched over a broken tablet that may have proven a goblin presence in these mountains thousands of years ago, Franklin was as perplexed as his few fellow expedition members. "Deekins, dear boy! You check it out tomorrow. Get back to Thomas at the base camp, make sure all it on the up-and-up. Shan't be glad if we have missed some fascinating new arcane weather that I've been reading about down there."

Deekins had been gone two days when the magical sending found Payne. The smokey smell and the glowing had continued. It frightened the men, but Franklin did his best to keep their spirits up. But the magical missive changed that....

Fire. Death! Invaders from the Sky! Tarrant destroyed! Jerod summons you. You must help find the cause and the solution! Go quickly!

He told his friends everything. He bade them goodbye the next morning, leaving ahead of them on a fast phantom steed he had learned the art of summoning from a traveller in Blackroot. He needed to ride as fast as the wind....

Devastation. Death. Destruction. The ride and battles he had were both terrifying and exhilarating. He knew he had to help. It was the right thing to do!

Now...

The implacable Payne nods, and exclaims, "For the 12 Freeholds!"

King Jarod listens as you accept his charge with half-closed eyes. One of the younger daughters, Nyssa, begins to cry and is quickly shushed by her older sisters.

He speaks "Thank you . . . all of you. Captain Alfan," he indicated the elderly kingsguard kneeling at the bedside. "...Captain Alfan will accompany you. There are some horses in the yard--"

The king is cut off by Princess Jessa, the eldest daughter, "FATHER NO! we will not leave you here, defenseless, to die! We can rally the militia and what remains of the army. Lord-Marshals Nasher and Jeremy are still alive; they can lead the counter-offensive."

King Jarod regards her sadly, with teary eyes he says: "Jessa, my dear Jessa... you were always the headstrong one. Listen ... listen to me, but really listen." He coughs again. "We are lost. The freeholds have already fallen... they just don't know it yet."

Jessa begins to protest but Jarod silences her with a fierce glare. "If you must fight, then let it be a fight of your choosing. Leave now, gather your forces and fight the invaders on your own terms. For the moment, do as an old man asks."

The crown-princess reddens in anger and storms from the room.

"By your leave, sire." says Capt. Alfan as he gets to his feat. "Fear not, we'll get your girls to safety and stick by them as long as we can."

Looking to the rest of you he says "Lets go."

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DM NOTE: Feel free to ask any questions or make any comments that you want.
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Down in the yard, horses are saddled and each of you are given one of the best horses from the king's stables (feel free to pick your color, all are light warhorses).

Captain Alfan gathers you and another man, armored in green enameled full-plate inset with gold. "We have to decide on our route. We can make an all out ride for the front gates, or we can leave by the postern gate and follow the river to the harborgate and attempt to fjord the river there; its deep but we should be able to make it."

The armored man removes his helm. His face is easily recognizable as Lord-Marshal Jeremy. "I hope it won't seem impolite, but I'll be joining you. My freehold has fallen and my people are dead. From here on out, I'll be staying with my betrothed. Gods willing, should we survive this, you're all invited to the wedding."

"If you'll accept the advice of a court dandy such as myself, neither path offers much protection. The Front Gates will be faster, though we're certain to run into a fight or two, while the Harbor gate is slower, though with less risk of protection. The main danger there, as I see it, is that magic users can typically conjure elementals... and fighting water elementals in a river is not something that I'm keen on." He eyes Quandrus's robes, "...unless you or your diminutive friend can offer some sort of protection from that?"

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DM NOTE: Each of you will be mounted (unless you have your own mount or travel magically). The royal family will also be mounted, 2 to a horse. Only Princess Jenna is armed. 3 Redcloaks (police forces) will accompany you as well, each on thier own horse.
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"Personally, I'd prefer the river crossing," Lily says without inflection. "I can disrupt summons, though it doesn't always work, and I can fly, so water is not an issue for me. For the rest of you..." she shrugs. "I will go with whatever the group decides."

Looking at the aged king and their entourage, Franklin nodded solemnly, his head racing with ideas.

===

When the Marshal joined them, Franklin finally spoke up. This thoughts needed addressing.

"Where do we go? Do we have any intelligence reports of human resistance? If we want allies, we do not have any, unless we can convince the goblins they are next. Such things could be... ahem... implicated without evidence, of course." Noting the stern look on the Marshall's face, he continues, "I realize getting out of here first is paramount, but it would be ideal to have a least a short term goal in mind... in case we are separated. In any case, I suggest the more surreptitious route."

OOC: Spells for the day: 3rd: dispel magic, 2nd: fog cloud, web

Having riden a few horses in his day, Anderson is not all together uncomfortable on his majestic brown gelding, but it is clear he could use a little more practice to be saddle-hardened. Following Franklin's lead, Anderson adds in another question at the end of the growing list. "Do we know where we ultimately are headed?" Nodding his head toward Franklin, Anderson continues, "He is right. If we get separated we need to know where to go. Strength in numbers, though, if we all remain together. We seem formidable and I figure we should ride out to avoid the river. We make better speed with dry mounts and gear."