General D&D Topics* Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea" - Page 22




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  1. #211
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    "So from where do you hail, Peerion?" Haelan asked jovially as the companion Stormriders came back into their open chamber. The daelvar hopped up onto a divan of luscious velvet and grabbed some grapes form the bowl beside it.

    "It is 'Pirnyon', friend hairfoot. I am a servant of Car'Tyr...the Wind Wizard. My people and I...we?...yes 'we', hail from the mountains called Daegun. My lord and master deemd fit to leav me here to aid in your mission. I have no...doubts?...yes?...doubts that my skills will aid in your cause." the winged humanoid said. He had wrapped his wings down about his shoulders. It gave the image of a jacket or cloak of feathers covering his torso.

    "And what skills, exactly are those." Duor said, in his typical way as he plopped himself down on another two-seater divan.

    "I am zephari!" said Pirnyon...as if this were or should be, obvious, answer enough.

    "It is a great honor to meet one of your kind, Pirnyon. I have never had the pleasure. I have heard great tales of the powers of your people." Alaria said taking a seat in a velvet cushioned chair. An elf attendant came in with a tray of another pitcher and more elfvine. Alaria happily took another glass.

    Pirnyon nodded in acknowledgement of the magess' welcome and took a goblet of wine himself.

    "I have been tell you are the leader of the company?" Pirnyon said to the magess. "I trust you shall be able to use my skills."

    Alaria nodded an understanding of whatever it was the zephari was trying to say. Her mind raced to find the knowledge she had about the winged folk.

    They were preternaturally tough and strong. The winged man's lack of armor or clothing was not any sign of vanity or hubris, but because their skin was unnaturally...some would say supernaturally...tough. An armor all its own. His wings, quite obviously allowed him flight. His eagle-like eyes afforded an incredible range of vision...beyond even that of elves. They resisted cold and snow and ice...out of necessity than any special "power" to survive the high peaks where they made their homes...and there were other innate "magical" abilities that Alaria could not fully recall. They were...tribal?...yes, Alaria was sure, in their social affiliations.

    "What was your place in your rook, Pirnyon?" Alaria asked. The R'Hathi magess did not doubt for a moment that this would be a wonderful ally to have.

    "Rook?...AH! My rookery?! Yes...I am Hunter." the winged man replied. He took a soft fruit from one of the bowls that had been placed in the company's resting aerie.

    "Excellent. That should prove most useful." Alaria answered. "Do you know of the dark wizard, Tresahd?"

    "I have been learned on. Yes, magess." he answered most assuredly. "You, warrior. You are Braddok kar Barfoth? I have heard tell of your amazing...rising?...from the Grey Lands?! Is that so? It tells unbelievable." he said, very interested, to the Grinlian swordsman.

    "It is so, Pirnyon. By the grateful sacrifice of these assembled here...and more." Braddok replied, moved to a moment of melancholy at their companions passing, from which they could NOT return.

    "So, yer zepharim...what does that mean, exactly?" Duor asked unceremoniously.

    Pirnyon looked at the dwarf in mild confusion. "I am zephari...yes." The winged man wasn't sure what else to say.

    "Zephari' is the singular, Duor. 'Zepharim' is the plural." Alaria corrected.

    Damned smarty-pants magess. Duor thought to himself. But, no matter, this bloke was hugely muscled, almost more than Braddok, and well-armed. Surely he could slice a few goblinoids to let Duor get to the object of his personal mission. "Yeh know how to use that axe?" the dwarf replied.

    Pirnyon drew the axe from his belt. Before any of the Stormriders could protest, he threw it toward Duor. It passed the dwarf's head with a *whish* it sliced through the back of the divan in which he lounged and *thunked* into the thin column behind, nearly cleaving the "pole" (more than "column") clean through.

    "Aye, master dwarf. I can use my axe." Pirnyon replied as he strutted across the chamber and pulled his axe from the wood.

    The narrow column, twinging in wooden carved vines, close itself as soon as the zephari removed the blade.

    "Well...good. Quite good. He'll do." Duor said to the assembled companions...as if they needed his approval.

    The companions sat around for the better part of an hour...talking stategy. To their disappointment, Pirnyon held no information about the battle front or any current goings-on there.

    A green oval appeared to the edge of one side of the open chamber. Bradok made a move for his weapon, as did Pirnyon, but Alaria calmed them, assured that in the real of the elves no evil could befall them.

    From the odd magical portal lept the giant ferrret Buttercream...followed by Fen.

    Haelan was ecstatic at the return of the furry rodent. He jumped up and hugged the creature strong around the neck.

    *Yeah. Yeah...You missed me so much you left me in the swamp.* Buttercream said to Haelan's ears.

    "NO! I mean...well...yes, we did...but you don't understand! There were the lizardmen and then there were wights and a behir and...Oh, I'm so sorry Buttercream." Haelan attempted to explain between tight grips around the ferret's fluffy neck. "We'll never leave ytou behind agaiN! I promise by the Hill Mother's Bread Pudding! How did you...*gasp* Are you magic?!...OH! Fen?!" the daelvar priest exclaimed. His gratitude and excitement practically bubbled over, out of his being.

    "Whatever...but nice to see you again also, Hilltender...don't know why...but you make me feel happy." Buttercream replied even as the daelvar was rushing off to give the druid a tight hug around the waist.

    Braddok and Alaria rose to welcome the druid.

    "Done already, my friend?" Braddok said as he gave the druid a tight grip of the forrearm.

    "My needs have been met, yes. What has transpired here? One of the zepharim? I thought we were in the elf-lands?" Fen looked confused at the newest arrival to the Stormriders' band.

    Alaria made introductions. The druid and zephari "hunter" seemed to get along almost immediately. "Haelan, " said Alaria, "please convery my happiness and thanks that Buttercream is her with us again, safe." the mmagess asked.

    The daelvar cleric translated to which he received an annoying "I understand them just fine! They just don't understand me!" from the ferret.

    Mister Meeessh floated his way over to the ferret. "Dohhhn't remember thhhhihsss ohhhnnnn." the mephit said.

    Buttercream hissed and took a swipe at the mephit who had gotten a bit too close.

    Haelan chastised the ferret and everyone got introduced and was told to get along.

    "Right...so we're all friends now...Bully." said Duor non-plussed by any of the new arrivals. "When're we gettin' outta this place? Not gonna stop Tresahd sittin' inna tree!"

    "Quite right, Duor." Braddok answered. He looked to Alaria. "Can...I mean...should we go now? Can we go now? We don't even know where the front is." the warrior finally came around to answering his own questions.

    "I'm up to my beard in smoked deer meat and this cheese *munch. munch*. S'got no taste! I say we just leave." the dwarf said, hopping up off of the freshly torn divan.

    "That would be unadvisible." Alaria said. Pirnyon concurred.

    "One does not leave Evandrial without the permission of the lord regent." the winged man said, as if this were the most obvious fact.

    "Aw, bloody hells. We have to go talk to HIM again?!" Duor said in apparent disappointment.

    "I think a runner will suffice." Alaria said, attempting to calm the dwarf. She got the attention of the attendant and relayed their wishes to depart.

    The elf nodded in understanding and left. He...or she...was gone for quite a bit of time. Several more hours passed. The moons were rising. Should they not stay for the "singing of the songs" they had been told about?...and invited to!

    "As you said, magess, evil knows no propriety nor slows for any reason." Duor said, trying to quote the magess from their initial audience with the lord regent.

    "This is true, Duor, but we don't all share you kind's ability to see in the dark." Braddok said, seeing Alaria's indecision.

    "That's true...and I think it would be good for Fen...apologies, Fen...for all of us, to partake of some official ceremony of loss." Haelan added.

    Feorn's beard, thought Duor, the damned hairfoot's right...but so am I...we're NEVER gettin' out of this point-ear trap. "As you wish...and yeah...might be nice." the dwarf admitted.

    The company, after receiving leave to go when they willed, agreed to stay for the "singing of the songs" of lamentation.

    They were ushered, even as the green moon was rising and surpassing the great silver moon, back to the giant hall of the lord regent. There was a throng of elves present now. Their circular ascent up the tree to the hall had not allowed them the knowledge that they were standing, staring out to the east, watching the moons rise.

    The chorus of voices rose with two moons. Harmonies, melodies, and individual soloists raised their voices in a sorrow and loss that matched the companions souls. The tears that had flown from Alaria, Haelan and, even Fen, had not come close to expressing the sorrow their ears now heard.

    Fen was the only one capable of mixing in with the other's snong...as if something from his soul...words he'd never learned...songs he'd never heard, rose up within him.

    While she understood the language, Alaria was unable to join...every time she opened her mouth, the tears and sobs overwhelmd her.

    They sang for Erevan, Ryvsorai, son of Eras'ka Aiiri...they sang for Festus, the satyr...or as they sang (if Alaria had the translation correct) the "cousin, born of fey".

    Surprisingly to many of the company, a contigent of satyrs was in attendance, blowing their allegedly magical pipes and prancingaroudn in dance...in celebration of the satyr that had been.

    Where they'd learned the details of their demise, Alaria could not be sure, but every instance of their lives and adventures together and the specific, awful, details of their death were all sung...for as grotesque the details, as Alaria remembered them all too readily, the tones and undertones and overtones meshed together in a completely cathartic melody and a...a TRIUMPH of their lives...not a hint of their deaths...They made it all sound beautiful...and at the end, all sound free and joyous. She was in complete awe of the music assaulting her ears.

    Braddok held her close and even he had tears in his eyes.

    Duor wiped several tears, which he staunchly averred were from the "damnable pollen of these damnable trees" before leaving the great hall, his arms, obviously, wiping his eyes.

    It was a...Alaria had no other word for it..."glorious" symphony of night. The songs were sung throughout the night...passed the settign of the green moon...passed the dipping of the greater silver moon. To her complete surprise the voices did not stop until the dim blue of morning rose up behind them (in the eastern sky).

    Unable to see far from the tears blurring her vision, suddenly, the Lord Regent Seniiris stood before her. He held out a hand to her chin and cupped it. "You are more than friend to the Moonwatchers, magess. You and yours are truly of the old blood."

    She gulped back tears and wiped her eyes to see more clearly and make a proper response to the high-vaunted lord of Evandrial. When her eyes were clear, he was not there?! The white of his glittering tunic was simply the white hair of the singing elf before her. She looked, left to right, but was thoroughly confused.

    "It is time to go." Fen finally said, coming up to the warrior and magess. "Let us return to the chamber and soon we shall avenge our friends, my kiili, and the satyr, Festus. They have drifting to the moons and shall forever be above us...or with us in the Cycle."

    With the druid's aid, Braddok led Alaria out of the great hall. The zephari, Pirnyon, walked softly after them, ushering the complete mess of a sobbing daelvar, Haelan. "All shall be well, Hilltender. All shall be well..." the winged man kept saying.

    Where there had been divans and comfortable chairs before, now were several flats of mats and beds. The heroes fell into them and felt sleep grip them immediately. The fight would be there tomorrow, they all..."felt" more than "heard"...tomorrow it starts anew.
    Steel Dragons' "All Things Orea" Blog right here on EN world!
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    Steel Dragons' "All Things Orea" Blog right here on EN world!

 

  • #212
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    Yay Buttercream Shadowfeet is back! I was about to ask about her.
    My Story Hour campaigns. What are they up to this week?

  • #213
    I just finished page 7 and am assuming that Gnobert and Buttercream are from a new player to the group. Did something happen to another player, or did Erevan's player decide for a change? Something else? Enjoying the read. GW
    Graywolf

    Gaak looks around at the chopped up hunks of troll, trying to regenerate, and says. "Burn the Trash"

    Act II - Orcs on a Mission
    Broken Lands Story Hour - Orcs on the Rampage

  • #214
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    Quote Originally Posted by Graywolf-ELM View Post
    I just finished page 7 and am assuming that Gnobert and Buttercream are from a new player to the group. Did something happen to another player, or did Erevan's player decide for a change? Something else? Enjoying the read. GW
    Hey Graywolf! So glad you're enjoying the story thus far (hope it continues ).

    To answer the question, you are correct that Gnobert (and Buttercream) was a new player who came in (and subsequently left)...I don't quite recall the circumstances (this is some time ago).
    Steel Dragons' "All Things Orea" Blog right here on EN world!
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    Steel Dragons' "All Things Orea" Blog right here on EN world!

  • #215
    I have fallen victim to Story Hour Syndrome yet again as a reader. The nice backlog of a fun read and then you reach the end, followed by waiting for the next update. Enjoyed and looking forward to the new character and interested to see what the party does next.
    Graywolf

    Gaak looks around at the chopped up hunks of troll, trying to regenerate, and says. "Burn the Trash"

    Act II - Orcs on a Mission
    Broken Lands Story Hour - Orcs on the Rampage

  • #216
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    Same here lol

    And even worse, my games/story hours are slow going because it is summer and people tend to do something else
    My Story Hour campaigns. What are they up to this week?

  • #217
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    Apologies for the lag time and infecting with the SHS. hahaha. Glad you're enjoying though.

    I was traveling last week (back in the states now, for a time) and getting acclimated to EST again.

    More soon...but here's a brief bit just to keep things moving (and hopefully offset a bit of the SHS

    --SD
    ----------
    The following afternoon, the heroes rose.

    Pirnyon had risen before the others and came winging, effortlessly, back to the open chamber where the party had slept the first part of the day after their "allnighter" at the memorial of song for their fallen comrades.

    They were led down the long wide ramp of a walkway down to the forest floor where they were met by the elf, Althan. He discussed their objective and direction for travel and led the group through the elvin wood toward the current battlefront.

    As they moved they discussed possible strategy. How were they supposed to infiltrate the enemy camp and gain proof of Tresahd's true identity? How were they supposed to get back out again and return to Evandrial? Did they even want to return to Evandrial?

    Relaying their findings to Daenfrii would be no problem as Alaria still possessed the emerald teardrop crystal. Alaria' proposed continuing to Ayla Nirai (the elf capitol) to see about securing the Eye of Arinane as there was no doubt the mystic gem of the Miralostae elves was the dark wizard's primary target.

    Since Alaria possessed no magics to disguise them, and no longer had the stealthy elf tracker or ranger satyr with them, it seemed that they would be relying on Duor to do a good bit of the work. Fen's ability to disappear within the natural surroundings would prove most useful, as well and the zephari, Pirnyon, revealed that he, too, could easily go unnoticed.

    So it was decided that, while Alaria, Braddok and Haelan (and Buttercream) would do what they could to aid the assaulted elvin army and (hopefully) provide adequate distraction for the goblinoid forces near their camp, the dwarf, half-elf and winged man would seek out tresahd's tent and do the sleuthing.

    As the winter evening began to fall over the wood, only a few hours of marching after they took their leave of the eastern elf province, they neared the elves latest encampment.

    Althan reported to the captains and introductions were made.

    Haelan was overjoyed to meet one of his kind, the daelvar rogue (and Steel Dragon) Carak Hillside. Haelan knew of the Hillside clan from Tinkerhale, but had never actually met any of them. To the Hilltender's knowledge the Spurthistles and Hillsides were not related, though it was joked about among the daelvar of the Free Hollows that all of the families were, in some way, connected by marriage or business or just generations long friendship over the years.

    Carak was easy going and affable, though not as innocently cheery as Haelan. He was seven springs older than Haelan and had left the Hollows while Haelan had been an acolyte at the Mound of Faerantha, just beginning his religious studies.

    The two shared some talk of the Free Hollows mutual friends, shared stories and some mead over a few laughs. The daelvar thief was impressed and a tad jealous of the amazing things Haelan and his companions had encountered and confronted. He was especially envious of the Hilltender's magical food-producing bowl.

    Silran, it seemed was out on a patrol, spending the entire day harrassing the goblin forces that dared to move through the wood in the bright of day. Their forces were, almost constantly, trying to circumvent the elf forces and were, constantly, being thwarted.

    Silran's sister, Erilyn, was in attendance at the elvin camp and traded a good bit of information with the Stormriders, particularly Alaria, as the elvin lady herself was a practitioner of the Mysteries in addition to being trained in blade and bow and stealth enough to rival the daelvar Steel Dragon, Carak.

    It was decided the elvin princess and the hairfooted hero would accompany the Stormriders' infiltration group. None of the assembled heroes ffelt a group larger than five persons was wise.

    Much to Haelan's dismay (and Fen's consternation) it was told that the goblin force was relying ever more on undead to bolster their ranks. Zombies, skeletons, ghouls...any creature that was felled on the field of battle seemed to "come back" the following day. No doubt due to the delegation of priests of the Plague Mistress, Endore.

    The elves were hard pressed against such creatures as the majority of their divine magic-users were holed up in Ayla Nirai. The elves were a spiritual people, to be sure, but not so regimented and concerned with religion, as an organization, as other races. As such, their spiritual magics were somewhat more limited than those of humans, dwarves or daelvar.

    Most of the elvin captains were overjoyed to welcome the Hillltender among their ranks, though some were obvious in their disbelief that one of the kindly small vaaria <"people of the hills", elvin for daelvar> could really be of much use.

    Then, of course, there were the shadow creatures, which the elves attributed also to the Endoren priests as well as the dark wizard called Tresahd...who the captains referred to time and again as "the Black Drake" for his dragon-like skull helmet/visor of "his" head adornment.

    As the evening light was fast fading from view, the party of would-be spies readied to make a long wide approach to the goblinoid camp. The others were assured there would be no lack of excitement at Shi'Ariniiri <translation: "the Fields of Blood" or "Blood Fields">, as they'd taken to calling the great open fields near the southern edge of the river D'Evand where most of their battles were being fought. In the night, the goblins did their best to make headway, retreating in the morning when their wicked sight was impeded.

    If the goblins were able to cross the D'Evand it was not far to the royal city of Ayla Nirai. They'd come close more than once in the passed weeks, staved off time and again (once with the aid of the Steel Dragons before Montor had been wounded and half of the heroes of Daenfrii left the battlegrounds).

    Alaria. Braddok and Haelan steadied themselves and prepared for a long night. As the moons began to rise in the southeastern sky, the magess, swordsman and Hilltender set out or the battlefield with a troupe of several tens of elvin soldiers, including one of the fabled sorarynae <"Golden Stags", a mystic order of elvish knights> atop his mount, a dark twelve-pointer stag the size of a warhorse.

    Next time..."Oh, Was This Your Tent?" or "To Kill a Manling-Bird."
    Steel Dragons' "All Things Orea" Blog right here on EN world!
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  • #218
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    Pirnyon landed, with a final gentle flap of his wings, nearly silent.

    "'Bout bloody time, birdie." Duor whispered from the groups vantage point on a low hill covered in a thick copse. "What took yeh?"

    "Apologies, friend Duor. I had to wing far to not be seen. With the moons' rising, I dare not take to the air again without some more...subtle?....no...
    hiding ability."

    The dwarf just rolled his eyes and looked at the daelvar thief, Carak, who crouched in a thicket looking down at the expanse of tents and pens that formed the goblin encampment.

    It was obvious they were firmly entrenched. There were hundreds of tents below them, stretching out across a great blighted field. The goblins had wasted no time, cutting down the trees and spoiling the forest as much as they needed. Toward the center was a huge pavilion with banners bearing the familiar red clawed hand flying from it. Other larger tents surrounded this one and then became smaller the further out from the pavilion they were. Pens containing the lizard-bird like zarx dotted the camp and several giant wolves, "worgs", seemed to wander about the camp at will.

    "A large force has left the camp. Nearly half of their number. Half were mounted on the wolves. Many black robed men with white masks went with them...and a near-giant of a hairy goblin, heavily armed." Pirnyon continued his report.

    "That would be the Bulgruch, their general." Erilyn's melodic voice came from above, to the others' surprise. She had traversed nearly the entire way among the trees, moving branch to branch, oftentimes unseen at all. She was so stealthy, the others had almost forgotten she was with them. The elvin rogue-sorceress crouched down in one of the lower branches of a nearby elm.

    "Did you notice, Pirnyon, if the evil wizard was among those who left?" Fen asked from his near-invisible place leaning against the same tree.

    Dang point-ears n' their tree-magic, Duor thought to himself. He and the hairfoot were sitting ducks while the three "bigfolk" just saunter about willy nilly unseen.

    "There was a chariot that leads with two great hounds of shadow. Flames lick at the creatures' paws. They can not be natural animals. There was a black robed one in that, with a hobgomor...um...soldier?...no...the one with the reins." the zephari replied.

    "'Driver' or 'charioteer', Pirnyon." Carak kindly offered.

    "Yeh know 'reins' but not 'driver'?" Duor said in obvious disbelief. "We gotta do somethin' 'bout yer Common, birdie."

    "I am zephari." Pirnyon answered, as if this were an explanation.

    "Yeah, yeah. We know. The wings kinda give it away." Duor said.

    "We need a distraction." Fen offered. "If the wizard and the Bulgruch have left the camp unattended, this is a good time to make a move."

    "Agreed." Erilyn and Carak replied.

    After a bit of discussion and examining the camp. It was decided that a zarx pen at the southern edge of the camp would be an ideal location for some subterfuge.

    "Come on, friend Duor. Care to help me raise a bit of a ruckus?" Carak offered. "erilyn, gotta lil' something for ruckus-rousing?" he smirked a crooked smile at the elvin lady.

    Erilyn plucked a honey colored crystal from the jeweled hairnet which kept her waist-long golden tresses bound up around her shoulders. "This should do the trick." she answered and tossed the bead down to the daelvar.

    "What about the others?" Duor asked, looking to the druid and zephari.

    "Erilyn and I will make our way for the pavilion. Treshad's tent must be nearby there, if not inside it. He is their leader, after all, isn't he?" Fen answered.

    "Pirnyon, can you keep an eye on the dwarf and daelvar from here?" the druid posed.

    "Easily, friend Fen. I shall come to your aid at a moment's notice." the zephari assured the dwarf.

    "C'mon Duor. No guts, no glory." Carak smiled and began making his way from thicket to bush to thicket down the slope toward the large open expanse before the campsite.

    "S'my guts I'm worried about." Duor grumbled under his breath but did take off after the daelvar.

    The elf, half-elf and zephari watched the two small folk make their way from shadow to shadow.

    "Shall we, my lady?" Fen said with his characteristic charm and smile.

    "By all means, after you, noble druid." Erilyn smirked back before donning the hood of her pale grey cloak. With a momentary flicker of cloudy white light se disappeared from normal sight.

    Damned effective, that. Fen thought to himself. The mild camouflaging enchantments of his own cloak were not nearly as complete, especially if he were moving. The druid hoped his own cloak might keep him suitably unnoticed until, at least, he had some tents and equipment to be able to hide amongst. Fen kept low and tried to remain as near to any brush or lone tree as he could, stopping periodically so that if he were noticed, it wouldn't be for long and any dimwitted goblin sentires might think him just a trick of the rising moonlight.

    Pirnyon nocked his short bow and remained in the copse up on the hill. His eagle-like eyes were easily able to watch the daelvar and dwarf during their descent in the low-light of the early night. The half-elf, and presumably the elvin lady stopped at the last clutch of growth before the encampment, waiting, no doubt, for this "distraction" before moving further into the camp itself.

    It was a tense several minutes before the winged man noticed the small shadows of the hairfoot and dwarvish rogues creeping along the makeshift pen of bird-ish mounts.

    The zephari's eyes widened to notice a worg being led around by a goblin with a spear, turn at some sound the zephari could not hear and sniff at the air in the rogues' direction. The massive canine creature turned and seemed be pulling his handler. Fortunately, the goblin soldier seemed to have no desire to heed the worg's warnings and tugged at the creature. Unfortunately, it was completely in vain, as the goblin began to be all but dragged back toward the zarx pen.

    Then, chaos erupted.

    There was a bright flash and loud *BANG*! One side of the zarx pen was completely blown apart and the frightened (mostly sleeping) zarx began a stampede in all directions out from the camp.

    Worgs began to howl and bark (nasty threatening attack like barks, not just "warning" type barks) all around the encampment and raced toward the southern side of the camp. It was trouble enough to keep the mutant wolves from assaulting the two-legged bird-lizards when they were penned. Now that they were runnign free, it was full on hunting time.

    Goblins and hobgoblins soldiers cried out all around and began racing after the worgs. Several of the ark Fang and Red law tribes began fighting with each other to control their animals.

    Hobgoblin officers came running out of tents and from around campfires, shouting orders and grabbing weapons.

    There was a mass shift of forms moving to the south of the goblin camp.

    Pirnyon realized with some concern that, in taking all of this in, he had lost sight of the daelvar and dwarf. A flicker in the moonlight to his right told him the druid (and presumably the elf sorceress) were moving into the camp now.

    Not wanting to let his new companions down, the zephari stretched his wings and launched himself into the air by his muscled thighs, even as he took his first beat of wing, he used his people's innate talent to turn invisible. A moment later, completely unseen, he was above the encampment, scouring the disarray for any sight of the small folk rogues.

    Fen ran for the center of the camp and large banner-draped pavilion. More than once he had to duck behind a barrel of provisions or press himself up around a tent corner as armed and armored goblins and hobgoblins ran toward the disruption. Commands and arguments and snarky comments were rising all around him in the goblin tongue. As long as they remained unnoticed, the druid hoped, it should be easy enough to get in and out without attracting attention.

    Circling to the north and ducking behind the two bugbear guards who stood at the pavilions entrance (as they looked to the south and grumbled about the goblins "stupid zarx" making problems again) he entered the huge sectional tent and whispered for Erilyn.

    "I am here, druid." came Erilyn's soft voice as the elegant elf woman flickered into view one more, pulling the hood from her bejeweled head.

    The central "hall" of the large tent was much "neater" and more organized than Fen expected from a goblinoid force. A large table with chairs held maps and markers, indicating troops of the goblin and elvin forces. A broad dagger was dug into the table top, through the location on the map marked as Ayla Nirai. There were cushions and rugs strewn about the floor. To both the druid and noble-born elf's disgust there were several elvin heads hung from the various posts in various states of decomposition and the whole place smell like a stable covered in vomit. Not as bad, thought Fen, as "ghoul stank", but nearly. Several braziers were lit around the chamber, more for heat than light, no doubt.

    After a momentary perusal of the papers on the table, Fen said, "We need to find Tresahd's chamber. This stuff does us no good."

    "Everx zaar!" Erilyn incanted in reply. Three shards of turquoise energy flared from the sorceress' fingertips to strike into a shadow snake that was coiled around the base of the central post.

    Upon being hit by the magical bolts, the thing slithered up into the air as its dead black form came into view.
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    ø Ignore Azkorra
    *bump*

    Hope this great story hour hasn't been discontinued.

    Steeldragons, where art thou?

  • #220
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    ø Ignore steeldragons
    Quote Originally Posted by Azkorra View Post
    *bump*

    Hope this great story hour hasn't been discontinued.

    Steeldragons, where art thou?
    I'm here! I'm here!

    No, it's not discontinued.

    You're too kind. Thanks for the bump and the kick in pants.

    Just bogged down in stuff and thangs, seasons changing time, etc. etc...more to come soon.

    Thanks for the patience and thanks for the interest and reading.
    --Steel Dragons
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