Dark Sun: Praetor

Forbidden Tomb, Mt. Laeron, Balic

Krch crunched on the last bone, wondering when the newest amblers that had stumbled into its lair were going to arrive. It was a rare treat, these fleshy beasts from the massive hive below the mountain coming up to it. Usually Krch had to sneak into the city and snatch a little one while they slept, avoiding the large ones wearing bits of other creatures and bits of rock as scale and fang.

Much easier this way.

Krch slid off its bone pile, already salivating in anticipation of its next meal.

This one came with folds of fake skin swirling around it, a long wooden snout huffing and launching a stinging barb. Krch snarled as the dart struck home and its vision swam.

Poisoned stingers, it thought as a huge ambler encased in overlapping spined shells of a dozen desert beasts rushed in beside the other. In response, it unleashed a psychic blast that sent both the wrapped and hulking ones crashing into the walls.

Another leapt in, carrying a sharpened stone blade on a stick, hurling its own weak mental attack that Krch casually deflected. Krch moved to counter-attack only to have a fourth with a black shell for an arm and long fang blazing with light rush it. Krch swiped the newest ones feet out from beneath it, but the poison surging through it made Krch stagger as well.

The wrapped and hulking ones were tearing at themselves with their puny claws under the effects of Krch's mental attack so it turned to the shell-armed one and telekinetically yanked it forwards, clamping down only to find the shell jammed into its mouth.

Krch tried to let go of the shell, its jaw already aching from the angle it was stretched to, but it couldn't get free. It clawed at the one in its mouth, thrashing and tearing to get free as it blasted wildly at the others to keep them at bay. Krch saw the one that had psychically attacked it earlier hurling itself forward. A tail-swipe wasn't enough to stop it and its stone blade flared, blinding Krch.

Panic and fear not felt since Krch had eluded the ambler hunters and squeezed through the crack to this lair years ago flooded through it. It was blind, poisoned, its mouth locked open, wounded, and surrounded by amblers worse than any it had ever seen or sensed...

Another dart hit it and more poison surged through it, causing its returning vision to swim. It finally clawed its way free from the shell-arm only to have a giant rock strike it in the side of the head. One of the amblers was thrashing on the ground clawing at its skin, but Krch felt no satisfaction. A moment later, a blade flashed towards it and it felt nothing ever again.

24th of Sorrow
Forbidden Tomb, Mt. Laeron, Balic

It was the sound of crunching bones, coming from a very large psychic lizard. If it hadn't gotten my shield lodged in its mouth as it tried to bite my arm off, I probably wouldn't be writing this right now. I even got off better than the others who spent half the battle trying to claw invisible insects out from under their skin.

My survival is not ensured, however. There were several cloth-wrapped corpses that rose from the sarcophagi in the next room. Only with the power of Andropinis, a pouch full of Mortuus' poisoned darts, and relentless battering by Shield managed to put the things down.

I'm not sure if it's the apparently poisonous dust that billowed out of the sarcophagi when we busted them open or some remnant of the curse that animated them being transferred to me when we fought - either way, the bite-marks on my hand where one bit me already seem to be festering.

After that, there were, of course, more Kruthik of all sizes but of uniform disposition - hungry. We also dug out several more cave ins, finding several strange hex- and octagonal keys that released the locks on several massive stone doors.

I was somewhat hesitant to open the sarcophagus we found beyond those doors, but fortunately when we finally broke it open, we found some stairs leading deep into the mountain. We dragged Shield back as he seemed to think he was invisible again and was "sneaking" down the stairs loudly enough to wake the dead - not that we haven't already since we've been down here.

We've debated it and I'm pushing for us going down. I told the others that it was because I was worried that more unsanctioned tomb-raiders might come in before we can get back, but really I'm concerned about the wound in my hand. If we wait too long, I might be too weak to make it.

We have to do this now in spite of all we've been through to get here. I might not have more time.

Ancient Temple of Andropinis, Mt. Laeron, Balic

Ansaria opened her eyes and watched the four who she had sensed disposing of the id fiend Krch walk down the stairs into the temple, taking in its dais, altar, and probably the massive relief of Andropinis that filled the whole wall behind her.

Torg stood up and hefted his massive double-bladed battle axe and challenged the figures as they entered the light. One was a figure in a brown robe who slipped behind a stone pillar as soon as he entered, the second was a mul with a long-axe, the third was a human that might be attractive behind his heavy armor if it weren't for the unhealthy palor to his skin, the fourth a half-giant even bigger than Torg that carried two massive shields that looked to be made from the carapaces of some massive spined beetle.

"Who are you?" Torg said, as the archers stood up around Ansaria. She remained sitting in the lotus position, the words of the ritual resounding in her mind.Torg can handle these interlopers, she thought.

"Praetors of Balic," the young man said. "This place is forbidden."

"We have to go!" Torg shouted, looking back and Ansaria and readying his axe. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, closed her eyes, and returned her focus to the ritual. She heard bowstrings twang and something sharp buried itself in her arm. Her eyes snapped open, rage and poison flooding into her body in equal measure as she yanked a small hollow bone dart from her flesh.

Torg collided with the other half-giant as arrows splintered and shattered on the human's shield, the mul swinging at Torg as he tried to circle around him. He began to advance, but Torg kicked the twin-shielded half-giant away and hooked his axe on the human's foot, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ansaria's vision swam as she struggled with the poison, one of the archers beside her clutching at his neck and slamming into the tiles at her side, gasping for breath.

The Praetor's half-giant slammed a shield into Torg and knocked him back as the human's sword flared with light and shadow, slashing the back of Torg's leg with a razor-edged obsidian blade as the half-giant scrambled to his feet.

The Praetor turned to Ansaria and rushed towards her, more arrows clattering off his shield. Ansaria smiled and focused on him. The air thrummed and she hurled him back into the fray where he slammed into the close-pressed battle around Torg with enough force that all of them were thrown to the ground.

The mul scrambled to his feet, rushing towards her and cutting down one of the archers. Behind her, the last two archers fired at point-blank range, arrows thudding into the mul. He staggered back, but not far enough for Ansaria. She rose her hand and it was instantly aswirl with ice. With a gesture, a spear of ice slammed into the mul and dropped him to one knee, his teeth a snarl as he fought to stand.

Torg smashed the enemy half-giant so hard one of the half-giant's shields shattered; the half-giant hit the wall so hard he cracked the engraved stone and landed in a heap. Torg turned towards the human and badly injured mul with a grin... which vanished instantly when a dart punched through his cheek. He ripped it out and whirled with a roar, charging off blindly, swaying drunkenly as he did so and slamming into a stone pillar so hard dust and bits of masonry rained down.

Ansaria hurled a jagged shard of ice at the human, burying in his shield and riming it and his whole side with ice. Two more arrows hit the mul as he finally pushed himself to his feet and he collapsed.

Breath steaming in the cold about him, the human gritted his teeth and ran over towards where the fallen mul lay unmoving. Another dart dropped an archer - Ansaria thought briefly back to see if she remembered his name, but he was just another body for the cause - and Ansaria sent a bladed handful of ice crystals tearing into the shadowy corner from where the robed figure had been launching darts. Torg struggled to his feet, wobbling, shaking his head, and snorting as if trying to get his bearings - and his eyes focused on the Praetor.

This is all but over, she thought. That mul is finished, what does the human think he's doing?

The human showed her a moment later, reaching the fallen mul and producing a small finely engraved box from a small bag at his side. She only had a second to see what was in his fist before he crushed it, juice and pulp running into the fallen mul's mouth.

An Ambrosia Pear! Ansaria thought, snarling and rising to her feet for the first time since the battle started. The human turned to her and grinned, as if reading her thoughts. An orb of ice whistled past his head as he charged forwards, but she sidestepped his flaring blade and slammed her open palm into his chest. His armor was freezing to the stone the second his body hit. "Don't worry, I'll send your frozen body back to your dictator, Praetor scum."

Her smile of triumph was short lived as she looked up to see the mul helping the enemy half-giant to his feet. Torg rushed them but their half-giant intercepted him, Torg's axe - cracked from breaking their half-giant's other shield - flew into a dozen pieces. Torg had only a moment to lament his loss as the mul's axe was firmly planted between his eyes a split-second later.

Adrenaline and rage washed away the flood of sorrow and loss, rage that amplified her powers as she raised her hand and flooded the room with razor shards of ice.

Another dart buried itself in her palm causing her hand to clamp closed reflexively and distracting her control of the raw elemental energy she had called into existence.

So intense was the chill energy condensed in her hand that even with her psychic protections, her hand burned with the cold. Their half-giant closed with a roar and she slammed her cramped and blackening fist into the stone at his feet. Ice spears launched from the stone with enough force that jagged bits of stone cut Ansaria and the onrushing mul as they impaled the half-giant's legs. The spears exploded into fragments as he slammed head-first into the stairs at her feet with enough force to crack his carapace helm and she whirled to face the mul.

An inch-thick orb of ice enveloped her as he leapt through the air, but even as he swung, his axe ignited in an inferno of sorcerous flame, her protective ice evaporating away before it.

Damn you Praetor, we were so close! she thought - and it was her last.

25th of Sorrow
Praetorian Dormitory, Praetorium, Balic

I don't know who the ice witch was or what exactly the ritual we interrupted was supposed to do, but we barely made it out of that one alive. Let's just say it's a good thing I saved that Ambrosia Pear or we'd probably all be dead.

I'm fairly certain they were Veiled Alliance - though to be fair, we throw that label on almost anyone who resists Andropinis rule in any organized fashion - but there's no way to know for sure.

I do know those guardsmen that stopped us at the base of the mountain will be going on trial - for incompetence or collusion, I don't care which. Maybe both.

We were too weary from the battle to do little more than collapse at the end of one of the dead-end passageways. It was a good thing we left Mortuus on watch as we were attacked in the middle of the night by several assassins. I'm not sure exactly what happened in the battle as their attack was heralded by hurled pouches of blinding powder, but we were able to cut them down.

More Veiled Alliance? Some other faction interested in the tombs? Someone following me and seizing an opportune moment for an assassination?

Once we were sufficiently rested, we pushed on past the ritual chamber where we defeated the Veiled Alliance and found an elven tomb-guardian spirit on the far size of a small chasm where rock had shifted and torn the room in two.

Perhaps the Veiled Alliance were attempting to banish it with their ritual? Regardless, I didn't feel like battling it - the wound was still worse and even more so now. I can barely lift my arm.

The spirit said it had been there since the lands belonged to the elves, before 'Usurper Andropinis' attacked them without provocation and devoid of mercy. He continued to defame Andropinis and the Praetors until Darus snapped and leapt the chasm to attack. Thanks to Andropinis' powers, the spirit was sent to oblivion.

Beyond was the tomb of some elven king, statues of winged elves lining the sides of the room like honor guards. When we opened the dusty sarcophagus in the center of the room, an elf lay as though sleeping in ancient garb. Examination showed it was, in fact, dead, which didn't stop it from arising with eyes that burned like emeralds held before the sun. Two more of them battered their way out of smaller sarcophagi on the side of the room.

The battle was hard-fought and again, if it weren't for the gifts of Andropinis, we would not have survived. As it was, everyone was exhausted, battered, and bearing a dozen wounds each from two days of hard fighting in the tombs.

At the back of the tomb, we found a fourth sarcophagus - smaller but far more elaborate. When we approached, the spirit we had dispatched earlier reformed in our path. It said something about our "feeble magics" and "high priests' sarcophagus" but we were too busy retreating from it to listen. Everything seemed to be happening at a great distance except the throbbing of my wound, including when I fell into the fissure and only Darus catching my arm as I fell saving me from joining the spirit in the world beyond.

Eutropia examined my wound with great concern - I'm growing rather fond of her, for a slave - and dispatched Abu to bring the apothecary and surgeon. I informed her that if the surgeon took my hand, I'd have his head in exchange.

They'll be here soon. My whole arm alternates between being numb and cold like stone and burning like the crest of a sand dune at high noon. Black lines trace up my whole arm and reach towards my heart.

My vision is going black again, so I'll have to finish this. I'll leave this journal with Darus in case this is the last entry of Preator Kar Jerrek...

The last was the end of Session 6. I wasn't there for the next session of the game so Sanzuo is going to step in and write it up in the next week or so since he's the DM.

Enjoy!

In the waning light of Athas' crimson sun, the metropolis of Balic sat on a chunk of rock jutting out like the tip of a claw into the yellow haze of the silt estuary. The city itself sprawled across a hill – at the top of which stood the only real towers the city had. They were the towers of the megaleneon, Balic's government district.

Out of the base of one of these towers walked Mortuus. He was just in time to catch a last glimpse of the sun as it dropped behind the sandstone walls separating the megaleneon from the rest of the city. Soon the assassin and everyone else would be able to enjoy a short time of cool air before it became freezing and he would need to find a fire and some girls to keep him warm.

He spotted a girl just then waiting on the inside of the megaleneon gate, but this was not a girl he was happy to see. She was young and beautiful with black hair and olive skin. She wore a red silk dress that hugged her upper body tightly, blossomed below her waist and hung loosely just short above the ground. Next to her were two female, half-giant bodyguards. They wore proportionally less than their charge, just some leather harnesses for a small amount of modesty and to anchor their arsenal of weapons; daggers, short swords, cudgels, slings and mauls. Those weapons were not just for show, Mortuus knew from his keen insight, and because he personally knew these particular individuals. The half-giants were hardened fighters, covered in scars and rescued from the arena.

The girl spotted Mortuus, and the minstrel braced himself for what he suddenly knew what was coming next. She bolted the length between Mortuus and herself in three graceful strides and tackled him, nearly taking him down to the ground. She wrapped her slender, but surprisingly strong arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Flustered and feeling understandably awkward, Mortuus tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from the girl. While this was happening, her bodyguards made no attempt to separate the two of them and casually caught up.

“Mort! My love, why haven't you visited me? It's been ages!” The girl said loudly enough for everyone in the plaza to hear.

“Are you completely insane, Rava?” Mortuus said in a hissing whisper, continuing to try and free himself. “You are suppose to be in mourning. What if Jerreck saw you right now?”

“I heard he was dying – also, I don't care.” The girl locked her hands around her wrists behind Mortuus' back to hold the embrace. “I missed you so much. I hate it.”

“What? How did you know? Let go. Damn you.”

“No.”

“Will you get this girl off of me? I'll hurt her, I swear.” Mortuus gave a pleading look at the half-giants. They both shrugged apathetically.

“My father wants to see you.” She said, now resting her head on Mortuus' chest. “But it's getting dark. Can I stay here tonight?”

“Absolutely not. We're going to your father right now. How did you know about Kar? Never mind. Shut up.”

Mortuus trudged toward the gate with the girl still hanging off of him pouting and pretending to weep. He continued to fight and scold her as the four of them went out into the night.


By the time they arrived at the estate, Mortuus had managed to dislodge her and now she was skipping in circles around the group. She had stopped and investigated every interesting person or thing along the way. She had an impossible amount of energy, Mortuus thought. When they got inside he practically ran towards the office, doing his best to outpace the girl. Thankfully, the seneschal ran interference and stopped her before she could follow him inside. Lord Dephnical waited within, seated behind a marble table.

Mortuus slammed the door behind him.

“Would you find that girl another damned husband, already? She is completely out of control.” Mortuus blurted. He rarely lost his cool composure, but the young lady Dephnical was one of the few people who could fluster Mortuus in such a way. The Lord Dephnical never lost his composure. Not ever.

“Is Kar Jerreck going to die?” Dephnical asked plainly.

Mortuus took a moment to compose himself. “Probably. When I left he already looked like a corpse and the apothecary was bleeding him like a stuck erdlu.”

“Damn.” Dephnical exhaled sharply. It was as upset as Mortuus had ever seen him. “This is a disaster.”

“What about his half-brother? Praetor Darus?”

“The mul?” Dephnical pronounced 'mul' in the derogatory way. Like 'mule.' “That won't do. He's a brute, and a poor figurehead. Useless.”

“I beg your pardon, but the mul is not useless.” Mortuus said. “I've seen him in action, he's a damned tornado made out of rocks - and he has the Dictator's power behind every swing of his arm and every spell from his lips. He's really quite an awesome spectacle, really. Saved our lives more than once.”

“I don't need a gladiator, I need someone with a different kind of charisma. The kind Jerreck had.”

“Well.” Mortuus tried to console. “He's not quite dead yet...”

There was silence for a time. Mortuus poured himself something from a bottle that was sitting on the table. Unconsciously, he smelled it for poison before taking a sip.

“What did you find beneath the mountain?” Dephical asked.

“Two more artifacts, just like you thought.” Mortuus said.

“Yes! Bloody marvelous. You have them?”

Mortuus patted his pouches and nodded.

Dephnical was suddenly in a better mood. “Excellent. We still need to get that first one that Jerreck stupidly gave away. You need to get it.”

Finally, something I'm good at. Mortuus thought. “I can do that. I can do that right now.”

“Careful.” Dephnical warned. “House Tomblador is not to be taken lightly. They will torture and kill you if you are caught. Take your time and do not fail, just get the artifact back by any means necessary.”

“Well, I should probably try not to draw attention to ourselves, and probably not you most of all.”

“That goes without saying, my boy. But the artifact is the most important, even if you have to kill a hundred Tombladors and run back here with a hoard of them at your back – get it to me.”

“It certainly will not come to that. And these?” Mortuus placed a hand on the pouch containing the other two pieces.

Dephnical thought a moment. “Hang on to them in the chance that Jerreck does recover. He doesn't need any more evidence that you work for me and not him. Just don't do something foolish like give them away.”

“I'll get started then.” Mortuus said and finished his drink. “Also I wasn't kidding, find Rava a husband.”

“She's still in 'mourning.' Also, I decided she might have been more useful unmarried, and to use as leverage against Jerreck.”

“Is that why I killed the Arvos boy?”

“Sure, let us just say that was it. Anyway, when Jerreck dies I might just give her to you.”

“Please! Whatever I did wrong I'm sorry.”

“Apologize to me by getting the artifact back. Now get going.”

“Right.” Mortuus hesitated. “Uh.”

“What is it?” Dephnical said.

Mortuus glanced back at the office door. “May I use the window?”

This is all new to me. And to think I was starting to trust Mortuus...

At least with your enemies, you know where they stand; it's your allies you can't trust.

Good thing Darus is absolutely trustworthy - oh wait...

9 months later... I don't think Sanzuo is going to post anything more here and the game is pretty definitely over and done.

However, there were 6 more session after this one that I could write up if there's any interest left. Difference between it ending abruptly here or it ending abruptly again 6 months from now.

Posting pace wouldn't be fast as I'm focusing most of my writing on my new (mostly) scifi/fantasy blog, but if enough people are interested, I could get back into working on the Praetor's story, maybe even prod Sanzuo into writing up the rest of this session I wasn't there for...

I really liked this SH and hate to see it discontinued but I think you can save yourself the work to post the rest of it because as you said it will end abruptly anyhow.

Instead, I've just re-started reading your Rise of Felskein story which I can only recommend to everyone here on the boards.

Azkorra said:

I really liked this SH and hate to see it discontinued but I think you can save yourself the work to post the rest of it because as you said it will end abruptly anyhow.

Instead, I've just re-started reading your Rise of Felskein story which I can only recommend to everyone here on the boards.

Click to expand...

Thanks for the feedback Azkorra. I would have liked if we had reached some conclusion to this, but the GM losing interest and moving half-way across the country kinda did it in.

Rise of Felskein has been, um, "un D&D-ified", edited, proofread and renamed Continent in the Clouds in my sig, though the .pdf costs a dollar. Or you could just read it for free here.