Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Really fun to read, would be a real terror to play though !
And it was... What a bloody meat grinder that dungeon was. Don't know how many characters were mowed through before it was abandoned but it was a hefty bunch.
Fantastic representation of the overall "nastiness" of Rappan Athuk LB! Can't wait to read more.
__________________ "I've done so much with so little for so long now that... Well, I can do anything with nothing."
Thanks for the positive posts, Fiasco, jfaller, and Rhun. And for the "Rappan Athuk theme song," Richard.
I've very pleased with the reception that this story has gotten thus far, with over 124 page views per story update thus far (on average). Shackled City topped off at 127 views/update, and that was for a very established story with no doubt a lot of return readers as the page count got longer.
So I do keep track, and appreciate all posts!
* * * * *
Chapter 20
BLOODY RECKONING
Tiros stabbed Valor into the ogre that had taken down Dar. Once again he hit, and once again the axiomatic blade bit deep, but the ogre seemed to have a limitless stamina. The monster started to turn, and Tiros knew that Dar was far tougher than he... and that the ogre had taken him down in a single attack.
But there was naught else to do but fight on.
He got a momentary respite as Varo’s summoned ape, having finished off the first ogre, sprang forward to attack the leader. As the ogre swept its club around it seized onto its arm, digging its teeth deep into the ogre’s hairy flesh. The ogre snarled, and smashed its other fist down hard into the ape’s brain pan. The creature instantly went slack and collapsed to the ground, dissolving back into a red mist that left not even a smear behind on the stone.
Varo rushed forward to aid the stricken Dar. The ogre, having dealt extensively with priests, perhaps sensed that this harmless-looking foe was a serious threat. As Varo entered its reach, it swung its club around in a wide arc. Varo seemed to have expected the attack, though, for he dodged low, the powerful stroke missing him by scant inches. The club smashed into the wall where Dar had been flung a few seconds previous, sending bits of stone and wood flying.
Tiros knew that a lot depended on the cleric getting Dar back into the fight. “Over here, you stupid brute!” he yelled, thrusting Valor home for the last time. Tiros’s arms felt like rubber, and the blow barely cut the ogre’s skin, but he could feel the power within the sword thrum within his hand, and he knew that the beast felt the power of Law tearing through its corrupt body.
He certainly got its attention, as it turned, and delivered a truly punishing blow that locked Tiros back against the wall. Valor fell from his limp fingers and clattered to the ground; the world began to spin around him. It was only through a superhuman effort that he clung to consciousness. Through the haze that clouded his vision, he could see the ogre lifting the club for another swing that would finish him; he could hear its shout, like something heard from the end of a very long tunnel.
So be it. I gave it my all, he thought.
But then a familiar voice cut through the haze, and returned him to sudden clarity.
“I got something for you, bitch.”
The ogre’s club went flying from its hands as Dar slammed his club into the joint of its elbow. The ogre roared in pain and rage and turned on the fighter, reaching out with its other hand to grab the human’s head. But Dar wasn’t done yet. He brought the club up and with a violent yell brought it down with all his strength onto the front of the ogre’s skull.
There was a loud crack.
The ogre’s hand swept out, but Dar easily avoided it. The ogre staggered a step to the side. It looked around, its eyes unable to clearly focus on anything.
Then it toppled over, landing with a loud crash upon the ground.
Dar regarded the body, then the club. “You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad weapon after all.”
Varo had gone to help Tiros, and with his healing wand brought him back around to full consciousness. Dar took a cautious look outside; there was another dead ogre lying a few paces away, its head and arms covered in patches of bright green slime.
“Weren’t there more of them?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Maybe you scared them off, taking out the big guy,” Tiros suggested.
“Maybe, maybe,” Dar said.
“That was extremely close,” Varo said. “I fear that my spells are nearly depleted once again.”
“How are we doing on the wand?” Tiros asked.
“About half of its power remains,” the cleric replied.
“We’re going through healing like a soldiers through a barrel of ale,” Dar said.
“There is nothing we could have done differently,” Tiros said. “This place is deadly, and we cannot wander about battered and injured.”
“And when the healing runs out?” Dar asked.
Tiros picked up Valor, and returned it to storage within his magical glove. “We will deal with that as best we can when it happens,” he said.
Dar and Tiros searched the bodies of the ogres, turning up only a handful of coins of meager value. Varo treated their wounds, and they set out once again.
Giving the slime-infested ogre a wide berth, they made their way to the corridor that led south, from which the ogres had come. Their torches shone on a glistening trail of bloody footprints, these ogre-sized, which continued in that direction for as far as they could see.
After about sixty feet, they came to a door on the side of the passage. This portal was quite different from the doors they had encountered thus far. Set into a recessed threshold, this door was of polished ebony wood, reinforced with bands of flawless steel that did not show the slightest trace of rust or decay. As if that wasn’t enough, there were golden runes set into the door, framed by patterns set in delicate filigree.
“Now, this is interesting,” Dar said. Taking a closer look at the door, he exclaimed, “Hey, this is inlay, real gold!” He drew his dagger, but Tiros stopped him.
“Look, I’m not a mage, but even I’m smart enough to see that this door is bad news,” the marshal said.
“Bah, it’s just a door. Right, Varo?”
The cleric hadn’t spoken since they’d encountered the portal, and he continued to stare at the runes as if his companions were not there.
“Varo? Can I hack up this door or not?”
“The runes are in the infernal script,” the cleric said. His fingers traced the patterns of the odd letters, but he was careful not to touch them. “Although the words are unfamiliar. Except for...”
His finger stopped over a complicated spiral of golden lines and whirls. “Saracek.”
“It is a name?” Tiros asked.
Varo finally broke his connection with the door and looked at him. “Yes,” he said. “This is not the way we want to go.”
“What? C’mon, that’s got to be a few hundred coins worth! You’re killing me here, Varo!”
“Consider that the gold is still here, undisturbed,” Tiros said. “Why didn’t the ogres take it, or the barbarian, or the wererats?”
“That which rests beyond this door is far greater than what any of us can handle,” Varo said. “I will not stop you if you wish to defile it, but I will not stay nearby, either.”
The cleric lifted his torch and continued down the passage. Tiros went with him, but Dar lingered a moment, licking his lips as he gave the golden inlay another long look. But as the torches of the others began to cast the corridor around him into deep shadow, he sighed and hurried to catch up with the others.
The corridor continued straight for quite a long distance, maybe as much as two hundred feet from the door where the ogres had initially appeared. Finally the passageway turned right, revealing several additional doors on both sides of the corridor ahead.
The bloody footprints went directly to the first door on the left, which was slightly ajar.
“Ware an ambush,” Tiros said quietly, as they approached the partly-open door. Dar reached it first, and gently prodded it open with his sword.
The room beyond was a rectangle about the size of the storerooms they’d found earlier. This one showed clear signs of recent occupation, and they could have guessed at its occupants even before they saw the ogre sitting propped up against the wall in the corner.
The creature was in terrible shape. Its left leg ended just above the knee, surrounded by a pool of blood and lumps of bright green slime. The ogre’s hands, what was left of them, were likewise covered in slime. Its fingers were mere nubs, and the stuff seemed to pulse as it continued to consume the body, replacing flesh with more of its own matter.
“I would guess that it stepped on a bit of slime on the floor during the attack,” Varo said. “It may not have even noticed, at first, until the substance ate through its boot. Clearly by the time it detected the threat, it was already too late. Once the stuff gets a good grip on the skin, the only real solution is to burn it off.”
“I can abide a quick kill in the heat of the melee, but gods, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone,” Tiros said. Even Dar shuddered, and his cheek twitched.
And then the ogre stirred.
The three companions jumped, even though the ogre barely moved, its head twitching slightly. Its eyes fluttered, not quite opening, and a sound, weak and terrible, rattled in its throat.
“Put an end to it,” Tiros said, his voice thick, turning away.
Dar nodded, and thrust his sword into the ogre’s throat, careful to stay clear of any of the patches of slime. The ogre let out a last hiss, and fell still.
Dar drew back and cleaned his blade. The three Doomed Bastards looked down at the body of the ogre for a long moment in silence.
“I hate this place,” Dar finally said, summing up the feelings of all of them.
And to think, one of my players is just aching to explore this dungeon. Heh.
Aching is a good word. So is bleeding... dying works well, I think as does 'scrathing and clawing'...
Perhaps there will be some goodies in the ogre lair to sate Dar's gold lust and if the DM has any mercy they could actually find something useful! although the magical club seems to have come in handy =-)
I've not read through the entire module, but after reading this I'm starting to think that any party exploring the place should have mutiple clerics...
My opinion would be it makes for a great slug fest for a larger than normal group of PCs. Id be really surprised to see LB give out treasure not right out of the mod. That tends to be his MO. I hope when I come back after dinner that fridays session is up.
__________________ Eric Price
Rogue without a Home
Id be really surprised to see LB give out treasure not right out of the mod. That tends to be his MO.
Yeah, I'm just using what's provided in the module for the most part, with an occasional tweak here and there (the module references some books that I don't own). If the crew ever does make it out into the outside world, that might change.
Quote:
I hope when I come back after dinner that fridays session is up.
And here it is. I find myself making more and more "Eric's grandma" edits, especially when it comes to Dar's dialogue. Let me know if anyone finds what's here to still be too much (although the language in my SH is actually rather more tame that what's in popular SHs like Sepulchrave's and Sagiro's). I'm keeping the original text in all its glorious off-color in my version, for eventual PDF compilation.
* * * * *
Chapter 21
THE PROMISE OF ESCAPE
Varo said that the slime would eventually consume the entire body of the ogre, so they carefully burned away the clinging green ooze from its hands and from the stump of its leg. The smell of burning ogre flesh that quickly filled the room wasn’t much of an improvement, and they were grateful when they could turn away from that task and search the room.
There were two exits from the room, a door in the far wall and a narrow tunnel, little more than a hole in the wall, to their left. For some inexplicable reason, the ogres had lined up several hundred copper pieces in three matched rows across the floor of the room. The coins were not worth the effort of carrying them, especially given their present burdens, so the three left them where they lie and chalked up the whole thing to yet another example of the bizarre nature of Rappan Athuk.
The small tunnel looked like it might go somewhere, but it was cramped enough so that it would require them to go through on hands and knees. Leery of that option, they left it for the moment and turned to the far door.
The door opened onto an even smaller room. The stench of ogres here was almost overpowering, and a great heap of furs suggested that at least some of the ogres used this chamber to bed down. There didn’t look to be anything of value here, but Tiros recommended that they give the room a thorough search. Dar grumbled, but the marshal’s foresight was proven valuable when they turned up a few interesting items. Of most immediate note was a greatsword of masterwork make, and with thin lines of gleaming alchemical silver etched into the steel along the edges of the blade.
“That would have been useful against the wererats, no doubt,” Varo observed. Tiros had no interest in the weapon, so Dar added it to his growing arsenal. They also found a small crystal bottle containing a bright blue elixir, which Varo took, and a last discovery that Dar found more interesting than even the sword.
“By the gods,” he said, uncorking the thick bottle of cloudy brown glass, and sniffing at the contents.
“What is it?” Tiros asked. “Another potion?”
“A thousand times better, my friend.” The fighter took a draught from the bottle, which was about half full. He immediately took on a contented look, and let out a sigh. “A crime that such a thing was wasted on ogres, but I will forgive them this once, since they saw fit to leave this here.”
Varo took a sniff of the bottle. “Brandy,” he said. Dar did not offer a drink, and the cleric did not request one.
“Great,” Tiros said. “That’s all we need on top of everything, is to have you drunk to boot.”
“Suck it, marshal,” Dar said, his tone light, but his eyes hard. “You’ve got twenty years on me, and while maybe I can’t run a command tent as well as you, when it comes to this,” he patted his sword, “you’re in no position to bitch me out.” He laughed, and after taking another swallow of the liquor, tucked the bottle into his pack. For a moment Tiros looked as though he would challenge the fighter over the bottle, but then he thought better of it, and instead turned and left the room.
After a brief debate over whether to press on, or explore the small tunnel in the back of the room, the companions decided to at least give the tunnel a look for proceeding. Dar, in a better mood now with a gill of distilled wine working its way through his system, agreed to take the lead. He took off his pack, shield, and extra weapons, laying them carefully by the entrance. Tiros handed him a torch. Drawing his sword, he held it in his other hand as he leaned into the entrance, listening for the telltale sounds of dire rats before proceeding.
But the tunnel was quiet, and no enemies surged out of the darkness to attack as he crawled down the tunnel. The tight warren shifted to the left, and after about thirty feet opened onto a large, low-ceilinged room. The chamber was irregularly shaped, and the worked stone of the rest of the level had given way to rough walls of packed earth. Expecting an attack, the fighter carefully shone the torch around the room. The place had two exits, both small tunnels like the one he had just traversed. There were some marks in the floor that might have been prints left by creatures; they were too muddled to make out. But otherwise, the room was empty.
“Anything?” came Tiros’s voice from the tunnel.
“All quiet, for now,” Dar reported back. “Hold on a second.” He turned to the nearer of the two tunnel exits. Probing it with his torch, he saw that it started sloping steeply down almost at once. A faint breeze from below caused the light to flicker slightly.
“Wrong direction again,” he muttered to himself. He turned away and headed over to the other tunnel mouth. Once again, the light of his torch fluttered as he thrust it into the opening, but this time, the flame revealed a shaft that rose precipitously up.
Dar took a deep breath, and after breathing the fetid air of Rappan Athuk, with its odors of piss, crap, blood, and death, it was like he’d taken a bath.
Grinning, he returned to the original tunnel opening.
“You guys had better come in here,” he said. “And bring my stuff. I think I’ve found a way out of this craphole!”
< . . .
And here it is. I find myself making more and more "Eric's grandma" edits, especially when it comes to Dar's dialogue. Let me know if anyone finds what's here to still be too much (although the language in my SH is actually rather more tame that what's in popular SHs like Sepulchrave's and Sagiro's). I'm keeping the original text in all its glorious off-color in my version, for eventual PDF compilation. . . >
Reads just fine, the rough nature of the individuals is presented without being overly crude.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Lazybones
< . . .
“You guys had better come in here,” he said. “And bring my stuff. I think I’ve found a way out of this craphole!”
Awww man, now Dar is gonna die... probably just got poisoned or somethin heh-heh.
Dar grunted and braced his arms against the packed earth of the shaft. After the initial fifteen yards or so of ascent, which had been steep enough, the rising tunnel had become nearly vertical. Dar was a decent climber, but he was tired, the gear he carried was dragging him down, and the tight confines of the tunnel were not giving him much space to maneuver. That could be an advantage; he’d already avoided falling twice by the simple expedient of thrusting his arms and legs out to grip the sides of the shaft.
The slight gusts of fresh air that wafted down from above gave him added strength, however, and cemented his determination to win free of the confines of Rappan Athuk. He had no idea if it was night or day, above; the shaft twisted and turned enough that he probably wouldn’t know until he rounded the last bend. Or maybe the shaft opened onto a cave; probably occupied by a nest of fierce monsters, given his recent luck.
Dar grinned and adjusted his sword. He would welcome such a fight, as long as there was light at the end of the tunnel.
His foot landed on a seemingly solid clod that disintegrated as soon as he put his weight upon it. Instinctively he thrust his arms out again, but this time, the packed earth gave way at his touch, and he couldn’t stop himself from sliding downward. The slide became a fall, clods of dirt exploding around him as his armored torso shot down the shaft. It was all he could do to protect his face; he couldn’t even turn over onto his back.
Tiros and Varo dodged back as he shot out of the tunnel mouth, and rolled to a stop, coughing and covered in dirt.
“Are you all right?” the cleric asked.
Dar didn’t answer, pulling himself up—grimacing as the motion pulled something already strained in his back—and turned back to the tunnel.
“Give it up,” Tiros said. “You’ve already fallen twice, and you’re going to break your neck.”
“I am getting out of here,” Dar said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
“Without the rope that Ukas was carrying, it’s too difficult,” Tiros said, his own voice thick with weariness. Even if you do get out, what about the rest of us? And what about the extra gear? Even leaving your pack with us, you couldn’t do it, Dar. And the wilderness around Rappan Athuk is not a friendly region by any measure.”
“I was getting close, I could feel it,” Dar said. “If we stay here, we’re dead. You know that as well as I.”
“Perhaps I can help,” Varo said. “Given another chance to rest and recover spells, I could summon a small elemental that could help make the ascent more manageable. Set footholds, the like. It wouldn’t be here for very long, but it could help.”
Dar nodded. “At least somebody agrees with me. You might want to stick around and loot this place, marshal, but I’ve had enough, treasure or no.”
Tiros did not respond, but he looked troubled.
They made their way back to the ogres’ chambers. Varo suggested that they might want to check the doors they’d seen back in the outer corridor, but Dar refused.
“Why push our luck? The last few times we’ve opened doors, we haven’t had much success, have we? I say we turtle in here again, let you get your spells back, so you can call your mental friend, and then we get the hell out of this dump.”
It took all three of them working together, but they got the dead ogre’s corpse in front of the door leading to the outer passage. With that doorstop in place, they retreated to the inner room. The place was almost too foul to abide, but after they dragged most of the rancid furs out of the room, they could just stand it.
“I’d sleep in crap if it meant getting out of here,” Dar said. Now that the promise of escape had coalesced into a concrete plan, he seemed to be in a much better mood. He even offered to take the first watch. Despite that fact that they had last slept just a few hours before, Tiros and Varo were out again within moments.
Varo woke once more to a darkened room. He could sense Dar a short distance away. “Any trouble?” he asked.
For a moment, there was only silence, and the cleric wondered if the fighter had fallen asleep. “No trouble,” Dar finally said. “Quiet as the grave.”
The cleric touched his divine focus, and summoned a globe of soft light that filled the room. Tiros lay nearby. Dar was sitting against the wall, looking a bit haggard.
“You were up all night?”
“Night, day, what does it matter, in this place. I’ll get my fill of sleep when we get out of here.”
“It will take some time for me to pray for my spells,” Varo said. “Get some sleep.”
Dar nodded. He took out his bottle, and took a long draught from it. He didn’t bother to take off his chain shirt, but merely slumped down, and was snoring gently within a few moments.
Varo waited for a few minutes, and then went to the door. Careful not to make any noise, he opened it and went out into the outer room. The dead ogre was starting to reek of decay, but Varo paid the stench no heed. Sinking into a kneeling position, the cleric abased himself before his god, calling upon the divine potency of Dagos to infuse him with power.
It took the better part of an hour, but the deity answered his call.
Varo rose and walked over to the tunnel entrance. The light spell had expired, so he paused to summon another one, fixing the radiance to upon the end of his mace. Without his gear or armor, it took only a few seconds to make his way through the passage, into the room of packed dirt. He paused to pick up a clod of black earth, one of those dislodged by Dar’s earlier efforts to climb the shaft to the sunlit world above.
For a moment, Varo regarded the dark opening pensively. Then he began to cast a spell. The words of power seemed to swell within him, demanding to be shouted at the world with all his might, but he was used to resisting that temptation, and the sounds made barely a whisper as he completed the complex incantation.
There was a momentary pause, a gathering of power, and then a cloud of mist coalesced before him, dissolving to reveal a truly massive badger with silver fur. The creature, almost six feet long, regarded him coldly.
“I know you do not appreciate being summoned by one such as I, creature, but I require a simple service of you.”
The badger merely looked at him.
Varo pointed toward the tunnel mouth. He held up his hand, the one holding the clod, and crushed it in his fingers, letting the dirt sift between them to the ground below. Then he said something to it, soft words in a lilting, sing-song that may or may not have been a comprehensible language.
The dire badger turned, and proceeded into the tunnel. It barely fit inside the opening, but its strong claws pulled it inside, and soon it was gone from view.
Varo didn’t wait around. He crossed back to the exit, and returned to the rooms where the others slept.
Greetings and well met good ser Lazybones. It has been a wild and wooly ride, beginning with Tales and on through to the re-uniting of Mole and... *ahem* well, suffice it to say that this darker tale, while wonderful fare... well it certainly lives up to billing now doesn't it? I finally had to post after enjoying your gifted writing, I look very much forward to reading this new direction you have taken your characters.
Ximix: thanks, and I really appreciate you signing up for an ENWorld account just to post in this thread.
I'm curious if any other readers have read all 3 stories to this point? I know the older threads still get some views, and of course the first two stories are still available for download.
I'm way ahead in the story at the moment, and if there are still folks who are reading faster than I can post on the 3 updates/week schedule, I can go to a Monday-through-Friday update schedule starting next week. Let me know your preference, readers.
* * * * *
Chapter 23
BACK ON TRACK
“Damn it, what happened?”
Dar’s question was met only with silence; it was obvious what had happened, or at least the results were. The three companions stood in the rough dirt chamber, facing the shaft that led to the surface.
Or at least what had been the shaft. The opening was clogged with rich brown earth, and a few probings had indicated that the collapse was complete, and continued as far back as they could reach.
“We’ll dig it out,” Dar said.
“With what?” Tiros said. “Our hands? Face it, the chance has passed. Clearly someone or something knew we were here, and it decided that we weren’t going to get out of here.”
“It is possible that our presence here is being monitored,” Varo said. “Remember the gravestone, above.”
“Damn it,” Dar said, throwing down his shield. “If they know we’re here, why don’t they just attack and get it over with? Bring the bastards on, and be done with it.”
“You didn’t hear anything?” Tiros asked Varo.
“No, but when I am lost in my prayers, I am heavily distracted,” Varo said. “And the door in the ogre quarters was likely thick enough to absorb anything but the noise of a raging battle.”
“What about your elemental?” Dar asked. “Can it dig through that?”
“Perhaps, given time, but the summoning spell is very brief in duration,” Varo explained. “It would take days, at best, assuming that most of the shaft is still intact above.”
“We don’t have days,” Tiros said. “I’ve already begun to feel... weakened. It might just be this place, all the fighting, the bad food, but I don’t think so.”
Varo nodded. “The crystal death. I can delay its effects, but only at the expense of most of my available higher-order spells. I may eventually be able to purge our bodies of the substance, but at the moment, that ability is beyond my powers.”
“So damned close,” Dar muttered.
“We’re all frustrated,” Tiros said. “But we’ve got to keep going. There’s got to be more than one way out of this hellhole.”
“Just let me find some of those priests of Orcus,” the fighter hissed, taking up his shield once more, and leading them back toward the exit.
Dragging the ogre corpse away from the outer door, the three men made their way back into the main passage. They checked each of the three doors they found in the opposite wall. The small rooms beyond were each odd and unique. In the first, they found a magical broom sweeping dust and dirt into a mound in the center of the place. In the next, they found a heap of construction supplies, including a large stack of weathered wooden boards, a set of assorted tools, and a box of iron nails. The items were old but still useable. The last door opened onto a room filled with a horde of rats. Three of the largest attacked the companions, while the others ran about wildly, squeaking in a crazy cacophony. Dar took out some of his earlier frustrations upon the creatures, and when they left the room was a bloody mess of torn up corpses. None of them had suffered any injuries.
Beyond the three rooms, the passage continued straight on for some distance before turning right. Directly ahead, the corridor continued about twenty feet into a dead end, while to the right, they could just see another door at the end of the passage in that direction.
“I believe that we have come full circle,” Varo said. “If I am not mistaken, that door leads back into the room where we first entered the level.”
“So we’re back to square one,” Dar said.
“Not quite,” Tiros said. “There were a few more doors in that first room, as I recall, and there’s still the dirt room near where we fought the ogres, and that black door, the one with the gold.”
“I haven’t forgotten that one,” Dar said.
Varo lingered, looking down the short dead-end passage.
“Sense something?” Tiros asked.
Varo shook his head. “Not really. It’s just—”
“Trouble!” Dar hissed, drawing his sword. The others turned as the door down the far corridor creaked open, and a pack of ghouls appeared.
I'm curious if any other readers have read all 3 stories to this point? I know the older threads still get some views, and of course the first two stories are still available for download.
Ayup.
I may mostly lurk these days, but I'm still here and have all three tales under my belt.
And this, for what it's worth, is my favorite so far. Now just put a full-progression arcanist in there that doesn't get massacred right off the bat and I'll be ecstatic.
__________________ "On a long enough time line, everyone eventually rolls a 1."
-- Merkuri
I'm curious if any other readers have read all 3 stories to this point? I know the older threads still get some views, and of course the first two stories are still available for download.
Well, of Course!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Lazybones
I'm way ahead in the story at the moment, and if there are still folks who are reading faster than I can post on the 3 updates/week schedule, I can go to a Monday-through-Friday update schedule starting next week. Let me know your preference, readers.
I'm curious if any other readers have read all 3 stories to this point? I know the older threads still get some views, and of course the first two stories are still available for download.
I read through Shackled City on the boards and downloaded the pdf version of Travels. I've only made it through the return from Isle of Dread portion of that tale, however.
Quote:
I'm way ahead in the story at the moment, and if there are still folks who are reading faster than I can post on the 3 updates/week schedule, I can go to a Monday-through-Friday update schedule starting next week. Let me know your preference, readers.
More is certainly welcome, but I'd rather have the story doled out slowly rather than risk a big dry spell later on. That's my 2 coppers, anyway.
More is certainly welcome, but I'd rather have the story doled out slowly rather than risk a big dry spell later on. That's my 2 coppers, anyway.
A valid concern, given the irregularities of my schedule. Tell you what, if I ever drop below 12 updates "in the bank", I'll drop back down to a 3/week schedule. I've got about twice that right now, in draft format at least.
I'm w/ Jon ... rather have it steady than all at once and then nothing. I started on the Shackled City but actually dropped it early on just in case I ever get the chance to play in it. I'm interested in the others though. What (and where) are they again?
Someone mentioned Isle of Dread...do you have a Greyhawk story? That'd be sweet. I cut my teeth on the venerable Greyhawk in the 70's and 80's. (Shows how bloody long I've been playing this darn game.)
As always....nice work.
__________________ "I've done so much with so little for so long now that... Well, I can do anything with nothing."
Let me know if anyone finds what's here to still be too much (although the language in my SH is actually rather more tame that what's in popular SHs like Sepulchrave's and Sagiro's). I'm keeping the original text in all its glorious off-color in my version, for eventual PDF compilation.
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