[4e] Fallen - Prologue: The Crucible (Full)

[Insight]

Q'ynn Daelrith - Crucible Challenge III - An Inspirational Story
Q'ynn Daelrith was almost finished mucking the last stall in the gladiatorial stables when he heard a familiar grunt and then a sneeze from the rear of the stables. Theebie was awake.

"Criminy!" the griffon exclaimed. "What's that smell?" Theebie didn't really care that much for the smell of other animals, especially the warhorses, and the stench of their excrement offended his senses even more.

Q'ynn, bucket in hand, rounded the corner of the large stall to see Theebie roughly flap his wings and shake his head. "You know exactly what that smell is," Daelrith said.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," the griffon replied. "What are you still doing here?"

That was a good question on two levels. Daelrith had spent more than the required time cleaning out the stables. He often dallied here so that he was less likely to be chosen to fight. Q'ynn really didn't care for the company of most of the other fighters. There were a few he liked: Grumber, of course, Sadaj, the dragonborn, Manripper, the half-troll who was nicer than his name sounded, Atrius, the eladrin, Pirx, strangely, and Kadaj, the goliath. Some of the newer gladiators he barely knew and, since they weren't likely to be around long, Daelrith decided it wasn't worth his time to get to know them.

But Theebie's question also struck a deeper chord. Why was Daelrith still fighting in the arena? Surely, Q'ynn had fought enough battles and earned his masters enough glory and gold. Normally, those slaves who win enough matches were released or moved onto new venues. Q'ynn wondered if maybe other forces were at work keeping him in the area.

"Kord be praised," Q'ynn said. "You have a lot of questions this morning."

"Oh, Kord this and Kord that," Theebie replied. "One would think Kord were your sire the way you talk."

"He is my deity," Q'ynn said. "Were it not for the grace of Kord's divinity, I likely wouldn't be standing before you now."

The griffon ruffled his feathers. "And this is bad, how?"

"You're in a bad mood," Daelrith pointed out. "I think someone needs to be fed." Q'ynn moved to an awful-smelling trough full of various animal and beast scraps, the freshest of which was a week old.

"Darn right," Theebie said. "Have any sheep?"

"I don't see any," Q'ynn replied, holding his nose. "I see some owlbear... and some horse, I guess."

"Ooh, no horse!" Theebie said. "I guess the owlbear."

Q'ynn took a shovelful of owlbear meat and dumped it before Theebie.

"Say," Theebie said. "You never finished telling me that story about your grandfather and that mermaid."

Q'ynn finished dumping the second shovel load of owlbear meat. In an attempt to evade the aroma, he took two steps back. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

***

If you recall, my maternal grandfather was Kiernan Malley, a sailor of some renown. He sailed the Shining Coast, from Port Maul to Garigos to Ethizar, all the way to the Ends. So famous was Kiernan Malley that, when the war broke out between Salthea and Uither, a conflict that became known as the War of the Maiden's Ear, King Hedrizas of Salthea commissioned my grandfather as admiral of the Salthean navy. Admiral Malley led a fleet of seven tall ships, at the head of which was King Hedrizas' flagship, the Courser, one of the fastest and most powerful ships in the known world.

A half-elf, Admiral Malley found himself captain of a flagship that was also half-elven. Not in the way you think; the crew of the Courser was half human and half elf. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. In the Salthean navy, elves and humans had worked alongside each other for generations. The problem, as you could well imagine, was the enemy. Uither, located on the edge of the Staw Forest, was allied with the elves of said forest and populated its naval and ground forces with those elves. It was likely, then, that elves would be pitted against elves and, according to elven religion, that could not happen.

My grandfather had a plan, a dangerous plan, but a plan nonetheless. Admiral Malley knew of an island known as Harpies' Rest. The island was notorious among sailors. They avoided Harpies' Rest because of the inhabitants' penchant for charming sailors and luring them to their untimely deaths. Malley knew, however, that the harpies had been wiped out because he and his crew had been the ones responsible for driving the wicked creatures from the island. Malley sailed his fleet across Greydepths Bay, where it was likely Salthean and Uitheran navies would clash, to Harpies' Rest and explored the island. There, Malley located a great, ancient conche shell. Blowing on the shell summoned a mermaid named Pashreeta, whom Malley had known, on a rather intimate basis mind you, many years before. Admiral Malley knew of the mermaid's ability to charm elves, which most creatures couldn't manage, but also knew that Pashreeta was unlikely to leave the island. Thus, Admiral Malley proposed marriage and the two were wed then and there.

Pashreeta traveled alongside the Courser back to Greydepths Bay. Within a day or so, sure enough, Uitheran ships loaded with elven archers and marines, crossed into view. The Courser drove straight for the Uitheran flagship, the Intrepid. The elves on both ships saw each other and confusion ensued. As neither party really wanted to do battle, Pashreeta intervened. She used her charm powers on the Uitheran elves, who immediately came under the mermaid's power. Pashreeta caused the Uitheran elves to board the Courser and ally themselves with their fellow elves, forming a huge force. Together, the elves conquered the rest of the Uitheran fleet and sailed towards Uither.

One thing naturally led to another and before long, Uither was forced to capitulate and sign a peace treaty that exists to this day. And all because of a mermaid and her ancient and unabiding love for a half-elf sailor.

***

"That's ridiculous," Theebie remarked. "No sea creature ever fell in love with a human."

Q'ynn saw a bit of owlbear flank about to fall from the griffon's mouth. "You've got a --"

"Ah," Theebie replied, flipping his lip and catching the morsel. "Thank you. Anyway, I don't believe it."

"It's true," Daelrith replied. "I can prove it."

"Balderdash," the griffon said. "Besides, if your maternal grandfather married a mermaid, then who was your grandmother?"

Q'ynn began to finish his work. "I can show you the proof if you want."

The griffon finished off the rest of the owlbear. "Mmm," he said. "Hits the spot." He looked around the immediate area. "Any more owlbear?"

Q'ynn nodded his head. "Nothing left but horse," he replied.

Theebie grimaced. "Do they expect me to starve in here?"

"If I kill something in the arena, something you can eat, I'll insist they bring it straight here," Daelrith said. "Last chance to see the proof."

"Proof of what?" Theebie demanded. "Your ridiculous tale of maritime copulation?"

Q'ynn stopped what he was doing, putting his filthy mop aside. Drawing up his left sleeve, Q'ynn revealed a secret he showed to few.

"Are those... scales?" the griffon asked, astounded. "Maybe my eyesight is starting to go."

"Your eyesight is fine," Q'ynn said, rolling his sleeve back down. "That's not the only place they appear, but it's the only place I'm going to show you."

"But that means..."

"It doesn't mean much," Q'ynn said. "I can swim a little better than most. That's about it."

That sure shut the griffon's mouth. All he could do is sneeze and grumble for the next five minutes, whereupon Q'ynn Daelrith was finished with this work in the stables and returned to the gladiator barracks.

 

[Sparky]

((This space reserved for the Destiny Roll for CC II
DESTINY ROLL: Caged, Q'ynn, Run, Rodeh get +1
Roll

This space reserved for the Destiny Roll for CCIII

DESTINY ROLL: Pirx, Kadaj; Q'ynn, Following get +1
Roll


And now, the final challenge! ))

Crucible Challenge IV: Your Greatest Fear
A creature, an event, a nightmare. What is it that makes your blood run cold, your palms sweat and your heart race?

(( Crucible Challenge IV

-- One post per PC
-- Deadline for Posts - Midnight Thursday the 8th
-- PM your 4 favorite posts to me from EACH Challenge
-- Deadline for Voting - Midnight Sunday the 11th
-- All times GMT -8 (PST)

))

 

[renau1g]

[sblock=OOC]
Just wanted to put something out there, wasn't sure if you all realized it or not, but for CC3 the story isn't an original, but rather part of a larger story. I saw it and thought it perfect for my PC, just in the interest of disclosure, please know that the work is not mine. I apologize if I gave off a different impression and if this affects votes please change accordingly.
[/sblock]

 

[Kobold Stew]

Crucible Challenge IV

When Pirx first was captured, he was not surprised that any of the brood were being spared. He should have been, but his mind was on his hand. The tendon had been cut, between his first and second thumb, slashed as a blade came down on him, and he had had nothing else with which to defend himself, save for his hand.

Beneath the arena, it didn’t heal well, and as pus and blood clotted the stench from his swollen fetid fist continued. His grip was gone, as was any fine motor control. It itched and he scratched away the fur, and pulled at it with his teeth even though that brought the reek closer to his nostrils, sharpened with his hunter’s training. He would never hold a bow again, he was sure.

Stopping the bleeding was fine, but it was clear to any with eyes or a nose within those cold stone walls that the hand wasn’t healing, the tendons and ligaments were fusing wrong. The goblin’s hand was rotting. Even holding a stick to drill for bugs in the dirt walls was more than Pirx could comfortably tolerate. Had Thorgil not found him, taken pity, and – unexpectedly -- rebroken his hand, Pirx would now be dead. Instead, Thorgil took him to one of the gladiators (an elf, or half elf, Pirx recalls hesitantly, though at the time he was screaming in a lot of pain) and coaxed a healing spell from him (a cleric or paladin, then, Pirx deduced later). Had he not done this, Pirx would have lost the hand completely.

Pirx learned gratitude that day, though he only ever thanked Thorgil, and not the dimly remembered figure who actually healed him. But he also learned what he fears most.

Every time Pirx looks at his hands and sees that scar, he summons an image. The image is of him, in a room, staring at his two wrists, ending in stumps. He stares in amazement at what simply isn’t there. He wants to bite away at the nuisance, but he can’t. His hands are gone (not cut off and bleeding but apparently cauterized, healed), and time slows because Pirx knows now he is nothing. No one keeps a goblin around for his conversation. Pirx is a professional hunter, but he can barely balance himself now were he to lean down and smell for tracks. No touch – the sensation of his long elegant fingertips is a memory. And above all, Pirx is an archer. As the goblin looks at the stumps, he sees the bow that isn’t there. A goblin’s grasp may be, proportionately, the strongest of all the humanoids, and some goblins have been known to weigh no more than fifty pounds but still have the grip strength of the mightiest dwarf. That’s not Pirx, of course, but nothing is now – no fingers, no thumbs, no hands, no touch, no fur on the back of his hands to be warmed by the setting sun at the end of a very long watch. And the absent grip fails to hold the bow Pirx now imagines lying vainly on the ground. Pirx screams in his image, though the image stays silent. No means to climb or to scramble or to guide his eyes as he would try to read a map or a scroll. And no archery. No means to defend the brood back when he still had a brood and no means to defend himself now when he needs to. All that is gone, in Pirx’s imagined vision of himself. There is simply him, staring at his hands, and trying to think of a way to kill himself if only he could open that door.

A goblin might fear many things, but this wee one appreciates terror. Pirx knows what it is that he fears the most. And he has decided how he will end it all, if he should ever find himself alone in a room with no hands.

 

[hafrogman]

Atrius - Crucible Challenge IV

Keevan had gotten caught. His sister was sick, and he'd been sneaking her extra food from the kitchens. But now they had caught him. We were all gathered in the slave chambers. My mother had tried to argue that I was too young, I shouldn't have to watch. But the rules were the rules. All the slaves had to bear witness to punishments. How else would we learn our place? And so I stood beside my mother and watched.

Keevan stood in the middle of the room, stripped to his waist. They hadn't bothered to tie him down. If he tried to avoid the beating, it would just be worse for him. Keevan's sister was crying in the corner. Someone was trying to comfort her. The master's head of household was in charge of the beating. He spoke to us, telling us of Keevan's crimes and due punishment, intoning them in a flat litany. Theft from the Master. Twenty lashes. He sighed deeply before he began. I don't think he wanted to do this any more than we wanted to watch.

The first stroke fell across Keevan's back with a deafening crack. I hid my face in my mother's skirts. I didn't watch the rest of the whipping. But I still remember it. Each lash of the whip. Each muffled groan from the victim. Each sob from his sister. The slaves stood silent witness to the beating, powerless to prevent it. The man with the whip silently carried out his duty, no more able to avoid his fate than Keevan. None of us were in control of our own destinies.

Occasionally I will hear the same sounds here in the gladiator pens, and it still chills my blood. Anyone who refuses to fight is beaten. The sound is the same. the crack of the whip, the voice of pain. And we all sit and bear witness, as there is nothing we can do to change it. Nothing we can do. Nothing.

 

[eblue562]

Rodeh's eyes shot open quickly. He went from laying prone to sitting up in a second, grabbing Amma at his side and thrusting it forward. Cold sweat pouring down his forehead, he was about to grumble something when a familiar voice chastised him.

"One of these days I'm going to get cut just gettin' into bed, you stupid dwarf." It was Thonatos, his recent companion and temporary arena-mate. Rodeh had been lucky so far in that category. He had the benefit of three arena partners; two had become fast friends. The third had an ...unforseen accident with his own sword. Lucky enough for Rodeh.

Rodeh just stared at Thonatos, his breath still coming fast. Thonatos sly smile changed from jeering to slightly worried, "What is the matter, Rodeh? Can't ya take a joke?" Rodeh shook his head slightly and regained his composure.

"Ever since I came to this blasted place, I've had a very strange and vivid dream, young lad," Rodeh said, replacing Amma by his side and grabbing a small piece of dried cloth to wipe his forehead. Noticing Thonatos' interest, he continued, "I see myself, or what I think is myself, running towards a house. Though I've never seen this house before in my life, I somehow know that my family is inside of it. I feel a cold presence behind me. Not just a feeling of cold, but that the entire entity is the embodiment of the Northern Mountains. It is chasing me, but that is not my problem. My family is in trouble.

I always get to the steps of house, just before it explodes in a living ball of fire. This fireball turns into the figure of a devil, laughing horribly at me. I am thrown back by the force of the blast, and I can feel the tentacles of the frost behind me, and the lips of the fire licking my face. I'm trapped between this world of fire and ice as I see my entire family burning in the stomach of this devil-fire. I can't move, can't speak, can't breath. All I can do is watch my family being consumed with terrible agony." Rodeh looked toward his companion with troubled and pained eyes. Thonatos meets his trouble gazed with a weak attempt at a smile.

"It's just a dream, friend," he says, trying to comfort the bravest and most fearless dwarf he knows. Rodeh just shakes his head, wondering how much truth is in his comrade's words.

 

[renau1g]

CC4 - Don't Fear the Reaper - Fear Kadaj

Kadaj is known throughout the arena for his blinding speed and amazing agility, having felled foes more than twice his size and enemies that could crush stone. He considers himself the best of the best when it comes to his art, his passion, his life, the assassin has given up everything for his pursuit. He has no family, no true friends, no life beyond his insatiable need for perfection. Kadaj had honed his body into a deadly weapon, stretched the limits of his humanity to become the cold, calculating, deadly warrior he is today. There is but one dark dream that causes even this heartless man to wake up in a cold sweat.

***
The crowd roars in their typical fashion, Kadaj had long grown accustomed to their sounds and they, to his typical indifference to their cheers. He'd spent two long decades here in the arena and despite several attempts, could not manage to escape its deadly grasp. The man was now well into his forties and although his physique and skill would put most men half his age to shame, Kadaj knew he'd slowed down. His body was aching and his joints sore. His reflexes were not nearly as sharp as they'd been in his prime and the assassin knew that he was no longer the most deadly man in the arena. He'd gotten lucky the last few battles and now Erstad was toying with him. Kadaj was put up against foes whom he couldn't respect, men he would've destroyed without any difficulties only a decade ago, now pushed him to his limit. Kadaj knew of the noble's ace in the hole, the man who would drive the stake into his heart. All in the arena knew the name of Dulgrim, the eladrin warrior whom was said to move with such grace that it seemed as if he was made of water.

"Today's the day" he realized, as the eladrin strode out opposite him and he saw the grinning face of Erstad in the private box. Taking a deep breath, Kadaj stepped out onto the sands and drew his daggers. His dark brown hair has faded to a silvery gray colour, his once taut muscles were beginning to sag and his skin had deep lines from age.

He awaited the fey's charge and when it happened, Kadaj wasn't ready for it, the enemy had appeared behind him and slashed with such speed that the human couldn't react in time. The blow was minor, merely a scratch as the cat toyed with the mouse. His face flushed red with anger and Kadaj launched into a series of stabs, slashes and feints intending to finish it quickly, however each time he was met with Dulgrim's longsword, parrying the blows, or sidestepping his attacks.

Stepping back, Kadaj was feeling the exertion of battle wear on him, despite only being in the early stages of the fight. He drew breath in short quick spurts as the eladrin confidently circled around him, stalking him.

Kadaj spat on the ground, catching his breath, when his foe charged forward, tumbling under his attack and knocked one of his enchanted daggers away. Kadaj knew he was in trouble now as his small blade would struggle to parry the large weapon of the eladrin. He knew he had only one chance against the fey and quickly threw his dagger , hoping to blind the enemy. Unfortunately, Dulgrim anticipated the attack, the throw taking far longer than Kadaj would've liked, and the weapon was knocked out of the air.

The eladrin rushed forward and ran Kadaj through up the hilt of his longsword, whispering in his ear "You are not the best human, what hope had you against those who live forever" as he threw the dying Kadaj to the sands.

***

 

[Walking Dad]

Crucible Challenge IV

The air stank of rancid smoke. You couldn’t discern if it was midday or midnight, because the residue of the various pyres darkened the sky. In the dancing flame light, through the ruins, the legions of Yeenu-Thet and his master marched. The looked like the demon version of the common gnoll, the way a bebylith looked like an earthly spider. There were only small group of rebels, consisting of the former residents of this land, left. All the others were dead or soon to be dead, killed by the merciless slave labor they were forced to do. With there victory nearly absolute, the dark army moved to other lands, killing humans, elves, dwarfs and the other races without further thought. They didn’t came to conquer, but to destroy, Yeenu-Thet seemingly a being of true mercy next to the things he called ‘master’. But it were his call and preparations that prepared this plane to suffer their presence. Would have he been destroyed in time, his high-priest killed and his temples razed to banish him forever, this could have never happened.

All this was in the failure of one Moon Knight. One servant of Bashu who could have made a difference…

This is Fury's greatest fear: To fail and to damn the world, and by it, the whole plane.



And being still jailed in an arena is no good start.

 

[Phaezen]

Following Challenge IV

Following, sat with his back to the cool wall of his cell, watching the flow of the shadows around him and the sparse furniture. He tried but failed to remember a time when he could not feel the shadows, when he could not manipulate them, when he could not ride them.

As he thought about this, fear crept over him, quickly overwhelming his senses. What if there is a time in the future when he would loose contact with the shadow, surely this would be a fate worse than death?

 

[CaBaNa]

Run'and'Hide Crucible Challenge IV

"IT", had followed him around since he could remember. Not always visible though, IT was even more stealthy than drow. IT occasionally had friends, to back IT up. The best defense was to keep ones back pressed tightly against a wall, or lay directly on the ground. Often times Run'and'Hide did both, or rocked between the two.

Once they had forced him to battle two of THEM, and a great man, in the arena. THEY were on him before the battle even began. Run'and'Hide has never been fast enough to escape IT, never hidden well enough to lose IT, and to this day lives in mortal fear of IT.

Especially after IT actually attacked one of his teammates in the arena!

What is IT?

[sblock=IT's it.]

Run'and'Hide is deathly afraid of his own shadow.

A slight nod to Assasin's in general, the comment on the shadow actually attacking someone, insert PC if you wish.

[/sblock]