Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 3287409" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>Scrolls and scraps of parchment littered the Baron’s writing table. Yorath’s powerful body hunched like a spider at the centre of a paper web. He acknowledged the presence of the companions with a grunt and then belied this apparent disinterest by rigorously cross examining their statements for a full hour. Satisfied at last, he sank back in his chair and let out a vast sigh. Summoning a servant to pour wine, he pronounced his judgement.</p><p></p><p>“Its difficult to know what to make of you. On the one hand, instead of delicately trying to assess what is going on you assault a secret pirates lair and slay a wizard in his den! Not what I would call subtle”, he said dryly. “Yet on the other hand, you have succeeded beyond any expectation against superior foes and numbers. Through your courage, some might say recklessness, we are revenged upon the Blood Sails and likely free of any further trouble from them”.</p><p></p><p>The baron paused in his speech long enough to allow his liegemen to puff out their chests a little at this complement. “And yet”, he continued, “you have failed in your chief mission, which was to discover the reason for the attacks in the first place”. The companions deflated with an almost audible susurration. Satisfied with their contrition, the Baron smiled. “All in all, I find myself pleased nevertheless. You have come a long way and demonstrated that despite your unorthodox methods, you are capable of delivering results. Which is for the best as my other gladiatorial bands are away on various missions and unavailable to give you further training before the games begin. For the moment I have no further tasks for the Hydra. You have ten days to sharpen your skills amongst yourselves and to make preparation for the journey to the Games in Halfast. Report to my bursar for your entry fees and look to my steward for equipment”. The baron gestured for them to leave, saying “Now go enjoy yourselves this night, you have earned it. Many cares press upon me and I doubt we’ll meet until the conclusion of the games. Carry the pride of Yorathton always in your hearts.”</p><p></p><p>The ten days allotted to the companions passed swiftly. They trained amongst themselves, repaired or replaced damaged equipment and drew provisions for their journey. The Baron’s generosity had stretched to the point where he provided them with mounts, the better to speed their journey and this also occupied the time of those with little experience of riding. </p><p></p><p>The month of Low Summer passed and with the dawn of the second day of Burn the companions rode for Halfast. Uniformly outfitted in the black and green of the Hydra and with their gear in good order, they made an impressive sight. More importantly, each saddle bag jingled with the weight of 5000 silver sickles worth of gold coin, the prodigious entry fee required for participation in the Games. </p><p></p><p>Throughout the morning the temperature climbed steadily as the sun beat mercilessly on the land. Knowing that many days of travel lay ahead of them, the Hydra allowed their mounts to walk at a gentle place. Despite this, the horses were visibly drooping by mid afternoon. Overhead an ominous crack of thunder split the cloudless sky. A mile south of the trail, Argonne spotted a thick plume of smoke.</p><p></p><p>Sweating profusely, they broke from the trail and rode to investigate the fire. They found an isolated farmstead in the last stages of burning to the ground. The remains of the inhabitants were littered in and around the building. Those not burnt by flames had been rent to pieces and partially consumed. Several bodies twitched and Morgan observed rats working at opened bellies like a line of piglets at their mother’s teats. More of the rodents peered from under the shadows of every bush, brazenly watching the companions as they took in the carnage.</p><p></p><p>Moxadder dismounted and crouched to examine the clawed tracks which criss-crossed the dusty ground. Several converged and lead to an outbuilding that had escaped the flames. Just as he realised what had made the tracks he a flicker of motion inside the barn’s half closed doors. He gave a start and then leapt astride his mount. “Ride!” he shouted at his companions even as a horde of vicious rat trolls burst from the building. </p><p></p><p>The warning gave the companions a few precious seconds to spur their horses away from the peril. The panicked steeds needed little urging as they raced to escape the small but deadly trolls. They hit the road at a flat out gallop and did not relent until their horses began blowing foam from their mouths. Dismounting, they walked their steeds until they regained their wind. Gazing back, they were relieved to see they had escaped the trolls. The sun had sunk low and in its fading light they made their camp. </p><p></p><p>Though exhausted, sleep only came with difficulty for they were still on edge from their narrow escape. Even with the sun gone there was no respite from the heat which encompassed them in its stiffling folds. No wind stirred the tinder dry land. That night there was no lack of insomniac volunteers to stand watch for want of anything better to do.</p><p></p><p>Mid way through the night Mortec spied a procession of ghostly white figures march silently through the blood warm darkness. Led by a patriarchal figure clad in ancient Gerechian vestments, they passed a mere score of paces form their camp. The gnome turned to warn his companions but saw they were awake to a man. They held themselves still, scarce daring to breathe as the insubstantial figures filed past in orderly procession. Oblivious to the observers, they kept their gaze fixed on their spectral leader as they passed around and partially through the curve of a small hill. </p><p></p><p>A tiny flame glowed once they had passed as Moxadder used his conch to light some Devil Weed. Half of it disappeared almost immediately so hard did he draw on it to try and steady his nerves. Gerard found himself wishing he had some of his own. The terrors the drug unleashed were preferable to musing on what had passed by. One by one they settled to their haunches, resigned to maintaining a wakeful vigil until dawn. </p><p></p><p>At first light they mounted their steeds and rode on. The morning heat swelled up to near intolerable temperatures which did not abate when a hot breeze sprang up and rolled dark brooding clouds across the sky. At one point they passed the body of a mountain troll, its flesh teeming with hundreds of rats intent on stripping it to the bone. Later, a pack of rats the size of small dogs ambushed them from behind a fallen tree. It was almost with relief that the companions laid about them with blade and cudgel in defiance of the danger and the strength sapping heat. Here at last was a physical outlet for the fear and tension they had been under. The rats’ hunger soon proved ineffectual in the face of the savage fury of the companions.</p><p></p><p>“We have to leave now!” said Argonne with sudden urgency as Stravarius viciously spitted the final rat on the end of his rapier.</p><p></p><p>“Why? That was the last of them” the Black Elf said as he wiped and sheathed his blade.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about THAT”, the woodsman shouted urgently.</p><p></p><p>Stravarius looked up to where the woodman pointed further down the road. An obscenity passed his lips as what looked like a brown river swept across the land towards them. A river made up entirely of rats in numbers so vast it beggared belief. They flowed across the ground like a living carpet, consuming everything that crossed their path. As they turned to flee, the noise and stench washed over them simultaneously. The force of it nearly hurled them vomiting from their saddles as they clapped hands to their ears while doubled up with nausea. The horses thundered back they way they had come down the road, eyes bulging in terror as they sought to outpace the oncoming doom.</p><p></p><p>Realising their flight was taking them back to the rat trolls of the day before, Gerard wrenched his mount from the road and up a slight incline. The others followed him on faith, fighting to keep together and desperately clinging to their bucking saddles. To fall was to die horribly. Slowly, far to slowly, they began to pull away from the noisome swarm. All were convinced their doom was upon them and the horrid squealing of the rats shrilled them to the point of madness.</p><p></p><p>A deep throated roar cut through the high pitched chittering and a massive troll appeared two hundred yards to their right, a tide of rats almost at its heels. Where the creature touched earth large stony spikes reared up, impaling the rats that passed over them. Heedless, other rats swarmed over their dead companions and surged up the trolls legs and back. Somehow, it staggered on, a wriggling mound of furry bodies and writhing tails until a dozen paces later it sank to the earth. Almost immediately, the body began to shrink as it was consumed by a thousand, thousand ravenous maws.</p><p></p><p>A deep boom rolled from the heavens, diverting the companion’s attention from the troll’s gruesome death. Fortunately, their mounts had been running all the while and a little distance now separated them from the living plague though it was doubtful the horses could maintain lead for long. The way levelled out and Gerard glimpsed an ancient Gerechian trail marker. For lack of a better idea he goaded his mount in the direction it pointed. Overhead, the overripe clouds swelled purple and reluctantly sweated a few thick beads of rain. The smell of wet dust rose to compete with the receding stench of the rats. Lungs gasping in the sweltering atmosphere they fled onwards.</p><p></p><p>A large hill appeared to their left, an ancient structure built in its face. Without word they turned toward it, the relentless swarm of rats trailing in their wake. As they closed on their objective they were amazed to see the land turn into neglected fields sowed with weeds. A group of poorly clad peasants appeared to be working the old and barren land. </p><p></p><p>Clutching ancient tools, their rags blowing in the hot breeze, they seemed unaware of the approaching apocalypse. As the companions neared the farmers they realised there was something terribly wrong. A few starving rats had already reached the workers and begun to nibble on them. The peasants toiled on, paying them no heed whatsoever. Silently they worked their useless tools and scattered imaginary seeds over the unbroken earth. To Gerard’s utter horror he saw there was little to nourish the rats, merely ancient bone and dry sinew for these peasants had been dead a long, long time. Rather than being allowed to rest a profound evil had seized their bodies and forced them to twitch and dance a degraded parody of their former lives.</p><p></p><p>Unable and unwilling to stop, they raced past and fetched their mounts sharply against the front of the building. The massive walls and doors were concealed beneath a sinister black membrane. Hearing the rats close in behind them they desperately clawed and hacked through the disquieting barrier. Even in his fear, Mortec noted the grinning skull of Geduld that was ripped asunder in their desperation. Beneath were powerful doors of bronze set with a massive symbol of Gerech. Human, gnome, Horse and Black Elf hurled themselves against the doors and forced their way inside. With barely a moment to spare they turned and slammed doors in the face of the devouring wall of rats. </p><p></p><p>The sound and smell of the nightmarish plague abruptly subsided with the closure of the doors. Their heaving terror filled the ensuing silence as pitch darkness consumed them.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 3287409, member: 15187"] Scrolls and scraps of parchment littered the Baron’s writing table. Yorath’s powerful body hunched like a spider at the centre of a paper web. He acknowledged the presence of the companions with a grunt and then belied this apparent disinterest by rigorously cross examining their statements for a full hour. Satisfied at last, he sank back in his chair and let out a vast sigh. Summoning a servant to pour wine, he pronounced his judgement. “Its difficult to know what to make of you. On the one hand, instead of delicately trying to assess what is going on you assault a secret pirates lair and slay a wizard in his den! Not what I would call subtle”, he said dryly. “Yet on the other hand, you have succeeded beyond any expectation against superior foes and numbers. Through your courage, some might say recklessness, we are revenged upon the Blood Sails and likely free of any further trouble from them”. The baron paused in his speech long enough to allow his liegemen to puff out their chests a little at this complement. “And yet”, he continued, “you have failed in your chief mission, which was to discover the reason for the attacks in the first place”. The companions deflated with an almost audible susurration. Satisfied with their contrition, the Baron smiled. “All in all, I find myself pleased nevertheless. You have come a long way and demonstrated that despite your unorthodox methods, you are capable of delivering results. Which is for the best as my other gladiatorial bands are away on various missions and unavailable to give you further training before the games begin. For the moment I have no further tasks for the Hydra. You have ten days to sharpen your skills amongst yourselves and to make preparation for the journey to the Games in Halfast. Report to my bursar for your entry fees and look to my steward for equipment”. The baron gestured for them to leave, saying “Now go enjoy yourselves this night, you have earned it. Many cares press upon me and I doubt we’ll meet until the conclusion of the games. Carry the pride of Yorathton always in your hearts.” The ten days allotted to the companions passed swiftly. They trained amongst themselves, repaired or replaced damaged equipment and drew provisions for their journey. The Baron’s generosity had stretched to the point where he provided them with mounts, the better to speed their journey and this also occupied the time of those with little experience of riding. The month of Low Summer passed and with the dawn of the second day of Burn the companions rode for Halfast. Uniformly outfitted in the black and green of the Hydra and with their gear in good order, they made an impressive sight. More importantly, each saddle bag jingled with the weight of 5000 silver sickles worth of gold coin, the prodigious entry fee required for participation in the Games. Throughout the morning the temperature climbed steadily as the sun beat mercilessly on the land. Knowing that many days of travel lay ahead of them, the Hydra allowed their mounts to walk at a gentle place. Despite this, the horses were visibly drooping by mid afternoon. Overhead an ominous crack of thunder split the cloudless sky. A mile south of the trail, Argonne spotted a thick plume of smoke. Sweating profusely, they broke from the trail and rode to investigate the fire. They found an isolated farmstead in the last stages of burning to the ground. The remains of the inhabitants were littered in and around the building. Those not burnt by flames had been rent to pieces and partially consumed. Several bodies twitched and Morgan observed rats working at opened bellies like a line of piglets at their mother’s teats. More of the rodents peered from under the shadows of every bush, brazenly watching the companions as they took in the carnage. Moxadder dismounted and crouched to examine the clawed tracks which criss-crossed the dusty ground. Several converged and lead to an outbuilding that had escaped the flames. Just as he realised what had made the tracks he a flicker of motion inside the barn’s half closed doors. He gave a start and then leapt astride his mount. “Ride!” he shouted at his companions even as a horde of vicious rat trolls burst from the building. The warning gave the companions a few precious seconds to spur their horses away from the peril. The panicked steeds needed little urging as they raced to escape the small but deadly trolls. They hit the road at a flat out gallop and did not relent until their horses began blowing foam from their mouths. Dismounting, they walked their steeds until they regained their wind. Gazing back, they were relieved to see they had escaped the trolls. The sun had sunk low and in its fading light they made their camp. Though exhausted, sleep only came with difficulty for they were still on edge from their narrow escape. Even with the sun gone there was no respite from the heat which encompassed them in its stiffling folds. No wind stirred the tinder dry land. That night there was no lack of insomniac volunteers to stand watch for want of anything better to do. Mid way through the night Mortec spied a procession of ghostly white figures march silently through the blood warm darkness. Led by a patriarchal figure clad in ancient Gerechian vestments, they passed a mere score of paces form their camp. The gnome turned to warn his companions but saw they were awake to a man. They held themselves still, scarce daring to breathe as the insubstantial figures filed past in orderly procession. Oblivious to the observers, they kept their gaze fixed on their spectral leader as they passed around and partially through the curve of a small hill. A tiny flame glowed once they had passed as Moxadder used his conch to light some Devil Weed. Half of it disappeared almost immediately so hard did he draw on it to try and steady his nerves. Gerard found himself wishing he had some of his own. The terrors the drug unleashed were preferable to musing on what had passed by. One by one they settled to their haunches, resigned to maintaining a wakeful vigil until dawn. At first light they mounted their steeds and rode on. The morning heat swelled up to near intolerable temperatures which did not abate when a hot breeze sprang up and rolled dark brooding clouds across the sky. At one point they passed the body of a mountain troll, its flesh teeming with hundreds of rats intent on stripping it to the bone. Later, a pack of rats the size of small dogs ambushed them from behind a fallen tree. It was almost with relief that the companions laid about them with blade and cudgel in defiance of the danger and the strength sapping heat. Here at last was a physical outlet for the fear and tension they had been under. The rats’ hunger soon proved ineffectual in the face of the savage fury of the companions. “We have to leave now!” said Argonne with sudden urgency as Stravarius viciously spitted the final rat on the end of his rapier. “Why? That was the last of them” the Black Elf said as he wiped and sheathed his blade. “I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about THAT”, the woodsman shouted urgently. Stravarius looked up to where the woodman pointed further down the road. An obscenity passed his lips as what looked like a brown river swept across the land towards them. A river made up entirely of rats in numbers so vast it beggared belief. They flowed across the ground like a living carpet, consuming everything that crossed their path. As they turned to flee, the noise and stench washed over them simultaneously. The force of it nearly hurled them vomiting from their saddles as they clapped hands to their ears while doubled up with nausea. The horses thundered back they way they had come down the road, eyes bulging in terror as they sought to outpace the oncoming doom. Realising their flight was taking them back to the rat trolls of the day before, Gerard wrenched his mount from the road and up a slight incline. The others followed him on faith, fighting to keep together and desperately clinging to their bucking saddles. To fall was to die horribly. Slowly, far to slowly, they began to pull away from the noisome swarm. All were convinced their doom was upon them and the horrid squealing of the rats shrilled them to the point of madness. A deep throated roar cut through the high pitched chittering and a massive troll appeared two hundred yards to their right, a tide of rats almost at its heels. Where the creature touched earth large stony spikes reared up, impaling the rats that passed over them. Heedless, other rats swarmed over their dead companions and surged up the trolls legs and back. Somehow, it staggered on, a wriggling mound of furry bodies and writhing tails until a dozen paces later it sank to the earth. Almost immediately, the body began to shrink as it was consumed by a thousand, thousand ravenous maws. A deep boom rolled from the heavens, diverting the companion’s attention from the troll’s gruesome death. Fortunately, their mounts had been running all the while and a little distance now separated them from the living plague though it was doubtful the horses could maintain lead for long. The way levelled out and Gerard glimpsed an ancient Gerechian trail marker. For lack of a better idea he goaded his mount in the direction it pointed. Overhead, the overripe clouds swelled purple and reluctantly sweated a few thick beads of rain. The smell of wet dust rose to compete with the receding stench of the rats. Lungs gasping in the sweltering atmosphere they fled onwards. A large hill appeared to their left, an ancient structure built in its face. Without word they turned toward it, the relentless swarm of rats trailing in their wake. As they closed on their objective they were amazed to see the land turn into neglected fields sowed with weeds. A group of poorly clad peasants appeared to be working the old and barren land. Clutching ancient tools, their rags blowing in the hot breeze, they seemed unaware of the approaching apocalypse. As the companions neared the farmers they realised there was something terribly wrong. A few starving rats had already reached the workers and begun to nibble on them. The peasants toiled on, paying them no heed whatsoever. Silently they worked their useless tools and scattered imaginary seeds over the unbroken earth. To Gerard’s utter horror he saw there was little to nourish the rats, merely ancient bone and dry sinew for these peasants had been dead a long, long time. Rather than being allowed to rest a profound evil had seized their bodies and forced them to twitch and dance a degraded parody of their former lives. Unable and unwilling to stop, they raced past and fetched their mounts sharply against the front of the building. The massive walls and doors were concealed beneath a sinister black membrane. Hearing the rats close in behind them they desperately clawed and hacked through the disquieting barrier. Even in his fear, Mortec noted the grinning skull of Geduld that was ripped asunder in their desperation. Beneath were powerful doors of bronze set with a massive symbol of Gerech. Human, gnome, Horse and Black Elf hurled themselves against the doors and forced their way inside. With barely a moment to spare they turned and slammed doors in the face of the devouring wall of rats. The sound and smell of the nightmarish plague abruptly subsided with the closure of the doors. Their heaving terror filled the ensuing silence as pitch darkness consumed them. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
Top