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
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Byzantium on the Shannon, Part the Second
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="CleverName" data-source="post: 250773" data-attributes="member: 2591"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 45 INTERLUDE</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Meanwhile…</em></p><p></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>~~~~ INSERT EXPENSIVE WAVY DREAM EFFECTS ~~~~</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Aoelif woke up to the sound of fat dripping on a fire, and the weak light of a small flame. It is night and she was laying on a bearskin in front a small fire. She expected to feel dead, or at least battered and bruised, but instead she felt fine, well, a little cold, but since she was naked, that’s understandable. </p><p> </p><p>A rabbit carcass was suspend above the flames on a branch – that’s what was cooking. It was rubbed with rosemary; she smelled that now. The last thing she remembered smelling was the churned earth of the grave pit and boot heel of the necromancer – spiced with her own blood. It smelled good and she was ravenous.</p><p> </p><p>She propped herself on her elbow and her head swam, perhaps she was not as hale as she first thought, although she still felt no pain, -- she didn't feel much of anything really. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly there was a flash of movement beyond the fire and a knife appeared, its pommel quivering in the ground next to her outstretched hand. </p><p></p><p>“Carve yourself some coney, Aoelif; you look half dead.” </p><p></p><p>A figure sat opposite her -- hooded in a gray cloak with a sidhe-styled cloak pin. His face was hidden, but every once in awhile the firelight caught in his eyes and they glinted back at her. A white horse was tethered behind him. “You like rabbit as much as you like dying Aoelif?”</p><p></p><p>“I do like rabbit,” she answered, “and thought I was the one in the snare. I do not wish to die, yet, but I still feel as bad as I suspect I look.” </p><p></p><p>She inspected her arms and the places where gashes should still remain. She took the knife, carefully glancing for some clue of her benefactor on it, and tried to sit up. She did not try to cover herself, as there was no point. She tried to stand, swooned, and knelt closer to the fire. She pushed her very long hair back, and looked to the cowled man’s face trying to catch his eyes. She thought ‘Is the voice familiar?’ She leaned carefully to the fire, as to not scorch her bare skin. Aoelif took the spit of rabbit, and set it off the fire to cool. </p><p></p><p>“Thank you. Where are we now? Where is Nyag’s servant? Where are my companions? How did you…?” She glanced about for a drink, SIG, and then to the white horse. </p><p></p><p>She saw nothing but the bearskin she sat upon, the dark skies above, a low mist about her, and the fire. The horse had no saddle, but a bridle. It snorted at her. </p><p></p><p>“You are welcome for the meat. As for where we are, we are in the unseelie realm. Volodya, your ‘necromancer’ friend is in his crypt by now, probably gifting your weapons to his cold-handed bodyguards I would guess. Soon Nyag will fill his corpse again with her magic and he will set out again, but I cannot read his foul mind.</p><p></p><p>“Your companions? Two are seeking Vihar’s aid, the rest are awaiting those results. As to your last question, ‘how?’ Well, ‘why?’ is probably a better question.” </p><p></p><p>“First though, an old man will wag his finger a bit. Finn did not teach you to throw your life away. I am not a god of war, but I know that if you continue to charge to the front without support, you will be dead again. I will not aid you to only have you throw yourself on the next villain's sword.”</p><p></p><p>He pointed a long fingered hand out of his grey cloak at her chest and she felt ice grip her heart. “I would teach you that lesson, if you will open your ears!” He stood and seemed to tower over her. The twin sparks of his eyes merged with the starry sky.</p><p></p><p>“That is not why you are here, my lovely, although you would be wise never to forget my words.” He smiled – unnaturally large teeth glittered in the gloom of his hood. “In fact, you never will.”</p><p></p><p>“You are here because I do not take kindly to an ollave of Nyag who masquerades as my priest and tries to steal that which does not belong to him. Although I appreciate the right of vengeance as much as any other sidhe would, it does not excuse all of his offenses to my family.</p><p></p><p>“You’ve put him off his game for the moment, but he’s left his prize well-guarded while he searches for the final key to Cathal’s tomb and decides how to best track down and kill the rest of your companions.”</p><p></p><p>He grew calmer, picked up the rabbit and bit off a piece. Then he sat back down. “I love this flavor it imparts, quite nice. A family secret.”</p><p></p><p>“Arawn” Aoelif breathed as she bowed her head. “It was Finn who ate of the salmon, not I. I prefer rabbit.” </p><p>She managed a weak smile, and then it faded as she listened and remembered. “I will take your words to my gra… I will heed them and take them to heart.” </p><p>She wobbled as she again tried to stand. She looked into his gleaming eyes “If I am with you, then I must be dead, my candle burnt out? And I must belong to you and yours then? Why would you take a moment with this Fianna? I have never called to you before. What would the Nyag priest want of the crypt of king Cathal? What prize?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m getting to that.” He replied. “We gods of Faerie try our best to stay out of each other’s way – we have laws of our own. We don’t send forth our Avatars willy-nilly. We don’t interfere in the squabbles of our worshippers as long as certain rules are kept. Claiming to be my ollave was a minor breach, Volodya, your “necromancer,” was wise to make sacrifices to me and beg my forgiveness. Desecrating the temple to my sister Brigid was a more serious blot – still Nyag is not of my pantheon, so it happens. Now Volodya threatens to steal a gift I gave the Saluri and THAT has given me more leave to act. Still I cannot just go to one of my ollaves and tell them the tale – it must be discovered, or I have to be asked by the living. Then I can tell my tale.</p><p></p><p>“You on the other hand are mostly dead, so I can speak to you freely, that is why I talk to you, Fianna. You life ebbs, Aoelif, soon the Sisters will snip your tread and you will go off to join my Norse counterpart, Hel. I can repair that, but I cannot give you back your possessions, I fear Volodya took them to his true demesne in the mountains of Rolgulka.</p><p></p><p>“When your friends could offer him no reason to keep you alive, Volodya slit your throat my dear and drank your blood for fun – taking some for his rituals. He stripped your dying body and then buried you in a shallow grave to ripen up until he has further need of your corpse. Volodya has many such buried around here – one of his larders.</p><p></p><p>He waved his arm and the mist thinned. Aoelif now saw that she was in a graveyard – in fact she was on a fresh mound of earth.</p><p></p><p>“Vengeance drives Volodya. I will sharpen it like a dagger and cut his throat with it. </p><p>“You, Fianna, are my little dagger.”</p><p></p><p>Aoelif swallowed hard on the huge lump that filled her throat. ‘My FRIENDS could offer no reason to keep me alive? He drank of my blood? I am gravebound?’ </p><p></p><p> Aoelif started to shiver and her skin crawled. She clamped her eyes shut tight to help concentrate and keep her wits about her.</p><p></p><p>Her voice quivered, “Arawn, I have great respect for your wisdom. May I ask what gift he seeks? What prize is Volodya still guarding? I will sharpen under your hand.” </p><p></p><p>“Ahh, that is a long tale and it starts with your first encounter with him. You will find that Volodya is a resourceful enemy. When you were but striplings, you alerted Vihar to his plans and destroyed the charnel pit he needed to raise the Ulugustasaa, – the great wyrm of Nyag which would have given him an army of undead. Remember that?</p><p></p><p>“Volodya can already raise and control over a hundred skeletons – far beyond most ollaves’ power, still what he needs are thousands, tens of thousands of dead warriors to crush Vihar.</p><p></p><p>“He began looking elsewhere for friends to aid him in his war with Vihar. He walked up and down in the dark mountains near the Vale of Thunder until he found the rotten might of Cestmiru, the great indigo drake. Cestmiru will have to be dealt with in the end, I suppose, perhaps she is the true author of this tale of misery, but she is wholly out of your league, for now, dear one. Volodya would have approached her on his belly and Vihar will not have her head on his wall, were it even possible to fit it there.</p><p></p><p>“Volodya aided Cestmiru’s grandchildren in various ways, and in return walked out of her emerald pit with many secrets of ancient dragon magic and bits of lore concerning artifacts of the Gods of Death – including several tales of the Saluri and their ancient pacts with the Lord of the Dead. </p><p></p><p>“When you journeyed over the ice to find Ingolf’s brother, he found Moireach, seduced her with promises of immortality and dragon princes begot by a dragon-king -- hatching a plot to steal the throne of the Helvetti, allowing him time to root for his real treasure. Again you and yours, with help of wizard or three, foiled that. </p><p></p><p>“But he had already wormed his way into the hearts of several Cimbri lords by this time, poisoning their beloved as you already suspect. Moireach’s death and Brice’s victory, merely delayed him. While staying with Caldor he found the mound and as Gudlaug suspected, re-opened the pits as an excuse to dig toward the barrows of the Saluri Kings.”</p><p></p><p>“Why? One of the stories Volodya learned from that putrescent dragon, Cestmiru, gave him hope for his army. There many stories of those who claim kinship with me -- most contain a sprig of truth. Some tell of an ancient barrow of a Saluri king -- the final archway before the burial chamber is magicked with arts so fell that living beings passing through are stripped of their flesh and turned into servitors of the crown of the Saluri. It is said that any doomed tomb robbers caper about and play music for the dead kings’ enjoyment. Only the true heirs of the Saluri kings can pass through unharmed, or those warded by a certain herb from a particular story – or already dead masters of necromancy.</p><p></p><p>“Of course I would not make it easy for an evil person to gain such gifts and the Saluri devised traps of their own measure to protect their kings. Were I to have built such a place, I would place the entrance to the chamber behind a silver door, locked with a puzzling key. A key of two parts: one physical, one magical. One part that could never come from one such as Volodya. The clue to the other ingredient is held partly in a tale of morality and mortality, not one of power and undead legions on the march -- a tale that Volodya may not have paid attention to. </p><p></p><p> “Now, I have given you all the parts to this tale and this puzzle. Protect the tomb for you own sake and for the sake of Faerie itself. Otherwise, you will not stop Volodya. To avenge himself on Vihar he will bring down the Helvetti, make them his servants and draw the humans into his bloodbath as well.</p><p></p><p>“I cannot tell the future Aoelif, my province is the past, the dead. But Volodya will return soon, perhaps provoke the war to give him time to puzzle out my clues; I’m sure he will contact Nyag for help. I will thwart that route for a time. </p><p></p><p>“Still you need your brains and the help of your friends. One and only one of them has part of the key. You can provide the clues to the other, if you’ve not figured it out by now. You might be able to get the crown before Volodya.“</p><p></p><p>Her eyes still clamped tight, and quaking as she sat in the fresh turned shadow earth, Aoelif listened and tried to understand. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her hair formed a covering all about her naked body. </p><p>“Why does Volodya hate Lord Vihar so?”</p><p></p><p>“That tale I will leave for Vihar – he will owe it to you in the end. I will tell you this Volodya seeks vengeance for a betrayal that happened before your father lay with your mother.”</p><p></p><p>Aoelif spoke quietly, “I remember the tale of Cathal and Ronan, your gifts to them, and Ronan’s misuse of them. I do not know what my companions possess that may be part of a key. If I were to be your small weapon, I would please ask but one thing to aid me. I am… afraid. I fear places of the dead, ever since I first visited the Unseelie plane and saw Tavia’s human undead. If you wish me to guard a tomb, I will need a stronger countenance. Will your true followers know I act under your hand? Will I go forth as I am to my companions?” </p><p> </p><p>He waved his hand. “It is done. My places will be a comfort to you from now on. I remove your fear of the places of the dead.” </p><p></p><p>The fear she had been given by the Bag of Norn stones was gone, like the snuffing out of a candle’s flame. </p><p></p><p>He swept off his cloak revealing him to be a striking, dark haired sidhe, dressed in a dark green kilt and scarlet shirt. He was pale and his skin seemed to hang oddly on his bones, but he was still beautiful, his eye burned with a gray fire like an ashed-over ember. </p><p></p><p>She looked at him, “As long as my flame still flickers in your hall, I will act as your small blade, as you have been my whetstone.” </p><p></p><p>“Good.” He took her by the shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. He pulled the cloak over her head and fastened the cape around her. He was tall beside her.</p><p></p><p>“And I give you my cloak. (+2 Cloak of Resistance – adds +2 to all saves). Its buckle will give you protection from six life-draining attacks of Volodya’s folk (as Scarab of Protection with 6 charges). You may keep these in remembrance of me. Honor the Gray Lord of the Dead on Samhain, Aoelif.”</p><p></p><p>He took off his belt of dark leather and silver, from which hung the scabbard of his dagger. His hands passed over her waist and she felt his touch – at once icy and hot. From the bearskin where it rested he plucked the dagger and slid it in the sheath. </p><p></p><p>“You may use my dagger (+2 Undead Bane Dagger – acts as a +4 weapon vs. undead and +2d6 damage to them.) When Volodya is destroyed forever, bury it in Faerie soil and it will return to me.”</p><p></p><p>He lifted Aoelif’s chin and kissed her – warmth flooded back into her and she realized just how cold she was.</p><p></p><p>“I will return you to your friends. If you wish to secure the crown before Volodya returns, you must act quickly. You must solve the riddle of the silver door and face many dangers before even that. I believe Volodya will return to the pit soon, with aid – but I cannot tell you the future for certain. I hear the march of armies, not long away, and the call of many dead.”</p><p></p><p>He strode away from her and jumped onto the back of the horse. “I have used up my and my sister Brigid’s allotment to intervene -- sending you back and telling you what I have. No more aid can I give you. </p><p></p><p>“Keep Volodya from getting the Crown or failing that, return it to the tomb. </p><p></p><p>“Destroy Volodya forever for his crimes against me – a task that may be beyond you at the pit.” </p><p></p><p>“Lastly, I hope I will not see you again for a long time, Aoelif. Remember my words of caution. If Hel will not have you…” He paused and for the first time he looked at her like she would have expected a sidhe to look at a beautiful ljosalfar woman, and he winked. “…then I will.” His horse wheeled under his touch, eager to spring away.</p><p></p><p>“Tell Brice if he wishes the blessings of the Saluri once enjoyed, then I need to see greater offerings on my holy days, perhaps a stone set for me in his compound as well. </p><p></p><p>“Lie back on your pallet, close your eyes and I will send you home…”</p><p></p><p>Aoelif lay back and saw the hoves of the gray horse's hooves begin kicking up sparks - its eyes, wide with fear or anger, turning towards her. She forced her eyes closed and gripped the bearskin pallet. </p><p></p><p>Thunder rolled towards her, mingled with the beating of hooves and her heart. </p><p></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>~~ INSERT EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE WAVY DREAM EFFECTS ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p></p><p><em>-- written by Wayne, Jessica and Jon </em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="CleverName, post: 250773, member: 2591"] [b]ADVENTURE 45 INTERLUDE[/b] [i]Meanwhile…[/i] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~ INSERT EXPENSIVE WAVY DREAM EFFECTS ~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Aoelif woke up to the sound of fat dripping on a fire, and the weak light of a small flame. It is night and she was laying on a bearskin in front a small fire. She expected to feel dead, or at least battered and bruised, but instead she felt fine, well, a little cold, but since she was naked, that’s understandable. A rabbit carcass was suspend above the flames on a branch – that’s what was cooking. It was rubbed with rosemary; she smelled that now. The last thing she remembered smelling was the churned earth of the grave pit and boot heel of the necromancer – spiced with her own blood. It smelled good and she was ravenous. She propped herself on her elbow and her head swam, perhaps she was not as hale as she first thought, although she still felt no pain, -- she didn't feel much of anything really. Suddenly there was a flash of movement beyond the fire and a knife appeared, its pommel quivering in the ground next to her outstretched hand. “Carve yourself some coney, Aoelif; you look half dead.” A figure sat opposite her -- hooded in a gray cloak with a sidhe-styled cloak pin. His face was hidden, but every once in awhile the firelight caught in his eyes and they glinted back at her. A white horse was tethered behind him. “You like rabbit as much as you like dying Aoelif?” “I do like rabbit,” she answered, “and thought I was the one in the snare. I do not wish to die, yet, but I still feel as bad as I suspect I look.” She inspected her arms and the places where gashes should still remain. She took the knife, carefully glancing for some clue of her benefactor on it, and tried to sit up. She did not try to cover herself, as there was no point. She tried to stand, swooned, and knelt closer to the fire. She pushed her very long hair back, and looked to the cowled man’s face trying to catch his eyes. She thought ‘Is the voice familiar?’ She leaned carefully to the fire, as to not scorch her bare skin. Aoelif took the spit of rabbit, and set it off the fire to cool. “Thank you. Where are we now? Where is Nyag’s servant? Where are my companions? How did you…?” She glanced about for a drink, SIG, and then to the white horse. She saw nothing but the bearskin she sat upon, the dark skies above, a low mist about her, and the fire. The horse had no saddle, but a bridle. It snorted at her. “You are welcome for the meat. As for where we are, we are in the unseelie realm. Volodya, your ‘necromancer’ friend is in his crypt by now, probably gifting your weapons to his cold-handed bodyguards I would guess. Soon Nyag will fill his corpse again with her magic and he will set out again, but I cannot read his foul mind. “Your companions? Two are seeking Vihar’s aid, the rest are awaiting those results. As to your last question, ‘how?’ Well, ‘why?’ is probably a better question.” “First though, an old man will wag his finger a bit. Finn did not teach you to throw your life away. I am not a god of war, but I know that if you continue to charge to the front without support, you will be dead again. I will not aid you to only have you throw yourself on the next villain's sword.” He pointed a long fingered hand out of his grey cloak at her chest and she felt ice grip her heart. “I would teach you that lesson, if you will open your ears!” He stood and seemed to tower over her. The twin sparks of his eyes merged with the starry sky. “That is not why you are here, my lovely, although you would be wise never to forget my words.” He smiled – unnaturally large teeth glittered in the gloom of his hood. “In fact, you never will.” “You are here because I do not take kindly to an ollave of Nyag who masquerades as my priest and tries to steal that which does not belong to him. Although I appreciate the right of vengeance as much as any other sidhe would, it does not excuse all of his offenses to my family. “You’ve put him off his game for the moment, but he’s left his prize well-guarded while he searches for the final key to Cathal’s tomb and decides how to best track down and kill the rest of your companions.” He grew calmer, picked up the rabbit and bit off a piece. Then he sat back down. “I love this flavor it imparts, quite nice. A family secret.” “Arawn” Aoelif breathed as she bowed her head. “It was Finn who ate of the salmon, not I. I prefer rabbit.” She managed a weak smile, and then it faded as she listened and remembered. “I will take your words to my gra… I will heed them and take them to heart.” She wobbled as she again tried to stand. She looked into his gleaming eyes “If I am with you, then I must be dead, my candle burnt out? And I must belong to you and yours then? Why would you take a moment with this Fianna? I have never called to you before. What would the Nyag priest want of the crypt of king Cathal? What prize?” “I’m getting to that.” He replied. “We gods of Faerie try our best to stay out of each other’s way – we have laws of our own. We don’t send forth our Avatars willy-nilly. We don’t interfere in the squabbles of our worshippers as long as certain rules are kept. Claiming to be my ollave was a minor breach, Volodya, your “necromancer,” was wise to make sacrifices to me and beg my forgiveness. Desecrating the temple to my sister Brigid was a more serious blot – still Nyag is not of my pantheon, so it happens. Now Volodya threatens to steal a gift I gave the Saluri and THAT has given me more leave to act. Still I cannot just go to one of my ollaves and tell them the tale – it must be discovered, or I have to be asked by the living. Then I can tell my tale. “You on the other hand are mostly dead, so I can speak to you freely, that is why I talk to you, Fianna. You life ebbs, Aoelif, soon the Sisters will snip your tread and you will go off to join my Norse counterpart, Hel. I can repair that, but I cannot give you back your possessions, I fear Volodya took them to his true demesne in the mountains of Rolgulka. “When your friends could offer him no reason to keep you alive, Volodya slit your throat my dear and drank your blood for fun – taking some for his rituals. He stripped your dying body and then buried you in a shallow grave to ripen up until he has further need of your corpse. Volodya has many such buried around here – one of his larders. He waved his arm and the mist thinned. Aoelif now saw that she was in a graveyard – in fact she was on a fresh mound of earth. “Vengeance drives Volodya. I will sharpen it like a dagger and cut his throat with it. “You, Fianna, are my little dagger.” Aoelif swallowed hard on the huge lump that filled her throat. ‘My FRIENDS could offer no reason to keep me alive? He drank of my blood? I am gravebound?’ Aoelif started to shiver and her skin crawled. She clamped her eyes shut tight to help concentrate and keep her wits about her. Her voice quivered, “Arawn, I have great respect for your wisdom. May I ask what gift he seeks? What prize is Volodya still guarding? I will sharpen under your hand.” “Ahh, that is a long tale and it starts with your first encounter with him. You will find that Volodya is a resourceful enemy. When you were but striplings, you alerted Vihar to his plans and destroyed the charnel pit he needed to raise the Ulugustasaa, – the great wyrm of Nyag which would have given him an army of undead. Remember that? “Volodya can already raise and control over a hundred skeletons – far beyond most ollaves’ power, still what he needs are thousands, tens of thousands of dead warriors to crush Vihar. “He began looking elsewhere for friends to aid him in his war with Vihar. He walked up and down in the dark mountains near the Vale of Thunder until he found the rotten might of Cestmiru, the great indigo drake. Cestmiru will have to be dealt with in the end, I suppose, perhaps she is the true author of this tale of misery, but she is wholly out of your league, for now, dear one. Volodya would have approached her on his belly and Vihar will not have her head on his wall, were it even possible to fit it there. “Volodya aided Cestmiru’s grandchildren in various ways, and in return walked out of her emerald pit with many secrets of ancient dragon magic and bits of lore concerning artifacts of the Gods of Death – including several tales of the Saluri and their ancient pacts with the Lord of the Dead. “When you journeyed over the ice to find Ingolf’s brother, he found Moireach, seduced her with promises of immortality and dragon princes begot by a dragon-king -- hatching a plot to steal the throne of the Helvetti, allowing him time to root for his real treasure. Again you and yours, with help of wizard or three, foiled that. “But he had already wormed his way into the hearts of several Cimbri lords by this time, poisoning their beloved as you already suspect. Moireach’s death and Brice’s victory, merely delayed him. While staying with Caldor he found the mound and as Gudlaug suspected, re-opened the pits as an excuse to dig toward the barrows of the Saluri Kings.” “Why? One of the stories Volodya learned from that putrescent dragon, Cestmiru, gave him hope for his army. There many stories of those who claim kinship with me -- most contain a sprig of truth. Some tell of an ancient barrow of a Saluri king -- the final archway before the burial chamber is magicked with arts so fell that living beings passing through are stripped of their flesh and turned into servitors of the crown of the Saluri. It is said that any doomed tomb robbers caper about and play music for the dead kings’ enjoyment. Only the true heirs of the Saluri kings can pass through unharmed, or those warded by a certain herb from a particular story – or already dead masters of necromancy. “Of course I would not make it easy for an evil person to gain such gifts and the Saluri devised traps of their own measure to protect their kings. Were I to have built such a place, I would place the entrance to the chamber behind a silver door, locked with a puzzling key. A key of two parts: one physical, one magical. One part that could never come from one such as Volodya. The clue to the other ingredient is held partly in a tale of morality and mortality, not one of power and undead legions on the march -- a tale that Volodya may not have paid attention to. “Now, I have given you all the parts to this tale and this puzzle. Protect the tomb for you own sake and for the sake of Faerie itself. Otherwise, you will not stop Volodya. To avenge himself on Vihar he will bring down the Helvetti, make them his servants and draw the humans into his bloodbath as well. “I cannot tell the future Aoelif, my province is the past, the dead. But Volodya will return soon, perhaps provoke the war to give him time to puzzle out my clues; I’m sure he will contact Nyag for help. I will thwart that route for a time. “Still you need your brains and the help of your friends. One and only one of them has part of the key. You can provide the clues to the other, if you’ve not figured it out by now. You might be able to get the crown before Volodya.“ Her eyes still clamped tight, and quaking as she sat in the fresh turned shadow earth, Aoelif listened and tried to understand. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her hair formed a covering all about her naked body. “Why does Volodya hate Lord Vihar so?” “That tale I will leave for Vihar – he will owe it to you in the end. I will tell you this Volodya seeks vengeance for a betrayal that happened before your father lay with your mother.” Aoelif spoke quietly, “I remember the tale of Cathal and Ronan, your gifts to them, and Ronan’s misuse of them. I do not know what my companions possess that may be part of a key. If I were to be your small weapon, I would please ask but one thing to aid me. I am… afraid. I fear places of the dead, ever since I first visited the Unseelie plane and saw Tavia’s human undead. If you wish me to guard a tomb, I will need a stronger countenance. Will your true followers know I act under your hand? Will I go forth as I am to my companions?” He waved his hand. “It is done. My places will be a comfort to you from now on. I remove your fear of the places of the dead.” The fear she had been given by the Bag of Norn stones was gone, like the snuffing out of a candle’s flame. He swept off his cloak revealing him to be a striking, dark haired sidhe, dressed in a dark green kilt and scarlet shirt. He was pale and his skin seemed to hang oddly on his bones, but he was still beautiful, his eye burned with a gray fire like an ashed-over ember. She looked at him, “As long as my flame still flickers in your hall, I will act as your small blade, as you have been my whetstone.” “Good.” He took her by the shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. He pulled the cloak over her head and fastened the cape around her. He was tall beside her. “And I give you my cloak. (+2 Cloak of Resistance – adds +2 to all saves). Its buckle will give you protection from six life-draining attacks of Volodya’s folk (as Scarab of Protection with 6 charges). You may keep these in remembrance of me. Honor the Gray Lord of the Dead on Samhain, Aoelif.” He took off his belt of dark leather and silver, from which hung the scabbard of his dagger. His hands passed over her waist and she felt his touch – at once icy and hot. From the bearskin where it rested he plucked the dagger and slid it in the sheath. “You may use my dagger (+2 Undead Bane Dagger – acts as a +4 weapon vs. undead and +2d6 damage to them.) When Volodya is destroyed forever, bury it in Faerie soil and it will return to me.” He lifted Aoelif’s chin and kissed her – warmth flooded back into her and she realized just how cold she was. “I will return you to your friends. If you wish to secure the crown before Volodya returns, you must act quickly. You must solve the riddle of the silver door and face many dangers before even that. I believe Volodya will return to the pit soon, with aid – but I cannot tell you the future for certain. I hear the march of armies, not long away, and the call of many dead.” He strode away from her and jumped onto the back of the horse. “I have used up my and my sister Brigid’s allotment to intervene -- sending you back and telling you what I have. No more aid can I give you. “Keep Volodya from getting the Crown or failing that, return it to the tomb. “Destroy Volodya forever for his crimes against me – a task that may be beyond you at the pit.” “Lastly, I hope I will not see you again for a long time, Aoelif. Remember my words of caution. If Hel will not have you…” He paused and for the first time he looked at her like she would have expected a sidhe to look at a beautiful ljosalfar woman, and he winked. “…then I will.” His horse wheeled under his touch, eager to spring away. “Tell Brice if he wishes the blessings of the Saluri once enjoyed, then I need to see greater offerings on my holy days, perhaps a stone set for me in his compound as well. “Lie back on your pallet, close your eyes and I will send you home…” Aoelif lay back and saw the hoves of the gray horse's hooves begin kicking up sparks - its eyes, wide with fear or anger, turning towards her. She forced her eyes closed and gripped the bearskin pallet. Thunder rolled towards her, mingled with the beating of hooves and her heart. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ INSERT EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE WAVY DREAM EFFECTS ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [i]-- written by Wayne, Jessica and Jon [/i] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Byzantium on the Shannon, Part the Second
Top