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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4195168" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><strong>Going Home</strong></p><p></p><p>The bizarre thing rushes forward, skittering on strangely crab-like legs towards our heroes. Its oily skin, slick with yellow-brown stuff, gives off a weird, unearthly aroma.</p><p></p><p>“Kill it!” Sir Colder screams, and he fires his crossbow, but misses. Kyle nods enthusiastic agreement, blasting the monster with a volley of <em>magic missiles.</em> They spatter against the monster, leaving smoking holes in its... carapace? But the monster ignores the attack and skitters up to Adelle, snapping at her with its immense maw. Its teeth close on her arm, and it begins to retreat, dragging her with it.</p><p></p><p>“No you don’t,” snarls Otis, and fires a volley of maximized <em>magic missiles</em> into the monster. Sir Jorgen, meanwhile, charges forward, stabbing the thing with his lance- but to his chagrin, he finds that his blow sends a course of fire from the monster into him. Suddenly it is surrounded in a corona of flames! Adelle screams in pain, struggling ineffectually to free herself. </p><p></p><p>“Thtop it!” Lord Cedric urges his companions. “We mutht free Adelle!” He quickly ties a knot in his rope and then hurls it around the wizard, attempting to rescue her from the brain collector- but the rope catches fire and burns free immediately!</p><p></p><p>Sir Fwaigo bellows a war cry and springs forward, swinging his sword at the beast. He hits, but flames shoot down the weapon and blast him. He cries out in pain, but the brain collector drops Adelle. <em>Worth it,</em> Goer thinks as he staggers back, reeling from the pain. He sees both Kyle and Otis fire more volleys of <em>magic missiles</em> at the monster; the beast drops back a pace. </p><p></p><p>“Flee, monster!” cries Sir Colder, darting forward and helping Adelle to her feet. </p><p></p><p>”While it’s hesitating,” the elven male accompanying our heroes mutters, “flee!” He and his sister begin to back away.</p><p></p><p>“What? No way! We need to get past this thing,” argues Sir Colder. He begins moving forward, towards the brain collector. The brain collector surveys our heroes for a moment; it looks barely wounded. Yet- it hesitates. Clearly not out of fear. Perhaps... disappointment? </p><p></p><p>The monster vanishes, fading into thin air with a quiet “whoomph”.</p><p></p><p><em>Maybe our brains aren’t worth collecting,</em> Kyle thinks ironically.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>As the party continues on, always keeping a wary eye on Sir Harth, Otis Optimus takes his apprentice aside again. “Kyle, let me see your spellbook.” With a sigh, Kyle hands it over. Otis opens it to the grading page and scratches out the D+ written there. In its place, he puts a C+. Gravely, he tells Kyle, “You are now a wizard in your own right. You are no longer an apprentice.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, mas- thank you.” Kyle grins hugely. <em>I was going to tell you the same thing anyway,</em> he think, but there is no need to say it now. They understand one another, at least well enough.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Sir Harth doesn’t say a word the entire time, except when one of our heroes speaks to him. He casts dark looks at Sir Porthos, but Porthos’ loyalties seem solidly with Lord Cedric. Still, Goer, Jorgen, Otis and Kyle maintain a discrete watch over Porthos; it was not so long ago that he followed their archenemy, and when victory is so close, there is no point in letting it slip away by neglecting the most elementary precautions. </p><p></p><p>The party finds themselves working their way through a previously blocked passage, and thence through a series of large, domed chambers, several of them now coated in the weird whorled resin. Every now and then, the group passes by the partial corpse of a duergar. </p><p></p><p>“Keep going towards the worked stone,” Dahlia exhorts her companions. </p><p></p><p>“Where are we going, anyway?” asks Goer.</p><p></p><p>“To the heart of the unnatural... stuff,” Dahlia replies. “I presume... the Vast Gate.”</p><p></p><p>Sir Harth twitches and mutters.</p><p></p><p>The party passes through an intersection covered by strange, chest-high purple grass that undulates and moves as if waves of wind were washing through it. <em>All these strange things,</em> thinks Otis in wonder. <em>This Isle of the Elves- Tirkon- it has escaped most of the damage to our lands from the great conflict. In our time, they must have so much knowledge accumulated- so much never lost- that I could glean, if only I could reach them... If we make it home, I must seek them out. I </em>must!</p><p></p><p>The party enters a large vestibule. Several partially devoured corpses of duergar are scattered messily throughout the place. Harth stiffens. “Yes!” he declares. “This is it! We are very close!” He gazes at the ceiling, which bears strange patterns of decoration. </p><p></p><p>“What’s your plan, Harth?” Kyle demands.</p><p></p><p>He cackles. “I have already told you. I will bargain our way home- if I can! But I cannot do it until we pass through the Vast Gate. My black magic should allow me to bargain for passage.”</p><p></p><p>“Black magic,” sneers Dahlia.</p><p></p><p>“Me hate traitor,” Me growls. </p><p></p><p>“Lithen well, Harth,” Lord Cedric snaps. “If you try to play uth falthe in thith, you will not thurvive. I thwear by my mother, if you attempt to betray uth, I will have your head from your thoulderth!”</p><p></p><p>Harth subsides, but his manner has changed now that the Vast Gate is so close. He no longer looks as though he <em>feels</em> defeated. </p><p></p><p>Suddenly, out of nowhere, the swarm of eyeless eels appears in mid-air. It swims forward and the eels begin biting at the male elf, seizing him with savage strength! He screams in pain as they fasten upon his flesh. </p><p></p><p>Danelle, the last surviving peasant from the village, bravely draws her quarterstaff and swings it at the eels. It bounces harmlessly from them. Kyle- <em>Sir Kyle,</em> lest we forget, since he was dubbed by Lord Cedric- fires an arrow in to the swarm, while Sir Colder likewise unleashes his crossbow. </p><p></p><p>The female elf rushes to her brother’s aid, hacking at the eels. They keep biting relentlessly at him, and blood sprays everywhere as they rip at his flesh. He struggles to break free, but the eels are too strong!</p><p></p><p>Then Sir Percival- Me- is there, roaring, his magical mace crashing into the swarm of eels again and again, the muscles on his arms and shoulders sticking out like steel cords, until the eels all spasm and, all together at the same exact instant, go dead. Yet- they remain, floating in the air. It is eerie; there is a hint of <em>something else</em> at the back end of the eel swarm, and now that they aren’t moving, our heroes can see that they simply... fade into nothingness at the back end. </p><p></p><p>“What the hell are those things?” Goer asks. </p><p></p><p>The elven man groans. He drags himself to his feet. Dahlia hurries over and applies a little healing to him. “Thank you,” he says heavily. </p><p></p><p>The party takes a few minutes to organize themselves. One of the doors, the one that is opposite the way our heroes entered the chamber, is different from the others. It is made of thick steel, bound with nephilium, the strange, clear metal that these duergar seem to work so much. Harth seems almost poised on the balls of his feet; he is full of obvious excitement. <em>He’s mad,</em> thinks Dahlia.</p><p></p><p>They open the door, and before them is the Vast Gate. </p><p></p><p>The party is staring into a huge, four-valved chamber lined with more nephilium. At the central focus of the chamber is a huge sphere, incandescent with radiance. The light pulses in time to a heartbeat, strobing in a strange, disorienting fashion. Strange shapes seem to move within the walls. The huge crystal hangs in the air, about a foot above the ground. Three great columns of crystal bracket the sphere, spaced equidistantly, rising from floor to ceiling. Several tables, a podium and more bodies are also in the room. </p><p></p><p>“Well,” says Goer, “here we are.”</p><p></p><p>“Me,” Me agrees mournfully.</p><p></p><p>“What about it, Harth?” demands Jorgen. “What do we have to do?”</p><p></p><p>Harth chuckles. “We have to go <em>through</em> the Gate.”</p><p></p><p>The party draws off to the side to discuss their options. Going through the Vast Gate is an intimidating proposition. Yet- if it is their only way home, what do they have to lose? </p><p></p><p>“We’ll watch, but we’re staying here,” the female elf announces.</p><p></p><p>All the while, Sir Harth’s eyes never leave the Vast Gate. He licks his lips and sighs. </p><p></p><p>“We’re going,” Lord Cedric says. The party ties themselves together, and then binds Harth tightly to them. </p><p></p><p>And they step into a realm of utter madness.</p><p></p><p>It blasts at their sanity. Screaming fright made real, made the air you breathe, made delightful... huge, cyclopean beasts too large even to notice them... the conceit of language blasted away, away to nthg... screaming madness, terror, disorientation and helplessness... weep, man, for you are as nothing to the things that dream here... and like a bubble, layer after layer pops as they pass through from one zone of insanity to the next...</p><p></p><p>And yet, somehow, through the madness, they keep hold of Harth. And Harth? He is mad enough already. And he has practiced long and hard for this opportunity. For years, he built his cult and cultivated his knowledge of the dark arts, until finally the night came- that night when the stars were right, and Harth cast himself back through time.</p><p></p><p><em>I am ready,</em> Sir Harth tells himself. <em>And if I can, I will persuade some power to destroy these fools!</em></p><p></p><p>Harth uses all the knowledge of black magic that he has accumulated over a decade of research and experimentation, sending his own mad mind out to contact something <em>beyond</em> sanity- or comprehension.</p><p></p><p><em>Show me the way,</em> begs Harth. <em>From here, for you, it should be trivial to find an exit into a different moment. Shoe me!</em></p><p></p><p>The madness goes on, like a good meal or an interrogation. Yet, in the midst of it, our heroes hold strong to themselves. They cleave together, trying desperately to hold onto their own mind. </p><p></p><p>Sir Harth howls in triumph, and there is a sense of <em>motion</em> and them. He turns his gloating eyes on the party. “I have done it,” he cries, and then things seem to pull and distort around them. There is a sense of movement, of action. Layers of filmy <em>stuff</em> break over our heroes like membranes that they are passing through, over and over again, speeding up until...</p><p></p><p><strong><em>KRACKOOOM!!!!</em></strong></p><p></p><p>Disoriented- it is raining, hard- it is dark- the sky, the stars are out-</p><p></p><p>“Where’s Harth!” cries Dahlia. The villain is nowhere to be seen!</p><p></p><p>The group gathers their wits, which are quite scattered by the trip Outside. They are back outside the ruins of the Ghost Keep! Quickly, the party begins searching around for any signs of their nemesis’ passage- and almost immediately, Sheriff Jorgen cries, “Here!” He begins leading the way, while Me jogs swiftly to the crest of the nearest hill to look for any sign of movement in the night. “ME!” he shouts, pointing into the darkness, and begins running forward. The others charge into the black after him. </p><p></p><p>Sir Harth cannot outdistance them, especially not Me. The scout rushes forward, tackles him, and gives him a solid thumping. “Me HATE traitor!” screams Me.</p><p></p><p>The others gather around. “The game’s over, Harth,” Sheriff Jorgen says. “You’re under arrest- and you’re going to face justice.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>And thus it is that we come to the end of our story. It was a fun ride, going from virtually no-magic to really high-magic and back again, and I think it’s safe to say that the good guys won and everyone lived happily ever after- well, everyone but Cur Sed Seed, anyhow.</p><p></p><p>Lord Cedric of Whitewater remained a petty ruler throughout his life, but his holdings expanded to include fiefs in many lands, even some in Tydon. He was instrumental in arranging the eventual marriage of Baron Rusk to the Earl of Tydon’s youngest daughter. He hired a crack team of dwarven spirit-brewers, and had a fine brood of many children by his wife, even if some of them didn’t look much like him. Sadly, the cure to the wasting sickness was never found, and it eventually took both Cedric’s mother and several of his longtime servants. </p><p></p><p>Lady Cara of Whitewater gave birth to many fine children for Cedric. She proved to be very capable of handling affairs of state, and while Cedric concerned himself with drinking and dandying young lads on his lap, Cara took care of business and enjoyed the perquisites of her position. Her mother was very proud of her, and eventually moved to Kamenda City to live in the “city home” that Cedric and Cara set up. </p><p></p><p>Sheriff Jorgen Boatwright of Whitewater eventually went on to become High Chief Justice of all of Kamenda. When the Uprising of 285 happened, it was Jorgen’s skillful handling that kept it from getting out of control, and prevented the overthrow of Baron Rusk. Jorgen eventually fell in love with a beautiful commoner and flouted all convention by wedding her despite her inferior status, setting in motion shock waves of social change that would eventually lead to a great increase in the ability of the social classes to both mix and to advance (or decline). </p><p></p><p>Sir Percival, who was too stupid to say his own name (he could only manage two syllable words, so he always just called himself “Me”), went on to be the example around which the Order of the Knights Percival were founded. Dedicated to fast action, the Knights Percival rapidly attained a reputation as formidable foes and staunch allies. Me fought in several wars, always acquitting himself with valor, but it was in the Tydon War of 290 that he achieved his greatest coup, when he single-handedly defeated the Tydonian champion Gruel the Mighty, for which he was awarded Kamenda’s highest honor, the Medal of the Golden Dragon.</p><p></p><p>Lady Dahlia Laagos lived out her days at Castle Laagos, which she duly renovated as was required of her in order to gain title to it from Sir Martin Whitewater. She had no human staff and few visitors, which was as she preferred it, and she never advanced socially or spent time in court (which was likewise in accordance with her wishes). Amongst the animals and fey, however, Dahlia became quite well-known, and Castle Laagos grew to be home to a diverse array of animals and beasts, as well as magical animals and fey things, such as al-mi’raj and brownies. Badgers, cats, bears and wolves; moles and birds and frogs and fish, all spoke well of Lady Dahlia, and after she died, her castle was quickly claimed by them for their own use. The fey hid it under a weave of fog and glamer, and they and the animals haunted it, mourning its lost owner. Castle Laagos became a thing of legend sought by adventurers.</p><p></p><p>Sir Kyle Goldenbow became first a hanger-on at court in Kamenda City, then the baron’s personal jeweler. This put him in a perfect position to, eventually, become the richest man in Kamenda, through a combination of favors, a few ‘lost’ gems and legitimate salary. Of course, manipulating his way into the position of Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild of Kamenda City didn’t hurt either! Kyle lived out a very wealthy double life. He became so wealthy, in fact, that he was able to mitigate the economic crash that preceded the Uprising of 285 solely by means of his personal wealth. This prevented a wholesale collapse of the Kamendan economy and made Kyle an unknown, unsung hero- for her chose to keep his part in things hidden.</p><p></p><p>Sir Colder returned to Sir Galadon’s service, but as a knight rather than a messenger. He rose rapidly in esteem in Galadon’s eyes, until Galadon enfeoffed him with a parcel of land. Now Lord Colder, he set about improving the land for his people, only to find that there was a dragon that plagued the area. He strapped on his armor and shield and took up his spear and met the dragon in battle. They strove against one another in a tremendous battle, with Lord Colder clinging to it bodily as it flew high in the sky, until finally Lord Colder smote the dragon as it tried to flee the confrontation, and it died. Colder was nearly killed himself in the long fall, but he lived. He bathed in the dragon’s blood, and it burned and scarred him tremendously. He fled the sight of his men-at-arms approaching, and ran off into the hills. Though Lord Colder never returned, there are tales of a grotesque immortal hero of the hills in that area, who (it is said) does not age and has the heart of a dragon, yet will never give his name or join with a group of people.</p><p></p><p>Sir Fwaigo “Goer” Smith remained Lord Cedric’s loyal friend and aid for their entire lives. As Cedric’s lands and influence grew, he enfeoffed Fwaigo with an area just outside of Whitewater, and Cedric’s squire of old became Lord Fwaigo. Later, as he grew older, Lord Fwaigo became known as the Smith-Lord, for his habit of working the forge personally even as a lord. He worked for over a year on Cedric’s legendary bastard sword, <em>Dandylion</em>, which he gave to his friend on his 45th birthday. It is said that the weapon has strange inexplicable properties- perhaps even some kind of echo of its creator within it.</p><p></p><p>And Otis Optimus? Immediately after the party reached the castle in Kamenda City, Otis left. He is known to have traveled to the coast, far away from Kamenda, in lands whose names we do not know, and there to have chartered a boat to take him further still across the sea. </p><p></p><p>He was never heard from again- at least, not by his old friends.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4195168, member: 1210"] [b]Going Home[/b] The bizarre thing rushes forward, skittering on strangely crab-like legs towards our heroes. Its oily skin, slick with yellow-brown stuff, gives off a weird, unearthly aroma. “Kill it!” Sir Colder screams, and he fires his crossbow, but misses. Kyle nods enthusiastic agreement, blasting the monster with a volley of [i]magic missiles.[/i] They spatter against the monster, leaving smoking holes in its... carapace? But the monster ignores the attack and skitters up to Adelle, snapping at her with its immense maw. Its teeth close on her arm, and it begins to retreat, dragging her with it. “No you don’t,” snarls Otis, and fires a volley of maximized [i]magic missiles[/i] into the monster. Sir Jorgen, meanwhile, charges forward, stabbing the thing with his lance- but to his chagrin, he finds that his blow sends a course of fire from the monster into him. Suddenly it is surrounded in a corona of flames! Adelle screams in pain, struggling ineffectually to free herself. “Thtop it!” Lord Cedric urges his companions. “We mutht free Adelle!” He quickly ties a knot in his rope and then hurls it around the wizard, attempting to rescue her from the brain collector- but the rope catches fire and burns free immediately! Sir Fwaigo bellows a war cry and springs forward, swinging his sword at the beast. He hits, but flames shoot down the weapon and blast him. He cries out in pain, but the brain collector drops Adelle. [i]Worth it,[/i] Goer thinks as he staggers back, reeling from the pain. He sees both Kyle and Otis fire more volleys of [i]magic missiles[/i] at the monster; the beast drops back a pace. “Flee, monster!” cries Sir Colder, darting forward and helping Adelle to her feet. ”While it’s hesitating,” the elven male accompanying our heroes mutters, “flee!” He and his sister begin to back away. “What? No way! We need to get past this thing,” argues Sir Colder. He begins moving forward, towards the brain collector. The brain collector surveys our heroes for a moment; it looks barely wounded. Yet- it hesitates. Clearly not out of fear. Perhaps... disappointment? The monster vanishes, fading into thin air with a quiet “whoomph”. [i]Maybe our brains aren’t worth collecting,[/i] Kyle thinks ironically. *** As the party continues on, always keeping a wary eye on Sir Harth, Otis Optimus takes his apprentice aside again. “Kyle, let me see your spellbook.” With a sigh, Kyle hands it over. Otis opens it to the grading page and scratches out the D+ written there. In its place, he puts a C+. Gravely, he tells Kyle, “You are now a wizard in your own right. You are no longer an apprentice.” “Thank you, mas- thank you.” Kyle grins hugely. [i]I was going to tell you the same thing anyway,[/i] he think, but there is no need to say it now. They understand one another, at least well enough. *** Sir Harth doesn’t say a word the entire time, except when one of our heroes speaks to him. He casts dark looks at Sir Porthos, but Porthos’ loyalties seem solidly with Lord Cedric. Still, Goer, Jorgen, Otis and Kyle maintain a discrete watch over Porthos; it was not so long ago that he followed their archenemy, and when victory is so close, there is no point in letting it slip away by neglecting the most elementary precautions. The party finds themselves working their way through a previously blocked passage, and thence through a series of large, domed chambers, several of them now coated in the weird whorled resin. Every now and then, the group passes by the partial corpse of a duergar. “Keep going towards the worked stone,” Dahlia exhorts her companions. “Where are we going, anyway?” asks Goer. “To the heart of the unnatural... stuff,” Dahlia replies. “I presume... the Vast Gate.” Sir Harth twitches and mutters. The party passes through an intersection covered by strange, chest-high purple grass that undulates and moves as if waves of wind were washing through it. [i]All these strange things,[/i] thinks Otis in wonder. [i]This Isle of the Elves- Tirkon- it has escaped most of the damage to our lands from the great conflict. In our time, they must have so much knowledge accumulated- so much never lost- that I could glean, if only I could reach them... If we make it home, I must seek them out. I [/i]must! The party enters a large vestibule. Several partially devoured corpses of duergar are scattered messily throughout the place. Harth stiffens. “Yes!” he declares. “This is it! We are very close!” He gazes at the ceiling, which bears strange patterns of decoration. “What’s your plan, Harth?” Kyle demands. He cackles. “I have already told you. I will bargain our way home- if I can! But I cannot do it until we pass through the Vast Gate. My black magic should allow me to bargain for passage.” “Black magic,” sneers Dahlia. “Me hate traitor,” Me growls. “Lithen well, Harth,” Lord Cedric snaps. “If you try to play uth falthe in thith, you will not thurvive. I thwear by my mother, if you attempt to betray uth, I will have your head from your thoulderth!” Harth subsides, but his manner has changed now that the Vast Gate is so close. He no longer looks as though he [i]feels[/i] defeated. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the swarm of eyeless eels appears in mid-air. It swims forward and the eels begin biting at the male elf, seizing him with savage strength! He screams in pain as they fasten upon his flesh. Danelle, the last surviving peasant from the village, bravely draws her quarterstaff and swings it at the eels. It bounces harmlessly from them. Kyle- [i]Sir Kyle,[/i] lest we forget, since he was dubbed by Lord Cedric- fires an arrow in to the swarm, while Sir Colder likewise unleashes his crossbow. The female elf rushes to her brother’s aid, hacking at the eels. They keep biting relentlessly at him, and blood sprays everywhere as they rip at his flesh. He struggles to break free, but the eels are too strong! Then Sir Percival- Me- is there, roaring, his magical mace crashing into the swarm of eels again and again, the muscles on his arms and shoulders sticking out like steel cords, until the eels all spasm and, all together at the same exact instant, go dead. Yet- they remain, floating in the air. It is eerie; there is a hint of [i]something else[/i] at the back end of the eel swarm, and now that they aren’t moving, our heroes can see that they simply... fade into nothingness at the back end. “What the hell are those things?” Goer asks. The elven man groans. He drags himself to his feet. Dahlia hurries over and applies a little healing to him. “Thank you,” he says heavily. The party takes a few minutes to organize themselves. One of the doors, the one that is opposite the way our heroes entered the chamber, is different from the others. It is made of thick steel, bound with nephilium, the strange, clear metal that these duergar seem to work so much. Harth seems almost poised on the balls of his feet; he is full of obvious excitement. [i]He’s mad,[/i] thinks Dahlia. They open the door, and before them is the Vast Gate. The party is staring into a huge, four-valved chamber lined with more nephilium. At the central focus of the chamber is a huge sphere, incandescent with radiance. The light pulses in time to a heartbeat, strobing in a strange, disorienting fashion. Strange shapes seem to move within the walls. The huge crystal hangs in the air, about a foot above the ground. Three great columns of crystal bracket the sphere, spaced equidistantly, rising from floor to ceiling. Several tables, a podium and more bodies are also in the room. “Well,” says Goer, “here we are.” “Me,” Me agrees mournfully. “What about it, Harth?” demands Jorgen. “What do we have to do?” Harth chuckles. “We have to go [i]through[/i] the Gate.” The party draws off to the side to discuss their options. Going through the Vast Gate is an intimidating proposition. Yet- if it is their only way home, what do they have to lose? “We’ll watch, but we’re staying here,” the female elf announces. All the while, Sir Harth’s eyes never leave the Vast Gate. He licks his lips and sighs. “We’re going,” Lord Cedric says. The party ties themselves together, and then binds Harth tightly to them. And they step into a realm of utter madness. It blasts at their sanity. Screaming fright made real, made the air you breathe, made delightful... huge, cyclopean beasts too large even to notice them... the conceit of language blasted away, away to nthg... screaming madness, terror, disorientation and helplessness... weep, man, for you are as nothing to the things that dream here... and like a bubble, layer after layer pops as they pass through from one zone of insanity to the next... And yet, somehow, through the madness, they keep hold of Harth. And Harth? He is mad enough already. And he has practiced long and hard for this opportunity. For years, he built his cult and cultivated his knowledge of the dark arts, until finally the night came- that night when the stars were right, and Harth cast himself back through time. [i]I am ready,[/i] Sir Harth tells himself. [i]And if I can, I will persuade some power to destroy these fools![/i] Harth uses all the knowledge of black magic that he has accumulated over a decade of research and experimentation, sending his own mad mind out to contact something [i]beyond[/i] sanity- or comprehension. [i]Show me the way,[/i] begs Harth. [i]From here, for you, it should be trivial to find an exit into a different moment. Shoe me![/i] The madness goes on, like a good meal or an interrogation. Yet, in the midst of it, our heroes hold strong to themselves. They cleave together, trying desperately to hold onto their own mind. Sir Harth howls in triumph, and there is a sense of [i]motion[/i] and them. He turns his gloating eyes on the party. “I have done it,” he cries, and then things seem to pull and distort around them. There is a sense of movement, of action. Layers of filmy [i]stuff[/i] break over our heroes like membranes that they are passing through, over and over again, speeding up until... [b][i]KRACKOOOM!!!![/I][/B] Disoriented- it is raining, hard- it is dark- the sky, the stars are out- “Where’s Harth!” cries Dahlia. The villain is nowhere to be seen! The group gathers their wits, which are quite scattered by the trip Outside. They are back outside the ruins of the Ghost Keep! Quickly, the party begins searching around for any signs of their nemesis’ passage- and almost immediately, Sheriff Jorgen cries, “Here!” He begins leading the way, while Me jogs swiftly to the crest of the nearest hill to look for any sign of movement in the night. “ME!” he shouts, pointing into the darkness, and begins running forward. The others charge into the black after him. Sir Harth cannot outdistance them, especially not Me. The scout rushes forward, tackles him, and gives him a solid thumping. “Me HATE traitor!” screams Me. The others gather around. “The game’s over, Harth,” Sheriff Jorgen says. “You’re under arrest- and you’re going to face justice.” *** And thus it is that we come to the end of our story. It was a fun ride, going from virtually no-magic to really high-magic and back again, and I think it’s safe to say that the good guys won and everyone lived happily ever after- well, everyone but Cur Sed Seed, anyhow. Lord Cedric of Whitewater remained a petty ruler throughout his life, but his holdings expanded to include fiefs in many lands, even some in Tydon. He was instrumental in arranging the eventual marriage of Baron Rusk to the Earl of Tydon’s youngest daughter. He hired a crack team of dwarven spirit-brewers, and had a fine brood of many children by his wife, even if some of them didn’t look much like him. Sadly, the cure to the wasting sickness was never found, and it eventually took both Cedric’s mother and several of his longtime servants. Lady Cara of Whitewater gave birth to many fine children for Cedric. She proved to be very capable of handling affairs of state, and while Cedric concerned himself with drinking and dandying young lads on his lap, Cara took care of business and enjoyed the perquisites of her position. Her mother was very proud of her, and eventually moved to Kamenda City to live in the “city home” that Cedric and Cara set up. Sheriff Jorgen Boatwright of Whitewater eventually went on to become High Chief Justice of all of Kamenda. When the Uprising of 285 happened, it was Jorgen’s skillful handling that kept it from getting out of control, and prevented the overthrow of Baron Rusk. Jorgen eventually fell in love with a beautiful commoner and flouted all convention by wedding her despite her inferior status, setting in motion shock waves of social change that would eventually lead to a great increase in the ability of the social classes to both mix and to advance (or decline). Sir Percival, who was too stupid to say his own name (he could only manage two syllable words, so he always just called himself “Me”), went on to be the example around which the Order of the Knights Percival were founded. Dedicated to fast action, the Knights Percival rapidly attained a reputation as formidable foes and staunch allies. Me fought in several wars, always acquitting himself with valor, but it was in the Tydon War of 290 that he achieved his greatest coup, when he single-handedly defeated the Tydonian champion Gruel the Mighty, for which he was awarded Kamenda’s highest honor, the Medal of the Golden Dragon. Lady Dahlia Laagos lived out her days at Castle Laagos, which she duly renovated as was required of her in order to gain title to it from Sir Martin Whitewater. She had no human staff and few visitors, which was as she preferred it, and she never advanced socially or spent time in court (which was likewise in accordance with her wishes). Amongst the animals and fey, however, Dahlia became quite well-known, and Castle Laagos grew to be home to a diverse array of animals and beasts, as well as magical animals and fey things, such as al-mi’raj and brownies. Badgers, cats, bears and wolves; moles and birds and frogs and fish, all spoke well of Lady Dahlia, and after she died, her castle was quickly claimed by them for their own use. The fey hid it under a weave of fog and glamer, and they and the animals haunted it, mourning its lost owner. Castle Laagos became a thing of legend sought by adventurers. Sir Kyle Goldenbow became first a hanger-on at court in Kamenda City, then the baron’s personal jeweler. This put him in a perfect position to, eventually, become the richest man in Kamenda, through a combination of favors, a few ‘lost’ gems and legitimate salary. Of course, manipulating his way into the position of Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild of Kamenda City didn’t hurt either! Kyle lived out a very wealthy double life. He became so wealthy, in fact, that he was able to mitigate the economic crash that preceded the Uprising of 285 solely by means of his personal wealth. This prevented a wholesale collapse of the Kamendan economy and made Kyle an unknown, unsung hero- for her chose to keep his part in things hidden. Sir Colder returned to Sir Galadon’s service, but as a knight rather than a messenger. He rose rapidly in esteem in Galadon’s eyes, until Galadon enfeoffed him with a parcel of land. Now Lord Colder, he set about improving the land for his people, only to find that there was a dragon that plagued the area. He strapped on his armor and shield and took up his spear and met the dragon in battle. They strove against one another in a tremendous battle, with Lord Colder clinging to it bodily as it flew high in the sky, until finally Lord Colder smote the dragon as it tried to flee the confrontation, and it died. Colder was nearly killed himself in the long fall, but he lived. He bathed in the dragon’s blood, and it burned and scarred him tremendously. He fled the sight of his men-at-arms approaching, and ran off into the hills. Though Lord Colder never returned, there are tales of a grotesque immortal hero of the hills in that area, who (it is said) does not age and has the heart of a dragon, yet will never give his name or join with a group of people. Sir Fwaigo “Goer” Smith remained Lord Cedric’s loyal friend and aid for their entire lives. As Cedric’s lands and influence grew, he enfeoffed Fwaigo with an area just outside of Whitewater, and Cedric’s squire of old became Lord Fwaigo. Later, as he grew older, Lord Fwaigo became known as the Smith-Lord, for his habit of working the forge personally even as a lord. He worked for over a year on Cedric’s legendary bastard sword, [i]Dandylion[/i], which he gave to his friend on his 45th birthday. It is said that the weapon has strange inexplicable properties- perhaps even some kind of echo of its creator within it. And Otis Optimus? Immediately after the party reached the castle in Kamenda City, Otis left. He is known to have traveled to the coast, far away from Kamenda, in lands whose names we do not know, and there to have chartered a boat to take him further still across the sea. He was never heard from again- at least, not by his old friends. [/QUOTE]
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(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)
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