[e20 PF] And with strange aeons...

[fireinthedust]

Thorn: You see several books immediately next to your face as you cling there. The have the following titles:

Fireball
Tasha's Uncontrollable Hideous Laughter
Spells and Wards
Plane Shift
Find the Path

There are others, sure, and a bunch of scrolls in bundles of about 1 to 9 scrolls per bundle.

 

[Scott DeWar]

"Heh, ey half orc, your are in a bit of a bad spot there."

 

[Herobizkit]

The half-orc blunders into the hovering magic carpet, tripping and falling on its surface. He whirls back around to see a sword drawn upon him. He seems ready to pounce, oblivious of his own peril. He utters a feral growl...

... then seems to gain his sense. His glossy eyes brighten, and for the first time, he seems alert enough to recognize his bearings.

His looks about, frowns, then yells, "THIS is how you protect my horde...? Whisk its commander away while under siege by Elven assassins?"

Turning back to the man with the sword, he spits and says, "And I suppose YOU think you're SO important, too..."

OOC: I'm thinking this campaign has a lighter tone than I may have put across...?

 

[jackslate45]

"I only wished to defend my allies from a perceived threat. It is for no other reason that I hold this sword. I am relieved you have come to your senses though." Xanfire says, lowering his sword, which disappears moments later into his glove. "I do not wish to fight against someone who has found this place. Speaking of which, I did not introduce myself yet. I am Lune Xanfire, Cleric of The Light of the Sword Iomedae, member of the Broken Eagles. "

Xanfire bowed once, before continuing "You said that you were whisked away? Can you explain more?"

 

[fireinthedust]

OOC: I'm thinking this campaign has a lighter tone than I may have put across...?

[/COLOR]

OOC: Not intentionally. I think we've struck a fair balance: We're 20th level here (Epic 20, specifically), so it's important that people aren't just a statblock: somethings are serious, others are quirky. And I want it to be fairly social, too. That's why I keep coming back.

 

[Thaven]

The half-orc blunders into the hovering magic carpet, tripping and falling on its surface. He whirls back around to see a sword drawn upon him. He seems ready to pounce, oblivious of his own peril. He utters a feral growl...

... then seems to gain his sense. His glossy eyes brighten, and for the first time, he seems alert enough to recognize his bearings.

His looks about, frowns, then yells, "THIS is how you protect my horde...? Whisk its commander away while under siege by Elven assassins?"

Turning back to the man with the sword, he spits and says, "And I suppose YOU think you're SO important, too..."

OOC: I'm thinking this campaign has a lighter tone than I may have put across...?

Drawing another blade, Rook floats closer to the melee. "Regard your situation, sir," he leaned the blades against his shoulders purposefully; instead of brandishing his weapons they were relaxed.

"You're outnumbered; in a hostile environment. Perhaps attack should be a last resort? At least until you understand your situation."

"Or..." Rook trailed off.

[sblock=GM]

Cartaras <This could end badly.>

Endoril <Oh yes indeed.>

[/sblock]

 

[WarlockLord]

"You do realize you'll make Varnaag start chanting? Sometimes he even does it well."

 

[Scott DeWar]

Hedron readies his bow, no arrow.

 

[Herobizkit]

Varnaag throws an angry grin towards Cort. "Indeed."

"To answer your question, I was lord and master of a humanoid horde of great size. I raised a castle in a wasteland cursed by some great and ancient Dragon of ineffable evil, perhaps born of Chaos itself. I took it upon myself to unite the orcs, goblinoids, and gnolls under one banner and lay siege to the great mountain under which it lay."

Varnaag rose to his feet upon the floating carpet and continued, staring the sword wielders in their faces. "Within the mountain we found an ancient Dwarven home, one which the nearby Dwarves had wished returned to them. We took their stronghold and used it and the ancient home as our base of operations from then on."

"We plunged ever deeper into the mountain's heart. We found Drow, and Duergar, and soon we found dragon-spawn, creatures who were half-dragon and half... something else. Dragons are notoriously prolific, especially the ones who can change their shape. Half-dragon spiders, salamanders, giants... nothing was safe from the Chaos Beast's loins."

"And then we came upon the end of our year's journey. We reached the very core of the mountain, and stared at the door to Hell itself."

Lowering his head, Varnaag said sadly, "But we had no key."

There was no one to ask, nowhere to research, and we stood a year's journey away from any hope of help. I turned to the Gods for answers... and Michael appeared."

"Michael came to me and explained that to return to my empire was folly, that Elves from the Southlands had been driven from their forests and poured into the Wastes, fleeing some ancient and terrible Evil. I could only assume that their plight and our own were one and the same..."

"And so, having nowhere to live, they took the only place they could find that could offer them safety. MY home."

Varnaag snorted. "Michael offered me a deal: he would offer me the secret to unlocking the Demon's Gate in exchange for a service to him. He explained that, regardless of whether I refused or accepted, my home was lost to me. He explained that he had the power to return me home, but he had greater designs in mind."

"And here I am. Varnaag Thomorn, High Warchief and Grand Master Arcane Duelist... at your service, it would appear."

 

[Thaven]

Rook nodded. "Well met, Varnaag. It seems as though few have more in common than at once it may appear. Seemingly unrelated events seem to be occuring everywhere, at once. You are not the only ruler who has faced turmoil; in fact, being ushered from your kingdom is like a kinder fate than that of some of the world's other kings," Rook floated forward his wings fluttering just slightly as he did.

"Though I was able to save mine own honourable master, not all of my counterparts could say the same. By last count at least three kings had been slain by incorporeal interplanar assassins. The elves were no doubt fleeing the force that was orchestrating these attacks," Rook nodded to himself and slid his swords deftly into their sheaths.

"I am a humble servant Padishah Emperor Kalesh XXII, Shining Light of the Inner Sea, Overseer of all that is Just, Master of the Plains, Noble Servant of the Lady, Sword of Righteousness, Armor of the World, Most Benevolent," he paused to take a breath, "Lady protect him," he finished.

"We too seek the answers to this evil; and that is how we have come to be here. We are in search of an ancient tome that may lead us to the heart of darkness that threatens our world. We must not be deterred," Though he spoke quickly and purposefully it was clear Rook was uncomfortable with proper discourse.

[sblock=GM]
I wish Magister Loren were here. His words are threaded with silk and gold.

Cartaras <Milord you are far too hard on yourself. You were both eloquent and brief; hallmarks of a good oration.>

Endoril <Quiet, heathen. The very fact you have not been thrust into the sea is a testament to our Lord's benevolence. He needs not your reassurance, nor your futile presence. You would best serve him by transporting yourself into that sun.>
[/sblock]
Rook sighed softly.