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Enforcer's Wheel of Time Story Hour [Last Update 5-20-02 (finally!)]
- Thread starter Enforcer
- Start date
Enforcer
Explorer
Riekhan said:Ack! As soon as I read this I thought "Kill him NOW! He'll cause you problems later on!" I like how seemlessly you include events from the books into your story.
I wish I could take credit for putting "him" (I'll not ruin the surprise for those who haven't figured it out) in the story, but the story's based on the adventure in the back of the Wheel of Time rpg, and they put "him" in there.
Yeah, just so it's clear: the plot for this story is wholly based on the work of the WotC people who wrote the adventure "What Follows in Shadow" that appears in the Wheel of Time rpg.
The four main characters, their dialogue, emotions, and anything else not included in the actual adventure text, is mine.
It is the telling of the story that is impressive and worthy of attention and praise. The source of the plot is of little consequence, players should make the plot, the DM should just make situations*. These can-and often are-borrowed from movies, games, modules, comics, and anything else under the sun including the DM's own creativity. The fact that the situation didn't come directly from the DM is not a demerit, it is a badge of honor that he can take something and breathe life into it so that it becomes an interactive environment that acts and reacts.
Your telling of the emotions, motivations, your handling of the characters and the environment, your transitions, and your descriptions of all of that here are truly excellent.
Keep up the good work!
J
*yes, I know, I need to follow this simple plan--but I figured it out after I set things into motion in my game. and it's only my second campaign, and the first one ended premature, so maybe in reality it is my 1st and a half? maybe I'll get it right next time.. or maybe something will happen that will set me free from my plot machinations--regardless YOU are doing Magnificently.
Your telling of the emotions, motivations, your handling of the characters and the environment, your transitions, and your descriptions of all of that here are truly excellent.
Keep up the good work!
J
*yes, I know, I need to follow this simple plan--but I figured it out after I set things into motion in my game. and it's only my second campaign, and the first one ended premature, so maybe in reality it is my 1st and a half? maybe I'll get it right next time.. or maybe something will happen that will set me free from my plot machinations--regardless YOU are doing Magnificently.
Little_Buddha
First Post
*bump*
Pillars of Hercules
First Post
Still reading!
Just a little note to say I really enjoyed the latest installment and I'm dying for more!
Just a little note to say I really enjoyed the latest installment and I'm dying for more!
Enforcer
Explorer
So where the hell has the author been?!?
School, finals coming up, starting up with french horn lessons again--all these things take up time. I really regret not being able to write the final part of the adventure yet, but I have been pretty busy, and that's combined with the fact that I'm a known slacker! Rest assured, I will be completing the adventure; I haven't just left this to die a lonely death. No promises as to when this titanic feat will be accomplished, but anytime after school's out (starting in May) is a good bet.
Until then, thank you for your support of this story hour and for your (hoped for) understanding!
--Enforcer
School, finals coming up, starting up with french horn lessons again--all these things take up time. I really regret not being able to write the final part of the adventure yet, but I have been pretty busy, and that's combined with the fact that I'm a known slacker! Rest assured, I will be completing the adventure; I haven't just left this to die a lonely death. No promises as to when this titanic feat will be accomplished, but anytime after school's out (starting in May) is a good bet.
Until then, thank you for your support of this story hour and for your (hoped for) understanding!
--Enforcer
Little_Buddha
First Post
Still here!
Enforcer
Explorer
Done! (for now)
“Now, scum,” I said, pulling Ronan’s dazed attacker up by his shirt, “you will tell me who hired you to enact this ambush, and why… You do not want to see me angry, do you?”
“Please! No! I’ll talk! It was the beggar that hired us! Five crowns apiece to kill you and take all of your stuff to him! Light, don’t hurt me!” I dropped the man onto the floor again—his piteous wailing and foul breath were most unpleasant.
“What in the name of the Light would that beggar want with our gear? If he had twenty crowns to hire these thugs, he could’ve bought anything he needed, rather than take it from us,” Tarlan said, looking perplexed. Ronan just shrugged.
“I agree, it is strange. Then again, I rather doubt that the beggar is sane. Tarlan, you and Ronan please watch our prisoner while I fetch one of the Queen’s Guards. Resara, why don’t you collect their crowns, they won’t need them where they’re going,” I said carefully. This was the first real test to see whether they trusted me as a leader.
“Why should you be the one to get the guards? Why do I have to go digging through their smelly pockets?” Resara demanded in a shrill, outraged voice. Oops, maybe it was too early for that kind of test. It was time to turn on the charm that worked so well with Filip’s daughter on Father’s estates.
“Because, my dear, like it or not, the guards will respond more favorably to my signet ring than to just anyone. As for searching the men, I merely assumed that you wouldn’t miss anything, whereas Tarlan or Ronan might not be so thorough.” There. That should do it.
“You honestly think your flaming signet ring will work better than one look at me in this dress?” she responded, arching an eyebrow and taking a pose that instantly put a lump in my throat.
“Ah, point taken Resara. You are quite right I think. Will it be to your satisfaction if we trade responsibilities?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly. Given that I wanted her to eventually share my bed, this was not going well at all. Perhaps if I let her think she could tell me what to do my luck would hold.
With a small smile and a nod, the breath-taking Domani strolled out into the street. With a sigh, I began to collect the gold. As I gave Tarlan his share—five crowns—he looked at it with wide eyes. So soon out of the Maule and already I forget that most people would consider such a sum to be phenomenal riches! Ronan simply slipped his part into his coin purse without a second glance. Blood and ashes, I will get this man to open up!
Resara soon returned with six—six!—of Andor’s finest. No doubt they were all too happy to help a woman who looks like that. The surviving mercenary was put into chains and marched to his awaiting cell, while one guard called for the undertaker’s cart. Resara, to her credit, assuaged any suspicions that the Andormen might have had. I rather suspect that her heaving bosom must have helped at least a little.
And so we made our way back to the Golden Stag; Tarlan, Resara, and I talking excitedly about the adventures we have had since coming to Caemlyn. When we arrived, I gave Master Ferrin one of my newly won gold crowns and told him to supply the room with drink until it ran out. It was the least I could do, given how all of the inn’s patrons had treated us since our rescue of Sirene.
As Resara regaled our latest excitement to several very interested (and very male) patrons, I decided that now was the time for Ronan to speak. I have to admit, I was extraordinarily curious about the man.
“So, Ronan, why did you leave Shienar to come to Caemlyn?” I asked innocently. The man looked up from his untouched drink, as if only now was he aware that Tarlan and myself were seated next to him. How rude!
“Well…my father’s barn caught fire one night, and everyone blamed me for it. I left before they had a chance to beat me,” he said, with some regret in his voice. “I guess I figured that while I was away I’d see some of the big cities to the South.” Hmm. Now I was beginning to see why he was so quiet, despite his story, the man was definitely holding something back from me. Still, I supposed that that was a good enough start for now. Soon after, I left for my bed. Light, does fighting make one tired!
A thump and shout woke me from my rest. By the light coming through the frosted window I could see that dawn was just breaking. The noises that had hatefully roused me from sleep seemed to be coming from down the hall, by Tarlan’s room. I got up and threw a shirt on over my smallclothes, and went to see what the commotion was about.
As I opened the door to my room, a small figure rushed by and flew down the stairs with a cloak under its arm. A moment later, and the smell identified the figure as that same Light-accursed beggar!
“Stop him, he took my flaming cloak!” Tarlan shouted. He was lacing up his boots while his coat dangled from him with only one arm through it. I rushed back in to get my own boots, and some pants while I was at it. Hurriedly I finished, grabbed my own cloak and my sword, and rushed out into the street to see if I could see the man. Tarlan, Ronan, and Resara were already running after him when Bennet stepped out of a shadow in front of our prey. There was a quick flurry of movement, and Bennet slumped to the cold stones that paved the street. We all rushed to his aid.
“I’ll be alright,” he said, clutching his arm where the beggar had wounded him, his small dagger lying next to him, “I got him back right good! Look, you can see the blood on the street!” And indeed we could! Bennet had left us the perfect trail to find our beggar-turned-thief. Thus, we resumed our chase; and quite the chase it was! The beggar ran as if the Dark One himself was behind him and it was not long before we lost sight of him. Lucky for us, however, the filthy wretch had not the time to stop his wound from bleeding. Bennet’s bravery allowed us to follow him to a cellar somewhere in the Old City.
“Halt! The Children of the Light demand it, Darkfriend scum!” Not bloody Whitecloaks again, the Light damn them all! I turned to look and mercifully there were only two of them. But then a third came from around the corner. Then a fourth and a fifth, and I could hear even more jogging down the street, their chain mail clinking in time with their strides. We all rushed down into the cellar and barred the doors behind us. Still, I was worried. Our barrier would only buy us a little time before they broke through the doors.
After making sure the bar we put on the door was secure, I turned to see what was down here, hoping for some heavy furniture to help our barricade. After Tarlan lit a torch, I could see two beautifully carved stone doors stood ajar…with the Light-knows-what lying between them. It was black, but not as if there was a dark room beyond the entranceway. No, it was a tangible black with a gleam that reflected the shine from Tarlan’s light.
“Wh-what in the name of the Light is that?” I gasped. This…gateway…surely had to be a product of the One Power. I felt as if I was going to sick up. Resara looked as if she were having similar thoughts. Ronan…well Ronan looked curious, if anything. The man must be mad. Tarlan, however, had an even stranger reaction.
“His footprints lead up to that thing, let’s go!” he shouted, and rushed towards the shimmering blackness. When he came to it, he paused for a moment, then stepped through. And vanished. With a muttered oath that bears no repeating in this journal, I and the others joined him.
Into a nightmare. First was actually passing through that black shroud. My skin shivered with the cold. Time actually seemed to slow as I closed my eyes and stepped through, until I felt almost thrown through to the other side. One look at what lay ahead of me made my knees buckle. Suspended in a world of darkness was the platform I stood on, with the horrible gate beside me. All around it was nothing, it was as if the stone were floating in the middle of pure emptiness. Extending from our…island…was a stone bridge, cracked with age. A white line ran down the center of it.
“Come on, we can still catch them!” Tarlan exclaimed. At least now the man was frightened. What was he thinking, charging off into this terrible place like that? My though went unanswered, as the big Andorman started to run down the bridge, taking the only light source with him. None of us were going to be left alone in the dark, not in that place.
Not long after we started to rush down the bridge, we came to another platform, only this one had three new bridges to choose from and some sort of stone tablet with markings on it. Nothing I could read, regretfully.
“Co-Come Tarlan, we have all had quite enough of this, I think. I promise to buy you the finest cloak available in Caemlyn as soon as we get back. Just please! Let us return to the city!” Resara wailed, tears running down her face. I was hardly a comfort to her, given how frightened I was.
“You can go, I want my flaming cloak back,” he replied. Given that he still had the torch, that was that. “Hush, I hear footsteps.” As he strained to hear which path the sound had come from, Ronan nudged my shoulder and pointed above us. Blood and ashes! There was another platform almost right over us, some ten paces up! Seeing that, I concentrated on the way from which we had come, so there would be no doubt as to how to get back.
Before I could feel comfortable with the return route, however, Tarlan had already chosen the bridge to the left and had began to run. We came across two more platforms that way, each time having to make another choice. Finally, after what seemed like years in that dreadful world, we found our quarry.
Standing towards the back of this newest platform, a man wearing simple traveler’s clothes was standing proudly. It was the beggar! His head and hooked nose were held high, in an almost regal fashion. If there was any doubt before about him being just a simple beggar, now there was none. And, at his feet, lay Tarlan’s cloak. More pressing, however, were the two Trollocs who were waiting for us on the nearer part of the platform. My sword already drawn, I rushed down with Tarlan to engage the monsters, just as the beggar said, “Kill them.”
Tarlan had a great idea as he charged down the bridge by my side. When he met his Trolloc—a goat-headed creature with hooves instead of feet—he slammed into it as hard as he could, instead of just using his sword. The beast, caught off-guard, fell back the edge of the platform, its arms wind milling to keep its balance. Resara’s thrown dagger made its efforts useless, and the Trolloc fell off the rotted stonework into the horrible dark. I decided I would not risk the other Shadowspawn pushing me back, and so I led with my blade, rather than my shoulder. Satisfaction tingled through my as my sword sank deep into the ugly being’s side, invoking a baleful groan from it. Ronan was quickly by my side, but the creature’s armor turned away the force of his blow. The Trolloc, fighting to save itself now, tried to push at me with its monstrous arms. Luckily, Ronan grabbed my arm before I could fall off the edge. The Light only knows what would have become of me if I had fallen from that place! Ronan’s quick reaction also had the benefit of causing my attacker to overextend itself, and it fell, hard, onto the stonework. With a yell, Tarlan came up from its other side and pushed it off the edge into oblivion.
Standing up, I looked at the beggar and said, “Now you are finished.”
“Padan Fain is never finished! I don’t need the cloak to kill Al’Thor!” he cried. And with his last words, he jumped off the platform and barely caught the edge of a bridge passing beneath him. He had escaped.
“Can we go back now?” Resara asked, her voice quiet. Tarlan nodded somberly, then went to retrieve his cloak.
Somehow we managed to find our way back to Caemlyn, the Light only knows how. Later that day, I went out to buy this journal. One thing I will say, being a hero is not as fun as it is in the stories. I cannot remember any heroes nearly soiling themselves with fear, anyways. Hopefully things can only improve from here on out.
“Now, scum,” I said, pulling Ronan’s dazed attacker up by his shirt, “you will tell me who hired you to enact this ambush, and why… You do not want to see me angry, do you?”
“Please! No! I’ll talk! It was the beggar that hired us! Five crowns apiece to kill you and take all of your stuff to him! Light, don’t hurt me!” I dropped the man onto the floor again—his piteous wailing and foul breath were most unpleasant.
“What in the name of the Light would that beggar want with our gear? If he had twenty crowns to hire these thugs, he could’ve bought anything he needed, rather than take it from us,” Tarlan said, looking perplexed. Ronan just shrugged.
“I agree, it is strange. Then again, I rather doubt that the beggar is sane. Tarlan, you and Ronan please watch our prisoner while I fetch one of the Queen’s Guards. Resara, why don’t you collect their crowns, they won’t need them where they’re going,” I said carefully. This was the first real test to see whether they trusted me as a leader.
“Why should you be the one to get the guards? Why do I have to go digging through their smelly pockets?” Resara demanded in a shrill, outraged voice. Oops, maybe it was too early for that kind of test. It was time to turn on the charm that worked so well with Filip’s daughter on Father’s estates.
“Because, my dear, like it or not, the guards will respond more favorably to my signet ring than to just anyone. As for searching the men, I merely assumed that you wouldn’t miss anything, whereas Tarlan or Ronan might not be so thorough.” There. That should do it.
“You honestly think your flaming signet ring will work better than one look at me in this dress?” she responded, arching an eyebrow and taking a pose that instantly put a lump in my throat.
“Ah, point taken Resara. You are quite right I think. Will it be to your satisfaction if we trade responsibilities?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly. Given that I wanted her to eventually share my bed, this was not going well at all. Perhaps if I let her think she could tell me what to do my luck would hold.
With a small smile and a nod, the breath-taking Domani strolled out into the street. With a sigh, I began to collect the gold. As I gave Tarlan his share—five crowns—he looked at it with wide eyes. So soon out of the Maule and already I forget that most people would consider such a sum to be phenomenal riches! Ronan simply slipped his part into his coin purse without a second glance. Blood and ashes, I will get this man to open up!
Resara soon returned with six—six!—of Andor’s finest. No doubt they were all too happy to help a woman who looks like that. The surviving mercenary was put into chains and marched to his awaiting cell, while one guard called for the undertaker’s cart. Resara, to her credit, assuaged any suspicions that the Andormen might have had. I rather suspect that her heaving bosom must have helped at least a little.
And so we made our way back to the Golden Stag; Tarlan, Resara, and I talking excitedly about the adventures we have had since coming to Caemlyn. When we arrived, I gave Master Ferrin one of my newly won gold crowns and told him to supply the room with drink until it ran out. It was the least I could do, given how all of the inn’s patrons had treated us since our rescue of Sirene.
As Resara regaled our latest excitement to several very interested (and very male) patrons, I decided that now was the time for Ronan to speak. I have to admit, I was extraordinarily curious about the man.
“So, Ronan, why did you leave Shienar to come to Caemlyn?” I asked innocently. The man looked up from his untouched drink, as if only now was he aware that Tarlan and myself were seated next to him. How rude!
“Well…my father’s barn caught fire one night, and everyone blamed me for it. I left before they had a chance to beat me,” he said, with some regret in his voice. “I guess I figured that while I was away I’d see some of the big cities to the South.” Hmm. Now I was beginning to see why he was so quiet, despite his story, the man was definitely holding something back from me. Still, I supposed that that was a good enough start for now. Soon after, I left for my bed. Light, does fighting make one tired!
A thump and shout woke me from my rest. By the light coming through the frosted window I could see that dawn was just breaking. The noises that had hatefully roused me from sleep seemed to be coming from down the hall, by Tarlan’s room. I got up and threw a shirt on over my smallclothes, and went to see what the commotion was about.
As I opened the door to my room, a small figure rushed by and flew down the stairs with a cloak under its arm. A moment later, and the smell identified the figure as that same Light-accursed beggar!
“Stop him, he took my flaming cloak!” Tarlan shouted. He was lacing up his boots while his coat dangled from him with only one arm through it. I rushed back in to get my own boots, and some pants while I was at it. Hurriedly I finished, grabbed my own cloak and my sword, and rushed out into the street to see if I could see the man. Tarlan, Ronan, and Resara were already running after him when Bennet stepped out of a shadow in front of our prey. There was a quick flurry of movement, and Bennet slumped to the cold stones that paved the street. We all rushed to his aid.
“I’ll be alright,” he said, clutching his arm where the beggar had wounded him, his small dagger lying next to him, “I got him back right good! Look, you can see the blood on the street!” And indeed we could! Bennet had left us the perfect trail to find our beggar-turned-thief. Thus, we resumed our chase; and quite the chase it was! The beggar ran as if the Dark One himself was behind him and it was not long before we lost sight of him. Lucky for us, however, the filthy wretch had not the time to stop his wound from bleeding. Bennet’s bravery allowed us to follow him to a cellar somewhere in the Old City.
“Halt! The Children of the Light demand it, Darkfriend scum!” Not bloody Whitecloaks again, the Light damn them all! I turned to look and mercifully there were only two of them. But then a third came from around the corner. Then a fourth and a fifth, and I could hear even more jogging down the street, their chain mail clinking in time with their strides. We all rushed down into the cellar and barred the doors behind us. Still, I was worried. Our barrier would only buy us a little time before they broke through the doors.
After making sure the bar we put on the door was secure, I turned to see what was down here, hoping for some heavy furniture to help our barricade. After Tarlan lit a torch, I could see two beautifully carved stone doors stood ajar…with the Light-knows-what lying between them. It was black, but not as if there was a dark room beyond the entranceway. No, it was a tangible black with a gleam that reflected the shine from Tarlan’s light.
“Wh-what in the name of the Light is that?” I gasped. This…gateway…surely had to be a product of the One Power. I felt as if I was going to sick up. Resara looked as if she were having similar thoughts. Ronan…well Ronan looked curious, if anything. The man must be mad. Tarlan, however, had an even stranger reaction.
“His footprints lead up to that thing, let’s go!” he shouted, and rushed towards the shimmering blackness. When he came to it, he paused for a moment, then stepped through. And vanished. With a muttered oath that bears no repeating in this journal, I and the others joined him.
Into a nightmare. First was actually passing through that black shroud. My skin shivered with the cold. Time actually seemed to slow as I closed my eyes and stepped through, until I felt almost thrown through to the other side. One look at what lay ahead of me made my knees buckle. Suspended in a world of darkness was the platform I stood on, with the horrible gate beside me. All around it was nothing, it was as if the stone were floating in the middle of pure emptiness. Extending from our…island…was a stone bridge, cracked with age. A white line ran down the center of it.
“Come on, we can still catch them!” Tarlan exclaimed. At least now the man was frightened. What was he thinking, charging off into this terrible place like that? My though went unanswered, as the big Andorman started to run down the bridge, taking the only light source with him. None of us were going to be left alone in the dark, not in that place.
Not long after we started to rush down the bridge, we came to another platform, only this one had three new bridges to choose from and some sort of stone tablet with markings on it. Nothing I could read, regretfully.
“Co-Come Tarlan, we have all had quite enough of this, I think. I promise to buy you the finest cloak available in Caemlyn as soon as we get back. Just please! Let us return to the city!” Resara wailed, tears running down her face. I was hardly a comfort to her, given how frightened I was.
“You can go, I want my flaming cloak back,” he replied. Given that he still had the torch, that was that. “Hush, I hear footsteps.” As he strained to hear which path the sound had come from, Ronan nudged my shoulder and pointed above us. Blood and ashes! There was another platform almost right over us, some ten paces up! Seeing that, I concentrated on the way from which we had come, so there would be no doubt as to how to get back.
Before I could feel comfortable with the return route, however, Tarlan had already chosen the bridge to the left and had began to run. We came across two more platforms that way, each time having to make another choice. Finally, after what seemed like years in that dreadful world, we found our quarry.
Standing towards the back of this newest platform, a man wearing simple traveler’s clothes was standing proudly. It was the beggar! His head and hooked nose were held high, in an almost regal fashion. If there was any doubt before about him being just a simple beggar, now there was none. And, at his feet, lay Tarlan’s cloak. More pressing, however, were the two Trollocs who were waiting for us on the nearer part of the platform. My sword already drawn, I rushed down with Tarlan to engage the monsters, just as the beggar said, “Kill them.”
Tarlan had a great idea as he charged down the bridge by my side. When he met his Trolloc—a goat-headed creature with hooves instead of feet—he slammed into it as hard as he could, instead of just using his sword. The beast, caught off-guard, fell back the edge of the platform, its arms wind milling to keep its balance. Resara’s thrown dagger made its efforts useless, and the Trolloc fell off the rotted stonework into the horrible dark. I decided I would not risk the other Shadowspawn pushing me back, and so I led with my blade, rather than my shoulder. Satisfaction tingled through my as my sword sank deep into the ugly being’s side, invoking a baleful groan from it. Ronan was quickly by my side, but the creature’s armor turned away the force of his blow. The Trolloc, fighting to save itself now, tried to push at me with its monstrous arms. Luckily, Ronan grabbed my arm before I could fall off the edge. The Light only knows what would have become of me if I had fallen from that place! Ronan’s quick reaction also had the benefit of causing my attacker to overextend itself, and it fell, hard, onto the stonework. With a yell, Tarlan came up from its other side and pushed it off the edge into oblivion.
Standing up, I looked at the beggar and said, “Now you are finished.”
“Padan Fain is never finished! I don’t need the cloak to kill Al’Thor!” he cried. And with his last words, he jumped off the platform and barely caught the edge of a bridge passing beneath him. He had escaped.
“Can we go back now?” Resara asked, her voice quiet. Tarlan nodded somberly, then went to retrieve his cloak.
Somehow we managed to find our way back to Caemlyn, the Light only knows how. Later that day, I went out to buy this journal. One thing I will say, being a hero is not as fun as it is in the stories. I cannot remember any heroes nearly soiling themselves with fear, anyways. Hopefully things can only improve from here on out.
