[FR] Heroes of the Vilhon Reach II (updated 3/6!)
Mahiro Satsu
First Post
I'm sorry that I havent gotten around to reading your storyhour before. I really enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading our story hour, Broccli_Head. It means a lot to all of us.
Thanks for reading our story hour, Broccli_Head. It means a lot to all of us.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Thanks Mahiro Satsu for reading the story. I hope you've become a fan. We're coming to a pause in the campaign as I try to figure out what to do with the Heroes as they pursue the legacy of their sires....To 4 Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons: One Near Fatal Minute
Khirin al D'hib made his way through the busy tavern, shaking the wet from his cloak. It seemed to rain every three days or so. Khirin sighed and then spied his quarry. He approached an elven bard that he had heard was in town. He sought information to help his companions and to persuade them not to make a daring...or foolish...rescue of Mourn, the Mad. Erindol Starharp saw the merchant coming towards him. He could tell that the man did not want to hear him perform but sought information. The elf stood up.
"Make your questions quick," demanded the elf
Khirin narrowed his eyes and scowled slightly, but answered, "It seems that all the elves I have come across lately have forgotten their manners."
The Tethyran merchant bowed, "I will not forget mine. Sir Starharp, I seek information on several items."
Khirin described the blade that Mourn had clutched so dearly.
"Where did you see this blade? Such an item does not exist. Merchant you waste my time."
However, Khirin saw through the elf's feigned ignorance. He became more bold. Faun had mentioned a group of purist elves called the Elderth Veluthra or the Victorious Blade of the People.
"Is this blade connected to the Elderth Veluthra?"
The bard answered, clearly upset, "Our business is concluded. He began to walk away. Khirin followed him towards the door repeating the questions and describing again what the heroes had seen during the scry. The bard whirled around a rapier quickly at Khirin's throat. The merchant rogue felt the trickle of blood.
"You delve into things that are best left alone, human. The Starym Moonblade, the Bladeshee is not to be trifled with."
Khirin held his arms up and tried to remain unthreatening. The elf turned and left the tavern.
**
At some point during the eight day 'grace' period, Khirin related the encounter to Benito. There were too many questions left unanswered, like What was a Bladshee? that none could even guess at. Faun kept pestering Benito about her task to seek after Harular, to which the cleric of Tyr would answer,
"We will go after your half-dragon bandit after we get Mourn."
As the days went by the tone was more exclamatory, until Bentio had to ask the rest of the group, notably Ivan, to distract her with martial arts practice.
The eight days came and went. Benito had the plan ready and Khirin having found no reason to stop Benito (other than his insistance that it was a bad plan) agreed reluctantly to go along.
The heroes would teleport into the cavern that they had viewed a tenday ago, after scrying to see if Mourn and his wailing attendant were present. Those of good morality would have a mask alignment spell placed upon them to prevent any wards that affected good folk from working on them. They would then grab Mourn and 'port out of there. Benito had back ups ready, like plane shift and word of recall memorized just in case the original spells cast by Prespur the Translocator did not work. The whole mission was planned to only take eighteen ticks. The plan was to abort if it looked like it would take longer. Once Mourn was back they were to put him in dungeon cell in Lord Bron's castle that had been hallowed with the protection from evil component facing inward and a dimensional anchor attached to the hallowed area.
It seemed full-proof and well thought out, in any case, and there had been much communing with the representatives of Tyr to solidify the plan.
**
The party consisting of Prespur, Benito, Khirin, Fauh, Ivan, Sergei, Grim, and Souliess gathered around the mirror in a large room set aside temporarily for this mission. Towards the end of Benito's ritual to scry, the mage and merchant cleric cast preparative spells on the party.
Mourn came into view and before he had a chance to detect their presence, Benito shouted, "Prespur, now!"
The heroes disappeared from Castle Irieabor and reappeared many miles to the north in a cavern somewhere in the Sunset Hills. The telelportation daze wore off in a few seconds with strangely only the mage suffering any ill effects.
Benito acted quickly and cast his mighty spell of stunning. With a single word he incapacitated Mourn. He then moved to stand between him and the elven woman that stood at his side. Sergei taking a cue from Benito, took a step foward and slashed at the elven warrior-woman. His blade passed right through her and a shower of sparks issued from the floor of the cavern. Grim, not trusting Benito's attack of power, stabbed the helpless Mourn, just to make sure. Benito groaned.
Then the elven woman wailed. Faun dropped. Other elven warriors were closing to attack the intruders as the elven woman who had just wailed shouted out orders of 'capture for sacrifice' in archaic, hard-to-understand elven. Ivan, ignoring the attacks of a ring of elven fighters, grabbed Faun and slung her over his shoulder. Khiran recovered Mourn around which the heroes had formed a protective circle. Prespur, now cleared of the haze in his mind, saw that their target had been acquired. He cast his second teleport of the day and the heroes vanished. Only twelve ticks had elasped.
To their suprise as they recovered from the translocation, they discovered that they had brought back not one, but two guests. The elven warrior woman lashed out at her adversaries with a blade that seemed to ignore armor. A brisk fight in the close quarters of the cell insued.
Sergei and Ivan, dropping Faun, went toe-to-toe with what the mute warrior from Wa had signed was a spectre. Khirin was examining Faun and Mourn while Grim, Benito, and Souliess tried to manuver to combat the elven woman and hopefully dispatch her before she wailed again. Souliess only found resistance and at one point in his mental attack against her, felt a backlash of psionic power. Grim's swords found no purchase and they passed through her incorporeal body. Sergei met flesh with his katana and Ivan caused the spectre to grimace at least once. Then Benito called on the power of Tyr and a beam of searing light tore into the elven ghost, right between the eyes. The spectre disappeared.
Mourn shuddered and dropped the moonblade. One of the heroes dragged their rescued companion from the cell. Khirin did the same for Faun.
Already Ivan's men were running down the stairs, their booted feet echoing in unison (Prespur had dimension door'ed a few seconds prior to get the troops). Benito slammed the cell shut and quickly finished the wards to close the hallow. The blade glowed seemingly with anger and the cleric turned away. It seemed to beckon him. He looked to where Khirin crouched over Faun. He met the cleric of Waukeen's eyes. Khirin shook his head. Faun was dead.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
the next day...
5 Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons: Companions' Return, part I
The elven warrior peered through the brush at his quarry. It was the most exquisite deer that he had ever seen. He drew back on his bow and let the arrow fly. A perfect shot! He crept forward to finish him off and he heard horns sound in the distance. Other hunters had been successful. The elf was happy. He hunted day in and day out, always finding the choicest prey: deer, boar, fowl of different kinds. He felt that he could stalk and kill game for eternity in the vast forest that seemed to be without end...Arvandor...He could hear the name on the wind. Pausing, the elf stood over the downed deer and looked around. He had lost track of how long he had been here. Sometimes he even forgot his name. Yet, the one constant was the reassuring presence of the Lone Wolf, who hunted somewhere in this infinite forest with him who had been Ellysidell, formerly of the Chondalwood, now of Arvandor.
**
Benito woke up with a start. Yesterday had been a harrowing day, but fortunately, Mourn had been unconscious the whole time and he had ordered, with Lord Bron's approval for the dungeon to be evacuated except for Ivan's most trusted guard. Now Benito dressed quickly and went first to the tower room where Mourn was being held. To his relief, Sergei was already there supervising half of Ivan's men to keep watch on the crazed bard, Benito's former companion. Then he went down to the dungeons where he found Khirin and Souliess, two of the strongest willed beings in his party, with the rest of the Cormyrean mercenaries.
It seemed his worries were unneccessary. Their prisoners were being well supervised. First he went to the holding room where the bodies of Faun and Ellysidell, and all their equipment lay. He made sure the spells of preservation were intact. It was difficult for Benito, but he felt that there had to be closure. He planned to return Ell's body to the Chondalwood to his people. With Faun, a courier had been sent to Berdusk, to Twilight Hall to inform the people there of the loss of one of their trackers.
Then he went to meet Lord Bronn, Prespur the Translocator, and Ivan for breakfast. Over the meal, the four men discussed what to do about the evil artifact in the castle. Benito obtained permission to contact the High Abbot of Temple of Tyr in Zassespur, Tethyr, the church which led Tyrites in Western Faerun. He felt that they should pass the responsibility to more capable hands. Prespur echoed that they were fortunate that the wailing spirit of the moonblade had not killed more of them. He also felt that the spirit had not been at full strength. The sooner it was removed from Iriaebor, the better.
After that, the conversation turned to small talk: magical theories, theololgy, fighting styles; until a frantic knock came to the door. Ivan instinctively reached for his blade, but Benito stayed his hand, shaking his head and reminding him about proper etiquitte in front of their current patron. A page answered and one of the Cormyrean mercenaries bowed quickly and signed to Ivan.
"The prisoner, your elven friend, is causing some trouble. Sergei says he needs our help."
Benito and Ivan took off for the tower. Upon arrival they saw that several of the mercenaries restraining one of their own number. In front of Sergei, another soldier lay sprawled on the ground. Benito gave Ivan a worried look as they approached.
Sergei talked with his hands to his commander, The prisoner used some magic. I had to subdue one of our men.
Ivan narrowed his eyes, "Then we kill him."
"Too late, I'm over here," came a sing-song, yet sinister voice.
Benito recognized it as a twisted version of what he remembered was Mourn's.
Sergei shook his head and told Ivan, No, he is still in his cell. He is using magic to confuse us.
Benito replied, "Mourn, behave or we will have to be less civil."
An evil laugh from both the stairs and tower room was the reply.
The cleric of Tyr burst into the room followed by Ivan and Sergei, who watched the door. There was a quick scuffle as Ivan attacked Mourn, then Benito healed him after which a miasma of confusion settled on the heroes. The Rashemani ex-patriate then went after Benito with his scimitar as the bard continued to sing unintelligible notes, interrupted by gibberish, or fits of laughter. Benito dispelled the confusion curse after dodging Ivan's deadly rain of blows with wide eyes, but suddenly Mourn disappeared. Ivan ran to the small barred window, while Sergei blocked the door.
Time stood still as Benito called out to his former companion to attempt to calm him down. The warriors searched calmly for their foe, knowing that he could not escape. The crazed bard appeared, attempting to strangle Sergei. With unnaturally strong hands wrapped around his throat, the man from Wa sliced into Mourn with his katana, and in the same breath, Benito smacked the bard alongside the temple, sending him crumpling to the ground. The trio breathed deeply and secured Mourn better with manacles and a gag to prevent him from more trickery.
It was the first time that they all noticed how wan and thin Mourn had become in less than a day. Benito realized that the bard was dying. Ivan tossed him, not too gently onto his bed.
A voice sounded in his head. It was Khirin Benito, trouble! Might need help with Souliess.
"Downstairs!" Benito called as he pushed past Sergei and Ivan. He lept in the air and flew down the tower stairs...
5 Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons: Companions' Return, part I
The elven warrior peered through the brush at his quarry. It was the most exquisite deer that he had ever seen. He drew back on his bow and let the arrow fly. A perfect shot! He crept forward to finish him off and he heard horns sound in the distance. Other hunters had been successful. The elf was happy. He hunted day in and day out, always finding the choicest prey: deer, boar, fowl of different kinds. He felt that he could stalk and kill game for eternity in the vast forest that seemed to be without end...Arvandor...He could hear the name on the wind. Pausing, the elf stood over the downed deer and looked around. He had lost track of how long he had been here. Sometimes he even forgot his name. Yet, the one constant was the reassuring presence of the Lone Wolf, who hunted somewhere in this infinite forest with him who had been Ellysidell, formerly of the Chondalwood, now of Arvandor.
**
Benito woke up with a start. Yesterday had been a harrowing day, but fortunately, Mourn had been unconscious the whole time and he had ordered, with Lord Bron's approval for the dungeon to be evacuated except for Ivan's most trusted guard. Now Benito dressed quickly and went first to the tower room where Mourn was being held. To his relief, Sergei was already there supervising half of Ivan's men to keep watch on the crazed bard, Benito's former companion. Then he went down to the dungeons where he found Khirin and Souliess, two of the strongest willed beings in his party, with the rest of the Cormyrean mercenaries.
It seemed his worries were unneccessary. Their prisoners were being well supervised. First he went to the holding room where the bodies of Faun and Ellysidell, and all their equipment lay. He made sure the spells of preservation were intact. It was difficult for Benito, but he felt that there had to be closure. He planned to return Ell's body to the Chondalwood to his people. With Faun, a courier had been sent to Berdusk, to Twilight Hall to inform the people there of the loss of one of their trackers.
Then he went to meet Lord Bronn, Prespur the Translocator, and Ivan for breakfast. Over the meal, the four men discussed what to do about the evil artifact in the castle. Benito obtained permission to contact the High Abbot of Temple of Tyr in Zassespur, Tethyr, the church which led Tyrites in Western Faerun. He felt that they should pass the responsibility to more capable hands. Prespur echoed that they were fortunate that the wailing spirit of the moonblade had not killed more of them. He also felt that the spirit had not been at full strength. The sooner it was removed from Iriaebor, the better.
After that, the conversation turned to small talk: magical theories, theololgy, fighting styles; until a frantic knock came to the door. Ivan instinctively reached for his blade, but Benito stayed his hand, shaking his head and reminding him about proper etiquitte in front of their current patron. A page answered and one of the Cormyrean mercenaries bowed quickly and signed to Ivan.
"The prisoner, your elven friend, is causing some trouble. Sergei says he needs our help."
Benito and Ivan took off for the tower. Upon arrival they saw that several of the mercenaries restraining one of their own number. In front of Sergei, another soldier lay sprawled on the ground. Benito gave Ivan a worried look as they approached.
Sergei talked with his hands to his commander, The prisoner used some magic. I had to subdue one of our men.
Ivan narrowed his eyes, "Then we kill him."
"Too late, I'm over here," came a sing-song, yet sinister voice.
Benito recognized it as a twisted version of what he remembered was Mourn's.
Sergei shook his head and told Ivan, No, he is still in his cell. He is using magic to confuse us.
Benito replied, "Mourn, behave or we will have to be less civil."
An evil laugh from both the stairs and tower room was the reply.
The cleric of Tyr burst into the room followed by Ivan and Sergei, who watched the door. There was a quick scuffle as Ivan attacked Mourn, then Benito healed him after which a miasma of confusion settled on the heroes. The Rashemani ex-patriate then went after Benito with his scimitar as the bard continued to sing unintelligible notes, interrupted by gibberish, or fits of laughter. Benito dispelled the confusion curse after dodging Ivan's deadly rain of blows with wide eyes, but suddenly Mourn disappeared. Ivan ran to the small barred window, while Sergei blocked the door.
Time stood still as Benito called out to his former companion to attempt to calm him down. The warriors searched calmly for their foe, knowing that he could not escape. The crazed bard appeared, attempting to strangle Sergei. With unnaturally strong hands wrapped around his throat, the man from Wa sliced into Mourn with his katana, and in the same breath, Benito smacked the bard alongside the temple, sending him crumpling to the ground. The trio breathed deeply and secured Mourn better with manacles and a gag to prevent him from more trickery.
It was the first time that they all noticed how wan and thin Mourn had become in less than a day. Benito realized that the bard was dying. Ivan tossed him, not too gently onto his bed.
A voice sounded in his head. It was Khirin Benito, trouble! Might need help with Souliess.
"Downstairs!" Benito called as he pushed past Sergei and Ivan. He lept in the air and flew down the tower stairs...
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
A broken heart perhaps.....
Broccli_Head
Explorer
5 Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons: Companions' Return, part II
When Benito arrived near the dungeon, Ivan's men were moving up the stair, weapons drawn. They nodded recognition as the cleric of Tyr sped past. Ivan and Sergei's boots echoed in the tower as the two war vetrans also bounded towards what could be trouble.
At the dungeon door, Khirin held out his loaded crossbow steady with a bead on the Souliess, the psionic wolverine.
"He's making crazy talk, Benito. Talking about the moonblade helping him to gain power."
The psion held up his arms, "You're the one who's insane, merchant. Look at him, Benito, his eyes are wide and he's sweating. I am very calm. She and I were just having a conversation. Then Khirin gets all belligerent. Just because she's not talking to you, I bet!"
She Benito mouthed.
"The Starym Moonblade. Apparently, it can converse with prospective dupes by telepathy."
"See what I mean. Khirin's just hostile."
It was obvious to the holy justice that Souliess for all his vaunted mental prowess was being tempted by the evil artifact. Why wasn't Khirin? he wondered, but quickly shook his head. That was not all that important right now.
"Souliess, let us go upstairs and check on Mourn. He is not doing so well. Maybe you can help. We can stop by the kitchen on the way. I will deal with Khirin later."
He gave the merchant cleric of Waukeen a knowing glance (who nodded in turn), and escorted the wolverine, who was smacking his lips thinking about yummy sausage links, up the stairs.
As the pair of heroes left, Khirin re-iterated that all of the soldiers remain on the stairs and away from the dungeon door. The merchant, taking deep breaths to calm himself, lowered his crossbow and flexed his right hand. A ring on that finger was glowing slightly and was making him a little uncomfortable. He glanced through the barred window that topped the stout, iron-bound oaken door that led to the dungeon. The cracks on the Starym Moonblade glowed a malevolent red color making the dungeon look like some pit of Hell. Khirin felt that he could hear the thing breathing. He looked away, shook his head, and leaned against the door with the crossbow again at the ready.
"Hah!" he spat. "This son of D'hib won't succumb to some cursed elven blade!"
**
Ellysidell was hunting again, like he had the day before and the day before that. The constant that was Fenmarel Mestarine, the Lone Wolf and patron of the wild elves, was suddenly interrupted. There was another powerful presence in the infinite forest. Ell felt the pang of loss and the growl of vengeance in the air. The wind, stirring brown leaves, carried the name Shevarash to him. Then he was no longer stalking through a stand of evergreens. Instead he stood in a clearing before them.
The barbarian stood in awe as the two dieties spoke. He knew that they talked about him, but it was as if he was not there. He caught snatches of the conversation. Shevarash spoke of the traitorous spider queen and the mortal's unquenched vengeance. He had to right the wrong, the wrong visited on his people aeons ago and a more immediate one. Fenmarel countered by telling the elven god of vengeance that Ellysidell had been kept in ignorance, and was thus protected from following a quest that could lead to his own destruction. Then he felt the eyes of Shevarash on him.
"Let us ask him what he thinks," boomed the god.
The scene shifted for Ellysidell and he saw two wild elves surrounded by drow in some piney locale. Snow covered the ground. The two heroes were male and female and fought bravely and valiantly, but eventually were overcome by the magic of several drow priestesses and the sheer numbers of drow fighters. Ell felt a pang of familiarity. Then he stood before Fenmarel and Shevarash once more.
"Your parents, Ellysidell. They were betrayed by the machinations of the dark one! She betrayed us once and will do so again and again!"
Shevarash spoke with hatred and anger. Fenmarel was pensive. Ellysidell's soul was torn even more when he saw the same wild elves that had been slain by the drow ambush appear in the clearing. He bowed before them.
"Avenge us, my son," said the male wild elf hunter. His mother only looked sad.
He went to embrace them. He had never done so before. Then he looked at the gods that stood like giants before him. Was he being manipulated by Shevarash?
There was no response from the Drow-hater. He merely folded his arms. Was he admitting his guilt? Did he even care?
Fenmarel raised a hand and spoke, "Shevarash reveals what has truly occured. Your parents were betrayed by a trusted friend--a fellow elf. The webs of deceit and manipulation run deep among our people. The dark one has but recently made a move for power, and her actions have been rebuffed. However, her ambitions are still not tempered."
"She is a demon, Ellysidell. Look how she has hurt your own family! She will continue to hurt us and must be stopped," added Shevarash.
Fenmarel growled and Shevarash took a step back, remaining silent.
"The choice is yours Ellysidell. Do you wish to remain here in the forests of Arvandor hunting for eternity and having everlasting peace or return to Toril, where vengeance can be yours and Her plans can be thwarted?"
Ellysidell looked at his parents and the gods, and took a deep breath feeling the everlasting woods here in Arvandor. He thought of his friends--Benito, Grim, Aris (if he still lived)--and their needs and the battle and Golden Fire and Son of Fury.
It would be a tough decesion...
When Benito arrived near the dungeon, Ivan's men were moving up the stair, weapons drawn. They nodded recognition as the cleric of Tyr sped past. Ivan and Sergei's boots echoed in the tower as the two war vetrans also bounded towards what could be trouble.
At the dungeon door, Khirin held out his loaded crossbow steady with a bead on the Souliess, the psionic wolverine.
"He's making crazy talk, Benito. Talking about the moonblade helping him to gain power."
The psion held up his arms, "You're the one who's insane, merchant. Look at him, Benito, his eyes are wide and he's sweating. I am very calm. She and I were just having a conversation. Then Khirin gets all belligerent. Just because she's not talking to you, I bet!"
She Benito mouthed.
"The Starym Moonblade. Apparently, it can converse with prospective dupes by telepathy."
"See what I mean. Khirin's just hostile."
It was obvious to the holy justice that Souliess for all his vaunted mental prowess was being tempted by the evil artifact. Why wasn't Khirin? he wondered, but quickly shook his head. That was not all that important right now.
"Souliess, let us go upstairs and check on Mourn. He is not doing so well. Maybe you can help. We can stop by the kitchen on the way. I will deal with Khirin later."
He gave the merchant cleric of Waukeen a knowing glance (who nodded in turn), and escorted the wolverine, who was smacking his lips thinking about yummy sausage links, up the stairs.
As the pair of heroes left, Khirin re-iterated that all of the soldiers remain on the stairs and away from the dungeon door. The merchant, taking deep breaths to calm himself, lowered his crossbow and flexed his right hand. A ring on that finger was glowing slightly and was making him a little uncomfortable. He glanced through the barred window that topped the stout, iron-bound oaken door that led to the dungeon. The cracks on the Starym Moonblade glowed a malevolent red color making the dungeon look like some pit of Hell. Khirin felt that he could hear the thing breathing. He looked away, shook his head, and leaned against the door with the crossbow again at the ready.
"Hah!" he spat. "This son of D'hib won't succumb to some cursed elven blade!"
**
Ellysidell was hunting again, like he had the day before and the day before that. The constant that was Fenmarel Mestarine, the Lone Wolf and patron of the wild elves, was suddenly interrupted. There was another powerful presence in the infinite forest. Ell felt the pang of loss and the growl of vengeance in the air. The wind, stirring brown leaves, carried the name Shevarash to him. Then he was no longer stalking through a stand of evergreens. Instead he stood in a clearing before them.
The barbarian stood in awe as the two dieties spoke. He knew that they talked about him, but it was as if he was not there. He caught snatches of the conversation. Shevarash spoke of the traitorous spider queen and the mortal's unquenched vengeance. He had to right the wrong, the wrong visited on his people aeons ago and a more immediate one. Fenmarel countered by telling the elven god of vengeance that Ellysidell had been kept in ignorance, and was thus protected from following a quest that could lead to his own destruction. Then he felt the eyes of Shevarash on him.
"Let us ask him what he thinks," boomed the god.
The scene shifted for Ellysidell and he saw two wild elves surrounded by drow in some piney locale. Snow covered the ground. The two heroes were male and female and fought bravely and valiantly, but eventually were overcome by the magic of several drow priestesses and the sheer numbers of drow fighters. Ell felt a pang of familiarity. Then he stood before Fenmarel and Shevarash once more.
"Your parents, Ellysidell. They were betrayed by the machinations of the dark one! She betrayed us once and will do so again and again!"
Shevarash spoke with hatred and anger. Fenmarel was pensive. Ellysidell's soul was torn even more when he saw the same wild elves that had been slain by the drow ambush appear in the clearing. He bowed before them.
"Avenge us, my son," said the male wild elf hunter. His mother only looked sad.
He went to embrace them. He had never done so before. Then he looked at the gods that stood like giants before him. Was he being manipulated by Shevarash?
There was no response from the Drow-hater. He merely folded his arms. Was he admitting his guilt? Did he even care?
Fenmarel raised a hand and spoke, "Shevarash reveals what has truly occured. Your parents were betrayed by a trusted friend--a fellow elf. The webs of deceit and manipulation run deep among our people. The dark one has but recently made a move for power, and her actions have been rebuffed. However, her ambitions are still not tempered."
"She is a demon, Ellysidell. Look how she has hurt your own family! She will continue to hurt us and must be stopped," added Shevarash.
Fenmarel growled and Shevarash took a step back, remaining silent.
"The choice is yours Ellysidell. Do you wish to remain here in the forests of Arvandor hunting for eternity and having everlasting peace or return to Toril, where vengeance can be yours and Her plans can be thwarted?"
Ellysidell looked at his parents and the gods, and took a deep breath feeling the everlasting woods here in Arvandor. He thought of his friends--Benito, Grim, Aris (if he still lived)--and their needs and the battle and Golden Fire and Son of Fury.
It would be a tough decesion...
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Malachai_rose
First Post
tight
I really liked the post Broc, especially the interlude with big Ell. Heh, and the bantering between the two elven dieties was cool, gives some insight into what you have planned. Anyways I am looking forward to resuming the campaign in a few weeks once you get set with the next arc of the campaign and caught up in the posts.
I really liked the post Broc, especially the interlude with big Ell. Heh, and the bantering between the two elven dieties was cool, gives some insight into what you have planned. Anyways I am looking forward to resuming the campaign in a few weeks once you get set with the next arc of the campaign and caught up in the posts.
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