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[FR] Seven Swords of Myth Drannor...[Updated 2-4...A Mother's Lullaby]
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<blockquote data-quote="Celtavian" data-source="post: 1197609" data-attributes="member: 5834"><p><strong>[PLAIN][i][b]Session 3: The City of Song…[/b][/i][/PLAIN]</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Eleasis 21, 1372…</em></p><p></p><p>“Holly, I’m really sorry” said Morn. </p><p></p><p>“I know” said Holly without looking back. She continued walking through the forest paying the ranger no mind.</p><p></p><p>“Truly, I am very sorry. Magic overtook my mind. I didn’t know what I was doing” he apologized again.</p><p></p><p>“I know. Just let it lie.” said Holly.</p><p></p><p>The day before the eight companions had battled some strange plant-like creatures that used magic to muddle the minds of their foes. “<em>Green Warders</em>” Phallon had named them. Guardians left behind by the elves to defend their ancient home in the Cormanthor. Usually subtle in their defense of the forest, these <em>green warders</em> were violent and murderous. They attacked the eight companions in a state of madness lashing at whomever they could with their thorny branch-like arms.</p><p></p><p>Morn had been one of the few affected by their mind-muddling magic. Confused, he had struck Holly and wandered off nowhere in particular. The young girl was surprised and a bit miffed, but she didn’t hold it against the ranger. He was far more concerned about the incident than her. </p><p></p><p>Over the months since Shaundakul had first begun granting Holly’s prayers, having not met any other worshippers of Shaundakul, she had developed little self-regard for her place in the church. The idea that she was now revered by layman followers of The Helping Hand was beyond her. If she had been a more astute student of human character, she might have taken a bit more time to assure the ranger that he hadn’t committed a sin by striking a priest of his faith. But youth often overshadows wisdom, and Holly, though wise, was young, stubborn and surprisingly self-deprecating causing her to all but ignore his concerns.</p><p></p><p> It didn’t help that Holly and Morn were as different as night and day. Morn had been raised on the road under the open sky by a free spirited man who taught Morn the value of living a full life. Holly had been raised by a family of Tyrran’s and Tormite’s who taught her courage, duty and right moral thinking from their point of view, a point of view not shared by most other Shaundakulan’s. And with Braydin gone, Morn was Holly’s scouting partner. He was equally as good a scout as Braydin, but certainly had a hard time understanding the young woman. Occasionally they would speak of their faith, but more often than not they were at odds over the way a proper Shaundakulan should live. Over the course of many conversations, it became painfully clear to Morn that Holly had a little too much of her Tyrran father in her. </p><p></p><p> The rest of the companions followed a short distance behind Holly and Morn.</p><p></p><p>Vaevictus eyes vellicated constantly. In his mind, he carried on a diatribe against the drow wizard that murdered his brother with him as judge, jury and executioner. Always he pictured the wizard groveling, impotent before the power of Torm, as he read from a scroll detailing the crimes the cowardly wizard must answer for. He mentally added Braydin’s murder to the list. The dream always ended with his final pronouncment, "You are sentenced to death."</p><p></p><p>Phallon, Kaela and Uthar’zen chatted gaily about the beauty of the forest and other topics of no particular importance. </p><p></p><p>Celtavian and Thourne walked in the rear. Both quietly lost in contemplation.</p><p></p><p>It had been four days since Braydin’s death, and the second day of travel after leaving the drow camp. The mood of the companions was forlorn, yet fortitudinous. This journey had cost them one life, and that made it seem all the more important that they complete it irregardless of the danger.</p><p></p><p>Hours passed. The light grew bright and the forest grew less. They emerged and before them stood the fabled City of Song. </p><p></p><p>Quiet. Haunting. Beautiful. These were but a few of the words that filled the minds of the eight companions as they looked in awe upon the ruins of the ancient city that even now in its desolation was pulchritudinous. Artfully crafted buildings of stone and wood seemed to grow from the earth as though they were as much a part of the forest as the trees. Walkways wrapped in vines sprouting yellow, white and red flowers crisscrossed the city’s skyline. Great <em>shadowtops</em> taller than the tallest edifice stood as a testament to elves skill at blending the natural and the artificial while diminishing neither. The rays of the sun danced across roofs of buildings inlaid with gold and silver. The natural flora nourished by the sun covered the city slowly reclaiming it as though decreed to do so by the gods. Birds chirped and sang filling the air with a melodious noise that provided some solace within the abandoned and decaying city. It was like gazing upon a painting of failing splendor.</p><p></p><p>Not far from where they stood was a ruined tower, perhaps a watchtower or wizard’s domicile, covered in ivy that had wormed through the building causing great cracks in the stone. From the top of the tower flew several ugly gargoyle-like creatures with draconic heads, featherless pinions and barb-tipped, whip-like tails. Four were green, two were blue, and one was red. Flapping and flitting they came like a swarm of bats.</p><p></p><p>Holly shaded her eyes, “What by the gods are those?”</p><p></p><p>“Heralds come to welcome us to the city. There is no end to the malevolence of this place” said Vaevictus, “Prepare for battle.” </p><p></p><p>“Wait…how do we know they are not friendly” asked Phallon.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll find out soon enough, but they certainly don’t look friendly” said Morn.</p><p></p><p>“You’re right” said the twins.</p><p></p><p>Arrows loosed by the twins and Morn did nothing to deter or halt the seven creatures. They swept in like birds of prey running to the attack as soon as their taloned-feet touched the ground.</p><p></p><p>“Come to play today” said a green.</p><p></p><p>“Torment and tearing…” said another green.</p><p></p><p>“…rending and scaring…” said a blue.</p><p></p><p>“…feasting and roasting…” said another blue.</p><p></p><p>“...we’ll soon be a’boasting and you’ll be a’toasting” finished the red.</p><p></p><p>They cackled while tearing at flesh and bone with cruel claws and hungry mouths. <em>Whip. Whip. Whip.</em> Their long tails struck like snakes. And like the bite of a strange snake, their tails held a hidden danger. Each tail strike from a green felt like a day without rest. Each tail strike from a blue felt like a touch of lightning. Each tail strike from the red felt like a hot poker.</p><p></p><p>The eight companions fought with all their courage and strength. Calling upon gods and Art to defeat the fury of the fiends and send them back to the hells from which they came. For these were infernal abishai not of this world, petty torturers and servants of a greater evil from the Nine Hells, brought to Myth Drannor through the foolish machinations of evil Banites long ago destroyed by the folly of thinking they could control the fiends of Hell.</p><p></p><p>The red alone remained its scaly hide rent in several places by Vaevictus’s mighty greatsword. Drops of its infernal blood spotted the ground as it took to the air, “I’ll be back fleshlings. A battle you have won, but a war you have just begun.” </p><p></p><p>A throaty laugh pierced the air. An arrow struck the red abishai in the chest. It plummeted to the ground crumpled dead. “You don’t escape today devil. Greetings and well-met adventurers” said a man sitting astride a great white manta ray flapping its wings rapidly. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>* * * * *</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Wow…did you see what I did Celtavian?” said Kaela with more than a bit of exuberance in her voice, “I’m more powerful than I thought.” </p><p></p><p>“Yes…I saw it…very clearly” said Celtavian. And he had. The Weave flexed, twitched and stretched, then changed completely after Kaela cast a <em>lightning bolt</em> at the blue devil that had chased her from one end of the grassy glebe to the other. “Very strange…very, very strange” he rubbed his smooth chin pondering the cause of this aberration. </p><p></p><p>Kaela picked up what was once a fearsome blue devil. Little droplets of water ran into creases in her palm. “I’m going to put it in my mouth.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t think you should” warned Celtavian.</p><p></p><p>“I’ll be just like a monster that eats what it kills. And I’ll boast of it to inspire fear in my enemies and awe from my peers” Kaela giggled and popped the small cube of ice into her mouth.</p><p></p><p>Celtavian shook his head, “You are a strange woman.” </p><p></p><p>Kaela grinned, “Why do so many people say that?”</p><p></p><p>“The Weave here is unstable. Unexpected changes to our Art are a very real possibility. I can only surmise that the cause is the Mythal”. The blue-eyed mage took in the surroundings. To the others this place seemed made of wood and stone and grass and earth, but to him it was made of magic. Flowing strands of the Weave as clear and visible to him as the sun in the cloudless sky was to the others pulsed and fluctuated with intense power. The Weave in this area was beyond even his ability to immediately comprehend. </p><p></p><p>Never had he looked upon a Mythal. Very few Mythal’s still existed and being of half-elven stock he was not allowed to travel to Evereska or Evermeet where such powerful elven magic still exists. It was beautiful. “So much magic” he muttered in awe, “So beautiful…like a tapestry woven by a thousand year old master weaver of unsurpassed skill.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes…the city is beautiful” Kaela looked about her, “even empty as it is. Let’s join the others. I want a ride on that pretty white flying creature.” </p><p></p><p>Celtavian continued to stare at the wondrous shaping of the Weave about him. ‘This will take years to understand’ he thought to himself, ‘I am a child again.’ He smiled.</p><p></p><p>* * * * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Emrock’s snow ray glided gently to the ground. The aging adventurer slid his left leg over the creature’s saddle dismounting on the right, and then sauntered over to the eight companions.</p><p></p><p>The man was an aged adventure who had eaten one too many fine meals judging from his pot belly. He was dressed in dirty loose fitting brown breeches, a white shirt, and a worn black travel cloak that hung about his shoulders. Rings adorned each hand and two sheathed scimitars hung at his waist. He wore only a dented steel helmet and steel gauntlets for protection. His appearance did little to inspire confidence in his abilities as a warrior. </p><p></p><p>Vaevictus was not impressed, “Well met…Your help came a bit late.”</p><p></p><p>“Better than not at all” said Emrock cockily.</p><p></p><p>The half-dragon growled.</p><p></p><p>“Calm down, calm down, a man has to be careful who he helps and when he helps” said Emrock, “…at least a man who wants to survive Myth Drannor.”</p><p></p><p>“So this is Myth Drannor” exclaimed Holly. She smiled happily at Vaevictus, the first time she had smiled since Braydin’s death, “We made it!! We really made it!!” </p><p></p><p> The companions cheered heedless of peril and all save Celtavian, who was too enamored of the Mythal’s intricate magic, engaged in a group hug. </p><p></p><p> “I wouldn’t pat myself on the back just yet” said Emrock, “Getting here is relatively easy, it is surviving that is hard.”</p><p></p><p> “What can you tell of us this place?” said Morn, “You sound as if it you know it well.”</p><p></p><p>“What can I tell you of this place?” said Emrock, “That you were foolish to come. This is no place for whelp adventurers. In Myth Drannor, death lurks around every corner. Fell creatures that would sup on your body and soul regularly patrol the skies. Dragons, demons, devils, and other unnamable horrors reside in what were once the homes of elven lords and ladies who perished long ago. The best advice I can give you is to go home. You’ve seen Myth Drannor, now head home as quick as you can.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re not leaving. Shaundakul called me here and the others have business in this place as well” said Holly. </p><p></p><p>“Another foolish…errh…I mean devout…follower of Shaundakul” said Emrock.</p><p></p><p>Holly eyes hardened, “Shaundakul’s greatest temple lies here in these ruins. I would see it no matter the peril.”</p><p></p><p>Emrock could see she was as stubborn as a mule. “At the very least I’ll tell you where the temple is. Let us sup together this night and I’ll share what I know of Myth Drannor. Give you a fighting chance at least.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Celtavian, post: 1197609, member: 5834"] [b][PLAIN][i][b]Session 3: The City of Song…[/b][/i][/PLAIN][/b] [i]Eleasis 21, 1372…[/i] “Holly, I’m really sorry” said Morn. “I know” said Holly without looking back. She continued walking through the forest paying the ranger no mind. “Truly, I am very sorry. Magic overtook my mind. I didn’t know what I was doing” he apologized again. “I know. Just let it lie.” said Holly. The day before the eight companions had battled some strange plant-like creatures that used magic to muddle the minds of their foes. “[i]Green Warders[/i]” Phallon had named them. Guardians left behind by the elves to defend their ancient home in the Cormanthor. Usually subtle in their defense of the forest, these [i]green warders[/i] were violent and murderous. They attacked the eight companions in a state of madness lashing at whomever they could with their thorny branch-like arms. Morn had been one of the few affected by their mind-muddling magic. Confused, he had struck Holly and wandered off nowhere in particular. The young girl was surprised and a bit miffed, but she didn’t hold it against the ranger. He was far more concerned about the incident than her. Over the months since Shaundakul had first begun granting Holly’s prayers, having not met any other worshippers of Shaundakul, she had developed little self-regard for her place in the church. The idea that she was now revered by layman followers of The Helping Hand was beyond her. If she had been a more astute student of human character, she might have taken a bit more time to assure the ranger that he hadn’t committed a sin by striking a priest of his faith. But youth often overshadows wisdom, and Holly, though wise, was young, stubborn and surprisingly self-deprecating causing her to all but ignore his concerns. It didn’t help that Holly and Morn were as different as night and day. Morn had been raised on the road under the open sky by a free spirited man who taught Morn the value of living a full life. Holly had been raised by a family of Tyrran’s and Tormite’s who taught her courage, duty and right moral thinking from their point of view, a point of view not shared by most other Shaundakulan’s. And with Braydin gone, Morn was Holly’s scouting partner. He was equally as good a scout as Braydin, but certainly had a hard time understanding the young woman. Occasionally they would speak of their faith, but more often than not they were at odds over the way a proper Shaundakulan should live. Over the course of many conversations, it became painfully clear to Morn that Holly had a little too much of her Tyrran father in her. The rest of the companions followed a short distance behind Holly and Morn. Vaevictus eyes vellicated constantly. In his mind, he carried on a diatribe against the drow wizard that murdered his brother with him as judge, jury and executioner. Always he pictured the wizard groveling, impotent before the power of Torm, as he read from a scroll detailing the crimes the cowardly wizard must answer for. He mentally added Braydin’s murder to the list. The dream always ended with his final pronouncment, "You are sentenced to death." Phallon, Kaela and Uthar’zen chatted gaily about the beauty of the forest and other topics of no particular importance. Celtavian and Thourne walked in the rear. Both quietly lost in contemplation. It had been four days since Braydin’s death, and the second day of travel after leaving the drow camp. The mood of the companions was forlorn, yet fortitudinous. This journey had cost them one life, and that made it seem all the more important that they complete it irregardless of the danger. Hours passed. The light grew bright and the forest grew less. They emerged and before them stood the fabled City of Song. Quiet. Haunting. Beautiful. These were but a few of the words that filled the minds of the eight companions as they looked in awe upon the ruins of the ancient city that even now in its desolation was pulchritudinous. Artfully crafted buildings of stone and wood seemed to grow from the earth as though they were as much a part of the forest as the trees. Walkways wrapped in vines sprouting yellow, white and red flowers crisscrossed the city’s skyline. Great [i]shadowtops[/i] taller than the tallest edifice stood as a testament to elves skill at blending the natural and the artificial while diminishing neither. The rays of the sun danced across roofs of buildings inlaid with gold and silver. The natural flora nourished by the sun covered the city slowly reclaiming it as though decreed to do so by the gods. Birds chirped and sang filling the air with a melodious noise that provided some solace within the abandoned and decaying city. It was like gazing upon a painting of failing splendor. Not far from where they stood was a ruined tower, perhaps a watchtower or wizard’s domicile, covered in ivy that had wormed through the building causing great cracks in the stone. From the top of the tower flew several ugly gargoyle-like creatures with draconic heads, featherless pinions and barb-tipped, whip-like tails. Four were green, two were blue, and one was red. Flapping and flitting they came like a swarm of bats. Holly shaded her eyes, “What by the gods are those?” “Heralds come to welcome us to the city. There is no end to the malevolence of this place” said Vaevictus, “Prepare for battle.” “Wait…how do we know they are not friendly” asked Phallon. “We’ll find out soon enough, but they certainly don’t look friendly” said Morn. “You’re right” said the twins. Arrows loosed by the twins and Morn did nothing to deter or halt the seven creatures. They swept in like birds of prey running to the attack as soon as their taloned-feet touched the ground. “Come to play today” said a green. “Torment and tearing…” said another green. “…rending and scaring…” said a blue. “…feasting and roasting…” said another blue. “...we’ll soon be a’boasting and you’ll be a’toasting” finished the red. They cackled while tearing at flesh and bone with cruel claws and hungry mouths. [i]Whip. Whip. Whip.[/i] Their long tails struck like snakes. And like the bite of a strange snake, their tails held a hidden danger. Each tail strike from a green felt like a day without rest. Each tail strike from a blue felt like a touch of lightning. Each tail strike from the red felt like a hot poker. The eight companions fought with all their courage and strength. Calling upon gods and Art to defeat the fury of the fiends and send them back to the hells from which they came. For these were infernal abishai not of this world, petty torturers and servants of a greater evil from the Nine Hells, brought to Myth Drannor through the foolish machinations of evil Banites long ago destroyed by the folly of thinking they could control the fiends of Hell. The red alone remained its scaly hide rent in several places by Vaevictus’s mighty greatsword. Drops of its infernal blood spotted the ground as it took to the air, “I’ll be back fleshlings. A battle you have won, but a war you have just begun.” A throaty laugh pierced the air. An arrow struck the red abishai in the chest. It plummeted to the ground crumpled dead. “You don’t escape today devil. Greetings and well-met adventurers” said a man sitting astride a great white manta ray flapping its wings rapidly. * * * * * “Wow…did you see what I did Celtavian?” said Kaela with more than a bit of exuberance in her voice, “I’m more powerful than I thought.” “Yes…I saw it…very clearly” said Celtavian. And he had. The Weave flexed, twitched and stretched, then changed completely after Kaela cast a [i]lightning bolt[/i] at the blue devil that had chased her from one end of the grassy glebe to the other. “Very strange…very, very strange” he rubbed his smooth chin pondering the cause of this aberration. Kaela picked up what was once a fearsome blue devil. Little droplets of water ran into creases in her palm. “I’m going to put it in my mouth.” “I don’t think you should” warned Celtavian. “I’ll be just like a monster that eats what it kills. And I’ll boast of it to inspire fear in my enemies and awe from my peers” Kaela giggled and popped the small cube of ice into her mouth. Celtavian shook his head, “You are a strange woman.” Kaela grinned, “Why do so many people say that?” “The Weave here is unstable. Unexpected changes to our Art are a very real possibility. I can only surmise that the cause is the Mythal”. The blue-eyed mage took in the surroundings. To the others this place seemed made of wood and stone and grass and earth, but to him it was made of magic. Flowing strands of the Weave as clear and visible to him as the sun in the cloudless sky was to the others pulsed and fluctuated with intense power. The Weave in this area was beyond even his ability to immediately comprehend. Never had he looked upon a Mythal. Very few Mythal’s still existed and being of half-elven stock he was not allowed to travel to Evereska or Evermeet where such powerful elven magic still exists. It was beautiful. “So much magic” he muttered in awe, “So beautiful…like a tapestry woven by a thousand year old master weaver of unsurpassed skill.” “Yes…the city is beautiful” Kaela looked about her, “even empty as it is. Let’s join the others. I want a ride on that pretty white flying creature.” Celtavian continued to stare at the wondrous shaping of the Weave about him. ‘This will take years to understand’ he thought to himself, ‘I am a child again.’ He smiled. * * * * * Emrock’s snow ray glided gently to the ground. The aging adventurer slid his left leg over the creature’s saddle dismounting on the right, and then sauntered over to the eight companions. The man was an aged adventure who had eaten one too many fine meals judging from his pot belly. He was dressed in dirty loose fitting brown breeches, a white shirt, and a worn black travel cloak that hung about his shoulders. Rings adorned each hand and two sheathed scimitars hung at his waist. He wore only a dented steel helmet and steel gauntlets for protection. His appearance did little to inspire confidence in his abilities as a warrior. Vaevictus was not impressed, “Well met…Your help came a bit late.” “Better than not at all” said Emrock cockily. The half-dragon growled. “Calm down, calm down, a man has to be careful who he helps and when he helps” said Emrock, “…at least a man who wants to survive Myth Drannor.” “So this is Myth Drannor” exclaimed Holly. She smiled happily at Vaevictus, the first time she had smiled since Braydin’s death, “We made it!! We really made it!!” The companions cheered heedless of peril and all save Celtavian, who was too enamored of the Mythal’s intricate magic, engaged in a group hug. “I wouldn’t pat myself on the back just yet” said Emrock, “Getting here is relatively easy, it is surviving that is hard.” “What can you tell of us this place?” said Morn, “You sound as if it you know it well.” “What can I tell you of this place?” said Emrock, “That you were foolish to come. This is no place for whelp adventurers. In Myth Drannor, death lurks around every corner. Fell creatures that would sup on your body and soul regularly patrol the skies. Dragons, demons, devils, and other unnamable horrors reside in what were once the homes of elven lords and ladies who perished long ago. The best advice I can give you is to go home. You’ve seen Myth Drannor, now head home as quick as you can.” “We’re not leaving. Shaundakul called me here and the others have business in this place as well” said Holly. “Another foolish…errh…I mean devout…follower of Shaundakul” said Emrock. Holly eyes hardened, “Shaundakul’s greatest temple lies here in these ruins. I would see it no matter the peril.” Emrock could see she was as stubborn as a mule. “At the very least I’ll tell you where the temple is. Let us sup together this night and I’ll share what I know of Myth Drannor. Give you a fighting chance at least.” [/QUOTE]
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[FR] Seven Swords of Myth Drannor...[Updated 2-4...A Mother's Lullaby]
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