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<blockquote data-quote="Rune" data-source="post: 386559" data-attributes="member: 67"><p><strong>This is a revised reposting of my very first story hour-- which ended all of two sessions after I joined it.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>This reposting is really my bid for a rejuvination of the campaign by its DM. We've talked about what he could do to start it up again, but he hasn't really committed; maybe now he will. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite8" alt=":D" title="Big grin :D" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":D" /></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Anyway, the following account (three posts) should be taken as a prelude of sorts. I'm fairly certain that the story-line will be advanced a few years, if we even get to play this again. If we do, it certainly won't be with all of the original players, nor (possibly) with the original characters.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>But, we shall see. In the meantime...</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Iunimonius 29</em></p><p></p><p>My home is burning. My town is in flames. The dead surround me and suffering fills the air. I could help them, but I find myself merely rocking in a fetal ball. So much has happened.</p><p></p><p>For thirty-four years I have lived in the Church. It is all that I know. It has been everything that I have ever known. When it proved impossible for me to learn their language, I was sentenced to a lifetime of clerical duties in the Lower Church. Still I served. That is all that I knew how to do.</p><p></p><p>Then--the visions. Cursed visions.</p><p></p><p>And here I am, rocking in my own misery as every memory around me burns and dies. This is to be a new life for me.</p><p></p><p>And now I notice the renegades. They are all armed, which is a high crime against the Church--but then, so too am I, now. Two are unconscious or dead, but the other two are alert, and watching me. I am instantly suspicious.</p><p></p><p>One is an elf--and a cave elf, at that. She's dressed as no warrior, but she could be a sorceress--many of their kind are. The other is a half-orc. More trouble. The two unconscious ones look human, but they are a bit too far away to be sure. I don’t suppose it matters. They do not keep good company.</p><p></p><p>The half-orc approaches, ornamental bones and teeth clattering against the tanned hides of unidentifiable creatures. I position myself in a defensive stance. The cave elf halts the approach of the beast, and I let down my guard a mere fraction.</p><p></p><p>I still don't trust them, but I feel compelled to heal the wounds of their fallen compatriots, if I can. They are indeed human, but obviously lawless types. A big, gangly man lies bloody and senseless. He looks more suited to a life of farming than a life of crime. I pray for his health first. Apparently, my LORD sees some good in him, for he is brought back to consciousness. The other causes more concern. A bastard sword lies beside her--she is clearly a member of the Way of the Rose, or fancies herself as such. My prayers for her go unanswered.</p><p></p><p>A cave elf, a half-orc, and a follower of the Way. What have I gotten myself into? Could they have destroyed the town that I have lived in for the entirety of my life? Perhaps, but those wounds were made by no fire.</p><p></p><p>It would be different if I had not seen them before, but I had--in my dreams. My visions. I had seen myself doing terrible things by their side. This may be why I found myself tending their wounds all through the next day, rather than leaving them to their own course. Perhaps I have made a terrible error.</p><p></p><p>Time, only, shall tell.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rune, post: 386559, member: 67"] [b]This is a revised reposting of my very first story hour-- which ended all of two sessions after I joined it. This reposting is really my bid for a rejuvination of the campaign by its DM. We've talked about what he could do to start it up again, but he hasn't really committed; maybe now he will. :D Anyway, the following account (three posts) should be taken as a prelude of sorts. I'm fairly certain that the story-line will be advanced a few years, if we even get to play this again. If we do, it certainly won't be with all of the original players, nor (possibly) with the original characters. But, we shall see. In the meantime...[/b] [I]Iunimonius 29[/I] My home is burning. My town is in flames. The dead surround me and suffering fills the air. I could help them, but I find myself merely rocking in a fetal ball. So much has happened. For thirty-four years I have lived in the Church. It is all that I know. It has been everything that I have ever known. When it proved impossible for me to learn their language, I was sentenced to a lifetime of clerical duties in the Lower Church. Still I served. That is all that I knew how to do. Then--the visions. Cursed visions. And here I am, rocking in my own misery as every memory around me burns and dies. This is to be a new life for me. And now I notice the renegades. They are all armed, which is a high crime against the Church--but then, so too am I, now. Two are unconscious or dead, but the other two are alert, and watching me. I am instantly suspicious. One is an elf--and a cave elf, at that. She's dressed as no warrior, but she could be a sorceress--many of their kind are. The other is a half-orc. More trouble. The two unconscious ones look human, but they are a bit too far away to be sure. I don’t suppose it matters. They do not keep good company. The half-orc approaches, ornamental bones and teeth clattering against the tanned hides of unidentifiable creatures. I position myself in a defensive stance. The cave elf halts the approach of the beast, and I let down my guard a mere fraction. I still don't trust them, but I feel compelled to heal the wounds of their fallen compatriots, if I can. They are indeed human, but obviously lawless types. A big, gangly man lies bloody and senseless. He looks more suited to a life of farming than a life of crime. I pray for his health first. Apparently, my LORD sees some good in him, for he is brought back to consciousness. The other causes more concern. A bastard sword lies beside her--she is clearly a member of the Way of the Rose, or fancies herself as such. My prayers for her go unanswered. A cave elf, a half-orc, and a follower of the Way. What have I gotten myself into? Could they have destroyed the town that I have lived in for the entirety of my life? Perhaps, but those wounds were made by no fire. It would be different if I had not seen them before, but I had--in my dreams. My visions. I had seen myself doing terrible things by their side. This may be why I found myself tending their wounds all through the next day, rather than leaving them to their own course. Perhaps I have made a terrible error. Time, only, shall tell. [/QUOTE]
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