Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Mithangee: Herald To the End of Days (Updated 11/8/04!!)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Journeyman" data-source="post: 1592613" data-attributes="member: 9958"><p><strong>Enter Da'Shen/ Brishen Casts</strong></p><p></p><p> Footsteps in the mud, rain sliding down cheeks of walnut brown, robes heavy with soaking rain, and wind pushing relentlessly toward the sparkling lights of an ever growing town. Such was his surroundings this horrid evening.</p><p></p><p> A hood, long forgotten, now blowing haphazardly in the wind, reveals the topknot of burgundy braided hair while the weight of a sword pulls awkwardly to the left. Tines of lightning illuminate the night sky illustrating the leaves flying through the air, ripped from their treetop homes, and pursued by flying debris of equal substance. Each step agonizing and slow, yet determined, make for a stuttering trek along the endless road south.</p><p></p><p> Memories crowd close in the weakened wanderer’s mind. Always first to enter is the summer sun above sands to the west. There, surrounded by his wandering kind, the nomads of the great deserts of Gösh, he grows tired of the mundane effects of life. Where water and cloud are scarce amongst the rock, clays, and dunes, his people are close knit and proud, yet the ways of the saber and spear grow old. Always the same creatures to show his superiority against, the same weather to show mastery over, and same caravans to tolerate heading north and south along the Trail of Pearls. </p><p></p><p> Da’Shen Talom is the name given this warrior so far away from his birth land. He is a desert fighter, a member of the Scorpion Winds Caste, and he has chosen the green lands of the south to make his name. Honor watches him leave the wastes all but committing suicide in the eyes of his göshman brothers. Already, Da’Shen has performed tasks many do not achieve until their second decade on the sun’s daughter. Now he goes forth to conquer more, and his people say little as they watch him ride south. A doomed man, destined to fall where the water runs deep and the green wood is thick and imposing.</p><p></p><p> Da’Shen’s senses come sharply to focus as he suddenly hears the galloping sounds of an incoming horse. Pupils dilate, and tendons pull tight to bone. Muscles relax while his silent sword, Rashka*, whips out from its leather scabbard. Despite the burning in his chest and fog clouding his mind, the warrior swings down into a crouch and stands aside from the center of the muddy track. Right on cue the rider streaks out from the darkness, a dark blur against the night rain pounding down around them.</p><p></p><p> Da’Shen thought for an instant he was not seen, yet the rider continued to bear down upon him as if night were day. This rider did not want to be seen, and it was Da’Shen who could take that opportunity away from him. A random hoof, the desert wanderer was not sure which of the four, sparked off a stone giving him opportunity to time his upcoming move. Horse and rider bore ever down on the waiting combatant while a sudden burst of thunder provided his apt moment to strike.</p><p></p><p> Leaping into the air, weight of his robes lost to the ground, the tan man became momentarily visible in a flash of lightning. The horse reared taken by surprise, and knowing equestrians well, Da’Shen gracefully darted right as the horse came down away from where he had momentarily crouched. The rider did not know the steed as well as the man of the deserts, and fell crashing to the ground with a shriek of pain. As Da’Shen moved slowly around the injured rider to determine how best to place him on his journey to Lazonish*, another fit of coughing welled up from within his disease shattered chest.</p><p></p><p> He fell to his knees, head spinning, all the while trying to manage a grip on Rashka. His hands did not respond as he involuntarily grasped at his throat in pain. The heaving chest below continued its work. </p><p></p><p> The man so hell bent on riding him down got to his feet as slowly as Da’Shen had lost his own. Pulling a wicked blade from within his riding cloak, he began the death advance the göshman knew so well from personal saunters. Lightning glistened off the wet blade, and Da’Shen could only struggle against the coughing and rasping long enough to wonder. Wonder why this man insisted on such morbid secrecy cloaked as he already was in the storm about them.</p><p></p><p> His killer was rotund, his face riddled with pockmarks. To die to such an unworthy opponent would be little worth the travels endured thus far. The villain seemed nervous when he realized what Da’Shen was. A desert rider so very far from the dunes of his birth could be an ill omen, and easily would have dispatched Ike if not for the odd coughing fit knocking him to the ground. Stopping a few feet from the wanderer, the fleeing hedge mage raised the long knife menacingly. Not wasting any time, the downward arc came down toward the göshman’s writhing body. It never met flesh.</p><p></p><p> A brilliant flash of blue light exploded from behind Ike surrounding his body in a halo of magical energy. The carcass flew clear over Da’Shen’s person and onto the ground, rolling on its sides until finally coming to rest some twenty feet away. Looking on, Da’Shen became instantly aware the fat man was quite dead. A gaping hole was ripped through his torso right below the sternum revealing ribcage and organs both. The knife still gripped in his hand, arm raised above the shoulder in a gruesome display of his final stance in life, made for a gruesome sight. Da’Shen’s cough stopped as suddenly as it began.</p><p></p><p> Pushing up from the muddy road, eyes wide with pain, the Goshman searched for proofs of the lightning strike that must have occurred. There were no signs of blackened earth, no visible fires recently extinguished by the rains that yet fell, and no electric pulse to the air about him. There was only the shrieking of the horse as it galloped away into the night, the sound of rain drops hammering his aching head, and the small rotating stone hovering not but two feet above the ground from where Da’Shen had regained his feet.</p><p></p><p> It pulsed once more with a blue light, somber in nature, and then dropped silently to the ground, its glow extinguished. Da’Shen cautiously crept over to where it lay in a small hoof print shaped puddle and touched it with the tip of his blade. Receiving no response from the strange stone, the Göshman stooped over, plucking it from within its watery resting place. Smearing away what mud coated the facet facing him, the desert man could see strange runes covering the rock. It had been chiseled to show eleven facets each with a different glyph, and felt warm to the touch.</p><p></p><p> Da’Shen felt his weary mind begin to lose its hold on the reality around it, and realized the impossibility of fighting off the approaching fog and delirium. His adrenaline was wearing off. Pushing the stone deep into a fold of his robes he willed his legs to take him toward the lights of the town barely shining through the storm. His mind entered the Rashalin* yet again, and Da’Shen Talom moved closer to help and the town’s lights.</p><p></p><p>**********************************************************</p><p></p><p> Brishen made his way from the Knight’s Ward slowly careful not to slip in the thick mud and rising waters. Lanterns throughout Havenview’s streets had long since guttered out leaving the buildings he walked between tall, imposing, and able to add their ominous bulk to the near pitch black of the storm around him. There were lights in the distance though, and it was toward these few sparks in the gale that he struggled toward. How could this storm keep up the ferocity any longer?</p><p></p><p> As he neared the only part of Havenview, still lit despite the ravaging winds fighting each and every lantern, he thought he saw someone waving franticly at him from a corner two blocks away. He stopped and held a hand to shield his squinting eyes while peering through the sheets of rain obstructing the view. Yes! There again was the figure crouched down on the side of the river that once was a street. Brishen began to run through the five inch deep water toward the gentleman in need of assistance. </p><p></p><p> “Help me!” The villager cried almost drowned out by a tremendous clap of thunder. “I think this man’s hurt bad! I need to get him to the Rest!”</p><p></p><p> Brishen skidded to a halt spraying water all over the man and the crumpled form at his feet. Managing not to fall on the slippery footing beneath him, Brishen knelt and inspected the robed character lying on the rain drenched curb. Something was familiar, and soon Brishen realized with a start that he was looking at the garments and raiment of a göshman. Yet that was nearly unheard of! The wastelands that would have spawned the desert man were some 2000 leagues to the west. Nonetheless there he was, and not breathing at that.</p><p></p><p> Rubbing his hands together slowly, Brishen began to hum a familiar gypsy tune and willed his hands to hear the healing tone in his music. Placing his right hand upon the göshman’s tanned forehead, and his left upon one wrist, Brishen channeled some of his tonal magic into the comatose body. Blue and orange light glowed from beneath his palms making Brishen instantly aware of the pulse beating again beneath his left hand. The bard was also keenly aware of the pallid warmth seeping into his skin. </p><p></p><p> “Sick this stranger is. Getting him to a dry place is what I am thinking will benefit him the most?” Brishen said in the halting common which was a hallmark of many Tuathinkin.</p><p></p><p> The man only stared at Brishen with a small amount of astonishment mixed with obvious loathing. Brishen took him in quickly noticing the torches at his waist, the ember smudged hands, and the lighting materials strapped to his back. He also took note of the craftsman token at his throat marking him a Torchlighter. In order to forestall a disaster, for he could not carry the göshman alone, he was going to have to fast talk some empathy between the guildsman and himself.</p><p></p><p> “Look, if I would be trying to hurt this man I would not be kneeling in five inches of water? If I was going to eat your children* I would not be so nice looking despite the rain, no? Certainly if I was going to…”</p><p></p><p> “Shut up, and help me get him on his feet.” The man interrupted.</p><p></p><p> Brishen stood silently, and thanked Kalien* for his charming wits. The three of them; gypsy, Torchlighter, and göshman, made an odd trio as they stumbled toward the Rest not but three blocks away. The more they walked the more the desert man seemed to come around from whatever wave of unconsciousness nearly took his life. By the time they neared the front of the Haven’s Rest he was nearly walking of his own accord.</p><p></p><p> The three story inn seemed from the outside to be full of townsfolk and other travelers. The rose glass windows kept much of the revelry inside to a dim roar, but it was clear that inside would be a much dryer place, even cramped and loud as it was, than the torrential downpours in which they now stood. Stables could be seen sheltering their tenets quite well, and Brishen made it clear with a nod of his head his true destination.</p><p></p><p> “Not till we get him inside, gypsy. I thought you were still in Eredricht’s hold.”</p><p></p><p> “He is letting me out this fine night sir. You know, to steal and help the less fortunate sickly individuals.” Brishen was tired. His voice certainly made it clear.</p><p></p><p> “I’m Robb. I can help you get a table in there. Least I could do for you helping me.” The Torchlighter managed a grim smile on his half shaved visage.</p><p></p><p> “Sure! Let’s be getting him inside then.”</p><p></p><p> “I can handle myself.” The bass voice issued from in between them. “Let me walk.”</p><p></p><p> With that the göshman shouldered his way free of Robb and Brishen’s grasp stumbling forward toward the door to the Rest. His first few steps seemed to prove that he was in command of his balance; however, suddenly, and quite by surprise to the two men looking on, the desert man became wracked with a sickly cough. Stumbling forward, half running, Da’Shen reached the door. His impact on the frame, as he lost balance, accomplished two distinct results. One, he knocked himself out cold with a cracking noise rivaling the recent tolls of thunder from above. Secondly, he removed the door from its closed position, wrenching it dramatically into the common room beyond, and into the wall to its left.</p><p></p><p> The Rest was clearly silenced within, and all Brishen and Robb could hear outside was the pelting of raindrops in the water swirling about their feet, and the cries of the storm around them.</p><p></p><p>* Rashalin is a trance-like state that warriors of Gösh master in order to ration their bodies to the last essence of energy. It is performed when in need of severe measures of self preservation.</p><p> </p><p><em>* Rashka is the name of Da’Shen’s original scimitar. It means Sun’s Reflection in Göshen.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>* Lazonish, Mithangeean god of deserts and fire, is a minor god aligned with law and good.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>* Tuathinkin are oftentimes accused of eating children. A ridiculous accusation as any gypsy can tell you.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>* Kalien, Mithangeean god of mischief and bards, is a minor god aligned with chaos and evil. Scores of adventurers seem ready to ignore the later portfolio to the dismay of many, and he is oftentimes the benefit of the occasional, innocent thought.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Journeyman, post: 1592613, member: 9958"] [B]Enter Da'Shen/ Brishen Casts[/B] Footsteps in the mud, rain sliding down cheeks of walnut brown, robes heavy with soaking rain, and wind pushing relentlessly toward the sparkling lights of an ever growing town. Such was his surroundings this horrid evening. A hood, long forgotten, now blowing haphazardly in the wind, reveals the topknot of burgundy braided hair while the weight of a sword pulls awkwardly to the left. Tines of lightning illuminate the night sky illustrating the leaves flying through the air, ripped from their treetop homes, and pursued by flying debris of equal substance. Each step agonizing and slow, yet determined, make for a stuttering trek along the endless road south. Memories crowd close in the weakened wanderer’s mind. Always first to enter is the summer sun above sands to the west. There, surrounded by his wandering kind, the nomads of the great deserts of Gösh, he grows tired of the mundane effects of life. Where water and cloud are scarce amongst the rock, clays, and dunes, his people are close knit and proud, yet the ways of the saber and spear grow old. Always the same creatures to show his superiority against, the same weather to show mastery over, and same caravans to tolerate heading north and south along the Trail of Pearls. Da’Shen Talom is the name given this warrior so far away from his birth land. He is a desert fighter, a member of the Scorpion Winds Caste, and he has chosen the green lands of the south to make his name. Honor watches him leave the wastes all but committing suicide in the eyes of his göshman brothers. Already, Da’Shen has performed tasks many do not achieve until their second decade on the sun’s daughter. Now he goes forth to conquer more, and his people say little as they watch him ride south. A doomed man, destined to fall where the water runs deep and the green wood is thick and imposing. Da’Shen’s senses come sharply to focus as he suddenly hears the galloping sounds of an incoming horse. Pupils dilate, and tendons pull tight to bone. Muscles relax while his silent sword, Rashka*, whips out from its leather scabbard. Despite the burning in his chest and fog clouding his mind, the warrior swings down into a crouch and stands aside from the center of the muddy track. Right on cue the rider streaks out from the darkness, a dark blur against the night rain pounding down around them. Da’Shen thought for an instant he was not seen, yet the rider continued to bear down upon him as if night were day. This rider did not want to be seen, and it was Da’Shen who could take that opportunity away from him. A random hoof, the desert wanderer was not sure which of the four, sparked off a stone giving him opportunity to time his upcoming move. Horse and rider bore ever down on the waiting combatant while a sudden burst of thunder provided his apt moment to strike. Leaping into the air, weight of his robes lost to the ground, the tan man became momentarily visible in a flash of lightning. The horse reared taken by surprise, and knowing equestrians well, Da’Shen gracefully darted right as the horse came down away from where he had momentarily crouched. The rider did not know the steed as well as the man of the deserts, and fell crashing to the ground with a shriek of pain. As Da’Shen moved slowly around the injured rider to determine how best to place him on his journey to Lazonish*, another fit of coughing welled up from within his disease shattered chest. He fell to his knees, head spinning, all the while trying to manage a grip on Rashka. His hands did not respond as he involuntarily grasped at his throat in pain. The heaving chest below continued its work. The man so hell bent on riding him down got to his feet as slowly as Da’Shen had lost his own. Pulling a wicked blade from within his riding cloak, he began the death advance the göshman knew so well from personal saunters. Lightning glistened off the wet blade, and Da’Shen could only struggle against the coughing and rasping long enough to wonder. Wonder why this man insisted on such morbid secrecy cloaked as he already was in the storm about them. His killer was rotund, his face riddled with pockmarks. To die to such an unworthy opponent would be little worth the travels endured thus far. The villain seemed nervous when he realized what Da’Shen was. A desert rider so very far from the dunes of his birth could be an ill omen, and easily would have dispatched Ike if not for the odd coughing fit knocking him to the ground. Stopping a few feet from the wanderer, the fleeing hedge mage raised the long knife menacingly. Not wasting any time, the downward arc came down toward the göshman’s writhing body. It never met flesh. A brilliant flash of blue light exploded from behind Ike surrounding his body in a halo of magical energy. The carcass flew clear over Da’Shen’s person and onto the ground, rolling on its sides until finally coming to rest some twenty feet away. Looking on, Da’Shen became instantly aware the fat man was quite dead. A gaping hole was ripped through his torso right below the sternum revealing ribcage and organs both. The knife still gripped in his hand, arm raised above the shoulder in a gruesome display of his final stance in life, made for a gruesome sight. Da’Shen’s cough stopped as suddenly as it began. Pushing up from the muddy road, eyes wide with pain, the Goshman searched for proofs of the lightning strike that must have occurred. There were no signs of blackened earth, no visible fires recently extinguished by the rains that yet fell, and no electric pulse to the air about him. There was only the shrieking of the horse as it galloped away into the night, the sound of rain drops hammering his aching head, and the small rotating stone hovering not but two feet above the ground from where Da’Shen had regained his feet. It pulsed once more with a blue light, somber in nature, and then dropped silently to the ground, its glow extinguished. Da’Shen cautiously crept over to where it lay in a small hoof print shaped puddle and touched it with the tip of his blade. Receiving no response from the strange stone, the Göshman stooped over, plucking it from within its watery resting place. Smearing away what mud coated the facet facing him, the desert man could see strange runes covering the rock. It had been chiseled to show eleven facets each with a different glyph, and felt warm to the touch. Da’Shen felt his weary mind begin to lose its hold on the reality around it, and realized the impossibility of fighting off the approaching fog and delirium. His adrenaline was wearing off. Pushing the stone deep into a fold of his robes he willed his legs to take him toward the lights of the town barely shining through the storm. His mind entered the Rashalin* yet again, and Da’Shen Talom moved closer to help and the town’s lights. ********************************************************** Brishen made his way from the Knight’s Ward slowly careful not to slip in the thick mud and rising waters. Lanterns throughout Havenview’s streets had long since guttered out leaving the buildings he walked between tall, imposing, and able to add their ominous bulk to the near pitch black of the storm around him. There were lights in the distance though, and it was toward these few sparks in the gale that he struggled toward. How could this storm keep up the ferocity any longer? As he neared the only part of Havenview, still lit despite the ravaging winds fighting each and every lantern, he thought he saw someone waving franticly at him from a corner two blocks away. He stopped and held a hand to shield his squinting eyes while peering through the sheets of rain obstructing the view. Yes! There again was the figure crouched down on the side of the river that once was a street. Brishen began to run through the five inch deep water toward the gentleman in need of assistance. “Help me!” The villager cried almost drowned out by a tremendous clap of thunder. “I think this man’s hurt bad! I need to get him to the Rest!” Brishen skidded to a halt spraying water all over the man and the crumpled form at his feet. Managing not to fall on the slippery footing beneath him, Brishen knelt and inspected the robed character lying on the rain drenched curb. Something was familiar, and soon Brishen realized with a start that he was looking at the garments and raiment of a göshman. Yet that was nearly unheard of! The wastelands that would have spawned the desert man were some 2000 leagues to the west. Nonetheless there he was, and not breathing at that. Rubbing his hands together slowly, Brishen began to hum a familiar gypsy tune and willed his hands to hear the healing tone in his music. Placing his right hand upon the göshman’s tanned forehead, and his left upon one wrist, Brishen channeled some of his tonal magic into the comatose body. Blue and orange light glowed from beneath his palms making Brishen instantly aware of the pulse beating again beneath his left hand. The bard was also keenly aware of the pallid warmth seeping into his skin. “Sick this stranger is. Getting him to a dry place is what I am thinking will benefit him the most?” Brishen said in the halting common which was a hallmark of many Tuathinkin. The man only stared at Brishen with a small amount of astonishment mixed with obvious loathing. Brishen took him in quickly noticing the torches at his waist, the ember smudged hands, and the lighting materials strapped to his back. He also took note of the craftsman token at his throat marking him a Torchlighter. In order to forestall a disaster, for he could not carry the göshman alone, he was going to have to fast talk some empathy between the guildsman and himself. “Look, if I would be trying to hurt this man I would not be kneeling in five inches of water? If I was going to eat your children* I would not be so nice looking despite the rain, no? Certainly if I was going to…” “Shut up, and help me get him on his feet.” The man interrupted. Brishen stood silently, and thanked Kalien* for his charming wits. The three of them; gypsy, Torchlighter, and göshman, made an odd trio as they stumbled toward the Rest not but three blocks away. The more they walked the more the desert man seemed to come around from whatever wave of unconsciousness nearly took his life. By the time they neared the front of the Haven’s Rest he was nearly walking of his own accord. The three story inn seemed from the outside to be full of townsfolk and other travelers. The rose glass windows kept much of the revelry inside to a dim roar, but it was clear that inside would be a much dryer place, even cramped and loud as it was, than the torrential downpours in which they now stood. Stables could be seen sheltering their tenets quite well, and Brishen made it clear with a nod of his head his true destination. “Not till we get him inside, gypsy. I thought you were still in Eredricht’s hold.” “He is letting me out this fine night sir. You know, to steal and help the less fortunate sickly individuals.” Brishen was tired. His voice certainly made it clear. “I’m Robb. I can help you get a table in there. Least I could do for you helping me.” The Torchlighter managed a grim smile on his half shaved visage. “Sure! Let’s be getting him inside then.” “I can handle myself.” The bass voice issued from in between them. “Let me walk.” With that the göshman shouldered his way free of Robb and Brishen’s grasp stumbling forward toward the door to the Rest. His first few steps seemed to prove that he was in command of his balance; however, suddenly, and quite by surprise to the two men looking on, the desert man became wracked with a sickly cough. Stumbling forward, half running, Da’Shen reached the door. His impact on the frame, as he lost balance, accomplished two distinct results. One, he knocked himself out cold with a cracking noise rivaling the recent tolls of thunder from above. Secondly, he removed the door from its closed position, wrenching it dramatically into the common room beyond, and into the wall to its left. The Rest was clearly silenced within, and all Brishen and Robb could hear outside was the pelting of raindrops in the water swirling about their feet, and the cries of the storm around them. * Rashalin is a trance-like state that warriors of Gösh master in order to ration their bodies to the last essence of energy. It is performed when in need of severe measures of self preservation. [I]* Rashka is the name of Da’Shen’s original scimitar. It means Sun’s Reflection in Göshen. * Lazonish, Mithangeean god of deserts and fire, is a minor god aligned with law and good. * Tuathinkin are oftentimes accused of eating children. A ridiculous accusation as any gypsy can tell you. * Kalien, Mithangeean god of mischief and bards, is a minor god aligned with chaos and evil. Scores of adventurers seem ready to ignore the later portfolio to the dismay of many, and he is oftentimes the benefit of the occasional, innocent thought.[/I] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Mithangee: Herald To the End of Days (Updated 11/8/04!!)
Top