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
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Raiders of Oakhurst - A memoir of Erais Gunterson
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="Colmarr" data-source="post: 4207210" data-attributes="member: 59182"><p>Corrin paused, uttering a prayer of blessing, and then I saw why. The ceiling inside the mausoleum was 50ft high, despite the building itself being lower than that. Obviously powerful magic was at work here.</p><p></p><p>The halflings looked back at us as we moved slowly through the doorway and fanned out. To either side of the long chamber stood a row of columns, leading towards an impressive humanoid statue at the far end of the tomb. </p><p></p><p>Behind me, I heard Skamos say, “It is Belazemon. The human that millennia ago united your race with the eladrin in this area against a common foe.”</p><p></p><p>And suddenly the tomb made sense. Its grandeur. Its martial majesty. The powerful magic that had shrunk the space inside the mausoleum and kept it brightly-lit for millennia. Only a great hero would have warranted such a resting place. And yet there was something not quite right about the chamber as well. A feeling of ill-will permeated it. A sense of foreignness like oil on water filled the expansive chamber. And, as if to confirm my suspicions, the corpse came into view.</p><p></p><p>Sprawled in front of Belazamon’s statute, but off to one side so that the columns had initially hidden it, was the body of a human male. The figure was covered with old wounds, and the lower half of its right arm was missing. Corrin stepped forward to investigate.</p><p></p><p>I do not think I will ever forget what happened next. There are milestones in every life; firsts that mark your passage through time. For many those firsts are the everyday incidences of life: birth, puberty, marriage. Your first child. For others, the soldiers and hunters, they are more violent: your first kill, your first face-to-face confrontation with a foe intent on killing you. And rarer still, for the truly unfortunate or more likely the adventurers, there are other milestones. Such as your first encounter with the undead. </p><p></p><p>From behind the columns, two animate skeletons clattered towards us, rusted longswords held high. Although draped in rusted chainmail and wearing failing conical helms, I could clearly see that their supporting musculature had long ago decayed away, leaving only brown stains on their bleached bones and the occasional flapping tendon as evidence that they had once been living, breathing beings. A pale blue flame flickered in each eye socket, somehow more dreadful than if they had been empty.</p><p></p><p>At that moment, my courage and my faith wavered. Amanautor had called me to adventure, but here it seemed that death itself was arrayed against us. We were, after all, only mortals. What victory could we hope to win against a power that could send the dead against us?</p><p></p><p>Fortunately, Corrin felt no such doubts. The halfling charged the nearest skeleton and lunged at it with his shortsword. The tempered blade slid off one of the undead’s ribs with a screeching like chalk on slate, and skeletal warrior in turn battered Corrin’s shield with its blade. Behind me, Skamos and Tira threw their powers against the foe; arcane missiles and eldritch energies slamming into the skeletons, while I stood in shock. </p><p></p><p>Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I regathered my composure. The second skeleton was moving to flank Corrin, and part of me was relieved to realise that my pause had lasted much less time than I had thought. I rushed to guard Corrin’s rear, bringing my shield up to protect him from the skeleton’s descending blade. The monstrosity turned on me then, and its jawbone hung low. Even as I parried its blows with my shield and looked for an opening to trade attacks, I realised that it was trying to scream a battle cry. However, with no vocal cords, it could not make a sound.</p><p></p><p>Corrin and I traded blows with the skeletons for what seemed like an eternity, as dark crackling energy and silvery bolts of force flashed past us to strike at our foes. Eventually we managed to force the skeletons closer together, and Skamos called down a column of fire that engulfed and blackened them both. Ribs fell from one of the skeletons to be ground underfoot, and the other seemed to be visibly slowing.</p><p></p><p>As I swung my mace low in an effort to get under my foe’s guard, I felt Amaunator’s holy symbol pulsing warmly in my left hand. And then I realised my folly. In the confusion of battle, I had forgotten than my training at His Haven had included specific prayers for use against the undead. I held the shining symbol aloft, calling on Amaunator’s blessing and directing it against the skeletons. I commanded them to begone.</p><p></p><p>Both skeletons were seized forcibly by the power of my faith, and hurled towards the back of the mausoleum, ankle bones screeching along the marble floor. Half of one monstrosity’s face came away in a bust of divine light and an arm was blown clean off the other. But still they rose and began to return to the fray.</p><p></p><p>And then Skamos stepped forward. He raised his blackened wand, gestured at the nearest skeleton, and uttered a single word. A spinning globe of crimson hurtled from his hand and smashed against the undead’s ribcage, exploding the monstrosity in a cascade of bone shards and shattered armour. Just as the skeleton broke apart, a shard of crimson force speared out and took the other skeleton in the neck. The bolt smashed one of the vertebrae there, and the skeleton’s head toppled from its shoulders. The creature stood motionless for a second, and then collapsed with a clatter of falling bones.</p><p></p><p>And the only sound was of our heavy breathing.</p><p></p><p>“Praise be to Amaunator”, I gushed.</p><p></p><p>Skamos was already pushing past me towards Belazemon’s statue. “Praise be to us, you mean.” He replied. His blasphemy took me by surprise, and filled as I was with battle lust I almost rose to the bait. Then I remembered the Tiefling’s decidedly non-religious bent, and that I had long ago decided to accept it as the price of his companionship. As Rector Bermensch had told me many times as a novice, “No one is converted by words alone. The deeds and devotion of the faithful are the weapons of our Lord.”</p><p></p><p>I pushed down my annoyance and went to join Skamos at the base of the statue. I found him reading a plaque on the statue’s plinth. "Belazemon the Great Uniter, Laid Low by the Sword of Vrix. Look on His Legacy with Pride, and Know Ye All That Remains is His Gift."</p><p></p><p>Around the statue’s neck hung a golden amulet with an opening in it, as though it were missing a carved gemstone. And above the statue was what appeared to be a closed trapdoor in the ceiling. Unfortunately there was no way we could physically reach it and nothing we tried with the statue produced any visible effect.</p><p></p><p>Skamos and Corrin meanwhile had searched the corpse at the base of the statue. While he was admiring a fine dagger that the deceased man wore in a sheath at his belt, Skamos handed me a fine golden locket. Flicking it open, I beheld the painted face of a young woman. On the inside cover on the locket, the name Sybil was engraved. Thinking back to my conversation with Olvar, I studded the cameo of the woman closely. Although the painting was clearly of a much younger Sybil, I was certain that it was the same woman as the crone that had been harassing Olvar when we arrived in Oakhurst. I snapped the locket shut and slipped it into my belt pouch. I would discuss it with him when we returned to town.</p><p></p><p>After investigating the outside of the mausoleum thoroughly, we decided to next investigate the southern farms. We returned to Oakhurst to avoid getting lost, but skirted the village before heading south to the Ubler farm.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Colmarr, post: 4207210, member: 59182"] Corrin paused, uttering a prayer of blessing, and then I saw why. The ceiling inside the mausoleum was 50ft high, despite the building itself being lower than that. Obviously powerful magic was at work here. The halflings looked back at us as we moved slowly through the doorway and fanned out. To either side of the long chamber stood a row of columns, leading towards an impressive humanoid statue at the far end of the tomb. Behind me, I heard Skamos say, “It is Belazemon. The human that millennia ago united your race with the eladrin in this area against a common foe.” And suddenly the tomb made sense. Its grandeur. Its martial majesty. The powerful magic that had shrunk the space inside the mausoleum and kept it brightly-lit for millennia. Only a great hero would have warranted such a resting place. And yet there was something not quite right about the chamber as well. A feeling of ill-will permeated it. A sense of foreignness like oil on water filled the expansive chamber. And, as if to confirm my suspicions, the corpse came into view. Sprawled in front of Belazamon’s statute, but off to one side so that the columns had initially hidden it, was the body of a human male. The figure was covered with old wounds, and the lower half of its right arm was missing. Corrin stepped forward to investigate. I do not think I will ever forget what happened next. There are milestones in every life; firsts that mark your passage through time. For many those firsts are the everyday incidences of life: birth, puberty, marriage. Your first child. For others, the soldiers and hunters, they are more violent: your first kill, your first face-to-face confrontation with a foe intent on killing you. And rarer still, for the truly unfortunate or more likely the adventurers, there are other milestones. Such as your first encounter with the undead. From behind the columns, two animate skeletons clattered towards us, rusted longswords held high. Although draped in rusted chainmail and wearing failing conical helms, I could clearly see that their supporting musculature had long ago decayed away, leaving only brown stains on their bleached bones and the occasional flapping tendon as evidence that they had once been living, breathing beings. A pale blue flame flickered in each eye socket, somehow more dreadful than if they had been empty. At that moment, my courage and my faith wavered. Amanautor had called me to adventure, but here it seemed that death itself was arrayed against us. We were, after all, only mortals. What victory could we hope to win against a power that could send the dead against us? Fortunately, Corrin felt no such doubts. The halfling charged the nearest skeleton and lunged at it with his shortsword. The tempered blade slid off one of the undead’s ribs with a screeching like chalk on slate, and skeletal warrior in turn battered Corrin’s shield with its blade. Behind me, Skamos and Tira threw their powers against the foe; arcane missiles and eldritch energies slamming into the skeletons, while I stood in shock. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I regathered my composure. The second skeleton was moving to flank Corrin, and part of me was relieved to realise that my pause had lasted much less time than I had thought. I rushed to guard Corrin’s rear, bringing my shield up to protect him from the skeleton’s descending blade. The monstrosity turned on me then, and its jawbone hung low. Even as I parried its blows with my shield and looked for an opening to trade attacks, I realised that it was trying to scream a battle cry. However, with no vocal cords, it could not make a sound. Corrin and I traded blows with the skeletons for what seemed like an eternity, as dark crackling energy and silvery bolts of force flashed past us to strike at our foes. Eventually we managed to force the skeletons closer together, and Skamos called down a column of fire that engulfed and blackened them both. Ribs fell from one of the skeletons to be ground underfoot, and the other seemed to be visibly slowing. As I swung my mace low in an effort to get under my foe’s guard, I felt Amaunator’s holy symbol pulsing warmly in my left hand. And then I realised my folly. In the confusion of battle, I had forgotten than my training at His Haven had included specific prayers for use against the undead. I held the shining symbol aloft, calling on Amaunator’s blessing and directing it against the skeletons. I commanded them to begone. Both skeletons were seized forcibly by the power of my faith, and hurled towards the back of the mausoleum, ankle bones screeching along the marble floor. Half of one monstrosity’s face came away in a bust of divine light and an arm was blown clean off the other. But still they rose and began to return to the fray. And then Skamos stepped forward. He raised his blackened wand, gestured at the nearest skeleton, and uttered a single word. A spinning globe of crimson hurtled from his hand and smashed against the undead’s ribcage, exploding the monstrosity in a cascade of bone shards and shattered armour. Just as the skeleton broke apart, a shard of crimson force speared out and took the other skeleton in the neck. The bolt smashed one of the vertebrae there, and the skeleton’s head toppled from its shoulders. The creature stood motionless for a second, and then collapsed with a clatter of falling bones. And the only sound was of our heavy breathing. “Praise be to Amaunator”, I gushed. Skamos was already pushing past me towards Belazemon’s statue. “Praise be to us, you mean.” He replied. His blasphemy took me by surprise, and filled as I was with battle lust I almost rose to the bait. Then I remembered the Tiefling’s decidedly non-religious bent, and that I had long ago decided to accept it as the price of his companionship. As Rector Bermensch had told me many times as a novice, “No one is converted by words alone. The deeds and devotion of the faithful are the weapons of our Lord.” I pushed down my annoyance and went to join Skamos at the base of the statue. I found him reading a plaque on the statue’s plinth. "Belazemon the Great Uniter, Laid Low by the Sword of Vrix. Look on His Legacy with Pride, and Know Ye All That Remains is His Gift." Around the statue’s neck hung a golden amulet with an opening in it, as though it were missing a carved gemstone. And above the statue was what appeared to be a closed trapdoor in the ceiling. Unfortunately there was no way we could physically reach it and nothing we tried with the statue produced any visible effect. Skamos and Corrin meanwhile had searched the corpse at the base of the statue. While he was admiring a fine dagger that the deceased man wore in a sheath at his belt, Skamos handed me a fine golden locket. Flicking it open, I beheld the painted face of a young woman. On the inside cover on the locket, the name Sybil was engraved. Thinking back to my conversation with Olvar, I studded the cameo of the woman closely. Although the painting was clearly of a much younger Sybil, I was certain that it was the same woman as the crone that had been harassing Olvar when we arrived in Oakhurst. I snapped the locket shut and slipped it into my belt pouch. I would discuss it with him when we returned to town. After investigating the outside of the mausoleum thoroughly, we decided to next investigate the southern farms. We returned to Oakhurst to avoid getting lost, but skirted the village before heading south to the Ubler farm. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Raiders of Oakhurst - A memoir of Erais Gunterson
Top