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
Softwind's Tale: Companions of the Valley (upd 04/01/04) - REALLY!
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="Softwind" data-source="post: 1221325" data-attributes="member: 13893"><p><strong>The statue speaks</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Eleventh Session (Dec 02)</strong></p><p> </p><p>Days pass, as they are inclined to do. The Companions seek activity to keep their minds off events just a few days old. It is too much like what occurred just a few weeks (subjective)/2 years past in their home villages. The sense of despair, and loss, lingers over Merikest. But sorrow is not a new experience, and even though the townsfolk continue to grieve their loss, life goes on. Genoa and Brynn spend much time in the woods surrounding their town, learning about their companions, teaching them new tricks, and letting the healing power of nature wash away their hurts, mental and spiritual. Even Athena occasionally joins them, to watch in gentle amusement at the antics of adolescent Karazak and gruff Brynn. Genoa joins in the laughter as the two tumble in a larger-than-life game of “cat-and-mouse”. </p><p> </p><p>Genoa is more reserved around Timber, the once small wolf gaining in size from the days in the Valley. But even she displays her pleasure at the sleek coat, rippling muscle, lolling tongue, and mischievous look in her friend’s eyes. Timber thrives in her presence, and she is pleased. She and Brynn take time to instruct Athena in her budding Ranger talents, and commiserate in the seemingly slow progress she makes. (Later, they learn of their friend’s envy of their companions. Apparently, there was a favored stuffed animal in Athena’s life. A certain badger…)</p><p> </p><p>Skylar too spends time in the forest, although does not seek out her companions. Her time is spent in contemplation, and in crafting more of the arrows that are her calling. Witness to atrocities, she vows each arrow fired would be in defense of the defenseless, and to the destruction of evil. That, and she just *loves* the feel of her bow, the whistle of the arrow fletching, the satisfying *thwok* of the shaft hitting and penetrating the target. With a rare display of glee, she hugs the new shafts to her chest before humming a childhood ditty, and looks about for more material to craft. Few birds escape with plumage intact, their quills adding to her cause, thankful at least she had asked them only for feathers, and not their lives, although the racket of their indignity belies their thankfulness.</p><p> </p><p>Tombit, his eating schedule disrupted by the past days events, makes up for lost time. In between mouthfuls of pie (his favorite dish), he regales all that would listen of his exploits. How he single-handedly (well, okay, with a *little* help) defeated the denizens of the forest, and the Keep, and the orcs, and the undead, and, and, and…. Many a baker and innkeeper are silently glad when the pie supply runs out, and the talkative Halfling is forced to move on. “Better Gertie than I, thinks I!” whispers a particularly tired innkeeper’s wife, as she watches Tombit move down the road to an Inn, known for their desserts. “Poor Gertie, though. She takes so much pride in the fact she can out bake us all!” *cackle* “Poor, poor Gertie. Heh, serves her right!” Tombit, intent on his next meal, was oblivious to it all.</p><p> </p><p>Grimnyr spends his time in town, not much taken with the idea of “pouncing” about in the forest. Instead, he seems intent in trying out every flavor, color, texture, and alcohol content level of beer and ale in town. On each occasion that he finds one “fit ta drink”, he orders more for his own stash, and perhaps to share with others. Between drinks, he listens to the general chatter in the taverns, dispensing advice and comparing techniques of dispatching foes, be they gophers in a garden, or orcs out for blood. Only the most astute notice the underlying sadness of the dwarf. A hidden pain he would be mortified to know showed, even if only to the keen-eyed. He belies his feelings with demands for more drink, and frenetic activity in demonstrating a particularly effective strike of an imagined (or, if deep in his cups, real) axe. At the end of most nights, he is escorted / supported by his drinking companions, or the town guard, back to the Inn. If any of his companions notice his state, they are wise withhold comment.</p><p> </p><p>It is with relief then to many in town, adventurer and townsfolk alike, when out of a clear sky one day comes a peal of thunder, but without a following flash of light. Broken out of the monotony, the band of adventurers ponders exiting the tavern, to look for the cause. They glance at their mugs, still half filled with ale. They are forestalled by a booming, metallic voice coming from the north. </p><p> </p><p>“Townsfolk! I seek a group of travelers known to be here. Bring them forward, and no harm will come to your homes.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is this about?” the party wonders aloud. While Merikest is not on a major road, it is beginning to see a fair amount of travel, especially now that the woods have been made safer by the actions of the Companions. A burble of conversation begins around them, as the tavern patrons ask the same thing amongst themselves. The voice continues.</p><p> </p><p>“I have been sent for a group of Dwarves, journeying in the company of a Gnome and a Halfling. Release them to me, and your dwellings will remain unharmed. Hold them from me, and I will level this place.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh ho! Brynn looks at his friends, eyebrows raised. “Pretty specific, wouldn’t you say?” he asks. The rest of the group agrees, and they reach for their weapons, always at the ready. Even though it had been days since anything had threatened them, they had not let down their guard, and they still wore their armor. Weapons at their side, the last of the armor fasteners back in place, the party strolls outside, onto the main street. Curious eyes of townsfolk follow them as the advance toward the lone figure standing on the road at the outskirts of town. It stood in silence, watching them approach. It made no sound, nor motion, until they stood a dozen paces apart.</p><p> </p><p>From a distance, the figure appeared to be clad in bronze or golden armor, unarmed, with a dark cloak idlely moving in the occasional zephyr. Closer, the armor seemed grafted to the figure’s body – artfully crafted at every joint, with no inhibition of movement, completely enclosing whoever, or whatever, stood within. Even the figure’s eyes were hidden; only glowing pinpoints of light were seen behind the visor. When at last the Companions stood before the armor-clad figure, Brynn asked, “Who are you, and what do you want with us?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have been ordered to bring you to my Master. Failing that, to destroy you,” comes the reply.</p><p> </p><p>Taken by surprise at the blunt answer, the party takes a collective step back, looking at each other. When nothing further occurs, they sheepishly grin, and turn back to the figure. Grimnyr hefts his axe, and pressing the head against the figure’s breastplate, pushes it forward, in a display of bravado. Or at least, tries to. The figure seems unperturbed, and unmoved. Grunting, Grimnyr pushes harder, to no effect. Realizing increased effort would just make him look foolish, he steps back and sizes up the opponent, perhaps for another try.</p><p> </p><p>Brynn quickly steps in, and addressing the figure, asks “Who then is your master?”</p><p> </p><p>“He is, The Master. Do you then come of your own accord?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we do not. We have no intention of leaving here”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it is your death I seek” Flinging back the cloak, the figure leaps back, and rapiers appear in each hand. With the quickness of thought, it lunges forward, skewering Brynn. Grunting in pain, Brynn unsheathes his swords and retaliates, his blades ringing loudly against the armor of his opponent. When the blades are pulled back, the rents in the armor appear to begin to close on their own! And no blood or other fluid emerges from the injuries…</p><p> </p><p>Genoa pulls her scimitar, but swings wildly, missing, as the figure seems to dodge her very blows. Grimnyr, axe readied, suffers a similar indignity as his axeblade cuts but air. Tombit, having taken the opportunity of the preceding conversation to maneuver his way behind the armor clad foe, attempts to sneak attack, only to be foiled by the strong armor’s resistance to his dagger. Athena’s mace seems to do more damage than any previous attack, but her blade finds only a corner of the cloak.</p><p> </p><p>Again, the figure leaps forward, this time pinioning Genoa and Grimnyr to the ground, before the blades withdraw. The ferocity of the strikes takes their breath away as their wounds bleed quite freely. Their companions continue the attack, raining blows down on the silent figure. Only the sounds of weapons striking the metal armor, and the grunts and cries of the group are heard; the figure remains silent as the battle continues. Until one solid stroke by Brynn cleaves open a large gash in the armor.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, a worthy opponent. Good. Goooooood.” The figure appears almost excited. “Your death with be very satisfying.” Again, the blades whip out. Once, twice, thrice, and then again – four blows in rapid succession upon the ranger. Brynn staggers back, cruelly injured. Only to be partially restored by Athena’s quick healing hands. Vitality restored, the ranger’s grip on his weapons tightens, and his eyes narrow as he looks for weaknesses in his opponents guard.</p><p> </p><p>Skylar, hanging back with bow ready, fires into the melee, her shafts seeking an opening through which to pierce. She is dismayed to see her arrows having no effect. Disbelieving, she continues to fire at the figure menacing her friends. Broken shafts litter the ground in short order, having snapped on impact with the bronze colored armor.</p><p> </p><p>With Tombit clinging onto its back, and the other Companions harrying it from the front, the figure’s movements begin to slow, its strikes no longer falling so surely. The toneless voice speaks no longer, as, with final blows, the figure crumples to the ground, falling upon Grimnyr to pin him. Weary from the punishment of combat, and somewhat disoriented by the injuries followed by rapid healing, the party pauses to take stock, before the pinned dwarf’s shouts of indignity move them to pull the corpse off him.</p><p> </p><p>Pride wounded, the freed dwarf kicks at the fallen foe, only to hop back, clutching broken toes. *CLANG* echoes between the buildings lining the streets, as do Dwarven epitaphs and curses. Startled by the now hollow sound of the armor, Brynn pulls back the helmet, revealing … nothing. The armor is empty… And, it is revealed to not be armor so much as an empty shell, immobile, and very heavy. Unnoticed, a vapor cloud departs the shell, moving towards Skylar, still anxiously holding her bow, arrow nocked.</p><p> </p><p>The vapor lands in a small fountain besides the elf, and merges with the water. As she watches her companions examining the remains of their enemy, she fails to see or hear the form growing from the bowl of the fountain, composed of the water itself. Only stray droplets of water warn her as a watery limb attempts to strike her. Tumbling backwards, she rises up and fires twice before she even regains her feet. The shafts do not pass through the figure but instead stick, causing a liquid burbling from the creature. Encouraged by this success, her next series of shafts also strike true in rapid succession, and in moments, the fountain again is occupied by only water, plus a few fletched shafts. A whisper of “free” can be heard on the wind, as the water settles into the bowl once more.</p><p> </p><p>The party arrives just in time to witness this, and turn as one to Skylar. She only raises her shoulders in a shrug, her face blank, and goes about seeing if any of her arrows can be recovered. Bemused, and a little puzzled, the group returns to the armor. It is Tombit who discovers that the shell holds not just air, but a collection of valuable items as well. A large brick of gold, inscribed with arcane symbols, rests in the lower section of the form, as do several scrolls, and a magic wand. The rapiers the figure wielded with such effect appear to be attached to the arms, although with a little work, they come free, much to Tombit’s glee. </p><p> </p><p>Although confused by what they found, and the events leading up to them, the party accepts the gain as their due, and returns to the tavern. Behind them, curious children emerge from the surrounding buildings, swarming the remains, while anxious parents look on, arms partially raised as if to call them back. The arms slowly lower as they see no harm comes to their offspring, and they glance at the retreating backs of the adventurers, a mixture of relief and anxiety upon their faces. The Companions continue on, intent on the tavern, unaware of the scrutiny.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Softwind, post: 1221325, member: 13893"] [b]The statue speaks[/b] [b]Eleventh Session (Dec 02)[/b] Days pass, as they are inclined to do. The Companions seek activity to keep their minds off events just a few days old. It is too much like what occurred just a few weeks (subjective)/2 years past in their home villages. The sense of despair, and loss, lingers over Merikest. But sorrow is not a new experience, and even though the townsfolk continue to grieve their loss, life goes on. Genoa and Brynn spend much time in the woods surrounding their town, learning about their companions, teaching them new tricks, and letting the healing power of nature wash away their hurts, mental and spiritual. Even Athena occasionally joins them, to watch in gentle amusement at the antics of adolescent Karazak and gruff Brynn. Genoa joins in the laughter as the two tumble in a larger-than-life game of “cat-and-mouse”. Genoa is more reserved around Timber, the once small wolf gaining in size from the days in the Valley. But even she displays her pleasure at the sleek coat, rippling muscle, lolling tongue, and mischievous look in her friend’s eyes. Timber thrives in her presence, and she is pleased. She and Brynn take time to instruct Athena in her budding Ranger talents, and commiserate in the seemingly slow progress she makes. (Later, they learn of their friend’s envy of their companions. Apparently, there was a favored stuffed animal in Athena’s life. A certain badger…) Skylar too spends time in the forest, although does not seek out her companions. Her time is spent in contemplation, and in crafting more of the arrows that are her calling. Witness to atrocities, she vows each arrow fired would be in defense of the defenseless, and to the destruction of evil. That, and she just *loves* the feel of her bow, the whistle of the arrow fletching, the satisfying *thwok* of the shaft hitting and penetrating the target. With a rare display of glee, she hugs the new shafts to her chest before humming a childhood ditty, and looks about for more material to craft. Few birds escape with plumage intact, their quills adding to her cause, thankful at least she had asked them only for feathers, and not their lives, although the racket of their indignity belies their thankfulness. Tombit, his eating schedule disrupted by the past days events, makes up for lost time. In between mouthfuls of pie (his favorite dish), he regales all that would listen of his exploits. How he single-handedly (well, okay, with a *little* help) defeated the denizens of the forest, and the Keep, and the orcs, and the undead, and, and, and…. Many a baker and innkeeper are silently glad when the pie supply runs out, and the talkative Halfling is forced to move on. “Better Gertie than I, thinks I!” whispers a particularly tired innkeeper’s wife, as she watches Tombit move down the road to an Inn, known for their desserts. “Poor Gertie, though. She takes so much pride in the fact she can out bake us all!” *cackle* “Poor, poor Gertie. Heh, serves her right!” Tombit, intent on his next meal, was oblivious to it all. Grimnyr spends his time in town, not much taken with the idea of “pouncing” about in the forest. Instead, he seems intent in trying out every flavor, color, texture, and alcohol content level of beer and ale in town. On each occasion that he finds one “fit ta drink”, he orders more for his own stash, and perhaps to share with others. Between drinks, he listens to the general chatter in the taverns, dispensing advice and comparing techniques of dispatching foes, be they gophers in a garden, or orcs out for blood. Only the most astute notice the underlying sadness of the dwarf. A hidden pain he would be mortified to know showed, even if only to the keen-eyed. He belies his feelings with demands for more drink, and frenetic activity in demonstrating a particularly effective strike of an imagined (or, if deep in his cups, real) axe. At the end of most nights, he is escorted / supported by his drinking companions, or the town guard, back to the Inn. If any of his companions notice his state, they are wise withhold comment. It is with relief then to many in town, adventurer and townsfolk alike, when out of a clear sky one day comes a peal of thunder, but without a following flash of light. Broken out of the monotony, the band of adventurers ponders exiting the tavern, to look for the cause. They glance at their mugs, still half filled with ale. They are forestalled by a booming, metallic voice coming from the north. “Townsfolk! I seek a group of travelers known to be here. Bring them forward, and no harm will come to your homes.” “What is this about?” the party wonders aloud. While Merikest is not on a major road, it is beginning to see a fair amount of travel, especially now that the woods have been made safer by the actions of the Companions. A burble of conversation begins around them, as the tavern patrons ask the same thing amongst themselves. The voice continues. “I have been sent for a group of Dwarves, journeying in the company of a Gnome and a Halfling. Release them to me, and your dwellings will remain unharmed. Hold them from me, and I will level this place.” Oh ho! Brynn looks at his friends, eyebrows raised. “Pretty specific, wouldn’t you say?” he asks. The rest of the group agrees, and they reach for their weapons, always at the ready. Even though it had been days since anything had threatened them, they had not let down their guard, and they still wore their armor. Weapons at their side, the last of the armor fasteners back in place, the party strolls outside, onto the main street. Curious eyes of townsfolk follow them as the advance toward the lone figure standing on the road at the outskirts of town. It stood in silence, watching them approach. It made no sound, nor motion, until they stood a dozen paces apart. From a distance, the figure appeared to be clad in bronze or golden armor, unarmed, with a dark cloak idlely moving in the occasional zephyr. Closer, the armor seemed grafted to the figure’s body – artfully crafted at every joint, with no inhibition of movement, completely enclosing whoever, or whatever, stood within. Even the figure’s eyes were hidden; only glowing pinpoints of light were seen behind the visor. When at last the Companions stood before the armor-clad figure, Brynn asked, “Who are you, and what do you want with us?” “I have been ordered to bring you to my Master. Failing that, to destroy you,” comes the reply. Taken by surprise at the blunt answer, the party takes a collective step back, looking at each other. When nothing further occurs, they sheepishly grin, and turn back to the figure. Grimnyr hefts his axe, and pressing the head against the figure’s breastplate, pushes it forward, in a display of bravado. Or at least, tries to. The figure seems unperturbed, and unmoved. Grunting, Grimnyr pushes harder, to no effect. Realizing increased effort would just make him look foolish, he steps back and sizes up the opponent, perhaps for another try. Brynn quickly steps in, and addressing the figure, asks “Who then is your master?” “He is, The Master. Do you then come of your own accord?” “No, we do not. We have no intention of leaving here” “Then it is your death I seek” Flinging back the cloak, the figure leaps back, and rapiers appear in each hand. With the quickness of thought, it lunges forward, skewering Brynn. Grunting in pain, Brynn unsheathes his swords and retaliates, his blades ringing loudly against the armor of his opponent. When the blades are pulled back, the rents in the armor appear to begin to close on their own! And no blood or other fluid emerges from the injuries… Genoa pulls her scimitar, but swings wildly, missing, as the figure seems to dodge her very blows. Grimnyr, axe readied, suffers a similar indignity as his axeblade cuts but air. Tombit, having taken the opportunity of the preceding conversation to maneuver his way behind the armor clad foe, attempts to sneak attack, only to be foiled by the strong armor’s resistance to his dagger. Athena’s mace seems to do more damage than any previous attack, but her blade finds only a corner of the cloak. Again, the figure leaps forward, this time pinioning Genoa and Grimnyr to the ground, before the blades withdraw. The ferocity of the strikes takes their breath away as their wounds bleed quite freely. Their companions continue the attack, raining blows down on the silent figure. Only the sounds of weapons striking the metal armor, and the grunts and cries of the group are heard; the figure remains silent as the battle continues. Until one solid stroke by Brynn cleaves open a large gash in the armor. “Ah, a worthy opponent. Good. Goooooood.” The figure appears almost excited. “Your death with be very satisfying.” Again, the blades whip out. Once, twice, thrice, and then again – four blows in rapid succession upon the ranger. Brynn staggers back, cruelly injured. Only to be partially restored by Athena’s quick healing hands. Vitality restored, the ranger’s grip on his weapons tightens, and his eyes narrow as he looks for weaknesses in his opponents guard. Skylar, hanging back with bow ready, fires into the melee, her shafts seeking an opening through which to pierce. She is dismayed to see her arrows having no effect. Disbelieving, she continues to fire at the figure menacing her friends. Broken shafts litter the ground in short order, having snapped on impact with the bronze colored armor. With Tombit clinging onto its back, and the other Companions harrying it from the front, the figure’s movements begin to slow, its strikes no longer falling so surely. The toneless voice speaks no longer, as, with final blows, the figure crumples to the ground, falling upon Grimnyr to pin him. Weary from the punishment of combat, and somewhat disoriented by the injuries followed by rapid healing, the party pauses to take stock, before the pinned dwarf’s shouts of indignity move them to pull the corpse off him. Pride wounded, the freed dwarf kicks at the fallen foe, only to hop back, clutching broken toes. *CLANG* echoes between the buildings lining the streets, as do Dwarven epitaphs and curses. Startled by the now hollow sound of the armor, Brynn pulls back the helmet, revealing … nothing. The armor is empty… And, it is revealed to not be armor so much as an empty shell, immobile, and very heavy. Unnoticed, a vapor cloud departs the shell, moving towards Skylar, still anxiously holding her bow, arrow nocked. The vapor lands in a small fountain besides the elf, and merges with the water. As she watches her companions examining the remains of their enemy, she fails to see or hear the form growing from the bowl of the fountain, composed of the water itself. Only stray droplets of water warn her as a watery limb attempts to strike her. Tumbling backwards, she rises up and fires twice before she even regains her feet. The shafts do not pass through the figure but instead stick, causing a liquid burbling from the creature. Encouraged by this success, her next series of shafts also strike true in rapid succession, and in moments, the fountain again is occupied by only water, plus a few fletched shafts. A whisper of “free” can be heard on the wind, as the water settles into the bowl once more. The party arrives just in time to witness this, and turn as one to Skylar. She only raises her shoulders in a shrug, her face blank, and goes about seeing if any of her arrows can be recovered. Bemused, and a little puzzled, the group returns to the armor. It is Tombit who discovers that the shell holds not just air, but a collection of valuable items as well. A large brick of gold, inscribed with arcane symbols, rests in the lower section of the form, as do several scrolls, and a magic wand. The rapiers the figure wielded with such effect appear to be attached to the arms, although with a little work, they come free, much to Tombit’s glee. Although confused by what they found, and the events leading up to them, the party accepts the gain as their due, and returns to the tavern. Behind them, curious children emerge from the surrounding buildings, swarming the remains, while anxious parents look on, arms partially raised as if to call them back. The arms slowly lower as they see no harm comes to their offspring, and they glance at the retreating backs of the adventurers, a mixture of relief and anxiety upon their faces. The Companions continue on, intent on the tavern, unaware of the scrutiny. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Softwind's Tale: Companions of the Valley (upd 04/01/04) - REALLY!
Top