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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 5893147" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p>Quite right. And I thank you, gentle readers, for the oft-needed kick in the proverbial pants. </p><p></p><p>I was thinking on Monday how I had not posted in some time...didn't realize it had been almost an entire month! And here we are, somehow, at Friday already!? How'd that hoppun?</p><p></p><p>But I appreciate, as always, your patience and continuing interest. You are, most certainly, overdue.</p><p></p><p>So, here ya go! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite2" alt=";)" title="Wink ;)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=";)" /></p><p>Keep reading and hoping you're enjoying the Tales of Orea and look forward, as always to any questions, comments...or just sayin' "hi." <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p>Enjoy.</p><p>--Steel Dragons</p><p>-------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>The next few moments went by in a blur for Alaria. </p><p></p><p>The firestone dart lodged in the nightmare's snout burst with a shortlived roaring burst of flame. THe fire did not harm the demonic beast, of course. But the shock caused the creature to rear and buck and "run" around in midair in fear and surprise.</p><p></p><p>This threw Madagbueil from the creature's back, as she too was completely taken by surprise. Unfortunately, instead of falling, the hag-witch simply flew around a bit before recovering and righting herself, hovering of her own accord.</p><p></p><p>The break, however, was severely needed as Duor was doing a terrible job landing a strike on the great hook-handed monster and decided to "Screw it!" after he had to dive dodge away from another attack. He made with all speed back into the "center" of the battle field.</p><p></p><p>Erevan's violet eyes fluttered open just in time to see Fen's smiling, tear-streaked face. His eyes then widened in horror and he sat up with elvin speed to "hug" Fen and jump the two of them away an inch before a great yellowed hook of a claw came crashing down where the druid had been kneeling.</p><p></p><p>They rolled a few feet together before coming to a standstill, Erevan laying atop Fen, who was on his back on the ground.</p><p></p><p>"My thanks, killi." Fen smiled. "We'll get back to this soon as we're able. But for now..." the druid shoved the elf off of him and leapt to his feet. Bereft of his sacred spear for the moment, he pullout out the ram-head carved club he'd received from Daenfrii. He had yet to use the weapon and the surprise was evident on his comely face when his strike against the hooked monster sent the beast flying back, off of its feet, to land with a thundering boom. </p><p></p><p>Braddok was having difficulty with the shambling mound of a Swan Knight until Alaria came close enough to shout out the spell of growing. Suddenly, the shambling mound was a good foot shorter than the swordsman and he shoved the creature back, away from the still praying Haelan, by several feet.</p><p></p><p>"Braddok, the hooked beasts, hurry!" Alaria shouted up to the warrior.</p><p></p><p>With a turn of his massive torso and swing of his giant sword, the swordsman of Barforth sliced the hooked horror that stood over Festus and Alaria, removing its head from its shoulders in a single swipe.</p><p></p><p>"My thanks, Braddok!" Festus called up to the man. The satyr had been having much difficulty landing any telling blows through the creature's hard lumpy plates of carapace.</p><p></p><p>Seeing his chance, as the large monster slowly slumped forward, Festus half-stepped half-leaped up onto the dissolving creature's shoulder and jumped off the high vantage point with all of the might his goat-hindquarters could muster. He sailed through the air directly at the momentarily dazed Madagbueil.</p><p></p><p>*SWIPE*SLICE*AAAAH!*</p><p></p><p>The satyr ranger's two blades whipped out before him and the one magical blade managed to bite into the hag's arm [the other missed]. The satyr tucked and flipped to land on his feet with a smirk toward the witch.</p><p></p><p>"Tag! You're it!" Festus goaded.</p><p></p><p>Madagbueil recovered from her shock and pain immediately.</p><p></p><p>"You DARE assault ME! You pathetic twisted mockery of...Feel my wrath child of Pehn.<em> Azz Nuhzz Zugat</em>..."</p><p></p><p>As the witch began to cast, her voice rose in volume but deepened in timbre. The air about her seemed to darken a shade or two deeper than the dark night that covered the whole of the realm.</p><p></p><p>Alaria felt a tingling that quickly became a chill. Even without her arcane sight in effect, she could sense the power that was being invoked. The words of power, at least the ones she could hear or understand, burned her ears. What <em>was</em> this magic?</p><p></p><p>Even before Madagbueil had completed the spell, Festus cried out in pain. His back arched, impossibly far, before snapping forward and the satyr hunched down, falling to the ground, covered by his patchwork cloak.</p><p></p><p>The sounds of stretching and ripping, bones cracking filled the area. All combat, movement and sound, other than the soft chanting of Haelan, seemed to stop for a moment as Madagbueil finished her spell with something that sounded to Alaria like "<em>izthssss.</em>"</p><p></p><p>Festus cried out in pain again. "HELP MEEE! HELP MEH-..."A cry that became a howl and then a whine to a whimper....and then. </p><p></p><p>"Meh-meh-mmmmMAAHAHAHAH!" was the last any of the companions heard before Festus emerged from under his patchwork cloak.</p><p></p><p>The horns were the same. The shaggy furred hindquarters were the same. But now there were front-quarters to go with them. A short darker brown beard, the same color as the satyr's goatee, hung off the chin of a brown billy goat where Festus had been.</p><p></p><p>"Manat's star!" Alaria breathed in horror.</p><p></p><p>"Holy $#!t!" the gigantic Braddok boomed at the same time as the same exclamation escaped Duor's beard.</p><p></p><p>Fen and Erevan were similarly surprised, having just finished disposing of the hooked horror that had been upon them. With the final blow, the monster seemed to crack and dissipate into nothingness as streams of blackness leaked out from the shattered plates of its hide.</p><p></p><p>The goat, seeing the giant hooked horror beside him, bleated and began trotting back toward the walled garden of the spire.</p><p></p><p>Again the battlefield blurred as Braddok reached out and grabbed the nightmare in midair and cleft it in twain just before his enchantment was wearing off. Turning his ever shrinking attention back to the shambler, Braddok saw that it seemed to be "stuck" in its place.</p><p></p><p>Then it was Haelan's voice that rose in volume.</p><p></p><p>"Now what?!" Duor burst.</p><p></p><p>The attention of the field was turned back to heretofore easily ignored halfling. There seemed to be a wind swirling around the daelvar priest. His arms were over his head, palms toward the shambler. The dust and diark dirt that flowed around the hairfoot's position seemed to take on a silvery light of its own and suddenly green leaves and grasses were seen in the swirling air around his feet.</p><p></p><p><em>"Ipsum Deisa Gaela! Ipsum Deisa Faerantha! Ipsum beneficiat y deisa totum! Exclarian malignicas SORTUS!"</em> <<em>the last bits of the cleric spell: Remove Curse. "By Holy Gaela! By Holy Fearantha! By all that is good and holy! I command this curse be gone!"</em>></p><p></p><p>The shambler slumped down to the ground, appearing as nothing more than a small mound of mud and twigs and decaying plant.</p><p></p><p>Then, seemingly from the creature's own body, bright green fresh grasses began to sprout. Then small white daisies burst and bloomed over the whole of the mound, making it appear as a four foot high hillock in the middle of spring.</p><p></p><p>The whole of the battlefield was awash in the scents of spring rain and pine. The wind which had blowing around Haelan's hairy feet turned into a gale that now washed over the whole of the broad open dried lake bed. Fresh living green leaves and blades of grass were carried along the wind, though where they had come from, none of the companions could say.</p><p></p><p>The last remaining hook horror screeched into the ether as its form, like its brothers, seemed to crack and then shatter. The black energies that escaped it as it disintegrated were quickly blown clear by the fresh breeze.</p><p></p><p>"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Madagbueil screeched across the field. "NO! NOOOO!" the witch seemed to be shuddering from her hovering place and clasped her ears. Her magical flight faltered and Madagbueil fell the ten feet to land, hard, on the ground. She writhed and raved, incomprehensible. Finally, staring up at the starlit sky, Madagbueil stopped moving or making a sound. Her arms flopped to either side and she just lay there. </p><p></p><p>Duor raced forward, intent on delivering a "final blow" to the witch but halted as he neared as a loud hiss went up all around her. Black energies seemed to seem out of every orifice, out from beneath her tattered black robes. These, like the energies of the hook horror were carried away in the pine-scented wind. The purple warted skin seemed to whither and shrink, like all of the air of a balloon being let out. Until, finally, nothing remained of the mad-witch but the black robes and cloak which seemed to turn from solid fabric to a fluid ink-like substance and seep away into the cracks of the dried ground. </p><p></p><p>Duor looked to Alaria.</p><p></p><p>The magess did not notice, completely awestruck by what was happening.</p><p></p><p>Braddok was transfixed on the dissolving witch until he noticed the pine-scented wind was subsiding. Then he heard the soft "clinking thump" of Haelan falling to the ground.</p><p></p><p>The elf-folk and Braddok raced for the daelvar, fearing the worst. But he was hoisting himself up on his elbows with some effort.</p><p></p><p>"Look to Inskuel." Haelan managed to say, the exhaustion evident in his voice.</p><p></p><p>The companions turned toward the daisy covered hill. </p><p></p><p>The covering of fresh sod seemed to ungulate and stretch until an arm...a human mail-clad arm?...burst through the top of the mound.</p><p></p><p>All of the company readied their weapons, expecting a zombie attack. </p><p></p><p>What came out of the hill of grass and white flowers was a tall handsome man, with white-blond hair crawl his way out of the mound. He wore silvery scale mail over which a tabbard of midnight blue with a bright white swan crest emblazoned on the chest. The man was able to get himself almost halfway out of the hill of grassy sod before Braddok and Fen rushed to go aid him.</p><p></p><p>Fully freed, he collapsed to the ground between the warrior and druid. His breathing was heavy but soon returned to a normal pace. He lifted his head and looked at the companions all staring at him in disbelief. His gaze finally fell on Haelan and he smiled. Haelan's own face lit up with his own bright smile.</p><p></p><p>"Sir Inkswell, I presume?" Duor said.</p><p></p><p>"INSKUEL!" the rest of the party corrected.</p><p></p><p>"Mahahah." bleated the goat.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 5893147, member: 92511"] Quite right. And I thank you, gentle readers, for the oft-needed kick in the proverbial pants. I was thinking on Monday how I had not posted in some time...didn't realize it had been almost an entire month! And here we are, somehow, at Friday already!? How'd that hoppun? But I appreciate, as always, your patience and continuing interest. You are, most certainly, overdue. So, here ya go! ;) Keep reading and hoping you're enjoying the Tales of Orea and look forward, as always to any questions, comments...or just sayin' "hi." :) Enjoy. --Steel Dragons ------------------------------------------- The next few moments went by in a blur for Alaria. The firestone dart lodged in the nightmare's snout burst with a shortlived roaring burst of flame. THe fire did not harm the demonic beast, of course. But the shock caused the creature to rear and buck and "run" around in midair in fear and surprise. This threw Madagbueil from the creature's back, as she too was completely taken by surprise. Unfortunately, instead of falling, the hag-witch simply flew around a bit before recovering and righting herself, hovering of her own accord. The break, however, was severely needed as Duor was doing a terrible job landing a strike on the great hook-handed monster and decided to "Screw it!" after he had to dive dodge away from another attack. He made with all speed back into the "center" of the battle field. Erevan's violet eyes fluttered open just in time to see Fen's smiling, tear-streaked face. His eyes then widened in horror and he sat up with elvin speed to "hug" Fen and jump the two of them away an inch before a great yellowed hook of a claw came crashing down where the druid had been kneeling. They rolled a few feet together before coming to a standstill, Erevan laying atop Fen, who was on his back on the ground. "My thanks, killi." Fen smiled. "We'll get back to this soon as we're able. But for now..." the druid shoved the elf off of him and leapt to his feet. Bereft of his sacred spear for the moment, he pullout out the ram-head carved club he'd received from Daenfrii. He had yet to use the weapon and the surprise was evident on his comely face when his strike against the hooked monster sent the beast flying back, off of its feet, to land with a thundering boom. Braddok was having difficulty with the shambling mound of a Swan Knight until Alaria came close enough to shout out the spell of growing. Suddenly, the shambling mound was a good foot shorter than the swordsman and he shoved the creature back, away from the still praying Haelan, by several feet. "Braddok, the hooked beasts, hurry!" Alaria shouted up to the warrior. With a turn of his massive torso and swing of his giant sword, the swordsman of Barforth sliced the hooked horror that stood over Festus and Alaria, removing its head from its shoulders in a single swipe. "My thanks, Braddok!" Festus called up to the man. The satyr had been having much difficulty landing any telling blows through the creature's hard lumpy plates of carapace. Seeing his chance, as the large monster slowly slumped forward, Festus half-stepped half-leaped up onto the dissolving creature's shoulder and jumped off the high vantage point with all of the might his goat-hindquarters could muster. He sailed through the air directly at the momentarily dazed Madagbueil. *SWIPE*SLICE*AAAAH!* The satyr ranger's two blades whipped out before him and the one magical blade managed to bite into the hag's arm [the other missed]. The satyr tucked and flipped to land on his feet with a smirk toward the witch. "Tag! You're it!" Festus goaded. Madagbueil recovered from her shock and pain immediately. "You DARE assault ME! You pathetic twisted mockery of...Feel my wrath child of Pehn.[I] Azz Nuhzz Zugat[/I]..." As the witch began to cast, her voice rose in volume but deepened in timbre. The air about her seemed to darken a shade or two deeper than the dark night that covered the whole of the realm. Alaria felt a tingling that quickly became a chill. Even without her arcane sight in effect, she could sense the power that was being invoked. The words of power, at least the ones she could hear or understand, burned her ears. What [I]was[/I] this magic? Even before Madagbueil had completed the spell, Festus cried out in pain. His back arched, impossibly far, before snapping forward and the satyr hunched down, falling to the ground, covered by his patchwork cloak. The sounds of stretching and ripping, bones cracking filled the area. All combat, movement and sound, other than the soft chanting of Haelan, seemed to stop for a moment as Madagbueil finished her spell with something that sounded to Alaria like "[I]izthssss.[/I]" Festus cried out in pain again. "HELP MEEE! HELP MEH-..."A cry that became a howl and then a whine to a whimper....and then. "Meh-meh-mmmmMAAHAHAHAH!" was the last any of the companions heard before Festus emerged from under his patchwork cloak. The horns were the same. The shaggy furred hindquarters were the same. But now there were front-quarters to go with them. A short darker brown beard, the same color as the satyr's goatee, hung off the chin of a brown billy goat where Festus had been. "Manat's star!" Alaria breathed in horror. "Holy $#!t!" the gigantic Braddok boomed at the same time as the same exclamation escaped Duor's beard. Fen and Erevan were similarly surprised, having just finished disposing of the hooked horror that had been upon them. With the final blow, the monster seemed to crack and dissipate into nothingness as streams of blackness leaked out from the shattered plates of its hide. The goat, seeing the giant hooked horror beside him, bleated and began trotting back toward the walled garden of the spire. Again the battlefield blurred as Braddok reached out and grabbed the nightmare in midair and cleft it in twain just before his enchantment was wearing off. Turning his ever shrinking attention back to the shambler, Braddok saw that it seemed to be "stuck" in its place. Then it was Haelan's voice that rose in volume. "Now what?!" Duor burst. The attention of the field was turned back to heretofore easily ignored halfling. There seemed to be a wind swirling around the daelvar priest. His arms were over his head, palms toward the shambler. The dust and diark dirt that flowed around the hairfoot's position seemed to take on a silvery light of its own and suddenly green leaves and grasses were seen in the swirling air around his feet. [I]"Ipsum Deisa Gaela! Ipsum Deisa Faerantha! Ipsum beneficiat y deisa totum! Exclarian malignicas SORTUS!"[/I] <[I]the last bits of the cleric spell: Remove Curse. "By Holy Gaela! By Holy Fearantha! By all that is good and holy! I command this curse be gone!"[/I]> The shambler slumped down to the ground, appearing as nothing more than a small mound of mud and twigs and decaying plant. Then, seemingly from the creature's own body, bright green fresh grasses began to sprout. Then small white daisies burst and bloomed over the whole of the mound, making it appear as a four foot high hillock in the middle of spring. The whole of the battlefield was awash in the scents of spring rain and pine. The wind which had blowing around Haelan's hairy feet turned into a gale that now washed over the whole of the broad open dried lake bed. Fresh living green leaves and blades of grass were carried along the wind, though where they had come from, none of the companions could say. The last remaining hook horror screeched into the ether as its form, like its brothers, seemed to crack and then shatter. The black energies that escaped it as it disintegrated were quickly blown clear by the fresh breeze. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Madagbueil screeched across the field. "NO! NOOOO!" the witch seemed to be shuddering from her hovering place and clasped her ears. Her magical flight faltered and Madagbueil fell the ten feet to land, hard, on the ground. She writhed and raved, incomprehensible. Finally, staring up at the starlit sky, Madagbueil stopped moving or making a sound. Her arms flopped to either side and she just lay there. Duor raced forward, intent on delivering a "final blow" to the witch but halted as he neared as a loud hiss went up all around her. Black energies seemed to seem out of every orifice, out from beneath her tattered black robes. These, like the energies of the hook horror were carried away in the pine-scented wind. The purple warted skin seemed to whither and shrink, like all of the air of a balloon being let out. Until, finally, nothing remained of the mad-witch but the black robes and cloak which seemed to turn from solid fabric to a fluid ink-like substance and seep away into the cracks of the dried ground. Duor looked to Alaria. The magess did not notice, completely awestruck by what was happening. Braddok was transfixed on the dissolving witch until he noticed the pine-scented wind was subsiding. Then he heard the soft "clinking thump" of Haelan falling to the ground. The elf-folk and Braddok raced for the daelvar, fearing the worst. But he was hoisting himself up on his elbows with some effort. "Look to Inskuel." Haelan managed to say, the exhaustion evident in his voice. The companions turned toward the daisy covered hill. The covering of fresh sod seemed to ungulate and stretch until an arm...a human mail-clad arm?...burst through the top of the mound. All of the company readied their weapons, expecting a zombie attack. What came out of the hill of grass and white flowers was a tall handsome man, with white-blond hair crawl his way out of the mound. He wore silvery scale mail over which a tabbard of midnight blue with a bright white swan crest emblazoned on the chest. The man was able to get himself almost halfway out of the hill of grassy sod before Braddok and Fen rushed to go aid him. Fully freed, he collapsed to the ground between the warrior and druid. His breathing was heavy but soon returned to a normal pace. He lifted his head and looked at the companions all staring at him in disbelief. His gaze finally fell on Haelan and he smiled. Haelan's own face lit up with his own bright smile. "Sir Inkswell, I presume?" Duor said. "INSKUEL!" the rest of the party corrected. "Mahahah." bleated the goat. [/QUOTE]
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