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
The Acrimonious Adventurer Association
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="Hairy Minotaur" data-source="post: 3734280" data-attributes="member: 11574"><p><strong>Medic!!!!!</strong></p><p></p><p>Haimish peered out over the lip of the punctured ground to get a look up at the ogre magic blasting the ground like a self-contained electrical storm, “If we could just get rid of him or at least cease whatever he’s using to keep blasting us constantly.”</p><p></p><p>“He’s too high for us to hit him with our arrows and bolts, believe me we tried. That’s what cost us most of our forces, while we were trying to take him down the stunted wretched fired upon us from the backs of their worgs.” A ranger replied</p><p></p><p>“Really? How odd, how far up would you say he is?” Haimish asks</p><p></p><p>“At least three hundred feet, but with this wind it might as well be three hundred leagues.” The ranger replies</p><p></p><p>“Interesting indeed.” Haimish answers and exits the hole</p><p></p><p>“What are you doing?!” yell the collective dwarves and rangers within the hole</p><p></p><p>Xanthos hoped to get under the smoke, but realized his plan worked too well as the smoke hugged the ground as it ascended the hill. He decided he would have to take to flight again to have any chance of helping, transforming into a bat and using echolocation to navigate the think smoke, Xanthos delved deeper into the smoke aiming for the source of it to get back to the dwarves to have them split and advance towards Omen.</p><p></p><p>Menthos and Turgar gave Doopa’s battle a wide berth. For the most part the mounted goblins ignored them; more focused on bringing down what they thought would be easy prey in Doopa. The ogre swung his club in swooping arcs, his upswing kicked up goblin bodies and flung them back into the gathered mass. Worg yelps and goblins screams drowned out everything, carried on the rushing wind the sounds ricocheted up the hill and off the walls of Omen. </p><p></p><p>To draw the attention of Karnak is to bring death upon you, for the god of slaughter likes nothing more than abject destruction. Doopa faced down hundreds of goblins and dozens of worgs, his hands slick with the blood of many, his clothes saturated with the dying life force of an enemy ill prepared to face death, his weapon singing the dirge of Charon overloading the death man’s barge with souls.</p><p></p><p>Doopa raged against death, battled the fatigue of war and plowed through the field of bodies sow seeds of destruction as he waded through the mass of flesh. His eyes flushed with splashing ichor, his mind more focused than it had ever been, his body went beyond a simple rage of determination and passed unto a state of utter berserk of a parent defending their child until their last breath has been drawn. </p><p></p><p>The deeds of the knight are well recorded in the annuals of their liege’s tower, the paladin’s conduct sung on high by the voices of angels. The barbarian’s actions are repeated by the coarse throats of skalds huddled next to a fire in dying landscape. Weapons of legacy and artifacts of the ancients are born from such legends, Excalibur’s greatness cemented by the man who wielded it. Doopa created two legends on this field, for ten bloody minutes the ogre slew over one hundred goblins and three dozen worgs. The assistance from the dwarven crossbowmen would be erased from history, this would become the Kneegnash tribe’s hero on this day another constellation was created to be named years later in memory of the one who brought the Kneegnash’s over the mountain.</p><p></p><p>Turgar set for the charge against the orc warlord barring down on himself and Menthos, the ogre lit up his defensive aura ready to give the orc a nasty surprise if he connected with his obsidian lance. Menthos distanced himself from Turgar, not wanting to get caught within range of the worg’s jaws. </p><p></p><p>The orc snarled as he drove his beast towards the defiant ogre. Thirty feet from contact, the worg lifted off the ground. Anger rose through Turgar, how could the orc deny him this battle? Turgar moved back to try and catch the orc when he landed, hoping the orc wasn’t headed for the dwarven crossbow line. The dwarves would all likely abandon firing and switch to hand-to-hand combat to deal with their mortal enemies, that would be a disaster Turgar could not allow. </p><p></p><p>Xanthos heard Turgar’s challenging shouts and changed directions, transformed back into a pegasus and lifted through the smoke bank. The orc warlord pulled on worg’s bit and made a hard left and dove for the pursuing Turgar. The ogre raised his longsword to fend off the stone lance, the orc feinted and Turgar swung his blade forward and down slicing the air in front of him. The orc rode over the top of Turgar and punched the lance down through the neck of Turgar skewering the dragon shaman along the spine.</p><p></p><p>Turgar dropped everything his was carrying as he felt a burning pain in his neck but found his limbs were unresponsive; his eyes saw that instead of falling he was being lifted through the air as an eldritch blast from Menthos slammed into something above him. It took Turgar another moment to realize he was adorned to the lance; the orc spun his worg in the air and pointed the tip of the lance down at Menthos. Turgar felt his chest squeeze as the very life-force was wrung from him along the length of the lance. A black bolt of foul energy shot forth at Menthos how managed to dive out of the way; he still felt the tendrils of negative energy as they dissipated around him from the blast site however. Finished with Turgar’s spent body, the orc shoved the desiccated corpse from his weapon and cackled as it fell lifeless to the ground below.</p><p></p><p>Xanthos arced in the air and gained height on the orc warlord, rolling over he went into a death dive on the orc from above transforming into a troll at the last moment and pouncing onto the back of the orc. Xanthos dug his claws under the breastplate of the orc and tried to both wrench the orc off the worg and tear into the orcs innards at the same time. The orc activated a power latent in his armor and turned into the consistency of air. Xanthos flailed helplessly as he fell through the orc and began to plummet to the ground below. Xanthos shifted into a pegasus again and began to ascend towards the orc anew.</p><p></p><p>Cursing aloud the orc returns to the land of materialism and receives another salvo of eldritch blasts form Menthos. Xanthos speeds towards the orc the fire of vengeance burning through his veins. Sensing the desire within him, the orc holds his hand out in a receiving manner and utter a single fiendish word “heart”.</p><p></p><p>Xanthos’ chest caves with pain as the shifter’s body convulses in midair. Menthos watches as the pegasus’ chest bursts open and Xanthos’ heart is expelled from it and into the waiting hand of the orc. Xanthos hears his pounding heart no longer as his body attempts to return to his base form of a centaur unsuccessfully. An amalgamated mass of flesh crashes down below the orc and begins to bleed out turning the white snow pink then bright red. </p><p></p><p>As a tiefling, Menthos lived on the edge of death all his life, never had he been able to taste it in the back of his throat like this moment. The orc warlord turned slowly in mid air as if taunting Menthos, realizing that he was all that was left capable of attacking him at this moment, the orc descended methodically drawing out the inevitable. Menthos searched the contents of his many pockets and backpack with his mind, trying to come up with something to save his skin.</p><p></p><p>Haimish yanked free from the dwarven hand that tried in vain to bring him back into the hovel. Haimish stared up at the ogre magic and cursed its existence in defiance of its apparent superiority. The ogre mage rained a bluish electron hell upon the armored bard. Bolt after searing bolt arced through his body, Haimish just smirked, never had he called a bluff with this many stakes on the table before. It felt good, liberating, it felt like giant-ass kicking time.</p><p></p><p>“The ogre mage is an illusion, ignore it, it can no longer harm you. Omen rise and defend!” Haimish’s inspiring words pierced the crackle of lightening and cracking of wood as the hill giants finally beat down the gate to Omen and began to wade into the center of town and entered the very hearts of the last of Omen.</p><p></p><p>The hill giants were initially disappointed to find their efforts wasted on one loud mouthed trueborn shouting in the middle of the town, then their spirits were lifted as Omen rose from the ashes of an oppressive illusion and began filling the giant’s vision with things to pound. Then the little ones shot their stinging sticks at the giant’s and their hopes turned to fear as dozens of arrows and bolts found their purchase into the bodies of the invading giants.</p><p></p><p>Shouting in giant, Haimish addressed the hill giants, “You grave is prepared! Come to me so that I may put you in it!”</p><p></p><p>The six giant’s snarled and began to advance, the dwarves and rangers of Omen began to question Haimish’s plan until the giants got within twenty feet of Haimish and then Haimish charged the giants. Blackened and bruised from what his body took as real damage from the ogre mage earlier, Haimish couldn’t let the giants strike him. However he could let the Omen people see fear and if he had to go out, at least he was going out on his terms.</p><p></p><p>Doopa’s weapon slipped from his hands several times, wet from blood and sweat the weapon careened off the mounting bodies to rest some distance away. Each time a brave goblin would race out to try and claim it as its own and each time its actions would be followed by several more of its buddies. This only created an artificial beacon for Doopa to trace to his weapon, and the backs of the goblins made for open shots form the dwarven crossbowman. Doopa switched to his won hands to smack and pound his way through the fearful crowd on a path of maiming to his club. Once he’d reached it he would pluck the lucky goblin that was holding it up off the ground and use its body to wipe the club clean, ignoring the inconsequential prods the rest of the goblins made into Doopa’s hide. </p><p></p><p>As the goblin horde began to thin the dwarves switch to axes and raced through the snow to engage the enemy on a now level playing field. The dwarves fought their way to the large ogre, using his position to adjust their movements. Several minutes later the two forces, one of ancestral determination and the other of pure rage met on the battlefield. A nod of respect was exchanged before Doopa collapsed, his adrenaline soaked body finally spent of its fury, the dwarves rallied and hefted the body of Doopa out of the carnage and back through the thinning smoke and into obscurity.</p><p></p><p>Menthos quick glanced over at Doopa’s last position and saw the dwarves lifting his body and carrying it back into the smoke and then disappearing after him. Thinking he was the last left standing and relatively confident no one could hear he scream, Menthos pulled the only card he had left and utter a word so black and foul that only Kador himself fully understood it’s meaning. Menthos felt the capillaries throughout his head burst as four new rows of small sharp horns grow from his skull as the last syllable from the word was uttered. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>**** I used the mass battle rules from <em>Cry Havok</em> I just could never roll high enough to kill the ogre early enough, I haven't seen so many 1's and 2's EVER ****</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Hairy Minotaur, post: 3734280, member: 11574"] [b]Medic!!!!![/b] Haimish peered out over the lip of the punctured ground to get a look up at the ogre magic blasting the ground like a self-contained electrical storm, “If we could just get rid of him or at least cease whatever he’s using to keep blasting us constantly.” “He’s too high for us to hit him with our arrows and bolts, believe me we tried. That’s what cost us most of our forces, while we were trying to take him down the stunted wretched fired upon us from the backs of their worgs.” A ranger replied “Really? How odd, how far up would you say he is?” Haimish asks “At least three hundred feet, but with this wind it might as well be three hundred leagues.” The ranger replies “Interesting indeed.” Haimish answers and exits the hole “What are you doing?!” yell the collective dwarves and rangers within the hole Xanthos hoped to get under the smoke, but realized his plan worked too well as the smoke hugged the ground as it ascended the hill. He decided he would have to take to flight again to have any chance of helping, transforming into a bat and using echolocation to navigate the think smoke, Xanthos delved deeper into the smoke aiming for the source of it to get back to the dwarves to have them split and advance towards Omen. Menthos and Turgar gave Doopa’s battle a wide berth. For the most part the mounted goblins ignored them; more focused on bringing down what they thought would be easy prey in Doopa. The ogre swung his club in swooping arcs, his upswing kicked up goblin bodies and flung them back into the gathered mass. Worg yelps and goblins screams drowned out everything, carried on the rushing wind the sounds ricocheted up the hill and off the walls of Omen. To draw the attention of Karnak is to bring death upon you, for the god of slaughter likes nothing more than abject destruction. Doopa faced down hundreds of goblins and dozens of worgs, his hands slick with the blood of many, his clothes saturated with the dying life force of an enemy ill prepared to face death, his weapon singing the dirge of Charon overloading the death man’s barge with souls. Doopa raged against death, battled the fatigue of war and plowed through the field of bodies sow seeds of destruction as he waded through the mass of flesh. His eyes flushed with splashing ichor, his mind more focused than it had ever been, his body went beyond a simple rage of determination and passed unto a state of utter berserk of a parent defending their child until their last breath has been drawn. The deeds of the knight are well recorded in the annuals of their liege’s tower, the paladin’s conduct sung on high by the voices of angels. The barbarian’s actions are repeated by the coarse throats of skalds huddled next to a fire in dying landscape. Weapons of legacy and artifacts of the ancients are born from such legends, Excalibur’s greatness cemented by the man who wielded it. Doopa created two legends on this field, for ten bloody minutes the ogre slew over one hundred goblins and three dozen worgs. The assistance from the dwarven crossbowmen would be erased from history, this would become the Kneegnash tribe’s hero on this day another constellation was created to be named years later in memory of the one who brought the Kneegnash’s over the mountain. Turgar set for the charge against the orc warlord barring down on himself and Menthos, the ogre lit up his defensive aura ready to give the orc a nasty surprise if he connected with his obsidian lance. Menthos distanced himself from Turgar, not wanting to get caught within range of the worg’s jaws. The orc snarled as he drove his beast towards the defiant ogre. Thirty feet from contact, the worg lifted off the ground. Anger rose through Turgar, how could the orc deny him this battle? Turgar moved back to try and catch the orc when he landed, hoping the orc wasn’t headed for the dwarven crossbow line. The dwarves would all likely abandon firing and switch to hand-to-hand combat to deal with their mortal enemies, that would be a disaster Turgar could not allow. Xanthos heard Turgar’s challenging shouts and changed directions, transformed back into a pegasus and lifted through the smoke bank. The orc warlord pulled on worg’s bit and made a hard left and dove for the pursuing Turgar. The ogre raised his longsword to fend off the stone lance, the orc feinted and Turgar swung his blade forward and down slicing the air in front of him. The orc rode over the top of Turgar and punched the lance down through the neck of Turgar skewering the dragon shaman along the spine. Turgar dropped everything his was carrying as he felt a burning pain in his neck but found his limbs were unresponsive; his eyes saw that instead of falling he was being lifted through the air as an eldritch blast from Menthos slammed into something above him. It took Turgar another moment to realize he was adorned to the lance; the orc spun his worg in the air and pointed the tip of the lance down at Menthos. Turgar felt his chest squeeze as the very life-force was wrung from him along the length of the lance. A black bolt of foul energy shot forth at Menthos how managed to dive out of the way; he still felt the tendrils of negative energy as they dissipated around him from the blast site however. Finished with Turgar’s spent body, the orc shoved the desiccated corpse from his weapon and cackled as it fell lifeless to the ground below. Xanthos arced in the air and gained height on the orc warlord, rolling over he went into a death dive on the orc from above transforming into a troll at the last moment and pouncing onto the back of the orc. Xanthos dug his claws under the breastplate of the orc and tried to both wrench the orc off the worg and tear into the orcs innards at the same time. The orc activated a power latent in his armor and turned into the consistency of air. Xanthos flailed helplessly as he fell through the orc and began to plummet to the ground below. Xanthos shifted into a pegasus again and began to ascend towards the orc anew. Cursing aloud the orc returns to the land of materialism and receives another salvo of eldritch blasts form Menthos. Xanthos speeds towards the orc the fire of vengeance burning through his veins. Sensing the desire within him, the orc holds his hand out in a receiving manner and utter a single fiendish word “heart”. Xanthos’ chest caves with pain as the shifter’s body convulses in midair. Menthos watches as the pegasus’ chest bursts open and Xanthos’ heart is expelled from it and into the waiting hand of the orc. Xanthos hears his pounding heart no longer as his body attempts to return to his base form of a centaur unsuccessfully. An amalgamated mass of flesh crashes down below the orc and begins to bleed out turning the white snow pink then bright red. As a tiefling, Menthos lived on the edge of death all his life, never had he been able to taste it in the back of his throat like this moment. The orc warlord turned slowly in mid air as if taunting Menthos, realizing that he was all that was left capable of attacking him at this moment, the orc descended methodically drawing out the inevitable. Menthos searched the contents of his many pockets and backpack with his mind, trying to come up with something to save his skin. Haimish yanked free from the dwarven hand that tried in vain to bring him back into the hovel. Haimish stared up at the ogre magic and cursed its existence in defiance of its apparent superiority. The ogre mage rained a bluish electron hell upon the armored bard. Bolt after searing bolt arced through his body, Haimish just smirked, never had he called a bluff with this many stakes on the table before. It felt good, liberating, it felt like giant-ass kicking time. “The ogre mage is an illusion, ignore it, it can no longer harm you. Omen rise and defend!” Haimish’s inspiring words pierced the crackle of lightening and cracking of wood as the hill giants finally beat down the gate to Omen and began to wade into the center of town and entered the very hearts of the last of Omen. The hill giants were initially disappointed to find their efforts wasted on one loud mouthed trueborn shouting in the middle of the town, then their spirits were lifted as Omen rose from the ashes of an oppressive illusion and began filling the giant’s vision with things to pound. Then the little ones shot their stinging sticks at the giant’s and their hopes turned to fear as dozens of arrows and bolts found their purchase into the bodies of the invading giants. Shouting in giant, Haimish addressed the hill giants, “You grave is prepared! Come to me so that I may put you in it!” The six giant’s snarled and began to advance, the dwarves and rangers of Omen began to question Haimish’s plan until the giants got within twenty feet of Haimish and then Haimish charged the giants. Blackened and bruised from what his body took as real damage from the ogre mage earlier, Haimish couldn’t let the giants strike him. However he could let the Omen people see fear and if he had to go out, at least he was going out on his terms. Doopa’s weapon slipped from his hands several times, wet from blood and sweat the weapon careened off the mounting bodies to rest some distance away. Each time a brave goblin would race out to try and claim it as its own and each time its actions would be followed by several more of its buddies. This only created an artificial beacon for Doopa to trace to his weapon, and the backs of the goblins made for open shots form the dwarven crossbowman. Doopa switched to his won hands to smack and pound his way through the fearful crowd on a path of maiming to his club. Once he’d reached it he would pluck the lucky goblin that was holding it up off the ground and use its body to wipe the club clean, ignoring the inconsequential prods the rest of the goblins made into Doopa’s hide. As the goblin horde began to thin the dwarves switch to axes and raced through the snow to engage the enemy on a now level playing field. The dwarves fought their way to the large ogre, using his position to adjust their movements. Several minutes later the two forces, one of ancestral determination and the other of pure rage met on the battlefield. A nod of respect was exchanged before Doopa collapsed, his adrenaline soaked body finally spent of its fury, the dwarves rallied and hefted the body of Doopa out of the carnage and back through the thinning smoke and into obscurity. Menthos quick glanced over at Doopa’s last position and saw the dwarves lifting his body and carrying it back into the smoke and then disappearing after him. Thinking he was the last left standing and relatively confident no one could hear he scream, Menthos pulled the only card he had left and utter a word so black and foul that only Kador himself fully understood it’s meaning. Menthos felt the capillaries throughout his head burst as four new rows of small sharp horns grow from his skull as the last syllable from the word was uttered. **** I used the mass battle rules from [I]Cry Havok[/I] I just could never roll high enough to kill the ogre early enough, I haven't seen so many 1's and 2's EVER **** [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Acrimonious Adventurer Association
Top