The Blade of Phoee (Updated 12/08/08)

[Funeris]

Ok...so attached in pdf format in a zip file, is the first pre-designed map I threw my players into. You'll see 4 numbers on the two pages. Number 1 is the alcove within which Aramil kept getting smacked. This is also where he hacked through the hedge to #2 (where he consequently found a group of orcs with a can of whoopass). #3 was the first battle and the most recent battle (that I've told you about). Its the hallway. #4 on page 2 is where the horn-blowing orc was and where he rushed from.

Other notes...if its gray its hedge...if its black, its a wall...you can see the trees and stream at the entrance....um...and the only black that isn't a wall is in the alcove (its the first hedge-trimming). Right.

You'll need a pdf reader capable of opening Adobe 6.0 (or later) files. Remember that these sheets are 2' x 3' printed...so if you try to print to letter size...it won't look kosher. So, enjoy.

~Fune

 

[TheYeti1775]

Back to several days ago…

..... Spinum Machaera. ......
The young necromancer ..........

Thou believest someone forgot a few spells off the list when I took care of the battle running of young Spinum.....
O'well he is in good hands now isn't he.

O' and I know you well enough that you could do it if you tried too.

I've been putting serious thought into a backup character for this one folks, seems like every turn something deadlier has popped up.

Yeti

 

[TheYeti1775]

Also to really boost his ego and egg him on for more updates.
I wish all groups had access to printers like Funeris.
Those pre-printed maps already grided for 1" equals 5ft are awesome.

And just so you all know this isn't the only place I bug our dear Funeris. I have his work/home emails and phone as well.
Now he has set the next game date, the email has been sent.

 

[Funeris]

Hehe...hey, if anyone wants a map...sned me the idea, some money...and I'll send you the pdf...you should be able to take it to staples or office depot and have it plotted, no problem. Aside from that, there are small companies in just about every town that do plotting/printing for engineering firms (i.e. Nova Blue in Northern Virgina, etc.). So...everyone does have access, if they don't mind shelling out a little $$ for the "professional" grade maps.

I just get a very nice discount.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 2: Journey into Darkness continued

A couple weeks ago in Legend…

Morrick clasped the withered hand of his dying friend, his lord. Baron Dragos Tyne looked at his companion, his one true friend and released a meager sigh. The exhalation spurred another violent coughing fit. His body lurched uncomfortably, pain lancing his heart and lungs. A glob of phlegm dripped down from the dying Baron’s lips. Morrick leaned in to wipe the fluid away, wishing he could wipe away the death as well.

“How is Gwenyth?” The spry fires that once danced behind Dragos’ eyes had faded. Momentarily, the flames were replaced by a serene happiness.

“Gwenyth is fine, Lord. She misses Hendrick terribly, but she is coping.” Morrick clasped his friend’s hand tighter, trying to keep his God at bay.

“Good. Your son will do you well. Whatever happens, remember him and be proud of his accomplishments.”

“Of course.”

“My time is coming Morrick of Cael. Is your God waiting to apply the final embrace??”

The serene contentedness penetrated the priest-warrior’s shell. He felt a tear slide down his cheek. “I have not heard from Cael in twenty years. He does not speak to me anymore. Myr is similarly absent. We fear…”

“Don’t,” the Baron commanded. “Reality is formed by words, Morrick, so be careful with your word choice. Your God is fine; I can almost see him now.

“You are my best friend. I leave my domain in your capable hands. Our people will need a strong leader with military experience. If you hold to your ideals, everything will play itself out properly.”

“What of Laurien Aelyc?”

“The Baron of Aedil knows my decision. He supports it fully. And he will support you completely. If you secede, as you should, he will follow suit.

“No,” the old Baron sighed, “He you do not need to worry about. It is the other Barons you should beware. They are not above underhanded plots and plans. They will strike at your power, only to increase their own. So may some of my advisors. Beware them as well.

Dragos erupted in another coughing fit. Blood joined the phlegm’s expulsion this time. “I…am…sorry to leave you upon the precipice of war.” The old man shifted slowly, sinking deeper into his pillows.

“Lord, I could cast a spell, something, anything…” Morrick blurted.

“No, friend, although I appreciate the gesture. It is my time. My legacy…is now yours.” Dragos Tyne’s eyes closed permanently, a soft grin frozen to his lips. Slowly, the heat of life drained from the physical shell. The cold of death was its only replacement.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Morrick? Morrick, what are you doing?!” Gwenyth shouted, grasping for her husband’s arm.

The Priest of Cael shrugged off the attack and strode into his private chambers. Removing a key from around his neck, the cleric opened an old crate. Respectfully, he removed the well-worn armor and sheathed greatsword from the wooden crate. He set them upon his desk and turned toward his wife.

“Gwen, I have been placed as the protector of this realm. I will fulfill my task.” Momentarily disregarding the armor and blade, he pulled out a sheath of parchment and scrawled a hasty missive.

“Our fight passed long ago. It is now in the hands of the next generation,” Gwenyth squinted trying to decipher the nearly illegible script. “What are you writing?” she curiously asked.

“A letter to the king,” Morrick answered and then clarified, “Our intent to secede.”

“You’re going to damn all of the people of this nation?!” Rage filled the Priestess of Light’s voice.

“They’ve already been damned, love. I’m freeing them.” Morrick slid the completed letter into an envelope, sealing it quickly with the baron’s seal and then his own. “Please send my man in, Gwen.” Gwenyth stormed from the room, leaving Morrick to his thoughts.

Mere minutes later, his assistant stalked into the office. “Lord?”

“I need this delivered to Nordus Post immediately.” Morrick handed the missive over. “First, ready my gear and horse.”

“Are you going somewhere, Lord?”

“I’m journey to Aedil. I’m sure Baron Laurien Aelyc already fears I am dead.” The assistant stared questioningly for a moment before departing.

Morrick held in his breath, reaching for the blade he had used for so long and then left sitting idly in a wooden crate. He prayed that the blade would remember him, that he would remember how to use it if need be. Reverently, the old priest drew blade. Silently, he adjusted to the once familiar feel. The sword danced merrily as he swung it.

Its about goddamned time, the black metal hissed in his mind. Those twenty-odd years of staring at the oh so fascinating grain of your chest was beginning to annoy me.

 

[Funeris]

Ok another update coming...and this will finish up my updates for today. I think three updates is pretty good...what about you??

The next portion is a vision gifted to Cassock when he was struck down in the first battle of the campaign. It's wrapped in Quote tags...so those of you reading by email will have to check in to get it all.

INCOMING!!!!!!!

~Fune

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 2: Journey into Darkness Continued

Cassock grimaced, the stench of the dead smothering his nostrils. He sat down near the bodies, to give them a complete set of last rites. As he began the sermon, his mind strayed to the vision he had when near death.

Cassock's eyes blinked open. Soreness wracked his body but was quickly ignored in lieu of the beautiful surroundings. The priest sat upon a vast, empty and black field of nothing. But the nothing was everything.

Glimmering around his infinitely small frame billions of silvery flame sang. They seemed to be winking, luring the priest away from his spot upon the field of nothing. Their beauty and singularity was intense and prolific and stirred a deep sentiment of serene.

Cassock realized this had to be Heaven.

Darkness and Light, Cael and Myr, spread out above, ahead, and around him. Their forms seemed to intertwine upon the face of nothing. They were one here, not two individuals or two aspects of one individual. They were one.

The priest shook himself from the swelling thoughts in his mind, noticing another being not so distant from his place. With a thought, the priest rose and closed the distance immediately.

She crouched upon the nothing, the silvery flames of light below her growing ever brighter and seemingly dancing with life. Her vibrant locks of red, fell most unfortunately upon the natural parts of her body Cassock most desired to see. He followed her hair downward, if there was such a direction here, and at their tips the color faded.

The cleric’s eyes pierced the thin vale of her fading hair and saw the wounds that broke her youthful flesh. Around the wounds death crawled. Diseases tainted the purity of her form. He locked eyes with her and took a step but she motioned for Cassock to remain still.

Another form rapidly passed the priest aside and she gestured for his halt as well, but he did not obey. As he bowed toward her, Cassock recognized the Lord Cael. His silvery white locks bounded downward from his short mane of black, splashing upon his shoulders.

A shadow passed above and Cassock heard several of the silvery flames cry out in anguish; their song interrupted, destroyed. Cassock spun, whatever had passed was gone and only a pervading absence of life was left where the silvery flames, the stars had been.

Turning back, Cassock realized his Lord was injured as well. Cael’s wounds exactly matched the placement of the woman’s, obviously Myr. Except festering inside the god’s wounds was life, slowly devouring his flesh. Cael swayed for a mere second before steadying himself and drawing a great sword. His lips moved, but the words were unhearable.

A shadow fell from behind Cassock, shrouding the scene in utter darkness and un-life. Before the priest could turn and see the Adversary, a great bird shrieked somewhere in the distance-less distance of Heaven.

Cassock’s eyes had opened, revealing reality as he had left it. The vision was gone.

The priest sighed. The meaning of the remembered vision was unclear at best. He finished the sermons and joined the others in the hallway.

 

[TheYeti1775]

***taps feet***
should I bug him on IM.......
asking where the 7pm update is of the Insomniac....

 

[Funeris]

Well, since no one seems to want to say anything else, here comes an update.
(And Herremann, I realize your probably still trying to catch up so you can comment...to you, I send my apologies )

INCOMING!!!!!!

~Fune

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 2: Journey into Darkness continued

In Northern Nordaa Saam, upon the edge of the Draeul Forest…

Lady Llewllyn stroked her long hair, silver-white with age, while staring hypnotically into the mirror. Graying eyes peered from a wrinkled shell of flesh. Her body that had watched countless years drift away. Her body sagged beneath a silk white dress, beneath the weights of time and age.

Incessant murmuring drifted through her mind, lost in the shifting sands of time. Her hair shimmered golden for half a second; her eyes followed suit. The golden glow faded abruptly as she tugged harder on her white mane. In the mirror, her daughter smirked.

“You never let me out anymore, mother.” The voice was singsong, nearly elven in its harmony. Lady Llewllyn knew the tone was just an impression, she had heard all manner of accents from her daughter through her life. There was definitely no elven blood running through their ancient family line.

“What did you expect, daughter. You adopted an entire village last time and felt it necessary to move them and all their personal belongings into our compound.” The old woman sighed and turned away from the mirror. Gently, she laid the brush, golden in handle with emerald gems imbedded throughout, upon a wooden stand.

“It was the right thing to do. It was the good thing to do. And you know it. You, yourself, gave me permission to help them.”

“I didn’t mean for you to move them within our walls. I thought you’d just take care of their problems.” The old woman shuddered, she moved to close the door separating her room from her daughter’s, but instead just sunk into the bed. She wrapped the sheep-wool comforter tightly around her shoulders.

“It was the right choice. You’ve seen it. Do you need to be shown again?” The young woman’s reflection raised its arms to unleash an incantation.

“Of course not,” Lady Llewyllyn snapped. “I know what I saw. But our place has always been to not interfere. We ignore them; they ignore us. Neutrality is the only reason we could guarantee our survival.”

“You’d rather they all be sacrificed in the name of Ara’Kull?”

The fragile woman lost her momentary feebleness, rising to her full height. The comforter slapped the wooden floor with a soft thud. Rage flared in her eyes and through her bones.

“I’d rather He not exist, obviously. But there is nothing we can do about that!”

“You’re wrong, of course,” the silken voice purred within her ear. “We can stop him at every turn. Confound him, anger him and eventually beat him. That is what the signs point to. It is time for us to rise from Neutrality, putting our selfishness aside. Then, we place the needs of the people above our own, above his needs and desires.”

“IT IS NOT OUR PLACE!!!” The old woman shrieked, clutching her skull. Sonorous pounding resonated through her mind; the sound of war drums in the distance. “I know what you’re doing. I won’t let you out daughter…never…never let you out again…”

“You cannot stop Fate, mother. You’ve managed to hold the wolves at arms length for ages now. But, no more. The time is approaching, the last Tri’Ara is nearly upon us. I can feel the Mother being ripped from our world. All will die when the darkness falls. Even we will perish, because of His whims.” A cool, certain ration weighed down the daughter’s words.

“I cannot,” Lady Llewyllyn muttered. Her hands shook upon her head, parting the ruffled silver locks. “I cannot…I cannot…I cannot,” she repeatedly whispered into the empty room.

“They will be traveling northward. They could be utilized as a tool. With our aide, with our help they may succeed.”

“And if they fail?” Lady Llewyllyn’s eyes sparkled with insanity.

“There is no harm in an attempt. If failure is imminent, then we merely perish as we would if nothing was done.” The reflection paused, thoughtful. “Please mother, let me out!”

Lady Llewyllyn fell backward onto her bed, the comforters trying to drown her pained body. “I’m so old,” she moaned pulling the covers over her face.

The sheep-wool exploded outward, landing away from Llewyllyn’s body. She stood and stalked toward the doorway. With a glance, she stared at the golden hair that fell from above her brow. Long, curling tresses drifted erotically to rest upon her shoulders. Emerald green eyes stared outward from a beautiful, young face. All wrinkles had vanished, as they always did. The feeble body, now replaced with a vibrant youthful shell, curved delectably beneath a white dress.

“But I’m not so old mother.” Lady Llewyllyn stalked from her private chambers.