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Story Hour
The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4989838" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Even while on leave from his military duties, Hkatha Ilmixie is a noble. He has obligations to meet on many levels, and he cannot simply ignore them all to fart around the Feywild. Ironically, however, the most important commitment that he has involves General Argos- even if it isn’t a strictly military matter. More... political. He certainly does not want to miss his chance to help guide the ship of state through the turbulent waters of the present times!</p><p></p><p>So it is that Hkatha, a few days after leaving the others behind the Feywild, makes his way into General Argos’ office. After the obligatory exchange of pleasantries, Hkatha gets down to business. “I assume,” he says, “you are aware of Councilor Willow’s concerns.”</p><p></p><p>General Argos nods. “She has been most forthcoming in voicing them.”</p><p></p><p>“You must admit that she has a point. Do you think the time has come to restore civilian rule?”</p><p></p><p>“I will restore civilian rule once the threat has passed. Remember, though we have destroyed the army attacking us, the Six-Fingered Hand has many more forces in the area.”</p><p></p><p>“Have you had any word from other cities or forces that may have survived?”</p><p></p><p>“Other than Grand Marshall Prieve’s legion, no,” the general replies. “That is a large part of the problem- we may be alone. I cannot turn the city over to that fractious council until we are safe. We know that at least some of the nearer cities have been razed or enslaved.”</p><p></p><p>“Enslaved!” exclaims Hkatha.</p><p></p><p>General Argos nods. “Northshore, a couple of hundred miles away, seems to have several thousand people being used as labor under the control of Hand forces.”</p><p></p><p>“Have you considered liberating it?”</p><p></p><p>“It’s too risky. If we attack them there, other Hand forces will be alerted to our survival. We can’t afford another siege like the last one yet- we need time to rebuild our defenses and, most of all, we need more people. Boys and girls need time to grow into men and women. We cannot replace our forces as fast as the enemy can. If we send a large force to Northshore, we leave Fandelose ill-defended. Although,” he admits, “we are considering certain... options.”</p><p></p><p>Hkatha changes the subject. “Have you heard of the Silver Isle?”</p><p></p><p>General Argos nods. “Tirchond, I believe it’s called. But it is far from here. Why do you ask?”</p><p></p><p>“I think some of our answers are there. We had two different encounters with somewhat oracular fey creatures- first a dragon, and then a black unicorn. Both mentioned Tirchond, either by name or by title, and each mentioned treachery and beautiful women. The dragon also gave us the name Dawn, which seems to be connected to Arawn’s origin somehow. It might be possible to draw Councilor Willow’s attention to Tirchond and away from Fandelose if we give her the right pieces of information.”</p><p></p><p>Dryly, Argos asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?” </p><p></p><p>“Yes, sir. We are, uh, vacationing. But the Six-Fingered Hand isn’t resting; how can we?”</p><p></p><p>“I would like a complete written report on these encounters,” the general states. “I want to know everything that they told you.”</p><p></p><p>“There’s something else,” Hkatha says. “There was mention of a silver rose that we need to get before we go. It seems as though it is somehow connected to the goddess Garnet.”</p><p></p><p>“There’s a famous gnomish Garden of Delight at the nearby city of Varelose. It was supposed to have a number of unique and wondrous plants there. Unfortunately, the city fell to the Hand some time ago.” Argos smiles. “Since you aren’t using your leave anyway, I’m recalling you from it- you and your friends. I want you to go to this gnomish garden, but we’re going to come up with a cover story for you, so that if we have another Millbury, you aren’t intercepted.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, sir!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>After fighting their way through strange will-o-wisps and bizarre swamp oozes, our heroes receive a <em>sending</em> from Hkatha: <em>Our leaves are up. General Argos has a mission for us. Come back immediately.</em></p><p></p><p>A few days later, the rest of the party rejoins Hkatha in Fandelose to be briefed on both their real mission- find the rose- and their cover mission: scout Varelose for signs of slaver activity or resistance to the Hand’s reign. The party takes a day to prepare; during this time, Hkatha convinces the party to chip in for the <em>linked portal</em> ritual, and Heimall meets up with the mercenaries he employs under Borgan Tyre, receives their report and buys them several casks of booze to keep them happy (on top of their regular pay, of course). </p><p></p><p>A well-rested party then sets out for Varelose the next morning in high spirits. Their excursion to the Feywild was very fruitful, and they seem to have a good sense of direction for their next few days or weeks. </p><p></p><p><em>And eventually,</em> Heimall vows to himself, <em>we’ll get to you, Arawn. We’ll find you and slay you- just like we slew your general, Heshwat the Eviscerator!</em></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The party travels along less traveled routes, taking a little longer yet hoping to avoid any entanglements with the Six-Fingered Hand. They move through the valley that cuts between a few of the rugged hills off to the northwest of Fandelose, passing alongside a small creek jumping with fish. The summer sun beats down on them from above. Snarls of thick shrubs and brambles wind aimlessly along the valley floor. </p><p></p><p>After a time, a small force of strange pygmies of some kind of vegetable matter rise up to block the party’s path. They do not respond to attempts to communicate, instead assaulting our heroes. The party cuts them down with relative ease, despite the presence of a patch of foul-smelling poisonous russet mold.</p><p></p><p>Out of the small valley and onto a trail, along a rocky ridge and down behind a line of tall pines. The sun is setting by this time, so the party makes camp as the western sky goes crimson. </p><p></p><p>In the morning, the party shares some dwarven “rock biscuits”- very hard biscuit-like things that Cook insists are edible- and then breaks camp. The group continues along the trail, which is becoming a mountain road. Of course, this means that there is a mountain on one side and a cliff on the other.</p><p></p><p>Up ahead, a curve; and from around it, the party can hear snarling and growling noises. “Maybe we aren’t the only ones using the road,” Torinn says. </p><p></p><p>The party draws back, and Captain Ligir casts <em>invisibility</em> on Cook. “Now sneak up and see what’s there, then come back and report,” he whispers. </p><p></p><p>“Oi, okay,” the dwarf whispers back, then creeps away noiselessly. A few moments later, his voice murmurs, “There is evidence of gnolls around the bend, but they seem to have moved somewhere else. There is another curve just ahead that they could be hiding behind.”</p><p></p><p>“Let’s check it out,” Vann-La says, drawing her sword.</p><p></p><p>The party advances. Indeed, there is garbage and gnoll feces evident. “They were just here,” mutters Heimall. “Where are they?” </p><p></p><p>Vann-La glances at the steep mountain face leading up. “They climbed,” she says. She begins to pursue. Heimall joins her. </p><p></p><p>Then the rain of arrows starts.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Barbarians from heaven!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4989838, member: 1210"] Even while on leave from his military duties, Hkatha Ilmixie is a noble. He has obligations to meet on many levels, and he cannot simply ignore them all to fart around the Feywild. Ironically, however, the most important commitment that he has involves General Argos- even if it isn’t a strictly military matter. More... political. He certainly does not want to miss his chance to help guide the ship of state through the turbulent waters of the present times! So it is that Hkatha, a few days after leaving the others behind the Feywild, makes his way into General Argos’ office. After the obligatory exchange of pleasantries, Hkatha gets down to business. “I assume,” he says, “you are aware of Councilor Willow’s concerns.” General Argos nods. “She has been most forthcoming in voicing them.” “You must admit that she has a point. Do you think the time has come to restore civilian rule?” “I will restore civilian rule once the threat has passed. Remember, though we have destroyed the army attacking us, the Six-Fingered Hand has many more forces in the area.” “Have you had any word from other cities or forces that may have survived?” “Other than Grand Marshall Prieve’s legion, no,” the general replies. “That is a large part of the problem- we may be alone. I cannot turn the city over to that fractious council until we are safe. We know that at least some of the nearer cities have been razed or enslaved.” “Enslaved!” exclaims Hkatha. General Argos nods. “Northshore, a couple of hundred miles away, seems to have several thousand people being used as labor under the control of Hand forces.” “Have you considered liberating it?” “It’s too risky. If we attack them there, other Hand forces will be alerted to our survival. We can’t afford another siege like the last one yet- we need time to rebuild our defenses and, most of all, we need more people. Boys and girls need time to grow into men and women. We cannot replace our forces as fast as the enemy can. If we send a large force to Northshore, we leave Fandelose ill-defended. Although,” he admits, “we are considering certain... options.” Hkatha changes the subject. “Have you heard of the Silver Isle?” General Argos nods. “Tirchond, I believe it’s called. But it is far from here. Why do you ask?” “I think some of our answers are there. We had two different encounters with somewhat oracular fey creatures- first a dragon, and then a black unicorn. Both mentioned Tirchond, either by name or by title, and each mentioned treachery and beautiful women. The dragon also gave us the name Dawn, which seems to be connected to Arawn’s origin somehow. It might be possible to draw Councilor Willow’s attention to Tirchond and away from Fandelose if we give her the right pieces of information.” Dryly, Argos asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?” “Yes, sir. We are, uh, vacationing. But the Six-Fingered Hand isn’t resting; how can we?” “I would like a complete written report on these encounters,” the general states. “I want to know everything that they told you.” “There’s something else,” Hkatha says. “There was mention of a silver rose that we need to get before we go. It seems as though it is somehow connected to the goddess Garnet.” “There’s a famous gnomish Garden of Delight at the nearby city of Varelose. It was supposed to have a number of unique and wondrous plants there. Unfortunately, the city fell to the Hand some time ago.” Argos smiles. “Since you aren’t using your leave anyway, I’m recalling you from it- you and your friends. I want you to go to this gnomish garden, but we’re going to come up with a cover story for you, so that if we have another Millbury, you aren’t intercepted.” “Yes, sir!” *** After fighting their way through strange will-o-wisps and bizarre swamp oozes, our heroes receive a [i]sending[/i] from Hkatha: [i]Our leaves are up. General Argos has a mission for us. Come back immediately.[/i] A few days later, the rest of the party rejoins Hkatha in Fandelose to be briefed on both their real mission- find the rose- and their cover mission: scout Varelose for signs of slaver activity or resistance to the Hand’s reign. The party takes a day to prepare; during this time, Hkatha convinces the party to chip in for the [i]linked portal[/i] ritual, and Heimall meets up with the mercenaries he employs under Borgan Tyre, receives their report and buys them several casks of booze to keep them happy (on top of their regular pay, of course). A well-rested party then sets out for Varelose the next morning in high spirits. Their excursion to the Feywild was very fruitful, and they seem to have a good sense of direction for their next few days or weeks. [i]And eventually,[/i] Heimall vows to himself, [i]we’ll get to you, Arawn. We’ll find you and slay you- just like we slew your general, Heshwat the Eviscerator![/i] *** The party travels along less traveled routes, taking a little longer yet hoping to avoid any entanglements with the Six-Fingered Hand. They move through the valley that cuts between a few of the rugged hills off to the northwest of Fandelose, passing alongside a small creek jumping with fish. The summer sun beats down on them from above. Snarls of thick shrubs and brambles wind aimlessly along the valley floor. After a time, a small force of strange pygmies of some kind of vegetable matter rise up to block the party’s path. They do not respond to attempts to communicate, instead assaulting our heroes. The party cuts them down with relative ease, despite the presence of a patch of foul-smelling poisonous russet mold. Out of the small valley and onto a trail, along a rocky ridge and down behind a line of tall pines. The sun is setting by this time, so the party makes camp as the western sky goes crimson. In the morning, the party shares some dwarven “rock biscuits”- very hard biscuit-like things that Cook insists are edible- and then breaks camp. The group continues along the trail, which is becoming a mountain road. Of course, this means that there is a mountain on one side and a cliff on the other. Up ahead, a curve; and from around it, the party can hear snarling and growling noises. “Maybe we aren’t the only ones using the road,” Torinn says. The party draws back, and Captain Ligir casts [i]invisibility[/i] on Cook. “Now sneak up and see what’s there, then come back and report,” he whispers. “Oi, okay,” the dwarf whispers back, then creeps away noiselessly. A few moments later, his voice murmurs, “There is evidence of gnolls around the bend, but they seem to have moved somewhere else. There is another curve just ahead that they could be hiding behind.” “Let’s check it out,” Vann-La says, drawing her sword. The party advances. Indeed, there is garbage and gnoll feces evident. “They were just here,” mutters Heimall. “Where are they?” Vann-La glances at the steep mountain face leading up. “They climbed,” she says. She begins to pursue. Heimall joins her. Then the rain of arrows starts. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Barbarians from heaven! [/QUOTE]
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