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The Rise of Felskein [Completed]
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<blockquote data-quote="Iron Sky" data-source="post: 4175013" data-attributes="member: 60965"><p>Session 3, Part 3</p><p></p><p>-Notes: Kendrin became a pseudo-NPC until we determined that the player wasn't coming back. After that (plus the events of Session#5) the character pretty much passed out of the scope of the game-</p><p></p><p>Suniel wished he'd prepared some enchantment to ward off the heat - or that he knew one that would do the same for dust. After wandering out in the Ragged Hills for half a day in the July heat, his companions seemed to share his opinion.</p><p></p><p>Harold kept muttering and trying to brush the red dust from his uniform, Ming was irritable - though that could be the lack of alcohol - and Ilsa was removing her helm every few minutes and making jokes about "if only sweat were ale." The old Sergeant and the six men he had brought with seemed weary, sore, and downtrodden.</p><p></p><p>Harold stopped again, glancing sharply about at the hills. Suniel had been getting the feeling that the archer wasn't nearly as good a scout as he thought he was, but figured they were pretty much lost by now anyway, so it didn't really matter if he said anything about it. Besides, with the blazing heat and the ill mood the group was in, it could start trouble.</p><p></p><p>After another hour of walking along a baked-dry creek bed with no noticeable progress - and the realization that his waterskin was dry - Suniel was about ready to finally say something when the air was suddenly full of projectiles and shouts.</p><p></p><p>He instinctively dropped to a crouch, a spell of warding flying from his lips as he searched the hills for their attackers. About half a dozen of them up one hill, the same up another on the other side, both groups hiding behind rough, rusted outcroppings. Suniel didn't need to know much about tactics to conclude that this hobgoblin ambush was executed perfectly - and that they'd walked right into the middle of it.</p><p></p><p>Ilsa already had two broken-off javelins sticking out of her armor and was struggling up one hill with Ming at her side while Harold ducked, weaved, nearly took a couple javelins in the chest, and fired off arrow after arrow up the other hill. Two of the Sergeant's men already lay bleeding in the baked red gravel of the creek-bed and another was screaming and clutching the javelin sticking out of his leg.</p><p></p><p>Suniel uttered an incantation and blasted a hobgoblin's head off with twin bolts of energy.</p><p></p><p>A hail of javelins rained down in response, two deflecting off his wardings, another two passing through and gashing his arm and side. Another of the Sergeant's men went down trying to drag one of his fallen comrades behind a bleached log. Suniel glanced about for a log of his own as the hobgoblins threw a final volley of javelins and came charging down the hill, war-chanting in unison, but a blur of red in the sky caught his eye.</p><p></p><p>He stared up in a daze, the immanent threat of being run-through by an angry hobgoblin replaced by the more immediate threat of a giant ball of fire trailing black smoke and a rain of fiery debris falling directly towards where he stood.</p><p></p><p>A warning shout in goblin stopped the hobgoblins in their tracks as they stared up, backpedaling, while Suniel called out a warning of his own in common. He managed to get a bit of distance and threw himself over a small boulder just as the ball of flame struck the ground and detonated.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Ming staggered through the smoke, head ringing, with a vague impression that she was going steeply uphill and the ground was shifting. After a few more steps she saw the body of one of the Laketide soldiers and realized she was the one that was unstable, not the ground. She sat down hard by the corpse and stared out, the smoke parting long enough for her to see a handful of blackened and burnt hobgoblin ambushers running into the hills.</p><p></p><p><em>Hope they didn't get their ears burned off</em>, she thought, then snorted a laugh that came out as more of a painful grunt. A compact unit of metal, wood, and dwarf walked up to her, prying javelins free from her huge shield. A golden shimmer radiated from Ilsa that Ming had half-glimpsed before but now shone in the smoky air.</p><p></p><p>As the dwarf clanked down next to her Ming took an experimental deep breath, expecting the same pain that she had felt when she'd laughed. Instead, she felt a soothing, tingling warmth beneath her armor and across her arms. She stared at the light burns she had across her hands, watching them heal before her eyes.</p><p></p><p>"Blessings from the High One," Ilsa said, gesturing at Ming's hand.</p><p></p><p>"The High One?" Ming echoed dully, shaking her head to clear the ringing.</p><p></p><p>"They don't call it Wyrmsrule for nothing," Ilsa said.</p><p></p><p>They both stared as a figure strolled out of the roiling mass of flame and wreckage that marked the impact site. At first Ming thought it was the elf, but then she realized this one's robes were strange, outlandish, and somehow unburnt. As the figure wandered closer, Ming fumbled for her sword, but it was on her in a blur, a slender yellow finger shooting out and stopping half-an-inch from her face.</p><p></p><p>"Marp!" the figure said and poked her nose.</p><p></p><p>She swore and swung at him, but he ducked calmly and stepped back in, landing another "Marp," smiling, and wandering past her as if she didn't have six feet of sharpened steel over her head ready to cut him in half.</p><p></p><p>"Halt, Ming!" Harold called out from somewhere behind her as she swung at the fire-walker. She pulled the blow, but barely, stopping the swing a few inches from his back. The humanoid turned, glanced at the blade, rapped a knuckle on it, and leaned an elongated ear close to the blade to listen to it vibrate.</p><p></p><p>She jerked the sword away and stormed off, in search of some sanity after the sky fell, exploded, and turned into a yellow-skinned simpleton.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>"Where do you come from?" Harold asked for the fifth time, starting to get frustrated.</p><p></p><p>The creature, tall and slender with yellowed and slightly scaled skin, clothed in a garment foreign in style and material, blinked at him a few times then picked up a pair of pebbles. It made swooshing noises as it moved them around, then clicked one into the other and dropped one into the dirt. As it hit the ground, it yelled, "<em>vashoom</em>!" and grinned at Harold.</p><p></p><p>"What do you think it means?" Suniel said, wandering up the hill to where Harold and the frustrating sky-thing sat, out of the smoke and heat of the wreck.</p><p></p><p>"I think it means he has no idea what I'm saying and finds the whole situation very amusing."</p><p></p><p>They watched as the figure ran a hand across the rusty rock of the outcropping, then licked his hand. "Narm narm narm," the creature said, flicking his tongue in and out, then tasting again with similar results.</p><p></p><p>Harold rolled his eyes and motioned Suniel to the rock he had been sitting on. "See if you can make sense of it, I give up."</p><p></p><p>He dismissed the thing's usefulness and went in search of the Sergeant and his men, estimating how many he would find alive.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Ilsa helped bury the last fallen soldier and retrieved her tower shield. The Sergeant, his two remaining men, and Suniel murmured prayers over the four graves while Ming stuffed a whole biscuit into her mouth and Harold stared off into the hills with that calculating look in his eye. The sky-fallen one sat with his head cocked to one side, watching Ming eat with rapt fascination.</p><p></p><p>Ilsa murmured a quick prayer of her own for the fallen and walked over to Harold. He glanced in her direction with a distant look.</p><p></p><p>"Unfortunate about those young men," she said, standing beside him and crossing her arms across her tower shield and leaning on it.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, I suppose it is," he said, glancing towards the late-afternoon sun. "I imagine it's best if we press on soon though if we want to reach the outpost before dark."</p><p></p><p>"Whatever you say," she glanced about for the sky-fallen one and startled to see him standing next to her, mimicking her pose exactly. </p><p></p><p>Without even apparently noticing that she was watching him, he wandered off a few steps, picked up a javelin, stared intently at the bent point, and whistled. "Does stuff like this happen often out in the lands of the sky?"</p><p></p><p>Harold glanced at the sky-fallen one then at her. "Lands of the sky? Oh, you mean anywhere not Wyrmsrule. No, I've never seen anything like him or whatever that was that fell and, you know..." </p><p></p><p>He waved his hand in the direction of the still-burning wreckage.</p><p></p><p>Ilsa nodded but was unconvinced. Already she missed the security and enclosing comfort of Wyrmsrule's caves and tunnels. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the others gathering their gear again, sighed, grabbed her pack and hefted her shield again.</p><p></p><p>She turned and watched as the sky-fallen one bit the javelin experimentally a few times, sniffed it, and tried again.</p><p></p><p><em>Well, seems harmless enough</em>, she thought, glancing into the sky to see a large dark figure plummeting towards them, arms outstretched, swathes of black cloth rippling and snapping in the wind. Even from the rapidly-diminishing distance she could see it's eyes glowing like lightning.</p><p></p><p><em>Now </em>that <em> on the other hand...</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Iron Sky, post: 4175013, member: 60965"] Session 3, Part 3 -Notes: Kendrin became a pseudo-NPC until we determined that the player wasn't coming back. After that (plus the events of Session#5) the character pretty much passed out of the scope of the game- Suniel wished he'd prepared some enchantment to ward off the heat - or that he knew one that would do the same for dust. After wandering out in the Ragged Hills for half a day in the July heat, his companions seemed to share his opinion. Harold kept muttering and trying to brush the red dust from his uniform, Ming was irritable - though that could be the lack of alcohol - and Ilsa was removing her helm every few minutes and making jokes about "if only sweat were ale." The old Sergeant and the six men he had brought with seemed weary, sore, and downtrodden. Harold stopped again, glancing sharply about at the hills. Suniel had been getting the feeling that the archer wasn't nearly as good a scout as he thought he was, but figured they were pretty much lost by now anyway, so it didn't really matter if he said anything about it. Besides, with the blazing heat and the ill mood the group was in, it could start trouble. After another hour of walking along a baked-dry creek bed with no noticeable progress - and the realization that his waterskin was dry - Suniel was about ready to finally say something when the air was suddenly full of projectiles and shouts. He instinctively dropped to a crouch, a spell of warding flying from his lips as he searched the hills for their attackers. About half a dozen of them up one hill, the same up another on the other side, both groups hiding behind rough, rusted outcroppings. Suniel didn't need to know much about tactics to conclude that this hobgoblin ambush was executed perfectly - and that they'd walked right into the middle of it. Ilsa already had two broken-off javelins sticking out of her armor and was struggling up one hill with Ming at her side while Harold ducked, weaved, nearly took a couple javelins in the chest, and fired off arrow after arrow up the other hill. Two of the Sergeant's men already lay bleeding in the baked red gravel of the creek-bed and another was screaming and clutching the javelin sticking out of his leg. Suniel uttered an incantation and blasted a hobgoblin's head off with twin bolts of energy. A hail of javelins rained down in response, two deflecting off his wardings, another two passing through and gashing his arm and side. Another of the Sergeant's men went down trying to drag one of his fallen comrades behind a bleached log. Suniel glanced about for a log of his own as the hobgoblins threw a final volley of javelins and came charging down the hill, war-chanting in unison, but a blur of red in the sky caught his eye. He stared up in a daze, the immanent threat of being run-through by an angry hobgoblin replaced by the more immediate threat of a giant ball of fire trailing black smoke and a rain of fiery debris falling directly towards where he stood. A warning shout in goblin stopped the hobgoblins in their tracks as they stared up, backpedaling, while Suniel called out a warning of his own in common. He managed to get a bit of distance and threw himself over a small boulder just as the ball of flame struck the ground and detonated. *** Ming staggered through the smoke, head ringing, with a vague impression that she was going steeply uphill and the ground was shifting. After a few more steps she saw the body of one of the Laketide soldiers and realized she was the one that was unstable, not the ground. She sat down hard by the corpse and stared out, the smoke parting long enough for her to see a handful of blackened and burnt hobgoblin ambushers running into the hills. [I]Hope they didn't get their ears burned off[/I], she thought, then snorted a laugh that came out as more of a painful grunt. A compact unit of metal, wood, and dwarf walked up to her, prying javelins free from her huge shield. A golden shimmer radiated from Ilsa that Ming had half-glimpsed before but now shone in the smoky air. As the dwarf clanked down next to her Ming took an experimental deep breath, expecting the same pain that she had felt when she'd laughed. Instead, she felt a soothing, tingling warmth beneath her armor and across her arms. She stared at the light burns she had across her hands, watching them heal before her eyes. "Blessings from the High One," Ilsa said, gesturing at Ming's hand. "The High One?" Ming echoed dully, shaking her head to clear the ringing. "They don't call it Wyrmsrule for nothing," Ilsa said. They both stared as a figure strolled out of the roiling mass of flame and wreckage that marked the impact site. At first Ming thought it was the elf, but then she realized this one's robes were strange, outlandish, and somehow unburnt. As the figure wandered closer, Ming fumbled for her sword, but it was on her in a blur, a slender yellow finger shooting out and stopping half-an-inch from her face. "Marp!" the figure said and poked her nose. She swore and swung at him, but he ducked calmly and stepped back in, landing another "Marp," smiling, and wandering past her as if she didn't have six feet of sharpened steel over her head ready to cut him in half. "Halt, Ming!" Harold called out from somewhere behind her as she swung at the fire-walker. She pulled the blow, but barely, stopping the swing a few inches from his back. The humanoid turned, glanced at the blade, rapped a knuckle on it, and leaned an elongated ear close to the blade to listen to it vibrate. She jerked the sword away and stormed off, in search of some sanity after the sky fell, exploded, and turned into a yellow-skinned simpleton. *** "Where do you come from?" Harold asked for the fifth time, starting to get frustrated. The creature, tall and slender with yellowed and slightly scaled skin, clothed in a garment foreign in style and material, blinked at him a few times then picked up a pair of pebbles. It made swooshing noises as it moved them around, then clicked one into the other and dropped one into the dirt. As it hit the ground, it yelled, "[I]vashoom[/I]!" and grinned at Harold. "What do you think it means?" Suniel said, wandering up the hill to where Harold and the frustrating sky-thing sat, out of the smoke and heat of the wreck. "I think it means he has no idea what I'm saying and finds the whole situation very amusing." They watched as the figure ran a hand across the rusty rock of the outcropping, then licked his hand. "Narm narm narm," the creature said, flicking his tongue in and out, then tasting again with similar results. Harold rolled his eyes and motioned Suniel to the rock he had been sitting on. "See if you can make sense of it, I give up." He dismissed the thing's usefulness and went in search of the Sergeant and his men, estimating how many he would find alive. *** Ilsa helped bury the last fallen soldier and retrieved her tower shield. The Sergeant, his two remaining men, and Suniel murmured prayers over the four graves while Ming stuffed a whole biscuit into her mouth and Harold stared off into the hills with that calculating look in his eye. The sky-fallen one sat with his head cocked to one side, watching Ming eat with rapt fascination. Ilsa murmured a quick prayer of her own for the fallen and walked over to Harold. He glanced in her direction with a distant look. "Unfortunate about those young men," she said, standing beside him and crossing her arms across her tower shield and leaning on it. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said, glancing towards the late-afternoon sun. "I imagine it's best if we press on soon though if we want to reach the outpost before dark." "Whatever you say," she glanced about for the sky-fallen one and startled to see him standing next to her, mimicking her pose exactly. Without even apparently noticing that she was watching him, he wandered off a few steps, picked up a javelin, stared intently at the bent point, and whistled. "Does stuff like this happen often out in the lands of the sky?" Harold glanced at the sky-fallen one then at her. "Lands of the sky? Oh, you mean anywhere not Wyrmsrule. No, I've never seen anything like him or whatever that was that fell and, you know..." He waved his hand in the direction of the still-burning wreckage. Ilsa nodded but was unconvinced. Already she missed the security and enclosing comfort of Wyrmsrule's caves and tunnels. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the others gathering their gear again, sighed, grabbed her pack and hefted her shield again. She turned and watched as the sky-fallen one bit the javelin experimentally a few times, sniffed it, and tried again. [I]Well, seems harmless enough[/I], she thought, glancing into the sky to see a large dark figure plummeting towards them, arms outstretched, swathes of black cloth rippling and snapping in the wind. Even from the rapidly-diminishing distance she could see it's eyes glowing like lightning. [I]Now [/I]that [I] on the other hand...[/I] [/QUOTE]
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