Van Dyksun
First Post
More has happened
And more has been written, but not quite ready for posting. Soon, I believe.
And more has been written, but not quite ready for posting. Soon, I believe.
-
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AERUNEDAR and Beyond
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Tom Cashel
First Post
Nice teaser, Glen.
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE
Characters: Dalabrac Bramblefoot (halfling Rog7/Shd1), Artemus Thornwind (human Drd8), Kaemris Tencoin (human Clr6/Aus2), Lenet cor Tarak (fire genasi Ftr4/Sor3), Van Dyksun (human Rgr3/Rog3/Clr3), Lucius Foxhound (Wiz8-Illusionist).
Tarsakh 13, 1373 DR (The Year of Rogue Dragons)
Quidam: Remembering
We remember not wanting to run off into the dark. We wanted to stay with the caravan. But we headed off in search of the stolen children anyway. We remember this with a sense of deja vu, but nothing more.
Maybe we knew that good Luck couldn't roll our way forever.
Van Dyksun: Orcs and Pentagons
I've heard it from the rich and powerful in Faerun--that death has no sting, because of our ability to raise dead, that is, as long as you have the gold or the power. I disagree. I've felt death, and death hurts.
Death is that shock to find that your opponent's blade is under your guard rather than stopped by it, and that the coldness you suddenly feel on your left side is the new hole in your chain shirt, your tunic, and the skin that once kept your guts in place. After the shock is the mule-kick of pain, that arrives all at once, that incapacitates you, and while your brain stumbles to keep fighting, your body is falling.
I've felt the fear, and the hopelessness, of trying to escape the fetid grasp that suddenly caught up with you in the dark, that brings your arm up to its gaping maw and smiles as it tastes your tendons and licks up the blood that comes gushing out. All you can do is scream, as your fingers become hors d'oeuvres, as your leg becomes the drumstick, and your skull its drinking bowl. Of course, by that last one, you've already made the transition to ghost, and the pain has translated into anger at yourself and the rest of the world.
And I've seen death in the rush of flame that arrives out of nowhere, the fire that surprises you, when all you thought you were facing was the sharpened steel and the huge club, and instead what you've met is your personal funeral pyre.
Death comes in confusion. Once the kids had been captured from the caravan, everything was confusion, who was going, who was staying, how people were traveling, who was riding, who could see in the dark, what spells do we cast. I felt no fear, just an anxiety that arose from the fact that I had failed once again. Failed to protect the innocent, failed to remember the first order of battle to watch your back.
And they had to be orcs, the same orcs that had raided my village and killed my mother. So with the confusion was the lust for their blood, the impatience with my companions, and the desire simply to run into the dark night to enact my vengeance on those creatures.
Tracking them to the ruined fortress that they had made their base was easy, and even though their trained wolves had caught our scent and ruined both our ruse and our element of surprise, we quickly dispatched them all. I rushed forward, down into their lair, feeding my taste for blood and vengeance, laughing as I swatted away those silly large axes they carry thinking that the bigger the weapon they carry, the more damage they can do--instead, my simple bastard sword and long sword slips inside that space between their upraised arms and their unprotected necks, surprising them before they can protect themselves. Their cowardly archers, hidden behind the spoils from previous caravan raids, couldn't hit the broad side of a dragon, and my companions have joined me before long. I offer one of the cowards the option of saving its measly hide if it will tell us where the children are, for they are nowhere to be seen.
Instead, in the room's corner, there is a large metal pentagon on its side, obviously a magical portal through which the creatures have been coordinating their actions.
It is good that we didn't kill the orc, for although Selune grants me the temporary ability to read the arcane writing on the two sides of the pentagon (the right side read "part the veil of the universe for me" while the left side read "close the veil of the universe for me") I am unable--in my hurry, in my lust for blood--to think clearly enough to realize that I need to touch the metal while saying the words for the magic to work.
Ghiv Templeborn: The Axe and the Fury
The fact that Ghiv was angry came as no surprise to anyone–Ghiv Templeborn had been angry every moment of her life.
The attending midwife at Ghiv’s birth would later have occasion to speak of Ghiv’s particularly jagged cries upon breathing for the first time, as though she were ready to fight someone over having to do this life thing. She was angry orphaned in Bane’s temple, vexed as a street urchin in the mean streets of Zhentil Keep, livid when she was inducted into the Zhentarim’s mage-training program, absolutely furious when she’d been assigned to the Stonelands along with backstabbing minstrel Kole Kellbrot and a murderous lice-ridden tribesman who called himself Huesst. All those years of rage had etched deep lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and one jagged cleft into the center of her stormy brow.
Kole Kellbrot, the bastard son of a syphilitic alcoholic jester, first spotted the caravan in the plains north of Arabel. Kole fled their sentries in the night, but the three Zhentarim tracked the caravan (at a safe distance) all the way through the Storm Horns to Tilverton.
They shadowed the caravan out into the Stonelands. They saw a chance–one night most of the sentries took off into the night, hunting a gang of orc kidnappers. Ghiv thought the time was right to contact her superiors: Lord Everan Gargdol, and Faraugar*, the notorious Seneschal of Norn.
The three conferred on a sand-scoured ridge in the Stonelands, lit by a round moon whose light seemed to discomfort Faraugar for reasons Gargdol and Ghiv could only guess.
Ghiv hated them both.
“So they are unprotected,” Gargdol said, stroking his mustachio. “Now would be a fine time to smash what defenses remain and take their goods. Faraugar?”
Lord Gargdol made a career out of conscripting ogres into Zhentarim service, and using the conscripts to kill anyone foolish enough to wander the frontiers of Cormyr. It was said that he enjoyed the company of ogres more than people, and his complete lack of manners and breeding (especially for someone who placed the honorific “lord” in front of his name) backed up the worst of the rumors. The only thing about him that pleased Ghiv was the fact that he had to consult Faraugar before making a decision–a thing that no doubt rankled Gargdol’s pride.
“Yes,” Faraugar agreed. His cunning black eyes darted, his salt-and-pepper beard bristled. The only survivor of an ill-fated expedition into a lost dwarven city, Faraugar now wore the ceremonial tabard of Bane. It was known that Faraugar’s bad side was not a good place for anyone to be. “Ghiv, gather those rabble with whom you travel and take control of the caravan. I am interested in these ruins toward which the caravan guards traveled–Gargdol and I will investigate.”
“As you command, Faraugar,” whispered Ghiv with a respectful bow. I hope you meet Bane himself in those ruins, she thought, And all his devils.
*Faraugar, aka "Leatherboots," first appeared back in Episode VI, To Face the Scarlet Flame (part 2) and returned in Episode IX, Crown of Fire (part 2).
Characters: Dalabrac Bramblefoot (halfling Rog7/Shd1), Artemus Thornwind (human Drd8), Kaemris Tencoin (human Clr6/Aus2), Lenet cor Tarak (fire genasi Ftr4/Sor3), Van Dyksun (human Rgr3/Rog3/Clr3), Lucius Foxhound (Wiz8-Illusionist).
Tarsakh 13, 1373 DR (The Year of Rogue Dragons)
Quidam: Remembering
We remember not wanting to run off into the dark. We wanted to stay with the caravan. But we headed off in search of the stolen children anyway. We remember this with a sense of deja vu, but nothing more.
Maybe we knew that good Luck couldn't roll our way forever.
Van Dyksun: Orcs and Pentagons
I've heard it from the rich and powerful in Faerun--that death has no sting, because of our ability to raise dead, that is, as long as you have the gold or the power. I disagree. I've felt death, and death hurts.
Death is that shock to find that your opponent's blade is under your guard rather than stopped by it, and that the coldness you suddenly feel on your left side is the new hole in your chain shirt, your tunic, and the skin that once kept your guts in place. After the shock is the mule-kick of pain, that arrives all at once, that incapacitates you, and while your brain stumbles to keep fighting, your body is falling.
I've felt the fear, and the hopelessness, of trying to escape the fetid grasp that suddenly caught up with you in the dark, that brings your arm up to its gaping maw and smiles as it tastes your tendons and licks up the blood that comes gushing out. All you can do is scream, as your fingers become hors d'oeuvres, as your leg becomes the drumstick, and your skull its drinking bowl. Of course, by that last one, you've already made the transition to ghost, and the pain has translated into anger at yourself and the rest of the world.
And I've seen death in the rush of flame that arrives out of nowhere, the fire that surprises you, when all you thought you were facing was the sharpened steel and the huge club, and instead what you've met is your personal funeral pyre.
Death comes in confusion. Once the kids had been captured from the caravan, everything was confusion, who was going, who was staying, how people were traveling, who was riding, who could see in the dark, what spells do we cast. I felt no fear, just an anxiety that arose from the fact that I had failed once again. Failed to protect the innocent, failed to remember the first order of battle to watch your back.
And they had to be orcs, the same orcs that had raided my village and killed my mother. So with the confusion was the lust for their blood, the impatience with my companions, and the desire simply to run into the dark night to enact my vengeance on those creatures.
Tracking them to the ruined fortress that they had made their base was easy, and even though their trained wolves had caught our scent and ruined both our ruse and our element of surprise, we quickly dispatched them all. I rushed forward, down into their lair, feeding my taste for blood and vengeance, laughing as I swatted away those silly large axes they carry thinking that the bigger the weapon they carry, the more damage they can do--instead, my simple bastard sword and long sword slips inside that space between their upraised arms and their unprotected necks, surprising them before they can protect themselves. Their cowardly archers, hidden behind the spoils from previous caravan raids, couldn't hit the broad side of a dragon, and my companions have joined me before long. I offer one of the cowards the option of saving its measly hide if it will tell us where the children are, for they are nowhere to be seen.
Instead, in the room's corner, there is a large metal pentagon on its side, obviously a magical portal through which the creatures have been coordinating their actions.
It is good that we didn't kill the orc, for although Selune grants me the temporary ability to read the arcane writing on the two sides of the pentagon (the right side read "part the veil of the universe for me" while the left side read "close the veil of the universe for me") I am unable--in my hurry, in my lust for blood--to think clearly enough to realize that I need to touch the metal while saying the words for the magic to work.
Ghiv Templeborn: The Axe and the Fury
The fact that Ghiv was angry came as no surprise to anyone–Ghiv Templeborn had been angry every moment of her life.
The attending midwife at Ghiv’s birth would later have occasion to speak of Ghiv’s particularly jagged cries upon breathing for the first time, as though she were ready to fight someone over having to do this life thing. She was angry orphaned in Bane’s temple, vexed as a street urchin in the mean streets of Zhentil Keep, livid when she was inducted into the Zhentarim’s mage-training program, absolutely furious when she’d been assigned to the Stonelands along with backstabbing minstrel Kole Kellbrot and a murderous lice-ridden tribesman who called himself Huesst. All those years of rage had etched deep lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and one jagged cleft into the center of her stormy brow.
Kole Kellbrot, the bastard son of a syphilitic alcoholic jester, first spotted the caravan in the plains north of Arabel. Kole fled their sentries in the night, but the three Zhentarim tracked the caravan (at a safe distance) all the way through the Storm Horns to Tilverton.
They shadowed the caravan out into the Stonelands. They saw a chance–one night most of the sentries took off into the night, hunting a gang of orc kidnappers. Ghiv thought the time was right to contact her superiors: Lord Everan Gargdol, and Faraugar*, the notorious Seneschal of Norn.
The three conferred on a sand-scoured ridge in the Stonelands, lit by a round moon whose light seemed to discomfort Faraugar for reasons Gargdol and Ghiv could only guess.
Ghiv hated them both.
“So they are unprotected,” Gargdol said, stroking his mustachio. “Now would be a fine time to smash what defenses remain and take their goods. Faraugar?”
Lord Gargdol made a career out of conscripting ogres into Zhentarim service, and using the conscripts to kill anyone foolish enough to wander the frontiers of Cormyr. It was said that he enjoyed the company of ogres more than people, and his complete lack of manners and breeding (especially for someone who placed the honorific “lord” in front of his name) backed up the worst of the rumors. The only thing about him that pleased Ghiv was the fact that he had to consult Faraugar before making a decision–a thing that no doubt rankled Gargdol’s pride.
“Yes,” Faraugar agreed. His cunning black eyes darted, his salt-and-pepper beard bristled. The only survivor of an ill-fated expedition into a lost dwarven city, Faraugar now wore the ceremonial tabard of Bane. It was known that Faraugar’s bad side was not a good place for anyone to be. “Ghiv, gather those rabble with whom you travel and take control of the caravan. I am interested in these ruins toward which the caravan guards traveled–Gargdol and I will investigate.”
“As you command, Faraugar,” whispered Ghiv with a respectful bow. I hope you meet Bane himself in those ruins, she thought, And all his devils.
*Faraugar, aka "Leatherboots," first appeared back in Episode VI, To Face the Scarlet Flame (part 2) and returned in Episode IX, Crown of Fire (part 2).
Last edited:
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 2
Van Dyksun: Death Hurts
On the other side of the portal was a room filled with more of the same type--a staging room for travel to exciting new places, but all I can think about is those children, and how we used to find children in the Ghazneth War that the orcs had mutilated, slicing their hamstrings so they couldn't run, blinding them if they were serving simply as food tasters, ripping out their tongues if they were to be used for worse. I convince the others that we should open the portals sequentially, rather than at random, avoiding the one with the whitewash #3 above it, because that was the one that the orc suggested we use. The bloody handprints on its metal testifies to his perfidy even more than Foxhound's feeling about his veracity.
Maybe it is unfortunate that we discovered the way to the orc's stronghold in portal 4 so quickly, for maybe my anxiety might have quelled had we been forced to spend more time in the portal room. But, then, probably not. More portals to open then close would have meant more time between us and the children.
When portal 4 opened, with Foxhound using his favorite spell to make himself uglier than normal as one of those vile creatures, I could see from where I stood at the side that this was indeed the place.
Foxhound's eyes went wide, and I could hear a voice call out to him in that guttural bunch of noise those things call language. I motioned him to feign that he had lost his voice, then prepared a pair of arrows for the inevitible idiot that decided to investigate, felling him before he was even two feet inside the room. While we prepared for the onslaught, Foxhound motioned us back, for he had prepared a special surprise for them. I watched as he took a deep swallow of something, then saw the bulge that rose through his neck then came gushing from his mouth, as if he were throwing up, but instead of just bile, it was the greenest acid I had ever seen, streaming out for six long seconds, melting the party of orcs that had thought to kill this traitor orc that had led their leader into the room.
Artemus tried to instantly follow the panicked group, but we regrouped then followed them through the woods until we came to the wooden palisades, its doors long shut behind the latest group to retreat. As we stepped from the woods, the orcs at the top let loose a volley of arrows, but we held there until Artemus called upon the power of nature to rain fire in the middle of the palisades, instantly setting aflame anything that could be. Darabrac took to air to take on the right side, while I answered their puny arrows with the kind that come from righteous anger and a bow made of stone and mithral.
Would we had stopped there, but our dice had been cast, and we--a small group of but six--decided to take on this palisade in the middle of Hullack Forest (a part that we hadn't seen before, but that Artemus assured us was part of the same forest that we had been traveling in but short months ago). Would that we had stopped when we realized that, even weakened by fire, Kaemris was unable to burst the wooden doors. But our new companions of Darabrac and Lucius Foxhound had given us the power of flight, and we took the fight to the top of the palisade.
You're right, Goddess. I'll stop avoiding it. I was vain. I thought I was more than a match for an entire orc army. Even when I saw the massed numbers on the other side of the palisade, I felt no fear. Even in their numbers, I knew that I was more than match for any of them, alone or together.
And then...IT showed up.
I should have known. I had grown careless. I had forgotten how the battle can turn so quickly, I had forgotten how I had died in the Underdark to something that I hadn't seen, how my companions had been surprised by creatures that could appear and disappear at will. At first, I thought IT just another one of their brutish monstrosities, still of their breed, but somehow increased in power and skills. Instead, the thing brandished two weapons like they were a part of it. It's first onslaught I sidestepped with ease, but IT was simply playing with me, discovering my speed, for the next time IT swung, I discovered just how fast it could be. Even through the mithral, I felt the bones crack and knew that I had only a short time before I was here, once again, in your arms, Goddess.
My companions weren't doing any better. Kaemris, inspired no doubt by the flying achievements of the others, took to air himself, carrying Artemus with him, making himself a target for every orc with a bow. And they had a magic user as well. But my attention was focused on the death in front of me.
I could have run. I know. I could have taken the time to disengage and jump off the palisades and run for the woods. But that would have left the halfling to IT, and although I had only known him briefly, I couldn't see abandoning him to what I knew was my fate, and my fate alone.
That's when IT smiled--I still remember that smile, for it was a smile that said to me, you don't know what I am, but I know what you are, and that is *dead*. And then, I could see the bulge in its throat, that same kind of bulge that Foxhound had used a few short minutes ago, and I tried to dodge out of the way, but it was too late. The mouth opened unnaturally wide, as if the creature had unhinged its jaw, and the last thing I saw was the red tongues that emerged, leaping in the air straight for me, coating me. I smelt the hairs of my nose singe, but that was before I scented my own burning skin, and by then I knew that it was way too late, even as I fell to the ground, I felt the flame deep in my lungs, from where I had breathed it in deep with my surprise, and then the pain.
For death is painful. It's feeling your lungs burn and your eyeballs bubble and all your hair instantly shrivel and turn to smoke. Death hurts.
But I want to live again, goddess. I know I will die again, and I know that it won't be pleasant. I know that death hurts, but I'm willing to hurt again--as long as I can share that hurt with those who more than deserve it.
I see that smile in front of me, and I've memorized it. For that's the smile I'm going to revisit on my enemies. That's the death smile, and I know that there are some still in Faerun who deserve it, who deserve that little sting of death. For, unlike what the rich and powerful think, death still has its sting, and I plan to be the scorpion.
Van Dyksun: Death Hurts
On the other side of the portal was a room filled with more of the same type--a staging room for travel to exciting new places, but all I can think about is those children, and how we used to find children in the Ghazneth War that the orcs had mutilated, slicing their hamstrings so they couldn't run, blinding them if they were serving simply as food tasters, ripping out their tongues if they were to be used for worse. I convince the others that we should open the portals sequentially, rather than at random, avoiding the one with the whitewash #3 above it, because that was the one that the orc suggested we use. The bloody handprints on its metal testifies to his perfidy even more than Foxhound's feeling about his veracity.
Maybe it is unfortunate that we discovered the way to the orc's stronghold in portal 4 so quickly, for maybe my anxiety might have quelled had we been forced to spend more time in the portal room. But, then, probably not. More portals to open then close would have meant more time between us and the children.
When portal 4 opened, with Foxhound using his favorite spell to make himself uglier than normal as one of those vile creatures, I could see from where I stood at the side that this was indeed the place.
Foxhound's eyes went wide, and I could hear a voice call out to him in that guttural bunch of noise those things call language. I motioned him to feign that he had lost his voice, then prepared a pair of arrows for the inevitible idiot that decided to investigate, felling him before he was even two feet inside the room. While we prepared for the onslaught, Foxhound motioned us back, for he had prepared a special surprise for them. I watched as he took a deep swallow of something, then saw the bulge that rose through his neck then came gushing from his mouth, as if he were throwing up, but instead of just bile, it was the greenest acid I had ever seen, streaming out for six long seconds, melting the party of orcs that had thought to kill this traitor orc that had led their leader into the room.
Artemus tried to instantly follow the panicked group, but we regrouped then followed them through the woods until we came to the wooden palisades, its doors long shut behind the latest group to retreat. As we stepped from the woods, the orcs at the top let loose a volley of arrows, but we held there until Artemus called upon the power of nature to rain fire in the middle of the palisades, instantly setting aflame anything that could be. Darabrac took to air to take on the right side, while I answered their puny arrows with the kind that come from righteous anger and a bow made of stone and mithral.
Would we had stopped there, but our dice had been cast, and we--a small group of but six--decided to take on this palisade in the middle of Hullack Forest (a part that we hadn't seen before, but that Artemus assured us was part of the same forest that we had been traveling in but short months ago). Would that we had stopped when we realized that, even weakened by fire, Kaemris was unable to burst the wooden doors. But our new companions of Darabrac and Lucius Foxhound had given us the power of flight, and we took the fight to the top of the palisade.
You're right, Goddess. I'll stop avoiding it. I was vain. I thought I was more than a match for an entire orc army. Even when I saw the massed numbers on the other side of the palisade, I felt no fear. Even in their numbers, I knew that I was more than match for any of them, alone or together.
And then...IT showed up.
I should have known. I had grown careless. I had forgotten how the battle can turn so quickly, I had forgotten how I had died in the Underdark to something that I hadn't seen, how my companions had been surprised by creatures that could appear and disappear at will. At first, I thought IT just another one of their brutish monstrosities, still of their breed, but somehow increased in power and skills. Instead, the thing brandished two weapons like they were a part of it. It's first onslaught I sidestepped with ease, but IT was simply playing with me, discovering my speed, for the next time IT swung, I discovered just how fast it could be. Even through the mithral, I felt the bones crack and knew that I had only a short time before I was here, once again, in your arms, Goddess.
My companions weren't doing any better. Kaemris, inspired no doubt by the flying achievements of the others, took to air himself, carrying Artemus with him, making himself a target for every orc with a bow. And they had a magic user as well. But my attention was focused on the death in front of me.
I could have run. I know. I could have taken the time to disengage and jump off the palisades and run for the woods. But that would have left the halfling to IT, and although I had only known him briefly, I couldn't see abandoning him to what I knew was my fate, and my fate alone.
That's when IT smiled--I still remember that smile, for it was a smile that said to me, you don't know what I am, but I know what you are, and that is *dead*. And then, I could see the bulge in its throat, that same kind of bulge that Foxhound had used a few short minutes ago, and I tried to dodge out of the way, but it was too late. The mouth opened unnaturally wide, as if the creature had unhinged its jaw, and the last thing I saw was the red tongues that emerged, leaping in the air straight for me, coating me. I smelt the hairs of my nose singe, but that was before I scented my own burning skin, and by then I knew that it was way too late, even as I fell to the ground, I felt the flame deep in my lungs, from where I had breathed it in deep with my surprise, and then the pain.
For death is painful. It's feeling your lungs burn and your eyeballs bubble and all your hair instantly shrivel and turn to smoke. Death hurts.
But I want to live again, goddess. I know I will die again, and I know that it won't be pleasant. I know that death hurts, but I'm willing to hurt again--as long as I can share that hurt with those who more than deserve it.
I see that smile in front of me, and I've memorized it. For that's the smile I'm going to revisit on my enemies. That's the death smile, and I know that there are some still in Faerun who deserve it, who deserve that little sting of death. For, unlike what the rich and powerful think, death still has its sting, and I plan to be the scorpion.
Last edited:
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 3
Ghiv Templeborn: The Ambush and the Fear
Kole Kellbrot, the Irritant Minstrel, was the first to enter the protective circle of wagons after the orc attack. Ghiv knew the caravaners would be suspicious, but Kole quaffed a potion he claimed would make him “irresistable.” Buffoon, Ghiv thought, get yourself killed.
Everything went downhill from there, starting with the maniacal axe murderer Huesst. As soon as they heard Kole shouting for help, and the ring of clashing swords, Ghiv turned to the stinking barbarian to bid him hold his ground–the fool was already charging headlong toward the caravan!
Ghiv followed–later she could not guess why–casting a spell of flight to glide to the battlefield.
The caravaners were swarming like hornets; the orcs had battered the nest and now Ghiv and her impetuous companions would feel the stings.
By the time Ghiv flew into range, Kole was on the rocky ground choking on his own blood. Huesst was roaring, completely blinded by his own battle-rage, swinging his greataxe at the dwarves and humans surrounding him. He managed to hack one of the dwarves nearly in half, but then succumbed to his own wounds and crumpled.
Ghiv dropped a bolt of lightning and a ball of fire upon the combatants, but they were far more organized than she gave them credit for. A red-haired warrior shouted commands, and longbows flung arrows toward her. By the time she realized that escape was a rapidly disappearing option, a bolt struck her skull–glancing off but dropping a black unconsciousness over her like a hood.
When she awoke, Ghiv found a ring of angry faces staring hard upon her: the red-haired warrior, his sons, the wife of the fallen dwarf, a fire genasi whose hair swirled around her with seeming life of its own. Their eyes burned her anger away, shriveled it into a tiny black ball of hate, and all that was left for Ghiv was one sorry substitute: fear.
“Please,” Ghiv croaked through dry, blood-caked lips, “please don’t kill me.”
“The barbarian and the silver-tongued demon are buried in shallow graves,” Runold Rolf said, “but you shall live. Only so you can tell us where the orcs went. Where are our children?”
“I don’t know,” Ghiv said. “Please, I don’t know of those orcs.”
Rolf turned to the gnome Gerbo Aruvor. “Is this truth?”
Gerbo nodded. “As far as I can tell...yes.” There was regret in his voice.
The fire genasi spoke up. “We’ll wait for the others to return before we decide what to do with this–” she spat “–vermin.”
Rolf agreed. “Gag her. Tonight we bury our dead.”
Gagged and tied in the dark, Ghiv felt bilious anger burning in her gut. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.
Ghiv Templeborn: The Ambush and the Fear
Kole Kellbrot, the Irritant Minstrel, was the first to enter the protective circle of wagons after the orc attack. Ghiv knew the caravaners would be suspicious, but Kole quaffed a potion he claimed would make him “irresistable.” Buffoon, Ghiv thought, get yourself killed.
Everything went downhill from there, starting with the maniacal axe murderer Huesst. As soon as they heard Kole shouting for help, and the ring of clashing swords, Ghiv turned to the stinking barbarian to bid him hold his ground–the fool was already charging headlong toward the caravan!
Ghiv followed–later she could not guess why–casting a spell of flight to glide to the battlefield.
The caravaners were swarming like hornets; the orcs had battered the nest and now Ghiv and her impetuous companions would feel the stings.
By the time Ghiv flew into range, Kole was on the rocky ground choking on his own blood. Huesst was roaring, completely blinded by his own battle-rage, swinging his greataxe at the dwarves and humans surrounding him. He managed to hack one of the dwarves nearly in half, but then succumbed to his own wounds and crumpled.
Ghiv dropped a bolt of lightning and a ball of fire upon the combatants, but they were far more organized than she gave them credit for. A red-haired warrior shouted commands, and longbows flung arrows toward her. By the time she realized that escape was a rapidly disappearing option, a bolt struck her skull–glancing off but dropping a black unconsciousness over her like a hood.
When she awoke, Ghiv found a ring of angry faces staring hard upon her: the red-haired warrior, his sons, the wife of the fallen dwarf, a fire genasi whose hair swirled around her with seeming life of its own. Their eyes burned her anger away, shriveled it into a tiny black ball of hate, and all that was left for Ghiv was one sorry substitute: fear.
“Please,” Ghiv croaked through dry, blood-caked lips, “please don’t kill me.”
“The barbarian and the silver-tongued demon are buried in shallow graves,” Runold Rolf said, “but you shall live. Only so you can tell us where the orcs went. Where are our children?”
“I don’t know,” Ghiv said. “Please, I don’t know of those orcs.”
Rolf turned to the gnome Gerbo Aruvor. “Is this truth?”
Gerbo nodded. “As far as I can tell...yes.” There was regret in his voice.
The fire genasi spoke up. “We’ll wait for the others to return before we decide what to do with this–” she spat “–vermin.”
Rolf agreed. “Gag her. Tonight we bury our dead.”
Gagged and tied in the dark, Ghiv felt bilious anger burning in her gut. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
very cool, T.C. 
I am about to have the characters start the Door From Everywhere in my campaign. We might have to start spoiler warnings!
looking forward to seeing your interpretation!
I am about to have the characters start the Door From Everywhere in my campaign. We might have to start spoiler warnings!
looking forward to seeing your interpretation!
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 4
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Act II – Assault on Blackbones Fortress
Van: What do we fear from a bunch of scrawny orcs? Attack, I say, attack!
Ghost Sound of a horn faintly blowing in the distance, flashes of lightning and falling rain.
Narrator: These were the brave words spoken by the legendary Van Dyksun as we began our assault on the orcs’ forest fortress. Artemus called fire from the sky!
Minor image of exploding flames and screaming orcs.
Narrator: Ah, but Lady Luck was not with us. Victory was near our grasp until we heard the raspy, inhuman voice of Cressyl Blackbones.
Blackbones: By my dragon blood, you will all perish!
Narrator: He stood 12 feet tall or more and was flanked by his pet orc-mage. We stood in awe of his might and his power.
Ghost sound of clashing weapons and screams.
Narrator: In two blows he slew Van Dyksun and turned his sight on Dalabrac the Halfling. His pet mage was tossing powerful spells to finish the job. But Kaemris was not afraid, for Tymora was with him. He stood up and faced the beast…
Prestidigitation of many small arrows flying through the air like streaks of light.
Narrator: …only to be pelted by hundreds of arrows. He fell heroically–tragically–to the ground, like a human pincushion, clutching his luckstaff. His light had gone out before he struck the earth.
Lucius: Come, we must regroup and retreat!
Narrator: But I knew the one with Dragon blood would never let us go. Desperately, I threw some spells at the orcs in the hope that it might buy us some time. Tymora smiled upon my efforts: the orc-mage was transformed into a flying snail and the great and terrible Blackbones was forced to confront and be killed by his greatest fear.
Blackbones: No! No! Mother! No!
Minor Image of a large dragon glaring at the audience, then taking flight.
Narrator: Yes, they were dead, but there was an orc army to deal with. We grabbed our dead and ran to my magic cottage in the woods. But the children, the smiling children, haunted our thoughts. How could we run when they might be killed–or worse–by those orcs?
Quidam: We are One
We remember the life of Kaemris Tencoin, but we think it exceeding strange that the life was once ours. We remember his death as well. It is a terrible thing to remember one’s death, but without it we never could have had this new life. Tymora is here now, and we are one.
We must be cautious; we must be reckless. The luck of the dice is all. We are Quidam. We are one.
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Act II – Assault on Blackbones Fortress
Van: What do we fear from a bunch of scrawny orcs? Attack, I say, attack!
Ghost Sound of a horn faintly blowing in the distance, flashes of lightning and falling rain.
Narrator: These were the brave words spoken by the legendary Van Dyksun as we began our assault on the orcs’ forest fortress. Artemus called fire from the sky!
Minor image of exploding flames and screaming orcs.
Narrator: Ah, but Lady Luck was not with us. Victory was near our grasp until we heard the raspy, inhuman voice of Cressyl Blackbones.
Blackbones: By my dragon blood, you will all perish!
Narrator: He stood 12 feet tall or more and was flanked by his pet orc-mage. We stood in awe of his might and his power.
Ghost sound of clashing weapons and screams.
Narrator: In two blows he slew Van Dyksun and turned his sight on Dalabrac the Halfling. His pet mage was tossing powerful spells to finish the job. But Kaemris was not afraid, for Tymora was with him. He stood up and faced the beast…
Prestidigitation of many small arrows flying through the air like streaks of light.
Narrator: …only to be pelted by hundreds of arrows. He fell heroically–tragically–to the ground, like a human pincushion, clutching his luckstaff. His light had gone out before he struck the earth.
Lucius: Come, we must regroup and retreat!
Narrator: But I knew the one with Dragon blood would never let us go. Desperately, I threw some spells at the orcs in the hope that it might buy us some time. Tymora smiled upon my efforts: the orc-mage was transformed into a flying snail and the great and terrible Blackbones was forced to confront and be killed by his greatest fear.
Blackbones: No! No! Mother! No!
Minor Image of a large dragon glaring at the audience, then taking flight.
Narrator: Yes, they were dead, but there was an orc army to deal with. We grabbed our dead and ran to my magic cottage in the woods. But the children, the smiling children, haunted our thoughts. How could we run when they might be killed–or worse–by those orcs?
Quidam: We are One
We remember the life of Kaemris Tencoin, but we think it exceeding strange that the life was once ours. We remember his death as well. It is a terrible thing to remember one’s death, but without it we never could have had this new life. Tymora is here now, and we are one.
We must be cautious; we must be reckless. The luck of the dice is all. We are Quidam. We are one.
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 5
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: A Fireside Tale
A lute plays discordant notes quickly as the halfling half sings the tale.
I took several hits as we battled the orcs. Somehow I managed to stay airborne through the fight, and when the opportunity to flee and regroup came I did not hesitate in taking it. I grabbed Van’s body, hoping that someone would grab Kaemris’. Then we fled into the forest.
The lute reaches a crescendo and then falls into to a quieter, more serene melody.
I was relieved that both Lucius and Artemus survived, and when they emerged from the underbrush I gave praise to all the gods of good fortune. With his magics the illusionist created a small hut amidst the trees. He assured us that it was safe and we could rest there without disturbance. I did not know whether or not to believe him–these human mages are not to be trusted, my friends!
Sadly, I had nowhere safe to go, and numbers are a form of safety. We laid the bodies on the bunks inside and began to make plans. The druid and the illusionist were going to get some rest, and myself being sustained by my magic ring, would drink a potion of invisibility and take flight over the valley, looking for the lost humans.
Soft soaring notes creep into the melody.
I flew over the remains of the palisade and across the seemingly endless orc encampment. Their fires spread below me like a swarm of fireflies. I could hear the clanging of steel on steel. They were in conflict–testing one another for the right to rule!! If I could find the children quickly I could flee without notice.
Soon I came upon two great trees. I’m not a druid, but I think they were oaks. Beyond them was a lake. I continued on past them looking for cages. By the end of the valley I didn’t see any. I turned about and headed back to the great trees. Suspended underneath their enormous branches were five cages. I came closer to inspect.
The first two were filled with humans, but there was a halfling and a dwarf too. The halfling did not look like Hin, so I kept looking. The third cage was occupied by some filthy goblins. I cut the rope suspending the cage to see if it would fall in the lake or onto the shore. Well, it fell into the lake and sank. Poor goblins. It was in the fourth cage that I found the children.
The tune shifts into a triumphant march.
I drew closer, right up to the bars. They did not look hurt. The girl was crying, and it made me sad. I spoke to them, telling them that I was there, invisible. They were startled at first, and being uncomfortably cloaked in magic I could understand. I assured them that we could get them out soon. The humans heard this, maybe the halfling clued them in, and started to yell for help. I quieted them with promises that I would be back.
The tempo picks up as he sings in time.
I flew back to the cabin, and called for my friends to come out and help. With the aid of a spell of invisibility to cloak them both, they took to the air behind me as I flew back to the children. It was a long flight, the longest I’d ever taken. I was not sure if the cloak would hold up, but it did! Soon we were under the tree and working out a way to free the prisoners.
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: A Fireside Tale
A lute plays discordant notes quickly as the halfling half sings the tale.
I took several hits as we battled the orcs. Somehow I managed to stay airborne through the fight, and when the opportunity to flee and regroup came I did not hesitate in taking it. I grabbed Van’s body, hoping that someone would grab Kaemris’. Then we fled into the forest.
The lute reaches a crescendo and then falls into to a quieter, more serene melody.
I was relieved that both Lucius and Artemus survived, and when they emerged from the underbrush I gave praise to all the gods of good fortune. With his magics the illusionist created a small hut amidst the trees. He assured us that it was safe and we could rest there without disturbance. I did not know whether or not to believe him–these human mages are not to be trusted, my friends!
Sadly, I had nowhere safe to go, and numbers are a form of safety. We laid the bodies on the bunks inside and began to make plans. The druid and the illusionist were going to get some rest, and myself being sustained by my magic ring, would drink a potion of invisibility and take flight over the valley, looking for the lost humans.
Soft soaring notes creep into the melody.
I flew over the remains of the palisade and across the seemingly endless orc encampment. Their fires spread below me like a swarm of fireflies. I could hear the clanging of steel on steel. They were in conflict–testing one another for the right to rule!! If I could find the children quickly I could flee without notice.
Soon I came upon two great trees. I’m not a druid, but I think they were oaks. Beyond them was a lake. I continued on past them looking for cages. By the end of the valley I didn’t see any. I turned about and headed back to the great trees. Suspended underneath their enormous branches were five cages. I came closer to inspect.
The first two were filled with humans, but there was a halfling and a dwarf too. The halfling did not look like Hin, so I kept looking. The third cage was occupied by some filthy goblins. I cut the rope suspending the cage to see if it would fall in the lake or onto the shore. Well, it fell into the lake and sank. Poor goblins. It was in the fourth cage that I found the children.
The tune shifts into a triumphant march.
I drew closer, right up to the bars. They did not look hurt. The girl was crying, and it made me sad. I spoke to them, telling them that I was there, invisible. They were startled at first, and being uncomfortably cloaked in magic I could understand. I assured them that we could get them out soon. The humans heard this, maybe the halfling clued them in, and started to yell for help. I quieted them with promises that I would be back.
The tempo picks up as he sings in time.
I flew back to the cabin, and called for my friends to come out and help. With the aid of a spell of invisibility to cloak them both, they took to the air behind me as I flew back to the children. It was a long flight, the longest I’d ever taken. I was not sure if the cloak would hold up, but it did! Soon we were under the tree and working out a way to free the prisoners.
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 6
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Narrator: It was Dalabrac, brave Dalabrac, who went back the orcs’ lair, hidden from sight by magics. There he found the children and returned with the happy news. Quietly and carefully, we snuck into the fortress and brought the children out. I thought our job was done, but brave, courageous Dalabrac was not ready to quit.
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: I must go back for the other prisoners! It is the right thing to do!
Narrator: Yes, inside that halfling frame stands a dragon-sized heart of gold. So Dalabrac went back by himself and brought the human and elven prisoners to safety despite the orcs’ feeble attempts to stop him.
Narrator: We gave the grateful prisoners what supplies we could spare and sent them to return to their homes.
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: A Fireside Tale
Deep slow notes now, building the suspense around the campfire. Dalabrac’s halfling audience leans closer as he speaks.
We found some poles with hooks at the end under the tree amidst its roots. Even with a spell of strength there was no way for us to lower the cage and pull it to shore–another plan would be needed. I flew to the bars of the cage and examined the door. It had no lock, just a simple spike wedged into the frame to keep the door closed. From my magic bag I extracted a spike and hammer from my climbing kit and knocked the wedge loose. Then I fastened some of my fine silk rope to the cage’s bars and planted the other end in the ground to hold the cage steady. I did this to the remaining cages as well.
Meanwhile the tall-folk were helping the children down; then they moved on to the humans. I reached the last cage. In it was an elf of sorts. He was bloody and delirious. I could not wake him. I flew back to the ground.
The humans were happy to be out, and I told them to lie low while we took the children out. I would be back for them. We flew the children out, and Artemus and Lucius stayed behind with them, their enchantment wearing off. I flew back for the others.
I don’t know why I did. Maybe I just didn’t like to see people in cages. With a few potions of invisibility in my bag and a spell of strength upon me I had little difficulty pulling the humans one by one over the wall of the valley into the forest beyond. Time did not permit me to take them back to the shelter. One by one I took them. Finally I lifted the last over the ridge, only to remember the elf. I told them to hide in the bushes. They agreed.
I made my way back into the camp, fearful that my protective shell of invisibility would end before the job was done. When I reached the cage the elf was still unresponsive. I called to him quietly but he did not stir. When I reached to touch him he came awake, slugging me in the jaw. Impulsively I struck back.
Clang! His lute falls silent with a final discord.
I realized my folly as the spell dissipated with my attack. On the ground two orcs cried out as I became visible. How could I not have seen them! Something flashed in the night as one orc cut the line holding the cage aloft. The cage plummeted into the lake. Thick brackish water surrounded me. With a surge of strength I grabbed the elf, my wings flapped furiously, and I was in the air, out of the cage, and over the cliff before they could raise an alarm!
The lute resumes, this time with a stirring melody of bittersweet success.
Back with the other captives I set the elf down. He did not stir. I feared I had killed him with my blow. Quickly I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a few potions of healing and with care trickled them down the elf’s throat. After he had regained consciousness I led them back to the shelter.
Artemus and Lucius were happy to see me, and proud that I had succeeded. From the bodies of Van and Kaemris we retrieved a few weapons to arm the prisoners. I gave them some food I had, and we let them go.
I have not seen one of them gain. Though occasionally when I am in a tavern in Cormyr, and after I have had a few drinks, people must buy me more, because I never spend more than one gold but I always get drunker in Cormyr than anywhere else.
The lute falls silent, and the aged Hin stretches. One of the younger halflings hands him a drink, which he gratefully accepts.
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Narrator: It was Dalabrac, brave Dalabrac, who went back the orcs’ lair, hidden from sight by magics. There he found the children and returned with the happy news. Quietly and carefully, we snuck into the fortress and brought the children out. I thought our job was done, but brave, courageous Dalabrac was not ready to quit.
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: I must go back for the other prisoners! It is the right thing to do!
Narrator: Yes, inside that halfling frame stands a dragon-sized heart of gold. So Dalabrac went back by himself and brought the human and elven prisoners to safety despite the orcs’ feeble attempts to stop him.
Narrator: We gave the grateful prisoners what supplies we could spare and sent them to return to their homes.
Dalabrac Bramblefoot: A Fireside Tale
Deep slow notes now, building the suspense around the campfire. Dalabrac’s halfling audience leans closer as he speaks.
We found some poles with hooks at the end under the tree amidst its roots. Even with a spell of strength there was no way for us to lower the cage and pull it to shore–another plan would be needed. I flew to the bars of the cage and examined the door. It had no lock, just a simple spike wedged into the frame to keep the door closed. From my magic bag I extracted a spike and hammer from my climbing kit and knocked the wedge loose. Then I fastened some of my fine silk rope to the cage’s bars and planted the other end in the ground to hold the cage steady. I did this to the remaining cages as well.
Meanwhile the tall-folk were helping the children down; then they moved on to the humans. I reached the last cage. In it was an elf of sorts. He was bloody and delirious. I could not wake him. I flew back to the ground.
The humans were happy to be out, and I told them to lie low while we took the children out. I would be back for them. We flew the children out, and Artemus and Lucius stayed behind with them, their enchantment wearing off. I flew back for the others.
I don’t know why I did. Maybe I just didn’t like to see people in cages. With a few potions of invisibility in my bag and a spell of strength upon me I had little difficulty pulling the humans one by one over the wall of the valley into the forest beyond. Time did not permit me to take them back to the shelter. One by one I took them. Finally I lifted the last over the ridge, only to remember the elf. I told them to hide in the bushes. They agreed.
I made my way back into the camp, fearful that my protective shell of invisibility would end before the job was done. When I reached the cage the elf was still unresponsive. I called to him quietly but he did not stir. When I reached to touch him he came awake, slugging me in the jaw. Impulsively I struck back.
Clang! His lute falls silent with a final discord.
I realized my folly as the spell dissipated with my attack. On the ground two orcs cried out as I became visible. How could I not have seen them! Something flashed in the night as one orc cut the line holding the cage aloft. The cage plummeted into the lake. Thick brackish water surrounded me. With a surge of strength I grabbed the elf, my wings flapped furiously, and I was in the air, out of the cage, and over the cliff before they could raise an alarm!
The lute resumes, this time with a stirring melody of bittersweet success.
Back with the other captives I set the elf down. He did not stir. I feared I had killed him with my blow. Quickly I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a few potions of healing and with care trickled them down the elf’s throat. After he had regained consciousness I led them back to the shelter.
Artemus and Lucius were happy to see me, and proud that I had succeeded. From the bodies of Van and Kaemris we retrieved a few weapons to arm the prisoners. I gave them some food I had, and we let them go.
I have not seen one of them gain. Though occasionally when I am in a tavern in Cormyr, and after I have had a few drinks, people must buy me more, because I never spend more than one gold but I always get drunker in Cormyr than anywhere else.
The lute falls silent, and the aged Hin stretches. One of the younger halflings hands him a drink, which he gratefully accepts.
Tom Cashel
First Post
The DOOR from EVERYWHERE, part 7
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Act III – The Nexus Revisited
Narrators: And so our weary heroes returned to the portal that had brought them here.
Artemus Thornwind: Part the veil of the universe for me!
Minor image of glowing blue fog within the portal.
Narrator: It was time to go home, so we thought. Back through the Nexus we went and into the first portal–the way home. But a trap awaited us, a cowardly trap set by the Zhentarim! For as we emerged, gigantic ogres, an axe-wielding warrior, and a powerful Wizard attacked us! With heavy hearts, back through the portal we ran (but not before I left that Zhentarim wizard with a sticky surprise–a tanglefoot bag in the face!).
Ghost Sound of “Splat!”
Lucius: Close the veil of the universe for me!
Faraugar: Enthandas Elusive
The portal filled with glowing blue fog...and when it faded the open gateway was replaced by a stone wall.
“Blast!” shouted Faraugar. He promptly stepped up to the closed portal and placed one hand upon it, as he’d witnessed only a few seconds before. “Open the veil of the universe for me.”
Nothing happened.
“Blast!” he shouted again. The ogres flinched.
He catalogued spells in his mind, and soon concluded he had none prepared to aid him in this situation. A return to Zhentil Keep, either by magic or on the back of his faithful blood horse Kavass, would incur an unacceptable delay. The Selûnite must not escape again, he thought. To find Enthandas once may be luck, but to find it twice is surely the doing of the Dread Lord himself.
“What shall we do?” asked Gargdol.
“Go find out what’s keeping that nincompoop Ghiv and her maggot underlings,” Faraugar snapped. “I need to think.”
“Yes, Faraugar,” said Gargdol with a clipped bow. To the ogres, Redface, Deadbiter and Three Eyes he shouted, “Keep your eyes open this time, or I’ll put them out with a dagger!” and stormed out of the ruined keep.
Lucius Foxhound: The Nexus of Power, a play by Lucius Foxfound.
Act III – The Nexus Revisited
Narrators: And so our weary heroes returned to the portal that had brought them here.
Artemus Thornwind: Part the veil of the universe for me!
Minor image of glowing blue fog within the portal.
Narrator: It was time to go home, so we thought. Back through the Nexus we went and into the first portal–the way home. But a trap awaited us, a cowardly trap set by the Zhentarim! For as we emerged, gigantic ogres, an axe-wielding warrior, and a powerful Wizard attacked us! With heavy hearts, back through the portal we ran (but not before I left that Zhentarim wizard with a sticky surprise–a tanglefoot bag in the face!).
Ghost Sound of “Splat!”
Lucius: Close the veil of the universe for me!
Faraugar: Enthandas Elusive
The portal filled with glowing blue fog...and when it faded the open gateway was replaced by a stone wall.
“Blast!” shouted Faraugar. He promptly stepped up to the closed portal and placed one hand upon it, as he’d witnessed only a few seconds before. “Open the veil of the universe for me.”
Nothing happened.
“Blast!” he shouted again. The ogres flinched.
He catalogued spells in his mind, and soon concluded he had none prepared to aid him in this situation. A return to Zhentil Keep, either by magic or on the back of his faithful blood horse Kavass, would incur an unacceptable delay. The Selûnite must not escape again, he thought. To find Enthandas once may be luck, but to find it twice is surely the doing of the Dread Lord himself.
“What shall we do?” asked Gargdol.
“Go find out what’s keeping that nincompoop Ghiv and her maggot underlings,” Faraugar snapped. “I need to think.”
“Yes, Faraugar,” said Gargdol with a clipped bow. To the ogres, Redface, Deadbiter and Three Eyes he shouted, “Keep your eyes open this time, or I’ll put them out with a dagger!” and stormed out of the ruined keep.
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