Against the Shadows VII - A Faded Glory Story Hour (Re-Updated - 5/17)

What Do You Like Best About This Story Hour?

  • The Campaign World

    Votes: 6 11.8%
  • The Characters

    Votes: 2 3.9%
  • The Multitude of Plot Lines

    Votes: 6 11.8%
  • The Narrative/Action

    Votes: 4 7.8%
  • The Whole Package!

    Votes: 27 52.9%
  • Nothing! It Sucks!

    Votes: 6 11.8%

Wow, I have no idea what's going on.

Still, it's one of the best train of thought pieces I've read.
 
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Lela said:
Wow, I have no idea what's going on.

Still, it's one of the best train of thought pieces I've read.

Thanks, I think ;)...

Bear with me for a bit more...I am clearing out some "behind the scenes" issues to make what happens to the party next make a bit more sense.

More to follow soon...

~ OO
 

Oh sure! I go and awaken an ancient, slumbering evil in my Story Hour and then WHAT do we find here?!

Leave it to Old One to steal all my great ideas...

This post has been halted by the Irony Police. Please move along. There is nothing more to see here. Thank you for your cooperation citizens!
 

Rel said:
Oh sure! I go and awaken an ancient, slumbering evil in my Story Hour and then WHAT do we find here?!

Leave it to Old One to steal all my great ideas...

This post has been halted by the Irony Police. Please move along. There is nothing more to see here. Thank you for your cooperation citizens!

Yeah, but MY evil can beat up your evil...so nah, nah, nah, nah, nahhhhhh ;)!

I see you were, uh, productive on your vacation...what's with the new hairdoo? Are you guys starting a retro punk band or what :p?

~ OO

PS - Rel looks really cute with a mohawk!
 

Old One said:
Yeah, but MY evil can beat up your evil...so nah, nah, nah, nah, nahhhhhh ;)!

I see you were, uh, productive on your vacation...what's with the new hairdoo? Are you guys starting a retro punk band or what :p?

~ OO

PS - Rel looks really cute with a mohawk!

I didn't keep the mohawk for more than a day. It was fun and kind of funny watching all the weird looks I got at the beach but I knew I'd be shaving it off and didn't want to come home with a "skunk-like" tan line down the middle of my head. I've now got the "buzz cut".

Mainly I was just ready for a bit of a change of haircut since I've more or less worn my hair the same way since I got married (before that I had LONG hair that was halfway down my back). The new do is kind of fun (I can't keep my hands off of it) and very low maintenance. The funny thing is that I asked Samantha how she liked it and she said, "I liked it when you had that one stripe of hair in the middle of your head. I want you to get it cut like that again."
 

The Green, Green Fog of Home – Interlude III

Pale. Translucent. Green.

The faintest tinge of shimmering green, like the gossamer veil of the loveliest courtesan, crept across Seluna’s visage, dancing across the Dragon’s Tail range against a stiffening nor’ westerly wind. It snaked northward, over sad ruins and empty fields.

A great, dead metropolis loomed on the horizon, impotent in the wane moonlight. The tendrils paused for a moment, a league or two short of the shattered city and swayed to and fro…sensing, smelling, seeking.

It gathered on itself like a building thunderhead - roiling and spasmodic – before cascading down towards an unremarkable arroyo, indistinguishable from the scores that cut the weathered ridge above the stillness of the town.

As the leading edge of the cloud rolled over the upper ledge of the steep-sided canyon, the Earth-Mother caught her breath. A silent, yet impossibly loud tearing sound echoed through the very core of reality. Angels and demons caught their collective breath as the great curtain of Time shuddered, shredded and reformed in the barest instant of time.

Somewhere in the darkness, a small, seemingly insignificant shadow twisted and turned, reeling in agony. Somehow, riding the momentary rent, it managed to slip its bonds and burst into the cool night air. Hooded yellow eyes blazed momentarily, and then narrowed.

Hunger. The gnawing madness of a thousand empty stomachs drove it westward…towards food.

A single tear rolled down the man-child’s perfect features, followed by an almost inaudible whisper.

“May the Light forgive me if I am wrong.”


To Be Continued…

Next: Session 27 (Part Four) – The Green, Green Fog of Home

~ PS - Last of the funky stuff...real update pending ;)!
 

Session 27 (Part Five)

The Green, Green Fog of Home

The ranger sensed it…crouching above him like a great forest panther, waiting to pounce. The Old Man’s sword whispered from its sheath as he forced his aching body upright and turned toward the threat in one semi-fluid motion. Green vapors - like magician-tinged fog – were flowing over the lip of the arroyo and cascading toward the tattered band.

A pugio of panic knifed into Rowan’s brain, threatening to unman him and send him fleeing, as his first thought was of the horrible, acidic green slime. Discipline and rationale suppressed his fear as the mist filtered through the moonlight. The color was a deep, verdant green…many shades darker than the sickly muck. It was almost…calming.

He shook himself from a momentary stupor and booted Cragen in the torso.

“Up and to arms! Some sorcery is at work here.”

The dwarf might as well have been stone, save that he rolled from one side to the other before continuing his deep snores. Cursing like a sailor from the Oar docks, Rowan had better luck with Rosë. The young Brigante was already rolling to a crouch when the ranger reached him.

“We are under some kind of magical attack, I think…get Sextus and get him out of this draw.”

The barbarian reached down and effortlessly slung the badly injured bard over his shoulder. The flowing emerald fog, now ankle-deep in the arroyo, washed over his bare hands as he did. A curious lethargy immediately began to overwhelm Rosë’s senses. He took one step out of the small canyon, followed by another, much slower step. There was not a third. A heartbeat later, the Brigante warrior stood immobile, Sextus forgotten in his arms, mesmerized by the swirling vapors.

The level of the fog was rapidly rising and Cragen was almost completely inundated by the time Rowan managed to rouse him. The dwarf struggled to his feet. Rowan was gesturing at him…mouthing words and moving his hands in wide, slow arcs.

“M…u…s…t…g…e…t…o…u…t…”

The ranger stopped in mid-sentence, conquered by the encroaching fog and stood, slack-jawed and silent.
Cragen could feel the mist pulling on him…whispering…calling…

‘Just give in…surrender…let go,’ it whispered in his head.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head, sweeping the cobwebs aside. Thinking quickly, he held his breath and ripped a length of stout rope from his pack. He looped it around Rowan, clamped his teeth around the other end, turned and charged toward the steep side of the arroyo.

He hit the wall and exploded upwards, stubby fingers digging into the hard-packed dirt and rocks. Handfuls of sod and fingernails flew off with wild abandon as he desperately clawed his way upwards. One bloody hand and then another emerged from the crevice, seeking purchase on the rocky ground.

Below him, a thickening column of deep green mist swirled upward and corkscrewed around his legs and then his torso, gently pulling him back. He called on aeons of dwarven fortitude and willed his body higher. One elbow dug in, and then another. He gritted his teeth and nearly bit through his tongue.

“Just another pace…just one more pace and I am clear,” he growled, spitting blood and foam past the teeth-clenched hemp. A tendril of mist wafted up and encircled his head like a translucent green crown.

‘There is no need to fight…just let go…and find peace.’

This time the tug was less gentle…more insistent…more demanding.

Cragen refused.

He continued to drag himself upwards…onwards.

He sensed the mist’s amused disapproval and felt it tighten its grip. He heaved one more time, attempting to serge over the top. Instead, he found himself being dragged inexorably back into the ravine…the emerald fog filled ravine.

He screamed silently as his clawed hands left deep furrows in the earth, along with ten minute trails of dwarven blood. The mist smiled.

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 27 (Part Six) – Rude Awakenings

~ OO
 




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