Against the Shadows VII - A Faded Glory Story Hour (Re-Updated - 5/17)
- Thread starter Old One
- Start date
Hah!
That sounds about right...just ask the poor players. On the update front...working on the next BIG one...lots of mayhem. Unfortunately, I am getting ready to jump on a plane for Florida for a 2-day business trip, so the next update is unlikely before the weekend.
See ya soon,
~ Old One
Darklone said:
That sounds about right...just ask the poor players. On the update front...working on the next BIG one...lots of mayhem. Unfortunately, I am getting ready to jump on a plane for Florida for a 2-day business trip, so the next update is unlikely before the weekend.
See ya soon,
~ Old One
DethStryke
Explorer
I cannot remember... did I ever post the finished pictures of Cragen's mini?
Anyone want me to?
Anyone want me to?
DethStryke
Explorer
Old One said:Post away...and maybe you won't die in the 1st session!
~ Old One
Ho ho ho! I kept that Junior Tribune alive through all the sessions I played, all the while keeping you in stiches! Dare I say, near the end, I saved the entire party when doom was near certain...
and that was with a 2nd level character.
Just see what I do with a 5th level one!
Interlude
Just a quick Interlude to tide you over until I finish the next installment...
The wizened old man sighed with a mixture of weariness and irritation at the knock.
"Enter."
He didn't even look up from the scattered riot of quill and parchment on his ornate desk.
"Report."
"They are gone. Well along the north road to that cesspool of their home. I still don't understand why you let them g..."
"SILENCE!"
The unkempt, lank-haired young man lapsed into silence and unconsciously fingered the ragged scar just beneath the neckline of his ordinary tunic. The old man leaned back in his overstuffed chair and regarded the source of one of his many ulcers with rheumy eyes, while intertwining his fingers.
"You are not retained to understand anything," the old man said in a soft voice riddled with half-hidden malice. "They were becoming too much of a liability and... too costly. I have already spent far too much countering their actions and we...I...am better off to be rid of their bumbling interference."
The unkempt man fidgeted uncomfortably under the unyielding gaze, glancing alternately at his scuffed boots, the old man and the impassive, curiously accoutered warrior behind him. He opened his mouth to speak and quickly shut it again. A hideous smile flitted across the old man's drawn face.
"Good. You are learning. If you spoke less and acted with more acuity, this would not even be a problem. It was a simple task that you were given...yet you were unable to accomplish it, so we have complications. I do not like complications."
The fidgeting continued.
"Yet, all is not wasted. A seed has been planted as a result of the disaster your failure visited on us. We shall see what fruit it will bear."
A mirthless chuckle issued from old, cracked lips.
"In the meantime, redemption awaits you. Take this satchel and do not fail to follow the instructions to the letter. Events are moving quickly now...and we cannot afford additional failures. In fact, another will not be tolerated...blood or no blood. Understood? Good...now take this and begone."
The young man scuttled forward, retrieved the proffered sealskin bag and withdrew with a perfunctory bow.
The old man slumped in his chair and sighed heavily. Harness jingled behind him, but he held up a withered hand.
"No, Odyssian, I am fine...see that I am not disturbed."
The warrior slid around the desk with practiced ease, shot the bolt on the door and turned to face the old man, face impassive under his helm.
The old man sat stock still for thirty grains, then stiffened. His back arched and arthritic fingers spasmed. His eyes rolled back in his head and shut tight. When his lids opened, naught but shadow stared forth. The old man began mumbling low, harsh syllables.
The warrior shuddered involuntarily and dropped his eyes to study the polished flagstones of his master's study. He knew, in the deepest depths of his soul, that he would never grow comfortable with the ritual, no matter how many times he bore witness to it. He also knew, in that deepest of inner places, that it didn't matter...he was already damned.
Enjoy!
~ Old One
Just a quick Interlude to tide you over until I finish the next installment...
The wizened old man sighed with a mixture of weariness and irritation at the knock.
"Enter."
He didn't even look up from the scattered riot of quill and parchment on his ornate desk.
"Report."
"They are gone. Well along the north road to that cesspool of their home. I still don't understand why you let them g..."
"SILENCE!"
The unkempt, lank-haired young man lapsed into silence and unconsciously fingered the ragged scar just beneath the neckline of his ordinary tunic. The old man leaned back in his overstuffed chair and regarded the source of one of his many ulcers with rheumy eyes, while intertwining his fingers.
"You are not retained to understand anything," the old man said in a soft voice riddled with half-hidden malice. "They were becoming too much of a liability and... too costly. I have already spent far too much countering their actions and we...I...am better off to be rid of their bumbling interference."
The unkempt man fidgeted uncomfortably under the unyielding gaze, glancing alternately at his scuffed boots, the old man and the impassive, curiously accoutered warrior behind him. He opened his mouth to speak and quickly shut it again. A hideous smile flitted across the old man's drawn face.
"Good. You are learning. If you spoke less and acted with more acuity, this would not even be a problem. It was a simple task that you were given...yet you were unable to accomplish it, so we have complications. I do not like complications."
The fidgeting continued.
"Yet, all is not wasted. A seed has been planted as a result of the disaster your failure visited on us. We shall see what fruit it will bear."
A mirthless chuckle issued from old, cracked lips.
"In the meantime, redemption awaits you. Take this satchel and do not fail to follow the instructions to the letter. Events are moving quickly now...and we cannot afford additional failures. In fact, another will not be tolerated...blood or no blood. Understood? Good...now take this and begone."
The young man scuttled forward, retrieved the proffered sealskin bag and withdrew with a perfunctory bow.
The old man slumped in his chair and sighed heavily. Harness jingled behind him, but he held up a withered hand.
"No, Odyssian, I am fine...see that I am not disturbed."
The warrior slid around the desk with practiced ease, shot the bolt on the door and turned to face the old man, face impassive under his helm.
The old man sat stock still for thirty grains, then stiffened. His back arched and arthritic fingers spasmed. His eyes rolled back in his head and shut tight. When his lids opened, naught but shadow stared forth. The old man began mumbling low, harsh syllables.
The warrior shuddered involuntarily and dropped his eyes to study the polished flagstones of his master's study. He knew, in the deepest depths of his soul, that he would never grow comfortable with the ritual, no matter how many times he bore witness to it. He also knew, in that deepest of inner places, that it didn't matter...he was already damned.
Enjoy!
~ Old One
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