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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Old One" data-source="post: 1724676" data-attributes="member: 83">Session 25 (Part One)Greetings Gang,Sorry the updates have been so scarce of late...darn that 'Real Life' <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" />!  Here is a fun little one for you...enjoy <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" />!From the Sky!A chill wind howled down the Thunder River valley from the Pillars of Heaven, bearing the first promise of autumn frost.  Rowan shivered and pulled his tattered cloak tightly about his battered frame.  He hoped the others where doing well, but trusted Cragen to look after them.  Emotions roiled inside the ranger as his mind replayed the horrible events of the day.Despite their best efforts, they had failed.  Miserably.He had been unable to stay at the bridge…unable to bear the stench of burned flesh and the pitiful sight of the doomed children.  He had slipped away unnoticed as the others milled about the battlefield, following the undead horde northwards.  The sun had long since dropped over the hills of the Western Wilds, but the ranger pressed on, using the light of Seluna’s tears and praying for revenge.Sextus awoke with a start, shaking off a covering of morning dew.  The ubiquitous morning fog of the river blanketed the small hollow he occupied.  His aching fingers reminded him that he still clutched the strange black book.  “By Osirian, it wasn’t all a horrible nightmare.”Thoughts and remembrance flashed through his mind…fear, hatred and madness.  By sheer force of will, he opened the tome and began reading again.  Morning passed into noon and then to dusk before hunger, thirst and a bloated bladder forced the bard to stop.  He tore his gaze from the final passages to find the diminutive husk of Garrick crouching on a rock a few paces away, regarding him with feral eyes.Cragen cursed loudly in his native tongue.  “Damnable, unreliable humans!”The dwarf noted that Quintus’s eyes flicked to him for a brief moment, but they remained devoid of their usual spark.  Röse responded by snoring even louder and the other survivors huddled together, silent and miserable.  He spoke again, his gruff voice dropping to a low growl.  “Could be worse…at least yer still alive.”He snorted in disgust at the listless group and took mental stock of their situation.  Rowan and Sextus were missing.  The younger Scipio had disappeared in the midst of the battle and the ranger shortly thereafter.  Röse and Quintus were half-dead and the Emorians weren’t much better off.  Even worse, the events of the day - it seemed to Cragen – had sapped the sorcerer of his prodigious will and drive; barely two words had passed his lips since he regained consciousness.  Drusilla, silent as always, sat beside the elder Scipio, an indecipherable expression on her face.Amazingly, a small number of children and infants had survived the chaos.  Even more amazingly, they found the bound and unconscious forms of Kyndalyn and another militiaman in the abandoned wagon.  Cragen knew he should be praising Moradin for the miraculous survival of so many, but for now they just presented more problems.  ‘By Moradin’s beard, how am I gonna feed this rabble with that damnable ranger gone,’ he mused sourly. The dwarf’s mental litany of complaints was interrupted as he felt, rather than saw, an enormous shadow pass before the moon.  An infant’s wail rose from the wagon bed where he and Drusilla had placed the few living babies and was suddenly cut off.  Cragen felt a wave of fear far more powerful than he had experienced in the day’s battle wash over him, turning his knees to water as a vast shape, supported by mighty pinions, dropped from the sky.Without exception, the remainder of the pitiful band of survivors sat or lay silently, blinded and frozen in terror.  By a triumph of will, the dwarf managed to fight off the effect.The weary cleric hefted his shield and hammer, moved forward on shaky legs and placed himself between the immense shadow and his helpless charges.  His bladder threatened to rebel as first one, and then another huge fore-claw emerged from the shadowy bulk.  Talons longer than spatha gouged huge furrows in the soft earth.  Moonlight glinted off armored scales, reflecting a scintillating array of muted colors – black, silver, green, gold, red and bronze – that threatened to mesmerize the dwarf.Cragen clamped his eyes shut and forced them open again, shaking off the daze.  A huge head, twice the length of Röse’s stiff body, supported by a sinewy neck of corded muscle dipped down from a height that easily bested Glynden’s walls.  Unblinking cat-like eyes, glowing with a soft, golden hue, regarded the dwarfed dwarf with interest.Cragen doubted his own sanity as he squared his body, brought his shield to his chin, raised his hammer in a trembling hand and said in a soft, but firm voice, “You may not have them.”The reptilian snout split into a reptilian grin, revealing row upon serried row of gladius-sized teeth.  Flared nostrils and a rumbling deep within its vastness accompanied the Dragon’s inhalation.To Be Continued…Next: Session 25 (Part Two) – Dwarven Tale TalesBack soon!~ Old One</blockquote>

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