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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4136009" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Herald of the Yellow King - Part 6a: The End</strong></p><p></p><p>They arrived at the entrance to the feast hall, a feast hall made from the wood of a scarred oak, as the horrible tale ended. </p><p></p><p>Ilmarė took the wax out of her ears and drew her bow. The others did likewise, although there was no sign of Kham.</p><p></p><p>Cael sighed. “So spoken, so ends my tale. And so too ends all else.” </p><p></p><p>After the echo of the last word faded, the hall erupted into screams of madness. Mists and shadows filled the room.</p><p></p><p>The jester bowed deeply, sweeping his arms toward the macabre scenery that had transformed the feast hall. </p><p></p><p>“See, we are just in time,” he said merrily. “I have brought you to the King, as I promised. I present to you The Last King, The King in Yellow, He Who Should Not Be Named…my master, and yours.”</p><p></p><p>The jester peaked up from his bow and suddenly collapsed, like a marionette whose strings was cut. It lay motionless at Vlad’s feet.</p><p></p><p>Dril raised his rifle, but he wasn’t sure what to aim at.</p><p></p><p>A handsome Ardakene elorii walked towards them as he exited the hall. He was dressed in a brown tunic embroidered with the Yellow Sign, and a multicolored cloak. He was weeping, wiping his tears as he exited. Behind him, a menacing figure coalesced from a plume of mist filling the center of the room. </p><p></p><p>“So Cael was an elorii in disguise all along,” said Ilmarė. “What have you done?”</p><p></p><p>“I just wanted to say goodbye to the oak before I left this guise,” said Cael. “I sacrificed three human lifetimes protecting this duchy from horrors like that!” He pointed at the King in Yellow raging behind him. “Duke Adolphos promised me it would stand until I passed, but he cut it down to make a feast hall for his drunken warriors! The sacred Oak, center of the Order of Belisarda, cut down to make a feast hall! For months I waited for an apology and it never came!”</p><p></p><p>Vlad blinked. “An apology? We have it here!” He dug the scroll out from a pouch at his belt and handed it to Cael.</p><p></p><p>As the elorii read the letter, it was as if a great weight lifted from him. The range and despair that haunted his eyes faded. But then fresh screams erupted in the feast hall behind him. </p><p></p><p>The King had no face and was twice as tall as a man. It wore pointed shoes under its tattered, yellow robes, and a streamer of silk appeared to fall from the pointed tip of its hood. It morphed and changed, at times winged, at others, haloed. </p><p></p><p>Cael turned to see the King in Yellow and the color drained from his face. “What have I done? I broke my vows, I betrayed the Order of the Twelve Oaks…in the name of all that is good, what have I done?”</p><p></p><p>“You’ve got to do something!” said Dril, keeping his rifle trained on the swirling mass of yellow cloth at the center of the hall.</p><p></p><p>Behind the King in Yellow, the wall of the feast hall vanished. Instead, there appeared a huge sculptured shield, in a shape suggesting a double-headed axe of onyx, upon which the Yellow Sign was chased in gold.</p><p></p><p>“I fear it is too late to stop this,” said Cael.</p><p></p><p>“You were once a defender of Milandir,” said Vlad. “I understand how hard it can be to protect people who don’t appreciate you. But if you fail now, all of Moratavia—maybe all of Onara—will be lost. The Unspeakable One took advantage of your rage. You brought him into this world…you’re the only one who can send him back!”</p><p></p><p>The young man looked over at Vlad and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he stood taller; fear and uncertainty drained away from him. He was once again Cael, a bard and a Knight of the Order of the Twelve Oaks. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and true.</p><p></p><p>“We have but one chance. There is a magic I know that can banish the King in Yellow from our world. The risks are great and I will require your help. I cannot do this alone. Even with your help, the magic might fail.”</p><p></p><p>Just then, Kham charged out of the confused mass of nobles and servants with Fleshripper held high, screaming like a madman at the top of his lungs.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4136009, member: 3285"] [b]Herald of the Yellow King - Part 6a: The End[/b] They arrived at the entrance to the feast hall, a feast hall made from the wood of a scarred oak, as the horrible tale ended. Ilmarė took the wax out of her ears and drew her bow. The others did likewise, although there was no sign of Kham. Cael sighed. “So spoken, so ends my tale. And so too ends all else.” After the echo of the last word faded, the hall erupted into screams of madness. Mists and shadows filled the room. The jester bowed deeply, sweeping his arms toward the macabre scenery that had transformed the feast hall. “See, we are just in time,” he said merrily. “I have brought you to the King, as I promised. I present to you The Last King, The King in Yellow, He Who Should Not Be Named…my master, and yours.” The jester peaked up from his bow and suddenly collapsed, like a marionette whose strings was cut. It lay motionless at Vlad’s feet. Dril raised his rifle, but he wasn’t sure what to aim at. A handsome Ardakene elorii walked towards them as he exited the hall. He was dressed in a brown tunic embroidered with the Yellow Sign, and a multicolored cloak. He was weeping, wiping his tears as he exited. Behind him, a menacing figure coalesced from a plume of mist filling the center of the room. “So Cael was an elorii in disguise all along,” said Ilmarė. “What have you done?” “I just wanted to say goodbye to the oak before I left this guise,” said Cael. “I sacrificed three human lifetimes protecting this duchy from horrors like that!” He pointed at the King in Yellow raging behind him. “Duke Adolphos promised me it would stand until I passed, but he cut it down to make a feast hall for his drunken warriors! The sacred Oak, center of the Order of Belisarda, cut down to make a feast hall! For months I waited for an apology and it never came!” Vlad blinked. “An apology? We have it here!” He dug the scroll out from a pouch at his belt and handed it to Cael. As the elorii read the letter, it was as if a great weight lifted from him. The range and despair that haunted his eyes faded. But then fresh screams erupted in the feast hall behind him. The King had no face and was twice as tall as a man. It wore pointed shoes under its tattered, yellow robes, and a streamer of silk appeared to fall from the pointed tip of its hood. It morphed and changed, at times winged, at others, haloed. Cael turned to see the King in Yellow and the color drained from his face. “What have I done? I broke my vows, I betrayed the Order of the Twelve Oaks…in the name of all that is good, what have I done?” “You’ve got to do something!” said Dril, keeping his rifle trained on the swirling mass of yellow cloth at the center of the hall. Behind the King in Yellow, the wall of the feast hall vanished. Instead, there appeared a huge sculptured shield, in a shape suggesting a double-headed axe of onyx, upon which the Yellow Sign was chased in gold. “I fear it is too late to stop this,” said Cael. “You were once a defender of Milandir,” said Vlad. “I understand how hard it can be to protect people who don’t appreciate you. But if you fail now, all of Moratavia—maybe all of Onara—will be lost. The Unspeakable One took advantage of your rage. You brought him into this world…you’re the only one who can send him back!” The young man looked over at Vlad and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he stood taller; fear and uncertainty drained away from him. He was once again Cael, a bard and a Knight of the Order of the Twelve Oaks. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and true. “We have but one chance. There is a magic I know that can banish the King in Yellow from our world. The risks are great and I will require your help. I cannot do this alone. Even with your help, the magic might fail.” Just then, Kham charged out of the confused mass of nobles and servants with Fleshripper held high, screaming like a madman at the top of his lungs. [/QUOTE]
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