the Jester
Legend
My hat's off to Olgar. ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
That's a pretty damn crazy story there, diaglo. You never did get your chance...
That's a pretty damn crazy story there, diaglo. You never did get your chance...
Banewarrens d20 (Angelsboi's party)
- Thread starter diaglo
- Start date
howandwhy99
Adventurer
[Found this after the great crash of May '06]
Fextor dropped the dead paladin’s carcass and retrieved the Sword of Truth from it.
This was the end. They had been on the verge of finally pulverizing that drow banshee witch when the crazy kender-fool tripped the doortrap. Finister had been close… very close. “What ‘n blazin’ Hells am I to do now?” thought Fextor to himself. “Those dupes deserved to die! They failed - failed to kill the drow, failed to get the grail, and failed me too. Let ‘em rot! …or crumble…”
He looked around him. Fextor made out the hazy outlines of the human sun God’s temple in the overworld. Ozlo had popped the two of them out at least. But she was badly hurt. The power of the evil death’s orb had drained her and the druid’s bolstering magic would soon wear off. The little woman popped off the cap of her only vial of healing and gulped down the contents. Fextor wondered if he should give her one of his own healing potions. Her transportation ability was very useful. He considered her new form for a second. She didn’t look like the same person at all to him, the small gnome named Sully he had come to call friend. The druid’s magic had transformed her… twisted the he to a she and the gnome to underling [the dark Halfling race]. This only served to remind him of his own transformation.
~ it had all started so well… his escape from slavery with the help of his new friends…. Sully especially had seemed trustworthy… and over a few weeks time they had traveled and fought by each others’ sides… until the one night when they were ambushed by the dark city’s ghoulish dead… both he and Sully fell… he went to Dwarfhome, which made no sense now… then both were called back from death’s end to the drow city by the druid woman… Fextor had been fortunate: he was still a dwarf - no thanks to Moradin… but the curse of his new face rankled… a mocking joke by the dwarven Gods no doubt… Finister would deride him endlessly for this… Sully, however, was now Ozlo… another joke of course… it at that point Fextor knew… the gnome had enchanted him… the entire length of their friendship… plans of revenge brewed in his mind… the “friends” he thought he knew slowly, one-by-one cheated him… they were simply more overworlders trying to prove their Gods right… he had decided to fool them until the time for revenge came… they were still useful in reaching his brother… and they still believed the nonsense about him being a dwarven justiciar... just as the drow had to his own detriment… but then the kender tried to poison him… right after the golem’s breath… when he died he went someplace very dark… until he was blinded by the damnable sun priest... ~
“Fextor?”
The dwarf shook himself back to reality – or what passed for it currently. “What are we going to do now?” Ozlo asked.
Fextor looked around. “Let’s get outta here. This place is too damn bright.” The two discussed where to go in the ethereal plane. Eventually they settled on the Windlord’s Rest. Fextor looked around the common room at the dim shapes sitting and drinking. “Now the ale’s as thin as it tastes!” he jested. The halfling didn’t laugh.
“I might have a way to get us back to normal,” said Ozlo, “but it’s going to be difficult.”
“Fine by me,” said Fextor. He was already thinking of what to do once he had the woman alone. Plans needed to made and quickly. Revenge was finally at hand.
“But first… I want you to swear an oath that you will help me get the grail and finish the quest to save my grandmother.”
“What?” Fextor balked. “Can’t we do that AFTER ya save us and change us back t’ normal?” But he saw the resolve in the woman’s eye. Something had happened. Perhaps he had tipped his cards too early. Ozlo was no longer oblivious to his schemes.
”No. We need to take the oath now,” she answered. “And we should swear to save our friends too and change them back from stone.”
Fextor could barely contain himself. “What’s that!” he exclaimed pointing behind Ozlo’s shoulder. “We’ve got company!” Ozlo whipped around as Fextor took a fighting stance. He reached out for the little halflng’s neck with her back turned. “Now I gotcha!” But he didn’t. By some inexplicable twist of fate she had wrestled away. In the next second she disappeared.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Fextor hung around, poised… waiting… After a few minutes he felt sure Ozlo was gone, “for a while anyways. She’ll be back, I’m bettin’.” Fextor took stock of his food and items. There was enough to last him three and a half weeks, but no means of contacting the other side.
He began cursing himself for his stroke of bad luck. “She was in m’ hands! I swear! If only I had her for just a half-second, I coulda held on for eternity. Then she couldn’a gone nowhere without me.” Fextor remembered back to the time when he fought the vulture-demon. It had almost carried him away – back to hell he had thought – before he pulled away. He felt sure he could have hung on to Ozlo.
“I should just taken m’ axe to her face,” he thought to himself as he sunk into the common room’s floor. “I was gettin’ too soft. I was startin’ to like ‘im again.” Below the inn was a basement and then the sewers of Tilverton. Ethereally he could neither touch nor smell his surroundings. “Yep. She’d have taken us anywhere, but in the end she woulda turned us back t’ normal. Damn! If she hadn’t ask me to swear tha oath. What trickery! She had this in mind all along, I bet. That ex-gnome’s is vile as they come. Sweet one minute, poison the next” Fextor rose higher to keep his head above the sewage. It was almost to the ceiling in most places. He began floating down the pipe.
“Ain’t no oath I’m takin’ for her benefit! Like any one of ‘em was worth more than a spit in the wind. And their own oaths even less. Not a beard among ‘em!” Fextor found a sewer junction and followed the combined flow down another tunnel. “One bloody hand. One grasp. Then she woulda been make oaths… up and down fer all her breath.” He recalled how he thought it would turn out. Ozlo turning them to normal… Then hiding in a sewer or hovel somewhere while he tied her up and strapped her to his back. Not at first mind you. First, he would have held onto her until she made a decision.
Fextor blinked. Two enormous otyughs battled in the tube in front of him. They were larger than he imagined possible. Remembering his state he scowled and charged headlong through them. “Four. Four choices. And I woulda honored ‘em. To the extent she deserved ‘em.” Ozlo was to choose her destiny, but her life depended on her making her own oath… to Fextor. “One, she could swear the oath… on her honor, on her life, and on her grandmama’s life to help me kill Finister. Heck I would’ve even captured the grail and killed her grandmama for her outta kindness, if she’d have swore. Then we would go and hire one some REAL warriors. Ones willin’ to do whatever it took, t’ kill whoever needed killin.”
There was more movement ahead. The sewage was picking up speed too. “Two, she coulda just plain admitted that she and the others had failed. Failed her grandmama. And failed me. Bigtime!” Fextor clenched his fists. “Then I would promise her a quick death – with the axe.” More shadows moved up behind him. Fextor saw spiders, large ones. But these were not nebulous like the otyughs. They leapt as Fextor changed direction moving into the stone above. “Or third, she coulda NOT admitted her failure and I coulda taken my time in killing her.” He grinned menacingly as he floated up to street level near the edge of town.
“Or last…” Fextor floated south a few yards above the street all the while scanning for spiders. “I woulda offered her a chance for freedom. To leave 1000’s of miles away from there. And t’ promise never to return, not to look for me, her grandmama, and t’ ferget the sword of truth ever existed!” That was to be the test Fextor knew. If Ozlo had picked that choice, he would have killed her on the spot. “Honorless curr!”
Fextor saw a figure jumping up and down at the watchtower as he floated over the town wall. He was pointing at him.
Fextor dropped the dead paladin’s carcass and retrieved the Sword of Truth from it.
This was the end. They had been on the verge of finally pulverizing that drow banshee witch when the crazy kender-fool tripped the doortrap. Finister had been close… very close. “What ‘n blazin’ Hells am I to do now?” thought Fextor to himself. “Those dupes deserved to die! They failed - failed to kill the drow, failed to get the grail, and failed me too. Let ‘em rot! …or crumble…”
He looked around him. Fextor made out the hazy outlines of the human sun God’s temple in the overworld. Ozlo had popped the two of them out at least. But she was badly hurt. The power of the evil death’s orb had drained her and the druid’s bolstering magic would soon wear off. The little woman popped off the cap of her only vial of healing and gulped down the contents. Fextor wondered if he should give her one of his own healing potions. Her transportation ability was very useful. He considered her new form for a second. She didn’t look like the same person at all to him, the small gnome named Sully he had come to call friend. The druid’s magic had transformed her… twisted the he to a she and the gnome to underling [the dark Halfling race]. This only served to remind him of his own transformation.
~ it had all started so well… his escape from slavery with the help of his new friends…. Sully especially had seemed trustworthy… and over a few weeks time they had traveled and fought by each others’ sides… until the one night when they were ambushed by the dark city’s ghoulish dead… both he and Sully fell… he went to Dwarfhome, which made no sense now… then both were called back from death’s end to the drow city by the druid woman… Fextor had been fortunate: he was still a dwarf - no thanks to Moradin… but the curse of his new face rankled… a mocking joke by the dwarven Gods no doubt… Finister would deride him endlessly for this… Sully, however, was now Ozlo… another joke of course… it at that point Fextor knew… the gnome had enchanted him… the entire length of their friendship… plans of revenge brewed in his mind… the “friends” he thought he knew slowly, one-by-one cheated him… they were simply more overworlders trying to prove their Gods right… he had decided to fool them until the time for revenge came… they were still useful in reaching his brother… and they still believed the nonsense about him being a dwarven justiciar... just as the drow had to his own detriment… but then the kender tried to poison him… right after the golem’s breath… when he died he went someplace very dark… until he was blinded by the damnable sun priest... ~
“Fextor?”
The dwarf shook himself back to reality – or what passed for it currently. “What are we going to do now?” Ozlo asked.
Fextor looked around. “Let’s get outta here. This place is too damn bright.” The two discussed where to go in the ethereal plane. Eventually they settled on the Windlord’s Rest. Fextor looked around the common room at the dim shapes sitting and drinking. “Now the ale’s as thin as it tastes!” he jested. The halfling didn’t laugh.
“I might have a way to get us back to normal,” said Ozlo, “but it’s going to be difficult.”
“Fine by me,” said Fextor. He was already thinking of what to do once he had the woman alone. Plans needed to made and quickly. Revenge was finally at hand.
“But first… I want you to swear an oath that you will help me get the grail and finish the quest to save my grandmother.”
“What?” Fextor balked. “Can’t we do that AFTER ya save us and change us back t’ normal?” But he saw the resolve in the woman’s eye. Something had happened. Perhaps he had tipped his cards too early. Ozlo was no longer oblivious to his schemes.
”No. We need to take the oath now,” she answered. “And we should swear to save our friends too and change them back from stone.”
Fextor could barely contain himself. “What’s that!” he exclaimed pointing behind Ozlo’s shoulder. “We’ve got company!” Ozlo whipped around as Fextor took a fighting stance. He reached out for the little halflng’s neck with her back turned. “Now I gotcha!” But he didn’t. By some inexplicable twist of fate she had wrestled away. In the next second she disappeared.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Fextor hung around, poised… waiting… After a few minutes he felt sure Ozlo was gone, “for a while anyways. She’ll be back, I’m bettin’.” Fextor took stock of his food and items. There was enough to last him three and a half weeks, but no means of contacting the other side.
He began cursing himself for his stroke of bad luck. “She was in m’ hands! I swear! If only I had her for just a half-second, I coulda held on for eternity. Then she couldn’a gone nowhere without me.” Fextor remembered back to the time when he fought the vulture-demon. It had almost carried him away – back to hell he had thought – before he pulled away. He felt sure he could have hung on to Ozlo.
“I should just taken m’ axe to her face,” he thought to himself as he sunk into the common room’s floor. “I was gettin’ too soft. I was startin’ to like ‘im again.” Below the inn was a basement and then the sewers of Tilverton. Ethereally he could neither touch nor smell his surroundings. “Yep. She’d have taken us anywhere, but in the end she woulda turned us back t’ normal. Damn! If she hadn’t ask me to swear tha oath. What trickery! She had this in mind all along, I bet. That ex-gnome’s is vile as they come. Sweet one minute, poison the next” Fextor rose higher to keep his head above the sewage. It was almost to the ceiling in most places. He began floating down the pipe.
“Ain’t no oath I’m takin’ for her benefit! Like any one of ‘em was worth more than a spit in the wind. And their own oaths even less. Not a beard among ‘em!” Fextor found a sewer junction and followed the combined flow down another tunnel. “One bloody hand. One grasp. Then she woulda been make oaths… up and down fer all her breath.” He recalled how he thought it would turn out. Ozlo turning them to normal… Then hiding in a sewer or hovel somewhere while he tied her up and strapped her to his back. Not at first mind you. First, he would have held onto her until she made a decision.
Fextor blinked. Two enormous otyughs battled in the tube in front of him. They were larger than he imagined possible. Remembering his state he scowled and charged headlong through them. “Four. Four choices. And I woulda honored ‘em. To the extent she deserved ‘em.” Ozlo was to choose her destiny, but her life depended on her making her own oath… to Fextor. “One, she could swear the oath… on her honor, on her life, and on her grandmama’s life to help me kill Finister. Heck I would’ve even captured the grail and killed her grandmama for her outta kindness, if she’d have swore. Then we would go and hire one some REAL warriors. Ones willin’ to do whatever it took, t’ kill whoever needed killin.”
There was more movement ahead. The sewage was picking up speed too. “Two, she coulda just plain admitted that she and the others had failed. Failed her grandmama. And failed me. Bigtime!” Fextor clenched his fists. “Then I would promise her a quick death – with the axe.” More shadows moved up behind him. Fextor saw spiders, large ones. But these were not nebulous like the otyughs. They leapt as Fextor changed direction moving into the stone above. “Or third, she coulda NOT admitted her failure and I coulda taken my time in killing her.” He grinned menacingly as he floated up to street level near the edge of town.
“Or last…” Fextor floated south a few yards above the street all the while scanning for spiders. “I woulda offered her a chance for freedom. To leave 1000’s of miles away from there. And t’ promise never to return, not to look for me, her grandmama, and t’ ferget the sword of truth ever existed!” That was to be the test Fextor knew. If Ozlo had picked that choice, he would have killed her on the spot. “Honorless curr!”
Fextor saw a figure jumping up and down at the watchtower as he floated over the town wall. He was pointing at him.
Olgar Shiverstone
Legend
Ryan, we hardly knew ye.
But diaglo -- didn't you finish the story hour? The last 5 months or so of game, including the conclusion of the campaign, appear to be missing.
Here's what the Dm's up to now ...
But diaglo -- didn't you finish the story hour? The last 5 months or so of game, including the conclusion of the campaign, appear to be missing.
Here's what the Dm's up to now ...
the Jester
Legend
I think it was lost in the crash. 
I too remember more than this, though...
I too remember more than this, though...
the Jester
Legend
diaglo said:yeah, the crash took them.
You don't by any chance have them in Word or anything so you could just cut and paste, do you?
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