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Barrow of the Forgotten Story Hour - Complete! 8/13/08
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<blockquote data-quote="Abciximab" data-source="post: 4290024" data-attributes="member: 46017"><p>Bootsy – 6th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.</p><p>Celtir – 7th Level Elven Cleric.</p><p>Frankie – 7th Level Dwarven Barbarian.</p><p>Tristan – 7th Level Human Paladin.</p><p>Wencis – 7th Level Aasimar Incarnate.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Deliverance</strong></p><p></p><p>The call had come again and once again they were gathered before the pavilion of The Taskmaster. It was happening with such frequency now that Clora was sure that soon they would all be dead. There were too few of them left to work the fields to supply enough food for the fortress and the remaining slaves. They chose the strongest men and now were even taking what few children there were, leaving mostly women and the sick and feeble behind. Their numbers had been reduced to a point where it seemed the Masters were no longer concerned about maintaining the slave population. Whatever was happening within the fortress, the slaves had reached the end of their usefulness to the Masters. Clora looked around as the remaining slaves gathered in front of the Taskmasters tent, forming up in rough lines so that slaves could be selected to “serve the Masters within”. </p><p></p><p>Was that a flash from the hill? That often indicated the arrival of new slaves, but they had not seen any new arrivals in quite some time. The Masters had turned their attention elsewhere. They appeared to have other priorities now. Something big was happening within the fortress and whatever it was it did not bode well for the remaining slaves. </p><p></p><p>She looked toward the hill, across the stream, from where all new slaves were brought into the small village in the secluded valley where they all lived, worked and often died under the Masters whips. A life of suffering followed by a violent death or even worse, whatever fate befell those chosen to go within the fortress. Better to die out here in the fields under the open sky. Clora had lost all hope and found herself wishing for death to claim her. </p><p></p><p><em>There on the hill, there is someone there,</em> she thought. It looked like a small group, a half a dozen figures maybe. They were too far away to be sure. <em>Fresh slaves. Our lives have just become even less important.</em></p><p></p><p>The Masters were among them now, choosing those they felt would meet their needs within the fortress, whatever they might be. A cry and the sounds of a struggled brought her attention back to the gathering of slaves.</p><p></p><p><em>Oh gods, they’re taking Dhara’s son!</em></p><p></p><p>Dhara and her son had arrived with the last group of slaves brought to the valley over a year ago. Her teenage son had been a hard worker in the fields and their experience as cattle farmers had made them too useful to be killed. Now the Masters had selected him and were trying to drag him away, even as Dhara tried to pull him back. Resisting the Masters was a serious crime for a slave and always brought about terrible punishment to the offenders and any who were perceived as taking part. It was unwise to stand too close to any slave who caused trouble.</p><p></p><p>Watching Dhara struggle and plead to save the life of her only son, Clora felt tears rolling down her face. She had thought she had none left to shed. Truly, there was no hope, only death. She prayed it would come quickly for them all.</p><p></p><p>Then, the fletching of a crossbow bolt seemed to sprout from the wooden wall of the pavilion, right next to one of the Masters. A fraction of a second later an arrow took another one of the Masters, the one who was trying to drag off Dhara’s son, through the throat and he dropped to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Looking back toward the hill she saw a strange Sight. A man in shining armor, wielding a black sword was charging toward them on the back of a huge wolf. Then all hell broke loose as the Masters started to yell and all the slaves dropped to the ground in fear of what might happen.</p><p></p><p>Clora, unable to contain her curiosity, looked up to see what was happening. One of the masters was casting and the plants and grass around the man on wolf-back started to twist and twine around the wolf’s legs. The other two fired arrows that flew wide of their mark. In the blink of an eye Griffon-Eater appeared. The huge snake sprung from the well and snatched the man from the wolf and started squeezing the life out of him. His large wolf turned and bit at the snake, in an attempt to free the man.</p><p></p><p>Then she saw the others further back. An Elf appeared from behind The Box, an iron cell where disobedient slaves were punished, left to bake in the heat of the day. The Elf launched another arrow, wounding another of the Masters. Charging up to the group were a Dwarf and a Human, no not Human, there was something about him that seemed different though she could not place it. Further back was a… child? No not a child, a Gnome launching another crossbow bolt.</p><p></p><p>The wolf was biting at Griffon-Eater over and over, trying to save his master, who was struggling to free himself. It seemed a hopeless cause, fighting against the strength of the great snake. The Dwarf and the Man were attacking another of the Masters with axe and hammer. It seemed their skill would win out, but Clora knew what was to come. More specifically she knew who would come. </p><p></p><p>No sooner had the thought entered her mind then she appeared. The Taskmaster stepped from her pavilion to see what was causing the disturbance. Almost as soon as she stepped out, an arrow seemed to pass right through the space she was occupying as if she wasn’t there. Hissing in anger at such impudence from a lesser creature she launched her retaliatory strike. A bolt of lightning flashed through the ranks of slaves, killing two of them instantly. It continued on almost faster than the eye could follow coming within a hairs-breadth of the Elven archer. He seemed a little frazzled from the effects of the bolt but still stood. </p><p></p><p>Then two magical bolts flew from the Gnome and struck at the Taskmaster, eliciting even more hissing and cursing. The Dwarf and the Man had finished the Master and were running up to confront the Taskmaster. Axe and hammer seemed to pass right through the image of the Taskmaster and she answered with two rays of flame that burned at the dwarf. Such fools. They didn’t stand a chance. She prayed they would not suffer unnecessarily.</p><p></p><p>Then something strange happened. A huge ball of fire burst near Griffon-Eater, burning him badly. Distracted by the pain, the snake did not see the wolf as it leapt. Its jaws latched onto the snake’s throat and tore it out. Clora watched in amazement as the horrid snake that had been one of the many banes of their existence, dropped to the ground. Even more amazing, the man who had been wrapped in Griffon-Eaters coils stood up. He was still alive. </p><p></p><p>With another hiss, the Taskmaster faded from sight. The man seemed to concentrate for a moment, then rushed forward and appeared to strike something that could not be seen. Could it have been the Taskmaster? Could these people actually harm her? The Dwarf also charged and struck down another one of the masters. The Taskmaster reappeared farther away where she launched a Lightning Bolt at the wolf. It caught the brunt of the bolt but still lived. Another burst of flame roared around the Taskmasters burning her horribly, then a small storm of bright energy seemed to surround her, flashing and flaring, the energy of the storm seemed to burn her even more. After only a few seconds of this, the Taskmaster fell. </p><p></p><p>The last remaining Master dropped his bow that he had been using ineffectively against these strangers and drew his scimitar, cutting down one of the chained slaves. The strangers charged him and he quickly joined his fallen allies in death. </p><p></p><p>The Elf ran forward, raising his bow above his head and calling out in his native tongue. A small symbol on the bow flashed bright and Clora reflexively closed her eyes as the burst of light filled her vision. When she opened them she could not believe what she saw. The strangers stood victorious, some of their wounds healed by the burst. Garish, the slave who had been struck down by one of the Masters sat up, his wounds completely healed. </p><p></p><p>Who where these people who had defeated not just the Masters, but also the Taskmaster and her pet snake? Clora was shocked beyond words and there was something else. Another emotion slowly started to creep into her mind as she watched these people walk among them with a mix of concern and righteous anger etched upon their faces. </p><p></p><p>Hope.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">----------</p><p></p><p>As the slaves dispersed, the companions noted that they seemed to hold the attention of one of the women. Celtir finally approached her. “Greetings, I am Celtir and these are my companions, Wencis, Frankie, Bootsy and Tristan,” he said as he indicated each of his companions in turn. </p><p></p><p>“I am Clora,” she answered in a voice choked with emotion. </p><p></p><p>Celtir smiled warmly, “Do you speak for these people?”</p><p></p><p>“They look to me for guidance, though there is little I can offer them.”</p><p></p><p>“Can you tell me what is going on here?” Celtir asked, as he looked around at the appalling conditions around them.</p><p></p><p>“We are slaves to the snake-men who live within the castle. It is called Serastis, a horrible place. We raise crops and cattle to feed ourselves and our Masters, though our numbers grow few and we are poorly treated. We will not be able to sustain ourselves much longer.”</p><p></p><p>Frankie came up behind them. “Humph. You’d think they would take better care of those that supply their food.”</p><p></p><p>“We have always been driven hard and allowed little rest to leave us too weak to consider escape. None of us knows exactly where we are. All of us were brought here from other locations through a magical portal to this valley. They used to be more careful with our lives, only killing those they felt were too strong or were considered troublesome. Something has changed recently though. Now they take many of us into the castle for some unknown purpose. Many more snake-men have been coming and going from the castle. Whatever horrors that place contains, they seem to be escalating.”</p><p></p><p>Tristan joined them, his face showing his anger at the treatment of these people. “Well, you are free now. None of you will come to harm you as long as I still live and these snake people will pay for their crimes against you.”</p><p></p><p>She looked upon the man’s noble features and while her heart wanted to believe his words, she was still filled with too much fear of the Masters. “We appreciate all you have done, but we have nowhere to go. We could not travel far enough or fast enough to get away. The Masters would just hunt us down. We pray for your success, but as long as the snake-men rule castle Serastis, we remain as slaves.”</p><p></p><p>Tristan just looked at her and gave a grim smile. “You will be free.”</p><p></p><p>Celtir smiled at her as well, “We have had a long road, is there someplace we could rest?”</p><p></p><p>“The snake-men have a hard time telling us apart, we may be able to hide you for a time. You can stay in the men’s quarters, there should be plenty of room since most have been taken.”</p><p></p><p>Celtir placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure it will suit our needs. If you have need of us for any reason, you know where to find us. We will be here. We will fight for you.”</p><p></p><p>Tristan drew Merthuvial from its sheath and brought the blade up in salute, “And we will win.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Abciximab, post: 4290024, member: 46017"] Bootsy – 6th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter. Celtir – 7th Level Elven Cleric. Frankie – 7th Level Dwarven Barbarian. Tristan – 7th Level Human Paladin. Wencis – 7th Level Aasimar Incarnate. [CENTER][B]Deliverance[/B][/CENTER] The call had come again and once again they were gathered before the pavilion of The Taskmaster. It was happening with such frequency now that Clora was sure that soon they would all be dead. There were too few of them left to work the fields to supply enough food for the fortress and the remaining slaves. They chose the strongest men and now were even taking what few children there were, leaving mostly women and the sick and feeble behind. Their numbers had been reduced to a point where it seemed the Masters were no longer concerned about maintaining the slave population. Whatever was happening within the fortress, the slaves had reached the end of their usefulness to the Masters. Clora looked around as the remaining slaves gathered in front of the Taskmasters tent, forming up in rough lines so that slaves could be selected to “serve the Masters within”. Was that a flash from the hill? That often indicated the arrival of new slaves, but they had not seen any new arrivals in quite some time. The Masters had turned their attention elsewhere. They appeared to have other priorities now. Something big was happening within the fortress and whatever it was it did not bode well for the remaining slaves. She looked toward the hill, across the stream, from where all new slaves were brought into the small village in the secluded valley where they all lived, worked and often died under the Masters whips. A life of suffering followed by a violent death or even worse, whatever fate befell those chosen to go within the fortress. Better to die out here in the fields under the open sky. Clora had lost all hope and found herself wishing for death to claim her. [I]There on the hill, there is someone there,[/I] she thought. It looked like a small group, a half a dozen figures maybe. They were too far away to be sure. [I]Fresh slaves. Our lives have just become even less important.[/I] The Masters were among them now, choosing those they felt would meet their needs within the fortress, whatever they might be. A cry and the sounds of a struggled brought her attention back to the gathering of slaves. [I]Oh gods, they’re taking Dhara’s son![/I] Dhara and her son had arrived with the last group of slaves brought to the valley over a year ago. Her teenage son had been a hard worker in the fields and their experience as cattle farmers had made them too useful to be killed. Now the Masters had selected him and were trying to drag him away, even as Dhara tried to pull him back. Resisting the Masters was a serious crime for a slave and always brought about terrible punishment to the offenders and any who were perceived as taking part. It was unwise to stand too close to any slave who caused trouble. Watching Dhara struggle and plead to save the life of her only son, Clora felt tears rolling down her face. She had thought she had none left to shed. Truly, there was no hope, only death. She prayed it would come quickly for them all. Then, the fletching of a crossbow bolt seemed to sprout from the wooden wall of the pavilion, right next to one of the Masters. A fraction of a second later an arrow took another one of the Masters, the one who was trying to drag off Dhara’s son, through the throat and he dropped to the ground. Looking back toward the hill she saw a strange Sight. A man in shining armor, wielding a black sword was charging toward them on the back of a huge wolf. Then all hell broke loose as the Masters started to yell and all the slaves dropped to the ground in fear of what might happen. Clora, unable to contain her curiosity, looked up to see what was happening. One of the masters was casting and the plants and grass around the man on wolf-back started to twist and twine around the wolf’s legs. The other two fired arrows that flew wide of their mark. In the blink of an eye Griffon-Eater appeared. The huge snake sprung from the well and snatched the man from the wolf and started squeezing the life out of him. His large wolf turned and bit at the snake, in an attempt to free the man. Then she saw the others further back. An Elf appeared from behind The Box, an iron cell where disobedient slaves were punished, left to bake in the heat of the day. The Elf launched another arrow, wounding another of the Masters. Charging up to the group were a Dwarf and a Human, no not Human, there was something about him that seemed different though she could not place it. Further back was a… child? No not a child, a Gnome launching another crossbow bolt. The wolf was biting at Griffon-Eater over and over, trying to save his master, who was struggling to free himself. It seemed a hopeless cause, fighting against the strength of the great snake. The Dwarf and the Man were attacking another of the Masters with axe and hammer. It seemed their skill would win out, but Clora knew what was to come. More specifically she knew who would come. No sooner had the thought entered her mind then she appeared. The Taskmaster stepped from her pavilion to see what was causing the disturbance. Almost as soon as she stepped out, an arrow seemed to pass right through the space she was occupying as if she wasn’t there. Hissing in anger at such impudence from a lesser creature she launched her retaliatory strike. A bolt of lightning flashed through the ranks of slaves, killing two of them instantly. It continued on almost faster than the eye could follow coming within a hairs-breadth of the Elven archer. He seemed a little frazzled from the effects of the bolt but still stood. Then two magical bolts flew from the Gnome and struck at the Taskmaster, eliciting even more hissing and cursing. The Dwarf and the Man had finished the Master and were running up to confront the Taskmaster. Axe and hammer seemed to pass right through the image of the Taskmaster and she answered with two rays of flame that burned at the dwarf. Such fools. They didn’t stand a chance. She prayed they would not suffer unnecessarily. Then something strange happened. A huge ball of fire burst near Griffon-Eater, burning him badly. Distracted by the pain, the snake did not see the wolf as it leapt. Its jaws latched onto the snake’s throat and tore it out. Clora watched in amazement as the horrid snake that had been one of the many banes of their existence, dropped to the ground. Even more amazing, the man who had been wrapped in Griffon-Eaters coils stood up. He was still alive. With another hiss, the Taskmaster faded from sight. The man seemed to concentrate for a moment, then rushed forward and appeared to strike something that could not be seen. Could it have been the Taskmaster? Could these people actually harm her? The Dwarf also charged and struck down another one of the masters. The Taskmaster reappeared farther away where she launched a Lightning Bolt at the wolf. It caught the brunt of the bolt but still lived. Another burst of flame roared around the Taskmasters burning her horribly, then a small storm of bright energy seemed to surround her, flashing and flaring, the energy of the storm seemed to burn her even more. After only a few seconds of this, the Taskmaster fell. The last remaining Master dropped his bow that he had been using ineffectively against these strangers and drew his scimitar, cutting down one of the chained slaves. The strangers charged him and he quickly joined his fallen allies in death. The Elf ran forward, raising his bow above his head and calling out in his native tongue. A small symbol on the bow flashed bright and Clora reflexively closed her eyes as the burst of light filled her vision. When she opened them she could not believe what she saw. The strangers stood victorious, some of their wounds healed by the burst. Garish, the slave who had been struck down by one of the Masters sat up, his wounds completely healed. Who where these people who had defeated not just the Masters, but also the Taskmaster and her pet snake? Clora was shocked beyond words and there was something else. Another emotion slowly started to creep into her mind as she watched these people walk among them with a mix of concern and righteous anger etched upon their faces. Hope. [CENTER]----------[/CENTER] As the slaves dispersed, the companions noted that they seemed to hold the attention of one of the women. Celtir finally approached her. “Greetings, I am Celtir and these are my companions, Wencis, Frankie, Bootsy and Tristan,” he said as he indicated each of his companions in turn. “I am Clora,” she answered in a voice choked with emotion. Celtir smiled warmly, “Do you speak for these people?” “They look to me for guidance, though there is little I can offer them.” “Can you tell me what is going on here?” Celtir asked, as he looked around at the appalling conditions around them. “We are slaves to the snake-men who live within the castle. It is called Serastis, a horrible place. We raise crops and cattle to feed ourselves and our Masters, though our numbers grow few and we are poorly treated. We will not be able to sustain ourselves much longer.” Frankie came up behind them. “Humph. You’d think they would take better care of those that supply their food.” “We have always been driven hard and allowed little rest to leave us too weak to consider escape. None of us knows exactly where we are. All of us were brought here from other locations through a magical portal to this valley. They used to be more careful with our lives, only killing those they felt were too strong or were considered troublesome. Something has changed recently though. Now they take many of us into the castle for some unknown purpose. Many more snake-men have been coming and going from the castle. Whatever horrors that place contains, they seem to be escalating.” Tristan joined them, his face showing his anger at the treatment of these people. “Well, you are free now. None of you will come to harm you as long as I still live and these snake people will pay for their crimes against you.” She looked upon the man’s noble features and while her heart wanted to believe his words, she was still filled with too much fear of the Masters. “We appreciate all you have done, but we have nowhere to go. We could not travel far enough or fast enough to get away. The Masters would just hunt us down. We pray for your success, but as long as the snake-men rule castle Serastis, we remain as slaves.” Tristan just looked at her and gave a grim smile. “You will be free.” Celtir smiled at her as well, “We have had a long road, is there someplace we could rest?” “The snake-men have a hard time telling us apart, we may be able to hide you for a time. You can stay in the men’s quarters, there should be plenty of room since most have been taken.” Celtir placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure it will suit our needs. If you have need of us for any reason, you know where to find us. We will be here. We will fight for you.” Tristan drew Merthuvial from its sheath and brought the blade up in salute, “And we will win.” [/QUOTE]
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