NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2844339" data-attributes="member: 1210">Who would have thought our heroes could rise so high?  Certainly, none of them ever anticipated this ceremony in the baron’s own hall, and certainly none of them ever expected to be so greatly rewarded for their efforts.  None of them ever thought, until the last few days, that their efforts could be so pivotal in something so important, so large, as a war.But the war is over, now; the Tydonian forces are withdrawing so quickly that it is nearly a rout.  They have obviously learned that the archway is lost to them.  The archway presumably led from Tydon to the heart of the Dipper in southern Kamenda, though nobody is positive about that (since nobody actually went through the archway), and the Tydonian forces used it to bring their reinforcements in from an unlikely angle.  Now the archway lies shattered in the marsh, with its defenders’ corpses strewn about in the muck.  Our heroes have slain them and destroyed the archway.  The Tydonian forces are not sticking around to feel the full wrath of Kamenda’s forces when their food runs low.  They have very little in the way of a supply train (as they had counted on the portal to allow easy transportation of food and materiel), and no secured route of escape.  The journey home for them will be dangerous, full of harassment, arrows and sling stones.  But all that is in a distant portion of our heroes’ minds.  Now they are focused on one thing: the ceremony that is bestowing upon them the rewards that they have earned.Beneath Baron Rusk’s grand hall, our heroes stand proudly.  They are bathed, brushed and primped.  They wear clean clothing for the first time in a week or more.  They are perfumed and combed.  The proper amount of makeup has been applied.  Their weapons are polished, their armor oiled and buffed.  A large audience of knights, courtiers and peasants watches, beaming at our heroes.  Smiling at them, Sir Martin intones, “You have done great service to the Barony of Kamenda.  You have done great service to Baron Rusk.  And you have done great service for the Kamendan people.  Your aid has been pivotal: without you, our enemies would still have a direct path to the heart of Kamenda.”  He beams at them.  “I am very proud of you, and more than pleased to present you with suitable rewards.”Pages step forward, pinning on the breast of each of our heroes a medal celebrating their valor.  Sir Martin announces, “You have all earned this medal.  You have fought hard and well, traveled through dangerous areas to overcome our adversaries, and risked your lives to oppose the Tydonian scum who would have destroyed us.”  Applause wells up around the party from the courtiers.“Furthermore,” Sir Martin continues formally, “I hereby announce that, by the will of Baron Rusk himself, those of you who are not already gentrified are hereby raised to the gentry, entitling you to own land for yourself, as well as for your liege.”Our heroes gasp, save for Sir Cedric, who is already a noble.  The right to own land sets them fundamentally apart from their previous lives!  No longer are they of the peasantry, bound to their lord and their land.  Now they can own a plot of their own, or perhaps even more!  Dahlia wonders if this might formalize her ownership of the ruined Castle Laagos- a boon she had asked of Sir Martin previously.  Baron Rusk beams at them from his baronial chair, a great seat of oak filigreed with silver and inlaid with precious stones.  He seems excited and full of joy, as well he should be: had things gone too much worse, he would likely be a head on a pike now.  He nods slightly to Dahlia, and her pulse quickens.  She finds herself more than pleased when Sir Martin goes on in ceremonial tones, “I hereby bequeath upon Dahlia ownership of the Castle Laagos.  With this,” he warns, “goes a great responsibility.  She must defend her land and her liege with all her might- not that she has not done so already.”Dahlia grins, her normal reserve and discomfit and being around so many people at once breaking down before the swell of gratification that rises from her chest.Sir Martin smiles again.  “Jorgen Boatwright, step forward.”The Sheriff of Whitewater does so, looking uncertain but proud.Sir Martin draws his sword.  “Kneel,” he commands.  Jorgen’s eyes widen as he obeys, unable to speak.  He recognizes the great honor about to be bestowed upon him.  “I dub thee Sir Jorgen,” he declares, smacking the flat of his blade onto Jorgen’s shoulders and head.  Jorgen’s head swims.  He has just been knighted!  He never dreamed it was possible, and yet... there it is!“Fwaigo Smith, step forward.”Goer blushes at the use of his proper name, but he bites his lip and steps forward.  At Sir Martin’s bidding, he kneels.  He is in shock as the liege lord he has served his entire life knights him.  I’m not a squire anymore, he realizes with shock.  I’m a knight, now.  Sir Fwaigo.  A knight...  He shakes his head.  I won’t be able to go by Goer anymore, except amongst my friends.  But I’m a knight!Colder is called up next.  When he steps back in line with the other members of the party, he has become Sir Colder.  His face is as shocked and awed as those of the other two.  Then an odd thing happens, as Sir Martin speaks up next, calling an unfamiliar name.“Percival, step forward.”Percival?  Who’s that? wonders Kyle.  And Me steps forward.  The others realize with a shock that the fellow that they have called “Me” for the last week or more has a different name.  Me isn’t his name: he just isn’t able to pronounce his own name!  (Our heroes have noted that Me seems to be limited to words of two syllables or less.)  But now they know his real name: Percival.  And suddenly, Percival is not enough: he is Sir Percival, and surely he has earned his title.  Me- Percival- is a knight now.“Sir Percival and Sir Colder,” Sir Martin continues, “you are both hereby promoted to the rank of Knight-Captain in the forces of the barony.  Do not shirk your responsibilities, nor abuse your privileges.”  The two of them nod, overwhelmed at the honors bestowed upon them.“Finally,” Sir Martin says, looking at his son, “with the disgrace of Sir Harth, I will be joining the baron’s council.  This means I must needs be absent from Whitewater for extended periods of time.”  His tone becomes suddenly less formal.  “I am passing the day to day administration of our land to you, son.  I am naming you Lord of Whitewater.”“What!” exclaims Sir Cedric, suddenly paying close attention.  He is quite intoxicated, and cannot believe his ears.  “But father, what of my brother?”*“You will have an heir,” Sir Martin states firmly.  Left unsaid is the fear that Cedric’s older brother will not.  “Beyond that, your achievements are incredible, and you deserve a commensurate reward.”Sir Cedric can’t seem to gather his (drunken) thoughts at first.  After gaping for a moment, he protests, but Sir Martin is not to be swayed.  He tells his son, “You must protect Whitewater as best you can.  You yourself have seen the kind of dangers that surround the town.”“But what of my adventureth?  May I thtill go on thothe?” Cedric asks.“You must protect Whitewater, son.  If you leave, you must appoint a caretaker seneschal to watch over our land.”“Oh, a thenethal.  I thee,” Sir Cedric nods.  His brow furrows in concentration and he goes silent, pondering his father’s words.Baron Rusk stands up.  “Congratulations, all of you- and thank you.”  He grins at our heroes and squeaks, “Thanks in no small part to you, we’ve beaten the damn Tydonians back!”  Cheering erupts from the audience at the baron’s words, and our heroes and heroines grin at each other.  They’ve done it!  They have defended their baron and their homeland!And for months, all is well.***The wizard who had been helping the Tydonians guard the arch had a book- a very interesting one at that.  Written in Elven, it was called the Book of Forbidden Knowledge.  It was heavily notated in Tydonian.  Together, Kyle and Otis poured through it, translating the interesting bits for the others....our folk looked far away, across the gulfes of space and tyme, through vast distances to dimensions far and far away.  Through the centuries our diviners ferreted out more and more of the secrets outside reality.  It would be our salvation in the end.  Our wizards developed more and more mighty magicks, delved deeper and deeper into lore unknown by mortals.  Compacts with far beings allowed us a greater and greater vision of the true nature of reality...  To the side in Tydonian: Taught magic to them?  How long ago?  Above it, the notation Far x2 in the same Tydonian hand.  To the other side, Elves = secret of immortality?  Never shared!...tensions built over the centuries as the other nations ceased cleaving closely to the elf-ways. The human wizards, fearing the things we had learned, began attempting to cast down our works.  The greatest assembilage of magical power in twenty thousand years struck out at us, and soon all the terrible disasters began.  The Invisible Playgue was first, and it led directly to the War of Wishes and then the Transvalent Storm.  After that the conflict only worsened until the very continents and islands began to be broken and melted down.  Though victorey was possible, it would not come without a terrible price- one too terrible to pay...To the side, in Tydonian: Power must be centralized to avoid mistakes like this.  *Only us*...they decided to depart.  Some few of use would not go; we elected to remain behind, but most decided to wend their way through the Gates of Glass and Fire when the comet blazed overhead.  Those of us unsure of the wisdom of this policy begged them to leave weapons and items of power behind against the need of their return some day, but whether they did or not I cannot say...On the left of this passage: ”Ancient hubris of Elder Elves?” (from book of Elven history)?  On the right: How many stayed?  Hidden enclaves?...when the black moon rose into the sky, as it does every seven years on New Year’s Even, they chanted the spell and performed the sacryfice.  The Sword of Sacryfice was necessary, and the life’s blood of an elf; a terrible price, but those departing all drew lots.  With the proper numerological roles filled, the ritual proceeded perfectly.  The sacryfice’s blood opened the gate at the Tower of Inverness and our people left our plane...Sword of Sacryfice = Glass Blade?  Glassteel?  Or something else?Another notation in the margin: Subtitute?  Ghost Tower?  Inverness = Battle Rise?The book becomes more disturbing near the end.  Very much so indeed....a few of them have come back, but they’ve changed.  The touch of things material can burn them, and sometymes they are born deformed and translucent.  I fear that our people have changed beyond recognition......I am afraid.  Most of the others that stayed behind are gone, missing or vanished; and the humans in this area, a piece of a kingdom calling itself Pellinsia, have a wizard on their side, one that they keep in a box.  A weasel decorates it.  I pray I am wrong, but I suspect it may be Hologrim......I must put these writings away for the last tyme.  I dare not return here.  My former people, elves no longer, seek me from the shadows and from within strange anghles.  I must flee, forever.  This will be the final entry in this tome, which I have upon reflection determined to call the Book of Forbidden Knowledge, for never again must the powers of the elves be called forth.  Entire continents were sunken beneath the waves by our arrogance.  Our magical playgues ended forever hundreds of species.  Worst of all is what happened to my folk...Kyle lets out a low whistle and closes the book.  He shivers.  ***Sir Cedric and Cara have a baby on 11/2/272 A.F.  The birth is hard, but not too hard, and Dahlia stands ready to help.  She is not necessary, however; Ovina, Whitewater’s priestess, is enough help for this. Dahlia Shikexil is her name.  Shikexil... sometimes Sir Cedric wonders if Otis did the right thing in turning the elf over to the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign.  Jorgen- no, Sir Jorgen- occasionally thinks on the matter of the elf and curses his luck.  He actually ran into the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign while heading back to Kamenda City after capturing Dalgen, the villain who had kept Jorgen’s sister prisoner in his basement for years.  It is quite possible that the Keepers had held the elf in their wagons when the sheriff encountered them.  Shikexil might have been only yards away, for all he knows.  (And indeed, to add insult to injury, the elf had been only yards away in a wagon.)  But at the time, Jorgen had had every reason to believe that Kyle still had the limbless elf.  He curses aloud each time he replays that meeting, that missed opportunity.  His face twists in a frown when he wonders what the Keepers have done with the elf.  “Killed him, perhaps,” Jorgen mutters to himself, and then sighs. As the new year comes closer and closer, soon only a month away, the party assembles again.  “New year’s eve at the ghost tower,” states Jorgen.  “We can take out the rest of the black magic cult that Sir Harth was involved with.”“If they go,” points out Kyle.  “We’ve interfered with them quite a bit.  Who knows whether they will still go to the tower?  What if we’ve scared them off?”“Not likely,” snorts Sir Colder.“I believe we will see them there,” states Otis.“We should try to get there about a week early, or at least a few days,” opines Goer- er, Sir Fwaigo.  “They probably aren’t going to wait for the last minute.”“That’th a very good idea!”  Sir Cedric takes a deep drink from his cup.“I have to agree,” nods Dahlia.  “Besides, if they’re already there, we might need a little time to take care of them.  If we get there at the last minute, we might find that we’re too late- we can’t stop them in time.”  Beneath her breath, she mumbles, “A nice place like that in the middle of nowhere, they should leave it for the hermits.  One of use could fix it up nice, I bet.”“It’th thettled, then!” declares Sir Cedric.  “We thall leave in time to arrive about a week before the end of the year!  And by the power of my pinky finger, we thall finith off these black thorthererth onthe and for all!!”And, late in the year, our heroes mount up and leave sleepy Whitewater for the Rise of Battle and to the Ghost Tower atop it.Next Time: The Ghost Tower!*Sir Cedric has an older brother, whom we have not yet seen in game but we have talked about.  This brother is a ‘saved slot’ for a pc to take at some point in this campaign (there are only so many available ‘slots’ for pcs in Whitewater, though there are also some pcs not from Whitewater.  Er, I guess there have been two- Cur Sed Seed and Colder.  Anyway, Cedric and his father (Sir Martin) had a conversation once that implied Cedric’s brother is unable (or unwilling) to have children.</blockquote>

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