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Story Hour
(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4015727" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><strong>Inside Firestorm Peak</strong></p><p></p><p>At last!</p><p></p><p>Sir Harth is only moments ahead of our heroes. Victory, at last, is almost within their grasp- if only they can find him and stop him in time, before he brings whatever terrible weapon or weapons that he has obtained back to their home year of 271 A.F.</p><p></p><p><em>This whole thing is madness,</em> reflects Otis Optimus. <em>Somehow Harth managed to figure out a way to travel back in time, to the end of a glorious age of magic, in order to gain weapons to conquer our home time with. We survived his intended sacrificing of us and followed him back in time, but we arrived about two months behind his cronies and him. We’ve been pursuing him ever since, first over the ruins of the lands that will become, in our time, Kamenda and the surrounding territories... and now onto the Isle of the Elves and to this place, Firestorm Peak.</em> He looks around. Everything is dark. But only for a moment. A simple <em>light</em> spell, as well as a torch and a lantern, serve to banish the blackness enough for the party to make out the fact that the cave they have entered is interrupted by a wall that goes only about two thirds of the way to the ceiling. The wall is made of heavy wooden planks, with spikes and barbs sprouting from its surface. Standing atop the wall are two creatures that, but for their height, appear to be dour-looking, grey-skinned dwarves wearing strange, translucent plate armor. However, they are nearly 10’ tall! They shout what sound like threats and start training weapons on the party.</p><p></p><p>“Wait!” cries Dahlia, loading her crossbow. “We’re not here to fight!” </p><p></p><p>It is clear that the dwarves are not heeding her; so Sir Percival (a.k.a. “Me”) springs up the wall and cuts one of the dwarves down in a single blow, while Otis <em>spider climbs</em> up and deals with the other one. </p><p></p><p>“We don’t want to be fighting these dwarves!” Sheriff Jorgen calls to the rest of the party, annoyed. “They’re probably just defending their homes.”</p><p></p><p>“Or they might be under the influence of that beholder,” suggests Kyle. “In which case we don’t have a choice but to fight them.”</p><p></p><p>The party examines the strange armor. It seems to be made of some kind of metal that feels as hard as tempered iron, yet is as translucent as cloudy glass. </p><p></p><p><em>If it’s not Harth, it’s a distraction,</em> they remind themselves. </p><p></p><p>The party keeps moving forward, with the wizards in the fore. (This unusual arrangement has been largely adopted by the party, and quite successfully, in this age of madness.) They soon find themselves skirmishing with the dwarves, who are mostly the size of normal dwarves, but who seem able to render themselves invisible. Evidence of the beholder is plain: there are areas with statues of dwarves, bodies, or sections of walls disintegrated away to allow passage. The party hurriedly follows these whenever they find them. </p><p></p><p>“We are very clothe,” Lord Cedric growls. His cheeks are rosy from wine. “I can thenthe it.”</p><p></p><p>Sir Colder’s hands clench. <em>Sir Harth, you played me for a fool once. You put me in jail and where ready to execute me to fuel your treasonous deceptions. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I hope you are ready for your just desserts.</em></p><p></p><p>“I hear troops moving,” Adelle warns suddenly. </p><p></p><p>Continuing to advance, continuing to skirmish, the party moves further in, coming out on a wide balcony above a huge, dimly-lit plaza. Within the plaza is a marketplace, full of colorful tents and stalls. However, normal commerce seems to have been disrupted: a swath of destruction cuts through the vendors and their wares, and there are a few fights going on down below, but they appear to be between groups of dwarves. It is a confused mess.</p><p></p><p>“Where is he?” growls Sir Fwaigo to himself. “Where’s Harth?” He stares at the crowds below, his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t see the villain anywhere. </p><p></p><p>Then more dwarves are coming at them from the balcony. </p><p></p><p>Again, the party fights off an initial attack while they drop down into the marketplace. There, they finally manage to find someone that they can speak (in Elven) to and make understand that they are here to stop Sir Harth, not to attack the mountain. Desperately, Cedric pulls out the pass the elves gave them and shows it to the dwarves. “Those people fighting- those dwarves- some of them are under the influence of his ally, the beholder,” explains Jorgen. </p><p></p><p>The burly, sullen dwarf examining the papers squints at him. “We know that,” he retorts in choppy Elven. He glares at the party, then hands the papers back and says curtly, “Come with me. I will take you to the Thane.”</p><p></p><p>“We don’t have time for this!” cries Otis. “We must pursue, he is right there, he was <em>just here!</em>”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t trust you, and I am inclined to execute you as spies,” growls the dwarf.</p><p></p><p>Otis subsides to muttering. The dwarven captain that takes charge of them is plainly not the only one who would like to execute them; apparently, humans have little popularity here. </p><p></p><p>The seconds tick away as the dwarves surround our heroes and relieve them of their weapons. Seconds turn to minutes as the dwarves quell the remaining fighting between their own kind, set guards on the exit that the beholder and Sir Harth took and secure their marketplace. During this time, nobody speaks to the party; the dwarven guards just glare at them.</p><p></p><p>Then the group is escorted to an impressive-looking dwarf. Clearly a leader of some kind, he has put more than a few pounds into his belly. He wears a suit of full plate armor of the same translucent metal that is in abundant evidence within the mountain. A great axe hangs from his back. Just behind him, a pair of elves in breastplates with cloudy glass shields stand as guards, advisors or both. They are so alike as to appear to be brother and sister.</p><p></p><p>“I am Stoxis, Thane of the duergar here,” the dwarven leader rumbles in Elven. His voice is very deep, like a barrel full of gravel. He squints at our heroes, studying them intently. “Let me see your papers.”</p><p></p><p>Lord Cedric hands them over. Thanks to Adelle, he speaks in <em>tongues</em>. “The elveth of thith island have granted uth the right to enter here, in purthuit of-”</p><p></p><p>“I will judge what rights you have!” the Thane interrupts harshly. Cedric bites back an angry retort. The dwarf- no, <em>duergar</em>- continues reading the elf-given pass, his lips moving silently. Once he is done, he hands the papers to the elves behind him, who study them carefully. They three of them consult in hushed voices for a few minutes. </p><p></p><p><em>Time is ticking away,</em> Dahlia thinks angrily. <em>We need to get to Harth, or we’ll never get home! Well, even if that happens, at least we are here, with the elves- my own people, at last!</em> Though her face remains expressionless, inside, she feels a great warm exultation. Her entire life, she has always been something of an outcast due to the share of elven blood in her veins. Perhaps here, she can learn more about her heritage- her culture- her blood. And she feels a hot anger, bitter annoyance pushed far past a rational level. Perhaps she can... but Sir Harth must be stopped. Killed, once and for all. And if she can, despite the elves here and her own desire to learn from them, she will return home. <em>This era is full of insanity, and war,</em> she sighs to herself. <em>And, in addition, we know what is going to happen to these elves. The elf that rescued us from Harth on New Years’ Eve told us enough- they will leave our world, and when they return, it will be as those strange, ribbon-dagger wielding...</em> things<em>... that created that cyst back in Goblin Gorge. I can’t be here to see that! What if they turned me into one of them?</em></p><p></p><p>Finally, interrupting the hermit druid’s thoughts, Thane Stoxis turns to the party and speaks again. “Tell me everything,” he demands. “Your ‘Sir Harth’ has come through here and caused us problems already. Tell me <em>everything.</em>” His voice is calm, but there is a distinct undertone of menace in it.</p><p></p><p>“There is no time for this,” Otis protests, but nobody heeds him.</p><p></p><p>Our heroes lay out their tale as quickly as they can, telling Stoxis of Sir Harth’s treachery, his ambitions to rule their time, his beholder ally and their suspicion that exactly who is in charge between them is not as clear as it seems, the cult he led and their New Year’s Eve ritual leading to the activation of the Gates of Glass and Fire, the party’s pursuit to this time and through the blasted wasteland of Palantia (which, in their time, will be known as Pellinsia), and finally, their journey across the Isle of the Elves- Tirkon- to Firestorm Peak.</p><p></p><p>When they are done, the elves and Stoxis confer again. The party is in mental agony. <em>We were so close,</em> thinks Lord Cedric despairingly. <em>Now he has a lead on us again- a lead of at least fifteen minutes.</em></p><p></p><p>Finally, Stoxis turns to them. “Well,” he rumbles. “You must pardon my peoples’ caution. We have been attacked by <em>your kind</em> several times in the last few weeks. Serious incursions, attempting to get at the forges and sources of many of our weapons. (By ‘our’, of course, I mean the island of Tirkon, not specifically my people, or our allies, the elves.)”</p><p></p><p>Kyle grumbles, “I’m not really one of ‘their people,’ you know.” He points at his ears, with their tell-tale tapered points. “I have, uh, a lot of elven blood in me.”</p><p></p><p>“Those of mixed blood,” one of the elves speaks up, “are at least as suspect as full humans.”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks,” mutters Kyle.</p><p></p><p>“Either way, your story rings true, and we have done what we can to check it out. And this human knight with a beholder did indeed come through here, only minutes before you.”</p><p></p><p>“Please, we must stop him before it’s too late!” Sir Colder bursts out.</p><p></p><p>“Me!” Sir Percival agrees, and belches.</p><p></p><p>Thane Stoxis nods. “Yes, we want him stopped as well.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you have any idea what he’s after?” Dahlia asks. “Or how he could plan to get back home, to our time?”</p><p></p><p>The elves exchange a glance. “The Vast Gate,” one of them says tightly. The other nods.</p><p></p><p>“Is that a weapon?” asks Colder. “Or a way home?”</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps both,” the male elf replies. “It is the source of many powerful forms of energy. The flux surrounding it is... impressive.”</p><p></p><p>“And impossible to completely dampen,” Thane Stoxis adds darkly. His frown deepens. “And yet, it seems likely... that is the direction in which your Sir Harth fled. And his beholder had managed to control the minds of several of our people, too; they can <em>guide</em> him deeper in... at least, to the Twisted Caverns.”</p><p></p><p>“The Twisted Caverns?” gulps Kyle. “What are those?”</p><p></p><p>“You’ll see,” Stoxis chuckles.</p><p></p><p>“You thay that thith Vatht Gate can be uthed to return to our time?” Lord Cedric prompts the male elf. </p><p></p><p>He shrugs. “Perhaps. It reaches across vast gulfs of space and time, and even to... <em>beyond.</em> Yet it is incomprehensible, unmasterable, inchoate. It <em>might be</em> possible for you to use it to return home; I am not an expert in it.”</p><p></p><p>“Who is?” asks Dahlia.</p><p></p><p>“The last assault by <em>your people</em> slew our most capable technicians,” Stoxis growls. His brows bunch together. “Be warned! Like them, if you cross us, you will die a lingering, painful death!”</p><p></p><p>“We don’t plan on crossing you!” snaps Goer, trying to maintain a grip on his temper. “We just want to stop Sir Harth and go home!”</p><p></p><p>The Thane nods humorlessly. “Aye, stop him.” He turns to the crowd of duergar that are surrounding the parlay, and singles out two of them that speak Elvish. “These two will be your guides into the Twisted Caverns in pursuit of Harth.” He grins. “And to ensure that you do not attempt any treachery, I will accompany you myself.”</p><p></p><p>“We will go, too,” the female elf speaks up. “We can’t allow a human to reach the Vast Gate.”</p><p></p><p>“Except when we are going home,” Goer interrupts. </p><p></p><p>“Of course,” nods Stoxis. To the elves, he says, “Very well. You may go with us. I want this madman, and especially his beholder, <em>stopped.</em>”</p><p></p><p><em>Is his lead now twenty minutes?</em> wonders Cedric. <em>Thirty? We must have no more delays!</em></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The party, joined by the two elves and the three duergar, proceed quickly from the marketplace, following the trail of the beholder and Sir Harth. There are several bodies, as well as several areas where duergar who were controlled by the beholder have already been subdued by their fellows. The party’s guides lead them through several natural and rough-hewn caverns. Finally, the passage they are following breaches a much larger, perpendicular hallway, lit in many places by phosphorescent fungi. The hall is plainly artificial; but here and there, the surface of the stone shows strange pitting, small holes and other odd deformities. </p><p></p><p>The duergar halt. One of them jerks his thumb to the right. “The Vast Gate is that way,” he mutters. “About a mile or so.”</p><p></p><p>“I thought you were going to guide us,” Sir Colder snaps. Something about this place has his temper on edge. </p><p></p><p>“This is as far as I will go,” the dwarf responds.</p><p></p><p>“Me too,” the other one (who has a patch over one eye) agrees. “These are the Twisted Caverns.” He shudders. “We ain’t going in there any further.”</p><p></p><p>Thane Stoxis nods. “I do not blame you,” he admits, “but <em>I</em> will go further.”</p><p></p><p>“What about you two?” Goer turns to the elves accusingly. “Are you going to rabbit out of here like these cowards?”</p><p></p><p>“We ain’t cowards,” the one-eyed duergar snorts. “<em>You</em> are fools.” With that, the two grey dwarves turn and begin making their way back towards their settlement. </p><p></p><p>“We will accompany you,” the elven sister states. Her brother nods. “Our kind are... more accustomed to the energies of the Vast Gate than the dwarves.”</p><p></p><p><em>I’ll just bet you are,</em> Dahlia thinks. The image of the strange, sick-smelling creatures that the elves will become flashes before her mind’s eye and she shudders.</p><p></p><p>The group continues advancing down the long, wide hall. Here and there, dark forms cling to the ceiling- bats, or something more sinister? The smell of the place is strange, like nothing that they have ever encountered before. Not even the sickly smell of the cyst in Goblin Gorge had any sense of this strange, almost hypnotic, musky aroma. They move carefully, for the ground is uneven in places, and some strange rot seems to grip the stone ever more deeply as they advance. </p><p></p><p>Ahead- a light! They quicken their pace. </p><p></p><p>Yes!</p><p></p><p>Slowly, the form of Sir Harth becomes discernible. The party is careful to avoid giving away their position, but they move as quickly as they can manage. </p><p></p><p><em>Yes!</em> They are catching up to Harth at last! For the second time since they arrived in this terrible era, their enemy is in sight!</p><p></p><p>They close quickly. But Harth is still about a hundred feet ahead when he and his monstrous ally move into a larger, open cave. </p><p></p><p>“HARTH!!!” roars Lord Cedric, hurrying forward. </p><p></p><p>Ahead of them, Sir Harth stiffens and turns around.</p><p></p><p>“You!” he shouts, obviously surprised. “How did you find me here?” Then he cackles, the laugh of a madman. “It doesn’t matter! It is time to kill you, once and for all!” </p><p></p><p>But before he can do anything else, a sudden loud gibbering arises from all around him in the huge cavern, and scores of small, furry, gibbering figures begin pouring towards him and the beholder from all around. And our heroes rush to the attack, knowing that if they do not take him alive, Sir Harth may take the secret of their escape home with him!</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> This is it!! At last, our heroes FIGHT SIR HARTH AND THE BEHOLDER!!!!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4015727, member: 1210"] [b]Inside Firestorm Peak[/b] At last! Sir Harth is only moments ahead of our heroes. Victory, at last, is almost within their grasp- if only they can find him and stop him in time, before he brings whatever terrible weapon or weapons that he has obtained back to their home year of 271 A.F. [i]This whole thing is madness,[/i] reflects Otis Optimus. [i]Somehow Harth managed to figure out a way to travel back in time, to the end of a glorious age of magic, in order to gain weapons to conquer our home time with. We survived his intended sacrificing of us and followed him back in time, but we arrived about two months behind his cronies and him. We’ve been pursuing him ever since, first over the ruins of the lands that will become, in our time, Kamenda and the surrounding territories... and now onto the Isle of the Elves and to this place, Firestorm Peak.[/i] He looks around. Everything is dark. But only for a moment. A simple [i]light[/i] spell, as well as a torch and a lantern, serve to banish the blackness enough for the party to make out the fact that the cave they have entered is interrupted by a wall that goes only about two thirds of the way to the ceiling. The wall is made of heavy wooden planks, with spikes and barbs sprouting from its surface. Standing atop the wall are two creatures that, but for their height, appear to be dour-looking, grey-skinned dwarves wearing strange, translucent plate armor. However, they are nearly 10’ tall! They shout what sound like threats and start training weapons on the party. “Wait!” cries Dahlia, loading her crossbow. “We’re not here to fight!” It is clear that the dwarves are not heeding her; so Sir Percival (a.k.a. “Me”) springs up the wall and cuts one of the dwarves down in a single blow, while Otis [i]spider climbs[/i] up and deals with the other one. “We don’t want to be fighting these dwarves!” Sheriff Jorgen calls to the rest of the party, annoyed. “They’re probably just defending their homes.” “Or they might be under the influence of that beholder,” suggests Kyle. “In which case we don’t have a choice but to fight them.” The party examines the strange armor. It seems to be made of some kind of metal that feels as hard as tempered iron, yet is as translucent as cloudy glass. [i]If it’s not Harth, it’s a distraction,[/i] they remind themselves. The party keeps moving forward, with the wizards in the fore. (This unusual arrangement has been largely adopted by the party, and quite successfully, in this age of madness.) They soon find themselves skirmishing with the dwarves, who are mostly the size of normal dwarves, but who seem able to render themselves invisible. Evidence of the beholder is plain: there are areas with statues of dwarves, bodies, or sections of walls disintegrated away to allow passage. The party hurriedly follows these whenever they find them. “We are very clothe,” Lord Cedric growls. His cheeks are rosy from wine. “I can thenthe it.” Sir Colder’s hands clench. [i]Sir Harth, you played me for a fool once. You put me in jail and where ready to execute me to fuel your treasonous deceptions. I hope you are ready for your just desserts.[/i] “I hear troops moving,” Adelle warns suddenly. Continuing to advance, continuing to skirmish, the party moves further in, coming out on a wide balcony above a huge, dimly-lit plaza. Within the plaza is a marketplace, full of colorful tents and stalls. However, normal commerce seems to have been disrupted: a swath of destruction cuts through the vendors and their wares, and there are a few fights going on down below, but they appear to be between groups of dwarves. It is a confused mess. “Where is he?” growls Sir Fwaigo to himself. “Where’s Harth?” He stares at the crowds below, his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t see the villain anywhere. Then more dwarves are coming at them from the balcony. Again, the party fights off an initial attack while they drop down into the marketplace. There, they finally manage to find someone that they can speak (in Elven) to and make understand that they are here to stop Sir Harth, not to attack the mountain. Desperately, Cedric pulls out the pass the elves gave them and shows it to the dwarves. “Those people fighting- those dwarves- some of them are under the influence of his ally, the beholder,” explains Jorgen. The burly, sullen dwarf examining the papers squints at him. “We know that,” he retorts in choppy Elven. He glares at the party, then hands the papers back and says curtly, “Come with me. I will take you to the Thane.” “We don’t have time for this!” cries Otis. “We must pursue, he is right there, he was [i]just here![/i]” “I don’t trust you, and I am inclined to execute you as spies,” growls the dwarf. Otis subsides to muttering. The dwarven captain that takes charge of them is plainly not the only one who would like to execute them; apparently, humans have little popularity here. The seconds tick away as the dwarves surround our heroes and relieve them of their weapons. Seconds turn to minutes as the dwarves quell the remaining fighting between their own kind, set guards on the exit that the beholder and Sir Harth took and secure their marketplace. During this time, nobody speaks to the party; the dwarven guards just glare at them. Then the group is escorted to an impressive-looking dwarf. Clearly a leader of some kind, he has put more than a few pounds into his belly. He wears a suit of full plate armor of the same translucent metal that is in abundant evidence within the mountain. A great axe hangs from his back. Just behind him, a pair of elves in breastplates with cloudy glass shields stand as guards, advisors or both. They are so alike as to appear to be brother and sister. “I am Stoxis, Thane of the duergar here,” the dwarven leader rumbles in Elven. His voice is very deep, like a barrel full of gravel. He squints at our heroes, studying them intently. “Let me see your papers.” Lord Cedric hands them over. Thanks to Adelle, he speaks in [i]tongues[/i]. “The elveth of thith island have granted uth the right to enter here, in purthuit of-” “I will judge what rights you have!” the Thane interrupts harshly. Cedric bites back an angry retort. The dwarf- no, [i]duergar[/i]- continues reading the elf-given pass, his lips moving silently. Once he is done, he hands the papers to the elves behind him, who study them carefully. They three of them consult in hushed voices for a few minutes. [i]Time is ticking away,[/i] Dahlia thinks angrily. [i]We need to get to Harth, or we’ll never get home! Well, even if that happens, at least we are here, with the elves- my own people, at last![/i] Though her face remains expressionless, inside, she feels a great warm exultation. Her entire life, she has always been something of an outcast due to the share of elven blood in her veins. Perhaps here, she can learn more about her heritage- her culture- her blood. And she feels a hot anger, bitter annoyance pushed far past a rational level. Perhaps she can... but Sir Harth must be stopped. Killed, once and for all. And if she can, despite the elves here and her own desire to learn from them, she will return home. [i]This era is full of insanity, and war,[/i] she sighs to herself. [i]And, in addition, we know what is going to happen to these elves. The elf that rescued us from Harth on New Years’ Eve told us enough- they will leave our world, and when they return, it will be as those strange, ribbon-dagger wielding...[/i] things[i]... that created that cyst back in Goblin Gorge. I can’t be here to see that! What if they turned me into one of them?[/i] Finally, interrupting the hermit druid’s thoughts, Thane Stoxis turns to the party and speaks again. “Tell me everything,” he demands. “Your ‘Sir Harth’ has come through here and caused us problems already. Tell me [i]everything.[/i]” His voice is calm, but there is a distinct undertone of menace in it. “There is no time for this,” Otis protests, but nobody heeds him. Our heroes lay out their tale as quickly as they can, telling Stoxis of Sir Harth’s treachery, his ambitions to rule their time, his beholder ally and their suspicion that exactly who is in charge between them is not as clear as it seems, the cult he led and their New Year’s Eve ritual leading to the activation of the Gates of Glass and Fire, the party’s pursuit to this time and through the blasted wasteland of Palantia (which, in their time, will be known as Pellinsia), and finally, their journey across the Isle of the Elves- Tirkon- to Firestorm Peak. When they are done, the elves and Stoxis confer again. The party is in mental agony. [i]We were so close,[/i] thinks Lord Cedric despairingly. [i]Now he has a lead on us again- a lead of at least fifteen minutes.[/i] Finally, Stoxis turns to them. “Well,” he rumbles. “You must pardon my peoples’ caution. We have been attacked by [i]your kind[/i] several times in the last few weeks. Serious incursions, attempting to get at the forges and sources of many of our weapons. (By ‘our’, of course, I mean the island of Tirkon, not specifically my people, or our allies, the elves.)” Kyle grumbles, “I’m not really one of ‘their people,’ you know.” He points at his ears, with their tell-tale tapered points. “I have, uh, a lot of elven blood in me.” “Those of mixed blood,” one of the elves speaks up, “are at least as suspect as full humans.” “Thanks,” mutters Kyle. “Either way, your story rings true, and we have done what we can to check it out. And this human knight with a beholder did indeed come through here, only minutes before you.” “Please, we must stop him before it’s too late!” Sir Colder bursts out. “Me!” Sir Percival agrees, and belches. Thane Stoxis nods. “Yes, we want him stopped as well.” “Do you have any idea what he’s after?” Dahlia asks. “Or how he could plan to get back home, to our time?” The elves exchange a glance. “The Vast Gate,” one of them says tightly. The other nods. “Is that a weapon?” asks Colder. “Or a way home?” “Perhaps both,” the male elf replies. “It is the source of many powerful forms of energy. The flux surrounding it is... impressive.” “And impossible to completely dampen,” Thane Stoxis adds darkly. His frown deepens. “And yet, it seems likely... that is the direction in which your Sir Harth fled. And his beholder had managed to control the minds of several of our people, too; they can [i]guide[/i] him deeper in... at least, to the Twisted Caverns.” “The Twisted Caverns?” gulps Kyle. “What are those?” “You’ll see,” Stoxis chuckles. “You thay that thith Vatht Gate can be uthed to return to our time?” Lord Cedric prompts the male elf. He shrugs. “Perhaps. It reaches across vast gulfs of space and time, and even to... [i]beyond.[/i] Yet it is incomprehensible, unmasterable, inchoate. It [i]might be[/i] possible for you to use it to return home; I am not an expert in it.” “Who is?” asks Dahlia. “The last assault by [i]your people[/i] slew our most capable technicians,” Stoxis growls. His brows bunch together. “Be warned! Like them, if you cross us, you will die a lingering, painful death!” “We don’t plan on crossing you!” snaps Goer, trying to maintain a grip on his temper. “We just want to stop Sir Harth and go home!” The Thane nods humorlessly. “Aye, stop him.” He turns to the crowd of duergar that are surrounding the parlay, and singles out two of them that speak Elvish. “These two will be your guides into the Twisted Caverns in pursuit of Harth.” He grins. “And to ensure that you do not attempt any treachery, I will accompany you myself.” “We will go, too,” the female elf speaks up. “We can’t allow a human to reach the Vast Gate.” “Except when we are going home,” Goer interrupts. “Of course,” nods Stoxis. To the elves, he says, “Very well. You may go with us. I want this madman, and especially his beholder, [i]stopped.[/i]” [i]Is his lead now twenty minutes?[/i] wonders Cedric. [i]Thirty? We must have no more delays![/i] *** The party, joined by the two elves and the three duergar, proceed quickly from the marketplace, following the trail of the beholder and Sir Harth. There are several bodies, as well as several areas where duergar who were controlled by the beholder have already been subdued by their fellows. The party’s guides lead them through several natural and rough-hewn caverns. Finally, the passage they are following breaches a much larger, perpendicular hallway, lit in many places by phosphorescent fungi. The hall is plainly artificial; but here and there, the surface of the stone shows strange pitting, small holes and other odd deformities. The duergar halt. One of them jerks his thumb to the right. “The Vast Gate is that way,” he mutters. “About a mile or so.” “I thought you were going to guide us,” Sir Colder snaps. Something about this place has his temper on edge. “This is as far as I will go,” the dwarf responds. “Me too,” the other one (who has a patch over one eye) agrees. “These are the Twisted Caverns.” He shudders. “We ain’t going in there any further.” Thane Stoxis nods. “I do not blame you,” he admits, “but [i]I[/i] will go further.” “What about you two?” Goer turns to the elves accusingly. “Are you going to rabbit out of here like these cowards?” “We ain’t cowards,” the one-eyed duergar snorts. “[i]You[/i] are fools.” With that, the two grey dwarves turn and begin making their way back towards their settlement. “We will accompany you,” the elven sister states. Her brother nods. “Our kind are... more accustomed to the energies of the Vast Gate than the dwarves.” [i]I’ll just bet you are,[/i] Dahlia thinks. The image of the strange, sick-smelling creatures that the elves will become flashes before her mind’s eye and she shudders. The group continues advancing down the long, wide hall. Here and there, dark forms cling to the ceiling- bats, or something more sinister? The smell of the place is strange, like nothing that they have ever encountered before. Not even the sickly smell of the cyst in Goblin Gorge had any sense of this strange, almost hypnotic, musky aroma. They move carefully, for the ground is uneven in places, and some strange rot seems to grip the stone ever more deeply as they advance. Ahead- a light! They quicken their pace. Yes! Slowly, the form of Sir Harth becomes discernible. The party is careful to avoid giving away their position, but they move as quickly as they can manage. [i]Yes![/i] They are catching up to Harth at last! For the second time since they arrived in this terrible era, their enemy is in sight! They close quickly. But Harth is still about a hundred feet ahead when he and his monstrous ally move into a larger, open cave. “HARTH!!!” roars Lord Cedric, hurrying forward. Ahead of them, Sir Harth stiffens and turns around. “You!” he shouts, obviously surprised. “How did you find me here?” Then he cackles, the laugh of a madman. “It doesn’t matter! It is time to kill you, once and for all!” But before he can do anything else, a sudden loud gibbering arises from all around him in the huge cavern, and scores of small, furry, gibbering figures begin pouring towards him and the beholder from all around. And our heroes rush to the attack, knowing that if they do not take him alive, Sir Harth may take the secret of their escape home with him! [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] This is it!! At last, our heroes FIGHT SIR HARTH AND THE BEHOLDER!!!! [/QUOTE]
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(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)
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