EN Story telling

[megamania]

Celina turns to relieve herselve of future discomfort. It is much too late. Even as she packs up for the day she feels ill.

Finn finishes his helping and licks off his utencils. "Do you have more..the drink I mean?"

Drakhar merely grumbles and continues to finish his meal.

Gnorvald "awakens" and declines on food. "I am fine" he says as his stomach growls loudly. "We have a busy day today."

 

[Cthulhu's Librarian]

(break in story)

I hate to nitpick, but Finn is the human cleric, not the gnome...

(story continue)

 

[ejja_1]

*Break in story* yes finn is the human, and is celina a girl or guy? Not that it matters, and it is humorous.*

 

[Tom Cashel]

Abruptly the friendly chatter was shattered by a crack of thunder echoing down the side of the forested valley.

At the top of the rise, the companions turned to see a figure in billowing cloaks with features obscured by a harlequin mask. There was some nagging familiarity about the figure that only one of the companions--Drakhar--could name.

Then a score or more of hunched, deformed figures crested the hill and gathered at their master's heels. To call them "well-armed" would have been a grave understatement.

 

[Darth Shoju]

story

"By Moradin's foaming mug, we are attacked!" bellows Drakhar. Scrambling over to his bedroll, he retrieves his waraxe Kjalnir. Hefting the mighty weapon in both hands, he turns to survey the creatures at the crest of the ridge. Deep within his breast, like the beating of The Great Smith's hammer at anvil, his battle rage is growing. He can feel it rising to consume him, the thundering in his ears dampening the sound of his companions around him. Not yet, he thinks. I've got to wait until we form up and are ready to engage the enemy. My rage will do more harm than good if released too early. With the discipline of years of experience, he supresses the rage until it is only a faint rythm in his blood, like the distant sound of dwarven war drums. Assessing the situation, Drakhar looks about him to see the reactions of his companions...

 

[ejja_1]

Celine pops a mint leaf in his mouth to settle his stomach, and puls his bow off of his back. He knocks three arrows at once, and begins to sing just under his breath. He springs from his crouch and in a flash lands up in the trees, holding his fire until he is sure of the situation. The seconds crawl by as perspiration begins to form on his brow, Drakhars rot gut isn't helping the siuation.
His song is complete and the arrow heads glow a nasty looking crimson, the arcane energy seeming to smolder within the metal broadheads.
" Drakher we have more company on our flank, watch the tree line." Sure enough the shadowy forms of warriors stalking their prey could be seen through the canopy of low hanging branches, Drakher whirled and could see that they were slowly being surrounded.

 

[Cthulhu's Librarian]

Dropping his bowl to the ground at the sight of the masked figure and his minions, Finn felt his stomach turn. "No, no, no, no..." he muttered to himself, then darted across the clearing back to the tree where he had spent the night. He grabbed his mace from the ground where it lay, and pulled his helmet off the end of his pack where it had been stashed. Just as he got it on, he felt the urge to vomit up breakfast yet again, and quickly removed it once more. "No, no..." He retched and the dwarven breakfast was out of his stomach.

Pressing his back to the tree, he cautiously peered around the side to see if there had been any movement from the figures atop the rise. None yet. He clutched his mace, and tried to think of the prayers he had been taught. Nothing came to him. Closing his eyes, he cursed and felt for the wineskin at his belt with his free hand. He upended it, filling his mouth with the sour wine that was left. Swallowing it with a shudder, he swore, and tried to clear his head. "Don't get sick again, don't get sick, you'll die if you do" he thought and once more tried to remember the wording of the prayers.

"Pelor's light, watch over myself and those whom I have chosen to travel with. Guide us, and fill us with your strength and wisdom. Do not let us go blindly into the night, but let your light be our guide." The blessing worked, and he felt its essence spill out of the sun symbol he wore around his neck, on its way to his companions.

Looking down, he spotted his shield sitting 3 yards away. "Damn, damn, damn." he swore again. He must have ran right over it to get to the tree. "Pelor guide this poor wretch you have chosen" he spat as he dove for the shield. He rolled, grabbed it, and came up in a crouch with it in front of him. He looked around the side, and saw that there were more figures in the shadows of the trees. "I swear, if I get out of here, I'll not touch another drop of wine." He knew it was a lie, but from the looks of things he didn't think he would be getting out of this one alive.

 

[ejja_1]

EDit-Double post.

 

[ejja_1]

The shadowy forms began to advance , closing in from all sides. The beastrial appearance of their foes was not lost on the party, cuasing all of them to a man to shiver for just a moment in anticipation of the clash. A roar went up all around them, it was a much like the sound of a lion as it launched it self at it's prey.
Drakhar joined them with a roar of his own and ran headlong for the nearest group of the enemy, foam and spittle began to fleck around his lips as he entered the madness of his battlerage.
Celina targeted a group of them as they came on and let loose with his barage of spell charged arrows, a mighty explosion rocked the land as the arrows impacted at the feet of the enemy. A smoking crater was all that was left of the feral creatures that came for them, Celina smiled with grim satisfaction and put away his bow. His lute seemed to spring into his hands of it's own violition, and he began to sing a fighting song.

" Hear me lads as the fight draws near
With strength we shall prevail
Let our enemy feel our blades
As they clash with tooth and nail

The blood will flow and bones will break
And mighty missles fly to their end
Together we stand mighty and brave
Our enemies flesh we shall rend "

Celina watched as his companions seemed to glow briefly, letting him know his spell had worked. They would all have an easier time with combat now, hitting stronger and with more precision.

 

[Silver Moon]

So long ago…that had been a quite day indeed. The young Dwarven boys were encouraged by their parents to participate in a Clan's game of Grand Toss-rock. Drakhar and his best friend, Brondo Strongsplint, had been partnered for the event. They were able to vanquish all of their opponents, and named the Clan's champions. His older brother Harthker had thrice held that honor, and even won the New Rockhome championship, but this was Drakhar's first athletic victory.

The two boys had stepped forward, for the Clan Chief to award them with the Grand Toss-rock medals. The Chief placed the medal around Drakhar's neck. The medal itself was little more than a bronze plated rock attached to an iron chain, but on that particular day the boy was prouder to have it than any artifact on the planet. Then the world came crashing down on them.

Specifically, what came crashing down was the cliff side of Mount Karjjil, overlooking the Clan's village. Tons of rock fell all about, as the dwarves of the clan all rushed for cover. Most were able to reach the caves and avoid the immanent doom that approach, but for Drakhar and his friend there was no escape. Boulders collided with the cobblestones of the walkways, and stone buildings collapsed under the weight of the stone ledges falling upon them. Drakhar lost sight of Brondo as a cloud of dust rose up before him. The pandemonium seemed to go on forever, and the just as abruptly, ceased.

An eerie silence followed as the dust began to settle. Drakhar saw his friend lying on the ground a short distance away, and rushed to him. A series of jagged rocks lie near Brondo, and one appeared to be covered in blood. He leaned beside his friend, seeing that his dearest companion breathed no more. He then heard what sounded like an army approaching.

Drakhar never told a soul about what he did next, as no Dwarf's pride would ever allow him to admit to a single moment of cowardice, but he chose to lay down beside his friend and feign death. As a result, he was the only member of the Clan to actually see the one who brought destruction to the village. A giant of a man in dark billowing robe and cloak, wearing a harlequin mask walked through the destruction. The man was surrounded by dozens of demons, beast-men, and several minotaur. He laughed, and then he and his entourage just causally walked away, never looking back.

Over a century had passed for Drakhar since that day. The dwarf's face is now red with anger. He places his hand upon his chest, feeling both his and Brondo's medals beneath his armor. They always served as a reminder of the oath he had made that day, to avenge his friend's death, no matter what it took. And here, before him now, was the one who he had sought for so long.