WarEagleMage
First Post
Mmmm, Wild Turkey - the "kickin' chicken." We are gaming on Saturday this week...
And for those concerned about updates: You might get one if you hack into and disable JD and Joachim's XBox Live accounts.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
JollyDoc's Rise of the Runelords...Updated 12/22
Mmmm, Wild Turkey - the "kickin' chicken." We are gaming on Saturday this week...
And for those concerned about updates: You might get one if you hack into and disable JD and Joachim's XBox Live accounts.
JollyDoc
Explorer
The following is from 11/30
FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES
The screeching reptile paused halfway across the cavern and ripped a small bauble from a necklace around her throat. She cocked her arm back and hurled the bangle at Dex, who stood in the fore of his companions. The rogue watched the bead arc towards him curiously, not sure whether to duck or laugh. It was only when the fireball erupted that he decided the latter was the correct choice. His friends scattered as the flames roared down the tunnel, most of them managing to avoid the worst of the conflagration, save Reaper. The necromancer rolled about on the floor, batting at his smoking robes while Adso darted forward into the cavern. The monk, moving almost faster than the eye could follow, was on the kobold before she realized it. He wrapped his burly arms around the squirming reptile and lifted her into the air. She responded by snarling and spitting like a cobra, and she lifted her spear in her hands and plunged it into Adso’s shoulder. The half-orc grunted and then hurled the vicious little fiend to the ground, pinning her there with his own body weight. In a flash, Dexter was there, stabbing his blades down repeatedly until the creature ceased her violent struggles. It took many, many thrusts.
“Heads up!” Cruemann suddenly shouted. “We’ve got more company!”
Two passages led from the cave, a wide opening to the east, and a narrower hall to the north. From the east came three stone giants, all dressed in boiled leather smocks and carrying large forge hammers. In the northern passage appeared no fewer than six more armed and armored giants. Unfortunately, the cramped confines of the hallway limited their approach to single-file. So it was that, while Adso and Dexter quickly moved to intercept the trio of smiths, Reaper swiftly wove a spell, causing a familiar-looking nest of writhing black tentacles to sprout from the floor at the head of the northern passage. The oncoming giants, though far too strong to be immobilized by the tendrils, found their progress slowed to a crawl as the entrance became a bottleneck. Cruemann smiled as he took deadly aim and began to pick his targets at leisure.
Meanwhile, Adso and Dexter performed a dangerous dance with their opponents. A hastily hurled chunk of stone clipped the rogue’s hip, sending him into a tumbling roll, but when he came to his feet again, he drove his swords with lethal precision into the belly of his attacker. Likewise, Adso, involved in a brutal hand-to-hand slugfest with another giant, managed to bring the brute to his knees before delivering a fatal palm-heel to the giant’s jaw, snapping his neck in the process. The remaining blacksmith fought valiantly, but he was nothing before the combined fury of the monk and rogue.
One after another, the second band of giants fell beneath Cruemann’s withering barrage of arrows. Wesh and Sinclair added their own support, bombarding the trapped warriors with bolts of lightning and volleys of arcane bolts. Suddenly, a flurry of movement was visible behind the rapidly shrinking knot of giants as a hulking figure began shoving through them. It was another stone giant, though taller and more massive than his kinsmen. He wore plate armor and carried and wickedly barbed pick in one hand. He threw the bodies of his brethren from his path and pushed through the tentacles as if they were only tall blades of grass. He finally made it into the room as the last of his warriors fell, and he stood staring in fury at the massacre. Raising his face to the ceiling, he howled in rage and then began lumbering across the room, murder etched across his features. Reaper found himself directly in the path of the onrushing killing machine, and yet his face remained impassive, even calm. At the last moment, he spoke, the arcane words falling like thunder from his lips. As the last one faded, the giant came to an abrupt halt, a look of confusion creasing his brow. He stared blankly into the middle distance, a small rivulet of drool running down his chin.
“Wha…what did ye do?” Duerten asked.
“Simple,” Reaper replied. “I cursed him, but it won’t hold for long. He might come to his senses at any moment. I suggest we take advantage of the situation.”
His friends didn’t hesitate. A deadly combination of fire, force and plain old steel fell upon the giant leader. He died with the same blank look upon his face, completely oblivious of his fate.
____________________________________________________
“Again??” Wesh asked.
“Why not?” Reaper shrugged.
“I thought you had some sort of personal code against such things,” the wizard said.
“You are thinking of the Church,” Reaper replied. “I serve Pharasma in my own way, and at the moment, my continued survival serves the purposes of my Mistress, and this strapping fellow will help secure that.”
He gestured towards the towering skeleton that had, until moments ago, inhabited the skin beneath the stone giant commander.
“Convenient,” Wesh smirked.
“’Tis a fate richly deserved!” Duerten growled. He held clutched in his fist a large tuft of braided hair threaded through a silver ring that the giant had been wearing in his belt. It was a dwarf beard.
From the kobold’s lair, the group moved up the north passage, which eventually gave onto a huge cavern that contained four large tables set up around a central platform on which sat an immense stone throne. From the ceiling above hung carved stalactites, some fashioned to look like dangling spears, while others looked like dragons’ teeth. The flickering light of a large fire burned behind a row of stalagmites to the south, and lots of fairly fresh bones were scattered around the edges of the cave. The area of the cave behind the stalagmites looked to be an open-air kitchen, where a large firepot burned and crackled with an iron cauldron hanging over the flames from a frame of tree trunks. Kitchen supplies sized for giants sat along the far wall, including buckets of water, wooden trenchers for food, and gallon-sized mugs. Crouched low in that area was a giantess, terror reflected in her eyes by the flickering fire light.
“Come out where we can see you!” Wesh commanded, speaking in the Giant tongue. The giantess did not move, her horrified gaze focused on the monstrous skeleton standing behind Reaper.
“I’ll flush her out,” Cruemann said as he unlimbered his bow.
“No,” Wesh held up his hand. “She’s just a scullery maid and no threat to us.” He raised his voice and called to the giantess again.
“We are here to stop Mokmurian!” he said. “You would do well to stay where you are and do not come out unless it is to flee. If we see you again, your life will be forfeit.”
______________________________________________________
Beyond the Great Cave, the naturally hewn tunnel branched. The companions chose the northern fork, from the end of which could be seen more firelight. A small cave lay at the far end, the walls painted with red, yellow, brown, and black figures, among which were apparent images of giants, mammoths, elk, deer, and wyverns. Others were harder to figure out: ogres, perhaps, or giant children, or even humans. The dwarves were very clear, with beards and tiny axes being crushed under enormous giant feet. Duerten growled low in his throat. A simple oil lantern lit a small altar at the far end of the cavern. A modest offering of antlers, hooves, and patches of fur had been piled in front of the altar.
“Would you look at that!” Sinclair suddenly exclaimed in wonder.
The paintings on the walls suddenly animated into a display of graphic violence. A heartbeat later, the largest giant in the mural seemed to rise up out of the wall, taking the shape of an enormous stone giant. With shocking speed, unseen knives flayed the giant’s stony flesh and cut deep into the phantom’s belly so its exposed entrails dripped with black blood. It moaned in terrible pain, and then reached out with its bloodstained hands. Before anyone could react, it brought one of its massive fists squarely down upon Sinclair. As quickly as it had begun, the haunting vanished. Sinclair lay unmoving and pale upon the floor, no mark on his body, but very obviously dead.
“Please forgive my husband,” a voice came from behind them. As a group, they turned, hands on weapons or readying spells.
“Peace,” said the wizened giantess who stood at the entrance to the cavern. “I don’t have much time, but know that if you are here to slay Mokmurian, I am your ally. I would aid you in your quarrel here…without my assistance you might find only your graves below Jorgenfist.”
“One of us just found his, giant!” Duerten growled, his fist clenching around the haft of his axe.
“My husband, Vandarrec, also met his death in this room…at Mokmurian’s hands,” the giantess said quietly. “His spirit still rests uneasily here, in the shrine that was defiled by his blood, and the others of my tribe stay away. I am Conna, and as long as I am here with you, you need not fear my husband’s wrath. I still have that much influence at least.”
She smiled sadly.
“Speak quickly then,” Wesh said tightly. “We’ve found little reason to trust giants.”
Conna nodded. “My husband and I were the elders of our tribe. When Mokmurian came to us, proposing his grand scheme to reunite the tribes and take back our ancestral lands, the elders declined his offer. Yet we were too slow and mired in our traditions to see the unrest among our younger, more idealistic warriors. When they left to join Mokmurian’s army, my husband and I came with them, to watch over them. At first, Mokmurian paid homage to our ways, but in time, his obsession with this dark place and the secrets beneath it consumed him. He slew my husband to silence any opposition against him. I learned to speak only when spoken to, and stay beneath his notice after that…yet still I watched and observed much.”
“Where is Mokmurian now?” Reaper asked.
“In the library level, which lies beneath this one. I can make a map for you,” Conna replied. “I ask only one thing of you. If you encounter more of my kin, please try your best to spare their lives. I understand if you do not. My people have brought this doom upon themselves.”
At that moment, her eyes fell upon the giant, skeletal figure standing in the shadows behind Reaper, and they grew wide in horror.
“Galenmir?” she whispered.
“You knew him?” Reaper asked coldly.
Conna swallowed convulsively several times before speaking again. “He is…was…Mokmurian’s general. He…was a valiant warrior.”
Reaper shrugged. “His spirit has passed on, but I claim his body…at least until Mokmurian is dead. Then I will release him. You have my word.”
Conna nodded silently, then pulled a piece of parchment from beneath her bearskin cloak and began drawing.
__________________________________________________
Sinclair opened his eyes to see Duerten’s frowning face above him.
“Is this the Afterlife?” the gnome asked. “Did I sin so badly?”
“Yer welcome,” the dwarf scowled. “Next time I’ll let th’Ferryman take yer worthless soul beyond th’Pale.”
The gnome grinned broadly. “Now wouldn’t that be an adventure?”
The company set out through the caverns once more, following Conna’s map which led them through the less populated areas of the complex. Eventually they came to a wide passage, the walls of which were hung with furs. To the southeast, the tunnel constricted and sloped down at a sharp angle, the path to the Library. The companions were more than halfway down the wider passage when Adso and Dexter heard the barely-audible rustling. The two quickly went on guard and turned to alert the others, but they were a fraction of a second too late. The curtains on either side of the corridor suddenly twitched aside to reveal murder holes. Behind each set stood a large, heavily armored troll, each wielding a wickedly barbed ranseur. Between them, they could reach any point in the hallway.
“Move!” Duerten bellowed, urging his allies towards the far end of the passage while he raised his shield and stood his ground behind them. Adso leaped to his side, and the two stood back-to-back, open targets. The trolls took full advantage. Despite the dwarf’s impressive armament and the monk’s lightning-fast reflexes, they couldn’t avoid the deadly sweep of the polearms. Each of them suffered hideous wounds as their companions raced towards the narrow hall. Suddenly, Dexter turned back and darted towards the right-hand wall, rolling beneath the sweeping ranseur as it came towards him. The rogue fetched up beneath one of the murder holes and then, quick as a flash, he stood and stabbed through with his blade, earning a surprised bellow of pain from the troll on the far side. A moment later, several flashing blue bolts sped unerringly through the hole, driving the troll back, while on the opposite side of the hall, a feisty gnome hurled a blast of white-hot fire through the openings there.
“Get clear!” Wesh shouted to Duerten and Adso. The two didn’t hesitate, the monk somersaulting nimbly away while the dwarf ducked behind his shield and barreled like an armadillo in his wake.
Dexter risked standing again so he could get a clear view of the area behind the murder hole. He paid for it with a bone-jarring stab to his shoulder as the troll charged forward. Then, in a swirl of shadows the rogue simply vanished, only to reappear a moment later directly behind the armored troll. From his new vantage point he could see an opening leading back out into the hallway, hidden behind a fur curtain.
“Behind the curtains!” he shouted. “The entrances are there!”
Adso turned as he reached the far end of the corridor, heeding Dexter’s words. Quickly, he ripped aside the curtain on the opposite side, and saw the opening there. As he rushed in, Wesh loosed another volley of missiles at the troll waiting for him, only this time, the wizard forged the bolts out of acid, remembering the vulnerabilities of the regenerating giants. The troll howled and Adso rushed him, hammering with his fists and feet. The giant roared and flailed wildly, driving the half-orc back with wrecking blows from the ranseur, but Adso didn’t relent. Batting the polearm aside, he moved nimbly inside the troll’s defenses and delivered a rapid-fire barrage of uppercuts and kidney punches. With a groan, the giant buckled and collapsed to the floor. Simultaneously, in the far alcove, Dexter took down his own foe with a flurry of quick, deadly accurate strikes of his blades.
“We’ll take over from here,” Wesh said as he stepped inside. Between his acid and Sinclair’s flame, they reduced the trolls to liquefied ash within a matter of seconds.
FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES
The screeching reptile paused halfway across the cavern and ripped a small bauble from a necklace around her throat. She cocked her arm back and hurled the bangle at Dex, who stood in the fore of his companions. The rogue watched the bead arc towards him curiously, not sure whether to duck or laugh. It was only when the fireball erupted that he decided the latter was the correct choice. His friends scattered as the flames roared down the tunnel, most of them managing to avoid the worst of the conflagration, save Reaper. The necromancer rolled about on the floor, batting at his smoking robes while Adso darted forward into the cavern. The monk, moving almost faster than the eye could follow, was on the kobold before she realized it. He wrapped his burly arms around the squirming reptile and lifted her into the air. She responded by snarling and spitting like a cobra, and she lifted her spear in her hands and plunged it into Adso’s shoulder. The half-orc grunted and then hurled the vicious little fiend to the ground, pinning her there with his own body weight. In a flash, Dexter was there, stabbing his blades down repeatedly until the creature ceased her violent struggles. It took many, many thrusts.
“Heads up!” Cruemann suddenly shouted. “We’ve got more company!”
Two passages led from the cave, a wide opening to the east, and a narrower hall to the north. From the east came three stone giants, all dressed in boiled leather smocks and carrying large forge hammers. In the northern passage appeared no fewer than six more armed and armored giants. Unfortunately, the cramped confines of the hallway limited their approach to single-file. So it was that, while Adso and Dexter quickly moved to intercept the trio of smiths, Reaper swiftly wove a spell, causing a familiar-looking nest of writhing black tentacles to sprout from the floor at the head of the northern passage. The oncoming giants, though far too strong to be immobilized by the tendrils, found their progress slowed to a crawl as the entrance became a bottleneck. Cruemann smiled as he took deadly aim and began to pick his targets at leisure.
Meanwhile, Adso and Dexter performed a dangerous dance with their opponents. A hastily hurled chunk of stone clipped the rogue’s hip, sending him into a tumbling roll, but when he came to his feet again, he drove his swords with lethal precision into the belly of his attacker. Likewise, Adso, involved in a brutal hand-to-hand slugfest with another giant, managed to bring the brute to his knees before delivering a fatal palm-heel to the giant’s jaw, snapping his neck in the process. The remaining blacksmith fought valiantly, but he was nothing before the combined fury of the monk and rogue.
One after another, the second band of giants fell beneath Cruemann’s withering barrage of arrows. Wesh and Sinclair added their own support, bombarding the trapped warriors with bolts of lightning and volleys of arcane bolts. Suddenly, a flurry of movement was visible behind the rapidly shrinking knot of giants as a hulking figure began shoving through them. It was another stone giant, though taller and more massive than his kinsmen. He wore plate armor and carried and wickedly barbed pick in one hand. He threw the bodies of his brethren from his path and pushed through the tentacles as if they were only tall blades of grass. He finally made it into the room as the last of his warriors fell, and he stood staring in fury at the massacre. Raising his face to the ceiling, he howled in rage and then began lumbering across the room, murder etched across his features. Reaper found himself directly in the path of the onrushing killing machine, and yet his face remained impassive, even calm. At the last moment, he spoke, the arcane words falling like thunder from his lips. As the last one faded, the giant came to an abrupt halt, a look of confusion creasing his brow. He stared blankly into the middle distance, a small rivulet of drool running down his chin.
“Wha…what did ye do?” Duerten asked.
“Simple,” Reaper replied. “I cursed him, but it won’t hold for long. He might come to his senses at any moment. I suggest we take advantage of the situation.”
His friends didn’t hesitate. A deadly combination of fire, force and plain old steel fell upon the giant leader. He died with the same blank look upon his face, completely oblivious of his fate.
____________________________________________________
“Again??” Wesh asked.
“Why not?” Reaper shrugged.
“I thought you had some sort of personal code against such things,” the wizard said.
“You are thinking of the Church,” Reaper replied. “I serve Pharasma in my own way, and at the moment, my continued survival serves the purposes of my Mistress, and this strapping fellow will help secure that.”
He gestured towards the towering skeleton that had, until moments ago, inhabited the skin beneath the stone giant commander.
“Convenient,” Wesh smirked.
“’Tis a fate richly deserved!” Duerten growled. He held clutched in his fist a large tuft of braided hair threaded through a silver ring that the giant had been wearing in his belt. It was a dwarf beard.
From the kobold’s lair, the group moved up the north passage, which eventually gave onto a huge cavern that contained four large tables set up around a central platform on which sat an immense stone throne. From the ceiling above hung carved stalactites, some fashioned to look like dangling spears, while others looked like dragons’ teeth. The flickering light of a large fire burned behind a row of stalagmites to the south, and lots of fairly fresh bones were scattered around the edges of the cave. The area of the cave behind the stalagmites looked to be an open-air kitchen, where a large firepot burned and crackled with an iron cauldron hanging over the flames from a frame of tree trunks. Kitchen supplies sized for giants sat along the far wall, including buckets of water, wooden trenchers for food, and gallon-sized mugs. Crouched low in that area was a giantess, terror reflected in her eyes by the flickering fire light.
“Come out where we can see you!” Wesh commanded, speaking in the Giant tongue. The giantess did not move, her horrified gaze focused on the monstrous skeleton standing behind Reaper.
“I’ll flush her out,” Cruemann said as he unlimbered his bow.
“No,” Wesh held up his hand. “She’s just a scullery maid and no threat to us.” He raised his voice and called to the giantess again.
“We are here to stop Mokmurian!” he said. “You would do well to stay where you are and do not come out unless it is to flee. If we see you again, your life will be forfeit.”
______________________________________________________
Beyond the Great Cave, the naturally hewn tunnel branched. The companions chose the northern fork, from the end of which could be seen more firelight. A small cave lay at the far end, the walls painted with red, yellow, brown, and black figures, among which were apparent images of giants, mammoths, elk, deer, and wyverns. Others were harder to figure out: ogres, perhaps, or giant children, or even humans. The dwarves were very clear, with beards and tiny axes being crushed under enormous giant feet. Duerten growled low in his throat. A simple oil lantern lit a small altar at the far end of the cavern. A modest offering of antlers, hooves, and patches of fur had been piled in front of the altar.
“Would you look at that!” Sinclair suddenly exclaimed in wonder.
The paintings on the walls suddenly animated into a display of graphic violence. A heartbeat later, the largest giant in the mural seemed to rise up out of the wall, taking the shape of an enormous stone giant. With shocking speed, unseen knives flayed the giant’s stony flesh and cut deep into the phantom’s belly so its exposed entrails dripped with black blood. It moaned in terrible pain, and then reached out with its bloodstained hands. Before anyone could react, it brought one of its massive fists squarely down upon Sinclair. As quickly as it had begun, the haunting vanished. Sinclair lay unmoving and pale upon the floor, no mark on his body, but very obviously dead.
“Please forgive my husband,” a voice came from behind them. As a group, they turned, hands on weapons or readying spells.
“Peace,” said the wizened giantess who stood at the entrance to the cavern. “I don’t have much time, but know that if you are here to slay Mokmurian, I am your ally. I would aid you in your quarrel here…without my assistance you might find only your graves below Jorgenfist.”
“One of us just found his, giant!” Duerten growled, his fist clenching around the haft of his axe.
“My husband, Vandarrec, also met his death in this room…at Mokmurian’s hands,” the giantess said quietly. “His spirit still rests uneasily here, in the shrine that was defiled by his blood, and the others of my tribe stay away. I am Conna, and as long as I am here with you, you need not fear my husband’s wrath. I still have that much influence at least.”
She smiled sadly.
“Speak quickly then,” Wesh said tightly. “We’ve found little reason to trust giants.”
Conna nodded. “My husband and I were the elders of our tribe. When Mokmurian came to us, proposing his grand scheme to reunite the tribes and take back our ancestral lands, the elders declined his offer. Yet we were too slow and mired in our traditions to see the unrest among our younger, more idealistic warriors. When they left to join Mokmurian’s army, my husband and I came with them, to watch over them. At first, Mokmurian paid homage to our ways, but in time, his obsession with this dark place and the secrets beneath it consumed him. He slew my husband to silence any opposition against him. I learned to speak only when spoken to, and stay beneath his notice after that…yet still I watched and observed much.”
“Where is Mokmurian now?” Reaper asked.
“In the library level, which lies beneath this one. I can make a map for you,” Conna replied. “I ask only one thing of you. If you encounter more of my kin, please try your best to spare their lives. I understand if you do not. My people have brought this doom upon themselves.”
At that moment, her eyes fell upon the giant, skeletal figure standing in the shadows behind Reaper, and they grew wide in horror.
“Galenmir?” she whispered.
“You knew him?” Reaper asked coldly.
Conna swallowed convulsively several times before speaking again. “He is…was…Mokmurian’s general. He…was a valiant warrior.”
Reaper shrugged. “His spirit has passed on, but I claim his body…at least until Mokmurian is dead. Then I will release him. You have my word.”
Conna nodded silently, then pulled a piece of parchment from beneath her bearskin cloak and began drawing.
__________________________________________________
Sinclair opened his eyes to see Duerten’s frowning face above him.
“Is this the Afterlife?” the gnome asked. “Did I sin so badly?”
“Yer welcome,” the dwarf scowled. “Next time I’ll let th’Ferryman take yer worthless soul beyond th’Pale.”
The gnome grinned broadly. “Now wouldn’t that be an adventure?”
The company set out through the caverns once more, following Conna’s map which led them through the less populated areas of the complex. Eventually they came to a wide passage, the walls of which were hung with furs. To the southeast, the tunnel constricted and sloped down at a sharp angle, the path to the Library. The companions were more than halfway down the wider passage when Adso and Dexter heard the barely-audible rustling. The two quickly went on guard and turned to alert the others, but they were a fraction of a second too late. The curtains on either side of the corridor suddenly twitched aside to reveal murder holes. Behind each set stood a large, heavily armored troll, each wielding a wickedly barbed ranseur. Between them, they could reach any point in the hallway.
“Move!” Duerten bellowed, urging his allies towards the far end of the passage while he raised his shield and stood his ground behind them. Adso leaped to his side, and the two stood back-to-back, open targets. The trolls took full advantage. Despite the dwarf’s impressive armament and the monk’s lightning-fast reflexes, they couldn’t avoid the deadly sweep of the polearms. Each of them suffered hideous wounds as their companions raced towards the narrow hall. Suddenly, Dexter turned back and darted towards the right-hand wall, rolling beneath the sweeping ranseur as it came towards him. The rogue fetched up beneath one of the murder holes and then, quick as a flash, he stood and stabbed through with his blade, earning a surprised bellow of pain from the troll on the far side. A moment later, several flashing blue bolts sped unerringly through the hole, driving the troll back, while on the opposite side of the hall, a feisty gnome hurled a blast of white-hot fire through the openings there.
“Get clear!” Wesh shouted to Duerten and Adso. The two didn’t hesitate, the monk somersaulting nimbly away while the dwarf ducked behind his shield and barreled like an armadillo in his wake.
Dexter risked standing again so he could get a clear view of the area behind the murder hole. He paid for it with a bone-jarring stab to his shoulder as the troll charged forward. Then, in a swirl of shadows the rogue simply vanished, only to reappear a moment later directly behind the armored troll. From his new vantage point he could see an opening leading back out into the hallway, hidden behind a fur curtain.
“Behind the curtains!” he shouted. “The entrances are there!”
Adso turned as he reached the far end of the corridor, heeding Dexter’s words. Quickly, he ripped aside the curtain on the opposite side, and saw the opening there. As he rushed in, Wesh loosed another volley of missiles at the troll waiting for him, only this time, the wizard forged the bolts out of acid, remembering the vulnerabilities of the regenerating giants. The troll howled and Adso rushed him, hammering with his fists and feet. The giant roared and flailed wildly, driving the half-orc back with wrecking blows from the ranseur, but Adso didn’t relent. Batting the polearm aside, he moved nimbly inside the troll’s defenses and delivered a rapid-fire barrage of uppercuts and kidney punches. With a groan, the giant buckled and collapsed to the floor. Simultaneously, in the far alcove, Dexter took down his own foe with a flurry of quick, deadly accurate strikes of his blades.
“We’ll take over from here,” Wesh said as he stepped inside. Between his acid and Sinclair’s flame, they reduced the trolls to liquefied ash within a matter of seconds.
JollyDoc
Explorer
SUNDAY NIGHT TEASER
1) Wesh returns once more to a hero's welcome in Sandpoint, ready for a much-earned rest with his lady-love. Ah, but a hero's work is never done, and a new sink hole in the middle of town demands his attention and that of the Sandpoint Seven.
2) The inevitable descent into the sink hole reveals a new level of the runewell dungeon.
3) This level, however, seems inhabited by a madman known as the Scribbler, an unseen foe who enjoys word games and cat-and-mouse.
4) All games, however, come to an end, and when the Scribbler finally shows himself, he brings along a few friends.
5) Reaper and Wesh discover that not all dogs are man's best friends, and Cruemann finds out that the best way to neutralize an archer with a 12' great bow is to simply stun him and make him drop said bow...again...
6) Further investigation of the ruins results in an unexpected development that causes Cruemann to show his true colors, and causes Wesh to lead the citizens of Sandpoint in an uprising against the Sandpoint Seven!!!
1) Wesh returns once more to a hero's welcome in Sandpoint, ready for a much-earned rest with his lady-love. Ah, but a hero's work is never done, and a new sink hole in the middle of town demands his attention and that of the Sandpoint Seven.
2) The inevitable descent into the sink hole reveals a new level of the runewell dungeon.
3) This level, however, seems inhabited by a madman known as the Scribbler, an unseen foe who enjoys word games and cat-and-mouse.
4) All games, however, come to an end, and when the Scribbler finally shows himself, he brings along a few friends.
5) Reaper and Wesh discover that not all dogs are man's best friends, and Cruemann finds out that the best way to neutralize an archer with a 12' great bow is to simply stun him and make him drop said bow...again...
6) Further investigation of the ruins results in an unexpected development that causes Cruemann to show his true colors, and causes Wesh to lead the citizens of Sandpoint in an uprising against the Sandpoint Seven!!!
Now that is a tease. Good stuff, as always!
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Great stuff - thanks for the Christmas present! Happy holidays and happy gaming, guys!
I second that!
carborundum
Adventurer
Finally made it to the keyboard!
Happy Christmas you lot!
Happy Christmas you lot!
JollyDoc
Explorer
JollyDoc
Explorer
SUNDAY TEASER
1) In the aftermath of Wesh's uprising, the chagrined Sandpoint Seven pay a tearful homage to their chosen leader. Could political aspirations be far behind?
2) The location of the Runeforge is discerned and a lengthy cross-country journey begins.
3) The search for the seven keys begins, but is rudely interrupted by a dragon rudely awakend from his 200 year slumber. Cruemann goes for the ride of his life.
4) The keys discovered, the long ascent to the Mouth of Xin begins, but alas, more guardians await, and Cruemann is once more singled out for abuse by the elemental titans.
5) Finally, the way into the Runeforge is unlocked, and with seven sins to choose from, Reaper, of course, chooses gluttony.
6) Though Reaper feels right at home in the Ravenous Tombs, the same cannot be said for his companions. What would seem like a hum-drum walk in the park against a mummy mob turns into a full-fledged potential TPK as our heroes are paralyzed with fear. Hint: at least one PC does indeed succumb...permanently!
1) In the aftermath of Wesh's uprising, the chagrined Sandpoint Seven pay a tearful homage to their chosen leader. Could political aspirations be far behind?
2) The location of the Runeforge is discerned and a lengthy cross-country journey begins.
3) The search for the seven keys begins, but is rudely interrupted by a dragon rudely awakend from his 200 year slumber. Cruemann goes for the ride of his life.
4) The keys discovered, the long ascent to the Mouth of Xin begins, but alas, more guardians await, and Cruemann is once more singled out for abuse by the elemental titans.
5) Finally, the way into the Runeforge is unlocked, and with seven sins to choose from, Reaper, of course, chooses gluttony.
6) Though Reaper feels right at home in the Ravenous Tombs, the same cannot be said for his companions. What would seem like a hum-drum walk in the park against a mummy mob turns into a full-fledged potential TPK as our heroes are paralyzed with fear. Hint: at least one PC does indeed succumb...permanently!
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
I wonder how this all plays out, cause the teasers read great! Has Wesh's uprising something to do with a certain suggestion of a certain scribe?
JollyDoc
Explorer
Ding! Ding! Give that man a seegar!!
There should be an update soon, patient readers. I've had a bit of a family emergency this week and have been a bit side-tracked.
