Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4273756" data-attributes="member: 143">Greetings to my regular readers and other ENWorlders. I am continuing my newest story that started with a run through Keep on the Shadowfell, bringing in some new characters for Thunderspire Labyrinth.  As I did with my original Travels through the Wild West story hour, I decided to write a story using the new 4e modules as a way to help familiarize myself with a new rules system and setting.   The thread begins with Keep on the Shadowfell; go forward to page 8 to go straight to Thunderspire.  Thanks for your support!LBPrologue, Part 1The road was quiet, approaching desolate, a few hours out of Winterhaven.  A brisk wind, cool if not quite cold, blew down out of the north.  There was little to see save for the trees that flanked the road to either side. The road itself was frequently lost in the twists and turns that were necessitated by the natural contours of the terrain, but it wound steadily upward into the hills.  The forest had started to reclaim the road, but the weeds and scattered brush that marked the packed earth had not yet thickened to the point where they became a real obstacle. Five travelers were making good headway on the road, moving with purpose. They were armed, all of them, and scanned the surrounding woods with wary eyes as they followed the path deeper into the hills.  The two in the lead were warriors, but a more mismatched pair would have been hard to find.  The one on the right was a dragonborn knight, armed with the customary straight sword and shield, and clad in heavy plate that had obviously been constructed specifically to fit the irregular outline of his frame.  His companion was a dwarf, clad in the heavy shirt of glittering metal scales favored by his race, and armed with a maul that was almost as tall as he was.  The two kept pace with each other, but did not engage in casual chatter.About ten paces back with them, another two men were engaged in quiet but earnest conversation.  One was clad in armor like the first two, but wore no helmet; his facial features identified him as a half-elf as clearly as the sunburst sigil at his throat marked him a priest of Pelor.  The man he spoke with was likewise almost certainly a magic-user, his exceptionally-cut and obviously expensive garments decorated with the small pouches, belt loops, and potion crèches that were the common adjuncts for wizards.  He too wore a medallion, a silver disk marked with runes, but his seemed more for decoration than for utility.  A long quarterstaff marked his pace, one iron-shot end stabbing into the ancient ruts of the road with each of his long strides. The last member of the group walked off to the side, a small envelope of empty space separating him from the others.  He was a halfling, clad in plain but functional leathers, a brace of knives tucked into his belt, with another slung in a holster riding low on his left thigh, within easy reach.  Because of his size he had to walk two steps to each long stride by his taller companions, but he seemed to have little difficulty keeping up with the brisk pace.  He seemed troubled, though, distracted, and spent much of his time scanning the surrounding forest, his dark eyes shaded under the lip of a faded leather cap that had clearly seen many days. “Ho, Jayse, what troubles you?” the cleric finally said.The halfling slowed his steps until he was walking abreast the priest and wizard.  “I don’t know, Kevan,” he said to the cleric.  “Something about these woods is... not right.”The wizard snorted.  “There are threats real enough standing against us, Master Feldergrass.  There is no need to manufacture spooks and wraiths to frighten us.”The halfling glanced up at him; he had to crane his neck to meet the tall man’s eyes.  “You hired me for my knowledge of these lands, m’lord Zelos.  I know these woods, and I’m telling you, there’s something at odds here, something new.”Kevan nodded.  “What would you suggest, Jayse?”The halfling drew off his cap and ran his fingers through his brown hair, which was starting to run to unkempt.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it would be a good idea to fall back to Winterhaven, recoup our strength.  After the kobolds...”“Those little yappers were but a nuisance,” Zelos interrupted.  “Hardly worth the title of ‘brigands’ given them by the village folk.  They might have been threatening enough to a farmer worried about his herd, but not for seasoned travelers like ourselves.  That ‘ambush’ was a trivial distraction.  Marak barely needed to earn his pay, what with our spell-power and the fast sword of Sir K’thar.  And your daggers were used to excellent effect, as I recall, Master Feldergrass.  I trust your wound is not still bothering you?”The halfling rubbed his shoulder, and shook his head.  “No, and I thank you again, Kevan, for your healing magic.  But... well, I knew this wizard once before, and we had a priest in our village, and doesn’t your magic... well, run out?”The mage laughed.  “Fear not, Master Feldergrass.  While it is true that certain powers may only be utilized once per day, Kevan and I have plenty of magic still in reserve.  Anything we meet today will find that we are far from helpless, I assure you.”The cleric placed a hand on the wizard’s arm.  “But Ahlen... maybe our companion has a point.  Those kobolds might have just been a test, to gauge our capabilites.  There may be a greater danger ahead of us.”“Indeed, my friend, I have no doubt that there is.  Or have you forgotten why we have come here?”Kevan colored slightly.  “I have not forgotten, nor has my commitment wavered.”“Good.  No, I am sorry to have questioned your motives.  We are all dedicated to stamping out the foulness that has taken root here.  But that is all the more reason to press on.  If the kobolds were in fact allies of this death cult, we need to find them before a warning may be spread of our coming.”“That is... logical,” Kevan acknowledged.  The wizard looked back down at the halfling.  “And we will rely on your knowledge and skills, Master Feldergrass, to keep us alerted to any threats that may lurk in these woods.”The halfling nodded, although he still looked dubious.  He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off at a call from up ahead.  The dwarf and dragonborn had reached a bend in the trail, and paused to wait for them.  “What is it?” Zelos asked, as they joined them.  K’thar merely pointed.  The trail continued its winding course up ahead, but they could see what had alerted the warriors.  Between a break in the hills, maybe a few miles distant, they could see the familiar outline of walls atop a flattened hilltop.  Even at this range they could clearly note the poor condition of the site, but the ruins could only be their destination.  The Keep on the Shadowfell. “We’ve made good time,” Zelos said.  “We have plenty of daylight left; let’s move out.”The warriors nodded and started forward along the trail.  Jayse Feldergrass started after them, but slowly.  He frowned, looking around at the surrounding woods.  To the left, the ground sloped upward off the road; the remains of a fallen tree, moist with rot, marked the boundary between path and forest.  Up ahead the road continued more or less straight for a good fifty paces before turning again to the left.  Nothing out of the ordinary. No.  It was quiet.  Too quiet; even the birds had stopped their chatter.  The halfling felt the hairs on his arms rise; all of his experience and woodslore whispered something is wrong here.  He wasn’t Jaron’s equal in woodcrafting, but he’d spent enough time in the forest to know its moods, the subtle rhythms that filled the woods like the beating of a heart.  And here, it felt as though that heart had skipped beating, and was quiescent, silent, waiting. He turned back to the wizard even as he heard a new noise, a faint whisper like a sudden breeze.  But the warning he’d been about to issue caught in his throat as he saw the wooden shaft jutting from Lord Zelos’s shoulder, the bright red fletchings shaking from the force of the impact.  For just a moment, a fraction of a second, he froze.  Then another whispered hiss ended with a second bolt striking the wizard in the throat.  The missile went through the man’s neck, and for a moment Jayse though that the shot had missed, until a fountain of blood, startlingly red, erupted from the vicious wound.  He’d only hesitated for a split-second, but it felt as though he’d been standing there for an hour.  “AMBUSH!” he yelled, but as more bolts slammed down into them from above, he knew it was already too late.</blockquote>

Verification