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On The Dragon-War and its Aftermath (Updated 6/22: S4-1 "In The Forest Of The Night")
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<blockquote data-quote="Zurai" data-source="post: 3603579" data-attributes="member: 52324"><p><strong>Session 4 Part 1: In The Forest Of The Night</strong></p><p></p><p>Given our recent experiences, we were forced to assume that the green flashes were further Gates opening, and that the war-horns were coming from units of the Dragon’s soldiers. A few seconds of frantic speculation and a short argument about where we should go – there were no lights or horns from the east, but was it a trap? – ended in the decision to simply press forward as best we could towards the dubious safety of Ompan, to the southwest. It was our hope to slip between the western and southern forces by going through the Ward Woods, then cutting across the hills as fast as we could manage.</p><p></p><p>That night was a tense, tiring affair, as we had to travel over a dozen miles through heavy rainfall in the middle of the night without having had the chance to rest for over a day. By the time we reached the edge of the forest, everyone was clearly exhausted and on edge. We made camp inside the forest sometime after midnight and set the remaining apprentices on watch, since they hadn’t been hiking cross-country all day and thus were the least fatigued. One by one we finally managed to fall asleep, and miraculously, we slept undisturbed for the first time since the Dragon invaded.</p><p></p><p>When we arose in the late morning of the next day, we took the time to become more acquainted with the Master (who was now concious again) and his apprentices. As it turned out, the Master used to be a servant of the Dragon who stole a certain book from Adamardith’s hoard and fled through a Gate to escape the Dragon’s wrath. The book, several inches thick and circular in shape, described in incredible detail how to make a special type of magical sword used by a race of beings that lived in a world beyond the Gates. By following the directions inside the book, a master smith would be able to craft one of these swords over the course of a year – <em>without</em> needing any magic in the process.</p><p></p><p>The Master had split his time over the last year between training apprentices as assassins to attack the Dragon and creating one of these silver swords. He had the book on a chain around his neck, but the incomplete sword had been left on the anvil back in the Master’s hideaway. Unfortunately, at this point the sword had been ruined because the Master hadn’t performed the neccesary ritual in the morning; he would have to start all over on another blade, assuming he could find another hideaway with access to a forge and all the materials he needed.</p><p></p><p>Our curiosity temporarily slated, we packed up camp and continued on our way. After a few hours of travel through the forest, we came to what appeared to be a dried out stream bed cutting through the forest. The stream bed was about ten feet deep and fifteen feet wide, and we would have to cross it in order to continue travelling in this direction. Still, a ten foot drop followed by a ten foot climb wasn’t especially strenuous, so those of us who were athletic – in other words, myself and the two remaining apprentice assassins – jumped down into the gulley and helped the others climb down safely. Bronn seemed especially eager to get to the other side, however, so he declined to wait for us to climb up and help him, instead scrambling ungracefully up the loose slope.</p><p></p><p>No sooner had he stepped off the edge of the gulley than he was struck by an arrow from somewhere in the woods – and the arrow carried a further surprise with it...</p><p></p><p>“Aughh! I’m blind!” yelled Bronn. Apparantly the arrow had been coated with a fast-acting blinding poison.</p><p></p><p>In the next few seconds, chaos erupted. Nearly a dozen hooded and cloaked figures stepped out from behind the trees they had been hiding behind and shot arrows at the party or charged forward with heavy, weighted nets. They ignored the one-legged Master, but every other person in the party was targeted by at least one arrow; the arrow with my name on it missed by a hair, and the Princess was seemingly unaffected by the poison (though she was hysterical over being hit with an arrow – she had never actually been hit in combat before this point).</p><p></p><p>One of the net-bearers charged at me and threw his net, but I was able to side-step his clumsy attack. I retaliated by planting my feet firmly on the ground, allowing me to put my full weight into a strike that sent him reeling, but didn’t drop him. Then one of the archers managed to hit me with an arrow, and the world dissolved into darkness. I could still hear the combat going on around me, and I could <em>smell</em> the warrior I had been fighting as he moved towards the Princess, presumably with less than honorable intentions. I lashed out once more with my chain, attempting to target him by his scent, but I hit only empty air.</p><p></p><p>Within twenty seconds, our attackers had secured all of us, although Bronn had been particularly aggravating for them; he had cast a spell to make him run faster and attempted to run away, but instead had run face-first into a tree next to one of the warriors, who had entangled him in a net. “Found one!” he called out, though no one was able to help him at the time. After a few seconds of struggling against the net, and a call for help from the warrior, Bronn managed to get free – and promptly turned and ran straight into the waiting arms of the warrior that had moved to help the first one.*</p><p></p><p>“Gather them up quickly, we have to move before the Dragon’s men arrive.” one of the unknown assailants said.</p><p></p><p>“Wait! Why are you attacking us if the Dragon is your enemy?” I asked, but my only response was a chorus of raucous laughter.</p><p></p><p>The Princess started to try to talk to them further, but I heard the sharp crack of a slap and a squeel of surprised pain from her, followed by another of the attackers saying “Shut up if you want to stay alive, slaves.”</p><p></p><p>Eventually they herded us together into a wagon and started driving us through the forest. I do not know how long we traveled, but after the blinding poison – thankfully not permanent – had worn off, the attackers finally revealed themselves to us. They came first to me, asking me a dangerous question – “So, who are you? Gesult, Nerendus, or Korinthos?” – and then pulling back their hoods to reveal the faces of a group of Corrupted Demonlings.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>FREE! FREE ME! ALLIES!</strong></em> Korinthos battered hard at my inner defenses, and I was barely able to contain him. I growled in rage and struggled in my bonds, which earned me a clubbing, but gave them no other answer.</p><p></p><p>“So you maintain complete control? Interesting. We’ll see how long <em>that</em> lasts.” and with a taunting grin, they turned to the rest of my companions. With sly smirks, they told everyone exactly who and what they were – and by extension, what I was – much to the horror of all. After that, no one would even look at me. I could feel the despair starting to coil its tentacles around me, and Korinthos never faltered in his assault on my mind. He absorbed my entire focus for the remainder of the wagon journey.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>* - In game terms, Bronn was blinded and so had to pick direction randomly when he moved. His first d8 sent him charging into a tree, right next to one of the archers. The archer got him in a net, but he struggled enough that she had to ask one of the other warriors for help. When Bronn got free, the other warrior had just moved to a flanking position with the first one – and Bronn’s second d8 roll sent him in exactly that direction.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Zurai, post: 3603579, member: 52324"] [b]Session 4 Part 1: In The Forest Of The Night[/b] Given our recent experiences, we were forced to assume that the green flashes were further Gates opening, and that the war-horns were coming from units of the Dragon’s soldiers. A few seconds of frantic speculation and a short argument about where we should go – there were no lights or horns from the east, but was it a trap? – ended in the decision to simply press forward as best we could towards the dubious safety of Ompan, to the southwest. It was our hope to slip between the western and southern forces by going through the Ward Woods, then cutting across the hills as fast as we could manage. That night was a tense, tiring affair, as we had to travel over a dozen miles through heavy rainfall in the middle of the night without having had the chance to rest for over a day. By the time we reached the edge of the forest, everyone was clearly exhausted and on edge. We made camp inside the forest sometime after midnight and set the remaining apprentices on watch, since they hadn’t been hiking cross-country all day and thus were the least fatigued. One by one we finally managed to fall asleep, and miraculously, we slept undisturbed for the first time since the Dragon invaded. When we arose in the late morning of the next day, we took the time to become more acquainted with the Master (who was now concious again) and his apprentices. As it turned out, the Master used to be a servant of the Dragon who stole a certain book from Adamardith’s hoard and fled through a Gate to escape the Dragon’s wrath. The book, several inches thick and circular in shape, described in incredible detail how to make a special type of magical sword used by a race of beings that lived in a world beyond the Gates. By following the directions inside the book, a master smith would be able to craft one of these swords over the course of a year – [i]without[/i] needing any magic in the process. The Master had split his time over the last year between training apprentices as assassins to attack the Dragon and creating one of these silver swords. He had the book on a chain around his neck, but the incomplete sword had been left on the anvil back in the Master’s hideaway. Unfortunately, at this point the sword had been ruined because the Master hadn’t performed the neccesary ritual in the morning; he would have to start all over on another blade, assuming he could find another hideaway with access to a forge and all the materials he needed. Our curiosity temporarily slated, we packed up camp and continued on our way. After a few hours of travel through the forest, we came to what appeared to be a dried out stream bed cutting through the forest. The stream bed was about ten feet deep and fifteen feet wide, and we would have to cross it in order to continue travelling in this direction. Still, a ten foot drop followed by a ten foot climb wasn’t especially strenuous, so those of us who were athletic – in other words, myself and the two remaining apprentice assassins – jumped down into the gulley and helped the others climb down safely. Bronn seemed especially eager to get to the other side, however, so he declined to wait for us to climb up and help him, instead scrambling ungracefully up the loose slope. No sooner had he stepped off the edge of the gulley than he was struck by an arrow from somewhere in the woods – and the arrow carried a further surprise with it... “Aughh! I’m blind!” yelled Bronn. Apparantly the arrow had been coated with a fast-acting blinding poison. In the next few seconds, chaos erupted. Nearly a dozen hooded and cloaked figures stepped out from behind the trees they had been hiding behind and shot arrows at the party or charged forward with heavy, weighted nets. They ignored the one-legged Master, but every other person in the party was targeted by at least one arrow; the arrow with my name on it missed by a hair, and the Princess was seemingly unaffected by the poison (though she was hysterical over being hit with an arrow – she had never actually been hit in combat before this point). One of the net-bearers charged at me and threw his net, but I was able to side-step his clumsy attack. I retaliated by planting my feet firmly on the ground, allowing me to put my full weight into a strike that sent him reeling, but didn’t drop him. Then one of the archers managed to hit me with an arrow, and the world dissolved into darkness. I could still hear the combat going on around me, and I could [i]smell[/i] the warrior I had been fighting as he moved towards the Princess, presumably with less than honorable intentions. I lashed out once more with my chain, attempting to target him by his scent, but I hit only empty air. Within twenty seconds, our attackers had secured all of us, although Bronn had been particularly aggravating for them; he had cast a spell to make him run faster and attempted to run away, but instead had run face-first into a tree next to one of the warriors, who had entangled him in a net. “Found one!” he called out, though no one was able to help him at the time. After a few seconds of struggling against the net, and a call for help from the warrior, Bronn managed to get free – and promptly turned and ran straight into the waiting arms of the warrior that had moved to help the first one.* “Gather them up quickly, we have to move before the Dragon’s men arrive.” one of the unknown assailants said. “Wait! Why are you attacking us if the Dragon is your enemy?” I asked, but my only response was a chorus of raucous laughter. The Princess started to try to talk to them further, but I heard the sharp crack of a slap and a squeel of surprised pain from her, followed by another of the attackers saying “Shut up if you want to stay alive, slaves.” Eventually they herded us together into a wagon and started driving us through the forest. I do not know how long we traveled, but after the blinding poison – thankfully not permanent – had worn off, the attackers finally revealed themselves to us. They came first to me, asking me a dangerous question – “So, who are you? Gesult, Nerendus, or Korinthos?” – and then pulling back their hoods to reveal the faces of a group of Corrupted Demonlings. [i][b]FREE! FREE ME! ALLIES![/b][/i] Korinthos battered hard at my inner defenses, and I was barely able to contain him. I growled in rage and struggled in my bonds, which earned me a clubbing, but gave them no other answer. “So you maintain complete control? Interesting. We’ll see how long [i]that[/i] lasts.” and with a taunting grin, they turned to the rest of my companions. With sly smirks, they told everyone exactly who and what they were – and by extension, what I was – much to the horror of all. After that, no one would even look at me. I could feel the despair starting to coil its tentacles around me, and Korinthos never faltered in his assault on my mind. He absorbed my entire focus for the remainder of the wagon journey. * - In game terms, Bronn was blinded and so had to pick direction randomly when he moved. His first d8 sent him charging into a tree, right next to one of the archers. The archer got him in a net, but he struggled enough that she had to ask one of the other warriors for help. When Bronn got free, the other warrior had just moved to a flanking position with the first one – and Bronn’s second d8 roll sent him in exactly that direction. [/QUOTE]
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