Rel's Faded Glory III: Glory Reborn (FINAL UPDATE 6/22 - SHE'S DONE, BABY!!)
- Thread starter Rel
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Rel
Liquid Awesome
How about a little update to start the weekend off right? 
The group reappeared right at the broken, underground gates of The City of Endless Summer. Lazarius was afraid to appear any further inside the City because it could well have been that the rising Blood had covered up the location they departed from. But a brief investigation showed that the Blood had in fact receded out of the hallway entirely. What that meant was anybody’s guess but nobody was going into the City to follow up on this little mystery. They began their flight back up the long passage leading to the Foundry.
A couple of hours passed with a few of the Orcs starting to lag behind. Their tremendous endurance was being pushed beyond all normal limits and it was obvious that they couldn’t continue much longer. Then the passageway opened into the Foundry with the faint afternoon light trickling down through the gap in the ceiling. By wordless agreement they all exited through the crevice and turned northward, covering the final distance of their long journey.
They alighted at the entrance to the cave, hoping beyond hope that no foul creature had inhabited it in their absence. Luck was with them for once and, one by one, they resumed their humanoid forms and staggered inside. Magdar had his men light a fire and the group gathered around, sharing out whatever rations they had.
Though exhausted, Magdar and the handful of Orcs that remained each thanked the various party members personally for their deliverance. None wished to discuss the fate that seemed to have been assured for them. Whether they died in the coming days during the struggle against Bale mattered not. At least they were not to die atop Bane’s Tomb in Hell. Magdar himself took the first watch and the others hastily found what comfort could be had in the cold cave and slept the sleep of those who were exhausted now and whose work was far from over.
Speaks came to the edge of the cave at first light to find Marcus there already. The Warrior of St. Cuthbert peered at the far horizon where the sun rose beyond the Fodor Valley and began to shine its light on the lands of both his parents. In these dark days it seemed that each new sunrise was a gift all its own, and a challenge to try and stem the rising tide of evil that day.
Speaks did not interrupt the reverie of the younger man. He too knew how to appreciate the rising sun in silence. And he too had much to contemplate about how best to use the day. At last Marcus turned to him and gave a faint smile and a nod. “Morning.”
Speaks smiled back. “I need to go see what is happening back at the City. I’ll probably be gone for at least a couple of hours. If I’m still gone at sundown, Lazarius should start Teleporting you all back to Hrongar’s Hill. They are the closest to Bale and his army of Blood.”
Marcus frowned, “Be back by sundown.” He reached out his hand and clasped that of Speaks. Then the Druid took a couple steps backwards, became an eagle and flew into the air. Marcus watched him fly southwards and wished him luck. Now it was time for his prayers.
He found a dry spot on a nearby rock and turned so that he was no longer looking directly toward the sun as it continued to bring light to the late winter morning. He drew out his holy symbol and bowed in supplication, drawing upon the faith that would strengthen his soul and empower his magic. Never had he had so great a need for both.
As he opened his eyes from the final prayers, the day was full of light from more than just the sun. Before him stood the Shining Lady. She smiled upon him and he felt the aura of goodness that flowed from her like a wellspring. And her voice was like that of a mother, stilling fears, dispelling doubts, promising protection. “Good morning, Shieldbearer.”
His voice seemed to catch in his throat but after a moment he managed to croak out, “Good morning, milady,” as he kneeled and bowed before her. He felt her hand upon his shoulder and heard that voice again.
“I am neither your Lord nor your master. If anybody should be bowing, it should be me. For now let us at least call ourselves equals. Agreed?”
Marcus rose unsteadily to his feet, looking around and seeing that they were alone outside the cave. For some reason he was glad of it. “Very well, milady.”
She smiled at him again. “As always seems to be the case, I have much to tell you and little time in which to do it. Perhaps a day will come when we will have a chance to speak under better circumstances. I hold out hope that such a day will come.”
Marcus did too but held his tongue. Thus far every word she had ever spoken to him had held great weight. He would not risk her having to cut short what she had to say by injecting further babble into the conversation.
“Bale now walks the world, trailing behind him those beholden to his Blood. The time will soon come when he must be stopped.
Understand that there can be no war against him. His very essence is that of destruction and death. Every wrongful death feeds him as does every act of destruction. A prolonged war will only make certain his victory. Even now the war waging in the south feeds him.
The Orcs in the Empire have nearly ceased their sacrifices and are starting to act like a normal army. They no longer are attacking unarmed cities to capture those who can be put to the knife on their altars. Instead they are digging in, hoping to forestall the Imperial Legions until Bale’s army of Blood can turn their attentions away. But they are a doomed army.
Even now the might of my people, the Celestials, is being turned against them. And it seems that the forces of Evil are also jealous of Bane’s coup in bringing his brother back to the world. The dark gods are sending their minions to assail the Orcs as well and reports of Demons and Devils slaughtering them in the night have begun to appear.
But the beings of the planes cannot be the primary instrument in defeating Bale. He is a god, a minor one yet, but still a god. And like all the gods he wields the Essence that can command those such as I. If he focuses his will upon us then we will be his tools to be turned upon the mortals we seek to defend. I’m afraid that it will be up to your people to destroy this evil.
The first people affected by Bale’s march will be those of your mother. But they may not be able to withstand his assault. They have been beset from many sides, within and without. Worse yet, sometime yesterday the remaining Legions encamped on their southern borders began a march northwards. They move quickly across the land and it may not be Bale who destroys the last of the Fodor tribes.
These Legions are led by the Macewielder and if they fall upon the warriors of the Fodor then Bale shall have an easy time indeed destroying this world. It is this sort of unjust killing that feeds him the most. And he must be struck down before he gains strength.
I can offer you one bit of hope against his might: There exists a weapon that might prove effective against Bale if it is used soon. It is known as The Bloodstone Blade and it was last known to lie in the lair of The Dark Dragon who lives in the Dragonmount.”
That name seemed familiar to Marcus but his expression told her that he could not place it precisely. She came to his aid once more.
“It is the highest peak in the southern part of the Dragontail Mountains. It rises into the sky above the town of Glynden.”
The group reappeared right at the broken, underground gates of The City of Endless Summer. Lazarius was afraid to appear any further inside the City because it could well have been that the rising Blood had covered up the location they departed from. But a brief investigation showed that the Blood had in fact receded out of the hallway entirely. What that meant was anybody’s guess but nobody was going into the City to follow up on this little mystery. They began their flight back up the long passage leading to the Foundry.
A couple of hours passed with a few of the Orcs starting to lag behind. Their tremendous endurance was being pushed beyond all normal limits and it was obvious that they couldn’t continue much longer. Then the passageway opened into the Foundry with the faint afternoon light trickling down through the gap in the ceiling. By wordless agreement they all exited through the crevice and turned northward, covering the final distance of their long journey.
They alighted at the entrance to the cave, hoping beyond hope that no foul creature had inhabited it in their absence. Luck was with them for once and, one by one, they resumed their humanoid forms and staggered inside. Magdar had his men light a fire and the group gathered around, sharing out whatever rations they had.
Though exhausted, Magdar and the handful of Orcs that remained each thanked the various party members personally for their deliverance. None wished to discuss the fate that seemed to have been assured for them. Whether they died in the coming days during the struggle against Bale mattered not. At least they were not to die atop Bane’s Tomb in Hell. Magdar himself took the first watch and the others hastily found what comfort could be had in the cold cave and slept the sleep of those who were exhausted now and whose work was far from over.
Speaks came to the edge of the cave at first light to find Marcus there already. The Warrior of St. Cuthbert peered at the far horizon where the sun rose beyond the Fodor Valley and began to shine its light on the lands of both his parents. In these dark days it seemed that each new sunrise was a gift all its own, and a challenge to try and stem the rising tide of evil that day.
Speaks did not interrupt the reverie of the younger man. He too knew how to appreciate the rising sun in silence. And he too had much to contemplate about how best to use the day. At last Marcus turned to him and gave a faint smile and a nod. “Morning.”
Speaks smiled back. “I need to go see what is happening back at the City. I’ll probably be gone for at least a couple of hours. If I’m still gone at sundown, Lazarius should start Teleporting you all back to Hrongar’s Hill. They are the closest to Bale and his army of Blood.”
Marcus frowned, “Be back by sundown.” He reached out his hand and clasped that of Speaks. Then the Druid took a couple steps backwards, became an eagle and flew into the air. Marcus watched him fly southwards and wished him luck. Now it was time for his prayers.
He found a dry spot on a nearby rock and turned so that he was no longer looking directly toward the sun as it continued to bring light to the late winter morning. He drew out his holy symbol and bowed in supplication, drawing upon the faith that would strengthen his soul and empower his magic. Never had he had so great a need for both.
As he opened his eyes from the final prayers, the day was full of light from more than just the sun. Before him stood the Shining Lady. She smiled upon him and he felt the aura of goodness that flowed from her like a wellspring. And her voice was like that of a mother, stilling fears, dispelling doubts, promising protection. “Good morning, Shieldbearer.”
His voice seemed to catch in his throat but after a moment he managed to croak out, “Good morning, milady,” as he kneeled and bowed before her. He felt her hand upon his shoulder and heard that voice again.
“I am neither your Lord nor your master. If anybody should be bowing, it should be me. For now let us at least call ourselves equals. Agreed?”
Marcus rose unsteadily to his feet, looking around and seeing that they were alone outside the cave. For some reason he was glad of it. “Very well, milady.”
She smiled at him again. “As always seems to be the case, I have much to tell you and little time in which to do it. Perhaps a day will come when we will have a chance to speak under better circumstances. I hold out hope that such a day will come.”
Marcus did too but held his tongue. Thus far every word she had ever spoken to him had held great weight. He would not risk her having to cut short what she had to say by injecting further babble into the conversation.
“Bale now walks the world, trailing behind him those beholden to his Blood. The time will soon come when he must be stopped.
Understand that there can be no war against him. His very essence is that of destruction and death. Every wrongful death feeds him as does every act of destruction. A prolonged war will only make certain his victory. Even now the war waging in the south feeds him.
The Orcs in the Empire have nearly ceased their sacrifices and are starting to act like a normal army. They no longer are attacking unarmed cities to capture those who can be put to the knife on their altars. Instead they are digging in, hoping to forestall the Imperial Legions until Bale’s army of Blood can turn their attentions away. But they are a doomed army.
Even now the might of my people, the Celestials, is being turned against them. And it seems that the forces of Evil are also jealous of Bane’s coup in bringing his brother back to the world. The dark gods are sending their minions to assail the Orcs as well and reports of Demons and Devils slaughtering them in the night have begun to appear.
But the beings of the planes cannot be the primary instrument in defeating Bale. He is a god, a minor one yet, but still a god. And like all the gods he wields the Essence that can command those such as I. If he focuses his will upon us then we will be his tools to be turned upon the mortals we seek to defend. I’m afraid that it will be up to your people to destroy this evil.
The first people affected by Bale’s march will be those of your mother. But they may not be able to withstand his assault. They have been beset from many sides, within and without. Worse yet, sometime yesterday the remaining Legions encamped on their southern borders began a march northwards. They move quickly across the land and it may not be Bale who destroys the last of the Fodor tribes.
These Legions are led by the Macewielder and if they fall upon the warriors of the Fodor then Bale shall have an easy time indeed destroying this world. It is this sort of unjust killing that feeds him the most. And he must be struck down before he gains strength.
I can offer you one bit of hope against his might: There exists a weapon that might prove effective against Bale if it is used soon. It is known as The Bloodstone Blade and it was last known to lie in the lair of The Dark Dragon who lives in the Dragonmount.”
That name seemed familiar to Marcus but his expression told her that he could not place it precisely. She came to his aid once more.
“It is the highest peak in the southern part of the Dragontail Mountains. It rises into the sky above the town of Glynden.”
Rel
Liquid Awesome
BardStephenFox said:
Thank you, sir!
I have to say that designing this phase of the campaign was one of the parts I loved the most. It reminded me that work put into laying the foundations of your campaign is never wasted. I got to tie in old prophecies, revisit places that the PC's had been earlier in their adventures, let them drop in on old NPC's (as you're about to see) and pull out a few dusty old legends that they hadn't really heard much about in a LONG time.
I still recall the moment of joy when I was puttting together the whereabouts of the Bloodstone Blade. My internal dialogue was something like this:
"Hmmm. Well it needs to be someplace kind of epic. There's that old tomb that Old One mentions in his intro but it is WAY out east and the party has never been anywhere close to that. I want this section of the campaign to really move and be exciting so I don't want to take a lot of time breaking in a whole new region.
What about a dragon's lair? Yeah! There's that white dragon that the party has an in with and she hates the Banelar. But then why wouldn't she just give it to them? That wouldn't be very exciting. Maybe I could put her under some kind of geas that she has to protect it? Nah.
Wait a second...I've got another dragon laying around! The one from the Dragonmount! He's been up there, looming over Glynden, doing nothing the entire campaign! Well it's time to dust his lazy ass off and have him be a plot device! Dragonmount, here they come..."
Jon Potter
First Post
Well done! That's a nice little bow you've wrapped the campaign up with.
Can we expect to see a certain kobold sorcerer from w-a-a-a-y back in the day?
Can we expect to see a certain kobold sorcerer from w-a-a-a-y back in the day?
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Jon Potter said:
I'll spill the beans a little and tell you that Frakir, the sorceress in question, does not appear in the remainder of our heroes tale. But her name did come up.
Speaks was thinking that if they needed to bargain with this dragon they should maybe try and obtain the tapestry that the Kobolds had stolen from the Wizard's Tower in Aquae Sulis. They were fairly sure that it depicted the Dragonmount Dragon and thought it might make a suitable gift.
Alas, the PC's never actually had the tapestry in their clutches and Frakir, per her agreement with the party, had moved her people from the silver mines of Aquae Sulis to parts unknown. Speaks thought about doing some scrying to try and track her down but decided that since he didn't know exactly where she was (probably in some cave somewhere) he would need Lazarius to help him Teleport there. Lazarius was going to be quite busy already Teleporting him and everybody else all over hell and gone. And even if they were successful at finding Frakir and getting the tapestry from her somehow, they were not sure it would be a big enough gift for the Dragon to give up the Bloodstone Blade.
As a result, they dropped the matter. Further down the line this would have some degree of consequences but I don't recall whether I ever touched on them during the remainder of the campaign. If I don't mention it again later, remind me and I'll explain further.
And thanks, Jon, for noticing that. It always makes me feel good when I can tell my player and readers have been paying attention and can connect the dots.
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Here's a rather short update to set the stage for the next phase of our story. I'm in a bit of a "writing mood" today so I might post another later this afternoon.
Speaks returned by midday and gave his report:
There was now a gaping rift in the caldera wall of The City of Endless Summer. The magnitude of the magic that would be required to cause this was terrifying all by itself. Through the rift flowed a river of blood as it continued to well up from beneath the City. This river flowed down the mountainside, generally following the path of least resistance and…things…swam in this river.
It was moving quickly and was already nearly two days march from the City. Whether this was because of the steep slopes of the Blackpeaks or simply because Bale was that fast was as yet unknown. Either way, he would almost certainly exit the mountains sometime later today and enter the Fodor Valley. If this pace continued then he could be as far south as Hrongar’s Hill in no more than three or four days.
Speaks had not attempted to get close to the forefront of the advancing river of blood but his eagle eyes had been able to pick out the huge form of Bale as he crossed a meadow further down the mountainside. He rode the foremost edge of this bloodflow or it somehow flowed into and out of him. Either way it had the effect of leaving a trail, not unlike that of a snail or slug. If only he moved so slowly…
Moving along the edges of the River of Blood were the hordes that answered Bale’s call. Perhaps a couple of hundred primitive looking Orcs, a few dozen Ogres, Trolls, and what Speaks thought may have been some Dwarves all moved down the mountainsides, hastening to catch up to their new master. The slopes of the mountain were alive with movement as more streamed toward the River to increase these numbers.
The fate of the world was racing ahead of them and the party reeled as they tried to puzzle out what they were going to do.
What was clear was that they needed to bring as much force to bear against Bale as quickly as they could. That meant spreading the word to their allies and trying to stave off any additional enemies.
It was decided that the entire group would Teleport to Hrongar’s Hill. From there Lazarius and Marius would go on to Emor and martial whatever reserves they could from the Imperial War Wizards and Senator Gracchus. Marcus, Rhys and Scar would move south to intercept Lucius Capito and the Legions that he led northwards, hoping to dissuade him from attacking the Fodor Tribes and attempting to kill him if he would not relent. Speaks would travel east to Great Root in the hopes that the mighty guardian of the Dark Wood could send aid to meet Bale. Magdar, Ilrath and the remaining Orcs would presumably stay at Hrongar’s Hill and help assist with whatever fortification could be done in the short time they had left.
It was agreed that they could spare no more than a couple of days for these errands before they needed to reunite in Glynden and ascend the Dragonmount. Now that they had decided on their course of action, each man gathered his belongings in great haste. It now seemed that every second that slipped by was a precious thing that demanded to be used in some way that might be meaningful.
They were ready in a handful of minutes and were gathered outside the cave entrance. Speaks used his Feathers spell to transform them all into avian form and they fluttered to perch on the arms, shoulders and even head of Lazarius. The Wizard rolled his eyes. What a way to travel!
He spoke the word of power that would carry them hundreds of miles in an instant and they left behind the cold, dark desolation of the Blackpeaks for the desperate uncertainty of the south and east.
Speaks returned by midday and gave his report:
There was now a gaping rift in the caldera wall of The City of Endless Summer. The magnitude of the magic that would be required to cause this was terrifying all by itself. Through the rift flowed a river of blood as it continued to well up from beneath the City. This river flowed down the mountainside, generally following the path of least resistance and…things…swam in this river.
It was moving quickly and was already nearly two days march from the City. Whether this was because of the steep slopes of the Blackpeaks or simply because Bale was that fast was as yet unknown. Either way, he would almost certainly exit the mountains sometime later today and enter the Fodor Valley. If this pace continued then he could be as far south as Hrongar’s Hill in no more than three or four days.
Speaks had not attempted to get close to the forefront of the advancing river of blood but his eagle eyes had been able to pick out the huge form of Bale as he crossed a meadow further down the mountainside. He rode the foremost edge of this bloodflow or it somehow flowed into and out of him. Either way it had the effect of leaving a trail, not unlike that of a snail or slug. If only he moved so slowly…
Moving along the edges of the River of Blood were the hordes that answered Bale’s call. Perhaps a couple of hundred primitive looking Orcs, a few dozen Ogres, Trolls, and what Speaks thought may have been some Dwarves all moved down the mountainsides, hastening to catch up to their new master. The slopes of the mountain were alive with movement as more streamed toward the River to increase these numbers.
The fate of the world was racing ahead of them and the party reeled as they tried to puzzle out what they were going to do.
What was clear was that they needed to bring as much force to bear against Bale as quickly as they could. That meant spreading the word to their allies and trying to stave off any additional enemies.
It was decided that the entire group would Teleport to Hrongar’s Hill. From there Lazarius and Marius would go on to Emor and martial whatever reserves they could from the Imperial War Wizards and Senator Gracchus. Marcus, Rhys and Scar would move south to intercept Lucius Capito and the Legions that he led northwards, hoping to dissuade him from attacking the Fodor Tribes and attempting to kill him if he would not relent. Speaks would travel east to Great Root in the hopes that the mighty guardian of the Dark Wood could send aid to meet Bale. Magdar, Ilrath and the remaining Orcs would presumably stay at Hrongar’s Hill and help assist with whatever fortification could be done in the short time they had left.
It was agreed that they could spare no more than a couple of days for these errands before they needed to reunite in Glynden and ascend the Dragonmount. Now that they had decided on their course of action, each man gathered his belongings in great haste. It now seemed that every second that slipped by was a precious thing that demanded to be used in some way that might be meaningful.
They were ready in a handful of minutes and were gathered outside the cave entrance. Speaks used his Feathers spell to transform them all into avian form and they fluttered to perch on the arms, shoulders and even head of Lazarius. The Wizard rolled his eyes. What a way to travel!
He spoke the word of power that would carry them hundreds of miles in an instant and they left behind the cold, dark desolation of the Blackpeaks for the desperate uncertainty of the south and east.
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