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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Renfield" data-source="post: 1043833" data-attributes="member: 13493">Greetings, welcome to my very first campaign post, this is a home brewed setting using primarily 3.5 rules with the slight addition of my Golden House Rule of Divinity: If it was better in 3.0, it stays. To explain needlessly: I didn't view a single thing in 3.0 as overpowered, I won't go overboard on this however anyway I *Renfields conscience and this point stands up, walks the short distance up his shoulder to his head and promptly smacks him giving him a not so subtle message to get on with the program* ah right, well anyway, on with the first install ment of "Of Children and Lost Souls."Heroes:Nym the Perceptor: Druid of the Cursewood Forest with the gift of percieving the Green.Kerowyn aka: Amarbie: Odd True Elf Amazon warrior. Normally quite timid (odd for both race and clan) until angered. A deadly shot with the bow and able to wield a large club with surprising strength.Delver: Odd Darkelven Necromancer from the Shadewood Forest with shriveled hands that are deadly to the touch.If anyone is curious about some of the odd abilities that people have and some of the things we do that just don't seem right here's a small explanation: We are using a whole truckload of stuff from Mongoose Punlishing, primarily their magic sourcebooks and their Quinisential books (sp). So, yeah, just letting you know.(this will only be a short post as it is 4:00am right now and I'm tired)Erias Strongoak stood atop Watchers Lookout, a tall hill with a grand old oak tree upon it's crown. he stood and he listened. The man wasn't tall compaired to most men, a modest height of 5'6" with a wirey frame, not the most imposing of physical specimens though he had cowed creatures many times bigger than he. His green eyes stared ahead, seemingly at nothing with a saddened look in their core, but his focus wasn't upon his visual sense, no he was listening, to the wind in particular. The wind had some disturbing things to say, all had gone silent in the Shorntooth mountains to the west, dangerously close to the small town of green, his home and domain. The wind loathed what it felt in the mountains, what little Erias could sense caused him to ferally snort like a wolf sniffing something foul. What disturbed him more was what Rock and Earth told him, they cried out for Gaia's preservation, they called out for aid, however not to him. "Something is wrong isn't it?" a voice said apparently out of nowhere, it would have startled most men though the owner of the calm peaceful voice as well as Erias, were well adept at such meetings."The Wind speaks of trouble from the mountains my friend, and the Earth cries out for aid. Though who the Earth is calling I know not..." Erias said in a passive tone, both men were worried, though both men were also experts o keeping that worry from their faces."Perhaps it is Gaia who is calling out..." the younger man said. This elicited a look from Erias. "Perhaps Loren, perhaps, are you sure you went down the right path when you chose Solar?" he asked after turning to face the sandy hared plain looking young priest. His crimson robes with the bright sunburst emblazoned on it's back clashed with the Druids green and brown garb. "sometimes I could almost swear you were a student of gaia." he said with a laugh that quickly died away.A pause followed for a moment before Loren finally spoke "I followed my heart Erias, just as you did, and I am glad fate was kind enough to put us in the one kingdom where our faiths aren't at eachothers throats." the crimson clad priest sad in the calm peaceful voice, Erias knew him to be right, as he too was thankful for such a kind hand. "Well." said Erias looking down the path he had walked many many times before looking up at the sky, it was overcast. He paused a moment and his saddened green eyes flashed for a moment "I think I must be going on my afternoon walk."**Somewhere, in a room lit by the flames of a thousand black candles, at the foot of a blood stained alter in the center of a blasphemous circle of dark runes a figure knelt. And Prayed. The sound of a door opening echoed through the unholy chamber the echo sealed by the sound of the same door shutting. The clinking sound of a man in plate and mail accompanied the footsteps that approached the darkly clad figure until they came to a halt at a respective... and safe distance."MiLord," a deep voice that radiated discipline and duty "Sorith bade me to inform you that the preperation for the ritual is nearing completion."The figure smiled mirthlessly, not that the human could see, and a sinister rasping voice spoke "Sorith should know that I would have preffered news of it's completion *not* it's nearing such." the man shifted, being near this one was always a discomfort, though duty was duty. "Send out Marcurian and his Black Fists, have them camp at the circle and await my next orders."Another metalic sound of armor shifting as the man saluted. "Very well MiLord." and the figure stood and left the room. The mirthless smile upon the darkly clad figures face broke into a grin, a grin of razor sharp teeth.</blockquote>

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