rbingham2000
Explorer
Ah, so THAT'S what he did!Schmackboy said:
Wasn't what I thought he did when I first read the thing, but still...nasty!
When's the next friggin' installment coming?!
Scarred Lands: None Dare Call Them Heroes (updated 12/07/03)
Wasn't what I thought he did when I first read the thing, but still...nasty!
When's the next friggin' installment coming?!
Elph
First Post
Bump
Man oh man. We just finished this "season" of the campaign. So much has happened. So much has changed. By far - Best. Campaign. Ever.
And as we head into season two, who knows what adventures await our brave, er... heroic, no wait... how about 'charging fool-hearty head-long into the gapping maw of danger' characters?
That sounds about right.
Man oh man. We just finished this "season" of the campaign. So much has happened. So much has changed. By far - Best. Campaign. Ever.
And as we head into season two, who knows what adventures await our brave, er... heroic, no wait... how about 'charging fool-hearty head-long into the gapping maw of danger' characters?
That sounds about right.
Harp said:
I assumed a similar thing to what's meant by a TV season.
On a side note, while you're waiting for your jonrog fix, you can get a temporary hit watching "The Core." Bought it last night on DVD. Mmm, disaster movie.
"I have a security clearance?" "I have a plane?"
"You use our T1 to search for Sailor Moon, I think you can do this."
Hehe.
The original line was "You can use our T1 line to find Sailor Moon porn, you can do this."
Damn Paramount.
And yes, the campaign is broken into 5-level "series". Very Buffy, with one big-bad per arc. That way, get an emotional investment, but feel likes there's regular payoffs. They started at 2nd level, and ended on eighth (really leveled to nine, but no biggie). I try to make sure all hanging plot points are resolved, so we can start new subplots and personal stuff on a regular basis. Even have a three-month downtime between campaign timelines.
Also allows for different campaign "flavors". The first was a city-to-city investigation with some Dungeon Crawls. Very sprawling, lots of hack-n-slash. Season Two is "The Gentlemen's War", and our lightning-bolt happy crew is going to attempt to act as spies and saboteurs in a series of loosely-conected adventures. This should be amusing. Probably finish this up around level 12/13, then on to something else.
Damn Paramount.
And yes, the campaign is broken into 5-level "series". Very Buffy, with one big-bad per arc. That way, get an emotional investment, but feel likes there's regular payoffs. They started at 2nd level, and ended on eighth (really leveled to nine, but no biggie). I try to make sure all hanging plot points are resolved, so we can start new subplots and personal stuff on a regular basis. Even have a three-month downtime between campaign timelines.
Also allows for different campaign "flavors". The first was a city-to-city investigation with some Dungeon Crawls. Very sprawling, lots of hack-n-slash. Season Two is "The Gentlemen's War", and our lightning-bolt happy crew is going to attempt to act as spies and saboteurs in a series of loosely-conected adventures. This should be amusing. Probably finish this up around level 12/13, then on to something else.
CH. 10: "Wherein our heroes discover Green Acres is not the place to be..."
After a hard L-turn, the canyon resolved into a dead-end. There, nestled against the back redstone wall was the Tree.
It wasn’t the tallest tree any of them has seen, but it had an unmistakable presence. Its girth was fully fifteen feet, rising stumpily another thirty, ending in thick bizarrely twisted branches. The jet-black branches didn’t taper off, the ended in blunt, insane contortions as if frozen in the midst of convulsions. There was no fruit on the limbs. Instead, spiralling up and around the trunk were … blisters of various sizes. It was if the fruit were erupting as pustules. Only two apples seemed ripe, almost ready to drop off the trunk -- a single red apple, and a single white apple.
The center of the trunk was split lengthwise by a gummy cleft twice a man’s height. It oozed sap and was, generally, the most obscene thing any of the party had seen. Ever. And Alec had been to Shelzar.
Unnerved by this sudden change in the tone of what had seemed to be a pleasant little druid’s grove, Indigo drew her sword. Argent hefted his light-tipped spear in both hands. Taggart and Kirby shifted from nonchalant to chalant-and-yet-still-cooler-than-most. Alec unlimbered his bow. They trod softly through the lush, green grass of the canyon toward the abomination. The dappled sunlight cast all of this into weird relief.
Everyone twitched when a robed figure circled from behind the tree. He was an elderly human, walking with a staff. His face broke into a wide grin. “Viiiiiisitoorrs! Vonderful! Vonderful! You have come to see my beauty, yes?”
“If the beauty is that … thing and not a disturbing metaphor for something else, sure.” Kirby stepped forward and bowed. “We, ah, have heard of the regenerative powers of your tree’s fruits.”
“BAH!” The man shook his head impatiently. “Belloc has finally triumphed. Belloc has no need of the distraaaaaaaaction of the auction.” There was an awkward pause. “I am Belloc, by the way. Stop looking around.”
“Sorry.” Indigo edged forward, hypnotized by the grotesque magnificence of the tree. “If it is not too much to be asking, what have you triumphed at?”
“In my service to MORMO, ALL POWERFUL AND MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE TITANS, DARK MOTHER TO OUR BLESSED ABOMINAAAATTTTIONS!.” Belloc caught himself in mid-rant. “Ah, sorry, Belloc sometimes grows so enthusiastic in her service.”
“Mormo, the fallen titan –“ started Alec.
“No, the OTHER Mormo, yes, yes, foolish mortals, soon all will be blessed with the sweet dark kiss of her Holiness.” Belloc paused. “You seem less than enthusiastic about Belloc’s triumph.”
“That’s because you’re evil, and we’re going to kill you,” muttered Argent.
Taggart shushed him. “Listen, we’re in this guy’s grove. We don’t know his powers. Play cool, till we get the apple, and then if things go wrong we can deal with him.” Taggart flexed his hand, making sure the forearm-sheath holding his katar was properly aligned.
Kirby stepped forward, adjusting his velevet longcoat. “No, no, Belloc, terribly impressed. Just wondering, as Mormo is of course, ah, rather destructive, what you’ve been doing selling a healing apple for all these years.”
“You think my research is inexpensive?” Belloc chuckled. “No, no, I have imported saplings from the Hornsaw, water from the Blood Sea, even soil from the mad Blood Bayou in Termana. The gold from my healing has gone to dark seed –“ He gestured to the tree, “ – and this is its flower!” Belloc paced, chuckling madly. “Wood and flesh, blood and soil, all twisted in my hands. I am a gardener, you see, a simple gardener…”
Belloc gestured. Two figures shuffled stiffly out from behind the tree. One was a young man in torn robes of a spellcaster. The other … well, she made an impression on all of them, but Alec actually found himself gasping. She was easily six feet tall, beautiful, with long dark hair and green eyes, but a soldier’s build. She wore a chain shirt with the crossed longswords of Corean worked into each shoulder. Her own longsword dangled awkwardly in her hand: her grip was sturdy, but angled wrong, as if she’d never held a weapon before. It was the missing Hucrele boy and the paladin of Corean, Sharwyn.
Each of them bore a helmet of wood; a twisted root system erupted from the skullcaps and burrowed into their living flesh, behind their ears, under their jaws. Tiny wooden claws pried their eyelids apart, keeping them from blinking. A spine of some sort descended from the back of the skullcrest, descending into their clothing. But stronger roots and tendrils wrapped around their limbs from within. They shuffled, jerking, as if they were marionettes, their string erupting from inside them. They had no control of their actions.
And Alec could see, in the young woman’s eyes, they were aware. Helpless, tormented, tortured, and aware.
Kirby could sense the group behind him growing angry. What his gambler’s brain automatically calculated was that, if the druid alone was a problem, a druid with a spellcaster and paladin was even more trouble. “Even more masterful, Belloc,” Kirby lied smoothly. “Now please, let us contribute to your work. Give us the healing apple, and we’ll give you even more gold to continue your service to Mormo.”
Belloc shook his head. It wasn’t that he thought Kirby was lying (there weren’t many sentient beings capable of discerning whether Kirby was telling the truth or not) … “No, no, I have no need of gold. But now, in the final stages, my tree has needs.” He paused. “Blood. Step there, willingly into zee tree. Be consumed by my love. Be among zee first to serve me, or be devoured.”
Another pause while the party parsed that thought. “So,” Indigo ventured, “we step into that gash in the tree, and we are either being made into the puppet-people or the tree eats us, yes?”
“Depending upon your worthiness.” Belloc cackled again at the smooth efficiency of his unholy creation.
Argent set his feet, choked up on his spear. He could sense his friends’ disgust. There was that moment, that electric charge, hanging there. He braced, for as soon as Kirby told this evil monster to get stuffed, there was going to some a$$-kicking for Madriel. Kirby opened his mouth to answer… Argent reached for his holy symbol … Indigo hefted her sword above her shoulder … Taggart flipped his longcoat back from his right hip, revealing more oil and fuses … Alec subtly drew the string back on his bow … annnnnd …
“How about we go get you some more victims?”
As one, the party sloooowly swiveled their heads to stare at Kirby. He gave them a cheerful thumbs up and a grin. He silently mouthed: ”Best. Plan. Ever.”
After a hard L-turn, the canyon resolved into a dead-end. There, nestled against the back redstone wall was the Tree.
It wasn’t the tallest tree any of them has seen, but it had an unmistakable presence. Its girth was fully fifteen feet, rising stumpily another thirty, ending in thick bizarrely twisted branches. The jet-black branches didn’t taper off, the ended in blunt, insane contortions as if frozen in the midst of convulsions. There was no fruit on the limbs. Instead, spiralling up and around the trunk were … blisters of various sizes. It was if the fruit were erupting as pustules. Only two apples seemed ripe, almost ready to drop off the trunk -- a single red apple, and a single white apple.
The center of the trunk was split lengthwise by a gummy cleft twice a man’s height. It oozed sap and was, generally, the most obscene thing any of the party had seen. Ever. And Alec had been to Shelzar.
Unnerved by this sudden change in the tone of what had seemed to be a pleasant little druid’s grove, Indigo drew her sword. Argent hefted his light-tipped spear in both hands. Taggart and Kirby shifted from nonchalant to chalant-and-yet-still-cooler-than-most. Alec unlimbered his bow. They trod softly through the lush, green grass of the canyon toward the abomination. The dappled sunlight cast all of this into weird relief.
Everyone twitched when a robed figure circled from behind the tree. He was an elderly human, walking with a staff. His face broke into a wide grin. “Viiiiiisitoorrs! Vonderful! Vonderful! You have come to see my beauty, yes?”
“If the beauty is that … thing and not a disturbing metaphor for something else, sure.” Kirby stepped forward and bowed. “We, ah, have heard of the regenerative powers of your tree’s fruits.”
“BAH!” The man shook his head impatiently. “Belloc has finally triumphed. Belloc has no need of the distraaaaaaaaction of the auction.” There was an awkward pause. “I am Belloc, by the way. Stop looking around.”
“Sorry.” Indigo edged forward, hypnotized by the grotesque magnificence of the tree. “If it is not too much to be asking, what have you triumphed at?”
“In my service to MORMO, ALL POWERFUL AND MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE TITANS, DARK MOTHER TO OUR BLESSED ABOMINAAAATTTTIONS!.” Belloc caught himself in mid-rant. “Ah, sorry, Belloc sometimes grows so enthusiastic in her service.”
“Mormo, the fallen titan –“ started Alec.
“No, the OTHER Mormo, yes, yes, foolish mortals, soon all will be blessed with the sweet dark kiss of her Holiness.” Belloc paused. “You seem less than enthusiastic about Belloc’s triumph.”
“That’s because you’re evil, and we’re going to kill you,” muttered Argent.
Taggart shushed him. “Listen, we’re in this guy’s grove. We don’t know his powers. Play cool, till we get the apple, and then if things go wrong we can deal with him.” Taggart flexed his hand, making sure the forearm-sheath holding his katar was properly aligned.
Kirby stepped forward, adjusting his velevet longcoat. “No, no, Belloc, terribly impressed. Just wondering, as Mormo is of course, ah, rather destructive, what you’ve been doing selling a healing apple for all these years.”
“You think my research is inexpensive?” Belloc chuckled. “No, no, I have imported saplings from the Hornsaw, water from the Blood Sea, even soil from the mad Blood Bayou in Termana. The gold from my healing has gone to dark seed –“ He gestured to the tree, “ – and this is its flower!” Belloc paced, chuckling madly. “Wood and flesh, blood and soil, all twisted in my hands. I am a gardener, you see, a simple gardener…”
Belloc gestured. Two figures shuffled stiffly out from behind the tree. One was a young man in torn robes of a spellcaster. The other … well, she made an impression on all of them, but Alec actually found himself gasping. She was easily six feet tall, beautiful, with long dark hair and green eyes, but a soldier’s build. She wore a chain shirt with the crossed longswords of Corean worked into each shoulder. Her own longsword dangled awkwardly in her hand: her grip was sturdy, but angled wrong, as if she’d never held a weapon before. It was the missing Hucrele boy and the paladin of Corean, Sharwyn.
Each of them bore a helmet of wood; a twisted root system erupted from the skullcaps and burrowed into their living flesh, behind their ears, under their jaws. Tiny wooden claws pried their eyelids apart, keeping them from blinking. A spine of some sort descended from the back of the skullcrest, descending into their clothing. But stronger roots and tendrils wrapped around their limbs from within. They shuffled, jerking, as if they were marionettes, their string erupting from inside them. They had no control of their actions.
And Alec could see, in the young woman’s eyes, they were aware. Helpless, tormented, tortured, and aware.
Kirby could sense the group behind him growing angry. What his gambler’s brain automatically calculated was that, if the druid alone was a problem, a druid with a spellcaster and paladin was even more trouble. “Even more masterful, Belloc,” Kirby lied smoothly. “Now please, let us contribute to your work. Give us the healing apple, and we’ll give you even more gold to continue your service to Mormo.”
Belloc shook his head. It wasn’t that he thought Kirby was lying (there weren’t many sentient beings capable of discerning whether Kirby was telling the truth or not) … “No, no, I have no need of gold. But now, in the final stages, my tree has needs.” He paused. “Blood. Step there, willingly into zee tree. Be consumed by my love. Be among zee first to serve me, or be devoured.”
Another pause while the party parsed that thought. “So,” Indigo ventured, “we step into that gash in the tree, and we are either being made into the puppet-people or the tree eats us, yes?”
“Depending upon your worthiness.” Belloc cackled again at the smooth efficiency of his unholy creation.
Argent set his feet, choked up on his spear. He could sense his friends’ disgust. There was that moment, that electric charge, hanging there. He braced, for as soon as Kirby told this evil monster to get stuffed, there was going to some a$$-kicking for Madriel. Kirby opened his mouth to answer… Argent reached for his holy symbol … Indigo hefted her sword above her shoulder … Taggart flipped his longcoat back from his right hip, revealing more oil and fuses … Alec subtly drew the string back on his bow … annnnnd …
“How about we go get you some more victims?”
As one, the party sloooowly swiveled their heads to stare at Kirby. He gave them a cheerful thumbs up and a grin. He silently mouthed: ”Best. Plan. Ever.”
Last edited:
Thomas Hobbes
First Post
*evil snicker*
An exxxcellent return to the heroes we all know and love. Well done as always, Jonrog!
An exxxcellent return to the heroes we all know and love. Well done as always, Jonrog!
GreyShadow
Explorer
I've been reading your story hours for sometime now and here I thought I knew your players. Obviously I have to pay more attention.
Great stuff!
Great stuff!
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