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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 6373186" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p>Thanks for the kind words all. It is most gratifying to know you are enjoying it.</p><p></p><p>---------------------</p><p>Duor stuck his, still wet, dagger back into its sheathe. The goblin he’d just yanked into the underbrush with him lay at his feet. Its black blood oozed out into the island ground. The small lidless box the creature had been taking down to the rowboat at the beach, to be transported to the larger ship waiting out some distance from the coast, glittered with gold coins and a few gemstones. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Gods, how I do love gemstones. Duor thought to himself.</p><p></p><p></p><p>It had been an easy enough assassination. There was some commotion up at the cave entrance. Most of the hobgoblins had rushed back into the mountain while the treasure laden goblins hurried their carrying and dragging of the dragon’s riches to its evacuation point. This poor feelow simply happened to be the last and slowest, while there was noone around to notice the grey-cloaked dwarf pounce from the bushes beside the trail and pull the goblin in. His throat was slit before they were out of sight and hit the ground with a dull thud securely behind the great fern fronds and other twining vegetation.</p><p></p><p></p><p>More rallying cries in the hogomor’s gutteral goblinese tongue were shouted from the cave. </p><p></p><p></p><p>“Hurry! Hurry...intruders...for the mistress!” was all Duor was able to piece together. But “intruders” was pretty much all he needed to hear.</p><p></p><p></p><p>“So much for the plan, sounds like, eh pally?” Duor said quietly to the dead goblin at his feet. He tucked the box of treasure under a nearby fern. “Keep an eye on that fer me, will yeh?" He kicked the goblin corpse in the head before he began making his way, carefully through the underbrush and deepening shadows, up to the cave entrance. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Meanwhile...back in the domed chamber within the mountain...</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Shall we take this outside?” Desaarthal suggested calmly.</p><p></p><p></p><p>“We’ll take this no where, monster. You and your scheme end here and now.” Braddok shouted back and charged the black-robed dragon-in-sorceress-form.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Pyrnion, following Braddok’s lead, took wing and zoomed, close to the ground, toward the woman.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Fen was already finishing his cryptic syllables and slamming the butt of his sacred leaftip spear into the ground. Green lightning struck out across the floor of the chamber.</p><p> </p><p>Desaarthal rose up and curved into the air, whether it was her lengthy robes trailing out behind or by some wicked spell, she seemed to rise and ride ahead of a great pillar or wave of inky blackness. But she wasn’t heading for the warriors. She was bending to the left, heading for the cistern in which the Fire Staff of Nator sat behind its shield of force.</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Don’t let her get the staff!” Alaria called out in horror at the realization of what [she thought] the dragon was up to.</p><p></p><p></p><p>With a thought, a lightning bolt streaked from the Staff of Azanna. The fast moving dragon was well ahead of where Alaria fired and the bolt crashed into the stone wall some distance behind her, on the other side of the chamber. Rocks flew and a couple of hobgoblins, not yet knowing what to do or how to proceed without their mistress’ instruction, fell beneath a large chunk of stone that crashed to the ground. </p><p></p><p></p><p>The Karolstae sorceress and Waverider Trihna both began shouting out spells (or in the aquatic elf’s case, what Alaria presumed to be a spell, not understanding anything the small silvery-blue-green woman was saying). The sea elf’s magic seemed especially quick as a whip-like tendrils of water shot out from the churning pillar of water upon which she “floated.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>The “water whips” missed the shadow streaking dragoness, passing harmlessly through the inky blackness that trailed behind her as they twirled and waved about, as grasping tentacles, in what appeared to be an effort to grab the dark one. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Fen’s attempt to Entangle the dragoness where she’d stood sent vines and roots flailing and grabbing a couple of unfortunate hobgoblins within the spell’s area of effect. </p><p> </p><p>Haelan began invoking a powerful prayer for enhanced protection and added blessing to himself and his companions. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Desaarthal passed by the cistern in which the Staff of Nator stood on its pedestal. As she passed by, the staff was no longer there. In a great arc of blackness, she curved toward where the three magical women were preparing their spells. With a wave of her hand, both Trihna was physical pushed away by an unseen force, away from the sea elf and Alaria.</p><p></p><p></p><p>The wave of inky blackness passed over Alaria and the Karolosta. Alaria’s vision was entirely blackened before she was struck with a terrific pain and brutal strength knocking her back and forth, yanking at her. She fell to her knees, feeling badly beaten.</p><p></p><p></p><p>As the blackness passed over her, the Karolosta elf was gone and the blackness following Desaarthal was curving its way for the final pedestal. Alaria, on hands and knees, noted the blood pooling beneath her. Before the rush of air as the winged Pyrnion swept by attempting to get close enough to the dragon for a strike.</p><p></p><p></p><p>In desperation, the zephari flung his enchanted hand axe with all of his might. Haelan did likewise with his shield. The shield missed, clanging off the stone wall and then the floor before its returning enchantments flew it back to Haelan’s waiting hand. </p><p></p><p></p><p>The axe, however, disappeared into the blackness and, judging by the alteration to the dragon’s trajectory, hit something within it. The axe clanged to the floor near the short stone wall.Desaarthal, however, continued on her way around the huge chamber and, passing by the cistern over which Haelan’s “food bowl” sat, looped back around to the opposite side of the chamber.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Pyrnion alit to collect it. He looked at the small stone shelf above the brackish water. The bowl no longer where it had been.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Desaarthal came to stand, again, near the passageway that led further and deeper into the mountain. Toward where the chamber of lava had been. The smoke-like inky blackness trailing to a halt around and behind her, settling again to the floor, into normal appearing black robes. Of the items of power or the sea elf, there was no sign. </p><p></p><p></p><p>“I wish I could say it’s been fun, heroes. But I am at the end of my patience. No small thing for a dragon, I assure you. You can be proud of that in your final moments. I have not plotted and planned and bided my time and power for four centuries to be foiled by a ragtag band of mortals. </p><p></p><p></p><p>“Die well, Alaria Stormrider.” the dragon-woman proclaimed across the chamber, holding aloft the Ihs Repahl, a sneer spreading across her face as she did so.</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Kill them.” she said simply and with a flowing flourish of her trailing robes, disappeared into the passageway that led to the lava chamber.</p><p></p><p></p><p>The hobgoblins, given the order they most enjoyed to follow, charged forward.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 6373186, member: 92511"] Thanks for the kind words all. It is most gratifying to know you are enjoying it. --------------------- Duor stuck his, still wet, dagger back into its sheathe. The goblin he’d just yanked into the underbrush with him lay at his feet. Its black blood oozed out into the island ground. The small lidless box the creature had been taking down to the rowboat at the beach, to be transported to the larger ship waiting out some distance from the coast, glittered with gold coins and a few gemstones. Gods, how I do love gemstones. Duor thought to himself. It had been an easy enough assassination. There was some commotion up at the cave entrance. Most of the hobgoblins had rushed back into the mountain while the treasure laden goblins hurried their carrying and dragging of the dragon’s riches to its evacuation point. This poor feelow simply happened to be the last and slowest, while there was noone around to notice the grey-cloaked dwarf pounce from the bushes beside the trail and pull the goblin in. His throat was slit before they were out of sight and hit the ground with a dull thud securely behind the great fern fronds and other twining vegetation. More rallying cries in the hogomor’s gutteral goblinese tongue were shouted from the cave. “Hurry! Hurry...intruders...for the mistress!” was all Duor was able to piece together. But “intruders” was pretty much all he needed to hear. “So much for the plan, sounds like, eh pally?” Duor said quietly to the dead goblin at his feet. He tucked the box of treasure under a nearby fern. “Keep an eye on that fer me, will yeh?" He kicked the goblin corpse in the head before he began making his way, carefully through the underbrush and deepening shadows, up to the cave entrance. Meanwhile...back in the domed chamber within the mountain... “Shall we take this outside?” Desaarthal suggested calmly. “We’ll take this no where, monster. You and your scheme end here and now.” Braddok shouted back and charged the black-robed dragon-in-sorceress-form. Pyrnion, following Braddok’s lead, took wing and zoomed, close to the ground, toward the woman. Fen was already finishing his cryptic syllables and slamming the butt of his sacred leaftip spear into the ground. Green lightning struck out across the floor of the chamber. Desaarthal rose up and curved into the air, whether it was her lengthy robes trailing out behind or by some wicked spell, she seemed to rise and ride ahead of a great pillar or wave of inky blackness. But she wasn’t heading for the warriors. She was bending to the left, heading for the cistern in which the Fire Staff of Nator sat behind its shield of force. “Don’t let her get the staff!” Alaria called out in horror at the realization of what [she thought] the dragon was up to. With a thought, a lightning bolt streaked from the Staff of Azanna. The fast moving dragon was well ahead of where Alaria fired and the bolt crashed into the stone wall some distance behind her, on the other side of the chamber. Rocks flew and a couple of hobgoblins, not yet knowing what to do or how to proceed without their mistress’ instruction, fell beneath a large chunk of stone that crashed to the ground. The Karolstae sorceress and Waverider Trihna both began shouting out spells (or in the aquatic elf’s case, what Alaria presumed to be a spell, not understanding anything the small silvery-blue-green woman was saying). The sea elf’s magic seemed especially quick as a whip-like tendrils of water shot out from the churning pillar of water upon which she “floated.” The “water whips” missed the shadow streaking dragoness, passing harmlessly through the inky blackness that trailed behind her as they twirled and waved about, as grasping tentacles, in what appeared to be an effort to grab the dark one. Fen’s attempt to Entangle the dragoness where she’d stood sent vines and roots flailing and grabbing a couple of unfortunate hobgoblins within the spell’s area of effect. Haelan began invoking a powerful prayer for enhanced protection and added blessing to himself and his companions. Desaarthal passed by the cistern in which the Staff of Nator stood on its pedestal. As she passed by, the staff was no longer there. In a great arc of blackness, she curved toward where the three magical women were preparing their spells. With a wave of her hand, both Trihna was physical pushed away by an unseen force, away from the sea elf and Alaria. The wave of inky blackness passed over Alaria and the Karolosta. Alaria’s vision was entirely blackened before she was struck with a terrific pain and brutal strength knocking her back and forth, yanking at her. She fell to her knees, feeling badly beaten. As the blackness passed over her, the Karolosta elf was gone and the blackness following Desaarthal was curving its way for the final pedestal. Alaria, on hands and knees, noted the blood pooling beneath her. Before the rush of air as the winged Pyrnion swept by attempting to get close enough to the dragon for a strike. In desperation, the zephari flung his enchanted hand axe with all of his might. Haelan did likewise with his shield. The shield missed, clanging off the stone wall and then the floor before its returning enchantments flew it back to Haelan’s waiting hand. The axe, however, disappeared into the blackness and, judging by the alteration to the dragon’s trajectory, hit something within it. The axe clanged to the floor near the short stone wall.Desaarthal, however, continued on her way around the huge chamber and, passing by the cistern over which Haelan’s “food bowl” sat, looped back around to the opposite side of the chamber. Pyrnion alit to collect it. He looked at the small stone shelf above the brackish water. The bowl no longer where it had been. Desaarthal came to stand, again, near the passageway that led further and deeper into the mountain. Toward where the chamber of lava had been. The smoke-like inky blackness trailing to a halt around and behind her, settling again to the floor, into normal appearing black robes. Of the items of power or the sea elf, there was no sign. “I wish I could say it’s been fun, heroes. But I am at the end of my patience. No small thing for a dragon, I assure you. You can be proud of that in your final moments. I have not plotted and planned and bided my time and power for four centuries to be foiled by a ragtag band of mortals. “Die well, Alaria Stormrider.” the dragon-woman proclaimed across the chamber, holding aloft the Ihs Repahl, a sneer spreading across her face as she did so. “Kill them.” she said simply and with a flowing flourish of her trailing robes, disappeared into the passageway that led to the lava chamber. The hobgoblins, given the order they most enjoyed to follow, charged forward. [/QUOTE]
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