Uriel
Living EN World Judge
You four will know each other, having each been in the 'Town' of
Whistle for a month or so. Life is harsh, eking food and drinkable water from the
surrounding countryside is not easy. Yes, countryside. Whistle sits in a cleft upon
some Mountainside somewhere in the Dungeon. Near at hand are 3 Portals known
to the Residents. Each Portal is Guarded, the first leads to Ever, a Labyrinth-like
Maze often traveled by The Weaver's Agents, but thought too Dangerous by Sane
Folk. The Guardian is 'Gyrus' a living Stone Being that poses riddles to those who
would enter.
The Second Portal leads to Cavanaugh's Folly, a 'Dungeon'-like setting populated
with all manner of bizarre monster and creature. This Portal is guarded by The
Knight of the Green Hand, a fierce Warrior who allows passage to only those who
can best him in combat. As well, there are at least 3 documented cities within
Cavanaugh's Folly: One ruled by a Gnome King, the Second ruled by 'The Council
of Mind' and the third Unknown, having only been mentioned by passing Traders.
The Third Portal leads to parts unknown, as all who have attempted crossing have
met with Death. Those coming within a few dozen yards of the Portal tell of a
strange buzzing in their ears, followed by bright flashes of light that stun and
confuse them. Those persisting in closing the distance have all dropped Dead,
with blood flowing from their ears, mouth, eyes and nose.
A Seer claims that some Malady from Off-world have infected the very Rock of
the place, causing these Deaths. Most laugh this off as superstition. The
Adventurer who can get past the Portal stands to become rich or Famous, as
surely something Immensely Valuable must reside beyond.
On Whistle: Whistle gets its name from the obvious sound that the Wind makes
when it carries through the Town, which sits on either side of a Deep Gorge. The
total inhabitants are a hard thing to estimate, as a census is a chaotic thing in
The Dungeon.5,000 is a good guess, though it fluctuates with the Ebb and Flow of
the Fortunes of the Monitors. Whistle is ruled by Raka-Eesa, a Half-Blue Dragon
Sorcerer, claiming to hail from a World (he calls it a confederation of Worlds where
Dragons rule hundreds of Planes) within something called 'The Dragon Empire.
Raka-Eesa rules with an iron fist, overseeing the work in the numerous mines
around, above and below Whistle. The Half-Dragon's Bullyboys are mostly
Hobgoblins, although a large contingent of Ogres and, oddly enough, Dwarfs serve
him. Raka-Eesa seeks to Conquer nearby Lands, using the Portals to Ever and
Cavanaugh's Folly to find loot, fresh recruits and possible 'War-Tech' as he terms
it. Rumor says that the Gnome King in Cavanaugh's Folly knew Raka-Eesa before
they were Fished, hailing from the same Dragon Empire. He has many Wondrous
Inventions within the City of Clocks, where he rules.
On The DUNGEON: The Dungeon is difficult to explain. One could start on a sea of
sand, as far as the eye could see sailing some schooner that plied the Winds (and
indeed, this is very true in several Zones).You might land on a small rock Outcrop,
where a Doorway waited, against the Rock wall. Passing it (and it's guardian), you
find yourself on a Glacier, overlooking an ancient city. Traveling through the City,
you find a Portal (most likely One of many), leading to a steamy jungle where
primitive Insect-Men war ceaselessly against one another, colonies waging eternal
battle. A Portal 100 feet up in a tree, leading into an old Bole might leave you
atop a plateau, overlooking a Sea of Fire, Dragons and Great Elementals seen in
the distance. A dormant lava-pool might lead (via it's Portal) to a 'Dungeon' filled
with monsters, Demons and Traps...and many, many Portals. The possibilities are
endless, or nearly so. The Monitors are constantly adding, removing and changing
the entire Dungeon, although a Monitor will usually tell his Followers within a Zone,
so that they can prepare, be that moving, or get ready to stage a War upon
wherever their Portals now Open.
WHY ADVENTURE IN THE DUNGEON? Some do it to survive, seeking weapons to
keep them safe. Some seek the basic necessities, Food, Water, and Shelter.
Some seek to dominate others, to colonize, to seek new places to explore, to
document their travels in order to help those who come after. Everyone has a
reason. For most, there is One reason in the hiding at the back of their Mind. One
day, someone WILL find a way to escape the Dungeon.
START: So, you find yourselves in 'Brool's Grace', a tavern catering to Miners and Labourers, eating a soup of gruel, composed of thick skinned
tubers and some gamy meat best left unknown. The tavern around you is filled
with the usual assortment of riff-raff. A dozen Human Laborers, tired from a day's
work in the Mines, several Dwarfs, similarly worked, although there's is a Free
servitude, hoping for a Share, while the Humans are mostly indentured servants to
Raka-Eesa.
A Trorble (A green-yellow skinned Lizard-Man, standing about 7 feet tall, and
known for their variety of sounds and noises) is playing 'Special Effects' to a play
of The Warmaster and The Shielder fighting a battle. Two children are the
Puppeteers, and a group of 20 or so watches in bemused interest.A large Ogre,
grossly fat, snores at a table in a corner, a tiny fly buzzing in and out of his open
mouth.
The door opens,letting a hot wind blow into the Room, causing several customers to curse and complain at the Newcomers to 'Close the Damned Thing!'
The Curses and foul-mouths stiffle as people get a look at the Newcomers. 8 of the Blackfoots, Raka Eesa's Private Army, enter. Each Hobgoblin stands at least 7 feet tall, as the Half-Dragon likes his Men big and Imposing. Wearing Full Platemail, the Blackfoots are named for their Leg armor, which resembles Black Scaled Dragon Claws adorning their boots. Silence is not their forte, though it seems that they don't seem overly concerned with Caution. It is a well-known fact that Raka-Eesa favors the Warmaster, although he isn't a Priest himself.
The Blackfoots move over to a large table and stand behind those sitting there. After a brief moment, the Workers at the table all scurry away, all except a lone Dwarf, too far gone in his Ale to realize what is happening. The Blackfoots sit at the table around him, grinning.
One addresses him in accented Dungeontongue, 'Friend, I see you would sit with us, eh? Fine, fine.'
The Dwarf, now seeing who occupied the table with him, stands quickly, trying to move elsewhere.
The Hobgoblin nods to the two Blackfoots nearest the Dwarf, they Grab him and reseat him forcefully.
'Now, now, my good fellow, that was rather rude,eh? You'd think that the Dwarf here didn't like us, eh Me'Boys!?!'
The Hobgoblins around the table laughed and pounded plate armored fists on the table.
The Captain, for surely he was the leader, quickly draws two thin Stilletos from his belt, and standing, he plunges them completely through the hapless Dwarfs hands, pinning him to the table.
Screaming in pain, still held by the 2 Blackfoots, the Dwarf slumps from Shock and his head hits the table, unconcious.
'Wench!' the Blackfoot Captain bellows at the slip of a Girl serving food, 'Bring Ale all around, the Good stuff...and bring my Dwarvish Friend here a straw, he seems to be having problems lifting a pint!'
The Blackfoots all laugh rauciously at this, then eyed the surrounding crowd for something interesting to amuse themselves.
Spying the Puppet Show, the Captain stands and moves over to the little Stage.
Watching, he smiles as the Warmaster Puppet deals a Blow to The Shielder. His expression turns sour when the Shielder stands again, as the Warmaster cavorts triumphant, and stabs the 'Bringer of Pain' in his chest, killing him.
The Hobgoblin screams, 'What is this Lie!?!'
Striking out, he catches the Shielder Puppet, tearing it from the grasp of the Child. Flinging the Puppet across the room to land, broken, the Hobgoblin grabs the little boy by his dirty shirt and lifts a him onto the air. 'How'd a Year in the Mines do you, you little Heretic!?!'
The Blackfoot looks moments from doing something most unkind to the child.
The Crowd is murmuring, some standing and beginning to protest. The Table full of Blackfoots stand, drawing their Longswords, and move to their Captain, facing the Crowd. people sit back down, their Own safety overiding any feelings of Empathy for the Child (who now stares, teary-eyed and mute at the fanged visage so close to his own face).
Whistle for a month or so. Life is harsh, eking food and drinkable water from the
surrounding countryside is not easy. Yes, countryside. Whistle sits in a cleft upon
some Mountainside somewhere in the Dungeon. Near at hand are 3 Portals known
to the Residents. Each Portal is Guarded, the first leads to Ever, a Labyrinth-like
Maze often traveled by The Weaver's Agents, but thought too Dangerous by Sane
Folk. The Guardian is 'Gyrus' a living Stone Being that poses riddles to those who
would enter.
The Second Portal leads to Cavanaugh's Folly, a 'Dungeon'-like setting populated
with all manner of bizarre monster and creature. This Portal is guarded by The
Knight of the Green Hand, a fierce Warrior who allows passage to only those who
can best him in combat. As well, there are at least 3 documented cities within
Cavanaugh's Folly: One ruled by a Gnome King, the Second ruled by 'The Council
of Mind' and the third Unknown, having only been mentioned by passing Traders.
The Third Portal leads to parts unknown, as all who have attempted crossing have
met with Death. Those coming within a few dozen yards of the Portal tell of a
strange buzzing in their ears, followed by bright flashes of light that stun and
confuse them. Those persisting in closing the distance have all dropped Dead,
with blood flowing from their ears, mouth, eyes and nose.
A Seer claims that some Malady from Off-world have infected the very Rock of
the place, causing these Deaths. Most laugh this off as superstition. The
Adventurer who can get past the Portal stands to become rich or Famous, as
surely something Immensely Valuable must reside beyond.
On Whistle: Whistle gets its name from the obvious sound that the Wind makes
when it carries through the Town, which sits on either side of a Deep Gorge. The
total inhabitants are a hard thing to estimate, as a census is a chaotic thing in
The Dungeon.5,000 is a good guess, though it fluctuates with the Ebb and Flow of
the Fortunes of the Monitors. Whistle is ruled by Raka-Eesa, a Half-Blue Dragon
Sorcerer, claiming to hail from a World (he calls it a confederation of Worlds where
Dragons rule hundreds of Planes) within something called 'The Dragon Empire.
Raka-Eesa rules with an iron fist, overseeing the work in the numerous mines
around, above and below Whistle. The Half-Dragon's Bullyboys are mostly
Hobgoblins, although a large contingent of Ogres and, oddly enough, Dwarfs serve
him. Raka-Eesa seeks to Conquer nearby Lands, using the Portals to Ever and
Cavanaugh's Folly to find loot, fresh recruits and possible 'War-Tech' as he terms
it. Rumor says that the Gnome King in Cavanaugh's Folly knew Raka-Eesa before
they were Fished, hailing from the same Dragon Empire. He has many Wondrous
Inventions within the City of Clocks, where he rules.
On The DUNGEON: The Dungeon is difficult to explain. One could start on a sea of
sand, as far as the eye could see sailing some schooner that plied the Winds (and
indeed, this is very true in several Zones).You might land on a small rock Outcrop,
where a Doorway waited, against the Rock wall. Passing it (and it's guardian), you
find yourself on a Glacier, overlooking an ancient city. Traveling through the City,
you find a Portal (most likely One of many), leading to a steamy jungle where
primitive Insect-Men war ceaselessly against one another, colonies waging eternal
battle. A Portal 100 feet up in a tree, leading into an old Bole might leave you
atop a plateau, overlooking a Sea of Fire, Dragons and Great Elementals seen in
the distance. A dormant lava-pool might lead (via it's Portal) to a 'Dungeon' filled
with monsters, Demons and Traps...and many, many Portals. The possibilities are
endless, or nearly so. The Monitors are constantly adding, removing and changing
the entire Dungeon, although a Monitor will usually tell his Followers within a Zone,
so that they can prepare, be that moving, or get ready to stage a War upon
wherever their Portals now Open.
WHY ADVENTURE IN THE DUNGEON? Some do it to survive, seeking weapons to
keep them safe. Some seek the basic necessities, Food, Water, and Shelter.
Some seek to dominate others, to colonize, to seek new places to explore, to
document their travels in order to help those who come after. Everyone has a
reason. For most, there is One reason in the hiding at the back of their Mind. One
day, someone WILL find a way to escape the Dungeon.
START: So, you find yourselves in 'Brool's Grace', a tavern catering to Miners and Labourers, eating a soup of gruel, composed of thick skinned
tubers and some gamy meat best left unknown. The tavern around you is filled
with the usual assortment of riff-raff. A dozen Human Laborers, tired from a day's
work in the Mines, several Dwarfs, similarly worked, although there's is a Free
servitude, hoping for a Share, while the Humans are mostly indentured servants to
Raka-Eesa.
A Trorble (A green-yellow skinned Lizard-Man, standing about 7 feet tall, and
known for their variety of sounds and noises) is playing 'Special Effects' to a play
of The Warmaster and The Shielder fighting a battle. Two children are the
Puppeteers, and a group of 20 or so watches in bemused interest.A large Ogre,
grossly fat, snores at a table in a corner, a tiny fly buzzing in and out of his open
mouth.
The door opens,letting a hot wind blow into the Room, causing several customers to curse and complain at the Newcomers to 'Close the Damned Thing!'
The Curses and foul-mouths stiffle as people get a look at the Newcomers. 8 of the Blackfoots, Raka Eesa's Private Army, enter. Each Hobgoblin stands at least 7 feet tall, as the Half-Dragon likes his Men big and Imposing. Wearing Full Platemail, the Blackfoots are named for their Leg armor, which resembles Black Scaled Dragon Claws adorning their boots. Silence is not their forte, though it seems that they don't seem overly concerned with Caution. It is a well-known fact that Raka-Eesa favors the Warmaster, although he isn't a Priest himself.
The Blackfoots move over to a large table and stand behind those sitting there. After a brief moment, the Workers at the table all scurry away, all except a lone Dwarf, too far gone in his Ale to realize what is happening. The Blackfoots sit at the table around him, grinning.
One addresses him in accented Dungeontongue, 'Friend, I see you would sit with us, eh? Fine, fine.'
The Dwarf, now seeing who occupied the table with him, stands quickly, trying to move elsewhere.
The Hobgoblin nods to the two Blackfoots nearest the Dwarf, they Grab him and reseat him forcefully.
'Now, now, my good fellow, that was rather rude,eh? You'd think that the Dwarf here didn't like us, eh Me'Boys!?!'
The Hobgoblins around the table laughed and pounded plate armored fists on the table.
The Captain, for surely he was the leader, quickly draws two thin Stilletos from his belt, and standing, he plunges them completely through the hapless Dwarfs hands, pinning him to the table.
Screaming in pain, still held by the 2 Blackfoots, the Dwarf slumps from Shock and his head hits the table, unconcious.
'Wench!' the Blackfoot Captain bellows at the slip of a Girl serving food, 'Bring Ale all around, the Good stuff...and bring my Dwarvish Friend here a straw, he seems to be having problems lifting a pint!'
The Blackfoots all laugh rauciously at this, then eyed the surrounding crowd for something interesting to amuse themselves.
Spying the Puppet Show, the Captain stands and moves over to the little Stage.
Watching, he smiles as the Warmaster Puppet deals a Blow to The Shielder. His expression turns sour when the Shielder stands again, as the Warmaster cavorts triumphant, and stabs the 'Bringer of Pain' in his chest, killing him.
The Hobgoblin screams, 'What is this Lie!?!'
Striking out, he catches the Shielder Puppet, tearing it from the grasp of the Child. Flinging the Puppet across the room to land, broken, the Hobgoblin grabs the little boy by his dirty shirt and lifts a him onto the air. 'How'd a Year in the Mines do you, you little Heretic!?!'
The Blackfoot looks moments from doing something most unkind to the child.
The Crowd is murmuring, some standing and beginning to protest. The Table full of Blackfoots stand, drawing their Longswords, and move to their Captain, facing the Crowd. people sit back down, their Own safety overiding any feelings of Empathy for the Child (who now stares, teary-eyed and mute at the fanged visage so close to his own face).
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