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Veils and Crossings (was: Shadow over Felthera) - StalkingBlue's Midnight game
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<blockquote data-quote="StalkingBlue" data-source="post: 1392445" data-attributes="member: 645"><p><em>By S'mon, Zana's player: </em></p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Zana's Story </strong></p><p></p><p>As dawn glimmered in the east, Zana Than sat cross-legged in the dirt, cleaning the iron breastplate she'd looted from the orc champion earlier that day. There was an expression of intense concentration in her large brown eyes, her smooth brow slightly furrowed. The long steel blade of her bastard sword lay close by her right thigh, always within easy reach. Occasionally she glanced over at her companions, the martial artist Jarod and the elven spellcaster Loren. She frowned slightly. Her comrades in arms seemed rather ineffectual, although the elf's rainbow-spray spell was undoubtedly effective against the orcs. Unfortunately it had not availed him so well against the Hungry Man, the ghoul-thing on the rotting barge had almost taken his life. </p><p>Zana glanced up to the starry Riding-Host, the Riders on their vast Sky-Plain now fading in the coming sun-light of the new day. Zana liked to think sometimes she could see her father up there amidst the Host, galloping his destrier forever across the endless deep. </p><p></p><p>**Father, tell me what I should do.** </p><p></p><p>Idly, she thought back to the events of the previous day. The orcs had pursued them for days, ever since the ambush and destruction of her outlaw band. She and two survivors - Jarod and the newcomer Loren - had fled northwards towards the river, the orcs it seemed ever-gaining. Beyond it lay more orcs - but they were of the northern tribe, the Mother of Blood, her father's slayers and to her mind the worst of all orc-kind. The southern orcs were unlikely to cross the river in pursuit. </p><p>Yesterday the three fugitives had reached the river at last - Loren had promised a ford, a way across, but instead there was only the great river and an ancient barge, on which a man moved. At least, she had thought it was a man… </p><p></p><p>Zana grimaced at the thought of how she had offered the Hungry Man her winter blanket for safe passage across the river. Instead, the ghoul wanted their flesh. Loren had struck it with his Colour Spray - useless against those already dead. The Hungry Man had grabbed him then, almost ripped the little elf apart and dashed him against the barge's rotten boards. Zana's struck fast - her first blow split it to midriff, but seemed only to annoy the brute. Horror took hold of her then, but she couldn't abandon the elf, and repeated blows into flesh that didn't bleed at last hacked the undead monster down. Then they had cast off in the barge, only for it to immediately sink midstream, as the orc horde arrived on the near shore. </p><p>So Zana and Jarod had had to swim for the far shore, supporting the unconscious elf, while orcish javelins pattered around them. At last they reached the far side and the cover of the long grass. They pressed on, and eventually after resting a few hours Loren recovered consciousness and was able to heal his wounds. Healing magic - a useful talent. Definitely worth keeping the elf alive. </p><p></p><p>In the grasslands that night they encountered a band of feral halflings - Jarod's ineffectual attempts to capture one did not go well. but at least Loren was able to communicate with the child-like creatures. Loren then declared a change of plan - he had received a 'sending' from his fellow elves and instead of continuing north, the party would return south-west, recross that damned river, and rendezvous with his companions. It seemed a foolish plan, but Zana reluctantly agreed. </p><p></p><p>So back south-west they had trekked, before camping a little short of the river. That was when, with Loren on guard, the orcs had found them. Just two of them, but one she knew was their leader from the river, and just like the Hungry Man it seemed intent on ripping Loren apart. Fortunately though, this time the elf's magic was more effective - his colour spray blasted one orc into unconsciousness (edit: who Loren swiftly killed, though not before it had felled Jarod). The Uruk leader, blinded and stunned, was easy meat for Zana. His breastplate, while filthy, was intact and promised much better protection than her scanty leathers. However, it would also slow her down, which made her reluctant to wear it until they were past the river. </p><p></p><p>Her cleaning finished, Zana began to gather her gear, then paused. Taking a piece of chalk from her belt pouch, she carefully made two white marks on the battered wood of her shield.. One for the Hungry Man, one for the orc Champion. Zana promised, there would be many more to come.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="StalkingBlue, post: 1392445, member: 645"] [I]By S'mon, Zana's player: [/I] [B]Zana's Story [/B] As dawn glimmered in the east, Zana Than sat cross-legged in the dirt, cleaning the iron breastplate she'd looted from the orc champion earlier that day. There was an expression of intense concentration in her large brown eyes, her smooth brow slightly furrowed. The long steel blade of her bastard sword lay close by her right thigh, always within easy reach. Occasionally she glanced over at her companions, the martial artist Jarod and the elven spellcaster Loren. She frowned slightly. Her comrades in arms seemed rather ineffectual, although the elf's rainbow-spray spell was undoubtedly effective against the orcs. Unfortunately it had not availed him so well against the Hungry Man, the ghoul-thing on the rotting barge had almost taken his life. Zana glanced up to the starry Riding-Host, the Riders on their vast Sky-Plain now fading in the coming sun-light of the new day. Zana liked to think sometimes she could see her father up there amidst the Host, galloping his destrier forever across the endless deep. **Father, tell me what I should do.** Idly, she thought back to the events of the previous day. The orcs had pursued them for days, ever since the ambush and destruction of her outlaw band. She and two survivors - Jarod and the newcomer Loren - had fled northwards towards the river, the orcs it seemed ever-gaining. Beyond it lay more orcs - but they were of the northern tribe, the Mother of Blood, her father's slayers and to her mind the worst of all orc-kind. The southern orcs were unlikely to cross the river in pursuit. Yesterday the three fugitives had reached the river at last - Loren had promised a ford, a way across, but instead there was only the great river and an ancient barge, on which a man moved. At least, she had thought it was a man… Zana grimaced at the thought of how she had offered the Hungry Man her winter blanket for safe passage across the river. Instead, the ghoul wanted their flesh. Loren had struck it with his Colour Spray - useless against those already dead. The Hungry Man had grabbed him then, almost ripped the little elf apart and dashed him against the barge's rotten boards. Zana's struck fast - her first blow split it to midriff, but seemed only to annoy the brute. Horror took hold of her then, but she couldn't abandon the elf, and repeated blows into flesh that didn't bleed at last hacked the undead monster down. Then they had cast off in the barge, only for it to immediately sink midstream, as the orc horde arrived on the near shore. So Zana and Jarod had had to swim for the far shore, supporting the unconscious elf, while orcish javelins pattered around them. At last they reached the far side and the cover of the long grass. They pressed on, and eventually after resting a few hours Loren recovered consciousness and was able to heal his wounds. Healing magic - a useful talent. Definitely worth keeping the elf alive. In the grasslands that night they encountered a band of feral halflings - Jarod's ineffectual attempts to capture one did not go well. but at least Loren was able to communicate with the child-like creatures. Loren then declared a change of plan - he had received a 'sending' from his fellow elves and instead of continuing north, the party would return south-west, recross that damned river, and rendezvous with his companions. It seemed a foolish plan, but Zana reluctantly agreed. So back south-west they had trekked, before camping a little short of the river. That was when, with Loren on guard, the orcs had found them. Just two of them, but one she knew was their leader from the river, and just like the Hungry Man it seemed intent on ripping Loren apart. Fortunately though, this time the elf's magic was more effective - his colour spray blasted one orc into unconsciousness (edit: who Loren swiftly killed, though not before it had felled Jarod). The Uruk leader, blinded and stunned, was easy meat for Zana. His breastplate, while filthy, was intact and promised much better protection than her scanty leathers. However, it would also slow her down, which made her reluctant to wear it until they were past the river. Her cleaning finished, Zana began to gather her gear, then paused. Taking a piece of chalk from her belt pouch, she carefully made two white marks on the battered wood of her shield.. One for the Hungry Man, one for the orc Champion. Zana promised, there would be many more to come. [/QUOTE]
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