ForceUser
Explorer
I've been re-reading Sep's story hour lately. It's one of only two I've ever read more than once (the other being (contact)'s Temple of Elemental Evil 2 ).
The brilliance of this story just astounds me. Just when you think it couldn't get any better, it does. Questions always pop into my mind: Do the players really roleplay this well, or does Sep embellish? How much of the NPC activity is known to the players, and how much is simply described by Sep "behind the scenes" in the story hour? During what moments are Mulissu, Iua and Shomei NPCs, and when are people playing them? How the hell are they ever going to rescue poor Nehael? Is it even possible? How many years have they played together, and how many years have they campaigned in Wyre? When will Sep publish ?
I hope he does, because the money is burning a hole in my pocket. I long to own a copy of a Wyre novel, so this fantastic story is legitimized to my friends who scoff at fan fiction, and so I can own a Wyre book. For now, though, the story hour will have to do.
I have so many favorite moments in that story. Here are two.
The brilliance of this story just astounds me. Just when you think it couldn't get any better, it does. Questions always pop into my mind: Do the players really roleplay this well, or does Sep embellish? How much of the NPC activity is known to the players, and how much is simply described by Sep "behind the scenes" in the story hour? During what moments are Mulissu, Iua and Shomei NPCs, and when are people playing them? How the hell are they ever going to rescue poor Nehael? Is it even possible? How many years have they played together, and how many years have they campaigned in Wyre? When will Sep publish ?
I hope he does, because the money is burning a hole in my pocket. I long to own a copy of a Wyre novel, so this fantastic story is legitimized to my friends who scoff at fan fiction, and so I can own a Wyre book. For now, though, the story hour will have to do.
I have so many favorite moments in that story. Here are two.
Tahl presented himself, and drew a scroll – one of those confiscated from the Penitents at Deorham – from his belt. He incanted briefly, and gestured.
Rapidly, a broad swathe of water began to drain away into the bedrock. A section of the river forty yards wide, stretching from bank to bank, vanished.
Trumpets brayed, and Eadric led the charge across the dry bed of the Nund. In the van were Tahl, and Jorde with the standard, renegade Templars, Paladins and Penitents. They screamed, and the cry was taken up by the host which rode hard on their tails.
Ahma!
The reality of it was dawning on him. Tahl was gone. He could barely bring himself to look upon the corpse.
And then, the final affront. Ortwin walked up to Eadric, holding the small casket that Kalkja had hurled at the Paladin. The Bard was shaking. “I’m sorry, Ed.”
Inside, on a velvet cushion, were a pair of lips, cut from a face, and still fresh with blood.
Eadric turned away and vomited. When he raised his head again, he saw a single tall, elegant figure dressed in black walking slowly towards him.
“It is time,” Titivilus said, almost gently.