“Watch,” Jess said to the others and massaged the veiny bulges of the pod-door; it opened like a flower in bloom with a wet squelching sound. “Then I do this,” she rubbed the inside of the sphincter and it squeezed closed. She smiled as she demonstrated again, “Door opens, door closes.”
Squelch, squish.
“Gah!” Demona made a face and turned away, with her fingertips pressed to the base of her horns. “I can barely look at it without being constantly reminded of your mutual shame.”
“Indeed,” Imaris tried to look bored by it all. “You should see the carpet they use instead of stairs. We found the way down to the next level while we scouted ahead.”
The Lost Hope were crowded in the small portal room, the swirling blue haze still covered one wall, showing a misty picture of the courtyard platform and the stone dragon. As I stared longingly at my petrified brother I saw the shimmering form of a red-scaled dragonfolk climb the steps and rest on the haft of his pole arm, studying the portal from the far side. It was Brahma, devotee of the dragon-god, who had elected to stay behind when the Lost Hope abandoned their safe haven at the gatehouse and moved to the inner bailey. I tapped Icarus’ armored shoulder until he noticed the other dragonfolk.
"Your cake is now ready and wondering where you are," Icarus muttered cryptically as the dragon priest hesitated longer and longer on the other side of the portal.
Finally steeling himself, Brahma hunched his shoulders and stepped through the portal, appearing beside the others in the small room.
“Greetings, companions and the blessing of Bahamut upon you all.” Brahma was a huge, fine specimen of a red. Hulking even taller than Icarus, his scales a deep cherry-red like hot coals. The glaive he carried was a massive weapon, longer than he was tall, like a sword on the end of a pole. The leverage this allowed made terrible wounds. There was a gabble of surprised talk.
“What the?”
“Nice perimeter control guys-“
“Holy dammit Christmas!”
Brahma raised one hand in a placating gesture. “I’m sure you have many questions and I will do my best to answer them all.”
Silence lengthened as the Lost Hope exchanged looks.
“Uh, what took you so long?” Xandra asked finally.
“I fasted, many hours, and pondered long and hard over the nature of good and evil-“
“Shocker,” Demona said to Jess in a stage whisper. The little elf turned a confused look at the Tiefling and raised a hand with only a pinky finger extended. “Never mind,” Demona said.
Brahma continued: “I called upon the dragon god for guidance hoping, in his infinite wisdom and goodness, Bahamut would tell me what needed to be done. First, I considered returning to Nevermore with news of our success. Then, I considered how the kobolds we had just slain were aspects of the divine dragon nature-“
“Brahma,” Imaris said.
"How could I rectify this seeming dichotomy? If Bahamut the all-powerful allowed such wayward essence of dragonosity to flourish, did that mean the people of Nevermore were meant to suffer, to learn the nature of punishment so that they might go enlightened to the afterlife?”
“Priest,” Demona smouldered.
“But, there I sat, among the remains of so many kobolds, victorious, and I pondered if the dragon-god had simply been directing events to that one moment, where I would be the instrument of his hand. Of course, this led me to the logical discourse on predeterminism-“
“So you meditated long. And then you followed us?” Xandra jumped in.
“No,” the red dragon paused. “More kobolds crept upon me while I meditated. I woke bound and prisoner.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, it’s very true. At first their wyrmpriest thought to make a sacrifice of me, at the next sunset. This of course left me many hours to recite Bahamut’s Edda Before Dying. Death usually comes swiftly and I considered myself lucky to have the time to recite all five hundred stanzas. The stanzas about the welcoming golden hauls have always held particular meaning to me. As a spawn my mother’s brother told me of an adventure he had once-“
“Underverse, give me strength,” Demona massaged her horns.
“And yet you live!” Imaris cried. “No doubt a wonderful tale of redemption and battle. Well suited to a long winter’s day beside a roaring fire with cups of hot rum. Many cups. Certainly you then followed the bodies we left behind and found us here. Your bravery is unsurpassed, Brahma. Now join us as we delve further down into this mysterious den of foul goblins. You may have the honour of going first!”
“Uh,” the priest’s mouth hung open in mid-sentence. “Yes, of course. On my honour.”
The Lost Hope moved through the glowing crystal hallways until they came to a wide opening and a tunnel slanted down. The ramp itself was carpeted in some slowing undulating blue moss. Brahma visibly recoiled at the sight of it.
“Look, it moves for you,” Jess stepped onto the ramp with delight. The moss gently moved her to the bottom while she stood still.
Brahma grunted, a puff of smoke jetting from his nostrils and followed her onto the ramp with the others behind him.
I refused to touch the strange moss and simply opened my wings to glide down the ramp, deking aside from Jess who momentarily swatted at the air, sensing something flying past her, and landed in another glowing corridor. This one was much wider and the ramp exited at a bend. To the right the hallway immediately ended at a wide, square arch into a much larger chamber. Jess immediately skulked to peer into the room and as Brahma and Icarus’ heavy, taloned feet clicked across the crystal floor she winced and glanced sharply behind her. The rest of the Lost Hope exited the ramp, milling in the hall uncertainly when an eerie music began.
I clambered up Icarus’ shoulder as the Lost Hope followed the music, slowly advancing into the large chamber. It was vaulted, with towering triangular arches easily long and wide enough to lair a full-grown dragon and her hoard inside. Lined against either wall were strange instruments, almost like living organisms grown from coral, with clustered tubes, webs of strings, drums stretched with living skins. More disturbing were the rotting corpses of goblins lurching through the chords of the disturbing music. One stared slack-jawed in the air as its bony hand thrummed strings like the bass twanging of a crossbow, another pumped bellows that sent blood curdling howls out of the mouths of horns. The Mournful sounds seemed focused by the curious crystal architecture of the hall until my back teeth began to hum uncomfortably.
The face of the Eladrin wizard was appalled as the music continued. Imaris gripped his staff with white fingers until he could contain it no longer and with a gesture and arcane shout he blasted the nearest goblin zombie with fire, sending its shattered corpse to smash against the wall and drop to the floor, burning with a foul stench of charred meat and bone. If anything the music was worse. Robbed of one band member the sound grew more discordant. Demona clapped her hands to her ears.
But Jess and Xandra were spinning around, weapons raised, and so was I. Under the cover of the noise a single figure had crept up behind us. It was swathed head to toe in fiery robes. Rusted orange, burnt red, corroded black. Not an inch of flesh was exposed; the arms were crossed, with hands inside voluminous sleeves. But nothing disguised the eyes that shone behind the veil, glowing yellow. Both Jess and Xandra were prepared to attack but the intruder made no aggressive move.
One by one the rest of the Lost Hope turned to face the newcomer, but Imaris turned back to the room, face set as he began to systematically blast the remaining zombie orchestra.
“S’one of your kind,” Jess said to Demona, making two fingers into horns on her forehead.
The Tiefling warlock stared at the robed figure a moment before her face seemed to relax. Demona never spoke of her own kind, the cursed offspring of devil-ridden rulers from a long-dead empire. Certainly she was the only one of her kind seen in Nevermore for some time.
“Can I kill it?” Jess asked in a tone she would use to comment on the weather.
“Baxt hai sastimos tiri patragi,” Demona bowed her head and said some greeting in the infernal tongue of the underverse. “How do you come to be here?”
The robed figure barked a laugh, harsh, and pulled down her veil. Her mouth was elongated, like an animal, with long canine teeth, and a pair of sharp, curved horns, barely the size of a small finger, sprouted from her forehead. She had a strange and unsettling beauty.
“What are you doing here, sister?” she replied in a tone that clearly meant she was the one who should be asking questions.
“Kill?” Jess whispered.
Demona made a shushing sound and spoke to the other Tiefling again. “We come to rid the area of goblins and serve their blood to the gods.”
“You and your- friends,” the robed figure sneered.
With a final blast the orchestra of evil went silent.
Brahma stepped forward, “We mean to investigate this strange crystal tower. If you would aid us, we look to bring goodwill to those who join us.”
“You think this pitful band will last much longer? Back home you’d be across an altar before sunset.”
“That’s it,” Demona raised her rod, energy crackling along the iron.
“Kill!” Jess nodded gleefully.
“No, wait,” Brahma held her back with one arm. “We mean no disrespect, what can you tell us of these halls?”
The robed figure snarled “Te malavel les i menkiva,” 1
Demona’s face darkened, “You’re so dead! Yekka muri buliasa nashti beshes pe done grastende.”2
Before she could make a move the stranger made a single hand gesture “Ka xlia ma pe tute,”3
Demona cried out, hand to her face, as blood began to leak from her eyes and ears. Jess ducked past Brahma and moved forward, one arm cocked back with her punch-dagger, but as she came closer she too screamed, and blood streamed from every orifice in her head. Blinking past the pain she landed a blow on the robed figure. Not a moment later her prey disappeared, leaving Jess alone with her bloody dagger. She quickly turned down the corridor.
“She’s a magic jumper, an there’s two of her,” Jess pointed where the others couldn’t see.
Icarus didn’t hesitate and passed the little cutter, axe raised; as we moved around the turn in the hallway I saw another of the iris-doors nearby and two robed Tieflings: the first one and another, still veiled with midnight blue robes. The second had obviously lain in wait around the corner and attacked Jess unawares as she rushed the first. I sprang from Icarus’ shoulder and clung to one of the irregular surfaces of the crystal wall. A moment later he brought his axe in an uppercut that struck the blue Tiefling. There was a swirl like the blue robes were caught in a whirlwind and the tiefling was suddenly gone, standing much farther down the hallway.
“Oh. They teleport,” Icarus grunted.
Demona staggered forward, blood now running freely from nose and mouth, and she made arcane gestures, ending with a single finger extended from her fist: “Kon del tut o nai shai dela tut wi o vast.”4 A smoking, clawed hand, like the disembodied fist of an abyssal giant with claws of black flame materialized around the first teifling and closed around her like a fist, dragging her kicking and screaming back to the Lost Hope. But even as she did the bound tiefling was canting in the abyssal tongue.
“Isi ili daba,”5 and Demona staggered as if struck, full trickles of blood running from every orifice. The midnight Tiefling closely followed suit by targeting my Icarus. He took the blow to his mind stoically, blinking blood away from weeping eyes and growling.
Jess and Xandra darted down the corridor towards the midnight Tiefling. Again, after Jess struck her the creature swirled away, further down the corridor towards a group of doors and when Xandra leapfrogged Jess to slice with both blades the creature vanished to reappear at the far end. But something was different this time and even as the swirling cloak revealed the Tiefling it collapsed to the ground.
The air resounded with a magical blast. Demona and the first Tiefling were trading arcane fire with insults.
“Shuk tski khalpe la gunoy merel dei.”6
Icarus strode forward raised his axe and struck the Tiefling once again; once again in a swirl of robes she was out of his reach.
“Prohasar man opre pirende - sa muro djiben semas opre chengende,”7 the unveiled Tiefling snarled but moments later Demona crowed as a final eldritch blast sent her opponent to the ground.
One of the far doors squished open and two hobgoblins loped out behind the fallen Tiefling corpse, now making a red puddle at their feet. Both had strung longbows and in the narrow confines of the corridor they made an easy target of Jess, and the little elf staggered back, looking down in surprise at the two arrows sticking out of her side. Tugging both free she charged the two archers.
“Jess, wait,” Xandra called, but too late.
An iris door between Jess and the rest of the Lost Hope opened and two metal figures clanked into the hallway. They were constructs, animated by magic, shaped like some sort of man-ape gone wrong. The bulk of their bodies mercifully hid the savage tearing they did to Jess as serrated metal jaws opened and clamped on the tiny elfling. Xandra was on them then, both scimitars weaving, striking at one and then the other.
The fight in the narrow confines of the corridor was vicious and bloody. Jess, caught between hobgoblins and metal men could barely defend herself. Xandra barely succeeded in distracting one of the constructs at the cost of a mechanical bite while Demona advanced, sending bolts of black energy at their enemies.
“They’re getting cut to pieces,” Icarus shouted to Brahma and Imaris, still hanging back.
“They’re too close!” Imaris snarled back in frustration, “Any magic I use will hit our allies.” He sent a single dart of magic force at the constructs, but in the chaos it went wide and struck crystal chips from the wall.
“Do something,” Icarus grabbed the armoured collar of the dragon priest and pulled him close to snarl in his face.
Brahma shrugged free and with closed eyes began muttering prayers. “Divine bahamut, hear me now. Send your healing grace to my needy allies!”
A white glow began to coalesce around Jess and Xandra. When it lifted both were fighting easier, the bloody wounds staunched. But the archers, backed against the far wall of the hallway, drew back their bows until the wood creaked and immediately sent two more barbed points into the little elf. While she was still recovering the metal apethings bore her to the wall. Metal jaws rang like shears and they left her unconscious, bleeding out across the white crystal.
“Useless,” Icarus muttered, raising his axe he charged forward towards the metal apes.
Only I saw the two newcomers. Almost next to me they came out of the open iris-door and slunk forward on bare feet. They were Eladrin, but thin and wasted, their faces sunken and eyes haunted. Naked, but for a bloodstained leather apron and each carried a serrated knife as long as their forearm. Had I cried out they would certainly have noticed me; I could only watch and hope either Brahma or Imaris heard them as they snuck up behind the rear rank of the Lost Hope.
But with a vicious flourish both of the wasted Eladrin drove their weapons into Imaris’ unprotected back. The wizard cried out, stumbling and twisting. His hand came away bloody from the unseen wounds. Brahma roared in anger and also turned to face them.
There was a massive clash, like a wagon of scrap metal falling, and I saw Icarus raise his head to roar in triumph as one of the metal apes shattered under his axe. But the remaining construct attacked the weakened Xandra, and in a moment she went down under its savage bite, bleeding at the dragonborn’s feet.
Brahma took a moment to draw in breath and I quickly sprang from the wall, flapping past him to land in the middle of the contested corridor. Sure enough as Brahma exhaled a storm of flames washed over the Eladrin attackers. A moment later he mumbled prayer and made a sweeping gesture with one hand: a pearly wave of light struck them with radiant power. As the gaunt backstabbers writhed under the onslaught Brahma brought his great glaive about, landing a blow that staggered one of the Eladrin.
“Witch,” Icarus called over his shoulder to Demona. “Tend to the wounded, these are mine.”
I could barely contain myself as the battle raged on. My head snapped back and forth, watching the fights at either end of the corridor. Icarus was marvelous. He quickly dispatched the other construct then closed with the archers; the hobgoblins were handicapped at close quarters and one drew its sword while the other backed against the wall as far from Icarus as possible and sent a number of arrows into his hide. Demona went to the boneless lump of the elfling and knelt. Raising Jess to her lap she carefully uncorked a tiny vial and poured the healing drought into her open mouth.
Imaris and Brahma were at blades with the wasted Eladrin. Unable to use his magic at close quarters the wizard had his sword out but his blows were weak and ineffective. The half-naked opponents were cunning and vicious; each would duck and weave this way and that, making feints that drew out their opponents and let them land punishing stabs in their exposed vitals. Both Brahma and Imaris were bleeding from several wounds before the first went down.
There was a horrific scream suddenly chopped off and the butcher-block thunk of an axe hitting bone. Icarus was trying to free his axe after driving it down through collarbone and ribs before resting it in the pelvis of one goblin archer. Moments later he finished the other.
Now alone, the last Eladrin began to edge towards escape and breaking past Brahma it plunged into a nearby alcove, the entrance of one of the moving down ramps, and laughed as it was carried to safety. Imaris, his cool exterior for once replaced with rage, staggered to the alcove and, raising his staff, he called upon magic forces. For a moment the magic backwash shone on his face, then came a distant thump as the backstabber was hit, and fell.
“Let that be the end of them,” Imaris sagged to the wall. “Surely madness and captivity drove them to this.”
“Imaris,” Brahma called softly, one clawed toe nudging the corpse of the fallen backstabber in the corridor. “This is no Eladrin.”
Imaris and I both moved closer and indeed, it was some foul creature that lay where the Eladrin sneak had fallen. No elf. A pale, flat face, bulbous head and joints on a skinny body with slug-grey flesh.
“A shape-shifter,” Imaris sighed. One might have sensed relief.
“Why choose that form?” Brahma asked and his tone lent an air of philosophy to the question.
“Perhaps to confuse us. Perhaps they thought to dispatch me and take my place.”
The others from the Lost Hope were drawing closer. Jess was obviously hurt and furious, but standing. Her clothes were wet with blood but she bore no wounds. Demona held up a bloody nub of flesh.
“You sure you don’t need this bit?”
“Don’t feel anything missing,” Jess replied.
Xandra’s child-like form was cradled in the crook of one of Icarus’ massive arms, slightly dazed and with a number of bandages around her, but in no danger of dying. For a moment they all just stood and glanced up and down the ruin left in the corridor. Silence lengthened as they counted the bodies and wiped blood from their faces.
“Uh, loot the bodies?” Icarus shrugged.
“’Kay,” Demona quickly replied.
Translated Footnotes:
1. Te malavel les i menkiva – I hope you get the crotch pox and die
2. Yekka muri buliasa nashti beshes pe done grastende – your mama’s butt so fat she rides on two horses
3. Ka xlia ma pe tute – I’m going to rip off your head and crap down your neck
4. Kon del tut o nai shai dela tut wi o vast - He who willingly gives your mother one finger will also give you the whole hand
5. Isi ili daba – get ready for the smackdown
6. Shuk tski khalpe la gunoy merel dei – eat crap with a spoon and die
7. Prohasar man opre pirende - sa muro djiben semas opre chengende – you spent your life on your knees and I’ll send you to the afterlife without a head; surely the devils will still have a use for you
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Mazenta's Tale - Part 3, Illustrated
“Curious, we didn’t see it before,” Imaris straightened the cuffs of his shirt under the blue leather of his jerkin.
He seemed calm for someone faced with the sudden appearance of a massive castle of crystal and light on the far side of the inner court. His little pet, Jess the cutter, for once looked her age, mouth open in wonder, head cocked sideways; but the expression never quite made it to her eyes. The eyes were calculating. She was probably already trying to plan how to scale the impossible towers and kill the inhabitants in their sleep. The base of the castle was a mound of crystal, clouded milky white, smooth on all sides but with an upper surface of jagged spikes. Growing from the top were three towers, alike in size but unevenly placed, each tower square and tapering to blunt pyramidal points. Two were connected to the third midway up their height by an adjoining slab of crystal. Something about the spacing and placement of the towers suggested they were organic. As if the castle had been grown, not built to design.
“That was not there when we circled the keep the first time,” Xandra said. “But see there, that platform on the far side of the courtyard. The light shimmers, as if suspended between those two small obelisks. And not unguarded: that’s a dragon, if I’m correct.”
“Dragon,” Jess confirmed, her sharp elven eyes darting to study the far platform. “Doesn’t move. Mebbe kilt already.”
Demona stood behind her two companions. These softskins don’t make much sense to me sometimes but even I could see they were not what anyone would describe as three friends. She gathered her hair back from the curling basalt horns of her brow in an unconscious move and her mouth curled into a sneer. “So it’s a dragon, let’s kill it.”
Jess’ ears perked up and that thing she called a smile crept onto her lips.
“Should we be worried that it suddenly just appeared?” Xandra was genuinely puzzled. Face her with a charging wild boar while she held a pair of sticks and she would throw herself into the fight; here, she was out of her element.
Demona threw back her cloak and gestured at the castle with her fingers folded into horns, “The castle comes from the beyond! Yet I fear not its otherwordly origins!”
Jess, wise beyond her years, looked to the wizard for clarification.
"Think of the mysterious realm we three just visited while the others healed. It shared many of the same characteristics, made of crystal. The creature we met there claimed it was the feywild. This may be the same place.”
“So do we go in?” Xandra brought up the practical question.
My Icarus was simply watching the others in turn as they spoke, cradling the huge axe in his arms and dragging a whetstone across a nick from the last fight when it had hit bone. “We do what we must. Because we can,” he rumbled.
***
Staring into the face of the stone dragon a great sadness welled up inside me. It was too detailed, too exact to be a statue. No, this had been a living creature once. It had felt the air when it flew. It had smelled the sweet smell of flesh turned to charcoal under its fiery breath. It had plotted and battled and possibly even served the late Emperor, who was known for his fondness of dragonfolk. In its day it might have been a hero, before some magic had turned the noble brother to marble. Now he stood frozen as he reared up, perhaps his last moment of defending this same portal. Goblin filth had carved their rude slogans and names into his flanks. And starlings were nesting behind one horn. Starlings!
The Lost Hope were all staring at the magic portal instead of the doomed majesty of this king among all creatures. With a hop and a flutter I pounced on the starlings nest and smacked the foul chirper’s twigs to the ground, snapping one of the hysterical creatures from mid-flight with a burst of feathers. Even here, under the nest were words scrawled in a goblin hand:
WEEPOX WUZ HEAR
Goblins: death’s too good for them.
The Lost Hope were finally stepping through the portal. Suspended between two standing stones, like smaller versions of the crystal towers, was a big blue thingy. And visible faintly through it was the inside of some room. Xandra was the first to step through and the others, seeing she wasn’t immediately zapped into paste, followed her. With a last caress to my stone brother I bounded to the stone platform and jumped through the portal.
It was disorienting at first. Like waking up from a bad dream about all your treasure being stolen, and being unable to move. Then the blue mist cleared and I found myself standing invisibly beside the Lost Hope staring at the room around us. It was entirely made from crystal: floors, walls and ceiling, mostly smooth but ribbed in places like unevenly frozen ice. And a light seemed to seep from every surface, as if the crystal itself was alive with the white glow. Two doors stood closed and a third was open, leading onward down a short hallway, again made of the glowing crystal. But if one hadn’t been open I would not have known they were doors, but thought maybe some strange plant. The closed doors were grey-green with thick veiny blue tendrils, and looked like the flattened bud of a flower before it opened.
“Much like the place in the feywild we already visited,” Imaris ran his hands over the walls and studied the room.
“I could’ve told you that,” Demona muttered.
“Yes, but you didn’t did you?” Imaris said dryly. “The open door beckons. Icarus, lead on.”
My quiet Icarus knew the value of silence and simply hefted his greataxe over one shoulder and advanced through the door and down the tunnel. I flew above their heads and down the corridor. It ended in a larger, longer room, busy with the work of many creatures. A half-dozen small goblins toiled at workbenches. A pair of six-foot tall hulks in tattered robes with decaying flesh held a large Taurus of crystal and as I hovered in the doorway I saw a pair of strange hump-backed goblins, far taller than the others, bend to work on the crystal. Their lumpy bodies seemed to unfold and I saw at once that each of the hunchbacks had six arms, each hand holding some sort of hammer or chisel. Without a sound I flew back and landed on Icarus’ wide shoulder pauldron and whispered in his ear: “Beware, many strange goblins and the living dead.”
Icarus merely grunted and went into the room swinging. His first axe-blow took a small goblin unawares and sent the two halves slamming into the nearby wall, painting the white crystal with blue-black carnage. Xandra didn’t pause and carved her way into the room with both blades flashing but it was Imaris’ arcane mumblings that sent a frigid blast among the packed workers. Two gobsicles perished instantly, shattering as they hit the floor and many more slid and fell as true ice coated the smooth crystal floor.
Three of the small goblins ran immediately, discarding their tools and snatching hammers as they went screaming in high-pitched voices out an unseen doorway at the far end of the room. I fluttered to an abandoned worktable as the battle raged. Nothing stood before the Lost Hope. For a moment there was a shocked cry from Jess, bringing up the rear of the group; hammer-wielding goblins had circled behind them but Jess and Imaris each quickly dispatched one, leaving the last to flee.
By then the last goblin survivor was one of the strange six-armed craftsmen and the Lost Hope were trying to circle it, Xandra made a rush and stepped back, wounded, as the six arms all attacked her at once. There was a quiet rustle as the tiny elfling Jess ran into the room, dove past the creature on crossed forearms and sprang up behind it, driving her punch-blade into its back and bringing it down with that one blow.As it folded and coughed out its last breath Jess was revealed with a face set in pure joy. Had it not been so pitiful it would have been horrific.
“I gottim,” she said proudly to Imaris as the eladrin moved forward.
The wizard forced a smile. “You did well, Jess. Always clean your blade.” He put one hand on her shoulder and as she looked away to wipe the blood on a rag there was a moment’s pity on the wizard’s cool features. Gone again in a moment.
“Finally, some bits of pretty worth having,” Icarus said, missing the entire play. He scooped up one of the gems from the worktables and held it up to the light between two claws. “Everybody, grab the rest.”
“Gems, yes!” Demona began searching.
Jess looked hopefully to Imaris, anticipating some good looting, but the eladrin was disdainful. “We don’t scrounge for riches. We’re here to rid these lands of the foul goblin overlords. The creatures that force our people to subsist in caves while they ruin all the wonders of the old empire, like this castle.”
“Didn’t look like they were despoiling this,” Xandra said. “They were working like a master’s whip was on their backs.”
But Imaris wasn’t listening. With a gesture to Jess he explored the far end of the room and the other exit. “Come with me, Jess. We’ll explore and make sure no more goblins are waiting to rush in while fools count pretty pebbles.”
“Probably has all the gems he needs, turning coal into diamonds up that tight ass of his,” Xandra muttered turning to my table, so quiet only I was able to hear her.
He seemed calm for someone faced with the sudden appearance of a massive castle of crystal and light on the far side of the inner court. His little pet, Jess the cutter, for once looked her age, mouth open in wonder, head cocked sideways; but the expression never quite made it to her eyes. The eyes were calculating. She was probably already trying to plan how to scale the impossible towers and kill the inhabitants in their sleep. The base of the castle was a mound of crystal, clouded milky white, smooth on all sides but with an upper surface of jagged spikes. Growing from the top were three towers, alike in size but unevenly placed, each tower square and tapering to blunt pyramidal points. Two were connected to the third midway up their height by an adjoining slab of crystal. Something about the spacing and placement of the towers suggested they were organic. As if the castle had been grown, not built to design.
“That was not there when we circled the keep the first time,” Xandra said. “But see there, that platform on the far side of the courtyard. The light shimmers, as if suspended between those two small obelisks. And not unguarded: that’s a dragon, if I’m correct.”“Dragon,” Jess confirmed, her sharp elven eyes darting to study the far platform. “Doesn’t move. Mebbe kilt already.”
Demona stood behind her two companions. These softskins don’t make much sense to me sometimes but even I could see they were not what anyone would describe as three friends. She gathered her hair back from the curling basalt horns of her brow in an unconscious move and her mouth curled into a sneer. “So it’s a dragon, let’s kill it.”
Jess’ ears perked up and that thing she called a smile crept onto her lips.
“Should we be worried that it suddenly just appeared?” Xandra was genuinely puzzled. Face her with a charging wild boar while she held a pair of sticks and she would throw herself into the fight; here, she was out of her element.
Demona threw back her cloak and gestured at the castle with her fingers folded into horns, “The castle comes from the beyond! Yet I fear not its otherwordly origins!”
Jess, wise beyond her years, looked to the wizard for clarification.
"Think of the mysterious realm we three just visited while the others healed. It shared many of the same characteristics, made of crystal. The creature we met there claimed it was the feywild. This may be the same place.”
“So do we go in?” Xandra brought up the practical question.
My Icarus was simply watching the others in turn as they spoke, cradling the huge axe in his arms and dragging a whetstone across a nick from the last fight when it had hit bone. “We do what we must. Because we can,” he rumbled.
***
Staring into the face of the stone dragon a great sadness welled up inside me. It was too detailed, too exact to be a statue. No, this had been a living creature once. It had felt the air when it flew. It had smelled the sweet smell of flesh turned to charcoal under its fiery breath. It had plotted and battled and possibly even served the late Emperor, who was known for his fondness of dragonfolk. In its day it might have been a hero, before some magic had turned the noble brother to marble. Now he stood frozen as he reared up, perhaps his last moment of defending this same portal. Goblin filth had carved their rude slogans and names into his flanks. And starlings were nesting behind one horn. Starlings!
The Lost Hope were all staring at the magic portal instead of the doomed majesty of this king among all creatures. With a hop and a flutter I pounced on the starlings nest and smacked the foul chirper’s twigs to the ground, snapping one of the hysterical creatures from mid-flight with a burst of feathers. Even here, under the nest were words scrawled in a goblin hand:WEEPOX WUZ HEAR
Goblins: death’s too good for them.
The Lost Hope were finally stepping through the portal. Suspended between two standing stones, like smaller versions of the crystal towers, was a big blue thingy. And visible faintly through it was the inside of some room. Xandra was the first to step through and the others, seeing she wasn’t immediately zapped into paste, followed her. With a last caress to my stone brother I bounded to the stone platform and jumped through the portal.
It was disorienting at first. Like waking up from a bad dream about all your treasure being stolen, and being unable to move. Then the blue mist cleared and I found myself standing invisibly beside the Lost Hope staring at the room around us. It was entirely made from crystal: floors, walls and ceiling, mostly smooth but ribbed in places like unevenly frozen ice. And a light seemed to seep from every surface, as if the crystal itself was alive with the white glow. Two doors stood closed and a third was open, leading onward down a short hallway, again made of the glowing crystal. But if one hadn’t been open I would not have known they were doors, but thought maybe some strange plant. The closed doors were grey-green with thick veiny blue tendrils, and looked like the flattened bud of a flower before it opened.
“Much like the place in the feywild we already visited,” Imaris ran his hands over the walls and studied the room.
“I could’ve told you that,” Demona muttered.
“Yes, but you didn’t did you?” Imaris said dryly. “The open door beckons. Icarus, lead on.”
My quiet Icarus knew the value of silence and simply hefted his greataxe over one shoulder and advanced through the door and down the tunnel. I flew above their heads and down the corridor. It ended in a larger, longer room, busy with the work of many creatures. A half-dozen small goblins toiled at workbenches. A pair of six-foot tall hulks in tattered robes with decaying flesh held a large Taurus of crystal and as I hovered in the doorway I saw a pair of strange hump-backed goblins, far taller than the others, bend to work on the crystal. Their lumpy bodies seemed to unfold and I saw at once that each of the hunchbacks had six arms, each hand holding some sort of hammer or chisel. Without a sound I flew back and landed on Icarus’ wide shoulder pauldron and whispered in his ear: “Beware, many strange goblins and the living dead.”
Icarus merely grunted and went into the room swinging. His first axe-blow took a small goblin unawares and sent the two halves slamming into the nearby wall, painting the white crystal with blue-black carnage. Xandra didn’t pause and carved her way into the room with both blades flashing but it was Imaris’ arcane mumblings that sent a frigid blast among the packed workers. Two gobsicles perished instantly, shattering as they hit the floor and many more slid and fell as true ice coated the smooth crystal floor.
Three of the small goblins ran immediately, discarding their tools and snatching hammers as they went screaming in high-pitched voices out an unseen doorway at the far end of the room. I fluttered to an abandoned worktable as the battle raged. Nothing stood before the Lost Hope. For a moment there was a shocked cry from Jess, bringing up the rear of the group; hammer-wielding goblins had circled behind them but Jess and Imaris each quickly dispatched one, leaving the last to flee.
By then the last goblin survivor was one of the strange six-armed craftsmen and the Lost Hope were trying to circle it, Xandra made a rush and stepped back, wounded, as the six arms all attacked her at once. There was a quiet rustle as the tiny elfling Jess ran into the room, dove past the creature on crossed forearms and sprang up behind it, driving her punch-blade into its back and bringing it down with that one blow.As it folded and coughed out its last breath Jess was revealed with a face set in pure joy. Had it not been so pitiful it would have been horrific.
“I gottim,” she said proudly to Imaris as the eladrin moved forward.
The wizard forced a smile. “You did well, Jess. Always clean your blade.” He put one hand on her shoulder and as she looked away to wipe the blood on a rag there was a moment’s pity on the wizard’s cool features. Gone again in a moment.
“Finally, some bits of pretty worth having,” Icarus said, missing the entire play. He scooped up one of the gems from the worktables and held it up to the light between two claws. “Everybody, grab the rest.”
“Gems, yes!” Demona began searching.
Jess looked hopefully to Imaris, anticipating some good looting, but the eladrin was disdainful. “We don’t scrounge for riches. We’re here to rid these lands of the foul goblin overlords. The creatures that force our people to subsist in caves while they ruin all the wonders of the old empire, like this castle.”
“Didn’t look like they were despoiling this,” Xandra said. “They were working like a master’s whip was on their backs.”
But Imaris wasn’t listening. With a gesture to Jess he explored the far end of the room and the other exit. “Come with me, Jess. We’ll explore and make sure no more goblins are waiting to rush in while fools count pretty pebbles.”
“Probably has all the gems he needs, turning coal into diamonds up that tight ass of his,” Xandra muttered turning to my table, so quiet only I was able to hear her.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Character Sketches 2 - Illustrated
As an added bonus I fought my way through scanning pictures with the backup computer (laptop is in the shop) and have added some of Emily's awesome character sketches. The level of dedication this entails may not be readily obvious but trust me, this was a good hour per picture when averaged out.
Alex's Eladrin wizard, Imaris, again as detailed by Emily. This is mostly based off Alex's highly detailed mini. Alex claims he's not as artistic as some of us but he's head and shoulders the best mini-painter. Stay tuned for a photo-gallery of minis, as most of them are works of art all by themselves.
Emily's youthful murderess, Jess Solith. Born an elf and raised in a snake-cult. 4th Ed. Zehir cult reminds me of Conan the Barbarian, John Milius' ode to blood and violence: "Two-three years ago it was just another snake cult. Now, their accursed towers are everywhere. Hey, you interested in some black lotus? Stygian, the best!" Go here for a fantastic article on John Milius, Conan, Red Dawn and Apocalypse Now as the embodiment of conservative nutterdom.
Based on Kathy's original character art here's Emily's sketch of Xandra, the halfling ranger out to avenge the death of her sister.
Here's Demona, under her own personal black cloud. Note the tiefling horns. Not shown are the hot pants that her mini sports so provocatively. Although if pictures followed her mini faithfully she'd be one armed after one too many die-rolling mishaps by Emma. Everybody has taken down the occasional tabletop full of minis in mid-encounter but Emma seems to have perfected the art of D20 bowling with carefully crafted minis as pins.
Alex's Eladrin wizard, Imaris, again as detailed by Emily. This is mostly based off Alex's highly detailed mini. Alex claims he's not as artistic as some of us but he's head and shoulders the best mini-painter. Stay tuned for a photo-gallery of minis, as most of them are works of art all by themselves.
Emily's youthful murderess, Jess Solith. Born an elf and raised in a snake-cult. 4th Ed. Zehir cult reminds me of Conan the Barbarian, John Milius' ode to blood and violence: "Two-three years ago it was just another snake cult. Now, their accursed towers are everywhere. Hey, you interested in some black lotus? Stygian, the best!" Go here for a fantastic article on John Milius, Conan, Red Dawn and Apocalypse Now as the embodiment of conservative nutterdom.
Based on Kathy's original character art here's Emily's sketch of Xandra, the halfling ranger out to avenge the death of her sister.
Here's Demona, under her own personal black cloud. Note the tiefling horns. Not shown are the hot pants that her mini sports so provocatively. Although if pictures followed her mini faithfully she'd be one armed after one too many die-rolling mishaps by Emma. Everybody has taken down the occasional tabletop full of minis in mid-encounter but Emma seems to have perfected the art of D20 bowling with carefully crafted minis as pins.
Mazenta's Tale - Part 2
I once again took up my observation point atop the massive gatehouse that separated the inner bailey from the ruins of the outer bailey. I had learned wariness by now, having been far too close to the real fighting when the Lost Hope stormed the gatehouse from below. It had been exciting, seeing the five climb level by level; it should have been six but the dragon priest Brahma had elected to stay behind and practice his weird rites to the dragon god. I admit I was too preoccupied watching the Lost duelling with the fire spitting, walking skeletons and was almost caught in the crossfire when Demona appeared by my perch and started sending beams of eldritch energy their way. Invisible as I was Demona’s wild shots were likely to hit only by accident.
So watching over a two-story drop at the little huddle around the battlefield below I was ready to take wing at any moment. The Lost Hope had destroyed the undead guardians and exited the gatehouse to find a force of hobgoblins spilling from a rundown barracks. Hobgoblins unlike anything seen before, and probably twisted by the Great Curse that changed the arcane forces of the world. Like the horrible, semi-mindless cultists that dared to worship the Insane God and were broken mockeries of Man. The four who has closed with iron flails and shields were naked, covered in an adhesive slime that held fast any weapon that struck them. The two archers who’d fired from the barracks roof were chitin-armored, like a hobgoblin married to a beetle. Standing over the bodies of the naked, slime-dripping hobgoblins the Lost Hope wrinkled their noses as the disgusting creatures. Xandra had to take the time the wrench both of her curved scimitars free. The little murderess Jess looted the bodies, finding little beyond their arms. I swooped low as they entered the barracks, landing without a sound on the roof and spied in from the open trapdoor beneath the framework platform on the roof. Three more towers like it rose from the other roof corners. Inside there was muttering.
“Nothing here but goblin crap-“
“Who’s wounded? Tend to your cuts, especially from those filthy goblin arrows-“
Xandra’s voice, distant and distracted by her wounds, “I need rest.”
“Imaris doesn’t look good either.”
“Then we rest,” Jess the little murderess. “See to barricading the door.”
I scampered up the lashed-together wooden struts of the watch platform as a tattooed arm rose to slam the trapdoor shut. The open-fanged snake mouth tattoo on the thin elven limb left no doubt who. I shuddered and counted myself lucky. That cutter made my wings crawl.
I listened as they slammed things about inside the barracks, barricading the front doors. I couldn’t blame them. Had it only been a day ago when they had taken refuge in one of the still-standing guard towers of the outer keep and had the wake-up call of a catapult stone smash through the wall. That had certainly kicked them out of bed like a burning stick inside an ant’s nest. That time it had only been kobolds: feral, reptilian, miniature dragon wannabees with a pair of contraband siege weapons and itchy trigger talons. But now, since they’d cut their way through the undead guardians at the gatehouse, the Lost Hope was facing the real forces behind the walls of Kallos Keep.
In a few minutes the sounds from within ceased. Here, in the heart of the keep, they’d decided to hide and regain their strength. I eyed the half-dozen corpses they’d left littered on the ground between the barracks and the gatehouse. Yes, this would go well.
I was so ready for them to be discovered that when the first flyer patrolled overhead I simply watched it for a moment. Another one of the bat-winged hobgoblins, flapping erratically in a circle around the inner courtyard, barbed whip-tail lashing lazily in circles. As soon as it spotted the bodies it dived closer, made a single pass and then strained for altitude, winging back towards the far corner of the inner keep. I climbed up the struts of the watchtower and perching at the highest point I could see it descend to the petrified dragon body and thump to the stone platform. It was only moments later when three of the bat-things launched into the air and the figures of misshapen hobgoblins began sprinting over the open ground towards the barracks.
A single flyer, perhaps the first one, dropped from the sky, shedding speed as it’s leathery wings cupped the air, and landing almost soundlessly on the barracks roof. It strutted carefully towards the nearest trapdoor to the interior of the barracks and gestured silently to its companions. In a moment the Lost Hope would be surrounded and surprised in their rest. These creatures would overwhelm everyone, including poor Icarus. What was a dragonet to do?
With a single leap I landed atop the nearest trapdoor, silent, invisible. Raising my tail overhead I thumped it hard on the wooden door.
”What was tha-“
“Shut up!”
A pause.
“Thought I heard something from over there.”
For a moment I was pleased with myself, then I could hear someone below climbing not under my trapdoor, but the one nearest the bat-thing. I thumped my door harder, again and again. No you idiot! The bat-thing crept closer to the trapdoor, stinger tail raised overhead.
The trapdoor nearest the bat-thing creaked up, pushed upward by the end of Imaris the wizard’s staff. With a cry of surprise, and a shout in arcane words that refused to stay in my memory, a gout of flame struck the creature. Hopping and in flames it was in no situation to defend itself as first Imaris, then Jess and then Xandra boiled out the door onto the roof. In a flurry of strikes the creature died, still smoking.
“’Ware bats!” Jess cried, pointing to the sky.
“Werebats?” Xandra spun with both scimitars ready. “How can that be worse than a regular giant bat?”
The two remaining bat-goblins swooped down, lashing their razor-tipped tails as they went before swerving to ready for a second pass. Now Icarus and Demona had climbed onto the flat roof of the barracks as well, taking in the scene. They were so busy watching the skies they failed to see the loping hobgoblins that’d sprinted near the barracks on foot.
They were scaled, like lizards, and their faces pulled into elongated snouts. Their legs were powerful and arms atrophied to mere sticks. With a strange rocking motion they opened their jaws and spat mouthfuls of some reeking saliva at the Lost Hope, clustered on the edge of the roof. One struck Imaris and his fine eladrin robes began to splutter and hiss. Jess turned just in time for a second wad of acidic goo to strike her neck and chest and she cried out as it burned into her skin.
“Watch out, it burns!” Demona cautioned, orange eyes wide with shock.
Xandra, whirring a sling stone above her head, rolled her eyes.
My poor Icarus was eying the newcomers and with a sigh he lumbered to the edge of the roof and jumped, muttering, “Gee, stay up here and get whipped and shot at or get within cutting range, not much of a choice.”
“Wow, go Icarus,” Xandra said, watching him tumble to the ground below.
“That’s the bravest thing he’s ever done,” Demona gawked.
A moment later and I was throwing myself over the edge of the roof as well. As the batgoblins flew back and forth, slashing as they went, Imaris and Demona sent bolts of arcane energy and fire all around them; and just to make the chances of being taken out by a stray shot even better, Jess was flinging those deadly-sharp little metal stars everywhere. Just as I made good my escape I saw Demona level one blast, curse it as she missed and hurl a second bolt with her left hand that also narrowly missed the grinning batgoblin as it swerved through the air.
Icarus was at blows among the spitting hobgoblins and as the three bunched up to attack him he grinned and unhinged his jaw to unleash a cloud of lightning bolts that left one of the spitters crisped and twitching on the ground. But even as Jess jumped from the roof, tucked into a ball, and landed on both feet, the spitters converged on Icarus and rained burning acid over him. With a last axe-blow Icarus began to retreat, weaving his weapon in a defensive wall and visibly shaking off the effects of the terrible wounds.
“Great move Icarus, dare them all to fight you at once. What was I thinking?” he snarled.
The rooftop battle against the bat-things was not going smoothly. I could hear blasts of fire and diabolic energy were punctuated by the veep sound of sling stones.
“Got it! Wait, no. Missed.”
“Hey watch where you’re pointing that wand!”
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
As Icarus retreated to put the barracks between himself and more caustic spittle Jess advanced with deadly intent and, her fine elphin features drawn into a snarl of hate, hurled a throwing star that lodged behind the ear of one spitter dropping it dead to the ground.
There was an explosion, muffled by the walls of the building and a victory ululation from Demona.
“Sod this for a game of mumblestones!” the last spitter whimpered and made to run as all it’s comrades were so much hamburger helper. It didn’t get far before Xandra and Imaris brought the thing down with well-placed shots.
Jess was already slitting throats to make sure none of the bodies would be getting back up again and Icarus lumbered around the barracks, his armor still smoking slightly as acid dripped to the overgrown cobbles of the courtyard.
“D’you see me jump right in the middle of those things?” he said proudly.
“Yeah, you the dragon,” Jess didn’t look up from her job.
So watching over a two-story drop at the little huddle around the battlefield below I was ready to take wing at any moment. The Lost Hope had destroyed the undead guardians and exited the gatehouse to find a force of hobgoblins spilling from a rundown barracks. Hobgoblins unlike anything seen before, and probably twisted by the Great Curse that changed the arcane forces of the world. Like the horrible, semi-mindless cultists that dared to worship the Insane God and were broken mockeries of Man. The four who has closed with iron flails and shields were naked, covered in an adhesive slime that held fast any weapon that struck them. The two archers who’d fired from the barracks roof were chitin-armored, like a hobgoblin married to a beetle. Standing over the bodies of the naked, slime-dripping hobgoblins the Lost Hope wrinkled their noses as the disgusting creatures. Xandra had to take the time the wrench both of her curved scimitars free. The little murderess Jess looted the bodies, finding little beyond their arms. I swooped low as they entered the barracks, landing without a sound on the roof and spied in from the open trapdoor beneath the framework platform on the roof. Three more towers like it rose from the other roof corners. Inside there was muttering.
“Nothing here but goblin crap-“
“Who’s wounded? Tend to your cuts, especially from those filthy goblin arrows-“
Xandra’s voice, distant and distracted by her wounds, “I need rest.”
“Imaris doesn’t look good either.”
“Then we rest,” Jess the little murderess. “See to barricading the door.”
I scampered up the lashed-together wooden struts of the watch platform as a tattooed arm rose to slam the trapdoor shut. The open-fanged snake mouth tattoo on the thin elven limb left no doubt who. I shuddered and counted myself lucky. That cutter made my wings crawl.
I listened as they slammed things about inside the barracks, barricading the front doors. I couldn’t blame them. Had it only been a day ago when they had taken refuge in one of the still-standing guard towers of the outer keep and had the wake-up call of a catapult stone smash through the wall. That had certainly kicked them out of bed like a burning stick inside an ant’s nest. That time it had only been kobolds: feral, reptilian, miniature dragon wannabees with a pair of contraband siege weapons and itchy trigger talons. But now, since they’d cut their way through the undead guardians at the gatehouse, the Lost Hope was facing the real forces behind the walls of Kallos Keep.
In a few minutes the sounds from within ceased. Here, in the heart of the keep, they’d decided to hide and regain their strength. I eyed the half-dozen corpses they’d left littered on the ground between the barracks and the gatehouse. Yes, this would go well.
I was so ready for them to be discovered that when the first flyer patrolled overhead I simply watched it for a moment. Another one of the bat-winged hobgoblins, flapping erratically in a circle around the inner courtyard, barbed whip-tail lashing lazily in circles. As soon as it spotted the bodies it dived closer, made a single pass and then strained for altitude, winging back towards the far corner of the inner keep. I climbed up the struts of the watchtower and perching at the highest point I could see it descend to the petrified dragon body and thump to the stone platform. It was only moments later when three of the bat-things launched into the air and the figures of misshapen hobgoblins began sprinting over the open ground towards the barracks.
A single flyer, perhaps the first one, dropped from the sky, shedding speed as it’s leathery wings cupped the air, and landing almost soundlessly on the barracks roof. It strutted carefully towards the nearest trapdoor to the interior of the barracks and gestured silently to its companions. In a moment the Lost Hope would be surrounded and surprised in their rest. These creatures would overwhelm everyone, including poor Icarus. What was a dragonet to do?
With a single leap I landed atop the nearest trapdoor, silent, invisible. Raising my tail overhead I thumped it hard on the wooden door.
”What was tha-“
“Shut up!”
A pause.
“Thought I heard something from over there.”
For a moment I was pleased with myself, then I could hear someone below climbing not under my trapdoor, but the one nearest the bat-thing. I thumped my door harder, again and again. No you idiot! The bat-thing crept closer to the trapdoor, stinger tail raised overhead.
The trapdoor nearest the bat-thing creaked up, pushed upward by the end of Imaris the wizard’s staff. With a cry of surprise, and a shout in arcane words that refused to stay in my memory, a gout of flame struck the creature. Hopping and in flames it was in no situation to defend itself as first Imaris, then Jess and then Xandra boiled out the door onto the roof. In a flurry of strikes the creature died, still smoking.
“’Ware bats!” Jess cried, pointing to the sky.
“Werebats?” Xandra spun with both scimitars ready. “How can that be worse than a regular giant bat?”
The two remaining bat-goblins swooped down, lashing their razor-tipped tails as they went before swerving to ready for a second pass. Now Icarus and Demona had climbed onto the flat roof of the barracks as well, taking in the scene. They were so busy watching the skies they failed to see the loping hobgoblins that’d sprinted near the barracks on foot.
They were scaled, like lizards, and their faces pulled into elongated snouts. Their legs were powerful and arms atrophied to mere sticks. With a strange rocking motion they opened their jaws and spat mouthfuls of some reeking saliva at the Lost Hope, clustered on the edge of the roof. One struck Imaris and his fine eladrin robes began to splutter and hiss. Jess turned just in time for a second wad of acidic goo to strike her neck and chest and she cried out as it burned into her skin.
“Watch out, it burns!” Demona cautioned, orange eyes wide with shock.
Xandra, whirring a sling stone above her head, rolled her eyes.
My poor Icarus was eying the newcomers and with a sigh he lumbered to the edge of the roof and jumped, muttering, “Gee, stay up here and get whipped and shot at or get within cutting range, not much of a choice.”
“Wow, go Icarus,” Xandra said, watching him tumble to the ground below.
“That’s the bravest thing he’s ever done,” Demona gawked.
A moment later and I was throwing myself over the edge of the roof as well. As the batgoblins flew back and forth, slashing as they went, Imaris and Demona sent bolts of arcane energy and fire all around them; and just to make the chances of being taken out by a stray shot even better, Jess was flinging those deadly-sharp little metal stars everywhere. Just as I made good my escape I saw Demona level one blast, curse it as she missed and hurl a second bolt with her left hand that also narrowly missed the grinning batgoblin as it swerved through the air.
Icarus was at blows among the spitting hobgoblins and as the three bunched up to attack him he grinned and unhinged his jaw to unleash a cloud of lightning bolts that left one of the spitters crisped and twitching on the ground. But even as Jess jumped from the roof, tucked into a ball, and landed on both feet, the spitters converged on Icarus and rained burning acid over him. With a last axe-blow Icarus began to retreat, weaving his weapon in a defensive wall and visibly shaking off the effects of the terrible wounds.
“Great move Icarus, dare them all to fight you at once. What was I thinking?” he snarled.
The rooftop battle against the bat-things was not going smoothly. I could hear blasts of fire and diabolic energy were punctuated by the veep sound of sling stones.
“Got it! Wait, no. Missed.”
“Hey watch where you’re pointing that wand!”
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
As Icarus retreated to put the barracks between himself and more caustic spittle Jess advanced with deadly intent and, her fine elphin features drawn into a snarl of hate, hurled a throwing star that lodged behind the ear of one spitter dropping it dead to the ground.
There was an explosion, muffled by the walls of the building and a victory ululation from Demona.
“Sod this for a game of mumblestones!” the last spitter whimpered and made to run as all it’s comrades were so much hamburger helper. It didn’t get far before Xandra and Imaris brought the thing down with well-placed shots.
Jess was already slitting throats to make sure none of the bodies would be getting back up again and Icarus lumbered around the barracks, his armor still smoking slightly as acid dripped to the overgrown cobbles of the courtyard.
“D’you see me jump right in the middle of those things?” he said proudly.
“Yeah, you the dragon,” Jess didn’t look up from her job.
Mazenta's Tale - Part 1
Gather round the firepit, children and witness the long walk of the dark time when murderers, beasts and witches were the last, dark hope of Nevermore. When a pitiful band of marauders agreed to carve their names in blood and magic through what was once the wasteland that surrounded this last flickering hope of civilization. I alone am qualified to tell their tale as I alone am the only one alive to witness it. When the inhabitants of nevermore watched them go, huddled in the openings of the filthy caves they’d taken refuge in, the elders called them the Last Hope, but I never heard the common fulk call them anything but the Lost Hope.
There were six who began, and their names have a wholly deserved infamy.
Icarus, a massive example of the untempered fury that resides in dragonfulk, Icarus the hackmaster lived only to make small chunks with his large axe. As a hatchling a rival tribe of Imps had hung me over the maw of a ravenous pitcher plant and Icarus was the one who rescued me. Since that day he's been like my big brother.
Brahma, the disciple of the dragon god was as thoughtful as he was huge. Uncommonly introspective for a dragonfulk, with a Question for everything, Brahma never avoided the opportunity to philosophise, even during the heat of battle.
Zandra, the smallest member was by far not the least dangerous. Zandra the twin cutter, one curved blade for herself, one for her lost sister, this tiny Halfling was a whirl of blades.
Jess, the snake’s own fangs. This young murderess was as cold and deadly as the vipers drawn on her flesh. As ignorant of her fey heritage as she was stuffed full of the bile of Zehir cultists who raised her.
Imaris, the spellslinger, an old man trapped in the young flesh of his eladrin heritage. A wizard haunted by the world that was lost and unable to look upon a single blade of grass without raging against the ruins it grew out of.
Demona, the witch with a glint of hell glowing from her eyes and a thirst for souls. One of those endlessly cursed from the ruin of an even earlier age when the demonic Cascan empire was thrown down.
There were six who began, and their names have a wholly deserved infamy.
Icarus, a massive example of the untempered fury that resides in dragonfulk, Icarus the hackmaster lived only to make small chunks with his large axe. As a hatchling a rival tribe of Imps had hung me over the maw of a ravenous pitcher plant and Icarus was the one who rescued me. Since that day he's been like my big brother.
Brahma, the disciple of the dragon god was as thoughtful as he was huge. Uncommonly introspective for a dragonfulk, with a Question for everything, Brahma never avoided the opportunity to philosophise, even during the heat of battle.
Zandra, the smallest member was by far not the least dangerous. Zandra the twin cutter, one curved blade for herself, one for her lost sister, this tiny Halfling was a whirl of blades.
Jess, the snake’s own fangs. This young murderess was as cold and deadly as the vipers drawn on her flesh. As ignorant of her fey heritage as she was stuffed full of the bile of Zehir cultists who raised her.
Imaris, the spellslinger, an old man trapped in the young flesh of his eladrin heritage. A wizard haunted by the world that was lost and unable to look upon a single blade of grass without raging against the ruins it grew out of.
Demona, the witch with a glint of hell glowing from her eyes and a thirst for souls. One of those endlessly cursed from the ruin of an even earlier age when the demonic Cascan empire was thrown down.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Town of Nevermore
At one time the nearby Keep of Kallos controlled the surrounding lands, leading expeditions to exterminate monstrous humanoids and evil cults that recurrently populated the nearby Caves of Chaos. Since Akresh was destroyed Kallos Keep fell into the hands of monstrous humanoids who now control and tithe several nearby hamlets of humans and gnomes, living off their meagre harvests. Akresh, the City Itself, lies in ruins nearby, avoided by all for the plague of monsters and evil magic. But there is one beacon of light, a mere candle in the bowel-black. What were once the Caves of Chaos are now known as the town of Nevermore. In Nevermore several small tribes and renegades have come together to form a self-sufficient community of sorts. Harbouring runaways from the nearby hamlets and attracting bold loners who survive on their wits, Nevermore may be the centre of resistance that begins to reclaim civilization.
The Caves:
Most of the Nevermore residents live amongst others of their own kind, still clinging to the old prejudices before the golden boon, although a few outgoing members of each race make a point to set up trade and cooperation between the cave complexes. There are officially only one half-elf and one Tiefling as permanent residents although others have visited for short periods. The one group who consistently provides help and fosters cooperation are the temples, the priesthoods are made up of members from all races.
A – Halflings
Four families of Halflings have established themselves in these caves, hardy folk who have fought off several groups of curious humanoid raiders. The ruling family is Ardefy, holding the most secure chamber and the council chamber. The largest family is Certase who fill to bursting the largest chamber. These small folk have settled into a steady, simple life, making most of their living by pilfering from the dull-witted humanoids of Kallos Keep. These Halflings travel and have connections with many other Halfling communities and they can sell valuables outside the community.
Source of: maps, lockpicking, small high value items, having your pockets picked
B – Humans, clan Lyetine
Warlike but only loosely organized, the humans of Nevermore are the group most likely to be involved in raiding the Kallos Keep humanoids. They consider it their duty to harass the humanoids at every opportunity, despite the constant reprisals Kallos Keep sends against all of Nevermore. They consider it a rite of passage to steal cattle from Kallos. Clan Lyetine is involved with an ongoing, occasionally lethal, feud with nearby clan Therkim. Lyetine has a slightly better relationship with the other groups in nevermore and is barely tolerated.
Source of: provisions, aggro, narrow-mindedness
C – Humans, clan Therkim
The leader of clan Therkim has been known to think before he acts but is otherwise not much different from clan Lyetine. Therkim is smaller than the other human clan and relies more on stealth than pure brawn in any battle. They target finished goods not available to nevermore when they raid the humanoids. The Therkim leader maintains a meeting room where he and the leader of Lyetine can discuss their differences and plan joint attacks – a room that is all too often empty.
Source of: finished goods, plunder, aggro
D – Gnomes, 13th Infantry
Formerly a citizen military unit of the Egalitate of Gnarrin, the gnomish enclave is ruled by the Checker – what was formerly the political correctness officer – now a hereditary position. Officious, militaristic, and belligerent, Checker Vorint is primarily responsible for the poor standing of these once-proud people. They have allied themselves with the nearby half-elf Leina through a system of constant bribery.
Source of: pain in the ass
E – Half-elf, Leina the exile
Estranged from both her elven and human blood Leina has taken possession of this cave and few dare to threaten her directly. Through her pact with fey forces beyond this world Leina has more power than almost anyone in Nevermore. It is said her elven blood descends from Emperor Lorin himself, a rumour Leina does little to dispel.
Source of: arcane rituals, hermitage
F – Dragonborn, clan Kalusko
Kalusko were one-time mercenaries in the pay of the Dracolich Porlax, one of the few nearby kingdoms to survive the Screaming Madness. Clan Kalusko migrated north, then west, then south where they fought for a time in the dwarven succession wars. Finally moving east again these proud warriors were devastated by an ill-planned expedition to the ruins of the City Itself. Limping away the clan has settled in Nevermore temporarily and has provided much-needed order to the community. Well-organized, powerful and fearless, the Dragonborn have arrested and detained a number of murderers and criminals from the other clans in Nevermore. They have large holdings that are well-defended.
Source of: weapons and armor, hired blades, pride
G – the Shunned Cave
Virtually everyone in Nevermore knows to avoid these caves. No one who has gone in past the entrance has ever come out.
Source of: various forms of unpleasant death
H – Dwarves, clan Rylep
These caverns have been finished and outfitted to an almost luxurious standard compared to the rest of the rough delvings of Nevermore. Rugged, isolative survivors of clan Rylep have made the best of their surroundings. Having little to do with the others in the community, the dwarves are the best-equipped and can however provide much in the way of tools, weapons and armor – for a price. Part of their standoffishness may be their reluctance to answer any questions about their past; rumour is they were losers in the dwarven succession wars to the west.
Source of: finished metal goods, none of your business
I – the Tiefling Retreat
This maze of caves was appropriated by the Tiefling Ildal as his personal retreat almost a decade ago. His reluctant protection of several dozen refugees was what propelled Nevermore into a full-fledged settlement, much to his displeasure. Ildal rarely emerges and some say he is in fact gone on long expeditions of his own much of the time. A powerful magic protects these caves that misleads those who enter. Non-Tieflings never penetrate further than the first cave before finding themselves somehow turned around and back at the entrance. Tieflings other than Ildal are welcome to use the caves for a refuge or home, however only those expressly permitted by Ildal have found his inner sanctum deep in the maze.
Source of: arcane rituals, ritual components, confusion
J – The Feyhome
The elves of Beleldo have long known hardship. Before the reign of Emperor Lorin they were a clan in exile, reduced to less than two dozen. This sad remainder were enslaved by a trio of doppelganger wizards and were freed by several apprentices of Lorin when he was still a hazard-class citizen. Beleldo began to restore their position living secretly in Akresh and were bolstered by the return of one of their nobles, the wizard Swandrake. When Lorin became emperor Swandrake became a thanat, and the Beleldo elves moved to the Brothamor forest to expand the empire and become part of the alliance between Eladrin and Elves that Lorin was forming. Swandrake was one who looked upon the face of the mad god and became corrupted and insane; destroying the Beleldo home, helping shatter the alliance and rip apart the forest. Beleldo fled the forest, leaderless and broken, picking up stray survivors from other clans until they made their home on remote mountain heights, scratching sustenance from the ice and rock. Only now, after scouts have declared the lowlands relatively habitable again, has Beleldo come to live inside the caves at Nevermore. They welcome any fey among them and several Eladrin have stayed with them on short-term visits.
Unable to field a large force and reluctant to be drawn out into the open where they once again would be targets, these fey have a mysterious and aloof presence that disturbs and frightens others in the community.
Source of: guides, bows, leather goods, wild animals, poison, elitism
K – The Temples
Founded by a priest of Erathis named Yeraz not long after the Screaming Madness, these caves are among the most finished and the longest-inhabited. Working from a book of local history Yeraz saw that a former temple of evil had successfully operated in hiding for some years in the foothills. Finding the evil temple in the Caves of Chaos Yeraz wiped away the last of the evil taint and consecrated the grounds for gods of good. It was an aging apprentice of Yeraz who first allowed Ildal to settle in the area and thus indirectly founded the settlement of Nevermore.
Currently there are three major shrines in the complex; Erathis, Bahamut and Pelor. A number of other gods have small shrines in one hall. Only the evil gods have no representation here. All members of the community help serve these shrines and most of the hamlets controlled by Kallos Keep give some of their crops to secret temple agents who go among them spreading good and healing.
The crypts below the Temples are said to hold stores of magic items, some tainted with evil, which the priests guard against the day they can be given to heroes who truly deserve them.
Source of: healing, magic items, divine rituals, piety, pontificating, tithe collectors
The Caves:
Most of the Nevermore residents live amongst others of their own kind, still clinging to the old prejudices before the golden boon, although a few outgoing members of each race make a point to set up trade and cooperation between the cave complexes. There are officially only one half-elf and one Tiefling as permanent residents although others have visited for short periods. The one group who consistently provides help and fosters cooperation are the temples, the priesthoods are made up of members from all races.
A – Halflings
Four families of Halflings have established themselves in these caves, hardy folk who have fought off several groups of curious humanoid raiders. The ruling family is Ardefy, holding the most secure chamber and the council chamber. The largest family is Certase who fill to bursting the largest chamber. These small folk have settled into a steady, simple life, making most of their living by pilfering from the dull-witted humanoids of Kallos Keep. These Halflings travel and have connections with many other Halfling communities and they can sell valuables outside the community.
Source of: maps, lockpicking, small high value items, having your pockets picked
B – Humans, clan Lyetine
Warlike but only loosely organized, the humans of Nevermore are the group most likely to be involved in raiding the Kallos Keep humanoids. They consider it their duty to harass the humanoids at every opportunity, despite the constant reprisals Kallos Keep sends against all of Nevermore. They consider it a rite of passage to steal cattle from Kallos. Clan Lyetine is involved with an ongoing, occasionally lethal, feud with nearby clan Therkim. Lyetine has a slightly better relationship with the other groups in nevermore and is barely tolerated.
Source of: provisions, aggro, narrow-mindedness
C – Humans, clan Therkim
The leader of clan Therkim has been known to think before he acts but is otherwise not much different from clan Lyetine. Therkim is smaller than the other human clan and relies more on stealth than pure brawn in any battle. They target finished goods not available to nevermore when they raid the humanoids. The Therkim leader maintains a meeting room where he and the leader of Lyetine can discuss their differences and plan joint attacks – a room that is all too often empty.
Source of: finished goods, plunder, aggro
D – Gnomes, 13th Infantry
Formerly a citizen military unit of the Egalitate of Gnarrin, the gnomish enclave is ruled by the Checker – what was formerly the political correctness officer – now a hereditary position. Officious, militaristic, and belligerent, Checker Vorint is primarily responsible for the poor standing of these once-proud people. They have allied themselves with the nearby half-elf Leina through a system of constant bribery.
Source of: pain in the ass
E – Half-elf, Leina the exile
Estranged from both her elven and human blood Leina has taken possession of this cave and few dare to threaten her directly. Through her pact with fey forces beyond this world Leina has more power than almost anyone in Nevermore. It is said her elven blood descends from Emperor Lorin himself, a rumour Leina does little to dispel.
Source of: arcane rituals, hermitage
F – Dragonborn, clan Kalusko
Kalusko were one-time mercenaries in the pay of the Dracolich Porlax, one of the few nearby kingdoms to survive the Screaming Madness. Clan Kalusko migrated north, then west, then south where they fought for a time in the dwarven succession wars. Finally moving east again these proud warriors were devastated by an ill-planned expedition to the ruins of the City Itself. Limping away the clan has settled in Nevermore temporarily and has provided much-needed order to the community. Well-organized, powerful and fearless, the Dragonborn have arrested and detained a number of murderers and criminals from the other clans in Nevermore. They have large holdings that are well-defended.
Source of: weapons and armor, hired blades, pride
G – the Shunned Cave
Virtually everyone in Nevermore knows to avoid these caves. No one who has gone in past the entrance has ever come out.
Source of: various forms of unpleasant death
H – Dwarves, clan Rylep
These caverns have been finished and outfitted to an almost luxurious standard compared to the rest of the rough delvings of Nevermore. Rugged, isolative survivors of clan Rylep have made the best of their surroundings. Having little to do with the others in the community, the dwarves are the best-equipped and can however provide much in the way of tools, weapons and armor – for a price. Part of their standoffishness may be their reluctance to answer any questions about their past; rumour is they were losers in the dwarven succession wars to the west.
Source of: finished metal goods, none of your business
I – the Tiefling Retreat
This maze of caves was appropriated by the Tiefling Ildal as his personal retreat almost a decade ago. His reluctant protection of several dozen refugees was what propelled Nevermore into a full-fledged settlement, much to his displeasure. Ildal rarely emerges and some say he is in fact gone on long expeditions of his own much of the time. A powerful magic protects these caves that misleads those who enter. Non-Tieflings never penetrate further than the first cave before finding themselves somehow turned around and back at the entrance. Tieflings other than Ildal are welcome to use the caves for a refuge or home, however only those expressly permitted by Ildal have found his inner sanctum deep in the maze.
Source of: arcane rituals, ritual components, confusion
J – The Feyhome
The elves of Beleldo have long known hardship. Before the reign of Emperor Lorin they were a clan in exile, reduced to less than two dozen. This sad remainder were enslaved by a trio of doppelganger wizards and were freed by several apprentices of Lorin when he was still a hazard-class citizen. Beleldo began to restore their position living secretly in Akresh and were bolstered by the return of one of their nobles, the wizard Swandrake. When Lorin became emperor Swandrake became a thanat, and the Beleldo elves moved to the Brothamor forest to expand the empire and become part of the alliance between Eladrin and Elves that Lorin was forming. Swandrake was one who looked upon the face of the mad god and became corrupted and insane; destroying the Beleldo home, helping shatter the alliance and rip apart the forest. Beleldo fled the forest, leaderless and broken, picking up stray survivors from other clans until they made their home on remote mountain heights, scratching sustenance from the ice and rock. Only now, after scouts have declared the lowlands relatively habitable again, has Beleldo come to live inside the caves at Nevermore. They welcome any fey among them and several Eladrin have stayed with them on short-term visits.
Unable to field a large force and reluctant to be drawn out into the open where they once again would be targets, these fey have a mysterious and aloof presence that disturbs and frightens others in the community.
Source of: guides, bows, leather goods, wild animals, poison, elitism
K – The Temples
Founded by a priest of Erathis named Yeraz not long after the Screaming Madness, these caves are among the most finished and the longest-inhabited. Working from a book of local history Yeraz saw that a former temple of evil had successfully operated in hiding for some years in the foothills. Finding the evil temple in the Caves of Chaos Yeraz wiped away the last of the evil taint and consecrated the grounds for gods of good. It was an aging apprentice of Yeraz who first allowed Ildal to settle in the area and thus indirectly founded the settlement of Nevermore.
Currently there are three major shrines in the complex; Erathis, Bahamut and Pelor. A number of other gods have small shrines in one hall. Only the evil gods have no representation here. All members of the community help serve these shrines and most of the hamlets controlled by Kallos Keep give some of their crops to secret temple agents who go among them spreading good and healing.
The crypts below the Temples are said to hold stores of magic items, some tainted with evil, which the priests guard against the day they can be given to heroes who truly deserve them.
Source of: healing, magic items, divine rituals, piety, pontificating, tithe collectors
A History Lesson for Nevermore
The Great Boon and the Screaming Madness
One hundred years ago the mighty Empire of Akresh covered all these lands. Fanning out through the river valleys and tributaries the empire expanded from as far west as the Nogrond mountain of the dwarves to the reclaimed crumbled ruins of Old Brothamor in the east. The emperor made citizens of all annexed lands until he could field an army of Sirek amazons, Mazak clans, dwarvish sappers and artillery, gnomish scouts and Cascan heavy infantry.
But it was the emperor’s law of heroic succession that cemented its place in history. Heroes who proved themselves in the interest of the empire were quickly granted status as hazards (upper class citizens) and even thanats (aristocrats). These powerful heroes formed the backbone of the noble class, performing great feats and commanding forces that defended the empire. The greatest of such heroes was the thanat Lorin, an exiled Eladrin wizard who personally commanded the forces that won the giantkin wars. Destined to greatness it was no wonder that Lorin became the next emperor in a bloodless dynasty change.
It was under the reign of Emperor Lorin that the Screaming Madness came to the world.
It began with an anomaly. Wizards and sages began to notice magical power was subtly increasing; and then warping into new qualities. The learned eventually pinpointed the cause of this magical enhancement, a distant star that was drawing brighter. For nearly a decade magic grew more powerful, so that even the least wizards could cast mighty spells. The wizard-emperor made many wonders undreamed of. Mighty monuments to the deluge of magic. As the star grew brighter it grew larger and the same learned sages decided that some celestial body of vast size was drawing closer. It was called the golden boon. The closer it came, the greater the power granted.
A power that came at a price.
The approaching light was in fact the insane god, laying in his eternal sleep, crossing the heavens in long path that heralded horrible change. Sages and wizards waited with excitement as the insane one drew near and at its final approach they turned their oraculars to the embryonic mass curled in slumber as it passed the world. The rest is well known. All who looked directly upon the sleeping one went mad. Magic, so long a powerful tool, went awry, mutating everything it touched. Creatures of madness, and abomination unknown to the world sprang into existence, devastating entire kingdoms. Mad wizards spewed chaos and destruction, bringing down the mighty creations of the golden boon.
The world destroyed itself. Kingdoms and empires collapsed. Wizards became despotic warlords before they destroyed themselves. Emperor Lorin, touched by madness, dove his empire into anarchy and evil rites; disappearing as the burning wreckage of state collapsed around him. In the ruins that were left behind the monstrous humanoids led invasions that overran what civilization remained. What are left are tiny islands of survivors; civilization extends only as far as they can claw back from the chaos.
One hundred years ago the mighty Empire of Akresh covered all these lands. Fanning out through the river valleys and tributaries the empire expanded from as far west as the Nogrond mountain of the dwarves to the reclaimed crumbled ruins of Old Brothamor in the east. The emperor made citizens of all annexed lands until he could field an army of Sirek amazons, Mazak clans, dwarvish sappers and artillery, gnomish scouts and Cascan heavy infantry.
But it was the emperor’s law of heroic succession that cemented its place in history. Heroes who proved themselves in the interest of the empire were quickly granted status as hazards (upper class citizens) and even thanats (aristocrats). These powerful heroes formed the backbone of the noble class, performing great feats and commanding forces that defended the empire. The greatest of such heroes was the thanat Lorin, an exiled Eladrin wizard who personally commanded the forces that won the giantkin wars. Destined to greatness it was no wonder that Lorin became the next emperor in a bloodless dynasty change.
It was under the reign of Emperor Lorin that the Screaming Madness came to the world.
It began with an anomaly. Wizards and sages began to notice magical power was subtly increasing; and then warping into new qualities. The learned eventually pinpointed the cause of this magical enhancement, a distant star that was drawing brighter. For nearly a decade magic grew more powerful, so that even the least wizards could cast mighty spells. The wizard-emperor made many wonders undreamed of. Mighty monuments to the deluge of magic. As the star grew brighter it grew larger and the same learned sages decided that some celestial body of vast size was drawing closer. It was called the golden boon. The closer it came, the greater the power granted.
A power that came at a price.
The approaching light was in fact the insane god, laying in his eternal sleep, crossing the heavens in long path that heralded horrible change. Sages and wizards waited with excitement as the insane one drew near and at its final approach they turned their oraculars to the embryonic mass curled in slumber as it passed the world. The rest is well known. All who looked directly upon the sleeping one went mad. Magic, so long a powerful tool, went awry, mutating everything it touched. Creatures of madness, and abomination unknown to the world sprang into existence, devastating entire kingdoms. Mad wizards spewed chaos and destruction, bringing down the mighty creations of the golden boon.
The world destroyed itself. Kingdoms and empires collapsed. Wizards became despotic warlords before they destroyed themselves. Emperor Lorin, touched by madness, dove his empire into anarchy and evil rites; disappearing as the burning wreckage of state collapsed around him. In the ruins that were left behind the monstrous humanoids led invasions that overran what civilization remained. What are left are tiny islands of survivors; civilization extends only as far as they can claw back from the chaos.
Some Character Sketches - Illustrated
I'm very proud of this one. This is my daughter, Arrow's, character sketch of Mazenta, the pseudodragon . She painstakingly drew it using the illustration from the Monster Manual as a reference. Pretty awesome for age 8. Mazenta was a surprizingly helpful addition to the party since she could fly ahead and scout targets invisibly and duck out of every fight, so there was no chance she'd get killed. Few DM's are cruel enough to kill the character of an 8-year old and it's doubly inadvisable if that 8 year old is your child.
Here we have Jess Solith, as illustrated by Emily. A tidy little sketch of the party's serial killer rogue. Jess is an elf raised by the cult of Zehir; not shown are her snake tatts. I'm quite fond of Emily's character sketches as I feel more comfortable with location drawings and I'm hoping she can contribute some more pictures of the group in some of their exciting encounters (hint); stay tuned.
Another fun sketch of Jess. Note the filth fever the character is suffering from after someone suggested that goblins might hide their treasure under a midden heap. Good times!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Encounters in the Keep, illustrated
Here's the first room of the infamous gauntlets of traps. For this encounter I made the rookie mistake of putting five trapped rooms in a row, as an exercise in how 4th ed traps work. It was fun for the first room, painful by the third room, and by the last room pretty much everybody including me just wanted it to end. Traps are fun, but they are best used as one element of a room encounter. I think Emily (the rogue) had a good time, but everyone else was bored and frustrated. Lesson learned.
The remains of the smithy held the restless souls of prisoners burned alive. I couldn't find a monster that fitted the feel I wanted so I took the stat block for ghosts and substituted fire resistance and fire damage for their regular necrotic. It worked pretty well. The insubstantial nature of the monsters made them pretty challenging, even for such a large group (6 players).
Cutaway interior of Guard Captain's tower. I'm kindof fond of this one, reminds me of my grade 9 art class where they taught us perspective. It made a handy reference for the players once a multi-story fight broke out.
Inside the Keep, illustrated
Here's the first inside view of the goblin encampment.
Here's the end of the street, note the goblin encampment at the far end.
A little further inside the keep and we come to the guild factor; the building wasn't in the best shape and also had some nasty surprises.
Kallos Keep exterior, illustrated
For the first leg of the adventure our heroes braved the ruins of Kallos Keep, once a proud outpost of the Akresh Empire, now fallen into the hands of monstrous humanoids.
Here is the first view the group had of the keep.
Behold, the Birth of the Game Blog
This is the Nevermore blog, for and about the Nevermore campaign. Here you will find updates, news and lightning action on the ongoing Fourth Edition Nevermore campaign. What with some of the players away and rotating attendance, this was the best way I could come up with to keep all players informed and entertained on what's going on in their own private world.
What I hope to have are:
What I hope to have are:
- Short fiction and other stories about the campaign
- Campaign updates, sometimes limited to simple pointform recaps
- Illustrations and pictures
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