It's Not Easy Being Green
Part I - "A Late Night Snack"
"Cookies" she thought, warm, fresh ginger snap cookies, that's all I want. The little gnome ran as fast as her legs could carrier past some nasty smelly goblins, and up a hill. She was close to her destination; the Inn, hot food, and a bed to sleep in. The night had gotten away on her, and despite all the fun she had been having popping beetles, it was time to sleep. Rounding the top of the hill she knew that soon her night would be over and she could get a good rest.
As she rounded the top of the hill an odour caught her. A scent of something not quite right. With her mind on sweet baked goods it offended her nose terribly and she slowed to a slop and listened. The wind was blowing and an owl hooted in the darkness, but she could not tell where the stench was coming from. Slowly moving further down the path, she saw a stout fellow who could only be one of the Dwarves walking away from her. As she got closer she realized that he had a companion with him who was taller, and who walked with a limp. The stink was coming from that. Oh no! It is something undead! Walking with the Dwarf! Screaming, the little gnome pulled out her sword that made her run fast, and she careened past them as fast as she could. Her heart was pounding, and her feet were moving in a blur and she rounded a corner and the inn was in sight. There was a knight who appeared to be sleeping and she ran over to him, "Hey mister!" she squeaked, "Mister wake up!" but the knight appeared to be in some sore of reverie and did not respond. Seeing another knight just coming out of the Inn, she ran over to him and yelled, "Hey mister there is a BAAAD man back there! A BAAAAD man!' The knight looked down at the tiny, frightened gnome.
"Back that way?" he asked in a calm dulcimer tone, pointing towards the Lion's Way.
"Yes!" wailed the gnome, there is some sort of undead thing with him! The gnome was nearly inconsolable at this point, hands on hips, tears streaming down her face.
"Very well" the knight said, and nodded to some others who were standing near by, "I shall investigate this. Good night." and with that he walked purposefully down the road and out of sight.
The guard at the door opened a slot and peered out, "Right then, wat's all dis noise then, eh?"
Stamping her foot and pointing at the knights back, the gnome said, "the knight has gone to see the bad man and his undead creature..."
"Undead?" said the guard, "Wat's this? I'll have to tell the Captain I will." and with that he slammed the little door shut and left the gnome crying on the steps.
"All I wanted was some nice cookies!" the gnome laments to no one in particular...
Part II - "The Dead are Awake"
Approaching the gates of the Inn, the Captain adjusts her sword belt and walks up to a small group that has gathered there. "Good evening everyone. I have a report of undead in the Lion's Way. Any of you know anything about this?"
A disembodied voice pipes up, "Yes, I have dealt with that already. There should be no more trouble."
Looking at the people one at a time the Captain eventually spots the concealed speaker. "Ah, I see. Thank you for your information. I will continue my patrol." Glad to have some more information to go on, she walks back and circles the Inn. There have been gnolls too close recently and perhaps they flushed something out of the bushes. As she walks she picks up her pace a little, and seeing her first Lieutenant she motions for him to join her. Maybe it is nothing, but being a seasoned veteran of many campaigns she has learned to trust her instincts and the walk turns to a jog and then to a run leading them towards the Lion's Way, and she draws her sword in one easy fluid movement, prepared for whatever she may meet be it friend or foe. Rounding the corner they slide to a halt.... dozens of undead walk aimlessly groaning, arms outstretched. Looking everywhere to see if there is a necromancer, she shouts, "Necromancy will not be tolerated!" The evening breeze carries forward a faint sound of tinkling bells and she knows there is at least one spellcaster in the field. Turning to her Lieutenant, "Go muster the garrison! They must not be allowed to approach the Inn!" Saluting smartly, he turns on his heel and runs with haste back where they came. "Bloody necromancers..." the Captain grumbles. While the dead walk there will be no sleep tonight...
Part III - "Dragons? Who said anything about Dragons?"
Hearing a commotion, several adventurers head to the Lion's Way to see what all the fuss is about. There they are greeted by a horde of walking undead, most of which are easily dispatched, but some have more advanced abilities they retained from when they yet lived. The Way turns into a battlefield as wave after wave of undead assail the growing group of those brave enough to fight them. One turns their head skyward and cocks an ear? "Eh? That is one big bird? Can you hear it?"
Dispatching a zombie, another turns and shakes his head. "Dragon. Big green if I am not mistaken. Heard a clutch has moved in to a swamp up north a ways." he points his chin in the direction. Three more zombies stagger towards him, and he turns to face them...
Amidst the chaos the necromancer stays hidden watching what he has created. Giggling at the idiots who think they are actually winning this fight he too hears the sounds of dragon wings and laughs out loud.
"Who is there?" a stout adventurer calls, "I heard YOU! Show yourself necromancer, unless you are too cowardly. We shall find you no matter what!"
Stepping from the shadows the necromancer reveals himself to the group. He picked the middle of the old Druid's Circle to show himself for more effect. It worked. The fighting stopped and they all turned to look at him. "All of you shall perish! This is but a mere taste of my masters powers! Look upon Glauroth and despair for therein lies your doom... Your only choice is to join with us in glorious undeath! Come, meet your master!"
Sensing the necromancer was about to cast a spell, he was simultaneously rushed by several adventurers. Caught slightly off guard, he changed his spell and as their blows struck him, his body fell to the ground dead, and his body quickly dissipated into a wisp of smoke.
"The necromancer is dead!" one adventurer cries and a cheer went up amongst the rest. There will still many dozens of zombies to kill, and a cleric was walking amongst them tending to wounds and giving out cure potions. A soldier in the Fist who had overheard the necromancer, races back towards the Inn. The Captain and two platoons of Elite Guard block the roadway and he stops to report, not leaving out a single detail of what he saw, and heard...
Who is Glauroth? Are there green dragons in the northern swamp? Are the two connected? The Fist is investigating - will you?
Stay tuned for Part IV - "A Shady Character"
DM Arkanis' Events
Moderators: Moderator, DM
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Part IV - "A Shady Character"
Lying battered and bruised in the dust was normal for Phil Pwent. He had spent most of his Battlerager life running head-first into danger so that eating a little dirt now and then was common, almost expected. This situation was a little different however and he wasn't sure what was going to happen next.
The four Drow that faced him in the narrow tunnel of the Underdark were not much of a concern. His trained eye told him which he would hit first, and which would fall last - yearlings practice for his seasoned axe. It was the Drow mage that stood behind him that gave him a little pause. How to take out the mage without being taken out? The five Drow sized up the Dwarf and the mage smiled. Pwent, not overly fond of long, drawn out negotiations, put his head down and charged. There was a flash, and all went very bright, then all went very dark for the Battlerager.
The next day, or was it months, flew by in a series of conscious moments strung together by patches of darkness and oblivion. The Drow tortured and healed him repeatedly and he lost all sense of time. He did know that he was in one room, and never moved. He never seemed to eat or need the guarderobe and his wrists and ankles had grown fine scars and the shackles no longer cut into him.
It went on and on and on like this until one day he awoke and the Drow did not come. He hurt; ached all over, worse than any pain he had every known, and he realized that he had been poisoned and while it hadn't killed him, it was as bad as any three-day hangover he had ever had. Minutes turned to hours, and turned to at least a day and his stomach finally growled. Finding new strength he struggled against his bonds and managed to pull himself free. His gear was piled in the corner; helm and armour in tact. Bloody but free, he sought egress, food, and freedom.
Four days and nights he walked through the abandoned city and surrounding Underdark of Szith but he saw no one. No Drow, no slaves, no creatures not even a body. He found enough to eat and packed himself a travel bag of provisions. If he remembered right, he knew the way to the surface well enough and if the Drow were gone, maybe the Blade Golem's were as well. If not, he was ready for a fight. It sure beat hanging on a wall in a dungeon.
Pwent did manage to wned his way to the surface and encountered nary a soul. In the blinding light of the sun though, he found that his island home was different too in some way; magically altered somehow, and boarding a small skiff he set sail for the mainland, to Luskan in search of his kin.
The next few weeks found Pwent meeting old kin, and discovering new friends, the tale being too long to tell here. Suffice it to say that the hardened Battleranger heard his closest kin were in Baldur's Gate, and headed there to meet up with them. Along the way the small caravan group he was escorting was attacked by dragons, more specifically dragon worshippers, and Pwent was convinced that this was no accidental meeting. Taking the remaining caravan survivors to Triel and discovering Zhents there, he travelled the hills in his investigation, still looking for any Dwarf he could recognize to find out what was going on.
It was in the small village of Ulgoth's Beard that he finally found a kin; a Samman, and he confided in him that he felt evil things were afoot here. He told his story of his escape from the Drow, and that he had come to track these dragon-lovers to a crypt in the hills by many open fields of graves and mausoleums. After making a deal to scout the area first, and kin agreeing to help, Pwent headed out for the crypt to find proof of the evil dragon lovers' existence...
________________________________________________________________
In an inner anti-chamber of an ancient crypt, the vampire sighed. A large gargoyle paced the room, and several acolytes moved about. He hated the undead. They were so boring. On the other hand, the living usually wanted to end his undeath or were simply too irresistible and turned into a meal. Well, his master had told him to wait here and wait he would. He was not overly fond of being trapped in a crypt with only one exit, but there were sufficient minions between him and the door that he would be good and well prepared for anything coming to meet him. His wait would soon be over as the Great Green was coming, and he knew that his Master would expect him to employ his talents sufficiently to convince her that the offer was not only genuine, but would make her immortal... He smiled, evilly at the thought; his master was brilliant. A commotion brought his attention around, and the door to the anti-chamber burst off of its hinges and a small humanoid figure clad in bloodied armour burst into the room and charged the gargoyle. Raising an eyebrow, the vampire moved to the back of the room and watched. It was a Dwarf, obviously insane, swinging an axe and chanting something about ale, kin, and killing Orcs. The gargoyle dodged and danced its way around the room towards the back to where the vampire was. The Dwarf was good, too good to be allowed to continue. "Stop!" the vampire commanded, and the distraction caused the gargoyle to drop his guard, and the Dwarf cut its head from its shoulders. Sighing again, the vampire stood and held up a hand, his fingers lazily casting a spell. "Easy friend, you have slain the beast. Come, sit with me and tell me what it is you are looking for."
The Dwarf cast a suspicious eye at the vampire, took a step, then shook his head, "Ye, evil, no good, durned undead kissin, blood suckin, Dwarf bashin...." he stopped, noticing the vampires outfit and spitting, "EVIL UNDEAD DRAGON LOVIN! BASTARD!" The Dwarf dropped his head and charged with a roar.
Is he really attacking? The vampire only had a split second to cast his spell, and he managed to get off one that would insure the Dwarf would breathe no more, but when it hit him, the Dwarf did not die. He should have dropped to the floor and expired suddenly but he kept charging, although he was slowed by the large, interposing hand that was crushing the life out of him. An axe swing towards the vampire, the Battlerager struggled against the powerful magic. The vampire raised a hand in disbelief, or was he somehow going to fend off the blow, but his fingers were cleaved from his hand in one fell swipe. Screaming in rage, the vampire tightened his magical grip on the Battlerager, and Philador Pwent, Battleranger of Stonebar, gasped his last breath, and died at the vampires feet.
Outraged, the vampire walked to the body of the Dwarf and bent over to defile it, when he heard another voice, "Touch him and I will pound you to ashes, you filth." Looking up, all the vampire saw was another Dwarf, shape changed into, what...? He screamed, "My master will slay you! He will slay all of you! Glauroth will insure you all fall under his foot and none will be safe... He..." Seeing the Dwarf descend, the vampire shifted forms and turned into a wisp of smoke, and fled.
________________________________________________________________
Later that day two elder Dwarves stood outside of the Inn and talked of the event. The one who had come in moments too late to assist Pwent spoke to his mentor who offered him words of comfort; for there was nothing he could have done. Reaching into his pack, the Dwarf produced a ring and handed it to his elder Dwarf, "This came off the finger of the vampire." Examining it, the elder Dwarf grimaced, "I think thar will be trouble coming soon if anything Pwent told ye was true, Samman. This ring proves it. Rolling it over in his fingers and holding it up to the light he sees that it bears a clearly recognizable symbol. The Cult of the Dragon means to make its presence known it seems. Trouble is coming. Undead in the field outside of the Inn was no accident.
stay tuned for Part V - "Alliances" when you will hear Arkanis say, "Appearance change? I am in the middle of an event!"
Lying battered and bruised in the dust was normal for Phil Pwent. He had spent most of his Battlerager life running head-first into danger so that eating a little dirt now and then was common, almost expected. This situation was a little different however and he wasn't sure what was going to happen next.
The four Drow that faced him in the narrow tunnel of the Underdark were not much of a concern. His trained eye told him which he would hit first, and which would fall last - yearlings practice for his seasoned axe. It was the Drow mage that stood behind him that gave him a little pause. How to take out the mage without being taken out? The five Drow sized up the Dwarf and the mage smiled. Pwent, not overly fond of long, drawn out negotiations, put his head down and charged. There was a flash, and all went very bright, then all went very dark for the Battlerager.
The next day, or was it months, flew by in a series of conscious moments strung together by patches of darkness and oblivion. The Drow tortured and healed him repeatedly and he lost all sense of time. He did know that he was in one room, and never moved. He never seemed to eat or need the guarderobe and his wrists and ankles had grown fine scars and the shackles no longer cut into him.
It went on and on and on like this until one day he awoke and the Drow did not come. He hurt; ached all over, worse than any pain he had every known, and he realized that he had been poisoned and while it hadn't killed him, it was as bad as any three-day hangover he had ever had. Minutes turned to hours, and turned to at least a day and his stomach finally growled. Finding new strength he struggled against his bonds and managed to pull himself free. His gear was piled in the corner; helm and armour in tact. Bloody but free, he sought egress, food, and freedom.
Four days and nights he walked through the abandoned city and surrounding Underdark of Szith but he saw no one. No Drow, no slaves, no creatures not even a body. He found enough to eat and packed himself a travel bag of provisions. If he remembered right, he knew the way to the surface well enough and if the Drow were gone, maybe the Blade Golem's were as well. If not, he was ready for a fight. It sure beat hanging on a wall in a dungeon.
Pwent did manage to wned his way to the surface and encountered nary a soul. In the blinding light of the sun though, he found that his island home was different too in some way; magically altered somehow, and boarding a small skiff he set sail for the mainland, to Luskan in search of his kin.
The next few weeks found Pwent meeting old kin, and discovering new friends, the tale being too long to tell here. Suffice it to say that the hardened Battleranger heard his closest kin were in Baldur's Gate, and headed there to meet up with them. Along the way the small caravan group he was escorting was attacked by dragons, more specifically dragon worshippers, and Pwent was convinced that this was no accidental meeting. Taking the remaining caravan survivors to Triel and discovering Zhents there, he travelled the hills in his investigation, still looking for any Dwarf he could recognize to find out what was going on.
It was in the small village of Ulgoth's Beard that he finally found a kin; a Samman, and he confided in him that he felt evil things were afoot here. He told his story of his escape from the Drow, and that he had come to track these dragon-lovers to a crypt in the hills by many open fields of graves and mausoleums. After making a deal to scout the area first, and kin agreeing to help, Pwent headed out for the crypt to find proof of the evil dragon lovers' existence...
________________________________________________________________
In an inner anti-chamber of an ancient crypt, the vampire sighed. A large gargoyle paced the room, and several acolytes moved about. He hated the undead. They were so boring. On the other hand, the living usually wanted to end his undeath or were simply too irresistible and turned into a meal. Well, his master had told him to wait here and wait he would. He was not overly fond of being trapped in a crypt with only one exit, but there were sufficient minions between him and the door that he would be good and well prepared for anything coming to meet him. His wait would soon be over as the Great Green was coming, and he knew that his Master would expect him to employ his talents sufficiently to convince her that the offer was not only genuine, but would make her immortal... He smiled, evilly at the thought; his master was brilliant. A commotion brought his attention around, and the door to the anti-chamber burst off of its hinges and a small humanoid figure clad in bloodied armour burst into the room and charged the gargoyle. Raising an eyebrow, the vampire moved to the back of the room and watched. It was a Dwarf, obviously insane, swinging an axe and chanting something about ale, kin, and killing Orcs. The gargoyle dodged and danced its way around the room towards the back to where the vampire was. The Dwarf was good, too good to be allowed to continue. "Stop!" the vampire commanded, and the distraction caused the gargoyle to drop his guard, and the Dwarf cut its head from its shoulders. Sighing again, the vampire stood and held up a hand, his fingers lazily casting a spell. "Easy friend, you have slain the beast. Come, sit with me and tell me what it is you are looking for."
The Dwarf cast a suspicious eye at the vampire, took a step, then shook his head, "Ye, evil, no good, durned undead kissin, blood suckin, Dwarf bashin...." he stopped, noticing the vampires outfit and spitting, "EVIL UNDEAD DRAGON LOVIN! BASTARD!" The Dwarf dropped his head and charged with a roar.
Is he really attacking? The vampire only had a split second to cast his spell, and he managed to get off one that would insure the Dwarf would breathe no more, but when it hit him, the Dwarf did not die. He should have dropped to the floor and expired suddenly but he kept charging, although he was slowed by the large, interposing hand that was crushing the life out of him. An axe swing towards the vampire, the Battlerager struggled against the powerful magic. The vampire raised a hand in disbelief, or was he somehow going to fend off the blow, but his fingers were cleaved from his hand in one fell swipe. Screaming in rage, the vampire tightened his magical grip on the Battlerager, and Philador Pwent, Battleranger of Stonebar, gasped his last breath, and died at the vampires feet.
Outraged, the vampire walked to the body of the Dwarf and bent over to defile it, when he heard another voice, "Touch him and I will pound you to ashes, you filth." Looking up, all the vampire saw was another Dwarf, shape changed into, what...? He screamed, "My master will slay you! He will slay all of you! Glauroth will insure you all fall under his foot and none will be safe... He..." Seeing the Dwarf descend, the vampire shifted forms and turned into a wisp of smoke, and fled.
________________________________________________________________
Later that day two elder Dwarves stood outside of the Inn and talked of the event. The one who had come in moments too late to assist Pwent spoke to his mentor who offered him words of comfort; for there was nothing he could have done. Reaching into his pack, the Dwarf produced a ring and handed it to his elder Dwarf, "This came off the finger of the vampire." Examining it, the elder Dwarf grimaced, "I think thar will be trouble coming soon if anything Pwent told ye was true, Samman. This ring proves it. Rolling it over in his fingers and holding it up to the light he sees that it bears a clearly recognizable symbol. The Cult of the Dragon means to make its presence known it seems. Trouble is coming. Undead in the field outside of the Inn was no accident.
stay tuned for Part V - "Alliances" when you will hear Arkanis say, "Appearance change? I am in the middle of an event!"
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Part V "Alliances"
Thistle says the best cookies are made in Candlekeep. Humph... it is a good long way away, they better be good. The little gnome didn't make a sound as she raced down the pathway in her tight leather armor. It was twilight, a perfect time to blend in with her surroundings, and the thought of a bed-time snack coupled with a good run first was definitely on the menu. With the Inn out of sight and the road heading towards the Keep, she let herself daydream a little about what the Keep was like, and as such was caught unaware by a giant beetle. Tumbling, she narrowly avoids it nasty pincers, and she veers to the south running as fast as her legs will take her... all thoughts of being silent gone from her mind. Around a bend she runs straight into a tall person in full-plate aromor... an ORC! "Aaaiiiiieeee!" she screams and in her terror runs down a hill. Blind with panic, she hears arcane words and feels magic missiles strike her from all sides and then there is oblivion. "The Orc has killed me" she thinks, before there is nothing but blackness.
Opening her eyes slowly she stares into the face of a human. She is in some kind of small, stone chamber, and the human doesnt look like he is going to hurt her. "You all right little one?" Sitting up she rubs her eyes.
"Wha? Wha happened? Where am I...?" her eyes adjust to the dim light and she sees and Orc. No! The Orc that tried to kill her! "Aaaiieee!" she screams and dives behind the alter. "Orc! Run!"
Chuckling softly, the armored human speaks soothingly. "He is a friend little one. He will not hurt you." Soothed by his words ((and a DC of 73 on Bluff...)) the gnome peeks her head out.
"Are you a bad man?" she asks the human. He smiles and shakes his head. "Is he a bad Orc?" she motions to his companion, and both of them shake their heads. Starting to cry she sobs, "I just want to go home..."
Standing up, the human holds out his hand. "Well then, why don't we take you there?"
The night air in the Palace District of Baldur's Gate picks up the little Gnome's spirits and she skips along cobblestoned streets holding her saviour's hand in hers. The Orc companion has gone on to Nashkel to rendezvous with other companions so the two are alone. At the door to the Temple of Gond she turns to him, "Thank you for saving me. I will pray the Wonderbringer for his blessings on you." Blushing she continues, "Come in and rest for a while. We have come a long way." Nodding, the human follows her inside. The room is dimly lit and stiffling hot. The forge has been lit and is buring red-hot. Steam escapes and seeks the upper air, but it is almost unconfortably warm. The little Gnome greets the Gnomish priest as they arrive and whispers something in his ear. The priest nods and looks at the human.
"You are welcome to take your rest here human. Thank you for your good service." Nodding again, the human sits. His armor feels heavy and he didn't realize how tired he actually was. His head lolls and he slips into sleep.
His eyes open and the little Gnome and the priest are gone. The forge's fire is still hot, but the temperature of the room seems to have returned to normal. There is a fully armoured Gnome standing at the forge poking the coals with an iron rod, stirring them. Sitting up, the human looks for his little friend. "Where is the little Gnome?" he asks. The only other being in the room simply continues to poke the fire. Getting up, he walks over and stands behind the Gnome. "Is she still here?" Turning around, the Gnome's face is completely hidden by a great helm. The human has the feeling that he is looking right through him and it makes him uncomfortable. "Who ARE you?" he asks.
"You have done the Wonderbringer a great service in saving his child. You have his thanks. He would ask you to perform another task for him seeing as you are of good character." Blinking the human simply nods and the gnome continues. "There is an atefact of great power that was made in bowels of time. A thousand years ago it was smashed into pieces because it caused great chaos and destruction, although this was not its original purpose. The Wonderbringer would like all of the pieces returned, unassembled. He offers you a reward for your service should you take on this task and complete it." The human strokes his chin, thinking about what the Gnome has just said. "You will need help though. Specific help. The pieces are scattered hitther and yon many leagues from here; above and below the ground."
"Who should I look for?" he asks the Gnome.
"The Deciever. The One With A Pure Heart. The Healer." One of darkness who struggles with themselves, and with others. One with a legacy he has overcome but others have not, and one who will be unwilling to put aside their prejudice; you will find them amongst the Roses. You must find a way to unite this Uneasy Alliance to find the Broken Items before they are found by ones who would use them to destroy everything. These three and yourself may have retainers, followers, or companions of their own. All are free to join you on your quest should they wish to."
Looking down, the human thinks for a long moment. Is this crazy or what? Shaking his head, he looks up at the armored Gnome. "Right, I will do it." From out of the Gnome's helm, a red light comes, pinpoints at first, then growing.
"The Wonderbringer is pleased. Remember, do not assemble the aertefact! Bring the pieces here." The room shakes violently, as if struck by a massive earthquake, and the human gasps... the room spins and he sits up on the pew where was asleep. The room is cool, the forge is out, and he is all alone. Was that all just a dream?
*********************************************************************
Kneeling to pray by the campfire, the half-Orc's thoughts wander through the events of his day. A rustle in the brush brings his attention back to the moment; warrior's senses coming alert instantly. "Filthy Orc" the voice states flatly. "Orcs should all die." Standing, the half-Orc addresses the evening air.
"Who is there?" Stepping from the shadows is a halfling? No, a gnome dressed in poor and obviously worn out leathers. He points a finger at the half-Orc.
"You and all your kind should die, Orc."
"Why do you say that?" he asks, his eyes datring around, checking for a trap.
"Because you all are unredeemable. All of you are evil! Your hearts are dark."
Gripping a Great Mace easily in one hand, the half-Orc stands to his full height. "We should not all be judged by our race little one. I am a Palidon and my heart is true to my god. I do good. I am not evil."
Nodding, the gnome takes a step closer. "Good" he says, "that is what I had hoped to hear you say. A friend comes to find you. A friend with a request. Sheathing his weapon, the half-orc kneels so that he can look the gnome in the face and the gnome continues. "You have a Pure Heart. You must assist him. Are you willing?" There is something about the way the gnome looks at him, and the great, half-orc warrior smiles a tusky-smile. "Gnurl! Yes, of course!"
"Good" he will need you and he will explain what must be done. He is the Seeker. Bowing his head, the half-orc closes his eyes and whispers a prayer. Looking up, the gnome is gone and it is almost dawn. Had so much time passed? Was that all just a dream?
*********************************************************************
((OOC: this is the start of a true blue, old fashioned treasure hunt. Over the next week or so there will be Broken Items placed in various areas of the map - this is surface and UD. They are easy to identify because they will be called "Broken Piece One" for example and are for RP purposes only and have no other properties. Once all the pieces have been found, and the two other members of the initial group are found/named rewards will be given. ALL are welcome to participate and the idea is that different groups, despite their differences, will need to figure out how to get all of the pieces back to the Priest of Gond...))
Next: Part VI - A Meeting of the Minds
Thistle says the best cookies are made in Candlekeep. Humph... it is a good long way away, they better be good. The little gnome didn't make a sound as she raced down the pathway in her tight leather armor. It was twilight, a perfect time to blend in with her surroundings, and the thought of a bed-time snack coupled with a good run first was definitely on the menu. With the Inn out of sight and the road heading towards the Keep, she let herself daydream a little about what the Keep was like, and as such was caught unaware by a giant beetle. Tumbling, she narrowly avoids it nasty pincers, and she veers to the south running as fast as her legs will take her... all thoughts of being silent gone from her mind. Around a bend she runs straight into a tall person in full-plate aromor... an ORC! "Aaaiiiiieeee!" she screams and in her terror runs down a hill. Blind with panic, she hears arcane words and feels magic missiles strike her from all sides and then there is oblivion. "The Orc has killed me" she thinks, before there is nothing but blackness.
Opening her eyes slowly she stares into the face of a human. She is in some kind of small, stone chamber, and the human doesnt look like he is going to hurt her. "You all right little one?" Sitting up she rubs her eyes.
"Wha? Wha happened? Where am I...?" her eyes adjust to the dim light and she sees and Orc. No! The Orc that tried to kill her! "Aaaiieee!" she screams and dives behind the alter. "Orc! Run!"
Chuckling softly, the armored human speaks soothingly. "He is a friend little one. He will not hurt you." Soothed by his words ((and a DC of 73 on Bluff...)) the gnome peeks her head out.
"Are you a bad man?" she asks the human. He smiles and shakes his head. "Is he a bad Orc?" she motions to his companion, and both of them shake their heads. Starting to cry she sobs, "I just want to go home..."
Standing up, the human holds out his hand. "Well then, why don't we take you there?"
The night air in the Palace District of Baldur's Gate picks up the little Gnome's spirits and she skips along cobblestoned streets holding her saviour's hand in hers. The Orc companion has gone on to Nashkel to rendezvous with other companions so the two are alone. At the door to the Temple of Gond she turns to him, "Thank you for saving me. I will pray the Wonderbringer for his blessings on you." Blushing she continues, "Come in and rest for a while. We have come a long way." Nodding, the human follows her inside. The room is dimly lit and stiffling hot. The forge has been lit and is buring red-hot. Steam escapes and seeks the upper air, but it is almost unconfortably warm. The little Gnome greets the Gnomish priest as they arrive and whispers something in his ear. The priest nods and looks at the human.
"You are welcome to take your rest here human. Thank you for your good service." Nodding again, the human sits. His armor feels heavy and he didn't realize how tired he actually was. His head lolls and he slips into sleep.
His eyes open and the little Gnome and the priest are gone. The forge's fire is still hot, but the temperature of the room seems to have returned to normal. There is a fully armoured Gnome standing at the forge poking the coals with an iron rod, stirring them. Sitting up, the human looks for his little friend. "Where is the little Gnome?" he asks. The only other being in the room simply continues to poke the fire. Getting up, he walks over and stands behind the Gnome. "Is she still here?" Turning around, the Gnome's face is completely hidden by a great helm. The human has the feeling that he is looking right through him and it makes him uncomfortable. "Who ARE you?" he asks.
"You have done the Wonderbringer a great service in saving his child. You have his thanks. He would ask you to perform another task for him seeing as you are of good character." Blinking the human simply nods and the gnome continues. "There is an atefact of great power that was made in bowels of time. A thousand years ago it was smashed into pieces because it caused great chaos and destruction, although this was not its original purpose. The Wonderbringer would like all of the pieces returned, unassembled. He offers you a reward for your service should you take on this task and complete it." The human strokes his chin, thinking about what the Gnome has just said. "You will need help though. Specific help. The pieces are scattered hitther and yon many leagues from here; above and below the ground."
"Who should I look for?" he asks the Gnome.
"The Deciever. The One With A Pure Heart. The Healer." One of darkness who struggles with themselves, and with others. One with a legacy he has overcome but others have not, and one who will be unwilling to put aside their prejudice; you will find them amongst the Roses. You must find a way to unite this Uneasy Alliance to find the Broken Items before they are found by ones who would use them to destroy everything. These three and yourself may have retainers, followers, or companions of their own. All are free to join you on your quest should they wish to."
Looking down, the human thinks for a long moment. Is this crazy or what? Shaking his head, he looks up at the armored Gnome. "Right, I will do it." From out of the Gnome's helm, a red light comes, pinpoints at first, then growing.
"The Wonderbringer is pleased. Remember, do not assemble the aertefact! Bring the pieces here." The room shakes violently, as if struck by a massive earthquake, and the human gasps... the room spins and he sits up on the pew where was asleep. The room is cool, the forge is out, and he is all alone. Was that all just a dream?
*********************************************************************
Kneeling to pray by the campfire, the half-Orc's thoughts wander through the events of his day. A rustle in the brush brings his attention back to the moment; warrior's senses coming alert instantly. "Filthy Orc" the voice states flatly. "Orcs should all die." Standing, the half-Orc addresses the evening air.
"Who is there?" Stepping from the shadows is a halfling? No, a gnome dressed in poor and obviously worn out leathers. He points a finger at the half-Orc.
"You and all your kind should die, Orc."
"Why do you say that?" he asks, his eyes datring around, checking for a trap.
"Because you all are unredeemable. All of you are evil! Your hearts are dark."
Gripping a Great Mace easily in one hand, the half-Orc stands to his full height. "We should not all be judged by our race little one. I am a Palidon and my heart is true to my god. I do good. I am not evil."
Nodding, the gnome takes a step closer. "Good" he says, "that is what I had hoped to hear you say. A friend comes to find you. A friend with a request. Sheathing his weapon, the half-orc kneels so that he can look the gnome in the face and the gnome continues. "You have a Pure Heart. You must assist him. Are you willing?" There is something about the way the gnome looks at him, and the great, half-orc warrior smiles a tusky-smile. "Gnurl! Yes, of course!"
"Good" he will need you and he will explain what must be done. He is the Seeker. Bowing his head, the half-orc closes his eyes and whispers a prayer. Looking up, the gnome is gone and it is almost dawn. Had so much time passed? Was that all just a dream?
*********************************************************************
((OOC: this is the start of a true blue, old fashioned treasure hunt. Over the next week or so there will be Broken Items placed in various areas of the map - this is surface and UD. They are easy to identify because they will be called "Broken Piece One" for example and are for RP purposes only and have no other properties. Once all the pieces have been found, and the two other members of the initial group are found/named rewards will be given. ALL are welcome to participate and the idea is that different groups, despite their differences, will need to figure out how to get all of the pieces back to the Priest of Gond...))
Next: Part VI - A Meeting of the Minds
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Walking through the darkness she shifts between dark and normal sight. The feeling of not being able to see anything in the inky blackness excited and scared her... but more excited. Clicking her tongue in annoyance she stamps her foot in impatience. "Jaluk. So inferior..." The males were slow and stupid as all of their gender. Their inability to pick up on subtleties annoyed her, but also allowed her imagination to imagine them on the Altar.... their sacrifices would be adequate, but insubstantial... The light changes subtlely and she looks left... Ah! Finally they are coming. Stepping out of the darkness she waits for them to acknowledge her; Yathrin feeling like a Valsharess.
The trio stops short, seeing a heavily arnoured Drow warrior standing calmly in the tunnel. Two males look at each other but it is the yingil who whistles softly and finds a place to sit out of sight; a jabbress of any House is never a welcome sight, and this one has the best gear on she has ever seen. Noble, smell them four caves away.
The Drow priestess smiles seductively at the males, "I am tracking a Hargulk party... have you seen them?"
The males look at each other and shake their heads at the same time, "Jalil we have nau seen any others..." on replies, smirking.
Shifting into the ultra spectrum, the priestess looks at the other and sees the mark of the Dark Lady. Almost purring she replies, "I have a task for you. One which you will complete and report back to me and only me."
Blinking, the two males stare back and shrug, "Command me malla jalil." The Llothite responds.
"You will find the Hargluk who defile these caverns. You will bring me their gear - all of it. You will do this quickly lest I choose to eat the yingil you travel with... They are so tasty when slow roasted..."
Knowing the cover is blown, the little gnome slides from hiding and joins her commerades. "We will find these hargluk, jabbress, and return their gear to you in tact."
Grinning evilly the Drow priestess snarls, "Get to it! They are close!" A crack rends the air and there is a brain-numbing flash of holy light, and the priestess teleports away.
"Oloth plynn dos!" the jaluks shake their heads. "Jalil!" Patting his arm the gnome says, "Lets get out of here!"
"Not before be find those.... surface loving Dwarves..." The Males have blinked their eyes back to being able to see, and there are noises coming from up the tunnel....
*********************************************************************
Two dozen hargluk lie dead around the cavern. Claiming to be miners they certainly had a great deal of offensive weapons on them to try and decieve their way into Drow territory. The last one... said his name was Oskar? certainly fought well, and it is a shame that his blood could not have been spilled on the altar of the Lady of the Deamonweb Pits but alas he died just the same. No gear on him. Nothing of value. Worthless armor, weapon, minimal gold. A broken, and twisted piece of metal in a pouch is all there was. Could the jabbress have meant this worthless junk? Showing the gear to all the gnome gasps... she knows what this is.
"Gond made this" she states flatly. "The Wonderbringer's hand is in this... and it is ancient... very old magic... but... but I don't know what it is for." The Drow look back at her as if she has lost her mind and she rolls her eyes. "Idiots... this is valuable. Get it? There will be those who would kill to get it... Joined with the other pieces it creates a weapon of unspeakable power." The Drow look at each other and continue to blink. "Ah, de'elsuki <no real translation here other than moron/idiot/fool> we are rich!" Her brows furrow, "Or dead... hopefully rich." The jaluk grin, what else is there?
*********************************************************************
The first piece of the aertefact is found in the UD. I have no PMs from the other hidden pieces so I am assuming none found yet. I will continue to RP with players who stumble across where they are located - not all are in epic-level areas. Bonus XP given for good RP - and not everything is at it appears to be sometimes... be kind to gnomes IG who want to talk... some of them know more than you think they might.
The trio stops short, seeing a heavily arnoured Drow warrior standing calmly in the tunnel. Two males look at each other but it is the yingil who whistles softly and finds a place to sit out of sight; a jabbress of any House is never a welcome sight, and this one has the best gear on she has ever seen. Noble, smell them four caves away.
The Drow priestess smiles seductively at the males, "I am tracking a Hargulk party... have you seen them?"
The males look at each other and shake their heads at the same time, "Jalil we have nau seen any others..." on replies, smirking.
Shifting into the ultra spectrum, the priestess looks at the other and sees the mark of the Dark Lady. Almost purring she replies, "I have a task for you. One which you will complete and report back to me and only me."
Blinking, the two males stare back and shrug, "Command me malla jalil." The Llothite responds.
"You will find the Hargluk who defile these caverns. You will bring me their gear - all of it. You will do this quickly lest I choose to eat the yingil you travel with... They are so tasty when slow roasted..."
Knowing the cover is blown, the little gnome slides from hiding and joins her commerades. "We will find these hargluk, jabbress, and return their gear to you in tact."
Grinning evilly the Drow priestess snarls, "Get to it! They are close!" A crack rends the air and there is a brain-numbing flash of holy light, and the priestess teleports away.
"Oloth plynn dos!" the jaluks shake their heads. "Jalil!" Patting his arm the gnome says, "Lets get out of here!"
"Not before be find those.... surface loving Dwarves..." The Males have blinked their eyes back to being able to see, and there are noises coming from up the tunnel....
*********************************************************************
Two dozen hargluk lie dead around the cavern. Claiming to be miners they certainly had a great deal of offensive weapons on them to try and decieve their way into Drow territory. The last one... said his name was Oskar? certainly fought well, and it is a shame that his blood could not have been spilled on the altar of the Lady of the Deamonweb Pits but alas he died just the same. No gear on him. Nothing of value. Worthless armor, weapon, minimal gold. A broken, and twisted piece of metal in a pouch is all there was. Could the jabbress have meant this worthless junk? Showing the gear to all the gnome gasps... she knows what this is.
"Gond made this" she states flatly. "The Wonderbringer's hand is in this... and it is ancient... very old magic... but... but I don't know what it is for." The Drow look back at her as if she has lost her mind and she rolls her eyes. "Idiots... this is valuable. Get it? There will be those who would kill to get it... Joined with the other pieces it creates a weapon of unspeakable power." The Drow look at each other and continue to blink. "Ah, de'elsuki <no real translation here other than moron/idiot/fool> we are rich!" Her brows furrow, "Or dead... hopefully rich." The jaluk grin, what else is there?
*********************************************************************
The first piece of the aertefact is found in the UD. I have no PMs from the other hidden pieces so I am assuming none found yet. I will continue to RP with players who stumble across where they are located - not all are in epic-level areas. Bonus XP given for good RP - and not everything is at it appears to be sometimes... be kind to gnomes IG who want to talk... some of them know more than you think they might.
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Amused and somewhat intrigued by the crude note slipped into his pocket, he reads aloud to his friend, "What you seeks lies within, the yath of the op'elgin rath'arg."
"What do you think it means?"
The other shrugs, "A joke? A thief sticks his hand in your pocket and you want to chop it off not head out looking for treasure."
Shaking his head, "It's not that. Did you see the words? That's Drow. Who in the Inn would know how to write it let alone what it means and to put it in MY pocket?"
"Right!" his companion hoots, "what does it say?"
Squinting the other replies, "Something about a thief... I think I know where to look."
************************************************************************
The room was hot and steamy. Not overly large, the pool of red-hot lava in the middle hissed and bubbled. Interesting place for a temple.
"What are we doing here, again?"
"I don't know.... looking for something... someone... I don't know." His head had begun to hurt, as if he had been thrown from a horse and hit it hard upon cold ground. "We wait." As if on cue, a flash of light fills the room and there is a rush of air, and standing on a dais to one side of the lava is a beautiful dark elf. Dressed in pristine plate armour, piercing purple eyes glare at the two humans. "Rivvil... of course." She chuckles and shakes her head. "You rothe will not find what you are looking for in here..."
On guard, the two humans move to flank the Drow, eyes darting for hidden companions. The room betrays nothing to them but waves of hot air shimmering in the heat, and torches flickering in their scones' along the walls. "What are we looking for, Drow?"
Her eyes snap to the one who has spoken to her in such a disrespectful manner and her left hand idly goes to her belt, but finds no weapon there.
"A toy. You seek a toy. A plaything. A trinket. I will tell you where to find it, but you must make me a promise first." Interest raised at hearing what this insane woman has to say, the humans move further apart. Her interest never strays from the speaker though.
"Where is it then?"
"First ussan must pledge to kill the jaluk and yingil who stole my property. Keep the toy they took, just kill them!" Her eyes fly wide with rage and the burly human takes a step back. The Tower nearby holds your treasure. Barter with the dragon if you can, but it is a worthless toy. The woman is obviously mad, and she turns and addresses the lava. "No jabbress, please... no, Ilharess Ithar... don't... what? NO! Do not! I have the rivvil! They are... what?" The Drow's attention lays somewhere in the lava, and she tries to turn from it as a bolt of energy strikes her from its depths. Drawing swords the humans slowly head for the door; the only door and way out. "DON'T LEAVE ME!" The Drow cries in agony. Turning back the humans see her beautiful face contorted in pain; tears streaming down her ebony cheeks. "Get out you waela rivvil! I am not myself... Face twisting in agony then contorting to a sneer she straightens and casts a spell directly at the humans. There is no time for them to move. The room explodes into scorching flames all around them and she screams again, "KILL THE JALUK! SAVE ME!" The heat reaches unbearable proportions as the humans sprint for the exit and the cool evening air...
************************************************************************
Watching everything through a Wizard Eye, the dragon snorts. The youngling should have no problems dispatching these two... the toy, he chuckles, is safe...
Piece number two has been found! There are three of four of the Chosen ready to quest - who will join them? What happens when the pieces come together?
"What do you think it means?"
The other shrugs, "A joke? A thief sticks his hand in your pocket and you want to chop it off not head out looking for treasure."
Shaking his head, "It's not that. Did you see the words? That's Drow. Who in the Inn would know how to write it let alone what it means and to put it in MY pocket?"
"Right!" his companion hoots, "what does it say?"
Squinting the other replies, "Something about a thief... I think I know where to look."
************************************************************************
The room was hot and steamy. Not overly large, the pool of red-hot lava in the middle hissed and bubbled. Interesting place for a temple.
"What are we doing here, again?"
"I don't know.... looking for something... someone... I don't know." His head had begun to hurt, as if he had been thrown from a horse and hit it hard upon cold ground. "We wait." As if on cue, a flash of light fills the room and there is a rush of air, and standing on a dais to one side of the lava is a beautiful dark elf. Dressed in pristine plate armour, piercing purple eyes glare at the two humans. "Rivvil... of course." She chuckles and shakes her head. "You rothe will not find what you are looking for in here..."
On guard, the two humans move to flank the Drow, eyes darting for hidden companions. The room betrays nothing to them but waves of hot air shimmering in the heat, and torches flickering in their scones' along the walls. "What are we looking for, Drow?"
Her eyes snap to the one who has spoken to her in such a disrespectful manner and her left hand idly goes to her belt, but finds no weapon there.
"A toy. You seek a toy. A plaything. A trinket. I will tell you where to find it, but you must make me a promise first." Interest raised at hearing what this insane woman has to say, the humans move further apart. Her interest never strays from the speaker though.
"Where is it then?"
"First ussan must pledge to kill the jaluk and yingil who stole my property. Keep the toy they took, just kill them!" Her eyes fly wide with rage and the burly human takes a step back. The Tower nearby holds your treasure. Barter with the dragon if you can, but it is a worthless toy. The woman is obviously mad, and she turns and addresses the lava. "No jabbress, please... no, Ilharess Ithar... don't... what? NO! Do not! I have the rivvil! They are... what?" The Drow's attention lays somewhere in the lava, and she tries to turn from it as a bolt of energy strikes her from its depths. Drawing swords the humans slowly head for the door; the only door and way out. "DON'T LEAVE ME!" The Drow cries in agony. Turning back the humans see her beautiful face contorted in pain; tears streaming down her ebony cheeks. "Get out you waela rivvil! I am not myself... Face twisting in agony then contorting to a sneer she straightens and casts a spell directly at the humans. There is no time for them to move. The room explodes into scorching flames all around them and she screams again, "KILL THE JALUK! SAVE ME!" The heat reaches unbearable proportions as the humans sprint for the exit and the cool evening air...
************************************************************************
Watching everything through a Wizard Eye, the dragon snorts. The youngling should have no problems dispatching these two... the toy, he chuckles, is safe...
Piece number two has been found! There are three of four of the Chosen ready to quest - who will join them? What happens when the pieces come together?
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
A wee gnome sits by a well and eats his lunch. Dried fish and beets, Gond be praised, today is a good day. The sun is hot in Baldur's Gate today, but welcome despite all the rain as of late. The gnome is happy and his new bright, red, pointed hat shows everyone who passes that he is a gnome of substance, and worth. An armoured figure approacehs him, and stares into the well, perhaps to throw a coin in (Waukeen take heed! or Tymora be praised!) or simply to sit and bide a while. The figure is a human, in scale armour and he looks thin and hungry, and perhaps he thinks that the Lord of the Dead lives himself at the bottom of the well... The gnome watches the human with interest and devours his lunch in haste for the noonday sun while warm and pleasing, will leave his pale skim blistering if he lingers too long. The human does not seem to know that he is there at all, and the gnome, curious, wanders over to the well, his nose scarcely level with the rim. The human seems not to notice at all, as he is lost in some sort of rapture or self torture... with humans it is hard to tell sometimes. The human sobs, and the gnome listens, "What have I done?" The gnome, being innocent and curious tugs at the gleaming scales hanging off the human.
"Hey mister, what's up? I mean, what's all the fuss about?" The tall man seems too deep in his grief and reverie to answer, but suddenly pulls himself together and stares down at the tiny gnome.
"Wee one... I did not see you there" though his eyes are bloos-shot and cheeks tearstained, the human manages a weak smile, "I am fine... all is well. You are a gnome?" The question falls more as a statement and the gnome bows low.
"Smerfpoof at your service." The human seems nonpulsed by his name, and the gnome puffs out his chest, "Wonderworker of mightycraft!" The human, either due to extreme diress or sheer dullwitedness does not seem to notice, but nods his head dutifully.
"My name is not so important good gnome..." Pale and shaky, the human does not look at the Gnome. "Perhaps though, you could assist me?" Reaching into his hunic he produces a hankerchief that looks as though it was holding something the size of a baseball; the hankerchief being soaked in blood however. "I believe this belongs to one of your kind... please... take it. Make sure it finds its rightful place. As for me well... I shall be numbered amongst tbe dead this day I think..." Sinking down on his knees, then sitting, the human heaves a great sigh. "It is no small thing to die... master gnome... no small thing... but I would have a word of caution... when it comes to this" and he waves a hand and the bloodied hankerchief, "there are those who would lay waste to all made fair and right..." He coughs, sputtering up blood now, and he laughs despire the spasms it causes him. "And to think I found this is a rose bush... the git who left it there!" Spasming in a fit of coughing, the gnome sees that the human is grievously wounded as his armour under his left arm seems to bleed now of its own accord. "Blast, I feel cold... so cold.." and before the Gnome could think of a thing to say, the human passed from this world to the next. A wash of fear, sorrow, and then relief passed over the Gnome. Relief was a surprise but he realized that the human's fears were now gone, no matter what they were, and that they did not belong to him. Unwrapping the hankie, the Gnome is confused to find a twisted piece of metal - most likely lead. Serving no purpose the he can see, the Gnome almost drops it it disgust... and yet... and yet... Swtiching to a Gnomes inner sense of himself (Yes! He DOES have an inner sense... don't ask him to explain it apart from it FEELS right) he fnds that the twisted metal is magical... VERY magical in fact and must be something of worth, although that cannot be determined now, but YES very powerful, and oh!" He stops thinking mid thought. Mid breath he pauses. This is of the Wonderbringer. Oh my... this must be given back... no hidden! This must... his mind races. What will I do? Oh, no! What Will I do? They will come for me! Oh yes they will come and I will not know what to do!
The Gnome flees for his home and backs a bag. I will head for the hills, oh yes I will! I will go to the Boresky Bridge and from them find passage somewhere safe! I know ffolk - Gnomes who will help. Yes I will! YES I WILL! The wee Gnome feels better now as he has a purpose and a destination. Let Gond see fit that I make it there safe... oh yes, safe and sound! It will be fine... once I get to the bridge...
"Hey mister, what's up? I mean, what's all the fuss about?" The tall man seems too deep in his grief and reverie to answer, but suddenly pulls himself together and stares down at the tiny gnome.
"Wee one... I did not see you there" though his eyes are bloos-shot and cheeks tearstained, the human manages a weak smile, "I am fine... all is well. You are a gnome?" The question falls more as a statement and the gnome bows low.
"Smerfpoof at your service." The human seems nonpulsed by his name, and the gnome puffs out his chest, "Wonderworker of mightycraft!" The human, either due to extreme diress or sheer dullwitedness does not seem to notice, but nods his head dutifully.
"My name is not so important good gnome..." Pale and shaky, the human does not look at the Gnome. "Perhaps though, you could assist me?" Reaching into his hunic he produces a hankerchief that looks as though it was holding something the size of a baseball; the hankerchief being soaked in blood however. "I believe this belongs to one of your kind... please... take it. Make sure it finds its rightful place. As for me well... I shall be numbered amongst tbe dead this day I think..." Sinking down on his knees, then sitting, the human heaves a great sigh. "It is no small thing to die... master gnome... no small thing... but I would have a word of caution... when it comes to this" and he waves a hand and the bloodied hankerchief, "there are those who would lay waste to all made fair and right..." He coughs, sputtering up blood now, and he laughs despire the spasms it causes him. "And to think I found this is a rose bush... the git who left it there!" Spasming in a fit of coughing, the gnome sees that the human is grievously wounded as his armour under his left arm seems to bleed now of its own accord. "Blast, I feel cold... so cold.." and before the Gnome could think of a thing to say, the human passed from this world to the next. A wash of fear, sorrow, and then relief passed over the Gnome. Relief was a surprise but he realized that the human's fears were now gone, no matter what they were, and that they did not belong to him. Unwrapping the hankie, the Gnome is confused to find a twisted piece of metal - most likely lead. Serving no purpose the he can see, the Gnome almost drops it it disgust... and yet... and yet... Swtiching to a Gnomes inner sense of himself (Yes! He DOES have an inner sense... don't ask him to explain it apart from it FEELS right) he fnds that the twisted metal is magical... VERY magical in fact and must be something of worth, although that cannot be determined now, but YES very powerful, and oh!" He stops thinking mid thought. Mid breath he pauses. This is of the Wonderbringer. Oh my... this must be given back... no hidden! This must... his mind races. What will I do? Oh, no! What Will I do? They will come for me! Oh yes they will come and I will not know what to do!
The Gnome flees for his home and backs a bag. I will head for the hills, oh yes I will! I will go to the Boresky Bridge and from them find passage somewhere safe! I know ffolk - Gnomes who will help. Yes I will! YES I WILL! The wee Gnome feels better now as he has a purpose and a destination. Let Gond see fit that I make it there safe... oh yes, safe and sound! It will be fine... once I get to the bridge...
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Players who have one of the Broken Pieces please send me a PM on the forum so I know who is around. We'll make a time to wrap up this RP as soon as I hear from everyone.
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
The squire and page who face each other are roughly the same age. No longer boys but not yet men they share a tacit understanding that all young men in their situation do; that their elevation amongst the ranks comes with great physical, and emotional costs. The squire straightens his shoulders and addresses the young page.
"This is the letter I am to deliver to the king. it is a matter of great urgency that he sees it right away." Taking the letter, the page bows slightly.
"I will deliver it, uh, sir, right away." The page doesn't look at the squire, knowing his slip, but the squire grins back with a nod in return.
"Thank you, m'lord" and with that turns and heads at a brisk pace for the stables and the Knight who is waiting for him there. To tarry too long would invite a penance of some sort, and he is eager to avoid any "teaching" where attention and focus of duty are involved.
Turning, the page heads down the long hallway that runs between the private and public parts of Castle Obarskyr. Despite the hot and humid day outside, the castle is cool and damp, and he finds long walks alone in more remote parts of the castle unnerving at times. Passing about the twentieth tlit orch bracket on the wall he hears a faint hissing sound and stops dead in his tracks. Peering into the gloom ahead he sees a figure walking towards him, and just as his imagination is about to get the better of him he recognizes the figure.
He stops and bows as the large man in dark robes comes into the torchlight. "Lord Chamberlain, I was just on my way to find you. I have a letter from a Knight of the Radiant Heart order out of Baldur's Gate. He says it is quite urgent the King see it." Frowning down at the page, the Chamberlain stands stiffly, as if the young man's mere presence offended him, and he sticks out a pale white hand with immaculately manicured nails and motions.
"Give it here." Opening the letter, and reading the contents, he masks a smile and asks, "Have you read this?" The page quickly shakes his head, knowing that reading the Kings correspondance is strictly forbidden. "Go" is all the Chamberlain replies, not bothering to look at the page, who bows again, quickly, and hurries off past him towards the throne room. Allowing himself to smile the Chamberlain brushes back his greasy hair from his eyes and holds the letter closer to a torch. The penmanship is excellent, and so is the message. Tucking the letter inside his robes he turns and heads for the throne room himself. The King needs to know what is going on.
King Azoun IV yawns overtly and waves a hand at the petitioner in front of him - worshippers of Waukeen always bored him; their clergy that much more so. The merchantcleric pauses, and the King takes advantage of the break. "Holy master, please speak to the Chamberlain and he will show you to the Taxation Department where you can petition for an exemption." Before he can say another word, the cleric is led from the hall by two large knights in ceremonial Purple Dragon armour. The Chamberlain sees the dismissal and stays out of the cleric and Kings line of sight until the heavy wooden doors close leaving the king alone on the throne. Silently, the Chamberlain approaches the throne, and coughing politiely he startles the King. " Suffering cats!" Azoun bellows, "Don't sneak up on me like that! You nearly got my sword through your head!" Smiling slightly, the Chamberlain bows.
"Apologies my leige. I have had a letter from Baldur's Gate with news. Unfortunately it was very hard to read, and I believe enspelled so I had to destroy it. The news was not good my lord." Bending low the Chamberlain whispers into the Kings ear. As he continues to talk, the Kings face transitions from sorrow, to fury, to cold resolve. When he finishes, the Chamberlain stands, waiting for orders. "Chamberlain, send for Constal MacFarlane at once and tell him I have news of his daughter, and that I have something that he needs to do for me." Bowing again, the Chamberlain backs off the dias, and turns smartly on his heel and heads briskly towards the door. One more person to tell the tale to, with additional information, and the wheels are set in motion. Excellent. Lord Fzoul will be most impressed. Most impressed indeed.
((Planning for the second installment of the RH event this weekend - Sunday afternoon GMT-5 most likely))
"This is the letter I am to deliver to the king. it is a matter of great urgency that he sees it right away." Taking the letter, the page bows slightly.
"I will deliver it, uh, sir, right away." The page doesn't look at the squire, knowing his slip, but the squire grins back with a nod in return.
"Thank you, m'lord" and with that turns and heads at a brisk pace for the stables and the Knight who is waiting for him there. To tarry too long would invite a penance of some sort, and he is eager to avoid any "teaching" where attention and focus of duty are involved.
Turning, the page heads down the long hallway that runs between the private and public parts of Castle Obarskyr. Despite the hot and humid day outside, the castle is cool and damp, and he finds long walks alone in more remote parts of the castle unnerving at times. Passing about the twentieth tlit orch bracket on the wall he hears a faint hissing sound and stops dead in his tracks. Peering into the gloom ahead he sees a figure walking towards him, and just as his imagination is about to get the better of him he recognizes the figure.
He stops and bows as the large man in dark robes comes into the torchlight. "Lord Chamberlain, I was just on my way to find you. I have a letter from a Knight of the Radiant Heart order out of Baldur's Gate. He says it is quite urgent the King see it." Frowning down at the page, the Chamberlain stands stiffly, as if the young man's mere presence offended him, and he sticks out a pale white hand with immaculately manicured nails and motions.
"Give it here." Opening the letter, and reading the contents, he masks a smile and asks, "Have you read this?" The page quickly shakes his head, knowing that reading the Kings correspondance is strictly forbidden. "Go" is all the Chamberlain replies, not bothering to look at the page, who bows again, quickly, and hurries off past him towards the throne room. Allowing himself to smile the Chamberlain brushes back his greasy hair from his eyes and holds the letter closer to a torch. The penmanship is excellent, and so is the message. Tucking the letter inside his robes he turns and heads for the throne room himself. The King needs to know what is going on.
King Azoun IV yawns overtly and waves a hand at the petitioner in front of him - worshippers of Waukeen always bored him; their clergy that much more so. The merchantcleric pauses, and the King takes advantage of the break. "Holy master, please speak to the Chamberlain and he will show you to the Taxation Department where you can petition for an exemption." Before he can say another word, the cleric is led from the hall by two large knights in ceremonial Purple Dragon armour. The Chamberlain sees the dismissal and stays out of the cleric and Kings line of sight until the heavy wooden doors close leaving the king alone on the throne. Silently, the Chamberlain approaches the throne, and coughing politiely he startles the King. " Suffering cats!" Azoun bellows, "Don't sneak up on me like that! You nearly got my sword through your head!" Smiling slightly, the Chamberlain bows.
"Apologies my leige. I have had a letter from Baldur's Gate with news. Unfortunately it was very hard to read, and I believe enspelled so I had to destroy it. The news was not good my lord." Bending low the Chamberlain whispers into the Kings ear. As he continues to talk, the Kings face transitions from sorrow, to fury, to cold resolve. When he finishes, the Chamberlain stands, waiting for orders. "Chamberlain, send for Constal MacFarlane at once and tell him I have news of his daughter, and that I have something that he needs to do for me." Bowing again, the Chamberlain backs off the dias, and turns smartly on his heel and heads briskly towards the door. One more person to tell the tale to, with additional information, and the wheels are set in motion. Excellent. Lord Fzoul will be most impressed. Most impressed indeed.
((Planning for the second installment of the RH event this weekend - Sunday afternoon GMT-5 most likely))
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------DM Arkanis wrote: The Gnome flees for his home and backs a bag. I will head for the hills, oh yes I will! I will go to the Boresky Bridge and from them find passage somewhere safe! I know ffolk - Gnomes who will help. Yes I will! YES I WILL! The wee Gnome feels better now as he has a purpose and a destination. Let Gond see fit that I make it there safe... oh yes, safe and sound! It will be fine... once I get to the bridge...
Time does not pass the same way in the celestial realms of the gods as it does with mortals. For those whose lives are infinite, or can be infinite, they hardly take notice of the minute, mundane, and redundant day to day goings on of those creatures who labour and toil just for sustenance let alone find meaning in their petty lives. That said, even a god can become bored and sometimes seek out a little adventure, or maybe even mischief just to give them something different to do, and combine this for a love of, well that might be stretching it, certainly like and amusement of and at gnomes and Gond had a wonderful idea.
It has been said that invention is ninety percent perspiration and ten percent imagination but for the Wonderbringer ideas never ceased to flow for him, and those ideas could easily be brought to fruition with simply a thought. This time though, he set aside his heavy apron and instead fashioned a lathe, not for wood, but for metal - small metal parts mostly. His tools were not really tools but aspects of his thoughts, and operating a "device" to fabricate his inventions was ludicrous to him and often made him giggle thinking that someone who would watch him work would see him pound an anvil, work the forge, make sparks, but really it was all in his head. This invention was so simple that he did not need to create the subsequent illusion for it would almost diminish what he was doing, and so he bent his will to the task and began to create.
The end result of the device were twelve separate pieces, the largest only a few inches long, the heaviest only a few ounces; the smallest could be lost between floorboards quite easily. Staring at the parts he realized there were some missing components - the ones that would make the device function, and an aspect of his consciousness sought out some adamantium, as another assembled the twelve to form the device. The quantity of adamantium needed was small and he formed six, small tubes with it. Into the tubes he sealed a small, but powerful magic - not world slaying small, but definitely mortal creature slaying small. Satisfied, he turned back to the device, which was still skeletal in form, and poured more of his creative magic into it and molded it and formed it so that it still came apart, but you could not easily see the seems and joints. In his minds eye he lifted it up to better catch the light, and he admired his handiwork. Now to test it.
In the dead of night in the city of Illul in Lantan at the High Holy Crafthouse of Inspiration, a priest in the church of Gond woke with a start. He had had the most vivid dream where he was at the forge and every hammer stroke he brought down let out a deafening roar of thunder and while he could not remember what he was crafting exactly, the sound was pleasing to his ears and in the dream he had figured to Gond as well. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and sought out some water - a short walk to the well would clear his mind and allow him to sleep. It had been some time since he had crafted anything new and useful and his conscious mind was trying to make out what it was that he had dreamed of - was it just a dream or was there more to it? Standing by the well and rubbing his eyes, he bent over to take a ladle of water. The water in the large outdoor well sparkled in the starlight, and for a moment he thought he saw something there. Rubbing his eyes again, and looking down he saw that the stars' light across the water were playing tricks with him because it looked most definitely not like water, but of a map - albeit a pretty crude one. Peering closer, he recognized where the area depicted was - two days ride no more into the wilderness from where he stood. He looked as closely as his befuddled mind could, and when his eyes settled on the middle of the map, they widened and he was instantly awake. Running, but barely making a sound he went back to his cell and prayed. Was this the inspiration he had hoped for? In the morning he would head out and pray he found the answer.
Two days later the priest hid behind some rocks and watched the entrance to a cave. Several small goblinish creatures stood in a defensive posture against a lone figure who appeared to be a gnome. There were not that many and most seemed to be hunters and they did not scare the lone gnome at all. They threatened him with crude spears and barked in their language at him, but did not make a move towards him. The priest had seen their kind before many times and he knew how to hide from them so he too was unafraid, but he was curious - who is this gnome and what is he doing? Finding his bravery, one of the creatures raised his spear and made to throw it. The lone gnome held out his arm and in his hand he was holding a wand. No, not a wand, it was too short and squat to be a proper wand, what was it? The creature threw the spear and it sailed the short distance and bounced off the lone gnome. The priest ducked, and peered out again. He was far enough away that he could not see the others face or hear him speak, but the lone gnome said something to the creatures that seemed to make them angry for they all began to bark words and shake their spears, and one by one they threw them at him. The spears either missed or bounced harmlessly away, and the lone gnome shouted, and there was a huge crack of thunder, and one of the creatures dropped, apparently dead. Three, four, five more times the lone gnome shouted, and thunder followed, and five more of the creatures died. The priest's mouth dropped open and he stood in awe. What was that device? Aside from the sound of thunder there was no obvious display of magic. It must be a gnomish invention of some sort, but what?
There was no time to speculate as a separate crack of thunder, this time accompanied by magical effects, rent the air, and a human wizard appeared before the lone gnome. The gnome seemed to be expecting the human, and he simply stood there coolly as they exchanged words. The priest still could not hear what was being spoken, but it was obviously an argument, and in one fluid almost too fast to be seen movement, the wizard cast a spell and a bolt of blue energy raced from his fingers and struck the device. The lone gnome was only able to hold on to it for a split second, before the device exploded in his hand sending pieces in several directions. The lone gnome was furious, shouted something at the wizard, snapped his fingers, and vanished. The wizard, seeing the lone gnome was gone, visibly relaxed and took his staff and made circle motions over his head with it. The fragments of the device rose from the ground and began to spin above the wizards head in time with the staff, and the wizard spun faster and faster until the fragments were all a blur, and then he cast one arm out and the fragments shot through the air at a fantastic speed, and were gone in another clap of thunder, this one laying the gnomish priest flat on his back from his hiding spot behind the rock. When he stood, the wizard was gone, but the priest knew for certain that this device, this creation, was of Gond and those pieces needed to be found and given back to the Wonderbringer. He didn't know how or when it was going to happen, but it was now his mission to find them.
A thousand years passed, and the story became legend and then myth in the church of Gond. The priest had indeed spent the rest of his life searching for but not finding the pieces, and rumours had led him all over but he had never managed to find anything, but as a day is to a god so is a thousand years to a mortal, and Gond was not idle. The pieces of his device had been magically scattered and hard for him to scry, but eventually he did find them and though manipulation he managed to convey his will through a gnome and a half-orc to find the pieces, for he could not actively do it himself lest Mystra once again meddle in his affairs. In their subsequent adventures and adventures of some Dark elves, and of other surface creatures the pieces were all found but there was no organization in returning them to the temple of Gond in Baldur's Gate.
One piece found its way into the hands of another gnome, and Snerfpoof recognized what he had and it terrified him. Here was some artifact crafted by a god, destroyed by another god, and now sought by the original god once again. The one who gave it to Snerfpoof had died in acquiring it. What should he do? He did the only thing her really knew to do - run away. Praying to Gond for safety, and praying that Gond wouldn't look too closely at what he had in his pack, Snerfpoof made record time in getting to the Boresky Bridge where he found his cousin Thistle. This is the route his family had taken to come from the old country to settle along the Sword Coast, not the most direct route but a safe one - that was the gnomish way. He talked to his cousin at length about what to do, and in the end they agreed that the device should not be reassembled, and they should be left out of gods' affairs. Seeing a passing caravan, the gnomes find their wizard escort and offer the piece to him. Without hesitation he takes it from them, sensing a powerful magical dweamor on it, and the gnomes hurry away.
Several days later in Shadowdale, Elminster looks down at the broken piece and frowns. He had hoped that when he had destroyed the device that the pieces would be forever lost, but it seemed that was not so for here was one in his hand. Setting it down, he placed both hands over it and chanted a spell, rare for him to do but this spell required specific concentration. The air in the room went very still as the spell was cast, and with a popping sound, the device piece rattled a bit, than sat inert. Opening his eyes he looked down and it, nodded once and grunted. The divine magic in it was removed - all the other fragments would now be useless even if brought together they could not be assembled. He reached for his pipe and headed for the door with other things now on his mind.
Gond's consciousness was nudged slightly by the return of the divine magic from the device to him. He recognized its nature and sighed, well it was fun while it lasted, he had other things to craft anyhow, and he turned his attention to other tasks.
((OOC the event is finished thank you to all who participated))
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Can you help me find my pets?
Kelzor the Magnificent seems to have a hard time keeping his menagerie together. Harder still explaining the unusually large size of some of his "pets." When he's not trying to find his young daughter, he is out roaming hither and yon looking for his escaped creatures.
Sorcerer or showman? No one is quite sure when the circus is in town.
Kelzor the Magnificent seems to have a hard time keeping his menagerie together. Harder still explaining the unusually large size of some of his "pets." When he's not trying to find his young daughter, he is out roaming hither and yon looking for his escaped creatures.
Sorcerer or showman? No one is quite sure when the circus is in town.
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
In quiet corners of taverns across Sshamath, rumours spread of strange travelers in the caves and tunnels leading to the city. Drow claiming to be nobles of the outpost of Szith Morcane are asking about the rumours that it has been destroyed, and that the City of Maerimyara is in chaos...
I'll be scheduling small events over the next few weeks around this plot - stay tuned!
Ark
I'll be scheduling small events over the next few weeks around this plot - stay tuned!
Ark
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
Stragglers from distant parts of the underdark have been seen in the caves and caverns around Sshamath. A rag tag band of warriors, priestesses, and even the matron mother from the House Kor Ali, fleeing from the supposed ruin and devastation of Szith Morcane; a Drow outpost known to be very much in-tact... There has also been a whisper that the illharess of qu'ellar Morcane herself has been seen, although this has not been confirmed by any reliable sources. Where are Szith's other noble houses? The powerful qu'ellars Morb'ralharen and Mori'hyanda certainly have not perished in this supposed destruction of Szith? The plot thickens, the web twinges, there is a sense that thing are Dark and Empty...
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
There is currently a reward being offered for any player with knowledge of a Drow priestess with the last name, "Morcane." She has been rumoured to have been seen in the Underdark. An illharess of Lloth of qu'ellar Kor'Ali will pay gold for good information about the Morcane.
Messages can be left with Gloura for Talice Kor'Ali.
Please PM me here on the forums or in game if you see me.
Ark
Messages can be left with Gloura for Talice Kor'Ali.
Please PM me here on the forums or in game if you see me.
Ark
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
UPDATE
1. The party cursed by the evil god has found out more about the nature of the curse. It and its anti-scry effects were removed. Further events pending PC availability.
2. The Tormented Spider - UD ongoing event. An extra large harpoon spider has been observed and interacted with in the caves of the UD. Some powerful magic is holding it against its will.
3. The Mysterious Mask - a priest has been observed on the Trade Way aiding certain adventurers. Rumour has it that he showed one adventurer the holy symbol of Mask. He has not been spotted in some time, but the rumours persist.
4. The Crystal Dragon - On the way to burgle a wealthy lord, adventurers came across a baby dragon that appeared to be made out of crystal. A magical book sent the party into a crystal cave and a second event revealed the cave held some secrets, and the book was the key to finding the dragon. There is a connection to the dark elves somewhere, but chaos and insanity seem to follow the possessor of the book... Closed event resumes this week.
Arkanis
1. The party cursed by the evil god has found out more about the nature of the curse. It and its anti-scry effects were removed. Further events pending PC availability.
2. The Tormented Spider - UD ongoing event. An extra large harpoon spider has been observed and interacted with in the caves of the UD. Some powerful magic is holding it against its will.
3. The Mysterious Mask - a priest has been observed on the Trade Way aiding certain adventurers. Rumour has it that he showed one adventurer the holy symbol of Mask. He has not been spotted in some time, but the rumours persist.
4. The Crystal Dragon - On the way to burgle a wealthy lord, adventurers came across a baby dragon that appeared to be made out of crystal. A magical book sent the party into a crystal cave and a second event revealed the cave held some secrets, and the book was the key to finding the dragon. There is a connection to the dark elves somewhere, but chaos and insanity seem to follow the possessor of the book... Closed event resumes this week.
Arkanis
-
DM Arkanis
- Posts: 825
- Joined: Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:31 am
Re: DM Arkanis' Events
The Crystal Dragon
Party completed event #4 with only minor loss of life.
Stay tuned for "The Serpent Scepter" event coming soon.
Players related in my Mask events - please PM me so we can arrange to continue.
Dark and Empty
DM Arkanis
Party completed event #4 with only minor loss of life.
Stay tuned for "The Serpent Scepter" event coming soon.
Players related in my Mask events - please PM me so we can arrange to continue.
Dark and Empty
DM Arkanis