Showing posts with label Black cloaks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black cloaks. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

When’s a secret not a secret?


For the first time in the fortnight, since his companions left Fewham, Vogir relaxes. Lord Rician has reduced his guard numbers to that of before the threat he’d made.
He’d kept out of sight, watching from outside the town perimeter.
What was weird though was the whole situation…
It smelled.
It smelled a lot.
It positively stunk!
A dragon in the form of a lady, mincing about pretending to be human while being served upon hand and foot.
A Lord feigning consideration for his people while living in luxury.
The flawed defence of the Lady Sybille being Theranthor’s daughter and therefore apparently keeping the Empress’ forces from attacking.
And finally, a secret that everyone seems to be aware of: The local nobility, the dragon empress, the guards and even the locals themselves.
Everyone knows!
So why wasn’t Lord Rician honest in the beginning?
Why the pretence?
Still, Vogir wasn’t fooled and he wasn’t to be put off. After weeks of waiting, of questioning visitors and travelers from and to the town, he was ready to act.
The mansion carefully cased, Vogir approaches stealthily and under the cover of darkness. Easily bypassing the locked doors, he drifts as mist through the corridors and under the cracks in doors.
Still, despite the hour, Vogir is too early. Lady Sybille is awake and still in conversation with her ‘Father’. Confident in his hidden state though, Vogir edges forward to listen…
The conversation is sweet. Loving even and worse, it seems sincere.
Lord Rician kisses her gently on her forehead before retiring for the night.
It would be easy now. Lady Sybille is completely alone but something stays Vogir’s hand.
Following her to her own bedchamber, she is met by an older women dressed in a robe of dark grey. She passably resembles a Black-cloak but her graying hair and lined face are unhidden by the hood.
The woman smiles when Sybille enters and the affection again seems genuine.
Despite not currently having a stomach, Vogir feels a sinking within it.
This woman is almost certainly the trusted Black-cloak who’d stolen the little wyrmling in the first place. That she was still here spoke of care beyond mere duty.
After combing and braiding Sybille’s long blond hair, the lady-in-waiting puts her to bed and retires to an adjoining room.
Vogir watches until Sybille’s breathing becomes deeper and he’s sure she’s asleep.
He could kill her now.
It’d be easy.
He could kill the nanny and Lord Rician too…
If he wanted to…
If it were the right thing to do.
An eerie sigh escapes Vogir’s insubstantial form and, like a shadow, he slips from the silent mansion.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

The thin blue line


Eight hundred blue Dragon-borns form a line around the city.
An additional hundred stand atop the hundred identical, slender towers.
They are supported by two hundred of the Black-cloaks and over a thousand Kobolds but Belgos knows that he and his kin are the real defence.
The kobolds are undisciplined and will break as soon as they are pushed and the Black-cloaks have no stomach for a real fight.
The Dragon-borns; they will stand firm. They are the true followers of Thereanthor, her true protectors.
The orcs facing them stand less than a quarter of a mile away. Dirty and pig-like but surrounding Khajag in numbers unimagined.
Not the hundreds he’d been told they’d be facing but, from what he could see, well over a thousand!
More disturbing though, is that they appeared organised.
Orcs, he’d always been led to believe, were stupid and incapable of following orders. Yet somehow five of the sundered orc tribes had, not only reformed themselves but allied themselves together.
Looking up at the sun, Belgos estimates the time to be just before noon.
Suddenly something appears in the sky…
An arrow flies high.
It’s followed by scores more…

Aurelius the never-was-chief


‘Another story!’ cried the grubby, little orc child.
Wurgoth smiled down on his grandson. He’d had lots of them but this one was his favorite.
Young but clever.
‘Calm yourself Ori. I’ll tell you one more… Long ago, before even I was born, there was a battle. The first battle ever fought by the reunited tribes.
Five tribes were there. The ‘Broken lancers’ the ‘Blood-bottlers’, the ‘Meat-drippers’, the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’ and the ‘Bone-crunchers’. All led by their chiefs…
All except our tribe. Chief Orestes had gone to slay the dragon and left his most trusted general: Aurelius in command of his army.’
Ori sat up. ‘That’s not true! Chief Orestes did lead his army into battle!’
The bald headed Wurgoth smiled. ‘Yes, you're right but he wasn’t there yet.’
Repositioning his aching bones in the sturdy, wooden chair, the old orc continued.
‘The four chiefs of the other tribes met with Aurelius and each one bowed to him and took his instruction without dissent.
Each of the five mighty armies was divided into two parts and the ten divisions were lead by a chief or general.
Aurelius the wise lead one of the Broken lance armies and the mighty Bodan the other. Each commanded a hundred and fifty men. Boden though, like the other chiefs and generals obeyed Aurelius’ orders without question.
Each of the ten armies divided themselves around Khajag: City of the Blue prince Narcissus.
A magical barrier prevented living creatures from passing through an evil, magical barrier of lightning.
Each leader was allowed to decide upon their own plan of attack but they all knew that they answered to Aurelius.
On his signal the battle was started. Some of the groups attacked from distance with arrows. Some tried to topple the spindly towers that housed the magic. Some even charged the lightning field!
Aurelius was cleverer though. With shields raised, the majority of his division advanced upon the shimmering blue field of energy. A smaller group fired arrow upon arrow at the two figures atop the tower, preventing the evil Black-cloak from using his foul magics on the advancing orcs.
The Dragon-borns fired crossbow bolts but Aurelius’ men held their shields together so no bolts could penetrate.
When they got to the crackling energy screen, they halted and thrust their long spears through.’
Wurgoth clears his throat as he sees his little grandson’s eyes start to droop.
‘The Dragon-borns were no cowards. They wanted to fight and so they advanced. They passed though the energy shield to get to our warriors. They were seemingly unhurt but this didn’t surprise Aurelius. In fact Aurelius smiled, for now, in the open, his Broken-lancers outnumbered the spread thin troops of the Dragon.
The battle was furious and unrelenting. Orc and Dragon-born alike died by the sword and spear. Aurelius though had superior numbers and the Dragon-borns had no reinforcements because they were fighting battles on all sides.’
‘And then what happened?’ Asked the young orc in awe.
‘Then?’ Wurgoth smiled. ‘Then, when only a score of Dragon-borns were still standing on our side of the magical barrier, Orestes appeared as if from nowhere atop the tower nearest them and struck the head clean from the shoulders of the Black-cloak there.’
‘Where did he come from?!’ squealed the little orc.
‘Well, that’s a different story but his actions caused the magical barrier to fail. Aurelius took advantage of the momentary confusion and charged through. He and his men killed every Black-cloak and Dragon-born they encountered but more importantly, they broke into the nearby towers and killed each mystic powering the barrier. Soon the disciplined Dragon-borns had to break formation and as soon as they did that, they were lost.’
The old orc pulls himself to his feet and kisses his grandson on the forehead.
‘Many orcs died in that battle but it was a great victory. The tribes reunited. Thereanthor’s son killed and enough treasure found to provide all the weapons needed to fight the coming war. Your great, great grandfather fought that day. He was barely more than a boy himself but he always said it was the proudest day of his life.’
The little orc’s eyes were now nearly closed, ‘Was wise Aurelius ever a chief?’
‘No my grandson. Never a chief but instead he became so much more. He became the Chief of chiefs’… ‘But that’s also another story’.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Bodan and the Owlbear


It had been decades since the sundered tribes of the orcs had been reunited but the old stories were still told and retold with relish. This story especially was one favored by the children.

The wise women hushed them all before she began…

The mighty Bodan stood at the front of the ‘Broken lance’ army and surveyed the scene.
Never in living memory had so many orcs stood together.
Not just the ‘Broken lancers’ but also the ‘Blood-bottlers’, the ‘Meat-drippers’, the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’ and the ‘Bone-crunchers’.
Aurelius the wise had divided up the armies into ten groups, each led by a different chief or general.
Bodan’s group was over a hundred orcs. All eager for battle.
The opposing dragon-borns were on the other side of the accursed blue screen of death…
An evil magical barrier that killed any that passed through.
Bodan looked at the massive, black metal box he had pulled with him.
Much taller than the biggest of orcs and just as wide.
Only Bodan’s bloodlust could match that of the creature held captive within.
An Owlbear!
The most ferocious creature ever to live.
A creature that would kill you, as soon as look on you.
Before ordering his men to release the crazed owlbear, he organised himself to be tethered to the creature by one of the ten-foot long metal poles used to control it.
Once free though, the huge creature lunged at Boden but Bodan didn’t flinch.
Because of the long metal rod between them, neither could reach the other.
He would have been pushed over but instead he took the impetus and charged instead at the blue barrier.
It was over a hundred feet away but on he ran. Pursued by the screeching owlbear.
The Black-cloaks atop the nearest stone towers did nothing.
The Dragon-borns behind the shimmering screen did nothing.
Bodan ran until he was within touching distance of the crackling field.
The Owlbear though, frustrated by not being able to reach Bodan, ignored the intangible light barrier and barreled straight through it.
The lightning field crackled but did not stop the mighty beast and it slaughtered two of the scaled Dragon-borns before they could even recover from their surprise.
Straining his powerful muscles, Bodan dug in his heels and directed the, now frenzied, beast towards the other stunned Dragon-borns.
Dozens went down before the howling Owlbear finally dragged Bodan through…
The lightning field crackled and primal energy coursed through Bodan’s thick skin.
Expecting to die, Bodan released his berserker spirit. He didn’t even notice that he was still standing.
Mighty Axe swinging, the savage Bodan was lost in his fevered dance of death.
Standing back to back, the mighty Bodan and the psychotic Owlbear cut a bloody mess through the Dragon-born ranks.
None could stand against them.
On seeing their leader survive the magical energy field, all his waiting orcs charged forward.
The Black-cloaks rained lightning and thunder upon them…
But on they ran.
The wretched Kobolds threw so many javelins at them, that the sky turned dark…
But on they ran.
But when they ran through the barrier…
These orcs were brave but most of them lacked even a measure of Bodan’s toughness. His resilience in the face of unwinnable odds.
More than half their number fell to the evil Dragon magic but on they came, throwing themselves at all enemies.
In the midst of them all, covered in blood, Bodan found himself panting with exhaustion. All his enemies lay dead around him and only the sound of the growling owlbear behind him broke the eerie silence.
Locking eyes with the amber-eyed monster, held out of reach by the metal pole connected to his waist and the creature’s neck, Bodan unfastened his belt.
As it fell to the floor, the wild, Owlbear understood that it had been freed.
With a screeching howl the huge Owlbear blinked twice, turned and tromped back, seemingly unfazed, through the blue energy field and headed back toward the forest.
Bodan still felt the link they shared though.
No longer a link of chain and steel.
A link of understanding, ferocity and mutual respect.

Monday, December 10, 2012

A battle well thought


The Blue prince: Narcissus continues to flap his wings, even as he steadies his breathing. Should he hold his position, high above his aggressors or should he dive into his secure den?
It’s only been a few moments since the attack began but already his personal guard’s been devastated.
Even one of his devils has been dismissed.
Still, his other troops will already be on their way to help.
...
His troops that are all currently positioned half-a-mile away, spread between all the towers.
It’ll take them too long to get back!
And, if they leave their defensive positions, the advancing orc horde will have an easier time breaching the cities defences.
Now Narcissus understands the mercenaries timing.
They had depended upon his arrogance.
He had allowed them into the heart of his kingdom.
Into his very throne room, while the majority of his soldiers were too far away to defend him.
Clever little monkeys!
With the keen eyes of a flying predator, Narcissus looks down at the mercenaries again.
He sees at least one bow slung over one of their shoulders.
Injured as he is, he can’t risk one or two lucky shots.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Warfare is based on deception


Standing at the head of his army, Aurelius breaks though the last of the trees and organizes his troops along the dirt road.
Three hundred orcs.
Three hundred fighting orcs!
Ten times the number he’s been used to commanding.
It’s a shockingly large number and he knows that every one of them will give their all in the upcoming battle.
Khajag is still hours away but Aurelius knows that the Blue prince’s dragon-born troops will already be waiting for them. He made no attempt to hide from the ever-present raven familiars circling overhead.
Narcissus will know they’re coming.
That was their primary objective though. To trick Narcissus into posting his forces away from his palace. To deprive the young dragon of support when his chief Orestes strikes.
Noon tomorrow.
Camp is set, fires are made and food is cooked.
No reason for subtlety.
Aurelius can’t rest though. He has struggled for two days to come up with a plan that will enable some of his brave orcs survival.
The battle, though vital, is unwinable.
Three hundred orcs verses at least four times that number of spell-casting Black-cloaks and Dragon-born warriors. And that’s not even including the thousand odd kobold skirmishers.
He does have two advantages though:
The first is that the blue barrier, though impressive, isn’t actually a barrier at all. It may stop living creatures passing through but it does nothing to prevent arrows or bolts.
The second is that although Narcissus’ troops massively outnumber his own, they will have to spread themselves thinly around the whole city.
Advantages true but still not enough to win…

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Battle insight


The Black cloak Scylus, stands at his post atop the twenty-third tower and surveys the land ahead of him.
Unwelcoming but not so barren as to be unfarmable. Lucky for the wretched humans really. Most of them were originally miners but they’re now forced to work the mean fields to provide food for Narcissus, the Dragon-born troops, his fellow Black cloaks and, of course, the annoying kobolds.
It's hard for him to believe that these creatures are his kin.
His shift will last twelve hours.
Long but hardly taxing. All he has to do is maintain the barrier spell that protects this section of Khajag.
For company, he has one of the Dragon-borns. Although stupid, they are useful.
Looking to his left and right, Scylus can see two of his fellows atop their towers.
He doesn’t smile.
Black cloaks mustn’t give in to their human urges. Their unemotional dragon-blood must rule.
Although he knows the distance between the centre of the towers is precisely one hundred feet, he’s never tested it.
Perhaps he’ll never need to…

Thursday, November 8, 2012

It’s my party and I’ll scry if I want to


The young, blue dragon Narcissus raises his majestic head at the approach of the serious looking Black cloak.
As he drags his attention away from the servants, his irritation is obvious. They were in the middle of  presenting the seating arrangements for the first of the feasts.
‘Sire, I’m sorry to interrupt your festival planning but we’ve had word back from one of the mercenary groups you sent out.’
The dragon’s sinuous neck stretches out.
‘And?’ he hisses.
The Black cloak licks his thin lips.
‘And they appear to have found the orc camp you’ve been searching for.’
The blue dragon grinds his pointed teeth, sending sparks arcing around them.
Looking around at his four guardian demons, he signals them to bring forth his mirror.
Originally this mirror was meant as a way to converse with his mother but it has other uses.
The four, barely dressed, demons, carry the large mirror by its wrought-iron frame before their master.
‘Show me Fasssel wood.’
An image appears in the silvered glass. It’s the wood from above and everything looks, as it should do.
Narcissus peers closer. ‘Sshow me…’
He stops and turns back to the Black cloak. ‘What iss the name of this mercenary?’
The Black cloak looks down at a piece of parchment he has in his hand.
‘The message if from a Ranger, named ‘Clayton’ your mightifulness.’
The polished scaled head of Narcissus returns to the massive mirror.
‘Sshow me where the Ranger Clayton is hidden in Fasssel wood!’
The image in the magical mirror shifts until it refocuses on a small band of unaware adventurers.
‘Rissse up and show me the forest from above…’ commands the dragon and sure enough the scene changes again to that of the woodland canopy.
The Black cloak can’t help himself and leans forward for a better look. His magic is better than most of his contemporaries but even he gasps as he realises what he’s seeing.
The canopy of the trees is slightly translucent…
‘Sscroll down’ commands the, suddenly interested, dragon prince.
As the unseen eye floats down through the illusionary leaves though, the image distorts and then fades to black.
There is definitely something there but whatever it is, there are enchantments in place to prevent scrying.
‘Send reinforcements to Clayton’s position. Do it now!’
The Black cloak scurries away confused. How is it that a group of orcs, regardless of how large, can organise magics powerful enough to obstruct Thereanthor’s will? 

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Decorations and party flavours


It was only a few days until the celebrations would begin and Narcissus prowled his palace with barely concealed eagerness.
A weeks worth of enforced adoration.
He could hardly wait.
The streets and buildings had been cleaned and painted.
Blue and yellow bunting had been strung from every parapet.
Banners of his own image had been hung between rooftops.
The Dragon-born’s armour had been polished to reflective perfection.
The Black-cloaks were all freshly died to the nadir of darkness.
The lowly Kobolds were as clean as could be hoped for.
Even the Human vermin had been forcibly washed and given new burlap clothes to wear.
The Dwarves had delivered enough ale to supply the town for months.
The Elven musicians had arrived and the Halfling acrobats were already practicing in the market.
Of all these things though, it was the expectation of the tribute food he was anticipating the most.
What delicacies would his chefs’ prepare for him?
Narcissus’ diet had been reduced to brainless cows, sheep and chickens since he’d arrived in Khajag.
Running his sinuous tongue around the spaces between his razor-sharp teeth, the young Dragon imagines all the delicious treats that are in store for him…

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Diamond another day


As Dokan wanders unmolested, around the delineated orc sub-camps, he feels the demonic part of him whisper...
‘So many orcs! So much easy wealth to be had!’
This is no surprise to him. It’s the price he has to pay for his bisected soul.
A Tiefling Paladin.
Oddly, he is not that unusual amongst his people.
A rarity to be sure but not unheard of.
He wonders what the amassed army of orcs and their gnomish ‘helpers’ would think if they knew about his meeting with the young dragon?
Narcissus had behaved exactly as he’d expected him to act…
Arrogance was a trait that all dragons shared.
As a dragon prince in line to the throne of all of Fissa; how could he be anything else?
Dokan’s mind wanders back to the list of names on the Black cloaks scroll:
The dead Morten had been on it.
5,000 gold pieces worth of diamonds for a head they already had!
It’d be so easy to claim.
Aurelius and Bodan, the two other orcs that had fought for the right to rule the 'Broken-lance' clan were also on the list.
Another 5,000 gold pieces for Aurelius and double that for the hulking Bodan.
In conversation he’d also heard mention of some of the other ‘wanted’ names in the other camps.
‘Auzoux’ had already been crowned Chief of the ‘Blood-bottlers’ and ‘Knut’ and ‘Ragnar’ were due to be coronated chiefs of the ‘Meat-drippers’ and the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’.
Looking around the thousands of orcs, Dokan was pretty sure the other named orcs would also be near somewhere. Possibly within the ranks of the remaining reformed clan, the ‘Bone-crunchers’.
‘Unger’, ‘Harang’, ‘Stig’ and ‘Viggo’.
20,000 gold pieces just for those four!
Then, despite his wishes, Dokan's thoughts stray to the hundred and sixty eight decapitated orc heads, sitting ready in a wagon by ‘Mallyx’ the, now dead, black dragon-born’s camp.
That’s 1,680 gold pieces worth of diamonds, just sitting there!
Closing his eyes and shaking his horns, Dokan forces the thought from his head.
Giving in to temptation is not the way of paladins.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Skynet


The normally cynical Charlie Stilton, wanders around the massive encampment with thinly disguised awe on his face.
The more he’s seen of the orcs and gnomes, the more impressed he’d become.
Impressed that such contrasting peoples could find a way (even temporarily) to co-exist.
The Orcs were big, brutish and easy to anger.
The Gnomes were almost as small as he was but jovial and amicable.
Yet, they not only tolerated each other but were actively interacting. They really did seem to be working together in a common cause.
Still the dichotomy between them was jarring. Brightly patterned and designed silk tents, fascinating air-ships and alchemic powered devices set between dull hide teepees and crudely constructed, wooden animal carts.
The athletic little Halfling sauntered towards the periphery of the camp. After encountering the Snowlbears, the confounding mist machines, the oblivion moss and the orc guards, he felt confident that no mercenaries would be able to blunder through to this clearing in any troubling number.
Charlie then looked up at the open sky above him…
How though, were the Gnomes keeping themselves hidden from above?
There are illusions in place to disguise the fires. He can even see the half-visible illusionary tree canopy above him. But surely they can't be enough?
The Black cloaks have raven familiars that would eventually see through the spells...
Squinting at the real trees surrounding the clearing, the Halfling glimpses something glinting through the branches…
Another Gnomish contraption?
Just then, a large wood pigeon flies through the illusionary tree line.
Charlie sees a momentary flash from one of the other treetops…
What was that?
Lightning?
The smoldering bird, wings folded, plummets to the ground, just to be guzzled up by an opportunist guard dog.
‘Aaaah’ smiles Charlie Stilton. Confidence fills him as he realises why no aerial spies have been able to spot the camp and report back to the dragon prince.

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Episode: 2)


Leaving his erstwhile teammates: Indigo and Orestes behind to explore the woods, Dokan and the diminutive Zavia rode on towards Khajag.

Khajag, as far as they knew was just a mining town. A profitable, diamond mining town but just that. Recently though, it has been bequeathed by the tyrant Thereanthor to one of her four children: Narciss.
As they journeyed on, a leather clad, Halfling called out to them from behind. He seemed cocky but not threatening. 

After he’d managed to catch up, the Halfling introduced himself as ‘Charlie Stilton’ and invited himself along for the journey. He was originally from Fewham and had followed after the adventurers as he’d lost confidence in the protection the ‘captive’ dragon: Sybille had giving the town.

They arrived at the outskirts of Khajag about a day-and-a-half later. Just farming outposts but, weirdly, worked by human slaves overseen by kobolds.
Some of the kobolds, the bigger ones, rode upon strange dog-like mounts.

The kobolds gathered in number before approaching Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton. They overtly threatened and insulted the gnomess Zavia but she refused to let herself be provoked and eventually the three adventures were shown to the town’s outer ‘wall’.

A gatehouse, complete with an iron portcullis stood astride the main road into the town. It was stone-built, ornate and impressive. What was most odd about it though, was that there were no walls on either side. Rather a shimmering field of blue light.
Tall stone towers interrupted the sheets of crackling energy at regular, mile wide intervals. Each one manned by a Black cloak and a couple of blue Dragon-borns.

After a brief conversation with the Black cloak atop the main gatehouse, Dokan, Zavia and Stilton were allowed through the gate to meet with Narciss himself.
As they walked toward the newly built palace, Charlie Stilton and the others noticed how poorly treated the humans were. Everything in the burgeoning town of Khajag had been built on the whipped backs of the human slaves.

The central palace was huge in relation to the town itself. Grand but overblown. It was made mostly of white marble but had domes and decorations of vivid blue.

After dealing with a few underlings, the adventurers were surprised to be shown directly into the blue prince’s throne room§. Here they found the young dragon talking lazily to one of his mother’s Black cloaks. The room itself was colossal and, at its zenith, the domed roof reached over 50’ high!
Despite this, the dome was supported by highly decorated ribs at the circumference of the room rather than interrupting columns. Each rib denoted one of the many races of Fissa, their intertwined bodies and faces in expressions of painful subjugation. At the very top of the dome, where the ribs met, was a huge, decorative, stone boss. A boss that showed Narciss breathing lightning at the hairless monkey races.

After making them wait for a few minutes, the young dragon uncurled himself from his specially made throne and summoned the three adventures forward.

Although still young, he was already the size of a large horse but when he spoke, his voice was like a rasping whisper. Like wind over gravel.
The young Dragon told them that he’d ‘ordered them here to help stamp out a large and illegal gathering of orcs. Possibly in their thousands’.
He explained that ‘He could get help from his mother, the tyrant queen, but her troops would take weeks to arrive and he’d elected not to wait’.
He also explained his frustration with his scryers. ‘For some reason, despite numerous reports of orc sightings, they cannot locate them’.
Narciss ordered the three adventurers to ‘Go out to Fasel wood. Find the orcs and kill as many of them as possible’.

It was only then that a wretched looking human clerk shuffles forward and presents Dokan with a scroll with a reward list on it…

Ten gold pieces worth of diamonds per confirmed normal orc grunt killed but larger amounts for ten particular orcs, who are known troublemakers.
Five thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for known troublemakers: Morten, Ragnar, Knut. Aurelius, Unger, Harang, Stig and Viggo.
Ten thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for Bodan and Auzoux. Two especially dangerous orcs. Orcs who are inspiring their kin toward open rebellion.

After they were dismissed by the young dragon prince, Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton had a quick look around on their way out of the town/city.

The main entrance to the main diamond mine was located at the far edge of the town but still within the confines of the blue energy shield. It was unsurprisingly well guarded, as were several other building.
The trio of adventurers also saw the humans being openly mistreated by the kobold overseers. Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton did nothing to prevent this though as it would have caused direct conflict with the Dragon-borns and Black-cloaks.

As they were escorted back to the main gate, Charlie Stilton, on viewing the shimmering blue energy field, asked one of the nearby kobolds what the shields did. Happy to explain, four of the kobolds dragged over a human slave and threw him through the barrier.
The translucent blue field didn’t prevent him passing through it but his electrified body was quite dead when it fell on the other side.

From one of the nearby doorways, a woman wailed in despair. Her husband had been killed just as a cruel example.

Slightly disturbed but unwilling to kill the culprits, Dokan, Charlie Stilton and Zavia headed out and away from Khajag.

They made camp that night at the edge of the forest. In the morning, they headed in.
It was late that afternoon when the Halfling cleverly noticed a pit trap. Not that wide but spiked at the bottom and deep enough to prevent easy escape.
The diminutive Charlie Stilton and Zavia found themselves somewhere to hide while the well-armoured Dokan triggered the clanking bell alarm.

After a few minutes a huge black scaled dragon-born arrived. He was wary due to the ongoing bell and flanked by two humans. A well-armoured warrior and a mysterious looking sorceress.
These three were the survivors of the mercenary group Dokan had fought on-route to ‘saving’ Lady Sybille from the Black cloak tower near Fewham.
They had proved themselves tough and now it looked as if Dokan was facing them alone. Mallyx, the dragon-born signaled his human teammate forward but he was surprised by a sneak attack from the well-concealed Charlie Stilton.

Realising it was a trap, the black dragon born and the sorceress rushed to help. The battle was closely fought and Dokan looked in trouble until the little Gnomess, illusionist: Zavia managed to fool the Dragon-born into stepping onto his own pit trap.
Down he fell, soon followed by his underlings.
Zavia sealed the pit with an illusionary but unassailable metal lid, effectively trapping the three mercenaries. It was a simple matter then, for the rogue and the paladin to finish them off with crossbow bolts and daggers.

After a brief rest, the three adventurers stripped the mercenaries of all their valuable equipment and searched to area. They found dozens of pit traps and, eventually, Mallyx’s camp. Tents, a prepared but unlit fire and a wagon containing a hundred and sixty eight severed orc heads. The bodies were to be found dumped down a natural, open pit.

Despite the distasteful nature of the campsite, the three adventurers decided to stay there overnight and to look for Orestes and Indigo in the morning.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Blue impediment


Nearly two centuries ago, after hundreds of years of research, Theranthor discovered a way to reopen one of the portals back to this world.
It was dangerous and would involve tremendous amounts of primordial energy but it was possible.
After decades of work, she was able to prise open a crack between worlds. Wide enough to send telepathic messages through to those who were both sensitive enough and had dragon blood coursing through their veins.
Slowly she recruited an army. Secretly at first but slowly more overt.
Sorcerers all and zealots to her cause.
It took time but time was something Thereanthor had plenty of.
Slightly over a century later, she was ready.
Ready to rule again after a millennia of surviving in this barren wasteland.
Ready to rule over the squirming masses of small and inferior creatures.
After preparing her minions, Thereanthor ordered them to begin the ritual needed to enable her return.
The skies ripped.
The ground shock.
The portal shimmered and, for the first time in their devoted service, the Black cloaks gazed upon the terrifying face of their mistress.
Then the portal collapsed.
Enraged, Thereanthor threw herself at the stoney ground and screamed at the heavens above.

Friday, March 16, 2012

That’s the way to do it

Taking in the group of adventurers in front of him, Vogir sighs deeply.
It was a good plan. A plan that he himself would have considered, had the opportunity presented itself.
These five brigands have been waiting here, just outside the scope of the Black cloak tower, in the hopes of wresting the rescued Sibylle from the undoubtedly wounded arms of whichever group was successful.
It wasn’t just a good plan.
It was a VERY good plan.
Thankfully Rudha-an’s insightfulness, coupled with his own cynicism had lifted the veil of deception from his teammates eyes.
Rudha-an’s spirit panther was about to spring.
It wouldn’t be alone.