Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Aporkalypse: A Slow Roast

Famine sighed when the fighter lying in front of his feet opened his eyes again and shouted to Death "Why won't he just die?"

The fight with Francis Bacon had taken its toll of the two primal swordsmen. Death had just managed to stand up again after a blow from the Warpig's defender had knocked him unconscious. Clearly less in rage he had managed to get back to full health with Pestilence's help before another hit of the cleric had injured him again. Francis Bacon who likewise was kept alive by his cleric also had just come back to life again after War's fire hawk had knocked him out. All fighters seemed to get tired and the attacks less powerful but apart from aching muscles Famine was still without a scratch and his thundering attacks still hitting hard. Famine looked over his shoulder to War who seemed to move in on the cleric. Good! Somebody had to get the dwarf busy or they could be here till after sunset playing knock-the-fighting-tumbler-down.

Famine looked at Death again. He had been afraid that his friend could have bitten off more again than he could chew, but the Barbarian looked healthy and focused again. With the help of Pestilence's eagle spirit they would be able now to deal ever increasingly strong blows. The seconds of the fighter should be counted! He could feel the primal power building up behind him again. Pestilence was still going strong and with her the spirit. A combined attack again should be enough to finally end this battle and keep the cleric for dessert! With the help of the primal power emanating from the spirit, Death's sword rose again and the well-known smile came back to his face when he looked down onto his prone opponent.....

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The Iron Giant

After destroying the weird automatons, Vogir watched as the Dwarf: Bayern activated the massive Dwarf-like golem.
Grinding to ‘life’, the creature lumbered over to the giant lever in the centre of the room.
Not waiting for further instruction, Ghanash then ran back down towards the blocked corridor. Vogir and Rudha-an in close pursuit.
The Dwarf would have to catch up, as would the elusive Tiefling temptress.
Standing back from the slowly rising block of stone, Vogir smells the stench of orc before he hears the grating sound of their voices.
With longbow in hand, Vogir starts to drop back down the corridor.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Talk of the Devil

The Tall Tiefling keeps his eyes firmly downcast as he reports back to his Master.
‘I don’t understand why you are being so generous Master. The Human is contemptuous of your gift. He takes it and laughs at you behind your back.’
The voice above him chuckles.
‘You think he only laughs ‘behind my back’? Why Vogir isn’t at all shy about sharing his feelings for me.’
The Tiefling shivers. His Master is horribly unpredictable but powerful enough to end his life with but a thought.
With a massive but slow gesture, the huge demon spreads his arms wide.
‘Ever since his Grandfather unwittingly freed me from this prison, I’ve waited for an opportunity to corrupt him. His Great grandfather Estaban was eminently corruptible, but his Grandfather Mendez was too noble to fall to me. The Human even had the nerve to challenge me while I remained on his realm!’
‘Is that why you want his soul Master?’
The Demon is silent for a moment. ‘Yes. Well, mostly yes. His Father didn’t venture from the family so I couldn’t claim him, but young Vogir has enough hate in him to fall.’
‘But how will you do it Master?’
‘Simple. I’ve given him a small taste of my power. Soon he’ll want more, but this time it’ll cost him.’
‘His soul?’
‘No. Not yet. Let’s see if he’ll swap some of his hard earned skill for some easy eldritch energy?’
Unbeknownst to the Tiefling, his master’s grin widens frighteningly.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Aporkalypse: Starter and Antipasti

The head of Reggie McGammon's head rolled past Famine's feet and he followed it with his eyes for a while before looking at Death. His friend had an evil grin while he licked the blood of his fullblade "Tastes like chicken!" It had only taken him one hit to slice the Halfling in two and Famine could tell that Death now was on a mission.
Pestilence just moved round the corner to look at the first dead opponent when she could see the wizard appearing behind Death in the distance. A magic force orb hit death from the side who roared with rage. Famine started to run around the corner towards the Deva and could also see War moving the same direction. The Deva had made the mistake to stay away from his comrades and presented an easy target.
A javelin shot past Famine's face and he could see the Goliath appearing in between the trees together with the cleric. He could see Pestilence's eagle darting down but the Deva managed to avoid its claws. Famine just thought that they have to get to the Wizard before his friends could when he heard a roar from behind coming closer. Coming closer very fast!! Famine smiled when Death flew past him with a roar while bringing down his sword, planting his fullblade deeply in the Wizard's body. Before Famine could catch up, Death had brought his sword down three times, the Wizard's body lying shattered on the ground in front of him. Famine could see the Deva was still breathing and quickly finished him off with his broadsword. "My kill!"
He smiled at Death who had his blade still raised above his head for the final blow, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Famine in disbelief!

His attention was only diverted when a divine burst from the cleric exploded around Death. Both fighters looked towards the already retreating dwarf and saw Francis Bacon charging towards them. His weapon missed Death who still tried to shake off the effects of the clerics attack. Death demonstratively ignoring the attack from the massive fighter looked over to Famine "This one is mine!" Famine bowed and pointed his hand towards the attacker.
"Be my guest! There seems to be enough meat for both of us!"

[Warpigs lost the rogue and the wizard who both only got one attack of which only the wizard's hit Death. The cleric is 15 squares away, the Goliath is next to Famine and Death with Pestilence and War in range . Team Apokalypse is fully healed again next turn and apart from Pestilence all still have their action point and most major powers remaining. Chances are, they won't be late for dinner! All get a turn before the fighter's turn....]

Retracting the Fangs

Niema could feel her anger receding and her form turning back to normal while the spider in front of her fell to the floor. Pulling the sword out of the now lifeless body she whispered "May the Raven Queen grant you entrance!" and looked up. The eyes of Orestes and Ghanash were fixed on her, both staring at her in disbelief. She turned the sword back to a dagger, put it back into the sheath under her arm, closed her eyes while taking a deep breath and looked up.
"I'm sorry you had to see me like this. The blood of my ancestors is running deep in my veins and sometimes it is difficult to control in moments of anger. I apologise for losing my temper and hope you can forgive me!"
She brushed down her coat to get rid of the last signs of her transformation and started to bow towards the still speechless adventurers
"You fought with much skill and valour and I'm honoured to be allowed to travel with you!"
While coming up again, her hope was that the Dragonborn didn't see that the bow was directed mainly at the Half-Orc. Despite all her training in deception, she still could not force herself to bow to one of them.

When Verlorien's face appeared over the edge of the crevice she walked towards them and in a low voice and lowered head said "I'm very embarrassed that you had to see me like this. I would be grateful if we could leave the others blissfully ignorant? It is not the side of me I necessarily like others to know about!"
She respectfully nodded to both of them and following the shadow link between Ghanash and Velorien to step out of Verloriens shadow at the top.

Arrows of outrageous fortune

The uninjured Vogir stands still for a moment as he suppresses a shudder of revulsion.
The giant spider lies dead at his feet.
He was lucky. It was killed before he'd even had a chance to defend himself from its freakish leap.
One of his companions was responsible for the help, and although he hopes it was Bayern, he somehow knows it was the Eladrin.
Being indebted to a ‘Tourist’ makes it that much harder to hate them.
Especially when that 'Tourist' is obviously mourning his dead cousin.
After making sure everyone else is safe, Vogir checks his supply of arrows.
Only two encounters in and he’s already burned through nearly half of his original three quivers worth.
It’s obvious now, that his Grandfather was right. A Longbow and enough distance will make for an easy battle.
The only problem is, that you have to be able to carry an infinite supply of arrows.
Muttering to himself, Vogir scans the gloomy tunnels, looking for any of the arrows that missed their target.
Some of them may still be usable.

(Vogir recovers 3 arrows.)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Big Question

Turning to Bayern, Vogir whispers, ‘Why is the ground shaking and why is that entrance so big?’
Putting his hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder to prevent him going further toward the massive opening, Vogir leans down again.
‘I realise Dwarven architecture is often overblown, but that’s ridiculous. An ancient Dragon could easily wander in and out of there without even furling its wings!’
Realising that he might offend the healer, Vogir presses on anyway.
‘This looks more like it was made by the hands of giants. At least originally. ‘
And then just to annoy the Dwarf, Vogir pushes on further.
‘And is it possible that Dwarven over mining has undermined this entire region?
With a smirk, Vogir strides off before Bayern can make a gruff retort.

Approach to Stonefang Pass

No sooner had the party set upon the road again when an enormous tremor shook the very earth they stood on. Ghanash shouted for everyone to look out as he noticed rocks falling from the precipitous slope just the other side of the bridge - and not a moment too soon.

The party hurried along the path as soon as they regained their, by now, somewhat shattered composure.
"The sooner we are in the safety of the mountain pass the better, if you ask me." grumbled Bayern
"Saftey! With the earth shaking like that - you must be mad.". Velorian was not the only one who felt that way.

As they walked along, the path - which had already turned sharply to the left - now dropped rapidly so that they found themselves climbing down the face of a cliff with the waterfall majestically plunging to a enormous plunge-pool 200 feet below them.

At the bottom, there senses could not take in the next sight for some moments. On the other side of the waterfall, cut deep into the cliff face, were the monumental statues of two enormous giants. Carved straight out of the cliff itself by a skill unimaginable to those who saw it, thegiants seemed to be holding aloft the entire mountain itself.

And between them was the opening they had sought. Stonefang Pass. 160 feet high and 120 wide it was the most cavernous of mouths. They had been told that this pass continued for 20 or 30 miles through to the other side of the Ironwall mountains.

Awe-struck, the adventurers strode forward into the belly of Stonefang ....

Monday, November 15, 2010

Aporkalypse: The Preparation

"Look at them! Looking at the big guy we might need bigger skewers!"
Death had to chuckle because of his own joke and looked to Famine
"Maybe you won't be hungry anymore after tonight, brother!"
With this sentence he burst out in laughter and took a deep breath when Famines elbow buried itself deep in his side.
Pestilence looked over to the opponent's corner. "Don't underestimate them. There is a Deva amongst them and the dwarf looks like he is a healer"
"We might have to shave him before the roast, you won't be able to get all the hairs out of your teeth!" Pestilence gave War a sharp look who immediately shut up.
"Ok, everybody knows what they have to do. Stay together and do what the spirits have taught us! In the name of the great spirits: Let's move!"

With the command by Pestilence the group started moving towards the ruins. The battlefield had been changed since they'd last been summoned and it now granted more cover. They moved quickly through the ruins, out of sight of the enemy. Pestilence closed her eyes and called forth a spirit of an eagle to fly though the open areas and look for the enemy who also had vanished. Soon she spotted them behind trees moving upwards. She waved the others to stop and whispered "They move up north! But I can only spot three of them. The small one is missing!"
She looked around a bit more and suddenly the eagle spotted the Halfling just on the other side of the wall. She'd just tried to signal Death and Famine when the Halfling came through a doorway and looked into Death's smiling face. The small rogue staggered back and tried to attack Death who just shrugged it off, his smile widening. Before Death was able to lift his massive fullblade, he could see War's firehawk appearing above the opponent's head, attacking with his claws. The hawk was trained to hover above its opponent after the strike and attack as soon as another opportunity presented itself. Death had his fullblade above his head and prepared to run when a massive blow from Famine, who had charged through the building, almost took the Halfling off his feet.
Death looked annoyed! He had found the Halfling! Feeling the rage building up inside him, he darted forward, his sword in full swing..........

[Day one over, mostly moving until the rogue encountered Team Apocalypse in the ruins and unfortunately far away from his friends. He managed to survive an at-will range attack by War and a charge by Famine but already took damage (14 I think) and the chances of them coming to his help before Death is upon him are slim to none]

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Pork a la Apocalypse

Death looked up when Pestilence entered the room. From how the tendrils were moving he could tell she was excited. Also Famine had noticed it and turned his head to face her.
"Get up boys! The spirits have spoken to me and I can smell bacon in our near future!"
Death raised an eyebrow and looked at Famine who looked confused as well.
A skull of a ram came through the small door at the back of the room, followed by the rest of War.
"Bacon? Did somebody say something about bacon?"
Pestilence started smiling "Now that I have your full attention: We have been challenged again! After these devils got away with a draw last time because of War's failure to dodge a few blasts and Death's inability to hit a barn with a fullblade, the Gods give us another chance to finally show the spirits that we are worth their trust!"
Death jumped up and darted towards Pestilence the fullblade in full swing. Pestilence turned her head and looked towards Death. "Yes?"
"I thought so!"
The fullblade's tip dropped to the ground and the massive shape of Death trudged back to the table, the dislodged skull of the lion on his head hanging on one side. Pestilence could hear him mumble to his sword after he sat down again with his sword on his lap. "Yes, I know she is wrong, but do you want to speak up against her?" She smiled.

"So get ready. We will be summoned soon and I promised the spirits that we will put the new powers to good use!"
"But what does all of that have to do with bacon? And what are the challengers called?"
Pestilence looked at War and started smiling

Five minutes later she could still hear the laughs thundering through the forest. Time to look for a good recipe......

Song to Vogir

Your post inspired me to poetry:

Vogir was the one,
--- who boldly jumped, the broken bridge
Vogir was the one,
--- who shot and killed, the Hippogryff
Vogir was the one,
--- who grievously injured, the Shooting Fish

Sing to Vogir, Striker pure
Sing to Vogir, Our Saviour sure

Vogir was the one,
--- when the horse-cum-bird, came screeching down
Vogir it left prone,
--- but he ran it through, and stood up proud
Vogir was the one,
--- who bow in hand, vanquished all

Sing to Vogir, brave Defender
Sing to Vogir, Ego as Fender

In the battle,
--- the brave and foolish fall ,
The cowardly die,
--- but Vogir stands tall

Sing to Vogir, stout hearted fellow
Sing to Vogir, all colours but yellow.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010


Actually maybe Vogir does like her after all...

First Impressions

Niema healed herself and looked around. It had been a quick battle and it had been difficult to hide her abilities from the others without getting hurt too much. It was the first fight she saw the group fighting and it was time for a quick analysis.
The dwarf definitely was the one to stay close to. His spells had been useful and a healer is always a good thing to have around you. She would have to be careful to keep him on her side.
The Eladrin seemed to be a powerful fighter who had the ability to use teleportation which made him a useful tool but was also a bit reckless at times. The death of his cousin still seemed to affect him and maybe kept him from keeping a clear head for the fight.
Celestes, well, was a half-orc and for that had fought well. Niema didn't think much of orcs. They made good meat shields but needed a strong hand to lead them. Jumping into the river into the middle of the fish was an, lets say, interesting choice. The type of choices that get you killed quickly! But it enabled herself to move around almost freely behind his back.

Her gaze fell on the Dragonborn. He hadn't been there when she first met the group and had only joined again later. Niema hadn't talked to him yet. Dragonborns long ago had fought her race and were responsible for her people being nomads now and the hate was still rooted deep inside her. Her diabolic blood was boiling every time she looked at him. But the group seemed to think highly of him, so her options of getting rid of this nuisance without losing the group were slim. But as expected, he was a lousy fighter. He took the most damage and had to run from the attackers and hide behind a shed. So maybe this problem would solve itself soon.

While she was thinking about Ghanash, Vogir had joined the group again and gave her a probing look. Although being a male human, the type of people she normally had no problem manipulating, he seemed to keep his distance from her. His arrows had taken down the Hippogriffs and he clearly was the best ranged fighter in the group. He surely couldn't suspect anything! She couldn't afford to have him as opponent. She brushed down her dress and went straight for him with an enthusiastic voice:
"And here comes the hero who took down the Hippogriffs all by himself with his arrows! I haven't seen anybody for some time who was that proficient with a bow and made it look so easy! I'm honoured to have such an talented protector by my side!"

Fish and Hip(pogryph)s

Sheathing his two swords, Vogir kicks the carcass of the Hippogryph. Thanks to his arrows he’d managed to bring down both of them while his travelling companions had dealt with the curious, water squirting fish.

Examining his injuries, he waits for Bayern to cross the bridge and administer some aid.

Those Hawk/Horse creatures were tough but thankfully as stupid as the fish.

Shaking his head, he wonders about the twisted concept of bravery the others seem to share.

The Dragonborn Ghanash, acted in a way as to be expected, and the Orc Orestes too. But the others…

Velorian, seemingly lost without his cousin, acted rashly. He actually attempted to teleport up to the Hippogryph while in flight.
The following fall could easily have killed him…
Perhaps he’s feeling a bit suicidal?

The Tiefling: Niema is literally too dark to be trusted.
What was she doing in the dungeons of Winterhaven? She was certainly no sacrificial virgin, regardless of what she said… And she has magic.
Black magic.

Only the Dwarf Bayern has proven himself totally trustworthy. He ably supported the others with his encouragement, strong arms and healing spells.

Still, wading into the water after fish. What were they thinking?
Why don’t any of them have bows?

Sighing, Vogir wishes Zahig and Rudha-an had joined them. At least they know how to stay away from an enemy.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

In the shadows

After tricking the dumb group of males of assorted races into thinking that she was a helpless female (what little they know!) and using them to get to Winterhaven as something of a hero, Niema had, as is her way, slunk back into the background and the shadows. A neat trick when your leather dress normally causes guys to double take and trip up over their own toes.

She followed the activities of the group - focusing particularly on the human Vogir and the powerful but impressionable dwarf - hoping that they might have some interesting leads for her. But they were sedentary and wrapped up in the death of two of their friends. More weakness.

She had almost given up and gone her own way when she had heard that there was talk of the Stonefang Pass in the Ironwall mountain being reopened. Probably didn't mean much to the peasants around here, but it was a most significant connection to the rich lands beyond the mountains. Moreover, it was where she NEEDED to be.

A word in the ear of the squat cleric about the wonders of the dwarven work and the possibility of treasure in the mountains was all that was needed to set the group in motion - not just her group, but a vanguard - her personal army. Still, the army was lacking a little as there was no obvious fighter. Another small problem that it was easy for her to resolve ;)

Arrival in Timbervale

The scene was a somber but bizarre one. A tall rugged human standing next to a young boy, a svelt Eladrin, an imposing dragonborn warlord and an earthy druid dressed in animal fur. All with their heads lowered while a dwarf in the vestments of the silver dragon read slowly from his prepared eulogy.

It was not a funeral, as the Eladrin's body had already been returned to his grieving mother and the Paladin had no earthly remains over which to mourn. Still, it was what the friends wanted. Ghanash had returned for the wake along with Velorian who had returned not wanting to stay near his aunt and her somewhat violent grief.

When it was over Vogir thanked Bayern and went to talk to Ghanash to see if he was going to hang around for a while now that his other business had finished: The party needed a battle-leader now that Egil had passed.

Zahig, the boy wizard, however immediately caused further concern as he announced that he would be leaving for some time. He had been contacted by a friend of his old master - the man who showed him how to use magic to make life on the streets so much easier, and had let him study in his private laboratory and library. He had said that the old man had died and Zahig was to come to the reading of his will prepared for a long journey. Not two funerals for the boy but three.


A month has passed since that fateful day and now the adventurers, no longer satisfied with the boredom of everyday life, looked for their next challenge. Bayern wanted to head west beyond the Nentir vale towards the great mountains that lay far beyond the Stonemarch. His only reason was to find out more about the legendary dwarves that built epic structures in the great mountains known as the Ironwall.
Nobody could come up with a better idea, and it was certain that the further west they went, the more chance there was of finding sport of some kind.

Before they left they replenished their travelling stocks and were about to leave when the strange woman who they had saved from the maul of the terrible beast stopped them and asked if she could come along on their little trip. Niema argued that they would need someone who could scout and lookout for danger and knew a little about the country west of the Nentir vale. She could fight too - although none were willing to take her word on that one - where would you hide a sword in that dress!

But, she also offered another boon: she knew of a half-orc fighter that was looking to join a party of adventurers and that he would provide all the muscle that anyone could need.


So it was that Vogir, Bayern, Ghanash, Velorian, Niema, Rudha-an and Orestes walked into the town of Timbervale. Tucked close into the Ironwall mountains the party was sure they would find news of the ancient dwarves and their amazing structures. What they found though was not a thriving town at the hub of the most important trade-route in the region, but a dying community utterly cut-off and at the edge of the known world.

What had happened? What of the ancient trade route through the Ironwall Mountains? Maybe there was something to be done here after all!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Faster than the eye

Standing in the centre of his rented room above the tavern, Vogir tries again.
With blinding speed, he slings his bow over his shoulder and in a fluid motion, pulls both his swords from their sheaths.
It would be impressive were it not for the fact that the blades keep going. Escaping his grasp, they embed themselves in the wooden wall and floor.
With a grimace, Vogir yanks the blades free and prepares to try again.

4th level Vogir learns the ‘Quick draw’ feat.
No more gathering up his dropped belongings after each skirmish.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Death of a tourist/Death of a hero

Vogir leans forward, his hands gripping his own thighs for support. His heavy panting sounding loud in the silence after the battle.
Despite using his corpse as a counter weight while riding down the rope, it’s only now that Vogir actually realises that Daelagor is dead.
He had been so angry at his own failure to support the Eladrin, that he literally lowered himself into death’s maw.
He had been wounded by the two opportunist skeletal creatures even before he’d managed to reach the bloody ground.
Unsurprisingly, it had been the noble Egil that was the first to follow him down.
Equally unsurprising the Paladin had been the next to die.
Mostly everyone had joined in the melee by then but the enemy were too powerful.
Kalarel seemed impossible to hurt and his undead minions unnervingly strong.
It was only Vogir’s own magical armour that kept him alive through blast after blast of necrotic energy.
Egil had managed to keep the evil priest occupied while the rest of the Party concentrated on his followers. By the time that Egil was lost, only three men, a dwarf and Daelagor's failed bodyguard: Velorian stood between Kalarel completing his rituals and freeing the thing writhing within the portal.
Egil lost to the tentacles of the monstrous creature itself!
Bayern, Zahig, Velorian and Rudha-an turned their attention to Kalarel, enabling Vogir to dispatch the last of his underlings. Then the battle became five against one.
Good odds it would seem, but the cursed Priest refused to concede defeat.
Spell after spell battered the Party and all seemed lost when a sudden sword thrust found its target.
In the confusion, it was hard to tell who’s hand had been on the hilt of the killing thrust, but Vogir allowed himself the tight-lipped smile of revenge.
With a screech of rage, the portal collapsed and Winterhaven was saved.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Quoth the Raven, "Oncemore!"

She opened the window to welcome the morning sun. It was early and the sun was just rising above the mountains around the small village she was staying in. She took a deep breath of the fresh air. She had finished her last assignment earlier than expected four days ago and had enjoyed the free days. It had been a while. Seeing the raven on the roof opposite made her smile. Like clockwork as always. Seems that the holiday was over. She whistled the short melody and watched the raven take off and shortly after land on her window sill. Niema took the small cylinder of its leg and the raven followed her with a few jumps to the bedside table where she gave it a biscuit. Taking the magnifying glass from her pouch she started reading the encoded message on the parchment. After a few minutes she looked up and stared at the raven which, suddenly aware of the attention, stared back at her. "We both didn't think the easy jobs would continue forever, didn't we?" The raven rolled its head to the left and, deciding that the current situation wouldn't end with another biscuit, continued eating the first. Niema took a small piece of paper from her pouch, heated it slightly over the fire and pressed her signet ring into it. The raven holding out a web with its wings was clearly visible in the soft paper.

The winged messenger had left a few moments ago with her answer and Niema looked at her notes she had taken while studying the parchment again. This one would take a lot of preparation but the parchment already contained names and locations of contacts to get started. Ever since she got promoted and initiated into the current circle, the offered assignments were all long term. She sometimes missed the assignments she got on the lower levels. You left the building at dusk and were back before dawn. No preparation. No infiltrating complex organizations to even get near the target. Life was easy back then. But admittedly also boring once the excitement of the adrenalin rush made way for experience and routine.

She closed her small notebook and stepped over to the fire where she watched the small parchment burn until only small black flakes of ash were left. She turned around and looked at her naked body in the mirror. Her gaze went over the tattoos stretching from neck to ankle on her right side. Over the years, the black-inked pictures and symbols had become more and more numerous and intricate and had merged together over time to form a complex web of icons and scenes. She touched the picture of a raven taking off from a branch just above her waist. It was one of her first but still her favorite.

Putting on the black leather vest and the skin-tight shorts, she checked the position of the dagger underneath her left arm and made sure the quick release was working. While she was thinking about the first steps for the assignment she washed her face and the horns that curled back from the top of her skull to underneath her ears. She looked into the mirror. A cult of Orcus. It won't be easy to get in.

She took the silken black cape from the hook and looked at the prayer to the Raven Queen that was embroidered all along the edging in intricate silver letters. Her grandmistress had given it to her in the initiation ceremony. Brushing over the fabric with her hand she could see the shadows dancing over the surface between her fingers. She closed her eyes to feel the connection, feel the shadows. A calming feeling was spreading out though her body while she interacted with the shadows in the room, touching them, forming them.

A knock at the door pulled her out of the peaceful state. "Mylady? The breakfast is ready as you've requested!". She smiled, threw the cape over her shoulders, adjusted her long black hair to fall over the black surface of the cape which emphasized on the blue shimmer her hair always had and opened the door.
"Good morning, Liseri! Could you please ask the stable boy to get my horse ready? I'll be leaving after breakfast."
"I will tell him right away, Mylady! May I ask where you are going?"
"Winterhaven. And I won't be back for a while"

Back to the begining

With Redford and the remains of his family far behind him, Vogir eventually found his way to the faraway district of Highmarsh.
Still within the realm of the evil Blue Dragon, but only just.
The people here were the ones driven by a fierce need for independence and a thirst for freedom.
It’s a mostly Human frontier town, but the occasional Dwarf, Halfling or Elf aren’t that uncommon.
Vogir quickly found his place within the town. He was quick with a sword and had the strange confidence of someone who knew he had an ace up his sleeve.
Strong-arming and smuggling seemed natural to him.
Baron Redcloak was the minor noble in ‘charge’ of keeping order and collecting the taxes.
Typical of his type, he is money hungry, power hungry and without a shred of compassion for the people he’s meant to represent.
Still he isn’t as corrupt as some and he manages to keep the agents of the Blue dragon away from them.
Vogir had been there over a year before his reclusive life was so rudely interrupted by an Eladrin tourist and an over protective Dragonborn.
Other adventurers soon joined them and after successfully saving the children of the town, Vogir’s life took a turn toward danger and perhaps revenge…

Monday, November 1, 2010

Demonican standoff

Hunkering down with their backs pressed against the rough stone walls, the four Tieflings start to sweat.
‘Do you really think they’ll come in after us?’ whispers Belial.
‘It would be a massive mistake on their part’ responds Mastema through gritted teeth.
Seconds turn into minutes and Vorland call over the wall offering another chance of surrender.
It’s possibly that it’s this that alerts the sharp-eared Eladrin to their position.
He’s there in a moment, but as soon as Mastema sees him, she rushes forward.
It was only a glimpse, but screaming in rage, she barrels through the gap in the ruined masonry.
As soon as sees the Eladrin though, she’s hit by a blast of draconic power as the tiny Sorceress takes her opportunist shot.
Fortunately Mastema’s saved by her own demonic protective wards.
In a blind fury she sends two blasts of power at the startled looking Warlord. The first misses, but the second does not.
Belial sees her go and also charges forward.
He sees the Halfling and the Eladrin but not the Half-Orc…
A single arrow glances off his own magical protective shell.
The distance is quite far so he’s forced to run, but as soon as he gets to them, he summons up a void to Hell, passes through it and leaves the two Denim recruits to enjoy the following implosion.
Then Vorland sprints forward.
Two more blasts of energy leaves the Eladrin down!
All three of the attacking Tieflings feel their bodies lighten and float back out of danger.
Not to be left out though, Azazel rushes forward into the space left by her teammate’s sudden departure.
She fires her most powerful spell at the still standing Halfling.
The hellish witchfire should throw off her aim…
Her second blast finds it’s target though and the sneering little Sorceress goes down…
Floating back in misty form, Azazel hears the Half-Orcs angry voices.
Puffing and wheezing from the exertion, Vorland realises that, despite the loss of half their team, the Orcs still have the advantage…
Hoping that they’ll be reasonable, he offers the ‘Draw?’