Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The world's mightiest heroes!

Traveling through the veil to the other lands, the diabolic Belial searched for the three new members of his crew.
Knowing that he needed to find teammates whose abilities complimented rather than duplicated his own, Belial sought from races and groups very different from his own.
A lightning fast elf, a steadfast dwarf and a fearless dragon-born.
After months of training, there came a day, a day unlike any other, when the four mighty warriors found themselves united against the Angelic threat.
On that day, the Revengers were born - to fight the foes no single mortal could withstand...
Heed the call…

Internal Conflictions

Sat in his solar, Lord Patrick Rician looked out of the window in the direction of the Black Cloak's tower. Whilst all attempts at scrying for his kidnapped daughter had failed, he knew that she was there. He could feel it.

He thought back to the day that he had found her. She appeared small and weak, but even then one look in her bright blue eyes betrayed the potential that lay within. He had immediately seen the chance to free Fewham from Thereanthor's grasp, and taken it. She may have been adopted as a means to an end initially, but he had grown to love her as a true daughter, and she returned that love, he knew.

Whilst he felt conflicted about sending yet another group of adventurers to save his daughter, he was resolute in his decision. His daughter must be saved - not simply because he loved her (oh, how he missed Sibylle) - but for the good of Fewham as well.

This band of adventurers had been different, though. They had mentioned the Resistance against the dragon, and while his tenuous relationship with Thereanthor could not allow the resistance to operate in Fewham, he had sympathy with their aims.

Perhaps he could have told the party the truth.

Told them that she was not his real daughter - though he certainly loved her as one, and she loved him likewise in return.

Told them the full extent of his 'agreement' with the dragon.

Told them just how important Sibylle was in keeping the dragon's influence at bay.

Without Sibylle's presence, Fewham was almost certainly doomed to fall under Thereanthor's claw once news of her absence reached the capital...

Sending these adventurers to their possible deaths was a small price to pay for Sibylle's safe return, and for the good of the whole of Fewham. Whilst he didn't like the idea, he would do it again if he had to.

He was awakened from his thoughts by a knock at the door, and a voice from the outside.

"My Lord. Another group of adventurers has arrived, seeking an audience with you."

"Very well," Pat Rician replied with a resigned sigh "send them in..."

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Had the guts, got the glory!

The light of the many braziers was reflected by the white marble of the four statues. Three of the statues showed fighters wearing animal skulls or skins: Ram, lion, and Boar. They were arranged in a triangle facing inwards, around a statue depicting a beautiful female, wearing, what seemed to be only branches of poison ivy. Everybody knew their names:
and graceful Pestilence.
They were taken to the highest realm after winning the epic battle series of the Gods. Their battles were sung by the most famous bards at the courts of kings and queens and every child had heard how they crushed the hell spawn in an easy battle.
Now there was rumour that the Gods recruited teams for a new series!

In a magnificent great hall, Uriel looked at the statue of Death in awe. Gabriel approached him from behind, also looking up at the impressive sidplay "Isn't it incredible how fighters that were fed by primal energy could achieve such victory?"
"Yes, sister! They defeated the forces of evil by brute force. We've trained all our lives fighting evil, it should be a walk in the park for us!" a voice from behind the statue of Pestilence declared. Gabriel looked around and saw Raphael in an armour so shiny that she had to squint when he approached one of the braziers.
The three looked around. "So if we three were summoned, surely Michael should be here as well?"
"And of course he is. Who else should lead you three slobs into battle?" With a big grin the fourth fighter stepped into the triangle. "But make no mistake, the battles ain't gonna be easy. Whatever hell sends out this time might have learned from the failures of their predecessors. But Raphael is right: We exist to fight evil and did so all our lives. Nobody is better suited to beat whatever the 9 hells spits out!"

They looked down the long ancient hall of the Gods towards the four stone bases already waiting. Uriel winked at Gabriel and gestured towards them "Already thought about how your statue should look like?"

Friday, February 24, 2012

Belial of the Tiger

After their last, disastrous battle, Belial rounds on his leader.
“What do you mean ‘they won fair and square’?”
Vorland, with the look of an old wolf, ready to die, simply sighs.
“We did our best and they slaughtered us. What else is there to say?”
Mastema and Azazel don’t even bother to look up.
“We didn’t lose because they were better than us. We lost because of your poor leadership!”
Vorland merely shrugs.
“Perhaps you’re right, but what does it matter now?”
Belial sticks his bottom lip out.
“We were too cocky. We were so busy talking trash and shagging each other, that we didn’t bother to train. We weren’t hungry enough.”
Vorland lets his head fall again. “Look, we’re out. If you want to carry on fine, but you’ll need to find a new team. A more balanced team that can’t all be taken down by the same opponent.”
Standing up, Belial ponders his erstwhile leader's comment for a moment... “I think I may know exactly the right people.”

Dun, dun, duunnnn!

Dun, dun, dunn!

Dun, dun, dun!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Dead friends with benefits

Riding back from the pine forest, Vogir feels his heart lighten.
Ghanash has gone on to the afterlife he so craved and has no need for any of his old weapons and equipment.
The deal he’d made with the traveling trader was poor, but it was better than nothing and his spare horse was still under a greater strain than she’d been on the way out.
Magical armour and axes weigh much less than even a fifth their value in gold.
Once back in town, Vogir seeks out Dokan, Rudha-an and Indigo to give them their share.
He could cheat them now, but frankly he’s not really interested in gold so why bother?
Unsurprisingly, he finds them all in the local tavern run by Linnea, a blond-haired, overly friendly, middle-aged widow.
The others find her fussing a little annoying, but Rudha-an seems to be loving it.
“Well boys, set up the drinks while I divvy this all out.”
The others smile and drink to the Dragon-born's memory as Vogir hands out his gold.

Dokan gets 10pp, 3,868gp, 2sp and 5cp.
Indigo gets 10pp, 3,868gp, 2sp and 5cp.
Rudha-an gets 10pp, 3,868gp, 2sp and 5cp.
Vogir gets 10pp, 3,868gp, 2sp and 5cp.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Behind Blue Eyes

In her dreams she soared. High up in the pale blue sky, she looked down on the palace and town below. She saw her friends and her family waving up at her. The townsfolk, likewise, wondered at her passing, and shouted greetings of love at adoration to her. But then the faces of the people people began to melt, the sky turned red as blood and then to black. She tumbled from the sky, limbs flailing uncontrollably and just before hitting the ground she woke with a start.

Opening her eyes she realised that morning had broken. It was no wonder that she had had such troubled dreams. The feathered mattress and silken sheets were a far cry from the comforts she had once known and she ached all over.

She paced to the window and looked out upon another dark day. She could see the end of the swirling clouds in the near-distance. They did not cover the entire land, but encircled only this tower, held in place by some enigmatic power.

She was sure that her father would have tried to send help. The townsfolk had loved her in life as much as they had in her dream. She even thought that she had heard the sounds of a number of rescue attempts from far below, but none of them had succeeded. She thought of flinging herself to the ground far below so that no more brave souls would be lost trying to save her, but the gaps between the bars were too narrow for her to squeeze through.

She remembered the night they came for her - the men in the black cloaks. Silent as assassins they came, but more cruel. She would gladly have welcomed death than to be kept like a caged animal. How she longed for her old freedoms - to roam the countryside at will, to hunt with her friends, and to attend the parties in her honour.

Oh how she wished she could fly away - as in her dream - but it was no use. Even if she could fly, the bars held her back and besides, where would she go? She didn't know where she was. She didn't know the way home.

Her once sapphire eyes, now a dull blue, wept openly...

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Ghanash's sweet goodbye

In terms of treasure, Ghanash - having now ascended to a more celestial plane - no longer has any earthly need of the following items:

Frightful Battleaxe +3
Battlecrazed Battleaxe +2
Black Iron Scale Armour +3
Boots of Eagerness (Heroic Tier)
Helm of Battle (Heroic Tier)
Cloak of Resistance +1
8 Potions of Healing (Heroic Tier)
Heavy Bashing Shield (Paragon Tier)
1 Potion of Vitality (Paragon Tier)
4 Vials of Alchemist's Acid (Level 1)
1 Vial of Alchemist's Fire (Level 1)
Adventurer's Kit
Climber's Kit
Everburning Torch
50 Crossbow Bolts
41 Platinum Pieces
217 Gold Pieces
3 Silver Pieces

Fight over them as you see fit.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Torn between worlds

With Ghanash’s limp and dead body draped over his horses back, Vogir leads the trudging animal back toward town.
Death. He feels its touch even now. He’d not gone gently into that night. He’d raged against it and fought to return.
He feels the darkness and loss still cold within his breast.
Suddenly the grey light around him grows darker and a chill closes in.
‘You can use this connection you know.’
Spinning around, Vogir sees the ethereal shade of Daelagor walking behind him. As usual, his other companions seem frozen in time.
‘What do you mean, my dead Fey friend?’
‘What I mean, you unappreciative human, is that you’ve breached the Fey veil and have taken an infinitesimal fragment of it back with you. What I mean, when I say you can use that connection, is simple: If you concentrate, you can let yourself sink back into it.’
Vogir stares at the dead Eladrin.
‘I allowed that to happen once, but death must have addled your brain if you imagine I’d let that happen again?’
The ghost of Daelagor smiles and raises his translucent hands in mock defence.
‘I said allow yourself to sink back into the veil, not through it. Trust me and just relax your grip of this reality. Just a little.’
Vogir steadies his breathing, lets his eyelids droop and tries. A feeling of stillness creeps over him. He imagines himself in both places at once and he feels his physical form slipping away.
Opening his eyes and looking down, he’s surprised to see his body still there, if perhaps a little wispy.
‘Just walk forward’ urges Daelagor.
Obeying the Eladrin’s request, Vogir gasps as his body seems to melt into shadows and mist.

Vogir’s 14th level feat: Walker in the gloom.