Worse than the Black Cloaks

As Vogir and Orestes wrestle manically over whether Sibylle should live or die, she quickly realises her peril. Far from being the valiant heroes she had expected them to be, her would be saviours appear to be worse than her captors. Yes, they had kidnapped her, but they were only going to send her to her mother - they would not have even entertained the thought of murdering her in cold blood!

Bellowing with a mixture of fear and rage Sibylle belches forth a large electrical storm cloud that erupts in the middle of the party, sending them reeling for cover. Seeing that the way is clear, and sensing that the Black Cloaks enchantments had faded with them, she barrels through through the open door, screeches through the room containing the Black Cloak corpses and smashes her way through the wall to freedom.

Recovering quickly, the party follow her. The monk leaps through the new hole in the wall, landing softly as a feather, whilst the others charge down the stairs as quickly as they can.

Arriving outside, they all look up but Sibylle is already a receding speck in the sky, flying not towards Thereanthor's capital - but towards her adoptive home of Fewham.

Realising that their prize has gone - and with it all chance of reward money - the party set about exploring the Black Cloaks tower in search of anything they can find that will make this misadventure more worthwhile.

You may each have one level 16 item of your choosing (unless, and I'll take this under advisement, level 16 is deemed too high - please let us know in the comments below).

Here ends the adventure to save Sibylle and thereby encourage Fewham to join the anti-Theranthor resistance. Instead, Fewham remains isolated from the Theranthor's rule, but also treats any of you as hostile. You should be so proud of yourselves...

Hatred in the time of Dragons

Orestes looked around him in disbelief. Had it really come to this? Were the others nothing but brutal killers? This creature was cowering before them, helpless, and their first impulse was murder?

Orestes drew himself up to his full height, his swords gleaming as they were pulled out of their scabbards. He clenched his jaw tightly shut, remembering what it was like to be judged for who one of your parents were. He remembered how the teachers had repeatedly singled him out for punishment despite the fact that we was the one who kept being beaten up. He remembered looking around him for support and only seeing hatred in the eyes staring back. He was not going to let that happen to Sibylle. Vogir was no different from the bullies in school, and like them, he must be stopped. Orestes was no longer a scared child, but an armed warrior, ready to kill ...and ready to die.

The world slowed down. There was no moral doubt, no shade of grey. There was right...and then there was evil to be extinguished.

Sins of the mother

Lowering his bow, Vogir scowls at Orestes. How dare the meat-shield orc prevent him from firing!

This supposedly helpless damsel they’d been tricked into rescuing had turned out to be a young dragon.

Not just a dragon but the offspring of the tyrant Theranthor herself!

It may be cowering now but if it gets out into the open, they’ll be no stopping it escaping…

This has to end now.

Angels with Broken Wings

Raphael watched another wound heal that he had just caused. It had been a good blow, but the cuts on the other Dragonborn's body seemed to close faster than he could open them. He could feel his powers weaken. The battle seemed to have lasted forever.
In a quick pause he dared to look over his shoulder. It was just in time to see the body of Gabriel hit the ground. With terror he could see the grinning face of that horned bastard. He looked further to the right where he could spot Uriel. The look on the Warden's face told him what he already knew. Only Bahamut himself could turn this battle now. Without Michael's Runepriest magic and minotaur strength and the unwithering, unstoppable power of a fanatic like Gabriel, it was only a question of time until the non-believers would wear them down.

Raphael's muscles tensioned as his mind slowly realised their situation. The sword slowly sinking towards the ground, he reflected on the last few minutes. What had happened? They were used to fight fanatic fighters who would rush towards them, but these combatants withdrew to re-organise. Usually their opponents deserved to die and fought for their lives, but these fought to find out who is the better team. They had used cunning instead of desperate last stands, they had fought together instead of trying to just save their own lives.

Michael looked up to the sky. They didn't know how to fight such fights! That was not what they had trained for. He searched the sky for a sign to find out whether Bahamut would forgive them? He slowly looked at Uriel who understood and with his head lowered to his chest, nodded. Rapahel's head turned and he could see the Dragonborn's sword being raised for another attack and the archeress' bow being prepared for another shot. He lowered his sword and raised his left hand to signal his opponent to stop.
"In Bahamut's name, we yield."

[I bow my head to Kirk who was able to stop my winning spree!]

Dirty, rotten, lawyer

At last Indigo gets his day in court.

Something smells in the world of Fissa

Introducing Charlie Stilton...

Recessive compulsion

Happy to watch Indigo and Rudha-an creep up the spiral steps, Vogir hides stealthily behind the solid but now open front door.
Let the more gung-ho members of his group take the risks while he stays safe under the protection of Dokan.
Vogir’s smugness ends however as he feels a strange tug…
It’s as if a hook has lodged itself behind his navel and he’s being fished from above.
Unwilling but unable to resist, Vogir glides up the stone stairs closely followed by the equally dominated Dokan.
Cursing, Vogir finds himself compelled to follow his teammates through the first doorway they’d come to.
Inside the room’s gloomy interior, Vogir can just make out the shadowy form of some humanoid creature sitting behind a huge desk covered in parchment, skulls and candles.
‘Don’t be shy humans. Come in.’
Vogir grimaces. A demon. And, from the power of the compulsion he just felt, a powerful one.
The demon is already conversing with Indigo, but it doesn’t sound like it’s going well.
At the sound of the words ‘In exchange for your soul’, Vogir feels his eyes unconsciously slide towards the many hiding crevasses within the circular but large, gloomy and cluttered room.