Step after step after step they followed the entourage of bugbears and goblin, keeping to the shadows and alleyways a safe distance behind. To say things had not gone as expected was. . . an understatement. Reflecting back on it, Odette had to wonder if perhaps it were all some sort of twisted, illusionary dream sequence.
The portal had flickered to life in response to the key she had held. Flickered, being the key word. Unstable. Then, non-existent. Who then had been the helping hand, one whom they had not recognised at first? None other than Elminster himself. If she was dreaming, then perhaps she was less mentally stable than she had thought. Everyone on her prime knew the name, the tales. The Old Sage. Mystra's Chosen. . . she too had found a knee alongside her companions, overwhelmed with awe and concern over his presence.
Sammaster was, after all, a name she was familiar with also though certainly less so. As a former Chosen of Mystra, it made sense that such drew the attention of the The Sage of Shadowdale. It did little to ease her knowing this, however. Odette turned her gaze skyward, seeking out the firey orb of the King-Killer star that blazoned above in the oncoming blanketing of Selune's gown. Even now, the thought weighed heavily on her as the shadows weaved themselves around her in a cloaking, wisp-like dance from her feat to the darkened streak of grey in her hair. Were they in over their head? Without a doubt. Naught it mattered. It was as it was, and both Lady Luck and Elminster had entrusted this task to they. A thunderous roar of purpose coursed through her veins with every pulse of her still beating heart, driving each step.
The scrapes and bruises on her form had already began their accelerated healing process with the aid of magic, though they had paled in comparison to those sustained by the warrior poet on her behalf. Bloody Kelth, she would punch him later. If they survived this. Thankfully Quinn and Argent were found not to far from where they she and Kelth had come into contact with the cobblestone streets, the elf and mage alive and relatively unharmed thanks to the Argent's quick thinking. Her concern was as much for her companions as it was for the situation they had found themselves in. All too soon, the ground had rocked with an explosion, the last of the Jammer's wreckage - and their mode of transportation - sent flying skyward.
Knowing not which side of the battlefield they had landed in, lacking supplies and a way back, the group pressed forward as a single unit under Kelth's leadership, following the only lead they had in the tracking of the goblinoids.
Shards Of History
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*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The start of all of this began with a cold pit of dread in his stomach as the portal failed. This was important, he could feel a knot of tangled strings of the time line folding upon the fours decisions and actions. His mind wandered for a moment, thinking how he recite such a tale if he lived to the High Towers of Sorcery, of what he had found.
The arrival of the mysterious stranger hand heralded the start of another trip of a life time. The elf was wary, confused at first. He didnt like unnamed entities butting into him and his companions business with no word of what it was about. Trust had never been an easy thing when it was so easy to shatter.
Next he knew, they been hurried along on a spelljammer being prepared to take off. Events had been set in motion and he had no idea how things would turn out next. He could see the excitement and nervousness spreading through through them all.
The revelation that this sage that snatched them up, this Eliminster, the red eyed elf had to think about. What did he know? One servants of the Gods. Another magic god. He preferred not poking his nose into matters about other magic gods and their tools, just as much as he was one himself.
Then he could only stand in amusement, Odette, Quinn, Kelth, all taking knee before the mage. Significant? He mentally checked some facts, a quick conversation with Melethkanara on some knowledge, then decided the other mage was not a rival to ruin their plans. Perhaps he should invite this man to the prime of Krynn some time, just see if he was good as Fizban, Magius, Fistandantilus, Raistlin ...Well he could just went on. All people that had helped shaped reality.
This was becoming clear to him, that maybe this time, he was going to have a hand of his own in changing a force in the universe. Him and his friends. He was not used to having such. All mortals that quickly faded like spring flowers. Short lives
Before the ship had vanished, he had bowed his head, giving coordinates to his own ship, just in case, setting her back in the Astral plane to wait.
Then with a shudder and a groan, as the ship began to descend. he realized the ship has plane shifted to above a battle field and this ship..was not prepared to muster a fight.
He grabbed up the previous fascinated Quinn that been looking over the rails to prevent him from tumbling out, and then utter the words, wrapping them in feathers for inevitable crash. Down, down and then darkness . .
Pilots' Quest Log, Star Date :Deadeye of Springrain, 29, following Low Sanction.
I do not believe in destiny, or fate, as the mage had told us we had a date with. We choose to change events of our own accord and time. Theres no promises that we will live and survive to do as our will wished to impose, but we will give it our best.
We landed on a prime called Illia. I find it Ironic that once a beautiful place is now war torn by General Scars actions, and just as his name, left an ugly wound upon the face of the earth. Im trying not to reach my senses out, not touch upon this soil that cries out in pain.
Hostile place I had told them, with the Killer Star of destruction and rage searing the sky, and I fear how the draconic population is going to react. We will not know if their blood boils with the same burning as the true dragons or if they have enough humanity to control it. Either way, it is not their fault.
My attention has been mostly taking with planning and assuring we keep moving. Quinn I think is starting to stabilize from the shock of being landed in a battle field. I can only remind him we are here on important mission and he our medical healer. I can only hope his Gods are looking after him and give guidance at the right time.
Kelth , he is like a menacing lion prepared to pounce on anything that moves, and all I can offer is words of cold reason, a plan of what to do next. Best not to cut off our efforts by affronting everything head on.
Ah the wonderful and feisty Odette. Fierce free spirit she is, appears to be taking this well, helping us push forward . I can tell, that the events of the past fee weeks have given her a steeled heart. As to if that is for the better or worse..well only she knows that.
This place is desolate and devastated by the siege weapons screaming over head, having nearly impacted on the top of us. Feel of dirt and splinters getting under nails as they curl tightly upon soil and siding of buildings, before telling them to move on.
It..reminds me..just like the start of the Dragon War on Silvanost. Giants, and bugbears, ogres and goblins, coming to crush and ransack the countryside , all apart of the heart of Darkness. If this is truly the armies that General Scar commands. . .
Nothing can go right by asking for his help in defeating another Evil. It never pans out well for those caught in-between. How many lives are you willing to risk to defeat just one person? When does it out weigh the cost? I hope my companions know that two wrongs do not make right. There will be no winners in this, only sorrow those left.
and Yet..Im excited to the very depths of my core, an opportunity to see this unfold, to be apart of this time line, alter it to our desires should we succeed. Magic brims on my skin with the emotion. Nearly..Euphoric. We will not fail. Nuitari, guide me in your shadows for these new discoveries . .
" Might is Right, for here Empires use the bones of the fallen to build upon."
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*DigitalDragoon
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Great Guide have mercy upon their souls! The skies screamed with flame and stone. The scent of blood and burning buildings drawing an old wizard's mind to the dark and swirling mists recesses of battles long past. The world spiraling out of control. Only the gentle voice of Kelth, that great bear of a man, to coax a unsteady heart back to the present.
Of course he had heard of Elminster! He used to his own girl tales of the Sage of Shadowdale. Tales of a skilled old trickster, learned from drunken would-be adventurers and picked up from travelers stopping through town for cheap alchemical wares. Fascinating stories in their own right.
The revelation of the encounter that saw them off weighted heavily on doddering wizard. "Good luck Heroes." The old sage's encouraging words were cause for immense worry to Quinn. Hero is a powerful and fickle mantle. Generally perceived to be good, heroes are the arbiters of destiny and the hapless instruments of what many would call fate. Those who are truly doomed. Expected to sacrifice themselves should need be to surpass impossible odds. The gravity of the situation truly dawning in the faces of his companions.
This was the sort of thing he would have spun of for his daughter in her younger years. A sage of legends appearing before a group of unassuming travelers to set them on their way. Heroes embarking on a noble quest to stop an evil cult and save the world.
What a tale will would make for his grandchildren, If he survived to meet them. Thoughts turning to so many unfinished letters lay in desk, waiting to be sent home to a worried daughter and her husband. Would this tale be just another passed on by strangers to a grieving family? Would they even know of his fate should his friends fail here? It had been months since his family last heard from him.
Surreal.
That term might be the most appropriate from their situation. This was hardly turning out to be the diplomatic venture that had been planned for that morning. Some trouble was to be expected of course, but this? This was leagues beyond what he had planned for. They certainly did not have stocked for being stranded in such a hostile place for a long period of time. Heavens how quickly a simple mission can escalate with the barest of warnings.
Looking around at his companions, Quinn's panic subsided to a dull uneasy quake. The easy going, clever and skilled Odette. Argent, a pillar of focus and veiled cunning. Kelth, proud, charming and fearsome. At least there was comfort to be found in presence of such dear and precious friends. In truth, there were few others he would have not minded to end up in such a dire straights with. Perhaps, powers willing, they could manage.
Of course he had heard of Elminster! He used to his own girl tales of the Sage of Shadowdale. Tales of a skilled old trickster, learned from drunken would-be adventurers and picked up from travelers stopping through town for cheap alchemical wares. Fascinating stories in their own right.
The revelation of the encounter that saw them off weighted heavily on doddering wizard. "Good luck Heroes." The old sage's encouraging words were cause for immense worry to Quinn. Hero is a powerful and fickle mantle. Generally perceived to be good, heroes are the arbiters of destiny and the hapless instruments of what many would call fate. Those who are truly doomed. Expected to sacrifice themselves should need be to surpass impossible odds. The gravity of the situation truly dawning in the faces of his companions.
This was the sort of thing he would have spun of for his daughter in her younger years. A sage of legends appearing before a group of unassuming travelers to set them on their way. Heroes embarking on a noble quest to stop an evil cult and save the world.
What a tale will would make for his grandchildren, If he survived to meet them. Thoughts turning to so many unfinished letters lay in desk, waiting to be sent home to a worried daughter and her husband. Would this tale be just another passed on by strangers to a grieving family? Would they even know of his fate should his friends fail here? It had been months since his family last heard from him.
Surreal.
That term might be the most appropriate from their situation. This was hardly turning out to be the diplomatic venture that had been planned for that morning. Some trouble was to be expected of course, but this? This was leagues beyond what he had planned for. They certainly did not have stocked for being stranded in such a hostile place for a long period of time. Heavens how quickly a simple mission can escalate with the barest of warnings.
Looking around at his companions, Quinn's panic subsided to a dull uneasy quake. The easy going, clever and skilled Odette. Argent, a pillar of focus and veiled cunning. Kelth, proud, charming and fearsome. At least there was comfort to be found in presence of such dear and precious friends. In truth, there were few others he would have not minded to end up in such a dire straights with. Perhaps, powers willing, they could manage.
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"New Arrivals".
A rift to another dimension yawned open over the sea that kissed Illias southern coast. The portal oozed out a skyship of massive proportions, a ten level monstrosity that under normal circumstances would have been classified as "A luxury yacht of magnificence".
Not today however.
The upper level of the ship swarms with hundreds of undead, barely held in check by a handful of the ships skilled crew members and a band of hero's that can be numbered on one hand, while the ships captain an exotic winged beauty grips the steering wheel with all her might as she tries to physically and mentally keep the ship aloft.
Not today however.
If the undead on the ship made things difficult, the twin dragons flanking the ship certainly did not help, their decaying hides flecking off in the wind as they strafe the spell jammer, breathing blasts and cones of unholy energy towards the magical ship which both hindered the defending heros while bolstering the undead on board!. The dracolich's make a final pass, one last strafing run as they peel giant swaths of the ships hull away and send the magnificant creation and her passengers screaming towards Illias surface.
The ship slams into the earth, gouging out a significant wake almost a mile and a half long, local wildlife skittering out of the way lest they be crushed and pulverized by the ship.
The dust finally settled, the group takes stock of their situation and finds most of the spell jammers crew intact but beaten and bruised, enough survival supplies for just about a week and a vast body of water that has been somehow spoiled and made unusable. The group also finds a single cozy house that has been abandoned sometime ago so at least a safe shelter swings the situation in their favor. The ship despite its condition will likely fly again after extensive repairs and the morale of the crew and the hero's with them remains...acceptable so there is at least some glimmer of hope.
As the stranded survivors hunker down for their first night on war torn Illia, their eyes are drawn high as the King Killer Star crawls its way across the night sky.
//Thoughts, reactions, actions etc etc, reactions from meeting the special guest?
A rift to another dimension yawned open over the sea that kissed Illias southern coast. The portal oozed out a skyship of massive proportions, a ten level monstrosity that under normal circumstances would have been classified as "A luxury yacht of magnificence".
Not today however.
The upper level of the ship swarms with hundreds of undead, barely held in check by a handful of the ships skilled crew members and a band of hero's that can be numbered on one hand, while the ships captain an exotic winged beauty grips the steering wheel with all her might as she tries to physically and mentally keep the ship aloft.
Not today however.
If the undead on the ship made things difficult, the twin dragons flanking the ship certainly did not help, their decaying hides flecking off in the wind as they strafe the spell jammer, breathing blasts and cones of unholy energy towards the magical ship which both hindered the defending heros while bolstering the undead on board!. The dracolich's make a final pass, one last strafing run as they peel giant swaths of the ships hull away and send the magnificant creation and her passengers screaming towards Illias surface.
The ship slams into the earth, gouging out a significant wake almost a mile and a half long, local wildlife skittering out of the way lest they be crushed and pulverized by the ship.
The dust finally settled, the group takes stock of their situation and finds most of the spell jammers crew intact but beaten and bruised, enough survival supplies for just about a week and a vast body of water that has been somehow spoiled and made unusable. The group also finds a single cozy house that has been abandoned sometime ago so at least a safe shelter swings the situation in their favor. The ship despite its condition will likely fly again after extensive repairs and the morale of the crew and the hero's with them remains...acceptable so there is at least some glimmer of hope.
As the stranded survivors hunker down for their first night on war torn Illia, their eyes are drawn high as the King Killer Star crawls its way across the night sky.
//Thoughts, reactions, actions etc etc, reactions from meeting the special guest?
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Somewhere on Illia"
"High speaker Ugno has been slain m'lord" the cowering bugbear said with a quivering voice as he mashed his forehead on the ground, kneeling before the figure in front of him.
"I see, and just how did this happen?" the figure standing in front of him inquired calmly though it was clear the figure was clearly upset.
"We think it was the survivors from that shiny ship that crashed yesterday" the bugbear wimpered.
"I see....and the fort that Ugno was supposed to be guarding?" came the query.
"Ugno had the hero's out numbered but general Scar's troops punched through our lines and assaulted the fort as Ugno was getting ready to slay the heros, in the chaos one of the heros managed to slay Ugno and cut off his head, now the generals legion controls the fort". the bugbear responded softly.
"And the heros?" came the patient reply.
"I dont know, after they helped the generals men route our forces they were seen leaving the fort, we don't know wh..." the bugbears sentence is suddenly cut off by the singing of a blade from its scabbard and a wet thud as the bugbears head rolls off its shoulder and across the floor.
"Someone clean up that mess and issue a bounty to anyone who will listen, I want every soldier who took MY fort from me DEAD, I want every one of their heads on pikes in front of my castle in two days! I'm offering ten thousand gold per man who's corpse is dragged before me!" the mysterious figure yells to those assembled in his grand chamber. The sound of dozens, nay hundreds of feet can be heard leaving the room with excited shouts.
"High speaker Ugno has been slain m'lord" the cowering bugbear said with a quivering voice as he mashed his forehead on the ground, kneeling before the figure in front of him.
"I see, and just how did this happen?" the figure standing in front of him inquired calmly though it was clear the figure was clearly upset.
"We think it was the survivors from that shiny ship that crashed yesterday" the bugbear wimpered.
"I see....and the fort that Ugno was supposed to be guarding?" came the query.
"Ugno had the hero's out numbered but general Scar's troops punched through our lines and assaulted the fort as Ugno was getting ready to slay the heros, in the chaos one of the heros managed to slay Ugno and cut off his head, now the generals legion controls the fort". the bugbear responded softly.
"And the heros?" came the patient reply.
"I dont know, after they helped the generals men route our forces they were seen leaving the fort, we don't know wh..." the bugbears sentence is suddenly cut off by the singing of a blade from its scabbard and a wet thud as the bugbears head rolls off its shoulder and across the floor.
"Someone clean up that mess and issue a bounty to anyone who will listen, I want every soldier who took MY fort from me DEAD, I want every one of their heads on pikes in front of my castle in two days! I'm offering ten thousand gold per man who's corpse is dragged before me!" the mysterious figure yells to those assembled in his grand chamber. The sound of dozens, nay hundreds of feet can be heard leaving the room with excited shouts.
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*Brindas
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The Doctor looked about to the war-torn landscape that surrounded them, and the putrid water. This was a truly disgusting place, just what has the general done here?
He was glad he was able to save the crew of the ship, Alice, but their food and water would not last long... with a final derisive glance at the comet, he enters the small house they've procured, just after Lady Mir, under pretense of heading for rest, though in actuality it was unlikely he would be sleeping tonight.
The only word in his mind at the moment is "Forgiven". How enraged he had been this previous week, sick with worry and anger at his friends having gone, and not followed the plan. He found the hints as to their whereabouts useful when formulating his plan to go and find them, but honestly, he was torn between hugging them all when he did find them and telling them to get out of his life for this... and that all changed when the Old Man wished his own group luck, and told them he sent the other four himself. When he said his name was Elminster, well. Normally, Brindas would perhaps have fallen to a knee, or been overwhelmed, but all he could do was stare at the man like none of his stature should ever stare at a hero of legend, and say "They are forgiven, then."
His gaze draws to the door, hearing voices, and he reflects on those who came with him. First, Gregory... if he was honest, not the man he'd want on a trip like this. Generally acts, feels, acts again, and then acts once more, before thinking. However, the look on Gregory's face when he saw the notes flying about the clinic with Odette's name, and the journal that appeared on Brindas' desk with the plans to save those stranded.. he couldn't very well say “no” to his coming. Besides, in the past week, with all the rage he had been feeling, Brindas has found out that he can be quite forceful and intimidating – he should be able to keep Gregory in check if things came to it. And of course, Gregory would risk anything for his friends, he saw such when he tried to shield Vyse from the worst of the impact before Brindas came up with ha better plan.
His ear is drawn to the other voice – Vyse. Vyse is an interesting companion on a mission such as this – many of his friends think Vyse to be weak, but the doctor has never agreed with that assessment. He has witnessed him overcome things on his own, and he saw Vyse's inner strength not long ago, at the Weary Spirit and in the aftermath of such. And here again, he is seeing it, braving dangers despite having what the doctor considers to be everything, love. A twinge of guilt, at that, he wishes that he could have came up with a way to keep Vyse back in Sigil, to ensure his happiness... but no. Vyse wouldn't be truly happy with that, especially if they didn't return.
Finally, he turns to a sleeping companion, Mir. Again, guilt wracks his mind. He just helped her get Alice back, legally, even... and now she was a wreck. Not unsalvageable, but he knows how much Alice means to the woman. He contemplated her a moment, and recalled her words about the Scrolls of Mnemur. “The lost” she calls them. But he knew, that in that moment, the lost were they four. Both groups of four, actually, stranded and up to their own ideas on what to do. Her sanity was something he always questioned, despite his care for her and intellectual connection, he could never predict anything she would do or say... but there again, if he was honest, this past week had called his own sanity into question many times – who was he to judge at this point? Ah well, she was a source of comfort, nevertheless, always a warm smile on her lips and friendly word, whether he was frustrated, angry, depressed, or wearing his mask of happiness, and that would be something he knew he'd sorely need in this desolate place.
“Quinn... Kelth.. Argent... Odette...” he repeated to himself many times over that night. This was his purpose here. Elminster called him a hero. Maybe Elminster was correct, it's happened quite a few times according to stories. But if so, it was incidental. He was here for his friends, first and foremost. Write down the word love, and he'd read back the word “loyalty.” Write down loyalty, and he'd read it back “love.” He had his answer all along – from when signed a contract to save someone, to when he was a slave, to when he was a cultist, to now as an Ilmatari. His loyalty would never change. Whether it was Hell or a war torn plane, nothing would ever keep him from protecting those he loved.
His thoughts drifted. What was their first move? He knew they would be looking to him for answers. He was the only one who had firsthand knowledge of the situation, and moreover, he was the only planner in the group to begin with. General Scar was a problem, but the twins were nearby... but Brindas knew the answer he sought beforehand. “Roads have a way of meeting,” Elminster had said. And the doctor aimed to make those roads connect as quickly as feasible.
He was glad he was able to save the crew of the ship, Alice, but their food and water would not last long... with a final derisive glance at the comet, he enters the small house they've procured, just after Lady Mir, under pretense of heading for rest, though in actuality it was unlikely he would be sleeping tonight.
The only word in his mind at the moment is "Forgiven". How enraged he had been this previous week, sick with worry and anger at his friends having gone, and not followed the plan. He found the hints as to their whereabouts useful when formulating his plan to go and find them, but honestly, he was torn between hugging them all when he did find them and telling them to get out of his life for this... and that all changed when the Old Man wished his own group luck, and told them he sent the other four himself. When he said his name was Elminster, well. Normally, Brindas would perhaps have fallen to a knee, or been overwhelmed, but all he could do was stare at the man like none of his stature should ever stare at a hero of legend, and say "They are forgiven, then."
His gaze draws to the door, hearing voices, and he reflects on those who came with him. First, Gregory... if he was honest, not the man he'd want on a trip like this. Generally acts, feels, acts again, and then acts once more, before thinking. However, the look on Gregory's face when he saw the notes flying about the clinic with Odette's name, and the journal that appeared on Brindas' desk with the plans to save those stranded.. he couldn't very well say “no” to his coming. Besides, in the past week, with all the rage he had been feeling, Brindas has found out that he can be quite forceful and intimidating – he should be able to keep Gregory in check if things came to it. And of course, Gregory would risk anything for his friends, he saw such when he tried to shield Vyse from the worst of the impact before Brindas came up with ha better plan.
His ear is drawn to the other voice – Vyse. Vyse is an interesting companion on a mission such as this – many of his friends think Vyse to be weak, but the doctor has never agreed with that assessment. He has witnessed him overcome things on his own, and he saw Vyse's inner strength not long ago, at the Weary Spirit and in the aftermath of such. And here again, he is seeing it, braving dangers despite having what the doctor considers to be everything, love. A twinge of guilt, at that, he wishes that he could have came up with a way to keep Vyse back in Sigil, to ensure his happiness... but no. Vyse wouldn't be truly happy with that, especially if they didn't return.
Finally, he turns to a sleeping companion, Mir. Again, guilt wracks his mind. He just helped her get Alice back, legally, even... and now she was a wreck. Not unsalvageable, but he knows how much Alice means to the woman. He contemplated her a moment, and recalled her words about the Scrolls of Mnemur. “The lost” she calls them. But he knew, that in that moment, the lost were they four. Both groups of four, actually, stranded and up to their own ideas on what to do. Her sanity was something he always questioned, despite his care for her and intellectual connection, he could never predict anything she would do or say... but there again, if he was honest, this past week had called his own sanity into question many times – who was he to judge at this point? Ah well, she was a source of comfort, nevertheless, always a warm smile on her lips and friendly word, whether he was frustrated, angry, depressed, or wearing his mask of happiness, and that would be something he knew he'd sorely need in this desolate place.
“Quinn... Kelth.. Argent... Odette...” he repeated to himself many times over that night. This was his purpose here. Elminster called him a hero. Maybe Elminster was correct, it's happened quite a few times according to stories. But if so, it was incidental. He was here for his friends, first and foremost. Write down the word love, and he'd read back the word “loyalty.” Write down loyalty, and he'd read it back “love.” He had his answer all along – from when signed a contract to save someone, to when he was a slave, to when he was a cultist, to now as an Ilmatari. His loyalty would never change. Whether it was Hell or a war torn plane, nothing would ever keep him from protecting those he loved.
His thoughts drifted. What was their first move? He knew they would be looking to him for answers. He was the only one who had firsthand knowledge of the situation, and moreover, he was the only planner in the group to begin with. General Scar was a problem, but the twins were nearby... but Brindas knew the answer he sought beforehand. “Roads have a way of meeting,” Elminster had said. And the doctor aimed to make those roads connect as quickly as feasible.
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*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
* Kelth muttered as the constant rain withheld him from getting a proper fire going after that battle. Ugno's head already had been stripped of it's flesh and organs, a large skull now dangling on Kelth's belt. This was but the first of many to fall. Scar killing people en masse? Retribution and battle would be paid back in full. The towering warrior was covered in dried enemy-blood, ash and his blue warpaint.
Kelth proceeded to pitch his tent. His mind set in tactics of warfare and survival. He smirked to himself, remembering the look on Ugno's face as Kelth slashed open his gut, the smirk on Kelth's face becoming more wicked as he reminisced. Yes, this was his true calling and his blood roared in his veins. Purpose? battle itself was it's purpose, and in secret, Kelth only relished in the fact Scar loathed draconic blooded ones. He'd leave the information gathering to Odette, Quinn and Argent. After that, he would unleash his rage and anger upon those who thought themselves superior over others.
Kelth made the effort to check on Quinn to see if he was alright after all this, Quinn proved himself in Kelth's eyes, he acted when it was needed and then some. Odette? Odette needed not to impress him anymore. The woman had developped from pup to Lioness. Kelth could not help but to grin as he glanced at her, a hint of pride in his gaze, before he withdrew into his tent and started to clean his Claymore. The relentless rain leaving them without any means to dry themselves and warm a bit, Kelth accepted the conditions. He had endured worse back in the day after all...*
Kelth proceeded to pitch his tent. His mind set in tactics of warfare and survival. He smirked to himself, remembering the look on Ugno's face as Kelth slashed open his gut, the smirk on Kelth's face becoming more wicked as he reminisced. Yes, this was his true calling and his blood roared in his veins. Purpose? battle itself was it's purpose, and in secret, Kelth only relished in the fact Scar loathed draconic blooded ones. He'd leave the information gathering to Odette, Quinn and Argent. After that, he would unleash his rage and anger upon those who thought themselves superior over others.
Kelth made the effort to check on Quinn to see if he was alright after all this, Quinn proved himself in Kelth's eyes, he acted when it was needed and then some. Odette? Odette needed not to impress him anymore. The woman had developped from pup to Lioness. Kelth could not help but to grin as he glanced at her, a hint of pride in his gaze, before he withdrew into his tent and started to clean his Claymore. The relentless rain leaving them without any means to dry themselves and warm a bit, Kelth accepted the conditions. He had endured worse back in the day after all...*
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*AniKai
- Posts: 65
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Mir was exhilarated – if anything, Alice was free once more and Alice, she was happy too, excited about her new found and made augmentations. Mir was more than happy to let her fly, to express the joy both she and Alice felt. But...
Even though Alice was as much a warship as she was a luxury ship, many things were still unprepared – no one had even hinted Mir about possibility of meeting dracolich, two of them even, midflight, and thus a number of ward systems were out of commission right when they would've been needed. Mir's mind registered muffled explosions, but something in the sound of them was wrong. In normal situation Alice's weaponry would've ripped a ship or an asteroid into pieces over course of a few heartbeats, but those two dracoliches – they seemed to eat bombardment for breakfast... and they were ripping pieces off Alice!
”Time, crawling... so slow...”, Mir shut her mind from everything else, counting the ticks between seconds. Alice screamed as if in pain, a wing gashed, pieces of glassteel flying into the void.
”Time... crawling... to the Now”. Mir's eyes snapped open and she uttered a simple word, ”Slip”. Reality shifted – the point of entry and an exit flaring into existence, and Alice and the duo of dracolich flew through the gash between the layered dimensions.
”Illia... entry... it's all wrong!”, Mir screamed in her own mind, the planet's surface straight ahead instead of below. The controls were unresponsive, almost nothing left – the dracolich had done a number alright, but Mir nonetheless tried to fight the planet's pull. It didn't help in the least that the dracolich duo were biting bits off Alice's hull, too. However, she managed to change the angle of entry somewhat – but it was going to be a rough touchdown in any case.
- ”Incoming starboard! Portside! Two coming in fast!”, crew's spotter yelled.
- ”Man the stations”, Mir shout, her voice ringing through the ship, but then she saw what exactly was incoming, ”CLEAR THE DECK! Experienced ones with dragons take over!”
Even though Alice was as much a warship as she was a luxury ship, many things were still unprepared – no one had even hinted Mir about possibility of meeting dracolich, two of them even, midflight, and thus a number of ward systems were out of commission right when they would've been needed. Mir's mind registered muffled explosions, but something in the sound of them was wrong. In normal situation Alice's weaponry would've ripped a ship or an asteroid into pieces over course of a few heartbeats, but those two dracoliches – they seemed to eat bombardment for breakfast... and they were ripping pieces off Alice!
”Time, crawling... so slow...”, Mir shut her mind from everything else, counting the ticks between seconds. Alice screamed as if in pain, a wing gashed, pieces of glassteel flying into the void.
”Time... crawling... to the Now”. Mir's eyes snapped open and she uttered a simple word, ”Slip”. Reality shifted – the point of entry and an exit flaring into existence, and Alice and the duo of dracolich flew through the gash between the layered dimensions.
”Illia... entry... it's all wrong!”, Mir screamed in her own mind, the planet's surface straight ahead instead of below. The controls were unresponsive, almost nothing left – the dracolich had done a number alright, but Mir nonetheless tried to fight the planet's pull. It didn't help in the least that the dracolich duo were biting bits off Alice's hull, too. However, she managed to change the angle of entry somewhat – but it was going to be a rough touchdown in any case.
- ”BRACE FOR IT! Lifeboats!”, Mir's voice shout.
- ”They're torn off!”, someone from the crew cried a reply.
-
*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWGVRxJOKw8 - The Best is yet to come. MGS
* Kelth was holding various pendants, bundled in his hand. His blade rested in it's length on his lap, sheathed. He startled as the flap of his tent opened and he quickly tucked the pendants away, wiping away the tears that were flowing from his visible eye.
He cleared his troat and reached for his wineskin...luckily it had survived the fall when he tried to protect Odette from harm.
He took a firm sip from it's contents, needless to say, Firewine.
Ugno's skull was placed on the far left in his tent, a circle drawn around it with various Clan-runes surrounding it. The circle and it's runes being an exact copy of the tattoo that adorned his right upper arm.
Kelth slowly glanced at Odette as she entered his tent, trying to hide his vulnerable moment*
* Kelth was holding various pendants, bundled in his hand. His blade rested in it's length on his lap, sheathed. He startled as the flap of his tent opened and he quickly tucked the pendants away, wiping away the tears that were flowing from his visible eye.
He cleared his troat and reached for his wineskin...luckily it had survived the fall when he tried to protect Odette from harm.
He took a firm sip from it's contents, needless to say, Firewine.
Ugno's skull was placed on the far left in his tent, a circle drawn around it with various Clan-runes surrounding it. The circle and it's runes being an exact copy of the tattoo that adorned his right upper arm.
Kelth slowly glanced at Odette as she entered his tent, trying to hide his vulnerable moment*
-
*MadJackValance
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
On the porch of the abandoned house, soft notes hung in the air, gently coaxed from the strings of a cherry lute. A quiet and ponderous tune, ruddy digits working out their nervous energy. As Vyse looked out into the dark at Alice's hulking, haggard hull, so many thoughts rushed through his mind. Every poignant beat of that day all condensed, cinched into a tight knot that he rolled over and over in his head, looking for a loose end to pry at. So many unbelievable events and nagging worries tangled so tightly, all knotted together, but each so clear...
The graying old man, stood in the doorway of the Golden Bariaur. Hazy light pouring in behind him from the street outside as he puffed his pipe. He paused there as Mir queried who he was. Twin jets of smoke trailing from the sage's nostrils as he answered "I am Elminster, of Shadowdale." and slipped out. The group in stunned silence until the door shut behind him. Vyse had heard so many stories, but.. this was the man himself, the legendary wizard, Chosen of Mystra, and if the stories were to be believed, his interest in this venture was as exciting as it was troubling.
-He caught a flash of Terika's misty, golden eyes. Her tail coiled tightly around his leg as they said their goodbye.
Alice. A truly magnificent vessel. Vyse had managed to appreciate it quietly between the sporadic pirouetting of his stomach. Just a few short months ago, he never would've imagined seeing such a ship. He certainly would have never imagined it the way it was in the minutes preceding their spell-slip. The sprawling deck, crawling with undead, twin dracoliches clawing the hull and snapping the masts. The fighting was hectic, to say the least. The bard could almost feel the rattle in his bones as he recalled the sensation of the fetid dragons bombarding the deck with blasts of negative energy.
-And suddenly he could almost feel his lip tremble as it had when parting from its rosy mates back in the Bariaur.
-The thought occurred that even if they did repair the ship, the twins would be there to see it tackled back to terra firma. Until the dracoliches were taken care of, or they could find a way to protect Alice against them, the crew was grounded.
With a furrowed brow he muted the strings, gazing skyward at the blazing comet. He recalled the fall. The chaotic, spiraling descent. He had fallen overboard once, on a sea faring ship.
The dread that he felt was paralyzing, trying to brace himself, the horizon spinning, the howling rushing of air, the shouting crew, it all grew louder and faster in an adrenaline addled amalgamation. He had expected the crescendo to peak with a deafening roar and be suddenly met with the dim muffled quiet of the ocean depths.
Instead he was yanked away, anchored back in the moment as Greg grabbed hold of the bard and assumed a shielding embrace. "Looks like this is it for one of us. Name your first kid after me, old chum!" The mustachioed man shouted. Upon reflecting, the tiefling was touched by the act. Knowing that his Waterdhavian brother tended to act before thinking, it was clear that the concern and care behind that act of selflessness was genuine, and that, when it mattered, Greg was capable of being the man he wanted to be.
-Vyse's mind drifted back to Tails' refusing to relinquish him. The silly wagger clinging to his leg as he tried to depart. His dearest dancer trying to tug the muscled appendage free with a tearful smile.
Luckily for Vyse, and any future daughters he might have, Gregory's sacrifice wasn't needed. He was truly grateful, however, for all of them. Thanks to Brindas' quick thinking, a summoned celestial whisked them away from the plummeting ship. As the deck dropped out from beneath them, he watched the leviathan ship carve its long, destructive scar across the face of Illia. Of course, without Mir's flying it could have been much worse. Without her and her crew they could've been demolished before they even slipped into the prime in the first place.
-A warm smile found the bard's firebrick face as he remembered the words of encouragement his love had offered. "G-Go out there and make Wyvernspur proud, Vyvie. I'm already proud of you."
And so here they were, poison water, battered crew, seven days worth of supplies. Stranded. The marooned musician had to chuckle, though. A rescue mission in need of rescue. Tymora had at least cracked a grin. The abandoned house was an incredible bit of luck, but more than that... they were alive!
-The others. Argent, Kelth, Odette, Quinn. They had to be alright. For now he had to believe they were alright, but he wanted to know they were alright. If they weren't.. Then what?
Poor Mir! Her beloved Alice was so badly wounded. It was a sad sight, such a majestic thing mauled and still in the acrid waters. That was the first Vyse had ever seen her angry, cursing loudly as she surveyed the wreck.
And poor Brindas! The doctor was undoubtedly sharp and capable, but it was beyond the bard to imagine the burden of being tasked with leading their motley party through such a place. This made Vyse feel some measure of guilt over his first, and early, act of insubordination...
The graying old man, stood in the doorway of the Golden Bariaur. Hazy light pouring in behind him from the street outside as he puffed his pipe. He paused there as Mir queried who he was. Twin jets of smoke trailing from the sage's nostrils as he answered "I am Elminster, of Shadowdale." and slipped out. The group in stunned silence until the door shut behind him. Vyse had heard so many stories, but.. this was the man himself, the legendary wizard, Chosen of Mystra, and if the stories were to be believed, his interest in this venture was as exciting as it was troubling.
-He caught a flash of Terika's misty, golden eyes. Her tail coiled tightly around his leg as they said their goodbye.
Alice. A truly magnificent vessel. Vyse had managed to appreciate it quietly between the sporadic pirouetting of his stomach. Just a few short months ago, he never would've imagined seeing such a ship. He certainly would have never imagined it the way it was in the minutes preceding their spell-slip. The sprawling deck, crawling with undead, twin dracoliches clawing the hull and snapping the masts. The fighting was hectic, to say the least. The bard could almost feel the rattle in his bones as he recalled the sensation of the fetid dragons bombarding the deck with blasts of negative energy.
-And suddenly he could almost feel his lip tremble as it had when parting from its rosy mates back in the Bariaur.
-The thought occurred that even if they did repair the ship, the twins would be there to see it tackled back to terra firma. Until the dracoliches were taken care of, or they could find a way to protect Alice against them, the crew was grounded.
With a furrowed brow he muted the strings, gazing skyward at the blazing comet. He recalled the fall. The chaotic, spiraling descent. He had fallen overboard once, on a sea faring ship.
The dread that he felt was paralyzing, trying to brace himself, the horizon spinning, the howling rushing of air, the shouting crew, it all grew louder and faster in an adrenaline addled amalgamation. He had expected the crescendo to peak with a deafening roar and be suddenly met with the dim muffled quiet of the ocean depths.
Instead he was yanked away, anchored back in the moment as Greg grabbed hold of the bard and assumed a shielding embrace. "Looks like this is it for one of us. Name your first kid after me, old chum!" The mustachioed man shouted. Upon reflecting, the tiefling was touched by the act. Knowing that his Waterdhavian brother tended to act before thinking, it was clear that the concern and care behind that act of selflessness was genuine, and that, when it mattered, Greg was capable of being the man he wanted to be.
-Vyse's mind drifted back to Tails' refusing to relinquish him. The silly wagger clinging to his leg as he tried to depart. His dearest dancer trying to tug the muscled appendage free with a tearful smile.
Luckily for Vyse, and any future daughters he might have, Gregory's sacrifice wasn't needed. He was truly grateful, however, for all of them. Thanks to Brindas' quick thinking, a summoned celestial whisked them away from the plummeting ship. As the deck dropped out from beneath them, he watched the leviathan ship carve its long, destructive scar across the face of Illia. Of course, without Mir's flying it could have been much worse. Without her and her crew they could've been demolished before they even slipped into the prime in the first place.
-A warm smile found the bard's firebrick face as he remembered the words of encouragement his love had offered. "G-Go out there and make Wyvernspur proud, Vyvie. I'm already proud of you."
And so here they were, poison water, battered crew, seven days worth of supplies. Stranded. The marooned musician had to chuckle, though. A rescue mission in need of rescue. Tymora had at least cracked a grin. The abandoned house was an incredible bit of luck, but more than that... they were alive!
-The others. Argent, Kelth, Odette, Quinn. They had to be alright. For now he had to believe they were alright, but he wanted to know they were alright. If they weren't.. Then what?
Poor Mir! Her beloved Alice was so badly wounded. It was a sad sight, such a majestic thing mauled and still in the acrid waters. That was the first Vyse had ever seen her angry, cursing loudly as she surveyed the wreck.
And poor Brindas! The doctor was undoubtedly sharp and capable, but it was beyond the bard to imagine the burden of being tasked with leading their motley party through such a place. This made Vyse feel some measure of guilt over his first, and early, act of insubordination...