Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Galahad_Knight 08-18-03, 07:24 AM	EDIT: Those of you tuning in just now to catch my story, the adventure begins >>HERE<< (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=1337218#post1337218) ---- So many interesting characters, so many cool backgrounds...I'm boired. I'm going to list some of my characters or NPCs. Pick one you think sounds interesting and I'll post his story. Critique if you like. *Thera "Silverbolt" Donnodel, half-elven Bard/Ranger (with Outlaw PrC). A flighty young woman with a checkered past. She took on the mantle of famed bandit queen "Silverbolt" only to become enthralled in the epic saga of her companion Ragnar Wulfric. *Ragnar Wulfric, Half-dwarven (special rules) fighter/ranger who thinks he's just a normal human with a dwarven 'uncle' (family friend). Ragnar was raised to hint the giant-kin by his father and uncle. One day after a long hunt by himself, Ragnar returned to his village to find both his beloved tutors dead...supposedly in an attack on the village. Ragnar rides off to seek his fortune, not knowing the scandelous truth behind their deaths, nor the impending doom of his village at the hands of an evil warlord. * Winterwound (an NPC I actually designed for a friend who waas running the thera/ragnar campaign), the evil and disturbingly intelligent spawn of a mountain troll and an unluclky female white dragon who strayed into the old fiend's territory. Unusually intelligent and forecful in personality, the twisted monster uses a small army of half-dragon brethern togain a stranglehold on the north. (Contains vile elements) * Sir Jori Winterbourne, noble human Paladin/Windrider with silver dragon blood in his veins (no game effects). He himself is not all that interesting, but the Winterbourne family is, and so is the secret of their bloodline... * Sir Thadeus Huntington III, a noble knight of pure heart and deed, but he is by no means usual. The Third Lord of Huntington is, in fact, a half-ogre, adopted unwittingly into the noble house... His tale is one of tragity, desperation, terachery and nobility through all obstructions. * Glifford Glimm Cohen Galberflax. A gnomish paladin whose tiny heart knows only purity and courage...at least that is what his well-polished facade shows. Inside is a tragic being, scarred by atrocities of his childhood and tainted with unyeilding hatred for the Kobold which perpetrated them. Will his hatred lead to his downfall? * This one's a Dragonstar NPC (Deep space Sci-fi D&D setting), Marik Lightblade seems to be, on the surface, an average self-interested freebooter, out to make a lving for himself and heep himself living. The only thing that seems outstanding about the space rat is his Soulmech body (android body with the soul of a dead humanoid, brought back to live witin the mechanical shell). Many mysteries lie in the past of a man who;s already lived and died once before. Perhaps even a tale of a noble knoght who betrayed his vows and his country in the eave of his world's end? Is there any nobility left in his cold, steel heart? And what of the strangters he just picked up (the PCs) Will their epic voyage bring life and love back to a man who is already dead? These are the most interesting ones I could think of off the top of my head... Anyhow, you guys pick which one seems like the most interesting. I'll check in this evening and whomever got the most attention will be first. Then if anyone still cares we can move on. And who knows, I might dust off some more interesting characters in the meantime.
Mr. VanderMeer 08-18-03, 08:05 AM	Tell me about the half dwarf. He seems interesting.
Galahad_Knight 08-19-03, 03:42 AM	Well, I had planned to wait and see if anyone e;lse spoke up and tally the votes. But at the moment I think I can trust my preliminary count of 1 <chuckles> Description/Personality: Gruff and stern, he doesn't talk more than he has to. He is stout and stocky, with thick red hair and beard braided like a Dwarf. When you get past his defenses he can be fairly jovial, especially when he's been drinking or fresh from a victorious battle. But most of the time ke keeps up a cold facade. He has a hard time relating to elves though he's not specist against them. He prefers the company of dwarves and gnomes to anyone and he prefers to sleep outside whenever possible. He has a lot of respect for nature, but his anger and urge to be the best warrior have taken him away from the path of the ranger. Ragnar is 5'5" and 250lbs of solid muscle. His height and general facial structure are very human, but his build and personality speak volumes for his true nature. He tends to take a simple view of the world, including politics and religion (which are foten oen in the same in the realms). He doesn't trust anyone he doesn't respect, and he can't respect anyone who doesn;t stand up for themselves. He views gods and politicians with equal distain, though he favors clangeddin Silverbeard because, "I like a deity who can kick some arse when need be. As long as he don't meddle nome with my affirs, I'll do the same fer him." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- History: Someone once described Ragnar as 'The world's Largest Dwarf', the gruff fighter certainly seems to have earned that title. Raised near the dwarven community of Ironwrought in the Siver Marches, he alays got along better with the stout folk than his own kind. His father, Lothar Wulfric, was a member of the village garrison and best friends with the Dwarven warrior Trollgar Giantsfoe. His father and 'uncle' Trollgar taught the boy everything they knew about the art of fighting, especially when it came to slaying giants which were a deadly threat to the mountain community. When he came of age his father and uncle took him out to slay his first monster. A young ogre had been causing trouble for local hunters and the trio set out to stop it. His father and uncle could have easily taken the monster, but they held back and let Ragnar take it on. It was a tough battle but Ragnar eventually won with only minimal assistance from the other two. There was a great celebration when he got back home. Ragnar was declared a man and given what would become his prized possessions, a Masterwork Waraxe that has been in Trollgar's family for generations (Trollgar never had the time for a family so he always said he saw Ragnar as a son), and his father's chain shirt and large spiked shield. He was also given proivisions, a mount, and a goodbye kiss from his mother. In his village it is tratitional for young men to go out for a few years to learn the ways of things before returning home if that is what they desire. Ragnar rode out the next day and returned home a year later with a head full of adventurous tales and a heart full of homesickness. Unfortunately, when he had gotten home he found that his father and uncle were slain in a recent attack by the giants. Filled with rage and sorrow he left his village for the last time, deciding to honor his father and uncle's memories by forging a name for himself and bringing his family name and his story to the lips of all the people of the north...and to quench his rage in the blood of any giant who is unfortunate enough to cross his path. Unknown to Ragnar, the mighty Lothar Wulfric was not his actual father, but rather it was Lothar's best friend Trollgar. Lothar used to go on long patrolls during the winters when he was younger, sent to flush out goblin dens and to hunt down giants. The nights were long and lonely for his wife, Feya, and sometimes Trollgar would stay at the village to keep her company and help defend the down if trouble arose while he was away. Once, on a particularly cold and lonely night, Feya and Trollgar both submitted to a temptation that they would forever regret. Lothar returned not long after, so when Feya became pregnant, it wasn't immediately known whose the baby was. But as soon as Ragnar was born, Trollgar knew at once that it was his son. Fortunately, Lothar was not the most observant man in the village and he never noticed. Trollgar decided that, despite the circumstances, Ragnar was his son and would be raised as such, even if it could only be done from a distance. As the years rolled by, Trollgar became like a second father to the young boy and he and Lothar raised the child to be a fine warrior of the North. And when it was time for him to leave and gain experience in the outside world, Trollgar shocked everyone when he gave the boy his ancestral axe. Most of the villagers had their theories about the stocky young lad and his close relationship to the dwarven friend of the family, which were confirmed when the dwarf gave away a weapon that is traditionally only passed down to the eldest son. Lothar, however, failed to notice the signiffigance of this event until a week after Ragnar left the village, when someone spoke out of turn about how well he was taking the situation. Lothar went mad with furry and confronted his former blood-brother in the woods. Both fought well, and both were eventually slain by each other. When Ragnar returned, his mother could not bear to tell him the truth, so she made up the story about the giant attack and the other villagers, feeling guilty about the deaths of their two finest warriors, agreed to go along with her story. Ragnar left with a misguided rage and a head full of lies. During the years to come, Ragnar cut a bloody swath through the ogre, troll, goblin and orc dens of the Northlands, leaving only death and glory in his wake. He made a name for himself as a brave and cunning warrior with the creativity of a human and the defiant courage of a Dwarf and truely a man to be feared and respected. During his adventures he claimed his share of riches but spent most of it honing his deadly weapons and reinforcing his trusted armor. Compassionate and generous, to a point, he has also been known to donate generous sums of treasure to families torn apart by evil creatures, particularly giants orcs and goblins. He made many friends among the human, dwarf and gnome communities of the northlands and many enemies among the ranks of evildoers, though until recently neither have been of much concern to him... On one of his recent adventures, Ragnar encounted Thera Donnodel, a flashy young female outlaw and native of the High Forest. The brazen young half-elf made the mistake of attempting to rob a party of orcs of the spoils they gained from assaulting a nearby village and charmed her way into more than she bargained for! Fortunately for her, Ragnar showed up just in time and launched himself from the back of his steed into battle like a hairy red cannonball. Between his axe and shield and her crossbows the orcs were routed quickly, leaving their ill-gotten gains behind (which were returned to the village by Thera, minus a small finder's fee which she offered to split with Ragnar. He politely refused). When the grim warrior left for more adventure, the enchanting young bandit followed, despite Ragnar's insistance to the contrary. This was the beginning of a bumpy, love-hate relationship that has lasted more than a year. Outlaws are a paradoxical lot, fearless in the face of danger and romance alike, always using their charms on others, but just as often falling pray to the fickle whims of Lady Love. Thera began with a curiosity about the gruff and grim warrior that quickly grew to a fascination, then a crush and soon became became enamored with her enigmatic protector. Due to her fanciful and romantic nature she immediately suspected the hidden truth in Ragnar's tragic background, which only adds to the attraction. (Nothing better than a powerful, lonely warrior with a tragic and hihgly romantic background to drive a young woman wild). She hasn't shared her views with him though because she fears (correctly) that he would react badly to the idea...besides, what fun is a hidden and enigmatic past if it becomes public knowledge? She is just burning to be able to go back to his village and discover the truth for herself. Ragnar, perhaps through some fluke of fate, seems to have inherited Lothar's oblivious nature to the subtlties of romance and is totally unaware of his companion's attraction to him. He tolerates her and her quirks with gruff dwarfish indifference and (though he'd never admit it) has even grown somwhat fond of her. And no matter how annoying she may be at times, he is always quick to her aid when she gets herself in over her head. Which happens wuite often and he's beginning to suspect (correctly) that a lot of the time she gets in trouble on purpose just so he can save her...(though he believes that she does it to annoy him) Ragnar has done his best to curb his companion's illegal impulses (as a matter of conveninace rather than a matter of morality. He doesn't want to become an outlaw by saving her the reach of justice) but has met with only some success. She already had pretty strict rules on who and how she'd rob and what she would take, but he has managed to get her to focus more on robbing evil creatures rather than fat merchants (though even he can't stop her from deflating the ego and purse of the occasional pompus noble or merchant). And in her turn, Thera has managed to crack Ragnar's shell and get him to relax and open up a little more than he used to. Unbeknownst to the pair, a wickedly cunning Half-white dragon-troll named Winterwound has risen to power amongst the monsters of the area around Ironwrought and has managed to beat a loose coalition of ogres, trolls, orcs and goblins together and is causing trouble back in Ragnar's homeland. Ironwrought dispatched a young messenger to find the wandering hero but the village was destroyed soon after and the messenger hasn't been seen for a while. It isn't known if Ragnar's mother survived. Few are known to have escaped the assault but the creatures have been known to take prisoners and slaves. If word of this were to reach Ragnar he may well drop everything and race off to the scene, Thera in tow. But this challenge may be too much even for the mighty Ragnar Wulfric. Thera could possibly persuade him to look for assistance on this quest if he has not already encountered more adventurers before news reaches him (if ever). The long and tragic saga of Ragnar Wulfric is far from over for his adventures have only yet begun... ------------- And that's what I wrote, coming INTO the game. The game started at 8th level, so I figured I needed a few years to explain his levels and relationsnhip witrh the other character. Ufortunately the game didn;t last very long. The GM had reality catch up with him all at once a few months in and had to quit the game. Although I DID get brownie points for the massively hook-filled background, complete with full stats on Winterwound (a painfully min/maxed, epic-level foe) and his hoarde. He was actually planning to build a compaign around it once trhe intro adventure was over. There was only one other player and he just wanted combat, so he didn't care if the sotry centered around someone else's character. <sighs> Ah well...maybe I should bring Ragnar back someday...
Fizzle 08-19-03, 08:12 AM	I'd like to hear more about Sir Thadeus Huntington III, he sounds most interesting. I think you mentioned him in a thread in the savage species forum a while back... BTW, nice work on Ragnar, his background was a very enjoyable read.
Galahad_Knight 08-21-03, 04:35 AM	I'm glad to see that more than one person was interested enough to reat that long bac kstory <chucklkes> Unfortunately, I can't find my digital copy of Thade. But if you ask me real nice (or someone else asks for it) I'll try to transcribe it for you.
Mr. VanderMeer 08-21-03, 10:39 AM	Hi, That is very cool . So I am interested now. Next tell us about Winterwound, as it it fits in. :cool: :cool: :D
Alpha_Lord 08-22-03, 06:20 AM	Yeah...let's hear more about Winterwould! :p
djrdjmsqrd 08-22-03, 02:43 PM	But the bard first....I like this game.... /lurk djordje
Galahad_Knight 08-22-03, 07:41 PM	Wow, more requests. I'm glad to see people care. First thing I'll do is transcribe Thade for Fizzle since hel;s been waiting so long. Then I'll do Thera (the bard/bandit from Ragnar's story) Then I'll do Winterwound...but Winterwound has some "Viule" Elements in his background (Rape, non-humanoid sex and the like) so I'll put some massive warnings on it. I don;t want to offend anyone.
Galahad_Knight 08-22-03, 08:04 PM	Sir Thadeus "Thade" Huntington III, the tenth Duke of Huntington was found as an infant by the tragically infertile Lady Huntington on her daily stroll through the palace gardens. Unable to find anyone with a claim to the infant (who, at that age, didn't look like much more than an above-average sized baby), she and Lord Huntington adopted the foundling and raised him as their own. They were desperate for an heir, and too in love to even consider alternatives. Thade was always a very large, strapping lad, with simple but not unattractive features, and it wasn't until his early teens that his first major growth spurt kicked in and the lad's true nature was revealed. And what a scandal it caused... It turns out that the "Strapping" young man was, in fact, half-ogre. Since his adoption was a secret and the people were led to believe that he was born to the lady Huntington, her reputation was destroyed. Even after lord Huntington confessed the truth, that they had found the baby Thade and adopted him, rumors and inuendo still flew. Spurred on by the very people who had orignlally left baby Thade in the garden all those years ago! It turns out, Thade was an unwitting accomplace to a planned attack on the Huntington name and line of ascention. A political timebomb, waiting to go off. And when it happened, te young man was crushed. Finding out you;re adopted is hard enough for a person to take...combine that with his previously unknown heiratave and the scandal he caused simply by being alive, it was a truely crushing blow to the poor lad. Once the noble young man discovered what he was he left home and vowed not to return until his deeds brought honor back to the household that he disgraced with his presence. He was accompenied by his first cousin, Alexander Huntington (who would now be the legitimate heir to the household, had he not given up his borthright to help reclaim it for Thade) and with that, the young lord rode off to seek his destiny. Months later his father was killed and his family lands were taken over by those who did so much to undermine the family honor. Thadeus became the unrecognized lord of a household in exile and the Earl of lands he did not own. Now, a wandering Knight Errant, the young nobleman still seeks to bring honor and virtue back to his family name and oneday reclaim his lands. Thade is currently adventuring with his cousin and two companions, in the hopes of returning to Huntington with names filled with glory, wagons filled with treasure and, most importantly, an army at their backs, ready to reclaim what is rightfully his! His saga has just begun. [Thera and Winterwound are next, once I gert back home]
Galahad_Knight 08-22-03, 11:08 PM	Ok, I'm back. Sorry about that, but I got offered a free drink from a female friend of mine to celebrate my recent 21st birthday...and who can say no to free booze from a female friend?:D Speaking of female friends...Here comes Thera "Silverbolt" Donnodel, companion to Ragnar Wulfric. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Description/Personality: Thera is a beautiful young half-elven woman with long, shimering silver-blue hair and bright silvery-blue eyes that sparkle with mirth and mischief. Despite her tragic background she's still a cheerful and energetic person. She has a romantic streek a mile wide and loves tales of valor and daring-do, even if she has to star in them herself (*especially* if she stars in them <chuckle>). She gets a thrill out of her outlaw status and often goes out as her swash-buckling alter-ego 'Silverbolt' to plunder the wealth of monsters and fat nobles alike and distribute *most* of it to victims of evil and the economy. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- History: Thera's mother, the Lady Malia Lustwe was a minor noblewoman amongst the elven upper crust in the High Forest, just low enough on the social ladder not to have very much real power but just high enough to be an incredible snob. She also liked her wine and enjoyed her parties. During one such event she encountered Thera's father, a prosperous and unscrupulous human merchant. After a night of wine-fueled passion her mother's trusty contraceptives were forgotten by the bedside and several months later the Lustwe household was 'blessed' with an unwanted half-breed born out of wedlock to an image-obsessed petty noble and a curiously absent human gem merchant. The unfortunate babe was sent away to Waterdeep to live with her aunt Illandra Donnodel while her mother continued to drink and party, her only lesson learned was to be more careful in remembering to take her nararoot. Meanwhile, despite her aunt's best efforts, the call of the streets of Waterdeep was irresistible to the charming young half-elf. Her aunt made no secrets about her mother or her lineage; she disapproved of her sister's lifestyle and heartless dismissal of her child. But she was never bitter about having to raise the girl. She was only disappointed that she couldn't have done a better job. Between school and etiquette lessons from her aunt, the young lady would slip out to learn the ways of the street from a band of young hoods who quickly accepted the pretty young girl into their ranks. There she learned that fast hands and some quick flirting can get her anything she wants, especially if a tall and tragic tale is somehow involved. She learned to love the art of playing on people's heartstrings and quickly abandoned outright thievery in favor of the con game and even legitimate performance. As soon as she felt she had learned enough she left home, leaving a romantic letter for her aunt to find, proclaiming that she is leaving to reclaim her birthright and avenge her unjust banishment. Her aunt sighed and shook her head sadly, knowing that the poor fickle child would be instantly diverted by the first adventurous encounter she came upon. And she was correct. No sooner had she left Waterdeep than she was waylaid by the infamous bandit queen "Silverbolt." Fortunately the young half elf was so wrapped up in her quest that she neglected to bring any money along. But the dashing elven outlaw saw in her much promise...and more importantly a foolishly romantic young lady with the same hair and eye color and roughly the same build. The heat was on after a particularly daring and brazen robbery of the nephew of a local lord. She spirited the eager young lady away to the woods and began her instruction in the arts of the outlaw bandit under the pretence that Silverbolt was actually many people over the decades and that the mantle of the bandit queen is passed on when the current bearer has completed her personal quest of self-discovery. The story was of course and utter lie, Solverbolt was an identity the outlaw thought up ages ago as a way to create a dashing reputation amongst the common folk in the hopes that they'd aid her in times of need if they thought she was their heroine. And of course, the combination of increased heat and the fact that the bandit game had grown tiresome after so long spurred the unscrupulous elf to pass the buck to her all too eager pupil. After a few training adventures near Neverwinter (where the local law wasn't as interested in her), Thera was given her costume (A flashy and expensive silver and blue doublet with an immodestly cut bodice and puffy sleeves, a pair of very tight leather cavalry pants a tri-corner hat and a delicate silver and blue eye-mask) and her weapons, an elegant elven rapier with a leaf-and-vine pattern silver woven basket hilt and a silvery-blue blade; and the Silverbolt trademark, a silver-plated hand crossbow with its silvered bolts. With these tools and her new identity, Thera began her adventures in earnest. She spent years traveling the highways and back roads of the North, polishing her inherited reputation as the charming Lady Bandit, robbing from unscrupulous merchants, spoiled and uncaring nobles and evil monsters and other creatures that victimize the poor and innocent, completely forgetting her quest for her birthright in the process. Eventually she managed to perfect the act to the point where half the time all she had to do was make a dashing entrance and a convincing speech and the victims would gladly fork over their money just for the show. Unfortunately, this almost never worked on monster races, as she finally learned one fateful evening. A small force of orcs and goblins had just raided a nearby village and Silverbolt was in the area to answer the call. When she arrived on the scene of the raid the citizens of the village begged their bandit heroine to avenge their losses and steal back their meager treasures. Of course she rushed to their aid, especially after a reward was offered! She managed to track the miscreants down to a clearing where they had settled down to divide their ill-gotten gains. She ambushed the group with a silver crossbow bolt through the hand of the leader as he reached for a gilded picture frame bearing the portrait of one of the families they shattered. She struck a striking pose from a low, thick branch fo a nearby tree and commanded them to stand and deliver. Unfortunately her charms and prose had an undesirable effect. Apparently the creatures were under orders from their boss not to rape or take slaves since this was a strictly business raid and didn't want his men getting distracted...nobody said anything about having some fun after the raid... The hideous and slavering creatures advanced on the stunned and stunning heroine like starving men around a fat turkey. Of course, the mighty Silverbolt had a plan up her poofy sleeve, but before she could execute it (or even think it up) a cry of "Heads up, ye smelly buggers!" broke through the tension and a mithral-plated thunderbolt in the form of Ragnar Wulfric slammed into the ranks of the orcs and goblins, his mighty shield and blazing axe, ripping into the squealing masses, a whirlwind of mithral, fire and steel. Even the worldly Silverbolt was stunned momentarily by the display if ferocity, but she gathered herself quickly and joined the battle, letting loose with silver and steel, firing her freshly loaded crossbow with her left hand and skewering a goblin with the rapier in her right. The battle was hard-fought but the fiends were routed and the town's valuables rescued. Thus was the beginning of a minor annoyance for Ragnar and a hopeless romance for Thera. One whiff of his tragic and mysterious background and a glimpse of his combat prowess and she was hooked. Over the next year or so she followed her hero on all his adventures, chronicling his exploits along with her own, though increasingly Silverbolt became less a heroine and more frequently a damsel in distress, always getting in over her head, only to have her stout and burly protector launch to her aid. Though she's never entirely helpless and often performs some quite heroic acts, her banditly exploits have begun to take a back seat to her *new* quest in life: gaining the love and affection of her stocky and stalwart companion through any means save the direct approach. Being a true romantic she favors subtlety and flirtation over the crass and tactless direct approach...but of course, since her target is half dwarf she may as well be working a quarry with her rapier, but still she tries. Meanwhile, in her birthplace the High Forest, her mother has received a distressed note from her sister in which Thera's loving and concerned aunt expresses her worry that their wayward child has taken up the guise of the daring Bandit Queen and pleading for her mother to send someone to find her and talk some sense into her before she gets herself hanged. Unfortunately for Thera, her mother (who has managed to gain some semblance of influence in the elven court through her various 'acquaintances') sees the poor girl as an embarassment and a threat to her status and good name. She has hired people to bring her in, but certainly not for a sound talking to! They have orders not to kill her, but Lady Lustwe made it clear that she cared little about what condition she is to be delivered in so long as she still has a pulse. It seems that Mommy Dearest wishes to see her wayward child face to face before deciding what to do with her. It also seems that the messenger Thera's beloved aunt sent was not entirely trustworthy himself and he peeked at the letter while en route. After it was delivered he rushed to the constabulary to report the suspected identity of Silverbolt in hopes of receiving a reward for the information. Now, unknown to her, the eyes of the law are fixed upon both Silverbolt and Thera Donnodel (though the authorities are keeping the fact they suspect her identity quiet so as not to tip her off and send her into flight) And even more trouble looms overhead for the fledgling Robber Baroness, her constant harassment of goblin and orc raiding parties in the north has gotten the attention of the half-dragon troll, Winterwound, who has added the pesky woman to his hit list, right next to her companion, Ragnar. The Song of Silverbolt seems to have only reached its midpoint, but the crescendo looms threateningly in the distance... ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Bum-bum-BUUUUUMMM! Well, that's thera. Wiunterwound will come in sometime later tonight probably.
Galahad_Knight 08-23-03, 02:42 AM	WARNING! THIS POST CONTAINS VILE/MATURE CONTENT, INCLUDING RAPE, HUMANOID-NONHUMANOID SEX AND INSTANCES OF MENTAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE Please, if you're offended by matter such as this, please, PLEASE, just hit "Page Down" and scroll up slowly until you see my 'All Clear' message. I don't want to offend anyone, but I don't feel the need to waste bandwidth starting a whole new thread on the mature boards for one post. Thank you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Description/Personality: A twisted and evil creature, Winterwound is a massive troll, his gray-green hide checkered with glistening white scales. A pair of massive leathery wings adorn his scaily back. His face is a maw of fangs with a slight draconic muzzle and his eery pupil-less eyes glow white, flaring icy blue when he is angry. Instead of greasy greenish troll hair the top of his head is covered in pearly white scales and a small crest, but Winterwound had a sorcerer minion of his cast Continuual Flame on the top of his head, slightly modified to produce eery ice-blue flames. He was very pleased with the demonic image this created and he used it to his great advangage for intimidating his foes and allies alike. He even had the sorcerer cast the spell on his trusty Greataxe which he dubbed "Frostfire." He usually wears little in the line of clothing, prefering instead to display his massive and frightening body. Typically a loincloth and crown made of dragon fangs and troll teeth are all he needs. When he's expecting combat he'll don an enchanted breastplate made from the hide of an unlucky white dragon who, like his mother, tried to take over the domain of the wrong troll. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your perspective) the dragon was too young to be used for breeding, so it was slain outright. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- History: Winterwound's past is disgusting, brutal and evil, just like the creature himself. It seems, according to his own accounts, Winterwound is part of the rare minority of half dragons whose *mother* was the dragon, and almost unique in the fact that she was an unwilling participant in the affair! His mother, whose name his father never bothered to learn was a young adult white dragon who made the mistake of being over-ambitious and tried to seize the turf of an old and vicious troll named Black-Fang. The troll was stronger, more agile and tougher than the young dragoness, and her deadly frost breath, fangs and claws had little effect on the fast-healing monster. It was a titanic battle, but it didn't take long for the poor dragon to be beaten to a bloody, whimpering pulp by the creature. But strangely, her life was spared (but not as an act of mercy, not by far!). It seems old Black-Fang decided the poor beast could be of use to him after all, properly trained of course. This is where the disgusting, evil and brutal parts come into play... He tortured and raped the poor creature 'til her already rather dull mind snapped under the weight of his sheer brutality. Soon the miserable creature was turned into Black-Fang's personal watchdog and bearer of his insidious spawn, her mind reduced to that of a simpering animal. When he was born his father named him Winterwound and decided he would teach his monstrous progeny how to seize power, dominate those weaker and have his way with life itself. Unfortunately, being a troll he neglected such virtues as loyalty and respect and as soon as the creature known as Winterwound was able, he killed and ate his father...for while he was just as cruel and evil as his father, he was also smart...too smart to be under the thumb of anyone. His poor mother, whose mind was now little more than that of an animal's was spared...but again, not out of any sense of mercy but rather again to be used as a breeder and tool for him to seize power. He realized that he could use her to enforce his cruel edicts and to create powerful half-siblings from the stock of other creatures; Ogres, Ettins and Orcs, but never himself, never Trolls. He wasn't as foolish as his father. He wouldn't create any creature he couldn't bully and control. Even after her usefulness as a breeder had passed, he kept her alive, as a pet. It's always nice to have a tamed dragon around, even if she was hopelessly stpuid. One thing about Winterwound, his sole virtue, if it can be so-called, is his patience. Trolls, with their regenerative abilities can live for a long, long time and the blood of a dragon in his pulsing green veins only gave him more time. By interbreeding the half-orc spawn he was able to create a small number of offspring of similar power (though they were all sterile) four-dozen in all. These would be local bosses in charge of whipping the lesser creatures into shape and acting as sergeants among his troops. Next were the ogres, though he was careful with these. Only six were allowed to live, and he made sure that they both feared and respected him as their master. These would be his lieutenants. They were named for the hazards of their wintry home: Frostbite, Avalanche, Blizzard, Snowblind, Winterwolf and Icebreak. And finally there came the Ettins...two and only two. Their twin heads meant that not only could they be highly effective in melee (using twin weapons with total ease) but it also meant that they had two breath attacks...and most importantly it meant that they had someone to conspire with. He took great care in training and instructing these creatures. They would be his right and left hands, the generals of his sinister horde, second only to him and always at his sides unless a situation demanded an extreme response yet wasn't worthy of his direct attention. Their names were Ice-Storm and North-Wind (the right head got the first half of the name, the left head got the last half). At long last, the core of his horde was established. He sent the orcs out to the lesser creatures, orcs and goblins mainly, as well as any evil or savage tribes of demihumans that may be living in the mountains of the north. The ogres he sent to the lesser giants, ogres, trolls and ettins. While he himself, with his mother and his two Ettin brothers went to the greater giants of the area, hill, stone and frost. Through intimidation, guile or sheer brute force he managed to band together a loose confederation of most of the monster races in the area, though most of the greater giants were too powerful or prideful to join him, he had a lot better luck with the lesser species. But none would stand against him. Before long, Winterwound became a terrible force in the far north, terrorizing lands as far south as the Silver Marches and promising to be a powerful threat to lands further south than that in the future. Winterwound is evil, cruel and cunning to no end. Along with the fantastic strength and near-invulnerability of his breeding, he is blessed with an unusually high IQ, especially considering his parentage. He's a cunning strategist, a remarkable organizer and an incredibly patient creature. All very dangerous assets to see in a warlord... Recently the exploits of a pair of edventurers, Thera "Silverbolt" Donnodel and particularly Ragnar Wulfric have come to the attention of mighty Winterwound, and the pair has proven to be quite an annoyance. Ragnar decimated local populations of orcs goblins and ogres in the Silver Marches and lower regions of the North, which has hindered his plans for expansion. Worse yet, the upstart has a taste for killing Trolls in particular, and his flaming axe has gained the name 'Grendelfrag', which loosely means 'Trollbane' in Giant amongst the more southern trolls of the area. And the annoying bandit Silverbolt has made it a point to harass local orc and goblin warbands and even his own slaving parties. He has decided to devote a generous portion of his vaulable time and attention to this pair and anyone they travel with. He sees them as a threat in the making. Recently he managed to take over Ragnar's home village and learned many interesting facts about the half-human and his infamous father who was the premier trollslayer of the Silver Marches until his death. It is also known to Winterwound that Trollgar was a dwarf of noble blood and had many powerful ties to the drarven leadership in that area but inexplicably decided to live with his adventuring friend and his bastard son rather than take his place in the Dwarven Court. To someone as cunning and powerful as Wiunterwound, even a little knowledge can be a terrible thing indeed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ALL CLEAR Ok, it's safe to read on now. :angel: Sorry for all the warnings and caution tape, but I didn't wnat to upset anyone and get the thread closed. With the terrible trio down and Thade accounted for, we are starting to run out of characters. I'll have to search my files for some more (Or start making them up :devil: ). But there's still a few names left. Gliff, Marik, Jori. Three noble warriors...one haunted by the past, one trying to forget and the other, blissfully unaware of everything but the present.
Fizzle 08-23-03, 06:34 PM	Whoo! Thanks for posting those. I havn't read them all yet, but I will soon...
Galahad_Knight 08-24-03, 02:40 AM	I can;t wit to hear what you (and everyone else) thinks.
Galahad_Knight 08-25-03, 12:31 AM	Amy further requests or comments? Or did Winterwound scare you off? :D
Galahad_Knight 08-25-03, 06:23 PM	Ok, well I guess nobody cares to hear any more, so this'll be the last bump. Ah well...
Mr. VanderMeer 08-26-03, 07:57 AM	Don't be so impatient, we will get around to reading this. I for one am quite impressed by your stories and they are very well written. Hopefully you have more :D
Trydan 08-26-03, 04:54 PM	Good stories! There's a lot of variety between them as well. Nice work. BTW: I love the name "Winterwound"... that says a lot in itself!
Galahad_Knight 08-26-03, 07:31 PM	sorry for being impatient, but I figured it was 48 hours since anyone posted *anything", even another "I'll read it in a sec" post, so I didn;t think anyone was interested anymore :embarrass Glad to see I'm wrong. Whose story do you want to see next? Or would you rather I dig up some more options first?
Mr. VanderMeer 08-27-03, 06:33 AM	You have already told so much stories, we do need some more options. But in the meanwhile tell us about Glifford Glimm Cohen Galberflax. Gnome Paladin's are sure to be interesting.
Galahad_Knight 08-28-03, 07:09 AM	One tragic gnome coming up. I'll see if I can dig up any more juicy PCs soon, but most of them aren't digitized so I'd need to transcribe. If I dopn;t post some more options in the next day or so, give me a poke. Anyhow, Gliff... Blarg! His sheet seems to have been eaten by computer gremlins. But I'll reconstruct him from memory. Here goes nothing... Glifford Glim Cohen Galberflax began life as a happy gnome boy in a happy gnome village near the high forest. But, alas, his childhood was cut painfully short when a hoarde of Kobolds and attacked the village. THey had always had trouble with kobold skirmishers but nothing the town;s defenders couldn;t handle...but nothing, nothing could have prepared them for the sheer size and savagery of the assault. Hundreds of squealing, stinking kobolds poured out from everywhere, secret tunnels excavated both inside and outside the city walls unleashed swarms of the vile creatures. The attackers were brutal and cruel, they slaughtered all who stood and fought and tortured and brutalized those who didn't. Gliff's mother managed to hide the terrified boy in an empty barrel before the kobolds decended on their house. Poor little gliff made the mistake of peking out through a knott hole when he heard his mother scream...what he saw scarred him deeply. The only thing that saved Gliff from eventual discovery was an elvish warband. Scouts from the High Forest saw the smoke and investigated. When they saw the battle they immediately sent for help. A hail of elven arrows rained down on the squealing hoarde, just ahead of the thundering hooves of high elven cavalry. The elves rode down every kobold they could and drove the evil beasts back into their holes. In the end, little Glifford was the only survivor who wasn't carried away by the invaders. He was found, still cowering in the barrel, by an elven paladin named Sir Jothy Rodwen. Since he had no family left the young gnome was adopted by the elves and raised in a temple of Corellon Larethian, where the wounds of his soul were tended to. It seemed that, after a few years in the tranquility of the temple, the boy had become a find young man. The forest and its inhabitants seemed to have a sooting effect on the troubled youth. He loved animals and saw the elves as family and protectors. At first it was thought that Gliff would take to the path of the ranger, but fate through common sense a curveball when Gliff reported hearing The Call. His friend and mentor (and surrogate father figure), Sir Jothy was estatic when he heard that the boy had been chosen. Though even those who loved him thought it was odd. Corellon is a chaotic and fickle god, he doesn't call many paladins, and for him to call a non-elf was unheard of. But still, Jothy was eager to train the lad. But the purity and tranquility of the wooded temple could not drive away all the shadows from his heart. Gliff really was a good, gentle, noble perdon, and he had the heart of a paladin...but a heart that was tainted by the violence he was forced to endure. Gliff quickly took to martial training. His memories of being weak and helpless haunted him, and he vowed to himself never to let oit happen again...not to himself or anyone. He would take up the sword and protect those who were like him, those who could not fight. As part of his training, Jothy took Gliff with him on many adventures and quests. During this time the lad proved himself to be a fierce warrior and a caring person. He saved many lives and vanquished many evildoers. But brooding inside his noble heart were the seeds of hate. Seeds which would bear ftuit all too soon. Gliff had just completed his training with Jothy, but was still adventuring with the elven knight when it happened. They were flushing out a band of goblins who had been raiding local villages when they were ambushed. but not by the goblins they were persuing. No, they were attacked by kobolds. Gliff hadn't seen a kobold since the night his village was destroyed. He wasn't prepared for the encounter. Unfortunately, Jothy wasn't ready for them either and was mobbed by the little bastards. He fought them off as best they could but there were too manyl THey swarmed him and pulled him down, they tore at his armor and stabbed him with their poisoned blades. Gliff watched in horror as his hero was slain by the demons of his past. The rest was blackness. Gliff only remembers hearing himself scream and then waking up who knows how later covered in blood, the broken bodies of kobolds all around him. The thought of what he must have done horrified him. Reelin from the loss of his mentor and the darkness within him he burried Jothy and fled the high forrest, hoping to find absolution elsewhere. Gliff is still a paladin, still a faithful servant of Corellon, and still a protector of the weak. But inside him there is a speciest killer, a hater of all things kobold. Will he find the help that his heart cries out for or will he fall from the path and quench his flames of hatred in the blood of the innocent? Only time will tell.
Mr. VanderMeer 08-28-03, 09:47 AM	Cool, that is one dangerous kobold killing paladin. (I always said kobolds are some of the most dangerous monsters out there.)
Elemental 08-28-03, 06:04 PM	I like these bios too--if I ever run a D&D game, I am so going to yoink that troll. Nasty piece of work. :)
Galahad_Knight 08-28-03, 07:31 PM	LOL, glad you like him. You should see his sheet. He's a Ranger/Cleric of Bane. I think he had some fighter levels too. I should re-stat him for 3.5 and post him here.
SailorNash 08-28-03, 08:51 PM	What about the Winterbourne family? I'd like to hear about Jori and his ancestry, if you're still willing to share. :)
Galahad_Knight 09-01-03, 04:54 AM	I'm terribly sorry about abandoning the thread for so long. Things have been weird. ANyhow, for those wanting to see Jori...I've actually posted a somwhat abbbreviated, first-level version of him (and his background) over in the Fiest Level Character Contest board, under the PHB if you want to go take a look. Since he's in the contest I shouldn't post his information here as it might be a bit unfair to other contestants. But I'll give you a LINK (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=91905) so those who wanted to know his background can have a look. I can tell you though, that he has additional background based on in-game events involving a female anthropromorphic lion, a wedding and a whole new generation of heroes. Details on that after the contest is over.
Mr. VanderMeer 09-01-03, 06:38 AM	involving a female anthropromorphic lion, a wedding and a whole new generation of heroes Hm, that looks like more mature content is coming. Great!
Galahad_Knight 09-01-03, 08:40 AM	LOL, well...I don't know if I'd call it 'mature' No gory details, nothing unusual or nonconsentual. Just two happy young folks and their romance.
Hudson 09-01-03, 03:27 PM	I love this, great work Galahad:D
Galahad_Knight 09-15-03, 02:46 AM	Thanks, Hudson. Sorry I haven;t been posting. THings have been weird lately Here's Jori;s background. It's been updated sinc e the contest to account for the *real* Sir Jori Winterbourne. Name: Jori Winterbourne Description/Personality: Jori is a Quintessential Paladin, strong, bold, charismatic and caring. He has a great love of animals, especially those that may serve as steeds to man. He's something of a horse-buff but can spot a good mount no matter what the species. He considers cruelty to animals nearly as heinous as cruelty to women and children and other defenseless creatures. He is bold and brave and courteous to the extreme but his own faith in himself and his vows to protect women and children sometimes make him sound a bit arrogant and sexist, sometimes accidentally insulting female adventurers with his constant attempts to protect them. But he's really just trying to be chivalrous. Jori is also not the most perceptive of people, especially when it comes to picking up things like when someone is annoyed or infatuated with him. The poor lad can be quite clueless at times. Jori is a tall, strapping lad with pale skin, long white hair and sparkling ice-blue eyes. Like many members of his family, Jori has streaks of pure silver hair at his temples. As he grows older his eye color will fade and become more slivery and his hair will eventually become pure silver. As it stands, he is a strong, well-built lad with an honest and open face and innocent eyes. He usually dresses in leathers and simple clothes when not expecting trouble. When geared up for combat, however, the lad is an impressive sight in his gleaming armor, flowing cape and lethal weapons. In keeping with his household's heraldic traditions, his armor and weapon have a definite silver dragon theme to them. His gleaming scale mail is patterned to look like the belly scales of a silver wyrm with frilled wing-like shoulder plates. His heavy shield is shaped like a dragon's wing. His family symbol is a silver dragon rampant on a pale blue field. Jori is 6'0" and weighs about 200lbs. He is 21 years old. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- History: Jori is the latest and greatest in a long line of proud and noble warriors of House Winterbourne. Though House Winterbourne is primarily a warrior household, they tend to produce a high number of romantics, artists and arcanists. This is due to the unusual nature of his lineage. For, you see, house Winterbourne can trace its roots back to the, now quite ancient, great silver wyrm Snowdin Ornmolik (draconic for "Silver Hide") and his tragically mortal human love. Now, many centuries and generations later, he watches his descendants as their patron and friend of the family. They are unaware of their biological relationship to the majestic Lord Snowdin, they just know that he was a dear friend of their progenitor, the original Jori Winterbourne (who was, in fact Snowdin’s grandson and a sorcerer of some repute). Yet, across the gulf of time, traces of Snowdin’s blood can still be seen in the family to this day. The family has produced an unusually large number of Sorcerers over the years, and many of their Paladins and Sorcerers have become legends in their in time. The family resemblance is also quite strong from one generation to the next. Winterbournes are almost exclusively blond, with pale blue eyes; and all are comely and healthy. As they age (which they all manage to do quite gracefully) their hair fades from light gold to platinum blond to silver. Their eyes also tend to fade in color as the years press on as well, becoming a faint silver-blue. Though no Winterbourne has ever lived much more than a century, a remarkable number have managed to make it to their centennials. They are a healthy and long-lived family. Because of the teachings of their patron, Snowdin, the Winterbournes have a special afanity for the Dragon Gods, especially Bahamut, so it's not uncommon for them to accept the platinum dragon as their patron deity. Jori is especially fond of Bahamut. He respects him as a law-maker and a naturalist and has dedicated his exploits to the mighty dragon-god. Jori began his adventuring career as a Ranger. He always felt a love for animals and a deep respect for nature and the beautiful forrests surrounding his valley home. He spent his early years wandering the woods and fighting the local goblin and orc populations. But a lot of his time was spent training to fight dragons, under the tutelage of Lord Snowdin himself. Jori loves dragons, but he despises the evil ones who bring fear and destruction to the innocent. Despite their heiratage, or perhas because of it, there are many famed Dragonslaywes in the winterbourne family. After several yeras of treking though the back woods and mountain passes near his home, Jori heard the call of Bahamut. It came to him in a dream, a dream where he was flying on the back of a massive, platinum-scaled dragon. He watched the woods sail by below him as the thunderous wingbeats carried him away from his home. Nw a word was exchanged during the dream, btu the vision was clear to him. Jori went home to seek his father's blessing in his new direction and claim the family arms. Clad in his gleaming mithral breastplate and armed with his ancient family blade, whose full powers he has yet to awaken, Jori set out again to find his place in the world. Years of bloody combat against evil dragons and vile creatures of all kind evantually won him a gift from the family's benefactor. When he felt it was time to call his mount, some time later than was normal for a paladin of his virtue, he was sent no white charger. Instead, he saw a slver commet fall from on high. But it was no rock from the stars. It was Tenchi, his cleaming companion. Tenchi is a half-sliver dragon warhorse of considerable intelligence and fortitude. Snowdin sired Tenchi himself when he had learned of Jori's calling. When Jori was ready to call his mount, his mount was fully grown and ready for him. The pair have been inseperable ever since. During his travels, Jori ran across a party of adventurers who were tryign to get t the bottom of stories of vile, unnatural monsters in the area. He helpted them track the creatures to their source, a mad alienist. They defeated the vil;e sorcerer with his help, biut for Jori the victoruy was nothing compared to the friendships he had made...especially with a beautiful, innocent young lioness named Aline. (she was an anthro lion chick) He traveled with them for some time and the feelings between he and aline grew. After a long and awkward courtship (both of them were shy virgins at the time), they went back to Jori's ancestral home to be married. One of their companions, Aline's adoptive sister, met and fell in love with Lord Snowdin while they were there. The young white tiger sorceress stayed to leran about hew own dravonic blood from the venerable dragon. Decades later, her and snowdin;s child would take Jori and Aline;s child on an adventure that would span galaxies...but that is a tale for another generation...
Galahad_Knight 09-15-03, 02:54 AM	And here is a special bonus, to make up for my absense. The background of my latest character, a Kobold Inventor (using the gnome inventor prc) named Gric The Thingomizer. It's kind of a sad story, but also a little funny. I've been told that it;s fantastic, but I'll let you all be the judge of that. Oh, and don;t forget to read the expanded Jori, featured above this post. ------------ Grix The Thingomizer Grix Niblix was always an unusual kobold. Unusually intelligent, but utterly lacking in anything remotely resembling a talent for sorcery, the young kobold instead found his passion was for study. Using books stolen from an elven mage who ventured too deep into the warrens, Grix began to study magic on his own. The idea of learning magic in a sorcerous society was something truly bizarre, but he soon proved to be the equal of any sorcerer in his brood. Despite this, however, Grix grew up virtually friendless. The bespectacled kobold always had his muzzle buried in a book, and the stigma of being a learned magic-user still followed him, despite his power. Log Entry 12 My studies go well. Already I am learning the secrets of these magical writings. I am convinced that with these arcane secrets I could compensate for my weak blood. Perhaps even become a leader like my father. But I fear he is disappointed in me for being so weak and useless. My broodmates still mock me for trying to learn this magic. But soon they will mock me no more. I already feel the power within me. So, friendless and alone, the young kobold turned to mechanics to occupy his time. Books stolen from gnomish libraries during raids were his guides. He built his own toys and tools, little clockwork animals danced about his room during his childhood. He also enjoyed making little traps to catch rats and torment his broodmates who were careless enough to try and enter without knocking He quickly became the best trapmaker in his clan. He gained a reputation for the deadliness of the “Things” he would make (He liked to use Common words, even though most of his broodmates only understood Draconic. It made him feel smart). They began calling him the “Thingomizer” because of his aptitude for making things. Log Entry 2,357 Prototype Thing Idea # 217: Deceptive Pit. Standard resetting pit trap (cf. PTI 23) with spikes at the base. The pit will also have rungs set into one wall, little ledges to grab and climb on. As soon as the third rung from the top is touched, they fold down, flush against the wall, instantly. This should cause any survivors to plunge back into the pit and onto the spikes once more. At which point (or ten minutes after the trap is first sprung) the pit closes and resets. It was this aptitude that earned him his infamy and reputation amongst his own kind has earned him the hatred and wrath of the gnomes of his homeland. His traps were too viciously effective, too gruesomely deadly. In the eternal struggle between kobolds and gnomes, Grix has been branded a war criminal. It’s not that he was evil or sadistic…he was just very, very good at his job. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. A nameless, faceless trapbuilder, one of millions of kobolds is never in danger of capture. No gnome has ever seen him and lived… Except for one. During the wars, a gnomish Artificer named Lantan was sent into the warrens as part of a scouting party. Their goal was to encounter one of Grix’s traps so he could study it and show others how to disarm ones like it. But his trap was too good. It appeared at first to be a simple spiked pit trap with a floorplate release. It wasn’t even that cleverly disguised. The gnome and his party easily spotted the somewhat sunken floor stone that triggered the pit. In the middle of disarming it, however, the *real* trap was sprung. Heavy stone blocks dropped from the ceiling to crush them moments before the floor gave way, dumping them into the pit, with the rocks still atop them. This, ordinarily, would have been more than enough to destroy any interloper. But Lantan was lucky and nimble. He survived the trap, but only just. He was found by a maintenance crew, dispatched to reset the trap, and taken back for interrogation. After a rough interrogation he was locked away until they could think of what to do with him. It was during this time that Grix snuck in to meet him. He was curious to meet his counterpart amongst the enemy. He also had a deep respect for the inventor, whose devices he was able to study whenever they were found. He treated the gnome with unusual respect and kindness while he was imprisoned, and eventually the gnome saw that he was no monster. Just a fellow man of science whose talents were misdirected. In exchange for his freedom, Lantan gave Grix many tips and pointers. Advice which the kobold dutifully scribbled down. Grix took copious and detailed notes of everything he was told. Lantan spoke freely of many things. During his lectures he also spoke of the wonders of the surface world and the virtues of freedom and independence. Lantan was convinced that he could get the young kobold to flee with him when the time came for escape. Log Entry 2,753 Fraptuous day! I have met the legendary Lantan Nilbog! He is truly the genius I had surmised that he was. I confess, that I do a bad thing now. I have promised him freedom if only he will give me his wisdom and advice on the workings of technology. But it is worth it. Oh the wonders in his mind! I have recorded one of his lectures in my notebook. I still need to re-read it to fully absorb all that he said. But the wonders of which he speaks are truly remarkable. I hope that someday I know but a fraction of what he does. His tales of the surface also intrigue me. I would like to go there someday, and I think hw would like me to leave with him. But I cannot. I am loyal to my family above all. But perhaps someday…someday… Sadly, Lantan was wrong. Curious and intelligent though he may be, he was also loyal to his clan. He freed the gnome and led him to safety, but ran back into the warrens as soon as Lantan was safe. Saddened, the old gnome knew he couldn’t be allowed to live with the secrets he shared. Not if he was going back home. As soon as he got back home, Lantan had no choice but to report his experience and use his new knowledge of the kobold warrens and their deathtraps to guide a force of gnomish warriors into the very heart of Grix’ home. Log Entry 2,971 Horror of horrors! I cannot describe it. The warrens were red with torchlight and flames. Blood ran in rivulets down the tunnels in which I once played as a child. Family and friends, maimed and killed…it’s all gone. The gnomes were everywhere. Butchering and slaughtering. One of the murderous fiends confronted me as I fled. He cut me a wicked blow with his cruel little sword, but I think mine was the cruelest stroke. A bolt of acid to the face. I was nearly sickened by the sight of it. The creature rolled on the ground and screamed, clutching at a face that is no more. The smell and the sigh of it turned my stomach…but what made it worse was the grim satisfaction I felt at that moment. I know my Things have killed before, many times. And in crueler ways than that. But never have I directly slain another being. I do not know how to deal with the conflicting emotions. The gnomes were merciless and Grix’ traps were unable to defend his home. Grix entire clan was wiped out in one night of vicious tunnel-fighting. Everyone he ever knew or loved was gone, and the young kobold himself was nearly killed in the melee. During the fight he suffered a gash across his snout and nearly lost an eye. Today he wears a scar that goes from his brow down his snout. Injured and alone, the kobold fled with what books he could carry. He felt betrayed by Lantan and was thus terrified of being captured of surrendering to the gnomes. Instead he fled his homeland and went off to seek his fortunes elsewhere. Log Entry 3,007 Things are going fairly well. Things always go well. It’s life that needs to shape up. The project proceeds on schedule. It won’t be too much longer until it is completed. I just have to find some of the more rare parts and pieces. I’m finding the surface creatures to be suspicious and cruel when it comes to things they do not understand…reminds me of home. I got a job today, setting mousetraps in a general store. He wouldn’t let me near the place in daylight hours, but I got paid. And I got to keep the rats I caught. If only I were a better cook. Also, I have saved enough to have made a second pair of spectacles. These have smoked lenses to keep the harsh daylight from hurting my fragile eyes. They are glorious indeed. I’ve also discovered that people tend to react more favorable towards me if they think I am less intelligent than they. It’s a trifle irritating to have to mimic stupidity to deal with the ignorant, but it is useful. During his travels he realized just how alone and vulnerable he was. Using sketches he made from Lantan’s lectures and from various books on mechanics that he was able to find in his travels, Grix began his Project. His project is simple…build a protector. A companion… a friend! His progress is slow, but he is compiling the pieces and incantations and his Project is nearly completed. Over the course of his research for his Project, Grix has uncovered part of an ancient tome called “Lexicona Constructicus.” A weighty tome which, in theory, details the construction methods, materials and spells required to build virtually any golem or construct. The book is even purported to have the spells needed for the constructions imbedded in the very essence of the book, allowing anyone with magical talent to cast them into the frame of the machine. The section that Grix possesses contains information on the materials needed to build a Shield Guardian. Log Entry 3,221 Wonders of wonders to report this day! I have discovered part of an ancient tome, which contains the secrets to building a more powerful construct than the project on which I am currently working! It’s incomplete, but I’m confident that I’ll be able to track down the remaining pages. The section currently in my possession details only the materials needed and parts of the construction methods. I’ll have to find more pages or clean what information I can from other sources. On a less ecstatic note, I have to report that I was hassled today by ignorant ruffians. They broke my spectacles, but I think they came out worse for the deal. They weren’t prepared for my cunning. Odd, how I seem to have grown used to the act of killing now. It brings no pleasure, but neither does it bring remorse… Unfortunately, this means I’ll have to move to a different town to continue my research. Now Grix’ quest is now threefold: to complete his Project (which is very nearly done), to found and reassemble the Lexicona (or at least the chapter on shield guardians), and to master the secrets of technology and become a renowned Artificer. But where will it lead, back to his homeland? He might still be wanted by the gnomes, if they believe he survived the assault. Lantan may or may not have been gentle to the kobold when he made his report. They could have a full description of him. Or perhaps they do not. What of the compiler of the Lexicona? Does he want his scattered work to be found? Does he want it in the hands of a kobold? If he’s still alive today, he would surely be quite powerful. Description and Personality: Short and scrawny, even for his race, Grix has learned to rely on his intelligence and wit over all else. He has poor eyesight in daylight or dark, so he wears spectacles at all times. He wears a pair of smoked glasses during the daytime. He has a vivid scar that runs from his brow down the length of his snout. It very nearly cost him an eye. He favors robes, especially ones with billowy, concealing hoods. He usually has at least one weighty tome in his hands at any given time. He has yellow eyes that glow red when he uses his dasrkvision. His scales are a ruddy-brown like dried blood and he keeps himself neatly appointed at all times. Clothes always washed, nails always cleaned. He isn’t vain, but he does care about his appearance. His personality is quite and studious. He doesn’t care much about anything except his work and his machines. He was never cruel enough to be evil, but he never cared enough to be good. He is self-interested and apathetic…ad totally obsessed with his work. He has no compunctions about using people. He’d rather not kill or break laws, but only because that can become unnecessarily messy. Game Notes: Grix' Project is a construct familiar. At 5th level he took the Improved Familiar feat as his wizard bonus feat (DM allows wizards to take magic-related general feats as bonuses as well). The construct has the same stats as a Small Earth Elemental, exceot without the Earth Mastery ability. It is made of metal, not stone. But it makes no impact on its stats. It is called the "Kobot" and is shaped like a kobold.At 6th level, I plan to take the Gnomish Artificer PrC (DM allows for all races in his world to take it, if technologically inclined) The Lexiconus has no in-game effect. All it is is a patrts and spells list for making a shield guardian and serves as a plot-hook.
Mr. VanderMeer 09-15-03, 03:37 AM	Good character! I take it you are actually playing this one in a game. Must be a lot of fun!
Galahad_Knight 09-15-03, 04:10 AM	I will be soon. hopefully. Unfortunately I just heard that I might be the only one able to play <chuckles> Which would mean that Grix goes back in the files.
Medesha 09-17-03, 12:05 AM	Grix = cool These are all brilliantly conceived, GK. Well done!
Hudson 09-17-03, 03:50 PM	yay more more!
Peepi 09-22-03, 05:31 PM	What if Grix met Griff...? That would be odd, and could turn out interestingly...
Galahad_Knight 09-23-03, 07:02 PM	Interesting thought... Actually, I'm having a heck of a time tracking down some of my older backgrounds so I may not have much more to post. But if you guys would care to see it I could start composing a story where Grix, Gliff, Thade, Thera and Ragnar are the main characters. Maybe they'll band together, maybe they won't..maybe I'll get to use winterwound :D But, it's up to you all
Mr. VanderMeer 09-25-03, 09:11 AM	Well Galahad, If it is up to us, then I can speak for everyone if I say: Go ahead. Do it. Amaze us! :bounce: :bounce:
Galahad_Knight 09-25-03, 07:12 PM	As usual, I say 'you all' and it really only takes one to get me started :D Here's what amounts to the first chapter... A Gathering Of Heroes And The Gathering Storm Log Entry 3,470 The city of Jaech…it has promise: a good library and a university of magic. If my research is to continue then I must gather any information I can on the subject. Unfortunately, for a city of its size, it doesn’t look very cosmopolitan; many humans, but few others from what I’ve observed. Ah well…it could always be worse, I suppose. There could be gnomes… The scrawny kobold scholar shifts in his wagon seat and pulls his cloak tighter around his narrow shoulders. Grix doesn’t like being this far north. The cold doesn’t agree with his draconic blood. His blotchy red-brown hide is ill equipped to hold in much heat and at night the cold air stings his nostrils. Riding behind him in the bed of the wagon is the only friend Grix has in the world at the moment. Usk Thurirl, his “Iron Friend” in the tongue of the dragons. Usk is a creature born of steel and loneliness, a construct companion forged over the last several years by the wandering Kobold. Usk resembles a fierce draconic humanoid. His steel-plated frame is forged to resemble heavy dragonscale. His legs are long and bent like the hind legs of an animal or the legs of a kobold. His hands are clawed and his face is appointed with a prominent and fierce draconic muzzle and his segmented tail ends in a heavy mace-head. A mere four feet high, he stands head and shoulders over his maker. A superman in the eyes of the scrawny and weak Kobold wizard. “Do not despair.” The artificial kobold intones slowly, in a deep, echoing voice that reverberates in his steel muzzle. “I will protect you, in the city.” He booms hollowly. He speaks slowly and with care, his tone is always grave and thoughtful. Grix chuckles softly, Usk had only recently begun to speak and he did it with great deliberation. Grix is proud of his creation. “I know, my friend…I can depend on you.” He smiles, a thin, worn-out sort of smile. “I only pray that I don’t stumble into such a situation as I would require your aid.” The kobold squints at the city lights in the distance and cleans his spectacles on the edge of his cloak. “Not long now, friend.” --===============]xxxo oxxxx[===============-- “Can we pleeeeease stop in this cit up ahead, Ragnar?” Thera wines, her hair half-elven features are bent around an intense pout, silver-blue eyes wide and pleading. “My bottom’s all swollen and sore from all this riding and sleeping on the ground.” She is a petite woman, barely more than a girl by the look of her youthful half-elven features…though the way she fills her expensive satin doublets is in no way girlish. Ragnar snorts, “I doubt that. You have a gift for exaggeration when it suits you, Thera. If my rear end can handle another night in the saddle than so can yours, I’d imagine.” Ragnar is still clad in his burnished mithral scale. His axe and shield hang from his saddle. Thera pouts again and rises in her stirrups, lifting her rear off the saddle, “Care to look for yourself?” She asks with a salacious grin as she flaunts tightly clad buttocks. “Put that away before you hurt someone.” Ragnar grumbles, stealing a brief glance of his companion in her tight suede trousers. “If you insist, we’ll stop in at an inn in the city and stay the night. We need to pick up some more supplies anyhow. But it’s strictly business and we leave after lunch. No—.” “Shopping!” Thera squeals gleefully, cutting off her stout companion in mid-admonishment. Ragnar sighs heavily and shakes his head, “Whatever did I do to deserve this?” he asks himself, rolling his eyes skyward. Thunder rolls ominously in the distance. “Very funny.” He grumbles at whatever heavenly forces happened to be listening. --===============]xxxo oxxxx[===============-- Thunder rolls in the distance as Sir Glifford Glim Cohen Galberflax rides into the city of Jaech. “Good thing we came into town when we did, eh, Maxie?” the gnomish paladin says, scratching his mount behind his floppy ears. The powerful War Dog upon which he rides gives a little whine of agreement and snuffles, carefully side-stepping a deep puddle in the cobbled road. His mithral plate barding gleams in the light of the setting sun. Its pattern and design closely matches the breastplate of his master. Gliff hums a merry little tune as Max plods down the cobbled street. He has is shield on, but his lance is stet in his stirrup. Its steel tip pointing skyward, its pinion—which bears the symbol of Corelleon Larethian—snaps in the breeze. “Ah, here we are. Perhaps this man can direct us to the inn, eh, Max?” Gliff says hopefully to his mount as he rides into the path of a frustrated-looking workman on his way home. “Pardon me, good sir,” the miniature knight says to the man’s chest. “Would you perhaps be able to direct me to the—.” “Bugger off, shortarse.” The man grumbles, spitting on the ground at Max’s forepaws. “We ain’t got no ‘affling ghetto here. We run a nice clean city with nice, clean folk.” He said, glowering down at Gliff. The gnomish knight shakes his head sadly, even as he swings the body of his lance around to crack against the man’s unprotected shins. The rude human cries out in pain and drops to his knees, cursing vehemently. Still cursing, he reaches for a heavy dagger on his belt, but the sharp prick of Gliff’s lance tip against his chest stays his hand. “Courtesy is a virtue oft ignored by those who believe that they possess other redeeming qualities, friend.” Gliff says in a deadly-cool voice. Now the gnome is looking down upon the human. “I’d advise you in the future to bear in mind that even those of us blessed enough to have such a virtue are not unknown to set it aside temporarily when faced with those undeserving of it.” His big, owlish eyes continue to stare down at the man, like hard gray gimlets, boring into the man. “A-aye, good sir!” the man says quickly, swallowing nervously, eyes fixed on the lance point. “I am b-but an ignorant workman who is tired from the day’s labors…I knew not what I said!” he pleads. “Good lad.” Gliff says after an uncomfortably silent moment. “Now, if you would be so kind, the inn?” “O-oh, of course, the inn…the best inn in town is right up this street, good master. The Golden Griffon. They got good food, clean beds and a nice warm stable for yer dog.” Max let out a deep, low growel, the kind that is felt through the feet more than heard through the ears. “He prefers the term ‘mount.’ He’s really rather picky about that point, I’m afraid.” Gliff says, still using his cool tones. “O-of course he does. No offense was meant, my Lord.” The man said quickly, now suddenly unsure which figure of which he should be more afraid. “Quite understandable.” Gliff says brightly, suddenly shifting gears back into the jovial attitude he had before crossing paths with the workman. “Get home safely, friend. Looks like rain ahead.” He says, tossing the man a copper coin for his trouble before riding on to the inn. --===============]xxxo oxxxx[===============-- Lord Thadeus Huntington III sits in his room above the Golden Griffon Inn and looks out the leaded glass windows into the rose-tinted streets below. “I love a good sunset.” He says to himself, putting aside the weighty tome of ancient histories he was reading to watch the people bustling home in the crimson light. “They look so small from up here.” He says to himself, chucking in a deep rich tone, “But then, they always do.” He sighs and smiles, resting his chin on his hands and staring out the window. It didn’t take much for the knight’s eyes to catch the scuffle going on down below. With a heavy sigh he gets up and belts on his sword, “Small…yet dangerous.” --===============]xxxo oxxxx[===============-- Grix scurries through the dusky streets, clutching a tome form the library close to his toast rack chest. He had left Usk to guard the wagon, despite his companion’s protests. The equipment and materials in the wagon are irreplaceable and the kobold mage was fairly certain he wouldn’t encounter any trouble. He is, of course, dreadfully wrong. He is very nearly to the inn when a half dozen human men ooze out of the shadows of a nearby alley and surround the kobold. “Wot ‘ave we ‘ere now, eh?” one of them asks in a menacing voice, “First thing I thought when I saw ‘is li’ll runt runnin’ ‘round the city wos ‘oi, we gots more bloody ‘afflings!’ But then I saw this…” he says, thumping the little wizard’s snout, “An’ I realized we got ourselves some’in worse ‘an ‘afflings. But it’s easy enough to remedy ain’t it, blokes?” he says to his friends. They laugh and crack their knuckles. “I am a very proficient wizard!” Gfrix cautions them, his voice high with tension and fear, “I am quite capable of inflicting terrible things upon you all. Leave me be of you may soon regret it!” The brigand laughs, “Look at ‘em big words from such a little squirt. Got us an educated li’ll rodent ‘here, don’t we, boys?” he grins and grabs Grix, lifting the little wizard into the air. “Let’s see wot you can cast at me now, li’ll rat.” He snarls, pinning his arms to his sides. Just then a trumpet rings out in the night. “Unhand him, you foul ruffians!” Gliff bellows as Max bears down on them. The head brigand laughs and continues to hold the struggling kobold. Grix has his back to Gliff and his hooded robes conceal all but his tiny stature from his would-be protector. The other ruffians laugh and draw various crude and rusty implements. Gliff laughs and rides into them. He sinks his lance into the thigh of one ruffian, which sends him to the ground screaming. Gliff grins and drops the lance as Max pounces the downed foe. Drawing his sword he raises in his stirrups, “I give you fair warning, friends. Release your captive at once and surrender and I promise mercy.” They laugh and advance on him. One of them raises his sword only to have it struck out of his hand by a silvered crossbow bolt that streaks by like a lightning bolt. “You chaps are terribly unprofessional.” Thera says, racking the string back on her handbow and loading in another shot. “Your tactics are all wrong, you have no skill with dialogue and disgusting fashion sense!” She lets another bolt fly, shattering a cheap iron shortsword in another brigand’s hand. “Plus the lot of ye’ ain’t got the brains the gods gave me horse!” Ragnar bellows, flinging himself into their ranks and crushing one of them to the ground under the combined weight of warrior and armor. Just then three more ruffians come out of the alley. “We got friends though!” the leader shouts, his eyes are looking a little wild as he observes the heavily armed outsiders tearing into his men. Suddenly there comes a roar of “So do they!” in a voice so loud and deep that everyone pauses their fighting to turn and look at what could have bellowed such a cry. Lord Thadeus Huntington III, the third Earl of Huntington stands at the door to the in across the street from the scuffle. To say that the man is ‘big’ is to say that the ocean is a bit deep. Thade stands a clean-shaven nine feet high. He has broad, simple features but a look in his eyes of intelligence and fortitude. The man is undoubtedly of ogre-blood, despite his fine clothes and refined speech. He crosses the street in but three long strides of his thick legs. “I believe you to be outclassed in this instance.” He booms, “Perhaps you should have listened to the warnings of the good knight whose blade evennow cuts down your allies.” He says, motioning with one huge hand to Gliff, who has just run his sword through the thigh of another brigand. Thera is systematically disarming men with her handbow while Ragnar crushes men under his mighty shield. The lead thug goes wild with fright and drops Grix as he runs off into the alley. His remaining men break and flee as well, leaving their injured comrades behind. Gliff chuckles grimly and wipes his blade off on the tunic of one of the injured men. “I believe I espied a temple not two blocks easterly of here. If you start crawling now you may just make it before you pass out from the blood loss.” The little knight says, pointing down the road, “Be quick about it. I want no bodies on my conscience this night. Especially not the likes of yours.” Gliff says as he smoothly dismounts and picks his way through the slowly fleeing thugs to see if Grix is alright. Grix had been dropped into a puddle and is frantically mopping at the leather cover of his book with a dry section of his robes. “Are you alright, sir?” Gliff asks, putting a hand on Grix’ shoulder from behind. The kobold is startled and spins around to see what touched him. Gliff’s face falls from a look of compassion to one of disgust in an instant. “Oh...Had I but known it was merely vermin I would not have wasted my time and yours to rescue it,” He says in a cold tone, not to Grix but to the other rescuers standing around. “What’s his problem?” Thera asks as the gnome walks away from the kobold, leaving him in the mud. “Kobolds and gnomes don’t get along,” Ragnar explains, “But I must say, that was cold, even for a gnome…especially for one of his apparent valor.” The burly human says in a suspicious grumble. Gliff ignores them and remounts Max. “What ho, good Sir Knight?” Thade asks as Gliff rides past his shins, “Indeed his race has wronged yours in the past and even into the present…bur surely men of honor such as you and I are above petty hatreds. Would you leave the poor creature in the mud, even as a storm gathers around us? Come, let us help the poor cur inside where he might dry off and explain his presence here.” The huge noble says in soft, diplomatic tones. Gliff sighs, “You’re right, of course. It would be wrong of me to deny hospitality to the victim of an injustice…regardless of my feelings about the subject.” He turns and goes back to help the Kobold up. “Come inside and dry off.” He mutters grudgingly. Grix nods, “Perhaps that would be best. I would like to meet my saviors.” Together the group of strangers stroll into the inn.
Mr. VanderMeer 09-26-03, 09:09 AM	:bounce: :thumbsup: :tiphat: :thumbsup: Can't wait to see chapter 2!
Galahad_Knight 09-28-03, 04:41 AM	Thanks! :blush: I'm working on the second chapter now. Expext it in the next few days. I'll probably post once a week.
Peepi 09-28-03, 08:45 AM	Hm... Well, Griff doesn't quite seem as prejudiced as you made him out to be... I expected Grix to be pushed into the mud or something. Then again, you can be of nobility while still being noble.
Galahad_Knight 09-28-03, 09:34 AM	It's mainly because, for a start, he was already in the mud :P Besides which, prejudice or no, there are others around...one of whom is of nobility. Even if he thinks Grix is a loathesome curr not deserving to take up the same space as decent folk, he's not going to make an ass out of himself about it. Plus, he's unarmed. Gliff is still a man of honor. And a man of honor does not pick fights with unarmed men. And, of course, Gliff was just recently the victim of prejudice. the same prejudice he saw the ruffians exhibiting when he rode to the rescue full fo righteous indignation. going from being the viceim of prejudice and defender of other victims to suddenly becoming the source of the same feelings he was fighting against is a bit of an emtional 180 to pull in a short space of time. Don't worry though...give it time ;) Trust me. The Grix-Gliff antagonism will take shape soon. As will Thade and Ragnar...after all, Ragnar is a giantslayer who believes that his father and 'uncle' were slain by ogres. And Thade is a cultured noble who doesn't take to rude, slovenly people who are discourteous to ladies. <chuckles> And poor Thera wiull be trapped in the middle trying to make peace and getting along with everyone while not taking sides. Don't worry...it'll happen :D
Galahad_Knight 10-02-03, 03:16 AM	The Gathering Storm: Chapter 2 Hardship and History The heroes enter the Golden Griffon inn. Even though it’s an upscale inn, the commons on the bottom floor are smoky and gloomy. “Would you all care to adjourn to my suite upstairs?” Lord Huntington, the massive Half-Ogre asks politely, “It’s a fair bit brighter and a great deal more private. I’ll have them send us up some dinner. I know I for one am starving.” There’s a general murmur of consent, though it’s more of a suspicious grumble on Ragnar’s part. “Cheer up, we’re getting free food and we’re out of the rain.” Thera says to her gloomy companion. She then giggles and adds “Maybe he’ll even put us up for the night. That ought to leave us more money for shopping tomorrow.” She giggles more and Ragnar sighs. Lord Huntington waylays a barmaid, “Excuse me, my dear.” He apologizes sincerely once he has her attention (which is certainly not hard to get) “My friends and I will retire upstairs for the moment. Please have dinner sent up to us…a double portion for myself.” He adds, somewhat shyly. “I have a big appetite.” He explains. The barmaid grins knowingly and looks him up, and up, and then down. “Perfectly understandable, me lord…I myself have been known to have…large appetites from time to time.” She grins salaciously and hurries off, leaving the large Lord blushing and abashed. Thera giggles musically and Ragnar rolls his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me for but a moment,” Gliff, the gnomish paladin interjects politely, “I’d like to see to it that my mount gets properly stabled…he prefers to sleep indoors, with me, but considering the hospitality I’ve received thus far, I don’t think it wise to cause any more trouble than necessary.” He chuckles softly, “If you two would like,” he adds, motioning to Ragnar and Thera, “I can attend to your mounts as well since I’ll be going to the stables anyway.” “How sweet of you!” Thera gushes, “Thank you so much.” She bends down to give him a kiss on the cheek and a gnome’s eye view of her exposed cleavage. Now it is Gliff who is flustered, He quickly mutters his apologies and hurries out to take care of their mounts. “Careful with those.” Ragnar grumbles to his companion, “You’ll put someone’s eye out some day.” Thera shoots him a haughty glare and sticks out her tongue as she stands back up. Lord Huntington clears his throat. “We should wait for the good gnome to return before going upstairs. Is there anything I can do for you, my friend?” he asks Grix. Grix, the kobold scholar whom they had rescued only moments before, has been silent since the moment his protectors arrived on the scene. “I require nothing.” He says, in a soft voice. He’s still clutching the tome he got from the library to his thin chest. His mind seems to be on other things at the moment. His beady little eyes have taken on a far-away stare and his lips are twitching slightly, as if musing to himself or doing some abstract computations. Meanwhile on the other side of town Grix’s metal companion sits in a wagon in a low-rent stables. “I understand, and am glad that you are not injured.” He says, as if to himself. The iron super-kobold’s tinny voice booms in the emptiness of the otherwise uninhabited stables. “As you wish,” he says after a long pause, “I continue to protect the contents of the wagon.” There is another pause, “Are you sure that they may be trusted?” he asks, then another pause. “Of course. I agree that it is not wise to trust in strangers. If you need me, you have but to call.” He concludes, and silence settles in again around the construct. Back at the inn Gliff returns, rubbing an un-gauntleted hand. “Your horse bit me and tried to step on me.” He says to Ragnar in hurt tones. Ragnar winces, “Sorry, friend…I didn’t think to warn you. He’s a bit mean spirited. Was any harm done?” Thera laughs, “Well, they say animals tend to take on characteristics of their masters…” she darts out of arm’s reach of the suddenly glowering fighter. Gliff laughs, “No, no harm done. Though Max nearly bit your horse back for me.” He chuckles, “Well…shall we retire?” I’m far too young at talented to retire at this early age, Sir Knight.” Thera says with a playful grin, “But let’s go upstairs in the meantime.” She giggles and Gliff and Lord Huntington chuckle and shake their heads. Thade leads them upstairs, introductrions are made as they climb the stairs. When they reach the top he leads them into his rather expansive suite on the top floor of the inn. Thera looks around and whistles, “Impressive.” She says, eyes appraising the value of certain easily removable furnishings. “You must be quite well off.” Thade laughs, removing his sword belt, “Hardly. But I find a good name and fitting attire and mannerisms tend to open up lines of credit. The fact that they have to send the bill to a far off district gives me time to leave before they get too upset with me. Though, in my defense, I am a generous tipper.” “You’re a fraud?” Gliff asks incredulously, a bit ashamed of himself for having believed him to be nobility. After all, he couldn’t recall any noble families with giant blood. -- And for good reason. “No, not entirely,” Thade says with a sigh, “My adopted mother and father are genuine nobility. I was a foundling baby that was taken in by the childless couple. Adoptions are legitimate as far as succession is concerned, but their infertility was a sensitive matter…especially to my father, since it reflected on his manhood. So, naturally, they pretended that I was theirs by blood. And, when I was young there was quite a resemblance. But when I became a man my true biology caught up with me and I went from merely ‘large and strapping’ to the grotesquery you see now.” He sighs sadly and shakes his head. “This, of course, destroyed their claims of my legitimate birthright and destroyed our family honor,” he continues, “Mother was accused of being a wicked harlot for consorting with ogres, and father was condemned as a weak fool for neither controlling his wife sufficiently, nor spotting her freakish offspring for what it was. These claims, of course, were completely false. But that’s all it took. Enemies, within the family and without rallied behind the disgrace I had created and ousted my family from their rightful titles and lands. And I was the cause. So, now I am on a quest to find honor, skill and forces sufficient to return home and reclaim Huntington for my family, even if they’re not truly my kin.” He finishes his tale with a note of steely determination and a single tear in his eye. Thera, of course, melts with his heart-rending tale of nobility and betrayal. “You poor dear!” she throws her arms around him, “Don’t worry, noble Knight! You sit before Ragnar Wulfrick, the greatest warrior in all of the northlands!” she exults, leveling one pale finger at Ragnar. The gruff warrior hadn’t been paying very close attention until just now and looks surprised. “Now, wait a moment, Thera.” “Oh, don’t be so modest.” The half-elf says, cutting him off, “I know first-hand how skilled you are in battle, and how noble your heart is. Surely, you can’t deny aid to this poor, courageous fellow.” She says, her tones are well-calculated to massage his ego in just the right places, while evoking a sense of pride that won’t let him back down from it. “It’s not that, so much…” he says, awkwardly, unbalanced by her artful wordplay, “But…you know I’m not the most politically savvy person in the world…” he admits reluctantly, “I wouldn’t know a Viceroy from a bootblack. I’d rather avoid the sort of battles that can’t be won by simply shortening the other side by a head’s height. I make it a rule to avoid politically motivated conflicts whenever possible.” Thera looks hurt, her big blue eyes shining with tears, “Have you forgotten your promise to me so soon?” she asks, voice straining with carefully calculated dejection. “You know I come from a similar background as our host. You know very well I was the bastard offspring of one of my mother’s drunken indiscretions. You know how I was sent away as an infant to grow up never knowing my own birthright…and you promised me that you’d help me reclaim it someday.” She threw in a well-formulated sniffle, “Will you not help another in the same straights…or will you not help me either?” she accuses, voice on the verge of tears. Ragnar sighs, utterly defeated, “I haven’t forgotten my promise…” the promise in question was wrung out of him after a night of heavy celebration. Ragnar always got idealistic after a couple pints…and he was usually too embarrassed about his heroic spoutings to argue about it. “I’ll help, I suppose. But I’d be better killing orcs and ogres. My family was murdered by the filthy bastards and I’d like to do the world a favor and rid us from them forever.” He growls, then glances up at Thade’s sad, thoughtful expression and realizes his blunder. He opens his mouth to apologize but Thade waves it off. “Don’t worry, Ragnar…I understand your feelings. To tell the truth, I couldn’t agree more. An ogre was, after all, the cause of this entire situation.” He shakes his head, “Anyway…we now know about Ragnar, Thera and myself…how about you two?” he asks Grix and Gliff. “You first…” Gliff says, eyeing the kobold suspiciously, “I’m just burning to hear what brought something like you to a place like this.” Grix shrugs his narrow shoulders, “Research.” He says, simply. “I build Things.” He says, putting an usual inflection on the word, “And there are places here which have some information I need.” He says, holding up the battered book he had with him when they met. “But, alas, even this is not enough. There are pieces of a tome I require that are scattered all about the land. This book is no such piece, but it does contain some information that is useful to me. If I am to become a renowned builder, I must amass all the information I can find.” “What kinds of ‘things’ do you build?” Gliff asks suspiciously. “I used to build traps.” He begins, but is cut off. “Fiend!” Gliff shouts, rising to his feet, “Devious traps that killed my honorable kinfolk, no doubt!” he snarls, reaching for his blade. Thade puts a heavy hand on the little man’s shoulder, “Easy, friend. I’ll have no bloodshed under my roof.” Gliff’s fury is momentarily replaced by chagrin, “I apologize, sir. I’d be glad to take the vermin outside to kill him.” Grix laughs a mirthless little laugh and regards the gnome critically through the lenses of his spectacles, “You have killed many of my kin, I am sure.” He counters, calmly. “But only in defense.” Gliff says, temper rising again. “Indeed…and, how might a trap, placed within our own warrens, kill in any fashion except defensively? Had the unfortunate interlopers not been in our home, they would have lived. We are not strong or stout peoples…not like your kind. We would be of little challenge in a direct confrontation. So, in order to defend ourselves, we must forgo direct confrontation.” “Lies!” Gliff hisses, “Your kind destroyed my village when I was a child. You tore away my family and left me to be raised by the elves. Not only was your attack direct, but it was savage and cruel.” Tears ran from his big eyes, “How was that in defense?” he demands, grief-stricken. Grix sighs, “I’m sorry for your loss…I know exactly how you feel. My home was savagely invaded by *your* kind. And *my* family was murdered as well. The invaders had managed to avoid the traps I built to defend our home. Even children were not spared.” His tone is still oddly cool. “So do not preach to me, for I know that no one side of any war is ever completely guilty or innocent. Be thankful at least that you had the elves to help you. I had nobody but myself…which is why I now build my Things.” Thade sighs, “So much tragedy in this one room. Please, let us put aside our weapons and our hatreds.” His plea is impassioned, and Gliff is already taken aback a bit by Grix’ sad tale of his own tragedies. The little paladin sighs and relents, sitting back down. “I will help you, Thade.” He says after a moment, “I will help you reclaim your birthright. The fiends who deposed your family must face justice for their evil misdeeds.” Thade smiles, “Thank you. I hope my cause proves worthy of your services, Sir Knight.” He looks back at Grix, “And what of you? Will you be accompanying us? You seem to possess formidable knowledge and skill. And perhaps some of your inventions may be of use to us. You should know, that Huntington boasts a large and prestigious university, with students of both magic and the sciences. If anyone can help further your research, I’m sure they can.” “Do you have any specific plan on where we’ll be going...or are you merely attempting to gather forces and honor wherever you can?” Grix asks, his bright little eyes coming alive as he forms a plan. “The latter, I’m afraid. I confess to being somewhat adrift…I’m not the best when it comes to planning things.” He confessed, somewhat abashedly. Grix grins, “Then perhaps we can help one another. I need to find the rest of this book…If you help me find pieces of it, I can build more powerful devices for when the time comes when we may return to your home. Do this for me, and I will assist you.” Thade nods, “Agreed.” He smiles happily, “Then tomorrow, we begin our joint quest.”
Mr. VanderMeer 10-02-03, 05:15 AM	:thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: More, more... don't keep us waiting. :D :D :D :D :D
tskeeve 10-05-03, 05:59 PM	WOW.:bow: :OMG! :bow:
Galahad_Knight 10-08-03, 08:34 PM	Glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Expect a new chapter by the end of the week (hopefully)
Galahad_Knight 10-10-03, 08:35 AM	Not a lot happens in this chapter, but a lot is revealed. The Gathering Storm: Chapter 3 Insight After their little get-together Lord Huntington arranged for rooms for his new friends and they retired to their rooms. Ragnar and Thera share a room out of necessity. There were only a few spare rooms and Thera insisted that since they were the only ones who already knew one another, they should be the ones to share. Besides, she was worried about leaving Grix and Gliff alone in the same quarters. Fortunately for Ragnar though, there is a second bed in the room. Thera seemed a little disappointed but said nothing at the time. Ragnar begins struggling out of his coat of scales, politely refusing Thera’s offers of aid. Her hands tend to find more than armor straps sometimes and Ragnar finds that trait a little disquieting. Despite the apparent bulk of his armor, however, it’s remarkably light and flexible. Forged by dwarven smiths from the finest mithral, the suit is composed of hundreds of finely detailed scales. Each scale is rectangular, about half as long as it is wide, and the bottom part of the scale comes to a broad, flat point. When staggered and overlapped they give the suit the appearance of being composed of hundreds of little mithral hexagons, as opposed to the diamond pattern that most scale mail has. The overlapping scales are laced both top and bottom to provide such integrity that they hold together without any kind of backing, yet they’re tied loose enough to allow for a great deal of flex where needed. After setting his armor down in an empty chair he retires to an attached chamber to remove the padded undergarments that accompany his armor and replace them with his simple homespun clothing. When he returns, armorless and unarmed, he appears to be an entirely different man. Though he is short and stout, without his dwarven made weapons and armor one can see that he is, indeed human. It’s easy to overlook the fact that he’s head and shoulders above most dwarves when he’s sheathed in dwarven mithral. But now in the dim candlelight of his shared chambers his gentler features are allowed to float to the surface. His long red hair and beard have been unbraided and flow freely down his back, shoulders and chest. His thick and stern brow is no longer furrowed with consternation and confusion, as it often is when he’s amongst others. And his hard brown eyes have a softer, deeply sad aspect now that they are no longer probing the shadows for danger. The fierce Northern giantslayer has been replaced with a short, soulful man who signs and shakes his head as he sits down on his bed. Thera sighs softly, her crystal-blue eyes taking in the transformation with the same sympathy and fascination that they do every time she witnesses it. She sits at the window, brushing out her long, silver-blonde hair. Her thin, pale features are carefully accented by the glow of the candlelight and the soft, reflected moonlight from the window. Unlike her companion, her everyday guise isn’t shed so easily. At least not in his presence. “Is something troubling you?” she asks, turning slightly to look at him over her shoulder. A shoulder carefully made bare by the intentional slippage of one of the straps of her blue silk nightgown. Ragnar glances up at her for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m just not so sure this is a good idea. I don’t know why I let you talk me into things like this. I could be doing something useful, but instead you’d have me following some…ogre,” he spits out the word, “On an aimless mission to gather forces and ‘honor’ for him to reclaim a title that really doesn’t belong to him anyhow. And our only guidance on this fool’s errand is a kobold whose presence gives even me the chills. And on top of all that, we’ve got to keep our slightly off-center paladin from running him through and setting us completely adrift. Am I the only one who thins this is more than a bit daft?” he asks, his tone devoid of his usual harsh edge and gruff nature. Thera sighs and stands up, gracefully padding over to him on tiny bare feet. She sits on the bed beside him and lays a thin-fingered hand on his broad shoulder, “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, my champion,” she says, watching Ragnar’s customary flush when she uses that particular form of address, “But I feel for the poor man…he’s not an ogre, he’s just a kind and noble soul in need of friends more than anything. His cause is just and I know that if there’s anyone who can help him, it’s you. I believe in you…and I believe that you’re a better person than you pretend to be. You know we’re doing the right thing.” She smiles softly, “But don’t worry…I’ll tell everyone I got you drunk and made you do it.” She giggles, the sound like a little silver bell. Ragnar chuckles and shakes his head, “I’ll worry about in the morning. Go to bed, Thera.” Thera grins salaciously at him. “Your bed.” He adds, shaking his head as she pouts. “Why must you always tease me so?” he asks after she gets up to walk to her own bed. “What gave you the idea that I was teasing?” she asks with an inviting smile. Ragnar chuckles, “Fine, don’t tell me. Keep your secrets and giggle to yourself about the fool you’ve made of me…just go to sleep.” He says with a bit of a smile. Thera’s expression changes from playful pout to consternation once his back is turned. With a Ragnar-like grumble she goes to bed…her own bed. In the next room, Gliff has removed his burnished breastplate and sits by himself in a simple tunic and hose. His big, brown gnomish eyes stare out from under unmanageable, sandy-blond locks at the window, looking out upon the city with melancholy and profound loneliness. He sighs and shakes his head as he turns his attention away from the moonlight city. He prays to his elven god for strength, courage and, above all, restraint. Even now, all alone in the dark, he can feel the familiar embers of hatred stirring in his soul. Grix’ tale of death and atrocities at the hands of his kind has disturbed him deeply. On one level he was shocked that it is possible for gnomes to have ever done anything like what the kobolds did to him. On another level he feels a pang of guilt and a sad sympathy for the little creature. But underlying it all is hatred and disgust for Grix and all his accusations. He wants to dismiss them all as lies cooked up to garner the sympathies of his companions and manipulate his feelings…but despite those feelings there was still that part of him that isn’t sure what to do or how to feel. With unnoticed tears in his eyes he prays for guidance and strength. He then turns his mind to his current mission, seeking to quiet his troubled mind with thoughts of the quest ahead of him and the honor it would bring. Perhaps valor could drown his insecurities and quench the fires of hatred and bitterness that at once sicken and empower him. With a sad little sigh he clutches the silver crescent moon that is his holy symbol with one hand as he crawls into bed and pulls the covers over his head, as if to ward off the shadows of the night. Little does he know that the true shadows lurk within and not without. Above him, in the luxurious suite, the massive Earl of Huntington sits up in bed, reading his favorite epic. He always reveled in tales of honor and valor, of noble men facing down the odds and charging into hell for a heavenly cause. He is an odd contrast. A study in conflict. His thick, churlish brow is knitted with concentration as he reads the story for the tenth time. He knows every word by heart, but still the reading doesn’t come easy. The wire-framed spectacles he wears to read help it some, but he can’t keep his broad lips from moving as the words form themselves in his mind. He was always a clever lad, and even now he’s far from slow-witted…but reading and other intellectual pursuits have always been a double-edged sword for him. On one hand, they’re an escape, both from the reality of his situation and from the reality of his birth. Ogres don’t read, they don’t study history and they don’t speak with meticulous care for the words they choose. But, the part of him that struggles to remember facts and dates and mumbles in his mind when he reads and tries to tie his tongue when he speaks cannot be so easily evaded. He knows what he is. He wishes that he didn’t, that he could return to the blissful ignorance of his youth. But he also knows that the desire for ignorance is his bastard parentage surfacing again. Ogres seek the comfort of ignorance. Ogres abandon what is difficult and seek only to excel at the brutality that comes so easily to them. That part of him disgusts Thade as much as it frightens and angers him. He is determined to be a man, not a monster. With great care, he inserts the red ribbon that he uses as a book marker at the place where he leaves his story and closes the book, being careful not to dog-ear the pages, just as he had been taught. He always tries to do things as he was taught, when it comes easily and especially when it does not. He carefully removes his spectacles, taking pains not to scratch them as he puts them into their velvet pouch and sets them on the nightstand by the book. With one hand on the candlestick to prevent it from being accidentally knocked over, he meticulously snuffs out he flame, waiting until the last but of ruddy glow leaves the wick before letting go and turning his attention to other things. Just as he was taught. He smiles to himself in the dark, happy that he has people to help him and a plan to follow in his quest. Recently he’s just been riding around taking up worthy-sounding jobs and randomly inquiring about the price of mercenaries and the like. But now he feels that with Grix’s intellect to guide them, Gliff’s virtue to be an example to them, Ragnar’s strength to reinforce them and Thera’s charms and compassion to soothe and bolster them, they have a real chance of accomplishing his quest and bringing back his family’s honor. He smiles proudly, secure in the idea that good and virtue will triumph over evil and deceit…just like he was taught. Meanwhile, back downstairs, Grix sits up at the writing desk facing the window of his room, candles burning beside him, their light glinting off his thick spectacles as he scribbles into his diary. The yellow-orange glow of the candlelight accents the red-brown sheen of his reptilian hide. Log Entry 3,471 Fortunate fate, or so it would seem, has brought me much-needed aid in the completion of my goals. On my way back from the library (which proved to be largely a waste of time, save for one time which I’ll detail later), I was accosted by brigands, inept as they were they still posed a threat to me without Usk present. Fortunately though, I was aided by four total strangers. After the scuffle we resigned to the chambers of one of them, a remarkably paradoxical half-ogre calling himself Thadeus, the Earl of some place called Huntington. He is a bright enough creature and there’s a certain charm to the way he puts on airs of intellect and sophistication, despite the beetle-browed brutishness lurking just below the facade. But I admit that he’s not completely transparently doltish. There is a background of education and refinement there, and I can see the amount of effort it takes him to bring it to the forefront like that. I respect anyone of his obvious physical power who values a mere mental trait enough to invest that much effort to highlight it. Well, I respect him as much as I can respect someone of inferior intellect, whom I have scarcely met. While we were gathered in his apartments we learned of his background (which I’ll detail in an addendum to this log) and that he is currently searching for resources sufficient to take back his family’s titles and honor by force…it’s a thin plan, one which I doubt will see much success without guidance, but it’s that lack of guidance that I needed to get him and the others to agree to help me gather my information while he gathers his forces. On the surface, all seems ideal. I have a body of armed and talented protectors, currently dedicated to assisting me in my research, and in exchange all I need do is offer my aid to his cause in the form of my intellect and some devices I’ve been tinkering with of late. But there are some complications, however. The biggest one is a hateful little gnome who is part of the party in which I am currently enrolled. He seems to have an unnatural hatred of my kind that goes beyond the normal bitterness and suspicion that exists between gnomes and kobolds. I can tell that he detests my presence and is suspicious of my every action. This will become quite inconvenient in the near future, I fear —not that I plan on doing anything that would justify his feelings, but sometimes people like him see things that aren’t necessarily there if it helps to justify their own prejudices— Fortunately there appears to be some remnants of virtue in his bitter little soul that have prevented him from killing me outright as of yet. Hopefully that and the presence of the others will keep him in line. Another inconvenience comes from the human (though I use the term loosely; if he weren’t so tall I’d swear he was a dwarf), Ragnar Wulfric. He seems reluctant to take up Huntington’s quest, especially after he consented to my insistence on planning our travel route. He’s a powerful warrior and his presence would be missed indeed if we run into trouble on our journey. Fortunately, though he puts up a good sure of strength and gruffness, he seems easily bullied by his companion, the half-elf Thera. Thera Donnodel is a curious creature, to be sure. On the surface, she appears to be nothing more than a vapid and frivolous woman, wrapped up in imagined romance. Sole citizen of a make-believe world populated with knights and maidens and intrigue and melancholy. But I can see a sort of canniness about her. She may be a bit overdramatic, but she also seems keen to the world around her, and highly manipulative…especially of her companion, Ragnar. She’s much smarter and more devious than she looks and bears careful watching. She could be an ally to keep the others from killing one another, or she could be a thorn in my side, seeing plots that aren’t there. It depends on whether her imagination or her compassion is strongest. As I conclude this rather lengthy entry I leave myself to wonder how Usk will react to the newcomers. For the longest time it has been just him and I. He is a fierce and zealous protector, and I hope that the gnome doesn’t give him sufficient cause to protect me from him. The death of a paladin could be a hard thing to explain to my new companions. And now I wonder how they react to him. It never occurred to me until just now that his very existence, let alone his consciousness are impossibility to most of the world. His appearance and nature probably won’t help ease relations any either. Hopefully they’ll look past his steel exterior to see the gentle and true companion that I see in him. And with that, the little kobold lays aside his pen and looks out the window. Down below, unseen even to his draconic vision a killer stalks the streets, bent on revenge and thirsting for blood. Somewhere in the darkness outside, a man lies dying in a gutter and another runs frantically in a futile flight for his life, the cold and gleaming eyes of his tireless pursuer follow him relentlessly with an inhumanly calm expression that only magnifies the terror in the poor victim’s heart. Grix can’t even hear the frightened screams as he checks to see if the ink is try in his book before closing it and crawling into bed with a happy little smile. Everything seems to be working out just fine for him this night. In the darkness, another man dies.
Mr. VanderMeer 10-10-03, 09:01 AM	:thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: I do not even know how much thumbs up's to put down here. :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :bounce: :bounce: :bounce: Love it!
eudas 10-10-03, 04:30 PM	You, sir, are a fine example of everything that one could hope to see on the Character Development board. You've certainly inspired me! eudas
Galahad_Knight 10-10-03, 07:22 PM	Wow, thanks guys. :blush: You have no idea how this makes my day. Of course, if any of you know the name of a publisher looking for wrtiters, that'd make my century ;) But in the meantime I'll gladly take in your praise...God, I'm still blushing.
Galahad_Knight 10-16-03, 02:16 AM	The Gathering Storm, Chapter 4 Conflict The next morning, the party assembles in the stables of the inn after a hearty breakfast. “So, where are we headed first?” Thade asks Grix. The little kobold was given charge of where the group would go while Thade gathers his forces. “North.” He says, walking to his covered wagon. “There’s a city up north that’s home to a rare book dealer I’ve been advised to see. There should be people threw willing to hire us to solve some local problems. It’ll be a good way to get some money and experience fighting alongside one another. Might even be able to pick up a mercenary or two while we’re there, of we have funds or prestige enough.” “Excellent!” Thade says happily. He has followed the kobold to the back of his wagon and now sees what’s inside, “What is that?” he asks, a little shocked when he sees Usk. “Oh…I nearly forgot. Usk, come out here, please.” He says to something inside the wagon. The suspension springs of the wagon creak as Usk walks to the back and hops out. The others gasp when they see the hulking, four-foot, super kobold. Gliff reaches for his sword, “What manner of fiend is this?” he demands, backing away, eyes locked on the intimidating form of Grix’ faithful companion. “This is Usk, my familiar, companion, protector and assistant. His intellect is still a little limited, but he’s very brave and undyingly faithful to me. I made him myself, so I know that he is no threat to anyone who isn’t a threat to me. He is very strong and equipped with a magical arsenal which should prove quite sufficient for most combat tasks,” he saysm stroking the gleaming ironclad back of his creation. “Demonstration, Usk.” He says crisply. Usk takes two steps forward and nods. His body suddenly seems to unfold and telescope outward, with much mechanical whirring and hissing. Legs and arms extend and armor plating expands from underneath other plates to fill the newly created gaps. With a dramatic puff of steam from vents in his neck, the construct’s metamorphosis is complete and he now stands nearly as high as Thade, with a build to match. The mace head on his long, segmented tail crackles with electricity and two odd, three-barreled devices have extended from under armor plates on his forearms. Grix grins, “He is capable of creating a fan of deadly flames from his mouth, an impact from his tail can deliver a tremendous shock; his right arm is capable of firing spheres of acid, three at a time, with deadly accuracy; his left fires bolts of force which, while less potent than the acid, are impossible to evade. He can assume this larger size at will and is capable of healing himself when needed. His power is not unlimited though, many of his abilities rely on a finite number of magical charges supplied by power crystals which I must replace from time to time. Humm…that reminds me,” He gestures to Usk, and the creature seems to fold in on itself, once again assuming its four-foot form. Once he’s compacted himself, Usk drops to one knee and holds out his arms, palms up. Grix hums to himself as he pulls off panels on his arms, chest, tail and neck. Several glowing crystal rods are housed within. With great care he slides each rod out and inspects it critically before replacing them and securing the panels. He looks a bit perturbed about something but doesn’t mention it. “Anyhow,” he says after a moment, “You can no doubt see how helpful he will be on our journey and that he is fully under my control.” The others seem impressed. Thade is obviously so and begins asking questions about his inner workings, which Grix politely refuses to answer. “Trade Secrets” he says by way of response. Ragnar puts up a good show of disinterest in the creature, and Gliff still regards it with open suspicion. Meanwhile, Threa is busily praising Grix for his amazing creation and about how sweet it is that he built himself a friend. Grix is trying to evade her hugs, not used to this level of attention. After a few minutes they all settle down and set out, Grix’s wagon leading the way with Ragnar and Thera riding on the left and the deminuitive Gliff riding beside Thade and his truly huge warhorse. Grix hands the reigns over to Usk and begins scribbling in his journal. Log Entry 3,472 So far, things go well. The reactions to Usk were better than I had expected. I think he impressed them. I’m proud of him for that. Meanwhile, I’ve been pondering some recent discoveries. The book I recovered from the library in Jaech contains some new spells. Of which, two strike me as being immediately useful. The first one is an incantation that allows one to imbue a severed humanoid hand with magical energies so as to animate it without resorting to necromancy. I plan to use that spell as a basis for creating my own spell which, I hope, will allow me to imbue small objects and devices with magical locomotion. This spell could become the cornerstone of my research on magical constructs. And the principals involved could someday allow me to create mechanical life without the forces of magic. I have high hopes for it. The second spell seems to have been created initially as a way of jealous wizards to protect the secrets of their spells at all costs. But its usefulness as a trap is plainly obvious. The spell involves tracing certain magical runes on an object containing nonmagical text. When the text is read, the runes detonate, causing tremendous damage to anything close enough to read it, and anything in close proximity to the blast. Unfortunately, illiteracy seems widespread amongst the common folk and some of the more sagage combattants. Perhsps if the inscription were coupled with a spell-release trap that granted the target the ability to read, if only long enough to trigger the explosion. This opens up vast possibilities for both simple traps and complex ones. Expect more PTI entries soon. Grix’ writing is interrupted by a cry of alarm from Thade. They have ridden into the woods and now they are in the middle of an ambush. Six mounted warriors bar the road ahead of them and two more have moved in to block their retreat, armed with bows. Their leader is a burly and disreputable looking orc in white-painted armor. The other horsemen seem to be humans and orcs, the ones blocking their retreat are hobgoblins. “Archers!” Thera hisses, pointing to the barely visible forms concealed in the trees above. “Your valuables and your women!” the lead orc roars, brandishing his heavy sword. “Give them to us and we may let you live.” He growls menacingly. “Appalling!” Gliff exclaims in disgust, couching his lance under his shoulder and leaning forward slightly in his saddle, readying for a charge. Max has already begun a deep, low growl. Ragnar scoffs, “You couldn’t handle her, Porkchop.” He unslings his ace from his saddle and twists his head slightly, causing the vertebrae in his neck to pop with a sound not unlike that of shattering bone. Thade just grins mirthlessly and claps down the visor of his gleaming armor, a huge sword in one hand and a heavy steel shield on his other arm. “This ought to be refreshing.” He says, voice booming hollowly inside his helm. Grix dives into the back of the wagon and out of sight. His sudden movement breaks the tension and causes one of the archers to take the first shot. An arrow buzzes towards the diving kobold, only to shatter off Usk’s gleaming metal hide. He lets out a hollow, metallic snarl and levels his right arm at the archer. The three-barreld device springs up form under its armored plate and rotates, rapidly spitting out three glowing globules of acid. The caustic bolts all impact the offending archer square in the chest. His agonized scream last only a second or two before the acid burns through his chest and lungs, leaving him to fall mutely from his post and land in the turf with a distressing splattering sound. With that, the battle begins. Before the white-armored orc can issue a command to his minions, Thade is on him. His huge horse moves alarmingly fast due to its long legs. He rides down the lead orc and sweeps him from the saddle with a single blow of his massive sword. The orc falls to the ground with a clatter and makes no attempt to rise. Thade wheels around and Titan, his mighty steed, rears up. The huge animal brings its massive hooves down on the hindquarters of one of the bandit’s horses. The poor creature squeals in pain and collapses under the bone-shattering force. Its rider flies from the saddle and lands in the mud. Ragnar laughs heartily and barrels into the fray. When he gets close enough he rises in his saddle and jerks the reigns, bringing his horse to an abrupt halt and launching the burly warrior into the ranks of the mounted bandits. He crashes into one of them full on and pulls him from the saddle. When they hit the ground, Ragnar already has his shield in position to drive the poor bandit’s head into the ground under the combined might of Ragnar’s mass and the force of their impact. He rolls to his feet and roars mightily. Gliff, seeing that the two bigger warriors have the situation ahead under control, wheels Max around and charges the hobgoblin archers. Their arrows shatter on his upraised shield and he brings his lance up just in time to catch one of the bandits in the chest at a sharp upward angle. The force of the impact launches the much larger combatant from his saddle and causes Gliff to drop his lance. With a grin, the little paladin draws his longsword and sets after the other archer. The horse is frightened and unnerved by the miniature combatant and his snarling mount. It whinnies and rears, dumping its rider into the dirt before it bolts. Max pounces on the stunned rider and Gliff smoothly runs him through. Back at the wagon, Usk has shot three more archers down from their posts and the front of the wagon is peppered with arrows and bits of arrows. Thera’s crossbow bolts sing through the air, striking their concealed targets like lightning bolts. The last of the archers fall. "Amatures." she scoffs as she reloads her handbow, "No style, no conviction...the delivery was all wrong and the followthrough was abysmal." she says, reviewing the robbery attempt to nobody in particular. Grix cautiously comes out from under the covering of the wagon and begins casting a spell. A bolt of lightning arcs from his outstretched palm and lances through the two remaining riders and their mounts, sending them twitching and smoking to the turf. As suddenly as it began the battle was over. “I was right.” Thade says, lifting his visor, “That *was* refreshing!” Ragnar laughs, “You can say that again.” Once the frenzy dies down, Usk goes about the task of disposing of the bodies, carrying them all off into the woods. As he grabs the leader of the bandits, the orc in white armor groans. "You fools." he rasps, blood tricking from hos nose and mouth, spattering on Usk as he coughs, "My master will avenge this insult." he says, choking on his own gore. "And who might that be?" Ragnar asks, wiping blood from his axe. "Winterwound..." the dying orc says, his terminal breath drawing out the name as the last of his life spills out with the word. "I;ve never heard that name before." Thade says as Usk drags the body away. "Have you?" Ragnar shrugs, "It sounds familiar. I think I remember a couple of fanatics shouting his name before I killed them, but that was further north. Probably some orc Warboss." he says, putting away his axe. "Probably nothing to worry troo much about then." Tade says, remounting, "I've never had trouble dealing with orcs." he says confidently. Ragnar chuckles, "You haven't dealt with many orcs. They're organized and brutal. And they're smart enough to know they're too dumb to get things done on their own." "These orcs weren;t a challenge." Thade says defensively. "We were ready for them." Ragnar says, grunting as he pulls himself into the saddle. "If they hadn't tried scaring us we might not have been so fortunate." Thade shrugs, "Fortune favors the bold." Ragnar chuckles, "If you say so." Usk comes back from the treeline with a couple of sacks. "What's in there?" Thera asks curiously. "I thought that since they were so intent on robbing us, they wouldn't object to us returning the favor. We can worry about what to do with it later." Grix explains as Usk loads the bags into the wahon and pulls arrows out of Grix' seat. "Good idea!" thera says happily, "Very fitting. Poetic justice has always been a favorite of mine. Shall we go, genelemen? You've played enough for one day, it's time to get back to work." she says with an impish grin, flicking the reigns of her graceful mare.
Dougan Axehammer 10-16-03, 12:17 PM	Wonderful read! Keep it up!!
Mr. VanderMeer 10-17-03, 06:17 AM	:bow: Galahad Knight. I am running out of new compliments, but once again: GREAT!
Lia Nailo 10-18-03, 07:53 PM	Really great history and stories. I totally love it :D (compare to this i am so bad at writing and role playing ;'( sniff sniff )
Vintrastorm 10-19-03, 05:50 PM	Yesyesyes! :fight!: :thumbsup: BTW, did you ever redo the stats for Winterwound? Edit: And for the other chars? Edit: Oh! Oh! I know who the killer is! It's the... Hm, better read part 4 first to see if it's revealed there, if not then maybe I shouldn't... Aw, I can't help myself! It's Usk, isn't it! Isn't it! Edit: And the stats for Usk? Darn, now I'm gonna be sleeping late... And I thought I'd get to bet early today, so that I could get some things done tmorrow.... Oh well....
Galahad_Knight 10-19-03, 10:15 PM	Wow, you guys always make me feel better. I was just coming off of a bad session and was feeling frustrated and now I feel great. I haven;t really updated anyone's stats yet because until now, there didn;t seem to be any interest in seeing their stats. But this week or next I'll work on that and post some stats sometime soon. Glad you guys are enjoying this.
Lokahn Mandrake 10-22-03, 02:01 AM	It took me a while to catch up on all that, but I have now read it all :D ! First of all, let me congratulate you Galahad, you have got SKILLZ ;) . This is truly inspired work. Please do keep it up, I know I will not be the only one reading it... Second, Happy belated 21st Birthday. You know, in all seriousness you really may have something here...Galahad + good editor = book deal perhaps or at least some published work. Your characters are certainly not any less interesting than some I have read of in fantasy novels before, and these were novels that I enjoyed reading I might add. You have tremendous raw talent. But no, sorry, I don't know any publisher personally :( . Third, it's a shame you live way up in Tacoma, too bad you didn't live closer to Portland. My gaming group would love to have another good player, especially one with such an inspired imagination. Take it ez Galahad
Galahad_Knight 10-25-03, 03:34 AM	Sorry folks, this week's chapter might be a little late and/or undersized. I've been caqtching up with school and doing my best to convert the gang to 3.5 so I can share their stats. (Some were made with houserules, some are much higher or lower levels than others, etc) I'm gonna post Winterwound in this post and follow it up with Ragnar. Expect Thera and the others soon. I've been thinking of replacing some of Winterwound's Cleric levels with blackguard levels instead. What do you guys think? Oh, WARNING, though I left out the description and backgroiund, many of winterwound's magical items have backgrounds of their own that contain vile implications. Just figured I'd give you a heads up Edit: Sorry about the size, folks, I didn't want to strech out the screen. If you're having trouble reading it, just copy and paste into Notepad or your favorite text editor. Alternately, you could just quote my post and read it that way. Sorry again about the size. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Winterwound Race: Half-White Dragon/Troll Character Class: Troll/Ranger/Fighter/Cleric of Bane Level: 6/6/2/6 Experience Points: Alignment: LE Deity: Bane ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: L Age: 135 Gender: Male Height: 10'6" Weight: 800lbs Eyes: Glowing White Hair: Pale Blue Flames Speed: 30ft (fly 60ft average) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 30 +10 DEX 20 +5 CON 23 +6 INT 12 +1 WIS 14 +2 CHA 15 +2 23 +7 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Dice 8d10+12d8+120 Points: Total (222) Armor Class: Total (35) Armor Bonus (+10) DEX Modifier (+5) Size Modifier (-1) Natural Armor (+11) Misc Modifier ( ) Initiative: Total (+4) DEX Modifier (+2) Misc Modifier (+2) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Fortitude +24 +18 +6 Reflex +14 +9 +5 Will +11 +9 +2 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Weapon/Armor Pofs: Simple and martial, all armor and shields Darkvision: 90ft Low-Light Vision Regeneration 5 Scent Immune to Cold Rend (if he hits with both claws he automatically does an additional 2d6+15 damage) Breath Weapon: 30ft Cone of Cold, 6d8 cold damage, DC 19 for half, 1x/day Ranger Abilities Favored Enemy: Humans +4, Dwarves +2 Track, Endurance, Wild Empathy Combat Style (TWF), Improved Combat Style (ITWF) Animal Companion (Wolf, see below) Cleric Abilities Rebuke Undead Domaiin: Destruction Granted Ability: Smite 1x/day (adds +4 to attack and +Cleric level (6) to damage) Domain: Tyrany Granted Ability: Tyranny (+2 to save DCs of compulsion spells he casts) Fighter Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Waraxe) Power Attack Feats Persuasive (+2 Bluff and Intimidate) Negotiator (+2 Diplomacy and Sense Motive) Improved Bull Rish Awesome Blow Leadership Improved Natural Attack (Bite does 2d6+5 now) Greater TWF ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Bluff Cha +20 +7 8 +5 Concentration Con +10 +6 4 Diplomacy Cha +25 +7 13 +5 Gather Info* Cha +16 +7 4 +5 Heal Wis +10 +2 8 Intimidate Cha +25 +7 13 +5 Knowledge (Nature) Int +6 +1 5 Knowledge (Religion) Int +6 +1 5 Listen Wis +10 +2 8 Ride Dex +13 +5 8 Search Int +10 +2 8 Sense Motive* Cha +20 +7 8 +5 Spellcraft Int +10 +1 9 Spot Wis +10 +2 8 Survival Wis +10 +2 8 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Giant, Draconic, Common and Orcish ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+25/20/15/10) Base (+16/11/6/1) STR Mod (+10) Size Mod (-1) Misc Mod ( ) Temporary Mod ( ) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+17/12/7/2) Base (+16/11/6/1) DEX Mod (+2) Size Mod (-1) Misc Mod ( ) Temporary Mod ( ) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapon: "Frostflame" and "Coldburn" +5 Keen, Icy Burst Wounding Waraxes +30 to hit, 2d8+15 (+cold, +2 con damage, only +10 for offhand dam), 19-20 crit Full Attack (2 axes and bite): +26/+26s/16/16s/11/11s/6, with a Bite for 2d6+5 at +20 Frostflame and Coldburn are fearsome weapons which he had specially comissioned in secret. A total of nine wizards and sorcerers worked on the weapons in turn, each one adding an enchantment to a part of the weapon, never seeing the object in whole. Finally the parts were assembled and bound together with unholy magics in his lair. The hafts are made of the legbones from the unlucky white dragon who attacked him and the handle is wrapped in hide made from what was left of its skin. Most of the blades were constructed from pearly white scales of the same unlucky dragon, with one of his claws making a dandy spike for the top. The actual cutting edges of the blades were specially made, cut from purest ice and magically treated for sharpness and hardness (as well as to keep them from melting). The end result was ivory, pearl and ice masterpieces of truely impressive beauty and fearsome lethality. They are forever sheathed in an aura of blue flame and all who see them know to fear. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Armor: "Winter's Might" +5 Mithral and Dragonhide Breastplate of Command (50,600gp) +10 armor bonus, +5 max dex, -1 armor check, 30ft speed. Acts as a Breastplate of Command. Not made entirely out of dragon hide, the poor creature he killed was too small to make sufficient armor just of its scales, it was made primarily of mithral with the pearly hide streched over the metal. The thin leather of the crature's wings was used to make an attached loincloth and hood. (when the hood is up, the blue flames on his head reflect off the pearly white leather and shroud all but his muzzle in pale blue light) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Gear & Magic Items: In addition to a well-stocked mountain lair and an impressive treasure hoard (which he allows his mother to sleep on, to guard it) he has the following items which he uses regularly: Amulet of Natural Armor +2 2 Rings of Spell Storing (minor) Cloak of Charisma +4: Usually worn when out in public, commanding his minions or holding court. He got it from a luckless female paladin who was part of an adventuring party who did a little too much investigating into the seemingly organized actions of local monsters. He gave her to his Orc half-brothers...she may still be alive, if she's unlucky. Circlet of Persuasion: He had this device worked into his crown of fangs, the better to help him command his evil legions. He got it off an unlucky elven bard who was part of the same adventuring party his cloak came from. She shared the same fate as her companion. Crystal Ball with Telepathy: He loves this device and had it attached to his secpter. He uses it to keep an eye on his minions, communicate withand control them, and to spy on his ememies. Though he's usually too self-assured to bother using its suggestion function on enemies...he does so love watching them fail entirely on their own. Rod of Spelendor: He had this sceptre specially crafted for him. It is made of bone and silver and encrusted in diamonds. It is capped with the skill of a pixie with diamonds in its eye sockets. He carries it on him at all times and often uses it to adminster impromptu beatings to his minions when they fail. Manual of Quickness of action +5 (already read and calculated into bonuses) Most other items of any value were either handed out to his more powerful minions, or (in the case of those items too powerful or too useless for his minions) merely heaped in with the rest of his treasure for his mother to guard. Animal Companion: "Worg" the Wolf Worg is a burly Northern Wolf, trained for battle. He is Winterwound's faithful pet and at his side always. Worg is not really powerful enough to aid his master in battle, but he has been given some gifts to help protect him when they hunt. Winterwound also enjoys using Worg to intimidate his lesser minions, and the beast always puts on a good show of viciousness. Large Animal 4d8+16 HD (34hp), +2 Init AC 22 (-1 size, +2 Dex, +6 natural, +5 armor), 70ft speed Attacks: Bite (+13 melee, 1d6+10) Str 26, Dex 15, Con 19, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6 Saves: Fort +8, Ref +6, Will +2 Skills: Hide +5, Listen +3, Move Silently +5, Spot +3, Survival +2 Feats: Track, Stealthy, Power-Attack SQ: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Share Spells, Empathic Link, Evasion, DR 1/-- (Armor) Gear: +1 Adamantine Chain Shirt Barding, Amulet of Mighty Blows +1 (collar)
Galahad_Knight 10-25-03, 03:54 AM	Here's Ragnar. Oh, if you wanna audit him, you should find him 1,500 GP oiver the suggested treasure for a 6th level character. Reasons: 500 GP went to non-combat gear (equipment, mount, etc) and some spending money. I figured he should be more than a set of weapons with legs. 1000GP went to making his Scale Mail +1 Yes...I could have spent much less money and simply bought a Breastplate, which would also have tgiven better ACP and max dex...but I don't picture Ragnar in a breastplate...I picture him in scale. God, I'm such a twink :smirk: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Ragnar Wulfric of the North Character Class: Ranger/Barbarian/Fighter Race: Half-Dwarf Level: 2/2/2 Experience Points: 15,001 Alignment: LN Deity: Clangeddin Silverbeard ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: M Age: 23 Gender: Male Height: 5'8" Weight: 250 Eye Color: Grey Hair Color: Red Speed: 25ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 18 +4 DEX 17 +3 CON 18 +4 INT 14 +2 WIS 12 +1 CHA 08 -1 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (55) Armor Class: Total (19) Armor Bonus (+5) Shield Bonus (+2) DEX Modifier (+3) Size Modifier (-) Natural Armor (-) Misc Modifier (-) Initiative: Total (+3) DEX Modifier (+3) Misc Modifier (-) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Fortitude +13 +9 +4 Reflex +3 +0 +3 Will +3 +2 +1 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Weapon Familiarity: Dwarven Waraxe Track Wild Empathy Favored Enemy: Giants (+4) *Two Weapon Fighting Fast Movement Rage(+4 Str/Con, +2 Will, -2 AC) 1/day Uncanny Dodge Power Attack Improved Shield Bash Extra Favored Enemy: Orcs (+2) Improved Sunder Pin Shield Combat Reflexes Improved TWF * Virtual feat available only when in light or no armor. Half-Dwarf Features: +2 Constitution, -2 Charisma Base speed is 25 feet instead of 30 (Encumbered it drops to 20) Low-Light Vision +1 save against poison +1 against spells and spell like effects +1 bonus to attack against orcs and goblinoids +2 dodge bonus against giants Automatic Languages: Common, Dwarven Favored Class: Fighter Dwarven Blood Weapon Familiarity: Waraxe Extra Feat at 1st level ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Climb Str +10 +4 6 Hide Dex +10 +3 7 Jump Str +10 +4 6 Listen Wis +10 +1 9 Move Silently Dex +10 +3 7 Ride Dex +10 +3 7 Spot Wis +10 +1 9 Survival Wis +10 +1 9 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Common Dwarf Goblin Giant ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+10/+5) Base (+6/+1) STR Mod (+4) Size Mod (-) Misc Mod (-) Temporary Mod (-) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+9/+4) Base (+6/+1) DEX Mod (+3) Size Mod (-) Misc Mod (-) Temporary Mod (-) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapons: +1 Flaming Waraxe: +11/6 (9/9/4/4) to hit, 1d10+1d6+5 Slashing damage, x3 crit, O 15lbs +1 Spiked Bashing Shield: +11/6 (9/9/4/4) to hit, 1d8+5 Piercing damage, x2 crit, L 5lbs Handaxe: +10/5 to hit, 1d6+4 Slashing damage, x3 crit, L 5 lbs Daggers (x2): +10/5 to hit, 1d4+4 Piercing damage, 19-20 crit, L, 1lb Longbow (100ft range) +10/5 to hit, 1d8 Piercing Damage, x3 crit, R, 3lbs ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Armor: +1 Scale Mail: +5 AC bonus, +3 Max Dex, -4 Armor Check, 20ft, 30lbs Shield: +1 Light Spiked Bashing Shield: +2 AC bonus, 5lbs ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Gear: Light Load: 100lbs, Medium: 200, Heavy: 300. *=Usually on Horse Masterwork Dwarven Waraxe 15lbs, 330gp Masterwork Large Steel Spiked Shield 20lbs, 480gp Masterwork Chain Shirt 25lbs, 250gp Handaxe 5lbs, 6gp Daggers (x2) 2lbs, 4gp Longbow 3lbs, 75gp 40 Arrows 6lbs, 2gp Backpack 2lbs, 2gp Bedroll *5lbs, 1gp 3sqYrds of Canvas (as a rain shelter) *3lbs, 0.3gp Flint and Steel -----, 1gp Everburning Bullseye Lantern 3lbs, 72gp (picked up the lamp, then later paid to have the spell cast on it) Oil (4 flasks) 4lbs, 4gp A tenday's worth of Rations *10lbs, 5gp Silk Rope, 50ft 5lbs, 10gp Sack (x2) *1lbs, 0.2gp Wethstone 1lbs, 0.02gp Explorer's Outfits (x2) *16lbs, 20gp Subtotal: 126lbs, 1261.52gp Subtotal of Things Usually Carried: 91lbs, Light Load Light Warhorse "Raidho" -----, 150gp Bit and Bridle 1lbs, 2gp Military Saddle 30lbs, 20gp Saddlebags 8lbs, 4gp Half-Chain (Chain Shirt) Barding 50lbs, 400gp 2 Days of Feed 20lbs, 0.1gp Subtotal: 109lbs, 576.1gp Subtotal of Things Usually on Horse: 144lbs, Light Load Subtotal of Things Usually on Horse Plus Rider: 394lbs, Light Load Total: 235lbs, 1837.62gp ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Items: None besides weapon and armor ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Money: 166.38 GP CP (48) SP (19) GP (60) PP (10) -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Galahad_Knight 10-25-03, 05:00 AM	Here's a bonus for ya. Thera! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Thera "Silverbolt" Donnodel Race: Half-(Moon)Elf Character Class: Bard/Ranger/Rogue/Highwayman (Homebrew PrC) Level: 3/1/1/1 Experience Points: 15001 Alignment: CG Deity: Erevan Ilesere ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: M Age: 24 Gender: Female Height: 5'0" Weight: 108lbs Eye Color: Silvery blue Hair Color: Silver with a bluish tint Speed: 30ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 10 +0 DEX 18 +4 CON 12 +1 INT 16 +3 WIS 15 +2 CHA 19 +4 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (35) Current ( ) Armor Class: Total (18) Armor Bonus ( ) Shield Bonus ( ) DEX Modifier (+4) Size Modifier ( ) Natural Armor ( ) Misc Modifier (+4) Initiative: Total (+4) DEX Modifier (+4) Misc Modifier ( ) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Fortitude +5 +3 +2 Reflex +13 +9 +4 Will +7 +5 +2 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: WP: Simple and Martial and EWP: Hand Crossbow Armor Prof: Light & Medium armor and shields Bardic Music (Fascinate, countersong, inspire courage +1, inspire competence) 3/day Bardic Knowledge: +8 Track Favored Enemy: Oppressive rich folk (+2) Wild Empathy Sneak Attack +1d6 Trapfinding Flashy Dresser (+2 to perform, intimidate and diplomacy, -2 to hide and disguiuse in costume) Supreme Confidence (Cha bonus to AC in costume) Quickdraw Point Blank Shot Weapon Finesse ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Bluff Cha +10 +4 6 Diplomacy Cha +15 +4 3 +8 Gather Info Cha +10 +4 6 Hide Dex +10 +4 6 Intimidate Cha +10 +4 2 +4 Knowledge (Nobility) Int +5 +3 2 Knowledge (history) Int +10 +3 7 Listen Wis +5 +2 2 +1 Move Silently Dex +10 +4 6 Perform (Drama) Cha +15 +4 9 +2 Ride Dex +10 +4 6 Search Int +5 +3 1 +1 Sense Motive Wis +10 +2 8 Slight of Hand Dex +7 +4 3 Spot Wis +5 +2 2 +1 Survival Wis +10 +2 8 Use Magic Device Cha +10 +4 6 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Common Elvish Dwarven Goblin Orc ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+3) Base (+3) STR Mod (-) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+7) Base (+3) DEX Mod (+4) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapons: +1 Silvered Rapier: +8 to hit, 1d6 Piercing damage, 18-20 crit, O, 3lbs +1 Swashbuckling Hand XBow: +8 to hit, 1d4+1 Piercing damage, x2 crit, R, 3lbs Silvered Daggers (2): +7 to hit, 1d4 Piercing damage, 19-20 crit, L, 1lb ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Armor: None Shield: None ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 100 silvered bolts 10lbs, 200gp 2 silvered daggers 2lbs, 40gp Bedroll 5lbs, 0.1gp Blanket 3lbs, 0.5gp Flint and Steel ----, 1gp Ink (4 oz) ----, 32gp 10 pens ----, 1gp Mirror 0.5lbs, 10gp 1 Tenday's worth of rations 10lbs, 5gp 50ft Silk Rope 5lbs, 10gp Sack 0.5lb, 0.1gp Soap 1lb, 0.5gp Tent 20lbs, 10gp 2 Waterskins (1 full of fine wine) 8lbs, 12gp 3 Small Books 2.25lbs, 45gp 1 Entertainer's Outfit 4lbs, 3gp 4 Explorer's Outfits 16lbs, 20gp 50 Tindertwigs in a box ----, 50gp 5 Tanglefoot Bags 20lbs, 250gp Folding Travel Chess Set 2lbs, 5gp Subtotal: 109.75lbs, 695.2gp Subtotal of Items Carried On Person: 23lbs, Light Load Light Warhorse "Adamant" -----, 150gp Bit and Bridle 1lb, 2gp Military Saddle 30lbs, 20gp Saddlebags 8lbs, 4gp 2 Days Feed 20lbs, 0.1gp Subtotal: 59lbs, 172.1gp Subtotal of Things on Horse Plus Rider: 190lbs, Light Load Total 867.3gp ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Items: +1 Swashbuckling Hand Crossbow (silver plated and inscribed in gold elvish script 'Silverbolt') The Swashbuckling enchantment allows one to make ranged disarm and sunder attempts as if using a one-handed melee weapon. No AoO except the one drawn by firing while in melee. (Homebrew Enchantment, +1 value) +1 Silvered Rapier (her other trademark weapon) Hat of Disguise (uses it to switch between her normal self and her Silverbolt alter ego. Silverbolt is a little taller and a full elf. Her hair is also longer than thera's) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Money: 132.7gp CP (12) SP (15) GP (30) PP (10) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Spells Known: 0: 6 1: 3 Spells Per Day (with bonus spell): 0: 3 1: 2 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Spells: 0: Daze Detect MAgic Flare Mage Hand Prestidigitation Read Magic 1: Charm Person Hypnotizm Sleep -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Vintrastorm 10-25-03, 10:34 AM	Please, don't say you're sorry when YOU''RE the one giving us all these! =) But, one thing about Ragnar, that doesn't really matter now that I was the Extra favored enemy. I guess this is a feat from MotW. Otherwise, I was going to comment on the favored nemy +4 to giants. I'll be reading the little bonus now =)
Peepi 10-26-03, 11:29 AM	"Favored Enemy: Oppressive Rich Folk"... :rofl:
Galahad_Knight 10-31-03, 07:50 AM	Sorry this chapter too so long, guys. Things piled up. Expect stats on the other characters sometime Saturday. ============== The Gathering Storm Chapter Five: Random Thought Gliff tosses and turns in his bedroll in his cramped little tent. Another nightmare, or rather, the same nightmare, is tormenting his sleep. It’s always the same, the same grisly replay of the event that tore away the young gnome’s childhood. The glowing red eyes in the night, the screams in the darkness, the gnawing feeling of helplessness as he watches his family burn…always the same. Gliff wakes, an hour before dawn, drenched in sweat and with tears standing in his eyes. “You’re up early.” Thade says, glancing over at the little paladin as he starts breaking down his tent. “I’m on watch…what’s your excuse?” he asks, coming over to help him break down his tent. “Couldn’t sleep.” He replies, rolling up his bedroll. “Understandable.” The huge knight says, “Are you alright?” Gliff laughs, a bit hollowly, “As good as I’ve ever been. Nothing to be concerned about.” A few hours later the others were up. “Whose turn is it for breakfast?” Ragnar asks. “Yours.” Grix says, not even looking up from his journal, “I’ve been keeping track.” Ragnar grunts sourly and rummages through the packs for a frying pan and some bacon. Thera giggles a bit and leans over to see what Grix is doing. His book is covered in complex diagrams and tightly packed writings. The kobold notices her prying eyes and shifts his book so she can’t see it. The move was unnecessary though. She didn’t understand any of it. His notes were in a puzzling hodge-podge of languages and written so small and tight that it’s a wonder he can write it so quickly. But she pouts when he denies her snooping none the less. “What’re you writing?” she asks in a carefully formulated tone of innocent curiosity and girlish poutiness. “It’s private.” He says quickly, still scribbling. Thera pouts a little harder, “I won’t tell anyone,” she promises. But seeing her promise fall on deaf ears she frowns then grins suddenly and leans close to him. “If you tell me,” she whispers, “I won’t tell anyone about your shifty mealtime accounting practices.” The kobold pauses, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” he says in a hushed tone. “Oh, really?” she senses her foothold and presses on, “Whomever asks will find that it’s their turn…It’s only your turn if nobody asks.” Grix sits still for a moment then sighs, “Fine.” He turns back towards her and opens his book more so she can see the intricate drawings and notes inside, “It’s a new trap…or rather, a variation on an old favorite of mine…two old favorites, to be precise. The first component is my Deceptive Deadfall, with elements of the Persistent Pit. To finish it off I make use of a spell I just learned.” He says, explaining the diagrams. Thera watches him, listening intently. “It starts off with a poorly concealed release for a pit trap. If it is investigated by anyone with experience in disarming traps, they’ll find it handily defeatable. But the real fun comes when they try to disarm it. When the trap is tampered with it springs. But not a pit! Instead it releases a half-ton of stone blocks from the ceiling. The rocks smash the unwary party, and *that* springs the pit! The party is dumped into a deep, spike-floored pit…and the rocks fall with them, impaling and crushing them again.” The little kobold’s eyes are gleaming and he’s grinning proudly as he explains the ghastly death machine. “But that’s not all! I have found, to my dismay, that certain people are painfully hard to kill and insanely lucky. So, if my some freak chance, the target survives then he’ll find himself a series of shelf-like steps that go straight up the side of the pit like a ladder. They climb up and up, and when they reach the third rung from the top, they all fold flush against the side of the pit and the victims fall once more into the pit…which is now littered with jagged stones. The pit closes over at this point. The edge of the lid is sharpened steel, designed to cut off anyone who grabbed for the ledge.” He is practically giggling to himself by this point. “Ah, but there’s one final touch to add…If, by happenstance, they survive to climb again, or someone finds a handhold near the top, they’ll find convenient instructions written on the lid of the trap on how to escape…the instructions are, of course, written in explosive runes. The subsequent detonation should hurl any remaining pit-dwellers back to the bottom! I call it my Pugnacious Pit…do you like it?” he asks, eager to hear her feedback. Thera gapes at him, stunned by the disturbing brilliance displayed by her quiet little companion. “Do…do you really hate people that much?” she asks after a moment. The mix of awe and horror has made her uncharacteristically blunt. Grix looks hurt, “Of course not! I don’t hate anyone.” “Then…why go to such cruel and devious lengths to systematically destroy some hapless adventurers?” Grix shrugs, “Is that all? This isn’t a creation of hatred, Thera. It’s an intellectual construct…it’s an expression of my particular art form. Besides…a trap this complex is the kind of thing one finds only deep within the warrens. If you fall into it you’re not hapless…you’re an uninvited intruder or an invading force. Traps start small and simple. You salt the periphery with cheap, simple traps meant to scare and injure the casual interloper. The clever and expensive traps happen later on. Anyone who hasn’t taken our generous warnings by then is obviously severely intellectually deficient or is harboring ill intent.” “Oh…I hadn’t thought of that.” Thera confesses, feeling a bit better. “It does make sense…and it really is a brilliant trap.” “Abhorrent!” Gliff cries from nearby. “Lady Donnodel, I am shocked that you would condone this…this…monstrosity!” Gliff is positively incensed. The little paladin is on his feet and shaking with indignation. Grix glances up at him with cold, calm eyes, “I fail to see the source of your consternation. What is so abominable about a trap?” the little kobold asks with almost convincing innocence. “Traps are cowardly, evil creations that maim and kill indiscriminately and slay brave warriors without the honor of combat.” Gliff answers, as if that were all there is to it. “But traps are defensive…warriors are offensive. If you fall into a trap you’re someplace you should not have been in the first place.” He answers calmly, “Traps don’t pillage…traps don’t burn down people’s houses. They don’t get bored or drunk. And very few have been known to ravish women. And, most importantly, traps don’t fall in combat and leave widows and orphans.” “But…it’s cowardly and dishonorable!” Gliff is sputtering with anger. “We are a weak race. We don’t have the stout nature of your kind, or the impressive strength, or the mastery of illusions. We can’t fight well on our own and we have to make our tricks with our own hands. A trap may not be brave or honorable in your eyes, but neither is slaughtering the weak and the helpless. Yet another thing it seems we cannot do as well as your kind.” Grix tone remains cool and calm, never did the kobold raise more than an eyebrow during the course of the conversation. Gliff sputters and curses. He reaches briefly towards his sword then thinks better of it and stomps away. Grix shrugs and closes his book. “I wonder what got into him.” He says as he climbs into his wagon. Thera giggles, “You really shouldn’t do that you know.” “Do what?” Grix asks, genuinely curious. “Winning like that…it upsets his sense of direction, I think.” She grins impishly. The kobold chuckles and flicks the reigns of his wagon team. “The city we’re headed for isn’t too far from here. I’ll need to do some research but Lord Huntington can look for some mercenaries and someone can try to find us a job.” “Sounds like a plan.” Ragnar says with a grunt as he hauls himself into the saddle. The party rides into the city some hours later and immediately Grix vanishes to do research, leaving Usk to watch the wagon. Gliff excuses himself to go pray, and Thera runs off with Gliff’s money, ostensibly so she can shop for supplies. This leaves Ragnar alone with Thade. “Well, looks like it’s just us two warriors, eh?” Thade says, putting his hand on Ragnar’s shoulder. Ragnar grumbles slightly and stares longingly at the tavern across the street. “Ah…I see what you’re thinking.” Thade says with a knowing grin, “You’re right…we’re bound to find something in the tavern.” Ragnar shrugs, “Close enough. Let’s go before the ale gets stale.” Ragnar passes into the dank taproom and the general murmur doesn’t even pause. Nobody looks twice as the grizzled axe-man wanders up to the bar. Thade, however, is not so unobtrusive. He opens the tavern doors wide, letting light pour into the dim room. People grumble and curse and try to shield their eyes. Then he steps in, filling the doorway and silhouetting his massive frame. The grumbles and curses turn to gasps and shocked silence. Somewhat self-consciously, the giant knight enters the taproom and sidles over to the bar. Ragnar sighs and shakes his head, “You need to learn how to properly enter a tavern. It’s not nice to startle the drunks like that.” Thade flushes a bit, “I’m sorry…my etiquette lessons never covered this kind of social interaction.” Ragnar chuckles and buys himself a pint of ale, “Just relax. Act natural.” Thade nods and orders ale for himself as well. The dwarven barkeeper pours him a mug of warm, foamy ale. “What’re you here for?” he asks the massive nobleman, “You’re dressed a might too fancy to be my regular type of patron.” “Actually I’m looking to find good men to aid me in a noble venture.” Thade replies brightly. The barkeep laughs “Good luck. There ain’t a good man within thirty leagues of here. And the only ventures we got goin’ on ‘round here are more humble than noble.” Thade seemed disappointed, “Are there any experienced soldiers hereabouts who would follow me for honor and glory?” “Nope. The only experienced soldier around here who ain’t already busy soldiering is me…and I don’t work for honor.” “What do you work for?” Thade asks, curiously. “Money, mainly.” The dwarf answers bluntly. “Oh…” Thade’s face falls, “I don’t have any of that at the moment.” Suddenly Thade finds himself staring down the barrel of a dwarven flintlock…Thade had heard of these weapons but they’re generally considered to be so dangerous and unnatural that few were crazy enough to use them. This dwarf doesn’t seem crazy at all… “I won’t be having none of that. The only customers I suffer are those who can pay their own way.” Thade swallows nervously, “Oh, worry not…I have sufficient money for our drinks…” he sighs with relief as the weapon is, grudgingly, lowered. “Just that I probably don’t have enough to pay you. As a soldier, I mean.” He explains quickly. Ragnar’s eyes are on the dwarf’s weapon. “Aren’t those things a wee bit dangerous?” he asks, leveling a thick finger at the flintlock. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” the dwarf replies with a grin. Sure, they got a bit of a blowin’ up problem from time to time, and they’re terrible slow, but you just can’t beat ‘em for sheer intimidation value, eh?” he grins. “Indeed…” Ragnar says thoughtfully, “I think we might have something of interest to you after all, my friend…” “Absolutely out of the question!” Grix says, some time later when Ragnar brings the subject up with him, “I do not make weapons.” “Oh, be reasonable!” Ragnar protests, “What about Usk? I saw some pretty impressive weapons on him.” “Those are different! Those were defensive systems, and they’re entirely under my control. I know Usk, I trust Usk…Usk won’t take my systems and go kill people with them.” The kobold protests. “It’s not like we’re going to be handing a raving madman a magical sword or something. This is a perfectly sane military man who’ll be working *with* us. Besides, why do you care if it’s a weapon? You make traps all the time.” “Traps are not weapons. There’s a world of difference that you cannot even see. Besides…I’ve never worked with that kind of technology before. It could be very dangerous to experiment with.” Grix says, turning his back. Ragnar sighs crestfallen. Then an idea hits him…it’s exactly the kind of idea Thera would have, were she here…and that thought troubles him momentarily. Shaking it off, he decides to try it. “I understand…you don’t know anything about this sort of thing is all. You probably wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry Grix, I shouldn’t have asked. It just never occurred to me that this sort of thing would be beyond you. And, of course, the prospect of exploring a whole new type of technology and all its possible applications probably don’t even hold a candle to the things you’ve been working on all these years. Forget I said anything…” He finishes the job with an indifferent shrug as he turns to walk away. Grix’s nose twitches and the twitch seems to travel up his snout and into his left eye, then down to his cheek. Then it becomes a sort of neck spasm before it moves down his body and settles in his fingers and tail. His long, slender fingers begin twitching and flexing as he works out his thoguts and tries to sort through the dozen or so designs and applications that have already come to mind. His tail swishes side to side as the thoughts crystallize. “I never said I *couldn’t* do it…” he says, with only a momentary hint of reluctance in his voice. Ragnar grins broadly, his back still turned, “I’ll have him meet you tomorrow.”
Lokahn Mandrake 10-31-03, 09:12 AM	Wow, I love the sheer nastiness of that trap! :smirk: I'm sure I am not the first to think it, but someone should actually say it...It would be really fun to play or DM a game where Grix was a party member and Galahad was playing Grix. Great flavour, great interaction, keep up the great work Galahad ;) .
eudas 10-31-03, 11:23 AM	nice, i like the bit at the end, where ragnar pulls a "thera" maneuver. ;) it brought a smile to my face. :) Grix is, by far, my favourite character so far, but they're all great characters. Keep working on it long enough, and you can publish... ;) eudas
TheGreyMage 10-31-03, 11:20 PM	This is truely a wondeful story and I absolutely love the characters. You certainly have a way with the english language and you also provide devious traps and stats for the characters. I am certainly in your debt. :bow:
Galahad_Knight 11-01-03, 07:58 PM	Awww shucks :blush: Thanks guys, you're too good to me. Here's another sheet for y'all. Thade! He's on his way to Cavalier. All he's missing really is the BAB. His Knight class is basically a modified version of the Samurai. Iaijutsu focus was left out but in its place are heavy armor proficiency and the ability to choose any fighter bonus feats for his bonus feats. Knowledge (History) and Knowledge (Nobility) are added to the class skill list in place of iaijutsu focus and perform. Ancestral Daisho was replaced with a similar ability for a large steel shield and sword. Since there's not much in the rules for unhorsing someone (you can trip them or they can fail a pathetic DC 5 ride check after being hit in combat), I gave him Improved Bull Rush. I figure if he bull rushes a mounted person it ought to knock them off the horse. (Lest we forget the fate of 'porkchop') ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Lord Thadeus Huntington III Race: Half-Ogre Human (Using the Half-Ogre template from Dragon #313) Character Class: Knight (modified Samurai)/Fighter Level: Knt2/Ftr4 (ECL 7) Experience Points: 21,000 Alignment: LG Deity: St. Cuthbert ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: Large Age: 25 Gender: Male Height: 8' 0" Weight: 400lbs Eye Color: Gray-blue Hair Color: Black Speed: 40ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 30 +10 DEX 12 +1 CON 20 +5 INT 14 +2 WIS 16 +3 CHA 16 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (80) Current ( ) Armor Class: Total (28) Armor Bonus (+10) Shield Bonus (+4) DEX Modifier (+1) Size Modifier (-1) Natural Armor (+4) Initiative: Total (+1) DEX Modifier (+1) Misc Modifier () ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Misc Mod: Temp Mod: Fortitude +12 +7 +5 Reflex +2 +1 +1 Will +6 +3 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Large Size (Natural reach) 60ft darkvision Giant Blood Human Bonus Skill Point Favored Class: Any Human Bonus Feat: Power Attack Mounted Combat Ride-By Attack Spirited Charge Weapon Focus: Sabre Weapon Focus: Lance Improved Bull Rush Leadership Family Heirlooms: Masterwork Large Shield, Masterwork Sabre ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Handle Animal Cha +7 +3 4 Knowledge History Int +8 +2 6 Knowledge Nobility Int +8 +2 6 Ride Dex +12 +1 9 +2 Diplomacy Cha +15 +3 8 +4 Intimidate Cha +10 +3 7 Sense Motive Wis +10 +3 7 *Spot Wis +7 +3 4 *Listen Wis +7 +3 4 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Giant, Common, Auld Common, Elvish ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+15/10) Base (+6/+1) STR (+10) Size (-1) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+6/+1) Base (+6/+1) DEX (+1) Size (-1) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapon: +1 Large Sabre: +16/+11(+1) to hit, 2d6+11 dam, 19-20 crit +1 to hit from horseback +1 Large Lance: +16/+11 to hit, 2d6+11 dam, x3 crit x2 damage on a charge (x4 on a crit) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Armor: +2 Full Plate of Equerry (MotW) Max Dex: +1, Armor Check -6, +1 bonus to ride, mount gets +2 dex and +10 speed Shield: +2 Large Heavy Shield ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Gear: Advanced General Adventuring Kit: Item Price (GP) Weight (lb) Backpack: 2 2 Blanket: 0.5 3 Bedroll: 0.1 5 Crowbar 2 5 Grappling Hook: 1 4 5 Fishhooks: 0.5 * Flint & Steel: 1 * Lamp (Bullseye): 12 3 Oil 5 Pints: 0.5 5 Mirror: 10 0.5 10 Piton/Spikes: 1 5 Pouch, Belt: 1 3 10 Days Rations: 5 5 50ft Silk Rope: 10 5 Sack: 0.1 0.50 Signal Whistle: 0.8 ** Soap: 0.5 1 Spade: 2 8 Tent: 10 20 Waterskin: 1 4 Wethstone: 0.02 1 Total: 51.02 79 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Items: Equerry's Armor 10670 +1 Sabre (heirloom) 2000 +1 Lance 2310 +2 Large Steel Shield (heirloom) 4000 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Money: 100gp in coins CP (50) SP (15) GP (28) PP (7) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Mount: "Titan" Advanced Huge Heavy Warhorse Huge Animal 10d8 HD (95HP), +2 Init AC 20 (-2 size, +2 Dex, +7 natural, +3 armor), 70ft speed Attacks: 2 Hooves (+15 melee, 1d8+8), 1 Bite (+10 melee, 1d6+4) Str 26, Dex 14, Con 21, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 6 Saves: Fort: +10, Ref +7, Will +3 Skills: Listen +8, Spot +8, Feats: Endurance, Run, Power Attack, Improved Overrun SQ: Low-Light Vision, Scent Gear: Bit and Bridle 2gp, 1lb; Military Saddle 20gp, 30lbs; Saddlebags 4gp, 8lbs; Studded Leather Barding 200gp, 100lbs Stats include bonuses from equerry armor
Galahad_Knight 11-02-03, 03:08 AM	And, while I'm at it, heeeeere's Gliff. Expect Grix and Usk sometime in the next couple days. I gotta transfer their stats from paper and adjust for the party's level. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Sir Glifford "Gliff" Glimm Cohen Rebo Zootie Galberflax Character Class: Fighter/Paladin Race: Gnome Level: 2/4 Experience Points: 15,000 Alignment: LG Deity: Corellon Larethian ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: Small Age: 53 Gender: Male Height: 2'6" Weight: 30lbs Eye Color: Deep, soulful Brown Hair Color: Dark Brown Speed: 20ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 16 +3 DEX 15 +2 CON 16 +3 INT 14 +2 WIS 15 +2 CHA 17 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (60) Current ( ) Armor Class: Total (21) Armor Bonus (+5) Shield Bonus (+3) DEX Modifier (+2) Size Modifier (+1) Initiative: Total (+2) DEX Modifier (+2) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Misc Mod: Temp Mod: Fortitude +13 +7 +3 +3 Reflex +9 +4 +2 +3 Will +6 +1 +2 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Aura of Good Divine Grace Lay Hands Aura of Courage Divine Health Turn Undead Two-Weapon Fighting Improved Shield Bash Mounted Combat Ride-By Attack Spirited Charge ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Diplomacy Cha +12 +3 5 +4 Handle Animal Cha +8 +3 5 Heal Wis +5 +2 3 Knowledge: Nobility Int +7 +2 5 Knowledge: Religion Int +7 +2 5 Ride Dex +17 +3 8 +6 Sense Motive Wis +7 +2 5 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Gnome, Common, Elvish ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+10/+5) Base (+6/+1) STR (+3) Size (+1) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+9/+4) Base (+6/+1) DEX (+2) Size (+1) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapon: +1 Small Longsword 1d6+4 damage +11/+6 to hit (+7/+2 TWF), 2315gp +1 Small Lance 1d6+4 damage +11/+6 to hit (+7/+2 TWF), Reach 2310 gp +1 Small Bashing Steel Shield 1d6+2 damage +11/+6 to hit (+7/+2 TWF) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Armor: Mithral Breastplate AC +5, MDB +5, ACP -0 4200 Shield: +1 Large Steel Bashing Shield AC +3, ACP -1 4170 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Gear: Item Price (GP) Weight (lb) Backpack: 2 .5 Blanket: 0.5 0.75 Bedroll: 0.1 1.25 Crowbar 2 5 Grappling Hook: 1 4 5 Fishhooks: 0.5 * Flint & Steel: 1 * Lamp (Bullseye): 12 3 Oil 5 Pints: 0.5 5 Mirror: 10 0.5 10 Piton/Spikes: 1 5 Pouch, Belt: 1 3 10 Days Rations: 5 1.25 50ft Silk Rope: 10 5 Sack: 0.1 0.50 Signal Whistle: 0.8 ** Soap: 0.5 1 Spade: 2 8 Tent: 10 5 Waterskin: 1 1 Wethstone: 0.02 1 Total: 51.02 49.75 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Items: Armor and weapons ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Money: 130.25gp CP (5) SP (2) GP (10) PP (12) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Spells Per Day (with bonus spell): 1: 1 2: - 3: - 4: - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Mount: "Macsilius" (Max), Elvish Cooshee Warhound (Wolf with Warbeast template and nonelite array (+2str/con, -2 dex/wis)) Huge Animal 4d8 HD (35 HP), +2 Init AC 20 (+2 Dex, +4 natural, +4 armor), 60ft speed Attacks: Bite (+7 melee, 1d6+6) Str 18, Dex 14, Con 20, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6 Saves: Fort: +9, Ref +6, Will +2 Skills: Jump: +14, Listen +4, Spot +4, Swim +5, Survival +2 Feats: Track(b), Run, Improved Grapple SA: Trip SQ: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Combattive Mount (armor proficiencies, wartrained, +2 to ride) Gear: Bit and Bridle 2gp, Military Saddle 20gp, Saddlebags 4gp, Chain Shirt Barding 100gp
Galahad_Knight 11-02-03, 08:07 AM	The things I do when I can't sleep. Ah well..here's Grix! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Grix Niblix Character Class: Rogue/Wizard Level: 1/5 Experience Points: 15,000 Alignment: N Deity: Kurtulmak (Though in truth he probably prays more to Gond, because he seeks the inventor god's blessing on all his devices, and asks him for inspiration.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: Small Age: 30 Gender: Male Height: 2'10" Weight: 32lbs Eye Color: Yellow Skin Color: Red-Brown Speed: 30ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 07 -2 DEX 20 +5 CON 10 +0 INT 19 +4 WIS 16 +3 CHA 16 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (20) Armor Class: Total ( ) Armor Bonus ( ) DEX Modifier (+5) Size Modifier (+1) Natural Armor (+1) Misc Modifier ( ) Initiative: Total (+5) DEX Modifier (+5) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Misc Mod: Temp Mod: Fortitude +1 +1 +0 Reflex +8 +3 +5 Will +7 +4 +3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Sneak Attack +1d6 Trapfinding Summon Familiar Scribe Scroll Skill Focus (Trapmaking) Craft Wonderous Item Improved Familiar Craft Magic Arms and Armor ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: Skill Name: Key Skill Ability Ranks Misc Ability: Modifier: Modifier: Modifier: Concentration Con +5 +0 5 Craft: Alchemy Int +8 +4 4 Craft: Armorer Int +8 +4 4 Craft: Invention Int +10 +4 6 Craft: Trapmaking Int +20 +4 9 +7 Craft: Weaponsmithing Int +8 +4 4 Disable Device Int +15 +4 9 +2 Hide Dex +10 +5 5 Knowledge: Engineering Int +8 +4 4 Open Lock Dex +10 +5 5 Profession: Engineer Wis +10 +3 7 Listen Wis +5 +3 2 Search Int +12 +4 6 +2 Spellcraft Int +10 +4 6 Spot Wis +5 +3 2 He also has the equivelant of masterwork tools for all of his Craft skills, Disable Device, Open locks, Search, Spellctaft and his Profession: Engineer skill. These provide a +2 circumstance bonus to the given skill. I houseruled that Disable Device and Craft: Trapmaking synergize with one another. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: Common, Draconic, Elvish, Goblin, Orc, Gnome, and Dwarvish ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+1) Base (+2) STR (-2) Size (+1) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+8) Base (+2) DEX (+5) Size (+1) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapon: MW Small Longspear +2 to hit, 1d6-2 damage, 3x crit, Reach, elaborately decorated. It's like a wizard's staff...except pointy. 305gp MW Small Light Crossbow +9 to hit, 1d6 damage, 19-20, 80ft, complex under-slung lever-action (like on a winchester rifle). It doesn't speed the loading process any, but it sure is neat. 335gp ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Gear: Item Price (GP) Weight (lb) Wagon 35 2 Light Horses 150 Arcane Lab 500 40 (+2 Spellcraft) Alchemist's Lab 500gp 40 (+2 Alchemy) Portable Forge 100gp 40 (+2 Armoring and Weaponsmithing) MW Thief Tools 100gp 2 (+2 Open Lock and Disable Device) MW Inventor Tools 55gp 3 (+2 Invention) MW Trapmaker Tools 55gp 3 (+2 Trapmaking) MW Engineer Tools 50gp 1 (+2 Engineer) MW Swarch Gear 50gp 1 (+2 Search for secret doors/traps) Backpack 2 0.5 Blanket 0.5 0.75 Bedroll 0.1 1.25 Crowbar 2 5 Grappling Hook 1 4 5 Fishhooks 0.5 * Flint & Steel 1 * Lamp (Bullseye) 12 3 Oil 5 Pints 0.5 5 Mirror 10 0.5 10 Piton/Spikes 1 5 Pouch, Belt 1 0.75 10 Days Rations 5 1.25 50ft Silk Rope 10 5 Sack 0.1 0.12 Signal Whistle 0.8 ** Soap 0.5 1 Spade 2 8 Tent 10 5 Waterskin 1 1 Wethstone 0.02 1 2 Sticks of Chalk 0.02 * Spell Comp Pouch 3 0.75 2x Ink & Pen 16.3 * Book 15 0.75 Spellbook 15 0.75 2x Scroll Cases 2 1 10 Sheets Parchment 2 * Scholar's Outfit 5 1.5 Total: 2344.34 197.62 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Items: None, just Usk. Usk's various enhancements total to 10,642.5 GP He also posesses a few chapters of what is believed to be an artifact-level Construct Tome, detailing how to build (and providing spells required for) every known earthly construct. His fragments have no real power on their own. Just a plot hook. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Money: 13.16 CP (6) SP (1) GP (3) PP (1) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Spells Per Day (with bonus spell): 0: 4 1: 4 2: 3 3: 2 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Spells: Grix does a vast amount of research and often hires himself out designing traps for paranoid wizards in exchange for spells. 0: All 1: Repair Light Damage, Lesser Acid Orb, Lesser Sonic Orb, Lesser Electric Orb, Magic Missile, Arcane Bolt (From the D&D website), Enlarge, Shocking Grasp, Burning Hands, True strike, Charm Person, Mage Armor, Ray of Enfeeblement, Negative Energy Ray, Comprehend Languages, Identify, Silent Image 2: Bull's Strength, Fox's Cunning, Cat's Grace, Scorching Ray, Locate Objects, Alter Self, Repair Minor Damage, Invisibility, See Invisibility, Continuual Flame, False Life 3: Protection From Elements, Create Claw, Ray of Exhaustion, Dispel Magic, Fireball, Explosive Runes, Lightning Bolt, Greater Magic Weapon, Vampiric Touch, Fly --------------------------------------------------------------------- Edit: Forgot some of his skill bonuses
Galahad_Knight 11-02-03, 08:09 AM	And because you can't have peanutbutter without jelly, I give you Usk. Maybe I bent the definitions of a few terms in his creation...but it's for the greater good. Besides, he's put all his eggs in one basket with the little guy. He deserves a little bang for his buck. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Name: Usk Thurirl Character Class: Familiar Level: 3/6/5 (3 Real HD, 6 Virtual HD, lvl 5 familiar Powers) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Size: Small Age: 1 Gender: N/A (Looks male) Height: 4'0" Weight: 80lbs Eye Color: Red Skin Color: Chrome Speed: 20ft ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ability | Ability | Ability | Temporary | Temporary Name: | Score: | Modifier: | Score: | Modifier: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- STR 21 +5 DEX 12 +1 CON -- -- INT 08 -2 WIS 13 +1 CHA 13 +1 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Hit Points: Total (25) Armor Class: Total (22) DEX Modifier (+1) Size Modifier (+1) Natural Armor (+10) Initiative: Total (+0) DEX Modifier (+0) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Throws: Total: Base: Ability Mod: Fortitude +1 1 -- Reflex +4 3 +1 Will +5 4 +1 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Special Abilities/Feats: Power-Attack Improved Bull-Rush ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SKILLS: See Master's Skills. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Languages: See Master's Languages ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Melee Attack Bonus: Total (+8) Base (+2) STR Mod (+5) Size Mod (+1) Ranged Attack Bonus: Total (+4) Base (+2) DEX Mod (+1) Size Mod (+1) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapon: Slam: +8 to hit, 1d6+7 damage. Comes from his mace-like tail Shocking Grasp: Slam+1d8+1 electric, or as a touch attack, 50 charges Magic Missile: auto-hit, 3d4+3 Force damage, 50 charges Lesser Acid Orb: +4 ranged touch to hit, 3d8 acid damage, 50 charges Burning Hands: DC 15, 5d4 Fire Damage, 50 charges ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Magic Systems: Thurirl Defensive System 2.1.5 (Wonderous item, multiple similar functions, permanently occupies bracer slots) * Magic Missile 5th lvl: 3d4+3, 150ft, 50 charges 9000 x.5 (50 charges) 4500 * Lesser Acid Orb 5th lvl: 3d8, 150ft, 50 charges 9000 x.5 (50 charges) 4500 x.75 (secondary power) 3375 * Burning Hands 5st lvl: DC 15, 5d4, 15ft cone, 50 charges 9000 x.5 (50 charges) 4500 x.5 (tertiary power) 2250 * True Strike 1st lvl 1800 /2.5 (2x/day) 720 x.5 (quartiary power) 360 * Shocking Grasp 1st lvl: 1d8+1, 50 charges 1800 x.5 (50 charges) 900 x.5 (quintiary power) 450 * Repair Light Damage 1st lvl: repairs 1d8+1, 50 charges 1800 x.5 (50 charges) 900 x.5 (sextiary power) 450 * Enlarge 1st lvl: At will. 1 min, +2Str/-2Dex/-1hit/AC, Reach, up-sized slam damage. Also grants +10 HP because it makes him a medium-sized construct. 1800 x.5 (septiary power) 900 11835 GP Total 6142.5 GP and 491 XP to create Living Metal Armor Plating/Skin: Allows him to heal 1HP/Min 4500gp Total Cost to Grix 10,642.5 GP -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. VanderMeer 11-03-03, 08:11 AM	WOW, I didn't look for a a second and you've posted so much. The story is progressing fantastically, Galahad. :D :D
Dougan Axehammer 11-03-03, 10:05 PM	Fanastic story so far. But what are the stats on this new character (the dwarf with the flintlock)? Is he a bit player (NPC) or a new main character (new PC)?
Galahad_Knight 11-04-03, 12:46 AM	Glad you all are enjoying it. The dwarf is an NPC, but he's going to be more than a bit player. He's Thade's new Cohort. I'll post stats soon. In the meantime, because I love you guys so much...here's a bonus chapter! And it's a big 'un! ------------------- The Gathering Storm Chapter Six: Mind Games The next morning dawns brightly in the city and the warm, sunlight hours provide a nice reprieve for the weary adventurers. The party spent the morning in the suite that Thade’s title managed to secure for them. The dwarven bartender, who was introduced as Jaicen Burleigh, was ushered up to meet Grix at first light. The Kobold engineer and the slightly suspicious dwarven mercenary-***-barman spent several hours that morning discussing the merits and flaws of his flintlocks. After the initial uneasiness wore off, Jaicen soon began making suggestions and the two of them spent most of the morning hunched over a writing desk, sliding sketches back and fourth to one another and discussing (sometimes heatedly) various aspects of the complex weapons. Ragnar spent much of the morning carefully inspecting, tightening, cleaning, repairing and sharpening various pieces of his equipment and weapons, occasionally nodding or grunting in response to Thera’s one-sided conversation. Thera had spent the previous evening spending Ragnar’s money and, after a long conversation with the air around her companion, she decided she needed to do something to get his attention. With a mischievous grin she left her nodding companion and slipped off to try on some of her recent purchases. The rest of the morning became a lot more interesting after that point. Thera greatly enjoyed tormenting her shy conservative protector with her most provocative outfits and carefully planned poses. Despite his embarrassment and much-mentioned disgust at her shameless behavior, the burly warrior had a hard time keeping his eyes on his work after that. Gliff and Thade spent the whole morning with their faces hovering over Thera’s portable chessboard. The two knights spent many hours at a low table, Gliff seated on a footstool, Thade sitting on the floor, both hunched over the little black and white gaming surface. Gliff’s tiny, intent face and Thade’s huge, simple-featured face were both creased in concentration as the two warriors plotted their moves. Gliff is a cunning and graceful combatant, but he has problems seeing beyond the objective at hand. Thade, on the other hand, was born and raised to be a leader of men. Tactics and historical battles were his reading material for much of his life. But it is always a struggle for him to fight off his brutish instincts and recall the knowledge he had painstakingly assimilated. The two bright but imperfect minds were evenly matched, and a pitched battle waged for many hours before the stalemate was, at last, broken by Thade. Sliding the tiny chessman into place with a huge finger, he suddenly grins. “I do believe that’s checkmate, my friend.” He says after a moment. Gliff nods his ascent and stands up on his stool to shake the big man’s hand. “Well played, my Lord. Perhaps another game is in order—after lunch.” He adds quickly, suddenly realizing he hasn’t eaten anything all day. Thade’s stomach grumbles and the big knight nods, “Indeed. Luncheon is in order. I’ll go order the meal if you’ll be so kind as to gather our companions.” Gliff nods and hops off his footstool to go find the others. The party gathers moments later for lunch, except for Grix and Jaicen. Thade decides to remind his friend about the meal. He knocks respectfully on the kobold’s door and is invited in. The small room that Grix was given was quickly transformed into a makeshift laboratory. Usk was made to carry up many heavy looking trunks and boxes. As Thade now sees, those crates were packed with tools and machinery. Many of the chests have been unfolded like great metal flowers to display shelves and drawers and work surfaces and all sorts of strange accoutrements. Things bubbled in strange assemblages that look as if they were made by a glassblower with hiccups, and a faint tang of sulfur hangs in the air near the ceiling. One of the blossoming metal boxes even hosts a tiny coke-fired forge with a miniature anvil. A clockwork bellows is stoking the glowing forge; the bellows is cunningly powered by a tiny steam engine whose boiler was heated by the very fire that it stokes. It is at this micro-smithy that he finds Jaicen the dwarf, hammering intently at an oddly shaped piece of metal with a tiny mallet. Grix is busily packing a rack of metal tubes with strange powders and ill-smelling pastes. “Luncheon is served, gentlemen. I thought perhaps you’d like something to eat and drink.” He says, after a moment. His eyes are still wandering the small room. He catches a glimpse of motion in one corner and spies some sort of mechanical hand. It looks like an articulated gauntlet, but its fingers are clearly moving on their own, so it must be a sort of automaton. “What is being served?” Grix asks, not looking up from his work. “We have fresh bread, a good block of cheese and some freshly roasted beef.” Thade says distractedly, still watching the mechanical hand. “Ah. If it’s not too much trouble, would you be so kind as to put some of the meat and cheese between a couple slabs of bread for us each? And some water to drink. This is hot and thirsty work.” Grix says as he carefully inserts a lead ball into each tube and gently tamps them down with a little mallet whose head has been padded with leather. His face is intent and his motions are so delicately precise that Thade realizes he must be doing something extremely dangerous. He quickly decides that it would be wise to withdraw now and come back after a few moments with their food. He takes a few moments longer than he should have though, just to be sure that they’re done before he comes back. The two workers pause in their tasks only long enough to guzzle their water and grab the bread-enclosed stacks of food off the pate. Thade quickly exits the room and goes back to the others. “So, how are they getting along?” Thera asks when Thade returns. “Alarmingly well, actually.” Thade says, sitting down and tearing himself a chunk of bread. “I’m not exactly sure of what they’re doing in there but it looks very dangerous.” “Which is why I was against the idea, if you recall.” Gliff says, looking up from the chunk of meat he cut off for himself, “I don’t like the idea of anyone making strange and powerful weapons. Especially ones like firearms, which are so dangerous to all parties involved. And I don’t trust our over-bright companion not to make a mistake that could end up blowing this whole place sky-high.” Thera sighs, “Do try to relax a little, Gliffy?” She knew that little pet name makes his right eye twitch slightly, “Grix is much smarter than us, maybe even smarter than I.” She says with a demure little giggle, “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. Besides, that little project of his may have just landed us an experienced soldier for Thade’s cause. And Jaicen is the sort of man who knows how to recruit others and whip them into shape. We need him…would you deny our good friend his quest just because of a little danger?” she says with a playful little smile, carefully calculated to turn what would be a sharp insult into a playful jape. Gliff sighs, thoroughly defeated, “It’s not that there’s danger.” He says sullenly. “It’s that there’s danger that I can’t *do* anything about.” Thera smiles and impulsively hugs the surprised little crusader, “Awww, it’s alright, Gliffy,” she says, consolingly, “I understand. It’s hard for a stalwart warrior like you to ccept that you can’t protect your companions from everything.” She gives him kiss on one of his flaming little cheeks and goes back to her seat. Gliff is stunned into a deep, blushing, silence. Ragnar snorts and shakes his head, Thade lets out a deep chuckle, and Thera grins with impish triumph as she returns into her meal. Mist shrouds the scene as the viewer switches his focus again. Somewhere cold and dimly lighted chamber sits a cold blue-white orb, carved of pure ice and infused with dark magics. It rests in the hollowed out base of a human skull so that the orb replaces the dome of the skull and its icy malevolence glints behind the empty eye sockets of the skull. A huge hand, clawed and armored in frosty scales lightly touches the surface of the ball of ice and it ripples like water. Its glossy, marbled, blue-white surface ripples and swirls, slowly becoming clear, like a snowstorm blowing over. A pair of balefully glowing ice-blue eyes are briefly reflected in the crystalline surface before a new scene surfaces from the depths of the orb. Too small figures are working industriously in a cramped and cluttered room. The image is so real one could almost touch them. Grix and Jaicen work to complete their project. Jaicen is polishing the walnut gunstock and the recently retooled steel barrel while Grix works the last couple intricate little parts into the weapon’s action. “When it’s done. She’ll be a mighty weapon, my friend.” Jaicen says proudly, looking down the unattached and newly rifled barrel then moving his eyes up to peer down its length at the newly installed sight at the end of the barrel. Grix winces a little, “I’d prefer to think of it more as a proof of concept. No offense, but I don’t intend to make a practice of gunsmithing. Once this and the pistols are finished I probably won’t take it up again. Weaponsmithing is essential knowledge for my chosen profession, but I don’t trust people enough to arm them.” Jaicen laughs, “I don’t blame you for a second, my friend. In a perfect world, nobody would ever need weapons. But it’s an imperfect world and I’m an imperfect man. As long as folk have need of weapons, I figure I do too. And if you have need of weapons, you might as well have the best. I do appreciate what you’re doing here, by the way. And I understand your reluctance.” The burly dwarf says, setting aside the gun barrel and moving over to watch him screw the action of his new weapon together. Grix nods, “If a weapon like this ever became common, it could be awful. I just pray I’m not doing something wrong here.” He sighs and begins attaching the stock and barrel and the last few pieces, “If you ever find yourself in danger of capture or are mortally wounded, promise me you’ll destroy it?” he asks, clutching the weapon protectively for a moment. “I promise.” The dwarf says, solemnly. With a sigh, Grix hands him the firearm. For such a feared and deadly weapon, it is deceptively beautiful. Jaicen’s flintlock, which was the basis for the weapon, had an ornately carved walnut stock and finely etched barrel. These elements were retained for the newly refurbished version. Gone was the ramrod and the dragon-headed arm that held the flint. The powder pan was absent as well. Instead there’s just a clean, smooth steel action with a simple, functional hammer and a slot in one side that runs through the insides of the action and comes out the other side. Jaicen looks down the barrel, getting used to the finlike projections that form his new sights. Carefully he picks up one of the collections of metal tubes on the workbench. Five metal tubes, open on one end and with a small hole on the other. They’re joined together in a row with a serrated strip that runs along one side of the set of tubes. With great care, he slots the rack of tubes into the right side of the gun with the serrated strip facing down. With an audible ‘click’ it slides into place. Jaicen takes hold of the oval-shaped ring on the underside of the gunstock. What looks like a metal guard over the fingers of his firing hand is, in fact, a lever. He pulls it down and forward and with a louder, more intimidating ‘click’ the hammer rises back. Pulling the lever back into its original place causes the rack of tubes to slide to the left. “Amazing…” he says, keeping his finger away from the trigger and the gun pointed in a safe direction. Grix nods, “when you pull the trigger, the hammer will strike the alchemical igniter that sticks through the hole in the back end of the cartridge tube. That’ll set off the powder and send the ball down the barrel. The grooves I cut will keep the ball from bouncing as it heads down the barrel, and should help prevent the gun from being fouled so easily. The fact we had to cut them in a spiral pattern might have other effects as well. Then all one has to do is pull the lever out and then back and the action resets itself.” The kobold explains with a sort of detachment in his voice. Jaicen nods and works the lever several times in rapid succession. The rack of cartridges slides one space to the left with each pull, until it is eventually ejected onto the table. Putting his thumb on the spur of the hammer, he carefully pulls the trigger, releasing the hammer. Keeping his thumb on it, he slowly lets the spring-loaded hammer inch forward so as not to risk damaging anything in a dry firing. The dwarf lets out a low whistle and puts the weapon down on the bench, gently. Then he turns to Grix, “You’re a good man, Grix, and a fine smith. I’ll keep your weapon safe. And you can tell your lord that he can count on me. I’m a good shot and a fair judge of men. I was a sergeant in the king’s army for many years and I can whip any rabble he can scrape up into a cohesive fighting force. Let’s go celebrate by getting so drunk we forget why we’re celebrating!” he says, clapping the little kobold on the shoulder so hard that his knees nearly buckle. “I don’t drink.” He says, almost apologetically. Jaicen laughs, “I’ll here none of that. Have you ever drank before?” “Well, no…not really.” Grix says after a moment. “Then howd’ja know it ain’t worth doing, eh? Come on…a man of letters like you ought to know that the only way to know anything is to experience it. Come on, lad…let’s go get roaring drunk.” Even as the familiar twitch of curiosity begins creeping through Grix’s system, the dwarf has taken his arm and drags him downstairs to the inn’s taproom. “Come on, boy. If we hurry we might even be able to get in a good fight before the taproom closes.” He says as he hauls his new friend down the stairs. “You *want* to be in a fight?” Grix asks, shocked. “Of course. A good fight clears the blood after heavy drinking and it gives you something to think about the morning after, besides your hangover.” Jaicen explains, “It’ll be educational. Nobody ever uses lethal force, and I’ll be there to keep you out of too much trouble. Just relax and go with it.” “But I am not a violent person.” Grix protests, “I’ve only ever been forced to hurt people in self defense.” This was indeed true. Though the rationale for it is more practical than ethical. Grix knows he’s not big enough or strong enough to survive direct confrontations so he stays out of the way. Of course, the violence that scarred him some few years ago had also soured him in the idea of hurting someone when you can see their face. Sometimes he even had nightmares about the first time he had to kill someone face-to-face. The screams and spasms as the magically generated acid burned trough the gnomish soldier’s face. Grix shudders at the recollection and Jaicen’s assurances do little to still the churning of his stomach. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one’s point of view, the memories Grix would have of this night will be few and far between. The next morning he awakes in his bed, with his feet on the pillows and his head handing over the foot of the bed. He groans and winces. His little body seems to be a garden of aches and pains. He stumbles to a mirror to examine the various cuts and bruises that adorn his body like war trophies. Desperately, he tries to remember what brought him to this gruesome end. He remembers making a sour face at his first taste of ale, and the encouraging words of Jaicen as he goaded him to finishing as quickly as he could. He remembers complaining bitterly, after another drink or two, about his mistreatment by the bigoted man who runs the smithy nearby when he attempted to order materials for the gun. Grix winces at the recollection. That’s what started it. Apparently some of the blacksmith’s friends were in the taproom and they were offended by his harsh words and insinuations about the smith’s genetic history and recreational habits. He remembers vaguely trying to settle the whole affair with diplomacy…though somehow the harder he tries to find out what brilliant thing he said to try and quell the anger, the more he remembers instead saying particularly offensive things about the stranger’s various female relatives, acquaintances and even house pets. The little kobold groans and shakes his head once before letting out a little yelp of pain as he is sure he feels his brain banging around the inside of his skull. More memories came back with that little shock. Violent, painful memories about being hit in places he didn’t know existed. It was a big, spectacular fight. It didn’t take much at all to turn it from a personal scuffle to a full-out general brawl. With a vicious little grin, Grix remembers the time or two where he took particular advantage of his diminutive size to land a few cripplingly painful blows right between the eyes of a few of the bigger scufflers. Or, at least they were eye level to him. On a full-sized man, however, his blows landed much lower down…painfully low. He remembers Jaicen fighting extraordinarily well. The burly dwarf fought with an ale tankard in each hand, up until the point where they were smashed against someone’s head. He caught a few painful looking blows, but he seemed to be delivering many more than he received. Grix glowers at the memory. It doesn’t seem fair at all. Especially since he has the sneaking suspicion that the dwarf wasn’t nearly so drunk as he pretended to be. He doesn’t remember how he got into bed. All he knows is if it would quit spinning around like that he’d be happy to crawl back into it right now. Many of the other participants in the melee are at their own homes, nursing similar injuries. A few, however, are not so lucky… Somewhere in a dark and littered alley lies the body of the man who started the fight by punching Grix in the nose. His battered and crumpled body has been unceremoniously stuffed into an old rain barrel. A few blocks away, another dead man has been shoved under a pile of rubbish. At the end of the alley is the last man. Or what’s left of him. Slumped in a corner near the fence he was trying desperately to climb are his remains. Not much recognizable is left. The acid made quick work of him. Several small burn holes scar the stone wall and pepper the wooden fence, residue from the initial impact, most likely.
Mr. VanderMeer 11-04-03, 09:10 AM	And yet again, very compelling.
Janos Greycloak 11-04-03, 06:27 PM	I've sat reading this for an hour, and I've got to say it is absolutely amazing! I can't see any reason why you couldn't get this story published when its done. Amazing! :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup:
TheGreyMage 11-05-03, 12:32 AM	Once again, simply amazing work.
Lokahn Mandrake 11-05-03, 01:25 AM	Bravo Galahad! Excellent work, looking forward to the next installment. I like the dwarven cohort, he seems to be a good addition to this group and Grix is "experiencing" the world around him :D . Thank you for the ongoing entertainment.
Vintrastorm 11-05-03, 07:09 AM	What can I say... what can I say.... You're writing to slow for our own good! =)
Doombot 11-06-03, 04:56 PM	Good job Galahad, good job. Very entertaining. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Galahad_Knight 11-10-03, 08:15 AM	As usual, I'm humbled and honored by you guys' praise. It seems that with each chapter more and more people come out to tell me what they think. I just hope you guys are having as much fun reading as I am writing it! The Gathering Storm Chapter 7: Charisma in Action WARNING: This chapter contains mildly offensive semi-mature content. It’s no worse than you’d see on a prime time cop show, but I figured it was worth a warning. The next morning, Grix experiences his very first hangover. An occasion that he decides to celebrate alone, in bed, with the pillow over his head. With Grix out of action and Thera still shopping for ‘supplies’, the boys decided to make a day of finding work. Ragnar, Jaicen, Thade and Gliff set out in the sunny morning and immediately make a beeline for the nearest tavern. “This is my kind of job hunting.” Jaicen comments as they wander into the gloomy taproom. “Why not go to the temples first?” Gliff asks, looking around with marked distaste at the shabby surroundings, “Surely they will have need of adventurers.” “Or the constabulary.” Thade suggests, “We could do some good and help the community. Ragnar grunts, “People put up job notices in taverns instead of logical places like taverns and the constabulary because they know for the really good missions you aren’t going to find a sane, sober or sensible man who wants to do it.” They make their way to the bulletin boards and Ragnar begins leafing through the notices. “No good. Lame. Illegal. Too legal. Too risky. Too complicated. Nothing but trouble there. Hummm… Ah, these look promising! We have a choice, gents: Necromancer stirring up trouble in the catacombs or monsters in the abandoned mines.” “It seems like I’ve done both of those jobs before.” Gliff says with a chuckle. Jaicen shrugs, “We all have. Monsters are not known for creativity. If you’re a necromancer, you go where the bodies are. If you’re a monster then you go where you can get out of the weather and sunlight. Personally, I think we should just collapse the mines in on the buggers and go fight the undead.” Ragnar laughs, “clever, but no good. We’re in it as much for the pillage as the bounty, remember? We need money to raise an army. If we seal them off then we cut ourselves off from all the lovely treasure.” “Good point.” Jaicen replies, “Well, I used to work those mines back when I was younger, before I became a soldier. They’re not so deep. And the catacombs aren’t too extensive either. If we push hard we could probably get each of them done in under a day.” “Good plan.” Thade says, “We spend a day flushing out the monsters and then rest, ten go spend the next day dealing with the undead.” “Bad idea, made.” Someone grunts from a nearby table. The party turns to look at who just spoke. Their eyes fall upon a burly half orc, sitting with his muddy boots propped up on the table in front of him. With him is a shifty looking halfling in a hooded cloak, a scruffy looking human wearing travel-stained clothes, and a thoroughly out of place looking elf decked out in immaculate robes. As one the team eyeballs the group. Jaicen looks for exploitable weakness. Ragnar tries to gauge their strengths. Gliff probes for the presence of evil and detects the faint scent of the kind of casual evil that one expects in lower-class thugs. Thade just sizes them up by weight and hurling distance. “And just why would that be a bad idea, friend?” Ragnar asks in icy-cool tones. “Because we’re gonna be doing the same thing.” The half-orc replies, sitting up and cracking his knuckles meaningfully. Thade laughs, “Don’t you think that might be a bit dangerous?” The travel-stained human snorts and parts his cloak, revealing a pair of wicked-looking, heavy-bladed longknives. “We’re not afraid of a few zombies and a gaggle of mangy goblins.” Thade grins, looking down at him as he draws himself up imposingly, “There’s more dangerous things than goblins and zombies about this morning. We wouldn’t want any of you gentlemen being injured, now would we?” The half-ogre’s tone is dead calm, no hint of overt malice, just a hint of friendly warning. But the implication of the words combined with Thade’s imposing size are enough to make the stranger back down. The members of the other party all stand up slowly. The tension is thick in the air. “We were the ones who took the notices off the board.” Jaicen says, crossing his arms, “Where I come from that means we’ve got first claim on the jobs. And thisd happens to be where I come from.” The slow whimper of wood sliding against wood ripples through the tavern as people slowly slide their chairs, stools and tables back from the two groups. “An where I come from, you can’t take a job if you ain’t alive.” The halfling says, drawing a pair of needle-pointed dirks from under his cloak. And that’s all it takes. The drawing of weaponry and threat of deadly force are certainly enough to appease Gliff’s sense of justice and honor. The little gnome slams a gauntleted fist into the halfling’s face and sends him spinning into the sawdust on the floor of the taproom. “Sorry, my friend…that was hardly sporting at all, was it?” he says to the halfling. “But then, I suppose it’s much more fair-minded then what you had planned, eh?” The halfling curses and rolls back onto his feet in a low crouch. The half-orc grabs for a weapon but ends up with Jaicen’s ale mug smashed against his face. The half-orc staggers backwards with blood and ale foam dripping down his face. He lets out an enraged roar and lunges at the dwarf, only to run headlong, or rather, groinlong into the dwarf’s solid fist. His roar dies into a little whimper and an audible wince rises up from the other occupants of the room. Many men cross their legs uncomfortably and wince. “That’s what they call a ‘Tinytown hello’ in the dwarf ghetto. Have a lovely freakin’ day, mulebrains.” Ragnar faces off with the human. The travel-stained vagabond has already drawn his long knives. Ragnar cocks his head from side to side, popping vertebrae in his neck into place with an ominous bone-on bone popping. With a quick move, Ragnar has unslung a pair of small handaxes from his belt. The stranger makes a lunge but, with surprising agility, Ragnar hooks his enemy’s blade with the bearded handaxe in his left hand, then brings the right axe down on the stranger’s other wrist, hitting with the blunt end of the axe, hitting with force enough to send the cruel-looking weapon skittering across the floor. His enemy snarls and frees his other weapon to deliver a cut at Ragnar’s chest, but the blow is sidestepped and Ragnar brings the blunt end of his first axe down on the back of his head, sending him to the ground with a soft thud. The elf has taken a few steps back from the melee and begins to mumble to himself. “He’s casting!” Gliff shouts, looking up from the halfling in time to see the elf begin weaving a spell. “Sir Thadeus, get me to him.” Thade nods and picks up his diminutive friend in one huge hand, lifting him up just in time to avoid a dagger hurled by the halfling. Thade gives the small paladin a solid hurl, sending him hurtling at the elf. The armored gnome crashes into the spellcaster full-force, sending the spindly mage to the floor with Gliff straddling his chest. Gliff only has to beat his head on the floor planks twice before he gets the idea and passes out. The halfling curses and makes a dash for Gliff, but he’s intercepted by one of Thade’s massive hands. The half-ogre knight picks up the struggling and swinging halfling by the straps if his backpack. With his free hand he carefully pries the dagger from his grasp before reaching up and hanging him off one of the arms of a hanging candelabra. Jaicen looks up and grins broadly, “Now you be good until your mother comes to pick you up, young man.” He says in an infuriatingly patronizing tone. “I am not a child, you stupid squat!” He shouts as his struggles to free himself set the light fixture to swinging. “And you leave my mother out of this!” Jaicen laughs, “Hells, youda’ *been* my child if the dog hadn’t beaten me over the fence to her.” The room goes deathly silent for a moment as the dwarf’s insult sizzles across the empty space between them. The halfling goes white with rage, his eyes bulging dangerously. Ragnar bursts into laughter, “Come on, boys. I think Junior over there is about to soil himself and I don’t feel like waiting around to explain things again to his babysitters.” He says, grabbing a flailing foot as he walks under the halfling. “Hanging around in bars….and on a church day no less.” He chides, giving the halfling a good spin when he releases his foot. The halfling can only sputter with impotent rage as he swings. The party quickly exits the tavern, grinning broadly. “Good little fight.” Ragnar comments blandly as they head to town hall to claim the jobs. “Indeed.” Gliff agrees, taking off his gauntlets, “Most invigorating. And spiritually satisfying as well.” “I’m still a bit stunned by what Jaicen said to that poor halfling.” Thade confesses, “I felt a bit ashamed of myself bullying the poor little fellow like that. All things considered, it was rather unfair and very humiliating. I should know better than to do that.” “Yeah, but that little peck’s more trouble than it’s worth to fight him fair.” Jaicen says with a shrug, “He used to come into the tavern I worked at. Big chip on his little shoulder. Especially when someone brings up the subject of his mother. Apparently she was a lady of…negotiable affection.” Thade gasps, “Oh my…that’d do it, I suppose. That was still a most vicious thing to say, especially knowing his sensitivity.” Jaicen shrugs, “I’m a most vicious sort of person. Besides, I can’t stand halfies. Or half-orcs. Or elves. Hells, I’m not too fond of humans either fer that matter. Buncha breeders.” “You’re a man of many prejudices.” Ragnar says, feeling a bit put off by his attitude about humans. “Nawww, just one prejudice. People. You’ll find I got a negative attitude about just about every race, profession, gender and religion you can think of. Up to and including dwarves, ‘cuz we’re a bunch of greedy, short-sighted, pig-headed brutes.” “That’s a remarkably efficient world view, in the long run.” Ragnar admits. “I’m a remarkably efficient kind of guy.” He replies blithely. On their way to town hall they bump into an excited Thera. “Oh, there you boys are!” she says happily. “Good news.” “Oh, this should be interesting…” Ragnar says warily. “Oh behave, you. I’ll have you know I just secured us a job. Two jobs, in fact!” Ragnar groans and rolls his eyes skyward. The others aren’t quite sure what to make of it. “Well, my Lady…” Thade begins, trying to explain the situation, “you see, we’ve already found some jobs, and—” “Don’t bother.” Ragnar says, cutting him off. “Let me guess, Thera…one is a job flushing out some monsters in an abandoned mine, and the other si dealing with undead in the catacombs?” Thera looks surprised. “How did you know?” She’s a bit put off by the less than enthusiastic reaction to her little conquest. “Because we just got in a nasty little scuffle over those jobs, and knowing you, you’re bound to go and make it all pointless. I figured you’d either gotten us the jobs already, or you’d have found some jobs that pay enough that we wouldn’t bother with the other two.” Ragnar explains with a heavy sigh. Thera pouts, “It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides, I did both. I got us the job, and I got us more money than they were offering.” “How did you manage that?” Thade asks, genuinely impressed. “It’s called charisma, gentlemen.” She says, teasing back her flowing hair and striking an alluring pose, “I don’t expect you to be familiar with it. Just pay it the proper respect.” She says with a winsome grin. “I had a bad case of kriss’mah once.” Jaicen comments, “I probably caught it offa’ Junior’s momma. I don’t know that I respected it much. Especially not after the oozing…” Thera shudders, “Ugh! That’s disgusting!” Jaicen shrugs, “I’m a disgusting sort of guy.” “Where did you get notice of the ventures, Lady Donnodel?” Gliff asks curiously, “We came upon it in a disreputable tavern. The least likely place to find someone like you.” “You’re so sweet.” She says, bending down to give him a kiss on the cheek and a world-class view down her blouse. “It was posted on the wall outside the constabulary. I wandered by it while I was shopping.” The others let out a uniform groan. “Of course…” Ragnar says with a long-suffering sigh. “What did I do?” Thera demands, a little put off by their reactions.
J.Cutter 11-10-03, 08:45 AM	Just come acoss this thread today and have fully enjoyed reading the stories. Hope to read more soon.:cool: :cool: :cool: :cool: :cool: :cool: :cool: :cool:
eudas 11-10-03, 11:35 AM	*chuckles* nice work on the fight scene. the gnome-tossing seemed a little.. out of place, but otherwise, pretty cool. interesting how the cohort's apparent alignment doesn't quite match up exactly with the leader's... remind me; are these low-level adventures (where subdual is easy due to low hp) or is there some optional rule variant w/rt knock-outs that i'm not aware of? (source?) eudas
Vintrastorm 11-10-03, 12:20 PM	New Sig. :D
Galahad_Knight 11-10-03, 06:09 PM	J. Cutter Wow, glad you liked it enough to read through it all so quickly! Originally posted by eudas *chuckles* nice work on the fight scene. the gnome-tossing seemed a little.. out of place, but otherwise, pretty cool. interesting how the cohort's apparent alignment doesn't quite match up exactly with the leader's... remind me; are these low-level adventures (where subdual is easy due to low hp) or is there some optional rule variant w/rt knock-outs that i'm not aware of? (source?) eudas The gnome tossing wasn't meant to be comedic, it was meant to show that the two knights work well together and are forming unique strategies. Though, I guess it did seem a little silly. Jaicen's alignment is different than Thade's. Lawful Neutral as opposed to Lawful Good. I already took that inot account on Thade's cohort leadership score. They are fairly low level (Around the same level as the guys, maybe a little lower) but there was also a lot of dramatic license. Plus, of course, the guys are just that cool. Vintrastorm Wow, I'm honored. It stirrs feelings of [something] in my [something] to see your [something] sig ;)
TheGreyMage 11-11-03, 03:00 AM	:bow: :bow: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :invasion:
Mr. VanderMeer 11-11-03, 01:14 PM	:thumbsup:
Janos Greycloak 11-11-03, 01:58 PM	:bow: :bow: :bow: :bow: :bow: Excellent as always! :D
eudas 11-12-03, 11:27 AM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight J. Cutter Wow, glad you liked it enough to read through it all so quickly! The gnome tossing wasn't meant to be comedic, it was meant to show that the two knights work well together and are forming unique strategies. Though, I guess it did seem a little silly. Jaicen's alignment is different than Thade's. Lawful Neutral as opposed to Lawful Good. I already took that inot account on Thade's cohort leadership score. They are fairly low level (Around the same level as the guys, maybe a little lower) but there was also a lot of dramatic license. Plus, of course, the guys are just that cool. Vintrastorm Wow, I'm honored. It stirrs feelings of [something] in my [something] to see your [something] sig ;) i watch this thread regularly to see any new chapters. :) great work! :) the gnome tossing just reminded me of LOTR:TTT, that's all. :P waiting for the next great chapter, eudas
Galahad_Knight 11-15-03, 11:36 PM	Thanks for all your support guys. By the way, I am open to (constructive) criticism. If anyone has any questions, comments, suggestions, etc I'll be glad to hear it. --------- The Gathering Storm Chapter 8: Battles The next morning, the party rises with the sun. “Remind me again why we’re cleaning out the mines during daylight and the undead-infested catacombs at night?” Thera asks as they ready for their adventure. “Because most subterranean monsters can see in the dark and I’d rather not be ambushed on my way to the mines.” Ragnar says, tightening the straps on his scale mail, “Besides, it’s really only vampires that are vulnerable to daylight and we’d be facing them inside, if at all, so time of day doesn’t matter much.” “Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less scary!” Thera says with a pout. “Will it make you feel any better if I told you that the zombies and ghouls will be just as able to mutilate and devour is in the daylight as at night?” He says indifferently as he buckles on his shield. “No, it most certainly does not!” She says, stamping her foot, “You’re not taking this very seriously.” She says in an accusatory tone. “Probably.” He grunts. “Think about it this way, it’ll br more dramatic to fight the undead at night.” He says after a moment. Thera pauses to consider it, “True enough…” she says thoughtfully, reaching for her rather weighty manuscript. “Oh come on, we haven’t time for you to take notes. Let’s just go and you can embellish it when we get back to the inn.” Ragnar says, shouldering his pack. Thera pouts, “You take all the fun out of life, you know that?” “Nobody ever died of boredom.” Ragnar says as he heads downstairs. They get to the stables in time to see Thade fussing at Jaicen. “I can do it myself, I’m not a child.” The big knight protests as the dwarf goes about buckling things on Thade’s armor. “Sure you can do it yourself.” The dwarven veteran says dismissively, “But you can’t do it very well. It’s rubbing through your padding and doping a number on the straps. Now fetch me that stepladder so I can get the back of your cuirass.” Thade sighs and fetches him a stepstool so the dwarf can reach the buckles on the upper expanses of his armor, “How do you know so much about this sort of thing?” he asks, “You sound like a professional squire.” “I was, for a time.” Jaicen explains, “I was in between campaigns and a dwarven noble came looking for someone competent to do all the stuff that was beneath him. You know, like putting his armor on, feeding his horse and generally doing anything that doesn’t involve riding dead on at someone and cutting them in half with a big axe. Odd man…he could be a real pain sometimes. Arrogant, always looking to correct people when he thinks they’re wrong and generally very surly. And he had this strange prejudice against his own kind. Kept moaning about how we’re no good as warriors compared to humans because we gots stumpy little legs and can’t move as fast. Of course, he rode a big horse with four very long legs. But he always liked to poke fun at the people he beat because they lost to a dwarf.” He shrugs as he pulls a strap tight enough to make Thade wince. “Now, I’ve never been too fond of dwarves myself, despite bein’ one…but I tell you what, we’re damned good in a fight. I think he just said that sorta thing to get people riled up. Of course, he had the decency not to be so bloody tall.” Thade chuckles, “Sorry if my height offends, I’m not overly fond of it myself.” He grunts, “Just don’t do no more growing while my back is turned and it’ll be alright.” Thade chuckles and shakes his head, “This noble of yours sounds like a colorful fellow.” he comments as he moves his shoulders, testing his range of motion. “My, this is much better. I almost forgot how good it feels to have this stuff on if someone helps you into it,” he says candidly. “I was planning on hiring a squire one of these days but I never got around to it.” “Well, you got one now…of course, if you think I’m goin near that monster you call a horse, you’re insane. You get the honor of barding him up.” Titan, Thade’s massive horse looks down at the dwarf and snorts. Thade laughs and starts getting him geared up. Gliff and his warhound Max have been kitted out for some time and now they sit waiting for the others. Gliff watches the kobold Grix going through the morning inspection of his eerie mechanical comrade, Usk. “You certainly do baby that machine.” He comments after a moment. The keenly intelligent little reptile worries him. Just when he thinks he’s got a lock on the creature’s motivations, the duplicitous little runt comes up with a cunning counter that deflates both his case and his ego. But that machine worries him more than anything. It almost never speaks, and it spends all its time alone, ostensibly, guarding Grix’s wagon. And it is hugely powerful…that makes him worry more. Grix doesn’t even glance up, “In a way, you could say he is my baby. I created him, after all…and I’m quite proud of him…even if he does seem to leak charges from time to time.” He says, the last part of the comment comes in a scolding tone, directed at the unresponsive construct. “That seems an unhealthy relationship.” Gliff says sourly, eyeing the machine. “As would seem your relationship with that dog.” Grix says, still not looking up, “To the uncomprehending observer that is. In reality it is no stranger than the bond between friends or adventuring companions. We protect one another, look out for each other’s interests. That style of thing.” He says, closing up the last of Usk’s panels. Gliff grunts, but opts not to respond further. The ride to the mines takes a few hours, but they get there unmolested. “What do we do with our mounts?” Thera asks, dismounting at the entrance to the mines. “Tie them to one of those trees.” Ragnar suggests, pointing to a small grove of trees nearby, “From what Jaicen says, there’s not much to these mines, so we should be brief.” Thade seems uneasy about the idea, “Titan can watch over them.” He says grudgingly, “But I hate doing my fighting on foot.” He says, stowing his lance across his saddle after he dismounts. “It’ll do you some good, work off some of that saddle-padding.” Jaicen comments, sliding off his war pony and hitching him to the tree, “Besides, we’re going to have a hard enough time squeezing your largess through there. I don’t even want to think about that beast of a horse.” “’Largess’?” Thade asks “Generosity?” “Did I say largess? I meant ‘your large a—” “Boys!” Thera scolds, “If you can’t play nice you can stay outside and mind the horses. Now if it’s alright with you two I’d like to get this thing over with as soon as possible.” She says haughtily. Thade looks at the ground guiltily and Jaicen laughs. “For a woman who can’t cook, you’re not that unbearable.” Jaicen says by way of complement. Thera looks cross for a moment then gives up with a laugh. “Can we please go in and fight the monsters?” Ragnar demands shouldering his axe. Without further banter, the party slips into the mines. Jaicen leads the way since he used to work the mines back when they were in use.Following him up are Thade and Ragnar. Usk hovers protectively in front of his master while Thera and the still mounted Gliff take up the rear. The advantage of his size in this situation is obvious, and Thade grumbles at some length about the unfairness of the situation. Since most of the group has little trouble seeing in dim conditions, the only illumination they carry is in the form of Ragnar’s burning axe and Usk’s glowing eyes. The bearer of that axe immediately points out the telltale marks of orc and goblin inhabitation as they explore. Ragnar’s suspicions are confirmed when they run into their first goblin patrol. The fight is short and brutal, much like most of the participants, and before more than a few moments have passed, the party carries on with nary a scratch. They encounter a few more small patrols of orcs and goblins as they venture into the shafts and corridors of the mine. “Did anyone notice that the leader of each group was wearing white armor?” Thera observes as they walk. “Doesn’t that seem odd? And those bandits that attacked us a week or so ago, didn’t their leader have white armor? And wasn’t he an orc?” “Interesting point.” Gliff says after a moment’s consideration, “could be dealing with an organization here.” “Or a bunch of people with ironic fashion sense.” Ragnar says with a grunt. “But it’s something that bares watching, that’s for sure. Now let’s quiet down. I think I spotted kobold tracks. The little bastards are vicious and cunning. Keep your eyes open for traps.” He cautions. At the mention of Kobolds Gliff becomes alert and begins riding up and down the ranks of the party, senses probing. Grix chuckles, “Good advice, Ragnar. Usk, probe ahead.” The kobold says. His metal-shod companion clinks up to the head of the party and probes the darkness ahead of them with passionless, glowing eyes. After a few minutes of walking, the machine holds up a clawed hand, signaling a halt. Wordlessly, the robotic super-kobold moves ahead with humanlike care and grace. It crouches down and carefully pries up one of the stones in the floor. Grix snorts contemptuously from near the rear of the group. “Amateurs.” He scoffs, cracking his knuckles, even as Usk performs the same gesture. Though Usk’s fingers make eerie metallic clicks instead of pops. With seeming ease, the metal creature disarms the delicate device under the stone and crushes it in his hand, scattering the bits with obvious contempt in the gesture, but no expression on his face. “Neat trick.” Thera comments to Grix, “Sort of the more advanced version of poking it with a long stick.” Grix chuckles, “So it would seem. Though to tell the truth, if you’re not concerned with stealth, I’ve heard of a group that had great success in rolling a stout log ahead of them. Legendary success, even. They have quite a following back east.” He says as Usk signals that it’s safe to proceed. “Effective, I suppose.” Thera sniffs, “But lacking in style.” “Do you two mind?” Ragnar hisses, “We’re trying not to alert the whole bloody population of our presence here.” Thera rolls her eyes but stops talking. And then, without warning, they are set upon! Kobolds rush from hidden side passages and from behind them, attacking the vulnerable rear and leaving Ragnar, Thade and Jaicen to try and struggle through the tightly packed group. Arrows fly from the kobold’s back ranks but Usk manages to push his way to the very rear where he can provide cover for the others. “Careful, they’re poisoned!” Grix says, crouching behind Usk’s metal bulk. “What e lovely character trait.” Thera comments sarcastically, picking off kobold archers with her handbow. “Make an opening!” Gliff shouts, trying to maneuver Max so he can make a charge. Usk nods and unleashes a torrent of flame from his mouth. Kobolds squeal and scream. Those that can, flee from the attack. Those that can’t, fall to the ground and smolder. Gliff gives a mighty cry and charges past Usk, now that a path has been cleared for him. He runs one kobold through smoothly with his lance while Max pounces yet another. Thade and Ragnar can’t shoulder their way past the others to get into the fight, but Jaicen has his rifle sighted already. With a tremendous crack that rings through the mines, he fires a round. A kobold sorcerer’s head explodes in the midst of casting a spell. Jaicen grins and racks the lever back then fires again, blowing a hole through the chest of a kobold warrior. Bogged down now, Gliff dismounts, leaving Max to pounce and bite anything he can reach. He wades into the ranks of the scrambling kobolds. His style, Grix observes, is graceful and fluid. He was obviously trained by elves. He almost seems to dance as he slashes with his sword and the edge of his leaf-shaped shield. There’s a dreadful sort of rhythm in his movements, one that seems to be increasing in pace as he fights on. Broken by the sudden assault and the steady crack of Jaicen’s gunshots, the kobolds flee into a dark side-passage. Gliff chases them into the darkness. “You fool!” Grix shouts, “Get back here! Someone has to stop him before he gets himself killed!” Ragnar finally shoulders his way to the rear, “I’ll go find him. You come with me, Grix, bring your friend too. Everyone else, wait here and keep your eyes open.” Thade nods and Jaicen holds his rife at ready. Max, knowing his master’s scent, leads the way down the small side passage. Usk and ranger are right behind him with Grix in the rear, keeping his eyes open for traps or ambushes. It doesn’t take much to track down the trail of dead and dying kobolds Gliff left in his wake. After a moment they find the paladin standing over a group of cowering females ad hatchlings, huddled in a corner. There are tears in the little knight’s eyes, but his sword is raised threateningly. “That’s enough, Gliff.” Ragnar says firmly, “Put it down. It’s time to go back and finish our job.” “I…I am finishing the job…” he says after a moment, “It has to be done, Ragnar…they’re evil, all of them. They have to be killed. They’ll only come back if we don’t.” “No, you don’t have to kill them.” Grix says, coming out from behind Ragnar, “The warrens are compromised, our defenders have been killed. The females will take the young and the unhatched and leave this place forever. They won’t be back.” His normally cool and passionless eyes have softened as he tries to talk down his companion. “No…they’re evil…when they grow they’ll be bitter and evil and they’ll come back in the night.” There’s a distant, almost frightened tone in the otherwise fearless knight’s voice. “I have to protect the world from them…It’s my duty to protect the innocent and punish the evil.” Ragnar sighs and shakes his head, “It’s also your duty to be compassionate and merciful. You have to protect the innocent…but what about these children and the eggs? They don’t know any better…they are innocent. No mortal creature is born good or evil, they have to learn it,” the gruff warrior says with uncharacteristic softness in his voice. “I know what it is to hate and fear. But I also know there are limits. Come on…just put it down and let’s go finish our job.” He puts a thick hand on Gliff’s shoulder. The gnome sighs, lowering his sword. “Let’s go…” he says, barely audibly. Together they turn and leave. Grix spends a few moments talking with the frightened survivors before hurrying back to the others. “I take it things went alright?” Thade asks, seeing the entire party returning in one piece. “Well enough.” Ragnar grunts, nodding towards the shaken looking gnome. “Let’s just get this over with.” Thade nods, “Probably for the best. Jaicen says that we’re nearing the end. The tunnels all open out into one big chamber. We clear that out then head back out.” Ragnar nods, “Let’s go then.” The party continues, united once more. Gliff takes his place in the rear guard, not saying anything or making eye contact with anyone, lost in introspection. Finally the tight confines of the mineshaft open out on a gallery that looks down upon a large central cavern. Down below an odd-looking orc with pale, pearlescent skin barks orders at a few dozen goblins orcs and kobolds gathered about him. Grix holds up a hand, motioning for silence. The little kobold is grinning openly as he pulls a sheaf of paper from his pack and begins busily scribbling something on sheets of paper. “What are you doing?” Thade whispers, looking over his shoulder. Grix quickly covers what he’s writing. “Keep your eyes on them, I’m going to wreak a little havoc by way of distraction. When it starts happening, you should sweep down from the sides.” “How will we know when it has started?” he asks. “You’ll know.” He says as he starts folding the half-dozen or so notes into odd, triangular shapes. Thade nods and takes Jaicen to the left. He signals for Ragnar and Gliff to move right. The gallery slopes down into the cavern on both sides. With a gleeful little grin, Grix tosses the first two notes down into the cave. The way they were folder causes them to catch the air and glide gracefully down in soft spirals. The notes land in the midst of the assembled creatures. Many of them look up while a couple pick up the notes. The white orc barks an order and one of the notes is brought to him while the other is opened by the one who picked it up, some yards away. After a moment each note explodes in a deafening blast, sending orcs and goblins flying. The white orc is staggered but not seriously harmed. Ha roars in rage and begins to whip his minions into a frenzy, but his haranguing is cut short as six more notes drift down from on high and his ‘men’ dive for cover. Ragnar laughs, “Gods, I love that twisted little kobold!” he shouts as they charge down from the gallery. The initial clash of forces is brutal but quick. The amassed monsters are surprised and demoralized. On top of that comes Thera’s voice, ringing in the natural amplifier of the cavern as she exults in a ringing poem of heroics and battle. “And lo, the mighty Ragnar did war upon his foes. With blazing axe and crushing shield, did he rain upon them blows!” Ragnar grumbles, “I wish she’d pick a different epic sometime…” he mutters to himself as he rips into the squealing ranks of orcs. From above Thera begins casting spells to empower her comrades while Usk launches bolts of force and balls of acid down on the massed creatures. The burly white orc roars and rages as his men are decimated. His roar turns into the icy shriek of a winter gale and a cone of frosty wind sweeps the battlefield, burning friend and foe alike with biting cold. “That’ll be about enough of that, I think.” Gliff says, lowering his visor and turning from his quiet slaughter of orcs and goblins. He sets his lance and charges, bearing down on the leader of the monsters. The orc roars and beats his chest with a fist, “Come at me, little man! Come and take me!” he challenges, brandishing his axe. He meets Gliff’s charge head on. The gnome’s lance bites into his chest, running him through. But the grievous wound seems only to anger the monstrous brute. He sweeps the gnome off his mount with one crushing blow from his axe. Gliff strikes sparks as his armored body skitters across the stone floor. He groans, trying to pull himself up on shaking limbs, “Is…that all…you have?” Gliff says, spitting the words at him. The orc laughs, a horrible, guttural sound, and advances on the prone paladin. “You will know pain, little thing…I will break you!” “Why do they always talk so much?” Jaicen says, sighting in his rifle, “The bad ones never learn when to just shut the hell up.” He says dryly as he squeezes the trigger. The crack echoes through the cavern. The orc squeals in pain as the slug sinks into his back. He wheels around to face Jaicen, bloody foam rolling from his mouth. He makes a lunge at him, only to be swept aside by a crushing blow from Thade. The half-ogre holds his massive bastard sword in both huge hands and smashes it into the raging creature’s abdomen. The blade doesn’t bite very deep though, the creature’s pearly skin is tough and hard. With a squeal, it raises its axe again, but this time Ragnar is on it, his burling axe bites in deeply and steam rises from his gushing wound. The orc-thing staggers forward weakly before collapsing into a lifeless heap. Thera rushes to Gliff’s side snd begins casting a healing spell on the battered gnome while Jaicen goes about the grim chore of making sure all their enemies are dead. Usk joins him and after they’ve finished that chore they begin stripping them of anything fo worth. “There’s a stash of money and jewelry behind the throne that Mr. Niceguy over there was sitting in.” Jaicen says, looking up from behind the white orc’s crude throne. “Bag it all up.” Thade says, looking around at the devastation, “Let’s not linger.”
Champion of the Phoenix 11-16-03, 12:21 PM	you are unbelievable!!! these are the most in deopth character bios i have ever seen. congrats on the good work. hey have u ever thought about writing a book. i mean with all the great characters and ur obvious talent for writing i think u could write a hell of a book!!!
Lokahn Mandrake 11-17-03, 12:21 AM	Champ has a point me boy, grand work indeed, just GRAND! Really nice chapter, I look forward to the next. I especially like Ragnar's and Grix's dialogue in this installment. And who can resist a rousing, vicious battle w/ orcs and kobolds and the like? Again, thank you for the wonderful ongoing stories. Cheers
eudas 11-17-03, 10:43 AM	wonderful work, galahad! Keep it coming! eudas
Vintrastorm 11-17-03, 04:03 PM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight Vintrastorm Wow, I'm honored. It stirrs feelings of [something] in my [something] to see your [something] sig ;) Oh, stop it! You're making me blush! Hehe... But just tell me how to make it a link, and maybe how I can write something else, for example Click Here... And get it to link to this page.
Galahad_Knight 11-17-03, 06:13 PM	Thanks guys. It always picks me up, even when I'm having a long series of bad days like now. Does anyone have any editorial comments, questions or suggestions for things to come? I'm always open to friendly commentary. Oh, and Vintrastorm, making a link isn;t that difficult. I actually learned it by experimentinv with the 'http' button on posts. Here's how its done. Just yse this tag: Click here to see a cool story! That'll make it so that all you see is the 'click here' part. If you just wanna make the address the link you enclose it in the simplified version of the tags http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=83615 That's all there is to it. Oh, and if you want the link to go directly to the first chapter of the story then use this URL http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=1337218#post1337218
glack667 11-17-03, 11:10 PM	Perhaps, if time is permitting from you, its possible that you could put your story into microsoft word format, and email it to anyone that requests that this be done ? I for one would be quite appreciative if you were to do so, as creative D&D literature is always enjoyable... although on personal note I really don't wish to search through all the different pages of this thread to find the different chapters of your tale ( loose sence of the word, mind you ).. well hope to hear your response soon enough.
Galahad_Knight 11-18-03, 11:56 PM	I'm flattered that you like the story enough to want a copy for your computer, but I don't have Word I could probably borrow a copy from a friend though
Galahad_Knight 11-21-03, 08:10 PM	Sorry for everyone who saw the thread was updated and ran to read the next chapter. I guess this seems like kind of a false alarm. But I figured you guys deserved a heads-up, or heads-down, I guess, that this week's chapter may be delayed. I just got hit with an incredibly nasty cold and I can barely focus enough to get this post off. And we've got Thanksgiving preperations and such closing in on us too. Oh...and I've had another story idea, one that I might try to get published, that I'm going to be at least trying to flesh out. So it's been taking what little creative enrtgy I can bring to bear right now. I'm really sorry about this, but I promise the next chapter will include lots of undead-bashing and maybe even some double-entendres about dwarven sexuality :wink: And I'll try not to take too long, I promise. Oh...and one last thing. I want you guys opinion on something... It's going to take them a while to level up and gather the troops needed to try and tgake back Huntington. Would you rather see that all played out, or would you rather see it all summed up in a chapter or two so we can skip to the big fight (which, I promise, will NOT be the conclusion)?
eudas 11-24-03, 10:33 AM	that's ok, it's a busy week for everybody. i think that gathering more forces could be several chapters in and of itself; think of it as several consecutive side-quests. how would a professional author do it? speaking of things i've read, robert jordan for example took several books' worth of duration for rand al'thor to build his armies. as for the cold, get a hot bath, some nyquil, a stiff drink, and some sleep, in that order. =) cheers, eudas
Ximal 11-27-03, 02:08 AM	Excellent story, grix is da man . . . lizard, grix is da lizard.
Galahad_Knight 12-01-03, 11:53 PM	Thanks for the understanding and support, guys. I'll probably be posting later this week. And it's not too late to get your two cents in on whether or not to write out all their leveling up
Vintrastorm 12-02-03, 06:20 AM	Well, a summary isn't too bad... It feels like it's used more often than not. But this doesn't mean that yu can't summarize a bit, then RP a meeting, and then summarize again. Or something like that.
eudas 12-04-03, 11:46 AM	Keep up the good work, Galahad. Hope you get to feeling better soon. Cheers, Eudas
Galahad_Knight 12-05-03, 04:33 AM	Thanks. I am feeling better now, but the holiday season has me off balance. Add that to the fact that my DSL is wanting to blink out on me randomly. Expect a new chapter this weekend, assuming I can get on to post it.
Galahad_Knight 12-09-03, 09:07 AM	Sorry for the cloossal wait, but Thanskgiving, Finals, and other projects kept me pretty well bogged down these last couple weeks. I did most of this quite late at night, so if it;s not coherent then tell me and I'll re-write it <chuckles> I thought it better to just post the bloody thing so I have somethign otu there than to wait til tomorow. Enjoy! --------- The Gathering Storm: Chapter 9 Unkilling Spree After the battle in the mines, our heroes retire to the entrance to rest and eat. At Grix’ direction, Usk is sent back inside to make sure that everything is dead or gone and everything that isn’t nailed down ends up in one of their sacks. With Gliff’s brief loss of control weighing heavily on the young gnome’s mind, he simply sits, staring out t the road ahead of them, not eating or speaking. Ragnar sighs and sits by Thera, worry creasing his broad, rugged features. “What’s the matter?” Thera asks, taking a bite of bread and offering some to him. “That one worries me.” He says, gesturing to Gliff. “He had himself a bit of a breakdown…I just hope he can pull himself together soon, we’re gonna need him here soon.” Thera nods, “Maybe I should talk to him.” “No, not just yet. Let him work it out. He’s a man, and men need to do things on their own from time to time, believe it or not. Not every problem can be solved by a woman pecking at it.” Ragnar winces immediately as the words leave his mouth. He makes a mental note to think before he speaks in the future and braces himself. “’Pecking’?!” She demands as she rolls into a lengthy tongue-lashing about the nature of female conversation and the idea that talking can make things better. After about five minutes, Ragnar was neither having a chance to talk, nor feeling particularly better. Fortunately by then, Usk has loaded the last of the loot onto his master’s wagon and Thade politely interrupted to tell them that it’s time to leave. “I hope you’re happy.” Thera says with a scowl, to Ragnar. “Thanks to you I didn’t get to finish eating.” “Not like you needed it.” Ragnar grunts, turning his back to hide his impudent grin as he mounts his horse. The shouting eventually dies out after a few minutes when she realizes that Ragnar isn’t paying any attention to her. She hates when he does that. Of all his habits, ignoring her is his most infuriating. With a reluctant sigh she breaks off the one-sided argument and lets her pace slow to catch up with Jaicen who is riding near the rear. “So…what do you think of our little group?” she asks the dwarf. Jaicen shrugs, “I’ve served in worse. Grix is good company, Thade’s a good employer and you two, well…you seem to keep one another entertained enough that you don’t usually bother me.” He scratches his bulbous nose and nods, “Yeah, not bad.” Thera blushes a little at his frank comments then laughs, “I think I like you, Jaicen.” She smiles and then, after a moment she leans closer and whispers, “Can I ask you a personal question?” Jaicen is a bit taken off guard by the sudden question. “I suppose…” he says guardedly. Thera blushes rosily and whispers, “Is it true what they say about dwarves and their…well, you know.” Haven’t a clue.” He replies, a bit confused. Thera blushes more, yet persists, “You know. Dwarves and their…’endowments’?” “Oh, that?” he laughs, “Well, it carries from dwarf to dwarf. Mine in particular is considered quite respectable.” He says with some show of false modesty Thera blushes then giggles, “Really?” “Oh yes. But then I’ve been saving up since I was a child. Some dwarves though, they’ve got endowments that total into the hundreds, even thousands of gold pieces.” He shrugs, “But I’m young yet.” Thera looks confused then suddenly crestfallen. She sighs, “That’s not what I meant. I meant about…you know…certain parts of the…um…anatomy. And how some people say that that particular part is quite large, for your size.” She’s blushing so deeply now that her face looks almost as if it is about to burst into flames. “Oh, *that*!” He says, finally seeming to understand. “Totally untrue.” He says dismissively, “It’s the gnomes whole really got that particular gift.” “Really?” Thera asks, sick with disappointment and glancing briefly at Gliff. “Oh yes. The size of the gnomish nose is almost legendary. It’s been the source of quite a few jokes, I dare say.” The dwarf says with a little grin and a glance towards Gliff, riding not far away/ Thera stares at him blankly for a moment and then shakes her head, “N-never mind…” she says after a moment, then she rides ahead looking terribly disappointed. Jaicen suppresses a devilish grin and rides on. About twenty minutes later Thade signals a halt. “The sun’s going down and we’re getting near the graveyard. I don’t know how well you can hear without ears, but I’d rather not chance alerting some half-rotted sentries.” The others quiet down and ride at a more wary pace. As predicted, they reach the cemetery by sundown. Fortunately there appear to be no creatures awaiting them on the surface. With an ominous sense of anxiety they ride through the desolate graveyard. The simple headstones of the commons line the outskirts while the more elaborate tombs and monuments of the more wealthy clustered in the center, huddled around the entrance to the catacombs, the ancient storehouse for the dead who, due to time, space and/or financial concerns, have been evicted from their graves. It is to this ancient labyrinth of long-dead tenants that the party anxiously rides. “The door is barred.” Thera says after inspecting the sturdy barrier, “Someone must have put that bar on themselves, I wouldn’t think one would want to lock a tomb from the inside.” “Bah!” Ragnar says, riding closer “All we need to do in this situation is to knock. Thade, would you do the honors, My Lord?” Thade chuckles, “Gladly!” the huge knight dismounts and squares his shoulders. He eyes the door for a moment then takes a step back and hurls his prodigious weight into it. The wooden door buckles and begins to splinter arount the area where the bar is reinforcing it. The half-ogre gives it one more solid shove and the thick wooden door breaks in two around the metal bar. The slaps of woods fall to earth with dull thuds and Thade steps back with a grin, “Would you be so kind as to disable the lock for us, dear Thera?” Thera lets out a long-suffering sigh, “Men!” she mutters as she lifts the heavy metal bar out of the now vacant doorframe and sets it carefully aside. The musty smell of the catacombs fills the stagnant air as the party enters the tight confines of the catacombs. Gliff and Ragnar lead the way, walking abreast. Thade walks behind them, his long arms and the short height of the warriors in front of him giving him ample fighting range. Thera and Jaicen follow him up with their ranged weapons. Then single file behind them come Grix and Usk, the mighty metal monster forming a solid rear guard in and of himself. They creep through the darkness with only the light the small magical lantern hung on the inside of Ragnar’s shield. Fortunately, the party is largely unhindered by dim conditions; even Ragnar has excellent night vision, for a human. “You know, considering the reports we got, I was expecting more resistance.” Ragnar murmurs as they creep through the bone-lined corridors with their great shelves of skulls. “It is odd, isn’t it? There’s centuries worth of corpses lining these walls.” Thera says, looking around with a shiver, “We should be up to our knees in undead. Do you think it was a false alarm?” She asks with a slight edge of hope in her voice. “Uh…no. Probably not.” Ragnar says, stopping suddenly when their corridor opens out. Before them opens a cavernous chamber, filled with skeletons busily excavating with crude tools and even their bare, claw-like finger bones. Ragnar pulls the group back and whispers, “They’re digging!” he hisses, “They’re expanding this room and digging a tunnel. There’s scores of them in there!” “They have to be stopped.” Gliff says with a note of finality in hid voice. The gnome hadn’t said a word since they left the mines. Now he had drawn himself up in his saddle, “They’re just bones.” He says with an air of confidence, “Child’s play. I will attempt to turn some of them then Usk and Grix can throw a few spells into their ranks to thin them out for our charge.” “Charge?” Thade asks, skeptically. “You’re the only one mounted.” He reminds the gnome. “I’m sure you can think of something. After our initial onslaught they’ll be weakened and demoralized Then we sweep in and finish them off.” Gliff replies with confidence. “Putting aside the fact that skeletons don’t get demoralized, don’t forget that something caused this little gathering of the living-impaired.” Thera reminds them, “We have a necromancer to deal with here as well.” “He’s likely to be distracted at the moment, assuming he’s even near.” Grix interjects, “One can only control a certain amount of undead at a given time. Mindless ones just keep performing their last set of orders. So if he’s down there he could likely only bring a dozen or so to bear at any given time. The others will just keep on digging. That gives us an advantage, one that, hopefully, outweighs the fact that I’ve already cast my most powerful spells today and haven’t had time to prepare any others. I can give us a little support, but perhaps not as much as you had hoped.” “Well, we had better do something right about now.” Jaicen says, racking the lever on his firearm, “Because I think their boss has spotted us.” A dozen hissing skeletons pour into the passage, their eye sockets glowing with unholy energy and hatred and Gliff snaps into action. Holding up his silver-embossed shield, which bears the symbol of his adopted deity, he cries out a challenge “Look if you dare upon the power of Corellon Larethian, and tremble, servants of entropy!” His normally soft voice seems to boom and resonate through the corridor. A beam of light lances out from the surface of his shield and sweeps through the tight passage. The skeletons caught in its brilliance recoil and shatter to dust. The effect is so intense that even two of the skeletons digging nearby are caught up in it. With the way clear, the little paladin thumps his heels to Max’ shaggy flanks and pounds ahead. Ragnar and Thade chase after him as fast as their legs can carry them. Gliff rips a hole in thr ranks of indifferent undead, smashing them aside with the flat of his sword, and the very shield he used seconds ago as a holy icon. Ragnar, Jaicen and Thade spread out and start hacking and bashing their way through the momentarily unresisting creatures. Ragnar and Thade bash with their shields and swing the blunt sides of their weapons at the fragile fiends. The back of an axe makes a dandy hammer, as Ragnar soon finds. And Thade is just so huge that even the flat of his massive sword is more than enough to turn a skeleton into spinning pieces of shrapnel. Jaicen tries shooting one of them, but seeing his shot whiz harmlessly between its ribs, the dwarf instead slings the weapon and shakes out a wicked looking chain flail and begins to lay about them, shattering bone with brutal ease. Usk and Grix dash up to the opening of the passage even as Thera begins to sing and weave her magic to bolster her allies. The kobold and his construct spew fourth short fans of flame which consume nearly a dozen skeletons between them before Grix retreats again and Usk takes a position guarding the entrance. He smashes his mace-like tail into anything foolish enough to get near him, smashing the skeletons with relative ease. On the far side of the room is a man cloaked in black and carrying a staff surmounted with a human skull. With a wave of the dreadful implement another dozen skeletons detach themselves from their previous duties and rush the heroes, even as they press towards him. But it is of no avail, for as soon as they mobilize, Gliff blasts a path straight through them with another evocation of his deity. With the gnome intent on riding him down, the necromancer flees down a side passage. Before Gliff can close in more skeletons form up to block his way and the gnome is forced to begin hacking at their ranks again with his weapons. Thera’s song and spells spur the other warriors on as they crush and shatter skeletons two or three at a time with mighty sweeps of their weapons. It doesn’t take much time at all for the ranks of the undead to be reduced to splinters in the dust, but even that scant time allowed their true prey to disappear back into the maze of the dead. Our heroes weather the scuffle with only a few scrapes and cuts, and the fiery taste of battle in their mouths. Ragnar wordlessly takes the lead, walking slightly stooped so he can follow the necromancer’s tracks in the dust more easily. His companions form up behind him. The tracks wind through the branching passages of the catacombs, but Ragnar is a good tracker and he doggedly persues the trail. A few shambling, half-rotted zombies leap out at them from side passages now and then, but our wary heroes dispatch them quickly. Finally the trail leads to a small room with a set of stairs. Inside the room, the necromancer is hurriedly shouting orders to a pair of cadaverous looking monstrosities guarding the stairs. The wild-eyed corpse creatures spot the party immediately and let out grotesque shrieks as they rush to meet them in battle. The Necromancer cackles triumphantly and levels his staff at Thade; a ray of energy so black that it seems to draw in light stabs out at the giant. Thade grunts and seems to sag as the beam strikes him. Suddenly he feels dreadfully weary, as if he had been fighting for hours and his muscles have just given out. Gliff and Ragnar rush past him to meet the two ghouls. Their blades bite deeply into the sickly flesh, but the creatures seem to feel no pain as they continue to scratch and bite at the heroes with dreadful slavering jaws. A look of mad hunger burns in their soulless eyes. Grix hisses at the necromancer and begins weaving a spell. A ray of burning red light streaks from his palm, but the necromancer quickly dodges it, leaving a smoking hole in the masonry behind him. “Nice try!” The necromancer cackles, “You deserve a round of applause!” he shouts, waving his staff towards them. From behind them comes a sound eerily similar to hands clapping together. Turning to see what it is, Thera, Grix, Jaicen and Usk see scores of severed hands, moving of their own accord up the corridor from behind them. Some skitter on their fingers, others seem to jump and land on the stone floor, producing the eerie clapping sound. The metal kobold belches out another gout of flame, burning away flesh and charring bone into cinders, diminishing the swarm but not stopping it. As they surge towards him they begin groping and clawing at his metal hide to no avail. Calmly, Usk begins smashing them by the dozen with his mace-headed tail, which now crackles with electricity. Their pace slows when the super-kobold begins crushing them with his tail. Thera and Jaicen take up his example, Thera grinding fingers into the flagstones with her heels while Jaicen smashes them with the butt of his weapon. By now, Ragnar and Thade have finished off their ghouls, but they too are being swarmed over by the ghastly hands. The warriors begin crushing scores of them against the walls with their shields and swatting at them with their weapons. Grix snorts contemptuously and takes only a few steps back before turning to face the necromancer. “Why waste your energy on hundreds when you need but one to do the job?” he says with a vicious little grin as he reaches under his robes. He withdraws a small metal object and hurls it at the startled dark wizard. The balled up object unfolds in flight, revealing the shape of a gauntleted hand. Then device lands on the necromancer’s chest, staggering him briefly. Quickly it grabs his robes and begins clawing its way up his body. “Don’t forget to read the inscription!” Grix says gleefully as the gauntlet crawls up the necromancer’s face. Struggling to remove the clutching thing from his person, the unfortunate animator’s eyes are inevitably drawn to the writing on the palm of the metal hand. It reads simply ‘Goodbye’. In the split second that that the word forms in his mind, the metal hand glows briefly white then explodes with a detonation that is not so much heard as felt. The blast sends razor-sharp fragments of metal into the wizard, even as the blast-wave shatters every bone in his body. The end result is terribly messy, but also quite efficient. Little remains of the necromancer but his staff, a few pieces of jewelry and a bloody smear. “What in the nine hells was that?” Ragnar demands as he crushes one of the last of the necromancer’s hands under his boot heel. “Oh…that was exactly what you’re crushing right now. Except I did it better,” he grins wickedly, yellow eyes sparkling with triumph. “Come on, Usk will gather anything of worth from the remains. Once you’ve finished off those crawling claws we should try to find the poor imbecile’s temporary quarters. Perhaps he left some manifesto or set of plans that explains just what he was trying to do before we stopped him.” By now he’s speaking in a quite businesslike tone, already having written off the gory incident as a successful test run. “You mean…that was a hand? A real one?” Thera asks, staring with Ragnar at the little inventor. “Well…mostly. I needed the hand as a focus for the spell, but I’m working on a version that will provide anima for more mundane constructs.” Grix explains, “But the steel gauntlet not only protected it, but also served as a lovely source of shrapnel when the explosive runes went off, wouldn’t you say?” He seems quite pleased with himself right now. “Where did you get the hand?” Thade asks suspiciously. “Usk has been gathering them for me off of some of the creatures we had to kill.” He says calmly, then seeing the shocked and disgusted looks on the faces of his companions, he sighs, “Oh, don’t give me that look. Those bandits were done with them when I came to collect. And it’s not even necromancy! It’s sort of a miniature flesh golem. No souls were harmed in the making of this device. And you must admit, it was quite effective, wasn’t it?” Ragnar shakes his head and sighs. Gliff is speechless, unable to think fo what denouncement to shout first. Thera just sighs “Keep working on your alternate version but I want however many hands you still have buried. If nothing else then think of the practical side of it. We can’t very well operate in civilized areas if your wagon reeks like a charnel house.” Grix sighs, “I suppose you’re right. It was quite good though, wasn’t it?” he asks, seeking validation. Thera manages to scrape up a smile, “Yes, Grix…it was very good. Now don’t do it again.”
Vintrastorm 12-09-03, 10:40 AM	I :love:love:love: explosive runes. :love: Now, what were those hands?
eudas 12-09-03, 11:25 AM	<-"he shuts," ->"he shouts," <-"drawn to the wtigint" ->"drawn to the writing" eudas
Vintrastorm 12-09-03, 11:30 AM	*see above post*
Galahad_Knight 12-09-03, 06:53 PM	Grix loves explosive runes too :devil: The hands are crawling claws, they're an old classic. Stats and the spell used to create them are in the Monsters of Faerun. They're, surprisingly, constructs. If you do a swarch for 'crawling claw swarm' in the MM board you might be able to find the swarm stats I made for them a few months ago :D And thanks for poiinting out those errors, Usually I check my stories throughly, but it was about 6 AM when I finished, and I hadn't been to sleep yet ;)
eudas 12-10-03, 01:11 PM	No problem on the typo's. On the one hand, I feel bad 'cause you're staying up late to finish, and on the other, well, they're typos and as such need to be fixed. =) There's a really neat swarm monster on the D&D site that I was thinking of using as part of a trap... let's see if i can find it real quick. ah yes, here we go: http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/mm/20030516a i was going to try to combine them somehow into a trap that uses them to encase/kill the target, and then sucks their soul and binds it into a gem. basically, it's an anti-resurrection trap. you could add more gems, and more swarms, into one huge party death trap, aztec-mayan-inca gold indiana-jones style, but the treasure would have to be totally worth it. of course, the gems themselves are worth a fortune, so that should also be taken into account as part of the value of the treasure should the party somehow manage to survive. (even better yet, you could have the stone that the swarms are working on be turned into black sapphire... thus, the swarms are actually making the trap more effective.. muahaha.) the great part about the trap is that even if some of the party does survive, they still have dead, soul-bound party members to free and then resurrect, and they're probably also still wounded from the crystal beetle swarms, and whatever other traps you place around. From the SRD: Soul Bind Necromancy Level: Clr 9, Sor/Wiz 9 Components: V, S, F Casting Time: 1 standard action Range: Close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels) Target: Corpse Duration: Permanent Saving Throw: Will negates Spell Resistance: No You draw the soul from a newly dead body and imprison it in a black sapphire gem. The subject must have been dead no more than 1 round per caster level. The soul, once trapped in the gem, cannot be returned through clone, raise dead, reincarnation, resurrection, true resurrection, or even a miracle or a wish. Only by destroying the gem or dispelling the spell on the gem can one free the soul (which is then still dead). Focus: A black sapphire of at least 1,000 gp value for every Hit Die possessed by the creature whose soul is to be bound. If the gem is not valuable enough, it shatters when the binding is attempted. (While creatures have no concept of level or Hit Dice as such, the value of the gem needed to trap an individual can be researched. Remember that this value can change over time as creatures gain more Hit Dice.) fun eh? :) of course, even if the soul bind fails, they're still dead. >:) and sapphires don't fuel the material component requirements for raise dead or resurrection. ;) eudas
Galahad_Knight 12-15-03, 05:30 PM	LOL, interesting dieas, but I don;t think I'll use them on these guys...you do want more stories from them, right? :smirk:
Devlin_StormWeave 12-16-03, 04:57 AM	Yes please more stories, i can't wait for the next installment. Keep up the great work.
Galahad_Knight 12-23-03, 11:55 PM	Sorry I'm such a lousy poster, guys. But this time of year has been hectic as all heck. I'll try to get a new chapter otu soon... In the meantime, please enjoy this mini-epic of my :censored::censored::censored::censored: :censored::censored: day. An Odyessy of Futility... So, we're going to the Mall. We have two things on our list and we even scouted ahead to make sure we've got everything going on. First thing is a spindles of CDRs for my little brother. H got a surplus CD RW from a friend. I go to CompUAS's website and see the item, on sale. And there's either free shipping or in-store pickup. Since we're going to go to the mall to make a payment on dad's credit card and pick up item two, I select in-store pickup. The other item is the Firefly DVD set. Scouting the websites of the stores in the mall reveals it's both in-stock and on sale for $35 at both Suncoast and Sam Goody. Aww yeah. So, we hit sam goody first. Can't find it for anything, so we go to suncoast. Suncoast has it, but for $50! I point out the price discerpancy and the manatger apologizes and explains that the website proices do not reflect the store prices. "Doesn;t it make tha tthe most useless website in the world?" I ask. "Well,,,if you order from the website, it;s cheaper." "Then why would I ever come here?" "I don;t know, sir..." So we go back to Sam Goody and track down a retar5ded pot-smoker wearing a shirt that matches the scenery. He points us to the DVD set we missed last time we were in there. The problem? Also $50! And when we asked THEM, they said the same thing as Suncoast, except they were hostile nd rude about it. So dad and I gave them all the old "Double-Duce" and stormed out. No problem. We could hit up Circuit City, they had it for $40, according to their site. And, it weas in stock too. We go to circuit city. Their prices ARE the same as thwe website, hooray! Ufortunately, they sold their last copy a half hour ago. So, we decide to make that card payment and pick up my discs. Dad forgot the credit card payment... So we get the discs. THAT goes off hassle-free. And we're on our way home! Except about five miles from home we run out of gas and coast into the parking lot of a lawnmower dealiership. Lights are onl but theyl;re closed. I am dispatched to find a gas can and gas. A mile or two later I come back with the can but no gas. Nearest gas station is inconveniantly far away. Dad remembers we got the roadside assistance package from our insurance company. All right! So I go out again to find a phone. One guy has a cell phone but is too paranoid to let me touch it, so he dials up the company. But they won;t tlk to him because he;s not the policy holder. He hangs up and tells me to find a pay phone. So I see someone pulling into theior home and nI ask if I can use their ophone. Turns out these people were a class act and let me use their phone. I tell the insurance company what's up and they say they;ll send someone in less than 30 minutes. 45 minutes later I borrow the phone agian to call them up. Apparen tly they should have been here by now. We should wait some more. Just as I get back to the car, the guy who owns the dealership pulls up because someone told him we were lurking outside. He turns out to be real nice to. He digs up a jug of old used gas and warns us not to ut it all in because of the sediment in the bottom. We put in about half of it, thank him and head for the gas station. When we get there, the check engine light comes on. Turns out we hd virtually no oil either. So we put in soe gas and a couple quarts of oil and FINALLY...we get home Four hours from when we left. We're up one spindle of CDs, a half-jug of cruddy gas, and the quarter the guy with the cell phone gave me to call someone who gives a crap. But we're down $15 in gas money and $5 for the oil And the worst thign is, had we known about those messed up prices, we;'d have ordered the discs and the DVD online andnone of this would have happened.
Vintrastorm 12-24-03, 08:08 AM	Oh, :behold: what a :censored: day.
Galahad_Knight 12-24-03, 07:38 PM	Yes indeed. With any amount of luck, the DVD set (Firefly: The Complete Series) will get here on new years eve. If not...then maybe by the second :( And because of our financial situation, pretty much our entire christmas is that DVD set, which should get here sometime next year. Ah well.
WarDragon 12-24-03, 11:18 PM	Yikes, and I thought my Christmas was stressfull... By the way, I've been lurking about for several months, but only recently worked up the gumption to register, and I'm a big fan of the story. Can't wait for the next chapter after the holidays!
CursedMoredhel 12-26-03, 08:09 AM	i just stumbled onto this thread bout 2 days ago and with all the celebrations etc i've only been able to read bits at a time but i love this. my mums like come on we got to go and i say wait must finish chapter. i'm awestruck at how good this story is and how well you put it together and i can't wait for the next chapter soz to hear about your bad day to. aii anyways man love your work keep it up
Galahad_Knight 12-30-03, 06:58 AM	Wow, thanks you two. It's nice to know that I'm still getting fans even if I'm not doing anything :D And I'm incredibly sorry about not being able to produce right now. For some reason, my energy is just all over the place. But I promise I'll sit down this week and bash my brains against the keyboard until something halfway coherent comes out <chuckles> Unfortunately, filling out the little bits that go between major plot points has always been a major weakness. I know what I want to do, I know where to do what, but I'm just stumbling over what to do in-between.
The Stray 01-02-04, 12:09 AM	You've gained another fan...:D LOVE Jacien and Thera!:bounce: :bow: :bow: I bow before your storytelling skills... :bow: :bow: Might even be inspired to right my own tale sometime.
Vintrastorm 01-03-04, 07:44 AM	Awh, Galahad, Galahad... What have we told you about being sorry...?
Galahad_Knight 01-04-04, 05:59 AM	Sorry about being so sorry ;) And I'm glad to see I have another reader. I've formulated a couple ideas so I'm going off right now to see if I can;t extract them from my brain and smear them onto paper.
Galahad_Knight 01-07-04, 09:36 AM	Sorry again about the delay, and for apologizing so much http://tinyurl.com/3cu3w Hopefully, the next chapter should come more promptly. I;ve already got ideas itching to be put on paper. Anyhow, enjoy! -------- The Gathering Storm: Chapter 10 Good Times After the defeat of the necromancer and subsequent shameless looting spree of the catacombs, our heroes retire to the local inn. Ragnar has his feet up on the table as he leans back in his chair. Gliff is sitting on the floor leaning against Max as he relaxes. Thade is enjoying a pitcher of ale all by himself while his dwarven squire Jaicen swigs from his own mug. Grix is busily examining a ragged bundle of pages at the table and Thera is nearby, entertaining the patrons with a much-embellished recount of their last two adventures. “So, what do we do now, Boss?” Jaicen asks, slamming down his empty flagon and waiving one of he serving girls over for a refill. Thade absently scratches his ear with his huge hand, “Well, I still need more men if I’m to reclaim my family’s honor. But at least now we have some money to pay them with when we find some. Between the necromancer’s things and the loot from the monsters we dealt with in the mines, we’ve even got enough to treat ourselves to a few things. I know I’ve been looking to have some stronger enchantments put on my father’s old blade.” Ragnar nods, “Aye. The old axe could use some sharpening, that’s assured. And with some extra money we can surely find men willing to fight for you.” “But where do we go?” Gliff asks, still reclining into Max’s thick fur. “We’ve already established that nobody here is interested in our quest.” “Erickston.” Grix says, examining a small, folded parchment. “We’ll find help there and I’ll find more of what I’ve been looking for. The magistrate of that town appears to be a moderately powerful wizard. He should be able to help with those magical goodies you’re wanting and I need to talk to him about a few things. They also have fighting men and ethers one man there who could definitely provide us some reasonably priced aid…most assuredly…” the little kobold says, fingering the parchment in his hands. “Well…I guess that’s settled, then.” Thade says, finishing off the pitcher he was using as a beer mug. “We’ll take a couple days to recuperate and do a little shopping then go off to Erickston. That’s a river town, isn’t it?” “Yup.” Jaicen says, belching loudly. He grins, as if proud of the gassy masterpiece then continues, “I’ve been there a couple of times. They got some goblin warrens under the town. It’s my understanding that they could wipe the little buggers out any time they want, but they keep the around and let them rebuild so they can use the poor saps to train their men. They’ve got some fine warriors in that town. And their leader is indeed a wizard of respectable power. I wish I’d have thought of it sooner.” Ragnar looks across the room and sighs, “Speaking of things we should have thought about earlier…” he says, getting up and cracking his knuckles, “You finish your drinks, I can handle this, I’m used to it,” he says, setting his ace on the table and going over to where Thera is being accosted by a couple of rowdy fans. “You’re a pretty li’l bird, ain’t ya?” One grubby teamster says, approaching her slowly, grinning lewdly. “Aye, she is, Pete.” Says another burly waggoner at his table “I wonder if she knows any stories with less fightin’ an’ more action. If ye catch my sayin’.” He pushes back his chair and joins his buddy. Thera conceals a grin and glances behind her to see Ragnar getting up from the table. “Oh, come now, boys…you wouldn’t ask a lady to tell indecent stories in public!” she blushes demurely, “I’d just die of embarrassment.” “Oh, we could find a nice private place for that, love.” Pete says, still grinning, “Just us an you…an you can blush all ye want, we won’t mind a’tall.” She giggles empty headedly and blushes more, “Oh, I just couldn’t do that. I’m waiting for someone.” “Oh, your friend can wait, love. You’ll have more fun with us.” Pete’s friend says, moving in a little closer. “Oh, I don’t know about that…” Thera says, hiding her sly grin by lowing her head shyly. “Come on, miss…we insist.” Pete says, grabbing her forearm roughly, “Come on lass…we’ll return you after a couple of hours, eh.” He grins and pulls her close. Thera cries out and struggles, “Unhand me, you brute!” “Now why would I go an’ do a thing like that, pretty?” Pete says, seconds before Ragnar’s meaty fist impacts with his face. “That’s why, ya’ inbred cartpuller.” Ragnar snarls, following up with a blow to the gut that sends him to the ground. Pete’s friend is startled by the burly man’s interruption and grabs s chair to swing at him, but he’s too slow. Ragnar brings his arm up to block the blow, shattering the flimsy chair against his thick arm. Someone lumbers up behind Ragnar with a bottle in his hand but Thera is there. A sharp knife slides out from inside one of her poofy sleeves and is pressed lightly yet painfully against the man’s throat. “It’s almost over.” She whispers, “just let him have his fun, no need to spoil the show, now is there?” The would-be brawler goes white in the face and nods tremulously, then hurries back to his table. “There’s a good boy.” Thera says to herself, stashing the knife back up her sleeve. It doesn’t take much for Ragnar to finish with the two lusty teamsters. He turns on Thera now, highly irate. “Can’t I take you anywhere without you getting into trouble?” he demands Thera knows how to defuse the situation though. Carefully crafted tears well up in her eyes as she runs to hug her burly companion and sob into his shoulder, “Thank the gods you showed up in time, it was awful! What would I do without you?” she asks, sniffling artfully as she looks up at him with big, innocent eyes. Ragnar melts, “Oh, just calm down, it’s alright now.” He says, awkwardly patting her shoulder as he takes her to the table. “How about we do some shopping after dinner and get you some new things, eh?” “R-really?” she asks, delivering another masterwork sniffle. He sighs and nods, “Really. Even if it’s stupid and frilly and you’ll never wear it.” Thera lets out a high-pitched little squeal that makes Ragnar wince then skips back to the table. The rest of the evening is a blur. Once Grix finishes his examination of the documents they found, Jaicen takes him to the bar and they both get rapidly and exceedingly drunk. Thade, after breaking up the ensuing brawl (apparently, Grix was going to cut someone open with a broken bottle, but he couldn’t manage to break one no matter how hard he tried. Thade had to pull him off the poor man before he bludgeoned him to death trying to stab him), retires upstairs to read and daydream himself to sleep with visions of their growing army. Gliff goes to the local temple and spends the evening donating money, preying and doing other things to cleanse his soul. Ragnar spends the evening watching Thera shop then trying to avoid watching her model new clothes. Despite the fight, Grix goes to bed happy and content. The people who hurt him came out the worse for the encounter and something about the unruly fight just made him feel good. And as he sleeps, the streets of the town are peaceful and calm. A perfect night descends upon the city and all is well. Our heroes awake the next morning refreshed and full of vigor. “I’ve gotten rid of those hands you all seemed to object so strongly to.” Grix says after they finish their breakfast, “And I’m working on a variation of the spell that will animate inorganic structures of similar size and articulation. I didn’t mean to cause offense before.” “It’s quite alright.” Thade says, sipping a ale mug filled with tea, “I suppose it was just that we were being swarmed over by the very same kind of disgusting creatures when you deployed yours. It was certainly a lot to try and deal with. Plus, of course there’s the issue of desecration of the dead and whatnot. There’s nothing necessarily wrong about what you did, just very…inappropriate.” Gliff doesn’t seem entirely pleased with Thade’s comments but he keeps it to himself. “Anyhow, just don’t go cutting people’s hands off an throwing them at folk an yer fine.” Ragnar says, finishing his morning beer with a sizable morning belch. “Now that we’re all geared up, I suggest we pay for our lodgings and get out of here. I’m anxious to get on the road.” They can all agree with that. Once the remains of breakfast have been vanquished, our heroes retire to pack and finally meet again in the stables. The ride out of town is brisk and the cool morning air is quite invigorating for everyone but Jaicen. The surly dwarven fighting man has been unusually quiet this morning and everyone suspects that the reason why has something to do with all the booze and fighting of last night. Though Grix seems livelier than ever and he was living it up just as much. Also out of character this morning is Gliff. The gnomish paladin rides up next to Grix’ wagon. The metal construct Usk has the reigns and the kobold mage is busily scribbling into a book as he hums. “You’re unusually cheery this morn.” Gliff observes in the defensively offhand manner of people not comfortable talking with someone, yet are trying to pretend they are. “With good reason, Sir Gliff. I have found another piece of the puzzle I seek. We ride towards a man who can help both of our goals and last night I was in a genuine brawl, which I not only won, but also started. On purpose!” he says, yellow eyes alight with pride behind the protective shade of his smoked glasses. Gliff can’t help but grin just a little, “Now now, you shouldn’t go around starting fights. It’s most unseemly and only furthers the globally negative view of your kind.” Grix snorts, “Sometimes I think that if I started a charity dedicated to helping widows and orphans of kobold aggression, most of the world would see it as nothing but a clever ruse to gather up and dispatch any survivors.” “That’s monstrous.” Gliff says disapprovingly. “Indeed, yet that is the prejudice with which I must live.” Replies the kobold. “No, I meant your fiendish plan to slaughter all those widows and orphans! How could you think of such a thing?” the little knight says in outraged tones. Grix turns quickly to look at the gnome in shock. He knew Gliff wasn’t very bright and was never far from open hostility towards him, but this was insane! But then he caught it, the faint twitch at the corner of Gliff’s mouth as he fights the urge to grin. Suddenly both of them burst out in laughter. So chocking was this mutual mirth-making that it immediately caught the attention of everyone, even Jaicen, who at the time was trying to will the army of tiny blacksmiths out of his brain, or at least get them to pound their anvils more quietly. “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday.” The dwarf says, wincing slightly at the volume of their jubilation. “Aye, I didn’t think he could laugh at all.” Ragnar agrees. “Who, Gliff or Grix?” Thera asks, also stunned. “Either, or both.” Ragnar says, “At least not both at the same time at the same joke. Let alone one that one of them played. What in the known world was in their ale mugs last night?” Thera giggles, “I don’t know, but I should find out and slip you some one night.” It is on that note that their journey hits its first snag. Before they took their most recent missions, most of the team encountered a group of rival adventurers in a seedy tavern back in town. After some initial pleasantries, Jaicen, Ragnar, Thade and Gliff soundly beat them down and thoroughly humiliated their leader, an illegitimate little halfling with the unfortunate name of Stubbins “Stubby” Cox. It would seem that stubby has neither forgotten nor learned from his last encounter with them because he and his three companions, as well as a few others were resolutely blocking the road just up ahead. Jaicen sighs and shakes his head, “Not that little peck again.” “Who is it?” Thera asks, a little concerned. “Oh, just a little someone we met in a tavern a few days ago.” Ragnar says, grinning, “It appears he has a problem with his memory. He didn’t exactly make a stunning first impression on us…though I’d like to think we left a good one all over him.” “His name is Stubbins ‘Stubby’ Cox.” Jaicen explains, watching as Thera tries to hide the giggle that surfaces upon hearing his name. “I’ve dealt with him before. Once he wraps his tiny, pointy head around something, he won’t let it go. There’s only one thing to be had for it.” The dwarf says, rising in his stirrups and cupping his hands to his mouth. “Ho there, Stubby!” he bellows, “It looks like you and your little playmates have confused the public highway with the sandbox once again.” He calls out in mockingly innocent tones. “You know, you really shouldn’t be playing this far outside young man. You worry your mother and I when you play so far from home.” He grins as he watches the halfling’s eye begin to twitch. “You leave me mum out of this!” he screams back, eyes bulging. “Sorry, Stubby. You know I’m so awful fond of her, I didn’t mean no offense by it. An since I’m apologizing anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t stop an visit with ‘yer mum on my way outta’ town. Only, the smallest coin I had on me was a silver an I didn’t feel like making change. Oh, and when you get home, tell ‘yer dad I said ‘arf’!” He grins viciously as the halfling rips his short-bladed sword from its scabbard. “That was a remarkably cruel thing to say!” Thera says, shocked at Jaicen’s mortal insults. Jaicen shrugs and replies in conversational tones “I’m a remarkably cruel kind of person, dear.” He turns to the others, “Try not to kill the ignorant little sod.” He says to his friends,. “He’s too much fun to play with to go and loose him over an act of stupidity.” “I don’t know if that’s a kindness at this point.” Thade says, observing as the band of brigands beginning their charge, “What of his friends?” Jaicen shrugs, “He hadn’t got many of those left, friends that is, so it seems a shame to kill them for having bad taste.” Ragnar chuckles, “Well, here they come, let’s go out and say ‘good morning,’” he says, cracking his knuckles and hefting his heavy shield. Together Jaicen, Ragnar, Thade and Gliff ride slowly ahead to meet the charging party. The conflict is brief, one-sided and painful. Even with the added help of a couple of scruffy looking thugs and a black-robed priest, the band of ruffians isn’t a match for them. Gliff smoothly unhorses the hulking half-orc and forces a humiliating surrender as his warhound, Max stands on his chest growling. Ragnar cuts the cinch on the seedy-looking ranger’s saddle as h rides past and their woodsman spends the rest of the encounter being drug around by the stirrups from the underside of his horse as the saddle slides around to the bottom side of his steed. The wizard is knocked out by Jaicen with a well-placed blow to the head with the butt of his rifle. The cleric makes the mistake of swinging his mace at Thade, who hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword. The half ogre catches the blow in mid-swing and carefully pries the mace from his hands before quite deliberately squeezing the priest’s right hand until he hears bones breaking. This leaves stubby cornered and outnumbered. He brandishes his sword at them to keep them at bay, but Thera shoots it out of his hand with her little crossbow. “You shouldn’t be playing with knives anyhow, Junior.” Jaicen says as the sword clatters away on the cobbles, “Now, be a good boy and hold still.” He says, grabbing both his wrists in one hand and tying them to his saddle horn with the reigns. “You go on home now. And if I catch you trying to bother the adults while they’re working again, I won’t be so nice. Go tell your mum you need a spanking. She might even give you one for free on account of you being family and all.” Just as Stubby is about to unleash a verbal counterassault, the dwarf slaps the halfling’s horse on the flank and sends the screaming little thief back to town at a gallop. Jaicen grins broadly, “That was so much fun.” Ragnar is laughing openly. Thade and Gliff are doing all they can to pretend to be offended. Thera, having gotten over the initial shock is now giggling like a little girl. Grix shakes his head and smiles, “If you children have finished playing, we do still have some ways to go and the day isn’t getting any longer.” Reluctantly, the group forms up around the wagon and follows it down the road towards Erickston.
Devlin_StormWeave 01-07-04, 10:29 AM	Just what every party needs a nice small fight just to keep them on their toes while travelling between main encounters. Also the way you write them makes them sound so :cool: :cool: :cool:
WarDragon 01-07-04, 06:02 PM	A visual representation of my reaction when I clicked on this thread and read the new chapter: :whatsthis :) :cool: :rofl: :thumbsup: Or to put it verbally: excellent work, as always.
Mr. VanderMeer 01-08-04, 06:33 AM	:king:
CursedMoredhel 01-08-04, 07:29 AM	excellent, superb, marvellous, tops and many other good words which enforce my point can't wait for the next installment
The Stray 01-08-04, 03:09 PM	Yay!
mickeyh200 01-10-04, 07:59 AM	Definitely some great work you have posted. It looks like you put a good amount of time and effort into them. You ever consider taking requests to make a background based on our input? For instance a background on a one-armed monk with a semian kung-fu style or perhaps a druid with a love for crocodile/cheetah shape changing.
Galahad_Knight 01-11-04, 06:01 PM	Thanks for the feedback, everyone. Good to know I didn;t loose anyone over my hiatus <chuckles> Thanks for the vote of confidence, mickey. I thought about opening up a thread to help people come up with backgrounds, but between other writing projects and personal things I'm having a hard enough time keeping up with the story here. Writing backgrounds for everyone would take time out of this story, and my other projects (projects that I'm trying to get published). But it does sound like fun, and I'm flattered you'd think people would be interested. I just don't really have the time for it right now. Maybe once I've gotten a couple more things finished though...
eudas 01-12-04, 09:57 AM	Oh, you're not losing anyone.. Bookmarks are our friends! :) eudas
Galahad_Knight 01-12-04, 06:38 PM	:blush: Wow, I don't even have this page bookmarked. Expect a new chapter in a few days.
Galahad_Knight 01-13-04, 05:53 AM	Oh, just in case anyone cares, I got some digital pics taken today. http://home.earthlink.net/~galahad_knight/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/me1.jpg http://home.earthlink.net/~galahad_knight/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/me2.jpg Your charming author...and yes, ladies, he's single :D
Galahad_Knight 01-15-04, 10:40 AM	This is a big chapter this week, folks! Eight plus pages according to my word processor. There's not a lot of action but there's certainly some nice conflict. Special thanks to Medesha, whose questions provided the inspiration for the bulk of this chapter. ---------- The Gathering Storm Chapter 11: What’s the Deal? En route to Erickston, Ragnar pulls his warhorse Raidho next to Jaicen’s grizzled old warpony. “So…What’s the deal with you and Stubby?” “He’s a sadistic little bastard and I took offense at that, basically.” Jaicen explains, pausing to spit authoritatively. “Oh…any idea why he turned out that way?” Ragnar asks, “Some folk are born mean, others turn that way, you know?” “Oh, I’m sure it was a bit of both.” Jaicen explains, “He grew up in a bad part of town…same part I did, actually. His momma had to work and he didn’t have no daddy, so he spent a lot of time on his own with nobody to keep an eye on his pointy little head. Halflings trend to get picked on a lot by bigger folk’s young’uns. He learned quick that fighting back didn’t accomplish much so he solaced himself with picking on them what was smaller than him. Younger kids, animals, you name it. He really loved hurting animals though. Little baby pups and whatnot. Used to cut on ‘em or make them fight. Sick little bastard, but he never had nobody around to make it different.” “Damn.” Ragnar says, scratching his ear, “That’ll do it I suppose. What got you two started against each other though?” “He made the mistake of touching my little sister. Beat her up once and took her shoes. We weren;t any better off than he was. We didn’t have much, so what we had had to last. Shoes is the kinda thing you don’t just go around replacing all the time. Not that the shoes mattered a damned bit. When I saw her a cryin’, it was all I could do to keep from killing the little rat then and there. But I gave him a few things to think about when I caught up to him. Warned him if he came near my part o’ town I’d bust him up so bad his momma would think he’s a new trick an’ charge him to tuck his stunted arse into bed.” He pauses to chuckle, “I always liked that line. Anyhow, that put the fear into him, so when I left t5o have my adventures, he didn’t cause no trouble for my family. ‘o course it helped that I had two other brothers only a year younger than me back at home.” Ragnar nods, “That’s a hard situation to deal with. You can’t back down, he won’t back down. If you hurt him or humiliate him, he could come back worse. I don’t envy you that one bit.” Jaicen nods, “Fortunately the beating and the warning, and my brothers kept him quiet for a couple years. When I came back he tried jumping me with some friends of his, but I didn’t put up with that. After that he realized he couldn’t take e so he contented himself with being annoying as hell for the next few years. Looks like he got some confidence with his new buddies.” “Eventually you’ll have to kill him, or he’ll keep coming back.” Ragnar says in a businesslike manner. “I know, but I’d rather it not come to that. I admit I feel sorry for the little blighter, at least a little.” Ragnar shrugs, “I don’t. I’d be glad to do it for you.” He laughs, “We’ll see. So…what’s the deal with you and Thera? Are you…?” he leaves the question to hang for a moment. Ragnar laughs, “Gods, no. We ain’t suited for one another. She’s a nice enough girl, but too wild for me. And I ain’t fine enough for someone with her tastes. So’s we’re just friends.” “What about her knack for getting into trouble? You know she does that on purpose, right?” Ragnar laughs again, “I ain’t blind. But what can I do? I know she’s a capable lass, but I can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to hang if she gets herself in over her head…which has happened a couple of times before. So, I go and do my part.” He shrugs, “I guess I just got used to it.” “I suppose so…” Jaicen says, scratching his beard. “Seems a might bit selfish on her part though, if you don’t mind me sayin’. I mean, seems to me all she ever does is things she likes, and she usually drags you into it. I mean, clothes shopping, bar fights…do you ever do anything you want with her around? Like armor shopping?” Ragnar snorts, “She don’t abide no armor unless some prissy little elf smith farted in it and stuck a couple extra digits onto the end of the price tag. Come to think of it, though, you’re right…we don’t ever do anything I want to do. Usually I have to wait until she’s doing something to go off and have a beer or start my own fight for a change” He glowers, “That ain’t right, damnit!” Jaicen nods, “I sure as hell wouldn’t take that off no woman. And I should know, I been married for two whole years before I divorced the evil little wench.” Ragnar’s indignation slams to a halt as that last factoid impacts. “You’ve been married?” He asks, surprised. Jaicen nods, “Best year and three-hundred sixty-four days of my life. O’ course, that last day really made up for the others. ‘s when I found out she’d been stealin from me an’ sleeping with my apprentice. Had to close down the smithy and take that job in the bar after that. Anyhow, I do miss her though.” “Oh yeah?” Ragnar asks, surprised by the sudden sentimentality from the bitter dwarf. “Yeah, every time I swing about yea high!” he says, backhanding empty air at about his eye level. He laughs uproariously, “Too bad I only got to do that the one time. I think we coulda’ made it work iffin’ I’d got to hit her more often.” Ragnar’s pauses again as he changes gears and turns his mind around a sharp corner. “You hit her?” He demands indignantly, “Where I come from you don’t hit women, no matter what they do.” Jaicen snorts and laughs again, “Boy, you may have the bearin’ of a dwarf, but you never spent much time around dwarf womenfolk, have you?” Another sudden emotional stop causes the blood to slam into the front of his face in an amazing simulation of a blush, “Well…I really only spent time with the warriors who’d come topside. They worked for my dad’s best friend, my adoptive uncle Trollgar.” Jaicen chuckles, “I thought not. It’s like this, my friend. Dwarf women don’t take any more guff than the menfolk do, and they react to it in the same way. In fact, we’re pretty much equal in all ways. Sure, they tend to be the ones to stay at home with the young’uns, but that’s just because they come with the proper equipment. Anyhow, she knew I was gonna’ hit that snot-nosed little bastard she was shaking up with. If I didn’t hit her too, she’d just hit me anyhow, and a lot harder than she did.” He says, rubbing his jaw and wincing, “Still hurts when I drink something cold…” he muses, “Anyhow, that’s just how it is. If my sister had been a bit bigger she coulda’ dealt with Stumpy on his own. But she was just a little nipper back then so I hadda’ do something about it.” He shrugs. Ragnar shakes his head, “Sorry, I didn’t know that’s how it worked. I;ve always been more comfortable around dwarves than humans, but I never did get much beyond drinking with the boys. You lot can be pretty tight when it comes to letting outsiders into your culture.” Jaicen shrugs, “Keeps us busy. Anyhow, what do you propose to do about your particular uppity woman? You sure can’t hit her…not that I don’t think she could take it, I just shudder to think what she’d do to get back at you.” Ragnar does shudder, “I guess there’s nothing for it right now, but I’m sure going to talk to her about it when we have leave to,” he says, gazing ahead ad the slim figure riding at the head of the group, “I’m tired of bein’ the dupe in a relationship I ain’t even in.” Jaicen nods, “Sounds like a plan.” Meanwhile, up ahead, Thera rides next to the massive Lord Thadeus Huntington III, the de facto party leader. “What do you think they’re talking abut?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at Ragnar and Jaicen. “I don’t pretend to know.” Thade says, keeping his eyes on the road, “But we should be in town soon. Feel up to some light conversation on the way?” “Sure, you first.” She says, glancing back again to catch Ragnar watching her with a grave expression on his face. “Alright.” Thade says, grinning slightly, “What’s the deal with you and Ragnar? You don’t seem to be romantically involved, but there looks to be more in play than simple friendship…if it’s not too brash of be to observe that is.” He adds. Thera blushes slightly, “You noticed that, did you?” “Hard not to. You seem to have the poor fellow wrapped around your delicate little finger.” His grin gets a little broader, “If you don’t take offense at my saying, that is.” She smirks at him, “Alright, I’ll talk. It’s complicated though. For a start, there’s more of him than you see on the surface. He’s witty, kind and extremely brave. But there’s also a lot of pain he’s hiding and maybe even a past he doesn’t fully realize himself.” She sighs wistfully. “Sounds romantic.” Thade comments, still keeping his eyes on the road. “If you don’t mind my saying, that is.” “Of course it is!” Thera blurts, blushing a bit and lowering her tone once the words come out, “But he refuses to see it that way. He just rides on, totally oblivious to it all. Not the least bit of doubt or angst to be seen, and of course, no notice paid to me whatsoever. No matter how many times I make it so he can ride to my rescue, no matter how much I tempt him, he just keeps going in his own direction, leaving me to tag along behind him.” “Seems a might bit selfish and undignified, to me.” Thade says blandly, trying to conceal his smile. “If you don’t take offense by my bluntness, that is.” Thera nods, pulling her delicate features into a scowl, “It is!” she says, glaring over her shoulder at Ragnar, who, of course, is looking in the wrong direction to catch the deadly stare. “He ignores me all the time and never seems to enjoy all the things I go out of my way to include him in. Could he be more selfish?” “Actually, I was referring to you, dear.” He says, glancing down at her shocked expression, “If you don’t m— ” “Well, I do mind!” she snaps, cutting him off, “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that, Mi’Lord Huntington. It’s a most ungentlemanly thing to say to a lady of noble standing such as myself.” Thade chuckles, “From one bastard to another, I think I’ll pretend that you didn’t just say *that*.” He says, grinning at her, “If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t go along with your little game as long as he has. But the question is: how much do you care for him?” he asks, his large gray eyes boring into her, making her shy away, “And not just the idea of him you have built up in your mind. There’s a real man under all that drama and fantasy you’ve wrapped around him. A man you seem to be doing your best to ignore.” He says in soft, but serious tines. Thera rides along in stunned silence the rest of the way. She’s not used to being seen through so easily, especially not by a fellow romantic like Thade. A childhood on the streets thinking and charming her way into and out of trouble taught her all she needed to know about how to manipulate people, but she didn’t really know much about caring for them. The only one who ever loved her was her aunt, not even her own mother. And Thera left her aunt to fend for herself in the city when something more interesting happened. Getting what she wants out of life has always been her main goal, she never stopped to think about what anyone else wanted. Damn, this just doesn’t fit into her plans. This will require some thought and careful planning if it’s to be resolved to her satisfaction. As soon as they arrive in town, the group splits up. Ragnar and Jaicen go to check out the local smithy and learn more about this goblin den they have under the city. Thera goes with Gliff to book them rooms at the inn, and Thade and Grix head for the house of the magistrate. The magistrate turns out to be one of the largest wizards either of the pair have ever seen. Erickor Longstaff The Sixth, Lord Mayor of Eriskston, towers an impressive six and a half feet tall and more than fills out his size; if it weren’t for the staff, robes and disreputable looking cat on his shoulder, one would be hard-pressed to believe that the burly man was anything but a warrior. The massive sword belted to his waist doesn’t hurt the image any either. He smiles when he sees them approaching, “Well, well…It’s been a time since I’ve met someone whose hairline I couldn’t watch receding first-hand.” He says, looking up at Thade, who is, of course, nearly a foot taller than even he. “And who’s this?” he asks, scratching his short blonde beard and motioning to Grix with his staff. “I’m Lord Thadeus Huntington, the third Lord of Huntington.” He notes the amused look in the mage’s eye and continues on, “It’s a long story.” He asures him, “And this is my advisor, Grix Niblix, an artisan of some repute. B oth in the mediums of magic and machinery. He’s the reason why I sought you out, in fact.” “Well, isn’t that interesting? My fair burgh is blessed by such august company. Come, let us talk inside.” He says, escorting them into the large but relatively modest keep at the center of the walled town. “So, tell me,” he says, seating them at a heavy mahogany desk in his study in the central tower of the inner keep, “What brings you here?” “Well, sir. I need strong, brave men to travel with me for a short time, until I can gather sufficient forces to take back my home and birthright from a pack of usurpers. We would also request your services as an enchanter of weapons.” “Sounds risky…and expensive.” The huge mage comments, reclining in his sear. “I won’t lie, friend. I like you. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met for a while. And by that I mean that you’re an interesting person and there’s just more of you than anyone else.” He grins, then settles into a more serious tone, “And I’d like to help you. But I’m afraid I can’t be of much help. What men we can spare are already hired out. But I’ll certainly do what I can abut your weapons. Draw me up a list of specifications and I’ll see what all I can do and give you an estimte.” Thade looks crestfallen, “Well, I thank you, and I’ll send you those requests.” He sighs, standing and offering a huge hand to shake. “Just a moment, My Lord.” Grix says, pulling a piece of folded parchment from his robes, “I believe that this man can help us, can he not?” he asks, handing Erickor the paper. “He is here, is he not?” Erikor glances at the paper and makes a face, “He’s here, and if you plan to hire him away, I’ll offer you a ten percent discount on the weapons.” “Why’s that?” Thade asks, confused, “What’s the deal?” “The deal is, that the individual whom you seek is a –” “NECROMANCER?” Gliff demands in outrage as Thade recount’s the meeting to the others at the inn. “I will not travel with a defiler of the dead, it’s all I can do to suffer him to live!” the gnomish paladin seethes and paces the floor. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he demands, glowering at Grix. Grix shrugs, “I really do think you’re overreacting, Gliff. We were getting along so well before, must we start this up again?” Gliff just glares at him. “Remember when we talked about how some things just aren’t appropriate?” Thera asks, unable to keep up her introspection with all this shouting. “This is one of those things, dear. People find the undead to be very distasteful. Some even say it’s evil.” “It IS evil!” Gliff shouts, as he goes back to stalking back and fourth across the floor. “I’ll have no part of it.” “How can a mindless thing be evil?” Grix asks, “Your sword is not evil, though it does kill ad your command. A skeleton or zombie is no different. It is but a mindless tool, a construct like Usk, only without the inner light that gives my companion will and makes him special. The only difference is that they are made of meat and bone and not metal.” “They’re made from dead people!” Gliff shouts, “That’s not a building material, that’s a person whose soul is in agony and whose body is being desecrated.” “Not according to this.” Grix says, sliding him the brochure he showed Erickor, “According to this, they use only willingly donated corpses or manufactured bodies to form their products, and no sours were harmed in the animation process.” “That’s insane! How do you manufacture a human body?” Gliff demands, incredulous. “According to this, they use a commonly known spell that was originally designed to revive victims of magical petrifaction. It converts stone to flesh. Apparently a statue that was never a loving person merely becomes a body without a soul. After that they simply full the empty body with magical energies and animate it. Though that’s rather expensive. Their cheaper models are donated bodies.” Gliff has gone from outrage to suspicious, “How do we know they’re donated? And by whom? What’s to say that the original owner of the body had any say, or hasn’t changed his mind?” “Sir Gliff, these are necromancers, speaking with the dead is hardly a difficult task for them.” Grix explains, “According to this, the owner of the body has to sign up on his own and then his body is asked after his death if he’s still willing. And even then, the actual soul is never disturbed. It leaves the body at death. Their magic merely takes the place of the soul as the animating force for the body.” Scrambling for something to protest Gliff hits upon a possible hitch. “What about the smell? Those zombies we fought in the catacombs were half-rotten and rancid as week old milk. You wouldn’t suggest we travel like that? It’d be ghastly, and no mercenary would join us after that. And imagine the shame of Thade having to explain the situation to his family upon his return?” “Actually…” Grix says, making Gliff grate his teeth as he thumbs to a particular panel in the pamphlet, “According to this, zombies cease to decompose after they are animated. The animating forces prevent the further decomposition of the body. The ones we encountered were like that because they were already rotted when they were animated. And I’m sure in your exploits you’ve stumbled onto an ancient temple of evil or two that had thousand-year old zombies still roaming its halls, yes?” “Well, yes, but…” “But if they were still rotting, then they would have become skeletons after only a few weeks. According to this, a properly prepared zombie si virtually indistinguishable from a living being save for the fact that they are cold to the touch and incapable of intelligible speech. In fact, I’m reasonably sure that the serving girl that Ragnar’s been ogling is actually a zombie.” “What?!” Thera and Gliff both demand at the same time. Gliff looks to the pale-skinned serving maid who is slowly carrying a tray of drinks to a table. Thera, however, has her eyes locked on Ragnar, who has just shot the contents of his beer mug across the table in an effort to avoid choking on it. Jaicen laughs and pounds the young man on the back to help clear the airways. “I didn’t know!” Ragnar croaks, still coughing and sputtering. “I can’t believe you were eyeing some serving wench!” Thera says, suddenly becoming very angry, though she doesn’t really know why or even if he’s the one she should be angry with. “And one that’s dead even!” Getting his breath back, Ragnar glares at her, “I can eye whomever I want, woman!” “But she’s *dead*!” Thera shouts, unable to think of any other reason why he shouldn’t be looking at her. At least not any reason she’d dare admit. “I told you I didn’t know!” he bellows, letting his temper get the better of him, “You know that as well as I do. And I know what this is about too. I ain’t your man and I ain’t your plaything! Not anymore, at least. I’m sick of your games.” Ragnar says in a tone of cold finality as he gets up from the table and storms towards the door. “Fine!” She shouts after him, tears in her eyes, “I don’t know why I even put up with you all this time. It’s certainly not for your looks or personality!” she shouts at his unflinching back as he makes his exit, “Or your smell!” she shouts just as he vanishes out the door. She sits there in stunned disbelief, in the middle of a suddenly silent tavern as the undead barmaid continues making trips from table to bar, oblivious to the fight that just erupted around it. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she manages to muster her control and composure enough to rise, trembling only slightly, “Gentlemen.” She says, voice strained with suppressed emotion, “If I may be excused, I believe I will retire for the night.” Not waiting for a reply, she turns and moves in a stately manner through the stunned taproom and up to her own room. She waits until the door is closed and bolted before she allows herself to break down and cry. “Well…” Jaicen says after a moment. For once the normally unabashed dwarf feels a bit uncomfortable, especially knowing that he was at least partially responsible for the scene. “Seconded.” Grix says, shaking his head. “At any rate, I think we should settle this issue.” “It’s already settled.” Thade says, standing up, “We’re taking the necromancer, Gliff. I understand if you object, but I’ve been assured that he is not an evil man, just one with an unseemly trade. Personally, I find making the dead into something that benefits the living a little more noble than simply making the living into the dead, which is what people like us do everyday. But I won’t travel with a host of the dead, nor would I ask any of you to do so. This man’s skills and abilities will, I am sure, prove useful to us. Now I’ll hear no more on this subject tonight.” He says, washing his hands of the matter, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find Ragnar and make sure he’s not going to leave us. Someone should probably talk to Thera when she’s had a few minutes to let it all out.” He says in soft tones as he strides to the exit.
WarDragon 01-15-04, 03:01 PM	Well, that was certainly interesting. I wonder if Ragnar and Thera's friendship will ever recover? The mark of a great story is that you feel sorry for the characters, and you've suceeded quite admirably on that score. On a lighter note, I can't wait to meet this Necromancer.
eudas 01-15-04, 05:49 PM	Another excellent chapter in an excellent story, Galahad. May your pen never want for ink! (Metaphorically speaking, anyway.) eudas
Vintrastorm 01-15-04, 06:53 PM	Darn, you write too slow! You should grow some more beard so that your hands can work the keyboard faster. I wish I had my beard back... P.S I would've bought the book. Thrice. Now get your eyes of my post and start writing! :angel:
Galahad_Knight 01-15-04, 10:17 PM	LOL, wow, thanks guys. I'm glad you liked it. I was a bit worried. My longest chapter ever, and about the only one I can think of without anyone fighting or getting killed. As for my writing speed...the funny thing is, it doesn't take me all that long to write. That chapter was written in three hours, straight, before I went to bed (4:30 AM, to 7:30 AM...I write better thwn I'm tired, for some reason) The catch is, itn usually takes a week or more for me to assemble the ideas, time, energy, inspiration and desire to actually sit down and spit it out. Once I can get my fingers moving, it all snowballs and in a few hours I'm ready to post. Most of my editing takes place while I write. But, as with all things, it's the getting started that's hard :sad: As for my beard, it used to be bigger. It was unshaved and full and busy in its glory. But, alas, I'm tryng to get a job and the "Too lazy to shave" look isn't popular with employers. Though I think I look better with the sorter beard now...It's just a pain to have to shave every couplendays and spend the intervening time scratching my newly shaved face
The Stray 01-16-04, 10:52 PM	A story doesn't have to have combat in it to be interesting. Frankly, it was the interactions of the characters that has kept me reading all this time! all these interesting characters, trying to work together...I love it! And I hear you on the "getting started" part. This is, of course, many a writer's stumbling block. I have some advice: Keep writing. Find a period during your day, everyday and write. It doesn't matter what about. Just write. Try to get in about a page's worth of material each day. That way, you get used to actually having a "writing time" during your day and getting stuff down will be just a bit easier. As for why it's so hard to start writing, well, it's my theory (and this is only from my observation, so YMMV) that it's a subconsious thing. Everytime we write, we fear, deep down, that it's going to come out all bad, and that everyone's going to hate it, and why bother starting if it's going to suck anyway? This might be because we're putting pieces of ourselves into our work, and we'd like people to enjoy it, but since we're our own worst critics, we fear that we're gonna suck, or that we aren't putting out our best work. Sometimes procrastination works on stalling writing, too. Have you ever sat down to write, and then thought, "hey, I'm hungry!" or "hey, I gotta use the bathroom" ? Don't give in to these impulses, because I've found that if I listen to the voice that tells me to get up from beginning to write, I won't sit down again for a while. So try to ensure that, before you start writing, you've got some food and soda nearby so you don't have the "hunger" excuse to leave the room, and have taken care of all your nagging nature calls, so you can easily ignore the "I'll do it later" voice that kills creativity. But again, this is only from my own observation and advice I've gotten from others, so when using it remember that YMMV. And keep up this damn fine story!
Galahad_Knight 01-16-04, 11:10 PM	Thanks, stray. I think in my case it's mostly procrastination. That's pretty much been the bane of my life for the past dozen years. And then there's the times when you sit down force yourself to get started and there's just nothing. Or there's ideas, but all the energy drains away. But that's good advice on the writing time thing, I've been told that by like six people now, so I'll have to stop procrastinating and start doing it ;)
Vintrastorm 01-17-04, 08:37 AM	Isn't procrastination the bane of all our lifes? At least us lazy bums that doesn't even have the will to stop playing rpg when it's 12 o clock at a tuesday, when we have to be at work at 8 o clock net morning... and all we get is half an hour of sleep because we just CAN'T stop playing that darn D&D.... YMMV?
The Stray 01-17-04, 07:10 PM	Vintrastorm: YMMV = Your Milage May Vary (in other words, might not work the same for everyone). Check out the Dictonary of Terminology (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=46916) for more newspeak. Because newspeak is goodspeak, don'tchaknow? ;) (points to anyone who catches the referance...) Thanks for the compliment, Galahad. I've been enjoying your story for a while now, so I'm glad to offer whatever advice I can to keep seeing more of it...:D
CursedMoredhel 01-20-04, 07:05 AM	just read it... i like... i like it alot... i love the confrontation between ragnar and thera tops keep it up
drelidan7 01-21-04, 12:06 AM	I just read the entire forum from front to back at the cost of a good night's sleep. It was all well worth it though. Keep up the EXCELLENT work. I can't wait for the next chapter. It's been great fun to read. ^.^
Galahad_Knight 01-24-04, 11:15 PM	Apologies again, my friends. The last week or so has been a pain in the butt. Up at the crack of dawn to take a bunch of mind-numbing tests. I don;t have time or energy to write anything. Then, when that;s finally over and donw I catch the damned flu. My creative juices have collecte din my sinuses and are draining down the back of my throat as we speak. And, as disgusting as that sounds, just try living with it. <sighs> I hope I'll be feeling better soon. I've got a bunch of stuff I need to write, besides just the next chapter. (Stats and background on the necromancer, a free-form character for an upcoming game, this next chapter, and a couple personal projects I;ve been putting off. Ugh... Pray to the gods of the Ny'Quil pantheon for me.
The Stray 01-28-04, 12:12 AM	*pulls out some incense and lights it, and begins to pray for Galahad* ooom....ooom...ooom...wop bop she-bop...:D
Galahad_Knight 01-28-04, 09:06 AM	<coughs on the incense smoke> Thanks... <suffles> Well, you'll be happy to know that I;ve moved frombeing a useless miserable lump of muchus on the couch into the "Still sick but not miserable" stage. Which means I'm back up and writing, though at a bit of a relaxed pace. I;ve already gotten most of those other pobligations I mentioned earlier done and with any luck you should see a chapter before the week is out. Sorry again for the delays.
Vintrastorm 01-28-04, 12:53 PM	You know.... if you continue being sorry, I'll have to tug real hard in that fancy little beard of yours. :angel: (I feel that I've kinda made it my thing to prevent you from being sorry... :D)
drelidan7 01-28-04, 03:53 PM	I know how you feel about the sinuses part. I've had a sinus infection since Thursday, and like you said, it's not any fun. Then again, I get them quite often so I've learned to live with it a bit. Oh, there's nothing wrong with working at a relaxed pace. :)
Dougan Axehammer 01-28-04, 09:38 PM	Hey don't sweat school, or schoolwork. A third of us have either that or a time-consuming career, and yes it very much gets in the way of pretty much everything. But go ahead a sweat off that flu of yours, it helps in the healing process. :D And if that doesn't work drink two kegs, and the rest that it brings. Believe me if the alcohol and sleep don't get rid of the cold, the headache and nausea from the morning after should do the trick. :D :D :D Take care, friend Knight, we enjoy hearing the exploits of the Company of Thadeus.
CursedMoredhel 01-29-04, 07:11 AM	sickness and injury suck... i got the flu aswell and i recently broke my wrist which dun help either... worse than that the cast did absolutely nufin for my wrist and by the time i reckon the flu will be gone i'll be under the knife and a bright light getting operated on... damn it sucks... anyways get well soon... and i recomend the 2 kegs also... ciao
Galahad_Knight 01-30-04, 03:12 AM	Ouch! Hard luck, Cursed, hope you pull through soon. I should have a new chapter in the next day or two, and then I'm going to write an artticle abut how I build characters, at the bequest of Trydan (the "How to create a Roleplay Character" guy)
The Stray 01-30-04, 04:08 AM	Trydan! Yay! :bow: Hail To the creator of How to make a Roleplaying Character :bow: That article has single-handedly changed the way I have players create their characters for my games...
Devlin_StormWeave 01-30-04, 05:37 AM	Can't wait for the next chapter, also looking forward to reading how you design your characters. Where i can read this "How to create a Roleplay Character" please.
Vintrastorm 01-30-04, 05:45 AM	Aye!
Dougan Axehammer 01-30-04, 06:17 AM	Originally posted by Devlin_StormWeave Can't wait for the next chapter, also looking forward to reading how you design your characters. Where i can read this "How to create a Roleplay Character" please. Searching aside, just go to the Character Development forum. It is a very good thread to read, and I recommend it to all players, both newbies and vets.
Galahad_Knight 01-30-04, 06:52 AM	Oops. You know, I was going to link the thread, then I thought "Naww, it;s on the front page of the forum..." Well, Here's the link (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=105563) enjoy! It is a great article, and I'm nt sure if I'll be able to compare (I tend to be too long winded when I explain things)... but I can try :D
Galahad_Knight 01-30-04, 09:20 AM	This chapter isn't very long or action packed, but it's got some important parts in it. It's one of those transitional chapters that just sort of has to be there in order for the next chapter to flow. But don't worry, next chapter should be good. Action, comedy, maybe a little romance. But in the meantime, enjoy this one. We get to meet an interesting new character. ---------------------------- The Gathering Storm Chapter 12: A Long Ride Ahead. Ragnar storms out of the common room of the inn, scowling and muttering to himself. It takes Thade a moment to catch up with him. “What do you want?” Ragnar growls without even turning around. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re an important member of the team, and I consider you a friend. I wouldn’t want to loose you over something like this.” Ragnar snorts, “Hardly. I’m not leaving on account of her. I just need to get some air, and maybe a nice dirty fight to settle my blood.” He looks over his shoulder at the towering knight, “you wouldn’t be interested in a friendly little tussle, would you?” He asks in tones of deceptive innocence. Fortunately, Thade knew better than to have even a friendly scuffle with a man with Ragnar’s stocky build when he’s angry…especially since, considering their height difference, hitting below the belt wouldn’t be considered a low-blow for Ragnar. “Uh, no thanks, Ragnar…I try not to fight on a full stomach, you understand.” Ragnar shrugs, “Your loss. I think I’m gonna’ go ask one of the folks that love here which way it is to them goblin dens. I could kill me a few gobos right about now. My mum always said that work is the best medicine. Well, unless you’re a goblin, I ‘spose.” and with that, he stumps off in search of violence. Thade signs and heads back inside where he finds Gliff having an animated discussion with Grix about the morality of necromancy. “Who’s talking with Thera?” he asks, suddenly worried. “Jaicen said he was going to do it.” Grix comments offhand. “Oh lords and ladies…” Thade says with a sigh, “Well, not much can do about that… Meanwhile upstairs Thera is sitting on her bed trying not to cry. Jaicen wanders in without so much as a knock. “Well, you had it comin.” He says without any lead up. “G-get out of here!” Thera snaps. She’s not used to losing her composure and less used to people treating her so bluntly. “Not likely. I figure I had a hand in causin this nonsense, so I may as well have a hand in fixing it.” He says, then, seeing the accusatory look on Thera’s unguarded features, “And before you point any of them pretty little fingers at me, all I did was point out the situation. You’re the one what caused it.” “It’s none of your business.” Thera says, drawing up an indignant stance. “Yeah, but here I am, deal with it. Right now I’m here to help you, so deal with that too.” The dwarf says, pulling up a chair. “So you might as well talk so you can get me out of your hair.” She sighs, “This is very cruel, you know.” “I’m a cruel sort of person. Now tell me what’s wrong.” The dwarf replies Thera sits up and hugs her knees, “I just found out that I’m a selfish, spoiled brat, and I don’t like it.” “Neither would I. So stop being selfish.” “It’s not as easy as that.” “Sure it is.” Jaicen says, scratching his beard, “If you’re about to do something selfish…don’t.” She sighs, “Even if it were that easy, what do I do about Ragnar? I ruined everything.” “Depends on what you want to happen.” “I…I don’t know…” she says with a sigh. “Well, in that case, start over. Say you’re sorry and see what happens from there. I can’t really say how he’ll react, but you’ll just have to deal with it.” “I suppose so…” “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get out of here.” Jaicen says as he gets up, “Try not to let anyone know I helped. Tell them I just made some crude jokes and suggestive comments. I’ve got a reputation to uphold here,” he ways with a wink. He waits for her to giggle before making his exit. The next morning the group assembles in the taproom and they look none too fresh. Thera was up all night worrying about Ragnar. Ragnar was up all night killing Goblins. Thade was up late reading to distract himself from his worries about the team. Gliff had nightmares again. Jaicen was up all night drinking and Grix was up all night writing, though he’s always up writing so he looks relatively normal. “Man…I’ve animated livelier looking folk than you lot.” Says a cheery-sounding man in a black. The man has pale skin and thick, dark black hair that is kept short and neat. He is dressed neatly but conservatively. Soft black boots, loose black breeches, a black silk doublet with silver trim, some modest silver medallions and a long black vest that reaches clear to the floor and has an attached hood; sort of a cloak with armholes. He’s leaning on a slender, silver-tipped walking stick made of gleaming black wood and topped with a smallish white skull. “That’s abominable!” Gliff gasps, pointing a trembling finger at the gnome-sized skull. “No, son…that’s wooden.” He says, tapping it on the table with a hollow, wooden sound. “I think it’s a tad audacious myself, but the company requires that its representatives keep a professional appearance, and unfortunately black clothes and skulls are pretty much the necromancer’s uniform. Otherwise you might not take me seriously. Besides,” he says, tipping back the top of the skull so that the mouth opens with a click. A small piece of stiff paper pops out like a grisly white tongue. “It gives me a place to put my business cards.” He says, taking the slip of paper from the mouth and handing it to the still-pointing and slightly stunned Gliff. “’Paul Bayrer, Sword Coast Regional Sales Representative, Zombicorp International…’” Gliff reads aloud, “’Zombicorp: When you need a helping hand and don’t care whose it used to be….that’s disgusting!” he says in shock. Ragnar and Jaicen hold back sniggers while Grix merely grins. “That’s right, my small friend. Pleased to meet you all, I’m Paul Bayrer,” he says by way of introduction, “pall bearer by name, not by nature, I always say.” He winks exaggeratedly after that last bit to remind everyone it’s a funny joke. He earns a few half-hearted chuckles and a groan from Thera. He continues on as if he had just received a standing ovation. “Well, I hear you folks are looking for a little extra help but you’re on a tight budget. Boy, have you come to the right place. We here at Zombicorp have—“ he is abruptly cut off by Thade. “We decided last night that we’re not really interested in buying any Zombies at this time.” The giant knight says, pre-empting the pale man’s sales pitch. “Ah, so you’re more of a Skeleton kind of group then? Well, that’s understandable…not pleasant to look at as a nice fresh zombie, but they do have a certain occult stylishness to them, and of course they’re more mobile…how man can—“ he is cut off once more. “We’re not interested in skeletons either, friend.” Thade says, patiently. “Well…I don’t know what it is you lot want, but I assure you we only deal in Zombies and skeletons.” Paul says in a defensive tone, “We don’t trade in the hard stuff. Ghouls and vampires and the like are too dangerous and unpredictable. What you folks want are some nice, safe animated dead. Trust me on this, guys.” “Actually, Paul…we just want to hire you for now. No undead.” Thade explains. “You see, we’re trying to raise a bit of an army, and while your way may be faster and cheaper, it’s not exactly good for morale amongst the living troops.” “Then what do you need me for at all?” the necromancer asks, sounding a bit hurt. “Support, mainly. I’ve been told you know how to heal the living, as well as animate the dead, correct?” “Well…yeah, but I try not to make a habit of it, it gives people the wrong impression. But if that’s all you want, I’m sure you could find a regular cleric…” Paul says, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the proposition. “Trust me, you’ll do just fine.” Thade assures him, “Besides, I have a feeling we’ll need your special talents during the times ahead. And while I can’t afford to buy up a bunch of your zombies…which I’m sure you yourself only see a modest commission on, I *can* afford to pay for the temporary one necromancer. None of that money has to go back to the company, now does it?” “Well…” Paul says, warming to the idea, “It would if I were officially contracted out. But I could travel along your route, sort of unofficially…but I’d have to meet sales quotas.” “No problem,” Thade says expansively, “You can ply your wares in towns along the way. If nothing else, it’s free advertising.” Paul considers it then nods, “You have yourself a deal.” The two shake hands and Paul sits down next to Gliff, who has finally regained his composure. “Just know I’ll be watching you.” Gliff warns him, shaking his finger. “Watch it with that thing.” Paul says with a chuckle, “It might be loaded. You certainly seem to use it as a weapon at least.” He observes with a grin, “Now, look…I know you’ve got certain religious convictions, and I don’t hold that against you, every one’s got to have a vice, after all. But I’m just an honest businessman trying to make an honest buck with a product most people don’t find exactly tasteful. Trust me, the last thing I’m looking to do is make enemies on purpose.” “Well…I’ll still be watching.” The gnome grumbles. “Good for you.” Paul says with a chuckle, “We all need a hobby.” He looks up, “Did I say something funny?” he asks the grinning kobold across the table. “Not at all.” Grix says, still grinning, “I think I’m going to enjoy your company. We have much to discuss…” “Lovely.” Paul says with a sunny tone, “So, when are we leaving, boss?” “As soon as you’re ready, assuming you’ve finished what you came here for, Grix.” Thade responds. Grix nods, “Indeed. He didn’t have what I needed, but he told me where we to find it. Incidentally, there’s a disreputable wizard not far from here. He’s got the local populace jumping at their own shadows and rushing over when he whistles. I’m sure if we got rid of him, we’d be able to get you some people willing to fight out of the oppressed masses. What do you say?” Thade nods, “Sounds good to me. Let’s be off then. Everyone grab your things and meet up in the stables.” The group disperses. Thera hurries after Ragnar, who steadfastly ignores her as she jogs after him. “Look…about last night…” she begins awkwardly, “I…I’m sorry. You were right.” She says, looking up at him with big, teary eyes. “Good.” He says, stopping to look at her, “But I’m not falling for your tricks again. I don’t abide being used, nor do I take kindly to having my feelings manipulated. I’m still here for you in a fight, but I don’t know how much I feel like being around you, or your crocodile tears.” He says and then turns and walks off to gather his things. “But…they’re real…” Thera says once he’s out of sight. She lets her tears fall where they may for only a moment before she goes to her room to gather her things and her composure. ‘It’s going to hurt…’ she thinks to herself, ‘but I’m going to win his forgiveness. I just wish I knew how…’ Moments later the group gathers at the stables where Paul is explaining the nature of his horse, a muscular, if unhealthy looking creature with a stark white mane and dull, black eyes, “You see, technically it *is* alive. It’s a Ghaden, a sort of half-zombie.” “How does *that* happen?” Ragnar asks, sounding a bit disgusted. “It’s not what you think.” Paul says with a chuckle, “You see, you sort of infuse the living creature with a portion of the negative energy that is used to animate a corpse. It’s complicated and I can’t do it myself, but the end result is a creature that is very strong, nearly tireless, immune to pain, yet still alive and healthy. Unfortunately they’re incredibly dull-minded and somewhat short-tempered. Zombicorp has been trying to breed them and sell them as mounts, but people like their horses to have a little personality, and frankly, most other horses are a bit put off by them. By the way, your mounts seem to be handling his presence well.” “They’re war-trained.” Thade says, somewhat distractedly, “It’s not dangerous or evil, is it?” “Oh, certainly not. He’s just a bit antisocial is all.” Paul says, mounting up. His horse snorts and glares menacingly forward, but otherwise doesn’t react. Thade shrugs and the others mount up, though they all give Paul a wide berth. For a salesman, he travels light. Just a backpack, his saddlebags and an old carpetbag. Smalltalk is scant as they ride. Most of them have things on their minds. Others just don’t feel up to talking shop with their cheerful new companion. The tower is some three days ahead and it looks to be a long ride ahead of them.
Vintrastorm 01-30-04, 09:57 AM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight I’m gonna’ go ask one of the folks that love here How rude! Is he just barging in on them as they are in the middle of their love making? :D
WarDragon 01-30-04, 01:11 PM	Always an emotional roller coaster, Galahad. The high drama at the beginning and end was good stuff, and Paul's introduction had me literally *ahem* LOL. Eagerly awaiting the next part!
Galahad_Knight 01-30-04, 07:12 PM	Originally posted by Vintrastorm How rude! Is he just barging in on them as they are in the middle of their love making? :D [/B] One little freuidian typo :P
The Stray 01-31-04, 03:05 AM	hee hee hee...Paul Bayrer...I love him! :bow: All Hail Galahad! :bow:
Lokahn Mandrake 02-03-04, 10:13 PM	Excellent stuff yet again Galahad. I'm just catching up on some of your recent work and it was quite entertaining. I can't believe I never thought of "Paul Bayrer" as a name for a Necromancer...Truly an inspired bit of brilliance. A good mixture still of humor, interaction, intrigue and combat. This story would "play" as a fantastic campaign. Cheers and keep up the good work :)
Galahad_Knight 02-05-04, 01:10 AM	My character building article is posted HERE (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=176982) I'll start working on the next chapter ASAP...we're storming the tower! Wheee!
Galahad_Knight 02-07-04, 11:27 PM	The Gathering Storm Chapter 13: Council of War Log Entry: 3,494 The ride from Ericksholm to the dreary little village of Draynor was long and tense. The past three days I have marked some changes in the demeanor of my companions. Most notably in Thera and Ragnar. Even as disinterested as I usually am in such affairs, I admit I was a trifle surprised at the sudden deterioration of their relationship, as well as the shift to their current status. Thera seems desperate to win back her once friend and has turned quite servile, a shocking change from her normal state of self-centered, hyper-romantic, delirium. Where once she hardly seemed to notice the brutish human except when it was amusing or beneficial to her to do so, she now follows him around, attempting to dote on him and wheedle her way back in. For his part Ragnar has completely closed down. Before he would make distasteful jokes or sarcastic comments to his friends, but now he simply rides in silence. I doubt that he’s said more than a dozen words in the past three days, and none of them were to Thera. He’s refusing to even take advantage of her recent submissive streak. For someone as used to being the center of attention as Thera, his oblivion has been a knife twisting in her guts since their fight— Grix winces at the gruesome metaphor he had just recorded. Clearly his time spent with Jaicen was having an effect on him. He makes a note of his unusual behavior before returning to his log. Poor Gliff seems to be having difficulty with the presence of our newest member. The necromancer’s mere presence was immediately off-putting to the sensitive gnome, despite Paul’s friendly demeanor. But the quick acceptance by the others, and the repeated assurances as to the unique nature of his particular (and apparently heavily trademarked) brand of necromancy have thrown the little paladin off balance. As much as it amuses me at times to watch the conservative crusader— Grix winces, “Alliteration…” he mutters with distaste, “the refuge of resourceless writers wringing the last—damn it!” he curses, catching himself. Muttering darkly the kobold scratches out the last two words and proceeds... …amuses me at times to watch the narrow-minded fanatic grapple with new ideas, I admit it is a bit hard to watch. I can tell he spends half his time trying to find something to fault the gregarious salesman with and the other half is spent trying to convince himself that there’s nothing to be concerned with. It’s sad, but as a side-effect he has opened up to me a bit more. Usually it’s to mutter about something he finds distasteful about Paul, or to ask what he’s like when he’s not hawking his goods, since I’ve spent the most time with him. And that time has been well spent, most assuredly. The reason I’ve been somewhat lax in my entries lately is that I’ve been wrapped up discussing things with Paul. The odd little man is certainly full of ideas when it comes to the uses for the ‘vitalistically impaired’ as he sometimes refers to zombies…some that even I had not considered. I will append my notes on the subject to this entry, but the evening is wearing on and I must finish this entry. On a personal note, Paul seems to be a thoroughly inoffensive fellow. He’s clever and engaging and self-effacing and very aware of the stigmas attached to his profession. I’ll definitely think of him when I begin making some of the acquisitions that certain of my plans require. Though in my time spent with Paul, I have neglected Jaicen a bit. The brash, insensitive, vulgar, abrasive, speciest, sexist, violent, paranoid, disheveled, and often drunken dwarf has been an amusing and informative companion. He s3eems a bit distracted though. His japes and jabs are somewhat less offensive than usual and he winces noticeably every time Ragnar rebukes Thera. It’s unusual to see him so concerned with someone who isn’t bringing him a mug of ale, and it’s an interesting crack in his otherwise perfect facade of loutishness. He also remains scrupulously attentive to his duties as Thade’s man-at-arms and the two seem to have developed n odd sort of relationship. It’s not uncommon to hear Jaicen berating Thade for carelessness or some other fault and complaining about why he ever took this job, even as he puts a gleaming shine on the half-ogre’s breastplate. He reminds me of my mother in some ways, except that, to my knowledge, he has yet to break any of Thade’s bones. For his part, Thade seems embarrassed by the attention being paid to him and his equipment. Sometimes he even seems offended by it. I remember on the second morning he stormed out of his tent in his arming jack, trailing armor plates and curses behind him, even as Jaicen follows, calmly picking up the chunks of armor and reminding him that even a grown man needs someone to dress him when his costume of choice consists of several dozen pounds of metal connected by buckles in inconvenient places. “Get over it or get a lighter wardrobe.” I believe was the phrase Jaicen sued to end the argument. When he’s not fussing with Jaicen about the state of his armored trousers, our leader has been quiet and pensive on this trip. The friction between Thera and Ragnar, and Gliff and Paul has put him on edge. He’s worried, and with good reason. We’re about to face our first real test of teamwork and cohesion. The previous jobs had been minor warm-ups, but if reports are to be believed, the wizard who rules this county is no small menace. We’ll have to work together if we want to escape this with all our members in tact. Grix puts away his stylus and closes the book once the ink has dried. Looking out the cracked window of the run-down inn he can see the tower, looming black and menacing in the background of muddy brown fields and dead white snags of trees. Whoever the proprietor of that grim edifice was, he certainly went to lengths to make everything around it utterly inhospitable. The next morning the crew assembles in the hay-strewn, beer-soaked commons to hold their council of war. “First thing’s first.” Thade says, putting both huge hands on the table, “We’re not going to pull this off if we’re not all able to communicate with one another. Ragnar, Thera, whatever it is you’re dealing with right now, I respect it but only if it respects me back. So as long as we’re on duty, it doesn’t exist. I want you talking and covering each other’s backs. Got it?” Thade is unusually assertive this morning. He must have arrived at some kind of conclusion the previous night. A bit surprised, they both nod their agreement. “Moving right along…” Thade says, turning his attention to Jaicen, “You were in the military, ever besieged a fortification before?” “Yeah, once. Assaulted a couple more though, which is fortunate since that’s what we’re doing.” The dwarf says, not even looking up from his mug. “What are you going on about now?” Thade grumbles irritably. “A siege is where we go around burning crops and cattle, blockade his exits and force him to surrender or face starvation.” The dwarf explains, “For added incentive it usually helps to throw a couple bloated bodies at them folks inside to make them extra-eager to open the door and let us in. Unless you brought a catapult capable of flinging a sun-bloated cow through one of his windows, I think what we’re here for is an assault. In which case, we charge up, kill some guards, force our way in and generally slaughter and mayhem our way to his private rooms. At which point we kill him, loot all his swag and burn the place to the ground.” He says, finishing with an authoritative belch and a satisfied nod. Thade rolls his eyes, “Simple as that, eh?” “Generally, yeah.” Jaicen says, leaning back in his chair, “The man’s a wizard after all, so we can’t give him a chance to dig in. We have to take him by surprise and do it quick. Get in, find out where he is and make a dash for it before he can get both feet underneath him.” Ragnar nods, “It’s a good plan. It’s got some pretty big gaps in it, but it’s a good start.” “What holes?” Jaicen demands, almost pouting. “For a start, how do we get in?” Thade asks. Now that Ragnar admitted it was a good plan, he didn’t have to, that leaves him free to question the bits that worry him. “I’ll cover that.” Grix says, not looking up from the notes he’s scribbling. “Care to elaborate?” Thade asks. “No.” Thade sighs, “Alright…how do we find out where he is?” “I’ll cover that.” Paul offers, adjusting his vest a bit uncomfortably. “And how do you plan to do that?” Thade asks, still a bit put off by Grix’s curt response. “Uh…You don’t want to know…” the necromancer says with a sidelong glance at Gliff. Thade sighs and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, “Of course I don’t, that might result in me actually being in charge for a while and we can’t have that. Alright…any back-up plans for those little bits, in case Paul and Grix’ little surprises aren’t fully successful?” “I have a couple ideas,” Thera volunteers, adjusting her frilly bodice suggestively. “I dunno…” Jaicen says uncertainly, “We don’t know how many guards there are, it might take too long for you to wear them all out that way.” He says in perfectly serious tones. Thera glares at him then begins to giggle, “I didn’t mean it quite like that, but I should be able to charm my way in. Heck, if need be, I can probably beguile my way to the wizard’s private quarters.” Involuntarily, the others snigger slightly and Thera deploys an area- effect glare and pout, “I didn’t mean like *that*!” They all laugh, even Ragnar and, after a moment, even Gliff manages a chuckle or two while shaking his head disapprovingly. After a moment Thade breaks it up, smiling a bit, “Alright, alright. I assume that we’ve got the actual fighting part covered. Gliff can range ahead since he’ll be the only one who can stay mounted. Ragnar can take the lead since I’m big enough to fight over his head. Grix, can we get Usk to cover the rear? His long-ranged ability should help if we need support in the lead, and he looks formidable enough to fend off any rear assaults until we can shift ranks.” Grix nods, “I was about to suggest the same thing myself.” “What about traps?” Thera asks, “According to what I’ve been able to scrape up, his place is supposed to be littered with them.” “Covered.” Paul and Grix both say simultaneously. The two spell-casters lock eyes and glare suspiciously at one another. “Oookaaay…” Thade says, breaking up the staring contest, “I guess we’ll work that out when we get there. Which reminds me, I’m thinking we should probably do this thing tonight. Use the cover of darkness and by doing it this night it gives him less time to prepare for us.” The others nod their agreement and the council of war adjourns for the day. They meet back at sunset and go over their brisk little plan again before heading out into the slanting crimson rays. It takes them a couple hours to close the distance between the village and the tower. Even in the growing darkness it’s easy to see the oppression and desolation this wizard has brought to the area. “I don’t think they’ll miss this guy when we’re done with him.” Ragnar says, looking around at the bleak landscape. “That’s the general plan.” Thade says, “Which reminds me…we might want to avoid unnecessary conflicts with any guards. These folks are going to need a job after we deal with their boss and I could use some extra hands.” “You take all the fun out of this, you know that?” Jaicen mutters. They fall into a hush as they approach the tower. It’s fairly tall and remarkably ugly. Its rough-hewn outside is made of rough black rock, pierced y a few slit-like windows. A single guard keeps watch on the top of the tower. The only door they can see is an imposing stone orifice with a glowing eye set in the arch above it. They’re just in time to see a roving guard come in out of the cold. He pauses in front of the eye. After a moment the door opens on its own and admits him. “As I suspected.” Grix says, “Magically monitored. It opens only for uniformed guards and the wizard himself.” “So how do we get in?” Thade asks. “Easily. Do you have a rope and grapple?” “Yes…” Thade replies dubiously, “But I’m not really built for climbing.” “Don’t worry, I have no intention of making you do things to which gravity does not consent. But I will need you and that rope for a moment.” He says, leading him up to the base of the tower when the guard on top looks away. “Throw it up to the top if you can.” Thade still looks doubtful, but he sends the metal hook sailing with a single heave. It clatters on the stones and the guard lets out an exclamation of surprise. The rope dances as the guard above picks up the hook. “Great, he’s found it.” Thade curses quietly, “Now what do we do?” “Pull as hard as you can.” Grix says with a grin. Still confused, Thade gives the rope a mighty yank. The guard lets out a short, sharp cry of surprise, which is abruptly ended when he impacts with the ground at their feet, the falling rope coiling limply around him. “Problem solved.” Grix says simply with a smug little grin. The others rush over, “Is he alright?” Thera asks, afraid she already knows the answer. “He would be, but it looks like his neck broke his fall.” Jaicen says, prodding the body with his boot. “So now what?” Thera asks. “Now we put his uniform on one of you and walk right through the door. Hummm.” He looks them over. Too short. Way too short. Way too tall. Too stocky. Too female…way too female actually. Too made of metal. Finally his eyes fall on Paul and he grins. “Oh no you don’t! I’m not wearing that!” The necromancer says, backing away. “There’s only two humans in the group and Ragnar’s too stocky.” Grix explains. “A man just dies in that, I’m not putting it on!” Paul insists, keeping his distance. “You’re a necromancer…now you’re squeamish about corpses?” Ragnar asks, intrigued. “There’s a difference between a zombie and a corpse, lots of differences.” The necromancer explains. “Besides, he’s not just dead but very recently dead…he’s still warm. That means his clothes are going to be all warm and moist from when he was wearing them all night.” He shudders, “And god knows what he ruptured in the fall. He could be hemorrhaging into that uniform even as we speak.” “Great.” Thade grumbles, “Now what?” “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” Paul says defensively, “I just don’t want to wear the dead guy’s clothes is all.” “Alright, then what are you going to do?” Thade asks. Paul grins, “I’ll do my job, oif course.” He says, moving closer to the body he gently prods it with his walking stick, “Come on, boy. Get up.” He says, nudging the corpse. With a frustrated sounding groan the body of the guard rises stiffly to its feet, its neck resting at an odd angle. “Nnnrrrrggghhh…” it groans. “Look at you, you’re a mess.” Paul says, chiding the newly risen zombie. The creature looks faintly embarrassed, but that could just be a trick of light on its sideways face. Paul clucks his tongue reproachfully as he dusts off the zombie and straightens his uniform, “An utter disgrace…” he mutters, reaching up to adjust the creature’s broken neck. It makes a series of sickening pops as he pulls it straight. “There…not too bad I suppose. Now, go inside.” He says, waving it away. “Nnnrrrrrnnngghhh…” the zombie groans as it shambles towards the door. The others watch stunned for a moment, but then rush forward when the door slides open for the walking corpse. “Well, we’re in.” Thade says, looking around the small guardroom as the outside door closes.
The Stray 02-08-04, 04:06 PM	Sweeeeeeeet...keep up the fantastic work, man! I can't WAIT for the next chapter...and I'm beginning to like Paul more and more...a Necromancer who's squeimish around the recently dead--yay!
WarDragon 02-08-04, 11:15 PM	Grix's notes and most of the Council were hilarious, and ditto for Paul's squemishness; he's queasy around a dead body, but once it starts moving again, it's a pet... yikes. The method of entry was great, and I can already tell the next part's going to be all kinds of fun. :D
CursedMoredhel 02-09-04, 02:36 AM	2 words: loved it
Devlin_StormWeave 02-09-04, 05:35 AM	Keep up the good work. Am fully enjoying the story.
KillerOdin 02-11-04, 11:05 AM	I love this story man keep it up. :bow: :bow: :bow:
Trebuchet 02-12-04, 05:25 PM	:bow::bow::bow: Exelent work!!!! I loved it keep em coming
Galahad_Knight 02-14-04, 07:32 PM	Expect the next chapter soon. It should be fun.
The Stray 02-14-04, 11:42 PM	Huzzah!!!
Galahad_Knight 02-17-04, 08:24 AM	The Gathering Storm Chapter 14: Pillage “Well, we’re in.” Thade says, looking around the small guardroom as the outside door closes. “Didn’t you just say that?” Ragnar asks. “No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” Thade says, scratching his head. Ragnar shrugs, “Must ‘a been one of those did-ya’-views.” “What?” “You know, when you view something and say ‘Did ya’ just do that?’ A ‘did-ya’-view’.” Ragnar explains. Grix sighs “It’s pronounced deja vu you illiterates.” He shakes his head, “Can we please move on?” “That’s what I said.” Ragnar grumbles. Somewhat abashed, Thade clears his throat, “Yes, indeed. Where do we go though? I see three doors, discounting the one we came through. One to each side and one ahead.” “Let’s check one.” Thera says, opening the door on the left. She quickly closes it and whispers, “Guard room….they’re asleep.” Jaicen peeks into the other side room, “This one too, but there’s some empty berths.” Ragnar scratches his beard, “Easy fix…” he takes a coil of rope from his backpack. Humming softly to himself he ties one end to the door handle of one door then runs it across the room, loops it around the other door handle and then makes several passes between them, effectively tying the two doors together. Since the doors open inward, it’s impossible to open either door. Grix inspects the taut rope, strumming it with a grin, “You never cease to surprise me, Ragnar. One moment you seem a babbling idiot and the next you actually have a clever idea.” Ragnar shrugs at the backhanded complement, “If you put on intelligent airs people expect bright ideas all the time and get disappointed if you screw up. If you look like an idiot, nobody expects much and they’re always happy when you do something smart.” Thade chuckles, “Alright, this leaves us with the door ahead.” “I should check for traps.” Grix says, reaching into his pack for his tools. “No worries.” Paul says confidently, “My zombie can find and effectively disarm any trap capable of being triggered by a hapless humanoid.” “How?” Grix demands indignantly, “By setting them off?” “Nnnnrrrggghhh.” The zombie groans. Paul pats it on the shoulder, “That’s the gist of it, yes. But what it lacks in style it makes up for in speed and efficiency.” “That’s stupid.” Grix mutters, “If that thing triggers something it could hurt someone nearby.” “So we stay clear and let it lead the way. Look, do you people want this job done well or do you want it done fast?” Paul asks the group at large. "Fast." "Fast." "Fast." "Fast." "Fast." "Rrrnnnggg..." "Idiots." "What was that, Grix?" Paul asks, grinning. “I said you’re idiots.” He grumbles, “Fine, see if I scrape the bits of you off the walls when that thing explodes.” Paul just chuckles and sends the zombie to open the door. “Nnnnrrrrggghhh!” he groans as the door fails to open at first. But keeping with its orders it hammers the wooden planks to splinters with its fists. A needle shoots ut of the lock as the door is forced inward, but the poisoned barb sinks harmlessly into the necrotic flesh of the zombie as the door is shoved inwards. “Well…it was fast…” Thade says to Grix. The kobold rolls his eyes, “It’s a good thing we secured the doors to the guardrooms, that probably woke them all up.” “Nothing we can’t handle.” Ragnar says, poking his head in the newly opened doorway, “Stairs go up…” he moves in and opens another door, “Just a closet here for cleaning stuff. We gotta’ be careful, there’s bound to be other guards and probably a few domestics.” Thade nods, “Send the zombie up first, let him go ten or fifteen feet ahead, then we form up like we discussed.” Paul nods and sent the zombie grunting up the stairs then forms in behind the others. Gliff takes the lead, ready to charge ahead if they encounter anything. Ragnar and Thade take the head of the main party with Usk and Jaicen covering the rear. The others stay near the middle. The zombie triggers a vicious scything blade trap about halfway up, but Paul had already installed a ‘recall device’ in the form of a rope tied around the zombie’s ankle. In the event of a trap being triggered, he simply tugs the rope and sends the zombie thumping down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the blades. “Are you sure that’s entirely right?” Gliff asks, a little uneasy about the callous treatment of what was once a person. “Well, there’s two ways to look at it,” Grix explains as Paul picks the zombie up and sets a couple broken bones. “The first way is that without a soul occupying it, the body is lifeless and inert and thus it is little more than a tool in a mildly offensive shape.” “What’s the other way?” the gnome asks. “Well, if he hadn’t pulled the rope, the thing would have been cut in half. So, in effect, we just saved it further harm.” Gliff rides back grumbling, “I don’t really care for either of those, but I guess there’s not much to do for it right now.” Grix shrugs, “Personally, I’m waiting for it to get caught in the blast of something nasty.” Gliff grins, “That’s something to look forward to, I guess.” “Indeed.” The kobold chuckles as the little paladin moves ahead again. The zombie is set ahead to open the door and neatly jerked back as acid dribbles down from above when the door swings open. Gliff probes the doorway with his lance before riding through and motioning for the others to follow. There are four doors on this floor. “Which do we pick?” Ragnar asks. Thade shrugs, “Start on the left, end on the right.” Ragnar shrugs, “Works for me. Figure this is probably where the domestics live so we don’t have to worry too much about traps.” He says as he opens the door on the far left. “Woah…pardon me miss…” he says, quickly closing it behind him. “This one’s occupied…double occupied, actually.” Thade sighs, “I guess we’ll have to tie them both up.” “Well, we’ll only have to tie up one…the other’s already…uh…restrained.” He explains, blushing a bit “Oh my!” Thera says with a giggle, “Let me handle this, Ragnar, you’re too shy.” She smiles and slips into the room. There’s brief sounds of a scuffle then Thera comes out, giggling. “I might have to try that sometime, she looked like she was having fun…” “She liked being tied up?” Thade asks, sounding a tad surprised. “Who said she was the one who was tied up?” Thera asks, shooting the blushing giant a salacious wink. Gliff clears his throat, “Does anyone mind if we finish this with our souls in tact? Someone open the next door.” Thade chuckles and opens it, “Empty.” He says, closing it again. “Probably belongs to one of our lovebirds.” Jaicen checks out the other two, one is empty the other is occupied by a sleeping butler. The dwarf trusses the old fellow up and closes the door. “So who do we ask about the boss?” “Well, the butler probably knows best so…wait.” He says, dropping into a whisper. The door to the stairs creaks open and a jittery looking young woman slips inside. Upon seeing the armed company awaiting her she lets out a sharp squeal of shock then faints dead away. Jaicen sighs and shakes his head, “Nervous young thing, ain’t she?” he ties her up then shakes her awake. “Come on, lass, wake up.” Slowly the maid floats back to consciousness. “W…who are you?” she demands in a shocked whisper. “Well, at least she’s not screaming or fainting again.” The dwarf says with a shrug. Thera laughs, “Let me handle this,” she says, walking over to the girl and crouching down so she’s eye to eye, “We’re not here to hurt you or any of your friends…” she follows the nervous maid’s eyes over to the zombie soldier currently adjusting its neck again. “Well…at least not as many as we can avoid.” Thera adds. “W…what do you want?” she whimpers, still staring at the zombie. Thera wisely positions herself between her and the moldering trapfinder. “We want to know where your master is, where are the wizard’s quarters.” “I…in the basement.” She peeps. “Basement?!” Ragnar demands, “What the hell kind of wizard lives under his tower?” The girl manages a weak smile, “That’s why he lives there…” “But we didn’t see any stairs to any basement.” Thade says in a calmer tone of voice than his companion. “They’re hidden in the broom closet,” the maid says, keeping an eye on the fuming Ragnar, “What’s the point of a secret bedroom if you leave the entrance in the open?” Ragnar grumbles, “Bloody wizards. So we go back down?” “No…” the girl says, finally starting to relax a little, “He’s upstairs in his study. He wants to go to the roof to watch a meteor shower or something tonight, but he was still reading when I brought him his tea.” “Oh…well, that’s more traditional I guess…” Ragnar mutters, calming down. “Why did you look so nervous when you came in?” Thera asks, a bit worried about the girl and her twitchy behavior. “Are you kidding?” The maid asks, “You try to work in a place where you have to memorize what steps trigger blades or acid pr electricity and just how to open a door latch to avoid having your flesh burnt off. See how calm you are coming off a shift.” “Good point. That doesn’t sound like a safe workplace at all…I can’t imagine working for someone who puts his people through such hell.” She smiles mischievously, “Wanna’ help us kill him?” she asks brightly. “Sure!” the maid says, perking up, “How?” “Lead us past the traps and up to your boss?” Thera asks, already untying her. “I’ll only take you as far as the door to his study.” She says, rubbing her wrists, “I don’t want to be anywhere around when you bust in on him…in fact, if you could give me a nice head start before you go in that’d be great.” “That sounds fair.” Thade says, offering a huge hand to help the girl up. The girl’s demeanor has shifted greatly. A moment ago she was jittery and mousy, but now she practically skips as she leads the team up the stairs, cautioning them here and there about what trap which stair sets off. “What’s on this floor?” Thade asks as the girl is about to pass an ironclad door with a heavy bar across it. “Oh, that’s the harem.” She says dismissively. “One would think that’s the kind of thing you’d want closer to the master bedroom.” Jaicen says, eyeing the heavy door. “Not really.” The maid explains, “The master is quite possessive of his things…the more traps between them and the exit the less tempted one of the slaves is to try an escape, or for someone to mount a rescue.” “That’s disgusting!” Gliff says, clearly outraged, “We must free those poor women!” The maid shrugs, “There’s nobody in there. There’s only one girl left since…the incident…and she stays with the master pretty much all the time.” “What incident?” Gliff demands, growling with rage at the monster responsible for this. “Well…it turns out the eunuch sort of lied a bit on his application when it came to certain areas considered vital in the eunuch industry…when the master found out what was going on here he sort of…downsized the harem and…well, let’s say he made an honest man out of the eunuch before dealing with him too.” Thade, Jaicen and Ragnar all wince sympathetically. Thera stifles a giggle at the fate of the once and future eunuch, though she was saddened and angered by the fates of the girls, “He killed them all?” she asks, beginning to work up her own indignation. “All except the one girl who didn’t participate.” The maid says, still blasé about the whole thing, “She’s the one that told him what was going on so he kept her. Though he keeps her on a short leash these days…figuratively and, sometimes, literally.” “Disgusting!” Thera and Gliff say simultaneously. The maid shrugs, “None of my business.” She says, “Anyway, the study’s just the next floor, there’s one tarp on the tenth stair up, and there’s one on the door if you’re uninvited, it’ll go off but I don’t know what it does. Good luck.” “Thanks, we’ll need it.” Thade says with a sigh, “Alright, shall we send the zombie up to knock on the door?” “May as well.” Grix grumbles, “Let’s just get this over with.” Paul shrugs and sends the zombie ahead with a dismissive wave. When it reaches the top of the stairs, the creature opens the door and a fiery explosion issues fourth. Bits of splintered wood and zombie fly down the stairs. The men cover themselves and the others with their shields as the shrapnel whips past. “Think the zombie survived that one?” Ragnar asks, just before a familiar looking head flies past and smashes against the wall. “I think that signifies a no.” Grix says smugly. “Well, he knows we’re here, so let’s not disappoint.” Gliff says, thumping Max’s flanks with his heels and racing up the stairs with the others close behind him. The stairs open put into a spacious study lined with books and devices. A ladder leads to the guard post and telescope on the roof. Sitting at one end of the room, in an overstuffed leather chair is a stately looking older man with short, graying hair and a well-manicured goatee. He’s calmly sipping a cup of tea while a beautiful honey-blonde human girl kneels at his feet and looks up at him questioningly as the party barges in. She’s wearing a white robe and a vacant look and little else. “Nothing to concern yourself with, dear.” He says to the girl, patting her head. The girl smiles happily but says nothing. The old man sets down his tea and his book and looks up at the group of stunned adventurers, “So…who will be the first to die?” he asks smugly. “Yeah…well we took a poll and decided it would be you.” Thade says, drawing his massive sword. The old man laughs, “Clever…but stupid. How do you manage to do both at once?” he asks, muttering an incantation that freezes the hulking knight in his tracks. “Don’t ask me,” Grix says, weaving a spell of his own, “I’ve been with them for weeks and I still don’t know how they do it.” He quips, hurling a hand full of glowing green orbs at the wizard. The wizard scoffs and brushes them aside with contempt. “Not so fast there, little missy.” He says, shooting a bolt of electricity at Thera, who was trying to ready her crossbow without drawing attention. The bolt shoots through her and Gliff both, hitting the gnome’s mount as well. Thera cries out in pain and collapses to the floor, chest heaving. Gliff makes no outcry, he simply tumbles from his yelping mount and lies twitching on the carpet. Ragnar lets out a roar of rage when Thera hits the ground and charges at the wizard, but he’s stopped in his tracks as the old man holds one hand over the kneeling slave’s head. The girl’s hair begins to rise up as the old man’s hand charges with electricity, “I can tell you don’t like seeing women injured…one more step and there won’t me much salvaging this one.” Ragnar stops halfway to him, snarling like an animal but still in control enough to keep his distance. “Insolent fools. You cannot defeat me so long as you cling to such petty ideals a—“ the wizard is cut off in mid-rant by a sharp crack and collapses backwards as the better part of his head explodes into a fine red mist. Jaicen shrugs and racks the lever on his rifle, “I was never much of one for petty ideals…or long-winded speeches.” He spits nonchalantly and scratches his beard. Shaken from his rage, Ragnar rushes over to Thera, tears flowing down his ruddy face. Grix gapes at the twitching gnome on the floor, “Don’t just stand there line an idiot!” he says, shoving Paul towards their fallen comrades, “Fix them!” Paul nods and begins tending to the wounded as Thade, the spell broken, hovers anxiously over them. In the corner, the slave weeps over the body of her master.
Mr. VanderMeer 02-17-04, 02:42 PM	Still great!!! One tip though, it's actually 'deja vu' (deja meaning before, and vu meaning seen. So it's 'seen before' in a literal translation.)
Galahad_Knight 02-17-04, 09:27 PM	Really? My spellchecker didn;t have it so I did a google search for the way I thought it was spelled and it told me "Did you mean..." and spelled it the way I put it down. But then again, voux is probably another french word... I'll go back and change that, thanks. Glad you.re still digging it by the way
The Stray 02-18-04, 12:59 AM	Oh, we're all still digging it...:D
CursedMoredhel 02-18-04, 09:13 AM	yes i'mm still digging it...*dig* *dig* *dig* *dig* i'm on to my 4th hole... filling them with the corpses in your stories so far... keep it up oh and do u have a file with all the chapters in it so i dont have to go pick them out page by page if so pm me thank u for ur time and ur writing abilities can't wait for the next installment
Trebuchet 02-19-04, 01:20 PM	Ooo i cant wait for more
WarDragon 02-19-04, 02:36 PM	Originally posted by Trebuchet Ooo i cant wait for more I second that!
eudas 02-19-04, 03:21 PM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight Really? My spellchecker didn;t have it so I did a google search for the way I thought it was spelled and it told me "Did you mean..." and spelled it the way I put it down. But then again, voux is probably another french word... I'll go back and change that, thanks. Glad you.re still digging it by the way 'voux' does not appear to be a (current) word in french; it may have been a form of a word in the past (would require some delving into etymology of various words), such as possibly 'vous'; see this web site for definitions of french words (and nice cross-referencing of similar words): http://www.french-linguistics.co.uk/dictionary/ you can also use the babelfish translator: http://world.altavista.com/ (si tu ne l'as pas deja vu..) cheers, eudas
Nahar 02-20-04, 12:46 AM	This is freaking excellent. Please consider taking up writing professionally, I'll buy it, I'll tell my friends to buy it, I'll buy it for my father for Christmas.....actually maybe not. :rolleyes: First class stuff, I can't offer any critiscisms whatever. If all fantasy was this good I wouldn't ignore the genre like I do currently. You have another fan.
drelidan7 02-20-04, 07:19 PM	I think by the time you end this story, you'll have quite a large fan base. And yes, you really should consider writing profesionally if the oppurtunity presents itself to you. You're quite talented. :D
Dougan Axehammer 02-22-04, 02:36 PM	Heck, with the way this story is flowing, I'd go one step farther. Instead of just a professional writer, be a scriptwriter. (Lord knows we could use an improvement from that movie we won't mention because it was so horrible.) p.s. for those who don't know the movie I speak of, it happens to have the same title as the game we play, though not at all the same feel.
Galahad_Knight 02-22-04, 04:31 PM	:blush: Wow, thanks guys. You're too kind. Special thanks to Nahr for his inspiring feedback...It's always great to have another fan, especially one who thinks so highly of me. :blush: Thanks again, guys. Expect a new chapter in a couple days. I've still got to write up an adcenture for my Wedensday night game so it might be a little delayed, sorry. On a personal note, I got a job! I'll be working weekends now, but I'll try not to let that cut into my writing time.
Nahar 02-23-04, 05:15 AM	Whenever it comes we'll be happy. And, BTW, that's 'she' :rofl:
Galahad_Knight 02-23-04, 05:46 AM	Sorry :blush:, it's hard to tell online. Humm...I have a female fan...who lives in my state.... Tell me you're single and have a thing for large, hairy men? :D
Nahar 02-23-04, 06:15 AM	:blush: Oops. Should have realised 'WA' would be a valid state in the US too. It's WA, Australia, and I'm sorry to say it but I'm spoken for ATM. But to really freak you out, I had an ex that looks so much like you it isn't funny!
Galahad_Knight 02-23-04, 07:19 AM	Curses, foiled again! Ah well... For our foreign allies, WA is short for Washington here in the US, home of WoTC. What's it short for in Australia? PS, if anyone out there happens to live in my state for real, let me know, it's always cool to meet people in the flesh.
Nahar 02-23-04, 07:44 AM	Western Australia (how origional). Basically the left half of the map.
CursedMoredhel 02-23-04, 08:43 AM	yeah we are so creative with our state names let see Queensland(obviously a suck up) New south wales(another suck up) Victoria(another suck up) Tasmania(hmm not sure bout that one but its got inbreeds) South australia(running out of suck ups) Western Australia(quick we need another suck up) Northern territory( a slight change but still a destinct lack of suck ups) Finally Canberra(just some hole in New South Wales which can't admit its in New South Wales) i aint saying our country aint good i love it but honestly u think we could be a little more creative with our names
Goblinslust 02-23-04, 04:58 PM	please continue soon you just entertained me for five hours RESPECT
Nahar 02-24-04, 05:01 AM	Ah, we're all the descendants of peasants and criminals, how imaginative can you expect us to be? :rofl:
CursedMoredhel 02-28-04, 11:18 PM	well i'm a half breed in respect to desendance my fathers side was the typical bread thief that got shipped over here coz england couldn't be bothered building another jail... well i dun know if my ancestors stole bread or killed people but woteva it was they were crims but my mum was born in scotland so hence i should have some form of creativity... maybe i could sever ol' johny howards eyebrows and use em to make me own state... it'll be bigger than tasmania at least... anyways when is the next installment due i'm getting all anxious... ?
Galahad_Knight 02-29-04, 01:45 AM	Sorry guys, Just getting in gear for the job and all, it's sapping my energy. I think when I had to cut my hair I had kind of a Samson reaction ;) I'll try to get the next chapter out after my first day of work tomorow...
Galahad_Knight 03-01-04, 08:33 AM	As promised... The Gathering Storm Chapter 15: Life Lessons Log Entry: 3,596 The days following the raid on the tower have been hectic, but interesting. Gliff, Thera and Max have been in hospice since the incident at the tower. Paul was able to stabilize them and heal the majority of their wounds, but they still required some bedrest. Interestingly enough, Ragnar has been at Thera’s bedside almost constantly since she was admitted. Perhaps seeing her nearly die shook him out of holding a grudge about the way she treated him. Not that I really care about their little drama, but it was tedious watching him mope and scowl while she pouted and fawned. Hopefully they’ll just start over and be out of my proverbial hair. Speaking of hair, I think Thade is about to pull his out. Apparently his new recruits aren’t exactly what he was hoping for. I don’t know the details, but he seems frustrated. I bet if Paul pushed it he might just take him up on his offer of catering our next battle, with zombies. Jaicen’s been keeping himself busy lately. Seems that slave girl we rescued (her name is Elsha, by the way) is having trouble accepting that her master was an evil bastard richly deserving of death…she’s also having trouble accepting the concept of freedom. To keep her from moaning about her late master, Jaicen seems to have, I guess you’d say he looted her. Since she refuses to be free, he seems to have assumed de facto ownership of the girl and has been having her serve him pretty much since we got back to town. Thera, Gliff and Thade all find it absolutely repugnant and have told him and the girl both their opinions on the situation but none of them are really in a position to do anything about it. Ragnar’s too distracted to notice it seems. Oddly enough, Paul seems to be just as mortified as dear, conservative, Gliff. Paul sells human bodies to essentially act as slaves or worse, performing jobs that even domestic animals wouldn’t be subject to, with a complete clinical detachment…but the moment a live human being enters into the equation the whole attitude changes. He has a profound respect for life that belies his profession. For my part, I really don’t care. She seems to be relatively happy fetching beer and rubbing his feet and she’s free to stop whenever he wants. It really doesn’t concern me in the slightest. Though it does seem odd that he would decide to take advantage of the woman, considering what I know about him personally. But again, it is no concern of mine. What is my concern is yet another chapter of the Lexicona. My search is bearing fruit. It won’t be long until I have the tome assembled, then what wonders will I make! There is some valuable information in this section. I’m confident that I’ll be able to begin building relatively small constructs soon. Combined with the knowledge and ideas I’ve gained from Jaicen and Paul, I think I’ll be more than able to assist Thade when the time comes. Grix puts aside his journal and goes back to his studies. Meanwhile downstairs Thade is sitting in the taproom, drinking joylessly with Ragnar. “She kicked you out?” The giant man asks the stocky northerner. “Yeah…apparently I’ve been hovering.” Ragnar says, gulping from his tankard. “On the up-side, she almost got out of bed to do it, so she should be fine any time now.” “That’s got to be a relief.” Thade says, toying with the piece of paper in front of him. “Oh yeah. In no time she’ll be back up and exploiting me like the good old days.” He grunts. “You’re not still mad at her, are you?” “No, I guess not. Seeing her like that really opened my eyes. I mean, yeah, she’s been playing games with me all these years, but I’ve been ignoring her all this time too. For someone like Thera, being ignored is worse than just about anything. And I do care about her…We’ll figure it out.” He shrugs. “So what’s got you messed up? You’re getting that army you always wanted…or at least a start on it.” “This bunch?” Thade scoffs, “You know how comically easy it was to outsmart those easily-brainwashed tower guards who didn’t have the wherewithal to resist the obviously evil wizard, and didn’t have the wits to avoid being trapped by a single length of rope and then those that weren’t trapped utterly failed to detect a troupe of armed men creeping up the only staircase?” “Yeah…was that all one sentence?” “That’s the core of our little ‘army’…a bunch of weak-willed idiots. The only one of them that was only remotely good at his job only became useful after he was dead. And it was two sentences.” Thade grumbles, then adds “The first bit was a rhetorical question, after that it was all one sentence.” “Well, besides then we managed to pick up a couple local rowdies…one of whom is bringing his wife…” He looks at the list again, “Oh, and one of the domestics from the tower…” “Who?” Ragnar asks, curious, “That chambermaid we met on the second floor who led us upstairs?” “No, but we did meet this person on the second floor. But think more masculine…” Ragnar winces, “You mean that guy who likes to be…” Thade chuckles, “More masculine than that…” Ragnar’s eyes widen with realization, “You mean…the woman who likes to…” “The very same.” He says, shaking his head. “But at least she’s not afraid of violence and knows how to use at lest one weapon.” Ragnar nearly chokes on his beer, “Well…” he coughs, “At least there’s that…” “And we did do a good thing.” Thade says, finishing off his beer, “That wizard really did deserve to die. And we freed about a half dozen towns from his oppression. If the people had anything to celebrate with there’d probably be a parade.” Ragnar, grunts, “Celebrating the end of cruel order and the beginning of cruel chaos.” “What do you mean by that?” Thade asks, sounding a little upset. “I mean for the past couple decades they’ve had leadership…it was abusive, oppressive, ruthless leadership, but it was structure. Once the euphoria wears off they’re going to realize they don’t have any leaders anymore. Anyone who stood up got hammered down. And unless you want to be the magistrate of a small farming municipality in the middle of nowhere, I suggest we leave as soon as the recruits can get packing.” “That seems awfully cold-hearted and depressing.” Thade says, crestfallen. “Got to look at the big picture.” Ragnar says, shrugging, “They’re going to be starved for leadership and you’re the hero. And while I can think of worse things to do with your time, managing a pig farm isn’t what I think you want to do for the rest of your life. Better to let them figure things out for themselves anyway. Builds character.” “I suppose so…” Thade says reluctantly, “It des make me feel a bit guilty running off with these people while they’re still feeling happy. It feels like taking—“ “Advantage of the situation!” Paul says in another room at the same inn. The necromancer is incensed and directing that wrath at an unapologetic looking dwarf lounging in a chair. “What I’m doing is good for her, it builds character.” Jaicen says, taking a gulp. “She needs boundaries and rules. You can’t just shove her headlong into life and expect her to survive. She was practically in shock when we drug her out of that room. She’s not happy unless she’s serving so why make her unhappy?” he belches, dislodging food particles from his beard, sending them cascading onto his tunic. “I’ll have to have the girl clean that up…” he mumbles to himself, eyeing the new stains. Paul glares, “So help me, if you take advantage of her in any sexual manner, you’re going to a very special level of the hells…I’m a priest, I know these things. And I’ll let Gliff send you there. Who knows, it could be a bonding thing for us.” He scratches his chin with the skull on the end of his stick, “On second thought, I’m a priest to a deity of death and undeath…I’ll make it so you never even get to the afterlife. I can do very nasty things with someone’s soul if I broke a few of my vows.” Jaicen snorts, “Relax, she’s not my type: too thin and not nearly enough hair. If you’re done condemning me you can send the girl in.” Paul glares menacingly at him, “We’re not finished with this.” He says, pointing his skull-topped walking stick at him.” Jaicen grins, “You know, I’m actually looking forward to hearing back from you on this.” Paul storms out in a huff. Elsha is waiting outside the room, “Is something wrong, Master?” the blonde girl asks. Her youthful looks have taken on a tired, faded tone in the last couple days. The grieving for her dead master ravaged her face and the rigorous work schedule that Jaicen has put her to hasn’t helped any. “A great many things, and I am not your master.” Paul says, taking her gently by the arm, “As a matter of fact, neither is that disgusting dwarf in there. Come with me my dear…we’re going to do something useful. We’re going to talk some sense into you.” “As you wish…” she says as he leads her off to the nearby hospice where Gliff and Thera are. Jaicen sighs, “This is going to take a lot of work…” The next few days go by quickly. Thade spends most his time mustering the troops, making sure they’re all armed and armored and moderately well trained. Ragnar has been banished form the hospice after Paul took it over so he’s been lending a hand with Thade. But the two of them put together aren’t worth one half of Jaicen, it would seem. With his new toy confiscated by Paul, the Dwarf has come down to help with the war effort. It seems the grizzled dwarf is a natural drill sergeant, and being that he’s the only one with any experience in a formal military, he is deferred to as the expert on units and morales and other things that Thade had only read about. “I should be mad at him for that business with that girl…and I am…” Thade says quietly to Ragnar as they watch the dwarf storming his way up and down the ranks, haranguing the troops into some semblance of order, “But We need the help right noe, you know?” Ragnar grunts, “Tell me about it. The other day I shouted for them to fall in and one of them actually said ‘Into what, sir?’ can you believe it?” “You know…” Thade says, “That one has always kind of puzzled me…that and ‘stand down’ You can sit up and sit down, but I’m fairly sure standing only works in one direction.” Ragnar shrugs, “Back in my village the garrison didn’t bother with the formalities. Basic training was you, a chain shirt, a long spear and the nearest ogre.” “Frankly, that’s starting to sound like a good idea…” Meanwhile, back at the hospice, Paul, Gliff and Thera are finishing their own drill and Elsha’s the subject of their inspection. “What are you?” Gliff asks, straddling a chair. My now his wounds have fully healed. “I am a free woman.” Esha says, still sounding a bit unsure. “Exactly.” Thera says, “And whom do you serve?” she asks, pacing the floor. “M…myself?” the girl asks timidly “Indeed!” Paul confirms, “And what do you do when someone tells you to do something you don’t want to do?” “I…t…tell them no.” she says, sounding a bit more confident. “And you don’t like doing those things for Jaicen, do you?” Gliff asks. “Or those awful things that the wizard made you do?” Thera adds Elsha shudders, “N…no, I didn’t like that…” “So what are you going to do if he asks you to do something again?” Paul asks, leanng on his stick. “I…I tell him no.” They all nod, “I think we’ve got it.” Gliff says confidently. A few minutes later, Jaicen pounds on the door. “Alright you three, I think I’ve suffered about enough of your meddling. You’ve got something of mien and I want it back.” He bellows. Gliff growls, knuckles turning white on the chair back. Thera puts a gentle, restraining hand on his shoulder. Paul opens the door, “Alright…I think we’re done here anyway.” He says, deceptively calm. “Good.” Jaicen says, “You.” He says, pointing to Elsha, making her flinch back, “Come here.” Elsha looks back at the others, seeking guidance. As a man they all shake their heads no. But, trembling, the girl moves towards the dwarf anyway. “Good girl,” Jaicen says, patting her on the head. This time Thera begins to growl, but he pays her no heed. “Now I think you owe me an apology for all this foolishness.” He says firmly. Elsha sniffles, “I…I’m sorry Master.” “Damned right you are.” Jaicen says, “I think it’s about time I really initiated you into service. Get back to my quarters and when I get there I expect you to be waiting in my bed.” The room goes deathly silent as the trio of would-be liberators glare hatefully at the dwarf. Elsha’s eyes go wide and she gasps. “N…no, please don’t make me?” By this time Thade and Ragnar have come up behind him. This has gone entirely too far and they were ready in case something needed to be done. “What was that?” Jaicen growls. “I gave you an order!” he barks The girl flinches only for an instant then stands her ground, eyes suddenly taking on a hard edge, “I…I said NO!” she shouts her defiance in the dwarf’s face. Jaicen grins slowly then laughs, “It’s about damned time!” The quiet is deafening as everyone is stunned into silence. “What?!” Gliff demands, rising up, shaking with rage “Oh come now!” Jaicen says, sounding hurt, “You lot didn’t honestly think I would so something *that* horrible, do you?” “You *are* a horrible sort of person, though…” Thera says, still coming to grips with what just happened. “Well, that much is true, but I do have my limits.” Jaicen says, still grinning. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Paul asks, shocked as the others. “Because if I did then either everyone would be getting in on the act trying to make her sick of serving, or you would have tried what you’re dong now but not as quickly or as well since you’d know she’s not in any danger. It needed to be real or it wouldn’t have worked” The dwarf’s grin is nearly splitting his face now, “Besides…If I told you I wouldn’t get to see the looks on your faces right now…” “You mean…” Elsha says, speaking for the first time since her defiance, “you…were never going to do those awful things you said you’d do?” “Of course not!” Jaicen says, chuckling. She smacks him across the face as hard as she can “Well, I wasn’t expecting *that*!” Jaicen says, rubbing his cheek. “You bastard! I thought…I thought…you bastard!” she slaps him again. “Hey now!” Jaicen says, holding his other cheek now, “My virtue has its limits too, you know. Two slaps are all you get before I start hitting back.” “Not if we have anything to say about it.” Ragnar says, “I think we all owe you a couple of blows for putting us through that.” And with that, a peal of laughter rises up from the assembled group. Smoke seems to fill the room as the image fades in the crystal orb. A hideous, clawed white hand waves in front of the crystal and the image dissolves completely, only the reflection of a pair of balefully glowing blue eyes shows on the polished surface. “How very touching…” a deep, gravelly voice intones without a trace of any emotion other than malice. “But nonsense like that won’t help them now. He may have been an overconfident jackass, but Xylor was important to my plans.” The ominous presence growls, “They will have to be dealt with…appropriately…” the darkness echoes with demonic laughter
CursedMoredhel 03-01-04, 08:59 AM	i'm even more impressed with this installment than i was with most of the others put together and i've loved them all, apart from ur slight gramma errors this story is becoming more an more true to itself, if u know wot i mean by that... anyway good work the story is getting better an better and so is your ability to write... can't wait for the next installment finally the big bad orge/dragon is coming into play...
Vintrastorm 03-01-04, 09:25 AM	ånga tack. Inget som jag inte sagt förut dock.
WarDragon 03-01-04, 02:54 PM	Excellent work, as always. I sort of halfway suspected what Jaicen was doing, but it was still a shock right before it came out; but his "it's about damned time!" Was probably my favorite line in the entire story up to that point... Only to be swiftly deposed by Winterwound's proclamation. That Dragon/Troll is seriously scary. Can't wait to see more of him. :devil:
Vintrastorm 03-02-04, 04:35 AM	Hey,. I just realized... Jori is yet to make an appearance.
Galahad_Knight 03-02-04, 05:35 AM	Glad you guys enjoyed it. I had my reservations about it...It seems like the chapters I am the most worried about are the ones that you guys like the best. I threw this one together extremely late at night after being tired form work and generrally feeling uncreative. I'm so thrilled it didn't suck! ;-) As to Winterwound (Our scaily supervillian), he'll probably be making Dr. Claw style cameos until well after Thade gets home with his armo. They won't see him in person until the final conflict. In the meantime, in true supervillian fashion, he will send minions to deal with them, each more powerful than the last. I want to describe him fully though, and I want to use him. I really do...but I think it'll be much better if we wait til the moment of climax Vintrastorm, you know...I never really thought about bringing Jori in. We already have a paladin and a knight, there's not a lot of room for another armored, mounted valiant foe of evil. Frankly, the party's already more than a bit crowded. I don't think I'll even make Elsha a full-time character. Plus, he's already had his story told in play...These are all characters that I made and never had a real chance to play. But I might throw him in as a cameo if I can think of a way to do it. Also, could you translate your other post for me? ånga tack. Inget som jag inte sagt förut dock.
eudas 03-02-04, 10:48 AM	"Hug again"? hee hee. "The only one of them that was only remotely good at his job only because useful after he was dead." Consider revising; this sentence does not make sense if you read it carefully. eudas
Vintrastorm 03-02-04, 11:06 AM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight <I>snip</I> Vintrastorm, you know...I never really thought about bringing Jori in. We already have a paladin and a knight, there's not a lot of room for another armored, mounted valiant foe of evil. <I>snip</I> But I might throw him in as a cameo if I can think of a way to do it. Well, I thought as much. About that other post... It wasn't meant to be posted in swedish. I don't even know why I wrote it in swedish. It's not even complete. I must have accidently deleted some of it. Well, I'll translate/repost it(loosely from memory) ; I'm looking forward to reading it, and I'm saving myself so that I can read alot at the same time. It's, as always, a great fun to read your posts. Very well written. I give you m(here starts the swedish part, right in the middle of a word. Just like this little interlude here.)any thanks. It's nothing I haven't said before, though.
Trebuchet 03-02-04, 03:31 PM	Great chapter cant wait for the next one
Galahad_Knight 03-02-04, 11:50 PM	Thanks guys. And thanks for pointing out those slips, late night writing has its problems. Should be "But again" and "Became" instead of "Because" (that one I blame on my word processor auto-correcting me)
The Stray 03-03-04, 03:37 PM	Hail! Hail! Love the story...all of these interesting characters! I love Paul...he has a great respect for life, but when someone's dead, then, well...they're meat. Good stuff! One suggestion about using WinterWound... If you want to show him and give us a real hatred for him, write a sequence where he's involved in something, something that will eventually affect the characters but won't lead to a confrontation right away. Flex him like you would your favorite muscles to keep them in shape. Give us a real reason to hate him.
drelidan7 03-09-04, 10:06 PM	Can't wait for the new chapter... oh... and... :bump:
Galahad_Knight 03-12-04, 04:23 AM	I'm REALLY sorry guys. Work has been hell. I'm going from closing shifts to opening shifts and vice versa. When I DO get a day off, I have an opening shift the next day so I can;t stay up and write <sighs> I'll try to squeeze something off in the next couple days. I have plenty of ideas, just no time or energy to articulate them
CursedMoredhel 03-12-04, 05:20 AM	its all good, just slap your boss for me
Akbar 03-12-04, 07:59 AM	No problem. We are all enjoying the great writing. Its easy to get impatient, but good writing is worth the wait and you are doing a great job. Love the characters and story so far. Akbar :)
Galahad_Knight 03-16-04, 03:10 AM	I;ve been working nothing but early shifts this week, and lots of them. Which emans I don;t have the tme to stay up and write <sighds> Well, Thursday is my day off, so I'm going to try to sit down Wedensday night and get something written. I'm really sorry abot this, guys. It's the height of lawn and garden season so I'm working like a dog
Galahad_Knight 03-21-04, 12:29 AM	Sorry guys. Work sucks. I hate my job, 39 hours a week sucks ass for a part time position and they tell me to suck it up because after the peak season I'm getting my hours cut to the bare minimum b3ecause thye don't care about me. Anyhow, I'm having trouble finding time and energy to wrrite. I'm going to try to write a little each night. I'm just so tired and sore...
CursedMoredhel 03-21-04, 02:07 AM	s'all good but i repeat my previous request, slap your boss for me anyways d/w bout it we can all wait
Nahar 03-21-04, 06:06 AM	sleep and plan revenge. I for one will be happy to wait until you have the time to do your stuff properly :). When you're that tired caffine just gives you nightmares.
drelidan7 03-21-04, 04:16 PM	That sucks dude. Hope your boss lets up on you a bit, but getting cut back to the bare minimum won't be that great either, other than the free time. >_< Hope your feeling better... Oh, and give your boss a piece of your mind for me... :rant:
Mr. VanderMeer 03-22-04, 09:20 AM	Hey Galahad, take it easy. We're all happy to wait a little longer for your great stories.
Galahad_Knight 03-26-04, 08:49 AM	Apologies again, for the gross delay in getting this chapter done. I'm still adjustng to my new lifestyle. This chapter is a bit different than the morm as it has no direct interaction with the usual characters and little humor. It's mainly meant as a pickup point for the various villians and subplots to catch up woith the story and set the stage for the next coupel chapters. Hope, as always, that you enjoy it... GK ------------- The Gathering Storm Chapter 16: Whispers In The Dark In the frozen reaches of the North the evil tyrant known as Winterwound sits in his high backed throne. The massive chair is formed from the bleached bones of a huge white dragon, overlaid with a semitransparent sheet of permafrost. The frosted ribcage obscures the occupant from the back and sides. Only a flickering blue glow and a hulking silhouette can be seen from these angles. Unfortunately, the occupant is fully visible to the stout-bodied older woman being drug into the icy throne room in chains by a pair of hulking white-skinned orcs in gleaming blue-white armor. Her struggles and inventive curses stop short when she sees him. “Spirited old cow, isn’t she…” the obscured creature says to one of the orcs. The orc on the right grunts, “She bit me twice and kicked Glaze in the…she kicked Glaze.” The orc on the left winces and nods The enthroned figure laughs, the booming, malevolent sound echoing in the crystalline cavern. “Now, Missus Wulfric, I have only a few questions about your son, Ragnar, and I’ll let you go back to the camp. I believe it’s almost lunchtime and I wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny my miners the pleasure of your delicious mutton casserole.” The refined speech and mild tones belie the monstrous, snarling voice of the creature speaking. The woman has had time to recover from the initial shock by now. She calmly straightens a lock of graying red hair with her shackled hands and smiles sweetly, “Sit on an icicle, ugly.” The sweet, motherly voice belies the unrefined speech and harsh tones of the woman speaking. A mirthless laugh issues from the dragonskull-topped throne. “My, what a delight you are, my dear Missus Wulfric…” the blue light coming from the mysterious figure flares suddenly, “But you will talk…of this, I am certain…” The orcs laugh sadistically as they watch, knowing what will soon unfold. The eerie blue light highlights certain unusual features on their faces, revealing more feral, draconic characteristics. Their vicious sneers reveal hideous fangs and thick, scaly brow ridges. “Gladly.” she says, crossing her arms, “Provided I can keep thinking of things to tell you to sit on.” He laughs, the chilling sounds echoing off the walls of the frozen citadel until they are drowned out by the screaming. --===============]xxxxo oxxxx[===============-- Meanwhile, many miles away a beautiful but aging elven noble sits in her luxuriously appointed study and thumbs through a sheaf of papers, mostly reports and sketches of a young female half-elf and a dashing highway robber fitting a similar description. “My little girl has been busy, hasn’t she?” she says to herself, “It was one thing when she played at being a criminal mastermind…at least the little twit wore a disguise then. Now she walks around plain as day, using her face, my face in her ridiculous affairs.” She snarls, the act contorting her graceful, high-born features into an animal sneer. “No fear, my lady.” Says a silky-smooth voice from a darkened corner of the room. Out of the shadows slides the lithe form of another elf, tall and rangy with a wiry, well-muscled frame. His elven chain shirt shifts colors as he steps into the light, shifting from shadow-black to dull gray, through to pearly blue-white, like armor carved from interlocking rings of ice. “I have certain…connections. I assure you, this girl can be dealt with if she ceases to amuse you.” “She does, Learthan, she hasn’t been amusing for some time now…” the elf woman sighs heavily, pushing the papers away in disgust. “She is an utter disgrace. I’ve tried sending her away to live in obscurity and my ignorant cow of a sister goes and tells her who she is. Then she sends that infuriating letter when the little brat runs away. Not just to me, but to the lord of the house!” she grows, throwing her crystal goblet in disgust. The thin, white-clad elf catches the delicate vessel in mid-air without deeming even to look. “I know, my lady…the letter was an utter scandal. It is a miracle your ladyship survived the disgrace with her title and standing intact.” He says, calmly refilling the recovered glass from a bottle on the desk. “Which is why I’ve endeavored to keep my findings on her criminal activities, and recent ‘adventuring’, in strictest confidence.” He says, pressing the goblet into her pale, shaking hand. The woman takes a large, noisy drink and sets the glass down on the desk with a relaxed sigh. “I know…I don’t know what I would do without you watching over me.” She says in soft, loving tones as she gazes blearily at the shadowy elf before her, before her face turns hard again “If that girl can keep the thought of her disinheritance in her head for more than a tenday then it’s only a matter of time before she comes to find me. She’s a walking disaster, I tell you. And I won’t have her roaming the earth ruining my name.” She finishes her goblet of wine and pulls her slender legs up into the overstuffed armchair, curling up in the velvet cocoon of her favorite seat, “Get rid of her, Learthan…I don’t want to deal with her anymore. I didn’t want a daughter twenty-four years ago and I want one now even less.” The elven man allows himself a vicious, self-satisfied smirk as he watches his mistress curl up with her bottle, “It will be done, my lady.” He slips the signet ring he recently took from her back onto the desk before leaving. The official seal of house Lustwe now decorates a half-dozen newly forged declarations and one very important trade contract that wold allow his master to move freely through their ancestral lands. His master will be very pleased with him when he hears of this. Being able to dispatch one of his master’s favorite pests is just icing on the cake. --===============]xxxxo oxxxx[===============-- Only a few scant leagues behind our heroes, the familiar party of Stubby Cox sets up camp for the night. The band of scrubby malcontents huddles around a crackling fire and plots their revenge on those that have humiliated them so soundly. “I say we gut the big one and the ugly bearded one and make the sanctimonious little gnome watch.” The ranger says, fingering one of his vicious knives. “And that snotty little kobold would make for a nice pair of boots, I bet.” The half-orc grunts, “An’ then we have a li’l party with that purdy li’l half-elf they got wif ‘em.” He grins maliciously, an expression particularly well-suited for his porcine features. “I want the big one.” Snarls the black-robed priest, absently rubbing the recently healed fingers on his right hand, “I’ve got a lovely little ceremony planned for him and that cut-down paladin on the mangy dog.” “I want the gnome!” the well-dressed elven wizard snaps, “…you can have his body and whatever remains of his soul when I’ve finished.” “Just so long as nobody touches Jaicen but me.” Stubby says grimly, “I want him alive…for a while.” He laughs, the sort of barking mad laugh that causes more reasonably deranged people to take notice and the otherwise sane to pack their bags. The mad cackle is joined by a gravelly, bellowing laugh from just outside the fire’s edge. The others quickly rise to their feet and draw weapons as a hulking figure steps into the light. He is a hobgoblin, somewhat more pale-skinned than the local tribes, and with an odd blue cast to his eyes. He’s wearing scale mail painted white, an unusual color for the savage creatures. “What do you want, ugly?” The ranger asks, holding his knives low and wide, poised in a fighting crouch. “I want to help you, of course.” The hobgoblin says, grinning unwholesomely. “Our enemies are the same, so why not our allies as well?” “Who’d you have In mind?” Stubby asks suspiciously. “Tell me..” the hobgoblin says in conspiratorial tones, “Have you heard of Winterwound?” --===============]xxxxo oxxxx[===============-- Just down the road, in a wayside inn, Usk, Grix’ construct companion takes his usual place in the stables, guarding his master’s wagon and the party’s mounts. It has been too long since he has been of use to his little master and that distresses the mechanical super-kobold. When he is idle, the voice returns…and the voice always says distressing things to Usk. “Why do you sit in the dung guarding carts and mules while your master ignores you for his new friends?” the deep, gravelly voice echoes in the emptiness of his artificial mind. There’s nothing in there to absorb the sound, no moral compass, no drives or desires, just the openness of a magically created consciousness and a few months of memory. “It is not my place.” Usk says, trying to ignore the voice. It was not his master, and only he is allowed to speak to him. Only Grix can give him commands, or at least…inspire them. “Yes it is. He created you to be his friend and protector. Do you remember before he found these creatures? Remember how it was just you and him? How he loved and trusted you?” “Yes…” Usk replies in the hollows of his own mind “Don’t you want that back?” “I have no wants.” He replies, though a hint of uncertainty festers in his mind. He is not an automaton, he is as alive as any other creature and he does have desires. He does want things back the way they were. And, above all, he wants t protect Grix again, to be useful to him. The thought of him spending all his time with his new friends, or in his wagon building new and better creations begins to fill the construct with a mix of fear and jealous anger. “You want to protect him, to be his only friend again.” The voice says, seeming to know his thoughts. “You’ve done things before to protect him without his knowing. You have killed those who have wronged him in the past. You can do it again, you can do ti for him…” “No…to kill his friends would only bring him sadness…” “That’s why you’re here, to ease that sadness, to be his friend when the others have gone…” “No.” Usk says, silencing the voice for now. He said it tonight, but it gets harder every night. Soon, perhaps, he won’t be able to say ‘no’ anymore… --===============]xxxxo oxxxx[===============-- Not too far to the East a pale young man sits uneasily on a gilded throne. He reads nervously through reports as he absently plays with the overlarge circlet that keeps slipping down his sweaty brow. “This isn’t good!” he whines. A hulking figure behind his throne laughs, a deep, rolling, unsettling laugh that rattles primitive sectors of the brain related to fear and ancient predators. “So the bastard has gathered some rabble.” The creature behind the throne growls, “Huntington is made ready for war. Your men are armed thanks to our Master, your walls are made thick thanks to our master, the disloyal in your midst have been eliminated by our master. Let the mutt hurl himself against your walls while you laugh and pour molten lead down on his men.” A pair of huge, white-scaled claws settle on the young man’s scrawny shoulders, making him shudder. “But word of his deeds is already sweeping the countryside like wildfire!” he whimpers, “By the time he arrives he’ll have an army!” “An army of peasants and fools!” the figure bellows. His voice is different from the menace cloaked in ice and bone in the North, but he carries the same growling, guttural tone and the same hulking silhouette. “They are no match for your men. Besides, you have me here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, let alone some mongrel half-breed and his deranged cohorts. I say let them come.” “I…I suppose you’re right…” the scrawny usurper says, relaxing a bit, “How are things going elsewhere, Icebreak?” “It goes very well indeed.” The creature says with a chuckle, “Even now the final stages should be in place to allow our master’s forces to move through the lands of the elves without having to engage in bloody, and attention-getting, war. He is poised to come down from the North like an all-consuming avalanche and destroy anything that tries to stop him, just as we will crush our mutual cousin, the renegade Thadeus.” The young man laughs nervously, “J…just so long a sI get to rule Huntington, he can have the rest…right?” he asks, a bit shaken by the obvious power and cruelty of the creatures he has cast his lot with. “Of course, my lord…of course.” The creature says placating him, patting him on the shoulder with a huge, clawed hand. --===============]xxxxo oxxxx[===============-- Many hundreds of leagues away an ancient dracolich sits on a heap of gold so high that in certain circles, it may even be classified as a topographical terrain feature, the sort of thing that appears on maps represented by many concentric rings and a notation of “Really high” he watches, seemingly bored as a small army of zombies systematically deconstructs another heap of gold, only to reconstruct it ten feet to the left. Perched to the right of his skull, at a small desk carved of marble and bone sits an officious-looking creature clad in dark robes and a pair of well-worn spectacles. “Profits are down a little this quarter, my lord.” The bone-thin creature says in a voice as dry and empty as a tomb. The tightly drawn, deathly pale flesh at its forehead wrinkles as the long-dead accountant rattles some numbers around in his skull, “Our life assurance policies in particular have taken a downturn. The idea of returning from death as a sentient undead seems to have little appeal to all but a few people lacking the money and dedication for lichdom. Marketing suggests we repackage the idea with a more attractive name and target young adventurers and other professionals in high-risk vocations.” The massive death dragon shrugs, the sound of its shoulder blades sliding across its ribs is like the grating stone lid of some massive sarcophagus, sliding closed. “It seems like a good idea. How are our sales figures on the traditional line?” “Doing well, by and large, my lord.” The bursar says, examining some lines on the sheet in front of him, “Paul’s figures are way down this month though, and he was the sales leader in his region for the last four years.” “Really?” the dracolich scratches his jawbone with one huge ivory claw, “I like him. What ha she been doing lately?” The creature at his side shuffles through a stack of papers until he finds what he was looking for, “According to his last report he’s been contracted by a group of adventurers, but they are only interested in his services, not his products. But he says they’re headed for a battle so he remains optimistic that this is leading towards a large, last-minute sale.” “This won’t do at all.” The undead dragon taps one foreclaw idly on the hill of gold, sending a tinkling avalanche down the side, burying two zombies when it reaches bottom. “Send an investigator out to keep track of his situation. If this doesn’t check out, I want him recalled. Otherwise he’ll probably need to help deal with the situation and asure that the final solution is one favorable to Zombicorp.” “Of course, my lord. I’ll put our best man on it. He’s just come back from the North. I believe he has news about the two regional representatives that stopped reporting in. Something about local troubles and prejudices. I guess we’ll have to deal with that too, when the time comes.” “Indeed. We can’t let the locals think they can get away with lynching our representatives. That simply won’t do.” “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of…especially Paul…”
CursedMoredhel 03-27-04, 08:00 AM	i liked it, shows more of whats at stake... hope u adjust to ur lifestyle soon so u can write the story more readily... keep up the excellent work
Mr. VanderMeer 03-29-04, 05:37 AM	Great! All of these threats make me very anxious to read the rest of the tale. :D :D :D
WarDragon 03-30-04, 11:46 PM	Very nice; it seems Winterwound has his claws in just about everything, including our heroes' relatives. The bit about Thera's mother was interesting; she seems like more of a pathetic puppet than an actual threat, though. Speaking of threats, I have a feeling Stubby and Co. are going to become rather more formidable thanks to their new backer. The revelation about Paul's boss was a real suprise; I forsee a bit of competition between him and Winterwound if things continue as they are... In closing, I wish you good luck with the harsh job, and that you keep those creative juices flowing!
Galahad_Knight 04-01-04, 10:38 PM	Expect a new chapter hopefully sometme after the weekend. It's too bad a few whiny bastards got the april fool's prank cancelled. I'd have LOVED to see what my story looked like in T-Talk ;-)
Vintrastorm 04-02-04, 06:50 AM	Yeah, I wonder how they did that Mr. T thingie. Darn whiners...
Staver 04-02-04, 09:02 AM	Originally posted by Vintrastorm Yeah, I wonder how they did that Mr. T thingie. Darn whiners... From what I heard it was some tweak to the obscenity filter for the forum. I thought it was pretty funny myself... Anyhow, Galahad_Knight, you would certainly make my Monday brighter by having a new chapter for me to read... -Staver :D
Galahad_Knight 04-05-04, 12:15 AM	Sorry to disappoint anyone tuning in hoping for a chapter. One of my ferrets just died tonight and suddenly I have no energy to write. I'll try to get something out dring the week. Sorry guys...
KillerOdin 04-05-04, 12:57 PM	My condolences; I sympathize, I recently lost my cat. All I can tell you is that it gets better with time. (Lord that is so cliche).
eudas 04-05-04, 05:22 PM	that's ok; there is a plethora of story threads around, to help assuage the pain of no Galahad_Knight updates, so take your time. =) eudas
WarDragon 04-05-04, 07:23 PM	Sorry, Galahad; I've lost numerous pets over the years, and it never gets easier, so I know exactly what you're going through. My deepest condolences.
The Stray 04-08-04, 12:14 AM	Keep up the good work! :D:D:D
Jimbob Joe 04-17-04, 05:30 PM	bump
CursedMoredhel 04-20-04, 12:25 AM	how is the new chapter comming along, not trying to rush yuo or anything coz i can wait, can we expect it to be here shortly... ?
Galahad_Knight 04-20-04, 10:15 AM	Ask and you shall recieve. I'm sorry it took so long, just these last couple weeks have relaly sucked, and bad. But I managed to put this together and I think the inertia should carry me through to get the next one out within a reasonable frame of time. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. I hope I don;t disappoint... ------------ The Gathering Storm Chapter 17: Stormfront The lovely Thera Donnodel sits on a tree stump with a half-filled book in her lap and a half-plucked quill pen in her slender fingers. She watches Ragnar and the others as they inspect the troops gathered from the latest recruiting drive. About a dozen mismatched, underfed peasants armed with farming implements and optimism. They were a sorry lot, but she was certain that with some good food and decent equipment they’d do just fine. After another moment’s observance, she hunches over the book and begins to write… Lo, the Mighty Ragnar didst one day commence to oversee the awesome forces at his command. For his lord the noble Huntington didst bestow a mighty body of men unto him, to command and forge in the heat of battle most perilous. — “Oi! You lot!” Jaicen shouts from nearby, breaking her concentration, “Break it up or I’ll break you up!” she watches as two of the recruits are pulled apart and restrained. “This is going to take a lot of poetic license…” She says to herself with a heavy sigh as she goes back to her work. Meanwhile another author sits, recording the events. Grix watches his companions through smoked glass lenses. The tinted goggles help him deal with the bright daylight around him. He is already deep into a much overdue log entry. —It is, of course, patently absurd to expect these collected serfs to do much against the forces of Huntington. They’re untrained, outnumbered and outclassed. However, insane as it sounds, I still hold out hope. Thade and Thera have swept the countryside from one end to the other giving speeches and telling tales of valor to inspire the country folk to our cause. It’s not exactly a hard sell. Apparently since Huntington went under new management taxes have tripled, lawlessness has quadrupled and civic pride has taken a sharp downturn. Between Thera’s beauty and uncanny talent for words and Thade’s sheer size, power and passion they’ve whipped up more than a hundred men and women. Gliff has sent a dispatch back to the nearest chapterhouse of his order requesting assistance from paladins and clerics of his adopted deity and Paul has sent word back to the home offices via reanimated carrier pigeon, but I doubt that either of them will get a response in time. We’re within days of our target. However, I think our existing forces stand a chance of at least establishing a siege and holding it long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Thanks to the small body of smiths we’ve attracted, Jaicen, Usk and I have equipped a sizable portion of the men with rifles similar to Jaicen’s, and the dwarf has done an admirable job at training them in their use. Thade and Gliff have instructed some of their men in the arts of horse and lance, and Ragnar has rounded up the biggest, strongest, most emotionally unstable of our company and has been systematically whipping them into frenzies of wanton destruction that would be only slightly more impressive if he could he could keep half of them from biting their shields and foaming at the ears. Beyond human resources, we have other factors at our disposal. Paul has been researching new spells, fresh from Zombicorp’s R&D department that promise to be most helpful. He and I also have plans we’re not going to let the others in on, for fear of certain ethical conflicts. Needless to say, suicide squads are easy to assemble when you conscript those who’re already dead. On a similar note, I’ve been doing a lot of tinkering in the purely mechanical as of late and have come up with a few lovely devices to help us even the odds and breech the walls of Huntington Keep without doing too much damage to the ancestral edifice of our hulking leader. All I need are some stout timbers and some volunteers… Grix looks up to see that the drill has broken up for the moment. His artificially tinted eyes fall upon the slender form of Elsha, the slave girl they rescued some weeks ago. Her graceful form is out of place amongst the ranks of their newly recruited army, but she insisted on joining up. Armoring her was quite a challenge, as Grix recalls. They had to take some liberties with the term “Breastplate” that one of the smiths found amusing, up until Thera kneed him in a place that there certainly ought to be a plate for. The fact that the girl didn’t know anything about fighting but still stubbornly refused to give up touched off a strange mix of emotions in Grix. On the one hand he feared for her safety, but on the other he was proud that the once docile slave girl had turned out to be so fiery and bull-headed. The oddest thing, Grix had decided, was that only a short time ago he would have felt little more than amused contempt at her lack of wisdom and seemingly inevitable fate. But things have changed and the little kobold noted with some surprise that he liked it that way. Fortunately for Elsha, Thera drafted her into her personal guard…a unit made up entirely of women. Currently including the aforementioned ex-slave, two surly tavern wenches who can fight unarmed as well as any monk, one burly dwarven seamstress (who claims to be able to knit chain mail from steel wire) with a large, well-sharpened axe, and the female guard from the tower…the one with the penchant for leather and whips. They’re an odd group, but they’d certainly be able to protect the girl. Grix closes his notebook and stretches a bit. Though he’s loathe to admit it, the sun does feel good on his scales. He flips open the metal top of the dwarven stein that Jaicen gave him last week and takes a long drink. Drinking was another new experience he owes to this group. Though not one to drink in excess, the kobold scholar has found that a bit of casual drinking can be enjoyable, and a barroom brawl now and then is a good way to get the blood circulating…even if he hasn’t quite mastered getting the bottles to break right when he hits someone with one. Looking through the stein’s glass bottom (one of his most brilliant ideas to date) Grix catches what only he would notice as a disapproving look on the implacable metal face of his companion Usk. He rolls his eyes and lowers the mug, licking away the foam mustache on the end of his snout. “Don’t give me that look.” He says to the four-foot metal kobold standing in front of him. The creature’s expression does not appear to change. “That’s better.” Grix says, securing the lid with his thumb, “What’s gotten into you lately? You barely talk to me, you’re always lurking around, always shooting me those little looks…” The creature’s metal face doesn’t move. “Like that one.” Grix says, standing up and shaking his head. “I have not changed.” Usk intones in a hollow, metallic voice. “You change, however. They change you, alter you. You are not what you were. You are…damaged.” The emotionless monotone tolls out from the creature’s metal head and Grix shakes his head disapprovingly “Don’t use that tone with me.” He says, seeming to catch something he doesn’t like in the construct’s constant monotone. “I’m just fine. I’m learning is all, learning about people and friends and…” he glances at the hand-carved stein, “and beer! I’m having fun for a change. I thought you’d be happy…all I ever did before was mope and obsess and cry on your shoulder about how the world loathes my existence. I smile now, did you notice that? And laugh…even *with* Gliff instead of just at him.” “I noticed.” Usk says, tone never seeming to change. “Aren’t we a bit snide this morning.” Grix says, crossing his arms “Look, I’ve got better things to do than be lectured by my own creation. I don’t understand why the females complain about childbirth when the real pain doesn’t happen until they start talking.” He shakes his head and turns his back on his creation. Usk’s eyes flash red but he says nothing. Watching with sadness and anger as his creator, companion and, until now, only friend walks away from him, Usk’s hardened steel claws clench tightly, gouging the softer metal if his palms. Dark thoughts swirl in the hollow recesses of his steel skull. Grix finds the others inside the inn that they’ve adopted as their temporary base of operations. Thera and Ragnar have gone back to sitting together again, though he senses there’s still a bit of tension between them…things left unsaid over the many years that they’ve known each other that need to be said before they can ever move ahead. Thade sits heavily on a bench and pulls off his helm with a sigh. “Think we’ve got a chance in hell of pulling this off, Boss?” Jaicen asks, taking the helm and wiping his fingerprints off the gleaming mithral before setting it down. The half-ogre and his dwarven man at arms have started acting more and more in sync lately. Thade actually dropped his sword yesterday because Jaicen wasn’t by his side to take it for him. Of course, he received a stern lecture from the dwarf, when he arrived just in time to watch it clatter on the stone floor. Thade sighs, “I don’t know. Huntington hosted a fine body of men before I left. Most of them would have been ousted when my parents were usurped. There’s a chance he hasn’t been able to replace them all yet, or better, that he hasn’t rooted out all the men loyal to my family and we can turn some of his own forces on the day we ride out.” “What about a siege?” the dwarf asks, casualy dismantling his gun for cleaning, “We havn’t really got the manpower to take the keep by force, even if you wanted us knocking holes in your walls. The only way to get those gates open is to starve them open. Can you do that to your own friends and family members?” Thade rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, “I can’t. I’ve read about sieges…I can’t put them through that kind of horror…it’ll be hard enough to get them to accept a deformed bastard with a mob of outsiders, I don’t think forcing them to eat their own shoes will make it easier.” “True enough.” Jaicen says, not bothering to placate him on the ‘deformed bastard’ issue. “So we’re going to need a way in. What about you two?” the dwarf asks, pointing at Paul and Grix with the loading lever of his dismantled weapon, having happened to have it in hand at the moment. “We have a couple plans.” Grix says, scratching his snout, “But you’ll probably find them distasteful so I think we should try thinking of a few alternatives. If we could come up with a sufficient distraction I can probably come up with a way to get a small group of us inside the keep. If we can keep the defenders occupied on the walls we could probably infiltrate our way to the throne room and dispatch your usurper from within. I’m sure if you issued the order to disarm after kicking the bastard’s head down the steps into the courtyard the soldiers would listen.” Ragnar laughs, “Sounds like a good plan to me. I’m no siege expert or anything but that plan has style.” Jaicen nods, “Of course the trouble is getting inside the walls.” “I’ll figure something out before then, trust me.” Grix says confidently. “Why is it those words always makes me cringe?” Thade asks, looking up at the ceiling. “We’ll pull through.” Gliff says confidently, “Right is on our side, so not even Grix’ last minute plans can hinder us.” He says with a bit of a smirk. Grix chuckles, “Or your blind optimism.” The gnome laughs, “Or even that. I’ve sent word to my brothers, I’m sure they will come to our aid.” They’d better come soon.” Thade says, standing up, “We’ll be leaving just as soon as we finish training.” The next few days pass all too quickly and soon Thade and the others are riding out to greet the dawn, girded for war and backed by their small, if spirited band of warriors. The countryside is disturbingly still and quiet. Everyone knows what is coming and most of them want nothing to do with it. Fields of untended, cattle go unwatched as their keepers hide themselves in cellars and attics. They pick up a few last minute followers as they cross the countryside, but they only make up for the few last-minute deserters that suddenly decided a life of farming wasn’t so bad after all. The keep looms now on the horizon. The ruddy morning rays cast ominous, bloody light on the bodies impaled along the roadside. Shade clenches his teeth, recognizing some of the faces, “Bastard…” he growls, “This will not stand…” he says, clapping down the visor of his helm and spurring Titan into a faster gait. Elsha gasps when she sees the bodies of the men and women loyal to Thade’s family set up like gruesome signposts. Her thin white hand clenches tighter on the hilt of her sword, she knows the type of person capable of such brutality. She knows that type all too well. Beside her she hears Thera chanting a Northern funeral hymn for fallen warriors. The haunting but empowering song speaks of vindication for the fallen and the righteous wrath of those comrades still surviving. The song fills her veins with fire and transforms her fear into anger. She can see its effects ripple through the ranks as backs straighten and paces quicken. Soon they are before the mighty oaken gates of the keep. Thade rides ahead and pounds on the timbers with a huge, gauntleted fist. The battle standard of his family snaps in the morning wind and flares from his lance. “Throw open these doors!” he bellows, the sound reverberating off the cold wood and stone in front of him, “Your true lord has returned home to cast out the usurping scum who crouches like a dog on my father’s throne!” he hurls his challenge at the very walls of the massive keep. “You have until midday to deliver the traitors to me, or I will be forced to pass through this gate with force!” With that, the massive knight wheels his huge charger and trots away from the gate. “What now?” Ragnar asks, sizing up the impressive defenses before them. “Now we wait.” Thade says, then he turns to Grix and Paul. “I need you to come up with a way to get us inside those walls by noon. I’m counting on you.” “Well…at least the rest of us will have something to do in the meantime.” Jaicen comments sourly, looking to the vast plain behind them, “It looks like we’ve got visitors.” He says, pointing to the dark line on the horizon and the dust rising up from behind it. “It looks like there’s quite a few of them too.” “Bring the wagons forward!” Thade shouts, “We need to get Grix’ devices set up before they get here. I hadn’t planned on this…” he mutters the last bit. “They’re going to try to squeeze us between them and the walls of the keep. We need to set up a line a safe distance from the keep and hold it. We can’t let them push us into range of the keep’s defenses. And right now our priorities are changed. Grix, I need you to keep those gates from being opened easily, and fast. The last thing we need is for the gates to open behind us while we’re fighting these guys.” Grix nods, “Easily done. Give Jaicen and I twenty minutes and they’ll have to tear their own gates down to get at us.” “Good, go.” Thade says, drawing his massive sword. “Everyone else, hold the line.” The men et out a shout as they draw their weapons. Behind them, workers scramble to unpack wagons of strange devices while Grix and Jaicen start sizing up the gates. Thera begins chanting an ancient battle hymn that sweeps through the ranks like wildfire. A multitude of voices rise to song, keeping time by beating weapon on shield. “Brothers and sisters, raise swords on high. “Shout to the heavens, shout to the sky. “Today we do battle, perhaps we will fall. “But not without valor, with honor for all. “Our enemy approaches, to them we now cry. “Come to our swords now, come fourth and die!”
Akbar 04-20-04, 11:21 AM	Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Welcome Back Looking forward to more in the future.
Dougan Axehammer 04-20-04, 12:16 PM	Woohoo!! Let the battle commence.
WarDragon 04-20-04, 11:23 PM	Sweet, this was one of the best chapters yet! I'm really starting to worry about Usk; if and when he "snaps," I can already tell it's not going to be pretty. Perhaps Grix should do a bit of reprogramming... I also love the way you set up for the coming battle, expecially Thera's song at the end; very cool. :thumbsup: And when she did the funeral song by the impaled bodies, the Rohan funeral scene from the extended "The Two Towers" DVD popped into my head; is that more or less the mood you were going for? One last thing; I can't wait to see what they're cooking up for the gates.
Staver 04-21-04, 02:17 PM	"foaming at the ears"? :rofl: Welcome back. -Staver :D
Galahad_Knight 04-21-04, 09:30 PM	They're just THAT berserk :smirk: Thanks for sticking with me, guys
Aluroon 04-25-04, 07:12 PM	Just when I was about to go watch some mindless T.V., shaking my head in disgust at the lack of intelligent posts I saw how many replies this one had and looked at it. One word: Amazing Galahad_Knight you have a simply amazing talent for fiction writing that rivals that of many of the more popular authors at this time. The total page count on the story alone is over 90, and that’s on regular copy paper in 10 font. If applied to a paper back book it could conceivably be more then 200 pages. The characters are well developed and the party has a chemistry that is far better then that of many others I have found in published works. You may seriously consider copywriting this story. Btw where can I find the Gnome Inventor PrC? If it’s online can you post a link? Thanks and good writing.
Galahad_Knight 04-25-04, 09:31 PM	Thanks, I'm glad you think it;s that good. unfortunately, I doubt that this story would see print unless I hired someone to do a print-on demand service or something. I don;t know if publishers would make the investment to print and market something people can find for free. Besides which it's too heavily steeped in D&D to be anything but another D&d book, which WOTC isn;t really interested in right now. But it has given me the confidence to try and get something publiushed when this story concludes. As for your question about the gnome inventor, it's actually a Gnomish Artifier class and it;s from Magic of Faerun. Essentially you get the ability to build magic items that aren;t actually magical. No EXP cost, but they are expensive to make, buky and have limited charges. It's an ok class, but the concept was better than the implementation
Nahar 04-26-04, 07:19 AM	I like your attitude, Galahad. But I agree with the copyright it anyway thing...if it isn't big $$ and a million hours of work to do so. I haven't even read the last two instalments yet (sorry), my new duties have me zonked, but i'm sure they're of your established quality
Staver 04-26-04, 09:38 AM	Not to be a pest, but I am kind of curious why this thread is here and not over in Creative Corner->Once Upon A Time. There are more stories like this over there (but not as good IMO). -Staver :confused:
drelidan7 04-26-04, 03:15 PM	It's so good to have you back Galahad, I've been waiting for this installment for a long time, as we all have. This chapter is excellent. Thera finally singing, keeping a journal of her own (I don't recall that from before), ahh, it's good. It's really good. Too bad the market does have a lot of Dungeons and Dragon books out right now, but meh, it has a future. :)
Aluroon 04-26-04, 08:23 PM	Galahad_Knight Sorry for the brevity of my last post. I have been very busy with all kinds of sh*t. As to the cost of copywriting its about $20-30 depending on how you do it and where. The idea I had in mind as you could continue the epic of these characters in other books, although its your choice. As for WotC not wanting other writers, they need them. I cannot speak for everyone but I am starting to get tired of the writing style of many of the authors (Salvador, Cunningham, Ect) that I previously enjoyed. Further more the last attempt that WotC made at a Dungeons and Dragons books series was not only half-assed but also malformed, with appeal to people in the age group from 9-12 if I do say so myself. Your writing, which is slightly less professional (if that does not offend you for me to say that) is a refreshing change of pace. It has a certain moving quality to it.. I find I have grown attached to Grix (and with your approval plan on modeling a character of my own off of him) and can see his point of view. Your characters have a realty that is stunning, there flaws are profoundly shown in the way they act. The only suggestion I could give you is to be more careful with your typing as you do have a number of typos in your writing. Btw, after reprinting the entire story it is 94 pages long at this time, quite an accomplishment.
Galahad_Knight 04-26-04, 10:57 PM	Originally posted by Staver Not to be a pest, but I am kind of curious why this thread is here and not over in Creative Corner->Once Upon A Time. There are more stories like this over there (but not as good IMO). -Staver :confused: Two reasons, really. The first one is that this thread oroiginated merely as a showcase for some of my favorite character backgrounds. The story sort of morphed out of that because i ran out of characters ;-) The second reason is that I had no idea that other forum even existed as I've never strayed off the regular D&D section of the WOTC forums. Besides, I like it here. It's about the only RPG forum on the boards that still hosts intelligent conversation on a regular basis ;-) Aluroon, thanks again for your support. I'll certainly look into copyrighting the characters for future use, and I'm glad you like my style. And I certainly don't take any offense at your honesty. I have a less than professional writing style because I've only taken one writing class in my life and I really didn't care for it <chuckleS> In time, perhaps I'll improve naturally. I try to watch my typos (The story chapters are written in Word 2000, which has an autiomatic spellchecker, however it doesn't always catch things and I don't always notice them), unfortunately I only took about one-third of a typing class because I *really* didn;t care for it. My hands don't move fast enough for my mind, so I slip and mistype quite a bit. You'll notice more typos in my regular posts than my story postsd because there's no checker to point them out to me, though I do my best to spot them on my own. These little quirks are compounded by the fact that I can only ever seem to find the time and inspiration to write when it's very late at night. As you can tell by the positng times of most of my work, it tends to be after 4 AM before I really get into it. So not only are my fingers a little less coordinated, I'm usually too tired to do any editing before I post <chuckles> I could wait until the next day to post, but I'm usually so far behind I don;t want to hold ou guys up any longer than I have to. However, the half-asleep writing method accounts for most of the fluidity of my style and the wordplay you see. I don't know why, but I'm really very witty and verbose when I've been up for 20 hours or so ;-) Anyhow, I'm valiantly battling a cold and the side-effects of the cold medicine so I'm going to sign off for a while. I've got most of the week off, so assuming I get over this cold soon and don't have any unexpected tragedies, expect a new chapter soon
BlackFlame 04-27-04, 01:56 AM	Hey...long time fan....just wanted to say that according to copyright law anything, and I mean ANYTHING, that you write is considered copyrighted. It's intellectual property copyrighted as soon as you type it. Dunno about stuff based on other stuff, which your story would fall under.....so yea....hope I've been a little helpful, and the least annoying possible....
eudas 04-27-04, 03:24 AM	It [the thread] probably does belong over in the Once Upon a Time boards now that it's moved into story mode; i've seen other story threads that were originally posted on various threads (addicted to fireballs, the diary of doorag marzipan) moved over to the OUAT forum. I'm sure a WizO could move it for you quite easily, if you asked them (or if the thread was brought to their attention). *shrug* eudas
Mr. VanderMeer 04-27-04, 04:46 AM	Well, I hope it does not get moved. I am a regular here and I thoroughly enjoyed Galahad's story. I wouldn't like it to be on the stories board, because I never go there. Galahad: keep up the good work. I definitely think you could do professional writing. If an editor would go through it, I am sure it would get that pro-quality in style. And the story is definitely strong enough to sell big!
Galahad_Knight 04-27-04, 05:55 AM	Thans guys. After a little digging I;ve discovered that technically as soon as something is put on paper (or the internet) it;s copyrighted, BUT that form of copyright really means virtually nothing. You can only bring suits and enforce your coprights and the like if you have a *registered* copyright. Basically what this means is at present people can do whatever they want with my story and characters and I can do nothing about it. However, the moment I register the copyright, even if it;s after the infraction has taken place, I can then bring suit and attempt to enforce my rights. Of course, to tell the truth, that usually means little as well unless you have a lot of money and time to waste in court. Anyhow, I;d like you guys to nknow you;re free to use elements of my story and characters in your own games and the like if you feel the need. I;d prefer that you *base* your creations off of mine rather than outright lifting them, but that's just personal preference. As to havint the story moved, I would *really* nrather have it stay here. I like it here better. As the good Dutchman pointed out, not everyone goes to that forum. I know I for one have never been there. I'll consider opening a sister thread over there if you guys woiuld like, but I really would not want to see this thread moved there. I like it here, it;s a good neighborhood.
Staver 04-27-04, 09:48 AM	I'm not trying to cause trouble, and I really don't care one way or another where this thread is because I have it bookmarked. I just think there are people over in OUAT land that would probably appreciate a story of this caliber that don't make it over to this part of the forum. Forget I mentioned it. -Staver :embarrass
eudas 04-27-04, 11:11 AM	*shrug* I have it bookmarked, too. :) I just have a very Lawful alignment; a place for everything, and everything in its place. =) Anyway, I really just brought up the WizO thing 'cause I've seen 'em move threads before to OUAT, so if it happens to this one I wouldn't be terribly surprised. That being said, I'm not running to the thread police or anything. It was really more just by way of conversation. Cheers, eudas
Galahad_Knight 04-27-04, 05:03 PM	Just so you know, I'm not upset by your suggestion to move the thread or anything. I was just explaining my preference. If someone would be so kind as to link me to the other forum I'll go over and open a sister thread to this one and repost the story thusfar.
Janos Greycloak 04-27-04, 05:52 PM	Here you go. (http://boards1.wizards.com/forumdisplay.php?s=&daysprune=&forumid=344) Still loving the story, even if I've not said so for a while.
eudas 04-27-04, 05:53 PM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight Just so you know, I'm not upset by your suggestion to move the thread or anything. I was just explaining my preference. If someone would be so kind as to link me to the other forum I'll go over and open a sister thread to this one and repost the story thusfar. OUAT: http://boards1.wizards.com/forumdisplay.php?s=&forumid=344 eudas
Galahad_Knight 04-27-04, 07:16 PM	Thanks guys. I posted the story so far over HERE (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=229078) I plan to update both threads simultaniously in the future. Weird, this thread is like 9 pages long but the story itself all fit onto one.
eudas 04-28-04, 01:37 AM	fifty million "Oh Galahad! You're so coo'!" groupie posts'll do that. ;) eudas
Staver 04-28-04, 08:11 AM	Originally posted by eudas fifty million "Oh Galahad! You're so coo'!" groupie posts'll do that. ;) eudas :rofl: -Staver
Aluroon 04-28-04, 07:45 PM	Ahh It appears as if the post on Grix was eaten by computer grimlens. Unless its just my computer it appears as though parts of hit have been replaced with symbols. Seeing as how I cannot save things to this computer, and I dont think it will do any hurt, I have decided to repost the post, reconstructed as best as I can do from the orignal. If its just this computer sorry, however I dont think it will cause any harm to see his stats agian. Orignally posted by Galahad_Knight, Idea by Galahad_Knight ------------ Grix The Thingomizer Grix Niblix was always an unusual kobold. Unusually intelligent, but utterly lacking in anything remotely resembling a talent for sorcery, the young kobold instead found his passion was for study. Using books stolen from an elven mage who ventured too deep into the warrens, Grix began to study magic on his own. The idea of learning magic in a sorcerous society was something truly bizarre, but he soon proved to be the equal of any sorcerer in his brood. Despite this, however, Grix grew up virtually friendless. The bespectacled kobold always had his muzzle buried in a book, and the stigma of being a learned magic-user still followed him, despite his power. Log Entry 12 My studies go well. Already I am learning the secrets of these magical writings. I am convinced that with these arcane secrets I could compensate for my weak blood. Perhaps even become a leader like my father. But I fear he is disappointed in me for being so weak and useless. My broodmates still mock me for trying to learn this magic. But soon they will mock me no more. I already feel the power within me. So, friendless and alone, the young kobold turned to mechanics to occupy his time. Books stolen from gnomish libraries during raids were his guides. He built his own toys and tools, little clockwork animals danced about his room during his childhood. He also enjoyed making little traps to catch rats and torment his broodmates who were careless enough to try and enter without knocking He quickly became the best trapmaker in his clan. He gained a reputation for the deadliness of the things¡¯s he would make (He liked to use Common words, even though most of his broodmates only understood Draconic. It made him feel smart). They began calling him the thingomizer, because of his aptitude for making things. Log Entry 2,357 Prototype Thing Idea # 217: Deceptive Pit. Standard resetting pit trap (cf. PTI 23) with spikes at the base. The pit will also have rungs set into one wall, little ledges to grab and climb on. As soon as the third rung from the top is touched, they fold down, flush against the wall, instantly. This should cause any survivors to plunge back into the pit and onto the spikes once more. At which point (or ten minutes after the trap is first sprung) the pit closes and resets. It was this aptitude that earned him his infamy and reputation amongst his own kind has earned him the hatred and wrath of the gnomes of his homeland. His traps were too viciously effective, too gruesomely deadly. In the eternal struggle between kobolds and gnomes, Grix has been branded a war criminal. It¡¯s not that he was evil or sadistic he was just very, very good at his job. Normally, this wouldn¡¯t be a big deal. A nameless, faceless trap builder, one of millions of kobolds is never in danger of capture. No gnome has ever seen him and lived, Except for one. During the wars, a gnomish Artificer named Lantan was sent into the warrens as part of a scouting party. Their goal was to encounter one of Grix¡¯s traps so he could study it and show others how to disarm ones like it. But his trap was too good. It appeared at first to be a simple spiked pit trap with a floor plate release. It wasn¡¯t even that cleverly disguised. The gnome and his party easily spotted the somewhat sunken floor stone that triggered the pit. In the middle of disarming it, however, the *real* trap was sprung. Heavy stone blocks dropped from the ceiling to crush them moments before the floor gave way, dumping them into the pit, with the rocks still atop them. This, ordinarily, would have been more than enough to destroy any interloper. But Lantan was lucky and nimble. He survived the trap, but only just. He was found by a maintenance crew, dispatched to reset the trap, and taken back for interrogation. After a rough interrogation he was locked away until they could think of what to do with him. It was during this time that Grix snuck in to meet him. He was curious to meet his counterpart amongst the enemy. He also had a deep respect for the inventor, whose devices he was able to study whenever they were found. He treated the gnome with unusual respect and kindness while he was imprisoned, and eventually the gnome saw that he was no monster. Just a fellow man of science whose talents were misdirected. In exchange for his freedom, Lantan gave Grix many tips and pointers. Advice which the kobold dutifully scribbled down. Grix took copious and detailed notes of everything he was told. Lantan spoke freely of many things. During his lectures he also spoke of the wonders of the surface world and the virtues of freedom and independence. Lantan was convinced that he could get the young kobold to flee with him when the time came for escape. Log Entry 2,753 Fraptuous day! I have met the legendary Lantan Nilbog! He is truly the genius I had surmised that he was. I confess that I do a bad thing now. I have promised him freedom if only he will give me his wisdom and advice on the workings of technology. But it is worth it. Oh the wonders in his mind! I have recorded one of his lectures in my notebook. I still need to re-read it to fully absorb all that he said. But the wonders of which he speaks are truly remarkable. I hope that someday I know but a fraction of what he does. His tales of the surface also intrigue me. I would like to go there someday, and I think hw would like me to leave with him. But I cannot. I am loyal to my family above all. But perhaps someday, someday? Sadly, Lantan was wrong. Curious and intelligent though he may be, he was also loyal to his clan. He freed the gnome and led him to safety, but ran back into the warrens as soon as Lantan was safe. Saddened, the old gnome knew he couldn¡¯t be allowed to live with the secrets he shared. Not if he was going back home. As soon as he got back home, Lantan had no choice but to report his experience and use his new knowledge of the kobold warrens and their deathtraps to guide a force of gnomish warriors into the very heart of Grix¡¯s home. Log Entry 2,971 Horror of horrors! I cannot describe it. The warrens were red with torchlight and flames. Blood ran in rivulets down the tunnels in which I once played as a child. Family and friends, maimed and killed, it¡¯s all gone. The gnomes were everywhere. Butchering and slaughtering. One of the murderous fiends confronted me as I fled. He cut me a wicked blow with his cruel little sword, but I think mine was the cruelest stroke. A bolt of acid to the face. I was nearly sickened by the sight of it. The creature rolled on the ground and screamed, clutching at a face that is no more. The smell and the sigh of it turned my stomach but what made it worse was the grim satisfaction I felt at that moment. I know my Things have killed before, many times. And in crueler ways than that. But never have I directly slain another being. I do not know how to deal with the conflicting emotions. The gnomes were merciless and Grix¡¯s traps were unable to defend his home. Grix entire clan was wiped out in one night of vicious tunnel-fighting. Everyone he ever knew or loved was gone, and the young kobold himself was nearly killed in the melee. During the fight he suffered a gash across his snout and nearly lost an eye. Today he wears a scar that goes from his brow down his snout. Injured and alone, the kobold fled with what books he could carry. He felt betrayed by Lantan and was thus terrified of being captured of surrendering to the gnomes. Instead he fled his homeland and went off to seek his fortunes elsewhere. Log Entry 3,007 Things are going fairly well. Things always go well. It¡¯s life that needs to shape up. The project proceeds on schedule. It won¡¯t be too much longer until it is completed. I just have to find some of the more rare parts and pieces. I’m finding the surface creatures to be suspicious and cruel when it comes to things they do not understand deminds me of home. I got a job today, setting mousetraps in a general store. He wouldn¡¯t let me near the place in daylight hours, but I got paid. And I got to keep the rats I caught. If only I were a better cook. Also, I have saved enough to have made a second pair of spectacles. These have smoked lenses to keep the harsh daylight from hurting my fragile eyes. They are glorious indeed. I¡¯ve also discovered that people tend to react more favorable towards me if they think I am less intelligent than they. It¡¯s a trifle irritating to have to mimic stupidity to deal with the ignorant, but it is useful. During his travels he realized just how alone and vulnerable he was. Using sketches he made from Lantana lectures and from various books on mechanics that he was able to find in his travels, Grix began his Project. His project is simple, build a protector. A companion, a friend! His progress is slow, but he is compiling the pieces and incantations and his Project is nearly completed. Over the course of his research for his Project, Grix has uncovered part of an ancient tome called Lexicona Constructicus. A weighty tome which, in theory, details the construction methods, materials and spells required to build virtually any golem or construct. The book is even purported to have the spells needed for the constructions imbedded in the very essence of the book, allowing anyone with magical talent to cast them into the frame of the machine. The section that Grix possesses contains information on the materials needed to build a Shield Guardian. Log Entry 3,221 Wonders of wonders to report this day! I have discovered part of an ancient tome, which contains the secrets to building a more powerful construct than the project on which I am currently working! It¡¯s incomplete, but I’m confident that I¡¯ll be able to track down the remaining pages. The section currently in my possession details only the materials needed and parts of the construction methods. I¡¯ll have to find more pages or clean what information I can from other sources. On a less ecstatic note, I have to report that I was hassled today by ignorant ruffians. They broke my spectacles, but I think they came out worse for the deal. They weren¡¯t prepared for my cunning. Odd, how I seem to have grown used to the act of killing now. It brings no pleasure, but neither does it bring remorse, but unfortunately, this means I¡¯ll have to move to a different town to continue my research. Now Grix¡¯s quest is now threefold: to complete his Project (which is very nearly done), to found and reassemble the Lexicona (or at least the chapter on shield guardians), and to master the secrets of technology and become a renowned Artificer. But where will it lead, back to his homeland? He might still be wanted by the gnomes, if they believe he survived the assault. Lantan may or may not have been gentle to the kobold when he made his report. They could have a full description of him. Or perhaps they do not. What of the compiler of the Lexicona? Does he want his scattered work to be found? Does he want it in the hands of a kobold? If he¡¯s still alive today, he would surely be quite powerful. Description and Personality: Short and scrawny, even for his race, Grix has learned to rely on his intelligence and wit over all else. He has poor eyesight in daylight or dark, so he wears spectacles at all times. He wears a pair of smoked glasses during the daytime. He has a vivid scar that runs from his brow down the length of his snout. It very nearly cost him an eye. He favors robes, especially ones with billowy, concealing hoods. He usually has at least one weighty tome in his hands at any given time. He has yellow eyes that glow red when he uses his darkvision. His scales are a ruddy-brown like dried blood and he keeps himself neatly appointed at all times. Clothes always washed, nails always cleaned. He isn¡¯t vain, but he does care about his appearance. His personality is quite and studious. He doesn¡¯t care much about anything except his work and his machines. He was never cruel enough to be evil, but he never cared enough to be good. He is self-interested and apathetic totally obsessed with his work. He has no compunctions about using people. He¡¯d rather not kill or break laws, but only because that can become unnecessarily messy. Game Notes: Grix' Project is a construct familiar. At 5th level he took the Improved Familiar feat as his wizard bonus feat (DM allows wizards to take magic-related general feats as bonuses as well). The construct has the same stats as a Small Earth Elemental, except without the Earth Mastery ability. It is made of metal, not stone. But it makes no impact on its stats. It is called the "Kobot" and is shaped like a kobold. At 6th level, I plan to take the Gnomish Artificer PrC (DM allows for all races in his world to take it, if technologically inclined) The Lexiconus has no in-game effect. All it is is a parts and spell list for making a shield guardian and serves as a plot-hook.
Akbar 04-29-04, 07:43 AM	The original posting for Grix looks OK on my system. Might have been another bug. Looking forward (as always) to the next chapter. Akbar
The Stray 05-01-04, 04:51 PM	Allow me to add yet another "Galahad is so cool!" Groupie post...:D
Galahad_Knight 05-04-04, 08:56 PM	Good news: I'm over the cold, though I have some lingering sinus things going on. Bad news: I lost my other old ferret last week, leaving a newly adopted and even more newly orphaned baby ferret needing someone to play with. Combine that with work sucking and a couple family things it'snjust been a bad time for me again. Anyhiw, I seem to be through the worst of it and it should be another 7 or 8 years nefore I lose another housepet <knock on wood> so hopefully I'll have a chapter soon. I'm sorry about all this, guys.
WarDragon 05-05-04, 12:29 AM	Don't worry about us, Galahad. As much as it pains me to admit it, real life always takes precedence over Internet stuff. Once again, my condolences about your furry friend, and all the other crap life is dumping on you, and I'm sure I speak for all your readers, when I wish you the best of luck in dealing with all of it.
Aluroon 05-06-04, 03:18 PM	Soo... Long...Without....New...Chapter...THE PAIN! :bigeyes: Oh well, I to must offer my condolences as to your ferret. I to have lost many furred compainions in my life, although never so many in such a short time. Other then that I guess you could call this a :bump:
Galahad_Knight 05-09-04, 06:43 AM	The Gathering Storm Chapter 18: Onslaught “How many people did you say were in the Huntington Malitia and your family’s personal regiment?” Ragnar asks Thade as they watch the thin dark line of the approaching army getting slowly nearer. “Not nearly this many. These must be reinforcements from somewhere.” Thade says, shading his eyes with one huge hand. “Well, on the up side we won’t have to worry about a siege.” Jaicen says, peering at the army on the horizon through the spyglass she had installed on his rifle. “Chances are they’ll open the gates on their own while we’re fighting them off and flank us.” “How is that good?” Thade asks, aghast. “Well, we won’t have to throw rotting carcasses over the walls into your home and starve your family into submission.” The Dwarf says, then scratching his nose he adds as an afterthought, “O’course the down side is that we’ll be ground between the two forces and crushed.” He shrugs, “But who knows…we could get lucky.” As if on cue the growing overcast thickens and a peal of thunder announces a downpour of rain. Ragnar smirks “And it would just be awful if crates of weapons and fresh soldiers fell from the sky to bolster our ranks.” He says, voice cast upwards. He gives it a moment then shrugs, “It was worth a shot.” An uneasy laugh ripples through the ranks. Meanwhile, behind the lines Grix and Paul are frantically directing their team of smiths, neophytes and hedge-wizards and a handful of unskilled laborers in the assemblage of the complex and alien devices that they designed together just weeks before. Strange shapes begin to rise above the morning fog. “I’d really feel better if we had a reliable power source.” Paul says, eyeing the harness teams of dragooned farm horses and cattle warily. “Not much we can do about that until after the battle starts, now can we?” Grix says, trying to placate him, “Don’t worry, we just need them for a little while. By the time they get tired we’ll have the real replacements ready and in place.” “True enough, I suppose…” he sighs then casts his gaze over to a small forest of what look like a half-dozen or so metal tree trunks laid out on the ground. “What about that? Are you sure they’ll work? I mean, it is raining quite a bit.” “Oh, the choir?” Grix asks, grinning, “Oh it was most fortunate that the last village hosted a bell foundry. Yes, I think they’ll do nicely, especially if they get that awning set up quickly. I stayed up the last couple nights making the shells. We didn’t have a lot of material so I had to use some creative spell crafting to enhance the effectiveness.” He grins more broadly, displaying what in some circles would be considered a quite fearsome set of fangs. “They only need to work for a few minutes. The sound should be enough to scare the nine hells out of the enemy.” Paul says, still not sounding entirely confident. “Of course. That’s why I put most of our resources into the ballistae. We may not have many men but we’ll sure put up a hailstorm the likes of which have yet to be seen, my friend!” While Paul seems to be less than confident, Grix seems to be on the brink between dangerous optimism and full-blown megalomaniacal hubris. His eyes are gleaming brightly and his reptilian tail is twitching happily, nearly wagging. “Trust me…this will be brilliant. Since I started this venture I’ve been building and testing small-scale prototypes of most of this equipment “I certainly hope you’re right, my friend.” Paul says, watching as the men assemble a single large trebuchet, “I’ll feel better once I have some ammunition though…” He fiddles with the straps on the double-bandolier of spell scrolls he has strapped across his chest. He still wasn’t sure if they made him look macho or just like a very angry librarian. One thing’s for certain: he was glad he signed up to field test some of the new battlefield necromancy spells fresh out of Zombicorp R&D the last time he was home. “Patience, my friend.” Grix says, watching with pride as his theories come to life before his eyes. Back on the front line tensions grow high as the enemy forces lumber into sight. “Good gods!” Ragnar bellows, “There’s certainly enough of them. Big’uns too. Northern stock, I can tell. Nobody grows an orc, troll or goblin like they do in the North.” “That’s certainly encouraging.” Thade says sourly. “Any estimate on the size of the forces?” he asks, mopping rain water out of his face. “Oh, I’d say the goblins alone outnumber us five to one, but they’re just goblins and only about half are mounted.” Ragnar says dismissively, “The main body of orcs and men probably match our numbers, plus or minus a quarter…each. And, of course, a couple dozen trolls and ogres go a long way.” He doesn’t sound too awfully concerned though. “So really, all any one man has to do is kill five goblins, an orc and a man then pitch in on a troll or ogre ot two and we’ve got this thing beat. I kill at least that many things just to make breakfast in the morning.” He says with a chuckle. “Notice the banners?” he adds, pointing to the battle standards looming across the field. “Yeah, same emblem as those orcs we took out in the mine, and the ones who ambushed us on the road, come to think of it. And they’re all wearing white armor too.” Thade says, his voice showing concern. “We should have picked up on this, Ragnar. Someone’s been massing forces in your own back yard and moving them into mine this whole time and we didn’t even notice.” Ragnar grunts, “Fine time to point that out. Anyhow, we’ll just have to deal with that when we’re done with this. I guess we’ll be heading north after we’ve finished here.” “Assuming we’re not the ones who get finished here.” Thade says, looking at the daunting numbers before them. “Riflemen to the front!” Jaicen bellows suddenly. His hand-picked squad of marksmen shuffle to the lead and take position, one rank kneeling, the next standing. “Let’em taste what we got for ‘em, boyos!” Jaicen shouts, racking the cocking lever on his own weapon and firing the first shot. Around them the air is shattered as his fellows open fire. There aren’t many of them, but they certainly don’t sound like it. Both ranks open fire, cocking and firing again as fast as they can work the levers. Hundreds of yards ahead dozens of orcs, men and goblins go down squealing and kicking in the mud. The approaching army falters but presses on, marching over the dead and dying, forcing their broken bodies into the mud. They take several more volleys without stopping. Finally their own archers get into range and a hail of arrows arcs into the sky. “Riflemen to the rear!” Jaicen barks as the first shots begin to fall. Two or three of his men are hit and carried to the rear by their retreating comrades. The next barrage of arrows, fired mostly by those goblins not mounted on wolves and wargs, hits the front line. Most of the shots bounce off of upraised shields, or shatter on helms and armor. A few men go down and are pulled to the rear. “Maestro!” Grix calls out to a stout dwarven smith armed with a large, apparently ceremonial hammer. “Let the chorus sing!” The dwarf grins hugely and stumps over to what was once a pile of a half-dozen or so iron tubes. Now the tubes, which happen to be rather bell-shaped have been mounted onto individual wooden frames and stand pointed with the opening of the bells pointing at roughly forty-five degrees upwards. Behind each bell is one man with a torch. The Dwarf raises his hammer, “Hell’s bells, my fellows! Hell’s bells!” he bellows, striing the side of each iron device with his hammer. The sound produced is not all that impressive. The metal rings but dully. “The bells do not ring!” he says, grinning, “Perhaps we need to clear them?” the torch bearers all laugh nervously and the dwarf steps out of the way, “Sound the bells!” he barks. Reverantly, some may say nervously, each man sets his torch to the end of his bell. A hiss rises up as the fuses are lit. An instant later an ear-splitting cacophony shakes the very ground as a blast of smoke and fire belches fourth from the end of each bell. The blast sends an iron-encased payload shrieking into the sky. The shells land near the rear ranks of the approaching forces and explode in blasts of magically-enhanced fire and iron shrapnel. Several trolls and ogres roar and howl in pain and a couple of them collapse, smoldering and stinking. A roar of triumph surges through the ranks of Thade’s men as they see the effects of the hellstorm just unleashed. The enemy forces falter. The ranks waver as if about to break. But the bellowing of orders and cracking of whips can be heard in the now suddenly silent air. The enemy ranks are mercilessly whipped and shouted into line and their force holds. Unfortunately, things aren’t looking so good behind the lines. One of the bells exploded, sending red-hot shards of iron scything into the engineers and riflemen. Most of the bell ringers are down, bleeding or dead. Several riflemen have fallen too, and a number of engineers are out of the action. Even Grix is bleeding after catching a smoking chunk of metal in his shoulder. “I t…think number five was a tad…overloaded.” He manages to say between gasps.” Usk is already tending to him, eyes glowing fiercely. The metal superkobold grabs a passing neophyte by the collar and practically hurls him to the ground in front of Grix. “Heal!” he orders, voice mooming with hollow menace inside his empty steel skill. Ashen faced and trembling the young healer carefully removes the twisted piece of metal and casts a healing spell to close the would before being shoved away by Usk. The dwarf with the hammer limps up to them. “There’s no way we’ll get a second volley off now. Two of the bells are cracked and most of our ringers are dead. Those that lived are either badly wounded or unwilling to so much as go near the things anymore.” He says grimly. Grix coughs and sits up, feeling the effects of the healing. “No matter. They performed admirably…despite the unfortunate malfunction. Have someone point them at the castle and see if you can get a couple people to hold torches behind them. Explain to them that they won’t go off again. They’re just going to be there to keep the people inside from getting any bright ideas about opening those doors.” The dwarf nods, “I’ll do what I can.” Grix nods and looks up at Usk, “Don’t just stand there. See to it that the ballistae are being loaded. And see if any of the ammunition for the bells survived.” Usk’s eyes flare momentarily. “Don’t.” Grix says, cutting him off before he can speak, “I’m fine, just see to it that things get done. I know we just lost a lot of men but it’s more important that we keep things going as if we hadn’t lost a step. Now go!” Reluctantly the mechanical kobold leaves him to follow his orders. Meanwhile back in the front, the enemy troops are closing in. Just as the goblin cavalry, mostly mounted on wolves, with a few wargs and dire wolves bearing the officers, prepares to charge, an eerily discordant howl is heard to the east. Out of the sun’s morning light a handful of shimmering shapes form on the horizon. Appearing for but an instant then disappearing, only to pop up again, closer this time. The goblins, whipped into a frenzy of fear and rage, charge the front lines of Thade’s army, heedless of this new event glittering on the horizon. The men brace for the impact of slavering wolves and their cruel masters when suddenly the odd howl sounds again, seeping to echo within itself. Someone shouts an alarm on the east flank and some men turn just in time to see what look like a couple dozen huge dogs, each bearing a mithril-clad rider. But as soon as they appear they vanish. An instant later they appear behind the charging wolf-riders. Howls of pain and squeals of surprise and alarm herald their impact on the rear flank of the goblin charge. The onslaught collapses in on itself like a wave breaking on a beach as the hurtling chargers suddenly try to turn and defend themselves from a shimmering, blinking assault from behind them. Their numbers are impossible to tell as they seem to blink in and out of existence as rapidly as the twinkling of the stars. Glimpses of yellow-brown fur, gleaming mithril, and bloody fangs and swords are all that can be seen as bottled chaos is uncorked in the midst of the confounded goblin riders. Gliff raises his sword and lets out a whoop of joy. “My brothers have arrived! To battle, my friends! We ride now into fire, but it is a conflagration of righteousness sparked by the noble warriors of virtue! Forward to glory!” he howls, thumping Max’s flanks and leading the east flank’s mounted units in a daring charge. “You heard the man!” Thade shouts, drawing his massive sword. “Forward!” the command more of a roar than anything as he spurs Titan into action, the rest of their cavalry fanning out behind him. Both units ride past the goblins who are now a harmless ball of panic and chaos as their phantom attackers continue to tear into them. Moving like the pincers of a giant biting insect, the horsemen cut into the unguarded flanks of the enemy while the footmen carefully advance behind them. The phantom attackers vanish as quickly as they appeared, leaving what remains of the goblin forces milling in utter confusion just before the force of the shield wall hits them. The broken units have no chance at all as the wall of steel lead by Ragnar and Thera grind them into the mud. They leave their broken corpses behind them in the mud as they advance to meet the main body of the enemy forces who are currently dividing themselves to deal with the tandem cavalry assault. Thera encourages the troops to rise to glory as she and her female guards sing battle hymns even as they cut into the enemy forces. Each woman does her part, holding their own as well as any man. Even previously timid Elsha, once a slave, now fights for the first time in her life. Her sisters in battle do what they can to shield her from the enemy, but what few get pas them are unpleasantly surprised by the slight female’s sudden penchant for inflicting pain and bloodshed on others. “Finally!” Paul says, letting out an explosive breath as the shield wall passes through the remnants of the goblin riders, leaving their corpses behind them as they go. With a scroll in each fist the necromancer leads a small handful of novice casters into action. Black fog rises from the ground around the recently fallen and one by one the goblins and their mounts rise from the mud. “Bring them all back here.” He orders, “We need them to man the siege weapons.” The other casters not and begin directing the new recruits to their tasks. Unfortunately, even with Paul’s assistance, they’re unable to raise very many and it’s all some of the less experienced ones can do to keep them under control. Downrange, the forces clash together with the resounding noise of a steel-on-steel orchestra. But the lines hold on both sides. The orcs are frenzied with the smell of blood and the human enemy are battle-hardened mercenaries and all are divided into squads headed by an orcish monstrosity that is half-orc and half white dragon. Their fearsome white-scaled bulks and fanged maws are horrable to behiold and Thade’s forces, despite having momentum and morale on their side are composed largely of inexperienced men. They mowed through the shattered and disorganized goblin cavalry easily enough but they did suffer casualties and now they hurl themselves against a physically and numerically superior force. Gliff’s brethren, mounted on their blink dog steeds have reappeared to try to break them up like they did before, but the half-dragon taskmasters refuse to let their units break. Despite their stunning display of force only moments ago, the odds are still alarmingly against them. Grix, already having forgotten the wound he earned earlier begins directing budding necromancers and their newly assembled gangs of undead engineers to their tasks behind the lines. The huge, crossbow-like ballistae are loaded and made ready to fire, some with bundles of arrows, others with specially made ammunition and a couple of them are loaded with the few remaining shells from the doomed bells. He watches with a grin as the massive, counterweighted arm of the trebuchet is pulled back by a team of undead wargs and wolves. “This is going to be brilliant…” he says, eyes gleaming.
Aluroon 05-09-04, 12:18 PM	YAY Thanks Galahad!
Galahad_Knight 05-09-04, 03:58 PM	I hope it turned out ok. I've never had to write something like that before.
Aluroon 05-09-04, 05:53 PM	It seams great to me, although it is alittle short compared to other chapers IMO. Great B-day present for me though, thanks! Aluroon
Galahad_Knight 05-09-04, 10:34 PM	Happy birthday! And yeah, it is a little short, but I had to break it off there because if I;d kept going it would have been twice as long and probably wouldn;t have gotten done for a while <chuckles>
WarDragon 05-10-04, 12:16 AM	Ah, you can't cut us of fin the middle of a battle like that, man! Write quickly! Quickly, I say! *snaps whip*
sgc8647 05-19-04, 10:46 AM	lol never split a battle unless you really have to ... oh my the agony of waiting :) gregoire
AndrewM1 05-22-04, 04:37 PM	Yet another groupie post. You rock, Galahad! :D :D :D
Galahad_Knight 05-23-04, 01:17 AM	Thanks all. Next chapter coming soon. It's already about halfway done. If I have energy Sunday night I'll try to finish it, otherwise it should be done in the next couple days, assuming my house doesn;texplode or something.
Aluroon 05-23-04, 12:05 PM	I cant wait to see the rest...keep it up! Aluroon
Aluroon 05-23-04, 04:50 PM	Oh well, I was hoping that you would finish before I left for home, I dont have the interent there. I hope I get to read it later in the week. Aluroon
Aluroon 05-24-04, 08:20 PM	Man Galahad I though you would be done on sunday... oh well Finish soon! Aluroon
Galahad_Knight 05-26-04, 07:48 AM	Sorry. When I say "Sunday night" I mean "After 2 AM on sunday" I was at work most of the day. I tried to get some writing done that night but I was pretty worn out. And monday's my new game day so that didn;t work out Fortunately, I didn;t do jack today... Hope it's woirth the wait. ==================== The Gathering Storm Chapter 19: Clash The two forces hurl themselves against each other like waves of steel breaking on a beach. Grix’ ballista artillery focuses on the rear lines, firing long, arching shots over the heads of the clashing warriors. Gliff’s brothers on their fearsome blink dog mounts sparkle and shimmer in the middle of the orc’s main force, sowing chaos in their wake. The two main bodies of Thade and Gliff’s mounted units tear into the goblin footmen and crossbowmen on the flanks while Ragnar’s Skirmishers grind into the front line. The whole force is working in beautiful concert, but the odds are long and getting worse as more of Thade’s men fall. Suddenly the sky turns blood red as one of Grix’s ballistae fires a special flare over the heads of the combatants. Along the line horns are sounded and retreat is called. “I hope this works.” Ragnar growls as he pulls his slavering berserkers back, “I hope it works fast too…I don’t know if I can keep this lot in line…” Thera laughs and begins giving orders to pull back, her voice ringing clear over the sounds of battle. Reluctantly Thade’s forces peel themselves back from the battle and retreat. The orcs attempt to press their advantage but Gliff’s brothers instantly appear before them and hold them back, flickering and shimmering through their front line, leaving dismembered bodes in their wake. When the main body has pulled back to a safe distance and regrouped, Gliff rides ahead and shouts to his brothers that they can pull back too. Instantly they appear behind Thade’s lines and Gliff spurs max back to the main body. As the gnome turns his back to the enemy forces a lucky crossbow shot hits him in the shoulder. He slumps a bit in his saddle but manages to hold on as Max makes a run for their forces. The injured paladin is quickly rushed to the rear. When the army has pulled back Grix signals for the trebuchet to fire. The massive arm swings forward and the sling unfolds, flinging its contents high into the air. The bundle breaks apart at the highest point of the arc, revealing a dozen or more smaller shapes…they look like people. Suddenly their fall slows and they drift slowly downward. The amassed orcs, goblins and other monstrosities stop and stare as the forms land in their ranks. Cries of shock and alarm are heard and the mass of men undulates as men try to move away. Grix giggles giddily as the trebuchet fires again, sending another load of bodies aloft. “Brilliant!” he cackles, doing a gruesome little jig, “Fire the last of the ballista rounds!” He orders, still dancing. The men manning the ballistae rush into action, sending more explosive projectiles sailing into the now disorganized mass of panic. “What, pray tell, did you launch that is causing so much panic and discord?” One of the elven paladins asks, shading his eyes with his hand as he watches the enemy forces break down. “Zombies.” Grix says, matter-of-factly, “…Cosmetically ‘augmented’ zombies made to look all the more fearsome and disgusting. Imagine how you’d feel if suddenly one of your fallen comrades landed in front of you and vomited a mass of half-rotted organs and writing maggots on your best armor?” The grin on the little kobold’s face is so wide that it’s a wonder the top of his head hasn’t fallen off yet. The elf blanches and backs away, shuddering. “You’re a disgusting, loathsome little creature…” he mutters. Grix shrugs, “Hey, I didn’t invent zombies…I just figured out fun ways to use them.” The elf makes a choking noise and storms away. Gliff chuckles from the makeshift sickbed nearby and shakes his head, “Sensitive lot, aren’t they?” he says to Grix. The Kobold smiles and moves over by his bandaged friend, “They remind me of a certain gnome I know if.” He chuckles, “I’m glad to see you got over yourself eventually.” Gliff laughs, wincing as he does, “Don’t get me wrong…I still think you’re a disgusting, loathsome little creature…I just don’t get all ashen and shaky about it.” He grins. Grix laughs, wincing slightly as well, suddenly remembering his own wound. “Well, at least there’s that.” Shouts of alarm rise up from Thade’s forces. “They’re regrouping!” someone shouts, pointing to the remaining enemy troops. The ogres and trolls , under the direction of some of the cooler headed orc and human officers have begun literally whipping their fellows in line. With the zombies destroyed and the rain of lethal projectiles halted, the enemy army has reformed and has begun a rapid advance. The lines quickly reform and brace for the coming impact while engineers scramble to put together anything they can throw from the trebuchet and ballistae. From the west six dark, mounted figures appear. “More friends?” Grix asks. “Not mine…” Gliff says, “They’re not shiny enough…” he squints into the distance. Paul grins, “They’re friends of mine…” he says, rubbing his hands together. The figures begin a stately advance, moving slowly and deliberately towards both armies. Paul’s eyes unfocus and grow distant as he begins to chant. The onrushing orcs fail to react to the half-dozen unarmored figures as they charge past the bodies of the fallen, but not for long. Suddenly the bodies of the dead orcs, goblins and mercenary humans rise, shedding meat and skin like water. A small army of skeletons stands up in the midst of the charging enemies. The advance halts as suddenly as if it has slammed into a solid wall. Screams echo through the air as men and orcs are cut down by their own dead companions. “That’s it, boys!” Thade roars, drawing his sword again, “Charge!” he bellows, leading his men back into the fray. As one, the assembled forces pick up their weapons, let out a roar and charge. Only the injured, the noncombatants and, strangely, the elve3n paladins remain behind. Gliff sits up, wincing, “Why aren’t you joining the battle?” he asks one of his brothers. The elf looks out on the renewed conflict with a look of utter contempt, “Had we known that this is how your new friends operate, we wouldn’t have come in the first place. We have lost brothers and friends in this battle. I refuse to risk more to come to the aid of necromancers and their lackeys.” The last word spat out at Grix, heavy with contempt. “Just as well.” Gliff says, fighting back a groan as he pulls on his breastplate, “I refuse to fight alongside cowards and bigots.” He matches his elvish brother’s tones of disgust as he claps down his visor and hauls himself up into his saddle “Had I known how you operate, I wouldn’t have bothered calling you.” With that he rides out into battle, leaving both his fellow paladins and Grix openmouthed and stunned. Gliff arrives just as the armies meet. The orcs are thoroughly broken. Any shred of morale they had before was ripped away by the sudden and gruesome onslaught of the undead. Those that can flee, do. Those that can’t are cut down with grim efficiency by the animated dead and Thade’s troops. In a few minutes it is over. The victorious pull back, leaving the remaining skeletal soldiers to themselves. The six black-clad figures ride up to meet with Thade and his companions. “Lord Huntington, I presume?” the one in the lead asks, in a deep, sonorous voice. Thade’s exultation at his victory is suddenly washed away by the eerie atmosphere generated by these new arrivals; he seems a little uneasy in their presence. “Yes, that is I.” He says, straightening in his saddle, “To whom do I owe this fortuitous turn of events?” He asks, sounding confident despite his sense of unease. “To Zombicorp, of course.” The figure pulls back his hood revealing a pale, drawn face. He smiles, which does nothing to enhance his appearance. “Malthus Bolt, local district supervisor in charge of sales and acquisitions.” He says, by way of introduction. He offers a hand, which Thade quickly, but politely refuses, citing the blood that covers his massive hands. “It’s an honor…” Thade says, casting an uneasy glance at the motionless regiment of skeletons not far away. “I am in your debt.” “No debt is incurred, My Lord.” Malthus replies in what appears to be a very valiant attempt at cheerfulness. “We knew one of our most valued associates was in trouble and did what anyone would. However, if you would like to discuss business at a more convenient time, I would be honored to do so.” He takes a look around, “In the meantime, we would be happy to help you with your current situation. It shouldn’t take us long for those skeletons to beat down the gates.” Thade shakes his head, “Thank you no. I’d rather not reclaim my birthright at the head of an army of the undead. No offense, but that imagery doesn’t exactly inspire positive feelings in most people.” The man nods, “I understand. Perhaps I can direct them to help clean up the battlefield while you regroup your forces and try to get inside.” “That would be appreciated.” Thade says, “But…I don’t wand them handling the bodies of my men. We can handle our own. If you could just have them dig a trench and dump the bodies of the enemies into it before covering it over that would be great.” “Easily done.” He nods to the others and the skeletons begin the grim work of sorting through the dead and burying the bodies of the enemy dead. Thade’s forces pull back to lick their wounds. “How’s it looking, big guy?” Thera asks the hulking hero. Thade looks out on the remains of his troops and sighs, “Not well. We won the battle, but we lost many man and have many more wounded. We’re down to half our men in fighting shape and that’s just not going to do it. Especially since Gliff’s friends seem to have departed us.” Thera sighs and nods, “It’s too bad. They were quite a force to see. Beautiful, graceful…the true mark of elvish nobility.” Ragnar grunts sourly and Jaicen laughs, “They’re also arrogant, bigoted, stuck-up snots. Which is why young Glifford over there put ‘em out on their ear.” Thade sighs, “Well, I respect his moral fortitude, I suppose, but without them, how are we going to get inside those walls? Bearing in mind, I’m not going to storm the gates with an army of rotting goblin corpses.” Paul lets out a hurt little sound, “They’re hardly rotting. If it weren’t for all the battle damage I’d be proud to have any one of them in my home. That’s some top-quality workmanship you’re scoffing at you know. Men like Malthus are genuine artists.” The others pause and Thade starts to say something, then stops and shakes his head. Thera smiles sweetly and pats Paul on the hand gently, “I understand, dear. But not everyone appreciates a finely animated body…Thade comes from a somewhat conservative family. His people just wouldn’t understand.” Paul sighs, “Story of my life…” “Anyhow…” Thade says, managing to regain his conversational feet, “We still need a way inside. I figure if we can get in there and find the heart of the infection aw can defuse the whole thing without loosing any more men on either side.” “I can get us in…” Grix says, checking his notes, “I have some scrolls of limited invisibility and a few of the feather-falling devises we used on the zombies still have a charge. Everyone gets one device and I can start using the scrolls. Load us up into the trebuchet and off we go.” Thade looks horrified, “You want to hurl us from a siege engine?” “More or less.” The kobold replies with a shrug, “We’ll need to pair up though. The sing isn’t big enough to throw us all, and we should probably connect ourselves to our partners with a length of rope. After all, we won’t be able to see one another so at least this way you know you’re landing near a buddy.” “Won’t it be hard to aim the thing when we can’t see where the shots are landing?” asks Ragnar, trying not to think too much about what they’re shooting. “And won’t the people inside be suspicious to see we’re apparently not firing anything?” “Well, we could carry with us smoke pots. When the feather fall devices kick in simply drop the smoke pot. This’ll distract the people below and provide us something to aim for. Thade sighs, “There’s really no other way to do this, is there?” “Not without a lot of fighting…” Grix says, already cutting rope. Witin a half hour the team is ready to go, equipped with zombie-tested falling devices and smoke pots made from left over explosive powder, fresh-cut brush and some cooking spices to give the stuff an unusual and worrying odor. The idea is that those on the other side of the wall will smell the acrid smoke and assume it’s poisonous and immediately flee the area, leaving a clear landing zone for the party. Soon the group is paired up, linked by the waist with a length of rope. Thera and Ragnar, Thade and Paul, Gliff and Jaicen and Grix and Usk. Usk, for his part appears to be brooding. Grix says he’s been in a fowl mood all afternoon but seems unconcerned. Once they’re paired off, Grix begins burning through scrolls, making them disappear, one by one Thade and Paul are the first to go. Their smoke pot is lit and the trebuchet flings them high into the air, a plume of gray-blue smoke marking the path they make through the sky. It pauses for an instant at its apex above the courtyard then the smoke pot falls almost straight down. When it breaks on the ground a thick plume of smoke begins to rise from inside the walls. The group cheers and the trebuchet is reloaded. Two by two the band of daring adventurers are flung into the keep. The air is thick with the smell of tangy smokes and the cooks lament the loss of their precious spices, but the rest of the remnants of Thade’s army cheer happily as they see their heroes have all landed within the walls of the keep, or at least their smoke pots did... Thade and Paul land safely in the middle of the courtyard. Coughing and choking on their own smoke they make a dash for the doors to the inner keep only to find them barred. Thera and Ragnar find themselves on top of the inner keep, some yards away from the billowing plume of smoke that marks where their pot landed. Gliff and Jaicen land on top of the outer wall…or rather, Jaicen does. He’s nearly pulled over the edge as Gliff misses the narrow walkway and keeps falling. Thankfully the rope holds and the injured gnome is hauled up to the battlements with only the wind knocked out of him. Grix and Usk land near the main gates. “We’ll have to go around.” Thade says, giving the doors to the inner keep one last frustrated kick, “We can get inside through the kitchen!” he says, practically dragging the necromancer as his long legs eat up the distance. “Well, that went better than I had ever imagined.” Ragnar says, dusting himself off, “Don’t think for a moment that that was a bout of optimism, mind you.” He says in the general direction of his invisible companion, “I’d just imagined us being splattered across the landscape, or maybe decorating the inside of one of the walls.” “Speak for yourself.” Thera groans from nearby, “I think I landed harder than you did.” A couple roof tiles slide down and crash on the cobbles below as the invisible Thera extricates herself from the broken terracotta. “Nonesense,” Ragnar replies, chuckling “…you just haven’t got as much padding as me…least not in the bit you landed on.” Thera didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning. A piece of broken roofing tile flies past. “Missed me.” Ragnar teases. “Who says I was aiming for you? That tile displeased me and had to be made an example of. Now…how do we get inside from here?” “Are you alright, mate?” Jaicen asks, helping Gliff to his feet. “Yeah.” The gnome wheezes unconvincingly, “Thankfully my wounds from before are pretty much healed so I’m only in tremendous pain as opposed to bleeding to death right now.” He says once he gets his wind back. “I think my kidneys have moved though…can’t say as I blame them.” He chuckles weakly, “Let’s get on with this then. We should move towards the inner keep, that’s where two of the pots landed and that’s where we need to go anyhow.” “Right.” Jaicen says, racking the lever on his rifle, “We’d best get there before the spell wears off.” “Usk! What do you think you’re doing?!” Grix demands as he is drug by his tether towards the main gates, “We’re going the wrong way! We want to get inside, not out, you idiot.” He manages to cut through the rope with his claws and stagger to his feet. “It is dangerous for you in here.” Usk says, stopping now to try and find his invisible master. “We must leave at once.” “Safety is important, but I will not suffer a coward, Usk. Our friends are out here and they need us. Right now that’s more important than being safe.” “They are why you put yourself in danger?” Usk asks. If only Grix could read the metal superkobold’s expression and tone right now, but he’s too distracted by the smoke and commotion right now to notice the subtle clues that he normally picks up on with Usk, even if he could see him. “Of course!” Grix says, exasperated, “Have you learned nothing from all this?” “I have learned that friendship is dangerous…” Usk intones. Grix doesn’t have to see his face to sense the danger in that tone. “Usk? What are you going to do? Usk, I command you to stop!” But his words fall on deaf ears as Usk turns and makes his way towards the keep. Fearing for his friends, and his creation Grix bolts for the keep as well, hoping to get there first, before it’s too late.
Staver 05-26-04, 08:19 AM	Yay! :invasion:
WarDragon 05-26-04, 10:57 AM	Hmm, amazing how something that started out so well, and seemed to be progressing nicely, can end with such a heartfelt "oh crap!" But in a good way, of course. :angel:
eudas 05-26-04, 02:32 PM	My big question is how did Usk move from being an automaton to a construct with a personality? I guess it's just a story-thing, but I've never seen anything mechanics-wise which says that constructs are imbued with their own personality. I had always assumed that they were just medieval robots. eudas
Galahad_Knight 05-26-04, 05:58 PM	Usk has always had a oersonality. Until now it was just a boring one. ;-) For the record, Usk was created using the Improved Familiar feat and merely copying the stats of a Sall Earth Elemental. I dropped the earth mastry and changed the type to construct. His upgrades were made like a magic item. Anyhow, earth elementals have ingelligence scores and, thusly, poersonalities. I had considered dropping his int score but I changed my mind. I figured itwould be more interesting this way. Besides, as Grix gains in levels Usk would naturally gain Int merely from the familiar link ability. So even if he started out mindless he could eventually becme intelligent. Which is also pretty interesting. Finally, the idea of a sale-aware construct is not out of the question. There are a couple of spells in Savage Species (Incarnate Construct and awaken Construct) that bestow consciousness to mindless constructs. There are also several constructs (Mostly the Inevadables) in other monster books (and I believe some were included in the 3.5 MM) that are self aware. So while the assumption that constructs are like magical robots is a good one, don't forget that robots are often times self aware in science fiction. Whether it's via a series of lifelike personality-emulating programs like StarWars droids, having a human brain like Frankenstein or RoboCop, or true consciousness achieved torhough super-edcanced computer technology like Data from Star Trek Usk's personality has been developing in the background. I haven't really focused on it much because he;s not a major character, but it's there. He starts out relatively plesant and protective. As things progress he begins killing people who harm Grix, but he does it when he's not there to tell him otherwise. He does it this way because he knows Grix would object but he feels it needs to be done for his own good. As the story unfolds he is pushed into the background and ignored by his master, left alone for long periods of time. Recently it's revealed that he's been hearing voices. Since he doesn't seem surprised by them it can be assumed that he's been hearing them for a while and trying to ignore it. But the more he;s ignopred the more he only has that alien voice to listen to. Perhaps I was a bit too subtle with Usk.
eudas 05-26-04, 06:24 PM	Oh, no, I got it -- you weren't too subtle with Usk. I had just forgotten that you created him as a type-changed small earth elemental Improved Familiar instead of as a construct. :) cheers, eudas
WarDragon 05-27-04, 12:05 AM	As if the fact that Usk is "hearing voices" isn't bad enough, I've got a good clue as to whose voice he's hearing...
Aluroon 05-31-04, 05:56 PM	I agree with WarDragon, its not difficult to deduce whos is talken to him... Anyway great next chapter, although it took me forever to get here and look at it. I look forward to the next!. Aluroon
Staver 06-04-04, 09:22 AM	Hopeful :bump: ? You still with us Galahad? -Staver
WarDragon 06-04-04, 12:06 PM	Is life still giving you crap, Galahad? I hope everything's going well for you, or will do so in the near future. And of course, we're all eagerly awaiting the next chapter...
Galahad_Knight 06-07-04, 03:21 PM	Sorry guys, I;ve been workinga lot lately, by the time I get home I don;t really have anything left to write with To make it worse i've had to work through two game days (counting today, which I have to give up my game for a pointless 3 hour shift this evening). Anyhow, I have a few days off coming up though so I'll try to get somehting donwe this week. Really sorry guys.
WarDragon 06-08-04, 01:09 AM	Don't worry about it, Galahad; we've all been there. Take your time, get your life back together, and don't push yourself too hard.
Aluroon 06-17-04, 07:30 PM	Hey all, Every now and then, when I look at text on these boards, proticualry when galahad posts his chapters, some letters are replaced with symbles such as, “M for M. I was just wondering if anyone else had this problum, or if anyone knew a way to fix it. Thats about it Aluroon
Galahad_Knight 06-21-04, 12:25 AM	I'm sorry updates haven;t been fourthcoming guys. I'm having a very hard time focusing on the story right now. I don;t want to say the b-word, so let's call it a completely temporary obstruction of the creative juices. I thank you all for sticking with me through all this and I really hope I can get this thing out sometime soon. Unfortunately work is sucking me dry right now. But I'll try, for you guys. I suck, I know it. But thanks for sticking around anyhow. I'll try to stop disappointing you soon ;) PS, happy Father's Day to any gamerdaddies out there. Your efforts do not go unrecognized. PPS, no, I'm afraid I haven;t noticed any textual distortions besides my own typos. You might consider updating or changing your browser if you do. I highly recoomend Mozilla. I haven;t seen a popup in years.
LupinIII 06-26-04, 04:12 PM	Wow. Just that. Wow. I just finished reading this thread (Yes, all of it in one go!), and all I can say is kudos to Galahad_Knight! You really have a talent there my friend, and I agree with some of the other posters that you can indeed publish this. Some of the purely DnD references would need to be changed (or at least better explained:blink dogs for example), but let an editor go over this to smooth it out, and it would be MILES better than some of the stuff currently passing for fantasy fiction. Take a copy to some publishers, you never know... As for getting a publisher, who said you had to? Not having one does not preclude commercial success. Matthew Reilly (best selling author of Contest, Temple, Ice Station, Area 52, among others) self-published his first novel, Contest. I'm no expert on publishing in general, much less self-publishing, but it is not a HUGE capital outlay. In 1996, Reilly paid $8000 (Australian) to print 1000 copies, and after it sold out, he got a deal with a publisher. A lot of capital, but less than expected. Besides, I can just imagine The Gathering Storm on the shelf of my local bookstore (with Winterwound on the cover of course, glaring malevolently into his crystal ball!). Anyway, this was supposed to be an inspiring post (hope it worked!). Keep it up, this is REALLY good stuff! PS. If one day you publish a tale (doesn't have to be this one), notify the .COMmunity! PPS. Just a bit of constructive criticism: I've noticed that most of the tale is written in the present tense. This is natural, as we RPers are used to writing descriptions as they unfold, like any good DM, but in most of the proffessional works I've read, the tense is mostly past. e.g. "The men braced for the impact..." instead of "The men brace for the impact..." Also, I can't find an example right now, but try to keep the tense constant throughout. Once or twice you switch from present to past or vice versa. Just some things my old English teacher always pointed out to me... Otherwise, love your style! Very descriptive, characters are well fleshed out etc. Hope I didn't offend, but Sun Tsu did say: He who correctly criticises me, is my friend! Once again, kudos. L3
Aluroon 06-28-04, 05:56 PM	Well, its happened on more then one computer, so I dont think it has anything to do with my computer. Just wondering... Aluroon
ranger of the north 07-05-04, 10:02 PM	Where oh where hath that little story gone? Where could it be?
BlackFlame 07-09-04, 04:59 PM	Galahad, man....are u dead?
Galahad_Knight 07-10-04, 07:29 PM	I'm sorry guys. I really am. Work has been kicking my butt and every time I sit down to write all my energy goes away. I know you guys deserve better from me and you deserve a conclusion to thsi story and I feel like a bastard for not being able to deliver. I'm sorry to disappoint... I'll keep trying though.
drelidan7 07-13-04, 05:31 AM	We don't really deserve anything from you Galahad. You're doing all this for free, and it's understandable that your life is getting in the way of your writing. It does take energy to write, creative energy that you really can't draw if you're tired. Then again, some people write better late/when they're tired, but when you're working your butt off, this is secondary. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm speaking for myself, of course, but I'm more than happy with what you have given me, as a reader, free of charge. With that being said, the story has been enjoyable so far, and I wish you luck in getting through the crappy part of life called work. :bow:
eudas 07-15-04, 02:53 PM	No worries. I've got my own story to finish writing (my tales of Telamon, and our current campaign (from T's perspective)), but i'm far too lazy to write in a disciplined, regular manner. I'll keep checking back. cheers, eudas
Aluroon 07-25-04, 08:17 PM	My god its been so long since the last chapter... Are you still alive Galahad, you didn't get hit by a truck or something did you? Aluroon
Galahad_Knight 07-27-04, 07:35 AM	Sorry again, guys. I *do* owe you guys for sticking with me even after all this. And since you;ve been so good to me I don;t come emptyhanded. The chapter is underway and it;s going to be a big 'un. And just to tide you over until it's done, here's a free sample... --------------------------- “I’ve got to leave. There’s no two ways about it.” Ragnar Wulfric says as he wipes fresh blood from his axe blade. He rolls the body over with his iron-plated boot. It was an orc, but not like the ones Ragnar knew. It was huge, broad-bodied and covered in dingy white plate-like scales. It was tough, he gave it that, but the flaming axe of the infamous Trollslayer made quick work of him, the cauterized gash through chest revealing the fatal blow, as well as many formerly vital organs. A slight grin of satisfaction peeks through the fierce red beard of the man feared in every orc warren and ogre’s cage from here to the frozen reaches of the North. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure or humor, not even a smile. Just the look of a man who knows he does his job well. The invisibility spell recently cast on him was broken in the fight only moments ago, but even still, his enemy never got to see the grin. It only came after the deed was already done. In the instant after metal clears flesh and the instant before flesh hits the ground, it comes out. “I can’t believe you’re taking the word of some deformed orc you just now killed!” Thera exclaims. The petite half-elf reloads her silver clad hand-crossbow as she talks, at times the fiery waitress *** disinherited noble turned swashbuckling bandit and current chronicler of the Saga of Ragnar, even gestures with the trademark weapon as she works up to a good ranting pace. “How do you know they have her? All he said was ‘your mother sends her love.’ Ad then you roared like a bull and cut him in half. He probably just made it up to pull you out of the fight! That’s what I’d do, hells, it’s even working!” Her silver-blue eyes flash and her pale blonde braid whips back and fourth like a cat’s tail as she communicates her mind with every part of her slender bdy. Having spend the last several years with the gruff, stocky Northerner, Thera learned that subtlety is lost somewhere between the coat of coarse red hair and inch-thick scull of her companion. “And while you’re getting ready to walk out that sadistic little wretch Stubby is on his way to kill our friends!” The troublesome halfling and his band of marauders had literally run into the duo a few minutes ago. The orc-thing was a new additon to the group, one which the pint-sized sadist had no qualms about leaving behind to deal with the two of them. “You do realize, Thera, that we’re deep inside a fortification held by people who would gladly shoot us on sight, right?” Ragnar asks in that infuriatingly patient tone that only infuriates the hopelessly impatient. “I don’t want to take the wind out of your sail, but you screeching at me is, arguably, less useful than me simply leaving quietly.” “Screeching? Screeching?!” she screeches. “Yes,” he says in the same patient tone, “Just like that. Exactly.” “I do not screech!” Thera hisses, finally bringing her voice to somewhat more clandestine levels. “I…I…accentuate.” She says, pulling her temper in line. “In any event, I hope someone comes. I’d rather see you fight like the man I know you are then to run off like a craven…jack-a-nape!” she says, fishing for insults in a pond stocked with the kind of fish that have lanterns on their heads but teeth only a bear trap could envy. She desperately hurls her words at Ragnar’s retreating back. “Is that even a word?” Ragnar asks, pausing in mid-stride. “Craven? Of course it is…it means cowardly.” Thera says, carefully dancing around the other possibility. “Don’t you know anything?” she adds, for good measure. “Not that word, you rambling lunatic.” Ragnar says, turning around to face her, “What in the nine hells is an ‘accentuate’? I’ve long suspected that you made up a good portion of the fancy words you point at me and that last one tears it.” Thera stands dumbstruck for a moment as her brain carefully throws itself into reverse and runs through that one more time. “What about jack-a-nape?” she asks in a small voice. “What about it?” Ragnar asks, scratching his beard “Girl, I’ve been called every insult there is to call a man, and several that there are to call women and dumb animals…I find it interesting how often those last two categories overlap. Jack-a-nape isn’t new to me, it means an ape-like brute…practically my middle name if I had one.” “It does? I mean, of course it doesn What with you being all…apely.” She winces. “’Apely’?” Ragnar shakes his head, “Woman, your brains have finally come unhinged.” He sighs and looks away. “This is stupid…why do I let you distract me like this? Look, just because your mother’s a deranged witch doesn’t mean I ain’t allowed to love mine. If you knew the first thing about family you’d know that when it comes down to brass tacks, the only people you can’t quit on is family.” Thera looks up at him with tears in her eyes, like the gray tendrils of cloud that mar an otherwise clear sky just before a storm is about to blow in. “But…they…you…all of you…they’re the only family I ever really had.” She says, her voice catching as emotions rise up from deep inside her, from beneath her façade of playfulness and manipulation. “You can’t quit on family…” she says as the Thera Ragnar thought he knew falls away, leaving behind it a vulnerable creature that demands his love and protection more completely thanany arch look or flip remark she ever sent him. He can’t bring himself tolook at her at first, but finally he brings his eyes up and catches the bluish glint of mithral on shadow. “This is so dreadfully touching,” says a silky voice from behind Thera as shadows suddenly unfold and reveal a pair of long, slender arms, each bearing a long, slender knife. From just above Thera’s braided head a pair of eyes glint reflected green, like a cat caught stalking in the dark. “I’d hate to break this heartfelt little exchange with something so vulgar as a killing.” A pearly grin materializes under the eyes, “But then, death intrudes upon us all, in due time...” Ragnar watches in horror as the world seems to slow to a crawl. He tries to run to her but the short reach between them seems like miles as he hurls himself towards her, watching as the evil looking blades describe a perfect, graceful arc through the shadows at Thera’s unprotected back. And the grin, seeming to hover in the darkness. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure or humor, not even a smile. Just the look of a man who knows he does his job well. “Your mother sends her love.” The shadows whispers. ------------------------------------ I hope I haven't lost my edge after all this time. And, just in case you're wondering...at least one of the main heroes IS going to die before this is done...
eudas 07-27-04, 12:37 PM	oh please dear god let it be thera... eudas
Galahad_Knight 07-27-04, 06:03 PM	What, you don't like Thera? ;-)
Galahad_Knight 07-28-04, 11:57 PM	I'm still working on the rest of the chapter. But I'm thinking of just having ninjas come in and kill everyone. Like rght when the assassin swings at thera his head falls off and blood gushes out hard ehough to send the body flying like a balloon with the air let out. Then thera's like "Totally thank you for saving me and stuff, ninja dude!" and the ninja is all "I save you on;y to kill you myself!" and he totally stabbs her in the boobies. And she dies like all "Arrgh, my boobies!" and Ragnar is all "Arrrgh, thera's boobies!" and charges but the jinja totally cuts his arms off and beats himw itht hem. Then the ninjas totally go around killing everyone. And its revealed in an extra-awesome plot twist that Jaicen was a pirate because he kinda went to sea when he was younger, and anyone who goes to swea is either a pirate or a victim and Jaicen is totally a pirate. And he like fites the ninja king to the death, but Usk totally kills him when he wins and they make him the ninja king instead, but then kill him because they're ninjas and they don't need a reason. Then it's a simple matter to totally kill off everyone else because they wouldn;t be ready for ninjas. Because like nobody is ever ready for ninjas...not even those spanish inquisition dudes. because the nin jas would totally kiull them too. and I'll leave all the typos in to show how psyched I am about pirates. Or, you know, I could, like...do something else. You know, with a plot and stuff.
eudas 07-29-04, 11:15 AM	thera is probably my second or third least favorite. she's actively infuriating, though, which she (as a character) is supposed to be, so at least she's effective. i wouldn't mind it at all if she died, though. maybe as regret-fodder for ragnar, but i can't say i'd shed any tears over her. As i was going to say earlier, sometimes i would just like to stab her in the face until she dies. :eek: i'd probably say that my least favorite is the half-ogre knight, just because he's so boring that he's almost not even there. :zzz: Jaicen is a close second, as the predictably gruff-guy-with-a-heart-of-gold thing and not much else. though he's at least interesting in his vices. :bored: ragnar is pretty much the only one who has managed to stay interesting and serious about what's going on the entire time. :thumbsup: paul is pretty cool, because wizards have the most versatility, but i could really do without the ZombiCorp bit -- it really hurts the suspension of disbelief. The pun of Paul's name doesn't really help much on that front, either, but at least one can pretend that he just doesn't have a last name, as they hardly ever mention it. one thing i really did like was the spell-scroll bandolier. i'll have to use that on one of my characters, if/when i ever make a wizard. very smart! that's why he has the 18int and i don't, i guess. or maybe it's because of it... :mage: grix is probably my favorite, though. i just wish he'd sort out Usk, smack him around a bit, give him a cookie, and get back on track. Yay Grix! :love: Griff was pretty annoying, too, until he and Grix got their issues sorted out. (And that's saying something, seeing as how i'm currently *playing* a paladin!) I was pretty much rooting for Grix to give him Ye Olde Melf's Acid Arrow To The Face. He's ok now though. :fight!: on the subject of ninjas: would those be OA ninjas or S&F Ninja of the Crescent Moon PRC ninjas? :D eudas
Galahad_Knight 07-29-04, 06:37 PM	This is the first time I've ever gotten this much actual feedback on my characters before. Thanks! Unfortunately with so many characters and such a relatively short story there isn;t a lot of space to paint big, full portraits of the characters. I think I focus more on Thera and ragnar because they play so well together. Which, I guess, explains why they're both so imprinted on your mind. Fact is, this is largely their story since Winterwound was originally meant to be Ragnar's nemesis. The others were, of course, all made for different games and even settings so they sort of got tossed in. After all, this was originally intended as a writing exercise more than an actual story. Thera I actually enjoy writing for because I think she's a more accurate portrayal of the women *I* know then the dull cliched "I am a woman therefore I am better than any man. All males are but comic relif to my superior intellect and battle prowess" types. Yes, having strong female characters and role models are both good things. But they don;t have to be strong at the expense of everyone else's dignity and they don;t have to be shoehorned into every single plot. Meanwhile, Thera is fairly intelligent and resourceful, very manipulative and not a slouch when it comes to battle. She comes off as a strong female character, but one with weaknesses and foibles. Something which all characters *shgould* have mut most female characters these days do not for fear of angering demale readers. Thera's a hopeless romantic and a constant dreamer. She often does unwise things because she feeds on their inherent drama...like getting herself into fights so Ragnar can save her (something which I've experienced first hand with an ex girlfriend...I dumped her). Also, she is a bard and when;s the last time you saw a bard who wasn;t annoying? It's practically a class feature. Interestingly enough, most of my female friends that read the story love Thera...of course, they also find her abiot annoying, but that's one of the reasons they love her ;-) And yes, if you hate her so much then I am indeed an awesome writer! Mua-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm surprised Ragnar has struck such a cord with pople. For the longest time I feared that he was duller than dirt. Without Thera around to **** him off he's not got much going for him besides being a badass. Which is interesting to a point, but not much to drive a story on. Sure, I suppose I could write a gritty action thriller about his one-man quest to huint down and destroy the minions of Winterwound one-by-one until his final and climactic showdown with the fiend himself. But good lord that sounds boring as hell to me. I never really got off on gritty hardcore action. If there isn;t something in there to make me laugh or make me think there's no point in me reading it. I think Thera is the main reason Ragnar is so liked. People find Thera annoying. Ragnar finds her annoying too. It's fun to see him react the way you want to react. It's an afirmation that they're not crazy for finding Thera annoying. Obviously other peple do too. It feels good to hate when other people say it's ok ;-) It makes Thera more interesting and makes Ragar more interesting. Unfortunately it creates a kind of symbiosis and if one of them dies they both have to die because neiuther oen of them is interesting enough on their own to make it without the other. That's not to say Theras isn;t going to bite it, but it is to say she wouldn;t go out alone. Thade's always been boring. Unfortunately he;s not really in his element. In the game he was created for he had a lecherous human brother who was born after him. When Thade's true nature was revealed Thade exciled himself to prevent shame from falling on his family. As a show of support, his brother went with him aven though with Thade revealed as an adopted freak, he beame the legitimate heir. The two played well off one another because they were opposites but loved one another as brothers. But since the story was about throwing together characters i;d created, the brother got left out. so with no foil, Thade becomes the kind of boring, noble hero. He gets a few good moments though, usually when dealing with the antics of his new friends. But largely, yeah...he's dull as dirt. Gliff I have mixed feelings about. He was originally intended to be a tortured paladin, wandering slowly down a path of darkness and hate brought on by his savage background. But with the support of his friends, especially Grix, he sort of grew out of that and, in the process, became kinda dull too. Though it is fun to see him react with Grix. Perhaps if I give him some more time to grow and shine I can make him more interesting. Jaicen, I feel, never got the play he deserved. Mainly because it wa getitng a little cumbersome to have Stubby showing up all the time. But Jaicen was meant to be more than just the tough guy. He has a background that gives him a lot of practical experience in the kind of things that real adventurers do all the time but that most adventurers don;t have much knowledge of (military tactics, survival, seamanship, efficient but not very flashy ways of killing a man, etc. All practical skills for an adventurer but ones that many adventurers only gain along the way if they're lucky) Any adventurer can swing on a rope line from a ship's mast and tackle a pirate, but Jaicen could rig that line, tack te sales and steer the ship back to port. Any adventurer can cut the rope on a catapult and send a siege stone flying, but Jaicen can reload it and show them that cutting that rope may be dramatic but it means you can;t fire it again. He's the veteran. As a veteran he has a grizzled and slightly skiewed taker on things, which I think comes out nicely whenever i give him a chance to show through in the story. Unfortunately as a no-nonesense expert he;s not all that flashy and tends to be put into the background. Paul was originally intended for a more humerous campaign and I fretted about putting him in, but in the end I was too in love with zombicorp not to share it. I don;t think he damaged the feel though because if you think about it, zombicorp *could* exist in a serious setting. it sounds like a silly idea, but it's also a very parctical and useful idea, and one which could create some interesting roleplay situations. I think a bit of that showed through with the big battle. But, what can I say, I love comedy and I'll inject it into even the most serious plots...because usually the most serious plots are boring. Maybe I watch too much buffy the Vampire Slayer ;-) Grix has actually been one of my favorite characters since I first created him and has been the one I've had the most fun with (unless you count thera and ragnar's interactions). He's a Kobold, and a scientist. So his sense of social decorum is somwhat...lacking. He doesn't know why it;s disturbing to hsi friends for him to hack off an enemy;s hand and turn it into a bomb. All he knows is that it's a brilliant idea. Which is why he gets along so well with Paul and Jaicen. Jaicen is the kind of guy who's hard to disturb. He knows a good idea when eh sees one and being at sea, a god idea can include eating your buddy because you ran out of food, so it doesn;t breed squeamishness. Paul, of course, is the king of practical yet disturbing ideas. The three of them work well together. However, Grix, much like Gliff was originally meant to be darker. He was never evil, but he was meant to be more tortured. Of course, that wasn;t banking on the ifnluence of friends. Fortunately, however, I think he;s been growing and developing nicely. The only problem is, Usk has been pretty much completely ignored. Usk was meant as Grix's friend and companion, the only thing he trusts. It was also his protector and sort of an expression of his id. It was gtoing to be cool watching it play out and the inevadable discovery and reaction...but in the end I had so many characters on my plate and Grix was growing up so nicely thatg I felt there wouldn;t be much call for Usk to go on being the id-monster because Grix's soul is finally becomming eased. however, this meant I had a big, unresolved plot device with pretty much no personality and no dialogue.
eudas 07-29-04, 06:54 PM	Cool. Glad you like the feedback. Sorry that it took so long for us to deliver it! Thera and Ragnar - yeah, i agree, they don't work without the other. it's a classic symbiosis, as you mention. good cop bad cop. not much more to say there. (and i did notice the "rescue me!" thing as a classic female action... i figured it was something you'd seen irl.) thade could be alot more interesting with his brother along. no light without the darkness, and all that... and vice versa. however, taking administration of a castle and its environs can be a good excuse for the party to have support without him actually having to go with them and be involved. in other words, once he fulfills his quest, you can drop him from the story but still use his castle as a base of operations for the party if you want. Gliff and Grix have a similar sort of thing as Thera and Ragnar, but to a much lesser degree, since they don't have the whole psycho-sexual thing going on as well. Paul - buffy the vampire slayer? oh no! that explains *everything* right there. say no more. :P Jaicen seems really cool. If thera dies, and thade stops adventuring, maybe Ragnar and Jaicen can continue on. I actually liked Usk, up until he started being such a baby. He's a construct, for pete's sake... :) eudas p.s. also note: these criticisms are in the context of this story as presented on this thread; since some characters like Paul and Thade are from different campaigns (and indeed, different settings entirely probably) that adds a bit of context that changes things a bit. :) eudas
Galahad_Knight 07-29-04, 07:03 PM	Weird. You must have edited at the same time I was replying. For the record, Paul is actually a cleric. It doesn;t really show through though because I never liked the idea of oeple havng their class printed on their forehead in D&D. He's a cleric because he uses divine magic and believes strongly in what he does. However, he's called a necromancer rather than a priest because, well, he *is* a necromancer. He uses magics to tamper with the dead. he's not called a priest because he;s already got a nice job as a salesman. He doesn;t hold prayer services or convert heathens. he fulfulls his divine mission quite nicely as is. He doesn't wear armor or use weapons because he doesn't like wearing armor or using weapons, and, as a salesman, he finds that seeing a heavily ared thug may inspire soe people to buy out of fear, but rarely encourages repeat business. He's got a hard product to sell and he needs every ounce of trust he can get out of his customers. But you will see him girded for battle in the coming chapter. He also has a tremendous respect for life, which I think plays nicely against his occupation as a seller of bodies nd brings a nice, serious tone to his character. But at the same time creates humor by juxtaposition of those two elements. And, by the way, the scroll bandolier is in the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting, under the equipment section. I'd like to take credit for it, but neither I nor Paul thought of it first. ;-)
Galahad_Knight 07-29-04, 07:33 PM	Cool. Glad you like the feedback. Sorry that it took so long for us to deliver it! No problem. I suppose I should have asked for it, but I was so awed by all the praise I was afrid to <chuckles> thade could be alot more interesting with his brother along. no light without the darkness, and all that... and vice versa. Yeah, I realize that now. It would have been cool if I put him in from the start. But again, when this first started out it wasn;t meant to be anything more than a fun little exercise to jot down a short story about my various characters meeting and interacting. It wasn;t meant to grow and take off like this. And by the time it did it was too late to change things. however, taking administration of a castle and its environs can be a good excuse for the party to have support without him actually having to go with them and be involved. in other words, once he fulfills his quest, you can drop him from the story but still use his castle as a base of operations for the party if you want. True. I;ve been considering what to do with him after this. However, dropping him would mean dropping Jaicen as well since Jaicen is, after all, Thade's Cohort (something which again doesn;t really shine through because I;d rathwr have characters defined by their personalitie sand actions than what S&S category they fit into). His job is to keep Thade out of trouble. Sort of like the batmen of the old English army (Officers had a NCO called a 'batman' to look after them. It was a very serious thing and they often formed close relationships akin to Sam and Frodo) unfortunately I think that aspect of their relationship was downplayed a bit too much by making Jaicen his own man. I'd rather not drop Jaicen because I enjoy his absolutely vile sense of humor and knack for blood-curdling insults (something which curse-filters and a PG boards environemt have kid of put a damper on). Of course, it would be totally fitting for him to be the one to die. Taking one for the boss and all... But that's too predictable. Gliff and Grix have a similar sort of thing as Thera and Ragnar, but to a much lesser degree, since they don't have the whole psycho-sexual thing going on as well. LOL, or DO they? :smirk: But seriously, yeah. They play very well off one another and having one without the other there as a foil would be pretty hard. Paul - buffy the vampire slayer? oh no! that explains *everything* right there. say no more. I am a huge fan of Joss Whedon;s work. I love that he can blend action, drama and comedy and make it all work. I guess I'm no Joss Whedon ;-) Jaicen seems really cool. If thera dies, and thade stops adventuring, maybe Ragnar and Jaicen can continue on. That's asn interesting idea, actually. But I'm not sure how well it would work. I often find Jaicen and Ragnar too similar. If they;re both put together without their resective foils (No Thera to annoy ragnar, no thera to be picked on by Jaicen, no Thade to be doted on by Jaicen, no thade to be annoyed by the antics of Ragnar and Jaicen, etc) there's a big danger of the two of them simply merging. With nothing to help define their seperate personalites they could end up just being two copies of the same character and that'd be kinda dull. I actually liked Usk, up until he started being such a baby. He's a construct, for pete's sake... I did too, but the story kind of moved on without him. My fault for not being good enough to juggle so many characters. As for him being a baby... He *IS* a baby. Think about it. Grix created him, grix loved him. Grix was his only friend and family for his entire life. And he,s only a few years old at that. He does have a consciousness, created via their familiar bond. That consciousness was formed at a time when Grix was feeling vwry angry, frightened and alone. That aspect of his personality became ingraned in Usk. Usk was forged from great grief and pain to be a protector and a comfort to him. But now Grix is over that pain and, ostensably, over his need for Usk. If you were a young child who had just been rejected by your only parrent you'd be hurt, terrified and alone. Considering the conditions under which Usk was formed, he reacts violently to feelings like that. He was made to protect Grix frrom those feelings and nowe he feels them himself. That creates more fear, which in turn, creates a lot of anger. Comebine that with an evil vice in yoru head and it;s rampage time. p.s. also note: these criticisms are in the context of this story as presented on this thread; since some characters like Paul and Thade are from different campaigns (and indeed, different settings entirely probably) that adds a bit of context that changes things a bit. I understand. I wasn;t trying to use their different origins as a defense for them not working out in the context of the story, just an explanation for why they;re not. After all, it;s a frankenstein's monster of a story, there's bound to be some ugly stiching. It doesn;t make me any better of a writer for not being able to blend them more homogenously, but at least you know why they;re like that. If I had set out to create a new story with purpose-built characters I think it would have been better in a lot of ways. Though, all things considered, I think it's working out ok.
eudas 07-30-04, 09:53 AM	Editing: yeah, i re-edited it so it was a little more complete, and not so much of an ass. Usk: I don't think i would have ever assigned him an id, as such, or whatever it is he has... to me, he's a construct (reminds me of a miniature ED-209), and both as a player and a wizard (were I in Grix's position) I would have treated him as such... he was built to follow orders, and I have no use for a robot that can't follow orders. :) [cue advertisement for 'I,Robot'] The explanation of the 'why' of his behaviour makes 100% sense, though; it's exactly why I thought he is the way he is as well. We're "on the same page" (I hate that phrase). Thade: Bring out the ogre in him. Show some dark side. If he's supposed to be a LG Fighter in this story, give him some alignment-based conflict. Let him lose his temper finally, trash some BBEG or whatnot, and have everybody be like "woah!..." and look at him in a new light, up to and including Jaicen. Jaicen: I've got an even better idea for Jaicen. Once the castle is taken, Thade is buried in administrativa and Jaicen becomes his... regent? (Is that the proper term?) ... his right hand man, basically, who handles individual tasks for his master. Like interfacing with the party, or intimidating nobles who need to be brought into line. He does the dirty work that Thade can't do for whatever reasons. (Every King needs an enforcer... even Duke Atreides had his Duncan Idaho.) Maybe he'll occasionally need the help of the party for some particularly nasty job (i.e., Thade and Jaicen become a DM source of plot hooks for the party even after they leave the party). Gliff/Grix: I think I actually would like to see Gliff and Grix become closer friends, to the point where if the party dissolves they would probably stick together, or at least remain close acquaintances. Gliff provides the Cause, and Grix provides the Methods to accomplish them... Gliff is happy because LG things are being done, and Grix is happy because he's getting acclaim for his inventions... Buffy: I hate it with every fiber of my being. My view of whatever quality the writing and directing may have is completely obscured by the awful, awful content. Prime-time pseudo-gothic-pagan smutty soap operas... Willow is hot, though. ("Say my name, ...!" Heh.) Paul: oh, a high-cha clerical necromancer. Who's his patron deity then? He never really mentioned one. Or a holy symbol for that matter... I like him, though. I'm still going to steal the scroll bandolier, too. :) *steal!* eudas
Aluroon 07-30-04, 06:41 PM	*Jumps up and down* ITS HERE, ITS HERE!!! *Jumps up and down* Thanks Galahad Aluroon
Galahad_Knight 07-30-04, 10:57 PM	Originally posted by eudas Usk: I don't think i would have ever assigned him an id, as such, or whatever it is he has... to me, he's a construct (reminds me of a miniature ED-209), and both as a player and a wizard (were I in Grix's position) I would have treated him as such... he was built to follow orders, and I have no use for a robot that can't follow orders. :) [cue advertisement for 'I,Robot'] The explanation of the 'why' of his behaviour makes 100% sense, though; it's exactly why I thought he is the way he is as well. We're "on the same page" (I hate that phrase).[/i] But Grix didn't need a servator. He needed a friend. Thing is, Grix wasn;t thinking as a wizard. He was thingking as a hurt, scared, angry little person alone in the world and desperate for something to cling to. Grix is a complex character. He's not just "a wizard" In fact, he doesn't even see himself a smuch of a wizard. He'd rather build new life or design new inventions than cast a spell. It's just that Wizardry was the only route to that end. If Eberron was out when I made him he;d probably have been an Artificer. [quote]Thade: Bring out the ogre in him. Show some dark side. If he's supposed to be a LG Fighter in this story, give him some alignment-based conflict. Let him lose his temper finally, trash some BBEG or whatnot, and have everybody be like "woah!..." and look at him in a new light, up to and including Jaicen. Don't worry, it'll happen. Trust me. Jaicen: I've got an even better idea for Jaicen. Once the castle is taken, Thade is buried in administrativa and Jaicen becomes his... regent? (Is that the proper term?) ... his right hand man, basically, who handles individual tasks for his master. Like interfacing with the party, or intimidating nobles who need to be brought into line. He does the dirty work that Thade can't do for whatever reasons. (Every King needs an enforcer... even Duke Atreides had his Duncan Idaho.) Maybe he'll occasionally need the help of the party for some particularly nasty job (i.e., Thade and Jaicen become a DM source of plot hooks for the party even after they leave the party). That's actually a really interesting idea. I can picture him menacing nobles now... "See, you either support Thade, or you try supporting your own bodyweight without kneecaps." "He can't do that to me, I'm nobility!" "Well, *I* ain't. An' he won't be the one with the hammer, pudgy." Gliff/Grix: I think I actually would like to see Gliff and Grix become closer friends, to the point where if the party dissolves they would probably stick together, or at least remain close acquaintances. Gliff provides the Cause, and Grix provides the Methods to accomplish them... Gliff is happy because LG things are being done, and Grix is happy because he's getting acclaim for his inventions... That's a neat idea. I may have to steal that. ;-) Buffy: I hate it with every fiber of my being. My view of whatever quality the writing and directing may have is completely obscured by the awful, awful content. Prime-time pseudo-gothic-pagan smutty soap operas... Willow is hot, though. ("Say my name, ...!" Heh.) I used to think the same thing. Then I actually started watching the show. It's none of that. There's vampires, but they;re not goth vampires (in fact, goths are openly mocked on the show) there's not really much in the line of smut (three or four scenes where sex is being had over the course of eight years), and there's character-driven drama but it's not soap operey. It's a really intelligent, funny show. Seriously, watch it for a couple weeks on reruns. Don't satart with the first season. The first season is generally agreed to be noit the best. Seriously, give it a chance,. Joss Whedon is a fantastic writer. Or, failing that, see if you can get ahold of Firefly on DVD. Supurb sci-fi. Anyhow... Paul: oh, a high-cha clerical necromancer. Who's his patron deity then? He never really mentioned one. Or a holy symbol for that matter... I like him, though. I'm still going to steal the scroll bandolier, too. :) *steal!* He's one of those clerics of an ideal rather than a deity. I always wanted to do one but I always thought it was kinda stupid. But it makes sense for him. You could almost argue that Zombicorp is his deity. He doesn't worship them or anything, but he believes so strongly in what he does and what the company stands for. He's a company man through and through. If you want to quantify it though, just pick any nonevil nonchaotic death deity. Paul's LN, but he leans away from evil since evil doesn't sell well.
Galahad_Knight 07-30-04, 10:59 PM	Originally posted by Aluroon *Jumps up and down* ITS HERE, ITS HERE!!! *Jumps up and down* Thanks Galahad Aluroon Well, it;s not *all* here, yet. Enjoy the teaser and feel free to contribute to the discussion while I finish this thing.
eudas 07-30-04, 11:31 PM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight That's actually a really interesting idea. I can picture him menacing nobles now... "See, you either support Thade, or you try supporting your own bodyweight without kneecaps." "He can't do that to me, I'm nobility!" "Well, *I* ain't. An' he won't be the one with the hammer, pudgy." That's awesome. :) (re:paul) He's one of those clerics of an ideal rather than a deity. I always wanted to do one but I always thought it was kinda stupid. But it makes sense for him. You could almost argue that Zombicorp is his deity. He doesn't worship them or anything, but he believes so strongly in what he does and what the company stands for. He's a company man through and through. If you want to quantify it though, just pick any nonevil nonchaotic death deity. Paul's LN, but he leans away from evil since evil doesn't sell well. ah, a godless cleric. ok, well, leaving paul out of this for a moment and merely speaking on the concept of godless clerics, i think it's silly, or at least doesn't make enough sense for me to grok it. IMO i think godless clerics are more of an attempt by people to get around the "omg you mean i have to roleplay devotion to my deity?" thing that normal clerics have. i can easily see some of the people from the char opt board doing it, just so they don't have to worry about the DM taking their cleric powers away if they don't follow their god's ideals or portfolio, in much the same way that alot of the poor roleplayers that show up with character histories of "um, my char's an orphan, his family was killed by orc raiders when he was a kid, so now he wants to adventure"... prevents the dm from using your char's family as plot hooks. :/ but... eh. *shrug* whatever. :) Paul's still cool. Though LN wizard necromancer makes more sense to me. :) But a cha based cleric necromancer gets turn/rebuke and can bolster undead... so... :)Maybe I should check the char opt board and see if someone's ever done a cleric/wizard/mystic theurge necromancer or something like that. i'm sure there are plenty of necromancer builds to look through... back on track w/ the story... wassup with the dragon behind zombiecorp? i sense paul may be in for some uncomfortable attention in the future... :) eudas
Galahad_Knight 07-30-04, 11:56 PM	Actually, if you think about it, it could end up taking a lot more roleplay skill to deal with a c haracter who has no deity, but belioeves enough in something that itg grants him power. Any poor roleplayer can go "Yeah I'm a cleric of Gond" and leave it at that. Just like any poor roleplayer can go "I'm a godless cleric. I want these domains." But don;t look down your nose at them right off the bat. It takes guts to do something different and it takes just as much roleplay skill to play a cleric of an ideal as it does to play a cleric of a deity. Moreso because you don;t have a pre-fab personality to copy (your deity's) and no list of cliche'd things to spiew to amke it sound like you;re a roleplayer ;-) "By the grace of <deity>!" "By <deity's><destinguishing feature>" "I'm a cleric and I pontificste all the time. Woooo, lookit me, I got perosnality!" Ok, that last one I made up ;-) Seriously though, just because you don;t have a deity doesn't mean you don;t have a portfolio to work within and a code to follow. After all, a cleric dedicated to the ideal of peace would obviously loose his powers if he went around slaughtering prisoners. Meawhile, think of the roleplay possibilities involved in "Going it alone." the whole purpose of religion is so that youlre never truely alone. But someone dedicated to an ideal has nobody. No church, no god, no followers. No support mechanism of any kind. A true one-man crusade. Not to mention that established religions probably don;t like the idea of godless clerics either. If some heathen can go around wielding divine power then what;s to say that the gods even exist at all? I could see a lot of attemts to convert the godless clerics and get them out of the public eye. Of coiurse, Paul is a differwent matter since he has the company. But you shouldn;t scoff at the idea alltogether. Bad roleplayers can exist in any cirsumstance, and so can good ones. Just because you play one thing or another doesn;t make you a bad roleplayer. Some of the best players I know are die-hard readers of the CO boards. And don;t dis on orphans ;-) Gliff and Grix are both war orphans. Thade's folks are gone. Thera and Ragnar are practically orphans. Just because a GM can;t use a glartingly pbvious plothook doesn;t make the player bad It makes the DM inexperienced. Any DM can latch on and go "Ha, someone is threatening yoru family. I invoke the familial bond to force you into this campaign! ha-ha!" But what do you do when that crutch is stripped away? Play upon other things. How did the folks die? Killed by orcs you say? Wny nit put in a friendly orc or half-orc NPC and see how the character reacts. Play on that note. Did they all die? What's to say a brother didn;t survive? What;s to say he;s really your brother and not just an imposter? What did you do between being orphaned and being an adventurer? Raised by elves, eh? Play on that bond. Oh, you were an armorer's apprentice? where's the smith? A good DM is like a good player: Always adaptable. If you;re good you can use anything. Often times so-called "roleplayers" rely on crutches to make their characters 'unique' or 'interesting' when really, a *good* roleplayer can make a plank of wood with a smily face on it interesting. But now I'm getitng into an unrelated tangent.
eudas 07-31-04, 01:34 AM	i get what you're saying, but in the case of the "godless cleric" i'd still rule that some deity who agrees with the cleric's outlook is granting him the power, whether the cleric thinks it really comes from his set of ideals or not. it just doesn't make sense to me to have divine power coming from a nameless, unidentified source. arcane power, yes; it's the stuff of the multiverse; divine power, no -- that comes directly from powerful beings, and is granted to you on their behalf. eudas
Galahad_Knight 07-31-04, 03:09 AM	Unless you look at it this way: Divine power is generated as a product of strong human belief. It is, literally, the power of positive thinking. You believe enough in something, in a magiclaly charged world like a typical D&D setting and it becomes special. One person, with extraordinary faith may be able to manifest the powers of a cleric or paladin. Several people with extraordinary faith could create a deity. Religion, in the real world, is literally the product of the believers. The Greeks, Norse, Egyptians, etc all made up tons of gods to explain lits of things. In a D&D setting thsoe gods are real. But did, as popular mythology suggests, they create their worshipers, or did (as logic would imply) their worshipers create them? Every religion in the world has a creation mythos. They can;t all eb right, so therefore all of them (or at least all but one) have to be wrong. If all of them are wrong, then the gods couldn;t have created their followers, so their followers must hagve created them. Via faith made manifest. The divine energy created by worshipers. One person with supreme faith can turn himself into a cleric. Hundreds, thousands of people with even a small amout of faith can pool it to create a deity. Terry Pratchett covers this theory in a book called Small Gods. D&D doesn;t seem to pick a sid eon it. I've seen lots of cases in D&D where gods loose power or die or go to sleep without worshipers. And if they needed their worshipers to survive it would explain why gods have anytging at all to do with puny mortals. If a god were all powerful on hsi own, why even have worshipers? Anyhow, I think we're getting pretty far afield. D&D is intentionally vague on this subject, I think. If you want to run it as a real god slipping some power to the cleric on the sly, that's cool too. I can see plot hpooks happening from that. But I think my idea gives a lot more stuff to play with and explains why things like cults in D&D can be very dangerous.
Galahad_Knight 08-01-04, 04:17 AM	Funny thing happened at work today. I work both Lawn and Garden AND Health and Fitness at Sears. It was a slow day. I was bored and I was on the treadmill going about 3 miles per hour at a nice low incline, getitng a little workout and thinking of the upcoming chapter. It was slow, no custmers were around. One buddy is cleaning treadmills beside me. The other walks up and goes, "Bet'cha can't go up to ten miles per hour." I go "Bet I can." I did. For about 3.2 seconds. Then I lost my footing and fell down...and went about 10 miles per hour...backwards. Into a huge stack of coolers. Falling down on a treadmill is remarkably similar to being drug by a car. Into a huge stack of coolers. To my credit, I got right back up on my feet, totally unscratched, and the first thing out of my mouth was "That was ****in awesome!" Moral of the story? Don't stay up til 5 AM writing when you have work the next day. And never go ten miles per hour on a treadmill. Even if they bet you can't. ;-)
Galahad_Knight 08-02-04, 08:51 AM	I cried when I wrrote part of the ending. Hope I'm not just a sissy... Oh, fair warning. This chapter came out at about 12 pages on my word processor. So it's basically double-sized. ------------------- The Gathering Storm Chapter 20: Endings “I’ve got to leave. There’s no two ways about it.” Ragnar Wulfric says as he wipes fresh blood from his axe blade. He rolls the body over with his iron-plated boot. It was an orc, but not like the ones Ragnar knew. It was huge, broad-bodied and covered in dingy white plate-like scales. It was tough, he gave it that, but the flaming axe of the infamous Trollslayer made quick work of him, the cauterized gash through chest revealing the fatal blow, as well as many formerly vital organs. A slight grin of satisfaction peeks through the fierce red beard of the man feared in every orc warren and ogre’s cage from here to the frozen reaches of the North. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure or humor, not even a smile. Just the look of a man who knows he does his job well. The invisibility spell recently cast on him was broken in the fight only moments ago, but even still, his enemy never got to see the grin. It only came after the deed was already done. In the instant after metal clears flesh and the instant before flesh hits the ground, it comes out. “I can’t believe you’re taking the word of some deformed orc you just now killed!” Thera exclaims. The petite half-elf reloads her silver clad hand-crossbow as she talks, at times the fiery waitress *** disinherited noble turned swashbuckling bandit and current chronicler of the Saga of Ragnar, even gestures with the trademark weapon as she works up to a good ranting pace. “How do you know they have her? All he said was ‘your mother sends her love.’ Ad then you roared like a bull and cut him in half. He probably just made it up to pull you out of the fight! That’s what I’d do, hells, it’s even working!” Her silver-blue eyes flash and her pale blonde braid whips back and fourth like a cat’s tail as she communicates her mind with every part of her slender body. Having spend the last several years with the gruff, stocky Northerner, Thera learned that subtlety is lost somewhere between the coat of coarse red hair and inch-thick scull of her companion. “And while you’re getting ready to walk out that sadistic little wretch Stubby is on his way to kill our friends!” The troublesome halfling and his band of marauders had literally run into the duo a few minutes ago. The orc-thing was a new addition to the group, one which the pint-sized sadist had no qualms about leaving behind to deal with the two of them. “You do realize, Thera, that we’re deep inside a fortification held by people who would gladly shoot us on sight, right?” Ragnar asks in that infuriatingly patient tone that only infuriates the hopelessly impatient. “I don’t want to take the wind out of your sail, but you screeching at me is, arguably, less useful than me simply leaving quietly.” “Screeching? Screeching?!” she screeches. “Yes,” he says in the same patient tone, “Just like that. Exactly.” “I do not screech!” Thera hisses, finally bringing her voice to somewhat more clandestine levels. “I…I…accentuate.” She says, pulling her temper in line. “In any event, I hope someone comes. I’d rather see you fight like the man I know you are then to run off like a craven…jack-a-nape!” she says, fishing for insults in a pond stocked with the kind of fish that have lanterns on their heads but teeth only a bear trap could envy. She desperately hurls her words at Ragnar’s retreating back. “Is that even a word?” Ragnar asks, pausing in mid-stride. “Craven? Of course it is…it means cowardly.” Thera says, carefully dancing around the other possibility. “Don’t you know anything?” she adds, for good measure. “Not that word, you rambling lunatic.” Ragnar says, turning around to face her, “What in the nine hells is an ‘accentuate’? I’ve long suspected that you made up a good portion of the fancy words you point at me and that last one tears it.” Thera stands dumbstruck for a moment as her brain carefully throws itself into reverse and runs through that one more time. “What about jack-a-nape?” she asks in a small voice. “What about it?” Ragnar asks, scratching his beard “Girl, I’ve been called every insult there is to call a man, and several that there are to call women and dumb animals…I find it interesting how often those last two categories overlap. Jack-a-nape isn’t new to me, it means an ape-like brute…practically my middle name if I had one.” “It does? I mean, of course it doesn’t, what with you being all…apely.” She winces. “’Apely’?” Ragnar shakes his head, “Woman, your brains have finally come unhinged.” He sighs and looks away. “This is stupid…why do I let you distract me like this? Look, just because your mother’s a deranged witch doesn’t mean I ain’t allowed to love mine. If you knew the first thing about family you’d know that when it comes down to brass tacks, the only people you can’t quit on is family.” Thera looks up at him with tears in her eyes, like the gray tendrils of cloud that mar an otherwise clear sky just before a storm is about to blow in. “But…they…you…all of you…they’re the only family I ever really had.” She says, her voice catching as emotions rise up from deep inside her, from beneath her façade of playfulness and manipulation. “You can’t quit on family…” she says as the Thera Ragnar thought he knew falls away, leaving behind it a vulnerable creature that demands his love and protection more completely than any arch look or flip remark she ever sent him. He can’t bring himself to look at her at first, but finally he brings his eyes up and catches the bluish glint of mithral on shadow. “This is so dreadfully touching,” says a silky voice from behind Thera as shadows suddenly unfold and reveal a pair of long, slender arms, each bearing a long, slender knife. From just above Thera’s braided head a pair of eyes glint reflected green, like a cat caught stalking in the dark. “I’d hate to break this heartfelt little exchange with something so vulgar as a killing.” A pearly grin materializes under the eyes, “But then, death intrudes upon us all, in due time...” Ragnar watches in horror as the world seems to slow to a crawl. He tries to run to her but the short reach between them seems like miles as he hurls himself towards her, watching as the evil looking blades describe a perfect, graceful arc through the shadows at Thera’s unprotected back. And the grin, seeming to hover in the darkness. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure or humor, not even a smile. Just the look of a man who knows he does his job well. “Your mother sends her love.” The shadows whisper. “Are you…sure you’re…alright?” Jaicen huffs as he jogs along the fortified wall of Huntington Keep, trailing behind his companion. The dwarf had been to sea, been to war and been to bed with a woman with painted toenails. He is used to exertion but having only recently been fired from a catapult, he finds himself all too ready to take a breather. Especially after hauling his companion up from the brink of death by the length of rope that connects the two invisible warriors. His cheeks bulge under his bristly black beard as he plods along. “Perfectly well, Master Jaicen.” Gliff declares from a few feet ahead. “I think after that explosion and that dreadful business with missing the wall I’ve found my second wind. We must make haste, our friends await our aid!” “I think I found my second lung… I’m sure I… coughed it up and… stepped on it a… a few yards after the… first one.” Jaicen wheezes. “What good are we… going to be… to them if… if all we can do is… is p…pant at the…the enemy when… we get there?” Gliff permits himself a pant, “Well… if you insist…” he says, falling against the stone battlements. He draws in a sharp breath as the pain raking across his chest reminds him of his recent wound. “Oh…oh my…I’d nearly forgotten…” he gasps, “h…how nice if it to remind me…” The small gnome tries to keep from grimacing, even though he knows his friend can’t see his face at the moment anyhow. Jaicen takes a few moments to let himself breathe before muttering the line every grizzled old veteran had muttered when teamed with a brash young firebrand, since the dawn of time. “I’m getting too old for this crap…” Somewhere in the endless jumbled mass of the multiverse a buddy-comedy gets its tagline and an angel gets its wings. “Nonsense…” Gliff says, fighting back a groan as he pulls himself to his feet. “I have…the utmost faith in your abilities. As a show if my trust, you can lead us the rest of the way.” Jaicen laughs and leans on his custom-made rifle as he levers himself from perpendicular to vertical. “So generous of you, sir knight. Of course this has nothing to do with broken ribs or punctured organs or nothing of that sort, eh?” “Absolutely.” Gliff lies, forcing an invisible smile. Jaicen chuckles, “Right this way, sir, I see some broken roof tiles ahead. If I were to land in the most painful and unceremonious way possible it’d be up to my hips in some bloke’s roof.” “Funny, and all this time I’ve been doing it by smashing into a wall and dangling semiconscious from a rope I can’t even see.” Gliff says without a hint of bitter sarcasm, not at all… Jaicen snorts, “Poor boy. I know how painful it can be to be doin’ things outta’ style. If anyone asks I’ll tell ‘em you landed on a weathercock and frightened a maid half to death as you fell through her roof.” “You are most gracious, sir.” Ok, maybe just a bit. Somewhere nearby a maid is frightened half to death. “Pardon me, madame, just passing through.” Rumbles a booming, yet cultured voice from somewhere several feet above and ahead of the shaken servant. Even in his hurry to do battle with the usurper of his birthright, the half-ogre, all-noble Thade remains courteous, even as the normally mild-mannered necromancer he drags with him curses ad mutters as he bumps into or trips over just about every obstruction in the corridor. It makes for quite a picture, even if they are both invisible. “Have you got a plan at all?” Paul asks, his black coat flapping behind him as they run towards the main hall. He replaced his normal skull-topped walking stick with a stout mace and under the requisite flowing black coat he wore a somewhat battered breastplate, borrowed just before being flung, literally, into the fight. “Of course I do.” Thade says, reassuringly as he stalks his way through the corridors he spend his childhood in, “First I’m going to find him, then I plan to hill him. It’s a rather cunning and subtle plan, I know, but one in which I have total faith in my abilities to execute.” “We really should wait for the others.” Paul says as they dash through a long corridor, “It’s not a wise tactic to charge blindly into unknown dangers.” “We’ll see when we get there.” Thade says, already dismissing the idea. Grix darts frantically through the smoky courtyard, trying to find Usk before he hurts someone. The link the two share feels as if it’s been severed. He has no idea where his companion is or what he’s thinking. The little kobold is on the verge of panic. If any of his friends came to harm because of Usk he could never forgive himself…but if anything happened to Usk he would be equally heartbroken. Despite the lack of attention paid to him recently, Usk is the only friend he had for a very long time, and now he’s gone mad and it’s all his fault. His serpentine eyes dart from form to form as he dashes towards the inner keep, but the smoke and harsh daylight make it hard for him to make anything out, let alone pick up the subtle disturbances caused by an invisible creature passing through smoke. As he dashes in frantic search he runs face-first into an unseen object. The violence of the collision breaks the spell, rendering the kobold visible, but not whatever it is into which he ran. “Usk?” he asks, trying not to sound frightened by the thought. “No.” Gliff groans, pulling himself to his feet, “Gliff and Jaicen…where’s Usk?” the invisible gnome asks once he regains his footing. “I…I don’t know! He’s gone mad!” Grix blurts, on the verge of hysteria. “I think he wants to kill you all because you’re my friends.” Gliff and Jaicen exchange what they feel would have been meaningful glances had either of them been able to see the other, or in fact, know in which direction to point their concerned expressions. Meanwhile a wheelbarrow and a wooden crate get the impression that the two are worried for their friend. “Oh dear…that’s very bad indeed…” Gliff says, highlighting the graveness of the situation with the ultimate clarity of understatement. “I think we need to get inside and out of sight now that Grix is visible.” Jaicen says, helping the kobold to his feet, “We’ll have to deal with Usk when he shows up. Not much running around can do for it.” He says as they lead Grix into the keep through an open side door. “Meantime we need to find the others. You didn’t land on the roof by any chance, did you?” “No…we landed by the main gates.” Grix says, slipping into the welcome shadows inside. “Maybe it was Thade, or Ragnar. “Probably.” Jaicen shrugs, “Not really important I guess. We all know where we need to be, so let’s get there while we still have an advantage.” “Yes, we haven’t got long before it wears off.” Grix says, finally pulling himself together. The three of them head inside, trying to get to the center of the keep. Meanwhile, an invisible killer stalks his prey. “My mother can go to the abyss.” Thera says as she drops to the floor just in time to avoid the deadly blades of her would-be assassin. She tumbles and rolls away from him and comes up shooting. Her silver crossbow launches a crackling blue bolt into the shadows. The jolt illuminates the tall slender figure of an elf. The figure staggers out of his place of hiding. He’s a tall and fine-featured moon elf. Even injured he carries himself with the grace and smug superiority of a true elf. “Naughty girl…” he says with a grunt as he pulls out her bolt. “You have caused no end of trouble and embarrassment for your poor mother. You really are a terrible daughter you know. Why not be a good girl for once a—” The stranger is abruptly cut off when Ragnar slams full-on into his chest with his massive shield, crushing the lanky assassin between a wall and several hundred pounds of raging Northman. “Just shut the hell up!” Ragnar bellows, “Why do you people have to talk so damned much?” he growls, stepping back so he has room to swing his axe for the finishing blow. But the elf is more nimble than Ragnar and manages to duck the blow and dart under his shield. He deftly slashes under Ragnar’s arm, blade sliding gracefully between plates. Ragnar staggers back, bleeding and cursing. “Such lovely company you keep…” the elf sneers, flicking Ragnar’s blood from his slender blade. “But I must be on my way.” He darts into a shadow and vanishes just as Thera brings off another shot. The bolt sizzles through insubstantial darkness and impacts on the wall with a flash. Thera begins to curse when she sees that Ragnar is bleeding heavily. She drops her crossbow ad runs to him. “Are you alright?” she asks lifting his arm to examine the wound. “I had worse.” He grunts. “Bastard got away tough…” “That’s not important.” Thera says as she begins casting a minor healing spell, “This probably doesn’t help much but it’s the best I can do…I’m no cleric.” “It’ll do.” Ragnar says, wincing slightly, “We’d best get further inside. No doubt the others are waiting on us. Thade hates going in half-cocked.” The grand double-doors to the inner sanctum of Huntington keep fly open as splinters of the heavy wooden bar laid across them settle on the marble floor in all directions. “Usurper!” Thade roars with an intensity that rattles the windows. Thade becomes visible through the cloud of splinters and stirred-up dust. His hulking physique makes an intimidating picture, framed by the large doorway. He carries his massive sword in both tightly clenched hands. A skinny young man in an ill-fitting coronet squeals and darts behind the heavy wooden double-chair upon which Thade’s adopted mother and father once ruled jointly. “Kill him!” he shrieks. “Gladly.” Says the voice of Stubbins “Stubby” Cox. The sadistic halfling was lounging with his motley band of thugs when Thade made his entrance. Now he stands, blades drawn. “Go to it, boys!” he shouts, leading the charge from behind. The band’s dark priest begins mumbling an incantation which dies before fully-formed as Paul counters it. He snarls in frustration and settles for pulling out his heavy flanged mace as he rushes towards the half-ogre and his companion. The half-orc is the first to reach them, however. The unkempt barbarian lets out a howl of rage and swings his massive axe at Thade’s chest. Thade overpowers the half-orc’s howl with a bone-shaking feral roar and beings his huge sword in an awesome sweeping arc and catches him from the side. The heavy blade bites deep into his ribs, but that’s the least of the poor barbarian’s problems, as the force of the blow literally sends him flying. He smashes dead-on into their shifty-looking mage who was in mid-spell at the time of the collision. The half orc lands in a bloody heap atop the wizard. The cleric changes course, deciding it’s wiser to try to heal or, at the least, animate the body of their fallen companion than to get within range of Thade’s massive sword. He pulls the broken corpse off of the wizard. “Too late for him.” The wizard says, dusting himself off, “Deader than a sack of kittens at the bottom of a river.” “It’s never too late to be of assistance.” The cleric says with a grin as he begins casting a spell to animate the corpse. Stubby and the ranger both do their best to keep out of Thade’s considerable range, but the half-ogre’s long arms and huge sword make it impossible for either of them to get close enough to hit him without risking being sheered in half. They spread out, trying to stay on opposite sides of him as he works his way to the dais. Knowing their allies need a diversion, the cleric sends the newly zombified half-orc shambling towards Thade. The ranger and the halfling make their move then and dart in to strike, knowing that Thade will swat the zombie away. But the zombie turns on its heel before getting into Thade’s range and shambles back towards its creator. With nothing to distract Thade, the frenzied half-ogre brings his blade crashing down on the ranger, splitting him from shoulder to hip. Before the body even it’s the ground it rights itself, sagging grotesquely as it lurches away from Thade. Paul grins, “Amateurs…rank amateurs.” The necromancer says with the utter confidence of one who knows his trade better than anyone. The cleric struggles to regain control of his undead companions but to no avail, Paul’s grip is absolute. “Fools.” He sneers as the zombies lurch inexorably towards them, “You have no respect for life and absolutely no respect for The Craft. To you this is nothing but a tool, a means to an end. But to me it’s an instrument, the ultimate end. And that is why I make the big money.” Seemingly without effort, Paul directs the shambling corpses like a conductor directs an orchestra. “Just because we can’t control them doesn’t mean we can’t destroy them!” the wizard shouts, blowing a searing hole through the chest of the half-orc zombie, sending it to the ground in a smoking heap. With nothing between him and his target, Thade makes a dash for the double throne, but in the process, he ignores the darting halfling behind him. He lets out a roar of pain as the malicious little rogue drives a cruel-looking blade into the giant’s calf. Thade tries to keep moving but the shadows in front of him suddenly dislodge a lean-faced elf. Together the two cutthroats dance inside Thade’s reach. Every time he tries to bring his crushing blade to bear on one of them, the other inflicts a painful cut or stab with their cruel knives. The ogre-half of Thade is in control now, and while it brings with it tremendous strength, it also brings ignorance and rage. Bewildered there’s little the normally stoic knight can do but be cut to ribbons by the vicious onslaught. Bleeding heavily, Thade is about to collapse when a familiar voice, raised in song, cuts through the madness and pain. It’s Thera, singing one of the old poems his mother used to sing him to sleep with when he was a child. A ballad of fierce nobility and utter fearlessness in the face of battle. A tale of noble warriors who mow through savage enemies and bring the light of justice and reason to the untamed hordes. Sanity returns to Thade, but not before Stubby gets in a crippling blow with a hurled knife, sinking the vicious weapon into the giant’s left shoulder, burying it to the hilt in flesh and bone. But that would be the last thrust Stubby Cox ever makes. The crack of Jaicen’s rifle cuts through the crescendo of Thera’s ballad and the halfling drops to the floor in a quickly spreading pool of blood. There’s a brief look of regret on Jaicen’s weathered face, but it’s quickly replaced by a smug grin. “A damned fine shot if I do say so.” He says, racking the loading lever. The others rush in. Gliff dashes to Thade’s side, laying hands on his gravely injured friend. Grix rolls a fist-sized metal device towards the wizard as he and the cleric face off with Paul. It lands perfectly at the wizard’s feet and splits open. What looks like inky black liquid begins to spill out, but it’s quickly discovered that what looks like black ink is, in fact, inky blackness as the wizard falls through the floor. Ragnar dashes in to assist Paul, blocking the evil cleric’s mace and gutting him with his flaming axe. Paul takes no interest in the slain cleric and immediately wanders to the edge of the hole in the floor and looks down. “That was neat…” he says to Grix, still looking down. “What did you do?” “Like it?” the kobold asks, walking up top the edge of the hole, “It’s basically just a one-use device that creates a ‘passwall’ effect wherever it lands. I call it my Portable Pit. It’s not very deep though. I doubt he even broke his leg.” Grix says, sounding disappointed before he leans over to look into the hole “Or not…I didn’t realize Huntington had such deep cellars.” “Armory, actually, from the look of those racks of spears that broke his fall.” Paul says with a certain note of satisfaction. “Indeed, so it would seem…” Grix agrees, “Couldn’t have planned it any better if I’d tried.” The Kobold says with an ear-to-ear grin…which is quite a lot of grin when you realize kobolds have long muzzles. Thade struggles to his feet as Gliff does his best to heal his wounds. “Paul!” the gnome shouts, “We need you now. Thade’s still hurt!” but the half-ogre shakes off his friend’s futile efforts to get him to stay still until Paul can get to him. He lurches toward his parents’ throne. With each step pain and fatigue seem to fall away he gains speed. “Don’t hurt me!” a pathetic little voice squeals from behind the seat of power. “Take it! Take it all! I didn’t even want it!” The cowering usurper whimpers as his coronet rolls from under the throne and bounces down the steps to the dais. Thade stops his grim advance to kneel and pick up the circlet in his huge right hand. His left arm just dangles uselessly. “Wait!” Thera shouts, “Where’s the assassin?” Where indeed? With the attention drawn to Stubby as he was shot the assassin simply vanished into the shadows once more. “And what the hell is that?” Ragnar shouts as the shadows behind the throne expel a hulking black-mantled form. The creature pulls off its cloak and throws it at the man cowering behind the throne. The creature is a nightmare to behold. The hulking, slumped visage of an ogre, but covered in pearly white scales and cloaked with a pair of massive mottled-white wings. Greasy black hair sprouts in patches on either side of the short bony crest rising from its deformed head. A fanged maw spits out a command to flee from his sight as he kicks the scrambling usurper out from behind his hiding place. “Don’t let him get away!” Thera shouts as the pathetic little man struggles into the oversized shadow cloak and dashes for a patch of darkness. Grix nods and casts a light spell on the cur’s potential escape route as paul moves to intercept him. “Good evening…brother. Our master sends his respect.” The monstrous dragon-ogre growls between its fangs. Thade stares up at the hideous thing. “No!” he says, rising to his feet, dragging his sword up from the ground with his good arm. “The only blood between us is that which you have spilled!” the wounded knight roars. Raising his huge sword in one mighty fist. “And there is no way I could ever serve whatever hellspawn would have you as a minion!” The beast laughs, a chilling and disturbing sound. “Believe what you will…but someone had to plant you here. You, brother, are as much a tool of our master as that cringing dog.” The creature sneers, gesturing with a huge double-bladed axe towards the struggling usurper as Grix and Paul restrain him. “But you have served your purpose and now it is time for you to die, brother.” The creature growls and lunges, axe gripped in both clawed hands. Ragnar starts to move to aid his friend when Thersa stops him. “This is something we can’t help him with. HE has to fight this battle on his own, or at least make the attempt. This is the last fight in a battle that Thade’s been fighting every day of his life. To interfere now would be—” “To hell with that.” Jaicen says, bringing his rifle to bear on the half-dragon monstrosity. “The girl is right, I’m afraid.” Says a cold, smooth voice from a long, thin shadow in front of the dwarf. “It really is none of your business.” The assassin says as he steps out of the shadows and flicks his wrist at Jaicen as the Dwarf brings his rifle around on him. A flash of mithral and the crack of gunshot. Jaicen stumbles backwards and falls with a tiny throwing blade imbedded in his right eye socket. His gun clatters to the floor beside him. The elf staggers back, gripping the bleeding hole in his left shoulder. “Bastard!” both say at once as Jaicen tries to stand, one hand cupped over his maimed eye. Paul dashes up to Jaicen’s side as the assassin moves his hand from his shoulder to the hem of his cloak. He pauses to say something witty before drawing the magical cloak around him but all that comes out is a strangled “Hurk!” as Ragnar grabs the elf’s cloak and jerks him backwards by it. “I’ve had about enough of that!” he growls, bringing his axe around with his free hand. The body slumps to the ground, the head bounces and skips on the marble floor and the cloak dangles, unoccupied, in Ragnar’s left hand. “Poncy elf dandy.” Ragnar sneers with contempt, giving the body a kick for good measure. Steel rings on steel as the two giants clash only a few feet away. Despite his injuries and the fact he only has use of one arm, Thade holds his own against the brutish half-dragon. The half-dragon’s blows are fueled by rage and hate. His ogre half is in control. But Thade’s blade moves with utterly human precision. He deftly counters his enemy’s blows and presses him back, maneuvering his enemy right where he wants him to be. He can still hear Thera’s song ringing in his mind guiding his hand and shoring him up against the furry of his enemy. Thera was right. This is his fight. It was always his fight. He pushes his foe back with his dauntless advance. The infuriated beast roars and flails at him but what few blows he manages to land are weak and ill-aimed. Thade smiles as it happens. The monster steps backwards into the hole that Grix made. The opening is too small for him to unfurl his wings right away. At least ten feet of stone floor separated the main hall and the armory beneath. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Without hesitation he steps into the pit, his sword pointed downwards. Ragnar, Thera Grix and Gliff rush to the pit but they stop as the air between Ragnar and Thera ripples like heat waves. Three bolts of pure force slam into the slender half-elf’s back, sending her to the ground. Ragnar and the others immediately turn around to behold Usk standing in the doorway. The construct is spattered with blood from Huntington soldiers unfortunate enough to be in its path and it has already unfolded itself to its full height. “You betray me!” it bellows, the sound echoes soullessly from its steel maw and resonates in the marble hall. “I served you. I protected you…I loved you!” it roars, raising one arm. A trio of metal tubes pop up from under one of its arm plates and three globs of acid fly towards them. One of them impacts Ragnar’s shield, causing him to grunt and throw it down, lest the acid burn through. One of them hits Gliff’s sword arm, making the gnome drop his weapon as the pain sears him to the bone. The third lands directly at Grix’ feet, burning a hole in the floor tile. “I did everything you created me to do. And you betray me!” Perhaps it’s a harmonic trick of the stone hall, but a note of utter pain can be heard in the raging machine’s voice. Grix looks up from the smoking hole in the floor with tears in his eyes. “I am sorry.” The kobold says with true regret, “It’s all my fault.” He says, raising his hands to cast a spell. “You will not destroy me!” Usk screams, his long metal legs devour the distance between them as he charges his creator. “You cannot destroy me! I am part of you! I am you!” “Not any longer…” the kobold whispers as tears roll down his cheeks. But Usk is too fast. The artificial monster raises a huge metal claw and brings it slashing down. Time seems almost to stop as Gliff throws himself between the monster and its maker. Claws forged of pain and loneliness punch through armor and flesh with the strength of pure sorrow, just before the spell goes off. The air ripples between them as the spell of dismissal banishes the elemental essence that Grix bound into Usk’s metal body so many years ago. The kobold watches n sheer horror as the light of life fades from the ryes of both his first friend and his truest friend as the two empty bodies fall to the earth. Grix can only stand and stare. Large yellow eyes, wide with shock watch as the bodies fall. Eyes that had seem such bloodshed and violence in his youth. Eyes that had lovingly taken in every detail of Usk’s construction as he was built Eyes that watched with fear and suspicion when an armored gnome touched him on the shoulder one rainy day not so long ago. Eyes that saw anger and hate welling up in that same gnome when he saw what Grix was. Eyes that saw the haunted look in the gnome’s eyes as he recounted his sad tale. Eyes that caught every line on his face the first time the gnome smiled at one of his remarks. Eyes that watched a friendship grow where there had once only been fear and contempt. The same deep, yellow eyes that failed to see the first signs of madness in his own creation. Eyes that failed to see what he had wrought. Eyes that ignored the pain of his own creation, the pain of his youth reflected in cold steel. The little kobold lets out just one short, stricken cry for the two fallen friends. All the anguished cries of his past distilled and purified into one soul-tearing note as he falls to his knees. Ragnar turns away from the scene of agony so that the tear he feels welling in his eye can fall unseen. Or so he thought. Thera is lying on her side, arms wrapped around her cracked ribs. She can see everything from where she lies. The worried but hopeful look on Paul’s face as he frantically works to stabilize Jaicen, Grix’ scene of absolute loss, and Ragnar’s lone teardrop. She even sees Thade’s cousin squirming in his bonds, a look of fear painted broadly across his simpering features. She can see the pit too. And the bloody hand that rises up from it clenching the hilt of a shattered sword. The sound of the jagged piece of metal being thrust between the marble floor tiles shatters the grave silence. Suddenly all eyes are on the pit. All but the two big yellow eyes…they just continue to stare. Slowly, painfully, deliberately, the Third Lord of Huntington claws his way up from the pit just as the bloodstained rays of the setting sun slant through the high narrow windows, painting the room with hellish shades of crimson and orange. Like the Lord of hell, Thadeus Huntington rises to reclaim what is his.
eudas 08-02-04, 09:48 AM	Good chapter, man. Good stuff. Grix should reanimate Usk as a normal construct, just for the bodyguard effect, minus the bound elemental spirit (if that's possible in this universe). [In order to make him into a normal Shield Golem instead of a Shield Golem Familiar.] <-“Nonesense…” ->“Nonsense…” <-"Meanwhile, an invisible killer stocks his prey." ->"Meanwhile, an invisible killer stalks his prey." there are a couple more that I haven't written here yet, but I'll have to go back and re-read to find them again. cheers, eudas p.s. <-"Thadeus" [1] ->"Thaddeus" <-"bdy" ->"body" <-"additon" ->"addition" <-"I mean, of course it doesn What with you" ->"I mean, of course it doesn't, what with you" <-"thanany" ->"than any" <-"tolook" ->"to look" <-"shis chest" ->"his chest" <-"nothing to di" ->"nothing to do" <-"Grix darts frantically through the smoky courtyard, trying to find Usk before he hurts someone.The link the two share feels as if it's been severed." ->"Grix frantically darted through the smoky courtyard, trying to find Usk before he hurt anyone. The link the two share felt as if it had been severed. " [2] <-"firther" ->"further" <-"Thade hates going in half-cocked." <-"Thade hates going in half-cocked."" [3] <-"fititng" ->"fitting" <-"an incantation which" ->"an incantation, which" <-"assiatance" ->"assistance" <-"either rof" ->"either of" <-"newly zombified" ->"newly-zombified" <-"cut-throats" ->"cutthroats" <-"slimped" ->"slumped" <-"sholder" ->"shoulder" <-"righr" ->"right" [1] If this is the way you intended the name to be spelled, then ignore this change. [2] note the change in style/voice; this is merely stylistic. it's how I would write it. *shrug* feel free to ignore. [3] You just forgot the closing " to end what Ragnar is saying. Yay MS word Spellchecker... I also left out a whole bunch of grammar recommendations from ms word -- lots of sentence fragments and other phrasing etc issues. cheers, eudas
Quincy007 08-02-04, 03:39 PM	Wow. This is an excellent piece of storytelling, grammar and some such semantic nonesense aside. (Which can be overrated IMO) As I started to read this post I thought about how good of a book this would make, and lamented how its more likely that such great characters would be killed by a random critical from a hulking thug then actually see their plots to completion.(As is my standard fare..."Argh, hand me the d6s") Thusly, I was thrilled to see the characters' epic played out before me. I'm trying to pinpoint what I like so much about these characters, and the situations they put themselves in, but trying to be quick and concise about it is difficult. Let it be said that: 1. Paul and Zombiecorp are the most amusing things I have encountered in a long time. And the fact that Zombiecorp is run by a Dracolich just thrilled me even more. Of course being a fan of both dry and/or random humor it makes sense that poking fun at zombies and business would amuse me. Actually, any time someone animates a body to be the group's rogue or to launch them over castle walls deserves to be praised with great praise. 2. Grix carried this story. Its hard to pinpoint it exactly where I came to this conclusion, but even though I think this is really Ragnar's story, the Kobold's presence greatly amplified my enjoyment. And on a purely mechanical perspective (heh) Viewing all these characters through the point of view of this socially inept struggling genius was a great way to present narrative plot leaps and summaries. 3. After Grix, Thera is my favourite character. Aside from the appeal of the swashbuckling character archetype that I find myself overly fond of, Early on in the story her story caught my eye and I sympathized with her unrequited affection (selfish or misguided as may have been) but I was glad to see her kind of...mature is an alright word for it, but maybe not the most appropriate. I was glad to see her live through the assassination attempt and I hope to see her and Ragnar find something together (My hopeless romantic side I guess.) 4. The dialoge is fantastic. I consider myself quite a wordsmith from time to time, (though my narcissism prevents me from looking at it with the proper critical view) but time and time again I found myself just amazed at how you can string together a debate, quip a one liner, or just write witty things. Its great work. Now that Thadeus has reclaimed his house and name, it would seem that Ragnar has problems at home that need the proper application of an flaming waraxe. While no doubt Thera will accompany, the I think the rest of the party remains dubious. Perhaps they will run off alone out of a desire for haste, allowing you to A) examine the character's dynamics under new circumstances and B) Great New Characters! This is a fantastic work and I can't wait to see more of it.
Galahad_Knight 08-02-04, 05:13 PM	Language issues: Bear in mind, my traditional style is to hurl it all out gainst the blank page at an ungodly hour at night. I finished this at about 6:30 AM. And in my rush to make up for lost time I usually just post right away. Though I do appreciate your pointingthese things out, I more or less knew they were there. I just haven;t had time to do mychg about them. Also, I'm running off a fresh install of Word, as such, all the character's names and words like 'halfling' come up as mispelled because I haven;t customized the dictionary yet. That makes the automatic spellchecker less than effective. If I already know four out of five of those words with the red suicckly line are spelled right I tend to ignore the others. Especially when I'm caught up in the narrative flow. Not trying to justify my poor language arts skills, just explain them ;-) Anyhow, I'll go through ad do some editing now that the beast is done. I just wanted to get it out here and done first. Procrastination is my enemy. Oh, and yes, "Thadeus" always had one D it's pronounced 'thA-dE-us' rather than the mundane 'thad-dE-us' Hard A and less emphasis on the D. As to Grix and Usk, no way. Seriously. After what just happened, Grix will be lucky if he can ever pick up his tools again, let alone rebuilding Usk in any capacity. Besides which, if you just had to kill your own son, would you animate the corpse to carry stuff for you? Even Paul wouldn't suggest that. (not because animating a corpse to do your bidding is wrong, but it has way too much emotional baggage attached to that particular corpse) Grix may be socilly inept and a bit cold but the little dude's more sensitive than he looks. This event just shattered his world. It's going to take a lot of help from his remaining friends just to make him functional. He's never going to be the same. Quincy, thank you for your complements. Since the characters weren;t originally intended to be played together the story became a sort of survival of the fittest to see who got to be the focus. We had Thade's quest, Ragnar's story, Gliff's internal struggle, and Grix' agenda all to deal with and that was ebfore adding supporting characters like Paul and Jaicen (Jaicen being the only character who wa actually made for the story sice Thade needed a Cohort). Since not everyone could have toeir storyline play out at the sme time I had to invent devices to keep them in the story. You may notice that Grix' original quest to find all the chapters of the lost construct tome has been neigh forgotten. That's because the device I used to keep him in the story (his journal entries) became far more interesting and effective than a quest for an obscure book. Plus part of the reason for the quest (to learn how to build a Shield Guardian to protect him) has been totally eleminated thanks to the friendship[ and protection he gets from his friends. He sort of ourgrew it. I think there's something abotu Grix that really came out in those entries. I think he represents the inner nerd in every gamer. The dreamer who doesn;t understand why things have to be a certain way. The Thera and Ragnar relationship worked nicely to keep the two of them fresh, and I'm glad someone actually likes Thera ;-) I'm also glad not everyont thingks Zombicorp is a mood spoiler. It's alays been a favotite idea of mine (you should se the pamphlets I printed for the riginal Paul that I handed out to everyone at the gaming table when i introuced him in game). I felt the story could use some humor and the element of a big corporation headed by less than benevolent entities gives us something to work with later and contrasts nicely with Paul's saunny disposition and utter belief that what he does benefits mankind. As to the dialogue, don;t thank me. Thank my childhood spent with sitcoms. ;-) More Buffy-esque influence comes from the fact that one of the biggest sources of inspiration for my own life was the TV show Rosanne, a show on which Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy) was a staff writer. The non-dialogue wordplay can largely be attributed to Terry Pratchett. If you haven;t ever read his work, do so. Anyhow, thanks for all the feedback. I'm not sure how much further I'm going to take this story. I have to at least cover the aftermath and tie up loose ends...but after that, I don;t know. I'm not sure if I can take the story all the way to Winterwound's lair. at least not yet... we'll have to see where this goes.
eudas 08-02-04, 05:25 PM	Originally posted by Galahad_Knight As to Grix and Usk, no way. Seriously. After what just happened, Grix will be lucky if he can ever pick up his tools again, let alone rebuilding Usk in any capacity. Besides which, if you just had to kill your own son, would you animate the corpse to carry stuff for you? Even Paul wouldn't suggest that. (not because animating a corpse to do your bidding is wrong, but it has way too much emotional baggage attached to that particular corpse) Grix may be socilly inept and a bit cold but the little dude's more sensitive than he looks. This event just shattered his world. It's going to take a lot of help from his remaining friends just to make him functional. He's never going to be the same. Um, I'm not saying <munchkin>Y3AH DUD3 FIX HIM AND MAEK HIM CARY AL UR STUF WE GOTA GO KIL DA DRAGON NOW!11!!1 OMG</munchkin>, i'm saying that due to the emotional connection he had with Usk, he might want to fix him and keep him, even if it's only in a limited capacity and not quite the same. It's sort of the same "I just can't give you up completely" that drives Pet Sematary. And, well, I would expect Grix to be somewhat pragmatic, as well: the shell of Usk was a substantial expenditure of resources, and can probably be used for *something*. If you're saying he's never gonna build again, though, well that's obviously a character choice, but it does pretty much take him more or less out of adventuring. Anyway, just presenting some thoughts, not being all super critical or anything. They're your characters. W/rt the editing stuff, I know, I figure it's like an easy fix-it list if you just wanted to skim through and fix whichever specific things caught your eye. If you want me to delete the editing stuff from the previous post, just say the word and i'll kill it. eudas
Galahad_Knight 08-02-04, 06:41 PM	I'm sorry, I misread your post I guess. I still don't think he'd do it. He'd be too scared of what could happen to try and rebuild him and cares too much about Usk's memory to create some soules puppet wiht his face. However, that's not to say he'll let it go to waste. Trust me, I've had this planned for some time. And don;t worry, I don;t mind having my typos pointed out. I'll get to editing it later tonight.
Galahad_Knight 08-06-04, 08:03 AM	minor brag...at some point in the last few days we broke 10,000 views Incidentily, we're the most-viewed thread on the char dev forum ever. Thanks guys!
Staver 08-06-04, 11:06 AM	No, thank YOU for writing such excellent material!!! I hope your life issues have settled down and you're past your writer's block. My issues are just beginning, I'm closing on my first house this afternoon!!! -Staver :D
Aki Warren 08-06-04, 01:39 PM	Yeah, it's a really good story, I love it. You should get it published
Mr. VanderMeer 08-07-04, 09:48 AM	Wow Galahad, that is quite a big new chapter. It is great! I keep loving this story more. Thank you.
WarDragon 08-11-04, 11:06 AM	Wow; I go away for a month, and come back to this... this... masterpiece! That was possibly the best chapter so far; the battles were perfectly correographed, and the emotions shone through, tugging at the heart-strings. I feel so sorry for Gliff, and Grix, and Usk (probably a silly question, but I'm assuming that Paul can't or won't cast Raise Dead?). Winterwound is going to have the Hells to pay for this!
Galahad_Knight 08-12-04, 04:37 AM	Awww shucks :blush: Good question as to whether Paul would attempt to Raise Gliff. Paul has some passionate ideas about life and death. Bringing someone back from the dead cheapens both life and death. A heroic sacrifice is worthless if it can be undone with a simple spell. But, on the other hand, he cares very much for Grix and the others and may be willing to do just that to remove their pain. In any event, however, no spell can return life to one who is unwilling to return to it. If there's anything I learned from Buffy is that when a hero dies he/she gets rewarded. Gliff's pain and lonliness is over. He's with his family and his god. He may miss his friends and wish to aid them, but I have a hard time imagining anyone who would give up eternal bliss for anything short of immediate danger to his friends or lived ones or a major case of unfinshed business. Gliff's business is finished. His friends are in no danger. He has earned the reward of a true hero. God, I'd hate to think what it would be like to be ripped away from that.
WarDragon 08-15-04, 12:54 AM	Good point; I keep forgetting about that little clause for some reason (probably because it's usually the player rather than the character deciding to return from the eternal reward). Still, that only heightens the effect of Gliff's sacrifice; it was without question one of the most moving things I've ever read.
Galahad_Knight 08-31-04, 04:15 AM	what the frell? I think the new MB system ate thge last few posts on ths page, I can't find the last couple posts or my reply to them. Is anyone else notincing this?
Mr. VanderMeer 08-31-04, 06:34 AM	Hi Galahad, Yes it's true. After a certain point all post were saved. These were transported to the new boards. Everything that was posted after that point is lost. There was an anouncement at the top of every page.
RadicalTaoist 09-01-04, 03:29 PM	what the frell? I think the new MB system ate thge last few posts on ths page, I can't find the last couple posts or my reply to them. Is anyone else notincing this? Indeed, 'tis a freaking bummer. Posts, PMs, everything gone. (see sig) I missed the link (to the shortened version of the story) in your response, could you please post it?
Galahad_Knight 09-01-04, 05:27 PM	For all those wanting to catch up or get started but are intimidated by the long page count, fear not, there's a copy of the story over HERE (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=229078) tthat's pretty much just the story, it's only two pages. Next capter currently in the works, but I'm looking for a new job so things are hectic. PS to Taoist, any luck with that character?
RadicalTaoist 09-01-04, 09:47 PM	Thank you GK. I posted the major ethical question concerning my character's alignment here. (http://boards.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=299850) I will post the design for the Faerunian version (fire genasi straight seer) in this forum tomorrow after I confirm the power's I'll give him. Did you have a response to my PM that I missed?
WarDragon 09-02-04, 02:22 PM	For all those wanting to catch up or get started but are intimidated by the long page count, fear not, there's a copy of the story over HERE (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=229078) tthat's pretty much just the story, it's only two pages. Next capter currently in the works, but I'm looking for a new job so things are hectic. PS to Taoist, any luck with that character? 'Fraid the link doesn't work, Galahad. My guess is, the URLs got messed up with the forum "upgrade."
Galahad_Knight 09-02-04, 06:07 PM	No, they still work, I just goofed and didn;t copy the entire URL. Here it is http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=229078
Aluroon 09-13-04, 06:54 PM	Well, therer are two reasons for this post, first, to bump up this amazing thread back to page 1, and second, to ask galahad if he is done with the story, or if he is just taken a breather... so, any answer to number 2? Aluroon
RadicalTaoist 09-14-04, 12:18 AM	A sequel would be great. I'd like to add stuff to it.
Galahad_Knight 09-18-04, 05:38 AM	Sorry guys, I do have another chapter in the works but things have been crazy, especially with school starting up. I'm trying to tie things up for now but it's really hard to write anything after that last chapter. Everything I try just sounds lame by comparison. I'll keep working on it, and I'm sorry I'm so unreliable these days, I really am.
RadicalTaoist 09-18-04, 11:08 AM	Ooh! Ooh! Need a co-author? *jumps up and down waving hands*
Galahad_Knight 09-18-04, 06:34 PM	Thanks for the offer, but I'd like to try to wrap this up myself, just for the principle of it. If we revisit the story later I might be looking for help or contributions though. It's not all bad news though, I've managed to get my creative juices moving enough to make a contribution to the character development contest. With any luck it'll be just the push I need to get this chapter done.
Vintrastorm 11-28-04, 06:43 AM	*blimp*
Orgok the Destroyer 11-29-04, 07:25 PM	I've really been enjoying your character backgrounds!Keep up the good work.
Galahad_Knight 04-08-05, 07:47 PM	<Bump of Ages>
RadicalTaoist 04-09-05, 09:07 PM	Do I smell sequel?
BlackFlame 04-10-05, 11:23 PM	Galahad has bumped this thread...could it be that he could be at long last we will hear more about the characters we've all come to know and love (or hate as the case my be). Will we be seeing Grix, Gliff, Jacien, Thade, Paul, Thera, Ragnar, and even Usk? I for one hope so...good to see you back Galahad, I've missed your excellent work.
Dippiey 04-16-05, 10:27 PM	Truly a work of art these stories. You have created something that would make R.A Salvatore frustrated with his own inferior character creation skills, and bring a tear to the eyes of Tolkien. You deserve a place among these amazing authors, Gallahad :clap:
RadicalTaoist 04-22-05, 09:33 PM	He certainly deserves a place next to Tad Williams for the whole "OMG It's Good But Where's the Gawdamn Sequel!!!!11!!!one!" shtick. My hopes were raised by the bump...:nonono: Just kidding:D
Galahad_Knight 08-08-05, 05:27 AM	First the Bump: :bump: Now the News: Bad: Nope, no further developments in this adventure, at least not planned. I'm sorry it was never 'finished' but it's just so hard to follow that last chapter. Mix that with the joys of work (lifting heavy objects and stacking them neatly as Sears), school (aceing every class that involves writing, not so much on the others), gaming (running one, playing one) and an attempt to eeke out a personal life (no comment) and my writing has been sadly, suffering. What creative juice I can muster right now i being put into a new project (No, you can't see it yet, I'm going to try and write it up and get it published. If I do you guys'll be the first to know and I'll be sure to throw you some previews if it ever happens) Good: Obviously I'm still alive. If anyone has a hankering to see my screen name in front of some pointless blathering, you can slide on over to The Nifty Message Board (http://azure.bbboy.net/niftymessageboard) where I've been making my home since, well, pretty much since I found it a couple years back and all but dropped off the WOTC boards. Also Good: If anyone's planning on going to Gencon this month, drop me a line, as I'll be in attendance for the whole time (ICQ 55661352 AIM Weaselwolf I haven't been to the WOTC boards in some time so PMs here might not get seen, but I'm over on Nifty all the time. We have PMs too, ones that I read even, and we have a gencon thread). Let me know if you'd like to meet up or something, I'd be glad to sign some post-it-notes for the day when/if I ever become famous (you can stick it inside the cover of my first book and hawk it on ebay for twice the cover price :smirk: ) I'll be the fat bearded nerd in a sassy sloganized t-shirt, with a home-made lightsaber at his side. Well, one of them anyhow (if you get ahold of me we can swap cell phone numbers or omethign so we can coordinate a meet-up). Well, that's about it.
l33t Shinobi 10-27-05, 10:07 PM	NNOOOO..... i read all the posts, to get to ... the end? blast. i wanted to say witty and insightful things about the story in progress. oh well. good job galahad, keep up the good work, and hope things get better for you. p.s. you remind me of Piro in amy ways.