Episode 1: The Battle Of Saerun Road - RPG Crossing
RPG Crossing Home Forums Create An Account! Site Rules & Help

RPG Crossing
Go Back   RPG Crossing > Games > Dungeons & Dragons: 4e > Eberron 4e > The Mark of the Prophecy
twitter facebook mastodon bluesky

Notices

Reply
 
Thread Tools
  #1  
Old Apr 10th, 2010, 08:38 PM
Chrono's Avatar
Chrono Chrono is offline
Very Old Dragon
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 9th, 2010
RPXP: 461
Chrono Chrono Chrono Chrono Chrono
Posts: 651
Episode 1: The Battle Of Saerun Road

There is a day that you will never forget. It is day that haunts your dreams; a day that you slipped through death's grasp, though you still can feel the chill of her touch. The memories still haunt your thoughts, and though you try to move on with your life you know that destiny will not allow such a thing. This day, 20 Olarune 994 YK, is the day that changed your world forever.

"Stop yer belly-achin' fool," says a voice. "Destiny is not something to forget. It is something to embrace!" You turn to see a rough old dwarf with a bright red beard standing before you. He is standing in full plate mail, leaning on the hilt of his axe. "Destiny only bothers with those that are great, and it carries them to even greater greatness. Embrace your destiny, and your name will be the stuff of legends."

The dwarf extends his hand, and for a moment you feel compelled to take it. But then another figure appears. He is a large Dragonborn with silver eyes and dressed in the fine robes of nobility. He leans on a wizard's staff, and speaks with a raspy but firm voice. "Do not think of destiny as something you can use. Rather, destiny is the great plan for which we are all called to play a part in. It is the pattern, and we are the threads. If you are to be a strong thread in the weave of destiny, then that is your great fortune. Observe that which is around you, and you will come to understand the pattern and your place in it. Then all the secrets of time will be revealed to you. He too extends his hand.

"Do not concern yourself with the ramblings of old men," says a third voice in a soft and gentle tone. You look to see a beautiful Eladrin female dressed in flattering white silk. She smiles warmly at you as she speaks. "Leave them to their thoughts of destiny and time. Your only concern should be for the moment. Live each day to the fullest, and be happy. Work to make those around you happy as well. If destiny favors you, then so be it. If not, you are no worse off. Come. Let me show you how to escape the worries of your past and embrace your mortal life." She reaches out with one hand and beckons you closer with the other.

As entrancing as her beauty is, you begin to notice the world around you. It is a grey and smoking void, with nothing but yourself and these three figures existing in it. You start to wonder if this is all just a dream.

"It is indeed a dream," says a fourth voice. This one is much deeper than the others. You turn to see a Tiefling dressed in leather armor standing there, and his arm is reaching out to you. His skin and clothing both bear scars of hard battles, and his eyes are sad but resolved. "But it is not an ordinary one. It is a moment of choice for you, and you must make the right decision. Do not listen to anyone else. This life is harsh, and everyone is keeping secrets from one another. Trust no one but yourself, not even me. Keep your expectations low, and you will guard your heart against the agony of betrayal."

"How sad," says a fifth voice. You turn your head once more, but this time you must look down as well. This last voice is a human child, no more than 11 years old. She looks at you with pity and hope. "You have been through so much, and yet you will endure so much more. It is hard to trust, to share your burdens with others. But if we cannot help one another, then we will all be overwhelmed. You must learn to trust others with your cares, and you must learn to share the worries of others. If you do not, I fear that you will be crushed by the weight that fate has deemed to place on your shoulders." She reaches up to take your hand with both of hers. "Please, let me help you."

You look back and forth from one being to the next. Each one returns your gaze and holds out their hand, waiting patiently for you to choose one to take. By now you have accepted that this is a dream, and though you do not realize it yet, this exact same dream is being experienced by others at this exact same instant. Here now is the point where the dream may differ. You feel your heart compelling you to make a choice. And after a final moment to consider things, you make your decision.

 
__________________
Roll a skill check. See what happens.
Here is my resume. Recruit me as a player.

Last edited by Chrono; Apr 17th, 2010 at 10:41 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #2  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 12:25 AM
djm's Avatar
djm djm is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Sep 28th, 2018
RPXP: 1058
djm djm djm djm djm djm djm djm
Posts: 2,326
Brak, looking at all five of the pitiful beings, sadly asks in his deep, rich, resounding voice, "Who are you, and why are you here? I am supposed to chose, but what am I choosing, and why? If it is that which I must to be, I will have to pick the dwarf, strong and impenitrible, able to take and receive hits with the utmost apathy. If it is what I desire to be, I would go with the child, sweet and innocent, as I was before this happened. I feel compelled to take the path of the dwarf, for I sense our intentions are similar." Looking up, long hair swept into his face by a light breeze, Brak took up his mace and shield and merely said, "My way is chosen. Like it or not, I asked for it, and must embrace it." Looking at the sad little child still holding onto his arm, and with a surprisingly steady voice, he leans down and says, "As much as I may want it, I both wanted and need this path even more. My burden is mine to bear, and do not fear for me. I have brothers, sisters, a mother, and a father still. I will be fine." Looking at this little child, and seeing the eerie resemblance to his young sister, he hugs her before saying, "My path is with the dwarf. I may not believe myself to be great, but the power I carry is not to be used for any mundane purposes." Rising, walking over to the armored dwarf, and pounding his hammer on his shield, with the sharp retort of lightning and boom of thunder sounding, Brak says, "Dwarf, show me your way. It is you I will follow." Not looking back even once, he sets off into his future, not away from his sadness and hurt, but towards the road that would lead to healing and fulfillment.
__________________
Sigismund replied, 'Are we going to scrap it out now? Argue which Legion is the toughest?'
'The answer, always, is the Wolves of Fenris,' Targaddon put in, 'because they are clinically insane.'
-Horus Heresy book 1, Horus Rising
Reply With Quote
  #3  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 01:20 AM
Jayjayman122's Avatar
Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 is offline
Mythical Dreamer
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 6th, 2013
RPXP: 2032
Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122
Posts: 2,409
Still trying to make sense of it all, Lillix looks around to the five noble beings in front of her. "Is this a test? For what? My heart is pumping so fast! Is there a wrong choice?" Lillix scans the little girl. "She looks so familiar to me, but who is she? I should grab her hand, but I'm unsure if that's what I want!" After a couple moments of more thought and attempts to piece the situation together, Lillix nods confidently and claps her hands together excitedly. "Dream or no dream, I live for the present. I am happy and all those around me share the same sentiment. Whatever happens, happens!" Content with her choice, Lillix extends out her arm and grabs the female Eladrin's hand. Lillix smiles as the Eladrin guides her and looks back to the rest:"Live each day to the fullest, right?"

Last edited by Jayjayman122; Apr 14th, 2010 at 01:21 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #4  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 01:39 AM
tjottawa tjottawa is offline
Old Dragon
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Aug 9th, 2011
RPXP: 55
tjottawa
Posts: 557
Vardran wraps his cloak even tighter about him, but the chill he feels is not physical cold. It is something far more penetrating. These beings, so strange and yet somehow so familiar, raise the hairs on his neck and send goosebumps along his flesh. Their words cut straight to his heart, and Vardran feels himself being pulled in five directions at once.

Worse yet is the silence, the terrible silence. In this strange, smoky void, Vardran cannot see the stars. More importantly, he cannot hear them. For the first time since he can remember, their voices are silent. He never imagined such stillness could exist. He is truly alone.

But it isn’t peaceful. It is lonely and bewildering. Vardran feels lost without the stars to guide him, without their reassuring chatter in his mind. He almost wishes these ominous figures would speak once again, if only to fill the emptiness.

He knows that there is no point in conversing with them. They spoke their peace. It all lay on him now. No stars. No commanding officer. No family. Just him. Just Vardran.

What did he want? What did he believe? He faces the choice of choices.

So, closing his eyes and listening to his heart, he reaches out.

The Tiefling looks down at their clasped hands, and then up again at Vardran, his eyes full of unfathomable sorrow. Vardran wishes fervently that he could tear himself away. But those eyes hold him fast.

As the world slowly melts away into darkness, Vardran knows with sick certainty that there are now two days in his life that he will never forget, and that the eyes of the Tiefling will haunt him, like the voices of the stars. Forever.

Last edited by tjottawa; Apr 14th, 2010 at 01:41 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #5  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 07:43 AM
Skryptik's Avatar
Skryptik Skryptik is offline
Digital Vagabond
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Sep 22nd, 2022
RPXP: 1163
Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik Skryptik
Posts: 956
The young kalashtar monk is seated with legs crossed in reverse, his feet resting on the upper part of either thigh. His head is tilted back, a pair of cloth strips hang down from the knot that holds his sweat lined headband in place, and his eyes are closed. The gentle features of his face are utterly calm and his lips quiver in movement as hushed words are mumbled at a rapid speed. His hands lay outstretched with palm facing upward on either knee. His meditative pose is a picture of rigid serenity, his mind focused on a pinprick of light amidst a swirling cloud.

Suddenly his eyes burst open, a mixture of alarm and awareness fills his senses. Rajhal, like all of his people, never dream.

"Dal Quor!" his shout is a whisper and his body tenses. In a fraction of a second, quicker than the blink of an eye, his body lifts from the ground and both feet plant firmly beneath him in a spread stance. His hands raise before him threateningly while the rest of his body forms into a crouch. Eyes narrow with focused determination, survival instinct kicks in.

Then he hears the booming voice of the dwarf and whirls to face him, expecting an agent of the Dreaming Dark to be bearing down on him with murderous intent. Instead, what he sees disarms him somewhat. This dwarf looked like no quori spirit he had been told of before.

"What is this madness?"

His question comes out hollow and his attention suddenly moves to the approaching dragonborn. The words of the finely dressed creature appeal to him. Slowly, his hands begin to lower, tension begins to release from his body. This progression becomes natural with each appearance and by the time the child has come forward to grab his hand, Rajh stands with a reflective poise. He begins to consider everything that is being said to him.

"I am descended from a child of Dal Quor, merged through spirit and body to the world of the non-quori... I am forbidden to return here," he speaks softly, eyes flicking from one face to the next and beyond as if expecting more to come or even something sinister lurking behind what could well be illusion. "I seek the light within, there is no entity that can lead me to it. I cannot make this choice you offer, my path is mine alone."

With solemn grace, he bows his head to the beings and returns to the same sitting position as before. He spends a moment reaching out with his thoughts, searching for a like mind to give him response. Firmly entrenched in his belief is that if this truly is a dream, it could perhaps be a trace of the Taratai spirit that he somehow managed to metaphysically connect to. If this is the case, he would wait for a response within his own mind. Otherwise, this could very well be a temptation of il-Lashtavar - or a test - which he must resist.

Last edited by Skryptik; Apr 14th, 2010 at 10:07 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #6  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 10:12 AM
Phil's Avatar
Phil Phil is offline
Phil
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 8th, 2022
RPXP: 5445
Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil
Posts: 3,961
Shard's people do not sleep, and they cannot dream. It seems this is one of many ways Shard is different from the rest of his people.

I have so many questions.

The five beings, choices, stand before him.

Of the four, only the dragonborn mage seems to offer answers. He will reveal my destiny to me, so he says. The others are concerned with trivial things: glory, joy, caution, and care. It's knowledge that Shard seeks, knowledge about destiny, and so his choice is clear.

The others are gone. Only the wizard remains, and Shard makes the only choice. He takes the wizard's hand.
Reply With Quote
  #7  
Old Apr 14th, 2010, 06:46 PM
Lint of Death's Avatar
Lint of Death Lint of Death is offline
The Dustbunny of Doom
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Feb 2nd, 2013
RPXP: 4279
Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death
Posts: 5,506
A shardmind is always conscious, always alert. And yet... a vision takes hold.

"Destiny?" Quartcyre asks rhetorically. He has no mouth to move, and yet his dull voice echoes. "Firm. Determined. Intricate. Beautiful."

He turns to the eladrin. "Revelry? Joyous. Escapist. Beautiful."

To the tiefling: "Cynicism? Harsh. Sad. True. Beautiful."

To the child: "Communality? Strong. Brave. Helpful. Beautiful."

At this, crystal hand clasps crystal head and Quartcyre reels from the weight of the problem. He falls backward and shatters into a thousand pieces. The shards holler.

"The choice is impossible!" they say. "Take of me, everyone, for I choose you all."
Reply With Quote
  #8  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 10:55 AM
blastb's Avatar
blastb blastb is offline
Mature Adult Dragon
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Mar 31st, 2014
RPXP: 101
blastb blastb
Posts: 273
The figure set out across the grey, misty void, its pace slow as though it was in no hurry to reach a destination. Where there had previously been obscurity, his surroundings burst into view like when waking up from the darkness of sleep. Adoven trudged across the infinite wasteland, with only a vague sense of what was around him. He had a sense of self, knew who he was, knew his convictions, his passions, his wants and fears, but had no recollection of how he came to be here.

The most unnerving aspect of all of this was that to him, to his very core being, this was all perfectly normal, all logical and acceptable. He didn’t question his being here, didn’t question where here was, nor worried about leaving. He felt that this is where he ought to be. Yet after an eternity (or had it only been a few seconds?) of being in this vastness, panic settled in his heart. Was he actually moving across this never ending landscape of monochrome, blandness and fog? Or was he merely being stationary, moving his legs but never actually stepping forward?

And that’s when he heard it, the gruff Dwarven voice behind him. Adoven turned around with serenity, but his heart had still jumped contrary to appearances. “I beg your pardon?” he replied after the Dwarf spoke to him, not at all certain what all of this meant. Another voice chimed in behind him, making him turn in a new direction to look at the Dragonborn. One by one they appeared, talking, encircling him and extending their hands for him to take. He merely scrutinized them, only now coming to the realisation that their lips hadn’t moved at all when they had spoken. Nor had his for that matter.

He looked at them all, feeling rather diminutive under their gaze. The Dwarf looking expectant and ready for action; the Dragonborn poised and dignified, the epitome of the stately ways he was accustomed to; the Eladrin with its grace and radiance; the Tiefling looking serious and shrewd. Who should he follow? Surely they couldn’t expect him to make such a choice on so short notice… Would he choose strength and fame, knowledge and power, revelry and beauty, or seclusion and cunning? They all tugged at his heartstrings, each enticing him for different reasons. Which was he to chose? What if… what if he made the wrong choice?

Images of his life flashed through his mind as he looked at each of them, images of what might have been, what might still be… In a first instance, he saw himself as a member of the accursed Grave Callers, rough and tough and surrounded by fellow members who worshiped him. A hero of their order. The second vision was of him at a royal court, richly decorated and a man of high respect. Thirdly came a crowd which he entertained, singing and playing the lute as he revelled in their cheers. Lastly came a shabbily dressed scamp, furtively scuffling through back alleys.

“That’s what my life could have been, my future become…” he murmured as he watched each vision dance in his mind’s eye. “This is what I’d be if I had followed in dad’s footsteps… Best at the craft but with blood on my hands. And then if I’d have followed grandfather’s recommendations. He loved politics… Sometimes more than me I think. And here is, oh my dream, my secret joy… The life everyone tried to keep me away from. Singing. Performing. Being a star. I have the skill, I have the voice. I could be the best. So what happened? Why aren’t I? Something stopped me. Something always stops me. Maybe that’s how I’ll go through life? Missing the brass ring, a man of unrealized potential, unfulfilled dreams. Splendid promises that never come to fruition. A loser… Someone help me…” he implored the figures before him. “Tell me which is best… which to choose!” but they remained silent, each convinced that their way was the best. And so he understood. “It’s up to me. No one to depend on, no one to blame but myself. If I never take a risk, I’ll never have to worry about making a mistake, failing, being hurt. There’s safety in defeat, luxury in self-pity…”. Slowly, he reached towards the Tiefling. “Is that what I really want?...”.

His hand almost reached the Tiefling’s when a fifth figure appeared. As she spoke to him, she looked at him with pity and understanding as though she knew exactly of his plight. Her words felt comforting, warm, and wise beyond her apparent age. Slowly turning away from the Tiefling, Adoven grasped the human girl’s hands with his own and smiled weakly.
Reply With Quote
  #9  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 11:14 AM
Chrono's Avatar
Chrono Chrono is offline
Very Old Dragon
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 9th, 2010
RPXP: 461
Chrono Chrono Chrono Chrono Chrono
Posts: 651









The other figures fade from existence without a sound, but a new voice whispers softly. "Things are never what they seem in this world." You turn back to face the individual whose path you chose to follow, but they no longer stand by your side.

You look down at your hand, for you still feel their grip. There is no longer a hand holding your own. Instead, you find yourself gripping a scroll case with a silver dragon etched on the seal. You reach to open it, but the case suddenly transforms into an odd urn that pulses as if it were alive. A moment passes, and the urn transforms into a sword. Evil seeps from the blade like a cold thick fog. You cry out and try to cast the sword away, but it has already transformed into tiny rod made of blue metal with a sapphire embedded in one end.

The metal rod turns to gray smoke, that grows and surrounds you. It is a familiar gray mist, one that you have seen before. The memory triggers something in your mind, and the dream you experience begins to fold into a reality from your past: the Battle of Saerun Road.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Today is 20 Olarune 994 YK. Willing or not, you find yourself fighting in a fierce battle, which will later be referred to as the Battle of Saerun Road. Cyre's recent victories in the war have encouraged Thrane and Breland to form another temporary alliance. They are intent on invading Cyre's land. Saerun Road is a small travel-worn road that crosses the Breland/Cyran border, and it makes for a strategic invasion point.

Despite their best efforts to defend their borders, Cyre is vastly outnumbered. The troops from Breland and Thrane are reinforced by Zil wands, Valenar cavalry, and a handful of Aundairian soldiers. Mercenary forces have been recruited to fight on both sides (including monstrous forces from Droaam and goblins from Darguun). And as usual, the dragonmarked houses are giving aid to both sides of the battle, though many of them are now retreating from Cyre's side. Only Karrnath, with their vast army of undead, seems ill represented at this battle.

Blood lust runs high on both sides, and anyone not known to be an ally is attacked mercilessly as an enemy. Despite their disadvantage, Cyre is showing no signs of retreating. The battle is far from over. And in the midst of this battle, you find yourself playing a role which you hope shall not be your last.

 
__________________
Roll a skill check. See what happens.
Here is my resume. Recruit me as a player.

Last edited by Chrono; Apr 17th, 2010 at 11:15 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #10  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 12:46 PM
Lint of Death's Avatar
Lint of Death Lint of Death is offline
The Dustbunny of Doom
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Feb 2nd, 2013
RPXP: 4279
Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death
Posts: 5,506
Somewhere overhead, a bodiless intelligence appeared and observed. It darted from consciousness to consciousness, seeing the battle from new perspectives with each passing moment. Fury and fear, life and death, the mind without form paid witness to as much as it could.

But then, there were some minds that explored it. What a strange feeling! The intelligence probed, broadcasting signals. A being of wood and stone, perched atop a hill, wrapped in a splendid cloak.

"Hello?" The intelligence says to the peculiar person. "You have . . . seen me. What are you?"

Last edited by Lint of Death; Apr 17th, 2010 at 12:46 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #11  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 01:44 PM
djm's Avatar
djm djm is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Sep 28th, 2018
RPXP: 1058
djm djm djm djm djm djm djm djm
Posts: 2,326
Brak, with a fury and vengeance greater then many have seen before, is on the front lines, not afraid to take a hit because he knows he will strike back, with thunderous retort, quick and deadly as lightning. Especially going after those that look like the strange assassins, the dark elves, so great with their blades, but none could stand before him. Covered in blood both his own and not, Brak was a sight to behold. Lightning crackling on his mace, swinging with all his might, and even bashing those who came near with his shield to ward them off, Brak relied only on his skill with mace and shield and a dab of luck to keep him alive through this ordeal. He didn't need allies. In his rage, it was possible that his current lack of control over his strength could lead to their destruction. Charging, alone, into the depths of the enemies' ranks, Brak knew not if he would make it out alive. He was only certain of one thing: He wouldn't go down without one hell of a fight.
__________________
Sigismund replied, 'Are we going to scrap it out now? Argue which Legion is the toughest?'
'The answer, always, is the Wolves of Fenris,' Targaddon put in, 'because they are clinically insane.'
-Horus Heresy book 1, Horus Rising
Reply With Quote
  #12  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 03:50 PM
Phil's Avatar
Phil Phil is offline
Phil
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 8th, 2022
RPXP: 5445
Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil
Posts: 3,961
Quote:
Originally Posted by Lint of Death View Post
"Hello?" The intelligence says to the peculiar person. "You have . . . seen me. What are you?"
"What am I?" Shard pauses, unsure how to answer. He had arrived to a battle already in progress, not knowing what to expect, or even why he was drawn here. "I am myself, called Shard. I'm like those, called Warforged, in combat below, but unlike them. My mind is freer, in a literal sense, yet, not so free as yours I suspect. The better question is, what are you? How is it you can exist without form?"

Their conversation is interrupted: the Cyrian forces are drawing back again, Brelish forces advancing over their positions. A small force of Warforged led by a human artificer wearing Cyrian colors rushes past Shard's hillside, and the human calls out to him.

"You there, forged, who's your commander?" Shard freezes. House Cannith Artificers have been on the hunt for him since he escaped months ago. They're one thing he's learned to fear "Answer me!" The human's eyes narrow: Shard is unusual, covered in blue crystals, unlike any warforged he'd seen before. "What forge are you from?"

A fireball explodes, tossing the young artificer to one side, the Warforged he commanded take up a defensive formation as Brelish cavalry charge them.

"We should leave." Shard says to the bodiless mind, as he backs away from the battle. The Cyrian warforged would be defeated soon, and Shard has little intention of being taken down with them.
Reply With Quote
  #13  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 04:00 PM
Lint of Death's Avatar
Lint of Death Lint of Death is offline
The Dustbunny of Doom
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Feb 2nd, 2013
RPXP: 4279
Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death Lint of Death
Posts: 5,506
"I don't know what I am!" The mind replies with startled realization. It begins to ramble at a rapid pace. "I, I think I have a choice. Must we leave? It's all so beautiful. I think I might join whatever's going on down there. It looks like fun."

It could sense that there were deposits of hard materials beneath the earth, kind of like the crystals on the fascinating warforged. They could work! It could make a body, if it thought hard enough. It saw men and women, and decided that it would be a man.

Last edited by Lint of Death; Apr 17th, 2010 at 04:02 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #14  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 04:34 PM
Jayjayman122's Avatar
Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 is offline
Mythical Dreamer
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 6th, 2013
RPXP: 2032
Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122 Jayjayman122
Posts: 2,409
"I found another one!" Lillix says cheerfully to her brother as she drags another broken Warforged into the tent. She looks over at Merrix working feverously on creating more soldiers for the war.

"Lighten up a bit, bro, it looks like Cyre is doing fine out there," Lillix lies to comfort her brother, "Anyways, this one is broken beyond repair, so I think I'm going to salvage some parts."

Lillix bends over examining the smoking Warforged. Hmmmm, I should be able to grab the chains within if I just... and not so subtlely, the young Artificer punches through the worn down chassis of the construct to remove an intact chain from within. Merrix giggles at her sister's tactic of retrieval. Smiling at making her brother lighten up, Lillix enchants the chain with some of her magic. Mum and Dad would be proud of us, Merrix...

Interrupting her chain of thought, loud commotion is heard outside the tent. Lillix looks out to assess the situation and notices an odd looking Warforged with blue crystals around itself running past her. Whoa! What was that? Surely that couldn't have been a Warforged, could it? Screams a short distance away recaptures Lillix' attention.

"Time to go, bro!" Lillix grabs her brother's hand and drags him out of the tent despite his pleas to finish another one of his masterpieces. "Looks like the Cyran army is retreating back, which means we need to be even further!" Pulling out her crossbow, Lillix hits a couple enemy in the legs with bolts to slow them down. In an attempt to keep her brother safe, she equips the enchanted chain around him to give him a speed boost. "Run Merrix! I'll hold these guys off and catch up with you soon!"

Last edited by Jayjayman122; Apr 17th, 2010 at 04:35 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #15  
Old Apr 17th, 2010, 04:43 PM
tjottawa tjottawa is offline
Old Dragon
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Aug 9th, 2011
RPXP: 55
tjottawa
Posts: 557
A fierce wind whips around Vardran as he follows the Brelish cavalry. It smashes yet again into a unit of beleaguered Cyrian Warforged. Vardran moves quickly, but carefully, behind them. His role is not at the battle front.

To his left, he thinks he catches a brief glimpse of a familiar face. The monk is near. Taking some solace in the fact that he is not completely friendless in this horrific place, Vardran stops and listens.

And there is much for him to hear. Because the stars are no longer whispering to him. They are screaming at him. Even above the din of the battle, Vardran can hear them clamour for blood. And so Vardran obeys.

He draws their icy power into himself, as he has done so often before. He feels it slither through his veins like rivers of frigid water, emptying into his very soul. He lets the power build up inside him, like a dam, until he is ready to burst.

And then he bursts.

Vardran unleashes wave after wave of dark power against the Cyrians before him without mercy, fear, or remorse. He is no longer Vardran. He is simply a vessel. He has become starry-eyed death.

Cyrians, and their precious warforged constructs, fall like wheat. Most are burned alive in bursts of radiant energy as the waves of power strike them. Others are smashed to the ground by dark, crackling eldritch energy: they fall, twitching, dead or wishing for death.

The stars exult in Vardran’s mind, their voices like a thousand thousand chimes being struck together at once, a melodic thunder that makes Vardran grasp his head in pain.

He needs time to recoup his strength before he can pour out such devastation again.

But time is the one thing that no one can afford in this battle. The Brelish cavalry rides on. The Cyrian warforged regroups and counterattacks. This bloody play will stop for no one.

And still the stars yearn for more. So, steeling himself as best he can, Vardran continues on.

Last edited by tjottawa; Apr 17th, 2010 at 04:50 PM.
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off



All times are GMT -4. The time now is 03:27 AM.
Skin by Birched, making use of original art by paiute.(© 2009-2012)


RPG Crossing, Copyright ©2003 - 2024, RPG Crossing Inc; powered by vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2024, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd. Template-Modifications by TMB