Post by K Man on Nov 1, 2004 10:32:51 GMT -5
Hero, Garor, Callian, Angelus, Caelith and Newt - Thankful to be within the walls of a protected city but still mistrustful, you keep a wary eye on the crystal throughout the night.
It remains untouched and your night is somewhat restful. [Gain lvl/HD+CON for HP and regain spells]
When the morning comes, you find your thoughts far from war, far from 'The Master' and far from these enigmatic shards. Its closer to thoughts of breakfast and a filling morning meal. Heading down to the floor of the inn where patrons usually fulfill such desires, you find it to be devoid of anyone. In fact, a quick prescursory search of the inn leaves you to believe you are the only ones NOT outside of this place.
The plates are cold, the mugs empty and upside-down on the wooden surface...a very haunting sight indeed. Hastily donning your armor, gear and weaponry, you make your way outside and take immediate notice of what you find. The walls of Cannon's Foot have grown 'fuzzy' with the inhabitants. Nearly every inch of rampart is covered with them and they murmur low, but in such combined strength that is sounds as though you're standing next to a bee hive.
You spot Delomme, the man from before, atop the walls with a crossbow in hand. He sees your exit from the inn and he makes his way down from the wall and jogs over to your location, flanked by two Elves carrying longbows and two Dwarves carrying crossbows. He seems out of breath and very...very frustrated.
"Well...if it isn't the caretakers of the 'Shard'..."
"We're so glad you brought this to our city."
The vemon of Delomme's words seem to drip off of every syllable. You tilt your heads, wondering what he speaks of and why the emphasis on your cargo. To explain, Delomme drags one or all of you to the top of the walls overloooking the field beyond.
The SlaughterFog has completely enveloped the walls of the city, all around, front to back and is more dense than ever. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the area before the massive gates as, spelled out in torches held high, is the demand...
[glow=white,2,300]ONE HOUR TO RELEASE THE SHARD[/glow]
You can see that the words are spelled out, each one several dozen feet tall to not be mistaken or taken lightly. Straining your eyes, each dot of light in the words is actually a torch, held high by a monstrous hand.
Delomme looks at each of your vehemently...just then, a flash of light draws your attention back into the city, in a previously empty street.
Close to two-dozen figures stand in the street, looking around quizically, slightly disorientated. Among them, you spot Krysta, Girud and Galdren, your former companions...
This day could not have started any stranger...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Krysta, Girud and Galdren - The mages again request everyone huddle together and clasp hands so that the spell works. Mordrock squeezes next to Krysta, the grin permanently plastered to his face at the thought that his idea was valued.
The mages weave their magic, albiet a bit more silently as to remain unnoticed as though the fog itself will lash out.
Your bodies warp again, twist into the fabric of the world and 'pop'. The world disappears and reappears an instant later, like a puzzle that has been scrambled and reassembled.
You now stand in a deserted street within the city, immediately seeing that nearly everyone from the burg lines the walls and shakingly grasps a weapon of some kind. You also see your former companions, supposed dead at Boon's Freehold.
Newt, Callian, Caelith, Garor and Hero...they have noticed you as well...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Romar, Sehanine and Yuri - The Dwarves, being both and extremely arrogant and boastful race, did not touch the crystal. From Grandil's words, you knew this was a battle of pride...a matter of honor. Perhaps that is why they did not take the benefit of the crystal shard.
Still, this is not your battle...you touch the crystal and move into the darkened, body-lined halls of Bazarkrak. [+4 AC for an hour] You follow Grandil's instructions to the best of your ability, slinking into the hallway like the darkness itself.
It remains untouched and your night is somewhat restful. [Gain lvl/HD+CON for HP and regain spells]
When the morning comes, you find your thoughts far from war, far from 'The Master' and far from these enigmatic shards. Its closer to thoughts of breakfast and a filling morning meal. Heading down to the floor of the inn where patrons usually fulfill such desires, you find it to be devoid of anyone. In fact, a quick prescursory search of the inn leaves you to believe you are the only ones NOT outside of this place.
The plates are cold, the mugs empty and upside-down on the wooden surface...a very haunting sight indeed. Hastily donning your armor, gear and weaponry, you make your way outside and take immediate notice of what you find. The walls of Cannon's Foot have grown 'fuzzy' with the inhabitants. Nearly every inch of rampart is covered with them and they murmur low, but in such combined strength that is sounds as though you're standing next to a bee hive.
You spot Delomme, the man from before, atop the walls with a crossbow in hand. He sees your exit from the inn and he makes his way down from the wall and jogs over to your location, flanked by two Elves carrying longbows and two Dwarves carrying crossbows. He seems out of breath and very...very frustrated.
"Well...if it isn't the caretakers of the 'Shard'..."
"We're so glad you brought this to our city."
The vemon of Delomme's words seem to drip off of every syllable. You tilt your heads, wondering what he speaks of and why the emphasis on your cargo. To explain, Delomme drags one or all of you to the top of the walls overloooking the field beyond.
The SlaughterFog has completely enveloped the walls of the city, all around, front to back and is more dense than ever. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the area before the massive gates as, spelled out in torches held high, is the demand...
[glow=white,2,300]ONE HOUR TO RELEASE THE SHARD[/glow]
You can see that the words are spelled out, each one several dozen feet tall to not be mistaken or taken lightly. Straining your eyes, each dot of light in the words is actually a torch, held high by a monstrous hand.
Delomme looks at each of your vehemently...just then, a flash of light draws your attention back into the city, in a previously empty street.
Close to two-dozen figures stand in the street, looking around quizically, slightly disorientated. Among them, you spot Krysta, Girud and Galdren, your former companions...
This day could not have started any stranger...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Krysta, Girud and Galdren - The mages again request everyone huddle together and clasp hands so that the spell works. Mordrock squeezes next to Krysta, the grin permanently plastered to his face at the thought that his idea was valued.
The mages weave their magic, albiet a bit more silently as to remain unnoticed as though the fog itself will lash out.
Your bodies warp again, twist into the fabric of the world and 'pop'. The world disappears and reappears an instant later, like a puzzle that has been scrambled and reassembled.
You now stand in a deserted street within the city, immediately seeing that nearly everyone from the burg lines the walls and shakingly grasps a weapon of some kind. You also see your former companions, supposed dead at Boon's Freehold.
Newt, Callian, Caelith, Garor and Hero...they have noticed you as well...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Romar, Sehanine and Yuri - The Dwarves, being both and extremely arrogant and boastful race, did not touch the crystal. From Grandil's words, you knew this was a battle of pride...a matter of honor. Perhaps that is why they did not take the benefit of the crystal shard.
Still, this is not your battle...you touch the crystal and move into the darkened, body-lined halls of Bazarkrak. [+4 AC for an hour] You follow Grandil's instructions to the best of your ability, slinking into the hallway like the darkness itself.
)
