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[3.5 PbP] IC - Kaplan School
Legoman05
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
The characters:
Alton Heavyhand (Ineednosalt) [Halfling Sorc] http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=44346
Doyle (VoraciousAardvark) [Halfling Bard]
http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=44349
Farrid Morjack (Trenog) [Dwarf Fighter] http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=7343
Cain (DeVryGuy) [Old Human Drooeed] http://3eprofiler.bradley-online.com/view.php?id=23
Eyath (Al Baron) [Human Cleric] http://www.thetangledweb.net/profiler/view.php?id=4642
It's a hot summer Day, and the breeze blowing through the windows of your classroom makes it as torturous for Cain as it is for the rest of his students. After following a lesson plan given to him from the school board, he sits in his chair and waits for the last 5 minutes until the magic mouths in the hallways dismiss both instructors and students alike.
Most of the class is already asleep, the only ones managing to keep their heads up are Cain, Farrid, Eyath, and Doyle, and Alton. It's been a long day, and the long and drawn out Adventuring 545: Monster Identification in Temperate Environments course has nearly been the coup-de-grace.
Outside, hired hands set up a stage for the school's graduation in the town square, only a short two weeks away. The open-air market at the far end of the square resonates with the bustle of subdued shoppers, picking up a few odds and ends before a lazy summer evening. The crowd now is mosty the dwarven workers emerging from digging out the foundation of the town-hall to the north, preparing an expasion to accomodate a larger council and it's office.
Doyle, who sits next to the window, takes a break from writing lyrics to his newest song, and gazes longingly out the window. He notices a growing sense of panic grip the crowd and the workers, as they move to the edges of the town square.
Against the overcast sky, the cause of their concern is easy to see, a large beast resembling a wyvern, comprised only of bone and a blue fire holding it together, black rider in long robes on it's back, circles ominously over the town, spiraling down towards the statue of Geldon, the God-king, in the center of the town square.
Alton Heavyhand (Ineednosalt) [Halfling Sorc] http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=44346
Doyle (VoraciousAardvark) [Halfling Bard]
http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=44349
Farrid Morjack (Trenog) [Dwarf Fighter] http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=7343
Cain (DeVryGuy) [Old Human Drooeed] http://3eprofiler.bradley-online.com/view.php?id=23
Eyath (Al Baron) [Human Cleric] http://www.thetangledweb.net/profiler/view.php?id=4642
It's a hot summer Day, and the breeze blowing through the windows of your classroom makes it as torturous for Cain as it is for the rest of his students. After following a lesson plan given to him from the school board, he sits in his chair and waits for the last 5 minutes until the magic mouths in the hallways dismiss both instructors and students alike.
Most of the class is already asleep, the only ones managing to keep their heads up are Cain, Farrid, Eyath, and Doyle, and Alton. It's been a long day, and the long and drawn out Adventuring 545: Monster Identification in Temperate Environments course has nearly been the coup-de-grace.
Outside, hired hands set up a stage for the school's graduation in the town square, only a short two weeks away. The open-air market at the far end of the square resonates with the bustle of subdued shoppers, picking up a few odds and ends before a lazy summer evening. The crowd now is mosty the dwarven workers emerging from digging out the foundation of the town-hall to the north, preparing an expasion to accomodate a larger council and it's office.
Doyle, who sits next to the window, takes a break from writing lyrics to his newest song, and gazes longingly out the window. He notices a growing sense of panic grip the crowd and the workers, as they move to the edges of the town square.
Against the overcast sky, the cause of their concern is easy to see, a large beast resembling a wyvern, comprised only of bone and a blue fire holding it together, black rider in long robes on it's back, circles ominously over the town, spiraling down towards the statue of Geldon, the God-king, in the center of the town square.
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The subject material today had to do with many of the creatures that live in the plains to the South of the city. Even though this lesson had been covered already, there wasn't anything new left of the curriculum to deal with. At least that's what the professor had said.
Turning the page to finish the chapter, Farrid lifts his head to look at the class around him. To no surprise, Farrid sees that nothing has changed. The professor is still sitting at his desk, waiting. There's still that bard sitting at the window, and looking to the left and right, most of the class is still out.
Farrid looks to the timepiece that hangs from the wall. It reads that there is some five minutes left until dismissal. Satisfied that he had finished the chapter before the end of class, he lays the cloth bookmark onto the book and closes it. Sliding his chair back makes a grinding noise that fills the room. Farrid then crosses his arms and shuts his eyes, hoping to claim some mental break during the time that remains.
After a bit of fumbling, he glances up at the clock, catching it near onto the same moment as Farrid; five minutes to go, now, five minutes he could be using to get down to the dock, but alas... the school has rules and he must abide.
And so, Alton leans back in the chair that is so greatly oversized for him, planting his booted feet on top of the desk that sits before him. Claptrap, as much of a runt as a bird could ever be, sits upon his shoulder, and they begin the ritual of wasting time, something these two have become experts at - they're certainly more skilled in this art than in the science of Monster Identification in Temperate Environments.
It hasn't.
Knowing that Doyle is probably writing lyrics to a new song, Eyath decides to stretch her legs and bug the Halfling about them.
"Hey-" She stops in mid sentance when she sees the scene in the town square.
Thinking that perhaps the busy goings on of the marketplace outside would give him some sort of inspiration, however unlikely, Doyle's attention turned to the window in time to see yon harbinger of doom bearing down on the town. Oh, what daydreams, that might actually make a good... that was real. Was that really real? Looking around expectantly, noticing that no one else was paying him, or the outside world any attention, he quickly glanced back, out of the corner of his eye. There it was, still in the sky, no mere daydream. Fumbling for his things, scrambling for any reason to get out of class early, he raises his hand as he rushs towards the door, barely managing to blurt out his hopefully timely excuse. There was no way anyone was beating him to recording something as epic as this. Not in this lifetime at least.
"I uh, music practice, er rehearsal, uh, graduation, um uh.. late, gotta go!"
Cain stops his lecture and sticks out his quarterstaff in an attempt to halt Doyle. What the hell was this kids hurry?
"Slow down there son! Now what could have you in such a rush? If you leave now you'll miss the rest of the story about how Storm and myself sidestepped those Forest Trolls!" Cain seems to be blissfully unaware of the number of sleeping students and obviously finds his story much more interesting than the rest of the class. The old man motions for Doyle to retake his seat.
"I'll sidestep you, you old forest troll. Don't go thinking your little walking stick is going to stop me either. They don't call us Tumbletooks for nothing. Now do you want to sit here and talk about old stories as you get even older, or BE part of an epic ballad unfolding before us right now? I'm not letting simple prattlings keep me from recording this"
With that, Doyle marches for the door, almost tearing it off his hinges, walking slow and proud out of the room. As soon as he rounds the corner, he bolts, all sense of composure gone. Who was looking, afterall?
"Now what is he talking about?" Cain wonders aloud as he walks over to the window next to which Doyle had previously been seated. Seeing the beast circling in the sky, Cain's eyes begin to glow with a certain fire. He chuckles heartily and gives the sleeping and unattentive students a swift bonk on the head with his walking stick.
"Well? What're you waitin for? Today's lesson just turned practical. Get out there!"
He lets out a whistle summoning Storm, his Wolf, from his resting place and they begin making determined strides towards the scene outside.
"Well? What're you waitin' for? Today's lesson just turned practical. Get out there!"
Farrid cocked his head to the side as Cain passed him, continuing to tap students on the head. To him, this was very odd. Class still had another three minutes left, and the professor wanted everyone awake and out of class, even out of the school.
Many of the students that were woken up were shambling towards the door, some still yawning while others were talking with their friends as they left. Following suit, Farrid lifted himself out of his chair and started walking out of class. He still wasn't sure however why all this was happening, or why that bard had been so confrontational, but he knew that the professor wanted them out early.
Luckily for Farrid his student locker was on the same floor as the class, so it took him only a minute to get to it. Speaking the password opened the door and he grabbed his backpack, which contained his carpentry tools as well as his hammers. Everything else he had left behind at home because of the reduced course load at the end of the year. Farrid flipped the backpack over his shoulder, put it on, and closed his locker.
"Time to head outside then," he thought to himself, and he began to walk towards the exit.
Farrid, Cain, and Storm all stride through the open door to the school. Doyle stands at the bottom of the steps, watching the scene unfold.
The flaming wyvern screeches, blue fingers of arcane energy arcing out of it's mouth as the terrible sound fills the square, and elevates the concerned bustle into screams of terror. Some of the Dwarven carpenters ready their hammers and axes, while the rest of the merchants and women hastily pack their wares and flee.
Now, you will hear, and you will bear witnesses of the darkness that is to come! The rider speaks in a voice obviously amplified by magic. Since the dawn of this world, you fools, you infidels, you living, you have ran about the soil, digging and building to carve out a life for yourself. You toil and you suffer for the work of your hands, all the while slowing fading from this life to the next, into what shall soon be my domain!
The rider cackles, as the wyvern shifts on it's perch on Geldon's head. Its claws tear into the marble statue.
Your Gods play at empire like children, while you toil and die! But soon, you will welcome a new god, you will wail and cry to be welcomed into his cold and waiting arms! You will suffer and you will fall, and your gods will abandon you! You will weep, and wander the Weave forever, searching for a being as wretched as yourself, in whom you can take refuge.
Cry, you fools, gnash your teeth and forsake your mortal toils! Dae-Galas, the Lich-King, He who Awakens, is risen! And I, his general and regent, am the prophet of the times to come! Mark the words of He Who Serves - when the living are dead in his wake, you will rise again and become his servitors forever! And you, you lucky converts to his glorious cause, you will be blessed! You will be freed! And you will be the army that marches on Geldon's spires! You shall become slayers of Diety, martyrs against the tyranny of the Good! This is the vision of Dae-Galas! REPENT, FOOLS, AND JOIN THE GLORIOUS AWAKENING OF THE STILL-BORN GOD!
With that, The Prophet releases the reins of his fel mount, and performs several arcane gestures. He speaks a final word of power, and a hissing globe and green and black miasma forms between his outstretched hands, and streaks towards the crowd of craftsmen. Seven of the dwarves are incinerated in the blast, the rest scatter.
"Now, you will witness the wonder that is to come! Enjoy the last moon of the reign of the living! Ahahahahahahaha!"
The Prophet and his mount fly off into the sky, still holding on to the arm of Geldon's statue. It stands disfigured and impotent, looking on over the half dozen charred, writhing, and moaning Dwarven bodies at the edge of the town square, 180 feet away from the PCs.
Eyath didn't know how much help she would be to the dwarves, but she had to try. She had to get down to the town square. Now.
She quickly made for the exit to the classroom and to the school.
'course, it's hard to keep up that kind of peaceful, in-a-rush-but-it-doesn't-matter stance when someone outside begins spouting about death and undeath and killing everyone and on and on, and so, grabbing his tackle box and yanking his hat into place (he almost whacks Claptrap during this motion), he follows the others out of the school and makes his own beeline to the docks. People are probably hurt, but that's not his biggest concern (what can he do for some dying dwarves?)
What concerns Alton is that he might be late for work on account of this.
Storm, go look for anyone who might be hurt. I'll do what I can for these folk.
Storm runs off looking for other survivors while Cain hobbles towards the people the prophet just wounded.
((I'll stabilize anyone I can with Cure Minor Wounds, up to 5, and work on the rest with the heal skill))
Realizing that there is very little he can do to help the charred dwarves, Doyle finds a good tavern with a window seat to watch the scene unfold so he can eat some dinner while writing out everything that transpires.
Such lives to be lost on a whim, he thought. This is catastrophic. It took some minutes for the world to sink back into Farrid. For the ramifications of the event to sink in. When it did happen, he thought of his father at the construction sight, and of his workers that were now dead or wounded. Looking forward he saw the panic that was gripping the people of the town, and the guards that tried to push back that panic and make order. He saw the clerics in their white garbs moving through the dwarven workers to examine the wounded and to make prayer for the dead. And he saw the arcane magisters, with their flowing robes, taking note around the place that the dwarves fell and arguing with each other.
Farrid felt tears creep down his cheeks and instinctively wiped them from his face, for water would ruin the most delicate works of stone. He looked down at his hand and back up to the scene unfolding before him, and he began to walk. He didn't have any answers, but maybe his father could guide him forward a bit.