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[D&D 4E IC/OOC]: The Mirrors Of Tizun Thane

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Posts

  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited July 2010
    The dwarven assembly speaks of high matters and terrible danger to their people. A beast leads an army through their tunnels intent on death and destruction. All who have stood against it have fallen, and the people fear its coming as they would fire from heaven.

    Eventually they reach a unanimous conclusion: only one among their people can solve this danger. The call goes forth from the council: Dain must sally forth with his retinue and do what no other dwarf can. Messengers pour through the kingdom, but can find no trace. Days pass, and the council almost gives up hope, making desperate plans for evacuation and retreat.

    And then, the doors of their most sacred chamber burst open, and there, standing with one foot resting on the severed head of the beast that threatened them, stands Dain. "I understand you wanted to see me, my Lords. Pray excuse my lateness. I found some rare sport on my way."

    The cheers of the council almost deafen him.

    A voice whispers in your ear: "Obey me, aid me, and this glory can be yours."

    Bogart on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited July 2010
    Duragon stands before the altar of the high temple, and bows his head in supplication. The aged dragonborn before him lays a fatherly hand upon his brow, and nods in satisfaction. "My son, you have shown yourself to be the worthiest arm of our church. I shall leave this life knowing that the order stands stronger than ever before, because you lead it." He places a simple band of silver about your head, and stands, motioning you to take his place in the throne. You sit, and the thousands that pack the temple to see the highest authority in their church pass from one holy man to another raise their voices in rapturous praise and sincere love.

    A voice whispers in your ear: "Obey me, aid me, and this authority can be yours."

    Bogart on
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    The stoic dwarf chuckles to himself. Imagine that! A hero of my people. He rubs his beard thoughtfully. I'd return to them a hero. I'd have my pick of wives. My pick of homes. My pick of everything! The mead would never stop running.

    As he contemplates his debauched future, Dain imagines his companions beside him. I'd stay up late drinking round after round with Makar and Duragon. That old rogue Melf would be there, too, wouldn't he? He'd tell us tales of his childhood. He snorts. Could get a little annoying. We'd have to find some use for the wizard. I'd have children, wouldn't I? He could keep them entertained. Special tutor! His eyes darken slightly as he comes to a realization.

    What would we do with the sorceror? Can't say I'm too fond of him. The fellow isn't one to respectfully work for a warlord, is he? And how do I know I can trust him? He might try to wrest my power from me. That wouldn't do!

    As his thoughts continue, meandering toward a darker place than his initial fantasies of fame and fortune, Dain hits upon a simple truth.

    "I don't even LIKE dwarfs!" he bellows, taking stock of his own mind and desires. Surrounded by members of his former clan, locked in a prison made of stone? This was why he left! This was what he sought to escape! He drops the beasts head to the floor, and draws his battle axes.

    "MAKAR! DURAGON! LUCAN!" Even you, he thinks, before continuing, "ANWAR! To arms friends! To arms!"

    streever on
  • Jam WarriorJam Warrior Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    Makar stood tall in front of his conquering army. As he surveyed the forces before him it felt good. With this power at his hand he could remake the world a brighter and better place!

    But then a whispering voice crept into his ear and the vision dulled.

    He could see the forces arrayed before him but there was something slightly wrong about the way they looked at him. The eyes under the gleaming helmets were bloodshot and staring. The sun may glint on their golden spears but the edges were dulled with dried blood and gore. They were too eager for battle, they relished too greatly in the destruction. They claimed him as their leader but were they really under his control? When the battle was done he began to fear as to whether he could ever reign them back from becoming a wanton tide of destruction over the damned and the righteous alike.

    How had he come to lead this host anyway? His head was muddled and he tried to think back to his rise to such a position of power. The voice floated past his consciousness once more,

    "Obey me, aid me, and this future can be yours."

    He had not earned this army. It had been granted by another. Brought in fear with his submission to a power he knew in his heart represented the darkness in the world rather than the light.

    Makar's thoughts whirled and his vision blurred as he desperately sought some stability in this fever dream. Instinctively his thoughts went back to the seminary and the battered and torn book of the teachings of Kord that had so shaped his childhood ambitions.

    "Be strong, but do not use your strength for wanton destruction."
    "Be brave and scorn cowardice in any form."
    "Prove your might in battle to win glory and renown."

    This situation flew in the face of all three of the core tenants of Kord's teachings!

    "NO!" he shouted. "I will not obey you, I will not aid you and I deny the lies you set before me!"

    He threw aside the lance in his hand, noticing now that the symbol upon it was not that of Kord, but some other eldritch sigil that twisted before his eyes. Drawing his trusty hammer from his back he kicked his horse into a gallop and charged directly at the host in front of him.

    "Come on! I'll take you all on! It's not like anyone of you are real anyway!"

    Jam Warrior on
    MhCw7nZ.gif
  • tastydonutstastydonuts Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    Sitting up on the saddle, Sena gestures as if in deep thought. Sure the slime monster was mostly dead, but it made an interesting offer.

    "And I would just need to kill these guys for you?" He asks. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of it before anyway. More than once. Plus there was the wizard. The useless wizard. Dead weight, just like all the other wizards. Sena gestures a snap and points upward, as if it had an urgent question.

    "Right! Can this creature spit fey bees?"

    Then an even better idea comes to mind: Fighting them all. He could surely reach the same ends, and getting there was the fun part.

    Included that last sentence to clarify where Anwar's mind is.

    tastydonuts on
    “I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
  • DacDac Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    I keep sitting down intending to do this, but every time I fizzle out. I really want to do this justice, because it's a chance for more actual RP.

    So yeah, my apologies for holding the game up. I'll try to get something up tomorrow that doesn't suck.

    If I can't do that, I'll get something up that sucks.

    Dac on
    Steam: catseye543
    PSN: ShogunGunshow
    Origin: ShogunGunshow
  • AnarchyAnarchy Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    Don't worry, you're not the only one holding the game up ;)

    I wish I could say my reasons for not posting were as honorable as Dac's but its just been a hectic week for me so far with something going on every evening with not much time for me to unwind.

    Post is incoming shortly. (Today, most likely tonight)

    "That power could final be mine," the wizard mused.

    As the vision started to fade, Lucan stared around the room, the apprentices beginning to look dull and muted. They maintained their still expressions, almost emotionless or as a result of many months of training.

    "They'd look up to me. I'd have an entire army of potential wizards to train. The destines I could influence, the futures I could change and warp to my will."

    The edges of Lucan's vision began to blur in a colorless haze; looking ahead however, and the orb in the center of the room was in sharp focus, the images flickering across it's surface showing his true desire. Knowledge. Power.

    The creatures voiced echoed across his mind once more, but as it did, Lucan came to a realization.

    "Lets be honest, I am rather tempted by all this but it feels.... well a little bit like cheating."

    Lucan clenches his fist, trying to break the visions control and attempt to grab a grabs a hold of his staff back in reality.
    Out of Curiosity, would I be able to make a perception check of the vision, Lucan would be trying to gleam any useful information about the future, before the vision fades.

    Anarchy on
    "Oh, well, this would be one of those circumstances that people unfamiliar with the law of large numbers would call a coincidence."
  • DacDac Registered User regular
    edited July 2010
    From the very beginning, Duragon had never felt accepted.

    He was sure that part of the reason for this feeling was the fact that he had grown up among humans. Although his people had earned some measure of acceptance from smooth-skins, the respect had come grudgingly, out of fear of retalliation, or else a reward for their notion of nobility. Respect was, in his case, something to be earned, and not a given.

    That was the way things were in Wintercrest - the shabby township in which he had been hatched. Wintercrest was a small village on the outskirts of the borderlands, secluded up the slope of a ridge of mountains, just on the edge of an immense, forested valley. The town was ill-traveled, and seemed to snow six out of twelve months of the year, with people as hard as the ice that chipped their windows.

    He had had no parents to speak of. They said that one of their few traders had visited a dragonborn village that they regularly bartered with, only to find the collection of huts razed to the ground. His egg was among the wreckage, singed but intact. When the time came for his birth and he was given a name, the simple people settled on a crude approximation of what they saw before them: Duragon. Dragon. Dragonborn.

    Adolesence was little smoother. He got angry easily, picked fights with the other boys on a whim, and regularly spent evenings locked in the village's icebox - to 'cool off,' they said. If not for the arrival of the man who would eventually take him under his wing, Duragon suspected his life would have turned out very differently - and much abbreviated.

    Dakar had been his name. Ruby scaled and azure eyed, he had stood impressively over the other dragonborn Duragon had known. He had walked with grace and confidence, a single, battered sword on his back and armor loosely clamped over his chest. He had spoken of days long gone - days when their race had commanded an empire that shook the foundations of the earth - a time when they were kings, with marvels that defied the scope of the imagination. The great golden city of Dukh'cha, the ancient hatchery of Qualy'ush, and the holy city of Chordach - where the dragons of legend kept residence.

    Dakar had a way with words that had fired Duragon's imagination and, seeing the troubles the boy had, Dakar decided to extend his stay in Wintercrest. Weeks turned into months, which slipped into seasons, and then into years. Dakar's hand had been strong but fair, and Duragon's memories of the stinging slaps it had delivered across the back of his head were just as fresh now as they had been back then. Dakar had taught him how to wield a blade, how to master control, how to sharpen his emotions into a weapon of its own. He had taught him the wisdom of the battlemaster, the way of Kord, and had spoken to Duragon of destiny.

    And then he had disappeared. Duragon wasn't sure where he had gone or why. All he remembered was entering the old master's home one day to find the rooms deserted, and his master's sword laid across his bedsheets.

    That had been many years ago, but Duragon had kept the words of his old friend close to heart. Power, heart, and destiny - and now it was fulfilled. As he looked out across the throng of gathered dragonborn, his blade leaning against the side of his throne, he was overcome with an immense feeling of completion. This, he realized, was where he belonged - where they belonged. He could see the golden streets of Dukh'cha stretching into the distance as he stood and spread his arms for silence.

    "Obey me, aid me, and this authority can be yours."

    He paused, frowning, his crimson eyes narrowing to slits. 'Can be yours'...?

    And then it all came back - the portals, the city, Tizun Thane, the chase through the market, the young human boy, the mansion, the mines, the slime ...

    The image before him seemed to wink and ripple, like snakes of heat rising off the pavement under a baking sun. The sun suddenly felt entirely too warm; the gold, on closer inspection, was nothing more than polished brass, and the faces below him - rapturous and vacant - all identical.

    Duragon reached back to grip the hilt of his blade, closing his eyes. As the cool leather pressed against his palm and the steel rose, it was as if Duragon could hear his master again on the whispering of the blade as it swept the air. Destiny... Empire...

    "If my people are to rebuild, we will need great strength," Duragon rumbled, bringing his other hand up to grip the hilt in a double grip. "Not of the muscle, but of our spirit. We must stand united - we must show others we are worthy of this glory. But most of all, we must show ourselves."

    Duragon span. In one, fluid motion, Dakar's blade extended. There was a sound like a shovel slicing through wet mud, and the head of the aged dragonborn that had stood beside him separated from its body and tumbled down the long flight of stairs towards the ground.

    "And that must be something we do. Alone. Your words are hollow, demon, your spirit without honor. Prepare."

    He raised his sword towards the sky, against the burning sun, his dark scales gleaming as the crowd dissolved into a mass of formless motion.

    Dac on
    Steam: catseye543
    PSN: ShogunGunshow
    Origin: ShogunGunshow
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    Before your eyes the tempting fantasy melts and fades and resolves itself into the dank mine. The pit before you feels almost empty of its foreboding evil, but a trace yet remains. A thin tendril of smoky blackness that reaches from the pit to the eyes of each of your comrades fades, and finally dissipates. You body sags, and you feel drained of vitality and energy. Resisting your heart's desire seems to have taken more out of you than you would have thought possible.

    The voice that tempted you whispers one last time in your ears. "I curse thee, mortals. You have spurned my offer, and you shall suffer for it." But the words seem hollow and lack the power to see the curse realised. The voice sounds almost pitiful, bereft of authority and instead sunk to the depths of a spiteful and petulant child. "You could have ruled all, if you had but obeyed me." The voice says no more.

    Little of interest remains in the mines for you now. A cursory search of the guards bodies reveals 200 gold pieces, but whatever Thane thought he was trying to dig up here, or whatever bargain he thought to make with this creature, it is surely now dust in the wind.

    Bogart on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    Everybody reaches level 4! Further posts wrapping up the journey back to Khare and further will be forthcoming, but you should maek poast yourselves to indicate whether you want to remain in Khare (big city, plenty to do, wonder why you've never heard of it in your own time) or head back to your own time. I'll incorporate your wishes into the wrap up.

    Bogart on
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    great posts! Very awesome. I'll make my post early tomorrow/tonight on what to do. What do you guys want to do... more Khare or move on back to the portal? We should check on how that boy is doing.

    streever on
  • Jam WarriorJam Warrior Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    Makar leaned heavily against the wall. He considered asking the others what they had seen but upon reflecting revealing his own vision to his companions he decided everyone deserved time to reflect. Discussions could come later if desired.

    He examined the hole the demon had come from. How deep was it? Was there any physical remnant of the beast? This orb everyone was on about?

    "I don't know about you boys," he said with tired resignation, "but I'm not long for me bed."

    Excellent fun times. Makar's long term future plan will be to return to Khare and do some research on the city and how it might link to our time. Some proof of this 'back in time' theory would be good as well! We came here purely in the spirit of adventure so I see no need to move on yet.

    Can I please do some pseudo leadering and ask for a quick magic item level summary from everyone so we can see who gets first shot at some shopping?

    For example I have 2/2/3/6.

    Streever, how is our loot pile looking?

    Jam Warrior on
    MhCw7nZ.gif
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    I think if I'm going to do another we should bump up the levels a bit. Maybe have some time pass in the background and then when we come back you guys are level 6 or whatever. We would RP the gap. Thoughts?

    Bogart on
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    that would be awesome bogart. These lower levels aren't very dynamic, I think it presents some constraints on encounter design when you are building it around 1 daily and 2 encounters. Jam, I'll check my document later & see the total loot breakdown.

    streever on
  • tastydonutstastydonuts Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    Either one works for me. If we get pumped though what are we doing as far as equipment? An avg ilvl of 3 as a level 6 character is somewhat disconcerting. ;p

    tastydonuts on
    “I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    We'll work out some rules for that if need be, probably the same ones as a new starting character of that level, or thereabouts.

    Bogart on
  • Jam WarriorJam Warrior Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    My slight preference would be for the organic growth of continuing to level 4 rather than the level leap. But if I'm in the minority I'm happy either way.

    Jam Warrior on
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  • AnarchyAnarchy Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    I have no real preference either way, happy to accept the majority choice.

    Anarchy on
    "Oh, well, this would be one of those circumstances that people unfamiliar with the law of large numbers would call a coincidence."
  • DacDac Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    I gots no preference 'sides whichever one you think would be better for the game flow.

    Alternately, since I'm obviously pretty slow these days, if you want to grab another leader, that would be fine, too.

    Dac on
    Steam: catseye543
    PSN: ShogunGunshow
    Origin: ShogunGunshow
  • tastydonutstastydonuts Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    So far it's:

    Jam: Level 4
    Streever: Level 6
    Dac, anarchy, Me: Don't care... Also maybe replace me, says Dac.

    WE HAVE REACHED AN IMPASSE.

    High is 4 for me, Low is 6: 14

    My decision is to play at level 4, by the dice. although I would strongly prefer to get level 4 with at the least the option to item swap or upgrade or something.

    tastydonuts on
    “I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    I'm not obsessed with going to 6 or something, but I do think it'd give us more variety. However, I'm happy to play at 4 if that is what most prefer! but yea, I'd love to also change out some things in my character, too. This was my first 4e character ever! I think just using my once per level re-roll and buying/exchanging a magic item would make me happy.

    streever on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    You can swap out items if you wish. Also, you can of course sell off anything you don't want. It seems that the majority want to progress normally, so we'll go with that.

    I'll get the wrap up posts done this weekend, then we can look at what Dac wants to do.

    Bogart on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    Once your breath returns, the cave's attractions soon pall. You head back out, keeping a careful eye out for any guards or miners that might have escaped the tender mercies of the monster that inhabited these depths. No such survivors show themselves.

    When you reach the entrance to the mine complex you head cautiously for the portal you know to be there. Once you're within a few feet it reveals itself as a shining grey oval suspended a few inches from the ground. Stepping through, you see the study of Thane appear as if through a grey fog. Once you're all through you head down to the lower floors. Melf is much on your mind.

    You enter the room in which you left him, pale and restless, and find him sat, unmoving. A slight smile plays at the corner of his mouth, as if he's lost in an old and particularly fine memory. His eyes are open, and they do not blink. Duragon approaches him, places two scaled fingers at the side of his throat, and, once he's sure there's no pulse, carefully closes the eyes of the old gnome. A whispered prayer is said over him.

    Bogart on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    Stepping into the light of day outside of Thane's tower the memories of the foul monster and the slavery in the mines seems to fade a little, and become less onerous. Melf's burial will have to be arranged, but no one will approach Thane's tower for now and risk the wrath of 'Shakor', so his body should be safe from thieves and carrion eaters for the moment.

    Heading back to your lodgings, you wonder if the parents of the boy you rescued were among the slaves in the pit. You hope not, but if they escaped in the aftermath there's no telling where they might be now. Perhaps they headed back to the village? Whichever the case may be, the boy should know. As you reach The Griffon's Wing, you hear a familiar and most welcome voice cry out ,"You're back! I thought I'd never see you again." It is the boy, Nol, and he catapults himself into the arms of Makar. "My family? Did you find them?" His eyes search your faces, and his own falls. "Are they dead?"

    Makar shrugs, and kneels before the boy, the better to look him straight in the eyes. "We don't know, lad. They may have been in the mine when we got there, but none we saw escaped alive. They may have gotten out, though, and returned to your village. We'll accompany you there to see, if that's what you wish." The boy looks thoughtful, and nods. Tomorrow, perhaps, he will leave.

    Makar ruffles the boy's hair and walks him back inside the inn. You congregate in the bar, an unspoken agreement among you that what everyone needs is a stiff drink. Shada brings over ale and wine and you waste little time in draining every drop. Weariness settles on you like a dead weight, and you head to your respective beds.

    Bogart on
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
    When you wake the next day, the sun is just coming up. Half a day and a full night you've slumbered. Your body feels stiff and sore, and you begin the days chores. A proper burial for Melf, and the escorting of the boy back to his village. You ask Shadar for directions to an undertakers, and she sends you on your way with the name of a decent and discreet service. The arrangements for retrieval and interment are made, and you are promised that every care will be taken. The body will lay in rest in a nearby temple for a day, and then be buried in the garden that adjoins it. Your fallen comrade catered for, you head back to the inn to see if Nol wishes to try and find his family. Your answer is made without words, as Nol sits on the front step with a small sack of belongings by his side. He stands as you approach, and picks up his sack. You nod to the boy, and together you head through the city to the gate.

    Some time later, close now to the site of his village, Nol begins to fret. He bites his nails, his eyes grow frightened and his chatter dries up completely. The village lies in a clearing a little way into the forest, and you head through the trees on well-worn paths. In the distance, you hear the sound of a hammer striking metal. A fight? Your pace picks up, and you dash forward, drawing your weapons as you do so. You burst from the treeline, ready for battle and stop short. Before you a bedraggled group of villagers are busying themselves around the rubble of a modest home. New stones have been laid, and new timbers have been set into the ground. the hammering sound was that of a man banging nails into one of the posts that flank the village well, attaching a crossbeam from which a bucket may descend. All eyes turn to you when you appear, and fearful glances are thrown your way.

    And then Nol bursts from among you, his eyes wild and seacrhing. As he sees the broad-shouldered man who stands by the well, and who even now tightens the grip on his hammer as he eyes you, he lets out a shout. "Father!" He runs forward and embraces the bemused man, who pats the boys head and whispers to him.

    You sheath your weapons, and approach. Nol is talking excitedly to the man, and his eyes turn to you. He approaches, and extends his hand. "Nol tells me you saved him from those damned birdmen." You nod. "He also tells me you went to the mine." Again, you nod. "It must have been you that made the guards flee, then. We were in a side shaft, dumping rubble from the dig when a couple of them ran past us as if Orcus were on their heels. We figured something was up, and made good our escape. We'd hoped our boy had gotten away, but in truth we never dreamed we'd see him again."

    A woman's astonished cry rings out in the village, and you turn to see Nol clasped tight in what must be his mother's arms. The villagers gather around you, slapping you on the back and thanking you profusely. Nol's father offers you the house with the most roof for the night, and will not hear of you tramping back to Khare at this late hour. This village has been assaulted and its citizens enslaved. Many probably died in the mines. But tonight, amidst a family reunited, there will be a celebration.

    Bogart on
  • Jam WarriorJam Warrior Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    Makar surveyed the scene of the community rebuilding and smiled to himself. Kord's work indeed.

    Lovely bit of closing narration. Not sure how much I could add really! Brings things to a nice closing point.

    Poor old Melf. I do hope Hayasa is alright somewhere out in the real world. Spontaneously disappeared in the middle of three games, one of which he was DMing!

    Jam Warrior on
    MhCw7nZ.gif
  • BogartBogart Streetwise Hercules Registered User, Moderator mod
    edited August 2010
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    i will post--sorry, our campaign for state rep ended in overwhelming victory yesterday, so i've been a bit distracted!

    streever on
  • tastydonutstastydonuts Registered User regular
    edited August 2010
    I'm going to be swapping out the Staff of Winter for a different staff, possibly one at a lower level and I think I'll be taking superior implement mastery as my feat, but I will post an updated one as soon as I decide for sure what I'm going to do.

    tastydonuts on
    “I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
  • ever029ever029 Registered User new member
    edited September 2010
    Hey guys, I may have missed the announcement somewhere, but I sure hope this campaign isn't over. I've been following since the first one and I really love it. Just thought you should know.

    ever029 on
  • streeverstreever Registered User regular
    edited September 2010
    Dain quietly enjoys the get-together and happening, musing over the challenges he and his new comrades had faced, and thinking fondly of Melf. "One can't say he didn't live a full life, the old codger," he remarks to Makar at a quiet point in the night.

    Later, drinking a pint with his fellow heroes, he clears his throat for attention, and is surprised by his own direct action. "Well, fellows. I think we've taken on a responsibility, haven't we? To go to where Thane has done evil, and to do right? I feel we've found a calling."

    "I won't speak for all of you, but I hope you'll join me in this."

    sorry for the delay folks. Bogart just has such good closing narration, it is very hard to add anything to it. I hope my humble effort adds something. I've updated Dain & would love to continue on with him, if everyone is interested in going. Bogart, thanks again for running such a great campaign. I've really enjoyed it!

    streever on
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