An open room lay before them, occupied only by a few cobwebs and dust. Upon entering, a phrase is seen on one wall. One of them utters the phrase out of wonder for its meaning, unknowingly activating the room. An eye opens on the wall in front of the poor souls and with a quick flash of light, the last thing heard from the room is heart retching screams... then silence.
It is said wizards don’t work well with others of their kind. Once they have a tower, woe to anyone not recognizing their superiority, that is the rule. But to every rule is an exception. Once, there were three wizards, on friendly terms, that built their towers closer than anyone before. The towers are lost, the knowledge therein may be yet reclaimed.
The TheoRgs are known for being amongst the biggest, toughest, and most generally unpleasant sentients in the galaxy. And this is their nightclub.
In the ramshackle town of Spear Malice only a single building still stands. It has defied the Great War and its spears of light; nuclear blasts that devastated the entire state, and ever since then it has defied the onslaught of time.
Its halls have not yet been breached, and a wealth of technological treasure await, ripe for plunder! But there are others who crave this treasure; others that will do anything to claim it.
Before the honored dead are placed in their sarcophagi of alabaster, they come to the Villa of the Embalmers.
The players have a chance to cure the plague that has sprouted up upon their travels. Will they choose to do the right thing and help bring health back to the region?
A tough climb for a source of wonderous healing…
"Calm your mind"," the mage said. "I can’t" says Raygar. "It is like my thoughts are echoing in here. It is so loud!" The mage tried to shift the burly bandit, to drag him out of the room. "This is a prayer room, what to ..." The mage practically leapt to the dais. Sitting in the center he sank in a position of reflection and prayed. The mage heard the click. The bandit sighed slightly in the tiniest relief. The mage began to drag the bandit out of the room, heading to and opening one of the doors.
You follow the map your purchased. It is to lead to the lair of Tergars the Dark. You follow through the woods, and find the rocks that lead into the hillside. The troupe creeps inside. Inside you find burned out candles, recent trash, and a few broken kegs. It is not Orc remains… there are funny and obscene things written on the walls with charcoal written in the local tongue. It is strange… unless….
One thing you must realise is that there is no such thing as pure iron/steel these days. Iron/steel isn't nearly as strong now as it was in medieval times. However, with that said, iron in early medieval times was so soft you could hack right through a helm with a sword and leave a nice lil mark on the skull (depending on the grade of iron used on the sword and the helm, ofcaurse). After many hundreds of years of fine tuning, however, the only use the sword had was to puncture the plate. That was very difficult, however, since the grade of steel was so hard... only blunt instruments and weighted axes had any use against plate armor in later medieval times. Makes me wonder why rapiers were so popular then and why less people wore plate (Other than it's obsene costs... a nice suit of armor would cost as much as a nice lexus does now... and a kings suit would be as much as a rols royce).