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Author Topic: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]  (Read 45595 times)

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Offline valadaar

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #150 on: October 22, 2013, 07:37:11 AM »
Thorgir grinned. He liked the half-orc, cannibalistic tenancies aside.  His injuries were getting the better of him, and that needed to stop now. 

"I like Somnak's plan, Elf. Lets go."

Thorgir joing Somnak, his captured blade clearly visible, though not brandished.
« Last Edit: October 22, 2013, 09:13:19 AM by valadaar »
   
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #151 on: October 22, 2013, 02:03:58 PM »
As the companions approached the wall of logs, a gate opened and from it emerged the welcoming committee.

First came the shock troops in loincloths, carrying wide-bladed spears. Sixteen warriors ran forward and paused in triangular formation, fifty feet from the palisade. Next came a walking procession of elders, escorted by a mob of handlers, and a smattering of onlookers, tossing handfuls of golden-yellow petals into the air in their wake.

Then came some lusty half-nude jungle queen held aloft by twin strongmen, hovering over the crowd. A raven-haired elf with her own retinue of admirers in tow.

The village ambassadors stopped and studied the unusual visitors. 

One of the elders, no doubt the suthcundsman, raised a hand and waved, as he descended from his palanquin.

“Well met, travelers! What brings you to our village?” he intoned in Common, “We do not see many travelers here, not even those shipwrecked on our shores, so few make it through the jungle. Fewer still make it up the Crying Mountain. I am Dzarij, the Headman. Do you come to pay homage to the Watching Egg?”

At the sight of Somnak and Thorgir marching forward, their Qullan “remains” and possessions held aloft, Dzarij’s eye widened.

“You have encountered the tribe of painted-devils and survived?” He asked with near-awe, examining Thorgir's blade, and Somnak's hides.

The companions could spy one more figure some distance away, standing beside the palisade and eyeing the adventurers…eyeing them with a single, purposeful, malevolent, and grotesque eye, centered in its oval-like misshapen head. The one-eyed head sat atop an equally grotesque body, hunchbacked with arms and legs of seemingly different sizes, though fortunately covered in bone-white flowing robes. The figure, at least as tall as a Qullan, was leaning on a staff of some sort, topped by what looked like a head-sized, oval shiny mirror, which gleamed brightly amidst the sun's rays.
« Last Edit: October 22, 2013, 03:55:57 PM by Murometz »
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2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

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Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #152 on: October 22, 2013, 03:01:21 PM »
Brin

For an entire day and night she traversed the cursed Tepui's dark and dank insides, until at last she emerged into the sun once more.

She looked around. The surface of the Tepui was its own little world, a miniature rock-strewn jungle, with birds soaring far overhead. It was however the pyramid which jutted half-way from the earth that jarred her as she surfaced.

The alien-looking structure seemed to be made of silver, while the capstone resembled a giant amethyst. The entire pyramid must have been two hundred feet high, though at least half of it was buried in the ground.

From her vantage point sixty feet away or so, she could spy loin-clothed, spear-wielding savages patrolling the buried base of the pyramid, as if guarding its entrance.

Bizarre, even to a priestess of Atarkhul, who was not so easily surprised.

In the other direction, she could make out the outline of a wooden palisade wall of some village.
« Last Edit: October 22, 2013, 06:30:48 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Gossamer

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #153 on: October 22, 2013, 03:34:06 PM »
Her first glimpse of the adventurers boded well. She involuntarily touched her left temple at the sight of the quallan artifacts held by the strangers, mighty indeed, though one of them was hideous, she'd never seen such an ugly human.

But her heart almost stopped as she saw the elf with them, there weren't that many elves left on the island and they had lost or forgotten most of their original culture throughout the generations. But an elf from the mainland, such possibillities! She tried to catch his gaze, maybe if she leaned back a little...

Her quandaries were cut short as she saw the seneschal studying them. She sighed, maybe these strangers wouldn't be so long-lived, outsiders seeing a cyclops for the first time tended to react either with violence or fear. Such a shame.
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Offline caesar193

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #154 on: October 22, 2013, 08:17:58 PM »
Melior all but sighed at his companions. There are times, however few, where humbleness is the best approach. It did seem, though, that this scheme of theirs was proving successful. No one was trying to kill them yet.

He glanced at the elf, and their gazes caught for a moment. An elf, living on this godsforsaken spit of land? Perhaps some god was merciful and had forgiven him for the, ah, incident in that temple when he was a young lad.

Listening to this human speak- Dzarij! Remember his name! Don't forget his name like you did that... Thief. Um... Human thief.... Lumalla? Lily? Elizabeth? Something with an L...

"Thank you for your kind words, headman Dzarij," Melior said politely. Not even a trace of sarcasm. "Alas, it is not out of anything but Madam Fortune that brings me here to this village- not even a desire to see the beautiful elf I see standing over there! Indeed, it was, for most of us, shipwreck that laid us here at the foot of the jungle and the Painted Devils, as you so called them. As you can so clearly see for yourselves. Indeed, I have a gift for you: one of their specially sharp blades, taken off the loathsome beast itself! Alas, I have no worthier gift for one such as yourself."

The elven wizard, raised among the wealthier, more noble circles, knew the proper thing to do was bow and kneel while presenting the blade; this he did, with one hand cradling the blade and the other the hilt. Before he knelt his head as well, he made sure that the sun's light gleamed off the blade. Showmanship in this game was everything.

There were five swords. Thus, one for each of us. I'm giving him my share of the loot. If any of you have a problem with this, I'll edit my post.

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Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #155 on: October 22, 2013, 09:02:42 PM »
(ooc: Melior aces his "butter-up-the-headman" initial reaction roll with flying colors.)

"A gift?" The wizened headsman was taken aback by this gesture from a total stranger. Elves, he thought to himself, truly nature's most civilized folk.

Dzarij accepted the blade, and held it as one would a newborn child. He then turned back toward the villagers, and raised the blade over his head, a wide grin on his face. The villagers cheered and hailed the slayers of the Qu'qu'lan.

"Beautiful elf, yes." he then turned back to Melior. "Yes that is Meleana, one of your kind. She is much loved in our village as you can plainly see", he motioned towards Meleana's human palanquin, "especially by our young men." he smiled.

Dzarij then eyed Thorgir, Lumori, and Somnak. Which tribe does this hairy, fanged one belong to? the old man wondered.

"You are all welcome to visit our village and stay as honored guests. We shall light the bonfires this night and feast in your honor. We shall listen to your tales of distant lands, and you will tell us how you slew the Painted Devils. And we shall dance as the drummers pound their beats to A'Aombah'Joh! And may the Watching Egg smile upon us all!"

With that he leapt into his palanquin and motioned for a general return to the village. "Prepare the fires! Tonight we welcome The Four Gift-Givers, the Four Slayers of the Qu'qu'lan!"

It was obvious that this village did not receive many visitors if Dzarij's exuberance was any clue.

The gates were opened once more and the companions were now free to enter and do whatever they wished, until the evening feast. Or so they thought...
« Last Edit: October 22, 2013, 09:24:01 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Siren no Orakio

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #156 on: October 22, 2013, 09:18:47 PM »
Emerging from the ground for the first time in entirely too long, Brin turned her dark face to the sun, drinking it in in a rare moment of simple satisfaction. As she looked to the temple, a surge of anger coursed through her soul - that was what her Lord wanted. But the tactics of the deal. A single woman, even one like herself, would have ... difficulty with a guarded area. And so she cast a jaundiced eye towards the village. If she could incite some of them against their false god...

A wicked gleam stood in her eyes for just a moment. She slung the bone hook openly over her shoulder, then, as she started off towards the village, keeping her eyes out for a way to wash up. She would be more impressive and imposing if she arrived relatively clean.

Offline caesar193

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #157 on: October 22, 2013, 10:24:06 PM »
Smiling to himself at how effective the none-show off route worked versus the other's more barbaric methods, Melior said to his companions "I shall be over here; if you need my prodigious talents before the feast, well, come see me. Try not to get too drunk before we have to tell our tale at that feast." Before he worked his way over to this Meleana, glancing at her as he did so. Quite beautiful, and she did have quite nice b... That is, Melior corrected himself, eyes. Quite nice violet eyes. No sense in getting excited so soon.

"It is nice to see another elf on this island, especially one so ravishing as you." Melior said in greeting. "And with such a beautiful name of Meleana! You must tell me how you survive with but humans."

If the game of courtship makes you uncomfortable, than I apologize and will do otherwise Gossamer. Feel free to request that Melior not try and, to use a phrase, "make a move" on Meleana

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Offline Gossamer

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #158 on: October 23, 2013, 06:20:48 AM »
To Meleana's great surprise none of them seemed to notice the giant cyclops watching them, perhaps they weren't such an uncommon sight wherever they came from, either that or the seneschal was using one of his tricks. But this was all well and good though, she had caught the eyes of the elf, and he obviously complimented her, yes that was definitely a compliment, drawing the ire of every single one of her suitors, even if most didn't speak common, his intentions were clear. She basked in the added attention this brought from the village, smiling benevolently.

Later on, when they were let into the village, she knew she had hooked her fish when he came to talk to her, but she had made a grave miscalculation. He addressed her in common, a language she didn't have a very strong grasp of. Did he just ask her if she survived on a diet of humans? No, no, that couldn't be right, she was sure she would have remembered if her ancestors had been cannibals.
She hid her confusion behind a warm smile, gestured to him and bade him. "Come." She was positive that was the right word. Yes, it seemed to have worked.

She was carried back by her sulking strongmen, tailed by the elf and the rest of her suitors. Once back in her hut, she sent away most of her suitors, opting to keep Umtola and Tesram by her side, they wouldn't understand what was being said anyways, and some chaperons would help keep up appearances. Besides, she didn't know this elf well enough yet. She sent some of the others out to fetch two shells of tepache.

Now, she didn't want to speak common, she would come of bumbling and barbaric, and she didn't wish to start off swinging at such a disadvantage. So that left one other option, elven. She could only hope that the language spoken on the mainland hadn't moved too far away from hers over the centuries. She studied him for a while, letting the silence build, while she distractedly fondled her snake. She then composed herself and began in her languid tone.

< "Greetings kin of myne kin. Myne apologies for ye humble welcome, nae doubt one as garbed as thee art nae stranger tae the finer thyngs yn lifve. Thy did'st nae mention thine name, forsooth?" >

That didn't seem to have the desired effect. She grimaced. In resignation she spoke to him in her native tongue instead.
< "I don't suppose you understand me when I talk like this?" >
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Offline valadaar

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #159 on: October 23, 2013, 07:41:47 AM »
Thorgir was grateful for the warmth of the greeting, regardless of the bravado of their approach.  He also had to admit that the elf's gift did well for them, and apparently it seemed, very well for the elf in particular.  Thorgir sighed - a bit too little meat on the bones for his taste.

Meat. A good feast would do him good. Speed along the knitting of sheared flesh. Perhaps their shaman - if they had one - could help.

What was that one-eyed thing, Thorgir wondered and hoped that was not the shaman.

   
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Offline caesar193

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #160 on: October 23, 2013, 03:34:26 PM »
<"Though I must admit I am new to this dialect, I have gotten some practice with it earlier. So yes, in this tongue we can converse," responded Melior. "So now let me introduce myself in a language we both can easily understand. My name is Melior Tarquinius Superbus Scipionus Sabinus. You may, of course, call me by any of those names, though most simply use Melior.">

<"So, you must tell me of this feast that is being provided for us.">

Don't worry, Muro. I never forget such perfection as that name.  :twisted:

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #161 on: October 23, 2013, 08:27:55 PM »
Somnak had stood wordlessly with the group, letting his fierce expression and Qullan trophies do the talking for him; besides, Melior could talk for all of them. The half-orc had never met a person who spoke like the Half-Elf: He talked so much, yet said so little. He gave little more than a second glance to the bare-chested elf woman; elves were all bone and no frame, and this one held little interest to him.

More than once, however, Somnak's eyes returned to the cyclopean figure standing some distance back. That unblinking eye unnerved the Half-Orc somewhat, though he revealed no physical sign of that. Indeed, it reminded him in a small way of the floating orb which assaulted the shipwreck survivors when they first landed!

Before he entered the gates of the city, Somnak found he DID have one question. He lacked the tact and grace of Melior's wordsmithing, so he went straight to the point, addressing Dzarij:

"What is... that?!" He pointed directly at the Single-eyed humanoid with his free hand and stared unashamedly at it.
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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #162 on: October 23, 2013, 10:01:20 PM »
"That--err, i mean He---" Dzarij was equally taken aback by the half-orc as he had been by the elf, but for very different reasons. This hirsute one made Dzarij nervous, not to mention the Qullan-skin drum he was sporting.

"---is the Seneschal of the Watching Egg. He is our guide and high counselor. He alone speaks with Great Eye and we hear our god's words through him. He is of an ancient race, one of the last of his kind. Though he may appear fearsome, he is in fact very wise. In his travels he found the Watching Egg and saw him for what he was, a god, and saw in him his salvation. The same salvation as we see with our tiny two human eyes---"

Dzarij almost went off on a polemic, when he caught the glare of the Seneschal from afar, and paused in his speech. "But come, friend" he began instead, "Come let us fete you for your vanquishing of the Qullan. We extend all hospitality to your and your companions! And before you leave, may the Watching Egg grace you with his divine stare! "



« Last Edit: October 23, 2013, 10:04:37 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #163 on: October 23, 2013, 10:15:50 PM »
Demon-Moon

 
Quote
<"So, you must tell me of this feast that is being provided for us...">

Four hours later…

As the luscious moon swept over the Tepui that night, the four companions realized that this was the highest they had ever been.

(That is to say, this was the highest elevation they had ever spent a night upon.)

The villagers, pious though they were to their Watching Egg god, knew how to throw a party. By sundown, antelopes had begun spinning on spits over flames and wild-pigs had been buried in charcoal fire-pits. Wild atrioc-root liquor, a clear but potent substance, was imbibed liberally and offered freely to the companions.

The men and women all took turns dancing beneath the stars in wild frenzies and in various states of undress. Musicians played instruments the companions had never seen or heard before. And then there were the drums Somnak noted, his head nodding to the beat despite himself. Six energetic young men pounded the skins of their drums with bamboo rods, each drum the size of a beer barrel.

Only the one-eyed Seneschal seemed grim and unhappy. He stalked the outer edges of the celebratory fires, watching the strangers and frowning. He also seemed to be looking into the mirror at the end of his staff a lot. Surely, this grotesque being could not have been vain. Finally, ignoring the festivities entirely, the Cyclops stalked off, his white robes flurrying in the night breeze, behind him.

Melior and Meleana conversed deep into the night. Who could blame them, elves were rare enough. The wizard was nearly besotted with his jungle counterpart. Who could know of what they spoke? What whispers pass between those who live half-a-thousand years?

And who cares anyway, Thorgir thought, belching loudly and looking away from Meleana's gauze tent, where she was entertaining Melior and apparently a squadron of suitors. Her python was hypnotically swaying to the drum beat, casting a primordial shadow on the tent wall.

Would Qullan have villages? Thorgir pondered, slightly inebriated, as he quaffed the local spirit happily. Drunkenness heals all wounds, his grandmother had always said. Or were they nomadic? His thoughts were interrupted by two nubile young women who had sidled up on each side of him by the fire and grinned dumbly, desiring to share his company. They spoke not a word of common. One extended a large sea-shell to him, which was filled with a milky substance. The other indicated with her hands, that by drinking it, his wounds would heal quicker.

(ooc: home-brew healing “potion.” Thorgir recovers 15 HPs, +6 for 3 nights of rest)

Lumori sat and stared at the licking flames, his eyes reflecting the dancing fire. He was lost in his thoughts, and paid little attention to the festivities around him. Finally, becoming restless, he got up and wandered the village aimlessly, eventually nearing the palisade on the opposite side from where the companions had earlier entered. He meandered towards the gate and climbed the ramparts to get a view of the moonlit night. Far, far ahead, he could make out what looked like a purplish, throbbing, light, somewhere in the deep jungle.

“Intruder!” someone shouted then and suddenly drunken spear-men began mobilizing.
“What is it?” Lumori asked a youth.
“An obsidian-skinned, white-haired demon!!” came his answer.
The guard looked mystified, even as he said it.

At that moment, Brin had finally reached the palisade. It was near midnight now, but the obese moon and the light coming from inside the village walls, illuminated the darkness.

Men ducked down from the ramparts as they looked upon her. Spears appeared above the wooden walls.

She stood there, looking up, and listening to the pounding of the drums and celebration.
« Last Edit: October 23, 2013, 11:08:38 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #164 on: October 23, 2013, 10:33:11 PM »
Somnak watched the drummers pounding along with the other musicians; It was a structured tune, premeditated and practiced and entirely unlike the soulful, spirit-possessed drumming which welled from the Half-Orcs own being. Nevertheless, it was invigorating, and the drummers were energetic at their task.
Yet Somnak could not sit contentedly, for something was on the edge of his thoughts, and walking on the outskirts of the festivities: The sight of the grim Seneschal, peering into his mirrored staff and watching the party suspiciously did not please Somnak.
When the Cyclops stalked off, Somnak nudged Thorgir and stood, "I must go look into something. Keep an eye out." With that, he gently pushed his way through the crowd of revelers and stalked off into the darkness, in the same direction as the massive humanoid.
Somnak kept to the shadows.

Sneaking! Trying to follow the Cyclops!
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Offline Siren no Orakio

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #165 on: October 23, 2013, 10:55:50 PM »
Be she human, or demon-kin? A fair observer might note that it was a fair question, as Brin melted forth from the deep shadow of the jungle into the light of the moon, as if she were a tiny fragment of the night given life. Her stark white hair gleamed silver in the moonlight, as if the milky ribbon of stars that crossed the night sky had deigned to caress her jet-black face, fine of feature, and well more than passing lovely. For a moment, she simply stood there, and let herself be looked upon, her hands clasped before her, before she allowed them to spread apart, holding them flat and open, away from her shoulders, as she smiled to the guards above that leveled spears in her direction.

"You need not, friends. I come in peace, a mere pilgrim to these shores. I came to offer a welcome to this world to the Watching Egg, late though I may be."

Her smile was serene and quiet, her face readily trusted. It was not her preferred aspect of her lord, but this little she was capable of, of making herself trustworthy, of encouraging others to want her company. She could not force it, as other disciples of those aspects might be able to. But she could make it so very easy...

Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #166 on: October 23, 2013, 11:26:18 PM »
Somnak

Somnak paused between two tents, smoke and shadow temporarily blocking the white-robed figure he was casually stalking.

Suddenly a voice that sounded as if it was gargling glass said:

“You seek me out, my son?” It was the hunchbacked cyclops standing only feet behind Somnak, who whirled around instinctively.

“You are a child of the Oorr’kha,” he burbled in jagged baritone, “And also, a child of humans. You are neither. You are a cur. You search for meaning, my son. You seek to belong, child, do you not? You wish to be loved.”

The Seneschal studied Somnak with his baleful eye, as if he was preparing to dissect the half-orc and was gauging the best entry points for his sharpened instruments.

"Come, my son. Look upon your self in the soul-mirror," the Seneschal raised his staff. Moonlight caught the surface and gleamed. "Do not be afraid, child."

« Last Edit: October 24, 2013, 04:06:05 PM by Murometz »
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Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #167 on: October 24, 2013, 12:33:56 AM »
Somnak snarled in shock at the Cyclopses voice resonating behind him and he flung around and took a step back. The White-robed figure stepped forth though, maintaining the closeness between them. The accuracy of the beast's words mystified the Half-Orc, and perhaps foolishly, he did not draw any weapon. "I seek..." Somnak trailed off - the Seneschal's words rang true in his ears, though he would vehemently deny such longings to the grave.

Within his temple his blood throbbed like the beat of a drum, *Pa-thum, Pa-thum* and a trail of sweat ran down his cheek and beaded amongst the stubble on his chin. With the drumming still resounding back in the village, the smoke and darkness swirling and dancing through the night in equal amounts, the cryptic, insightful words of this 'Seneschal of the Watching Egg' and the generously partaken of atrioc-root liquor bubbling in his mind, Somnak felt tranquilized, as though he were in a dream-state. He could almost see the spirits of the island partnering with the smoke and shadow, dancing and twirling in the dark.

In his head, the throbbing increased, *PA-THUM, PA-THUM*. The spirits of his ancestors screamed and hammered at the walls of his skull and the Demon's Dance swelled, amplified by the fiery touch of the potent alcohol.

Somnak stared at the great, unblinking eye of the Cyclops, "How do you know me...?" In his head he was suddenly taken aback to the Night of Great Smoke, so many years ago. The trees were aflame and the tribe was dancing to victory and paying homage to their Fathers' Fathers. A sickly old Orc lay inside the walls of an opened tent, next to a brazier which was aglow with coals of red and yellow. Magic herbs smoked atop the coals, their trance-inducing fumes permeated the shaman's abode. This was where Somnak sat, being drawn to the tent by forces unknown. The Orc grabbed Somnak's wrist and held it tight, growling words to him; many unintelligable.

 The throbbing in his head was near unbearable now, pounding on his skull like drummers with bamboo rods *PA-THUM, PA-THUM*. in rhythm to this beating the words of that old, trance-induced Orc Shaman repeated over and over in his head.

"The Isle will know, The Isle will see..."
*PA-THUM, PA-THUM"
"The Isle will know, The Isle will see..."
*PA-THUM, PA-THUM"
"The Isle will know, The Isle will see..."
*PA-THUM, PA-THUM"

"Arrgh!" Groaning in spite of himself, Somnak's eyes faltered.
He peered into the mirror.
Lazarus Lightward, Elite Diabolist of the Brotherhood - Level 3 Occultist
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Offline Chaosmark

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #168 on: October 24, 2013, 01:56:51 AM »
Lumori

The light was dim enough it was hard to make out the newcomer's features from atop the wall. Once the newcomer spoke, however, Lumori made his way to the palisade where the ebony-skinned "intruder" was being greeted at spear-point.

"That's not a demon, you drunken fools, it's just a woman. A demon would be breathing lightning and shooting fire from its ass. Let the pilgrim in to join the festivities."
P(A|B) = P(B|A)*P(A)/P(B)

By the power of Bayes!

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Offline Gossamer

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #169 on: October 24, 2013, 05:30:52 AM »
Meleana D'Trel reclined in her pavilion with her most recent acquisition Melior beside her. She had been both impressed and delighted at how the tables had turned back in her hut. The ancient game was on, and this time she might even be playing for keeps. As the calls for the intruder sounded, she casually remarked.

< "A most eventful day it seems. Another friend of yours? Tell me, what brought such a handsome man here. What is it you came seeking, Melior Tarquinius Superbus Scipionus... Sabinus?" >
She let her index finger glide along the length of his arm as she spoke, her violet eyes glittering in the bonfire light. She couldn't care less about any lone intruder, or that the pesky seneschal was hovering around them like a dog at a dinnertable, tonight was her night.

During their little discourse in her hut and throughout the evening, Meleana filled Melior in about the mining of shiny stones her people do for the Watching Egg and had promptly warned him about the seneschal, she also filled him in on the credo every villager lived by;
1. Do not leave the village
2. Work hard for your god (mining shiny stones)
3. Obey your god, via the Seneschal in all matters
4. Salvation in paradise shall soon be yours.
And that the Watching Egg rarely leaves its pyramid, instead preferring to communicate through the mirror staff the seneschal carries.
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Offline valadaar

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #170 on: October 24, 2013, 07:13:19 AM »
His wounds greatly aided by the drink, Thorgir smiled and did his best to emulate another great barbarian of legend, perhaps forging some of his own...

   
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #171 on: October 24, 2013, 08:11:51 PM »
Somnak glanced into the mirror…

He glimpsed himself as expected but then the image blurred and he saw himself in mid-battle amidst smoke and fire...
The forces of the Orcs had been temporarily beaten back, but continued the fight bravely, perhaps foolishly even, against the vast and vile elvish forces. Somnak was riding upon a great war-chariot, pulled by the largest of snarling war-bears. He was pounding his drums in near-hysteria, eyes rolled up in his head, blood and saliva flying from his bared fangs. The spirits of a thousand orcish chieftains of past ages were within him now...

PA-THUM-PA-THUM
PA-THUM-PA-THUM


And the tide of battle suddenly turned. Shouts and cries rang out from the orcs! Rage and valour coursed through their veins anew! The drumming of Somnak was their drug, their banner, and their honor all in one! Likewise the elven legions suddenly waned, their archers missing their marks, their lancers faltering and their mounts sputtering beneath the raging orcish onslaught of spear and axe.

His drumming sounded even in the halls of the Orcish gods! Glory!! Victory!! He was the tribe, and the tribe was his! THIS DAY WAS HIS!!!

PA-THUM-PA-THUM
PA-THUM-PA-THUM


Somnak felt a sharp pain in his head just then, and involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut. The pin-prick jolt was gone now. He opened his eyes again, and glanced once more into the mirror…

Iniquity itself stared back at him through the mirror surface. A horror from another dimension, a floating hideous ball of rubbish and refuse, with a giant scarlet eyeball centered on its turgid, grotesque body. Countless centipede-like stalks erupted from its spherical form, each one capped by a gloopy, puss-filled eye. A cavernous maw opened then, almost as wide as the creature body’s, filled with a thousand needle teeth and full of bile.

Kazz’reh-Ghrozzod-Grussh!” The Great Eye roared in some unfathomable, sonorous tongue, obviously enraged.

Somnak tore his glance away from the mirror in horror. When he looked back a moment later, it was once again his reflection in the plain mirror.

Suddenly a cry of “Intruder!” rang out and the Seneschal’s eye looked away from Somnak and towards the gate.

“Wait here, my son!” It commanded, annoyed at the interruption, then stalked off, toward the disturbance by the palisade. By the time the Seneschal reached the gate, it had been opened and there stood a bizarre human woman, her skin and hair of unnatural hues.

Enough, thought the Seneschal. No more strangers. They were too close now for any disturbances or inconveniences.

He spoke, since Dzarij and many of the other revelers were still back at the fires…

“What do you wish here?” The Seneschal garbled. “Begone!”

“She is a pilgrim, Seneschal, seeking to heap homage upon the Watching Egg.” Cried out one of the guardsmen, repeating what he had just heard.

“Oh?” The Cyclops grunted something beneath his breath, and fixed his eye upon Brin.

“No.” he intoned. “This is a deceiver. An enemy!  She comes to harm the Watching Egg! She comes to harm your god! Kill her!” the deformed Seneschal roared now, all pretenses at civility gone.

The confused spear-men hesitated. Somewhere in the night, the feast raged on.
« Last Edit: October 24, 2013, 08:30:15 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #172 on: October 24, 2013, 08:53:07 PM »
Somnak shook his head painfully, his mind slowly clearing as the Cyclops left: he could see clearly now - no creature could offer him belonging and acceptance without it being a farce - he knew what he was. In fact, the creature said it himself: Somnak was a cur. Somnak was a vile mockery of two races, considered too weak by one, and too monstrous by the other. He would never belong.
A rage boiled within the Half Orc at the empty promises of the Seneschal and his demonic master! He stalked behind the Cyclops, following his steps to the wall. While the beast was distracted giving an execution order to a newcomer that Somnak had not yet seen, the half-Orc raised his Qullan bone club high. "Do not sell me your falseties, monster! To the pit with you and your master!" With a mighty swing, he aimed the weapon's head directly at the Mirror in the Seneschal's staff.

Natural 20!
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #173 on: October 24, 2013, 09:00:29 PM »
The force of Somnak's blow not only shattered the mirror into a thousand shards, but knocked the staff from the Seneschal's grasp.

"FOOL! Half-breed fool!! What have you done?!" the monster, for surely this was a monster masquerading as a priest and prophet, bellowed.

(ooc: Initiative for Somnak, Lumori and Brin. Cyclops rolls 6.)
« Last Edit: October 24, 2013, 09:02:19 PM by Murometz »
Authentic Strolenite™©®

Triumph of the Dungeon Master!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:
1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.
2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)
3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps
4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

-Captain Penguin

Offline caesar193

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Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]
« Reply #174 on: October 24, 2013, 09:23:17 PM »
<"Will you excuse me for just one moment?" Melior asked Meleana. "Sadly, events seem to require my immediate attention. Unless, of course, you would come with.">

Turning, he sped through the crowd, checking to see if Meleana was coming. (If she does, I help her through the crowd. If not, then I just go through the crowd) He started off through the crowd, trying to fight his way through the humans who, knowing that something good was about to happen, had started circling up to watch.

Assuming combat's starting, also assuming I cannot affect the combat/whatever happens next until the idiot bard, the murderous thief, and the angry priest try to kill things. When I do get in, I roll a: (22:25:23) Minion: caesar193 rolls 1d10 and gets 10. for initiative.
« Last Edit: October 24, 2013, 09:26:46 PM by caesar193 »

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