Athas: The gods Reborn

Liliths Calling
Bye Hunter :(

As Lilith rests herself to regain what was lost and rejuvenate after the trials recently behind her, she feels herself become weightless with sleep. As she dozes off she realizes that the sounds around her have changed. Arlan’s not snoring drunkenly, Roderick’s not muttering and tossing, Argo’s not making that strange meditation hum; she opens her weary eyes and looks around her. She stands just outside the prison from the dreams they’ve all shared. The bars are massive and she slips through easily. The gods, in their current form they are giants that stand as towers, stare at her with wide eyes and the soft featured woman approaches. Her chains have been released, but she is still in obvious pain. Lilith does not feel fear as she is lifted and brought to a pale looking man near the back of the room. Flashes of recognition flit across her mind as she realizes this is Multra. Her book becomes heavy in her pack, and only then does she realize she no longer dreams. Lilith thinks of what to say that could bring comfort to this great being that has guided her all her life.
As she opens her mouth to speak the Dancing Flame approaches and she hides behind the kneeling side of the god. The Fire torments the gods, for they can feel pain, for many hours, and all she can do is watch. She places a hand upon Multra as he groans in pain, whispering her words of healing. It does little, but he is comforted by her faith.
When the jailer leaves the soft featured woman speaks, “We have called you here, for on our own we are no longer strong. You must find the Children, the Children of the Champions are not here with us. You must find them. They can help you to free us.”
“My people need me, I cannot abandon them.” Lilith says before realizing her words, “I wish to serve, but I fear for them.” She adds.
The woman smiles softly, “Another has been sent to aid your comrades. You have always been our most faithful, only you hold the key to their freedom. Find them, so that we may rise and defeat the primordials for good. Find them so we can bring life back to the world we once loved, that our one time champions have destroyed.”

Ancestral Memories

You find yourselves safe and oddly comforted, though you are definitely not at ease. The creatures that led you here, and led a more than willing Arlan away, are not known to be trustworthy, though little is known about them. As you rest or meditate, another dream teases your weary mind.

Grass grows thick beneath your feet, but you barely notice as you crush it beneath your hurried steps. Fresh flowers bloom all around the field as you rush to the edge battlefield, the heavy perfumed air causing you to wrinkle your nose against the scent. Your companions move with you as you crouch at the edge of the field and carefully lean over the cliff edge; the battle below is in full swing. A well of courage rises in your gut and you rush forward into battle, the names of your gods, their burning sigils, and their blessings, guiding you way.

This however is where the similarities end:

Draven: As your comrades rush down the cliff side you spread wings and soar above. In your hand glows the radiant light of magic, an art powerful, but controlled. Your wings cause a strong wind around you, creating a great barrier that arrows and other projectiles fall away from. Your magic warms in your hands as you carefully target the strongest members of the army below you. When the power erupts on your carefully chosen target, fire flares and bursts, taking out the rear artillery before they can fire another volley on the godly forces fighting the chaos of elementals. You shout in triumph and take aim again. Your magic is powerful, buffered by the gods, and as you watch, life springs from the ashes left behind by your enemies, grass begins to grow. The defilement abated for the moment. You hear a call, “Agrimon, the Calvary!” You spread your wings and turn, swooping down low to greet the oncoming riders with a blast of holy radiance and fire, “By the light of Jhanue and the fire of Katorai I claim Victory in the name of Shedus! Curse of Creiax on you.” A bolt of white hot radiant light fires from hands as you flap your wings and lift away from the oncoming army. The blast scatters the mounts, throwing many of the riders, and causing a crater in the ground. As the smoke wafts away with the power beat of your wings, you watch as a spring begins to fill the empty space your power created. Magic creates life if used correctly.

Lilith: Your form is lighter as you lift off, your powerful wings driving you forward and into a dive from the cliff. Agrimon above you takes out the archers who aim for your wings as you dive into the fray, your powerful claws clasping onto the rocky tower of a creature pounding on the archon leading his formation. With great strength you rend the creature, tearing off rocky limbs and leaving the parts strewn across the edges of the battlefield. You tilt your body and turn in a tight curve, releasing a blast of force from your powerful jaws, blowing back the approaching air elementals before they can surround you. In a soft tone one would not expect to accompany your obvious strength you shout in draconic, “Multra guides me, and so I shall not fail” You beat your strong wings against the turbulent air and spin upward in a graceful twist; as you spread your wings again a series of devils’ darts pierce your scaled flesh and immediately begin to weaken you, with a swift prayer to Andoxia you breath a line of poison onto your targets and the toxin leaves your system. Another whispered prayer to Ashmeer and the minor wounds are healed and you dive again, crashing into a huge fire elemental and driving it into a water barrage. The resulting steam elementals charge after you. You turn in mid air and breathe a blast of icy cold air, turning the steam into tiny snow flakes that melt in the heat of the day. As you resume your circling attacks you see Crixis take a powerful blow to the back and dive to grasp his enemy. You begin to grapple with the storm giant, killing him with a swift bite to his jugular.

Roderick: You leap from the cliff, sliding with ease down the hill before sprinting into combat, spikes and chains wrapped around every extremity, you lift arms, kick out with legs, and punch at enemies you pass by; leaving scrapes and gouges on every enemy you encounter. It doesn’t take long for you to be surrounded by the storm giant clan that has long terrorized your people. You laugh aloud, “By the might of Psurrab’s fist, I will bring you to bear.” Fists swing, feet kick, and blood flies as you mount a vicious attack against the giant creatures. Using your momentum you climb from boot to knee, jumping to dangling belts, and into beards, raking against tender points, spilling gray blood as you go. Dozens fall as you jump and tear, rend and claw your way from one to the next. You land in a powerful crouch and launch yourself again, the chieftain looming before you. As you pounce towards him you release the chains wrapped around your arms and use the extended reach to cleave onto the creature, the sword at the end of the chain in one hand, the spikes digging deep into the thick flesh as you hang on with the other. As you land and pierce his belly with your sword you are tossed aside by another of the giants and land hard upon the ground. As you gasp for breath a platinum scaled creature collides with one of the giants and wrestles him to the ground, “Thank you, Tamist.” You groan as you remake your feet. A soft whisper brushes your ear and you push aside your pain as your passion and fury rise again and push you beyond your mortal means. You lift your chain and swing it around the chieftains fist, yanking his powerful hand away just before grabs onto Tamist. You use the downward movement of the arm to jump onto the giant and run up to the creatures shoulders, wrapping your deadly spikes around his neck you pull until the blood stops flowing, “You shall never harm my people again, I swear it on the blood of Enderris.” As the blood pools around the fallen corpse you watch as from the blood smalls animals rush from the battle to the safety of the field nearby. Alora brings life where only death resides.

Argo: You smile as you see the onslaught below and wink at your comrades before teleporting to the field below. You fire arrow after arrow into the fray as you blink into and out of sight. Landing near an enemy you slash him with the bladed curve of your bow before putting an arrow into his eye and teleporting away. Your skill is obvious in your movements, your precise planning, your exacting shots. Raxxon’s mastery is obvious when watching you. As you bounce about you see your true target, a demonic general that has taunted you for many years, one you vowed upon the power of Xuda you would kill. As you teleport into the air to get a clear shot you shout your vow again, wanting the Demon to know who strikes it, “I, Mae’tai’aerin, claim your life as mine to take, by the Xuda’s oath I bind thee!” Your arrow fires, dodging the shields and flails and flesh between you and your target, you pierce the skull of the horned beast just as he turns to see you above him. Just as you would hit the ground from falling after teleporting high, you teleport to the bloodied creature and tear its head from his dying form with the edge of your bladed bow. You are exhausted. The teleporting takes much from you, but you take a deep breath and blink again. Muttai will give you the enduring strength you need to win the day. You land by your comrades Tamist and Crixis as they free themselves from the bodies of the giants and make plans to regroup.

Coderal: Your allies fly, slide or teleport away as you stand, a single figure left behind on the cliff. As you raise your hands above your head you feel the change over take you. Feathers spread along your form, a long tail like a serpent forms where your legs were and you grow in size. As you float above the cliff you summon lightning into your hands and cast it into the battle below, guiding it from enemy to enemy, pushing them back and away from your friends in the fray. At your command vines climb over and around the fallen, keeping them prone. Swarms of stinging insects come at your call to tire and torment your fleshier enemies until they are so busy fighting the stings they do not notice your allies advance. You control the field of battle from your perch above the fighting and your friends know that with you at their back they are safe, defended, and protected. Lamif grants you great power over nature, and as such, the field below and the creatures who call it home are at your control. As you see your allies regroup you join them, looking around for Amaran you wave him to the group. Amaran waves back, his healing arts immediately reviving the pains from combat. Your half elf friend places a hand on your shoulder, “Gamareth, your power amazes me still to this day.” Agrimon lands beside you just as Amaran exudes a wave of relief and healing, all allies on the field feel the relief, their wounds healing. Each of you takes another hand around Amaran, and as your prayer is heard by your beloved deities, the fallen on the field rise to fight another day.

You wake and become aware of the surroundings again, the small cramped room, your companions. You are rested, your hit points returned, your power back, but your Surges have not refilled. It is time to continue. As you begin packing up your camp, Arlan arrives, walking slower than normal, but a wave of exhausted joy sweeps over the party. Someone had a good night.

August 07 (2 weeks ago)
Stacy B.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
After a night of restless dreaming and feeling the shared exhaustion of your ally Arlan, your carefully continue into the next room, down the stairs, and what greets you is a field of grass, blooming flowers and small trees of sweet ripe fruit. Tiny beams of light shine through tiny holes in the ceiling, a slim stream of water trickles down and pools into the soft sand in the corner.

Still being tired the party decides to take watch and rest. Arlan, Draven, and coderal sleep first, only Arlan is restless, but after an hour the dream passes and he finally rests.

Arlan: Staring over the cliff side you know how you are needed. You can keep your allies alive and fighting, but you need to be in the battle to help. You look around and spot a circle of the allies, and call out in a sharp whistle. At your call a large reptilian birdlike creature swoops down and clasps your upraised hand in his claws. Grasping firmly, but not leaving any permanent marks, the creature flies you towards your directed mark. Dropping you, you manage to roll gracefully to your feet and draw your sword of radiance. The bright light blinds the dark denizens that emerge from the earthen ground toward your enemies, searing their flesh. Each hit, each death you bring enlivens your allies. Each drop of blood heals a wound, and so you fight. Scratches and bruises form over your body as you fight, as hard as any fighter would, as any defender could, and it isn’t until you are bloodied, aching, and barely able to stand that you manage to clear the way to your regrouping companions. The enemy has been pushed back. They’ll come again, but for the moment, you can rest. Using what is left of your energy you cause a burst to flare out in all directions, your victory giving you the strength to return your allies back to health. As you work your magic, your friends raise their voices in a chant to the gods you so gladly serve, and slowly your fallen rise. As the last of them stands, you fall, too tired, to injured to continue. You found long ago that you must feel the pain of the wounds in order to heal the wounds of others so well.

Everyone: The battle over, Tamist has bound the wounds of Amaran, and the army regroups, rearms, and readies. As they make camp, around you a radiant light blinds you. When it departs you are each in a separate place, your wounds healed, your clothes new, your aches and worries gone. Amaran wakes to find himself in the arms of his beloved Elia, her stomach round with child. Crixis feels his energy revived as his beautiful Firi approaches, her naked form seducing him with each step. Mae’tai’aerin finds himself dancing with the sweet Prela, her melodious voice calming every ache, and renewing his strength. She places a kiss softly on his lips before turning to the cradle nearby and smiling at the gentle coo of a babe. Tamith rests in quiet comfort as Multra reads to her from a thick book, her hand rocking a small cradle as she leans against her beloved. Agrimon lifts Katorai from her chair and lays her upon the bed they often share. As they unite her fires warm him, but he has long been immune to the burn. Gamareth sits is quiet communion with his Lamif, her calming aura and subtle power gives him a great strength that none could compare to. He reaches out to her, his energy merging with hers to create a beautiful joining that moves beyond the physical.

Your party awakes, the second group having slept, though Arlan has not yet woken. After a few more hours the sleepy half-elf wakes and mumbles something about needing whiskey and food.

August 08 (2 weeks ago)
Edited August 08 (2 weeks ago)
allen c.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
Roderick sits awake as he takes the first watch looking off into the distance thinking quietly to himself. He wonders if what he saw in his dreams were a memory of his very soul or the memories of an ancestor. Have the gods always been with them? Influencing their lives?

Don’t be a fool worm, we’ve never truely been apart from you. Why I was with you whenever you sold your blade to the highest bidder, don’t you remember the rush of pleasure you received from that slaughter in Balic? Psurrab whispers in what feels like his ear I remember quite nicely, you killed the House of Caaj. Men, women …….children, all fell to your sword. Roderick stiffens as a look of regret washes over his face Oh they didn’t all have to die for your contract to be complete, but you always were an over achiever weren’t you? You finished that contract to build a life for you and that ungrateful wretch and that cow you call a wife. All the good you’ve done, is greatly outweighed by the blood on your hands.

Roderick’s head falls as the memories make their way to the surface, all the atrocities he’s done to feed his family and make a good life for them. Nothing could ever balance all the evil he’s done for the sake of taking care of his own. Suddenly a warmth washes over his body as he seems to feel the loving embrace of Firi wash over him, his thoughts of what Psurrab said are cleansed away for the moment.

I’m sorry my darling, I failed you. He’s still far more powerful than I, I can’t always protect you. But I promise I will be there for you, I will never let his cruelty break you Firi says with a sound of pain in her voice

“Damn it Roddy, keep those memories bottled up.”

August 11 (2 weeks ago)
Jag Pro
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
The night before descending into the Temple of the Singing Skulls…

It had been a couple days since the possibility of his having a child had been dropped on him, and Arlan had finally sobered up enough to think about it. While he would never admit it, Salesta’s poisoning had worried him. He could not say if he loved her any more than any other girl he had met, but if there had been one thing his mother had successfully taught him was to care for woman.

As they rest of the group sit around the fire, eating and chatting Arlan wandered over to Salesta. As he made his way there, he stumbled for his flask of whiskey and went to take a drink, stopping himself last second. No, I need to stop this. It won’t help with the problem or worrying. He returned the flask to his pocket and drew the flask of water from the temple they had visited outside of Yaramuke, noting the reduced weight. He took a swig of it, finishing off the flask. Well, let’s see how I do without this crutch.

“How you doing beautiful,” he said, approaching Salesta, “Feeling better.”
“Very much,” she responded in a murmur, “but why would you put so much effort into helping me? I thought I was just a toy you played with…”
“You’re most definitely a person, Salesta,” He said moving close to her, “And while I enjoy our evenings together, you are more than that. You are a friend as well.”

What did I just say? Surprised by his own response, Arlan backed away from Salesta a bit and looked off into the distance. It’s true. I wouldn’t say I love her, but I do enjoy her company… Changing the subject, he turned and asked her if she could perform another Sending ritual for him, if she was able. She agreed and placed her palms on the side of his head and began channeling her Psionic energy.

“Mother, she may prove to be legitimate. Please provide her with housing, until I can confirm. I am on business near Draj at the moment. I will hopefully return home in a month by way of Nibenay, until then perhaps she can serve as a servant girl in the household. – Arlan"

He leaned back, wondering how this would all work out. What Roderick and the other would think of what he had done. He also wondered if it mattered to Salesta. As he thought, he recieved his response. Even in his mind, her words showed that same anger he had seens the day he was banished.

“You still have not learned. You dishonor us again. Send word when you are near, we will arrange to have you escorted.”

Have I changed? I don’t feel the same, but I’m on this crazy quest she probably would think I’m crazy for taking. I guess we’ll find out if that’s true when I see her again. At that, he confirmed if Salesta was healthy enough for more physical of activities and spent the night with her…

The second night in the Temple of the Singing Skulls…

After wandering into the chamber filled with statues, whose eerily similar appearance to the group had be noticed. He followed as Amda pulled him along and away from the group. They continued back into the passage from which the Dopplegangers emerged. “This door is a portal to our sanctuary in the ruins.” As she said that she pulled him into the portal. Bright light flooded his vision and in an instant he was in the extra-dimensional palace. As his eyes adjusted he noticed the beautiful room. It was more grand than any palace he had seen in Athas. Even the sorcerer-kings didn’t he fine marble floors, with real gold filigree and beautiful tapestries made of cloth he had never seen before. There were fountains of shimmering water and even some of sweet mead. The room was filled with soft couches, piles of pillows and beds.
Beyond the beautiful room, there were many Doppleganger women. Oddly enough arlan did not see any male Dopplergangers. As he looked at them, a few came rushing up to him. Some even changing into various beautiful women of many different races.

“Oh, he’s cute,” one asked Amda, “Where did you get him.”
“Look how rugged he is in that outfit,” one said, who Arlan later identified as Raida.
“Ignore them, come with me dear,” Nagaia said, taking his hand.
As the various women swarmed him, he began to speak, “Hello ladies. I am Arlan.” They all went silent as he spoke. “Have you not seen anyone of my kind before?”
“No,” Amda said turning to him, “We have only seen the master.”
“Who is the master?” Arlan asked.
“He takes care of us, ” Meldin murmured, kissing Arlan on the cheek.
“We are his harem,” Poine said shyly.
“But he comes so infrequently and rarely pays attention to us anymore,” Graid said.
“Well that’s a shame,” Arlan said, while smirking, “Perhaps I can try to make up for that.”
It was a long night and by the end Arlan was so drunk from the honey mead and worn out he could barely stand. After having been with most of the women, he took a short break and sat eating some grapes a few were feeding him. In a huff, Amda ran up to him.
“You must go,” she said, “The master is checking on us. He won’t take kindly to you.”

Arlan rushed to the door he had entered from, carrying his clothes with him. The various courtesans followed him, giving him kisses along the way. He stood at the precipice of the doorway, looking at the girls, trying to keep his smugness hidden. Well, I can’t change too quickly now can I? Turning to the girls once more, “Perhaps I can return one day and free you from your bonds.”

As he stepped out the door closed behind him. He heard Amda voice for a moment. “Please do so…” He tried opening the door to confront her master, but when the door opened, he simply saw a small room, empty of anything. Perhaps I will find them again and be able to help them.

He wandered back to the group and collapsed next to Roderick. As Roderick turned to him he attempted to speak, “There were more than just her, but I don’t have the energy to tell the tale…” At that he fell asleep. It had been a good night.

August 11 (2 weeks ago)
Michael P.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
That night…
From the room that they had locked themselves in, everybody made their preparations for the night. Argo was just about to explain the shift schedule to Artemis when he realized there was no need. With the two Eladrin keeping watch, nobody else would need to take a shift.

As the two Eladrin meditated, Argo thought about the impending collision of his past and future. Nibenay was where he had lived all of his life, until he was forced on the run. Now, he was headed straight back there. He had obtained a disguise since he had left, but it only did so much for him, he was still in danger. It was a good thing the posters of his face were inaccurate at best. In fact, the major thing they had gotten right was his hair colour. Also the ears, but that was only because he was an Eladrin…

Argo started to swear bitterly underneath his breath. Artemis was in danger as well. While his eyes were different, his hair and ears were very similar. Any overeager bounty hunter would want to turn Artemis in, and Teiralei would probably mistake him for Argo. After all, if that noble had actually paid attention to what Argo looked like, the posters would be much more accurate. As it was, now he would have to warn Artemis of the situation, which would lead to a detailed discussion of his past, a subject that Argo had been trying very hard NOT to think about for the past few days. Argo sighed, there was no point in leaving this discussion until later.

I hope he’s got a good disguise.

August 11 (2 weeks ago)
Edited August 12 (1 week ago)
allen c.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
Seeing his friend with a troubled look gives Roddy pause, he worries for his friend Argo. Something must be bothering him to where I can see it, he thinks to himself. He ponders what could be on his mind, he looks his eladrin friend and is about to speak when he decides against it. Roderick’s love for this group is great and he wishes to protect them all any way he can.

Your loyalty and sense of duty are admirable warrior, I commend your honor. The way you do your best to fight to defend them is exemplary, you are a credit to my mark. Do not trouble yourself with the fates of such things, both this family and your own are blessed by my strength to defend themselves if need be. Your wife and children know how to fight and survive, your new child and grandchild will be stronger than even you. Before we are done with you, you will have no equal.

The loud boisterous voice seems to echo around him, the hairs on his arms and back of his neck stand as he is filled with a vigor he’s not felt in years. His worries assuaged he shifts to sit up with his back to the wall.

Then he feels what can only be described as a womanly shape fall into his lap and place it’s arms around his neck and snuggles close.

I don’t know why you worry so much about HER, I am all you need. I have claimed you and you I, my love is eternal and it is yours. What more out of life can you want? Do I not please you? Have I not done everything to prove my love?

Roderick feels the grip on his neck tighten as he feels himself get lightheaded, before he can react he passes out from the lack of blood flow

Character Ancestral Background

Stacy B.
Permalink Quote Edit Close Sink Sticky Delete
Everyone knew about the war between the Primordials and the gods, but so far it did not effect the people on the mortal planes.It had never left the farthest planes known as the Thrones of Power. What the mortals didn’t know is that the Primordials had found a way to break the chains of power that allowed them access to the mortal plane. This is when they chose champions, to defend the portals that allowed them access.

Agrimon: Born human, Agrimon once schooled at the Multrai, Jhan, and Crei Universities. Arcane magic had not always been so despised, and at one point Athas has been quickly moving towards a world similar to the fabled Eberron. It was his wish to one day travel to the farthest and most distant planes to see if the epic stories and sagas about the great world run by technology and magic was real. Agrimon had been testing for his final year at the academy. If he passed he would be interviewed to be a teacher for the next classes in the years to come. It was always the first step to continuing your arcane education. During the finals as Agrimon summoned the power to cast a ring of flame and instead created a pillar that reached beyond the clouds. The school was impressed, but Agrimon did not know from where the power had come. As he rested that night he felt the brand burn across his skin, the true mark of Katorai mixed with the power of Creiax, created a tattoo like brand that ghosted a path over his body. He heard the voice speak, an image appear of the two as they approached him, explaining why they granted the power, what they required of him. He asked for the gift of greater arcane power, if he was the greatest arcanist of Athas, none would stand in his way.
This power was granted in the form of a blood ritual. Bound to the magic of a great dragon and a powerful demon he changed. Twisted horns grew, wide wings sprouted, fangs extended, and a tail sprouted. With all of this though, his magic expanded. His power was undeniable. He wasn’t friendly, didn’t work well with others, but he understood that to keep these gifts he would have to obey his oath to the gods and help them defend their places of power.

Gamareth: An elf druid from the great southern forest, married to a kitsune woman, due to her breed they were unable to have the children he desperately wanted, but his love for her never faltered. His devotion to the protection of all things natural is what drew the attention of the gods so long ago. His magic and love of nature drew Lamif to him. She granted him her power, her gift, and for him created a race of creatures known as shifters, humans and animalistic shapechangers. His joy built his loyalty. His wife was granted a child, and he was given the power to defend the great portals.

Amaran: A man greatly devoted to his faith and leading his people to follow it. He was a priest at the Cathedral of the Twelve, sworn to celibacy and purity of mind. When he was called upon by Elia he rejected the idea at first, she believed in joy and enjoyment, allowing one to live for the moment. She spoke to him, enticed him, and finally begged him to use his faith for their protection. How could he refuse the gods? He trained his magic and learned how to focus his emotions into healing and buffs to those around him. He found his greatest power came from joy, and so he prayed to goddess Elia and she taught him how to find joy in others, this soon became a lead in to parties, drinking, and soon Faustus added his blessings to the priest. Amaran would spend his night drinking and carousing and each day would add that much more strength to his allies as they moved along the battle field.

Mae’rai’aerin: The greatest noble house of the Eladrin people had but one true pride, their son, Mae’rai’aerin. Gifted with speed, grace, and a surprisingly dexterous athletic talent. He was trained to be a great champion of the people, but one known as Muttai called him for a greater purpose. His ability to fling arrows, teleport great distances, and dance among enemies without flinching was his greatest survival tactic. Calling upon this Eladrin she granted him a substantial gift for endurance. He would be able to use this to great effect as he led armies into battle as lead tactician against the primordials.

Crixis: Born to a man who could only just provide for his family of 12, Crixis learned his fathers trade at a young age. Blacksmithing taught him a good trade and grew his strength as he aged, but he decided he didn’t want to barely survive, he wanted to live. He practiced with the weapons and armor his father made and soon joined the Great Arena at Sea. A tiny island surrounded by fire coral and man eating sharks. It is where fighters went to earn money quickly and gain fame. Crixis ruled the arena battles and became champion after only a few years. He lived for the bloodsport. It was during his final fight that he was chosen by Risch. The blood spatter of his enemy on his chest and arms became his brand. He joined the battle with great anticipation, relishing the rush of real battle, constant enemies rushing forward to their deaths. Soon the bloodsport riveled cruelty. He couldn’t help but hunt and torture the enemy in order to find another battlefield and more enemies. The riches he earned he sent to his family, who eventually became a prominent family in the city where they lived.

The champions were called together for a great battle at the Stairway to the Thrones, a great temple in the mountains that held portals to the thrones of each of the gods. Here they met and fought, and for the years following this was their battlefront. As the battles continued so did the support of the gods. By the third year each champions held the blessings of 5 gods, and most had a more personal connection to each one.

Forum Role Play
Singing Skulls Ruin

Stacy B.

As you rest after defeating a fabled dragon (!!!!!) a few undead, and some nasty slimy worms, you receive a comforting feeling in the form of Lilith’s voice whispering in your thoughts, “I am safe. I know you are worried, but I am well.” You rest well, comforted for the moment. No sound seems to be able to enter this room once the doors were all closed, and so you feel safe.

Artemis: As you sleep you dream. A woman approaches you and lays her hand gently on the side of your neck, a small feather brand appears. “I am Naquida, and I choose you.” Your dream fades to a vague distance, you watch the world around you change from one of brilliant greenery, blooming life; to sullen, dry, and dead lands.
(Female-Neutral Travel, Currents, both Air and Water
gain fly speed equal to half your base speed, gain climb speed equal to half your base speed)

August 11 (1 week ago)
Bilal S.

Artemis’ eyes slowly open, his lips forming the name “Naquida”. He looks around gently, adjusting his eyes to the still new faces. Argo sat on the other side of the room, meditating and alert. The watch was left up to the both of them.

He slides back quietly and adjusts himself onto the stone floor. The cold hardness was comforting and familiar, reminding him of the time years ago when he’d found himself in that ruined temple. Artemis began recollecting, processing, everything that happened the day. He couldn’t think how he had ended up in this place, with these people. It must have been the gods.


He’d studied and read whatever he could find, but it was never much. Faint words, meaningless pages. And now here he was, looking at the brand on his arm, still feeling a tingle from the other two, not to mention the newest one.They are not gone, they are not dead, the gods live! Vindication for all the years he spent traveling…looking for information, clues…anything.

Artemis noiselessly unsheathes his sword, cleaning it as he composes his thoughts. The blade didn’t need it, but it helped him think.Here I am, in yet another temple. However this time I’m not alone.Since he’d woken up, there had been little time to stop and think about what was happening. Strangers he didn’t know that were involved with the gods and their Will apparently. The statue of himself next to the others. Lilth, the mysterious woman he seemed to have replaced. Following that, the battles. Elementals, and…a dragon?Was that really a dragon? Was that really what they look like?They defeated their foes, found real gold, and a lot of it. Went on to face several other strange creatures the others didn’t seem to bat much of an eye at.I suppose it’s happened to them before? This isn’t so new?

It was funny. For years he’d hidden his magic…and today he’d revealed it with little second thought. At the time, the reasoning was simple: There were people using magic, they didn’t seem quite like your average group either.It was amazing how quickly they adapted to him, just as amazing was their own coordination and prowess. Each one did something different, and fell in harmoniously with the others.Truly, people chosen by the gods themselves.

Artemis’ hand touched the mark on his neck. “Naquida”. She had chosen him.For what purpose?To help her, and them. To what end?For the revival of the gods.How?He’d have to stick with this group and find out. For it seems fate had brought him here to join them on their journeys. And indeed, it seemed like staying with them was the best way to further his own aims.

His eyes drifted over his new comrades. Arlan. Quite friendly and boisterous. Seemed to be the type to lead. Draven. Wielding magic of a different kind. Quiet and Powerful. Roderick. Ferocious protector. Careful and strong. Argo. An Eladrin like himself, yet very much different from himself. Each of these people were capable, each probably have their own stories to tell but don’t want to go too deep into.

Artemis’ eyes stopped at Argo meditating.So this is the Eladrin worth 3,000. Wonder what he’d done to get such a bounty. Angered a noble from the sound of things.Artemis had been stopped occasionally and questioned. It was annoying. What was more annoying was the occasional unreasonable bounty hunter, who he’d have to deal with. Did he dislike Argo for it? Not really. But he was interested in his story. He didn’t seem the type to anger a noble without reason. Few intelligent people are.

Artemis raises his head, then his brow furrows for a moment.Ah, I wonder if that caravan I was with is alright….Well, we were only a day from Urik. This just means they don’t have to pay me I suppose.

He slowly sheathes his sword, then closes his eyes.
Tell me, what do you wish of me? I shall await your word. I will free you. Guide me so that I can. Watch me so I do not waver. Show me so that I am not lost.Then only might I find you and save you.

For a brief moment he listened intently to nothing. Then,
I shall wait…

A small smile briefly plays across Artemis’ face as he relaxes himself, entering a trance.
Things have gotten very interesting. What else is around the corner I wonder?

August 12 (1 week ago)
Edited August 13 (1 week ago)
allen c.

When his whits about him return and he stumblingly stands he looks around the room with a purpose, seeing Arlan awake and moving around groggily he calls for his friend to come with him to a adjacent room shutting the door.

Roderick begins to tell him of what happened last night and the vision he had, he holds some minor details back as he tells him of his dreams. Firi’s seductive words still ringing in his ears, he tells of what she wants him to do and the reward she promises. He tells him of the visions of his family, his middle daughter and her future husband.

Arlan takes all what Roddy tells him, his eyes go wide when he tells him what she wants him to do. Not interrupting he listens till the end, his expression calm.

“What are you going to do?” Arlan says in a hushed whisper “That’s horrible, if it were any other situation I’d tell you to try and have both.” he states with a half hearted smile “All jokes aside, this is serious.”

“I know my friend, I am torn between two women I love.” Roderick says hanging his head in shame “I never knew something like this could happen to me. My wife and children are my world, then a goddess chooses me. Me? Now I’ve done some horrible things I never thought possible for me to do, but to kill my wife? I couldn’t do it,” his eyes tear slightly “there would have to be something worse than I for that.”

Arlan, still thinking on what he has heard. Swallows hard and begins to tell Roddy about his dream,fearing Roddy will not take kindly to what he has to say about his little girl.

Taking in all that Arlan tells him of his dream and of the stable boy, Roderick gets very serious. At first he thinks he’s being deceived by this man he calls brother, but as he continues he tells of things about his daughter that he couldn’t possibly know. He listens further, Arlan assures him he knows the man from Roderick’s vision as a man from house Runewood. Roderick thanks his friend for telling him the truth, and escorts him out of the room.

Before leaving the room Roderick more angry than he’s ever been begins to think long and hard about that stable boy, his hands gripped tight to the point of bruising his palms. He thanks Arlan for his help again and steps back into the now empty room.

“No matter what anyone hears, do not open this door.” Roderick says with a voice that could chill you to the bone “I will be fine, and I will be with you in less than two hours.” he calmly closes the door and walks to the center of the room.

“I am here, and I am yours.” he states calmly “I have a price however, if you do not meet it than we cannot deal. First is what I have heard true? and if it is you know what I want, I want him…. nothing more…. just him. If you are indeed for punishment, you will meet my price.”

A cruel and malicious laugh fills the room as Roddy’s blood runs cold. He feels a large powerful hand clap him on the shoulder, his claws sinking into the leather.

I knew it’s still inside you, that darkness you try to hide so well. Psurrab says with a calm voice. I will grant you this, but you in turn you must do a task for me when I request it. I want nothing now, except for you to agree to MY terms.

His mind still clouded with rage he quickly responds, “Very well, I will be yours when you wish me to be.”

Your drunkard friend speaks true, and your request is fully within my power to grant. I only ask are you certain of your desire for this worm brought before you?


Than may I present to you Caffran Mel’Ori stable boy of house Lubar’s Urik estate

The room gets pitch black for a moment Roderick can hear the sound of someone moving in the darkness, he hears the sound of chains rattling against stone. As sudden as the darkness came it is gone, revealing a young man chained to the wall of the room. His clothes dusty, his hair unkempt his eyes wide with fear.

“Wh-wh-where am I? Who are you? What do you want from me? I swear I have done nothing wrong.” the boy simpers in a panicked tone

“I need you to be silent for a moment, all will be explained in time.” Roderick says calmly as he walks to the door and opens it to call for Arlan. “I need you for a moment please.”

Arlan comes into the room and jumps at the sight of the stable boy from his dream. The stable boy’s eyes go even bigger when he recognizes Arlan from around Urik.

“Is that him?” Roderick asks calmly

Arlan nods, still trying to find the words as Roddy pushes him back out the door. After the door closes Roddy stands for a moment his hand against the door. Caffran shifts nervelessly in his bonds.

“First off I’m going to answer your questions, than I’m going to explain why you are here.” Roderick says in a low calm gravely voice as he turns to face the young man. “You are in a temple ruin to the lost gods, one of them brought you here to me. My name is Roderick Toombs, you may or may not know that name it doesn’t matter.” his tongue clicks before he continues “You have however, met my daughter Ariel. Which is the reason why you are here with me, you hurt my little girl.”

Caffran opens his mouth to speak but is hit hard in the jaw. “Let me finish. Now one can assume you’ve hurt other little girls in the past and will continue to do so. You however, made the unlucky mistake of doing it to mine. Now you see I love my children, very much. One could say I’ve done unspeakable things to provide for and protect them.” he licks his lips as he continues “Now what we have here is simple, you hurt my little girl so I’ll hurt you.” at that Roddy’s eyes go cold “If you die, I’m fine with that. One less dishonorable person in the world, if you live you’ll never hurt anyone again.”

After an hour the screams that can be heard from the next room go quiet as Roderick calmly walks through the door to meet up with the rest of the party. In his hands you see him making a dagger out of what appears to be a femer, if you look close you’ll see a symbol of Psurrab carved on the side and a identical one tucked in his belt.

August 12 (1 week ago)
Edited August 12 (1 week ago)
Michael P.

As Roderick was no longer holding the door closed, Argo decided to risk a peek. One of these days, his curiosity would have dire consequences, and he hoped that day would not be today. Using his skill with Thievery to make sure the door would open without a sound, he had opened it just enough so that he could look into the room without being noticed. From what he saw, Roderick had removed the man’s lower left leg, and was currently…

Distracted by his rising horror, Argo almost failed to notice Roderick starting to glance back towards the door. Still slightly distracted, the Eladrin accidentally let the door creak as it closed. After a few minutes, Argo decided that Roderick hadn’t heard the door over the mans cries of agony, so Argo risked another look. By now, Roderick had finished what he was doing, and was starting to repeat the process with….
Argo silently shut the door. He’d seen enough.

As Argo walked back towards where he had been meditating on the floor, Arlan intercepted him.
“What is Roderick doing in there?” Arlan asked, over the screams from the next room.
“Do you really want to know?” Argo asked, incredulously.
“Probably not.” Arlan paused for a few moments. “Tell me anyway.”
“Well, he’s cut off the mans leg below the knee, exposed the femur, shaped it into a dagger, then detached the femur, and is currently using said femur dagger to repeat the process with the man’s other leg.” Argo said rapidly. “Also, every now and again, Roderick hits him with his own detached leg. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Bodily Harm.’”

At that point, the screams stopped, the door opened, and Roderick calmly walked back to the group. Arlan watched Roderick for a bit, then turned back to Argo.
“Argo, if you ever think I’m about to piss off Roderick, please stop me!” Arlan said quietly.
“If you’ll do the same for me,” Argo whispered back, “We have a deal.”

August 13 (1 week ago)
Stacy B.

As you finish your uneasy rest and begin to pack up camp, eyeing Roderick with a level of fear and perhaps distrust, you see a vision, a glorious blackscaled dray. It is hard to recognize her at first, but after she turns, her new armor shining in the dim light, you realize it is Lilith. Her face is hard, a scowl like none you’ve seen, “What have you done?” She hisses, and drops a pair of shattered manacles at her feet. You hear nothing as they fall, she is not truly here, just a projection…somehow, “He is free.”
The image of your friend fades, but not before her message sinks in.
As each of you turns to look at Roderick he falls to his knees, screaming in agony, gripping his forearm as if trying to tear the flesh off with his hands. When he finally is able to breath the mark of Psurrab is gone, as is its gift. The true weight of the message hits you like a anvil to your chest….He is Free….

August 14 (1 week ago)
Michael P.

Argo let his feet fall from beneath him to sit heavily on the ground. It hurt, but he was too distracted feel any pain, only horror. Psurrab, the god of Tyranny, Cruelty, and Punishment had been loosened upon the world. Almost involuntarily, Argo glanced at Roderick. The look on the human’s face spoke of immense regret and despair, to a degree that was entirely out of character for the usually confident man. Lillith’s anger had obviously made a deep emotional impact on Roderick.

Argo made an effort to consider the implications of Psurrab loose upon the world. Unfortunately, he was too rattled to focus on any one particular thought for more than a split second at a time. Just when he was about to give up, a memory surfaced from just before the torture had started. Roderick had said, “I will be yours when you wish me to be.” With that, Argo’s thoughts finally started to arrange themselves. Roderick had obviously made a pact with the evil deity, and Argo had assumed that Psurrab being released was the price of the pact. However, thinking back, Argo realized the manacles that Lillith had dropped were cracked in such a way that could only be the result of brute force. That raised a disturbing question: Did Psurrab’s freedom fufil the terms of the pact, or was that just a mere side effect? Argo had no answer to that question, he knew nothing of Magic but the propaganda of the Sorcerer Kings. Then again, he’d also witnessed Draven and Artemis use magic, and he remembered the gifts given to him by…

The solution hit him like a bolt of lightning. Upon Argo’s shoulder was the sigil of Xuda, the god of Oaths and Binding Pacts! If there was any being who might be able to answer his question, it would be her. Argo tried to clear his mind as best he could, shifted himself into a poor imitation of Lillith’s praying posture, then bowed his head.

“Xuda?” Argo called within the boundary of his mind. “I need your wisdom. Is Roderick’s will still bound to that of the evil deity, Psurrab?”

He concentrated as hard as he could, but no answer came to him. He tried again.
“Xuda, please!” Argo thought. “I must know if Psurrab can still manipulate my friend! Xuda?”
After another minute, it was obvious that no response was going to come. Argo stood back up, his pitiful attempt at prayer had failed. He would have to try again later.

August 14 (1 week ago)
Mark B.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
Draven heads to a quiet corner alone, as the others often leave him alone. He kneels and starts thinking to himself about the release of Psurrab and then puts his hands together. He starts to hum gently and says a short prayer;

“Oh God of Tyranny and Cruelty, If you are truly are free grant my plea. I want more power, enough to rule Atlas and dethrone the Sorcerer-Kings. Enough power to make anyone bow before me, enough to extend my life.”
Draven the looks into his shirt and sees that the black plague has infected his entire torso, all but his heart that is being repelled by the God Symbol. Draven puts his hands together again, bows his head, and then goes to pray again.

“Any God that will listen, allow me more time to live. At least until Nibenay. At least until Pandora is freed.”
Draven then pulls out the dragon statue he found earlier and sits.

“Now what secrets do you hold?”

August 16 (1 week ago)
Edited August 16 (1 week ago)
Stacy B.

Draven a voice whispers so quietly that he barely misses the word. At first he turns his head, only slightly, to see if one of his allies is playing a joke on him, but he hears it again, Draven. He doesn’t recognize the voice, but his gods have remained silent, bestowing blessings, but nothing more to him. He turns his head back to look at the statue, not wanting the others to know that someone or something is speaking to him. You are my chosen, the truest Avatar of my will, no other can serve me as you do. For your service I will grant you a greater gift. Choose….choose one of your companions….they will bear your illness in your stead…they will bear your curse. Before his eyes the dragon statue shifts and moves, no longer sitting tall, but crouched as if ready to pounce, its eyes glowing bright white against its green obsidian body.

Argo feels no response, and though not unexpected it certainly doesn’t make him happy, how are they supposed to figure all this out if no one will talk to them? He sighs and closes his eyes a moment before the answer slaps him, literally. Before him, in a vision only he seems able to see, Lilith appears, still pissed, but at least she doesn’t look able to eat him this time. Argo rubs the shoulder where she hit him and glares, “What was that for?” he says under his breath, “I’m not the one releasing evil gods and killing random people.” Lilith shakes her head and her voice rings almost in a shout, but the others do not react, so Argo is certain they cannot hear, “Xuda asked that I respond. Psurrab is free and can no longer be bound, but his power is still limited. The gods can only be truly returned to power once they return to their own plane, he is stuck here. He is as powerful as the Kings, but even that is limited. Be wary, he knows where you are.” She turns to go but thinks of something else, “Remember, the gods gain power through worship, if he somehow convinces people that he’s a god, much like Hamanu has to his people, he could become a great force in this world, even without his siblings.”

Roderick feels the weight of his actions weigh on him. His chest is tight and he feels so close to tears he’s starting to wonder if he might be turning female. What has he done? Yes, he’d done horrible things while selling his sword, but he’d changed all that once he’d started a family. He’d learned a code of honor. Looking down at his arm and the missing mark he shakes his head, the gods have much more influence than they let on if he’s reverted so far into the darkness that he was capable of such madness. At that thought he feels Her touch, a soft caress, a gentle kiss, “I apologize lover, but such emotion brings me such power. Psurrab brought out the worst in you, but the passion of your vengeance that led to such immense cruelty….I’d almost broken my chains. Your misery will fade, but my power grows with it.”

Arlan leans back against the wall, realizing that his words to his friend had caused this dark lapse and ended up in the death of a man. It could have been him in another life. If he hadn’t been born a noble, perhaps that could have been him. He shakes these thoughts aside and takes a drink of his flask, needing the burn. Before the liquor reaches his stomach he feels a soft touch on his chest, one he’s not felt before, a presence both gentle and strong. He realizes this to be Alpia, the mother. Her hand moves to his side and he feels a slight tickle. Lifting the side of his shirt there is now a tree tattooed on his side. The roots create an image of his face. Many branches grow from the tree, but only bear leaves for the moment. She whispers, “Your children will rule this world. You will bear 8 in your life and they will replace the kings that rule now. Worry not, I will care for them, I will show them your love, even if you never know them. When this journey is through, when Athas is green and we have our realms of power, you will sit upon a throne in the planes, and your children on thrones in the Mortal realm, and all will be as it should.”

Artemis sits away from the others, the screams, the message from the blackscale, the resulting tumult of emotion from around the room have made him scared. He isn’t sure what to think at the moments following, but touching the brands upon his skin he realizes that these gods have plans for them. He studies his marks and a memory returns, a book that only had names in threes, nothing more. There had been hundreds at one time, but he remembered that some had moved on of their own will. Now only 30 true gods remained and 6 labels as Champions, though he was unsure of what they meant. Rubbing his face he tries to recall more but cannot. He hears a gentle male voice speak to him, from where he’s unsure, “I am Multra, and you, my friend, will bear my wisdom, in time. Rest now, you will be called upon soon enough.”

August 16 (1 week ago)
Michael P.

“Yes, I know that Psurrab is no longer bound,” Argo muttered quickly, as the vision of Lilith faded, “but is Roderick still oath-bound to Psurrab? Lilith? Lilith!? LILITH!”
There was no response for a bit. Then Lilith’s face re-appeared, said “Oh, that’s what you meant? Yes, he is”, then disappeared.

It was nice to know that he could at least count on Lilith to give him a straight answer. Argo could probably have phrased the question better, but that wasn’t important. What was important was everything Lilith had said. Roderick was still oath-bound to Psurrab. That would probably become a major concern later, but they had more pressing issues. Psurrab could gain power by gaining worshipers, and Argo could only think of a few people that would want to worship that particular deity. Unfortunately, all of those people were Sorcerer Kings, who would probably love to call upon Psurrab for power and knowledge, and that knowledge could easily prove to be the groups downfall. For example, the current location of the party, possible locations of Sigils that the group had yet to find, and… oh no.

The temple! The first time they were there, Argo had managed to bind Raxom to himself, and the rest of the party had done similar things with their gods. If the Sorcerer Kings were able to bind deities to themselves, the results could be catastrophic. Argo stood up, wincing as he put weight upon his newly bruised shoulder, and walked over to the rest of the group. He had to keep them informed.

August 18 (1 week ago)
Jag Pro

The third night in the Temple of the Singing Skulls…

Arlan dreamt again that night, only he isn’t himself. He can tell immediately by the shorter point of view and the feminine laugh that sounds from his mouth.

You are standing on a promenade overlooking the square. King Hamanu is giving a speech, but you’re not truly listening. A young man, handsome as any you’ve seen approaches you with a sweet drink. You’ve seen him around all week during the festival, he’s always had his eye on you.

As the night approaches you’ve found yourself constantly in his company, and a bit tipsy you are seduced. When you awake the next day he has long left and you are unsure of where you are. You check the room next to yours and there lays a familiar male. A year or two ago you brought a Basalt statue to his family home in Tyr. You step inside slowly, not wanting to wake the three women wrapped around the half-elf male. Glancing at the scattered clothes and things on the floor when you notice the metal swords, quickly dashed and hidden beneath hastily removed clothes. The hilts marked with the Runewood family rest. You remember his family, and noting his obvious proclivity to seducing random females you now have a backup plan.

As you walk outside, ready to catch the carriage back home you notice the man you slept with, he’s leading a small herd of crodlu away from a stable. He doesn’t notice you, but you realize you’ve been duped. Oh..what will your father say if you end up pregnant with a stable boys child because you were stupid enough to believe he was noble and courting you? You bury your face in your hands as the carriage takes off, “Heir to the Runewood name…that’s what you tell them….not some useless stable hand.”

Waking from the dream, Arlan sit’s in a daze for a moment; He’s back in that decrepit hole in the ground that is the Temple of the Singing Skulls. As he looks at the group, he see’s Roderick awake as well; Roderick, now aware of the Half-Elf’s presence approaches. His human friend, tell him of the vision he had that night; Roderick talks about his family and children and of murdering his wife, holding back his emotions as best he can.

The description of the man next to Ariel sounds funny though. It did not match Arlan or the suitor from his own dream. It actually reminded him of his cousin Cyran, who lived in his home in Tyr. Feeling bold, Arlan chances telling Roderick about his own vision, carefully sidestepping his involvement and his family name. Roderick visibly shaken by the revelation of this stalks of and warns Arlan not to follow. At that, Arlan returns to his dreams, to hopefully avoid any more visions.

Later that night…

“He is free.”

Startled awake, by the scream in his mind. Arlan glances around, seeing Roderick ripping at himself. Taking a swig of his flask, Arlan watches as the others scramble about, wondering what the fuss is all about. As Roderick, calms down, the Half-Elf approaches him and looks at his wounds. Channeling his psionic energy, the young Ardent attempts to heal the wounds Roderick has made; none of the injuries are serious, but painful nonetheless. As he does this, he listens as his friend speaks of the deed he has done and the implications of it.“Well, I did tell you so,” Arlan says, attempting to lighten the mood with some humor. “When we were in the temple north of Yaramuke, I had said we should be careful about helping strange beings gain power without terms given to us.

They chat a short while more about the implications of this before Arlan attempts to retire once more. As he sits in his corner of the room on his bed roll, he feels someone climb into it with him. Gently caressing his body from behind, she whispers in his ear, “Your children will rule this world.” As she speaks, a feeling of comfort rolls over Arlan, it is Alpia, goddess of fertility holding him close. “You will bear 8 in your life and they will replace the kings that rule now,” she continues, “Worry not, I will care for them, I will show them your love, even if you never know them. When this journey is through, when Athas is green and we have our realms of power, you will sit upon a throne in the planes, and your children on thrones in the Mortal realm, and all will be as it should.”

With her words of comfort, Arlan drifts off to sleep once more, unwoken until the next day…

August 18 (6 days ago)
allen c.

Before Roderick falls asleep he puts on his new collar, the leather and metal are cold to his skin at first. It quickly warms with his body heat as he settles in for the night closing his eyes. He doesn’t feel anything at first as he slumbers, until he hears the click of a chain being affixed to his collar. The resounding click brings back the memories of his childhood, the hard labor, the beatings, the starvation and the loneliness all comes back in a tidal wave of emotion. Then he feels her soft hand on his cheek, her lips pressing against his.

I’m sorry my love, I did not realize your past could still be as overpowering to you. I just wished to show you some added benefits to this collar other than in combat. Roddy’s eyes open to see Firi wearing a similar collar with a chain connecting to his. This is a symbol to how we are linked as one my darling, to show you that I will never let you go.

With that she pulls Roderick up by pulling on the connected chain, him not offering any resistance as she does so, The 7 foot tall golden eyed tiefling pulling him closer to herself as her honeyed words continue to have him enthralled.

The other night you became mine, I want you again. She states with a soft giggle as she bites her lower lip.

She places her hand on his armor as it seems to fall away by her touch, she pulls him closer as she begins to slip out of her garments as well. Her soft violet skin is so warm to the touch, her scent like that of the sweetest fruit. Roddy puts his arms around her as she bends to kiss him, he feels himself lift off the ground as she wraps her arms around his neck. She falls back pulling him with her, the connecting chain rattling with their movements. As she wraps her legs around his hips Rod feels her tail begin to wrap around his thigh. Her nails biting into his shoulders causes his head to throw back, a soft groan leaves his lips. He entwines his fingers into her silvery curly hair as he gently pulls he head back exposing her neck to his teeth, nibbling his way down her throat causes her to inhale sharp as a shiver moves through her. Roddy takes the chain connecting the two as one in hand and pulls her with him as he rolls to his back, the lovers still entwined with one another.

“What do you do to me?” he half whispers, his breath heavy “The things you make me feel……”

She gives him a mischeivious smile as a reply

They make love for hours, screams of passion and pleasure coming from them both.

Afterwards Roderick lays with his head in her lap as she runs her soft hands through his hair

I love you, Roderick. I don’t want this to ever end.

“I love you too Firi. and I don’t want this to end either”

August 19 (5 days ago)
Michael P.

After the final encounter that day…
As the last monster fell, Argo turned and bolted for the door, unable to take any more of that dreadfully overpowering stench. As he burst through, he breathed deeply and savored the clear air and feeling of victory. But it didn’t last long.
“Argo!" Draven called from within the room, obviously holding his nose. “We need you to help us search this room!”
Argo looked at the door with immense apprehension. He never wanted to go back in there ever again. Still, he might as well get it over with.
“Give me a second!” Argo called, then blocked his nose and forced himself to walk back in.

That night…
Argo meditated near Artemis, both of them keeping alert for danger while pursing their own goals. Artemis was engrossed in preparing his ritual, while Argo was keenly examining a statue they had recovered from one of the chests. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but it was still interesting because this creature was related to the gods. According to a passage that he’d seen in the temple, each god had their own familiar. Each familiar often shared characteristics with his god.
Before he could discover any more, he noticed Roderick starting to move. After a few seconds, he could hear Roderick breathing heavily while shuffling on his bedroll. Argo forced himself to give an understanding smile to Artemis, who was looking understandably nervous.
“Let him have his pleasure.”Argo said, shrugging.“It’s been a rough few days for him and he hasn’t seen his wife in ages. Besides, it could be worse.”
“Fair enough.” Artemis replied, and then turned to Argo. “Wait…what do you mean it could be worse?”
Argo sighed, then spoke. “Well, you know how Arlan can choose to send his emotions? Let’s just say he does it automatically during… certain acts.” Roderick grunted in pleasure as Argo said this, unintentionally driving home his point.
Artemis looked slightly disturbed. “So… you mean when he…”
“…you all feel his…”
“But…” Artemis started to ask, then stopped himself short. “On second thoughts, I don’t want to know. "Um…thanks for the information.”
“No problem.”
With that, Argo resumed his examination of the statue, ignoring Roderick’s movements. Argo could tell the statue was feline, but nothing else about its features stood out to him. However, for some reason, he knew that it was an intelligent hunter. Argo racked his memory for anything else, and a phrase from somewhere popped into his head.
… is a clever hunter and a loving companion. However, just like its master, it is often stubborn and fickle in its affections…
Argo looked at Roderick as he rolled over. With a little imagination, that description could almost fit…
Just as Argo had that thought, two wounds appeared on Roderick’s back, like an invisible demon had suddenly clawed his spine. Argo was stunned for a few moments, then his mind kicked into high gear. Psurrab had escaped by allowing Roderick to take his revenge, and he was the evil god of Retribution. Firi was the evil goddess of Passion. If she had gotten her literal claws into him…
Argo grabbed one of his full water bottles, blinked over to Roderick, and tipped the entire thing on his head. Roderick cried out, suddenly wide awake, soaking wet, and very angry.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!?!” Roderick exclaimed loudly, grabbing Argo before he could answer. “I was hers and she was mine, we were one…. You took that from me, why?”
Argo’s eyes widened as Artemis blinked over to try and defuse the situation.
“Roddy, wait! I saw those scratches appear on your back, I was worried!” Argo said, eyes filled with equal amounts of panic and concern.
“Calm down Roderick, Argo did what he thought was best.” Artemis said calmly, putting his hand on Roderick’s shoulder.
At first, the words didn’t seem to have an effect, Roderick’s breathing still sounded angry. After a few seconds, his breathing slowed and he let Argo go. Now free, Argo took the opportunity to look at Roderick and immediately saw that he was a mess. His upper torso was a road map of scars and bruises, but with a large number of fresh bite marks and scratches that he could only assume they were the result of his nocturnal affair. The fact that he was still drenched didn’t help either. Argo sighed, then put a hand on Roderick’s shoulder.
“Roderick, I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now.” Argo said softly. “But whatever you’re feeling, it’s what she wants you to feel. Firi’s using you Roddy. She knows how Psurrab got out, she just wants to be freed. You know we can’t let that happen again.” Argo took his hand off Roderick’s damp shoulder. “I’m going to get some bandages.”
With that, Argo and Artemis headed off. Roderick just stood there, his head bowed, oblivious to the blood and water dripping off his body. As they walked away, both Eladrin heard him whisper:
“I also want her freed…”

August 19 (5 days ago)
Bilal S.

The fourth day in the Temple of the Singing Skulls…

As the group decides to head out, Artemis stays behind to keep watch over their safe room and prepares to communicate with Multra. Arlan and Argo both offer their help when he would be ready, which Artemis gratefully accepts.

As they all leave, Artemis closes the door and bars it. With all the doors shut, he heads to the centre of the room, where he sits down, takes out his pen and a black, leather book. For some time he sat there, searching his memories and jotting down notes and shapes in his book.
In time Artemis stands up and begins drawing concentric circles, the inner one large enough for him to sit in. Following that, he draws symbols between them. He planned for each symbol to fit perfectly and connect with the next, but every few moments he’d rub them out, unsure of how to make them link. Ah. I can’t remember….it was so long ago since I read it. Are these even the right symbols? Confused and frustrated, he closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Alright, clear your mind. There is great power in them, but not a single one can be wrong, or it will fail.

In his meditation, Artemis’ mind wanders back through the years, to his time in the ruined temple. There were many volumes, filled with forgotten knowledge and stories, unintelligible at first glance. He spent so much time deciphering whatever wasn’t already ruined. It took patience…effort….doing it all alone. Yet he never felt alone. There was no one there for sure, yet he always felt his hand guided to the next book, one that wasn’t riddled with gibberish. He then remembered one such book, small and brown, containing many passages of words he never understood, but felt compelled to memorise. It had never occurred to him until much later that perhaps a god took notice of the small, crying child in his house, and silently watched over him. It would explain many things, and it was this ridiculous thought that would sometimes help him keep hope alive as he spent years discovering nothing. My path was never clearly defined for me. I was never sure of where to go. Yet here I am.

Artemis’ eyes opened, clear and focused. Chalk in hand, he rubs all the symbols he’d already made and starts over. This time he drew with confidence, as if another hand was over his, moving it. Each line was sharp, each curve perfect. He felt possessed as he completed each figure with a flourish, slowing and speeding up as if dancing to a song.

As he finished the last one, completing the circle, he stood up, scrutinizing each detail until he was satisfied. Then, a certain combination of knocking came from the door the rest had left through. Recognizing it as the one Arlan and he had agreed on, Artemis opens it to see the weary group enter. They seem surprised by the circle, but proceed to tend to their wounds and leave him to it. Artemis finishes his inspection of the circle, and then draws two slightly smaller ones at particular angles, close to it, joined by rectangles in which he proceeds to draw more symbols. Argo sits nearby, meditating and keeping watch.

(The episode with Roderick and Argo ensues and ends)

Artemis returns to his preparations, pushing the flooding thoughts to the back of his mind, and finishes them. Once again looking over it all, and satisfied, he calls Arlan and Argo, who sit in the circles connected to the main one. Artemis explains: “All you’ll need to do is sit here and remain focused and calm. Magic is a power that simply exists. Its form is shaped and turned to one of the caster’s desire. I’ll be channelling a lot of this power, and the both of you can help keep it under control.”
The two nod as they take their places. Their confidence in that it would work was not lost on Artemis. This has to work.

Artemis takes his seat in the centre circle, and closes his eyes. He takes slow breathes and calms himself. The room was completely silent with a slight chill. Then, he began slowly speaking words of power. As he said each one, the next immediately came to mind. The others listened as seemingly meaningless and complex strings of words escaped Artemis’ mouth as he began speeding up. Can you hear me Multra? Because I hear the words you taught me all those years ago.The lines of each circle lit up in golden light. The symbols, beginning from behind Artemis, started glowing in an electric blue. It spread slowly at first, and then sped up as it went through each one, splitting off into the symbols connecting Arlan and Argo’s circles, before reaching the last symbols on the other end like a flame.

The entire room rumbled.

Artemis’ eyes fly open. The group, now wide-eyed, watch them in amazement. Each eye had uncountable concentric circles, half molten gold, half electric blue. The symbols and circles glowed brighter and brighter as Artemis reached the end of his incantation. When the final word was spoken, the glowing suddenly fizzled out. Artemis’ eyes returned to normal. Silence ensued.

Then, mist formed from nothing. Within it, the shadow of an amalgamation of body parts comprising various creatures, each shifting constantly, some rapid, some slow.

“Haha! Finally! After all this time, I am free of those accursed shackles.”

Artemis spoke, cautiously, unable to hide his surprise.
“O Wise Multra, is that really you?”

“Yes Artemis. It is me, free at last, thanks to you and your comrades. Aaah, it feels wonderful.”

The party silently waited for the god to speak again. They didn’t have to wait long.
“Hmm…yes….this temple will do fine. I will stay here as I recover my strength. As a reward for your efforts, I will help you and your group, as a guide, as the need comes. In the meantime I will recover my vigour, for the inevitable time it will be required.”

Artemis responded, “Our deepest thanks Knowledgeable One. Your foresight will help us greatly.”

“Mmm. Travel onwards down your path, and beware Psurrab. I am not yet sure of the exact details of how he managed to break free of his bonds, and it irks me that I know only little more than what you do. But what I can tell you is that he is limited in his power, as am I, as long we remain on the mortal plane. However this does not mean he cannot increase his strength with followers. Stop his advance before he becomes too powerful and takes over.
Now, I shall rest for the moment. Good luck.”

The shadow disappears, followed by the mist, into nothing. The moment the last tendril vanishes, Artemis collapses, exhausted. Argo reaches and catches him just in time. He leans Artemis against the wall, where he nods wearily and closes his eyes, entering a meditative state. The circles and the symbols contained fade, and disappear.

10:07PM (8 hours ago)
allen c.

After Argo dresses his light wounds, Argo pauses when he sees the slave brand of house Shom on his shoulder. Not wanting to talk about it Roderick just makes a disregarding grunt when their eyes meet. Not wanting to push it, Argo just continues to bandage him up. When finished, Roddy walks to the far wall and slides down it to a slumped position and broods about what has happened between his nocturnal affair and the confrontation between him and his friends.

“Firi’s using you Roddy. She knows how Psurrab got out, she just wants to be freed.” keeps going in his mind along with what Firi said “The other night you became mine, I want you again.”

Am I some plaything for her whim? Is what she tells me true? Is what I feel real? Will she just abandon me once she is free? How can I know for certain what she tells me is true?

Torn with these thoughts he watches the ritual that frees Multra, he watches and just nods. Two freed, how many more to go?

Forum Based Role Play Continued
Part 2

The dream is similar to the one before; the chained deities crying out in pain and fear. Around them now grows a great tree, its branches thick and green, block out the sun. Its roots grow deep into the dry earth to gain purchase. It creates a shelter around the prison, its branches pushing through mortar and stone, vines sneak between bars and chains.
A cry is heard, a voice among the screams, “Father!”
As you watch, the light changes, no longer bright with the sun, but dancing, ever changing, as the living flame. A frightened yell, a blast of fire, and the branches are set alight. The vines and roots retreat, weaving together to form a shield and massive club. The battle between Great Tree and Living Flame lasts only a short time before the tree vanishes in a burst of falling leaves and radiant light.
Despair rises above the pain, cries of anguish rise above the fear.
After the jailer leaves, you see a hopeful sight. Soft features peer through the bars and gentle hands rise, reaching through the gap to catch a falling leaf.. She presses it to her cheek as her eyes rise to meet yours. She mouths a word you don’t yet understand, Roivas, and the dream fades with her sorrow filled eyes begging for your help.

July 26 (1 month ago)

Lilith awakes from the dream in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. After a moment, when she regains composure, she storms out of her tent into the twilight haze of the coming morn, quickly downing a bit of her wine while no one is paying attention. It’d take a lot to actually affect her draconic body, but the small, sweet drink eases the vision, letting her relax. “Roivas…” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head lightly, with not the faintest idea what it could be, besides maybe that goddess’s name.

July 27 (1 month ago)
Jag Pro

Rolling to one side, Arlan looks at Salesta. As he looks, the beautiful Half-Elf wakes and smiles at him. “Breakfast?” she asks him. She doesn’t have the visions we have, does she? “Sure,” he responds, as he slowly climbs out of their shared cot. He quickly slips on his pants and stumbles out of the tent and over to the “Lever” to grab some food. As he grabs food from the back of the cart he notices one of the wine casks has been moved out from under the pile of food. Ah, she had the vision too. Turning to the rest of the camp, he see Lilith enjoying a glass. “So you got it too?” Arlan asked, “Got any idea on the meaning though?” As Arlan finished preparing breakfast, he beckoned Salesta out of the tent so they could eat together with Lilith and discuss the vision.

Once the others had woken and discussed the vision as well, the group packed up camp and set out for the day. Continuing down the Road of Kings to Draj, Arlan walked behind the cart, allowing Salesta his spot on the back of the cart and chatting with her as they moved along. However shortly after starting their trip, Lilth called from the front of their small caravan about spotting someone coming. It was another caravan, a trader one. After hailing each other, the two groups came to a stop on the road and decided to trade food stuffs and information. Through all the chatter, a young man came to Arlan asking, “I couldn’t help but hear you said your name was Arlan Vordon?”

“Yes, from House Vordon of Tyr”

“I have a message for you. Sent by your mother a couple weeks ago in Tyr. She said to deliver it to you on the Road of Kings.”

Giving the boy his thanks, Arlan scratched his head and separated himself from the rest of the group to read the letter.


We hope this finds you safe, as you are our son, and we wish you well. However, some rather disappointed news has laid itself upon our doorstep and possibly taints our name. A young woman, Ariel Toombs, has come to us claiming she was seduced by the Heir of our name some weeks ago, and now finds herself to be…compromised. She claims to carry the next Heir to the family fortune. As much as I would like to dismiss this, considering her relatively low standings….I know that your escapades could put most of the whores in this town to shame.

Please either respond or return home so that we may discuss this. If you are the father we cannot have our name tainted by low end bastards, you will need to resolve this issue, either thru marriage, or perhaps a buy off. We will see. In any event we are very disappointed.

Your Mother,
Lady Runewood"

Arlan sat staring at the letter for a moment, thinking to himself all the while. Ariel Toombs? Why do you sound so familiar and why can’t I remember being with you. As he sat there, he overhead Roderick chatting with the traders from the other caravan. “Wait isn’t Roderick’s last name Toombs?” he muttered to himself. As he stood up, the troubled young man cut the bottom of the letter off, separating the section saying “Your Mother, Lady Runewood” and lit it on fire with a snap of his fingers using his psionics. He may have problems on hand, but his identity further leaked would not help. He pocketed the letter and noticing Roderick walking back to their wagon he came along side his human friend.

“Hey Roderick,” Arlan asked, “I’ve forgotten it for the moment, but whats your family name.”
“Toombs,” Roderick answered.
“You have a wife and kids right?” the Half-Elf asked quickly.
“Yeah, three daughters and a son.”
“What are their names?”
“Well my oldest daughter is named Anastacia. I’m surprised you don’t know her already, she’s married into your family. The next oldest is Ariel, she’s a scupture in Tyr…”

At that Arlan’s looked distant for a moment. It’s his daughter. “Excuse me for the moment Roderick, I need to talk to Salesta for a moment,” Arlan said interrupting Roderick as he walked off. Roderick eye’s Arlan with a mix of confusion and suspicion for a moment, shrugs and goes off to Lilith to tell her of some good news. But if she’s in Tyr, she couldn’t have my baby. I haven’t visited the city in years now. “Hey Salesta,” Arlan said as slyly as he could manage at that moment, “I’ve seen you preform a sending ritual to contact your father the other day. Perhaps you could do that for me so I may respond to a letter from my mother?”
“I could do that,” she responded.
“Thank you.”
Salesta held her hands to Arlan’s temples and focused her magic into him, saying a few chants from her ritual book and suddenly Arlan felt as if he was next to his mother able to talk to her. “Mother,” he said as if talking directly to her, “I cannot recall this girl, ask her where and when this took place so that I may confirm it was me. Your son, Arlan”

He sat waiting for a moment as the others chatted and her response finally came. “She mentioned having traveled to Urik recently for studies, during a festival for their King. Unsure if she meant that was when she met you.” As the link broke, Arlan’s heart sank for a moment. Well, it could be true then. How shall I proceed. Has she sent a letter to her father about this already? Questions flooded Arlan’s head for the moment. He grabbed for his flask of whiskey and thanked Salesta for letting him talk with his mother. Wandering off the the moment he drank from the flask. “Well,” he muttered, “This isn’t going to help with me clearing my head, but I need a break for the moment.” With that he downed, the flask and returned the the cart to refill it.

July 27 (1 month ago)
Edited July 27 (1 month ago)
allen c.

As Roderick is walking his way to see Lilith he see’s a beautiful dark haired woman walking near the stopped caravan.

Recognizing his eldest child he stops and call out to her,

“Ana! Ana, it’s me. I never thought I’d see you here. Why haven’t we heard from you since the wedding? Has Lance not been treating you well?” Roderick trots up to meet is daughter, a look of elation and concern on his face

“I didn’t want to see you after my wedding father, this marriage is embarrassing. I would have wanted to be married to someone with a future, Lance is nothing but a mid-level third rate grunt cousin in House Vordon. I have to go with him on caravan runs because we can’t afford a home of our own, my dowry wasn’t enough.” she says curtly to her father

Roderick sensing alot of harsh words are about to be said in front of her travel mates pulls her aside so she doesn’t dishonor her husband.

“Ana please, you know I did what I could. Lance is a very good man, and he loves you very much. I looked into other houses, but none would accept what we offered.”

“Your lying dad, House Runewood had a suitor that was willing to accept your offer. But you’d rather sacrifice my happiness for Ariel’s and Falon’s, their dowry’s are much more than mine was. You always did that to me, you always picked them before me. I never wanted to see you again after that embarrassment of a wedding.” she says, her eye’s burning with anger

Roderick’s head falls, his shoulders slump as he breaths out a long deep sigh

“Anastacia Shea Toombs….” he says with a deep pain in his voice “I have done nothing but give you the best life I could possibly give you. It wasn’t the money, it never was. I could have let you go to that man from House Runewood, I could have. But I’d be giving up my favorite child to a man who constantly be disloyal to you and hurt you in ways I don’t ever want to think about.” he says shaking his head

“Lance didn’t want your dowry, he married you out of love. I insisted so you both could have some kind of nest egg to start with, he refused most of it saying he would provide the rest.”

Taken aback by this revelation, Ana pauses then says in a soft voice

“I’m the favorite? but what about….” Roderick cuts her off

“Your sisters and brother, I wasn’t around them as much as I was with you. You take more after me than the others, sure Colton went to the arena and Ariel and Falon both try to help people. But you Ana, you were the one I’ve always loved. You were my first born, you were always waiting for me whenever I came home. You and I would play for hours, we’d dance and we’d sing. We were inseparable. All that went away though, when you were 6 you made it to the arena where I was fighting. The things you saw made you not want to come near me for a year. You did everything to distance yourself from me after that. But I never stopped loving you, I’ve done alot of horrible things to make sure you grew up with a good life. I still do. And I’ll never apologise for it, and I won’t let your anger with me ever stop me from loving you more than everything.” he says trying not to cry

Ana’s eyes full of tears, she throws her arms around her fathers neck, she begins to cry

“……I’m sorry daddy…… I didn’t know……” Roderick wraps his arms tightly around his little girl, tears rolling down his cheeks

“I know baby girl, it’s ok….. Shhhhhhh…. It’s ok…..”

July 27 (4 weeks ago)
Edited July 27 (4 weeks ago)
Michael P.

While everyone else traded goods and information, Argo stood nearby, watching and listening. These people had nothing he wanted to buy, nor did he have anything to contribute to the conversations happening in front of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in the things happening around him. Distracted by they heartwarming sight of Roderick hugging a woman that he could only guess was Roderick’s daughter, it almost came as a surprise to him when a man noticed Argo and set off towards him. The message scroll in his hand marked him as a Courier, yet he was muscular and tall. The harsh desert had obviously toughened him, like it did everything else.

“Argo Mere,” the courier said bluntly as he held the scroll towards Argo. “I have a letter for you.”
Argo was surprised. Unlike the rest of the group, he hadn’t introduced himself at all.
“How did you know who I am?” Argo asked.
“Well, your race isn’t exactly common.”
“Good point,” Argo shrugged. Eladrin were very rare, he’d never interacted with another of his race. “But-”
“- I’ve been told to tell you to read that first,” the courier motioned to the scroll as he spoke, “then answer the ‘resulting torrent’ of questions.”
Argo paused, his mouth hanging open. “Hang on. How did-”
“-just read the letter!”

Argo looked at the scroll in his hands, then unraveled it rapidly. The scroll was small, but the message upon it was smaller still:
Argo of the house of Errol,
I once traveled with your guardian, and was greatly saddened to hear of his passing. Know that you still have friends here. I send you this as a warning. Teiralei, the noble that killed your guardian, has set a bounty on you, 3000 Nibenay for your death. Be warned, the posts have been sent to every city. Be wary.
Best wishes.

3000 for my death?! Every city?! Argo mouthed to himself slowly. He looked at the courier. The horror must have shown on his face, because the courier’s expression softened considerably, and he put a comforting hand on Argo’s shoulder.
“I know the guy who gave me this letter.” The courier said quietly. “He knew Hardy well, and apparently he visited you a few times when you were a kid. When he heard that Hardy had been killed by some noble and that his son had a price on his head, he was naturally curious. He did some digging around. One of the people that he spoke to said that Teiralei might have let it go. If you hadn’t held him hostage and slit his throat with an arrow.”
Argo’s mouth had dropped wide open in a mixture of horror and surprise. “I – sli – wha?” Argo spluttered.
“When you pushed him away from you, the arrow that you were holding cut deep into his throat. You’re lucky it didn’t kill him.”
“- I know it was an accident.” The courier said, interrupting him again. “It was obvious to everyone who saw it! But Teiralei and his family didn’t care. Hence, the bounty.”
At this point, Argo was incapable of words. He had no idea what to say. Or think.
“I’ve got one piece of advice for you kid.” The courier said. “Hide the ears. As I said before, you’re not from a common race. If anyone notices you’re Eladrin, they’ll probably recognize you. Now, I should get going.”

As the man walked off, Argo stared down at the scroll. Parts of the message rang in his head over and over, drowning out all other thought.
…3000 Nibenay…every city…be wary…3000 Nibenay…every city…
Argo walked back to the lever, noticing Arlan filling his flask with wine. Argo almost smirked in spite of himself. If there was ever a time to drown his sorrows in wine, it was now. He could always warn the group of the bounty on his head when he sobered up.

July 29 (3 weeks ago)
allen c

Roderick sits in camp, pondering over the seeds Salesta risked her life over. He picks one out of the bag, the wonder of life in suck a small thing. He smiles to himself as he picks up the seed bag and walks a ways from camp.

Finding a stick, he begins to dig a shallow hole in the seemingly lifeless soil. As he puts a few of the seeds in the ground he thinks back to when he was a child, remembering having to do this for hours so his father could get drunk stumble home and beat him. He chuckles about how things can come back from your past to do some good.

“We’ll heal this land together” he says softly to himself “I will make this a better world”

He hears a small crack of a twig behind him, he quickly turns as his weapon is in his hands before the stick hits the ground. Salesta is standing there quietly observing him.

“I was wondering where you were going, I hope you don’t mind.” she says kindly

“Not at all, I owe you a debt” he responds putting away his chain “Thank you very much, you don’t know how much I wanted these” he holds up the bag of seeds

“I’m sorry about your father, I didn’t mean to look. But you left that memory open, I don’t mean to offend” she says embarrassed “You should work on hiding your thoughts, psions are everywhere in this world”

“The ones I care about I keep close, the others I wish someone would just take away” he nervously picks up his stick “I have lived too long with my demons” he says as he plants a few more seeds, stops and turns around to look at Salesta with a questioning look “Can you do anything to help me stop dreaming of the horrible things I’ve done?”

Taken aback by this question she pauses and thinks about it “I don’t think it’s possible for me to do such a thing, my father might though.”

Roderick nods and ponders about it, shakes his head and begins to pour a little water on his freshly planted seeds. Salesta turns to walk back to camp. Still thinking to himself about cutting off that part of his past. “Goodnight,” she calls back over her shoulder “don’t let your past haunt you, look toward your future”

July 29 (3 weeks ago)
Edited July 29 (3 weeks ago)
Jag Pro

Shortly after retrieving the Psionic Crystals…

Sitting on the back of the cart, Arlan waited for the captive Thri-Kreen to wake from his injuries. It was only a couple hours ago they had ran into the raiders at the crystals. The Half-Elf had knocked the Thri-Kreen unconscious with some of his Psionics and tied him up in the cart. Arlan couldn’t explain it, but he felt the need to help the bug. As he stared the captive woke with a grunt and began to struggle against his bonds.
“Calm yourself,” Arlan clicked in the best Thri-Kreen he could muster.

“What happened? Where am I?” the bug warrior asked.
“We defeated your group of raiders,” Arlan said, “Hold on as I get you on your feet and following us."

As he freed the Thri-Kreens legs and moved him so that he was walking behind the cart with a rope tied to its back, connecting his forearms to the cart, Arlan continued to chat. “I am Arlan of House Vordon and these are my companions. Who are you?”

“I am known as Tarituk”
“Well, Tarituk, your injuries are just fine and you’ll live.”
“Why you capture me?”
“I figured you were that shaman’s slave. Why would we kill you if he forced you to fight for him.”
“I am free, and he freed me.”
“Then why did you follow him?”
“When he freed me, he said I could leave, but I owed him a debt for freeing me. So I followed him and raided for him to repay it.”
“Sounds like you were just as much his slave as you were before, but what should we do with you then? We could bring you with us, but you’d be a drain on our resources, you better work if you want to stay alive.”
“I die not your slave.”

At that Arlan called to Argo to stop the cart. He strode over to the Tri-Kreen and drew his dagger. Grabbing Tarituk’s hands, he cut the rope holding him to the cart and pulled it into the cart. “Go then, and give up your raiding. You are free of bond and debt.” As he spoke he grabbed Tarituk’s gear and tossed it to him. Tarituk Eyed the Half-Elf for a moment and looked at the wastes around them. Finally he spoke, “You let me live…be free?”

“Yes, I am from Tyr, we don’t believe in slavery. If you would like, you may come with us as a member of our party. I could teach you common and a trade or profession so you could depart on your own with no need to raid anymore.”
The Thri-Kreen looks at Arlan, studying him closely, and bows his head. “You will be Clutch Leader. I will follow you.”
“Good, you may leave our company whenever you wish. Now since your name is going to be difficult for the other to pronounce, as they don’t know your language, perhaps we could call you Tuk.”

Tuk clicked in approval, and strode to follow the cart and chatting with Arlan and Salesta.

Forum Based Role Play
Part 1

May 10 (3 months ago)
Stacy B.

Caravans travel the roads in a constant attempt to trade goods for survival. It is easy enough to get transport cheap enough if you can supply your own goods. Caravans are also a good way to hide. So many of you find yourselves at a small oases outpost as dark clouds gather overhead. Fearing a deadly lightning storm it is wise to seek cover. The animals are laid down in the lowest part of this small valley and secured, the wagons are chocked so as not to move in the hard winds, and many of the people have taken cover beneath them, using the hides and canvas as a makeshift barrier against the raging sands. A guard approaches you, head ducked against the biting sand and searing winds, “Do you have a place to take shelter? We have room if you’re traveling with the caravan, we’ll worry about cost later, you must get to cover”

If you choose to engage in this please describe your characters physical appearance as if a stranger were studying them, and respond as your character would to the guard

May 10 (3 months ago)

The midnight-scaled dragonborn turns her head towards his words, her powerful form rather slender when considering how muscular she is. Her deep purple eyes lock onto her fellow guard’s before she turns away once more. “Clearly I don’t, but I’m sure there are others that need to be helped first. After them, if there is still room, come speak to me again, and I’ll hunker down.” She leans against one of the wagons, facing away from the wind, feeling a bit uneasy, kicking up a bit of sand to distract herself as she idly waits.

May 11 (3 months ago)
Michael P.

The tall thin figure looked at the guard. He had just put on a Filter mask which served to cover up most of his face, but even through the swirling sand, the guard could still make out a few features. He had pale gold hair, bright blue eyes, and skin only slightly lighter than the sand around him.

“Your offer is appreciated, but I doubt there’ll be room for Cronk, so I have to decline.” Argo patted the dark red Crodlu beside him, then returned to making sure that his cart and its contents were secure.

May 11 (3 months ago)
Edited May 11 (3 months ago)
allen c.

Rodericks short red hair is whipped by the pounding wind as he stands from his crouched position. The turbulent sands rustling off his scale mail, he nods in acknowledgment . His green eyes sharp and alert to his surroundings, he picks up his pack and slings it over a muscular shoulder and follows the guard. “I appreciate the offer and would be glad for the company” he says in a slight raspy voice

May 12 (3 months ago)
Edited July 27 (1 month ago)

“Wake up ya drunk lout,” the caravan leader yelled at Arlan, “We got a sandstorm on us and you are supposed to be doing your helping run this caravan, not sleeping and drinking in the back of a wagon the whole time.”

Arlan struggled his head up to acknowledge the caravaneer’s protests and waved him to return to his tasks. Slowly, he slid out of the wagon and into the biting sand, struggling to cover his face. “Damn, I better get to work before that lady blacklists me,” he muttered to himself, “like the last one did.” The young Half-Elf then searched around in his pack and fashioned himself a mask from some spare cloth. He donned his pack and made his way over to the guard, surveying the make shift camp that had been made.

“Well, looks like we are stuck until this blows over, perhaps we should make a more permanent camp when this storm lessens,” Arlan mentioned to the caravan master, “It looks like you got this all in hand without me awake, so I’m gonna get some water and try to clear my damn headache. Come get me if anything comes up.”

Eventually wandering into the outpost to hide from the storm, Arlan grabbed a waterskin on the way and chatted with a young maiden who was travelling with them.

Arlan Runewood, Half-Elf Ardent extraordinaire. Arlan is a Half-Elf in his mid 20’s. He is a tall, slender man, with lightly tanned skin and light brown hair and eyes. Originally from a prominent Tyrian noble house, he is the Half-Elf illegitimate son of the houses matriarch. His father is an elf from another Balican Patrician house of Wavir, who secretly is the love of his mother, but can not marry due to losing her house and name per the law, not to mention the fact that his father is already married in a loveless political marraige between houses in Balic. Both his families specialize in trade and working of metals and regularly establishes trades between Tyr and Balic, but also other cities as well. He grew up with the best teachers and instructors and showed great promise to become the next leader of his house. As he grew up he became hot headed and restless, becoming obsessed with chasing woman and alcohol rather than continuing his families legacy and after an incident with one of King Tithian’s daughters, his mother banished him from the city until he had learned his lesson and could return to lead the house. She banished him with only the cloths on his back and his matched mithril rapier and parrying dagger, which were inscribed with the family’s seal. Thus began his long trek across the desert serving as a mercenary, caravan master, or escort for wealthy ladies. Unable to stay in one place at a time, he has been thrown out of any respectable place after a time.

May 13 (3 months ago)
Edited May 13 (3 months ago)
Stacy B.

The Caravan Master shakes his head as Arlan walks away, “Lazy scrap.” He mutters before continuing his work securing the camp. As the guards and Caravan Master finish gathering the stragglers and setting the hides about to guard them from the whipping sands the sky begins to shout with thunder, turning bright as lines of lightning spear across the pitch night. Heading for the safety of his own shelter he sees the Dragonborn hunkered against the side of a wagon and the Eladrin male with his pet tucked as best as they can be in their smaller cart. “Oy” he calls out to both of them, “Tie your cart to my wagon, I’ve a Sand Tent we can pitch over it and share the space until the storm passes.”
With the rest of the group huddled under wagons and beneath hides the Wagon Master hurries to tie off the cart and get the two Travelers and the mount to relative safety.
As soon as the tent flaps are tied and secured a peel of thunder startles the caravan; so loud was the blast that it shook the ground. Shortly after a screech was heard, but not one of fear or pain, but of joy.
The repetitive sound of sand on hide hid the constant drone of the newly falling rain. Not the heavy, hot mist that usually fell over the Barren Plains of Athas, but actual drops of cool, sweet water.
The rain washed the sand away as it fell softly at first, then harder. The people raced to gather any vessel they could find to store this gift from the skies.
It wasn’t long before the gentle rain became a down pour. Lightning flashing across the sky so quickly it looked as if Mages fought in a death battle. Water caused the sand to turn to mud, the rock to become slick, and the silt to become a deadly sinking mire.
The joyous event had turned into another deadly menace in a world that had more than one could count.
Once again the people sought out shelter beneath their wagons, but water is persistent and the ground began to soak and run with tiny rivers of mud.

May 14 (3 months ago)

The dragonborn watches the problem progressively get worse, and realizes she needs to do something to try and help. She climbs out of the covered space and carefully makes her way across the slick ground to one of the other wagons which is starting to slip off of the safer rock and into the deadly silt pool. “Get your arses out here and help or you’ll die!” She shouts to be heard over the torrent, the guards inside scrambling out to safety. She grabs a corner of the thing, knowing all cargo is precious, and urges the guards at her side to help her, and with their aid, manages to bring the wagon all the way back onto the stable ground. She moves on to continue aiding as many as she can, heedless of nature’s fury and her own safety.

May 14 (3 months ago)
Mark B.

From out of one of the wagons a cloaked figure starts to walk out of the wagon as it starts to rain and the figure looks up at the odd wonder. As the figure looks up some can see that under the cloak and hood is a red skin chin and if the eyes of the cloak figure connected to you all you would see would be piercing yellow eyes. As the rain starts to get worst the cloaked figure starts to head for higher and dryer ground without paying mind to the others. When this happens the winds blow open the cloaked figure’s hood off and reveals the face of a red skinned man with two long curved horns on top of his head and the hair behind his horns are breaded into three ponytails, a main one and two little ones. On the way to better ground the tiefling does not help others but does allow cargo and other pass him if they were in a rush.

May 15 (3 months ago)
Michael P.

Coming to the same conclusion as the dragonborn, the youn eladrin knew he couldn’t just stand by. He considered coaxing his crodlu outside, its strength could be a great help, but he knew it would be too frightened.

Not that I can blame you Cronk, He thought to himself. I hate to admit it, but this thunder is scary!

Brooding upon his fears wasn’t going to solve anything, so after a brief moment of mental preparation, he forced himself to exit the tent. It took him a while to adjust to the weather. It’s hard to acclimatize when the wind threatens to pull you off your feet at any given second, but Argo plodded forward anyway, determined to help.

May 16 (3 months ago)
allen c.

Roderick assesses the dragonborns efforts, realizing the danger of the shifting mud. He rushes to the aid of a man who lost his balance and is being pulled by the slick mud to a ever deepening mud pool. Roddy throws out his spike chain to anchor himself to a sturdy rock and grasps the man by his wrist and with effort pulls him to safety

“Next time you save me” Roderick jokes to the grateful merchen

May 18 (3 months ago)
Stacy B.

Thunder grows louder as the lightning continues to strike the ground closer. You can feel the dispersing currents in the water, but know you are not yet in danger. As those that flee seek higher ground it doesn’t take long to realize the folly. Lightning flashes overhead and a bolt strikes the ground, two of the travelers drop, and slowly tumble down the rise, the rushing water pushing their now lifeless corpses into the muddy rocks. The rest of the running travelers duck down, unsure of where to go from here. The Caravan guard calls to them, pointing towards an outcropping near the oasis’ where they can find shelter in a shallow cave away from the sliding mud and pouring rain.

Hours pass as the storm rages, the oasis pond has raised and water laps at the edge of the shallow cave and is now filthy with muddy run off. As the rain slows and eventually ends the morning sun begins to rise and with it a humidity that is torturous and unrelenting. A heavy mist rises from the soaked land and envelopes the caravan, making it hard to take count of the losses. 3 of 8 wagons lay in ruin, 13 of the 34 people are dead, many more are wounded or in shock. Death from hypothermia, drowning, electrocution, and trampling. Only 4 of the animals survived, a couple seem to have run away or were washed down stream.

May 19 (3 months ago)

The scaly humanoid makes her way between the wounded, getting as many people back on their feet as possible, feeling heavy from the draining moist heat. She slips a bit as she crosses one of the wetter patches, tripping into one of the many humans, apologizing profusely. When she looks up, she realizes the person in front of her has some more elven characteristics. She almost asks him something, then shuts her maw. “All this rain… the hell did this happen? It was clear not a moment before it hit…” She scratches her head as she turns her gaze to the scorching sky, curious about the odd turn of events so far.

May 20 (3 months ago)
allen c.

“We should look for useful supplies. With most of the livestock gone, we’re gonna need whatever we can find to make it outta here alive.” Roderick says with a touch of sadness in his voice “We should also gather the dead, they’re families need to know they’re not coming home.”

Roderick climbs down to a nearby upturned wagon and begins to rummage through it’s broken remnants, he finds a intact water skin with a merchants crest on it and sets it aside.

“I don’t lay claim to any of this, but we need to gather what we can” he says with a frown “also we need to help those who are hurt”

May 24 (3 months ago)
Edited May 24 (3 months ago)
Stacy B.

“Arlan!” The Caravan Master shouts, looking for the drunkard he hired to manage the basic affairs. Unable to find the boy he hurries over to Roderick and starts grabbing the goods he’s finding in the overturned carts and arranging them on solid stone. The older, portly man is drenched, a mix of sweat and humidity. The survivors are busy burying the dead and tending the wounds of others. In this deadly world people know what is needed to keep surviving.
With only four surviving beasts they are able to pull two of the larger carts at a slow pace. Noone gets to ride any longer, as all needed space is used for trade goods, food and water. The latter being rationed as much of it has started to mold in the moist heat. Waterskins were filled after the storm from the buckets, pots, and barrels people left out when the rain had started. By late afternoon the caravan is ready to continue moving on.
The Caravan Master gently slaps Lilith on the back, thanking her for her part in saving the wagons during the storm, and asking her if she’ll take the lead wagon as her post, He’s worried in their tired and weakened state that they’ll be easily picked off and doesn’t want to lose anything more.
He positions everyone in the line, older or weaker between the two wagons, younger and hardier watching the back and flanks. Everyone is given bags to carry and set in a 3 person group that will share a waterskin. As the day finally starts to cool the caravan begins its northern trek again.

May 30 (2 months ago)
Edited May 30 (2 months ago)
Stacy B.

The end of the 4th day approaches, the caravan has made camp among the soft grass and fresh water spring. Every age and gender has drank, bathed, and eaten fresh because of this amazing gift. As the caravan dozes off, and the watch takes its place, the natural beauty begins to fade once again back to rugged rock, dry cliff, and endless sand. The strange creatures that had appeared with the grass and waters lay dead among the rocks, their life fading with the dying grass. In the morning food is plentiful, furs are prepared much like the reptilian hides they’re used to, and camp is packed up by late morning. The caravan master worries, “Arlan. We won’t be able to explain these furs to the Urik guards. If the sorcerer-kings learn of this strange magic we may all be condemned. The group you’ve formed, take them, among yourselves, do as you will with them, but do not take them to the city.”
The Caravan master gives the pile of furs to Arlan, wrapped in canvas so as not to be obvious, “I will pay you once we see the city gates, but its best that you leave before we reach them. They will search us all.”
With those words he sets the Caravan in motion. With the laden carts, fresh bellies, and healed wounds, the caravan still moves slowly down the Kings Road, but with much less complaining and no extra resting stops. The fresh food will be gone before they reach the gates of Urik, but never have so many eaten so well in this barren landscape.

May 31 (2 months ago)
Michael P.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
As everybody started to move, Cronk lurched forward to keep pace with the caravan. From his crodlu pulled cart, Argo sat and watched as he nibbled on some of the fresh food, thinking about the events of the last week.

Twice in five days, the group had encountered places connected to Gods, and bandits had attacked both times. Also, there was a mark branded on the neck of at least one of the bandits, which had apparently executed him when his leader was killed. Argo was no expert, nor did he pretend to be, but he assumed the mark was far beyond the average bandit. They simply wouldn’t have the power or knowledge to pull it off, not without outside help. If bandits were responsible for the mark and knew about the significance of their ambush sites, they would be more of a threat than originally believed. There was also the possibility that the bandits were mere puppets, controlled by someone much more powerful and knowledgeable, possibly connected to the sorcerer kings.

Argo shrugged to himself. He probably was just being paranoid. After all, it would make sense for bandits to set up ambush in any strange place, to surprise curious travelers. And the mark was probably some simple slave thing, he was probably over-reacting. Besides, even if Argo’s worries were realized, he would not be alone. Apart from his late mentor Errol, he hadn’t thought of anybody as even an ally before, yet he considered the group he had fought alongside his friends.

May 31 (2 months ago)
allen c.

Roderick walks to Arlan, “I couldn’t help but overhear, and he’s right. These furs and other trinkets we gathered from this place will draw alot of attention. I think we should cache these for the time being, I don’t want to see such things of beauty destroyed”

He looks in the direction of the caravan “I want to try and catch the Eladrin before he gets too far ahead, I think he still has a few furs in his cart. Also we should get our stories strait”

Roddy runs off after the crodlu cart before it gets too far ahead

June 01 (2 months ago)

Lilith walks a fair distance ahead of the rest of the caravan, and those who can still spot her would say she looked alert and such, and was maybe just wanting some space. But in reality, in her hands she held a worn journal, one not her own. She flipped through it, remembering seeing something in it years ago that she’d never believed, but there it was: a mad scribbling that said the gods were not dead. It was the last line left of a torn out page, and she had never thought anything true of it until the events of this week. She knew she needed answers, and knew where to find at least something, but that trip would have to wait. Their current destination held the hope of sure answers, and so she continued on, restless. She thought about her youth, and remembered having to learn to read and write. She never thought the old man had a reason, nor knew why he’d know how to do it himself, but learned eagerly, not wanting to displease the one that saved her. She stashes the book back into her bag, continuing on, smiling lightly as she walks towards the horizon ever onwards.

June 05 (2 months ago)
Michael P.

Though he thought he was overlooking something, Argo decided to put the mark and the bandits from his mind for the time being, as it would not help him to brood uselessly. Instead, he thought of the disk he had found. While it was obviously powerful and valuable, it would not be particularly useful to him, its healing abilities would probably help a Melee fighter much more. It didn’t take him long to decide who would benefit most, as the answer was coming to him, figuratively and literally.

Roderick caught up to the cart just as Argo managed to bring it to a halt. The warrior’s caution was not unfounded, Argo had clearly forgotten to hide the various furs, a oversight that was promptly corrected. Thanking Roderick, Argo took the opportunity to give him the Alora Sigil, which he knew would be a vaulable gift to the battle hardened warrior.

June 05 (2 months ago)
allen c.
Permalink Quote Edit Delete
“Thank you my friend, this is a great gift indeed” he says as he slips the disk into a inside hidden pocket. “I’m hoping we fight along side one another again, will you come join me and Arlan? I think we should discuss what our next move should be once we get to Urik Have you seen where the others went? I think we should all have a say in our next move.”

Spotting Tycho walking 50 yards ahead Roddy turns to Argo and says “I’ll try and gather the others, if you don’t mind going back to Arlan so we can figure out a plan.” Roderick trots off to catch up to the young warrior “Thank you again my friend! I shall make great use of this.” he says as he goes on ahead

June 16 (2 months ago)
Stacy B.

The heat of the day weighs on you. Even as you make camp during mid day to rest in the Villa, you feel an exhausting pressure of heat. As you lay back and rest, using cots or bedrolls, a soft breeze brushes over your skin and cools you. Images of a lush paradise fill your dreams. Grass that reaches your knees, orchards of trees bearing rich fruit, and water running in ribbons across the land you can see tantalizes your mind. Whispers of wind and a warm gentle sun heat your skin, but not to the blistering level you’re used to. A large building of woven trees stands gracefully behind you. As you peer through the doorway you see dozens of beings chained by primal powers far beyond your understanding. Silent screams contort their faces as they try to reach out to you.

As you race to the doorway you are thrown back from the building and from your sleep. You awake startled but far cooled, only to realize it is well into night. You’ve slept for nearly 10 hours and feel fully rested. Beside each bedroll/cot is a wooden plate of fresh food and a goblet of cool mead.

June 18 (2 months ago)
Michael P.

Argo was a little surprised. He had been fully alert throughout the entire night. He had even stayed perfectly aware of his surrounding during the visions, and he still hadn’t noticed the plates of food appear in front of everyone. After his initial shock, he realized that was a good thing, as only the gods could have wrought something like that. So with that thought, he dug in.

Those visions had changed his perspective of the gods. Not of their powers, but of their numbers. Argo had assumed that their numbers, if they were ever great, would have dwindled to maybe a dozen at most. But no, there were apparently dozens of them. Dozens of gods. Argo’s eyes widened suddenly. He had come to a unpleasant realization, which he shared to the group as they ate.

“If there really are dozens of gods and one Sigil for each god, there are many Sigils we haven’t found yet. We may encounter one or two more before we reach our destination, but that still leaves dozens unaccounted for. Those dwarves were able to find one, so for all we know, they could be scattered across Athas! If I’m right, many more could already know. If we are to get to our destination without interference, we can no longer afford to delay.”

July 02 (1 month ago)
Edited July 02 (1 month ago)
Stacy B.

The temple you’ve reached is a pure white stone that shines against the sun, tiny star-like flecks glint and sparkle as you move. The dark wood of the door causes the bright metal inlays to stand out brightly. The fading light causes a ripple of color to shimmer down the walls in waves. Just as the sun sets you see, for just a moment, the silohettes of dozens of beings. Only 3 stand out, bright and alive against the shimmering waves and shadows of the others. When the sun sets completely the images vanish and your fire grows in strength. You notice as you fall to sleep is the shadows around you darken, your camp is bright and warm, but you are certain there is a curtain of darkness hiding your camp from unfriendly eyes.

July 03 (1 month ago)

Lilith gasps sharply as she suddenly sits up, looking around herself in a panic before realizing she had just awoken from a nightmare, most likely. Sighing lightly, she got up, stretching a bit, getting herself ready for the next day quietly, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get any more sleep that night. She made her way back to the temple doors, nodding her head towards the person(s) on charge, softly saying she’d be waiting at the doors until everyone else awoke. As she reached the temple entrance, she sat cross-legged on the ground, relaxing herself, her light breathing the only thing she could hear in the still night air as she began to let her mind roam, thoughts of the gods taking up most of her focus.

July 10 (1 month ago)
allen c.

As Roderick drifts to sleep his dreams are horrific.

He’s taken back to the battlefield he tries to forget, back to being surrounded by fallen friend and enemy alike. The feeling of other beings blood soaking through his armor, the fresh screams and dying breaths of his victims still reverberating in his ears.

He feels his chest burning as he realizes he’s still holding his breath, gasping for air he can taste the blood in the air. Still gripping his sword he lets it fall never to be picked up again. His hand grips at the semi-fresh hole in his side, blood still flowing steadily from it.

The last time he was here, dozens died by his hand. Waking up behind enemy lines with a fresh wound and surrounded by your dead comrades brings out things in a man that can never be let go. Cutting his way through the enemy wasn’t difficult, each realized the other was dead as he made his way through them.

Vengeance and justice was all Roddy wanted for his fellow legionnaires, and he had it.

A cruel thunderous laugh pierces the memory, belonging to a voice Roderick never heard before. A voice that wasn’t there those many years ago.

What glorious carnage you bring, we shall make such beautiful death with one another!

Roderick turns to see a towering white haired pale man drenched in shadow looming over him, the darkness flowing from him like a a crushing wave.

As the rushing dark consumes him Roderick jolts awake, sweat flowing from every pore. His heart is pounding. His breathing heavy.

“Not again, I can’t let that out again.” he pants

July 21 (1 month ago)
allen c.

Collapsing after the day of hard travel Roderick’s dreams that night are filled with visions of lush fields of green that stretch on to the horizon. Gentile breezes make the grass and leaves dance as they move across the plane. The twin suns shine bright against a nearly cloudless sky.

Beautiful flowering bushes of purple and bright orange release a smell of sweet intoxicating vapor in the air. Ripe fruit shines with a brilliance never seen by his eyes, a vibrant crimson violet and gold.

Tall powerful trees dot the landscape with their limbs covered in beautiful green leaves, wildlife racing to and fro in the hearty branches. Birds singing a song so beautiful, his heart fills with joy.

A natural spring runs throughout, ringing with the sound of the gentile flowing waters so clear and fresh.

The vision causes him to smile in his sleep as he hears a faint whisper that stirs him nearly awake.

Let us heal this land together, so all may live in such beauty

His night continues without interruption as he sleeps peacefully for the first time in a while.

When he wakes to take the dawns watch he daydreams of the world of his dreams.

“One day……” he says to himself as he watches the suns come up

July 22 (1 month ago)
Edited July 22 (1 month ago)
Jag Pro

The grueling day of travelling through the silt storm finally over, Arlan settled down on the back of the cart and grabbed his flask of whiskey to take a drink of it. No, this is all too strange. He put the flask back and grabbed the other flask on his hip, containing the water from the fountain at the temple. He drank a sip of it, noting the small amount left. Good that should hold my cravings and sickness for now. It had been a tough day but, he was still trying to keep a clear head. This whole business with the gods had gotten his wanting clarity for once in his life. Luckily, that water from the temple had been helping with it, but it seemed to be losing potency as they traveled further from the temple. He took another sip and stood up to see Salesta setting up her tent at the edge of the camp.

Arlan wandered over to her and watched for a second as she struggled to set up the tent with how tired they all were. Approaching her and beginning to help with the poles, he said, “Here, I’ll give you some help with that tent.” With his help the tent was quickly erected and the young Half-Elf man invited her to join him in eating dinner on the back of the cart. As they sat there, he noted constellation in the stars to her and the ones he used when he led caravans to keep them on track. They were near the kings road, ahead of schedule.

Once they finished the meal, Salesta grabbed her bed roll and wandered to her tent. As she walked into it, Alran followed her in carrying one of the nice cots they had found either in their journeys. “This hard packed ground will be rough with that bed roll,” Arlan said slyly, “You would do well to get a good nights rest after a day like that. Perhaps you could try out my cot? It is quite comfortable. Not to mention I could give you a lesson in one of Elia’s rituals, so you may understand our quest…”

She raises a brow and smiles, “I could use some new company…my band is mostly related…and therefore untouchable.”

As dawn broke, Arlan emerged from the tent and grabbed breakfast for both Salesta and himself. Looking over, the Half-Elf spots Roderick, watching the sun rise. Wandering over to Roderick, he says, “Beautiful isn’t it. I have a good feeling about today.” Noticing his lack of clothes, Alran continues, “but perhaps I should get ready for it. Lets set out in…” He looks to the tent, contemplating, “forty-five minutes. Yeah that should be enough time.” At that he wanders back into the tent. Today was a good day already.

July 22 (1 month ago)
allen c.

Roderick eyes Arlan with a smile. Arlan reminds him of himself in his younger days, he then chuckles loudly to himself.

“Goddess of fertility.” he mutters to himself. “I hope she’s prepared for atleast twins”

He then laughs a deep laugh, shakes his head and walks around the perimeter of camp wondering if the day will be as hot and windy as it’s been.

He stops cold when he notices on the ground, a small gold and red apple laying at his feet. He smiles widely, it’s a great day already.

July 24 (1 month ago)
Michael P.

Normally, Argo would have laughed along with Roderick, but he still didn’t know what to think. Arlan’s rampaging emotions had washed over the group that night, just like when he was drunk. Because the rest had been sleeping, they would have just had happier dreams. Unfortunately for Argo…

He shuddered slightly as the memory returned unwillingly, then continued to make sure Cronk and ‘The Lever’ were ready for the days travel. Partially to distract himself from the all too vivid memory of previous night, partially to make sure the silt storm hadn’t done any lasting harm.
A different topic to think about! Score!
That Silt Storm. That was one of the scariest moments of his life. There were at least six separate times where he thought the cart was about to fall over sideways, and he had never been more scared for Cronk in his entire life. Maybe if they pooled their funds, they could get a Sand Skimmer, or something much larger than his cart. Something that could withstand a storm much easier. Something that could carry the whole group, including…

The memory of Arlan’s pleasure flashed unbidden into Argo’s mind again. He groaned involuntarily. This was a bad day already.

Welcome to your campaign!
A blog for your campaign

Wondering how to get started? Here are a few tips:

1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

2. Edit your home page

Make a few changes to the home page and give people an idea of what your campaign is about. That will let people know you’re serious and not just playing with the system.

3. Choose a theme

If you want to set a specific mood for your campaign, we have several backgrounds to choose from. Accentuate it by creating a top banner image.

4. Create some NPCs

Characters form the core of every campaign, so take a few minutes to list out the major NPCs in your campaign.

A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.