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Jackben · Oct 28, 2013

As the four gathered orc heroes stand back from their huddle, Tarkus nods. "We shall stand against the tides of darkness." The self-appointed Warband Commanders separate to see to their tasks.

Mind Commander Reeta:

The burly half-orc grins, her sharp white teeth flashing before the crowded masses. She laughs with a savage glee, before donning her black metal helm set with a purple feather plume. Blessed with a mind as tough as her hide, the female half-orc from the arena held a fierce and tactical intellect. What's more, she got on surprisingly well with Barog. Their chemistry would prove essential in the battle to come.

As Reeta gathers the forces of the warband into rank, Barog barks at two orcs dragging a set of massive clay jugs. "SOMETHING NEED DOING, THIS WAY!"

Body Commander Barog:

Moving from person to person, Barog sets each jar before his subject and dips his hands deep into the swirling liquids inside. With one color to each hand, he splashes tribal designs onto the faces and bodies of all present. As he steps back from painting red around Tarkus eyes and black around his neck and head, he laughs in response to Tarkus question. "Black and crimson. Black from the ashes we come and leave in our wake. Crimson for the blood we make and blood we take!"

Soul Commander Martok:

As the others rush to finish preparations, Martok accepts his face paint with a solemn nod. Though primarily a merchant, the fighting spirit was far from lost on him. He grunts as he ties a ceremonial set of worn leather war drums securely to his chest. The instrument of war secured onto its leather harness, Martok slams his hands against them in rhythm. The pound of each drum reverberates clearly and powerfully through the ears and hearts of all present.

Track 1

"We must attend soon. The golden one's shelter wanes and the ancient one wakes."

Martok's finger points to the shimmering dome which covers the makeshift army brought to the battlefield by Sarm & the celestials. It can be seen to flicker and fade, the glow of the barrier giving way to the dark clouds above. Further afield, Emrakul's tentacles thrash, his body undergoing a transformation of some kind as the ground begins to shake.

Stepping forth, the three commanders of mind, body and soul stand behind Tarkus in a semi-circle as the half-orc addresses the assembled warband in all their painted glory.

Orcish:

"Throm'-Ka. Aka'magosh, Hra kal Trk'hsk!

Well met. Blessing to all who attend, for the blood we soon shed!

"Gol'Kosh, mag'har mog cha."

By my axe, the uncorrupted stand tall.

"Lok-Regar, tunar gar'mak un Dae'mon!"

By our order, we shall bring anguish to the Demon!

"Toa Ogar tok'shana..."

Though many deaths will come...

"Nagran o Oshu'Gan, Lak'na await!"

The domain of winds and mountain of spirits, the lands of our people, await!

"Targoth ogar Gruumsh, Lok'tar vadnor ashar!"

Now Gruumsh has fallen, we bring a new strength of our own!

"Lok-Narash, chkra o chkras! Nada Lohn'goron ashar!"

Arm yourselves, brothers and sisters, for they shall sing tales of the glory of our battle!

Track 2

The assembled horde erupts in to a fierce battlecry that shakes the very foundations of the crumbling earth. As they prepare to march forward the cacophony of their roar is cut short as a severed tendril slams against the shimmering barrier, shattering their temporary sanctuary completely. Watching as a pegasus knight swoops over his head to zap the flailing appendage into ash, Tarkus yells to the group. "The others have begun their strike! SKIRMISHERS! CHARGE!"

Barog is the first to strike, throwing a spear with all his might into one of many fiendish, lidless eyes that float around the battlefield. As it explodes into purple blood and gore, the orcs around him cheer and are incensed. Each of Barogs subsequent victories embolden his champions as they strike at Emrakuls tentacles and birthed abominations, their savage strength dominating the battlefield.

Moving forward with his own band of agile warriors, Tarkus response crew is successful in quickly forcing the attention of the enemy. A creeping feeling in the back of Tarkus mind tells him they are only successful in holding Emrakul's minions interest because Emrakul himself still holds a connection to his mind...a remnant perhaps from when his memories were stolen earlier. Roaring in fury, he banishes such thoughts with the splattering of body and blood of his enemy. Roaring, he leads a charge towards an armored slug creature. Parrying the strike of one of its claws, he leaps forward and with a mighty cleave rends the creature in two.

As the rest of his orcs move out to engage the creature in its dying throes, Tarkus rushes toward Reeta as she calls his name. She waves him over to the dirt mound where she has laid out a rough cloth map of the terrain using Barogs ink. You look pleased with yourself, brother. Perhaps you do not see what I see.

Her finger taps a black sphere near the red diamond that depicts Emrakul. There is our real target. Your comrades already engage with three others. Looking up from the map, there turns out to be a horrid perversion of existenceFloating in a putrid cloud, what appears to barely resemble a humanoid head screams, its shout painful and piercing. Suspended by some foul magicks and bleeding tentacles, gleaming spikes line the gaping maw of its mouth, black foam gushing forth from within. A purple glow emanates from the otherwise empty sockets where the eyes should be.

Spotted the bugger sprouting during yer speech Reeta continues. Tarkus grows pale as he watches several warriors dissolve in the black foam, their bones frozen into twisted black statues in the ground. Reeta laughs, clapping him on the back. Methink you talk too much for half-orc blood, brother!

Track 3

Before he can reply, she draws a longsword and raises a blue shield high above her head. A strike of lightning comes down from the clouds overhead and hits the shield, surrounding it with a static glow of electricity. Now the real fight shall begin! Sporting a devilish smile, Reeta rushes towards where Barog stands with his champions.

Together they lead a charge straight for the beast, while Martoks song-hastened warriors continue to march the long way around. The beat of the drum emboldens those around the wise orc, and they tear their own path towards where they hope to flank the head of beast. Chanting a song of battle the entire unit breaks out in a song, their voices piercing the den of battle. Rakula, undio, garrosh serra vencido!

Calling the last of the orc forces forward, Tarkus raises his axe Perun and points it toward where a division of Ruby Keep soldiers has been pinned. TO BATTLE! he roars, running alongside them to cut a path of destruction through the Eldrazi menace.

***

Ears ringing and eyes covered in paint, sweat and blood, Tarkus drags himself through the charred earth, dirt and dust. Pulling himself up onto a rock, he coughs uncontrollably. "Raaargh!" Fear gripping his mind, he spits in his hand and checks the liquid in his palm with nervous eyes. It is bloody, but there is no purple matter or movement. Momentary relief floods through him as he tries to regain his bearings by recalling what has just occurred.

Track 4

Reeta & Barogs headlong charge was more successful than they had planned. Too successful. Fearlessly climbing the tentacles of the beast itself, Barog found that it could not spray the black foam at those nearest to it without harming itself. By channeling the thunder of her enchanted shield against creature, Reeta & her ranged forces were able to tear into the beast long enough for Barogs champions to venture close. By the time Martoks hastened warriors joined the fray the floating head of Emrakul was already grounded.

That was when it happened. Before the final blow was struck, the creature tore open a portal in time, a rend in the very fabric of reality. Those who were sucked within simply disappeared, lost into whatever abyss it had opened. Others around it were slowed, or frozen entirely. Tarkus himself pushed through, towards the swelling and engorged forehead of the creature. With a final decisive blow, the engorged portion of the creature ruptured, the head exploding and spraying all those around with a dark and purple goo.

Though the portal was gone and the creature moved no more, the screams it left in its wake were far, far worse. The goo somehow affected those it touched, sloughing the skin of its victims. Those affected fell to the ground in agony before their remaining bone and flesh were twisted into some hideous abomination that had to be put down by their own allies. It began when the whites of your eyes turned black, or your blood or spit began to squirm with parasites.

This was what Tarkus had feared, but what had not come to pass. At least not yet

***
Track 5

Dragging Martoks body, Tarkus finally collapses on the hill where their assault first began. To him it is a miracle the four had survived at all, though some may not live to see their fruits of their victory. They had taken down one head and aided in the defeat of another, but the price was dear. A mere seven of the forty-four who had pledged against Emrakul remained. Though only a few lives in the face of existence, all were heroes without parallel in Tarkus eyes.

Martoks drums lay torn and broken, the orc himself unconscious, breathing was shallow and uneven. The shaman attending to him would not answer when Tarkus asked if he would yet live. Nearby Barog roared in pain as he clutched the stump where his right arm used to be. Still alive, but weighed by the knowledge that only one of his champions yet lived. The rest were claimed, most by brutal deaths at the hands of their brothers after the infected substance had transformed their bodies.

Tarkus sits up and unstraps his gauntlets. Though her helm had been torn off and her face was covered in blood, Reeta was still thinking, moving quickly to burn and cauterize Barogs wound. Tarkus prays the others have not paid as gruesome a price, though he can both see and hear the battle wages on in the distance. As they wait for news and healing from the other groups, Tarkus pries his cracked breastplate from his chest, tossing it aside. He instructs the remaining two able-bodied orcs to watch over the other commanders.

Hefting Perun, he walks bare chested into the ash and fog, to re-unite with his friends and set an end to this war, once and for all.

Mike M · Oct 28, 2013

Jackben said:
Hefting Perun, he walks bare chested into the ash and fog, to re-unite with his friends and set an end to this war, once and for all.

((Because I like the idea of the party reuniting right before the conclusion and because I just wanted Val to drop this line because I am a super nerd...))

Val trudges across the outskirts of the battlefield, wearing a makeshift harness constructed of the leather bindings from the armor of dead men. Behind him, the inert wreckage that was once his friend Jack carves a furrow in the blighted earth as Val hauls the weighted form along.

Somewhere to the east--at least he thinks its east-- Val hears the abyssal death rattle of another of Ermakul's heads. No doubt a victory won at terrible cost.

Val alters course to head in that direction, smoke and ash obscuring the battle. Drenched in sweat and ichor, he comes across the first of the dead on this front against the Eldrazi. Though the remains are no longer recognizable as anything belonging to this plane, the armor is recognizable enough.

Tarkus's warbond.

Val marches on, not entirely sure what he's looking for. Survivors? Assistance for Jack? He's suddenly aware that he is probably going into some degree of shock.

In the clouds of death and destruction, a towering figure looms. Val increases his pace as much as he is able, taking solace that anything humanoid may be counted amongst his allies at the moment. The sound of Jack's body scraping against a rock makes him cringe, even though some part of him knows that it can't possibly do any more damage than the android has already sustained.

Out of the ash comes Tarkus, every bit as filthy as Val, every bit the victorious commander who has lost his army in the battle. Val follows the half-orc's gaze to their fallen companion and intuits that Tarkus feels the loss almost as acutely as he does.

"He lived a warrior and died a hero," he chokes out, mouth dried from exertion and effort. "Let his spirit join the Astral Sea, the greatest of Primeria."

KittenMaster · Oct 29, 2013

((Got a bit too carried away with video games today. Hopefully I'll have this artwork of Muun finished by tomorrow so that I can add it to his write up.))

KittenMaster · Oct 30, 2013

Muun Reinhart, being the only companion other than Avalrya without an army backing him, resorts to fighting on his own terms but still keeps near the other archers that are fighting under Quintis' orders. The process of shooting towering transformations of the Eldrazi's form from the sky gives him faint memories of fighting the winged monsters in his death. It's almost like that time again, where he fought alongside heroes of yesterday, but this time the heroes he is with are the heroes of today. In the now, in the brink of fate being decided, politics, races, social status, and personal differences are no longer important. All that matters is seeing tomorrow, clinging to a faint hope no matter how improbable the success is.

They are fighting an evil that can be described as so vile that even the proclaimed greatest of evils was terrified of it. It brings a perfect sense of justification for killing for once, a scenario which being known as a figuratively monstrous killing beast despite appearances can be considered a righteous act. This is not a creature that has its own perception of what is right for him, but something that wishes to wipe all existence where such perceptions on life cannot exist.

Perhaps one way of philosophizing good versus evil is that good strives to help others survive, evil threatens others' survival, and those inbetween simply want to survive, but that is a simple way of looking at it. So many variables and contexts invariably change what is considered good or evil, but today it is about survival. Everybody wants to survive.

Muun naturally tunes out the death and destruction that happens around him eventually. The war going on is just another example of what happens when he's allowed to kill beings much weaker than he is, everything falters quickly and fails to even come close to approaching, especially considering the powerful bow he wields. As time passes, the Eldrazi's minions become more aggressive and continue to limit the space which the rangers occupy. Eventually men and women of various humanoid races nearby are crushed, swept away, or grasped into the sky. Healers desperately try to heal the injured with what limited power they have. The danger around him is becoming readily apparent, and while he was able to ignore it before, it is inevitably going to be a huge factor. Reaching for another arrow which to continue to slow their push, he only finds emptiness... as people's lives are taken from him, as nearly his memory was lost to him, now his arrows are lost. The only solution is to get to the supplies to find a new stack of arrows.

His only progress to resupplying his ammo being the thought to do so, fleshly, moldy protrusions erupt from the ground around Muun and put him in immediate danger. Having little options to take them out, he tries to stall the flailing worm-like appendages by casting tangled roots to suffocate the ground which the tentacles occupy. The boy then slips out quickly, saved by his magical ring from any attempts by the monster to grasp him in return. Another erupting form pulls itself from the ground like a tree root, turning into a spike that attempts to stab down for a quick death, only to be averted by Muun's quick senses and rolling to the side while still prone. Just as it seems like luck is running out, a beam of light cuts away at the nearest monstrous form, giving the young Ranger some time to recover and catch his breath. It is Ith, rushing forth while calling out his name. Once the two are reunitied, Ith says, "Thank goodness you're alright! I always worry about you and I nearly had a heart attack just now." Muun looks up, clearly stressed out and tired after the constant fighting that had occurred today, "I don't want you to worry anymore.. After we win, I am going to retire and never kill again.." He gazes towards Ith apologetically, "When I came to this world to continue adventuring, I never realized what I would end up doing. I had to kill other living beings to help these men on their quest.. Do you realize how fragile humans are? How easily they die? I've become so good at what I do that it's terrifying what I can do to somebody. I sometimes wonder if I'm better than the vampires." Ith takes a deep breath, "You did what you had to do, but I can't tell you if it was the best way to go. I myself am deeply guilty.." Ith starts to sweat, "I am guilty of worse crimes for these people. I had stolen the Rod of Pelor and never intended to give it back. I nearly risked the end of all existence because I wanted to protect you and everyone else." Muun can only breathe as his emotional reaction to Ith's comment, his words saying, "You're right.. That is pretty stupid. You know I would've went outside the sun's rays eventually. Just having a shelter isn't enough, we would have had to keep evil from intruding into it." He starts to get up, "Even after leaving Ravenloft I still managed to die.. the only reason I am still alive is because I was revived, and I avoided death every other time because a goddess named Ehlonna had armor which protected me from all harm. I used to think you were over concerned of me, because I was good enough to look after myself, but when I felt fangs tear into my flesh during the one time I chose not to wear the armor I knew that I had limits."

The two look all about him, as tentacles tear out of the ground more and more. "I'm out of arrows. This bow which has tried to guide me so far has finally taken to me to this point. It can't bring me any further." Ith glances around and looks to Muun, "Then perhaps at the end is a gift..." Reaching under his robe, Ith pulls out a bow, which looks much more ordinary compared to the bow Muun uses now, "I went shopping in Sigil before coming with Sarm to this plane. I think it's about time for you to receive an upgrade."

Taking the bow, Muun glances at it. It has no string, and he has no arrows, "How am I supposed to use this!?", Ith quickly responds, "It fires magic bolts! Just pretend you're stringing it like a normal bow and it'll work. Quickly!"

Doing as instructed, the bow instantly creates its own string made of magical energy that are pulled, and then a missile forms where an arrow would normally be. Letting go, the beam of light crashes into the putrid forms that threaten him, slicing through like a physical object. "It is force energy like magic missile." he explains, "But this bow is wonderous, you can shape the energy as your imagination commands." Turning, Muun pulls the string once more. Toying with what his imagination can do, his killing intent gives the bow several missiles lining the curve as the bow is pointed towards a mass of tentacles. Letting go, the missiles dart to their targets immediately, even curving in their path in order to catch the movements. Suddenly, one man is capable of clearing out many foes at once much like a wizard could. Shouting in excitement, Muun exclaims wildly, "This is amazing!! Why weren't the holy relics like this!?" Ith responds, "It is not quite a holy relic but evil doers are known to fear it more than their users, but under your command I feel that death will never know you again."

With the tentacles dwindling, armies run forth to slaughter the four heads of the Eldrazi menace. Men sacrifice themselves, their blood purified in glory of their noble sacrifices, and every eye and every swing of weapon, every beam of light, and every arrow flies towards the giant monster. This is man's last assault to save all of existence, to do what even the gods couldn't.

And Muun intends to finish it.

With the last head remaining, the last mouth lets out an earth shattering roar, trembling the earth that can be felt from even the farthest nation. Staring down the last head from where they last attempted to kill it as a mere five man party, he lifts his bow and draws the magical string, forming a missile.

Soon the missile enlarges greatly, "This is in honor of Ehlonna's sacrifice!" He releases the missile, blasting the giant head with its magical explosion.

"This is for what happened to Celia!" He draws the 'string' again, pelting the head with another magical explosion.

His voice continues to raise, shouting with a fury, "THIS IS WHAT I PROMISED LUCILLE!!!" Several missiles form in the bow, pelting the head repeatedly and mercilessly.

And finally, he holds his bow at an odd angle, extending the magical energy to become a giant beam pointing upward. His voice lowers once more, his tone as if he is about to enjoy what he is about to do, "And this... This is for my own enjoyment! This kill is for sport!" He pulls down the beam, using the power to carve against the final head even from a distance where he can't be hit by its blood.

ThLunarian · Oct 30, 2013

The Dust Settles

Val, Muun, Tarkus, Sarm, and Quintus look on from the crest of the hill - the hill from which the Fierno clan reunited to plan their assault, and the hill from which Jack Slate made his final stand.

The air and terrain is still thick with dust; smoke and fire simmer from the war-torn battlefields. Among the wreckage, the combined armies of....

Of what? There's really no proper adjective to describe the group as a whole. They arrived here from different planes of existence, from all different backgrounds and races, with little in common but a will to live and a desire to exist.

Whatever they are, they are celebrating. Orcs, humans, clerics, barbarians, angels, elementals; for now, at least, their differences matter not. As one, the armies cheer, embrace, dance, and drink to the destruction of the four-headed abomination - the abomination which quietly faded out of existence upon the destruction of its fourth and final head. Val and Tarkus witness a hearty handshake between Martok and Valance, and exchange a knowing glance as they remember the dystopian future they averted in which the two were mortal enemies.

The people are free now. Free to choose their own fates; free not to get swept up in the unforgiving current of destiny. Free to choose their own paths, and make their own stories.

Some of the faculty members from the Seminary of Pelor have already begun work on honoring those who did not survive the battle, performing consecration rituals and paying their due respects, even as they allow the younger student body celebrate with the rest of the warriors.

The day has been won, but as the party looks behind Valgar and sees the inert metal carcass of Jack Slate, they are fully aware that their victory came at a great cost.

....What?

....And suddenly, Val and Sarm find themselves seated at a large table, in seats that are a little too large for them. They occupy two of the ten chairs; a slight man in a velvet purple robe resides in another.

Val recognizes this place immediately, as well as the third man.

"Welcome, gentlemen, to Winesong," says the man. "I am Olidammara, presently the god of wine, song, trickery, and general skullduggery. Valgar, I know this is old hat to you, but Sarm may be a little out of the loop, so bear with me, will you?

"Before I go any further, let me assuage your concerns: Though it is true that you are currently in the Astral Sea, let me assure you that you are not dead. I have brought you here of my own volition, and when our business is concluded, you will be returned, unharmed, at the exact moment from which I whisked you away.

"Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to offer you both my sincerest gratitude, and congratulations. You and your friends successfully averted the wholesale destruction of all creation. Left to its own devices, Emrakul would have regenerated fully, and then there would be nothing to stop it from obliterating everything. So, excellent job there; you may pat yourselves on the back as much as you feel necessary.

"When you're done with that, though, there are some rather urgent matters that require attention. You may have noticed that all the gods are dead now. Save for me, of course, but as much as I fancy myself, I'm afraid I can't do the work of an entire pantheon on my own. As a result, we have what is known as a 'power vacuum'. There are all sorts of domains up here in the Astral Sea that have no one to look over them.

"You can imagine the amount of chaos and upheaval that's in store for the multiverse, then. All those vacant spots need to get filled somehow, and I portend that there will be quite a struggle as beings from planes all over existence vie for supremacy and dominion over whatever ideals, or elements, that they hold dear.

"I'm not foolish enough to try and shape the new landscape of the Astral Sea by myself, but there are a few obvious choices on who ought to ascend, and you, Sarm Santee, are the most obvious among them."

Olidammara looks Sarm in the eyes. "Friend, it's time. You've already partially ascended, even before the rest of the gods were defeated; whether you know it or not, on that fateful day in Ravenloft, you became a lesser god all on your own. That wasn't Pelor - that was you. And now that Pelor is gone forever, it's only natural that you be the one to take up the mantle of Sun God."

The god of trickery then turns to Val. "And you, Valgar, a man after my own heart. If I'm being honest, you're probably not ready to ascend on your own. But since you are, after all, an aspect of me, I hold a special place in my heart for you. Or, perhaps, my heart holds a special place in you."

He snickers, amused at his own joke. "Seeing as how I am, by default, ascending to the status of the Most Powerful God in the Astral Sea, someone is going to need to take on my old duties as the patron deity of rogues, pirates, bards, swashbucklers, and the like. The job is yours, if you want it.

"Now that's not to say you have to immediately take the spot right now. I'm sure there are all sorts of things you'd like to take care of first in your home plane, and that's quite alright; as you're well aware, time works differently here in the Astral Sea. Just try not to die, mind you; it's a great deal harder to ascend to divinity once you've already bit the dust."

Olidammara claps his hands together. "Well. I suppose that's all. Sarm, once you're done saying goodbye, or whatever it is you need to do, come on back to the Astral Sea, and if you like I can show you the ropes, or you can also try and figure it out on your own. Now that I've shown you the way here, you ought to be able to easily return. Val, you'll probably have to give a shout when - or if - you're ready, but I'll be listening. Toodle-oo!"

The god waves, and suddenly Val and Sarm are standing among their friends once more; none of them seem to have even noticed the absence.

((Cue Epilogues. If either Val or Sarm want to respond directly to Olidammara, then you're welcome to write Olidammara's response dialogue on your own.

This is where you shape the lasting fate of your character. You can make it as immediate or as far-reaching as you want; clearly, since the campaign is over, this is basically no-holds-barred, limitless storytelling. Once everyone has posted their epilogues, I have a "Credits" sort of post to write, and maybe one more scene, and... that will be the end. Thanks, everyone. For everything.))

KittenMaster · Oct 30, 2013

((Might take a couple more days for my epilogue, want to draw another picture for Muun's.))

Mike M · Oct 30, 2013

((I'm going to hold out for last on the epilogues if nobody else minds, as I'm pretty sure what I wrote would put Val last chronologically.

Cutting it close with NaNoWriMo, but at least it's already written

))

DeadPhoenix · Oct 30, 2013

((got some idea what i want to do, I'll try and see if i can make it more then 1 and half paragraphs in the next couple of days.))

Mike M · Oct 30, 2013

((In the interim while everyone's getting their final bits put together and the thread dies down for a couple days, here's a side story.))

The Siblings Fierno

((This started out as Val's adventures in the afterlife, but then I decided to go in a completely different direction and this became the epilogue. Then I hated the way it worked as an epilogue, so I rewrote it again and now it's just a stand alone episode that takes place some time before the campaign. I wrote it before certain twists and revelations, so forgive me if the characterizations of some people aren't quite in line with what was presented in the quest. I also apologize in advance at how horribly, grievously self-indulgent the whole thing is : P))

Jackben · Oct 30, 2013

((An idea for our epilogues. Was talking to DeadPheonix and we thought what if we each had an item that was chosen by our characters (so unique to each person) that was enchanted to allow communication? Something like 'the other items glow when one of them is activated and when your character chooses they can tap into it to enable telepathic chat' kind of like a link shell. That way even when we inevitably scatter to the winds, we would still be able to contact each other from time to time until we meet our end. Perhaps Quintus can perform the ritual in his epilogue and the rest of us could include a bit in ours where we choose our item of significance that will be linked.))

Mike M · Oct 30, 2013

((I can roll with that. Maybe for Val it would be the Mask of Lies?))

ThLunarian · Oct 30, 2013

((While we're being self-indulgent and more than a little nerdy with all this extra media, here's a link to a remixed version of the Final Fantasy 6 Ending Suite with a listening guide suitable for this campaign. If I had the multimedia savvy, I'd create a video that had a picture of each character with their name typed out during the appropriate part of the song, but.... I'm not multimedia-savvy at all, heh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCW-M9yffBQ

Cyan's Theme (0:50) - Sarm Santee
Setzer's Theme (1:21) - Valgar Fierno
Edgar/Sabin's Theme (1:54) - Elroy "Bones" Bonaparte
Mog's Theme (2:22) - Goat the Billy Goat
Umaro's Theme (3:13) - Tarkus Rook
Gogo's Theme (3:42) - Quintus Mallory
Gau's Theme (4:19) - Jack Slate
Celes's Theme (4:58) - Avalyra Astatine
Locke's Theme (5:30) - Muun Reinhart
Terra's Theme (6:02) - Suvne Escara
Relm's Theme (6:35) - Lucille
Shadow's Theme (7:15) - Evaneth
Strago's Theme (7:47) - Ivor Fireheart))

KittenMaster · Oct 31, 2013

((For those making a character for my planned game (which is pretty much all of you), I'm gonna drop the starting level from 5 to 3 due to encounter balance reasons. Sorry about that.

Haven't decided on gold value yet but they'll probably be somewhat lower than the wealth by class table.))

Mike M · Nov 1, 2013

((God, I'm already writing shit about my new character. Someone stop me.))

ThLunarian · Nov 1, 2013

Mike M said:
((God, I'm already writing shit about my new character. Someone stop me.))

((I don't have any stories written, but I already have my character sheet completed and have his backstory all ironed out in my head. The idea of playing a single character and sticking with him is super appealing to me after DMing for so long, and I can't wait for the new game to start))

Mike M · Nov 1, 2013

((Yeah, I'm all done pending the decision on starting gold to fill out his equipment. He's definitely smaller scope this time around, no more of Val's drama queen theatrics plot hooks : )))

KittenMaster · Nov 1, 2013

Mike M said:
((Yeah, I'm all done pending the decision on starting gold to fill out his equipment. He's definitely smaller scope this time around, no more of Val's drama queen theatrics plot hooks : )))

((We'll see about that.

Gonna be busy working on this artwork and after I do that and write an epilogue I am gonna try and stat out early game encounters (I'll have no real way of knowing how difficult or easy they'll be, tbh.)))

Jackben · Nov 3, 2013

For this quest for holy relics, Tar- he pauses, catching upon his words before continuing with forceful purpose. I, have travelled through many lands of light and dark, of this plane and others in the great beyond. Tarkus stands narrating before a fiery hearth in the mayor Florentines mansion. Tarkus fate was chosen alongside the other relic hunters and heroes of Alydar. Flinching, the warrior ventures a look at his tutor anticipating a counterattack to his lackluster academic display.

The listening scribe shakes his head in disapproval. Clearing his throat, the elderly man sets his chosen weapons (a feather quill and ink pot) down beside an elaborate scroll of faintly glowing parchment. In his days at private schooling, Tarkus quickly learned the intellectual needed no physical implements to launch their most scathing attacks.

Sense of self is important. You are this individual you speak of Tarkus: a hero of Alydar and of the entire realm proper! the wizened man speaks with a regal enthusiasm Tarkus finds tiring. Even imagining such exchanges as pitched battles had grown stale of late. But his patience for lectures seemed near-infinite compared to what he had gone through in the last six months. Listening to his hired scholar speak fancy words was simply a matter of focus.

Yes Ser Rook, grammatical accuracy is paramount!

But staring into the fire of the hearth was always more captivating.

In the dancing flames he is reminded it was Martok who had suggested such learning in the first place. Though his ruptured muscles had difficulty holding a weapon after the final battle with Emrakul, the merchant would never give up the fight for the unification of the Orcish people. You have earned a rest. But keep the fires of your passion strong, brother. Never quiet the song in your heart.

Grammar did not seem nearly as important to Tarkus in developing his voice as the meaning behind his words. But he could little argue, for he saw firsthand the power of a skilled orator in his travels with a certain devilish rogue.

Gesturing towards the parchment on his lap, the scribes quavering voice continues. As guardians of the realm and chosen of the holy relics, you are befitting of an eternity scroll that tells of you and your companions deeds and accomplishments. The end of the Eldrazi threat has ushered in a new age in our realm for the gods and mortals alike!
Retrieving his quill and dipping it quickly in ink, the scribe concludes his lecture.

And thus you will speak of yourself with confidence, and not in the third-person!

Placing careful emphasis on his words, the fighter nods. Yes. I agree. So Turning back to face his tutor, he responds solemnly and with a serious tone.

You are ready for I to continue?

. . .

After returning from the final battle, Tarkus found himself standing in the Golden Griffin. Checking into a room, he made cordial visits to the mayor and Stanley before retiring. Ever since the battle and for many years thereafter, he could no longer sleep well with the ring of sustenance. He suspected the Eldrazi had infected the ring somehow, and thus was forced to go back to normal habits of sleeping and eating.

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH

Nightmares sometimes plagued the warrior on the darkest of nights, when the rain fell in endless sheets and the wind shook the windows in a haunting wail. The dark and shadowy figures occasionally took on the form of Qyburn, or the lost and forlorn spirits of Evaneth and Avalyra. Other times he dreams monstrous crocodiles are chasing him until he falls into the dark and terrifying waters of Ravenloft. Most often he woke in a cold sweat, imagining himself on the battlefield facing down the deformed head of Emrakul, its glowing eyes penetrating his mind.

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH

One night, the eyes remain hovered over his face even when he is certain he has woken from his dream. Something large begins to bite into his flesh.

ARGH! Tarkus shouts, tumbling off his bed and crashing to the ground. Pulling his greataxe from the shelf, he prepares to defend himself in his bedclothes when the mysterious creature steps into the moonlight and headbutts him in the knee.

Baaaaaaa.

The goat brays loudly as it chews on the torn bit of his shirt.

Hearing other guests begin to stir in their rooms does not deter Tarkus roar in the slightest. GOOOOAT! BOOTS ARE GONE. SHIRT NOT HOLY, THERE IS NO ARTIFACT LEFT FOR YOU TO EAT! He sets his axe down and closes the window to his room as the earliest traces of sunrise begin to peak through the sky. How you open my window anyway? Is this because I did not visit? The half-orc begins to dress and gather his belongings as Goat stares fixedly at him. Dont give me that look. Was too busy saving existence so you can keep braying, Goat.

Tarkus steps out of his room into the hall where the other patrons of the Golden Griffin rub their eyes and shake their heads in disbelief as the gray-haired goat trots behind him. Making his way toward the stables, he is stunned as Goat disappears into the stable only to return with three small goats standing behind him. He calls a man tending to Tarkus horse Coal over to look at the doppelgangers.

Whyhow are there four?!

The man shrugs. Ask Percival, es the un did the most tendin to em. Tracking down the same red-haired stable boy he spoke to when he first came to Alydar Tarkus asks Percy, you cast magic on Goat? Left him alone and now there are three goat with him! Percival laughs when Tarkus asks. No magicks ser. And him? You mean her! Your Goat was pregnant when ya left for th Emerald Bay tourney!

Standing wide eyed in shock, the young boy continues to laugh as he explains. Mum says my Pa was from Iron Hill too! She said the billies there lay with the elder goats in the high mountains then come down to have the babies. Goat probably thought you protect her while she had her babies and thats why she follows you!

Images of hundreds of goats swarming him, tearing even the plate metal of his armor apart, all simultaneously ramming into him, fill Tarkus mind with horror. Thinking quickly, he instructs Percy. You take one baby goat to your mother. Other two you are to send to Reeta & Barog. Turning to the original Goat he sighs. As for you, MISS GOAT grumbling he begins to regret his decision before it is even made.

You can stay with Tarkus.

For Tarkus there were many endings and beginnings in the few years that followed the fall of Emrakul and the completion of the quest. As Martok led the Orc Reformation Party and shepherded the many recruits Tarkus sent his way, Reeta continued to prove herself a resourceful tactician and cunning female. The destruction of her lightning enchanted shield was clearly no drain upon her energetic nature.

Tapping into the knowledge of the outworlders before they departed for Sigil, she helped construct for Barog a jointed arm made of a glistening dark metal. Though slow it seemed to respond to his movements in a way that mimicked his former arm, which pleased the brave orc so greatly he claimed Reeta for his wife shortly thereafter.

During the wedding ceremony Tarkus tried not to look upon Barogs metal limb too long, for it only reminded him of a fallen friend. Chosen as spirit guardian to their firstborn, he was given the honor of christening the child with his birth name. Holding the oddly calm baby, he would look into its inquisitive eyes and name the child Jakk.

Bidding the family farewell, Tarkus had a feeling Jakk would not be the last new life to be brought into the world. In his journey he had learnt that nature had a way of balancing death with promise of new life; that the half-orc had a feeling that Quintus legendary nights would catch up with him eventually.

Despite all they had been through, he had never quite become a god-fearing half-orc. And yet he would always hold a special place in his heart for the light and the teachings and courage of Sarm & Suvne. Though they would come to be legend respectively as god and avatar of justice, Tarkus fondly remembered the days he spent journeying with them as mortalsand as friends.

The warrior made a conscious effort to visit Ith and Cain and would honor the wisdom and news they brought of Muun. They were taken to praising the otherworldly archer, and as Muun was not one to speak often of himself, many stories were new to Tarkus ears. Through their musings and philosophies on life he maintained a healthy fear and hatred for things undead and demonic as well as the tyranny of evil men. These thoughts were often discussed on the many hunting trips he took with Muun as the ranger taught him the ways of tracking beasts and the teachings of Ehlonna.

To hear the half-orc tell it, Valgar mostly eluded Tarkus understanding in godhood as much as he had in life. In truth he would hear of the legendary rogues exploits in even the most foreign lands and smile, often wondering where fact ended and fiction began. Both still stricken with wandering souls, Tarkus would meet the enigmatic trickster only once more before the Fierno ascended his mortal coil. He would accompany Tarkus on his journey to the northern isles of Ammaruk, the wild lands where the half-orc was born.

Despite the warm gestures of Valerie, the consistent recruitment letters sent from Klaus rangers and the beckoning of Ivor and Bones, Tarkus did not spend much time in Alydar or Ruby Keep in the years following the quest. However, he returned to Emerald Bay to join in the festivities and even instruct students for three years in a row. Often he would run into Quintus on these visits and challenge him to see whose mentored student would place highest in the rankings of the tournament.

It was thanks to Quintus that he had been able to contact and track down his friends in the first place after they scattered to the ends of the realm and beyond. Thanks to an arcane ritual, they each held a connection to the other relic hunters through an item that channeled their will, carrying their voices across the lands and even the planes of existence. For Tarkus, he chose his link to be his body itself. Mystically enchanted onto his chest was the tattoo of a mighty tree. Though it boasts few leaves, its roots carry the runic names of his friends.

On the fourth anniversary of the end of their quest, Tarkus prepares to depart for his next adventure. Inside a room at the newly updated and very large Golden Griffin, he thinks back and is stunned by how quickly time has passed. Alydar has become an adventuring town and quite famous in its own right in his absence.

The stable hand Percival and his mother had started a goat farm with Tarkus gift, and with his help had reclaimed the old Tarley farmlands that had finally begun to heal after being razed by Vecnas cult. Reeta, Berog were doing well, training Jakk to be a warrior and ambassador. Having kept close ties to Martok , the hoped their son to become the leader of the small village they had founded full of Orc and Half-Orc refugees.

Though Goat had sadly passed in a harsh winter, her offspring were many on both Parcivals farm and in the Orc village. It filled Tarkus with pride to know they provided much milk and cheese for their owners and much amusement that they all had a curious taste for boots.

Tarkus slowly digs through the supplies he has packed to pull out a small linen bag holding a brass key. Unlocking the dusty and worn chest, he looks one by one at the items collected inside:

A ravens feather.
A well-worn walking stick.
A cracked and severely burnt pair of manacles.
A torn page from a childrens storybook showing an illustration of a famous general.
A bottle of wine dated a few years back and labeled Tarley Family Reserve.
A mug with a yellow griffin pictured on the side. The name Ivor is scratched underneath.
A propaganda flyer outlining the benefits of an undead Alydar. Never need to rest!
The rotten ivory tooth of a swamp crocodile.
An elaborate scroll of combat achievement stamped with the wax seal of Emerald Bay Academy.
A large green leaf that appears unbelievably still alive. When brought underneath light, writing appears on its surface that reads The Canopy Inn.
An annotated map of Sigil with the words Angels, Demons, watcher tower and ??? in Tarkus handwriting. The back is stained with half of a bloody hand print.
A handwritten note describing an exercise routine. It is written in neat handwriting and ends with I am honored to fight by your side, Sir Tarkus.
A leather bound journal belonging to one Declan Kain.
A book of psalms and prayers of the sun god Pelor.
A mossy clam shell with an E scratched into the surface.
A jeweled psionic belt stitched with elaborate and powerful craftsmanship.

Placing a sealed letter inside the chest, he closes the chest. Leaving it unlocked, he instructs the innkeeper to deliver it into the care of the Mayor. Doubting in his resolve to keep true to its message in voice, he Tarkus resigns what he means to say to the letter inside the chest, addressed Relic Hunters.

Tarkus Rook said:
To the naked eye, this chest contains only familiar items. But to me they represent treasured memories. Although where I go I will not be able to hold them, I will always remember what brought them into my possession. You all brought them to me. It is our fellowship and the sacrifices we made that I treasure above all else.
In my dreams, I feel a calling. Across the sea a pale moon rises to illuminate the ships that will take me into dawn. Though I know not what the future holds, I have decided to take passage to the islands in the north. There I hope to explore my homeland and seek the origins of my birth. But I know not if I will return.

But even unto death, I feel our connection shall never be severed. You are family. And it is the will of all of my being that your path shall be full of lightsure of aimsteeped in knowledgeand kept in brotherhood. Loktar, my brothers. My heart is filled with joy and honor from knowing you all.

Farewell

Mike M · Nov 4, 2013

Jackben said:

((Wow, that is an astoundingly well suited piece of art for not being an original work specific for the purpose. Kudos on that. Kudos on the whole thing, actually, I'm trying to stifle my urge to take cues from that and rewrite a completely different ending for Val for the third time...))

KittenMaster · Nov 4, 2013

((I knew I should've went back to that piece once I got better at using digital art tools.

I'm still working on my artwork for the epilogue. I'm a sort of perfectionist (except my stuff still ends up looking crappy.)

DeadPhoenix · Nov 6, 2013

((Ugh... Got an idea what I want to do, but can't even get myself started on it. Like every writing assignment I've ever had in school. This might take longer then I expected(which was already pretty long with me being unusually busy this last weekend).))

Jackben · Nov 6, 2013

((@KM I still think it's an awesome piece of artwork. @mike, I yanked it from the secret origins of the eldrazi MTG set. And don't worry about it too much deadpheonix we have a lot of time before next campaign))

KittenMaster · Nov 11, 2013

((Finally finished the picture (procrastinated too much, admittedly), hopefully I'll have something written tomorrow.))

((@KM I still think it's an awesome piece of artwork

((It got spoiled by not really knowing what I was doing and trying to do stuff that didn't work. I come from a pixel art background and was trying to do stuff that didn't work very well for digital painting.))

DeadPhoenix · Nov 12, 2013

"...And with that final blow, the threat of the Eldrazi was ended!" says the bard, as he finishes his tale.

((Inn/tavern music))

"But what happened to the heroes afterwards?" ask a young boy, sad to see the story is over so soon.

"After the final battle, they all went there separate ways and details are scares... but I've been able to discover a few interesting tales about them in my travels. Who would you like to hear about first?"

The young boy ponders for a moment the exclaims, "The wizard, Quintus!"

"Ah yes, the wizard." the bard takes a seat next to the fire place before continuing, "Well, after all the celebration, and grieving for those they lost, was finish, Quintus was finally able to settle his debts with the Bank of Ruby Keep, thanks in large part to his new found fame and the removal of the Cult of Vecna influence there. After that, information on him is hard to come by. We know that he helped create several items for our heroes, that would allow them to contact each other in times of great need and he spent some time at Emerald Bay Academy, helping mentor some students who barely ever saw him, though there competition with Tarkus' students proved they were able to learn much from him. Word is the first step in becoming one of his students was finding a way to contact him, wherever he was, which was apparently no small feat and was a kind of screening process."

And older man speaks up, "Come on lad, everyone knows that. Tell us something new!"

"Very well then, if I must. As I mentioned before, he was hard to contact most of the time and was rarely seen. Information on his whereabouts are generally hard to come by, but in the town of Ayldar I meet a strange woman who seemed to know a lot about him. After a bit of convincing, and a lot of drinks, she told me the story of Quintus." the bard lets that hang in the air as he takes a drink from his mug of ale, then continues "Despite the fact he could have retired after the defeat of the Eldrazi and lived a life of luxury, Quintus' curiosity and need for adventure was not sated, so he moved onto another plane of existence, known as Sigil. He had been there previously with the other heroes in there quest to regain the lost Rod of Pelor. However he feared their actions while there left the place in a state worse then when they came and he felt an obligation to try and help. The women however, claimed that was just an excuse to go gallivanting across the planes for his own entertainment, while his friends and family were left worried he would never return. At least until the day he found out about Valgar being offered a place among the gods."

"After that, he began searching for a way to ascend himself, following even the most outrageous rumors that might lead him down this path. Though rumor is he refused an offer another god, insisting he would succeed in this on his own. Then one day he said he was going to a world were there was said a stone that could make you into a god, if you could pass its trials. Despite his loved ones asking him not to go he left, promising to return soon, but that would be the last time anyone would see him. Most people believe he finally meet his end out there on some unknown plane of existence, but this women, she told me while holding back her tears, that he finally reached his goal and is merely waiting for the right time to reveal himself to us. But me? I think he's still out there continuing the journey, learning something new everyday and helping those in need. Even if he succeeded in become a higher being, he never liked the idea of the people with the power sitting on their thrones just watching as their worshipers suffered."

As soon as he finishes, the people listening almost instantly begin asking questions and arguing about what happened to the wizard. The answers, quite possibly, to never be known...

((Terrible song I decided to be Quintus' theme because I happen to be listening to it when I started writing(would require a change in some lyrics of course). WARNING: Linkin Park DOUBLE WARNING: Attack on Titan S1 theme TRIPLE WARNING: Yeah, this is actually a thing that happened.))

ThLunarian · Nov 12, 2013

Mike M · Nov 12, 2013

DeadPhoenix said:
((Terrible song I decided to be Quintus' theme because I happen to be listening to it when I started writing(would require a change in some lyrics of course). WARNING: Linkin Park DOUBLE WARNING: Attack on Titan S1 theme TRIPLE WARNING: Yeah, this is actually a thing that happened.))

((Oh my LOL, what the fucking fuck?! Suddenly I'm much less self conscious about dropping Swedish power metal as Val's ending credit theme music.))

DeadPhoenix · Nov 12, 2013

((I get a lot of links to ridiculous mash ups from a friend who also makes them. They kinda grow on you after a time... if the idea of combining things like Hanson and DMX is entertaining to you. Though I mostly linked it because I get weird when I sit in front of the computer trying to write for several hours(this is probably also the reason it kinda ends so suddenly(not to mention the grammar errors I'm sure to find if i look back at that)).))

Jackben · Nov 12, 2013

((Holy shit Phoenix, this is sick. Saving this as I'm a sucker for crazy mash-ups. Love listening to them. Have you heard this Fire Emblem remix? I considered using it at some point but never did. Also listening to the "Titan Park" mash-up it actually fits pretty well with Quintus' style. I'm imagining him ballin' out with magic, shooting fireballs and flying around 'n shit to each verse. Too awesome.))

KittenMaster · Nov 13, 2013

Sarm stands from his seat, despite his inferiority in power, deftly confronts Olidammara despite his offers of godhood, "You had allowed the other gods to sacrifice themselves so that you may hold the highest power! What are your intentions?"

The high god chuckles heartily, despite his knowing that Sarm most likely would have reacted this way, "I'm the god of tits and wine! A true Bacchus if you will. Hells, I've heard jokes that I'm the god of people that don't give a shit about the gods." He grins once more, amused by what he had just said about himself, "What would you have expected me to do in the battle?" He begins to make exaggerated stiff arm movements like he's marching and a puckered expression to add humor, "March in with a ridiciulously oversized double-headed battle-sword with a trumpet boy playing my theme song? Pssh! Of course not! You know me as the laughing rogue, (which being known as such is admittedly a liability in my ability to be such a thing), not the stoic fighter."

He then takes a breath and relaxes, but points up a finger to stop Sarm from responding, not finsihed speaking himself, "I will admit, an opportunity to become the highest god was a bit too tempting not to take. I do apologize for what had happened to your favorite one. To be honest I was expecting our little idea to have done more than the others would have. It was a plan several millenia in the making for.. what? Maybe six or seven seconds of explosion? Quite underwhelming if you ask me. Now that I think of it I have to thank you mortals again for finishing off the destruction of creation, because not only did it save us all, but it also put on much more of a good show than that young girl did (at least in battle, I haven't asked that effeminite ranger's thoughts on the matter)."

"Finally, my motivation for becoming highest god. Well, it's simple. Didn't want to compete with a Fierno. Simple as that! Oh, and perhaps your Flan people will start worshipping me again. That was a good time. With all of that said..-" his voice becomes more serious as he suggests, "It will be in your best interest to become a full god. You'll do a lot more as one than as a mere demigod. Have some time off and think over it, but don't be gone too long."

He snaps his fingers, and suddenly Sarm is in the world again.

"Lord Sarm!" a voice cries out, "Thank Pelor! I thought.." Sarm answers, "Me and Val were taken to another plane briefly." Looking about the battle field and the simmering calm that is coming over, he states, "I want to know if everybody is okay. I am a healer too, my duty is not done here." He approaches Luna before he busies himself with healing tasks, "There is something I must inform you later... It is about the future of the gods." Luna asks, "We're never going to see Pelor again, are we?", "No.. the sun has set today. When it rises it will be a different sun." As Sarm walks off to perform healing, Luna watches him with a bit of astonishment. Sarm was not clear in what he had meant, but she somehow knew that a serious change was about to happen.
Amireal approaches, bowing to Sarm.. Amireal and his church have always adored Sarm despite him being a lesser mortal. At times it seemed like they trusted in him more than Pelor. Perhaps it is coincidence or telling that Sarm would become a god eventually. Amireal and the angels could possibly be considered his first worshippers though he would prefer not to see them as such.. "Amireal. You have always shown much praise for me, even when I did not deserve it. I may be going to a new plane soon.. I ask of you, please continue to spread Pelor's light in Sigil. Even if he had died today, the light can still radiate from you."
Suvne catches up to Sarm, with a worried look, "My lord.. is something troubling you." Looking to the side, he says, "Yes. I may not be around anymore.. I will still live on through you. I am sorry I was never able to teach you everything I know about Pelor, but perhaps you have learned enough. Even so, I ask that you look up to Luna of the Seminary for guideance from now on. She is much wiser than I, and much more morally apt." Suvne shakes her head, "Sarm! Why are you.." He says, "I was asked to become the successor to Pelor. It is not a position I deserve, but it would be irresponsible not to do so." He turns and puts his hands on her shoulders, "Vecna had died today. Even the Lord of Hell had fallen.. but there will be more to take their place. I can already sense that somebody has a heart black enough to become the next Vecna. I must be there if that were ever to happen." Suvne's tears run down her cheek as he explains this, but she nods, "If that were to ever happen.. Please let me serve you. Let me lend my life to fight the next evil that arrives."

After he had said what he must to his friends and followers, he meets up with Val to oversee the man made of machinery and parts. Kneeling down, he explains, shaking his head, "It saddens me that even as a god I have no power to bring your friend back. As a god, I would have the power to turn him into a man to heal him, but that is pointless as long as he has no soul which to put in his body.. I am sorry."
Soon after that he visits the scene where Lucille had fallen, taking Luna with him. He asks, "Is this the girl chosen to be the vessel of the gods?" He then picks up the Rod of Pelor, rusted and burnt from the damage it had taken... and then tosses it aside. With Luna nearby, he says, "I always saw the Rod as a material possession that happened to have Pelor's power and was a prize for evil to take. I believe one should believe in Pelor himself. I am glad I no longer have to deal with the rod." He then holds out his hand over the girl. Luna asks, "Are you going to revive her?", "Yes. I am aware that we should not cheapen life by constantly ressurecting man, but many of the men today have chosen to end their lives in sacrifice. All but one of the gods have chosen to sacrifice themselves and fight. This girl... This girl did not make such a choice, the gods did for her and she was forced to comply. I am going to give her life back, so that her next death will be true and just." Luna smiles, "That is fine. We owe her much more than ressurection."

---

Muun and Ith walk away from the battle field, decidedly being on their own. In Ith's case, Sarm has attracted the attention from many. Ith says, "You did it, my friend. You finished off the monster.", "It was what Lucille asked me to do.. She was.." Ith fails to respond, feeling the heaviness in Muun's voice. Muun continues, "I'm alive, but those I care about.. I don't know what I'm going to do now.."

They continue to walk, returning to the wormwood to get away from the horrible battle field that haunts the senses. Ith finally says, "I suppose I don't have to look after you anymore. You've more than grown up, though I suspect you already know that.", "'Growing up' to me is simply how long one has went without dying.. I would have to kill myself at this point if I wanted to die." Muun suddenly steps forward swiftly ahead of Ith, spotting something in the distance. Suddenly Muun is running towards a calling of his name, and yells out in return, "Lucille!!" As if time had accellerated, immediately the two have grasped in embrace, so happy to see each other once more. "You're back! You're back..! It's over.. we did it. I won the battle, just like you asked me to." The girl equally shares the feeling, but isn't able to find words to describe how relieved she is after the shock of being dead for a time.

The night ends and a week of celebration begins, the city that has acted as the central point of the adventure is now crowded with visitors from all parts of the continent. Even many men from the Ruby Keep military have taken a great liking to the city. The several that have fought to keep creation from ending, The Heroes of Alydar, The Wormwood Initiatives, The Chosen Ones, whatever they are called, they have proven that they are worthy of the names given to them. One of the several, however, manages to avoid the public festivities and prepares for his own private celebration beginning in one of the dark but warmly colored rooms with easy lighting provided by the midday glimmer. Said hero tugs at the neck of his suit as he stares into a mirror, hoping that he's considered presentable. He vaguely recalls wearing something as fancy before.. maybe when he was dead.

Muun knows it is most likely a mistake to get married so soon.. but he was never able to think of any reason to say no or to hold off on the idea.. He wishes he could've asked Ith what to say back when he had his talk with Lucille back then. Regardless, this may be the only chance to find marriage and the only chance to do so while the others are still around. Finally, he steps out of the room and makes his way out to the home being used to hold the wedding.
The location is a manor being used by the town's priest until the temple can be rebuilt.. if it will ever be rebuilt. The ranging company keeps hired guards from approaching today, under the notion that the couple wishes the wedding invite only and the town is booming with joyous chaos today, but in reality it is to keep Lucille's presence in the city from being found out. The number of people that have come to see the wedding are very few in number, Ith being Muun's only real friend that he has there, and naturally the best man. Perhaps some of the party members are interested in coming. The only other notable person is Boris, who has done weddings quite often, and seems eager to get the ritual over with. As Muun approaches Ith pats him on the back, and Boris says, "Good, I hope the Princess is ready. I am only doing this because Miss Valero always makes me do things for you. We must make this swift." The priest is right to be concerned at least, he would be in a mess of a trouble if he were caught marrying the Princess of Ruby Keep to some strange boy.

Heads turn and the piano glistens a tune as the bride walks down the pathway to the house, as if pretending it were an aisle. For today, she returns to looking like royalty in the traditional white wedding dress, a soft smile on her face as she approaches. Muun stands ready, knowing this will be where his life will change. The couple now stands opposite each other, gazing into their faces while Boris speaks, "Technically.. you two won't be recorded as being married for our legal protection and because . I sincerely hope that it will be the thought that counts for the both of you." He then opens the book he has over the podium that is put there, reads aloud the introduction to describe the unity between the two lovers. After the finer details are said, he finally says, "Normally it is customary to ask if there is any reason these two should not be married, besides the King having my head for it," he then points to Ith with a flat palm, "but since you are the only one here, I suppose it is no issue for you." The two men both grin in humor at the exchange, and Ith says, "No, no objections."

Nodding, Boris asks, "Muun Reinhart, do you take Pri- I mean Lucille as your bride?"

The girl's eyes anticipate his answer. Nodding bravely, Muun answers, "Yes. I shall."

"And Princess, do you take this man to be your husband?" She grins and quickly says, "Yes."

"Well then. Consider yourselves married!"

The two then kiss to finalize the ceremony, sharing a brief moment of fondness. Ith takes an object covered with a drape and stands waiting to have Muun's time once more, and when he does he shows Muun what he had brought, while grinning excitedly, "I'm so happy to see you get married like this! To a beautiful girl none of the less. It's I am still dreaming." He pulls away the covering, explaining, "I heard that you lost your owl that you always had with you. Sarm told me what part of Primaria holds a beautiful replacement." When the thing is revealed, it turns out to be a cage keeping restrained a pristine white bird, with a small necklace given to it with a bead. "Maybe this will keep you two company on your travels. Also, Quintis has been giving everyone a gift which can be used to communicate with the others. It is the little necklace around its neck, so in a way as long as you're this bird's friend, we all can be at your aid." Muun opens the cage and allows the bird to sit on his hand, "Thank you Ith. You've done a lot for me ever since you came back.", "It's the least I can do for you. Young girl, please take care of Muun for me."

After that day, Muun and Lucille were not heard of being around any longer. The companions he traveled with know full well that the two are on adventures just as they planned, but for the public Muun was the least known of the several heroes of Alydar, and Lucille has been presumed missing or dead still. It'll likely never be widely known if Muun's marriage had succeeded, what kind of places they visited, or what kind of family he ended up having. All that can be sure, is that death no longer follows him in his wake.

((I am so glad that is over.))

Mike M · Nov 13, 2013

The card taunted the children in crisp penmanship.

You are good, but I am better.

I dont understand, Delilah repeated as she reread the seven words yet again, Rat miming her head motions from his perch on left Delilahs shoulder. Other Rat contented himself to chew on Delilahs unwashed hair. Where did this come from? the urchin asked.

Delilahs partner Lawrence sighed in exasperation, the heaving of his shoulders obscured by his almost comically oversized overcoat. Thats what Im trying to tell you, I dont know where it came from. I went to go count this afternoons take, but the purse was empty except for some rocks and that card! Someone pulled a switch on us!

The little street girls knees went weak, as she slumped down to the jewel-tone red bricks of the plaza beneath the immense marble sculpture of the Savior Lucille and her chosen heroes. Every day, the pair would take up post somewhere well trafficked, though never the same place twice if it could be helped. Delilah would perform sleight of hand tricks with the assistance her white rats, amusing passersby and enticing them to throw coins into her felt hat. Meanwhile, Lawrence would circulate amongst the meager crowd and cut free their coin purses with his small paring knife, thus providing the bulk of the profits for their endeavor. But if the fruit of Lawrences labors had been lifted

Delilah counted the coins in her hat. Theres barely enough here to even get a bag of nuts, she said in a crestfallen voice. Rat and Other Rat offered commiserate chittering, nuzzling her cheeks with their pink noses.

We could set up another routine, Lawrence said without conviction. He knew as well as Delilah that doing two performances at the same spot in the same day was to court trouble with the city guard. People were bound to notice that purses had gone missing each time the two panhandling children were in the area.

Bugger that, Delilah spat, scrambling back to her feet. We need to get our money back. We earned it! What right had they to take it?

Lawrence irony not being so lost on him as it apparently was on Delilahsaid, Much the same right we did, I suspect.

Well then, well just take it back! Delilah proclaimed loudly enough to draw curious glances from pedestrians and sightseers. She was oblivious to the attention she was drawing to herself drawing attention to herself was her part of the equation, after all. It was Lawrence who had need of stealth. Instead, she stared intently at the card. Her rodent accomplices peered at it as well, as though their added scrutiny might compel the universe to yield additional clues.

Its not as though we even make enough to be worth stealing, Lawrence said, kicking a stray stone with the toe of one of his shoes that were too small on his feet. What kind of asshole does a lift on children and leaves a note to rub their faces in it?

An asshole that goes to the library! Delilah beamed in triumph, once again drawing mildly perplexed looks from people catching only snippets of the conversation divorced from context. Look at this! she said, thrusting the card an inch before Lawrences nose.

Lawrence pulled his head back to see what Delilah was going on about. She was showing him the reverse of the card, which featured two columns of dates topped by a series of letters, numbers, and decimals. If the printed letters at the top were some sort of reference number, and the columns of dates were dates of check out and return Then yes, this would seem to be some sort card that would belong nestled in the front cover of a book at the Ruby Keep Library.

Lawrence squinted at the card and twisted his lip, dubious as to how much use such information would be. How does this help us get our money back? he asked.

I have no clue, Delilah said, already several paces away, marching with purpose toward the perimeter of the plaza and the streets beyond, but do you have any better ideas?

Lawrence did not. Wait for me! he called, running as fast as his gangly legs could carry him.

---

The Ruby Keep Library was not the largest library in the land. The Great Library of Ioun was more impressive by far, and the library at Emerald Bay Academy was engaged of something of a friendly rivalry to see who could come in a distant second for the containing and cataloging of the worlds collective knowledge. Still, it was the most immense building the two ragamuffins had ever gained entry tothe Keep itself frowned upon their type from daring to drop in, unless it was in manacles to await an audience with the judicator (and even then, they certainly would not be brought through the nice parts of the building). And while they did not know much about the worship of Heironeous, they had reason to suspect that if the patron god of the massive cathedral was in fact still keeping watch over Primeria as his remaining devoted followers claimed, he would not look kindly upon their extralegal profession.

The library, though, was indiscriminate in its admission of the subjects of the crown. It was nonjudgmental in nearly all regards, with perhaps the one stipulation that those seeking supplication in its halls of hallowed knowledge bring with them an appetite for learning. This being the case, the two dirty, disheveled street children did not warrant a first, let alone a second glance from library personnel as they crossed the foyer. This was due not only to the institutions egalitarian philosophy, but also to its rather inadequate budget that only allowed them to have a single librarian on duty, who was at that moment quietly dozing beneath his peaked cap at the front desk, rubber date stamp in hand and surrounded by teetering stacks of musty tomes.

Ahem. Lawrence cleared his throat in an attempt to gain the slumbering mans attention, but received no response. The librarians head was ensconced in a great white bush of beard and hair, countless wrinkles on what little skin of his face was visible magnified by the tremendous thickness of the glasses that were perilously close to slipping off the mans drooping nose. Lawrence could not be sure if he was simply too quiet, or if the librarian was of advanced enough years that he would not have been able to hear no matter what volume Lawrence coughed at.

Hey! Delilah bursted, slapping her palm down on the open book in front of the sleeping librarian. In any other environment, it would not have been a terribly notable sound, but in this still and silent place, the impact of flesh on paper resonated and echoed to fill the vast chamber.

Huh? Whuzzat? the librarian sputtered as he jerked to wakefulness, slamming the date stamp upon the back of Delilahs hand. The towers of books wavered threateningly, but ultimately they seemed to decide that they were rather satisfied where they were and did not come cascading down upon their heads.

Ow! Delilah mewled, as she jerked back her hand. Not so hard!

Im terribly sorry, madam, the librarian said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose, leaning over the edge of the counter to have a better look at his customers, Im afraid I-- Madam, is that a mouse upon your shoulder? he inquired, gazing intently at Rat who seemed to be enjoying the attention. Other Rat, meanwhile, had scampered down the back of her shirt.

No, she answered truthfully. Rat was a rat and not a mouse, after all.

Oh. Well then. Must be my imagination then, the old man said, as though it were a perfectly acceptable state of affairs to have figments of ones imagination manifest on a girls shoulder and scurry about.

Sir, we were wondering if you could help us with something, Lawrence said as he stepped forward and slid the library card across the counter.

The old man picked it up and examined it. Why, it appears to be a library card, he murmured with awe. Turning it over, he read the reverse and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. You are better than me at what?

That part wasnt for you, Lawrence explained.

A look of relief spread over the aged librarians face. Well, thats good to hear, he said. For what seemed like a long time, the librarian was content to just sit there and smile at the two children for joy of not having his talents questioned by challengers.

Um, Delilah ventured at last, we were wondering if you could tell us where the card came from.

Well, the man said as he leaned over so that his nose was nearly touching the surface of the card, I would venture to guess that it came from a book.

Lawrence nodded with impatience. Yes, yes, we knew that part. But where might we find the book?

Probably in the library, the man answered with all seriousness.

Delilah and Lawrence took a moment to huddle amongst themselves (Rat and Other Rat were there too, but were silent partners to the conspiracy) regarding what to do next. The librarian seemed to be less a keeper of books and more the result of someone mixing up his asylum commitment papers with employment applications for the municipal government (some would argue that this came as little surprise, as there is scant distance between the two fates). When they at last broke apart with a plan on how to proceed, the librarian had drifted back into slumber, muttering something lyrical about flying twice as high as butterflies in the sky as he slept.

---

Through a process of trial and error, Lawrence and Delilah were able to determine that the letters and numbers at the top of the card correlated with the shelving system employed by the library. At one point they had momentarily entertained the notion of going back to the front desk to ask the addled librarian if perhaps he had a map of some sort, but both decided that they would rather not reengage him if it was at all possible. At length, they concluded that the card belonged to a book that would be found in the art history section, which is where they found themselves as the rays of the setting sun passing through the great stained glass windows painted the interior of the library with a kaleidoscope of colors.

I still dont know what good finding this book will accomplish, Lawrence complained as he examined the shelves for labels that matched that of the card.

I dont know either, confessed Delilah. But its the only thing we have to go on. Maybe the books have a list of names of people who have checked them out? Or maybe theres another note? We wont know until we find it.

Then I guess its a good thing I just found it, Lawrence said, a smug smirk upon his face. The bookcase was in a secluded alcove of the library, the wooden shelves affixed to a wall of heavy, gray stone. There, three shelves up and tantalizing out of reach, was a book bearing the same coded letters and numbers as their card. Great Art Forgeries and Frauds of History, by Falor Vien, Lawrence read the title printed on the spine aloud.

Well dont just stand there, pull it down! Delilah commanded, her fists balled up on her hips. Lawrence complied, scrabbling up the bookshelf like a makeshift stepladder, struggling to find purchase on the narrow spaces between the books and the edge of the shelf.

Almost got it, he grunted as he strained to reach the volume in question. Almost got it there! Managing to loop three fingers over the top of the spine, he pulled with all his might. The book came away easily at first, but abruptly stuck fast at an angle, a loud mechanical click emanating from somewhere behind the wall.

Delilah looked terrified. Lawrence! she gasped, What did you do?

I dont know! answered an equally terrified Lawrence as the bookshelf began to turn on its vertical axis. Lawrence clung desperately to it as it carried him along for the ride. I dont know! he repeated.

Lawrence and the bookshelf rotated into the yawning darkness beyond the wall. Delilah heard the soft thump of her friend losing his grip and falling to the floor on the other side. The bookshelf had almost completely returned to its starting position before she managed to overcome her fear-induced paralysis and dart through the narrowing gap after Lawrence, Rat and Other Rat scrabbling to find purchase on her clothes. Behind Delilah, the wall stopped moving, its stones grinding flush against its neighbors as it snuffed out the last traces of light.

Delilah? came Lawrences wavering voice in the dark.

Im here, Delilah answered.

But wheres here? Before Delilah could reply, an odd hum welled up from somewhere down below them. The sound chased a series of glowing orbs that seemed to be spiraling up toward them out of the darkness, blinding them with their brilliance. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they found themselves at the top of a spiral stairway, lit by radiant filaments encased in glass bulbs strung by some sort of cord or cable along the wall.

Lawrence made to reach out for one of the unusual lights. Ouch! he yelped as he withdrew his singed fingers to place them in his mouth. Gods damn those things are hot!

Delilah looked back the way they had come, but there was nothing but a featureless wall of heavy gray stone with no perceptible way of opening it once again. With little option but to forge on ahead, Delilah marched past Lawrence, who was still sucking on his fingers. Delilah! he called after her, Where are you going?

Out of here, she replied. I hope. Lawrence paused just long enough to draw his paring knife not of much use if they were to encounter anything more threatening than an apple that needed peeling, but it was all they hadbefore following.

---

At the bottom of the stairway, there was nothing but a simple door. Nothing but a slab of wood and a handle, not even a lock to secure it. Delilah and Lawrence were not exactly sure what they were expecting, but both of them agreed that a plain, unadorned door was definitely not it. After some deliberation and a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors (the first two rounds were practice, they both agreed), Lawrence dared to open the mysterious subterranean door and discover what lay beyond it.

On the other side off the door way turned out to be a surprisingly spacious room, with vaulted ceilings and comfortable looking furniture arrayed around a roaring fireplace. There were other arched doorways leading to further rooms, which by turn seemed to hold beds for sleeping, some sort of workshop scattered with unrecognizable gadgets and gizmos, and one peculiar space that appeared to be something of a trophy room.

Various paintings and sculptures lined the periphery, and at the center of the far wall was a rapier mounted above a set of studded leather armor that had been dyed a vivid shade of emerald green. On a pedestal to one side was a disembodied mannequins head wearing a pair of spectacles. A wrecked statue of a metal man made of interlocking plates stood propped up on a plinth nearby, something seeming to have punched a great hole through the chest and out the other side with tremendous force.

Curiosity overwhelming caution, the children took in their surroundings. Delilah ventured to touch the fearsome-looking statue and was surprised that it was not at all cold as she had expected. This statue, she said to alert Lawrence, its warm.

Thatd be because hes not a statue, announced a womans voice behind them. Both spun in a panic to find the exit from the room blocked by a woman with short-cropped brown hair and slightly pointed ears bespeaking some degree of elven heritage. She was dressed in grease-stained coveralls, a pair of goggles with pitch-black lenses dangling around her neck. His name is Jack, and hes Idunno, in some sort of stasis or something. He has internal repair systems that should be able to handle the damage, but his power cells have burnt out. I just need to come up with something to boot him up long enough for him to fix himself up. Im doing some stuff with lithium, really promising avenue of research. Tends to blow up, though. Im working on it.

The womans gaze moved from one child to the other, her friendly face warm and welcome. Lawrence and Delilah had been around long enough to know better than to accept such appearances at first blush, however. Im sorry, who are you exactly? Lawrence eventually asked.

The half-elven woman struck her forehead with the heel of her palm. Manners, Kyrie, she muttered to herself. Pulling a rag from her back pocket to wipe her hands off, she extended a hand of welcome. Im Valkyrie, but you can call my Kyrie, she explained as she ushered the children back into the main room. Not around the old man though. Hes a stickler for tradition and doesnt like it if you drop the first syllable. Defeats the entire purpose of the name, yadda yadda yadda. Im sure youll get the whole dog and pony show from him.

Delilah was more confused than ever before. Whos the old man? she asked in bewilderment.

I am. The librarian stood at the door leading from the stairway, back straight and upright, eyes clear and alert, hands folded across the top of a heavy wooden cane. Though I would request that you not refer to me as such, he continued, removing his false beard and setting it to one side, it is undignified.

With the removal of the beard, the librarian did not look to be quite as old as he had initially appeared (though still of advanced years), carrying himself as someone with greater mental faculties than he had previously displayed. His eyes, which had seemed so unfocused and lost before, were now piercing as he looked Delilah and Lawrence up and down before nodding to himself. Please, he said, gesturing to the furniture around the fire, have a seat.

With the creaking sigh of the elderly, the old man sat in a scarlet armchair while the two children sat in a matching loveseat opposite of him, an ebony table dividing the space between them. Valkyrie, dear, he beckoned, would you be so kind as to fetch our guests some dinner? I expect they must be famished after all the energy they expended finding our humble home tonight.

The mere mention of dinner set Lawrence and Delilahs mouths to watering as Valkyrie left the room with a comforting pat on each of their heads. While they fantasized about what sort of food might be in the offing, the old man withdrew a purse of coins. He jingled it next to his ear as though to confirm its contents, and tossed it onto the middle of the table. I believe this is what you have come all this way for, he said with a knowing smile.

Lawrence nodded eagerly and made to snatch the purse of purloined coins, but stopped short of claiming it as the old mans heavy cane slammed down just beyond the tips of the boys fingers. Now, the old man said by way of explanation, if you wish it, you may have what was taken from you. Or you can listen to what I have to offer you, which I promise is far greater than an afternoons worth of cut purses in the plaza.

Lawrence made no further motion to collect the purse, instead leaning back into the loveseat. Delilah remained stock still, eyes transfixed on the deceptive librarian, awaiting in equal measure certain death or unfathomable reward. Who are you? she asked with a daring she did not entirely feel.

The librarians smile broadened as he leaned back in his comfortable chair. My name is Val Fierno. Well, Valgar amongst family. It cuts down on the confusion.

Lawrence tried to stifle his laughter but failed, hiding his snickering up his sleeve. Delilahs reaction was not much different, a sad smile of disbelief on her face as though Valgar had just confirmed that he was in fact every bit as senile as he had seemed upstairs. What? asked the elderly man. Whats so funny?

There is no Val Fierno, Lawrence said in a laughing voice. Thats the sort of codswallop they feed kids like Saint Cuthbert bringing gifts on the winter solstice.

Interesting hypothesis, Valgar said evenly with a single nod of his head. Please expound upon it.

Lawrence looked unsure of what was just asked of him. What?

Elucidate me as to the particulars of your theory on how there is no such person as Val Fierno.

Lawrence looked in askance to Delilah who could only shrug. Valgar sighed and leaned forward, his voice dropping its airs of cultured refinement. Explain to me why you think that, kid.

Oh, Lawrence said, blinking in mild surprise. Well Val Fierno is like a myth. They say he stole Savior Lucille back when she was just the princessuntil she was rescued by the Legendary Heroes. But he was also supposed to be the head of a band of thieves in some fort in the woods, and at the same time hessometimes she-- been running around for hundreds of years. Youre old, but well come on. Youre pulling our legs, right?

Valgar pinioned the questioning lad with a squinting glare.

Right? Lawrence asked of Delilah.

Valkryie returned, placing two bowls of stew before the children and a kettle of tea before Valgar. There you go, Dad, she said warmly as she poured him a cup.

Delilah and Lawrence looked bewildered. What? asked Valgar. Shes older than she looks you know, her mother is an elf after all. And her aunt knew about it before I did. That was an awkward visit, let me tell you Valgars voice drifted off as he momentarily became lost in thought. Never mind that now, he said waving his hand before him as though to bat away memories. To brass tacks. To you, Val Fierno is a mythical figure because he or she cannot possibly contain the multitude of opposing truths at the same time. But this is only because you do not know how the trick is done.

Valgar gestured to Delilah as he continued, Its like you and your disappearing and reappearing rat tricks. To the audience, it seems impossible. But thats only because they dont know you have three of the little buggers crawling up your shirt.

Delilah shook her head as Rat and Other Rat crawled out to take their perches on her shoulders, as though they somehow knew that there was no point in remaining hidden any longer. No, weve only got two.

Valgar looked genuinely surprised. That is impressive, he admitted. But what Im offering you tonight is more so. I will let you in the greatest trick Ruby Keep has ever known.

I will give you a legacy.

Mike M · Nov 13, 2013

Lawrence and Delilah took a fair bit of convincing, which was to be expected. They were cautious and untrusting of anyone but themselves, as children in their position are wont to be. Young vagrants who were not were a rarity, on account that they seldom lasted very long in life, living amongst the wolves. But after an evening of warm food and full answers to their pointed interrogations, they at long last came to believe the veracity of Valgars words. Valgars daughter led the prospective heritors of the name to empty quarters where they could sleep on his offer, while Valgar stood quietly in his gallery of trophies. He donned the glasses that Quintus had enchanted before embarking on his mad quest to find himself the equal of the offer that had been made to Valgar and Sarm. Hello? Anyone out there? he broadcast.

There was no answer. There hadnt been for years.

He ran a gnarled hand over the concaved ruin of Jacks chest, mindful not to cut himself on the jagged protrusions of metal, lost once more in his memories. Faithful, loyal Jack. The machine who dreamed of being a man, all the while never realizing that he was already more man than the overwhelming majority of specimens that Valgar had encountered in his many years. How many years had it been since Jack had sacrificed himself for Valgars sake, for the sake of the world? He never thought it possible to long for Jacks incessant yammering, his curious mix of keen perception and woeful obliviousness. But now he wanted nothing more than to talk to his old friend once more.

Valkyries return to Valgars side jostled him out of his reverie, returning him to the present moment. I want to show you what Ive been working on, she said as she brandished a length of brass tubing. Its an automated lock pick. You just put this end here over the lock, press the button on this end, and

A cloud of combusting propellant shot out the end of the tube with a pop, bringing along with it a host of tangled wire and lengths of metal slivers that dangled impotent and useless from the end of the casing. The unflappable Valkyrie shrugged as she placed it down on the nearest surface. Tends to blow up, though, she said. Im working on it.

Valgar eyed the failed experiment with vague suspicion, as though it might get a second wind and explode again. Valkyrie, he said, I feel like I owe you an apology.

Well, it would have been nice to let me know you were doing the recruitment this evening so I could have tidied up and made myself presentable, she agreed.

No, not that, Valgar said, shaking his head. I feel I should apologize for roping your into this life. You didnt come to the Val Fierno name through the regular channels, you werent poor and destitute with no hope of a better future except through the recognition of innate talent for deception and guile. He gestured to the scorched brass tube and the glowing lights that illuminated their home. You could have been so much more than me, my daughter. And you should know how much that means given how highly I consider myself, he grinned.

Valkyrie cocked her head to the side with a smile. I can hardly be said to have been roped into this, Dad. As I recall, I was the one who came to seek you out. I spent my entire childhood having my head crammed full of stories by Mom and Aunt Valerie of everything you did, how could I not want to be a part of that? To be part of the legend, even if only as a footnote? How could I have ever been more than what you are? If anything, Im surprised you were satisfied to return to this life after all that you went through.

At the mention of Valkyries childhood, Valgar winced slightly. I wish I could have been there more for you when you were growing up. Your mother and I Neither of us were the marrying type, you see. Plus she was a cleric, and at the time Id had more than enough experience with divine antics to last a hundred lifetimes. Gods, I wouldnt want her to see me like this anyway. Shes probably still every bit as beautiful as the night when she first tried to get me drunk.

Valkyrie wore a serious expression. You, she said, tapping Valgars chest for emphasis, need to stop apologizing. Right now. I have absolutely no regrets about my life and no time to deal with a geriatric with a sudden case of unfounded remorse. Savvy?

Valgar smiled softly. Do you think theyll accept?

Who, the kids? Valkyrie asked. Of course they will. Theyre smart, theyre talented, and theyve got you to learn from. Theyll be great at this.

No, Valgar corrected, shaking his head, theyve got you to learn from.

Valkyrie blinked in surprise, as though she might bat away her fathers words with her eyelashes. Me? she squealed. Dad, I cant do that, youre

--a very old man who has outlived almost everyone he knows by considerable years, Valgar finished. Im tired, my dear. I miss your aunt Valerie and your uncles. Well, the human ones at any rate. Stanley and I were never especially close, but Im sure he was a nice enough pachyderm.

Valkyrie stared at the floor, her eyes rimmed with tears that threatened to carve tracks through the engine grease on her face. Dad, Im not ready.

Valgar placed his hands on his daughters shoulders. And I wasnt ready when you came knocking on my secret door, demanding that I take you under my wing. No ones ever ready for this sort of thing, love. But you have known that this day was coming. You are every bit as talented and capable as anyone else to be worthy of the name, and I have confidence enough in you for the both of us. Now be a dear and help this old man to bed.

Ever the dutiful if somewhat scattered daughter, Valkyrie led her aged father to his bedchambers. She dimmed the artificial lights with a turn knob that showered sparks as she rotated it, pinpoints of light in the growing dark like the stars of an astral sea. Im working on it, she said quietly as she shut the door behind her.

Alone in the quiet darkness, Valgars fingers felt along the wall until they found the false brick they were seeking. Depressing it released a hidden latch that allowed its neighboring brick to swing freely outward, filling the darkened room with a soft, golden glow. From his hidden vault, Valgar reverently removed an hourglass, the upper bulb filled with radiant sand that illuminated the room with its light. For several moments, he sat on the edge of his bed and contemplated his most secret and precious of treasures. No ones ever ready for this sort of thing, he repeated to himself quietly.

With the grin of a man returning home after countless years abroad, Valgar inverted the hourglass in his hand and vanished into eternity.

Jackben · Nov 13, 2013

((Bravo, you guys. What a great end. I wish I was artistically talented like that KM. I really like the colors, texture and shading of the picture. And Mike when is your book series coming out already?))

Mike M · Nov 13, 2013

((I'm actually balls deep into writing my first book for NaNoWriMo (completely unrelated to anything), should probably pass to 50K mark tomorrow, but it's looking like it's gonna be something like 75K total.

It's... Not great...))

ThLunarian · Nov 13, 2013

Credits Music

I never thought this was going to last.

When I made the original post in the Pen-and-Paper RPGs thread , I didn't expect to actually find any interested people, and I assumed that even if I did, the whole thing might last a month before people lost interest and just stopped showing up.

Clearly, I was very wrong. This turned into a year and a half long, full-fledged Dungeons and Dragons campaign, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. I am more proud of that fact, and of the campaign itself, than any other creative endeavor I've ever attempted. If I never top it for the rest of my life, I would be okay with that.

Don't mistake that as self-aggrandizement, though. I am well aware that most of the credit for the success of this campaign goes to everyone who was not me. After all, a story is nothing without its characters, and you guys delivered on those beyond my wildest imagination.

It seems a little silly to say now, but I originally didn't think about just how much this game was an exercise in creative writing. I knew I wanted a heavy roleplaying emphasis, but somehow that didn't really translate in my head to essentially writing a novel's worth of description, dialogue, and flavor text.

I figured it out pretty quickly, though, because you guys seemed to know from the start, and it wasn't long before I realized that I wasn't anywhere near the best writer in the room. You guys are amazing and have a talent that I may never match toe-to-toe.

I tried, though, and I think I did a pretty good job. I believe that when you're writing a character, or acting as one (and gaming like this is a little bit of both), you're taking a piece of yourself and inflating it for the world to see. I tried to do that with every single character I wrote, and as a result, I put A LOT of myself into this campaign. I guess that's why it's been so important to me, and why I spent as much time as I did on it. I think you all did the same, and for that I am grateful.

I didn't set out for there to be any particular theme to the story when I started this. It grew organically, partially from the plot and partially from the characters and their backgrounds. This story was about freedom and slavery, oppression and self-determination. It explored many of the ways that people can subjugate and be subjugated; this was seen over and over again, with the undead victims of Clementine, the exploitation of orcs by Vecna's cult (taken to even more extreme levels in the future), the vampires using humans as slaves in Ravenloft, and the demons torturing people for pleasure in their den in Sigil. Vecna manipulated the party to his own ends throughout the story. And, of course, the Eldrazi, who sought to take away everyone's very right to exist, but not before stealing your own past and experiences - what made your characters who they were - from you.

It was about, in DnD terms, the Law-Chaos axis of alignment, and how if you go too far in either direction, you leave yourself open to becoming either an oppressor, or oppressed yourself.

Every main character except for one was a part of this system. Tarkus used to be a slave. Quintus had servants waiting on him hand and foot as he grew up. Val took advantage of and exploited the victims of the Fiernos. Evaneth was essentially enslaved to his god (this would have been further explored if he'd stuck around, but the idea that the party was being forced to exercise the will of the gods against their will was pervasive throughout the story). Ivor's paranoia would have eventually been revealed as a symptom of some oppression he'd faced in the past. Bones abandoned his father when his father demanded that he follow in his footsteps as a soldier of the Ruby Keep army. Avalyra's former life as a necromancer saw her dominating and commanding armies of undead.

The only character that seemed to be completely immune to this system and stood above it all was Sarm. KittenMaster mentioned earlier that he saw Sarm as a kind of Mary-Sue type character who could do no wrong and who everybody liked, but I respectfully disagree with that interpretation. Sarm had his flaws - he was naive, an idealist, and at times indecisive. But he had never been a slave or a master, and not once was he even tempted to do so - nor should he have been. I saw it as only natural that he would be the one to transcend above it all and, ultimately, save the day.

I've probably already gone on too long analyzing the plot of my own story so I'll stop now.

I tried to plan for as many outcomes as possible whenever you guys had the freedom to make a number of different choices, but occasionally you guys threw me a curveball that I hadn't anticipated, and the results were almost always pretty cool. Here are a few of those moments, off the top of my head:

-When I had Clementine attack Val with the Hand, I set up the DCs so that it would be nearly impossible for him to make both saves. My plan was to force Val to be undead for a good chunk of the story - at least until you guys got the Rod of Pelor -, and have to adapt. When he actually made both saves, I was incredibly surprised, and slightly disappointed. Fortunately, I was able to realize this concept when Qyburn stole the Hand and used it on Quintus.

-I had originally planned for you guys to have to jump through a lot more hoops in order to get access to the Rod of Pelor. I was going to either force you to steal it from the Seminary, or if not, then make you have to bring the people from the city to the Seminary. At the last second, though, I had a change of heart and decided to make Luna just give it to you. I'm not sure why I did that, but I think it turned out pretty well.

-I mentioned this in the thread, but the very random teleport-redirect that resulted in Ith taking the Rod from you had very bizarre timing because I hadn't counted on Quintus casting Teleport before you were ready to leave. When he did, I was left with the choice of just ignoring the weird presence that Quintus had been feeling when casting teleport previous to that, or just going through with my plan of that happening on the next Teleport, and I went with the latter. Even though it was weird, I think this also turned out well - especially since it meant that Quintus could meaningfully be turned into a zombie without Sarm just curing him immediately.

-In Sigil, when I gave you guys the street corner where you had to get the Lady of Pain to pass through, somehow I hadn't counted on you actually going there to check it out. When you did, I was like "Oh crap, I actually have to think of a reason for this now". The thing with Flarg and his underground slave trade was completely off-the-cuff and I hadn't planned for it at all.

-In Ravenloft, you all were not supposed to be able to save the humans. If you hadn't done what the lead vampire guy had asked, the city was eventually going to be overrun by Devils who weren't affected by sunlight, and it would have been a scramble to get to the Rod during the invasion. KM's idea to have Sarm sacrifice his place in the party in order to save everyone worked WAY better, though.

-Also in Ravenloft, I was originally going to have you guys go to Vecna's castle and meet him in person in order to get back to Primaria. When Tarkus declared that he would absolutely never set foot in Vecna's headquarters, I realized I needed a new plan, and just had him come to you through Quintus instead.

-And finally, when Val broke the emergency glass during the fight with Rand and made the anti-magic field. This was probably my favorite spontaneous moment in the entire campaign, and the reason why is that even though it was completely unforeseen on my part and I had to improvise that fight, everything about the outcome had been foreshadowed previously. The idea that bags of holding tend to shoot out all their contents at high velocities when placed in an anti-magic field had been established during one of Quintus's arena battles, and the fact that the relics still work even in an anti-magic field had been established when Stanley put the collar around Quintus in the Watchers' Tower. Rand had also been established as insane, and already having sort of a split personality, so the Fangs would be a natural fit for him. Just stellar stuff all around.

Some things that I wish I'd handled better:

-I wish I'd been able to incorporate more of Tarkus's backstory into the plot. Yeah, his past as a slave was mentioned more than once, but there was a lot more to it that I just was not able to fit in. I'm sorry about that, Jackben, but fortunately your strong RPing more than made up for it.

-I wish I had arranged it so that Val's unavoidable death had had more time to sink in before he got revived. The immediate resurrection blunted almost all of his sacrifice's impact, and I fault myself for not planning it out a little better. Zynx's unforeseen disappearance threw a wrench into things (she was supposed to be the one to think of using her resurrection power on Val; the fact that I had to do it for her made it kind of cheap, IMO), but still... sorry about that.

I guess that's about it. I'm sure there are plenty of small things that I might change in hindsight, but overall I feel pretty good about how the story went, and how I adapted to things when necessary.

Hopefully I haven't bloviated on for too long and lost your interest. I just wanted to give you all a little bit of my own perspective on this game. I also want to deeply thank each and every one of you - Mike M, Jackben, KittenMaster, DeadPhoenix, jon bones, Songbird, Ganhyun, and Zynx - for contributing to this story and making it awesome. It was a pleasure to play with you all, and I'm looking forward to the next campaign.

Sincerely,
-(redacted)

ThLunarian · Nov 13, 2013

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0usroRVvfpg

Rubio Fiddlebottom was not having a good day.

Oh, it had started out well enough. He'd woken up in paradise, as had been the norm for some time now. Comfortably nestled betwixt the ample bosoms of Misty and Penelope, on a hammock overlooking an otherwise-deserted beach, with crystal-blue waters lapping steadily onto the shore, he again thought to himself how life couldn't get much better.

It could, unfortunately, get a great deal worse.

He'd squirmed his way out of the hammock and made his way to his modest, yet comfortable, beach house. His intention had been to make breakfast for the ladies and have a nice meal before another romp in the sack.

All that had come crashing to an end when, the next thing he'd known, he was waking up in complete darkness with a nasty knot on the top of his head.

He was also unable to find purchase with his feet, and it only took him a moment before he realized he was blindfolded, with his hands bound, and being carried in a sack.

"HEY!" he'd cried out, his voice hoarse and his mouth dry. He must have been out for quite some time. "SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"Scream all you want," a sinister female voice had replied immediately. "I'm the only one who can hear you, and the more ruckus you stir up, the more pleasure I'll take in punishing you for it later."

Rubio was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how best to handle this. "What is it you want?" he'd said, trying to sound as calm as possible, and failing at that. "I have money."

His captor had chuckled in a manner that Rubio had not liked at all. "Not for much longer, I'm afraid, if you don't cooperate. We are well aware of your considerable fortunes, Mister Fiddlebottom."

He'd chosen to remain silent after that.

If only he had followed through on his plans to hire a round-the-clock security detail after his run-in with the "Heroes of Alydar"! He'd assumed that it would only be a matter of time before they realized he had made up the whole thing about him being a pawn of those Vecna cultists, and that he had indeed swindled Quintus out of ten million gold. Fleeing town and hiding out on his own private island had been enough to keep them out of his hair for a while, but he'd always told himself that eventually, he'd have to get around to finding some capable mercenaries to look after him.

Too late, now.

He had no way to actually measure how long it took, but he figured it must have been a few hours more of travel before he was abruptly and unceremoniously dumped out of the sack and onto a hard, wooden chair. His captor severed the bindings around his wrists; by the time he had gotten the blindfold off, she was gone.

Now, here he sat, barely able to see over the table due to his short stature.

He looked around the room, trying his best to keep an analytical mindset and rely on his above-average attention to detail. Around the table with him sat a number of figures. To his immediate right, there was a kobold, with light golden fur all over his body and deranged eyes (deranged, even for a kobold). He kept muttering quietly to himself the same syllable, over and over: "Pun pun... pun pun.... pun pun...."

Beside the kobold was a very dirty, very smelly human, wearing rags, along with a collar that Rubio recognized as a magic-suppression device. He also had crazy-eyes, but they weren't so much malicious and vengeful, as they were just plain.... well, crazy.

To Rubio's left was another human male, but this one was probably young (Rubio had never been good at figuring out how old humans were by sight, given their extremely short life spans). He wore clothes befitting the merchant class, but his eyes were completely vacant, and there was a steady line of drool running down from his mouth.

Next to that one was a woman with a face that looked very familiar to Rubio. This woman was also a human, but she wore a frightening dark purple dress, adorned with bones and skulls. Her hair was reddish and long, but very carefully styled. Unlike the others, she seemed very much aware of herself and her surroundings, but there was still an uncomfortable aura of menace coming from her. There was something of a collar around her neck, as well; though it was far more fashionable than the one around the dirty man's, Rubio could tell that it was fastened very securely, and probably locked in place.

Off to the side of the table, on the floor, Rubio spotted a pile of metal parts. Standing on his chair to get a better view, he realized that he recognized it; it seemed to be the wrecked remains of the strange metallic man that had taken up arms with the "Heroes of Alydar" back in Southport.

He looked around for a few more minutes before finally gathering the courage to speak up. "Alright, what is this?" he demanded. "Have you all brought me here, or have you been brought here yourselves?"

The woman in the scary dress locked eyes with him. "Patience, gnome," she said shortly, and suddenly he recognized her from the voice. "You're in no position to--"

Suddenly the woman grabbed her head and made a face as though she were straining to resist something. She doubled over and began to shout. "Ahhhh...! No! Not..."

Before Rubio's eyes, the woman transformed. She got shorter and her dress somehow morphed into an outfit befitting a mercenary, and her features became those of an Elan. The collar didn't go away, though.

Now, he definitely recognized her.

"Rubio!" Avalyra shouted desperately, between heaving breaths. "You have to get out of here! Find... find Quintus! Tell him to..."

The wooden door flew open, and an armor-clad knight marched in. The armor was completely black, and a helmet covered his head. He made a beeline for Avalyra, who seemed to be trying to use those psionic powers of hers, and was failing at it. The collar... Rubio thought to himself, turning pale.

The knight used a gauntleted hand to smack Avalyra into unconsciousness, and he dragged her out of the room and shut the door.

Only a few more minutes passed before the door opened again. A large figure, wearing a hooded, purple cloak, glided into the room. "My apologies for that unfortunate display you just had to witness," he said elegantly. "I'm afraid our dear Avalyra has a bit of a split personality. An unfortunate side effect of.... well, that's a tale better left for another day.

"I want to thank you all for joining me, in this modest headquarters. You should be aware that I went to great lengths to ensure that you'd be able to make it here today, and I trust that your cooperation will be rather forthcoming after you hear what I have to say.

"Each of you are familiar with the Heroes of Alydar, I wager. Lately, some have taken to calling them the 'Legendary Heroes', but I think that's quite an exaggeration. They were simply in the right place at the right time.

"But I digress. Not only are you familiar with these men; you all have quite the bone to pick with them. Whether they betrayed you, threatened you, or murdered your family, you all want to see at least one of them hang. I want to give you that opportunity."

The figure pulled back his hood, and Rubio gasped. He'd recognize that face anywhere, no matter how much weight it put on.

Sarm Santee smiled.

Mike M · Nov 13, 2013

Evil Sarm putting together a revenge squad that has Rubio and a kobold on it is hilarious to me, even if the other members would probably be a threat. Nice work.

Alright, if were doing postmortems now

So as you might recall, I missed the initial start of the game, but PMd my interest to ThLunarian anyway indicating my interest, and managed to hop in relatively early in the whole campaign. For quite some time, I had been burning with a desire to have some sort of vent for creative output, and this seemed to provide it. At first I kind of ran roughshod over everyone and spent entirely too much time chewing up the scenery and moving things faster than other players could handle, but a PM lashing by ThLunarian put a stop to that and I think I found equilibrium at least in the rate of posting if perhaps not the length of my posts (witness my epilogue needing to be split into two separate posts).

Ive always felt that Id been at least an OK writer, but I never really did much. Participating in this kept a flow in the pipes as it was, and this past year Ive hopped on board the Creative Writing Challenge GAF crew and only missed out on a single entry (Because I was too busy editing that 10.5K word Val side story I wrote). I still think Im not much more than OK, and lord knows that my contributions to this escapade could have used some time at the editors desk (Fun game, count how many times I said that Valentino sneered during his final fate!), but this has definitely kindled something in my heart, as demonstrated by my previous mention of how Im about to close out the NaNoWriMo goal in half the allotted time.

Val was an interesting character for me, and Im not sorry I made him and got to play out his contribution to the story, but I wish I could have differentiated him more than I did. He was heavily, heavily, heavily inspired by Locke Lemora from the Gentlemen Bastards series by Scott Lynch. Only I made him more whiny and prissy, which Im not entirely certain was a good thing, heh. One of the side effects of me signing on late and needing to wait for a story opportunity to jump in was that I had plenty of spare time to filigree and flesh out his backstory, right up until it became one of the major pillars that he campaign rested on. I hadnt planned that at all (nor had I planned the whole Olidammaras aspect thing, that was a spur of the moment thing that occured to me once I confirmed that I wasnt going to run afoul of Lunarians metafiction by going that route), but really it worked out far better than I had imagined. I'm actually slightly sad that I won't be writing him anymore in the foreseeable future, but I like to think I gave him a good send off and maybe even laid some groundwork for technological advances in the next campaign.

Playing with you guys has been a blast, even though I was a total neophyte and didnt know what I was doing almost the entire time. Had I a better understanding of the rules and mechanics, I probably could have made better decisions, like not using the anti-magic vial, for instance. LOL. Hopefully you guys are all in on the next campaign? Maybe we can even break the 5th player curse and be able to retain one. Heh heh. Ive already got my next character ready to go (and a very short introduction story. I told you guys, I write all the time now), and Im totally ready to go as soon as were out of November.

Im not one to tag fish, but if we happen to count a mod amongst our lurker audience, I might have a few suggestions:

ThLunarian
Dungeon Master

DeadPhoenix
He are best wizard

KittenMaster
Ranger DPS is OP

Jackben
TARKUUUUUUS! TARKUUUUUS!

Mike M
~~Its not incest if youre adopted~~

Wait.

ThLunarian said:
(redacted)

BRB, committing identity theft.

KittenMaster · Nov 13, 2013

((The sarm in the above post is the evil sarm that Quintis banished right?.))

ThLunarian · Nov 14, 2013

KittenMaster said:
((The sarm in the above post is the evil sarm that Quintis banished right?.))

Lol, yeah. Don't worry, Regular Sarm is still pristine

Jackben · Nov 14, 2013

Sweet evil council of villains callback.

Unrelated: Earlier I listened to the God Hand theme song on a gaming tunes stream and it reminded me of Quintus.

This PbP campaign was a lot of fun and something I looked forward to every day. Thanks for organizing the game (redacted) and creating such a great world for us to play in. Ty Zynx for your advice and help. Thanks Mike, Phoenix and KM for being creative, hilarious and generally awesome players.

EDIT: And thanks guys for putting up with all my bans haha.

Mike M · Nov 14, 2013

Stop pirating Mavis Beacon!

KittenMaster · Nov 14, 2013

Luna lays back in her private room, feeling less and less energetic as the days go by. She is starting to suspect that her age is finally beginning to make her ill to the point of no return. She wouldn't consider this coincidence that the Seminary of Pelor may also see its eventual end with the death of its god and Ith's Clerical techniques drawing power from oneself, easily separating the men of faith and the men who simply want the powers that would normally come with it. Many of her people are often unsure whether it is worth continuing devoting themselves when the god in question had died.

This comes another issue.. Sarm had told her that he was often a seat of becoming a god and he had taken it in hopes of performing further good. How will people react to the god they have worshipped for millenia suddenly being replaced. No doubt people will be skeptical and unaccepting.

A knock on the door is given, and a voice calls out, "Madam, the commission has been finished. It is outside to see." Groaning, Luna pulls herself up and calls out, "Coming! I will see to it immediately."

The headmistress carries herself with the assistance of acolytes through the building, finding going downstairs an ordeal these days and an everyday risk.

Leaving the quarters, she steps out into the evening light, the day already beginning to end. She is led to a stone construction with a stained glass design embedded in it, with its artist nearby. She asks, rhetorically, "So this is the new symbol?" The explanation she is given by the designer, "Yes. I was asked to make something that represents the setting sun, so I decided to design an icon of the sun lowering in the west, falling behind the mountains where it hides for the day, and the mountains are shaded to reflect the lighting that would happen wherein."

Luna nods, "You have conveyed that quite well. I would like to order several of these installed as a reminder of our fallen god."

As the night begins, the stained glass design shows through the glimmering light falling in the horizon. It is a design that represents great change, and a settling into the unknown. What happens now will be a mystery..

That is my hastily made shout-out to NeoGAF.

I want to thank everyone for great roleplaying. I don't consider myself a good writer nor do I really strive to be, I just try to be entertaining if I can and try to convey ideas well. I also admittedly don't know about D&D's world well enough to reference any of it other than what I learned from this campaign so it can be a struggle.

I want to give a shout-out to the lurkers, who have popped in occasionally to let us know that we have an audience. I want to give a specific shout-out to Gyanhun, who I have always worried about ever since we learned of his troubles.

ThLunarian · Nov 14, 2013

KM brings up a great point: Thank you very much, to every lurker we have. Off the top of my head I remember Pristine Condition because he piped in regularly; I'm sure there were others that just aren't coming to mind.

Also, thanks Chinner, if you're reading this, for (probably) subconsciously giving Mike M the idea to have a robot sidekick.

Mike M brought up something that I meant to mention myself. Val's siblings happened to fit roles that I had originally designed for other NPCs. There was already going to be a new person that moved into Alydar to try and take up the mayor-ship; my original idea was going to have that dynamic be a lot more adversarial at first, but Valerie wound up working very well there. Likewise, Elric was going to set you guys up with a contact in Northport anyway; fitting Valance into that spot was easy.

I honestly struggled for a while in finding a role for Valdemar, but eventually he found a decent-enough place as a spy in Ruby Keep. The leader of the cultists was always going to be Valentino, though, pretty much as soon as Mike M sent me Val's backstory.

My original intent was to base as many NPCs' personalities on existing fictional characters as I could, but it really only ended up shining through with a few of them. Valance was Garak from Star Trek DS9, Jack was Data from Star Trek TNG, and Suvne was Brienne from Game of Thrones (the book version moreso than the TV version). Even though Martok was named after a Star Trek klingon, I feel like I ended up taking him more in the direction of Mufasa, personality-wise.

My favorite NPCs to write for were Valance (because Garak is awesome) and J'baana the khajit merchant from Sigil, mostly because he was the only non-villain who seemed able to get under Val's skin. I based him on Quark from Star Trek DS9, and added the accent for personality.

Oh and I based Davos on Dennis, the guy from Monty Python and the Holy Grail who argues with King Arthur about where the king gets his authority. "Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power is derived by a mandate from the masses, not some farcical aquatic ceremony!" He didn't really show up at all after the first quarter of the story though, which I regret because I enjoyed writing him, too.

Mike M · Nov 14, 2013

Oh god, I forgot entirely about Chinner's drive by.

That was so god damned confusing, LOL.

KittenMaster · Nov 14, 2013

A year and a half of intense roleplaying drama and twists and turns...

And in the end Chinner's one post is what we'll remember the most.

Jackben · Nov 14, 2013

Yeah...that was my fault. Someone from another GAF community I'm in was creeping on my posts and asked about our campaign in that thread out of curiosity. Chinner being part of that same community followed up by being himself. Went to high school with the guy for a few years, he's got a wicked sense of humor.

Mike M · Nov 14, 2013

And here I thought Val's drama queen antics had finally driven a lurker too far.

KittenMaster · Nov 14, 2013

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQx9df2s2XQ

"Already several other gods have taken the level of ascension I have, some I can safely ally with."

"The future will be very different for how Primaria views gods."

"We are new, we are unknown."

"While I would never demand worship for the sake of my own humility, we have yet to prove worthy of such treatment regardless."

"For now we shall focus our work to secure our places in the Astral Sea, and only act as interlopers when trouble threatens the planes."

"Finally, I wish to reserve one of the seats of the council and let it remain untaken.."

"My heart tells me that it still belongs to its previous rightful owner.. one may still live on even after that day."

DeadPhoenix · Nov 14, 2013

When I decided to join in on this crazy adventure, it was because I'd been gming a PF game(Which is still going... after near party wipe early(possibly before this one started? I can't even remember its been so damn long) caused me to suggest we play the Kingmaker adventure path instead... its fun but really long), but really wanted to play one as a player(all of my previous games ended after a handful of sessions sadly). I'm not sure I expected this to last all that long, but it did and its been awesome(even with the rotating character roster and the ever elusive 5th player slot(must be cursed...)) and I'm really glad I actually saw it all the way through from beginning to end(with a single character

).

...Just wish I was better at the creative writing aspect. Always felt kinda weird spending hours just to get a couple paragraphs(that would never feel quite right when I reread them) and you guys would have like a page or two of stuff. Also wish I was a bit less rules lawyer-y, but instead I'll just suggest KM be prepared for my bullshit. I've been gming PF for well over a year now(... am I at two years now? I might be.) and have played one campaign to completion(also 1/4th of the way through a second and we already have a third on planned for one ever one of the two we are currently in finishes(it probably won't be my eternal kingmaker campaign :\)) so I damn near live and breath PF. Don't be afraid to tell me to STFU if I get outta line(not that i have any plans to do so of course).

KittenMaster · Nov 14, 2013

In my defense I had to write content for two characters.

Mike M · Nov 14, 2013

And in my defense, I...

I got nothing. I basically just like to hear myself talk.

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