Whose Gods Are These (Part 3 of at least 4)
Beyond Dominia: The Role Playing Mill: Whose Gods Are These (Part 3 of at least 4)
By Shadow (Shadow) on Friday, May 18, 2001 - 07:43 pm:
And after the rain, came hail which shot its way through straw roofs, and killed cattle, and sent pedestrians fleeing madly for the meager protection of their homes, and knocked down torches and lanterns which ignited despite all of the water and sent great fires raging over the land englufing whatever remained in their paths in a hellish inferno. But then the hail and the fires ended. People who'd been huddled together broke away cautiously from eachother, and crawled out onto the streets and fields to survey the destruction. And then things were quiet for some time.
May 5, 795 TSR
"WELL WHERE IS SHE?!" the king bellowed sending the scout instinctually to his knees as he rose from his throne.
"Sire, she...she. We haven't heard any report in two months, sire. The odds are that she--"
"I Don't Want To Know What The ODDS Are! I Want To Know Where She Is!" Rolshin said this, but the scout didn't hear him rather he turned his head curiously because the King had just developed a pained look and one of his hands had fallen to his throne. Judging from the way the muscles bulged, the scout thought that arm must be supporting the King's whole weight. "Well don't STARE at me, man! Say...who let you in here anyway? How did you get in here?! Who are you?! I demand answers! I...I..." the scout stared incredulously at him, forgetting protocol. The pain was gone from the monarch's face; it had been replaced by a...sort of mad 'twisting' that looked wholly unnatural.
Then King Rolshin started to laugh. It sounded nervous at first, but rose quickly into a fever pitch. The scout finally dashed out of the room to find a cleric, but the King stood, still, cackling, unable to stop.
The cleric was an elderly man who had seen the condition before, but he nearly refused to make the diagnosis despite its blatant obviousness. Then more cases started to appear and there could no longer be any question. The plague that Phaema had thought destroyed had found its way back, somehow, someway. And now it had struck again and people remembered what it had been like before. The thing that they remembered most? It had no cure. It was Goblin Fever.
Somewhere in the DragonBack Mountinas
Arasus sat silent in his party's cave with his elbows on his knees. His hands, fingers interwoven, mostly hid the expression on his face but his body showed it, plain as day. Anger. There was...Nothing...he could do. They needed to find Sage Advisor but they had no idea where to look. He should have been back months ago. Sage had disappeared.
They had ventured into the towns briefly, and returned as quickly as possible to the mountains. Goblin Fever was raging through the land and they would be safer as isolated from other people as possible. So here they sat. Waiting, scared, frustrated, disgusted.
We should try to take the castle back. Better death than this ridiculous uncertainty!
With what?! There are barely a score of us.
We could find an entrance to Crn; rally the dwarves.
No, they came in from the catacombs and the only way there is through Crn. We have to assume that they've already gotten to the dwarves; corrupted them somehow.
They could have teleported in.
Even Sage couldn't teleport a whole army down there, especially not with the minotaurs. It's mating season, remember? They have to have control of the Crk market to survive ten minutes down there, and that means they must have control of the dwarves.
We don't know that it's a whole army.
Yeah...you're right. That's the problem. We don't know anything about them. Listen, Goblin Fever is back. It was supposed to have been wiped out. And then there was that huge storm, and the hail. I think something cataclysmic is going on here. We don't know enough about them, who they are, how many of them there are, what they want. Anything. We have no basis on which to make a plan.
There must be SOMETHING we can do!
There is nothing we can do, friend.
Whiteblade sat back down. He breathed deeply for a moment and then spoke again, calmer. There is one thing we could do.
We could wake the Mountains.
Shadow looked out the window of the Kaat'n's high tower. He laughed. Yessss. The time had finally come. He was giddy with the very notion. He could feel the power of the stones. It was emnating from him. The greatest power ever posssible. Ahhhh. He threw his head back and his arms open, and black light burst forth from the tower and started creeping like oil over the continent. Within an hour, darkness had swallowed the earth, and Night reigned.
By Burn, the Keeper of the Flame (Fereno) on Thursday, May 31, 2001 - 03:41 pm:
ooc: to bad i wasnt around to help with this.....you coulda had a necromancer with at least a small army at your disposal.....blame juno.
By Shadow (Shadow) on Friday, June 01, 2001 - 08:42 am:
It would be fine with me if you're already there. Evil forces were kind of gravitating towards the castle anyway.
By Burn, the Keeper of the Flame (Fereno) on Friday, June 01, 2001 - 01:25 pm:
hmmm....i like that....im gonna work that into part of the story. no army, but the gravitating thing works well.
btw, is there a link where i can change around my registered name? or do you guys have to do it for me.