RECAP (Long Time in Coming)

The stay in the camp of the Emerald Claw was not a restful one. Phax had horrible nightmares which were borderline feverish; he grasped his weapon close to him as rambled in apparent goblin. The group looked on worried as they watched their troubled friend succumb more and more to the will of the blade he carried.

The next day didn’t fare much better. Almost from dawn the group started to hear pitched drums through the woods in which they travelled. Erin and Phax recognized the drums to be that of the tribe of Rehesh Truakbar; a minotaur general from the lands deep n Droaam who followed the demon lord Baphomet the demon lord also known as the Horned King. The group prepared themselves for an encounter and were not shocked to see a loan gnoll on the side of the road (soon after they spotted the rest of the raiding band). The followers of Rehesh Trukbar demanded a tribute of gold from the group for their lives. Jan attempted to threaten his way out but the followers didn’t understand the prowess of those that stood before them. A fierce battle ensued where are heroes triumphed through magic, blade and bow and made short work of the minotaur’s band.

That night Jan was beleaguered by nightmares all night speaking in languages the group didn’t understand at all. More alarming then the speaking of tongues was the shifting that the human did; first to that of an older man; then to a younger child before finally returning to his normal form. The gem also began to glow a translucent green and animals had appeared along the path silently bobbing their heads and weaving to the pulsating gem. This caught both the attention of Phax and of Pike; Phac muttered something under his breath in a language Pike knew to be goblin and returned to bed; Pike just looked on stoically. In the morning Pike had Vogrum translate for the elf; the phrase he muttered... “The only thing worse than a changeling is an elf.”

The next morning brought the sights of the majestic monument of six kings, a colossal monument built into the Grey Wall Mountains by goblin artisans millennium ago. The sight of them were nothing more then majestic and the 6 figures seemingly haunt the legacy the goblins once had in the world. Under the outcropping of the third King you found the markers which Captain Kalaes had set out for... and there you found the Word Bearers who were none to happy to see you.

Yesterdays Heroes... The Prophecy

I sit listening to the others tell their wonderful tales of adventures and I began to think of all I have been through. My short time was not full of adventure nor the stuff of heroes, I'm being paid to do a job and nothing more. My father was a wonderful spinner of tales and song and could captivate all who heard him. 'I AM NOT MY FATHER'... the silence was piercing, I spoke those words through clenched teeth!! The pain is still too fresh.

'Sorry everyone. I am not my father... he could tell you tales of great battles or events and leave you wanting more. Not I! I am a book learned man with no secret heroes hidden inside. Those tales are my fathers and will remain with him in his grave. But what I can tell you is of a young man who left his fathers side to find a world beyond his own borders to become more than he had ever dreamt.'

I paused to collect my thoughts feeling all eyes upon me. I feel cold and naked like I don't belong and for all intense purposes I do not.

'Many years after I began my studies, my Master brought from Sharn back to Cyre. He had met with a Captain of the Cyre Militia and commited him to find a volunteer for a mission of great import. While we waited I was told a great event was about to unfold and I was needed to find investigate the Tower of Scars near the border of Cyre and Breland. He handed me a recording crystal just as a warforged showed up "I am your volunteer". I had never seen a warforged in the... "flesh" before and was startled when my Master spoke "You have completed your training and your last order of business is to gather the information I have requested.".'

Nodding to Pike to acknowledge that he was the warforged in my tale. 'We fought our way into the tower and I discovered a glowing sigil on the ground. I tried to collect the data I was required when I was caught up in it and was granted a vision! I was watching the battle on the lands of Cyre, the cities burning, an emblem of an eye, and a giant pyramid. I saw a human woman and an elf.' I nodded to both Erin and Fax in turn. 'I don't know how long I was out for, but that is where my journey with my companions began.'

Whispering 'The Mournland was born that day as well...'

I didn't realize how charged I was in telling of our beginning or that I would feel so drained as if telling a confession.

'Maybe we are heroes...'

Dark Awakening

"This is the area here fools!!! Dig!"

She knew that she needn't scream, she new that she even didn't need to speak, but sometimes she who was sometimes known as Lady Danaee and less frequently, but more truthfully, called Demise still sometimes slipped back into the habits of the living. It filled her with disgust.

The skeletal workers kept burrowing in the tunnels using the picks of goblins and dwarfs who watched helplessly near by. Demise turned to them with a cold smile...

"Soon you too shall serve my Mistress."

While the bodies were frozen in unnatural statures, unable to move their eyes were wide with horror. Demise took some small pleasure from the sheer terror in the pathetic souls of these disgusting living things. Her small reprieve was broken by the sound of rock falling to the ground as her skeletal crew had broken through the tunnel of the foundry wall...

"At last the blade shall be mine..." she screamed into the hole of the ancient resting place of Ashurta. "and ye guardians shall feed on the blood of innocents."

The necromancer took from her robe a slender obsidian wand and waved it towards the skeletons as they all turned to ash. Already the sound of hissing and chattering began to fill the chamber....

Demise took one last look at the helpless miners of the Tain Foundry and in her eyes was almost longing.

"Soon you shall be with my mistress... your blood brings her one step closer to the end.... your sacrifice will be much appreciated." Demise stepped back into the shadows, disappearing from view as the first of the Kruthik broke through the wall and onto the hapless miners feasting on their blood while deep within the ancient goblin temple peels of laughter rang through like thunder...

Something had been awakened.

Making a choice

Rexxan staggered over to the perimeter of the camp and watched the village burn. The battle had ended, night had fallen, and both sides were licking their wounds. The Thrane encampment was guarded by unsleeping Warforged. Like steel statues, the Warforged silently witnessed another Cyran village burn.

The Dwarven mercenary wandered over to the nearest Warforged and leaned against the metal body. Insolently taking a draught from a large and very battered metal flask, he waved at the burning village.

"Makes life worth living doesn't it?" Rexxan grinned.

The Warforged adjusted its grip on a large scythe and said nothing.

"See? That's my problem with you... things!" Rexxan punctuated his comment by banging his flask against the 'Forgeds metal body, spilling amber liquid. "You can't feel or... anything!"

The Warforged noted the amber liquid on its metal body and went back to watching the fire.

"What's your name?" spat Rexxan. "Or rather, excuse me, what silly nickname did some stick of a Cannith Artificer give you?"

At first the Warforged seemed reluctant to answer.

"Scythe" it finally muttered. Again, it adjusted its grip on the large scythe.

"See?" demanded Rexxan again. "Some little stick of a man pops you out of the forge, puts a completely impractical weapon in your hand and sends you to war."

The 'Forged looked at the scythe as if seeing it for the first time.

"You don't get to choose and that's the thing!" yelled the Dwarf mercenary. Another Warforged looked over at the argument, undoubtedly annoyed at the noise. "Less than a minute into life, you get told what you are and what you are supposed to do. I have seven children. Seven! Not one of them wants to use an axe!"

Scythe looked around, but it seemed that Rexxan had left his axe at camp.

"My oldest wants to be a priest. A priest!" the Dwarf seemed to be gathering energy as his rant continued. "I've a daugter who I haven't seen in ten years and as for the others..."

The Dwarf's eyes went a little foggy and he gazed at one of the burning buildings. "You don't get to choose. That's what makes you a thing. You get told; circle the enemy, burn the village, leave no survivors. You get told and that's what you do."

"You followed the same orders for a sum of gold" pointed out Scythe.

"That's different!" roared Rexxan immediately. "I made a choice to be a mercenary. I could have stayed home and learned my father's trade. I could have adventured and seen the world..."

The Dwarf had become increasingly animated during the discussion. Waving his flask around and spilling no small measure of the amber liquid on the 'Forgeds metal body. Small rivulets had appeared in the 'Forgeds Thrane markings.

"I could have done any number of things!" ranted Rexxan. "I chose to be here. You, my metal friend, are a slave and will always be a slave. Always be setting people on fire to be cleansed by the Silver Flame."

On that thought the drunk mercenary quieted down.

"We've both lit people up for the Silver Flame, you and I. Fire and drowning, those are the worst. I've seen many men die, and women too. Fire and drowning..."

"Many Warforged were destroyed today" Scythe seemed to be trying to change the subject. Scythe also had just noticed the effect the amber liquid was having on his army markings.

"Flame!" groused Rexxan. "More Cyran than ours, i'd wager. They're going to have to join companies in the morning. Knowing them, they'll spare no expense at salvaging the ones they have. Damned waste of time, if you ask me."

"You should sleep" Scythe said. The Dwarf had been running out of steam. He was now leaning more heavily against the 'Forgeds body. Scythe gently pulled the battered flask free and held on to it.

"Yeah, sleep" muttered Rexxan. "Plenty more people to be cleansed tomorrow..."

The Dwarf turned his back on the burning homes and staggered back to the camp, leaving the Warforged alone with its thoughts.

Peri felt like the most harried Artificer in all of Cyre this morning. They had taken such losses the previous day when the Thranes had flanked them that two companies of Warforged were being merged. Everything should have gone like clockwork except that each generation of 'Forged were more intelligent and independent than the last. Even now she saw one Warforged wandering through the camp, covered in mud and holding a pair of war picks, looking completely lost.

"You there, Warforged!" The petite Artificer called out brushing dark hair out of her eyes. "Come over here."

The 'Forged hesitated for a moment, then walked over to her. It was muddy and seemed to have only a bit of its Cyran markings remaining.

The Artificer made an impatient noise and muttered a cantrip, cleaning the mud off. With a bit of exasperation she noticed that her spell had removed the Cyran markings as well. Quickly, she adjusted the spell and new Cyran markings covered the 'Forgeds shoulders and chest.

Now with all the mud gone, Peri saw that the 'Forged had taken a blow to the head. Some bladed weapon had cut right through its ghulra. The ghulra was an identifying mark placed on the forehead of each Cannit Warforged as they left the forge.

"Great. Just great. Your ghulra has been damaged" vented the tired Artificer. "What is your name anyways?"

"I am Pi uh Pike..." the Warforged was acting strangely and stumbled over the name.

"Pike, not Pick?" the Artificer wasn't really paying attention. She had produced a small crystal from her satchel and was going over the minor ritual to activate it. Small glyphs started to appear revealing a kind of registry. A ghulra appeared and a name beside it. With a gesture she switched to the next name.

The camp had been getting busier during this exchange. The Cyran army was waking and preparing for battle. Armed figures had started bustling about, jostling the pair.

As Peri tried matching the damaged ghulra to one in her archive crystal, a Cyran captain was calling to his weary troops.

"Listen here you lot! I need a volunteer to escort some mage on a fact finding mission..."

The Warforged, Pike, snapped to attention so abruptly that Peri almost dropped her crystal.

"Sir!" barked Pike. "I volunteer for the mission."

"Ha! Should have known better than to call for volunteers when one of you is around" the human captain said happily. "If all my men were as willing as you, we'd have won this war. Off with you then. The mages name is Jan and he'll be waiting on the north end of the camp."

"But..." Peri was completely nonplussed as the Warforged ignored her and ran off to the north. It was unlike a Warforged to ignore an Artificer, especially since they relied on the mages for maintenance and repair. Shaking her head in frustration, she made a mental note and went back to looking for any more stray or damaged 'Forged. Hopefully she'd have them fighting fit before the Thranes attacked again.

Bad Memories

As I stood watching my trusted companions ask for an unarmed mans blood and take it, it sends me back in reverie to a past event I would have prefered to have left where it belonged... in the past.

I was 8 and eager to learn what I could from my father, he was a performer by trade. We would travel around Cyre talking to locals and performing for coin, but sometimes we would travel to neighbouring nations. It wasn't until our final journey that I had found out that my father wasn't just a simple Bard he was a spy for Cyre. I cannot quite remember where we headed, but I do remember that fateful night. My father was just paid for his performance and we travelled back to our lodgings, as we passed an alley 2 me jumped my father and pushed me to the ground. I fell to the street and when I looked up there was a blur of motion, the first thug was dead and the second was disarmed with a sword to his throat. My father spoke in a language I didn't know and the man talked to him in a pleading tone. My father's face became distorted with evil look and he picked up a sword from the ground and plunged it through the thugs throat pinning him to a barrel he was leaning against. Still in shock my father picked my up and escorted my to our room, we gathered our things and left town for home. We spoke not a word of what had happened even when we got back to Cyre.

I stopped speaking to my father and our relationship became strained. My father would leave for who knows where and always left me behind. About a month after the event a letter arrived for my father and I was suddenly shipped off to Sharn to apprentice in wizardry. I never forgave my father for the heinous act of cold bloodedness and never spoke to him again.

I now regret my own actions as I know my father did and I wish that he were still alive for me to tell him I was sorry for pushing him away, but after the Day of Mourning I guess I never will. After time, the shadow over my soul will fade, the act I just witness will be the past and all will be as it should be.

Next Session (Posted July 22)

Hey all.

Our next session will be on the 29th (if we can have two players there). Things to do for next session:

Myself: I will have three cut scenes done about the campaign.

You guys: each need to do a cut scene involving part of your past or maybe describing some of the idle time you have had during the adventures. This will earn you enough experience to level.

I would also like an updated copy of each character please.

Thank you.

Long Road to Six Kings

Recap for July 15th, 2010

Our story continues at one of the ports of the King’s Citidal where our companions were getting ready to board the Alarise Rise, a supply vessel running tools and equipment to the town of Ardev. The Captain of the vessel, a hardened dwarf by the name of Korak Brax, was none too happy to have the extra passengers and took a particular dislike to Jan and all of the special provisions that Captain Kaeles had agreed to. All of the group laid low during the voyage not trying to get under foot, all but Vogrum who’s simple mindedness, charitable nature and need to help won over some members of the crew.

Jan put his time to good use, pouring over the notes of the recently departed Professor Gydd Nephret as cross referencing her work with some tomes on lone from the Ci tidal libraries. During the flight Jan learned that Ahsuturu’s Blade primary purpose was the restoration of the Dhakaani Empire. He learned as well that even though the blade is part of the larger Ashen Crown it has its own will separate from the whole peace.

Soon the tower of Crysalin was in site, the one landmark building of Ardev, a tower 100 feet in height interlaced with crystal and stone, an airship port for the otherwise unnoticeable town of mostly farmers and ranchers. A small makeshift market surrounded the tower and it was their that the group received the rest of their supplies. Brax’s men were none too gentle with the groups supplies especially the over sized desk and chair that Jan had requested. Jan was in no shape to notice, however, as he was suffering from some mild chest pains. Striking out with their supplies and horses the group started to make its way to Six Kings, an ancient goblin monument built from the very northern fringes of the Greywall mountains.

The first day was uneventful. Erin and Pike rode together with the wagon most of the day speaking of the past and what to make of the future. Phax rode ahead of the group his eyes keenly alert for danger, Vogrum road close by his eyes never leaving the sword bearer. Meanwhile Jan continues his tireless study of the tomes attempting to glean any knowledge from the professor’s work.

One interesting tid bit that did come up was the fact that Ahsuturu’s Blade seemed to have a venemenance for the Elvish people. Jan was just working on a translation of the exact danger when a more immediate threat arose.

The troupe ran into an advanced patrol of the Emerald Claw who were mercilessly questioning a goblin. In no time a battle ensued in which the Emerald Claw launched a horrible volley of arrows laced with alchemists fire. Erin and Pike were badly hurt and Jan barely escaped with his life, but the supplies gained from Captain Kaeles were all but lost. The group persevered over the Emerald Claw and even managed to take a prisoner. The goblin revealed himself to be by the name of Govan, and said little else but he was a mercenary traveling from Six Kings to Ardev. The group let the goblin be on his way. The Emerald Claw captive was mocking at first, telling nothing. Erin then approached him, stone cold in her expression and told him of how she was treated at the hands of the Emerald Claw four years earlier. She then spoke of how the warforged came and destroyed all the Emerald Claw; Pike loomed in the distance and the Emerald Claw took one look at one of his companion’s whose head was skewered on Pike weapon and spilled everything.

The scouts were under orders from Demise not to directly engage the party in pursuit of the Ashen Crown, Warrick was working with an elven Lady by the name of Demise and they disagreed vehmenantly about this point. They were interrogating the goblin who was one of the Word Bearer Clan about their progress towards the Ahsen Crown. Phax picked the solider up, dragged him to a tree and pinned his hand with a dagger meaning to leave him there.

There was a debate at this time; Jan believed it was best to let him go, as did Phax. Erin and Pike thought different, thinking if released he would warn other of their coming. The debate was ended sharply by Pike who killed the Emerald Claw before anyone could protest.

The next day was a somber one spent in silence; all of the food was nearly gone and their were still bad feelings about the day before. They were united the next day in a heroic struggle vs 2 armored soilders, some troopers and two scouts as well as a necromancer; another stronger patrol of the Emerald Claw. Phax launched a brutal barrage of flaming arrows against them as the Emerald Claw announced their immanent victory. The combat was fierce but the battle was decisive as our heroes quickly dispatched the Emerald Claw with no survivors remaining. Upon rummaging through the nearby camp the group found supplies for another week for each of them. Deciding to set forth the next day the characters return to their journey towards Six Kings, only a few days away.