Hammer in hand, Thurston stands amongst the carnage of slaughtered goblins and takes in the fading chaos of the battlefield. The village and its people are covered grime and blood, but they have endured. On some sides the men are jubilant and relieved to have survived and won back their home. On other, miners carry fallen friends from the streets. It has been a day of great victory, but also of great tragedy.
As the Norscan walks north from the road to Shamley pass, up towards Ringrut's tavern, one particular sight catches his eye. A group of men are standing in a circle around something, their helmets in their hands and their heads low.
Hurrig follows Thurston through the carnage. So many lost, yet a bright future ahead of the survivors. Hurrig vows to Moradin that he will never let this happen again to the town he calls home.
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
As the Norscan and the elf argue back and forth Seid steps forward to intervene when he is sidelined by the young half-off, Vark, that had joined the group. Seid’s interest is immediately piqued at what he points out and the argument is forgotten. He stares at the word. “I know they were looking for something down there, but I do not recognize this language…” Seid points to the strange word.
Vark stares at it for a moment. “Oh! I know that! It’s the language of the elementals. It says ‘Gevangenpoort’. Whatever that means…”
Seid looks at Vark in surprise as a sly smile steals across his face. “I am impressed, Vark. I do not know many which would know such a language. Gevangenpoort…” Seid repeats the word several times quietly to himself as if testing it out. Something about it feels familiar, but distant… He slowly breaks it down by syllable and he sees the archaic form. “This is a strange word. It’s a dialect of ancient Breannian with a mixture of Norscan and Taneman roots. There is really only one place I know that would have roots for such a dialect. It would be somewhere west of Quenlan, my home, but east of Littlewood. Quite fascinating, really.” He stops short as he realizes everyone was staring at him impatiently and he clears his throat. “It means ‘The Prisoner’s Gate’. I think I have an idea for what they are searching. I think they plan to open some sort of gate to allow something through possibly. Vark, you said they were having difficulties with their ritual?”
Alongside Thurston is the stalwart figure of Valaith Rimehand, never one to run from a battle... or let one of her companions hold bragging rights over her shoulders. As she strides along, she winces in pain and nearly stumbles several times from excruciating burning sensation spreading from her abdomen where her wound slowly oozes blood. “Hah! I should watch my footing more carefully.” She tries to play it off as a misstep. When they spot the congregation she stops as looks to Thurston. “What is this?”
Vark is indeed staring at Seid, not with impatience but in awe of the man’s knowledge. “I just uh- it just- it just kinda comes to me. Uhm... n-no well- I don’t know. I freaked out when I first saw them but then Ma- I mean I uh, I just snuck past. They were pretty focused on this... big shiny wall. Like it was made of metal. It had runes too, kinda in an arch. I guess yeah, it could be some kind of gate...” the sorcerer stops and thinks for a moment before a look of realization tinged with panic comes over him. “Y-y-you said ‘Prisoner’s Gate’? Aureanous, uhm an old friend of mine, a storm giant, h-he told me about a prison once. He didn’t say much but it seemed important and magical and he said it should never ever be opened. You don’t think...” he trails off as he begins to imagine what horrors this gate could be holding back, what evil these mages were trying to release.
As Thurston, Hurrig and Valaith approach the group of miners, the circle opens to let them see. Slumped against the wall of the tavern with Ringrut crouched besides him, Anders lies with a spear through his ribs in a puddle of his own blood. Goblin corpses surround him on all sides.
"C'mon y'old fool!" Ringrut begs the man, his voice cracking as he holds Anders in his arms. "After all these years, ye gonna give up on me now?"
Anders doesn't move. His chest is still and his eyes are blank.
"NO!" yells Thurston and moves aside the bystanders as he drops his hammer and put his hands over Ander's body
"Thor, I beg thou. Don't send your Valkiryies for this brave warrior yet. "
He felt the divine energy through his tired arms but his fears were confirmed. He looks to Ringrut.
"I.. I am sorry... " he says, closing Anders eyes and, with care, putting the spear out and using part of his own clothes to make a bandage to give the old man a little bit of dignity.
The clattering sound of the spear on the ground was the only sound in the scene. Even the cries and cheers of the rest of the town seems to fade away.
Without turning he says to the others around them
"Collect the weapons and shields of the enemies he took with him. Their weapons will be a testimony of his bravery in Valhalla."
Then he helps Ringrut to lay down Anders and uses his cape to cover him.
Valaith stops and remains reverently quiet as Thurston ministers to the fallen warrior. While she did not know Anders all that well, she saw that he was a valiant soldier and the number of fallen warriors around him was testament to that. She lets the head of her hammer slip to the ground as she silently sends a prayer to the spirits to watch over him in the Afterlife.
She looks around for a rock or some piece of rubble nearby. “If I may?” She asks Ringrut nodding to Ander’s chest with the small stone.
Watching with curiosity and mild amusement as his companions run to join in with a battle that has already been won as though they were common soldiers, Jex turns the majority of his attention to more pressing concerns. Victorious soldiers tend to give in to a darker side, and on home turf that usually manifested in looting, primarily of former enemies. Jex makes pains to drag his captured loot into a nearby building where he could keep another eye on his other concern. Not a single sign had been seen so far of the wizards and that made him suspicious. Sitting on top of his loot pile Jex cleans down his weapons, watching out of the window all the while with a clear view over the hideout.
Bründir ignored the chaos of the hobgoblmin warlord's tent once the bickering began. The weapons were nice and he was sure Thurston, Hurrig, and Valaith would see to securing them. The chests were likely valuable as well, but the dwarf was no better with locks than a knife on a mine wall. Since Jex seemed to have the locked containers taken care of, it was time for larger matters. Bründir rush out to get an idea for the state of the battle.
At first, all seemed a bit of a stalemate. The townsfolk were dug in and on home turf while the hobgoblins had to cross the ravine's chokepoints and the bugbears were trying to uproot the uprising. Once the smoke rose from the tent, though, he could see anxiety and panic creep through the rear of the hobgoblin formation. With the allies routed or killed, the bugbears gave way and fled as well.
Amid the aftermath, it was hard to ignore the fste of Anders with the congregating guardsmen and Thurston's outcries. It was tragic, and Bründir certainly felt a remorse over the loss, but he'd never known Anders very well working in the mines. The best he could think of was for old Ringrut. "Anders did a great thing t'day, best we ne'er forget."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Ringrut instinctively hesitates to accept an offer from a giant, but does slowly nod to Valaith in assent. After all, it was her who had brought them the weapons to begin with. He offers Bründir what is intended as a weak smile in thanks for the kind words, but it comes out as more of a grimace.
"Bring 'im to the temple," he tells the men, pulling himself to his feet. "Bring all of 'em."
Across the ravine, Jex sees no trace of motion from inside the town hall. However, when the villagers begin to arrive at Moradin's temple with their dead, they are greeted by a gruesome sight. The goblins have desecrated the building with foul graffiti, and the corpse of Ulfgar the priest still hangs from the door.
“Oh no...” Vark mutters as the group comes upon the ravaged temple. “V-val maybe...” he points to the priests corpse, indicating they should take care of this mess. Vark does his part by running over to the graffitied walls. He opens the waterskin he keeps on him and begins chanting in primordial under his breath. A stream of water snakes out of the vessel and whirls into a small frothy orb. It’s slow going, but the rapidly spinning water begins to clear a swath of the blood and grime used for the crude markings.
The mood is solemn as Ulfgar is carefully brought down from where he hangs. The grey, curly hairs of the old dwarf's beard are stained with blood around his mouth, and his eyes are bleached white from days under the sun. He clearly hung here for some time, both before and after he was able to escape into Moradin's embrace.
The big double doors swing inwards with a groan as the miners put their shoulders to them and heave. Inside all is dark and quiet, although the stench of death hangs in the air. The altar and any other symbols of the Morndinsamman have been toppled, smashed and defaced. It will clearly take time and effort to restore this place to its former glory.
"People of Sheercleft!" Bründir calls among the townsfolk, "We've fought an' won our home back. Some gave more'n others, and we'll ne'er ferget them. Bring me their names, an' I'll make sure they're remembered forever. But b'fore we do any of that, we 'ave to make sure we're safe ag'in." A congregation begins to form around the dwarf as it seems Anders' death has left a confusion over what to do next.
"First, I need some able bodies with me to the town hall. If they did...this to Moradin's hall, no tellin' what they did to ours." A few uneasy shifts go through the crowd as they glance back at the town's temple. Bründir stands on a wagon to get a better view of everyone and wave over anyone trying to dodge collective recovery. "Next, I need ye all sweepin' th' city in groups. Yer fam'lies're safe, but we don' want'em comin' home to goblins in the cellars. See to it that your homes, an' yer neighbors' homes, are all safe."
Among the crowd, it seems that both guards and miners alike are taking interest in responsibility, "Last, we appreciate ev'rything ye've done. Not a soul is undeservin' today of a drink and thanks. That said, we need weapons returned to th' armoury." A few apprehensible grunts and grumbles arose, "I know, I know, seems two-faced fer me to day ye need t'be safe an' chase stragglers out, then ask ye to give yer weapons back. That's why I'm sayin' 1 week," he held up a finger to emphasize, "Ye 'ave 1 week to make sure ye're safe, then bring back the watch's weapons an' armor. If ye've got good reason an' coin to pay, ye can keep'em an' we'll 'ave'em stamped as yer own." The mood was only slightly improved by the compromise.
"Now, I said I need bodies to 'elp at th' town hall. Who's comin'?"
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Always at your side my friend." says to him. When the dwarf comes down the cart he says "well said and done Bründir. You talk funny, but you talk well. "
The wagon that Bründir has clambered atop stands, like many others, on the marketplace, in the shadow of the town hall. The gathered villagers cheer at first, in response to the dwarf's rousing words. However, when they turn to look at the big, old building, which some of them have never had reason to enter, there is hesitation. Even before the arrival of the Mabinogi and their goblin lackeys, it always carried a certain sense of authority. Now, haunted by the vengeful the ghosts of invading wizards, be they real or imagined, it seems more foreboding than ever.
"Not bad that, lad," comes a voice from over Bründir's shoulder. Now that the fighting is over, it seems Brynja has returned with the rest of the villagers. Nevertheless, her face is grimy and she still carries a sword in her hand. It seems she too saw her share of the fighting.
"Ye goin' in then? I 'ave a feelin' whoever was inside is long gone, but I'd watch ye step. Gods only know wha' they left behin'."
"Why does ev'ryone say that...?" Bründir stares at Thurston with a bit of concern, "Dorno talks like he's ne'er talked ti someone 'cept squirrels b'fore, an' ye talk like Thor's in yer bed ev'ry night." He gives a smile and shoves the Norscan's breastplate as Brynja returns.
"Aye, best be careful in there. Don' think there's much to worry 'bout; if there was a leader in there, I'd think there'd be more guards. He gives a nod for Thurston, Brynja, and whoever else comes along to follow inside.
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Inside the building it is eerily quiet and dark. The wind blows through the open windows, scattering papers about the entrance hall. All the candles and lamps have been put out. Ahead, the staircase up to the next level beckons.
Hammer in hand, Thurston stands amongst the carnage of slaughtered goblins and takes in the fading chaos of the battlefield. The village and its people are covered grime and blood, but they have endured. On some sides the men are jubilant and relieved to have survived and won back their home. On other, miners carry fallen friends from the streets. It has been a day of great victory, but also of great tragedy.
As the Norscan walks north from the road to Shamley pass, up towards Ringrut's tavern, one particular sight catches his eye. A group of men are standing in a circle around something, their helmets in their hands and their heads low.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Fearing what he will find the paladin walks over the group.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Hurrig follows Thurston through the carnage. So many lost, yet a bright future ahead of the survivors. Hurrig vows to Moradin that he will never let this happen again to the town he calls home.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
As the Norscan and the elf argue back and forth Seid steps forward to intervene when he is sidelined by the young half-off, Vark, that had joined the group. Seid’s interest is immediately piqued at what he points out and the argument is forgotten. He stares at the word. “I know they were looking for something down there, but I do not recognize this language…” Seid points to the strange word.
Vark stares at it for a moment. “Oh! I know that! It’s the language of the elementals. It says ‘Gevangenpoort’. Whatever that means…”
Seid looks at Vark in surprise as a sly smile steals across his face. “I am impressed, Vark. I do not know many which would know such a language. Gevangenpoort…” Seid repeats the word several times quietly to himself as if testing it out. Something about it feels familiar, but distant… He slowly breaks it down by syllable and he sees the archaic form. “This is a strange word. It’s a dialect of ancient Breannian with a mixture of Norscan and Taneman roots. There is really only one place I know that would have roots for such a dialect. It would be somewhere west of Quenlan, my home, but east of Littlewood. Quite fascinating, really.” He stops short as he realizes everyone was staring at him impatiently and he clears his throat. “It means ‘The Prisoner’s Gate’. I think I have an idea for what they are searching. I think they plan to open some sort of gate to allow something through possibly. Vark, you said they were having difficulties with their ritual?”
Alongside Thurston is the stalwart figure of Valaith Rimehand, never one to run from a battle... or let one of her companions hold bragging rights over her shoulders. As she strides along, she winces in pain and nearly stumbles several times from excruciating burning sensation spreading from her abdomen where her wound slowly oozes blood. “Hah! I should watch my footing more carefully.” She tries to play it off as a misstep. When they spot the congregation she stops as looks to Thurston. “What is this?”
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Vark is indeed staring at Seid, not with impatience but in awe of the man’s knowledge. “I just uh- it just- it just kinda comes to me. Uhm... n-no well- I don’t know. I freaked out when I first saw them but then Ma- I mean I uh, I just snuck past. They were pretty focused on this... big shiny wall. Like it was made of metal. It had runes too, kinda in an arch. I guess yeah, it could be some kind of gate...” the sorcerer stops and thinks for a moment before a look of realization tinged with panic comes over him. “Y-y-you said ‘Prisoner’s Gate’? Aureanous, uhm an old friend of mine, a storm giant, h-he told me about a prison once. He didn’t say much but it seemed important and magical and he said it should never ever be opened. You don’t think...” he trails off as he begins to imagine what horrors this gate could be holding back, what evil these mages were trying to release.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
As Thurston, Hurrig and Valaith approach the group of miners, the circle opens to let them see. Slumped against the wall of the tavern with Ringrut crouched besides him, Anders lies with a spear through his ribs in a puddle of his own blood. Goblin corpses surround him on all sides.
"C'mon y'old fool!" Ringrut begs the man, his voice cracking as he holds Anders in his arms. "After all these years, ye gonna give up on me now?"
Anders doesn't move. His chest is still and his eyes are blank.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"NO!" yells Thurston and moves aside the bystanders as he drops his hammer and put his hands over Ander's body
"Thor, I beg thou. Don't send your Valkiryies for this brave warrior yet. "
He felt the divine energy through his tired arms but his fears were confirmed. He looks to Ringrut.
"I.. I am sorry... " he says, closing Anders eyes and, with care, putting the spear out and using part of his own clothes to make a bandage to give the old man a little bit of dignity.
The clattering sound of the spear on the ground was the only sound in the scene. Even the cries and cheers of the rest of the town seems to fade away.
Without turning he says to the others around them
"Collect the weapons and shields of the enemies he took with him. Their weapons will be a testimony of his bravery in Valhalla."
Then he helps Ringrut to lay down Anders and uses his cape to cover him.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Valaith stops and remains reverently quiet as Thurston ministers to the fallen warrior. While she did not know Anders all that well, she saw that he was a valiant soldier and the number of fallen warriors around him was testament to that. She lets the head of her hammer slip to the ground as she silently sends a prayer to the spirits to watch over him in the Afterlife.
She looks around for a rock or some piece of rubble nearby. “If I may?” She asks Ringrut nodding to Ander’s chest with the small stone.
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Watching with curiosity and mild amusement as his companions run to join in with a battle that has already been won as though they were common soldiers, Jex turns the majority of his attention to more pressing concerns. Victorious soldiers tend to give in to a darker side, and on home turf that usually manifested in looting, primarily of former enemies. Jex makes pains to drag his captured loot into a nearby building where he could keep another eye on his other concern. Not a single sign had been seen so far of the wizards and that made him suspicious. Sitting on top of his loot pile Jex cleans down his weapons, watching out of the window all the while with a clear view over the hideout.
Bründir ignored the chaos of the hobgoblmin warlord's tent once the bickering began. The weapons were nice and he was sure Thurston, Hurrig, and Valaith would see to securing them. The chests were likely valuable as well, but the dwarf was no better with locks than a knife on a mine wall. Since Jex seemed to have the locked containers taken care of, it was time for larger matters. Bründir rush out to get an idea for the state of the battle.
At first, all seemed a bit of a stalemate. The townsfolk were dug in and on home turf while the hobgoblins had to cross the ravine's chokepoints and the bugbears were trying to uproot the uprising. Once the smoke rose from the tent, though, he could see anxiety and panic creep through the rear of the hobgoblin formation. With the allies routed or killed, the bugbears gave way and fled as well.
Amid the aftermath, it was hard to ignore the fste of Anders with the congregating guardsmen and Thurston's outcries. It was tragic, and Bründir certainly felt a remorse over the loss, but he'd never known Anders very well working in the mines. The best he could think of was for old Ringrut. "Anders did a great thing t'day, best we ne'er forget."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Ringrut instinctively hesitates to accept an offer from a giant, but does slowly nod to Valaith in assent. After all, it was her who had brought them the weapons to begin with. He offers Bründir what is intended as a weak smile in thanks for the kind words, but it comes out as more of a grimace.
"Bring 'im to the temple," he tells the men, pulling himself to his feet. "Bring all of 'em."
Across the ravine, Jex sees no trace of motion from inside the town hall. However, when the villagers begin to arrive at Moradin's temple with their dead, they are greeted by a gruesome sight. The goblins have desecrated the building with foul graffiti, and the corpse of Ulfgar the priest still hangs from the door.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
“Oh no...” Vark mutters as the group comes upon the ravaged temple. “V-val maybe...” he points to the priests corpse, indicating they should take care of this mess. Vark does his part by running over to the graffitied walls. He opens the waterskin he keeps on him and begins chanting in primordial under his breath. A stream of water snakes out of the vessel and whirls into a small frothy orb. It’s slow going, but the rapidly spinning water begins to clear a swath of the blood and grime used for the crude markings.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Thurston looks at Val and begin to take down the corpse of the cleric.
He follows Hurrig instructions on how to correctly prepare the body until further and better care could be taken of him.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Val smiles as she places the stone upon Ander’s chest reverently...
Val nods to Vark and assists Thurston in bringing down the priest’s corpse. She looks to Hurrig, “Where can we place him?”
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
The mood is solemn as Ulfgar is carefully brought down from where he hangs. The grey, curly hairs of the old dwarf's beard are stained with blood around his mouth, and his eyes are bleached white from days under the sun. He clearly hung here for some time, both before and after he was able to escape into Moradin's embrace.
The big double doors swing inwards with a groan as the miners put their shoulders to them and heave. Inside all is dark and quiet, although the stench of death hangs in the air. The altar and any other symbols of the Morndinsamman have been toppled, smashed and defaced. It will clearly take time and effort to restore this place to its former glory.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"People of Sheercleft!" Bründir calls among the townsfolk, "We've fought an' won our home back. Some gave more'n others, and we'll ne'er ferget them. Bring me their names, an' I'll make sure they're remembered forever. But b'fore we do any of that, we 'ave to make sure we're safe ag'in." A congregation begins to form around the dwarf as it seems Anders' death has left a confusion over what to do next.
"First, I need some able bodies with me to the town hall. If they did...this to Moradin's hall, no tellin' what they did to ours." A few uneasy shifts go through the crowd as they glance back at the town's temple. Bründir stands on a wagon to get a better view of everyone and wave over anyone trying to dodge collective recovery. "Next, I need ye all sweepin' th' city in groups. Yer fam'lies're safe, but we don' want'em comin' home to goblins in the cellars. See to it that your homes, an' yer neighbors' homes, are all safe."
Among the crowd, it seems that both guards and miners alike are taking interest in responsibility, "Last, we appreciate ev'rything ye've done. Not a soul is undeservin' today of a drink and thanks. That said, we need weapons returned to th' armoury." A few apprehensible grunts and grumbles arose, "I know, I know, seems two-faced fer me to day ye need t'be safe an' chase stragglers out, then ask ye to give yer weapons back. That's why I'm sayin' 1 week," he held up a finger to emphasize, "Ye 'ave 1 week to make sure ye're safe, then bring back the watch's weapons an' armor. If ye've got good reason an' coin to pay, ye can keep'em an' we'll 'ave'em stamped as yer own." The mood was only slightly improved by the compromise.
"Now, I said I need bodies to 'elp at th' town hall. Who's comin'?"
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Thurston takes a step forward
"Always at your side my friend." says to him. When the dwarf comes down the cart he says "well said and done Bründir. You talk funny, but you talk well. "
PbP Character: A few ;)
The wagon that Bründir has clambered atop stands, like many others, on the marketplace, in the shadow of the town hall. The gathered villagers cheer at first, in response to the dwarf's rousing words. However, when they turn to look at the big, old building, which some of them have never had reason to enter, there is hesitation. Even before the arrival of the Mabinogi and their goblin lackeys, it always carried a certain sense of authority. Now, haunted by the vengeful the ghosts of invading wizards, be they real or imagined, it seems more foreboding than ever.
"Not bad that, lad," comes a voice from over Bründir's shoulder. Now that the fighting is over, it seems Brynja has returned with the rest of the villagers. Nevertheless, her face is grimy and she still carries a sword in her hand. It seems she too saw her share of the fighting.
"Ye goin' in then? I 'ave a feelin' whoever was inside is long gone, but I'd watch ye step. Gods only know wha' they left behin'."
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"Why does ev'ryone say that...?" Bründir stares at Thurston with a bit of concern, "Dorno talks like he's ne'er talked ti someone 'cept squirrels b'fore, an' ye talk like Thor's in yer bed ev'ry night." He gives a smile and shoves the Norscan's breastplate as Brynja returns.
"Aye, best be careful in there. Don' think there's much to worry 'bout; if there was a leader in there, I'd think there'd be more guards. He gives a nod for Thurston, Brynja, and whoever else comes along to follow inside.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Inside the building it is eerily quiet and dark. The wind blows through the open windows, scattering papers about the entrance hall. All the candles and lamps have been put out. Ahead, the staircase up to the next level beckons.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva