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Lady Tam

The Darakan Chronicles

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Alright, first the legal mumbo-jumbo. The books used for this game are The Player's Handbook, the Dungeon Master's Guide, and the Monster Manual. All three books are wholy owned by Wizards of the Coast, they theselves are owned by Hasbro, Inc. Reaper Miniatures takes no responsibility for this thread, and asks the players to self-moderate. All done? Good.

 

The Darakan Chronicles!

 

Prologue:

 

Are you sure?î

 

ìThe Fates do not make frivolous omens, Milord.î

 

The lord cursed silently to himself, half-wishing to the Gods that they would take him before the Sorrowful Men would. At least the Gods could give him a clean death. Those Men would take their time, as they always do with their victims. He lifted his goblet once more, taking a heavy swallow of the fortified wine. Its effects were taking most, but not all of the sting from the news his Diviner gave him.

 

ìThe gift of the grape will not alter it either, Milord.î

 

He cursed again, half-wishing he could lash out at the messenger, but he knew he could not. For she was a most special messenger, one from the Gods themselves. She was invaluable during the Campaigns, but here and now she was more a curse. He had wished her portents to be true before, and it was uncomfortable to be wishing they were false, for once.

 

ìAlright, if the Gods have chosen me now, then I will have someone to go with....î He crossed his room, reaching for the well-kept Darakan sword, his only connection to another life, is seemed.

 

ìYou may strike this one down, Milord. Not all of them. One of them will do it, surely as water will wear down a rockî

 

The lord gripped the handle, wishing she would be silent! He finally adjusted his sword belt, giving it one final tug. He turned to his oracle, and looked into those too-purple eyes of hers. Would it be too much for her to blink! It is damnably difficult to look at her when she does that!  ìBut Iím not going to lie in my grave and wait for them to bury me.î He made the statement carry the weight of oath.

 

ìYour masters would be proud of you, Milord, had they continued to be honorable men, and not weakened by their own greed...î

 

He took another swallow of wine, feeling its effects heavily now. He sat down at his desk again, looking up at her. ìHow do we stop them, then?î

 

She glided closer, looking into his eyes with that strange patience. ìYou... do not, Milord. But others will.î

 

ìOthers? Who then?î he meant to sound authoritative, but his voice seemed a little more slurred than it should have been.

 

She closed her eyes finally, her features furrowed as she concentrated. The room was suddenly cold, for all the heat the fireplace was giving off. A small, ice cold wind blew through the study, but no window was open this chill night. When she did speak again, it was with the voice of the Gods.  ìThey will be seven. They will bear steel and flame. Fiery souls and terrible weapons. Theirs is the path the Gods have lain before them. They will suffer as any in our legends will, but the night is darkest before the dawn....î She opened her eyes and looked down with sadness at her liege. His body carried the stillness of death, his soul claimed for his rewards or punishments the Gods choose for him. She quietly glides towards the desk, picking up the fallen goblet and setting it on the richly polished surface. Reaching out, she closes eyes that will never look out on the world again, and whispers a small prayer, asking leniency for his soul.

 

A noise makes her turn, and one of the Sorrowful Men was standing near her, his features almost as blank as her now-dead lordís.

 

ìLeave this place, assassin. Your trade is not needed here tonight. He is passed on, struck down by the Gods before your steel could touch him.î She made herself sound firm, but she could already feel the sorrow welling up in her throat. ìGo now.î She said, making herself stand tall before this... animal.

 

The Man looked at her with pale eyes, then grunted, slipping out of the room like smoke, his target was gone, and she wasnít a paid service.

 

The Diviner shuddered softly, then turned back to her now cooling lord. ìForgive me,î she said in a small voice. ì...for it was easier to let you slip quietly away, than the terrible way he would have let you go....î

 

And then she wept.

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Alright, boys and ghouls, it's the first real post! Please read through it carefully, and remember, any actions are considered IC. (yes, it does feel like a cut scene, but hey, I blame my Muse.)

 

--begin--

 

Episode one:

 

ìWake up, you lot!î

 

Thatís the first thing you hear. The rattle of keys being the second.

 

Torches flicker in sconces along the hallway, but too far away from you to make effective weapons. It was bad enough being stuffed into this cell, but there was only so much room for everyone. Bare stone makes terrible bedding, but at least you got a few moments of sleep. Some of you are still shaking off the nightís drinking. Others of you, just thrown in here for no reason that you know of. The Gaolers were less than kind, but they didnít outright abuse you. Stripped of weapons and obvious magickal items, it made for a cold night. The Gaolers seemed to know what about Sorcerers, and warned them they would get no second chances. Any words of power would result in a quick, cruel death.

 

ìNow giddup!î

 

This example of a public servant is dimmer than usual, but his girth makes chances of escape slim. Some of you could take him, but he would shout before you got a chance to silence him permanently.  Heís one you havenít seen before, but that means little. With his size, the club in his meaty hand would most certainly leave a mark on your head. ìYouíve got a visitor.î He says quieter, now that people are standing. His features show heís in little mood for such malarkey. He takes a step to the side, and another Gaoler comes in with a torch, providing the first real light youíve all seen in what could easily be a day, from the grumbles in your stomachs. This light shows your dingy compartment, and how small it really is. The visitor enters, a man of ebony skin and cocoa-brown eyes. His head is shorn, either from a monastic sect, or personal preference. Heís smaller than the Gaolers are, but he looks much, much tougher than any of them would be. He bears no weapon you can see, and has no armor. His outfit is a plain tunic of brown and a green pair of breeches. His boots are well crafted, and appear to be of softest leather. The only other noticeable detail is a black band around his right bicep.

 

ìGood Morrow to you all.î He speaks, voice suprisingly deeper than you would expect from such a small man. ìMy apologies for your conditions in here, but the arrangements were made in haste, and when a Diviner speaks, you move with even more haste.î His smile is honest enough. ìI can see some of you are confused why youíre here, and in all honesty, I am as well. As I said, when a Diviner speaks....î His features sober, and his voice hardens just a little. ìNow. Since we /do/ have you here, I would ask a small favor. An audience with our Diviner. As some of you no doubt have thought, you have little choice in the matter. Well, two choices;  Come with me, and the meeting, or stay here and listen as the Gaolers throw the key away.î He steps out of the cell, looking back at the group. ìAnd some of you are wondering about your... companions? They have met with no cruelty. Itís suprisingly hard to harm an animal, especially when you have bonded with it.î He nods to his torchbearer, who also leaves the cell, returning the room to its usual gloom.

 

ìWhoís coming along?î he says simply, but this time, his wide smile seems to brighten the entire Gaol.

 

--End--

 

Alright, gang. You see where things are, One post each, next post asafp.

 

--lstormhammer, Gee Em

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Standing up quickly, the young human in the adjoining cell who has been unconscous since you were brought here, backs into the corner, a low growl escaping his throat.

 

He looks around wildly seeming to want to escape. He runs up to the bars and shakes them, trying to get free. He spins around as if he senses something not there.

 

"Who are you? Where am I? Who... who am I?"

 

AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH.... he clutches his head and howls, slumping to the floor and giving the bars a final shake.

 

The gaoler shakes his head muttering about fools and madmen. He picks the shuddering Islander up and pushes him out the now unlocked door.

 

"On your feet, boy. You heard what he said, didn't ye? I don't want your bloody carcass stinkin' up me cell no more... you're off to see Her Worship, now... can't be all that bad. Get a move on."

 

With a final shove, the Islander stumbles into the corridor, still looking around wildly as the man moves on to the next prisoner.

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At the sound of the keys and our Gaoler's warm greeting, Ame stands up slowly, rather stiff and stretches different muscle groups subtly as she listens to the offered invitation.  Wordlessly, she follows the dark man, curious to hear more, yet wary of his intentions.

 

cbs

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Arrrggghh, me aching knees.  Stern lifts his massive frame off the cell floor and sratches himself in a variety of areas.  Where are me weapons?  Lemme have me weapons and some food, I demand it at once!  You there dwarf! Do you know what's happenin' here?  

 

Stern walks briskly toward the open cell door following the heavy footsteps of a female dwarf just ahead of him.  He is curious, yet hungry and very angry that his weapons and armor have been taken...  He follows the dwarf out of the cell.  

 

SK

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Mykayla gets up slowly from where she was sitting. She goes to stand by Bob. Seeing the first three head out she touches Bob's shoulder and says. "I think it best we go along. Besides, I am curious as to why "we" are needed, and why if we were needed so badly we were so shabbily treated." She, will then move out of the cell herself, pausing to make sure Bob is coming.

LT

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In the torchlight, with her blue skin appearing black to the humans, Jesset deliberately stretches and twists each limb, feeling bruised areas carefully and judging herself well. Rising only after the head gaoler has finished speaking, she pads out of her open cell.

 

"I, for one, would speak with this diviner." Examining the conditions of her brief home she adds, "Magik works in strange ways."

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"I get the feeling, my lady, that if they wanted us dead then we would be. Stay close if you are nervous"

Robert follows Mykayla out of the cell.

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Alright, kids another one. Broods, don't worry about posting here, I'll be bringing you in on the next posting (tonight, I swear. Think of today as a two-fer tuesday. yea, that's it)

 

--begin--

 

The dark-skinned man smiles as he watches each of you step out of the cell. He turns his back, leading the way out of this Gaol. When you emerge  again, youíre in the main area of Searoad, not far from the keep. The sharp smell of the sea comes to your senses, and the occasional screech of a gull, as well. The wind off the water is crisp and cool, proof that winter cannot be far along.  Even the relatively short trip through the market area gives ample chances of escape. Your guard is light, and one /could/ do it, were one inclined. But without your gear, or an explanation of why you were captured, it would be a short route. Your only Gaoler is the dark-skinned man who, after a short word with the Guard at the gate, passes through, bringing his recently imprisoned with him. The keep is more a proper castle. Some of you see a Dwarven hand in its construction. The castle itself juts into the sea, far enough that the only route to attack would be through formidable defenses at the front. The entire building has been either cut from a brilliant white rock, or made to look it somehow, providing an impressive view.

 

The main yard of the castle is well kept, to your left is the smithy, to your right seems to be some enclosed buildings, most likely the Barracks. Ahead of you is another door, which the dark-skinned man heads towards. His mood has brightened since heís left the Gaol, not to the point of making small talk, but heís less and less concerned about your possible escape. The second gate is opened for him, and with another smile, he leads you up stairs... lots of them... it seems hundreds of stairs. His pace is light enough that even the more scholarly can keep up (albeit with a shortness of breath). But from his casual glances back one can assume he could do this much quicker. Finally he seems to have come to the right level, as he opens the door to an antechamber. The room itself is softly lit with candles, there is seating for all, and the room is comfortably warm. A Page stands at the next door, in the livery of the Lord, brown and green, with a trident sigil in gold.

 

ìStay here a moment.î Your guide asks as he murmurs to the Page. The Page darts inside...

 

--End--

 

--I know, I know, more cut scene, but you have a chance to escape if you /really/ want to. Some RP can be done along the trip, that's up to you. Again, sorry about the delay.

 

--lstormhammer

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Eyes darting wildly about... the human sniffs the air like a dog...

 

"I remember the smell of the sea... the cliff... there was something there... something dark..."

 

Rushing up to Mykala, he grabs her by the arms.

 

"Please... the darkness... where am I? What is the place. The darkness... it's coming! Tell me who I am!"

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Stern looks around, quickly assessing possible tatics if a melee should ensue.

 

 

Stern speaks, I demand to know why I've been held against me will! †And where are me weapons! †Who are these others with me? †Who are you? †If it's fight you want lemme know cuz I shall not be led to the slaughter house with out a proper brawl... †(Looking toward the young mage) And would some put a gag on that crazy mage, he's bound to get us all killed

Now, are ye with me on this one? (points to the female Dwarf), †(looks toward the Skoli) Skoli what about you? Can't ye conjur up a broad sword or sumpin' with yer majik? †

 

Stern stands defensively, but makes no move toward his captors... †

 

Stern senses no immediate danger, but is instinctively on guard.

 

SK

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Taking the Islander's measure, gives him a sound slap (the kind you give someone who is hysterical in order to calm them down.) "Calm yourself! You do no honor to your self or your people carrying on so. We shall soon find out how we all came to be here and why. Perhaps the answers to your questions will be found then." She then turns to the others. "I see we are all in the same situation her, perhaps we should make ourselves known to each other. My name is Mykala Amberlynn."

LT

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The name is Stern, Stern Kestrelmann...  And the rest of ye'?  Who else be trapped in this snare with me?  

 

Stern looks wildly around the antechamber at each member of the party...

 

SK

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"Aye", the dwarf speaks, "t'would appear we are in the same snare, sir, me dinna like it, but I willna give in to panic as yonder host may wish. †I am Ametrine Earthlyle, milady, are you alright with him, does assistence be needed just signal me." as she speaks she surveys the room and the peoples occupying it, attempting to assess the possible threat, and assistance, each one may yield. †She sure misses the comforting weight of her warhammer in her hands.

 

cbs

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