Emtih's End

Emtih's breathing was deep, heavy and erratic now as he climbed through the rocks. Stopping occasionally to fire back at his pursuers, he cursed the rocks, the wound in his shoulder bleeding profusely and the non-magical boots he was wearing. If he was wearing the boots of climbing he could have made it up and away from these pursuers without difficulty. But he did not have them now, a fateful choice.

The previous night his group of scouts had been eyeing the seige weapons the orcs had been bringing up for the coming siege of Bordon's Watch. The weapons were impressive and were sure to pose a significant threat to the defenders, but their orders had been to observe only, not to intervene. As the rain began to fall, they debated heatedly about whether to violate their orders and attack the siege engines or to simply withdraw and warn the defenders.

Emtih had argued strongly against any attack. If anything went wrong, their only route of escape would be deep through the mountains that would, even if they could evade the orcs, would put them in a position where they probably would not be able to make it back to the defences until well after the engagement was decided. But his young hot-blooded companions disagreed, seeing that the orcs were quite drunk and disorderly, they reasoned that they could get in, sabotage the weapons and escape during the storm that was blowing in. Although Emtih was the most skilled and experienced warrior of the group he was unused to leading a group and relented to their impatient demands.

That night in his journal he wrote hastily about the incident and his disagreement with the group but made a point of indicating that in the end, the group decided to act together. Emtih would stay in a rather exposed sniper position while the others would make their way through the camp, quietly killing any drunken guards along the way until they reached the siege weapons. They would slice the sections of rope into small sections before retreating. Ropes that thick were probably expensive enough that the orcs would be unprepared to replace so many of them. If anything went wrong, Emtih would provide cover fire while the rest made for the mountains. Either way they would join up and hide deep in the mountains, trying to escape to Overlook.

To improve their chances, Emtih lent the other members of the groups most of his magical items, with the exception of his boots.

At first, it even looked like they would succeed. The guards died silently and the group made it to the catapults and began slicing through the large cables. But the rain made the ropes slick and difficult to slice easily, the seconds slipped away while the group fumbled with the cables. In the meantime, a half-drunk orc stubbled from his tent to come across the the dead sentry. Kicking the body, it took only a few seconds before he realized that the sentry's throat was slit. Before he could raise his voice however, an arrow had pierced his throat, silencing him permanently. But as it did, another orc spotted the group at the catapults and Emtih's aim was not nearly as accurate, hitting him square in the back. As the orc lay there he tried to yell but could only emit a few loud groans before his life slipped away. It was enough however, to attract the attention of a few orcs in their tents.

Things began to fall apart and the group began to attempt to flee the camp. One orc reached a warning horn and blew a mighty blast, leading to drummers in other parts of the camp to begin their rallying beat. Emtih fired as many arrows as he could into the midst of the camp, hoping to convince the orcs that they were facing an overwhelming attack. Instead, it stirred them up into a frenzy, similar to poking a bee's nest.

While most of the group made it out of the camp and into the mountains safely, one member became disoriented and could not find his way up the embankment. Shooing the others along a pre-arranged path, Emtih jumped down to help the young elf escape. Grabbing him, they dashed away from the camp, momentarily losing the orcs, but finding themselves nearly trapped in a box canyon of sorts. Thinking quickly, Emtih untied his boots and passed them to the young elf along with his backpack (where he always kept his diary), ordering him to use their special magic to quickly climb the sheer rock face and escape from there.

Emtih then fled from the canyon, firing arrows as he went, drawing the orcs away from pursuing his companions confident that he could find another way up into the mountains and escape as well. That is, he was confident until an orc bolt drove into his shoulder while he was jumping from rock to rock.

As painful as the wound was, he climbed higher and higher into the mountain, surprised by the length and tenacity with which the orcs were pursuing him. But he grew tired, slipping on the wet rocks, firing the occasional arrow at his tormentors and dodging their bolts.

As he reached a peak he was stopped dead in his tracks. Staring down into a massive chasm that he knew he could not cross, reality hit him like a Dwarven hammer. He was not going to escape this time. Staring across the chasm, he could see members of his scouting party watching him from a safe distance, unable to intervene without giving away their position. But as fixated as they were on him, he was equally fixated on the others that were standing there with them. His mother and father, sisters and brothers. His family was there, on the opposite side of the chasm. They were waiting for him.

Turning back, he fired his last arrows at the orcs as they scaled the rocks behind him, felling another two. He had lost cout of how many orcs he had hurried along to the afterlife but supposed that it was at least a few score. The orcs were exhausted from the chase, their rage exhausted, but their prey trapped. It was ironic, Emtih thought, that he would end his life as the quarry of another.

Drawing his sword he sliced into the orcs holding a position precariously on the edge of the chasm. Orc blades sliced deep into him, finally bringing his exhausted body to his knees. As the orcs pressed their advantage seeking a final victory, Emtih sought to achieve his own, and avoid the fate of the dwarven monks at the monastary. Better that his body be lost forever, than the tool of an orc cleric.

Collapsing off the side of the chasm, his body disappeared into the darkness below.

Life's Good

After fighting the orcs for 5 days, they've finally backed off. Everything sounds good however, there are some small issues that I have to take care of:

I'm a little bit concerned about the shanty town. It's really a shame for a beautiful city like overlook. I wanted to help those people but apparently something nasty is going on there. I'll talk to Mr.Forgeheart to see if he agrees to send a small army to kill the undead/necromancers and, of course, save the innocent people.

Arnie is really enjoying embracing us specially in important ceremonies. I have to take care of that.

Also sounds like Arnie (and Atherton) are taking the rumors about the consortium too seriously. I'm sure people have made those rumors just because they are jealous. I don't think all these clerics and paladins in overlook will let the consortium do something wrong. I don't really want to make this my problem. If these guys try to mess with the consortium I'll have to leave them alone and remain on the good side with other clerics and paladins.

Nothing makes sense anymore

The Farstriders are dead! All but Atherton were destroyed by the orc forces in the mountain. I'm just quickly writing this before we go to the mountain pass chamber to close it off. A lot has happened though that doesn't make any sense. The Farstriders should have been prepared, that Troll that we killed couldn't have been all that destroyed them. Our party, with the help of Atherton's immobolize spells, were able to quickly put an end to the beast. The Farstriders with their vast experience should have easily handled it. This is disturbing but what is even more disturbing is the fact that Thieves from the Shadowfeld (Dark Ones) are aiding the orcs. They live on another plane, what are they doing helping orcs?!! Even stranger she was holding a sending stone. They must have been in contact with someone. Maybe I'm just panicking and she was an exiled Dark One hiring herself out to ne'er-do-wells on this plane. I hope that's it.

This is never what happens in the books. It is always simple, we find out what is wrong, we face challenges, get through it and then move on to the next adventure. This time though I'm afraid. Who knows what we will face in the chamber. I just want to close the chambers and get back to town. I don't trust the Council they might have known about the terrible danger. Once we get back I'm going into town to figure out what is going on. Also what is this strange key for?

Book 2: Notes

Dear diary,

With my book stolen, my lodgings destroyed and a fight with my teammates I thought my adventuring days were over. However I have learned that when life gives you lemons it is best to make a nice refreshing drink with those lemons by adding a lot of sugar and using a prestidigitation spell to cool it down. With nothing to lose I unleashed the awesome forces of wizardry to rain fire down on a band of orcs who had slaughtered a defenseless dwarven monastery. It seems that the council was right to send us on this mission for the ruffians had attacked the temple through a tunnel unknown to the inhabitants.

As we neared the tunnel at the bottom of the monastery we found a horde of orcs ready to attack us. Even an orc shaman dedicated to their dark and horrible god was present. It was a long arduous fight and the presence of an almost sentient roaring flame led to the near destruction of the party. Many of our tough fighters were laid unconscious by the viciousness of the fight. Emtih and Aurel were at death's door but with the aid of Corrin and myself we did not lose them. Unfortunately someone had to go tell Borden's Watch that the tunnels had been infiltrated so Emtih and And have gone. Hopefully things work out alright for them.

And that brings us here. Resting after dealing with something orcs and just about to go into a corridor. I think I can see a statue at the end of hall, it looks familiar some how.. anyways let me go back for a minute.

After we had destroyed the orcs in the temple we met a dwarven paladin named Kalad. He's the one who told us about the “Vents” being over run by orcs. At first I thought it wassn't that much of a problem since the Farstriders had gone there and a party like that would have no problems dealing with a bunch of orcs. However we did go and it was a tough journey I had mentioned, using my knowledge of underground caverns from Epic Tales #109: Mysteries of the Usurperious Underdark that all forks in underground passages can be navigated using a secret code: Stalagmites? This way is right. Red Fungi? Go this way to die. But it didn't seem to work, most likely some dwarven trick to confuse experienced dungeoneers like myself. Anyways the place was very hot and sulfur and toxic gases overwhelmed me most of the time but everyone else seemed to be okay. Eventually though we met with a sorcerer from the Farstriders, Atherton, who seems to be fairly powerful (which he would have to be to be part of the Farstriders). I'm sure with him helping us we'll be okay.

Emtih's Journal

You know, sometimes I wonder about the folks who build rickety stairs in dark caverns. I mean, what really were they thinking? 'Hey, lets build a long set of stairs that's easy to fall off from in a very dark cavern. That'll be great! It'll keep the monk population down.'

Well, none of us fell off, but a few of the orcs sure did. They used the darkness to their advantage and left us attacking the darkness trying to respond. A well placed sunrod however, lifted the shroud of darkness that surrounded us and lit the place up nice and good. Its pretty crazy how much light comes from one of those sunrods it makes fights like this much easier.. for us that is.

Anyways, it looks like there's one more room in this area, Arel said its a forge area and there's a whole wack of orcs ahead waiting for us. We'll be throwing caution to the wind and charging in head first and seeing how things turn out.

Why oh why couldn't we just stay in the forest where its nice and safe?

-Emtih Tnod

Your Prattle Begins to Annoy Me *

I have to admit that I've changed my mind about Arnie. Yesterday, in that meeting in Overlook, I really wanted to use my new prayer on him but fortunately, after an angry look, he decided to shut the hell up for a while.

Now that finally Emtih told him that we know about his book, I think he made a valid point that his writings are "based on the truth". He just needed a reminder that he may not use our names in his stories (I would be even happier if he uses my name and tells the real story...). He also claims that he has been drunk and he doesn't remember about the stories that he has made in Overlook. Given how frightened he was when the whole party (including two not-so-friendly-dragonborns) were intimidating him, I believe that he was telling the truth.

Today, he did a really good job fighting those orcs but, after a few epic moves, he decided to copy my style but, of course, he was not a tank and I ended up using my divine forces to prevent his death.

I think he is a good fighter and certainly far from dark forces and that is all I need to know. Only time will tell if the hard feelings about him will remain in the party or not. Narcissism is not that dangerous after all.

*Title from here: :D

http://www.wowwiki.com/Quotes_of_Warcraft_III/Human_Alliance#Archmage

Emtih's Journal

Higher and higher, slowly we toiled, up the mountain and to the ridiculously placed monastery there. I swear, short of building cities, who builds a monastery high in the mountains? It seems ridiculously inconvenient to me. I guess I'm not the only one who likes to be left alone tho.

I guess I should have realized something was wrong when I saw them fires burning inside the monastery, but I supposed it was just a cook-out or somethin'. I checked for signs of a battle outside the monastery but found none. So we knocked on the door. Imagine our surprise when a group of orcs open the door, fortunately I got off a warning to the others to prepare themselves when I heard the orcs muttering something on the oth'r side of the door.

We dispatch'd the first group of 'em in the court yard within a winute. After searching about for a bit we bust through the doors to the inner sanctum of the monastery's worship chamber. The orcs there were in the process of mutilatin' the monks' corpses and the altar. There's 'nother thing I dun think I'll ever understand, the way folks always feel compelled to desecrate their enemies' places of worship. It seems such a waste of time. Maybe I'll ask Arel 'bout it later.

Underneath the alter was some secret doorway leading down some spiral stairs to the living quarters of the dwarven monks. We found a lot of dead dwarfs, and after a few minutes a large number of orcs joined them in being dead. It looks like the orcs came in from some back door to the monastery and killed most of the dwarfs in their sleep. Any that weren't killed here, were killed upstairs. They were totally taken by surprise. The orcs must have found some way through the mountain through this monastery.

This is bad, very very bad. If the orcs can get through here, they can attack Overlook from behind and avoid the battle at Baldur's Gate altogether. We've got to find a way to close this path permanently and get back to Baldur's Gate to warn them.

Why us? Because we're here I suppose, that's why.

-Emtih Tnod, 22 Freyr

Power sources and what makes your special.

4th edition has many great things to offer players but one thing that has been bothering me lately is how the different power sources are treated. There are currently 4 power sources that drive all classes, Martial, Arcane, Divine and Primal. What makes each of these power sources special. In previous editions of the game each had it's advantages and disadvantages. Divine casters received their spells from the gods and as a result had more time to develop other skills like fighting. This is seen in the fact that the cleric is a far better combatant than a wizard. However divine casters where limited to doing certain things based on what god they choose. They had codes to follow and their powers could be taken away if they did not follow them. Wizards on the other hand had unlimited freedom to do what every they wanted to, including delving into realms of magic priests where priest could not go. Learning spells and using spell books vs preying and all these other things set the casters apart.

In 4th ed what seems to set people apart are their powers, what powers they get and what party role they fill. Defender, striker, leader or controller, the source of your power has become a story element entirely and rarely matters any more. It's a difficult argument to articulate but the fact is that as written if you took the fighter and changed their power source from martial to primal, nothing happens. Everything stays exactly as it is now. It does not matter that he is martial, it's like wizards of the coast just put the names in there for the hell of it.

This bothers me a bit, I would have liked to see some things on each of the power sources, more lore, rules anything that gives them some context. I have already implemented one house rule when we started playing that made divine casters accountable to their gods. If you look at the PHB as written, a cleic of the goddess of healing and love could, after they are initiated, could go set an orphanage on fire just to hear the screams and nothing would happen, besides pissing off the police.

My question to you and i would like everyones opinion, not just my players, is

Would you be interested in setting up some minor rules to set each of the power sources apart a bit more. A few bonuses and a few penalties for each one. It does not have to be actually +1 when you do this kind of thing. Or am i being too anal and should the distinction between the power sources be left entirely to role playing.

For example to separate divine and arcane powers a bit more you could do something like this

Divine
- Spells are divinely inspired and new powers are learned immediately after leveling up though an hour or so of deep prayer and communion with your deity.
- need to follow a code of conduct for your god and to spread that gods message and teachings. Actions opposed to your god can lead to temporary or even perminant punishments such as loss of powers until you atone for your sins.

Arcane
- Arcane magic wielders can tap directly into the magical weave that flows thought the world. Once they have their powers they are free to do with them as they will. If a warlock makes a pact and then brakes it they retain their power however the entity they made the pact with reserves the right to hunt them down, if they can.
- Spells must me learned through some external source, usually ancient writings but other sources are possible. In order to learn new spells you must have access to that spell some how. New spells can also be researched but that takes time to accomplish.

Emtih's Journal

Arel got to interrogatin' that goblin we captured the other day and ultimately he told us ev'rything we wanted to know. Namely, that the orcs had gott'n across the mountains somehow and had a base camp set up somewhere. We bribed him and set him off with instructions to report back to us soon as he could.

Well, we gots into Overlook alrights, and we even found Arnie hiding away in this scummy part of town. We quickly took to getting him so pissed drunk that the next morning when we came by to find 'em And was easily able to convince him that we had nev'r met him in the first place. And has been getting quite close to Arnie, but I suspect that she's been continuing to lighten his purse from time to time. I've seen her do it a few times but other times I just suspect it.

Getting an audience with the town council thingy of sorts was easier than I anticipated, but then again it may have had something to do with the fact that I had been lugging around a bag full 'o orc heads around. They invit'd us back the next day with whole heap of other folks to dish out punishments.. err.. i mean.. missions.

We got the one which probably involves us hiking up some trail to some monastery high in the mountains.

I swear, if I die on those craggy peaks, far from the forest I love it would have been the worst fate I can imagine. I just hope that if I die, I die with a goblin on each sword.

-Emtih Tnod, 22 Freyr

Emtih's Journal

So, its off on another adventure I guess. Not really one of my choosing although I am satisfied somewhat with the results so far.

We really should stop going into tav'rns. Stuff always happens to us when we go there. Fortunately this time nuthin' got burned down but instead we got hooked into this mission to go off to some faraway city to battle some army of orc or something. I wasn't really payin' attention but I figured that with those fellas Corrin, And, Bassha and Arel would probably be lost before they lost sight of Brindol if I weren't 'round.

So we rode off into the morning sun. Cendrianne (my horse if you remember me sayin' so before) was acting all weird the morning we left Brindol but I tried to ignore it. She seems to have some weird sixth sense sort of thing goin' and is pretty smart for a horse so I figure that means this isn't goin' ta be so straightforward a task.

Sure enough, we gets a glimpse of the city that we're heading to, Oversight, or something like that... doesn't matter what the city is called I figure its just another juicy target for invading armies. How many times do I gotta say this, building massive cities is just an invitation for some marauding armies to knock 'em off.

Anyways, so we gets within sight of of the city and then we're attacked by this band of orcs led by a goblin cleric. At first, the chief orc or something, he ineptly throws this axe that goes soaring over the whole lot of us. I thought it was a joke or something, so I dismount and send Cendrianne away laughing all the way. Then we're ambushed by the goblin on top of a ridge, and orcs down below. I get hit a couple times but go weaving through the battlefield until I reach the top of the ridge where the goblin is. With just him and me we done did battle on top of the ridge until Dave (this fella we were travelling with from Brindol) showed up. Then And popped to the top of the ridge (i swear it still freaks me out when she appears out of nowhere likes that) and blasted him some too.

I guess the battle down belows went well and the orcs all found their souls divorced from their bodies pretty quickly. Dave and Joe (Dave's friend) both died in the battle though. Terrible shame I'm telling ya.

Finally, with the goblin near death Arel (that kill-joy) came to the top of the ridge and the goblin done surrendered. I then had a moral dilemna: do I kill the goblin and disappoint Arel? Or do I not kill the goblin? Ultimately I figur'd that Arel seems like the good sort and I think he wanted to interrogate the goblin r something.

I'll just kill the goblin later when no one is looking.

- Emtih Tnod, Freyr 21

Upcoming Event - Febtober 2 at the Laughing Manticore

Dear readers,
So many of you have contacted me to express your excitement at reading Issue 4 of The Aeviternal Adventures of Corrin Kheldar. Following Kheldar as his band of adventurers rescued Brindol’s kidnapped citizens, recovered the city’s treasured artifacts, and fought there way through waves of hobbledehoy hobgoblins, fissiparous fiends, and unguiculate undead, jectigating jellies, and battling the dapocaginous (and jaculiferous) drakes as they led the rescuees back to Brindol, the favourite moments you have picked out are as varied as the adventures I chronicle. For some, nothing is greater than Corrin’s shouting encouragement at just the right times, his force of will alone keeping his allies in the fight. For others it is his own ability to strike at foes, smashing them into his cohorts’ arms, or smiting them in vital organs. For others still, Corrin’s skills, jamming traps and doors, or calming rescued prisoners are the cause of most amazement. Whatever draws you in to these aeviternal adventures, if you thought you were excited to read them adventures, get ready for even more! Corrin himself will be at the Laughing Manticore in Brindol, the site of the beginning of this most recent adventure, on the second day of Febtober. He will read from, and sign copies of, Issue 4. He might even have a few words to say about the Emissary…. I hope to see you all there!~Biloquy Barnard

The Next Great Adventure

Many Questions have been solved, Many Questions are as of yet unanswered. It is now clear that the Attack on Brindol was not some random raid but had a purpose. Was it really as simple as reuniting the red hand or was more at stake? Was Sinruth being groomed for greater things or was he just an unwilling pawn in some greater schema? Who is the Emissary? What is the Emissary? Is there even an emissary at all? If there is, does he prefer apples or oranges?

Ah but it seems like you have time to ponder these these questions as the past month and a half has been unexpectedly quiet. Work is almost complete on the repairs to the city. The dead have been buried and people have moved on with their lives. And you have been doing well for yourselves with your new found fame.

You knew it could never last. Something unsettling has been nagging at the back of your mind. You try to go on with your daily life, like you did before the attack but ….... but your not sure what.

You made your choice, you went to Rivenroar, you rescued the hostages and now your life in inevitably tangled up in the threads of fate. You are being pulled steadily onwards towards some unknown goal with no way of escape in site. Soon you will leave you home, traveling on to your next great adventure at

The Siege of Bordrin's Watch

If only you had taken the blue pill.

Arel's new sword

Hmmm, I quite like my new sword. It's high quality and looks good. After my practices today, I'm pretty sure that my divine forces have no problem with it.

I don't really care what others think about it. If it has some evil forces or anything I would be more than happy to challenge them but I'm sure it's just a sword, how good or bad it is depends on how I use it. Every evil thing/person can return to the good side if treated appropriately. That's why I like to intimidate hobgoblins instead of killing them (undeads are a different story though).

I have to admit that I wish it had some holy symbols. I'll see what I can do about that.

Andraste's thoughts

Well, its finally come around to me! I mean, I've been on this adventure, and I've only now been able to write in this journal! Although, I can't blame it entirely on my colleagues, I have been rather distracted by several shinny new finds. After all, what's a girl to do?

So, let me take this opportunity to introduce myself; an Eladrin Warlock, who lucky made a pact with some interesting Fey spirits around the same time that Red Hand moved in and destroyed my family. Emtih lived in the same area, but I will always look back at that time with joy rather than pain as he does. The spirits that graced me with the power I now possess saved me from the fate he experianced. Since the loss of my family, I've been surviving on the streets. You could say I have an eye for anything (and I mean ANYTHING) that would sell. You name it, and I'll take it for you, whether you want it taken or not ;) this quaility probably got me into the thieves guild in brindol too.

The last few days have been interesting - firstly, because I've finally been allowed to see the extent of the power from the fey pact I made several years ago. I don't think I could have imagined the destruction contained within my 'Eladrin Blast' before this. Sadly for the hobgoblins, (great for Emtih) the loss of limbs was only too easy for me. It's really brought into light my abilities. It would be safe to say that if anyone crosses me now, aggrevates me, or tells undisclosed lies regarding myself or any one of my new firends better be prepared for the consequences. Death has an ability to allow for the detachment of emtions.
Secondly, full respect goes to my fellow adventures. Even though we were only working together for a few days, they displayed great grace of character, and true spirit of valour to get to the end goal and save those poor people that Sinruth took. They have all grown in my eyes to be great potential friends.

But now, let's be frank. I went on this adventure for the loot, and I'm very happy to report that I manged to get my paws on some really juciy bits of jewellry, armour, wepons (and I'm shamelessly going to keep the pact dagger for myself), gems, and some extra bonus's of candels, bitumen tourches, and um....I think a new note book.

So, if you're looking for something, it's likely I have it. Or, I can just steal it for you ;)

Arnie's First Draft

Arnold has left town looking for adventure. He mentions that he might see you all again when he is in need of help but he doubts that it will be soon. As he leaves he gives the party a satchel to leave with the Congo Red merchants. He can't do it himself since has been asked not to enter the store again because of some recent "unpleasantness". If you decide to look in the satchel this is what you find.



To Red Army Press Publishers,


My name is Arnold Sol, wizard extraordinaire and currently an adventurer in the party known as the Champions of Justice.

I have perused your selection of adventure stories since you officially were added to Congo Red's catalog and find that though there is much to choose from the quality is left to be desired. Though I love "Epic Adventures!: The Amazing Adventures of Congo Red and the League of Justice", most of your stories are nothing more than re-hashes of EA!: AAoCRatLoJ. I understand the need to hue close to the original source material but some of your work is nothing short of derivative.

Therefore I have decided to send you the first draft of my manuscript entitled: Arnold Sol and the Champions of Justice: The Blight of Brindol (working title). This work is based on the journal of my adventurers, and I think will greatly increase your sales and the quality of your readership.

Sincerely,

Arnold Sol, wizard extraordinaire

PS. Due to the popularity of my adventures some unscrupulous individuals may contact you trying to publish alternative accounts of what happened in Brindol. These, sir, are fakes and do not deserve your valuable time.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 1: Into the Fire

..…..
The wind billowing around his glowing robes Arnold gestured subtly the room exploding into a flash of light as fire erupted in the tavern. Deftly targeting, his spell engulfed the maruading hobgoblins. As the disgusting creatures burned one screamed:

“I will not die alone!!” And dragged an iinocent peasent into the fire with him. Corrin ran to safe him but was not quick enough. “No!!” he screamed seeing the dead peasnat. “If only I could have saved him.”

Arnold consoled the halfling. “It was not your fault. Such are the vagaries of war,” he looked resoultely at the carnage that was wrought by the goblinoid horde “But with Radu as my witness they will pay, they will pay!”

......

“Help!! Save me Arnold!” screamed And as the ogre hurled the containers at the burning town.

“No worries, stand back!” The flaming sphere materialized into the middle of the containers exploding the carriage in a massive fireball and destroyed the containers as well as the ogre. “Take tha!” Arnold yelled at the remaining goblins who fled in fear.

“My hero,” And said admirilingly.

…......

Chapter 3: Into the Temple of Evil

…......

The hooded figures shot at the Dragonborn but the arrows did little damage. Swinging his swords the fighter hit the figure who then suddenly disappeared. “What happened,” bellowed Basha.

“Gnomes,” Arnold muttered under his breath. “Why does it always have to be gnomes?”.

…...........

Chapter 8: Into the Belly of the Beast

….........

“Stand back friends” Arnold warned as the creature smashed against the invisible forcefield. “It is a Chaos Demon!”.

Suddenly a hobgoblin came into the room and pressed a button close to the door. The demon screamed and began to move to Aurel. “No!!” the paladin screamed “Please don't hurt me!”

Using his quick thinking Arnold used his telekinesis to press the button again. Suddenly the demon was split in two, half of his body lying outside of the field.

“Looks like he's having a splitting headache” Arnodl quipped.

“Hahaa, Arnold,” Aurel said as he and the rest of the party laughed heartily. “You really crack me up!”

…........................

Chapter 11: Caught Red Handed

…................

Sindruth then quickly incapacitated the two dragonborn who had tried to flank him. With amazing speed and agility he outran the warlock and with one blow had her bleeding on the ground. Lastly, Emtih used his twin swords to slow him down but the massive goblinoid flung him across the room knocking the elf unconscious.

“Now it is just you and me wekaling,” the chieftain snarled.

This was his moment, all alone with his friends hurt. Arnold had to do something. The most powerfull spell he could only perform was the scorching burst spell but that would not even slow down the brute.


“If I reverse the the redirection powers...” he muttered as he looked at the War Staff of the High Mage of Rivenroor. “That might work!”

As Sindruth approached him the fighter stopped in his tracks and grimaced in pain, the grimace turned into a scream as he cried out and then fell to the ground.

….................


Chapter 12: Epilogue

As the cheering died down and the town's people left to celebrate at the local taverns, the heroes looked at one another.

“Well I am off,” Arnie stated. “It is a big world out there and bigger adventures.”

“We will miss you,” Corrin said. “But I have one question. How did you defeat the Sindruth? You had used your most powerful spells before”

“Well,” Arnie explained. “This staff has the power to increase the area of some of my attacks. While studying the mechanism I found a way to reverse it. To narrow the radius so that it is so small that it can destroy just a tiny part of a person, even inside a person. So essentially I fireballed one of his veins.”

“Brilliant!” Corrin exclaimed as the brilliant wizard Arnold Sol walked out into the world looking for adventure.

Who is that deaf/mute paladin?

Well, I'm Nima and I work in cathedral of Brindol. After the ceremony yesterday, almost everyone in Brindol have asked me who that mute paladin is and I'm really tired of telling the story again and again so I will just write it down.

It's not hard for me to imagine how people have failed to socialize with him in the ceremony, if you talk to him (specially if you are drunk) all you will get is angry/kind look (depending on how much he likes you and your gender of course :D ) and if you are a child maybe even a smile.

Arel doesn't really like to talk about his past, in fact, he doesn't like to talk at all. Btw, I have gathered all these information in the past few months that he has been here in very short chats that we had. Arel has been born in a far far city. His father is a senior dragon born paladin who had lots of plans for his young son. Arel's trainings in religion started as soon as he started talking. Laters, he learnt some fighting skills and basics of diplomacy. Being the only son of the senior paladin, he has always got exaggerated feedbacks from everyone about how great he is and he is always dreaming about being a great paladin like his father.

On the negative side, all Arel knows about his life is that he is supposed to serve the 'good'. He had never had the time to think about what that 'good' is. He is not intelligent enough to think about hard questions like this and he really doesn't need to. All he really needs is respect from the others and he gets that with what he is doing right now anyways.

A few years ago, like any other adult male creature, he found it difficult to live with his father in the same area. He believes that his father was humiliating him during his trainings (and he didn't liked it, specially when other paladins where around). All his requests for giving him a serious mission to serve the people got rejected by the council of paladins (guess who's behind that, his father had a nice influence there). Finally he decided that it's the time for him to proof himself. A couple of oracles helped him to predict that there is a good chance that the Red Hand repeats its attack and kill many people in Brindol and that's how he ended up here with a burning desire to serve the 'good' and proof himself (yeah, it's not deja vu, you have read this before in starwars :D) .

And a few words about his character: He is extermely anti-social. He doesn't really care about others and he thinks of them as a bunch of sheeps that he is supposed to protect. He doesn't like to have other people telling him what to do. He is not a big fan of strategic wars. He thinks that brave and honourable fighters (like himself of course) just charge into the fight and get the thing done. Specially when someone needs help, all that he knows is that he must be there, even if this results in his death.

As I said before, he just assumes that all the new peoples he meets are a bunch of weak guys (this doesn't necessary mean weakness in their fighting abilities) but once he trusts someone, he will do everything for him/her. Finally, if you are doing anything 'bad' or 'evil' make sure that he is not around.

So, that's all I know about the Paladin who seems to be one of the heros of our city (at least for a while). If you had any questions you know where to find me and please make sure he won't read this. I'm sure he wouldn't like it at all.

Emtih's Journal

I tell you, there's nothing more satisfying than returning from a successful hunt. When you're on a hunt, find your prey, kill it and make it back safe there's no better feeling in the world.

Unless of course, you're returning to Brindol. Where they fete you and celebrate by drinking themselves into a stupor for three nights in a row. Don't these people re'alize that getting themselves a'piss drunk was what got us into trouble in the first place? I swear, sometimes I wonder if I prefer the company of goblins to townies... at least I can kill the goblins and no one will mind.

Only thing worse than stupid townies is stupid townie leaders. So we gets back to town and there the leaders are all a'waitin for us with bated breath. We gets led to them and they goes on this big sermon abouts how great and wonderful we are. Arnie really got into it too, which made me sad, I was hoping the whole experience would make him realize that this is not just a game that you play with your friends once a week for fun. But it seems like he still can't think of it as anything else.

Their dam fool town guard is scattered all abouts searchin' for more goblins. I suppose they want to find the goblins but it leaves them vulnerable to more attacks! If I were the goblins I'd be picking off their scouting parties one at a time to reduce the strength damn fool town guard. Not that any of those clueless good-fer-nothings could find their way through the wilderness even. I'll bet half of 'em are lost somewhere in the woods and can't find their ways back. Good as dead, I'll say.

On the other hand, they might actually find some goblins... in which case.. I might want to join up and give 'em a hand. I guess I could put up with some of the damn fools for a bit if it meant getting the chance to kill some goblins.

That boy, the town guard captain's son, he's got some anger in him, I could sense it all the way back from the castle. He blames the goblins and rightly so, they killed his father. Perhaps he will learn the ways of the warrior and become stronger and more powerful than even his father. Maybe I should check in on 'im from time to time and give 'im a few pointers on how to use sharp pointy things. Key thing is that the pointy end goes in the other guy.

-Emtih Tnod

A Troubleing letter

Well perhaps this should have been poasted first but i guess a Prequel will have to do.

Sinruth was a hobgoblin with greater aspirations than a life spent preying on the fringes of civilization. He listened closely at the campfires when his fathers and uncles told tales of the Red Hand of Doom, a mighty army that ran across the land like a scythe. And when he became an adult and a leader of his own band of hobgoblins, he found a cache of tunics and weapons left behind by that army. Sinruth felt his destiny calling. He declared himself the new Warlord of Sinruth’s Hand (as he named the group), emblazoned every possible surface with a crudely painted, downward thrusting red hand insignia, and set about recruiting the massive army that he felt was his birthright.

But starting an army isn’t as easy as those campfire
tales led Sinruth to believe. Years passed with Sinruth’s band eking out a meager existence in the wilderness. But slowly, he started to gain allies. A temporary bargain with some sinister, mischievous gnomes blossomed into a lasting friendship. The Red Hand’s exploration of the mountains unearthed some undisturbed catacombs beneath the long-ruined Castle Rivenroar. Sinruth struck another bargain, and the undead guardians let the Red Hand move in, in exchange for periodic payment of kidnapped prisoners.

And then The Letter

Brave Sinruth,

The Red Hand will rise again! The other remnants take great cheer in your recent attacks on commerce coming into The Blight That is Brindol.

We’re particularly pleased with your ability to inspire a fighting spirit in others, whether they have true goblin blood or merely wish they did. To be blunt, we think you should have many more soldiers under your command.
Many, many more.

And recent events have rendered some remnants leaderless. With a bold stroke on your part, the remnants would rally to the Red Hand you so proudly display.

As your bold stroke, do this: Attack the The Blight That is Brindol by night. Focus your efforts on their Hall of Great Valor, for it mocks the many hard-won victories by the first Red Hand of Doom. Take from them the spoils
of war they shamelessly hang on their walls and bring those antiques back to Rivenroar.

Do this before the moon is next full. And with regard to your previous question, turning over captives to your unliving allies at Rivenroar is perfectly acceptable. War sometimes makes strange bedfellows, and we appreciate
how you’ve united such disparate forces under your banner. Whatever prisoners you take from Rivenroar you can
give to the wight.

Fight with the valor of your ancestors, Sinruth. And keep your hands stained red with the blood of the weak! I will visit you again next month, at a time of my choosing.

The Emissary

Power, Wealth, A Grand Army obeying his every desire! He would have it all, if anyone could bring back the glory days of the hand it would be him.

And now you know the rest of the story...............or do you?

The emissary marched down the hallway, the light from his torch scattering shadows on the walls as he passed. The dungeon had been largely been looted and plundered but he held out some slight hope that the leader of the newly revived Red Hand would still be alive.

His hopes were misplaced.

The body of the unusually large and brawny goblin had been mutilated and positioned in ways too offensive for words to describe. Stuffed inside his mouth was a sheet of paper, obviously left by whomever had killed the Red Hand leader and plundered the dungeon.

To whom it may concern,

We regret to inform you that the person you are seeking is unavailable at this time to continue on his half-witted campaign. As you may have already realized, there is also vacancy at this dungeon that you would be ill-advised to re-fill, unless of course, you have magical artifacts that would be of use to us. In which case, we strongly encourage you to find some more dupes to set up camp in this dungeon and be slaughtered helplessly before our blades.

In all seriousness, please let this be a reminder to you that the city of Brindol does not take kindly to attacks on its territory. If you continue your provocative attacks we assure you that we don't have money, but what we do have is a particular set of skills, skills honed over relatively long careers, skills that make us a nightmare for people like you. If you disappear now that will be the end of it, but if you don't, we will hunt for you, we will find you, and we will kill you.

Good luck.

Cendrianne says 'hello'.

Signed,
Those whom you should fear the most.

The emissary crumpled the paper and tossed it to one side of the room. These fools did not know who or what power they were challenging. But they were a threat that must be dealt with. If you kill the head of the snake, the body will die, and these adventurers were the head of the Brindol snake. Next time, they would not settle for a 'demonstration' of their power but would need a more forceful action that would kill the adventurers and break Brindol's spirit. But first they would have to find these adventurers...

"Sir, we found one alive," the emissary's escort said, bringing him back from the abstract future to the present. "He was tied to the altar in the chapel."

In was dragged the barely living body of a beaten, starved and diseased gnome who looked almost as bad as he smelled.

"Bring him with us, I may have use for him," the emissary smiled thinking about the pain he would make these impudent adventurers feel for their defiance. "They have taken their revenge, but it is we who shall emerge victorious."

Emtih's Journal

It feels like I'm always findin' time to be writin' in this book, and I've probably said a lot of things I was not meanin' to be sayin' when I first started a'writin' in this thing.

We found another hostage a minute ago and I can sense that as a group we're beginnin' ta learn to work together. This room, I had been a'peakin' into it to see what was ahead, and I saw this lady tied some altar thingy as well as some statues of these displacer beasts and a whole pack of dire rats. Nasty fellas I'll tell you that.

Arel and Bassha took the lead and protected the rest of us from the rats while magic boy Arnie and And blasted away from a range. I got in close and tried to do as much damage as I could but I think Arel and Bassha were far more effective than I. If it were just the rats I don't think it would have been any problem, but there were these two gnomes skulkin' 'round trying to pin us with their crossbows. I took one solid hit but that was it before we dispatch'd the lot of 'em. Arel done did well, smashing away the rats with relative ease. He has a funny style, but he's sure good in a fight, I'll tell ye that much.

The lady had been bit pretty bad by the rats, and I think she had contract'd something from the rat bites so we took the time to carry her back to the newly-fortified holding place the other rescued hostages dun set up. I swear, if we left that dwarf alone in this fort for a few more days he'd probably rebuild the whole darn thing.

We're gonna head out to try to find that human boy now, we thinks we have an idea where he might be. Everything seems to be falling into place and gettin' better and better, but I can't help but worry that the worst is yet to come. Usually when things start a'lookin' up a bird comes by and poops in yer eye although sometimes ye get a lucky break.

After I found my family dead in the Witchwoods long time ago and had calmed m'self down, I set off again tryin' to find some others who had survived. I figur'd that if the one refugee convoy had got away from Cendrianne there must have b'n others too. Luck was with me and about two days later I found another convoy, or rather, it found me.

I had made camp in a tree near this waterin' hole, hopin' that I could catch something to eat, but not havin' slept for a few days I was plumb exhausted and soon collapsed and fell from the tree. Lyin' there for a while I heard some rustlin' bushes and figur'd some predator had come to finish me off. I was so tired that I almost welcomed an end to my misery. But instead of the sharp teeth of a wolf or the claws of a bear, it was the hand of And that touched me.

Everything after that felt like some kind of dream. I heard the voices around me and felt their hands carry me to their convoy where I was given food and clean water, but I felt unable to do anything but stare blankly at those around me. I was grateful to them, but my lips could not form the words to say nuthin'. As the convoy carried me away and out of the Witchwoods it always felt like I had died at that spot by that waterin' hole but my body just kinda liv'd on regardless.