November 2018 Teaser
Things of note in the world at large that your character would notice. These posts are In-Game. You cannot create topics here, but you can reply to them.

Moderator: Moderators

Post Reply
User avatar
Wrexton
Drinking Contest Contender
Drinking Contest Contender
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue May 14, 2013 10:34 pm
Contact:

November 2018 Teaser

Post by Wrexton »

The Blood Moon has waned. Survivors reclaim what they can; rebuild what remains; hold tight to their loved ones; and burn their mourned dead. Even as the sun rises to banish the darkness, there is no respite. The lowliest of creatures can feel it…a malignancy straining against its bonds. In shadowed cellars and desecrated groves, a name is whispered in reverence and fear.

After days of planning, a thief slides through the window of his latest target. He knows the family inside will be asleep, their schedule having never varied during the casing. Straight to the back room, where the merchant father kept his most precious wares. A couple minutes at the lock and he’d be gone. The study door swings open. Clouds part and moonlight pours in. The thief stops. Blood. Blood on the walls. A message. The words mean nothing to him, but his heart hammers at the sight. Enthralled, he fails to notice the blade before it opens his throat. Silent and the light fading, the thief sees the father of the family standing over him. The father kneels, knife poised over the thief’s heart, and whispers, “Vath will rise.”

Two spirits stand before a black altar in forsaken, barren depths. Their former lives are long surrendered and forgotten, drained away in years uncounted, knowing only that their master will soon take form and walk Phantara.
In a cell with the door left open, a kobold rests on his cot and stares up at the ceiling. The taunts and threats from the cell across from him are easy to ignore now. Its occupant, his former master, had no hold over him anymore. The red warrior had shown him another way. It was time for the kobold to return the kindness. His legs dangle off the edge of the cot as he calls out to his friend. A human girl in an ill-fitting DeVris uniform walks into the cell, a pair of manacles hanging from her belt.

A glass rod shatters against the workshop wall, thrown by a frustrated and spent spellweaver. All his work, all the time and research, wasted on an inert object. No more leads…no more chances to bring the work to life. Head in hands, he sits at the workbench, the enormity of his failure rolling over him. A knock at his door. The man pulls himself together and answers, only to find empty air. He closes the door. Losing his mind, he wonders. He turns back to his workbench to see parchment speared by a slim dagger. “Midway,” it reads.

A Guthrie sharpens a dagger in dim candlelight. She watches a young human girl in a stained gray robe help an old man in similar attire. The old man is wracked with coughs, sitting with aid from his ward. The girl holds a wooden cup to his mouth and, though a struggle, the old man keeps the water down. He smiles up at the girl and nods. The Guthrie stands, sheathing her dagger. Light glints off her gnomish spectacles as she pats the girl on the shoulder before leaving the two, locking the door behind her.

The Keys are gathered.

A deathless legion yearns for the word of its commander.

Vath, King of Death Knights, stirs under fraying bonds and waits…

At Road’s End.
Mages Guild- Archon
Tinkers Guild - Member
Smithing Guild - Member
Charities and Healers Guild - Member
Scribes and Booksellers Guild - Member

"I'll be happy to bind your wounds and heal your injuries, but first a few questions for purposes of research and academic necessity."

"You either die being a true gnome...or live long enough that everyone considers your antics evil!"
Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 4 guests