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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Would anyone like to resume the blackguard quest?

Depends. You the cheese?
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Your delectable image has made me decide that the answer is irrelevant. I suppose we'll know once we see walls of text, or not.
Sure, I enjoyed this quest heartily.
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After wandering through the desert of south eastern Giangreco, towards the Highlands of Eland in the west, your party has stumbled upon a rocky outcropping in the moonlight. A small hill, with a weary stone fortress built into the side. Around it are ivory colored obelisks, which beam like cold white teeth in the desert night, against the reaching blue desert sand and under the black felt sky. Inside your bones, you can feel the aching of restless death. A still air, that wind hasn't sung through in time immemorial.

You look back to your friends, Ashazi the desert princess, Chroi the pink skinned barbarian of the eastern grasslands, enchanting Sayral the Noenne woman arcanist and Jaynce the dark haired Daen Sword Dancer.

You are Jamithan, a slave, a hunter, a magician, a swordsman, and now the leader of this band of heroes. Their fate, and the fate of the world is in your hands. What do you do?
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current map... we have set east, towards the large pennensula to the west.... called Eland.
Gather an army to conquer the nearest city.
Give me a bit while I catch up on the last archive.
Ask Sayral if she can detect any dormant magic in the area, this 'restless dead' comment bothers me.
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While this is a brilliant idea.. and hopefully this is the direction our campaign goes... its a bit of a long term goal. But there are things we can do now, to work towards that.
Lets get to exorcising some spirits, our enchanted sword should work on them, right?
You turn over your left shoulder to look at Sayral, who stares at the fortress like a marble carving. You take a moment, while peering over your shoulder, to admire the smooth features of her youthful face, and wonder at the nature of this sometimes complicated woman. You expect her to blink, and meet your gaze, but she doesn't. In fragments of old Arnurian, the language of mystics and arcanists, you ask her what she senses from this place. She deigns no reply. “Sayral!” you shout as you turn to face her. She blinks, and shakes off whatever grip hand held her through the ether.
“This is a bad place,” she manages to mutter.
“Do you feel it too?” you inquire. Chroi and Jaynce begin making their weapons ready. They seem not to feel any unnatural forces, but do to Sayrala's and your anxiety, they are becoming nervous.
“This, is an old place. Something old is down there... something...”
“Treasure.” Chroi spits out in his poorly articulated common.
Treasure indeed. What do you do? (Sayrala pictured)
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i guess she wasn't pictured.
"I have a plan for the future, a grand plan that will require money to fulfil. If it is treasure within, it is treasure that will fill my war chest. Are you all beside me, should we brave this fell catacomb? Adventure and danger both lurk within, but only a fool would brave it alone."
> Your sword can now strike with all the power of a mighty lightning strike and illuminate the darkness on command with the buzzing and crackling of white burning energy.

while it has no special powers over the undead.. the ability to heave it into a foe, and then summon electricity is pretty awesome.
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Your eyes settle on Chroi. Whose grip chokes the handle of his weapon. You scan the rest of your companions, who seem to hesitate, and finger their tools of war nervously. “I have a vision,” you state. They all turn their heads to you, in mild curiosity. “We have traveled far, and seen much. But our work as mercenaries as so far eluded us. If there is something old and wicked in the sand, then we shall kill it, and laugh at its bones. I will go forward, for what I endeavor to do will cost many fortunes. Let us go and fill our chests with coin, gems and jewelry. Adventure, and danger both lurk within, but only a fool would brave it alone. And while I may be oft the fool, I would appreciate to meet the unknown with a few tested blades near me.” The party nods, and agrees. They take careful steps through the cold sand towards the tunnel. Jaynce's lips curl into a smile, “How many holes in the ground have you ventured into since we got to this western land Jamithan?” Your brow twists, unsure if he means the obvious, or is alluding women. But as you formulate your reply, you realize you have arrived at the foot of the bald stone hill, and its worn fortress. It is an unremarkable structure, with no adornments or fancy carvings. Merely five great pillars above, with abyssal matching columns between them, the vanguard of the darkness the stretches on into the hill. The mouth to the open area between the pillars is about eight feet above you. What do you do?
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What do you do?
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Have we lost all followers already?
Venture forth to find this evil, kill it, and take the treasure.
I got distracted by weight training and watching the Les Mis teasers (Russel Crowe is butchering Javert) but I'm back.
mother of god
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actually. lulz
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You help your friends up, and then take a running leap, and reach the top. Pulling yourself up, Chroi helps pull you to your feet. You grab his shoulder and give him a thankful smile. Everyone turns to face the darkness. Sayrala makes her staff glow, adding a faint and only small comforting blue light to your general area. Jaynce uses the light to start a conventional torch. Your sword, unsheathed, crackles with a soft white flicking light from its enchantment. The hall way of the fortress opens up and falls back deeper than what your group's enchantments and fire can illuminate. There are no statues in the pillars, and the walls are naked of feature. You lead the band step by step into the darkness. After the night's blue moon light night is no longer visible, some 100 yards or more into the hill, a long stair presents itself, inviting you down into the bellow of the earth. You again take the first steps and the rest follow. Down, down, down they go.
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After you count some two hundred steps, you come to an landing where it again opens up, surrounding you in the bosom of the abyss. After you examine your surroundings you take a few more steps, and then your blood is frozen. You can feel a cold hand grab your neck, not physically, not a wind, but something internal... you hear the grinding of metal being dragged on stone, ever so feint. The group exchanges looks and you tighten your formation. Figures shamble towards you, only clumpy outlines against the blackness. After the noise becomes louder, and before you, a dozen skeletons, encrusted with gems, and with bones made of dull iron with numerous inscriptions drag colossal blades towards you.
What do you do?
Fight it! Draw our sword and charge, while Sayral casts a protective enchantment upon you and the others distract it with ranged attacks.
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unfortunately no one really does ranged attacks.
Jaynce - Sword Dancer
Chroi - Highlands barbarian with ax
Sayrala - Has a staff and minor spells. Very good at kicking though.
Ashazi - Dual daggers. She can through them.

and there are actually several of them.
Then we all attack as one while Sarala does some kind of magic to keep us from being insta-gibbed!
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You begin the melee by throwing your massive two handed sword into the rip cage of the staggering metallic skeleton. The sword sinks in, cuts like knife into mud. You reach out to the blade with an out stretched hand, muttering some arcane words you learned from Nal the black wizard, and lightning erupts out of it. The metal bones crackle with white hot bolts of lightning, and black scotch marks cover the foe. Its stops. Then, after an eternity, it resumes moving, stumbling closer to you. Out of the darkness, seven more crawl towards you. With each step, you notice that the jewels that have been chissled into their bodies glow with a faint light. Jaynce lunges deep and stabs at one with no affect, and Chroi pulls down his ax in a might cleave onto one, only to have the ax bounce off, leaving no affect. Ashazi ducks a wide swing by one of the monsters, and Sayrala closes her eyes, muttering magical phrases, obviously preparing some kind of spell.
What do you do?
Call the others off to form a defensive ring around Sayrala, get our sword back in hand and try to shatter the jewel on its body.
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“Pull back!” you shout. “Gather around Sayrala!” Your words echo through the chamber, and the echo reverberates for an unnaturally long period, until the noise is twisted into a guttural laughing mockery of your directions. Undeterred however, the party obeys and Sayrala's eyes open. She thrusts her fist forward and a bolt of red lightning strikes the one with your sword in it. The entire area flashes in a blood red glow temporarily. The red light is sucked into the creature, and all the shadows crawl across the floor and recede back into the beast until the entire room glows crimson. He turns white and the large ruby colored gem on his chest flights like a dying heart. You pull one of the daggers from your belt and leap at it. You dive the knife into the side of the gem, and you twist at it. With all your considerable strength, which makes the muscles in your arms tight and angry, you push. The Gem breaks free and flies across the room, skittering across the floor. Success! The skeleton pauses, and then falls apart- its bones dropping to the group disassembled. You pull your sword out, and hack at the others, to send them off their guard, while Jaynce lightly steps in, and stabs at the others gems in the same fashion. Chroi and Ashazi do the same on the others. After a terrifying few minutes, they are all rendered. What do you do now?
Take stock, get everyone's opinion, loot, and head further into the ruins.
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Your chest heaves and it feels like you neck is choking on smoldering coals. You wipe your eyes, and look at your friends. They too are winded, but on their feet. Around you, several piles of bones, glimmering a metallic and jeweled shine from your lights. Ashazi and Chroi begin bagging up the many gems. You take your sword and step forward a bit, examining the structure. A vast chasm lies before you. Jaynce walks up besides you and looks down the pit. He causally tosses his torch down it. It falls, like a single tear in the desert sun, shining, falling until its light fades away like a speeding star in the night, until nothing. You exchange looks. Sayrala joins you. “Do you know what this is?” she asks you.
“Yes,” you reply, without looking to her.
From your studies with Nal Sahlosot, you remember reading about rumored hives of cursed armies in the vast desert of Giangreco. Whole kingdoms which had adopted dark gods, and their flesh was consumed, and they were damned to eternal service. Their kingdoms lost under the shifting sands, this pit was the entry way to the remains of one of their vast kingdoms, swallowed by the group up rocks and sand of the desert. What lay beyond, deeper in the earth, would be hundreds if not thousands more of those monsters. Ashazi looks back up to you, and signals with hand gestures, first a fifteen with fingers, and then a few fists, and circular shapes- that you had accumulated fifteen large gems, which would be worth thousands of gold coins. Cursed though they be, their worth would still spend.
What do you do?
"Is there a possible way to command these creatures?"
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You imagine yourself at the head of an army of these monsters. Your outstretched fist guiding them to march on the remains of the world empire. Cities in burning ruin, and your glories spread across all seas, to all lands, achieving what Atreal never could. But no. Undead creatures, no matter what fleeting control necromancy provides an arcanist, ultimately are slaves to the liche-god. If you can wield them, it is only his fleeting, and insane will, that allows you to. Until they turn on you, after you have been used in his plots and machinations.
"Gather all valuables. We shall find a city to trade for gold, gather more men and return to this place. There is a reaping to be made here. It shall be the start of a treasure house that will rock the world to its foundation."
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“Gather up everything that is valuable. We will trade their remains for gold, and return here. When we have the strength,” you help pack up everything, and climb the long steps back out of the fortress. When you climb out, you see the rising sun of a new day. The group decides to make camp, and resume travel after you have rested and it is cooler. You start a fire, and sit around exchanging in small pleasantries. No one is particularly wounded, just sore. Through the next day you rest, and arise close to waning sun. The group gathers up their camp and sets out west again, towards Eland.
The next day, Sayrala, who has been quiet to everyone, approaches you while you are alone. She leans on you, and rests her head against you. You don't know what to make of this, but instinctively, you pet her rough hair. She gets up and kisses your shoulder and resumes her camp duties. You travel again for a few uneventful days, until the sand gives way to barren earth, and you gain elevation. Days later, and after a few streams, you enter the low grasses. Chroi stops at a point and runs his hands through the dry tan grass. He breaths deep and seems to be consuming some life sustaining magic. The next day, you have climbed so high on the creeping grade, that the air seems mildly thinner, and your muscles burn. Waist high grass stretches as far as your eye can seen in every direction. Chroi informs you, that in two days, you will be at the first village in his kingdom. What do you do?
Ask him about the customs of his people, how best to gather warriors to your cause, and head to the village.
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You put your fists on your hips and squint into the western sun. “What are your people like?”
“Loud,” he replies. He looks down into the grass. “Always yelling. Stupid yelling. Always fucking. Lazy.”
You look over to him. “Will we have problems?”
“Yes,” he looks back up and into the sun that you were just eying. “Only respect strong and clever. But you strong, and clever. Will see me, and want to fight. Must be ready.”
“Is your father still king of these people?” you inquire?
“Not sure, could be dead,” he says.
“Do you have brothers?”
“One brother, one sister. Both lazy.” He adds nothing further and returns to the group.
The next day you spot a village in a clearing in the grass. Several dozen large, pink men with orange hair, caked in red mud parade around the grass thatched teepees which make of the village. The women are all tall, well built figures with curled locks of brassy fire colored hair. Two men spot you, and ride up to you on their large, hairy behemoths.
They bark in their native tongue, which sounds a faint bit like old Arrik, the language of the barbarians in the east who migrated several centuries ago into civilized lands. You don't know any of the tongue, but they are obviously upset.
Chroi translates for you, “they say usurper.” Then warriors point their spears at your group, and other men from the village race towards you to see the commotion.
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Well, since its just me and you, i think I'll call it a night. A good place to stop. its 0200 here, and I need to hit the hay. Thank you very much for playing sir. Maybe we'll pick this up again... being that I'm not in Afghanistan anymore, and can much more reliably keep up with this. Thank you again for your time and attention.
Have Chroi translate everything you say.

"This man is my vassal," point to Chroi, "These are my followers," gesture to the others. "They serve me, and I will fight to the death for any of them. If you want to fight him, you fight me first." crackle some lightning when you say the last. "Now we can fight, or-" throw out one of the gems. "There is a mountain of these where I have come from. Follow me and you will reap gems as if they were grass. Fight me and you will face electric death. Which do you prefer?"
Aww man. Fair enough.

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