Special thanks to Jan Hedlund for help with editing, etc.
The basic idea of the story is based on a D&D campaign I ran a couple of decades back.
Several different groups of players are each sent out on a scavenger hunt.
They all meet back in Lionsgate for the final showdown.
Some groups didn't last, or make it to the final get together.
The various crews I've set up for my story are somewhat based on some of the actual characters that were used. Mostly the rest are based on various games I've run or played in.
Friday, August 30, 2019
Update & edit
The voluptuous barmaid perched on the big dwarf's knee looking up at him with
undisguised awe. He squinted at her from behind his massive tankard, thinking her interest feigned but for a tip, then deciding it didn't matter;
his chest puffing up, straining the baldric that wrapped around his ample torso.
What's a little ego stroking amongst acquaintances? She
reached over and began combing through his luxurious red (?) beard with
her fingers, giggling prettily, hiding her relief that he was one of
the few of his kind that kept his facial hair
free of food and detritus whilst drinking. His eyes narrowed as he rumbled with pleasure,
putting him in a magnanimous mood.
"Listen honey!" he growled pleasantly, "It aint easy
bein' an adventurer! Looting ruins & dungeons, fighting monsters
and their evil masters, trying to stop their pillaging of helpless
villages!"
The barmaid frowned, stopping her ministrations, puzzled. "But you said you were somewhere else!"
She leaned back, her expression changing to skepticism. "How could you be in some mountains on another world?"
The Dwarf sighed, taking another gulp of his beer and wiping the foam from his mouth with a stained sleeve.
"Ok, look, say there's a hole in the air, that looks different
through it. That's the other world, see? What you see might be on the
other side of the street, or on the other side of the world, or even on
another world altogether. Got that, honey? Goin'
through might take a minute or two. There's always a path that
connects between the two holes. For my ship it took several hours. We
started from a seaport, so the path was blue and water-like. If we
weren't careful to stay on the twisting path, we'd
be lost in the empty space between worlds.” He eyed her disbelieving countenance.
“Ok, Honey? D'you get it now?"
Her brow crinkled as she thought about it for a few moments then nodded dubiously. He pulled her to him in a hug, beer dousing her front in the process.
"Good girl!" He looked into the tankard's depths, pleased a reasonable amount still awaited consumption.
"So anyway, it was a damn rough crossover! But my brave crew held on
grimly as our ship, the Skumbukit was tossed about in the wild swirling
energy of a dimensional gateway. 'Irongord!' (that's me, honey),
my first mate cried, “the dragon's still on our butts!' Irongorn didn't notice the barmaid quietly whisper, "dragon?" and continued on.
“Cursing the wizard who had sent them, I struggled to keep the ship
in the center of a thin ribbon of silvery blueness that wound through
the maelstrom. The damn dragon wasn't supposed to be there! Two
travelers arriving at the same place simultaneously
was not supposed to be possible! Mebbe the dragon lost its original
path and had latched onto us! I still don't know! 'Stand by!' I
shouted, 'It's going to be confused when it comes out! If we throw
everything we've got at it, maybe we'll make it in one piece!'
'And maybe we sprout wings, too!' replied Dragonmane a Lizardman and my Second Mate as he was gamely clinging to a nearby rail.
'Move yer sorry butt, Dragonmane!' I roared, 'Or I'll personally feed you to this overgrown ancestor of yours.' With a silent laugh and an impudent flick of his tail, he turned towards a minotaur grimly holding on to the mainmast on the deck below. 'Rok! Tell Ambergris to get ballista crew ready when we come out!' Dragonmane bellowed, his deep voice thundering through the ship! 'Then get people with heaviest firepower on deck!'
'Move yer sorry butt, Dragonmane!' I roared, 'Or I'll personally feed you to this overgrown ancestor of yours.' With a silent laugh and an impudent flick of his tail, he turned towards a minotaur grimly holding on to the mainmast on the deck below. 'Rok! Tell Ambergris to get ballista crew ready when we come out!' Dragonmane bellowed, his deep voice thundering through the ship! 'Then get people with heaviest firepower on deck!'
The barmaid was almost tossed off of Irongord's
knee as he got deeper into his tale and the rest of the inn's clientele
either moved away a safe distance, or leaned in to get all of the
details. “I watched
the minotaur's massive body move about, always amazed at Rok's sheer bulk.Irongord
widened his arms to approximate the width of Rok, almost clocking the
barmaid with the tankard. She slid off of his knee to settle onto a
bench just past
his reach. "Dragonmane, whose big shoulders and large body put him a head taller than a human, still seemed small next to the Rok.
“Now, my lovely lass,” he reached out
and was momentarily puzzled that she'd moved, then reached further and
chucked his young audience under her chin. “I'm considered large for a dwarf,
in all ways,” he guffawed and winked at her, and took another swig. “but even I would think twice before trying to take on either of them, although I'll never let them know it! Now, where was I?"
“With a final blinding flash
of color, we found ourselves back in a normal universe! For a moment,
time held its breath. Bright afternoon sunlight spilled over the
familiar scene of a busy harbor. Beyond it, a bustling
city had spread out around the edges, and reached back up a hill to a
castle perched on top. That's when all hell broke loose! The dragon
appeared out of nowhere, tumbling end over end. I gazed in awe as the
sun reflected off its scales becoming thousands
of shades of red, orange and gold. “ Irongord had long since stopped
caring if the girl was paying attention, his mind-eye caught up in the
memory; his words dropping down to a whisper.
“The dragon's fall became a graceful glide. Its head cast about,
before targeting on the ship. With a roar of outrage, that dragon banked
in a long turn toward the imagined cause of its troubles.
"Battle stations!" He cried aloud, startling everyone with his bellow!
"Stooping for the attack, its mouth gaped open,
the dragon sent a scorching blast of flame at the Skumbukit.
Instantaneously, magical energy filled the air as the hastily assembled
spell casters from
below deck shouted and gestured. Arrows, quarrels, ballista
bolts, and anything else anyone could find was hurled at the dragon as
well! The dragon
reared back as it was engulfed by the surrounding fireworks. A bell-like roar sounded, as it burst into view
trailing smoke, flying so low that each member of the Skumbukit would later swear he could almost touch its belly
as it went overhead. For one brief frozen moment, the image of
the legendary phoenix, an awesome god-like creature feeding on magic
energies, was fixed in their vision. Then he vanished in a large hissing
geyser of steam, plunging into the bay."
Irongord took stock of
his audience, the entire tavern hanging on his words. Pleased, he
settled back in his chair and continued to spin his story . . .
Sunday, July 28, 2019
Drachenszahne (drok-en-zay-na)
I'm posting a rough draft of one of the chapters of the series of novels I'm writing.
It's based on the world I made for the Dungeons & Dragon games I used to run.
The first series will be based on a specific campaign I ran where I had several different groups of players each searching for special artifacts to find & bring back in time to stop a lich from destroying the world.
This will probably be the first of several trilogies exploring different time periods & different genres of the same world.
Magic & science will be present through the whole thing.
As in Tolkien, there are powerful beings that answer to a single higher authority. They will have the aspects of a pantheon, such as the Norse, Greeks, etc.
I will be posting other chapters, outlines & ideas as I go along.
Any suggestions, comments, etc will be welcome.
The Skumbukit
The barmaid perched on the big dwarf's knee looked at him in admiring awe. He thought it feigned but his chest puffed up anyway, rumbling with pleasure as she stroked his luxurious beard.
"Listen honey!" he growled pleasantly,
"It aint easy bein' an adventurer!
Looting ruins & dungeons, fighting monsters and their evil masters, trying to stop their pillaging of helpless villages!"
The barmaid frowned, puzzled. "But you said you were somewhere else!"
"How could you be in some mountains on another world?"
The Dwarf sighed, taling another gulp of his beer.
"Ok, look, say there's a hole in the air, that looks different through it. That's the other world, see? What you see might be on the other side of the street, or on the other side of the world, or even on another world altogether. Got that, honey?
Goin' through might take a minute or two.
There's a path that connects between the two holes. For my ship it took several hours. We started from a seaport, so the path was blue and water-like. If we weren't careful to stay on the twisting path, we'd be lost in the empty space between worlds.
Ok, Honey? D'you get it now?"
She frowned for a moment , then nodded dubiously.
He hugged her, "Good girl!"
"So anyway, it was a damn rough crossover! But my brave crew held on grimly as our ship, the Skumbukit was tossed about in the wild swirling energy of a dimensional gateway.
'Irongord!' (that's me, honey), the dragon's still on our butts!'
Cursing the wizard who had sent them, I struggled to keep the ship in the center of a thin ribbon of silvery blueness that wound through the maelstrom.
The damn dragon wasn't supposed to be there! Two travelers arriving at the same place simultaneously was not supposed to be possible! Mebbe the dragon lost its original path and had latched onto us! I still don't know!
'Stand by!' I shouted, 'It's going to be confused when it comes out! If we throw everything we've got at it, maybe we'll make it in one piece!'
'And maybe we sprout wings, too!' replied Dragonmane a Lizardman and my Second Mate as he was gamely clinging to a nearby rail.
'Move yer sorry butt, Dragonmane!' I roared, 'Or I'll personally feed you to this overgrown ancestor of yours.'
With a silent laugh and an impudent flick of his tail, he called down to the minotaur grimly holding on to the mainmast on the deck below.
'Rok! Tell Ambergris to get ballista crew ready when we come out!' Dragonmane bellowed. 'Then get people with heaviest firepower on deck!'
Dragonmane's deep bass voice thundered through the ship!
Page 1
Watching the minotaur's massive body move about, I wondered again at Rok's sheer bulk. Dragonmane, whose big shoulders and large body put him a head taller than a human, still seemed small next to the minotaur.
Now, I'm considered large for a dwarf, but even I would think twice before trying to take on either of them, although I'll never let them know it!'
With a final blinding flash of color, we found ourselves back in a normal universe!
For a moment, time held its breath. Bright afternoon sunlight spilled over the familiar scene of a busy harbor. Beyond it, a bustling city had spread out around the edges, and reached back up a hill to a castle perched on top.
That's when all hell broke loose!"
The dragon appeared out of nowhere, tumbling end over end. Irongord gazed in awe as the sun reflected off its scales becoming thousands of shades of red, orange and gold.
The dragon's fall became a graceful glide. Its head cast about, before targeting on the ship. With a roar of outrage, the dragon banked in a long turn toward the imagined cause of its troubles.
"Battle stations!"
Stooping for the attack, its mouth gaped open, sending a scorching blast of flame at the Skumbukit. Instantaneously, magical energy filled the air as the hastily assembled spell casters shouted and gestured. Arrows, quarrels, ballista bolts, and anything else anyone could find was hurled at the dragon as well!
The dragon was engulfed by the surrounding fireworks. A bell-like roar sounded, as it burst into view, flying so low that each member of the Skumbukit would later swear he could almost touch its belly.
For one brief frozen moment, the image of the legendary phoenix, an awesome god-like creature feeding on magic energies, was fixed in their vision. Then he vanished in a large hissing geyser of steam, plunging into the bay.
The world again seem to stand still for several minutes. No one stirred. The hissing geyser was accompanied by the crackling of fires aboard the ship. As it began to fade, the normal noises of the city harbor could be made out again.
The Skumbukit rocked, almost capsizing, as the dragon's corpse returned to the surface accompanied by another cloud of water and steam.
Irongord shook himself like a dog and began to look around, taking stock.
Several bodies littered the deck amid the small handful of fires scattered about. At first glance it appeared as if no one had survived.
With a great sense of relief, he watched as the still forms began to stir and heads cautiously appeared in the hatchways.
When the crew had assured themselves that the dragon was dead, they began to assess their damage. The hull still seemed in one piece, although the ship was mostly a blackened mass of burnt wood. Stray pieces were still burning.
"The Gods blast that meddling Timothy Dreamwind for sending us here!" cried Dragonmane surveying the mess their ship was in. Irongord growled in agreement, remembering his last conversation with the wizard.
Page 2
They had just returned from the Mountains of Dread, where they had retrieved a small black statue guarded by hordes of undead creatures in the ruins of an ancient temple.
They had taken casualties and lost several good people. Lionslash, a Sarethi or Tigerman, had taken a critical wound. Only the timely intervention of a stasis spell was keeping him alive.
Irongord had lost count of the number of times Dragonmane, Lionslash, and he had saved each other's backsides.
He and Dragonmane had been teamed up since their days in a mercenary group. The young tigerman had joined them as a half-grown cub after his parents, professional adventurers, had died at the hands of brigands while guarding a caravan heading north out of Lionsgate, The capital of Drachenszahne, a country on the world of Wrolde.
Dreamwind sighed again, glancing sideways at Rok and Dragonmane, who were playing 'top this one' in loud voices at the other end of the main room of the tavern. He pulled off a wire and glass contraption that sat on the bridge of his nose, and peered dimly at it.
"Alright, there are a couple of resources here on Alavanon that might, I repeat, might be available." He waved a cloth he'd brought out to wipe his gadget.
"But?" the dwarf prompted.
"There are several reasons why you should take the Skumbukit across the void to Wrolde."
"Dammit, I knew it!" the dwarf swore, taking another gulp of ale.
"First, because there are older civilizations that have been in existence longer, there will be more opportunities for finding treasure. Second, as you'll recall, those cultures include the one he comes from and they will have a more likely chance of saving Lionslash. Third, there is one who will soon have need of you."
"That doesn't sound good. What would require the kind of strength we have? After all, we're a highly experienced team with a lot of powerful magical equipment."
"I cannot reveal that to you."
Dreamwind held up his hand as the dwarf angrily opened his mouth.
"I really can't! I'm only allowed to say that you and your crew must leave as soon as you can."
After some more discussion, Irongord consented. He knew the mage could or would not give him anymore information.
Irongord knew nothing was ever simple with Timothy Dreamwind. The wizard always had at least two reasons for anything he said or did. Not only did he never let his right hand know what his left was doing, often it was left wondering which hand it was!
Dreamwind's explanation was a good example.
"The Multiverse is where alternative realities are created by major decision points in history, such as, whether a battle was won or lost, or when a leader dies.
Those who operate the gateways between universes say that worlds with a fair amount of differences are the easiest to get to."
“But, why us?" the dwarf grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
With a heavy dramatic sigh, Dreamwind sipped from a flagon of mulled ale.
"I told you, Irongord, it's the best way to get Lionslash healed."
Next thing he knew, they were being chased by an angry dragon!
* * *
Irongord's mind returned to the present as he became aware of Evenstar standing beside him. Turning to the lithe, dark-skinned winged woman, he raised an eyebrow.
"Bloodclaw wants you to know that the situation below decks is under control," she said calmly, as if mentioning the latest prices at the market.
"Also, Robyn wants to know if you're through trying to do barrel rolls with the ship."
This was a maneuver known to winged folk such as Evenstar and Robyn Pinkdust, who was a pixie.
Page 3
"Swearing up a pink storm was she?" Dragonmane, his mouth gaping in a silent laugh, came up from the main deck.
Evenstar smiled and shrugged, turning the motion into a graceful stretching of wings.
"Casualties?" the dwarf asked curtly.
"Everyone is out except the three of us, Rok, and whoever's below decks," Dragonmane followed this with a mocking salute.
"That's seven in all," murmured Evenstar," I hope we're in the right place."
"Trouble, Boss!" called Rok from the bow, pointing towards the shore.
Cursing in dwarvish, Irongord turned to see several warships making their way towards the Skumbukit.
"Evenstar, 'upstairs'! Dragonmane, get Bloodclaw and the others on deck! Rok, see about getting the ballista working!"
They were soon surrounded. A boat was lowered from the foremost ship, manned by several people wearing chain mail. In the bow sat an important-looking person holding a white flag. When they pulled up alongside, they were ready. Robyn was in the rigging; her small pixie form was hard to see. This is an advantage, as casting powerful spells tended to make the caster a high priority target for missiles and other spells.
Dragonmane and Rok stood by the ballista. Evenstar circled above, ready to drop darts on the enemy. Ambergris, a half-elf ranger, stood Irongord at the rail.
There was something odd about the boat.
"Look," murmured Bloodclaw, "no sails or oars."
"No magic that can be detected," answered Ambergris after a moment of concentration.
The dwarf frowned as a hail drifted across the water.
"Ahoy, the ship! Welcome to Lionsgate! What is your registry, please?"
Good. They had come out in the right place. Surreptitiously, he gave the all-clear signal. The others relaxed, Evenstar starting a spiral down toward the deck.
"Skumbukit, out of Alavinonne, Irongord commanding."
"And I am Sir Jordan Franklyn of the Port Authority. Permission to come aboard!"
He nodded to Rok, who lowered a rope ladder over the side. Evenstar landed on the deck as Franklyn climbed aboard.
He bowed to her and spoke a few words that he didn't recognize. She answered his bow with a nod.
"I am sorry, I am not from that land, although I seem able to catch some of what you've said."
"My apologies, milady, I think you'll find several points of similarity between our friends, the Wind Riders and your own people." He bowed again.
"And now sir, can you explain the carcass that you have littered our fair harbor with?"
"Yeah!" said Dragonmane," We didn't feel like being roasted alive!"
With a cool glance at the lizardman, Jordan turned his attention back to him and said, "I take it then, that you are unaware of the balance principle of the gate?"
Page 4
When the dwarf nodded, Sir Jordan delivered a pedantic lecture on what he called Gate System Mechanics. It seems that whenever more than a certain amount of magic passes through, an equivalent amount of random creatures follow.
"Dreamwind forgot to mention that little detail!" muttered Dragonmane.
"Timothy Dreamwind?" asked Sir Jordan, with a start.
"Yeah," the dwarf answered warily, "do you know him?"
"But, of course! He's a great personal friend of our king!"
As his agents, the crew of the Skumbukit was given the red carpet treatment. Everything was taken care of by the city including help for the wounded, repairs for the ship, and lodgings for the duration of their stay.
They learned that a local holiday was about to start in the next couple of weeks. Every year a week long festival is held, with many events and contests. The last day ends with a great feast where prizes and rewards are bestowed.
The crew wandered about the town making new friends and encountering old ones.
By the last day of the festival, Irongord still hadn't found out whom, specifically, they were supposed to help. Any official with which he tried to discuss anything would have no idea what he was talking about.
The College of Associated Spell casters, which included healers and wizards, had a good healing facility. It would be a few days before Lionslash was fully recovered, but they certified him well enough to attend the big party on the last day of the festival.
He sat in a half open sedan chair, enjoying the attentions a couple of comely female attendants that he claimed were healers.
Dragonmane pretended to be annoyed by Lionslash's fatuous smile, but Irongord knew he was relieved see the tigerman on the mend.
The party started with a big feast in the inner courtyard of the king's castle. Hundreds of people thronged up the hill and through the gates to fall upon the many long tables groaning under the weight of the mountains of food piled high on each one.
Towards the afternoon, as appetites became satiated, the speeches began. Dignitaries from all over Wrolde, as well as a few visitors from other worlds, spoke their praises of the benevolence and wisdom of the rulers of Drachenszahne.
As the sun drifted lower in the sky, the heralds announced the final ceremonies.
Five long tables at one end of the courtyard held the various dignitaries, courtiers, and hangers-on. The center table held the five Princes of Drachenszahne and their immediate families.
As guests of the government, the crew of the Skumbukit was seated at the last table on the left. Also at the table was the crew of the Green Silkie, captained by Jon Darksilver, an old friend and sometimes rival.
Irongord was astonished to see Timothy Dreamwind and Spike, his ever-present shadow sitting with them!
After several centuries of staring with his mouth open at the smug reprobate, the dwarf finally found his voice.
"What in the name of the seven labors of Herakles are YOU doing here?"
Page 5
"Hush, old boy, all will become clear in due course."
"But you said..."
"Shall I teach the rock-eater some manners, Lord?" growled the red haired woman who had been standing at the mage's side.
"You and what flea-bitten army, mutt?"
Dreamwind stepped between them
"Don't rock the boat, Irongord," he whispered fiercely, "You have to trust me on this!"
Suddenly aware of the curious stares from all around, Irongord sat down, grimly promising himself to wring the answers from the mage's scrawny little neck, even if he had to go through his watchdog to do it!
Impatiently, the dwarf listened as the after-dinner speeches began.
Doctor Franklyn (by now he knew he was never called king except in official documents) was praised and flattered outrageously by the various speakers. Through it all he managed to sit, smiling quietly.
"If half of what these bozos are saying is true, Franklyn has saved this world and several others ten times in as many centuries!" Irongord marveled to himself.
Not content just to be a hero, he was also described as being immortal.
Surprisingly, nobody seemed to be annoyed at this hogwash. Everyone listened with serious expressions. Even the farmers and merchants, supposedly hard-headed down-to-earth people, listened respectfully.
Finally, thunderous applause and cheers heralded the end of the speeches. Franklyn stood and held out his arms above his head, the palms of his hands held outward towards the crowd.
"Thank you, my friends!" He said as the tumult died, "You warm an old campaigner's heart. For those of you who are new to these festivities, a brief statement is in order about how I and my fellow Princes came to be here today!"
Oh, no! Another speech! The dwarf nudged Dragonmane, who had started to snore.
"If I have to listen, everyone else does, too!" he hissed.
"Once long ago, my friends and I formed a group of adventurers and called ourselves Dragonteeth. There were seven of us: Magdala, Yvonne Starsinger, Homer Loufbarrow, Markos Kronos, Timothy Dreamwind, myself and Agamemnon of the House of Dunethorne."
As each was named he or she nodded a head to the assembly. An empty chair draped in black was indicated at Agamemnon's name. At the mention of his name, the old wizard rose and bowed to Franklyn.
"After a long and fruitful span of time, we were ready to retire after one last adventure. It proved to be the most costly of them all."
"We heard about a land that had been ruled by an evil sorceress-queen that had been destroyed after a long and terrible reign."
Page 6
"To make a long story short, we found the long lost tomb of that queen. We also encountered her malevolent spirit. With some luck and at the cost of the life of one of our company," here he again indicated the empty chair draped in black, “we managed to defeat it."
"We garnered enough treasure from that adventure, along with our savings, to buy this and bring in settlers from other places."
"We felt it appropriate to set ourselves to the purpose of restoring this land that had provided a large portion of the means."
"Each of us has accepted the stewardship of a portion of the land, under my direction as we did during our adventuring in the old days."
"And every year we have a festival of thanksgiving and rededication to our task on the anniversary of the day we found the tomb and defeated the Queen's spirit."
"In celebration of this event, we have instituted the custom of granting awards and requests on the last day of the festival."
There were several more speeches, some treaties, and a couple of land grants. Then the local populace started lining up to make their requests.
The last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the castle walls and Franklyn was finishing with the last local, when a sudden chill ran down Irongord's spine.
A sudden unnatural darkness descended for a moment to be replaced by a dazzling brightness stronger than the noonday sun. The brightness was centered a few tens of feet above the courtyard.
The brightness faded slowly to a sickly yellowish green glow that revealed a black-hooded figure. The figure began to speak, two glowing sickly yellow sparks deep within the shadow of the hood began to wax and wane with the rhythm of its speech. At the brightest moments the faintest outline of a skull could just be seen. The voice was sexless, deep and hollow as if calling from beyond a distant grave. His skin crawled and shivered with dread to rhythm of the unworldly voice.
"Jonathan Franklyn!"
"Timothy Dreamwind!"
"Magdala!"
"Yvonne Starsinger!"
"Markos Kronos!"
"Homer Loufbarrow!"
"Prepare yourselves for the agony of watching all ye know and hold dear perish about ye!"
"Then howl in anguish as ye join them!"
"Prepare yourselves to join Agamemnon of the heroic house of Dunethorn!" Horrible death-chill laughter rang out. Many figures in robes or cloaks had already begun chanting and gesturing. All manner of energies blasted through the air centering on the image hovering above them. More fireworks were flying about than had ever been witnessed by any festival gathering!
It was to no avail. None of the energy flashing through the darkness above them had any affect on the apparition before them!
"HOLD!"
Page 7
The glowing figure of an elf in golden robes suddenly strode forth from the group at the head table. Nothing like him had been there a moment before. The elf had long flowing hair and beard, both flowing down past his waist in a tide of golden glory.
"So, Golden Zukala, ye show yourself! You’re just in time to share the fate of your friends!"
"Mayhap you are correct, milady."
His voice was calm, its volume seeming just above a whisper, yet penetrating to the far areas of the courtyard. His voice was sad, laden with ancient weariness and regret. No one who heard him could help but feel an answering sorrow.
"But mayhap nothing will happen."
She screamed wordlessly, swelling up as if to unleash some horrible deadly force!
Zukala raised his arms up quickly, chanting in a voice that quickly grew in volume and strength until all minds seem to echo with unknown syllables that could not be comprehended. As it continued, many of the spell casters who had attacked the apparition before lifted their arms and began to echo the terrible chanting.
Another scream rent the air, this one of such dread and horror that Irongord felt his soul tremble in sympathy.
The specter above them began to fade and as it did so, it moaned and pointed an empty sleeve at the assembled princes.
The golden image before them raised his voice another level. The faces of the populace showed dismay as they raised their arms and voices to join in the terrible chanting. People who stood about him, common shopkeepers and peasants, found themselves drawn in. Even some of the dwarf's fellow adventurers, who he knew weren't spell casters, were chanting and gesturing in cadence with the golden demon. He felt some of the same pressure as they did, but was able to resist, although he was frozen in place, unable to move. Irongord didn't know what he could do if they failed but he still felt it important to be outside the enchantment.
Now almost everyone in the courtyard was involved. Eyes rolled in stark terror as people who had never known anything like this were caught up in the horrible moment.
The dwarf noticed Timothy Dreamwind standing not far away. As their eyes met, the mage slowly winked. Then he seemed to deliberately turn his attention to the awful lich above. His voice grew stronger as if to tell Irongord to help.
He signaled Dragonmane the same way, and they set about getting the attention of the rest of the crew. Soon they had everyone concentrating on the fell thing above them.
They could feel it working!!
With a final roaring syllable, the lich vanished in a thunderclap. Everyone collapsed in unconsciousness. Irongord felt drained as if he had been charging uphill for days.
With a start, he realized their champion had vanished, also.
Page 8
Realizing that few people were awake, the dwarf set about organizing those few who were, pulling some of them out of a daze. They made sure they had a watch set against the small possibility of thieves or brigands. It was soon determined that the entire city and several miles of the surrounding countryside were also affected. Those strong enough were sent to make sure the sleepers were comfortable and safe. Everyone slept the entire night and halfway into the next day.
When things had returned to normal, Irongord was summoned to the palace. Upon his arrival, the dwarf was shown to a chamber where several others were waiting. There must have been ten or twenty mercenaries and adventurers. Including the Samder, Ssrassk Monkeyslayer, an old friend with whom the dwarf shared many a scrape.
Irongord also recognized Alberon the Paladin, a human with a rather stuck-up attitude to others who didn't agree with his religion, but a good man to have at your back against heavy opposition.
The dwarf greeted a few friends, and was trying to find out what was going on when a door opened to show Timothy Dreamwind standing there. Irongord groaned. He was about to lay into the mage for whatever mess he had gotten them into this time, but something stopped him. Dreamwind's usual fumbling mannerisms were replaced by a serious worried air that was emphasized by his weariness.
The mage quieted their questions and ushered them into the next room, 3a large chamber with a throne on a raised dais at the far end. Six smaller thrones were set, three to either side of it. The two thrones nearest to the larger were empty, the one on the left was draped in black.
The wizard led them to a point a man's length from the larger throne, where Jordan and several others stood. The figures on the thrones were the princes of Drachenszahne. The newcomers bowed to them as Dreamwind took the remaining empty throne.
Jordan cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon. We, the government of Drachenszahne, have a quest for you."
A tumult of voices arose as each tried to make himself heard. A large heavyset fellow in black leather with a full black beard, shoved forward past Jordan to confront Franklyn.
"What's this all about, old man? What's so almighty important? Don't think Tall those pyrotechnics impressed me! Banishing some fake ghost isn't going to scare me into some ridiculous wild goose chase for you!"
Several of the tapestries on the walls were thrust aside as several guardsmen rushed out and surrounded the princes, odd-looking wands pointed out at the remaining occupants of the room.
"Careful, my dear Baron Mordius," murmured Timothy as he waved the guards back. "You are not immune to royal displeasure. Even a scion of Franklyn can go too far!"
The baron turned pale but stood his ground.
Sir Jordan cleared his throat.
"For your information, that 'ghost' was the fell undead sorceress whom we thought we had defeated when Drachenszahne was established."
Page 9
"She is not gone, merely sent where it may take her awhile to return."
"So what do you want from us," he growled "miracles?"
"In a way!" declared Sir Jordan, with a sardonic bow.
"There are only seven artifacts that are strong enough to give us the power to deal with this lich permanently! Any one of them would barely fulfill our requirements. Two would be better, and all seven would do the job without any remaining doubts. We have several possible locations for each artifact. But their energies are so strong that they are impervious to any but the most powerful detection spells. If any of you return with an artifact in a year, we will have what we will need do the job. Each of you will be given a list of locations to check, as well as a description of the seven artifacts."
"Sort of glorified scavengers hunt!" smirked Dragonmane when Irongord briefed the others later. Lionslash smiled in agreement. The crew had been given credit to buy anything they thought they would need. The next night, they weighed anchor on the first tide going out.
It's based on the world I made for the Dungeons & Dragon games I used to run.
The first series will be based on a specific campaign I ran where I had several different groups of players each searching for special artifacts to find & bring back in time to stop a lich from destroying the world.
This will probably be the first of several trilogies exploring different time periods & different genres of the same world.
Magic & science will be present through the whole thing.
As in Tolkien, there are powerful beings that answer to a single higher authority. They will have the aspects of a pantheon, such as the Norse, Greeks, etc.
I will be posting other chapters, outlines & ideas as I go along.
Any suggestions, comments, etc will be welcome.
The Skumbukit
The barmaid perched on the big dwarf's knee looked at him in admiring awe. He thought it feigned but his chest puffed up anyway, rumbling with pleasure as she stroked his luxurious beard.
"Listen honey!" he growled pleasantly,
"It aint easy bein' an adventurer!
Looting ruins & dungeons, fighting monsters and their evil masters, trying to stop their pillaging of helpless villages!"
The barmaid frowned, puzzled. "But you said you were somewhere else!"
"How could you be in some mountains on another world?"
The Dwarf sighed, taling another gulp of his beer.
"Ok, look, say there's a hole in the air, that looks different through it. That's the other world, see? What you see might be on the other side of the street, or on the other side of the world, or even on another world altogether. Got that, honey?
Goin' through might take a minute or two.
There's a path that connects between the two holes. For my ship it took several hours. We started from a seaport, so the path was blue and water-like. If we weren't careful to stay on the twisting path, we'd be lost in the empty space between worlds.
Ok, Honey? D'you get it now?"
She frowned for a moment , then nodded dubiously.
He hugged her, "Good girl!"
"So anyway, it was a damn rough crossover! But my brave crew held on grimly as our ship, the Skumbukit was tossed about in the wild swirling energy of a dimensional gateway.
'Irongord!' (that's me, honey), the dragon's still on our butts!'
Cursing the wizard who had sent them, I struggled to keep the ship in the center of a thin ribbon of silvery blueness that wound through the maelstrom.
The damn dragon wasn't supposed to be there! Two travelers arriving at the same place simultaneously was not supposed to be possible! Mebbe the dragon lost its original path and had latched onto us! I still don't know!
'Stand by!' I shouted, 'It's going to be confused when it comes out! If we throw everything we've got at it, maybe we'll make it in one piece!'
'And maybe we sprout wings, too!' replied Dragonmane a Lizardman and my Second Mate as he was gamely clinging to a nearby rail.
'Move yer sorry butt, Dragonmane!' I roared, 'Or I'll personally feed you to this overgrown ancestor of yours.'
With a silent laugh and an impudent flick of his tail, he called down to the minotaur grimly holding on to the mainmast on the deck below.
'Rok! Tell Ambergris to get ballista crew ready when we come out!' Dragonmane bellowed. 'Then get people with heaviest firepower on deck!'
Dragonmane's deep bass voice thundered through the ship!
Page 1
Watching the minotaur's massive body move about, I wondered again at Rok's sheer bulk. Dragonmane, whose big shoulders and large body put him a head taller than a human, still seemed small next to the minotaur.
Now, I'm considered large for a dwarf, but even I would think twice before trying to take on either of them, although I'll never let them know it!'
With a final blinding flash of color, we found ourselves back in a normal universe!
For a moment, time held its breath. Bright afternoon sunlight spilled over the familiar scene of a busy harbor. Beyond it, a bustling city had spread out around the edges, and reached back up a hill to a castle perched on top.
That's when all hell broke loose!"
The dragon appeared out of nowhere, tumbling end over end. Irongord gazed in awe as the sun reflected off its scales becoming thousands of shades of red, orange and gold.
The dragon's fall became a graceful glide. Its head cast about, before targeting on the ship. With a roar of outrage, the dragon banked in a long turn toward the imagined cause of its troubles.
"Battle stations!"
Stooping for the attack, its mouth gaped open, sending a scorching blast of flame at the Skumbukit. Instantaneously, magical energy filled the air as the hastily assembled spell casters shouted and gestured. Arrows, quarrels, ballista bolts, and anything else anyone could find was hurled at the dragon as well!
The dragon was engulfed by the surrounding fireworks. A bell-like roar sounded, as it burst into view, flying so low that each member of the Skumbukit would later swear he could almost touch its belly.
For one brief frozen moment, the image of the legendary phoenix, an awesome god-like creature feeding on magic energies, was fixed in their vision. Then he vanished in a large hissing geyser of steam, plunging into the bay.
The world again seem to stand still for several minutes. No one stirred. The hissing geyser was accompanied by the crackling of fires aboard the ship. As it began to fade, the normal noises of the city harbor could be made out again.
The Skumbukit rocked, almost capsizing, as the dragon's corpse returned to the surface accompanied by another cloud of water and steam.
Irongord shook himself like a dog and began to look around, taking stock.
Several bodies littered the deck amid the small handful of fires scattered about. At first glance it appeared as if no one had survived.
With a great sense of relief, he watched as the still forms began to stir and heads cautiously appeared in the hatchways.
When the crew had assured themselves that the dragon was dead, they began to assess their damage. The hull still seemed in one piece, although the ship was mostly a blackened mass of burnt wood. Stray pieces were still burning.
"The Gods blast that meddling Timothy Dreamwind for sending us here!" cried Dragonmane surveying the mess their ship was in. Irongord growled in agreement, remembering his last conversation with the wizard.
Page 2
They had just returned from the Mountains of Dread, where they had retrieved a small black statue guarded by hordes of undead creatures in the ruins of an ancient temple.
They had taken casualties and lost several good people. Lionslash, a Sarethi or Tigerman, had taken a critical wound. Only the timely intervention of a stasis spell was keeping him alive.
Irongord had lost count of the number of times Dragonmane, Lionslash, and he had saved each other's backsides.
He and Dragonmane had been teamed up since their days in a mercenary group. The young tigerman had joined them as a half-grown cub after his parents, professional adventurers, had died at the hands of brigands while guarding a caravan heading north out of Lionsgate, The capital of Drachenszahne, a country on the world of Wrolde.
Dreamwind sighed again, glancing sideways at Rok and Dragonmane, who were playing 'top this one' in loud voices at the other end of the main room of the tavern. He pulled off a wire and glass contraption that sat on the bridge of his nose, and peered dimly at it.
"Alright, there are a couple of resources here on Alavanon that might, I repeat, might be available." He waved a cloth he'd brought out to wipe his gadget.
"But?" the dwarf prompted.
"There are several reasons why you should take the Skumbukit across the void to Wrolde."
"Dammit, I knew it!" the dwarf swore, taking another gulp of ale.
"First, because there are older civilizations that have been in existence longer, there will be more opportunities for finding treasure. Second, as you'll recall, those cultures include the one he comes from and they will have a more likely chance of saving Lionslash. Third, there is one who will soon have need of you."
"That doesn't sound good. What would require the kind of strength we have? After all, we're a highly experienced team with a lot of powerful magical equipment."
"I cannot reveal that to you."
Dreamwind held up his hand as the dwarf angrily opened his mouth.
"I really can't! I'm only allowed to say that you and your crew must leave as soon as you can."
After some more discussion, Irongord consented. He knew the mage could or would not give him anymore information.
Irongord knew nothing was ever simple with Timothy Dreamwind. The wizard always had at least two reasons for anything he said or did. Not only did he never let his right hand know what his left was doing, often it was left wondering which hand it was!
Dreamwind's explanation was a good example.
"The Multiverse is where alternative realities are created by major decision points in history, such as, whether a battle was won or lost, or when a leader dies.
Those who operate the gateways between universes say that worlds with a fair amount of differences are the easiest to get to."
“But, why us?" the dwarf grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
With a heavy dramatic sigh, Dreamwind sipped from a flagon of mulled ale.
"I told you, Irongord, it's the best way to get Lionslash healed."
Next thing he knew, they were being chased by an angry dragon!
* * *
Irongord's mind returned to the present as he became aware of Evenstar standing beside him. Turning to the lithe, dark-skinned winged woman, he raised an eyebrow.
"Bloodclaw wants you to know that the situation below decks is under control," she said calmly, as if mentioning the latest prices at the market.
"Also, Robyn wants to know if you're through trying to do barrel rolls with the ship."
This was a maneuver known to winged folk such as Evenstar and Robyn Pinkdust, who was a pixie.
Page 3
"Swearing up a pink storm was she?" Dragonmane, his mouth gaping in a silent laugh, came up from the main deck.
Evenstar smiled and shrugged, turning the motion into a graceful stretching of wings.
"Casualties?" the dwarf asked curtly.
"Everyone is out except the three of us, Rok, and whoever's below decks," Dragonmane followed this with a mocking salute.
"That's seven in all," murmured Evenstar," I hope we're in the right place."
"Trouble, Boss!" called Rok from the bow, pointing towards the shore.
Cursing in dwarvish, Irongord turned to see several warships making their way towards the Skumbukit.
"Evenstar, 'upstairs'! Dragonmane, get Bloodclaw and the others on deck! Rok, see about getting the ballista working!"
They were soon surrounded. A boat was lowered from the foremost ship, manned by several people wearing chain mail. In the bow sat an important-looking person holding a white flag. When they pulled up alongside, they were ready. Robyn was in the rigging; her small pixie form was hard to see. This is an advantage, as casting powerful spells tended to make the caster a high priority target for missiles and other spells.
Dragonmane and Rok stood by the ballista. Evenstar circled above, ready to drop darts on the enemy. Ambergris, a half-elf ranger, stood Irongord at the rail.
There was something odd about the boat.
"Look," murmured Bloodclaw, "no sails or oars."
"No magic that can be detected," answered Ambergris after a moment of concentration.
The dwarf frowned as a hail drifted across the water.
"Ahoy, the ship! Welcome to Lionsgate! What is your registry, please?"
Good. They had come out in the right place. Surreptitiously, he gave the all-clear signal. The others relaxed, Evenstar starting a spiral down toward the deck.
"Skumbukit, out of Alavinonne, Irongord commanding."
"And I am Sir Jordan Franklyn of the Port Authority. Permission to come aboard!"
He nodded to Rok, who lowered a rope ladder over the side. Evenstar landed on the deck as Franklyn climbed aboard.
He bowed to her and spoke a few words that he didn't recognize. She answered his bow with a nod.
"I am sorry, I am not from that land, although I seem able to catch some of what you've said."
"My apologies, milady, I think you'll find several points of similarity between our friends, the Wind Riders and your own people." He bowed again.
"And now sir, can you explain the carcass that you have littered our fair harbor with?"
"Yeah!" said Dragonmane," We didn't feel like being roasted alive!"
With a cool glance at the lizardman, Jordan turned his attention back to him and said, "I take it then, that you are unaware of the balance principle of the gate?"
Page 4
When the dwarf nodded, Sir Jordan delivered a pedantic lecture on what he called Gate System Mechanics. It seems that whenever more than a certain amount of magic passes through, an equivalent amount of random creatures follow.
"Dreamwind forgot to mention that little detail!" muttered Dragonmane.
"Timothy Dreamwind?" asked Sir Jordan, with a start.
"Yeah," the dwarf answered warily, "do you know him?"
"But, of course! He's a great personal friend of our king!"
As his agents, the crew of the Skumbukit was given the red carpet treatment. Everything was taken care of by the city including help for the wounded, repairs for the ship, and lodgings for the duration of their stay.
They learned that a local holiday was about to start in the next couple of weeks. Every year a week long festival is held, with many events and contests. The last day ends with a great feast where prizes and rewards are bestowed.
The crew wandered about the town making new friends and encountering old ones.
By the last day of the festival, Irongord still hadn't found out whom, specifically, they were supposed to help. Any official with which he tried to discuss anything would have no idea what he was talking about.
The College of Associated Spell casters, which included healers and wizards, had a good healing facility. It would be a few days before Lionslash was fully recovered, but they certified him well enough to attend the big party on the last day of the festival.
He sat in a half open sedan chair, enjoying the attentions a couple of comely female attendants that he claimed were healers.
Dragonmane pretended to be annoyed by Lionslash's fatuous smile, but Irongord knew he was relieved see the tigerman on the mend.
The party started with a big feast in the inner courtyard of the king's castle. Hundreds of people thronged up the hill and through the gates to fall upon the many long tables groaning under the weight of the mountains of food piled high on each one.
Towards the afternoon, as appetites became satiated, the speeches began. Dignitaries from all over Wrolde, as well as a few visitors from other worlds, spoke their praises of the benevolence and wisdom of the rulers of Drachenszahne.
As the sun drifted lower in the sky, the heralds announced the final ceremonies.
Five long tables at one end of the courtyard held the various dignitaries, courtiers, and hangers-on. The center table held the five Princes of Drachenszahne and their immediate families.
As guests of the government, the crew of the Skumbukit was seated at the last table on the left. Also at the table was the crew of the Green Silkie, captained by Jon Darksilver, an old friend and sometimes rival.
Irongord was astonished to see Timothy Dreamwind and Spike, his ever-present shadow sitting with them!
After several centuries of staring with his mouth open at the smug reprobate, the dwarf finally found his voice.
"What in the name of the seven labors of Herakles are YOU doing here?"
Page 5
"Hush, old boy, all will become clear in due course."
"But you said..."
"Shall I teach the rock-eater some manners, Lord?" growled the red haired woman who had been standing at the mage's side.
"You and what flea-bitten army, mutt?"
Dreamwind stepped between them
"Don't rock the boat, Irongord," he whispered fiercely, "You have to trust me on this!"
Suddenly aware of the curious stares from all around, Irongord sat down, grimly promising himself to wring the answers from the mage's scrawny little neck, even if he had to go through his watchdog to do it!
Impatiently, the dwarf listened as the after-dinner speeches began.
Doctor Franklyn (by now he knew he was never called king except in official documents) was praised and flattered outrageously by the various speakers. Through it all he managed to sit, smiling quietly.
"If half of what these bozos are saying is true, Franklyn has saved this world and several others ten times in as many centuries!" Irongord marveled to himself.
Not content just to be a hero, he was also described as being immortal.
Surprisingly, nobody seemed to be annoyed at this hogwash. Everyone listened with serious expressions. Even the farmers and merchants, supposedly hard-headed down-to-earth people, listened respectfully.
Finally, thunderous applause and cheers heralded the end of the speeches. Franklyn stood and held out his arms above his head, the palms of his hands held outward towards the crowd.
"Thank you, my friends!" He said as the tumult died, "You warm an old campaigner's heart. For those of you who are new to these festivities, a brief statement is in order about how I and my fellow Princes came to be here today!"
Oh, no! Another speech! The dwarf nudged Dragonmane, who had started to snore.
"If I have to listen, everyone else does, too!" he hissed.
"Once long ago, my friends and I formed a group of adventurers and called ourselves Dragonteeth. There were seven of us: Magdala, Yvonne Starsinger, Homer Loufbarrow, Markos Kronos, Timothy Dreamwind, myself and Agamemnon of the House of Dunethorne."
As each was named he or she nodded a head to the assembly. An empty chair draped in black was indicated at Agamemnon's name. At the mention of his name, the old wizard rose and bowed to Franklyn.
"After a long and fruitful span of time, we were ready to retire after one last adventure. It proved to be the most costly of them all."
"We heard about a land that had been ruled by an evil sorceress-queen that had been destroyed after a long and terrible reign."
Page 6
"To make a long story short, we found the long lost tomb of that queen. We also encountered her malevolent spirit. With some luck and at the cost of the life of one of our company," here he again indicated the empty chair draped in black, “we managed to defeat it."
"We garnered enough treasure from that adventure, along with our savings, to buy this and bring in settlers from other places."
"We felt it appropriate to set ourselves to the purpose of restoring this land that had provided a large portion of the means."
"Each of us has accepted the stewardship of a portion of the land, under my direction as we did during our adventuring in the old days."
"And every year we have a festival of thanksgiving and rededication to our task on the anniversary of the day we found the tomb and defeated the Queen's spirit."
"In celebration of this event, we have instituted the custom of granting awards and requests on the last day of the festival."
There were several more speeches, some treaties, and a couple of land grants. Then the local populace started lining up to make their requests.
The last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the castle walls and Franklyn was finishing with the last local, when a sudden chill ran down Irongord's spine.
A sudden unnatural darkness descended for a moment to be replaced by a dazzling brightness stronger than the noonday sun. The brightness was centered a few tens of feet above the courtyard.
The brightness faded slowly to a sickly yellowish green glow that revealed a black-hooded figure. The figure began to speak, two glowing sickly yellow sparks deep within the shadow of the hood began to wax and wane with the rhythm of its speech. At the brightest moments the faintest outline of a skull could just be seen. The voice was sexless, deep and hollow as if calling from beyond a distant grave. His skin crawled and shivered with dread to rhythm of the unworldly voice.
"Jonathan Franklyn!"
"Timothy Dreamwind!"
"Magdala!"
"Yvonne Starsinger!"
"Markos Kronos!"
"Homer Loufbarrow!"
"Prepare yourselves for the agony of watching all ye know and hold dear perish about ye!"
"Then howl in anguish as ye join them!"
"Prepare yourselves to join Agamemnon of the heroic house of Dunethorn!" Horrible death-chill laughter rang out. Many figures in robes or cloaks had already begun chanting and gesturing. All manner of energies blasted through the air centering on the image hovering above them. More fireworks were flying about than had ever been witnessed by any festival gathering!
It was to no avail. None of the energy flashing through the darkness above them had any affect on the apparition before them!
"HOLD!"
Page 7
The glowing figure of an elf in golden robes suddenly strode forth from the group at the head table. Nothing like him had been there a moment before. The elf had long flowing hair and beard, both flowing down past his waist in a tide of golden glory.
"So, Golden Zukala, ye show yourself! You’re just in time to share the fate of your friends!"
"Mayhap you are correct, milady."
His voice was calm, its volume seeming just above a whisper, yet penetrating to the far areas of the courtyard. His voice was sad, laden with ancient weariness and regret. No one who heard him could help but feel an answering sorrow.
"But mayhap nothing will happen."
She screamed wordlessly, swelling up as if to unleash some horrible deadly force!
Zukala raised his arms up quickly, chanting in a voice that quickly grew in volume and strength until all minds seem to echo with unknown syllables that could not be comprehended. As it continued, many of the spell casters who had attacked the apparition before lifted their arms and began to echo the terrible chanting.
Another scream rent the air, this one of such dread and horror that Irongord felt his soul tremble in sympathy.
The specter above them began to fade and as it did so, it moaned and pointed an empty sleeve at the assembled princes.
The golden image before them raised his voice another level. The faces of the populace showed dismay as they raised their arms and voices to join in the terrible chanting. People who stood about him, common shopkeepers and peasants, found themselves drawn in. Even some of the dwarf's fellow adventurers, who he knew weren't spell casters, were chanting and gesturing in cadence with the golden demon. He felt some of the same pressure as they did, but was able to resist, although he was frozen in place, unable to move. Irongord didn't know what he could do if they failed but he still felt it important to be outside the enchantment.
Now almost everyone in the courtyard was involved. Eyes rolled in stark terror as people who had never known anything like this were caught up in the horrible moment.
The dwarf noticed Timothy Dreamwind standing not far away. As their eyes met, the mage slowly winked. Then he seemed to deliberately turn his attention to the awful lich above. His voice grew stronger as if to tell Irongord to help.
He signaled Dragonmane the same way, and they set about getting the attention of the rest of the crew. Soon they had everyone concentrating on the fell thing above them.
They could feel it working!!
With a final roaring syllable, the lich vanished in a thunderclap. Everyone collapsed in unconsciousness. Irongord felt drained as if he had been charging uphill for days.
With a start, he realized their champion had vanished, also.
Page 8
Realizing that few people were awake, the dwarf set about organizing those few who were, pulling some of them out of a daze. They made sure they had a watch set against the small possibility of thieves or brigands. It was soon determined that the entire city and several miles of the surrounding countryside were also affected. Those strong enough were sent to make sure the sleepers were comfortable and safe. Everyone slept the entire night and halfway into the next day.
When things had returned to normal, Irongord was summoned to the palace. Upon his arrival, the dwarf was shown to a chamber where several others were waiting. There must have been ten or twenty mercenaries and adventurers. Including the Samder, Ssrassk Monkeyslayer, an old friend with whom the dwarf shared many a scrape.
Irongord also recognized Alberon the Paladin, a human with a rather stuck-up attitude to others who didn't agree with his religion, but a good man to have at your back against heavy opposition.
The dwarf greeted a few friends, and was trying to find out what was going on when a door opened to show Timothy Dreamwind standing there. Irongord groaned. He was about to lay into the mage for whatever mess he had gotten them into this time, but something stopped him. Dreamwind's usual fumbling mannerisms were replaced by a serious worried air that was emphasized by his weariness.
The mage quieted their questions and ushered them into the next room, 3a large chamber with a throne on a raised dais at the far end. Six smaller thrones were set, three to either side of it. The two thrones nearest to the larger were empty, the one on the left was draped in black.
The wizard led them to a point a man's length from the larger throne, where Jordan and several others stood. The figures on the thrones were the princes of Drachenszahne. The newcomers bowed to them as Dreamwind took the remaining empty throne.
Jordan cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon. We, the government of Drachenszahne, have a quest for you."
A tumult of voices arose as each tried to make himself heard. A large heavyset fellow in black leather with a full black beard, shoved forward past Jordan to confront Franklyn.
"What's this all about, old man? What's so almighty important? Don't think Tall those pyrotechnics impressed me! Banishing some fake ghost isn't going to scare me into some ridiculous wild goose chase for you!"
Several of the tapestries on the walls were thrust aside as several guardsmen rushed out and surrounded the princes, odd-looking wands pointed out at the remaining occupants of the room.
"Careful, my dear Baron Mordius," murmured Timothy as he waved the guards back. "You are not immune to royal displeasure. Even a scion of Franklyn can go too far!"
The baron turned pale but stood his ground.
Sir Jordan cleared his throat.
"For your information, that 'ghost' was the fell undead sorceress whom we thought we had defeated when Drachenszahne was established."
Page 9
"She is not gone, merely sent where it may take her awhile to return."
"So what do you want from us," he growled "miracles?"
"In a way!" declared Sir Jordan, with a sardonic bow.
"There are only seven artifacts that are strong enough to give us the power to deal with this lich permanently! Any one of them would barely fulfill our requirements. Two would be better, and all seven would do the job without any remaining doubts. We have several possible locations for each artifact. But their energies are so strong that they are impervious to any but the most powerful detection spells. If any of you return with an artifact in a year, we will have what we will need do the job. Each of you will be given a list of locations to check, as well as a description of the seven artifacts."
"Sort of glorified scavengers hunt!" smirked Dragonmane when Irongord briefed the others later. Lionslash smiled in agreement. The crew had been given credit to buy anything they thought they would need. The next night, they weighed anchor on the first tide going out.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Oh well....
So much for good intentions! I'm not going to try to update this site. Instead, I'm concentrating on my Facebook page. So go there if you want to see my stuff. ;)
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Last Year...
My wife & I moved from the northern part of the county of San Diego to La Mesa just east of San Diego proper. We now have a nice place midway between two friends & walking distance of our other friends. It's nice to have our own place instead of sharing a house with other people.
New Year...
I now have 3 sites. This one, Stephen Joseph McGlone on Facebook & Stephen J McGlone on Myspace! I'll try to keep them all up dated.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
politics
It's funny, I seem to be stuck between 2 wild @$$ brothers; both with extreme political views. One is an extremely conservative republican & the other is extremely liberal(?) almost to the point of total anarchy. I feel myself to be mildly liberal & usually vote Democrat. What always seems funny to me is that people are so busy complaining about the crooks in other parties, that they ignore the ones in their own. I kinda feel like Pogo sometimes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
