[13th Age] The Eyes of the Stone Thief

[JLT*]

The Warrior

Murtok the Grey they called him. For his complexion. Murtok the Culler they called him. When he raided with the chiefs for the great Orc Lord. Murtok the Beast they called him. For his savageness when burning hamlets for the cause of the High Druid. Murtok the Assassin, when the Prince of Shadows had a job for him. Murtok Demon Slayer, in those days that he jumped down the Hellholes, inspired by the great Crusader. Murtok has had countless names.

These days, they call him Murtok White Eye, as the cataracts drained the colour from his fiery eyes. And White Eye considers himself retired.

White Eye is now an entertainer. A storyteller of sorts. The stories he tells his guests are bloody, violent and oh so exciting. And as the stories unfold the Actors he pays to perform in his plays become bloody, violent and exciting. For those of us that can still see it sure is a sight to behold.

The entertainment hall a few miles West of Glitterhaegen is known throughout the land, and some say even the Emperor has once attended a show. The fighters are proud and many and the Arena is vast and lethal. White Eye has beasts in cages, monsters in chains and warriors on contract. The colosseum seats five thousand spectators and is the area’s most distinguishable landmark. This Gladiator Hall is Murtok White Eye’s greatest achievement.

When his assistant told him about the massive sinkhole that swallowed his life’s work he shed no tears. His tears had long since dried and nothing could phase this old warrior. Murtok White Eye jus wished he could have seen it when it happened. The sight of that great building crashing must have been terrific and awe-inspiring. White Eye did hear the screams from afar while returning from a trip in the city.
"What will we do now?” His assistant asked. “Should we start over?” White Eye shook his head and muttered to himself.

“I’m getting too old for this shit.”

[JLT*]

The Apprentice

“Just around this bend. You will see.” Alvir was clearly excited. “And she is so awesome. The other day I broke a crystal ball. Knocked it clean off a shelf while cleaning. Know what she said?” Alvir was very excited. He waited for me to answer. Or, at the very least acknowledge that he was recounting a funny anecdote. I was not planning on granting my dear little brother that satisfaction. Silent as always I kept walking along the stony riverbed. I was not exactly sure on where we were, other than along this branch of the Gold Leaf River. Somewhere in the wood of the glorious Elf Queen.

“She said” Alvir continued and could not contain his laughter as if he was saying something priceless. “she said,” My dear little brother, please complete a sentence. Alvir changed his voice to a deep velvety sound. “That will come out of your salary, young wood elf.” Alvir could not be bothered to stop and breathe before continuing to the predictable punchline. “I mean, she's not even paying me anything!” His laughter echoed along the trees.

It was all I could do not to smack him over the head with my staff. Instead, I just went with raising an eyebrow disapprovingly. My dear brother did not let that phase him. “Oh she’s so great, sister. So funny and so powerful and beautiful and, and great!” Alvir gestured widely with his arms. “With a gesture she had mended the crystal ball and then just continued reading her spellbooks!” Alvir’s human teacher is apparently hilarious. Mother would not approve.

“Oh, you’ll see. You will be so impressed once you see the tower in the middle of the river. It’s so indescribably pretty.” Alvir spread his arms as if actually painting that picture. “The white marble and the lightning spire. The bridge is made out of something that looks like fluid light, but, but it isn’t.” We were closing that bend he mentioned. “A few more steps and you’ll see.”

“I’ll take you up to the highest tower, Valmir!” Like I’ve never seen a wizard’s tower before. “You can see Concord from there. And even Drakkenhall if the weather is good. Look! There it stands in the centre of the rapids, its’... “

Alvir stopped. “Hey. Where’d it go?”

[SageGenesis]

Eelco's character, I presume?

[JLT*]

No characters yet. Just stories

---

I hink Eelco wants to play an intellectually challenged barbarian this time.

[Tiamat]

These are really cool.

[JLT*]

The Knight

She had been the love of his life for as long as he could remember. His father had been a wing captain, and her mother was his father's partner. They had been destined for each other. In life. In death. And now she was dying. And he was not.

Curse that foul demon, whose shadow and flame had engulfed her. He could still feel the scorching heat on his face as he recalled the Demon striking that terrifying blade of fire and death down onto his love. Jaxom knew it was his own hubris that had caused this. And now she was dying. And he was not.

His captain had ordered him to wait. This Greater Demon had been planted at the watchtower by the Diabolist, that much had been certain. Intel had said She needed a fiery heart for a ritual. It was so obviously a trap. And Jaxom had not cared. He had not cared and his love had paid the price. And now she was dying. And he was not.

The young knight’s mind kept racing back to that moment. The moment he lost control and he lost the battle. Or perhaps technically it was not lost. Jaxom was pretty sure the Demon must have perished as everything came tumbling down. They were already grounded by the Fiend’s entangling whip when the stonework crashed down on all of them. And now she was dying. And he was not.

She had shielded him, that much was certain. Jaxom would not be alive right now if not for her. The watchtower of the fortress crashed down into the canyon far below, taking that Lord of Hell with it. Tears streamed down the young knight’s cheek as he stroked her face. Why would she do that? He wanted it to be him bleeding to certain death on a mountainside. But it wasn’t. His love was dying and he knew he would not survive the grief when he would lose her. Their souls had been intertwined since the first moment they had touched. Now her breathing was slowing and her mighty, fiery heartbeat was fading. The love of his life was dying. And so was he.

The Demon had been just as surprised as they were when the fortress started crumbling. It could not have happened. By the Emperor’s beard, Dwarves had built that thing, it should have lasted for thirteen more ages. And still, the entire structure had crashed down, stone and metal disappearing into the mountain like a giant maw had come up and swallowed the entire stronghold. Jaxom had heard the men screaming as they plummeted to their deaths. These men that they had come to save from the Demon. These men that Jaxom had defied his captain’s orders for. All gone. All for nothing. And now the love of his life was dying. And he knew he would too.

Jaxom could hear the Dragon horn sounding in the distance. He could hear the others bellowing, roaring, screaming at the sight of one of their own so mangled and hurt. They were close now. Help was on the way. It would be too late for her. And too late for him.

Through the tears in his eyes he could see the Captain’s Gold hovering above them. The mightiest of the Wing. The leader of them all. A great feeling of safety and security washed over him as he felt his wounds closing and his burns fading. He could feel her heartbeat strengthening and she was taking steadier breaths. The mighty pounding of the dragon heart made his own skip a beat. Her eyes opened and she smiled with those knife sharp teeth, the silver frill on her head flashing in the morning sun. “Told you. This was terrible, horrible idea.”

[AlfaGirl]

[I am so going to enjoy this campaign XD Please keep writing these up!]

[nar]

good. yes. very good.

[Tiamat]

These are really cool. You do realise that I will now pressure you to do write-ups for Sekhem in my one-shot campaign, right? If we're still doing that.

[JLT*]

(11-07-2018 07:31:44)AlfaGirl Wrote:  [I am so going to enjoy this campaign XD Please keep writing these up!]

Haha thanks not sure whether I can keep this up once the actual campaign starts running and I need my time and inspiration to prepare sessions.

---

(11-07-2018 10:11:02)Tiamat Wrote:  These are really cool. You do realise that I will now pressure you to do write-ups for Sekhem in my one-shot campaign, right? If we're still doing that.

Sure, pressure away

[AlfaGirl]

(11-07-2018 14:32:37)JLT* Wrote:  Haha thanks not sure whether I can keep this up once the actual campaign starts running and I need my time and inspiration to prepare sessions.

I am willing and able to bribe you. Chocolate, whisky, I've got options... [picture <angel emoji which this thing won't do> here]

[JLT*]

The necromancer

Elric had a good gig. Technically, there was no law in the Dragon Empire saying he could not do what he was doing. And his product was not technically considered to be property to be owned. That technically meant Elric was providing a service. A lucrative service at that.

When the young student told Lara, she had laughed at him at first. Then, when he pressed the matter and showed her how serious he was by bringing the product inside, she actually left him. That bitch.

He would show her. When he would come back with jewelry and a new place to live for them both. She would fall back into his arms she would thank him in all the many ways he could imagine. Elric had a very vivid imagination and smiled happily at the thought.

His buyers were probably doing something illegal, though, so it might be wise to not ask too many questions. Elric donned a heavy cloak, boarded the little boat that he had stowed away and with the one heavy oar in his hands he worked his way toward the middle of the lake. The island was about a mile out and there had been a procession today. Some fool had stood up against some of the bandits who occasionally ride in and collect some protection money from the villagers. She would be as fresh as they get. The hero might even be interred with that pendant of hers. That would technically not be owned by anyone either, but Elric had to admit to himself that he was a bit fuzzy on the specifics on whether taking the pendant would be considered grave robbing.

When Elric had rowed all the way to the little island and moored his boat with a sturdy rope to a weeping willow near the grounds, he saw the caretaker, panicked and sweating, running toward a decrepit shack on the west side of the grounds as fast as the fat stubby legs of the man could carry him. The ground was shaking, Elric saw the old tombs trembling and buckling as the ground seemed to give way. There was a slithering sound and something that could not be described other than a stony maw opening up under the graveyard, a fresh grave at the very center of the earthquake, all descending into the ground below

Elric decided not to wait and see what would happen next. In one swift move he had cut the sturdy rope and had jumped into the boat. Cursing the Lich King’s missing fist, Elric noticed his only oar was still leaning against the willow.

First the tombs and slabs on the graveyard sank into the stony maw, then the shack and the trees, and then the entire island. As the water beneath his boat was rushing toward a giant maelstrom at the centre of the onslaught, Elric sadly knew he would no longer be able to provide Lara with those jewels she had wanted.

[JLT*]

The Assassin
The waiting was tedious. Boring even. Hugh sighed a quiet sigh. He definitely was not happy with where this assignment had ended up. His first attempt was cut violently short and now they were here. Hugh looked around from his vantage point in the branches of a powerful oak tree. The ominous sounds of the woods and the buzzing of insects were all around him. The rotten vermin in the camp below were anything but quiet. Hugh passionately hated Orcs.

The great island of Omen, in the very centre of the midland sea, was anything but tedious. Monsters, beasts, giant spiders and worse, this was not a place for a slummer like Hugh. He’d take the oversized rats of Shadow Port over the stingers in this place any day. Swiftly and quietly, Hugh squashed a bug the size of his thumb against the tree right before the parasite could land on Hugh’s big nose.

Now, it looked like the tedious waiting would fast be over as excitement was washing over the camp below. The orcs down there were preparing to fight. One of the lieutenants had challenged the captain and the two were banging their iron bracer against their axes to signal the start of the ritual combat.

That’s what happens in a desolate place like this. The men get restless and it would be hard for a leader to keep them in check if they’re this scared. They’ll want to go back home to what they know. Murdering innocent farm kids in their case. Hugh gritted his teeth and silently swore he would singlehandedly murder every last orc here if they wouldn’t kill each other first.
The lieutenant had quite a few followers, but would be no match for the Captain in single combat. At least, Hugh hoped the younger orc would not be up to the task, as the captain was Hugh’s mark. He would not claim the prize if he would not be the one making the kill. But the captain was wielding Festerwound, a legendary giant axe gifted to him by the Orc Lord himself. He would not be losing that honour. Not until Hugh would slit his throat.

Then, everything happened at once. A great rumbling and slithering noise came from the camp below as the Orcs were screaming. War cries at first, then screams of pain and fear as the warcamp was shaking and trembling on the shifting grounds. Trees small and great were falling, tents were collapsing and the lieutenant’s men were now in open mutiny against their captain as they were hacking their great axes into those still loyal to the leader.

The entire camp was now falling into the ground, collapsing in on itself as the very forest floor closed in around them and was about to swallow all the orcs like a great maw.

Hugh assessed his chances, deemed them far too low. Regardless, he leapt into a falling tree a few yards over and silently hopped a few branches down. The old assassin muttered a few words for his Prince, like a prayer of sorts, and swung from a low branch and behind the skull adorned banner of the Bloodreavers. Unseen, Hugh sprang past the orc captain wielding that red and silver axe, plunged his knife in the back of the captain’s neck. Cursing his luck as he lost grip of his favourite blade he jumped back into a falling tree, leaping from branch to branch until he was well away from the weirdly sinking area.

Later, when reporting the successful hit to the guildmaster, Hugh did not expect the man to believe everything Hugh had witnessed. “A living dungeon eating an orcish warcamp? That sounds unlikely.” The guildmaster would say. Hugh knew damn well what he saw but decided not to share all the details. Still later, spending his new coin in the Scurvy Mermaid in Shadow Port on an expensive Santa Cora Red, a cloaked man with a broad smile unexpectedly grabbed the seat next to him, leaned over knowingly and whispered. “I have a new job for you, Hugh.”

[Tiamat]

[JLT*]

(11-07-2018 14:37:50)AlfaGirl Wrote:  

(11-07-2018 14:32:37)JLT* Wrote:  Haha thanks not sure whether I can keep this up once the actual campaign starts running and I need my time and inspiration to prepare sessions.

I am willing and able to bribe you. Chocolate, whisky, I've got options... [picture <angel emoji which this thing won't do> here]

I'll have the whisky, please. ^_^

[JLT*]

The Adventurers

Concord is said to be a city of all races. Close to the Queen's domain, it is a place where elves, dwarves and halflings can live in fairly harmonious existence. There are humans in Concord but they are a minority. The presence of the fair folk draws gnomes, dragonfolk and half-orcs into the city. The aptly named city of Spires has areas with Dwarven strongholds, Halfling burrows, wild gardens and the unmistakable tall spikes of the lean elf towers that reach for the heavens. The city is green, beautiful and pulses with magic. And Flint was sick of it.

The duo just met outside an abandoned hilltop tavern two days outside Concord and the incredible spires were visible from here. The dwarf scratched his beard and emptied his pipe. “Agh. I can still hear the wee folk’s singing. What’s with all the damn singing?” Tanis, having a human mother, smoothed his own newly grown chin fuzz. “I know for a fact you can’t really hear them with those tiny ears, my old grouchy friend. Come on, we are running out of time. The Fist is in place, it will be here soon. We hide.”

From a branch of a nearby tree the old dwarf looked miserably down at the ground some seven feet below. Tanis, who had grown up in the Queen’s wood, had to help the dwarf up the tree. Flint was clearly embarrassed, judging by the amount of insults he had thrown at his friend in the last few minutes. Half-ear, Fake beard and shrub hugger were among Tanis’ favourites.

They had placed the Crusader’s Fist, a magical ruby of immense power, inside a chest they hid under the floorboards of the tavern. The mission they had been given was fairly straightforward: witness the event and report back. The half-elf already knew things would not be that easy.

The tavern used to be a healthy commercial centre, but after an Imperial road had been completed at the far end of the hill, most traffic to Concord no longer passed through here. The place must have been impressive once. A four story stone building, with a nice tower and ample stable room. The duo used to frequent the inn often, back when they still lived in Concord.

Flint chuckled. “Remember the Koru tribeswoman? The one that claimed to have healing powers? Oh those were some good times.” Tanis remembered. They had lost some good friends on that adventure. Tanis had to stop his thoughts from wandering. There was no time for reminiscing, as trouble was here. This time, trouble came in the form of five Imperial soldiers approaching the tavern. Tanis heard them whispering about the Fist. How could they know? A mole in the guild?

Flint cursed under his breath and Tanis knocked an arrow. “Damn you Half-ear, you promised no-one would get hurt this time. What do we do?” It was already too late. As expected, the ground had begun its familiar shaking. A rumbling sound came from below the ruined tavern and then they heard the wet, slithering sound they had come to know to herald the cataclysmic event.