Casting the Dice - A Short Story by Zakonik

He was sitting on the Stone Throne once more… but he couldn’t rest.
The brazier was burning in the middle of the room. Green flashes of light come out from the fire keeping the attention of Zakonik’s eyes, but behind that look his mind was restless. The abyss has been too close this time: screaming and crying all those souls kept echoing in the air with a feeling of desperation surrounding the air.

The left fist remained closed beneath his face to keep up the monstrous face. In his right hand a dice was rolling constantly: white marble made, all the 6 faces seems to have not only numbers carved inside but also memories. “Keep rolling it until you finally find what you truly seek”. Those words remind to Zakonik the pale visage of Ruby, when smiling she gave it to him as a gift. He felt sorrow all around, and his heart started beating faster. His mind was shacked from such thought – “Such Burden” Zakonik whispered – and suddenly the brazier dragged his attention once more, as in a golden flash the shape of an anvil appeared in the middle of the fire… “Athun!” he said in the empty room, and the echo of that word hit him back only to awake his soul. A deep breath followed the scene and a grim smile appeared on his face.

The Red Priest hammer was lying near Zakonik feet’s. By the time he grabbed the hilt, he realized that his right knee was touching the ground as if for bowing to the brazier in front of him. He immediately stood up, troubled of what just happen when then sound of a thunder come from the far back of the room. Immediately turning, ready into a fighting position, he just realized that there was no one else in the room if not himself. “Athun…” he whispered this time, then he started moving towards the exit.

Outside the cave the swamp was sleeping. Humid air and a dense fog was rising from the ground… such view kept Zakonik attention’s for few minutes. His tribe was sleeping outside in the silent night. The light of fires filtering through the tents were creating a sort of dancing shadows in the mist. The sky above was to far to be spotted if not when occasionally purple lightning appeared through the dark clouds, just to remind that no stars will be shining, even tonight. But no rain was falling that night, which gave the impression of a peaceful atmosphere all around.

Right side of the entrance there was the nest of a Gryphon that immediately started scratching the ground with the talons by seeing Zakonik come out of the cave. “Time to pay an important visit, my friend” he said to the magical beast. The Gryphon looked into the eyes of his master like someone who was expecting such moment and immediately lowered his body to let him take place on the sitting place. Right after he was standing on top of it, a Shaman come out of the darkness and immediately said: “Strange night tonight, my lord. The swamp is very quite like finally resting. We thought you were resting as well, but it seems that you are not.” The many times Zakonik returned to his tribe, the shamans always questioned him about the adventures he has been through, and all the time, during the resting days, they always wondered why their master couldn’t rest at all. Nothing new then was behind the words just spoken, if not for that strange feeling surrounding the entire place. “It is a strange night indeed.”, He replied. “One of these nights in which you should finally rest. But then again, I’m not accustomed to such gift, am I?” Vaguely a smile appeared on his face, but then he noticed that the face of the Shaman become serious, like worried about something. “What troubles your mind, my lord?” asked the shaman by touching his beard, a long white beard. It is said that one of the natural sign to become elder in the tribe is by letting the beard become long and white, in order to cover the upper side of the body. In this way it will be mixed with the white furs that usually cover the shoulders and the chest and creates a sort of animal shape. Then he continued: “Isn’t the path that you chose clear yet, my lord?” Those words troubled Zakonik mind’s, which stood quite for a minute. The only part of his body that was constantly moving was his right hand in which a dice kept rolling. Both theirs looks meet right on that hand when Zakonik turned that up and stopped moving it. “Once again you are right” he said with a voice that seemed far from that place. “I shall pretend to be sleeping then, as the time has arrived for me to cast this Dice”. The shaman looked upon that tiny marble object right on the hand of his master. He didn’t really know what he saw but he had a strange feeling by trying to read the number that was showed in his direction. After few seconds of silence, Zakonik continued: “I don’t know if this is the right path… what I know is that I must be Awake when this dice shall be cast.” Swiftly he closed his fist, and immediately started flying up in the sky while few moments after, he disappeared into the mist.

The following night Zakonik walked once again into the Stone Throne room. The brazier was still burning in the middle and green flashes of light kept coming out form the fire. By walking inside the place a sneaky thought appeared in his mind. “I’m wondering what shall become of the face of Ghalan when I’ll present SunWrath to him.” Strange enough, by moving towards the throne he noticed that all the trophies hung on the walls of the room seemed nodding at such thought. Once he reached the sit he placed the Red Priest hammer on the ground. Then he sat once more on Stone Throne… but once again, he couldn’t rest.

The Von Denn Lands - a short story by Ruby

“ I think it’s about time I told you of my homeland…”
-Ruby

There are many legends concerning our lands but the most crucial one is The twin dragons.
A great long time ago, before the dragons moved east to join their brethren, there lived a great wyrm in our mountains. ‘Wyrm’s roost’ we call it. Up on her perch, she had two offspring. One was said to be a brilliant red who impressed his peers with courage and insight. Her secondborn was more seclusive and proved very intelligent but a bit manipulative.

Honestly, a charming legend, but it has a base of truth. For instance, they were brothers allright but humans, not dragons, and the rightfull heirs to this land.

They used to be inseperable before, living in a tower in the lowlands. After an expedition, for reasons yet unknown, they had an arguement and things took a turn for the worse.
Bediss, the first, claimed his brother mad and went into selfimposed exile into the mountains.
His blood ran thick in the tribes and most of them adopted his boar in their banner. His ring, a boar inlaid with a ruby as an eye counted as the sign of leadership although it is lost today.
Severi, the second, brought a guest home and claimed the land as his own to build a magnificent city, dubbing it the ‘City of Twin Serpents’, named so after his new crest. Weeks after it was built, a rumor started that devils in human shape guarded the streets.

Mistrust still runs deep between us now. The mountains are home to a variety of people, mostly humans and they all trek around the land for food. They consider the lands beyond the rivers to be theirs.
The city has lost most of it’s splendor in isolation but still hosts the most fertile lands. Nobody without the right papers passes those gates though.
This mistrust has led to most unusual guests. Changelings have thrived in these parts because of their changeable nature. Business opportunities aplenty when you’re the only link between buyer and seller.
After the dark elves took over, the previous lord raised the country himself and devils prowled the lands openly again for the first time in centuries. It is said he passed his dark knowledge on to his son, Count Noliss Von Denn who succeeded him
One last advice to you, traveller, rumor has it the current Count has a close tie to Nar’herix, the devil wench of the emperor and a mind full of war. Do not linger in these parts, stranger, or you may meet a sticky end.

Flight of the White Raven - A Short Story by the DM

The following short story expands Rudd's background, and describes how he joined our party of Heroes...

Rudd was born in a small fishing village on the shores of the Darkwings Lake, the body of water that was formed by the emptiness left behind by the floating Island of Gryphyn.

Born to a poor family, young Rudd grew up as a hard worker, helping his father fishing. His life changed dramatically at the age of 10, when his village was attacked by one of the many Orc war bands roaming the Darklands.

Possessing no real fighting training, the villagers were slaughtered, and would have certainly be completely wiped out, when a stranger appeared in town. He was a middle aged man, tall and powerfully built, wielding a weird blade made of green hued steel, more similar to emerald than metal.

The stranger was a storm on the battlefield. He single handedly defeated half of the Orc war band, before routing the survivors, who run away in fear instead of suffering a gruesome death under the precise and impossibly fast strikes of the stranger.

Rudd survived that day, but his family didn’t. The stranger saw him, bloodied and in tear, kneeling in the mud. “You will come with me, boy” he told him “and you will call me Master”.
The Master and Rudd travelled to the Spine of the World, and climbed up into the mountains, until they reached an hidden temple. “Here you will learn the Sublime Way” the Master told him “here you will learn to master yourself, and your enemies”.

Rudd trained long years together with the Master of Nine, Lord of the Diamond Mind Discipline, and with other disciples. He learned of the Sublime Way, he learned of the Nine Swords, and of the sacred duty of the Master: to forever guard the Weapon, the most dangerous tool of war in the World of Tyrrah.

One of Rudd’s mentors was Aramus, Lord of the Stone Dragon Discipline, who was for him not only a teacher, but a friend, and a second father. The big man was famous in Tyrrah for being a war hero, and had chosen to join the Temple of the Sublime Way to hone his fighting skills even more.

For 10 years Rudd trained under Aramus and the Master, and he excelled in the White Raven Discipline. Such was his skill, that he was granted the Sword of the Last Citadel, one of the Nine, and became a Master himself, one of the youngest.

Then one day Aramus left, for he was still honor bound by his duty to the Emperor of Aduria. Rudd was deeply saddened to lose his friend, but understood Aramus’ feelings.
Not a year had passed from Aramus’ departure, that he returned. But his return was not friendly. He came back with many Imperial Legions, and together with him was the Emperor himself!

“Give up the Weapon, Master of Nine” commanded the Emperor. But the Master of Nine would never give up the secret location of the Weapon, and together with his disciples and the other Masters, he readied himself for battle.

A great rage surged in Rudd, in witnessing the betrayal of his so-called friend. But had he ever been a friend? Or had Aramus spent those long years just to befriend the Master of Nine, and trying to locate the Weapon? It did not matter. On that day, the Sublime Way fought against the Imperial Legions, and for each Disciple who fell, 20 Imperial guards lost their life.

But the Emperor had brought too many, and when he and Aramus joined the fight, nothing could stand against them. Not even Rudd. Aramus himself knocked him out, and Rudd thought his life had ended. But it was not so.

He awoke for a few moments, to witness the Emperor standing on a kneeling Master of Nine, too bloodied and battered to fight back.

“Give up the Weapon, Master of Nine, or suffer my Wrath” commanded the Emperor. But the Master of Nine would not give up. As the Emperor raised the Hammer of Athun to end his life, Aramus stayed his hand. “That would be unwise, my Emperor, my friend” he said. “The Master is the only one that knows where the Weapon is hidden, and the only one who can access the Secret Chambers. Maybe, a few years in Manzessine will soften his resolve”.

The Emperor agreed, and they all departed. Rudd lost consciousness once again. When he woke up, he was the only survivor left, the last Disciple of the Sublime Way. All the Masters were gone, together with their Swords. Oddly enough, the Blade of the Last Citadel lay in the ground next to him. With no time to consider this, Rudd left the ruins of the Temple, and reached the Darklands.

Consumed by grief and a deep desire for vengeance, Rudd travelled the Darklands, searching for Aramus. During his travels, his mood became darker and darker, and he took to drinking. But even when he reached the Empire, Aramus was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had left with a Legion on some kind of doomed quest, and had never returned.

But Rudd found out that Aramus had left a daughter, Gyllenn Mercadior, a priestess of Athun. Pretending to be a mercenary and a guide to the Darklands, he enlisted in her service, for Gyllenn was herself on a quest to find her father!

And she had information. She revealed that her father was probably kept in a Dark Elves prison deep in the Darklands: a prison called Manzessine! Rudd remembered that name, for he had heard it 10 years before. He didn’t think they would find Aramus there, but he hoped someone else would have survived 10 years of that infernal prison. Without revealing what he knew, he guided Gyllenn and her party (which included such personalities as Prince Tharod and Prince Ghalan) and together they found their way to the prison.

After defeating the guardians of the prison, they found the only human prisoner of that hellish prison: the Master of Nine. Rudd helped his Master out of the prison, and even though Gyllenn was disappointed to not have found her father, she acquired from the Master more useful information.

Apparently, Aramus and his Legion had travelled to this same prison, with the aim of freeing the Master. He did not know if it was upon orders of the Emperor, or only because Aramus wanted to redeem himself. What he knew was that the mission failed, the Legion was slaughtered by the Dark Elves, and Aramus thrown in Manzessine. On the one occasion when the Master met Aramus in prison, all the big man said was “I’ve failed you, my Master, my friend”. Then powerful undead creatures took Aramus from the prison, and the Master never saw him again.

The Master, accompanied by Gyllen, Rudd and the others, returned to the ruined Temple of the Sublime Way. There, in the main Hall of the Temple, a huge whole had been carved by some primal force, a hole that dug deep in the many levels of the Temple. So deep, as to reach the Sacred Room of the Weapon. A room that now stood empty!

Cursing the Emperor, the Master of the Sublime Way plotted his revenge. As a first step, he informed all the Rulers of the Floating Islands that the Weapon had been stolen, and that all the suspects led to the Emperor of Aduria. A short cold war, quickly followed by mobilization of many armies, ensued. He then started selecting powerful warriors to become the new Lords of the Sublime Way, and to send them on a Quest to recover the Lost Swords. Rudd joined Gyllenn’s party for good, hoping to be of some use in the war that was about to encroach Tyrrah.

Present

Lady Gyllenn, also known as the Red Priest, has gathered an army, seeking to help out the people of Tyrrah, now smashed in between the war of Ghalan, Tharod, their Father the Emperor, and the other floating Islands. Rudd is the general of the army. Zephhyra, the Dragonborn Sorcerer, is the last member of the party, Gyllenn’s best friend and advisor in Arcane matters.

Recently, the army of the Red Priest, guided by an omen sent to Gyllenn, has faced the Undead Horde of Lord Raven, a dreadful Death Knight who had been spreading terror in the Darklands for a decade.

To her great surprise (but was it really a surprise?), Gyllenn finds out that Lord Raven was her father, Aramus. During the battle, Lord Raven pierced Gyllenn’s heart with his sword, after his army decimated her men.

Routed, the Army of the Red Priest returned to their home base in Moonstair, where Zephyra performed the ritual to raise Gyllenn from the dead. Strangely enough, her soul was not able to return…

A Twist of Death - A Short Story by Druss

*** Less than 1 hour after almost total defeat. ***

Druss’s head was spinning.. He looked up trying to gain focus.

Instead, all he could see was a traitor.

“I am sure this is how you planned it all.. you Treacherous Drow” He thought to himself. Then again all Drows were not to be trusted.

How could his fellow travellers have trusted this Drow so fast.

“It will only be a matter of time before I find myself bleeding to death and Sunwrath joined together with Nightbringer” Druss thought.

He shook his head while thinking “focus Druss focus”

It was clear that he himself, he could not hope to retrieve Nightbringer, the Sword of the Shadow alone.

Yes alone, he was alone with a Drow. His hatred was getting the better of him.

His thought whirled around…“Priorities, druss Priorities”

He knew that under no circumstance could he take any risk and let Sunwrath fall into enemy hands.

The plan was clear. Leave the Drow while he could.

Return Sunwrath to one person. The one person he always had full confidence in. He would know what to do with it.

“The Emperor will be happy “ Druss thought.

Druss took the first Watch… While Ruby slept he left.

His last thoughts. “I should have killed you while I had the chance, but I am not evil like you.”

..

..

..

*** Somewhere else….Where no mortal has ever set their foot. ***

The Raven Queen was having an audience with an unusual guest.

They always came to her when they were in need her special power.

She thought to herself. “Gods are all the same, giving the right circumstance and suddenly it doesn’t matter if they were good or evil.”

The Guest was explaining his dilemma, the events that led up to him being here.

She listen patiently to the request but couldn’t stop thinking “How stupid to let mortals decide your faith”

The guest finally fell silent. It was her turn now.

She smiled. Now came the moment, she loved the most. To see their expression when she told the price they would need to pay.

Her smile grew wider. Her guest was very unusual. Never had she had the pleasure to put she eyes on such a divine person.

Desperation… it could only be desperation that drove to such actions.

Her price would be very high. And for this special guest she would even ask a little extra a pre payment. Her smile changed to a smile of desire.

She told her price. To her disappointment there were no change of expression only a nod of agreement.

The thought nagged her that maybe her price had been too low, never had anyone not protested.

Too late, the price had been said and agreed to.

The agreement was simple. Heroes who this divine guest had put too much faith into, needed a helping hand.

Being in the shadowfell, her divine guest did not have the power to come to rescue.

She would create a Revenant that would raise within the shadowfell to help the heroes to defeat or remove Nightbringer from Zirithian.

When Nightbringer would be safe further instructions could be given. Agreement would be a maximum of 3 additional commands.

With the deal sealed she suddenly realized. The only reason why her guest agreed to the pre-payment was because he knew she wouldn’t have time to take advantage of her mortal pleasure.

She would need to start right away otherwise it might all be too late.

Her Guest had informed her in his nice tone. His time in this plane was limited to only 1 hour so before she would be done he would be gone.

Irritated. She dismissed her Guest and started the ritual.

Time was very short, she hoped that her creation wouldn’t suffer too many “side effects”.

Normally she would take weeks for such a task. But the price was high enough even with the loss of her pre-payment.

**** Later within the Shadowfell. ***

A corpse which had not moved since it arrived suddenly started glowed a little.

Fingers moved… The eyes opened… an unmistakable red glow shone from the iris.

Then the memories started flooding in.

He was having fun with pretty girl… who was she, he smiled, she was cute but who was he.. the memory faded again.

Suddenly his body jerked violent.. His mouth opened in a scream without sound.

They had hung him those bastards…. The memory faded again.

He could hear a voice… this wasn’t a memory nor his own inner voice.

The female voice whispered.

“Nightbringer.. help… Heroes…. This was a command he could not deny.

He rose from the place he had been lying for …. He didn’t know, the memories stopped. He was left with an empty feeling.

But he now knew what he needed to do… at least for now.

Revenge - A short story by Neri

"Welcome...to my army" Tharod said, gesturing over the edge of the skyship. A flash of lightning revealed the outlines of tents and a swarming mass of humanoids amidst the forest. Orcs, drow, goblins, the vermin of every corner of the darklands. She couldn't help but be impressed at the magnitude of it.

A gasp behind her told Neri she wasn't alone in this.The ship was descending rapidly, swerving around the camp as it went. Cheers and hoots went up from the ground as they saw their prince return, shouting the promise of more blood. A flash of brightest green drew her attention and she ran to the edge of the ship."No...Greenmoons? Here?" she whispered to herself.

The cheers and howls drowned out into the background. Her mind was racing. It had been 7 years since she last saw that banner.She absent-mindedly ran her hand along her bag. A familiar touch brought her out of her reverie."Neri? Are you ok?" It was Druss."Yeah...just...I thought I saw something.""Something bad?""Erh....why do you ask?""Well, you burned a hole in the railing."

"Oi! Zurg no sleep here! Youz keep watch wid me or youze get beat!""Argh, nobody show. We's in warcamp. Why does Grognak..."A shadow stirred in the corner of the orc's eye. He pointed his axe in the general direction."Oi, you dere. I sawz you. Show yourself!" He squinted his eyes to get a clearer view.A half elf stepped out of the shadows or rather, the shadow followed her arround as she walked purposefully forward, blocking out the torches as she went.

"Ergh, Grognak know you be coming?"No answer. "Oi, you stop there." the orcs said as they brought their poison-green axes up.A word. A violent flash of green. a split second later, the first orc dropped dead, glazy eyed and a searing mark still on his chest.

"Zurg?" the chief asked as he stepped out of his tent. Just for safety reasons, he decided to bring his axe. His eyes adjusted to the torches burning brightly close by. Something told him this was trouble. A dead and burned orc didn't appease him at all. Thud. A book lay open at his feet. Arcane scribbles headed a page.'Property of Teak Fireleaf, Chief Arcane advisor of Spinerock' he read.

A stifled sob in front of him made him look up. A half-elf. She was crying.It came out as little more than a whisper but made him grip his axe more tightly,"You stole my life...I'm here to return the favor."

Leaving - A short story by Torch

After the unfortunate clash between his friends, Torch was confused and made sure Tygore and Toothak bodies (both dead and alive) made it to the 7 pillars hall.

Confused at first, Torch felt ashamed that it had come to this. His actions had caused Tygore's death indirectly. Torch had been torn between trying to resolve the conflict with the least possible deaths, but in the end result even more people had died than as when Torch just would have fought besides his friend.

The act of slaying the dwarf and his cohorts who had been either delusional or a genuine thane, also left a sour taste in his gut. After trying so long to be good and to build for a more peaceful world, his beliefs and morales had just gotten a friend killed and the group split up at the least.
He hoped that a cleric would be able to bring back tygore from death, if only to assuage his own guiltfeeling.Toothak was another matter, he had just seen a fellow follower slain by his group. Torch didn't want to get another friend killed by 'bringing him to justice' by turning him in with the wizards.

Another check of reality was the encounter with the female dragonborn, the one which had infuriated Torch to no end with her prejudices. Was that the way other people expected him to act? as a paladin? And still his blood haunted him.

Of course he would never forget or deny his heritage, he had the entire world to remind him of the fact.