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Tales of Faerun


AurianaValoria1

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Rhaine surveyed her company. It seemed they were still missing Lokii and Nawen, along with Arva, Ianthe, Reona, and Alphonse. Thankfully, Bilron remembered Xallistine from their previous encounter, and he calmed his wide-eyed wife by explaining that the Ulitharid meant no harm. Their daughter, on the other hand, wasted no time in giving Xallistine a nickname - affectionately dubbing him "tentacle-face" and constantly glancing back over her shoulder at him. The Doomguide wasn't sure if Lokii would be received quite as easily.

 

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Ginafae and Sana had emerged on the far eastern side of the Anauroch, and they were now peering through the thick foliage at the town of Shadowdale.

 

"Lolth cha'kohk mina," the drow hissed, her red eyes flashing from under her hood, "This place once belonged to my people."

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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Lokii departed Loudwater, he had left sometime before the party to get a head start. He wasn't a few miles outside of Loudwater when a small group of Men with a woman approached. The womans skin was pasty white and her eyes shadowed in darkness, she held a long blade up and smirked. Her companions all as white as her, they smelled of death and blood.

 

"Vampires..." He said softly as he drew his hood over his eyes. His hand reached up and grasped the hilt of his sword, he felt his vigour renewed as the energy from the skull flowed through him.

 

The White Lady laughed evilly, her blade risen in a defensive stance. "You are The Planeswalker, you possess a powerful artifact. Hand it over or be slaughtered..." She commanded, the woman was accustomed to leadership but to Lokii she was just a spoiled woman with a false sense of power. He knew Vampires were weak to sunlight, he glanced up to see a heavy overcast. He drew The Sword Of Souls and charged his hand with Eldricht Energy.

 

"Come and take it Witch..." He spoke defiantly, his mind flashed as he predicted she would send two of her four companions to attack him. He could feel the power of the skull course through his veins.

 

The White Lady growled and bared her long fangs, she snapped her fingers and two of the Vampire men attacked. Lokii launched a bolt of dark energy into the chest of the first Vampire and he exploded in a cloud of mist that quickly whisked away into the distance. The second was faster then he thought him to be, his sword cleaving across Lokii's chest and drawing his thick black blood. Lokii growled in pain and smashed the Vampire in the face with the hilt of his sword, the beast clinched his face and reeled. Lokii took that opportunity to wreath his blade in eldricht energy and swiped across the bloodsuckers neck. Cleaving his head from his shoulders and turning the Vampire into ash.

 

The White Lady hissed in hatred and anger, she drew a whip from behind her lower back. On the end of the whip were three long daggerblades, she cracked the whip and the blades sliced across his face. Rending the flesh and stripping it away clean, she arched back and cracked it again. Lokii's supernatural reflexes quickly grasped the whip and he pulled on it hard, sending her off balance as he swiped his blade at her neck. She ducked the strike and kicked him back with a quick kick that sent him sliding along the loose earth.

 

The two other vampires lunged at him, Lokii whispered the invocation that turned his dark lightning into a freezing blast. His hand enveloped itself in a freezing aura, he clinched his fist and let loose a cone of cold energy that froze the first Vampire solid as he walked forward, he idly smashed the frozen beast with his gauntleted glove that fractured him into thousands of shards of ice and flesh. The final Vampire swiped at him in three rapid strikes, Lokii parried them with his sword and gauntlet. He loosed a blast of dark energy as he struck the ground. The energy dispersed in a wave, the wave took the Vampire off its feet and it struck the ground hard. Lokii kept walking towards The White Lady, he idly swiped his blade that cleaved its head from its shoulders, thus rendering it to ash.

 

The White Lady swiped at him with her blade feebly, a dark coldness ran up her spine as The Planeswalker effortlessly killed four of her best men. Lokii gripped the blade and twisted it until it snapped, he grasped her around the neck with his offhand and lifted her off her feet. His eyes radiated dark energy, it steamed off his body as his rage fueled the darkness within him. "Welcome to hell Witch..." He said coldly as he stabbed his blade into her chest, her soul filtered into the blade. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head and the dark necromantic powers that formed her into a Vampire transferred with the soul as the Skull devoured it. He dropped the corpse of the Vampire and pulled his blade free of the corpse.

 

Lokii picked up her whip and admired it, he latched it across his chest and decided to wait for his companions at the site of the battle.

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As Alphonse made his way out of the room, feeling as if he'd been trampled by a horse, he spotted William hiding behind a potted plant and snatched him up by the front of his robes. "I know you know what's happened in there last night, and you're going to tell me."

 

William somehow managed to break free and gathered up his things, opening up the journal which had been least filled in and opening it up. After Rhaine announced the banshee was dead, there was nothing written at all. Blank pages. "I sort of took advantage of the free drinks. Trouble is, I can't hold my liquor!"

 

Alphonse slumped against a wall and held a hand to his pounding head. "Then I have no idea what's happened over the course of the night."

 

Just as he did so, Ianthe stopped beside him as she skipped down the hall. "Oh, hello."

 

Turning red, Alphonse mumbled, "Do you know what happened last night?"

 

"Well," Ianthe thought for a moment, "I went to bed pretty early."

 

Defeated, Alphonse was without answers. Alas, he would never figure out what had actually happened that night.

 

Several minutes later after seeing Rena to her home, everyone had gathered outside and were quite shocked to hear what happened to Aricia. They paid their respects before readying their horses and greeting the caravan.

Edited by tokyobleach
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Nawen followed Rhaine out of the tavern but lost the Doomguide out of sight because of a large group of people that got in her way. Eventually she reached the cemetery and even if all of her friends were gone she spent a moment giving her respects to Aricia. She didn't know her well but Aricia seemed like a honorable and good woman.

 

"May you find peace in the realms beyond." She said silently and went to look for the others.

 

The drow found most of them in the stables. Nawen led out her own mare, Kiira outside and waited for the others.

 

"I can sense great sadness. What had happened?" The mare questioned as she looked at her hooded two legged friend.

 

"One of our friends, Aricia. Passed away." The drow replied sadly.

 

Kiira remained silent. She had no more questions and she felt that it wasn't the good for conversations as all of them mourned for the dead.

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Once everyone had gathered, Rhaine nodded to Bilron. The smith cracked his whip over the oxen, and his cart began ambling forward. A few breaths later, Maeve did the same, and the caravan started its slow and rattling journey along the road towards Llorkh.

 

The Doomguide rode to Bilron's left, a little off the cobbles to give the wagons space...that, and her steed objected to the presence of such noisy vehicles. As she kept her reins tight to prevent the horse from bolting beneath her, she could already tell this was going to be a long trip...

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Bard, a handsome man with long blonde hair walked the road to Llorkh, leaving Loudwater in his trail. He sang a song of drink and the affections of women. His mind racing back to the night before, where his head still swam in late night romps with the barmaids of The Drunken Rat and gallons of mead. Despite his humble profession his apparel was more akin to that of a sellsword, with a bastard sword strapped to his back along with a bow and quiver he seemed more like a mercenary then a Bard. His lute hung loosely from his side as he walked, his voice melodious and cheerful.

 

"Oh for a brave and a gallant ship,

And a fair an' a fav'rin' breeze,

With a bully crew an' a captain to

To carry me o'er the seas;

To carry me o'er the seas, me boys,

To me true love far away,

For I'm takin' a trip on a Government ship

Ten thousand miles away."

 

Sang the Bard, his recent travels through the seas. Many of the songs he had learned he learned aboard ship. His mind drifted to the Pirate Queen and his affections for her. In the distance he could see a small caravan, the fork in the road that brought them together is where he decided to wait. The eclectic group of races in that walked with the caravan spoke one word to him "Adventure..." He thought as he made his way to intercept their caravan, the carriage looked laden down with supplies and a nice spot on the back of it for him to plant his arse and rest his road-weary feet.

Edited by Macman253
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Weyland and Amendale each hopped onto their respective horses and followed the caravan, not saying much. Weyland did notice the absence of his least favourite member of the group, however.

 

"So we're leaving without the warlock, then? Not that I'm really complaining, mind you. We probably would have killed each other at some point along the road." He commented, and received a stern look from Amendale. (or at least, that's what it looked like.)

 

"He could be in danger." Amendale responded.

 

"If he was, it'd be his own fault for wandering off. Although he does have Lucifer's power to draw on, so I doubt it." Amendale shook his head disapprovingly at the statement.

 

"If he's dead I doubt you'll be so dismissive of it." The Moon Elf added. Even if he and Weyland were at a disagreement, Amendale almost never grew irritated, and it showed.

 

"Couple thousand years overdue, if I remember correctly..." Weyland remarked.

 

"He's had a hard life."

 

"He deserves it, for the deaths he brought about. His family, remember? A mother and her child. HIS child. Of course the fact he almost tried to kill me-twice- doesn't aid in my opinion of him." Weyland responded with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway, enough of this. If he's gone or dead, then that's the end of it. If he catches up, he catches up. I could argue with him all day, but I don't like arguing with my friends." He waved his hand dismissively. Amendale looked ahead and said nothing, he didn't like arguing at all, let alone with friends.

Edited by Flipout6
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Halfway to Llorkh, the sun was already past its peak. Rhaine guessed that they would not reach the next town by nightfall and would have to pitch camp somewhere off the road. It would not be hard to find a place...the land was flat and trees were sparse.

 

The road had long transitioned from cobbles to dirt, and they were now slowly approaching a fork. There, standing at the fork, was a man who looked not unlike a mercenary. He appeared to be watching them for some reason...perhaps even waiting on them.

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Xallistine's mood did not shift as the journey continued on, he chuckled as the young girl dubbed him tentacle face, and tried to ease the blacksmith's wife opinion of him- she had nothing to fear from him. All he could think about was the two companions he had lost, both suffering tragic, but very different Fates: Mahira, in a way had the easy way out, from what he could recall, Ravenna's spell had ended her life the moment it touched her body, brutal, but at least not torturous, and prolonged, as the once beautiful redhead that had been Aricia suffered. Next to her pride, her looks meant a lot to her, and to take them away sapped at her pride as well, and then, just as she had come to grips with it all, she died. Oh he hoped Ravenna was suffering, he hoped that hell treated her as badly as she had treated his companions- not only them, but the hundreds, no, thousands of young women who had met early ends, just to fuel that abominations life.

 

He looked to see a man glancing at them, stood in the road. it occurred to him that night was drawing close- Great, yet more time to be spent idle, more time to reflect. He'd have to find something of which to concern himself.

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Bard sat on a nearby rock as he strummed his lute, idly flicking choords and humming a lyricless tune. When the carriage approached he bowed to the driver, the woman was beautiful but she had an air of authority to her. It intrigued him but he knew she would never fall for his wile charms. He rolled the lute in his hand as he bowed, a formal yet courtly bow.

 

"Fair tidings travellers, I wish to ask of your companionship... I am assuming you are headed to Llorkh aswell as am I. You look like you could use a man skilled with blade to stave off the many brigands and a man skilled with song to stave off this lonesome road..." He said, his accent a cheerful tune. Not his natural but filtered with many different accents from many lands. His boots were worn from many years on the road and his sword, while elegantly crafted had seen many battles. He rose up from his bow and ran a hand through his hair to flatten the long blonde hair back over his head to reveal his attractive and rugged face. His right hand was oddly wrapped in cloth as if bandaged but no blood was present on the cloth itself, only the tips of his fingers were bare to the elements.

 

Despite his rough appearence he was kind and cheerful, his icy blue eyes darting to all the members of the caravan. Standing still on the dark skinned and fair haired Drow, she was as exotic as she was beautful and he planned to get to know her quite intimately. He laid his hand on his satchel full of old scrolls and the thick tome lashed around his body like a wizards spellbook.

 

 

 

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Lokii stood up from his place next to the dead vampires, the overcast had gone away and the bodies began to burn in the sunlight. His companions were moving to slow and with Weyland in their presence his time with them would be full of tension and blades at one-anothers backs. He sheathed his blade and clapped his hands together, at his feet a summoning circle appeared and etched itself into the stone he was standing upon. He smirked as The White Lady's corpse began to blaze and a mighty black steed sprung forth from the flames with a evil whinny as it came from the depths of hell itself. Its eyes, mane, tail and hooves were wreathed in flame. Along its sides were glowing Dark Speech runes, Lokii calmly walked up to the evil beast and gently rubbed its long nose.

 

"Ruin, my old friend... come. We have evil to seek and destroy..." He spoke to the Dreadmare, Ruin the Dreadmare was the horselord of Asmodeus' own herd of Nightmares. Using his sorcery he freed the tainted steed of Lucifer. Captured and enslaved when Lucifer fell eons ago it was a prize for any devil to possess. Now Ruin rides for Lokii despite its evil nature it seeks revenge for the wrongs done to it, inside the fell creatures beating heart rested a bound spirit, a spirit of vengeance and rage that drove the steed on and heard its riders call from any plane or any distance. Lokii stepped alongside the animal and grabbed a chunk of mane and hoisted himself into the saddle.

 

"Hyaah!" He roared and Ruin reared up, when he planted all four hooves to the earth he shot off on the road to Llorkh. At a pace that would outrun a dragon, he could feel the presence of the vampires that attacked him. He followed their scent, and sought their lair to bring his justice to them.

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