Welcome to the Ironworks. Here lives my ever-growing collection of fiction, set in the 41st Millenium.
Ahead lay the bones of their prey, Eshrokk. The remains of the massive beast billowed cold smoke into the surrounding woodland. From atop the wagon Sindri peered over the ballista, sweeping her keen eyes over the scene. It didn’t feel quite finished. The silence was thick and uneasy after such a vicious combat.
…The party was in no mood for deliberation, and with nods of assent, raised fists, and readied weapons they forged their way back towards Greyfell with their plan of attack. True darkness as well as an otherworldly fog now shrouded their approach, with only a wan silver light gracing the clearing of the old manor…
…loosing a characteristically fatal arrow and skewering the creature - the body was launched off of the tower however, and almost landed in the nearby river…
They had been traveling for a full day and were just beginning to set up camp for the night when suddenly, Brutogg was struck with a salvo of small rocks. Confusion turned to crystal clarity as gutteral snarls and hisses began to rumble out of the surrounding forest.
… With that, Natali excused herself to attend another meeting with the discontent nobles. As the chamber’s door swung open, raised voices could be heard echoing around the halls of the citadel. Indeed, the citizenry were in a state. The party was left to discuss what they might need to go dragon hunting.
…Turi found himself slowly succumbing to their petrifying vapors. As his feet and legs turned to stone the Dwarf reached for a javelin to toss, but was fully petrified before the throw could be made. Fargrim had similarly rushed to join the battle, and while he managed to avoid being turned to stone, found himself battered and struck down by a sickening ray of some kind, summoned by one of Dagoth’s spell scrolls…
A recap that starts here:
Much time has passed since last we checked in on our band of adventurers. Since uncovering old Hreggison’s tomb and delving into the Underdark in the company of the Deep Gnomes, the group has traveled far and learned much of the dangers facing the city of Redharbor.
And ends here:
…More than that, this particular gem was housing the soul of a Dragon. This, the party agreed, was bad news.
Having made good use of their first free morning in Redharbor, the companions make their way back to the Fool’s Flagon to reconvene with the Deep Gnomes and plan their journey to the caverns beneath the city - caverns that may lead to the Underdark.
‘…Not only was this their first new day in the Capital, but it was the first day in quite some time which saw them awaken in relative safety, without fear of pursuit or siege.’
…Upon re-entering the floor of the Fool’s Flagon, the party was greeted by the scent of pipe-smoke, ale, and other stronger spirits. The place had filled up even in the twenty minutes since they’d first walked through, but the party was quick to note that there were still seats available at the bar…
A map of the region of Kyranac - the land in which our campaign is set.
…They found the keep easily enough, and were confronted by two well equipped guards. One stepped forward, and introduced himself as Waltrom, a captain of the King’s Guard. Draped as he and his younger (and rounder) compatriot were in deep blue cloaks slung over their scale-mail armor, and wielding finely crafted long swords, the King’s Guard certainly looked the part.
‘…A brisk pace was set by the party as they took their leave of the Battersea Inn. Gideon, their newest ally, had broken the news to them that neither he nor his crew would be accompanying them to the Capital. The revelation that an old book, the Butcher of the Stars, had been tampered with was distressing enough to the jaded Dragonborn that he had resolved to return to Canibri in search of answers.’
“ ‘The night isn’t safe, not anymore. That’s what they say. It hasn’t been this way in years - long years. But they come to town, and tell of sounds coming from the forest. Sounds that no creature from this earth was ever born to call.’ “
