Our camels! They must drink too, Toruko, or die of thirst...
Our camels will die to sustain us, Captain! It is unfortunate, but that is what we face if we are to survive and recapture the Alanqilis...
Conflagratius Wormwood, great fire wyrm of the fiery planet Mercury, who flew down to Earth to make a lair in the volcanic caldera of Mount Vesuvius, awakens from his torpor around dusk of the 5th, stretches his great reptilian and yet also feline body, and opens his massive wings to launch out of the volcano on the hot rising thermals, like a colossal nightmare blotting out the darkening sky...
He soars high over Napoli, surveying the city he’d incinerated in the infamous Halloween Holocaust of a few years before, noting the progress the hairless apes had made in rebuilding their coastal city... They were still too full of pride, those miserable little monkeys! His flames would burn away that dung on the Feast of Saint Valentine!
Spying a goatherd hurrying to wrangle his stubborn herd back to town before sundown, the dragon grins a predatory grin... Ah! Me supper’ll be goat and goatherd, looks like!
He dives within range, his great shadow blocking out the sun, so that the herdsman and his flock are suddenly caught in the darkness of night, and the aura of dragonfear that radiates from him sweeps over them, causing the herdsman to scream and fall down, paralyzed with terror, and his herd of goats to do the same, bleating in panic and toppling over, stiff as boards!
He gives voice to a nightmarish roar, like the howl of a hundred demons tortured in Hellfire... GGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOORRRR!!!! The earsplitting roar rupturs the eardrums of his prey, leaving them deaf in their final moments...
Then, following an inhalation that sounds like hurricane winds in a cavernous tunnel, comes the incinerating fire... Flames like a giant furnace, like the forge of Vulcan himself, roast the herdsman and his score of goats to a well-done crisp!
Landing amid the smoking desolation of Wormwood, the dragon feasts, gulping the sizzling goats down first, one by one, and saving the charbroiled herdsman for desert!
In Draconic: Ah! That be good respite... Not as tasty as maiden flesh, but still good... I need some blood to slake me thirst...
Taking to the air again with mighty, whirlwind-forming beats of his massive wings, the fire dragon soars down the coast until he spies a fishing ship trying to make harbor at Napoli before sundown... Yer too late, me pretties! That’s what greed gets ya... Ya wanted that one last net o’ fish to feed yer families... I ken ye... But it’ll cost ye dear! HAHAHAHA!!!
Diving low over the fishing boat, Wormwood strafes her with flame, incinerating her sails and igniting her deck, where her crew freeze in charbroiled rigormortis..,
From the rocks Lard P takes on a voice, out of sight from the pear he calls out for the sands to send back to them.
"O YOUR THUUUSRTY, WHY COULD THAT BE, HAS THE DESERT HAD ITS DRINK"
Then he is off flying out of view of the two fools below too another outcrop, from which he calls down in another voice.
"WHY BROTHER! LEAVE THEM BE, WE WILL SOON FEAST ON THEIR FLESH, SO LET THEM BE. ALL WE NEED DO IS WAIT AND THE SANDS WILL SERVE THEM UP FOR US, YES FOR US TO EAT"
Then he moves again to a spot he can see them form with out them seeing him.
SPARE US, DESERT DJINN!! I BEG YOU!! DO NOT LET US PERISH!! DO NOT FEAST UPON OUR CORPSES LIKE BUZZARDS OR GHULS!! I PRAY YOU WILL HAVE MERCY!! HAVE MERCYYYYY!!!
The thirst-crazed captain falls on his knees and beats his brow and chest with his fists!
The Tengu squawks angrily at Captain Barak and slaps him hard across the face!
*KARRRROK!!* DAMN IT, CAPTAIN! MAN UP, YOU COWARDLY SQUID!! IT AIN'T DJINN, YOU DAFT FOOL, IT'S THOSE SCALLYWAGS WHAT HIJACKED THE ALANQILIS WITH THE SAME DEVILTRY THEY BE PLAYIN' WITH US NOW!! AIN'T THAT RIGHT, YE YELLOW SEA-DOGS!! SONS O' HARLOTS!! COME OUT AN' FIGHT LIKE MEN, YE COWARDLY LAMPREYS!!
In the morning, he packs everything up and follows the tiny lord until he sees the captain and crew in the distance. Sneaking to get an okay look, the farmer begins crawling to make sure the men don't see him as he gets about 35 meters from them, preferably on high ground.
The air then begins to swirl and crackle about Volreg as he readies himself for a well placed shot, preferably on the bird man.
January 5th, nine o'clock:
Having filled belly on herd and goatherd, and slaked thirst with the blood of fishermen, Wormwood was in a mood for cruel and destructive sport...
The great fire wyrm soared up the Italian coast to the great city of Venice, with her canals and bridges. It was after nightfall now, and the night watchmen, harlots, thieves, and others out of doors after nightfall were suddenly stricken with a terrible dread, before an inferno of dragonfire incinerated them in the streets or on the bridges, igniting rooftops and other wooden structures!
In the morning, he packs everything up and follows the tiny lord until he sees the captain and crew in the distance. Sneaking to get an okay look, the farmer begins crawling to make sure the men don't see him as he gets about 35 meters from them, preferably on high ground.
The air then begins to swirl and crackle about Volreg as he readies himself for a well placed shot, preferably on the bird man.
AAAAAAARRRRGGH!!! WHERE ARE YE, YE YELLOW-BELLIED, SPINELESS JELLYFISH!! SHOW YERSELF!!
The Crow scans the direction the lightning struck from...
From his new hiding place.
"BUT ME AND MY BROTHER ARE HUNGRY, WE WISH TO EAT FLESH, BUT WE ARE NOT THAT HUNGRY TO EAT TWO OF YOU, SO WE SHALL LET ONE OF YOU GO, WHO STAYS AND HIS OUR DINNER IS UP TO YOU"
and then he moves again.
"YES BROTHER, JUST ONE WILL FILL US GOOD, LETS SEE WHO THEY PICK!"
And he is off again.
Noticing that he was spotted, the man waves at the tengu.
[Dice=Stealth Snipe]d20+10-20
Noticing that he was spotted, the man waves at the tengu.
AHA!! THERE, CAPTAIN!! I SPY THE LIGHTNING-HURLER!! THERE, AMONG THE ROCKS!!
The Tengu points out Volreg waving at him from about a hundred feet away to Captain Barak...
[Dice=Stealth Snipe]d20+10-20
Noticing that he was spotted, the man waves at the tengu.
AHA!! THERE, CAPTAIN!! I SPY THE LIGHTNING-HURLER!! THERE, AMONG THE ROCKS!!
The Tengu points out Volreg waving at him from about a hundred feet away to Captain Barak...
Seeing Volreg peeking out from behind a boulder, Barak leers like a ravenous jackal...
HAHAHAHAA!! YES!! THANK ALLAH THEY SHOW THEIR UGLY FACES!! LET US TAKE OUR REVENGE, TORUKO!!
CAPTAIN BARAK
GIOVANNA
VOLREG
TORUKO
LORD P
ALTIN
WULFGAR
MWIKALI
EEEK!! EEEK!! DUST-UP IN THE DESERT!! ROUND UNO!! FIGHT!!
TORUKO!
WULFGAR!
ALTIN!
MWIKALI!
VOLREG!
GIOVANNA!
LORD P!
CAPTAIN BARAK!
OOH OHH AH AH AH!!!
Toruko sprints across the rocky hard pan desert, closing the 115-feet distance between himself and Volreg in about six seconds, rapier glinting in the early twilight...
Sits behind his rock and waist this one out, this is a big-ens fight, there is no need for him to do anything for now.
Getting up early and moving with the party, Wulfgar stays near Volreg as the crow chargers across the desert. Stepping forward protecting his friend Wulfgar begins to rage. His appearance changes, the light from his halo shining, his skin appears like pewter and his eyes turn white the same color as the halo. Lifting the greatsword he slashes at the first mate. "Latlh mIw ghotvam qet!"
[dice=attack]1d20 + 9 [dice=damage]2d6 + 12** spoiler omitted **
Wulfgar’s greatsword hacks deeply into the crow’s left shoulder and the slaver collapses with a ragged croak, motionless at the bloodrager’s feet!
Venice, Italy, January 5th:
Doge of Venice Francesco Foscari is shaken and furious at the destructive attack of the fire dragon...
God have mercy upon us! Why is the dragon attacking Venice!? Have we not paid an obscene tribute every year since the damned monster first flew down from Mercury to appease it!? I must summon the Council of Ten at once! We must deploy our mightiest champions to defend the city!
He summons the other members of the Council of Ten to the Palazzo Ducale...
Mwikali looks to the others and smiles. Are litfle lord isn't fhe only one to cause fear."
Steps forward and casts Scare. DC15 will save if yhd or lower witbin 140ft
Mwikali looks to the others and smiles. Are litfle lord isn't fhe only one to cause fear."
Steps forward and casts Scare. DC15 will save if yhd or lower witbin 140ft
Captain Barak seems to be unfazed by Meikali’s witchcraft... He seems poised to charge!
January 5th, 9:15 PM, the Church of San Lorenzo in Venice:
The priests of the Church of San Lorenzo in Venice are already quaking with dragonfear as they kneel in prayer in the sanctuary, when the ethereal shade of one of Venice’s old heroes manifests, rising up through the floor beside them! They scream in terror and make the sign of the cross... The ghost chides them in Italian: Fear not, good fathers! It is only I, your fellow son of the Republic, returned to give what aid I can to our city in her dark hour of need! I have been in my tomb for a long time now... More than a century, yes? But I sense that our beloved Venice faces a dire foe this hour...The dragon of Mount Vesuvius attacks us, no?
The stunned priests, ashen-faced, nod affirmation to the ghost. Very well! I will go and confront this monster, and see if I might convince him to go away!
The Ghost of Marco Polo flies up through the rooftop of the Church of San Lorenzo and high into the night sky, where it perceives in the great red wyrm hovering over the blazing rooftops! Soaring over to appear a few yards in front of the roaring and chuckling monster, he assumes his most horrific appearance, a maggot-ridden specter of his mortal self, clad in worm-eaten Tartar dress, and shouts in a booming, sepulchral Draconic: WOE TO YOU, EVIL FIRE WYRM!! I AM THE GHOST OF MARCO POLO, AND I SWEAR TO YOU, THAT IF YOU DO NOT DEPART FROM HERE AT ONCE AND RETURN TO YOUR LAIR IN THE VOLCANO, I MYSELF SHALL GO AND HAVE A PEEK AT YOUR DEFENSES!! THAT IS RIGHT, YOU GREEDY SWINE!! I WILL SEE WHAT DEFENSES YOU HAVE ADDED TO PROTECT YOUR MISERABLE RUMP AS YOU LAY IN SLUMBER, THEN I SHALL SEEK OUT THOSE LUCKY FOOLS WHO SLEW YOU BEFORE, TELL THEM YOU ARE ALIVE AGAIN AND CAUSING MORE TROUBLE, AND DESCRIBE TO THEM IN GREAT DETAIL YOUR DEFENSES AND WHAT LOVELY TREASURES YOU HAVE ADDED TO YOUR HOARD SINCE THEY LAST LOOTED IT!! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THAT, LAPDOG OF SATAN!? HAHAHAHA!!
The Ghost of Marco Polo makes a rude gesture at the startled dragon before flying off southward toward Mount Vesuvius to make good on his threat!
In Draconic: NOOOOOO!!! MY HOARD!! MIIIIINE!!!
The great fire dragon immediately abandons his rampage over Venice and rockets back toward Mount Vesuvius, racing the Ghost of Marco Polo to its lair...
Venice’s old hero has saved her from further destruction!
Watching the dragon’s rampage from a window in a tower of the Palazzo Ducale, where he has been a guest commissioned to design a new portal for the doge’s palace, renowned architect Bartolomeo Bon gasps in shock and opens his wide eyes even wider when a ghostly figure—that of Marco Polo—appears floating before the dragon’s face and begins shouting something the architect can’t quite make out at this distance... A few seconds later, both ghost and dragon race off to the south, away from the City of Bridges!
Marco Polo returns to save us! He leads the dragon away! I must go at once and tell the Council this wonderful news!
Dashing from the tower window, Bon races down a spiral stair to the audience chamber where the Council of Ten are frantically debating how best to save their beloved Venice from the wrath of Wormwood...
Renowned hill dwarf goldsmith, blacksmith, and publisher Johannes Gutenberg, currently a guest of the Doge of Venice, sits in attendance of the emergency convention of the Council of Ten, listening to the council members loudly arguing over how best to drive off the dragon. His thoughts turn to how the news of the dragon’s rampage must be quickly and widely disseminated throughout Europe...
If only there were some more efficient means of printing than copying everything by hand... Perhaps I could devise some kind of...moveable type...a printing press to make multiple copies of the same manuscript without need of hand scribing...
January 6th, one minute to midnight, in the Crystal Cave beneath Stonehenge:
The secret arcane Order of the Hidden Heptagon, made up of seven powerful time-traveling archmages, convenes to discuss matters unknown to most mortals. The Hidden Heptagon consists of:
Merlin of Wales, archmage supreme, who mentored King Arthur and instructed the Witch-Queen Morganna the Fey;
Nicolas Flamel, Parisian alchemist unparalleled, keeper of the Philosopher’s Stone;
Nikolai Tesla, inventor extraordinaire, wizard from the future and from the New World;
Aleister Crowley, founder of the future Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, about whom future bard and rockstar Ozzy Osborne would write his song Mister Crowley;
Morganna Le Fey, Queen of Witches and Queen of Avalon;
Doktor Johann Faust, conjurer and diabolist, who would one day bind Mephistopheles himself to service;
And Albertus Magnus, alchemist and inventor of magical clockworks.
These seven mighty magic users have gathered with the help of an invention Tesla helped the wizard H G Wells craft—the Time Machine—to discuss matters of dire significance about to transpire in this dimension of the Time Stream...
In Draconic: Welcome back again to the Crystal Cave, friends... It’s been some time...or has it? The cambion archmage looks sideways at Morganna Le Fey... I still have some trouble with my memory, thanks to your shenanigans, My Queen...
In Draconic: Oh, Merlin! I have already apologized many times now for that old trickery... Besides, it was for your own good... You were growing far too powerful, and far too haughty with your full cognitive capacity intact... You would soon attract unwanted attention from the Old Ones, and we don’t want that, do we?
Nicolas Flamel arches his brows and grins wryly at Merlin and then Morganna.
In Draconic: Merlin is more forgiving than I would be if you tried to place such a hex of amnesia on me, Queen of the Blessed Isle of Apples!
Tesla fixes Morganna with a cold, steely gaze.
In Draconic: Your reputation for betrayal and fairy tricks are precisely the reason the Death Ray I am crafting will be as lethal to fey demigoddesses as it will be to mortals...
The venerable Master Albertus Magnus gasps and scowls at Tesla.
In Draconic: But Mister Tesla! I thought you and I had discussed the dire danger of crafting your Death Ray! Mankind is not ready for negative energy weapons in your Tributary of the River of Time! I thought you agreed to destroy your plans for the Death Ray for the good of mankind!
Tesla replies in Draconic to Albertus Magnus: And so I did destroy the plans, Master Albertus, so that they could never fall into evil hands... But this does not mean I have forgotten how to build it...or that I will never build one for myself...to be used strictly in self-defense, of course! After all, think how mankind would benefit from my Death Ray now, if it were completed? Mankind’s dragon problem in this Tributary of the River would be easily solved, would it not?
In Draconic, to Tesla: Wait—You are building a Death Ray?...Specially designed to KILL ME!?
In Draconic: *Sigh!* Please, everybody, can we get down to the business we have crossed over Time Tributaries for already and stop this stupid bickering!?
In Draconic: An excellent proposal, Herr Doktor! The good Mister Wells was kind enough to lend Mister Tesla and I his marvelous Time Machine so that our fellowship might convene here at this particular Time Tributary...yet I see no reason for us to abuse this favor by wasting time quibbling... Tell us, Merlin... You are wisest among us, unless Her Fey Majesty is... How can we assist in forestalling the Great Apocalypse that seems to occur around this time in most of the myriad alternate Rivers of Time?
The Order of the Hidden Heptagon proceeds to discuss the grave matter of the imminent Apocalypse foretold by the Prophet John in the Book of Revelations, lamenting that the time-travelers' Code of Kronos prevented any of them from directly intervening to alter the course of a River of Time, also called a Strand of Fate...
They could only act through mortal agents...heroes. Merlin and Flamel had recently adventured with a band of such mortal heroes, known as the Lucky Fools (also as the Lusty Fools), and other formidable adventurers were on the rise...
Although the pygmy catfolk wizard Prospero Blue, and his companions, Roman aasimar paladin Tunes D'Holiday and Egyptian human cleric of Ra Pamentet, had not been seen ever since their second foray into the Underworld via the Cave of Hercules, there were now the brave newcomers hunting for the Church of Lucifer in the Roman Catacombs, whom some were calling the Crusaders of the Catacombs, and in Morocco, Prince Henry of Portugal's cunning band of Desert Jackals (as some bards were beginning to call them in song)...
ALTIN!
VOLREG!
GIOVANNA!
BARAK!
LORD P!
EEEEEK!!
Electrical sparks forming in thearea, seemingly from nothing begins as the air around the man causes the sand at his feet to rise and spin around the man. As the sparks form and air swirls, the smaller individual sparks begin to connect with his outstretched hands rapidly forming a ball of energy. Volreg readies to attack the captain once he's within 120 feet!
Round 1
Takes out a nut an nibbles on it from his hiding place.
Electrical sparks forming in thearea, seemingly from nothing begins as the air around the man causes the sand at his feet to rise and spin around the man. As the sparks form and air swirls, the smaller individual sparks begin to connect with his outstretched hands rapidly forming a ball of energy. Volreg readies to attack the captain once he's within 120 feet!
[dice=Readied Attack+Elemental Overflow : Touch]d20+6+1
[dice=Electric Damage+Elemental Overflow]2d6+2+2
The slaver captain snarls as Volreg’s lightning strikes him! GNNNAARRRGH!!
In Arabic: YOU BASTARDS STOLE MY SHIP AND COST ME MY CREW!! BECAUSE OF YOUR TRICKS, HALF OF MY CREW DESERTED, AND THE OTHER HALF MUTINIED!! TORUKO AND I HAD TO KILL THOSE WHO TURNED AGAINST US BECAUSE OF YOU!! AND NOW YOU HAVE KILLED TORUKO!! I’LL KILL YOU ALL!!!
Barak sprints toward his hated foes...
EEEK!! EEEK!! DUST-UP IN THE DESERT!! ROUND DOS!! FIGHT!!
TORUKO! Unconscious and bleeding out...
WULFGAR!
ALTIN!
MWIKALI!
VOLREG!
GIOVANNA!
LORD P!
CAPTAIN BARAK!
OOH OHH AH AH AH!!!
Toruko bleeds into the desert sand...
[dice=Shortbow, Deadly Aim]1d20+8
[dice=Dmg]1d6+6
[dice=Shortbow, DA, PBS]1d20+9
[dice=Dmg]1d6+7
AAAAHH!! screams Barak as Altin’s first arrow pierces his right thigh... He begins to run as fast as he can with an arrow in his leg toward Volreg, Altin and Wulfgar...
Seeing Altin nock and draw back another arrow, the slaver dodges our of its path as he races toward the adventurers!
Jerking his greatsword out of the tengu's shoulder, he watches as the avion slumps to the ground. Hearing the captain yell, Wulfgar turns and waiting until the man is near, swings his greatsword in a great arch, "laH'e' Suy pagh vup jIH."
[dice=attack]1d20 + 9 [dice=damage]2d6 + 12** spoiler omitted **
Barak parries the Northman’s greatsword with crossed short swords! *CLANK!!*