Godsend D&D IC

**Sikako J** · 10-18-2012

Accepted Characters:
Asha Valdrei, Druid of Rodcet Nife
Trouble, Wizard of Solusek Ro
Zhali, Monk of Quellious
Carter Race, Ranger of Mithaniel Marr
Lewis Varcolac, Scout of Tunare
Cayden Cailean, Incarnate of Quellious (Torn from Portal,; Likely Dead)
Boulder Stonerock, Barbarian of Rallos Zek (Buried under debris)
Toka Merlawn, Fighter of Karana

Characters Start at lv 8
Stats Roll: 4d6(highest 3) Free 18
Deities Must have one

“It has been ten years now since the Necromancer Seit has unleashed his undead army to ravage the lands of Norrath. For what reason no one truly knows, some speculate he is seeking the Lost Tomes of the world, still others say he has lost his very mind with power seeking to destroy life on the known world. My own opinion you may ask? It doesn’t matter I seek only safety in these trying times, the security of Erudin in their fortress of Magic one of the few place yet to be struck. As for my business in Freeport, left to burn along with the rest of the world, may the gods have mercy on those left behind…”
-Garus Drimal, Human Master Alchemist

“Damned be the reasons on why the dark mage has attacked! You need now only know the lands of Kaladim are besieged, and we dwarves will not go without one hell of a fight! Be gone now you bard, I have an axe to sink into one of those skellies!”
-Dunlyn Bruntbuckler, Dwarvern Warrior

“It isn’t possible. How one caster could make such a gathered force? Necromancy is a despicable art, but it requires mana and sacrifice just as any other spell weaving. It would have taken years of nothing but the most extreme effort on a daily basis. I for one won’t let this world fall without a struggle.” *A ball of fire forms in his hand as he gives me a firm glare*
-Tanias Firebright, Half-Elf Mage

“The lands cry out in pain, one can physically feel and hear it. *She looks out over the forest, a deep sadness in her eyes.* The scourge army burns and pillages the lands. Felling trees here hundreds of years old, spoiling rivers and water holes killing out life. This has to end, the past five years have bared the burden of these desecrations. We gather our forces to march, to counter attack and drive the dark army from our lands if nothing more than to allow it to recover.”-Idia Ashwood, Wood Elf Druid

“What!? There is an army of skeletons and zombies on the loose? Since when?*A long pause *Ten years!! Asler gather your kin we need to talk about hiding!!”
-Deputy Braster Looh, Rouge Halfling

These are the brief encounters I have taken that have stood out on my trips across the lands, ones I believe hold the true feelings all of us beings have of this world. Fear, a chance to test themselves, anger, revenge against atrocities… we all have responded to this dangerous attack in our own ways. But who is it that will gather to oppose this fearsome force, to rid the lands of this undead scourge? Who will be the champions of this time?
-Writing from the journal of Nikako Jones, Traveling Bard

::Status of the War::

**mew77** · 10-18-2012

Asha held her hand over the man's wounds, with a few words and infusing some of her own energy into the spot she was able to accelerate natural healing. Quickly the wound closed up revealing no sign of injury. She let the last guardsman out of her house fully recovered from the day. He was the 5th treated that day. Given that the village militia was now down to only 14 able bodied villagers wielding pitchforks and torches that was significant.

She arrived in Serena's Crossing village about 7 years ago with her master. The world sometimes felt distant to her. She figured it was because when she died, she was too young to fully understand more than the pain. She looked at her right arm, a nasty scar along the side of it showed where the arm had been hacked off. Other scars on her torso, legs, and even one down the side of her head showed where she was ripped apart. The scars were uneven because she was 6 when she died. The growing she had done since then stretched the skin even after she was sewn back together by Master Lucia Renval.

While her body had adapted to the scaring by toughening her physical make up, it left her feeble and clumsy at times. That was why she resorted to biomancy. By altering her own cells using nature magic she was able to transform into deadly beasts to shore up her existing weakness.

The attack that day had left three guardsmen dead, she was happy that her efforts saved the rest of the guard. The undead came without end in sight. She and the captain of the guard were able to hold them off, he with what remained of the village militia and her in the form of a giant snake. She was getting tired, the endless daily skirmishes was grating on her nerves. The village guard were weary. If only there was a way to strike back. With that thought in mind she fell asleep in the chair.

She opened her eyes in the form of a small white snake. Flicking her tongue she found herself in a field of mint. She slithered around aimlessly in the field.

The field the white snake now moved through altered as hundreds of thousands of cots rose from the ground, however only three were able to be seen by the snake. One held a solider grievously wounded from what looked to be a horrid slash across his chest. The second held a woman that was covered in blistering burns over her body. The last was a child, pale with fever and had a trickle of blood running from his mouth and nose.

Before them all stood a tall being with an over round head. Dressed in a long robe that touched the ground one could see that it was a pure white on the top half, while the bottom half was a blood red. It stood consumed by the robe its head pivoting to look at each one of the wounded on the cots. The figure then turned showing that he was not human at all. The overly round head was devoid of hair or a nose, instead were two large eyes and a mouth that seemed to have permanent frown lines. Its skin was a blue hue not far of that of aquatic goblins. Its three fingered hand lifted up to surround the snake in an orb of healing magic that vaporized fatigue, cured aches, and left the druid feeling energized.

The Primal Healer stood, nearly seven feet tall swaying on its covered feet. It spoke, almost at a hiss. “Which would you heal first oh one that was brought back?”

Asha bowed as best she could in the presence of the Primal Healer. She had devoted her life to healing, in part at the behest of Master Renval. In part due to her own death and the desire to prevent similar situations from happening to others.

Asha considered, the question. "Does healing one prevent me from healing the other two. I would not wish any to die in my care. And yet, truth be told, my first life was cut short. The child has much to live for, and so I would heal him before turning to treat the soldier and the woman." And with that she shape shifted into a medium sized snake.

The being took the word in and moved to child; placing a single finger to the child’s forehead the color instantly was restored. A blinding light was cast over the field from this point; once the light receded the child was now gone from the cot.

“You chose the youngest of the lives. The choice makes sense. You also wished to know if you had the option of healing all three.” The being smiled, “If only we all knew the limits of our powers. But life is unpredictable it skips some while last longer in others. Your hands heal those that are harmed. Your true body is not hidden from my eyes, you wear the scars on your body.”

It turned now to the remaining two on the cot, “Had you know these three were a family would you have done anything different?”

Asha considered the undead didn't do anything differently just because she had a family. If healers prioritized based on class or status where would the world be. She based her decision on lives saved. She hesitated in her decision earlier. "Saving the soldier could have prevented more lives from being cut down. Saving the woman would preserve future lives. Saving the child was preserving the future." she said to the primal healer. "And yet, I find that my earlier decision remains the same. After all those who killed me did so without heed to family, class, or status. Why should I who preserves life act differently."

The being chuckled, “You answer from your heart but temper it with thought. The future is what you seek to protect is it? Would you trade your life to heal all of the world from the blight the Dread Necromancer has created?” he then placed another finger to the soldier causing another blinding light to flash over the field. As soon as the light halted the warrior was gone.

Asha considered, as much as she talked about preserving life, the future, whatever. She was not willing to sacrifice herself to do so. "I do wish to see this blight cleansed, however I am not willing to die for it. After all I believe I can do more good alive than dead." She changed into a large snake at this point in the discussion.

The Primal Healer tilted it’s head looking at the snake. “Emotion is important with mortals; do not feel as if you must hide it.” With that he lifted his hand causing the snake to revert back to its natural form. “I wish you to feel comfortable when speaking with me. You have told me you would not trade your life, but wish to use it in service. You are not a cleric, but your hands heal the wounded. You do not offer yourself as sacrifice, yet wish to work good through your own continued life.” It nodded, “Yes you would do well. Would you serve me in a request?” It asked, but the tone was not one of a question.

Asha looked down at her hands. She took the form of a white snake so often in part due to their ties to healing. But also in part to show off how much control she had over her own cellular structure. "What sort of request?", she asked.

His long finger pulled a portion of his robe away from his body, showing the array of horrible wounds underneath. He reached inward a plucked a portion of his exposed ribs that quickly formed into a white stone. "I would have you place this part of myself into the Necromancer's head general. He is a violent Iksar that has killed countless, however he suffers from a horrible curse. Should you place the stone in an open wound, it will be lifted from him."

Asha took the white stone, a god granting her a fragment of himself. This was momentous, but she was growing more confident. "What is the nature of the curse?"

"I can give you no more information on the curse, this must be an act of faith.." he hissed out.

"Understood, my lord.", Asha said, "But what about the village?"

The Primal Healer folded his thin arms together, "You will find that the commander I have returned to the field will be most appreciative of your saving of his child. He will do what he can for your village." He leaned forward, "Be warned healer, not all of the god's chosen will understand your quest to heal the enemy's general. You must complete this task or all will fail and this world will be snuffed out. You have been trusted with a task others would falter. Your mind and heart have been chosen for this task."

"So long as the flesh is willing, I will see this through.", Asha replied. And the the image of the god slowly faded. She felt herself more alert than ever as she stood there holding the white stone.

And then she awoke. The glade was peaceful, clear water, green grass. Carefree was the only way to describe it.She was seated on a fallen log. The fruit trees looked pristine. She looked down, yes, she still had all her clothes. It was the kind of setting where you just wanted to try out the trappings of a bird nesting in the trees, or wander the grasses as a snake. Or possibly swimming the river as a fish. It was around this time, she noticed the others. Not only were there others sitting on the logs, likely just as groggy as she was. There were also the druids, green robes, vinespun belts, and staffs of wormwood. There was no need to be so formal. Renval wore the trappings of where ever he was from and Asha had only a few clean garments. She remained silent and bowed as best she could in her seat. Clearly the Avatar of the druids had something to say.

**Greycat** · 10-18-2012

Trouble, Lashkin, Yingkit, apprentice to Orvil Barron, Archmage of the third, follower of Solusek Ro the Burning Prince
That was who he was. He supposed that it was a bit... concerning for a person to be reminding themselves of how they are, but it was acceptable if you suffered from an identity crisis of some sort. As far as he was concerned, a fairly recent, and drastic, change in species, and the occasional shifts from that form to a few others constituted an identity crisis of rather staggering proportions. That aside, Trouble was lounging.

The second floor of shop and residence he called home had a cozy little spare room. It was part store room, part library, and all cozy refuge. The best part, the far wall had a window set in it that cast a lovely sunbeam on the old yet comfortable, if somewhat dumpy, cushioned couch crammed between two selves in the opposite corner. Their he lay curled up comfortably, one of the many old tomes propped open on his furry chest. It was assigned readings for his lessons. His mother was running an errand, and his master was engaged in a rather involved enchanting process that didn't bode well for interruptions. So he had been given the tome and told to read.

The Asmeir Reunification - Year 1236
Following the two score and nine years of periodical and often ceremonially stage conflicts between the Gail fraction and the Hos Allies, the Greater Voice, a champion of Erollisi Marr, made himself know. The Greater Voice rallied followers from both sides of the conflict with his message of compassion, acceptance. His vision of a world were perpetual violence was not the defining feature of the two groups was alluring to them. Dozens deserted from both sides and followed him. So, they too were reaching out to others, adopting the name Vocals. They began a campaign to show both armies the folly of their decision...

And... that's about were Trouble's eyes started glazing over. History was not his favourite subject, but his master insisted that he have an acceptable grasp of it. Of course, his definition of acceptable was about the same as others definition of thorough. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and yawning before skipping over a few paragraphs and skim reading to the next page. Of there was one real benefit to his situation, it was fingers. Such useful appendages. They almost made it worthwhile. With them, he could easily turn pages, open doors, open the lock on the cupboards and more.

Somewhere between marveling over the many uses of fingers, a common pass time of his, and the Their Front of the Plains Battle, he dozed off. He realized this when he found himself laying on a burning couch. He panicked, tumbling to the ground with poor grace, fumbling for the words and motions to cast a quick ice based spell to extinguish the flames. He messed up somehow, and the flames, instead of smoldering and spluttering from the sudden influx of cold air, swelled as if fed by a fire spell, spreading to the stacks of books beside the futon. He was about to try again, but he realized that certain elements were wrong. It had been months since the spare room's decor was updated with selves, mostly to clear the floor of books, journals and tomes, and the futon. that was destroyed sometime before then from... From a fudged conjuring of his.

It was this dream again. It came back ever so often. A combination of the two major turning points in his life. The first was already obvious. One misspoken word and an ill-balanced magic flow turned a simple casting of Fire Hand into Burning hands. It just so happened that the Futon was in the way. And it was very flammable. In reality, his mother had manage to contain it until Orvil could put it out, all before too much damage was done, but in this dream, he had no such luck. The flames spread, licking their way up the walls and around the room, eventually finding their way to a chest that was not, in the actual event that is, supposed to be their. It had been in the basement lab. Hidden in the corner, behind a shelf with a false back. But in this dream, it was in the fire path.
Trouble frowned. this dream was bad enough without it being Lucid. The heat was slightly uncomfortable, but not at the unbearable level, and the flames, when they reach him, harmlessly licked at his fur. It was more annoying.

"Yes, yes. I learned, didn't I?" he said to no one in particular as the flames charred at the chest. He dropped to a sulky crouch on the ground, the flames burning heartily around him. He closed his eyes, arms supporting his slightly forward leaning torso and snarled. "I learned. I learned what not controlling your magic can do. I learned what not controlling your impulses can do. Why do you have to keep reminding me!"

Flames burst the already lit room swirling with a such a heat any inside my have thought themselves ready to melt at any point. It was then, when the pain was its most intolerable that the heat disappeared. Trouble would now find himself on the marble floor of a strange room. Sand kicked up from the wind that must have been blowing in from a window. Looking around he would see symbols of power, trinkets of wealth, and seals of the sun. The wind intensified with heat now, turning the one known as Trouble would now see the source.

Before him stood the prince of flames, Solusek Ro. The prince was nearly eight feet tall covered by a literal cloak of flames that danced about him. In his hand was a great spear that burned white hot with fire. The prince’s face was hidden by shadow and a partial mask of the sun. His very hair was made of strands of fire, while his eye in the shadow glowed like a hot ember. The power that radiated from this being was much stronger than any heat, one could feel the magical energy of mana as one feels stones pile upon them. He was literally bursting at the seams with energy that spilled out in a purple flame.

“You play with fire, have knowledge of magic. What would you do with unlimited power!?” the prince spoke in a booming voice that would shatter glass, crack stone, and physically shake the creature in front of him.

Rather than a reason or an explanation, all Trouble got for his effort was more flame and heat. He yelled out and curled up into a ball in a somewhat futile effort at self defense. For a moment, he left as if he was the one burning away, fur, flesh and all. Then it was gone. The worse of it anyway. There was still oppressive heat, and something like sand was blowing against his fur. He tentatively lifted his head enough that he could peek over his arm. His ears flattened and his fur puffed out in panic. He almost curled back into his protective ball. What else do you do when the Prince of Flames and Conflagrations, complete with a cloak of fire, and purple flames of power stared down at you?

"Ah... ah... ah... ah..." He worked his jaw. Power? What would he do with power? "The curse... I would break it. And get people to meet my wishes... collect items of power and knowledge... new pants"

The Burning Prince let a smile cross half the face that was visible. As his mouth opened flame formed about grin. His visible eye locked onto the creature before him. “You are a mortal, however your desires are admirable.” He turned facing away from the creature and moved to his throne. The area to his back chilled incredibly, as if only Ro’s stare kept any warmth in this place. Sitting down he let the butt of his spear touch the ground as flames shot upward to the tip once more. “Mortal come and kneel before me. I have a proposition for you.” His words crackled like flames.

Admirable? Not the word his would have chosen for it, but he could work with it. Once it became clear that killing him wasn't on the agenda for this surprise soiree, some of Trouble's more accustomed arrogance returned to him. As Solusek Ro walked away, Trouble took in the surroundings that he had overlooked before. It seemed as if the prince had a penchant for collecting items, much like he wanted to. Some of them looked like they could kill the person that tried to use them of they weren't handled carefully. His fur was still ruffled, though this time it was more a defense against the sudden chill than in panic. He had to admit though; the marble flooring was a nice touch.

He flinched when the Prince spoke again, and he somewhat hastily dropped to one knee. There was still a trace of arrogance in the arc of his tail and the set of his back, but he was a cat, there was a limit to how much he gave when faced with certain things. "A proposition?" his eyes almost subconsciously strayed to the items around the room. "What sort of proposition?"

The Prince eyed him with some interest as the mortal moved about his eyes wandering. “The other gods have humbly requested that I aid them in their removal of the Dread Necromancer off of Norath. As you know I can’t return to the mortal world least I destroy it. Should you go in my place to remove this necromancer from power I will give you one of my collected items.”

He leaned forward, causing an immense rush of heat to build up, “I however have a secondary duty that I would offer you. The Necromancer has in is possession a tome of power. Should you destroy it, I would allow you to learn a single spell that no other mortal could use.”

Trouble's thoughts raced. He knew the stories of the Dread Necromancer. And he had, through his master's work, seen some of the side effects of his work as well. But if the gods were working at removing his threat... Still, something about the way Solusek said it made him think that the Prince was either an arrogant ass, or far more powerful that he first realized. That wasn't the only thought that blazed trails through his mind. The others were more greed fueled than situational.

"I will act for you, my Prince," Trouble said, dipping his head and even managing to leave most of the arrogance from his tone. An Item from a deity's personal collection? He would literally kill for that. Well, he was just asked to kill for it. So his thoughts aligned nicely with his god's. The book on the other hand... For an exclusive spell, it was almost too easy a task. Which meant that the tome had to be equal in power to a relic or more. And Solusek never said not to read it. Such a book might just be the best story he would ever have a chance read. "When do you wish me to act, my lord?"

The Burning Prince clapped his hands together as a massive display of flames engulfed his throne, "You will awake from this meeting in a place of Tunare. The other god's chosen will be there as well. Let it be known you represent my intentions, the fools should know you are the most powerful then."

"Awake? Ah, don't tell me this was all just-" he demanded, lunging forward into a suddenly blinding light, hand extended in what would have been a futile, and possibly suicidal, attempt to grasp the Prince. Instead, it grasped as the sun, the source of the bright light, wind ruffling his fur. His wrist went limp in frustrated droop. He finished the first sentence with a lame and sulky, "... a dream."

He let out a huff of frustrated breath and slump back against the.... his hand groped at the hard and rough surface he was on. Where was his couch? He swore he could hear Solusek's haunting voice taunting him from the back of his mind, Or was it? He might of imagined it. Either way, he slowly took in the glade around him. Place of Tunare indeed. It had that aura that screamed 'Garden of the gods', in a spiritual scene. And the prevalence of Druids reinforced that image. Funny; he had always taken the to be the solitary types. Other non-druidic typed were seated logs similar to the one he was on. And there was a central glowing figure kneeling on the grass, balls of soft light lazily drifting around him.

Trouble carefully shifted his position, drawing his legs under him. As he did, he noticed that his log was a bit marred; blackened in places, like from fire. In fact, he could smell a bit of soot in in the air. And in his fur. Trouble blinked. It seemed as if his patron deity invoked his name sake in much of his spells; including the translocating ones. He had one of those blood chilling revelations as it came to him that the fire effect might have been on both sides of his little trip. And if it burned the log, what would it have done the [relatively] new couch? Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble...

**Yellow 13** · 10-18-2012

Lewis howeled in pain as his body felt like it was twisting itself apart as it always did during the night. Snarling, he tried to remain concious, but passed out. It was about the only way he could get peaceful night's sleep. Being knocked out, his body looked suprisingly peaceful as he slept. In his dream, he was in a forest. Not that that was unusual for him. He spent ten years of his life in one. Not by his own choice sadly. Ever since a werewolf lord had attacked him, he couldn't go into the city anymore. What was strange about this forest though was that it looked... Better. Like someone had taken the forest he lived in and improved everything about it. More vegetation, and already, he spotted at least a small family of voles which scampered for cover. The trees were bigger. Bigger then any he'd ever seen before. Had he been moved in his sleep? Getting to his feet, he noted that he was still in hy hybrid form. Something was defintly wrong here and he sniffed the air, already bracing for something that would want to kill him.
In the forest that escaped any mortal’s name thrived plants exotic in nature. Flowers with such intricate petals that gem smiths would cry at their beauty. Vines the thickness of men’s arms grew wrapped around trees that stretched beyond what was mortally possible to see. The very air itself seemed to be wrought in perfumed nectars and floral scents were intoxicating to those that had even the minor ability of scent. From a massive tree that produced hundreds of root systems emerged the Mother of All. Mother Tunare.

The vastness of her beauty wasn’t one simply of attraction. It was one of understanding and a respect so powerful that all before her would surely bow out of shame of dirtying the land she stood on. Her skin was a perfect alabaster unmarred, her midsection covered by a film of moss that flowed like exotic silk. In her hands was held a staff of wood that was ever changing, altering to her will. It shimmered a soft green as any plant life that the light shone on flourished as if hundreds of years of growth happened in an instant. Her feet and legs seemed to be an extension of the land itself as she simply rose from the ground as root systems bent and warped to lift the goddess upward ten feet from the rest of the surroundings. Her lips were green as ivy, thinly shaped set on a face that put to shame the hundreds of blooming flowers that were arranged in her platinum colored hair. Atop her head was a literal crown of thorns that looked sharp enough to skewer full plate with an afterthought. Her long ears mimicked those of her elven child she had created, but ran much further up hiding behind flowing locks of hair.

It was then her eyes gazed down upon Lewis, crystal blue lake that ran for an eternity. The very gaze of her eyes caused the blooming of flowering vines to run up the werebeast’s legs. They focused on him for what could have been years before she spoke, her voice echoing from the very forest itself.

“Do you know me?”

"Of couse Mother Tunare." Lewis said as he went down onto one knee as best he could. He looked at the ground as well, hoping not to bring her anger. At least no more then he had probbely given her already. Being a werebeast of a sort had likely done something to damage his reputation. They were all evil and mny people assumed that her was too, but this wasn't the case. The timely intermention of the knights of his order had saved him from being turned into a monster like the rest of them. He tried to think of anything he had to say, but what could he say to a godess? His brain went through options and he finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, Mother." He said. "I've failed to resist this curse. And I've become a monster even less then a lycanthrope. I've lived away from civilization as best I could. His ears drooped sadly as he spoke. "Is there anything I can do to redeem myself in your eyes?"

The goddess merely motioned her ivy covered finger as a root burst forth from the soil to lift his head upward to meet her. The voice cotinued to echo from all sides of the forest.

Lewis looked to her,eyes still drooping low. "Does this mean... I'm not some sort of abomination?" He asked. "Am I... Forgiven for my failure?"
“The Prince of Hate, Innorukk may have cursed you as a lycanthrope with an uncontrollable rage. While the destructive nature is easy to conform to you fought against it. Whilst many souls were lost from my graceful hand, your conviction was redoubled.” She the ground was once more shifting around her as she continued. “The fact your mind is whole is testament of your faith. In such a form many would have sought to call upon the Lord of Fear Cazic Thule for a quick death. I know the pain you feel every night, the land itself feels it. As you are one with nature, you affect it as well.”
She lifted her hand causing a spring of pure spring water to spill out into a wooden bastion. It was created perfectly to hold his form, not a drop running over the brim. The water quickly began to flourish with blooms of lilies and orchids filling the air with yet a new pleasurable scent.
“Stand among the bastion water of the true spring and let your pain wash away, let your ravaged body rest but for a moment while you continue to serve your Queen Mother. You asked if there was a service you could perform, you give this willingly knowing that returning to the soil to aid the world may be an option I choose? ”

Lewis looked at the spring, the smells calming him down a lot as his heart rate slowed from the paniced state it was at earlier. "Thank you, Mother Tunare." He siad and slowly, so as not to spill any of the water on accident, he felt the pain he was feeling melt away in the warm water. His tense muscles, pounding head, every little pain he had melted away. Even those he didn't know he had. He never felt better in his life. When the Mother spoke again, he nodded. "Of course. What is my task?" He asked. He was hopeful that his curse could even be removed as a reward, but just being able to live among humans again would be enough for him.

"You have heard of the undead horde that the Dread Necromancer as unleashed on Norrath"

"Of course." He said. Even living as something of a hermit, he ws able to sneak around. When food was scarce, he entered town for the day in his wolf form and pretended he was a large dog. Sometimes it worked, most times it didn't. It was in one of these visits that he heard about the Dread Necromancer and what he was doing. "You want him to be destroyed?" He asked. "It will be as you wish."

Thorns began to grow from the vines that surround her body as her face flashed a sliver of anger. It was quickly replaced by a thin smile. "I know you would do this for your faith, to show that in your state you can still be of a great use to your Mother. Be warned however this abominnation has unlocked power not meant for a mortal. He has accumulated a vast army of undead and evil."

She moved forward to stand atop the pure spring water, "The other gods have chosen mortals to combat this Necromancer. Together you stand a good chance at righting the wrongs he has placed on the world. You must stop him, the world as you know it can't sustain the consumption or strain he has placed on it for much longer. Use the rage of your condition, use the curse you have to spite this evil Necromancer. Do as you say and destroy him and a prize you seek will be yours."

Lewis nodded. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure he's dead." Lewis said, growling a little at the thought of having to fight a necromncer, but he still wanted to help. He didn't have a choice. If the Dread Necromancer was allowed to continue, he'd eventually encroach on his forest and then he'd be dragged into the fight whether he wanted to or not. Better to get involved now so he could fight and learn the enemy's weaknesses. And he had a lot of power and rage to back him up. His ears perked up and he was feeling confident in his role already.
"It is not enough to kill this creature." the echo from the forsest spoke out, "You must utter destroy it and the knowledge it has collected. Any tomes or followers must be conssumed by the lands in reperation for the atrotices it has commited. Will you follow your word to rid them world of this blight even at the cost of your life or the forest where you knwo dwell? Will you throw yoursellf into the armies he has amassed with no mercy for the fool that follow him?"

"To the best of my abilities. I will fight to the death if needed and I will destroy anything of his that I see." He looked at the water for a split second and saw something in the water. It was though some sort of impurity had gotten into it. The impuritys gathered together and soon looked more and more like a wolf. It let out a silent howl before the water broke it down, splitting it apart and disintegrating it, leaving the water pure again. He didn't know what that meant, but he looked back at his goddess. "As a former agent of the Order of the Silver Claw, I will uphold the duties and responsibilities you've given me."

Mother Tunare leaned down, causing the Bastion of water to flood over with an explosion of growth as the plant tripled in size. Placing a finger in the water a dark impurities were lifted into a single bloom of the vines that grew down her hand. The brilliant yellow was blackened as the pool was cleansed.

“Your curse has been removed, no longer will Innorukk delight in your bites. None fight shall change into the beasts you now are. Your conviction will drive you to rid the lands of this blight. I hereby charge you as the wrath of Tunare to wipe the high followers of this Necromancer off the world, then to take part in the remove of him as well.”

"Can you tell me where the others are?" Lewis asked slightly alarmed when the plants flooded into the water. His curse was remvoed... Alredy, he felt a weight lift off of his soul. He felt free at last. "And is there a way I can get them to trust me if they see me in my current form?" He asked, hoping that even with this boon to him, he wouldn't be outright killed just for looking like a werewolf.

She smiled, "You need only look down to see my symbol upon you.." A vine had seemingly appaered over his shoulder and around his neck. "It will grow and receed when you must change. The mark of my approval of you is intertwined on the vines itself, however not all of those among the world follow my word. You must remain in the shadows or find a way to mask yourself. You are a beast still, just use your fury for the battlefeild."
She liftd up from the water and turned away, "His magic has grown unnatural, our eyes can not find him any longer. However he has found a strong following around the lands of Kunark. Search there and you will find his highest ranking supporters."

He steadied his breathing as that happened and did his best to look at it. "Thank you, Mother. I'll remain hidden as much as I can." He said, already thinking on what to do. If he would be traveling others, then he might be in the cities sometime. He'd have to find a way out or at least hide somewhere inacessable or hard to get into. "I shall head over there as soon as I'm able." Making a mental note of the location, he hoped that he'd find his allies along the way. Or even sooner. "Thank you Mother Tunare. For this second chance. And for everything."

She leaned down once more to grant him a single kiss, "You will find yourself among friends when you away. If they give fight, lay down your arms and let them know you are the wrath of Tunare. You must earn the trust of these allies, without your task the powers of the Necromancer will grow. Should his supporters continue to rally more for his armies, the world will be lost."

With that the forest was washed ina green glow as Lewis would wake.

When Lewis did wake up, he put a paw on his head to dull some of the throbbing that was always there even after he had woken up. Groggy, he got tohis four feet and blinked, focusing on the terrain. He had moved in his sleep. he wasn't in his forest anymore... Where was he? Carefully, he walked around carefully and took in the scents of the area. "where am I...?" He thought aloud in Sylvan. The only language he could speak in his canine form.

**necar** · 10-18-2012

The sun was high in the sky as the ranger stalked his prey. Most men in these woods would be hunting deer or the random boar but these did not interest the hunter. He was after far more dangerous game in these woods. He was after Necromancers.

He had tracked this one from a small farm a few days back. The number of followers he had increased after the attack on the farm. This was the way it always went after an attack. The few undead that the farmers were able to take out would be replenished by the farmer's family members. The key to stopping them was to take out the magic user who would raise and command the undead. This was his task now and he hoped that this would be the one he was looking for. Would this finally be the bastard that led the mass of undead that killed his family? He could only wish.

The sun was moving across the sky when Carter finally caught up to the undead troop. It wasn't to big and they had no clue that he was on their trail. He moved from tree to tree like a shadow and making just as much sound. He waited until he was well with in range and reached into his quiver. He felt around the shafts until he found the one with three horizontal cuts. He pulled it out and fire off into the woods parallel to the advancing group. The necromancer turned his head to see where the bird call had come from. The man had a bearded face with hazel eyes. This was not the man that had attacked his home town. That only meant that he would die here and now without a second thought. He reached back into his quiver and pulled out the arrow with two vertical lines on its shaft. He then took careful aim and fired it off right at the back of the man. There would be no honor lost to a man who took the bodies of loved ones to attack defenseless people.

The arrow streaked through the air and plunged into the man's back. It would not kill him right away but that would be the job of the next arrows he would fire. They would be just normal arrows but not less lethal then the one in the man's back.

The necromancer turned to send his undead minions after the ranger or call up what ever perverted magic that he could muster. Only to have his concentration broken by the arrow in his back bursting into flame. His robes going up in flames quickly and he flailed around trying to put it out. The next two arrows he fired off took the man in the chest. The necromancer fell to his knees as the flames charred flesh and singed hair down to the scalp. The last arrow Carter fired entered in the man's left eye-socket.

With their master gone the undead tried to find the man but would never find him. This forest was his realm and these abominations would be destroyed like all the rest. It took less then a hour to finish all the undead monsters off. It was easy work but work none the less.

That night he slept in the woods away from the bonfire he set to burn the bodies of the undead. He hoped that this night he would find restful slumber seeing as he just took out one more necromancer. Bringing the notches on his scabbard up to twenty-six.
With one last round of his sleeping area he laid his head down and thought of his family and nodded off.

As the ranger would awake he would find himself in a dark hallway, with ceilings black as night. Torches were let to his west with an unshakable desire to follow them. They lead to a massive room that housed dozens of statutes. Each were in heroic poses men and woman alike. Among the statues was a massive throne that sat empty.

A light exploded to his right as a figure came to being. It was a warrior massive in size, easily within eight to nine feet tall. He was dressed in glowing white plate armor, a crest of the Lightbringer on the chest plate. He had flowing long blonde hair down to his shoulders. In his hand was a great blade that looked to be the size of a man and once again and gave off enough light that it seemed to swallow the darkness up. His face held an expression of respect, his strong jaw and handsome face looked statuesque. He gave the man a salute, a gesture among those that followed him that he acknowledged them as a warrior.

“Ranger, you would be fit to be in my order. Another necromancer meets his doom at your hand.” His voice was burly, deep. It gave the impression that he could bend steel with is words alone.

The light was bright and the man was huge. The blade alone would cut him in half easily but the man spoke of his killing the necromancer. Unless he missed something this did not seem like an evil being. Then again he could be wrong so he kept on his guard.
“What order would this be. If it is one of killing every last one of those necromantic bastards along with their host of undead then I think we might have a similar goal.”

The mighty warrior laughed heartily as he slammed the tip of his sword into the stone blocks below, cutting them as it there were sand. His eyes looked over the man, they were golden in nature. “Master Ranger, you speak to Mithaniel Marr, the Lightbringer!” the voiced echoed in the room as the light around the man began to burst into a near blinding display.

“The Light-bringer? Well I am Carter, the Avenger!” Carter managed to yell while tears streaked down his face from the blinding lights.

“Why did you bring me to this place? What do you want of me?”

"Yes Carter, I have been watching you..and I have heard your prayers. I know you think the vengeance you seek in your heart will go unpaid. I know that you think your prayers go unanswered. I have brought you here to tell you otherwise"

The light lowered to a soft glow. "The creature responsible for the undead uprising. I and the other gods have stepped in to destroy it."

Shock ran across Carter's face. This being had heard his prayers and curses. It knew what he wanted and just stated that he would be able to find the man and what ever else was responsible.

"There is something behind all of this? I was just looking for the one who killed my family but if I am able to take out the one that gave him the order that would be fine by me. So if you and the other Gods are stepping in where does a simple human such as myself lie in your grand plan?"

"A single grain of rice can tip the scale, or so my sister says. I however see how you have slain necromancer and the undead. An archer of supreme skill will be needed. Each of the other god have given their chosen a duty. I would chose you as one of mine."

"Well if I do join under your banner what happens then? You speak of the other gods giving their chosen a duty to preform. I can do what ever job you need of me. I will charge the forces of the undead and wipe them from this plane. But what happens when I am done? When the last of the necromancers have fallen before me and the last zombie is destroyed. What happens then?"

"I have lived these past few years running all over the place hunting down these people already. Now you want me to go after their leader. I am not ashamed to ask but what is in it for me?"

“Zek told me to choose a paladin for my warrior, an unquestioning follower to my every command.” His gaze looked down at the ranger, “But since we are both being candid with each other, I commend you for your questions. Faith is powerful tool, but not the only one I am familiar with. You are right to question what will be done once this threat is gone. And yes I do have an additional task that would help to complete the utter disarray of the Necromancer’s forces.”

The light dimmed to barely a flicker as the great warrior spoke next, “I know more than just your prayers, Carter. I know you wish to hear your wife sing again, to teach your daughters of life, to hug them. The world around my followers is becoming dark, I would ask you to bear my light to the world. For this I would have you see your wife once more, I would let you hug your daughters. I would right the wrong that was placed upon you.”

The god looked at the ranger, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light, “I would allow you a second chance at your life.”

Carter's face went instantly white as the blood drained from it. He knew that once he killed the necromancer that killed his family that his life would end. He would be reunited with them in the after life. But now he had a God telling him that he would bring them back and allow them a second chance. He could not have wished for something so great. The choice was simple.

"I will bare your banner into every battle that I am part of. Each necromancer I send to the next world and each undead that falls like wheat before me will be done in your name. If what you say is true I am yours to command. I will destroy your enemies and act as your sword of justice for the chance to reunite my family."

Carter knelt down in front of the God and bowed his head.
"Tell me where you want me to start."

The light returned to the room, bathing it in a light blue color. “Your command is to aid in the destruction of the Necromancer. However your part is to dispatch a user of shadow magic, he is deranged and revels in the darkness. Bring my light to him, strike him with justice so that your campaign to you family may shine to its fullest!”

“When you awake from this meeting, you will find yourself among the other chosen of the gods. Let Solusek Ro’s chosen know that you will complete your task before them. Let not his power go to his head.” He folded his arms as the hall way was flushed away by bright light.

With that Carter woke in an area that could only be described as perfect. This is the kind of place that one could visit everyday and not get tired of it.

**blazinvire** · 10-19-2012

After what seemed an eternity of a world rolling by her, floating under her feet as she journeyed anywhere her feet would take her, she was at last at home. The monastery upon the grand hill, the sun's light illuminating it from behind as it approached the horizon; Zhali had felt like she'd been away forever.
With much relief as her fellow monks welcomed her home, she entered the prayer hall and knelt down in the second row to rest, pray and meditate on all she had seen while it was still fresh on her body and soul.
Without even realizing it, she slipped off to sleep as she sat there in a tired prayer.
She jerked awake -or so it seemed, as when her awareness returned she discovered the monastery was an ancient ruin around her; barely half the building remained and most of it were as piles on the floor.
The atmosphere felt different too... there weren't any monks anywhere but the air itself felt uncomfortable, uneasy. It felt nothing like the temple she had entered, and yet she was exactly where she had sat down to pray.

The ruins that were strewn about were those of a forgotten city, one that was an epicenter for peaceful worship, fair trade, and modesty. Nowhere were their grand statues or ruined buildings of gold or silver. No simple stone buildings and placed stone roads littered the area that looked to go on for a mile in either direction. As the monk would continue to look about the area they would surely feel the outstanding calm that came when in the presence of the Child of the Tranquil.

She sat on a simple mat that looked to be weaved from strands of straw, dressed in flowing white silk clothing that seemed approached for her ages. Gold lace traces the shoulders, neckline, and cuffs of her garments. She sat crossed legged with each foot underneath the opposite leg. It was clear she wore no boots or shoes however her feet looked perfect, not a mark of dirt or nail unkempt. Her skin was that of an average human, a slight tan that held a whit glow. Her hands were placed together fingers in a triangle upward while her palms met as well. Her eyes were closed as she herself seemed to be in a deep meditation, her hair was of blonde braids and cut just below the chin line. She seemed so small, just like a human child she looked so fragile as if made of painted porcelain.

The calm that radiated from her however seemed strong enough to quell armies of their blood rage, powerful enough to make even those with deep seated hatred to let go desire of revenge. Without opening her eyes she spoke out to the monk that was before her not some twenty feet away.

"My devout monk, tell me. What do you think of the world around you?" the voice was not that of a child. It spoke in a manner that was nearly eerie with an utter lack of emotion.

Zhali didn't know what to think at first, lost, confused and out of place, not particularly scared or worried but slightly sorrowful. She rose and moved to investigate, trying to figure out where she was all of a sudden, trying to make even a shred of sense.
As far as the eye could see, Zhali could see familiar architecture all over but she had never seen this place before in her life; the architecture, she realized, was too similar to her home monastery to be a coincidence.
And that was when she felt it: an almost overwhelming feeling as though the burdens of life rolled off her shoulders as easily as a heavy cloak, where every muscle in her body felt the desire to relax, and her mind slowly, gently cleared of any messy thoughts. The sensation alone could have put Zhali to her knees, but only when her ears beheld a voice and her eyes fell upon the saintly child did Zhali lower herself to the ground -partially in reverence.
She looked around after child's question cognitized in her mind, taking in the environment once more to try and make a clear opinion.
"What is there to think? It feels lifeless... too quiet... there's no turmoil but there's no peace either, there's just... nothing..." Zhali attemped to find the most honest way to convey her thoughts.

The child nodded, opening up her eyes to reveal their sapphire color. They were eyes of one that had spent a countless millennia in study an meditation to simply stare into them would cause you to ponder for year at a time what creature possessed them.
"Yes even I am unsettled by the lack of fulfillment, I despise conflict. But conflict is preferable to the void." She spoke in a hushed tone. "This would be the world you know if the time passes without the support of the gods against the rogue Necromancer Seit." She placed her hands to her crossed legs and began to hover above her mat.
"Would you fight to bring peace to the world around you, would you cause violence to gain peace?"

While Zhali had been unsettled before at the sight of the city, she had obviously come to the conclusion this was a dream, but to think this city's emptiness might come to pass... Even under the blanket of the calming aura, Zhali felt troubled.
And then there was what the child asked, such a straight-forward question but carrying so many implications to ones like Zhali. Violence was always the last answer to those of Quellious, and what her goddess was asking seemed to be a rhetorical question to one of her faith, but resolving something on the scale of a war with violence? To immerse oneself in complete violence to end an enormous threat, one might risk losing sight of the smaller, more important details of the faith.
In a way, what was really being asked was: was she ready?

"I... will try, with all I have," Zhali said, her mind swirling a little in a mild discord of emotions.
The child nodded, "Your hesitation to do harm tells me you are a devout follower. I do not ask this of you lightly. But this.." she motioned her head to the ruins, "…is what will happen to your plan should nothing be done. Your will may wavier in this quest. Know that my meditation will focus around you, not only for this task but for another as well. The Necromancer has a follower that manipulates others emotions. The Enchantress is altering the feelings of others. She needs to be stopped, if you can do so without the loss of her life do so."
The child then took a deep breath, "If she cannot be subdued, remove her from the world. Peace will be obtained quicker without her meddling."

Zhali's eyes lost focus for a moment as the true gravity of this situation slowly settled in her mind, that she was being set on an enormous and important task by her goddess herself. And this Enchantress... she didn't quite know what to expect in such a foe as Zhali's monastic training gave her a great deal of control of her own mind and emotions, but if she could turn this person off this evil path Zhali might be able to gain more than just confidence in herself from the endeavor. She'd never had to knowingly employ violence as one of the first measures in conflict, so she wasn't actually sure how well she'd handle it -the Enchantress would be the true test at the end of this all to prove whether or not Zhali was worthy.
"Y-yes, I will do what I must. I'll keep her in my prayers," Zhali said firmly, clasping her hands together before her and bowing her head with resolve.
The child goddess clapped her hands together, "Keep your resolve and you will aid this world.." the very fabric of the dream itself was rippling as the monk awoke.

Though yet again, her 'waking' found herself in an environment that still wasn't her temple, but after that dream she felt quite certain this was simply divine intervention that had whisked her away to this verdant grove. A very small smirk appeared on Zhali's face, as she'd only just returned home before being sent off again.

**Sikako J** · 10-19-2012

As each representative woke up from their trance they all found themselves among the waterfalls of Surefall glades the water was beyond clean it was of pure quality. In the pond near them were fish swimming about carefree. The grass here was of the greenest of Antonica, cultivated by druids in training. Not a leaf is out of place as fruit bearing plants thrive in the warm and sun drenched area. Druids gathered around the chosen, they wore green robes with vine woven belts, a pseudo-leather boots and staffs of wormwood. All of their heads were bowed as the chosen were seated on fallen logs in a circle. The glowing avatar of the druid headmaster was kneeling before them. His robes were made of a living wood his beard was down to his waist; his eyes were a pure white. He lifted his hands as soft lights began to flicker in balls as they whirled about lazily.

“You have all been chosen by your perspective gods. I know at least one of you among us is a follower of our Queen of all. Mother Turane as given you all leave to use this sacred area to give you all time to adjust to what has been asked of you.” He took a deep breath as the area glowed from an inner light and the lights around group flickered. “Mother has blessed me with the information that you all been given precious moments with your gods. This was not a simple dream. You have been chosen to battle the abomination that has tilted this world with undead.”

“Tunare has given instruction to feed, water, and house you for the next day. You are to introduce yerselves to each other. Once that has been done, you may meet at the grove entrance. If you have need of your possessions they can all be found in the lodge. For those of you that have animal companions, they are being fed and properly attended to in the stables. We can assist you with additional information regarding travel at the entrance of the grove..”

**wezzyfish** · 10-21-2012

Boulder lay down in a small ravine, with his back pressed up against a piece of granite that he had laid down some pine branches for warmth and comfort. He considered a small fire, but as there were undead roaming the area, he figured it would be best not to draw undue attention while he slept. He had few possessions, so left very little trace on his environment, and what was left he planned to erase come morning. Taking a small drink of water, he set the skin aside and lay there with his axe and hammer within easy reach.

Picking up Nancy, the small ogre doll made for a dwarven child, he stroked its hair and smiled a sad smile, tears coming to his eyes. Even after all these years, he could still see her running through the caverns laughing to greet him with a big hug. Snuggling the doll close to him, Boulder closed his eyes.

As Boulder opened his eyes he was greeted with a battle cry of a blaring horn and the clash of steel on steel. Rolling over he would see a huge figure nearly twelve feet tall fighting five other creatures. The figure was encased in riveted armor that was stained red with blood. He horned helm looked to be made of dragon bone and a fluttering cloak enveloped a foe, crushing it to pulp. The figure held a sword in one hand that was large enough to hold five Boulders inside it, it cleaved through a hydra looking beast. In his other hand was a small thin blade that struck out nearly twenty times at a single foe that looked to be made of stone.

The being was thick with muscle, bulky beyond humanly possible yet it struck out with such grace that it seemed impossible. Rolling, ducking, parrying, and dodging. It was a storm of attacks and dodges. The metal clad warrior was never hit…not once.

After the brief be raging battle ended only one was left standing. Turning he looked to Boulder, “Stand at attention before your warlord!”

Boulder, standing proud as always, stood even straighter. There was only one being that this could be, and yet, how could Boulder be here? This must be a dream and yet... he knew that even though his blood boiled at watching the onslaught, he would be a fool to confront this man. Still, he would not waver his gaze or his stance. If die he must, then at least it would be to one such as this.
"Warleader, I am a humble dwarf before you. I shed the blood of my enemies in your name." He considered asking where he was, but instead simply said, "What would you have of me?" He realized that he was speaking in giant, which was to be reserved for special tasks such as stoneworking and smithing, and yet, if there was occasion to speak such an ancient tongue, it would be this.

She watched as the powerful being made quick work of the wretched beast, slaying its foe with a sense of grace and devotion only possessed by a god. Elessar knew, explanations not needed, that this was her Master. Kneeling down, she realized that she was now clad in her battle raiment, her greatsword at her side as she dared not look up at Zek with her mortal eyes.

There was another in this chamber, though, one who spoke in a tongue she did not know. Glancing up briefly, the warpriestess saw a well-armed dwarf conversing with Kallos. Who was he, and why were they both summoned here by the Lord of War? These questions raced through her mind, as pious fervor welled within her, feeling honored to be called upon by her god directly.~

The literal god of War stood before the two his red eyes were barely visible through the slit of his helm, he was a mountain of armor and a tornado of blades. His head turned at unnatural angles and speed as he looked over them both.

“One of my War priestess and a Barbarian Dwarf fresh from the killing fields. Yes you will do nicely.” The words sounded distorted as the smashing of shield on sword echoed from the helm. “You are here due to my intrest. I would have you fight for me. But now you face each other. Battle to become my chosen!” With his massive boot slammed to the death chamber as weapons erupted from the ground, virtually any that you could think of were present.

Clutching at the handle of her greatsword, the cleric rose up to her feet, following the commands of her lord without hesitation. She charged recklessly towards the dwarf, not knowing how skilled a fighter they were. Would this have been any other battle, Elessar would have hesitated; seeking to gauge the defenses of her opponent.

Now, however, she was ordered by her god to attack; there would be no pause this time. Letting out a battle cry, the woman raised up her weapon as she neared her foe. With every ounce of her strength, she swung the adamantine blade down towards the dwarf, with the intention of ending them with a single blow.~

Boulder heard the words of his god and turned to face the other in the room, who he had not even seen before. A woman! And a human!? Was this some sort of joke? Before he had time to think on it, the armored white haired woman charged him, swinging a greatsword down at his head. Boulder's expression changed from surprise to outrage in an instant and he stepped out of the way. The woman was faster than he had at first thought, and his thickly armored shoulder deflected the blade just barely as it whizzed by his face. Hefting his axe up into both arms, he took a broad swing at her midsection. The gigantic axe scythed through the air in a low sounding whoosh and he snarled in disgust at the woman.

The Warrior god looked on as the blows were starting to fly. He watched on with intrest as the red eyes followed the fight.

Boulder's axe swept towards her stomach and impacted her armor solidly with the flat back side of the weapon, knocking her back a step and faltering her attack, yet she quickly recovered and came at him again. For a time the two exchanged blows. Elessar swung time and again at the large old dwarf, her large blade dancing with his giant axe. Boulder deflected blows with his axe head and haft, and his mithril full plate took a raining, and though he would make slight adjustments, the dwarf never wavered in his stance or lost ground. He mostly fought on the defensive, gauging his opponent's skill. She was surprisingly good for a woman, and even managed to land a couple of small wounds, though Boulder took each in stride and even grinned with enjoyment. She was pretty good, and not just for a human, but Boulder had never met an opponent who could kill him and had spent years battling ogres, goblins, orcs and undead. In recent years it had been undead and human barbarians raiding dwarven mines and towns. The humans were easy, primarily individuals on the battlefield and no match for the disciplined dwarven ranks, and the dwarven shocktroops, of which Boulder was one, were easily a match for their ferocity. Boulder had been outmatched in most of the battles that he fought, and this was but one human.

Elessar swung her sword downward at the dwarf's head but he swept the haft of his axe upward to carry her blade to the side as he sidestepped and used the moment of the swing to carry the axe blade around his head and connect solid with her shoulder, punching through her shoulder, nearly severing her right arm and with a step inward, he lifted his left arm to smash the haft into her chin, knocking her backward. Even still, as she went to one knee, she held her sword in her left hand with eyes of hatred and defiance glaring up at the dwarf. Boulder laughed and said in common, "I am Boulder Stonerock, dwarven warrior. You are one who fights me. Many fight me, and many die." He looked upon her as one would an amusing animal. Sure, she was skilled with a sword, but he was Boulder Stonerock and he refused to be beaten.

The god of War looked on before the fierce battle. When it was clear a victory had been forged, he slapped his blades together which sent the cleric away in a red light that roared out like a lion. After the light dissipated she was gone. The large red eyes looked down on the dwarf from behind the visor. An echo of laughter that was haunting issued out from the armor.

Rallos Zek then spoke out, “You have bested what was thought to be your equal. I now know my choice was correct. You have been chosen as my representative to help combat the Necromancer Seit. You know of his horrors. You fight to free your people from daily struggle. Will you fight in my name to destroy the Necromancer, to lower yourself to aid the others chosen by their gods?”

Boulder laughed at his god's words. He had no illusions about who would win in a contest of arms, and yet the dwarf did not fear death. In giant he spoke, "What do you think I've been doing? I fight in your name almost daily for my people against the necromancer. We are fierce and proud and strong and yet even our own dead rise up against us and the sheer numbers of our foes has forced us back. I will always fight for the dwarven people." The dwarf's left hand strayed to the ogre which was strapped to a small pouch kept on his armor when fighting. He didn't see conscious of the action. His right hand held the axe, its haft settled in the ground at his feet. "What is it you want?" There was no real passion in his words it seemed, though perhaps a little sadness. He was just stating facts and wondering if Rallos Zek had a point to be made here and what it was. Perhaps this was a dream in fact. It wouldn't be the first time Boulder had dreamed of battle.

The giant of a god looked down at the dwarf, ” I chose you because you know bloody combat every day. The Necromancer has under his sway a barbarian. This fool is leading the front in on Antonica he has renounced my teachings now fights against the enemies he swore to fight. Destroy him and I will give you my swift blade to destroy those that stand against you.”

Boulder looked at him incredulously. "I hope you don't mean that behemoth of a sword you're carrying right now. Strong as I am, I doubt I could lift the thing and even still, swords are..." he had a sudden thought that it might not be the best idea to tell this man his opinion on how swords are weak elven weapons. "... unsuitable for dwarven warfare. Now a good axe or mace on the other hand, those are true dwarven weapons."
He ponders the god's words for a moment, reflecting perhaps on what was asked of him. "This barbarian, he is a fierce combatant?"

A laughter erupted out once more, "My swiftblade will form to your will. It will allow you to move and attack much faster then any other mortal with out the aid for magic. No need to comment on the blade, I know you favor the dwarven weapons. Brell Serilis indowned you all with a sense of pride. I would falt you for choosing a weapon you were meant for...but to scoff at my weapon once more will end your life on all plans"

Boulder smiled. He had faced death many times before, in battle after abattle. He had fought dwarves and humans and ranks of undead, each time wading in where the battle was hottest and thickest. He had bathed in the blood of fallen enemies and each time he faced death, he had emerged victor. He was ready to die, and yet never had death been so certain. Boulder felt that he was a supreme warrior, perhaps one of the greatest alive, and yet here he stood before the master of all battle and war. If he were to fight this god, he would die. If the god wanted to fight, Boulder would with every ounce of his being, and yet he would not waste time trying to swing now. "And of my question? This barbarian fancies himself a great warrior? He is skilled in battle? I will fight the necromancer's hordes with my every breath, with or without your blessing, and yet if I am to seek out one enemy among many, I would have him be a worthy opponent. One that might succeed where others have failed." The smile was gone from Boulder's face, replaced by a grim expression that seemed haunted. He wanted to die, but the only death worthy for him was one in battle. He would avenge his daughter a thousand fold with the blood of his enemies and finally give his blood for her memory, as he should have done for her life.

The armored giant shifted as its voice echoed out, "The man in question has gathered all the barbarian tribes under one banner as their leader. He has killed hundereds under my banner....and thousands under his new master. Should you be looking for an equal...a battle with him would be worth your while.." fruther more...I will offer you a deal. If you pledge to serve me in my plane, I will exchange your life for your daughter. She will take your place on the mortal plane, to leave in peace. “

"Done." Boulder didn't even hesitate. His life for hers? That was an easy and fair trade. That was how things were meant to be. Many times he wished that was how things were. Here was a god, as there was no doubt in Boulder's mind that this was Rallos Zek, offering to return her to life. "Yet, even in this I would ask one more thing. That she be given in the protection and care of a family of dwarves, preferably far away from any war." He knew that he was asking the god of war to remove his daughter from war, and that it was likely a useless request, as Boulder knew war to be the simple state of the world, and yet... he had to ask. The offer was great, and Boulder would take it, even if she were thrust into the arms of elves and forced to struggle with death and battle her whole life. At least she would have a life, and a second chance. A tear came to his eye and his hand tightened on the stuffed ogre.

Zek moved forward toward the dwarf as he came close the difference is size was truely daunting. The clanking of the armor rubbed together. Now just five feet away, the rage and blood lust that flowed about him was nearly unbearable. His red orbs burned, the fires of war as they were known. "You ask for a trade I am capable of. It shall be done. But know this should you fail both your souls will be forfeit to the Faceless, Cazic Thule. I know the fire inside you...the rage that bubbles in battle. Tap that fury..destroy those that oppose my banner and you shall have your deal!"

Boulder seemed almost surprised at the god's words. "I am Boulder Stonerock. I shall not fail. Let us not waste more time. Point me towards this barbarian and I will kill him, as many times as needed." The old dwarf stood tall and proud, with his long beard draped over his beautifully crafted armor and his gigantic axe standing as tall as he. The image of the proud and fierce warrior was only slightly marred by the stuffed ogre gripped in his left hand, and his eyes promised death.

Rallos Zek then raised his massive sword in one hand. "You will find your way among the chosen of the other gods. Time to awake!" The sword descended, coming straight down to split Boulder's skull before he could think to react.

Boulder sat bolt upright in the meadow, hands gripping the ogre doll tightly. Overhead the sun was shining and birds were swooping down to chirp in among the tree branches. This was far from the place where he had fallen asleep. It was beautiful in it's own right, but with a peace that seemed surreal to the dwarf. This world was ever much more false than that of the dream. Perhaps this one was the dream.

Climbing to his feet, he took a look around at the others gathered. They each seemed just as surprised to find themselves in this strange place as he, and some clutched various objects or mumbled to themselves. Boulder simply took it all in, watching each one in turn. Not a single dwarf among them, and the only one that carried real weapons like he could use them was a human... and with swords. Smiling derisively to himself, Boulder continued his survey of the area.

As the druid comes out and speaks, Boulder is silent and considers what he is told. So the dream was no secret and supposedly they have all spoken to their gods and would be working together to stop the necromancer. Boulder knew very little about the gods but he didn't see how love and law and nature and the like would help in this struggle. They were at war, and war was what they needed. Well... for the price offered, Boulder would fight this war and win it, with or without anyone's help.

At the call to introduce themselves, he considers the others. A wolf, a cat and a bunch of humans. The wolf might prove a good ally, though the cat looked rather scrawny and humans were obviously an inferior race with their short life spans, unpredictable nature and need to destroy everything they and others build. These were to be his allies, and he the only dwarf among them. He remains quiet with a frown on his face. In his left hand, a child's stuffed toy ogre was gripped in a broad fist.

**Yellow 13** · 10-21-2012

When Lewis heard voices of people, he almost instantly wanted to dive into the underbrush to escape. Yet, something stopped him. He looked in the direction of the voice and blinked. “You have all been chosen by your perspective gods. I know at least one of you among us is a follower of our Queen of all. Mother Turane as given you all leave to use this sacred area to give you all time to adjust to what has been asked of you.”

Knowing that his pearl of speech was still inside him, he triggered it and lifted his head. "Yes." He said, his voice sounding natural to him despite his wolf body. "That's me. I am the one that worships Mother Tunane." He stepped forward and looked up at the druid then looked to see the others. "My name is Lewis Varcolac. I used to belong to the Order of the Silver Claw. But in my current state, I was asked to leave." He hoped that no one would ask exactly what he was. He knew the hatred lycanthropes got. Even if it was for a good reason since they did nothing but hurt people and turn them into savage beasts as well. "It's a pleasure to meet you all." He said nodding his head a little, his body taking a relaxed posture as he stepped forward to meet the others.

**Greycat** · 10-21-2012

Trouble's ears perked as Lewis spoke up. Because most wolves didn't, and couldn't, speak. He didn't want to be rude or pushy, so he didn't draw cast the detect magic spell he kept prepared, and he wasn't wearing his goggles, so the detect magic enchantment on it was out as well. It was probably with the things in the rooms they were talking about. So instead, he focused what latent magic and knowledge he had to see what he could figure out. Without his spell, what he could get was somewhat limited. Like the fact that he wasn't a normal wolf (as if the talking wasn't the first clue) and was larger than average (again, obvious). His knowledge was beginning to look somewhat worthless...

The Silver Claw, that he did know. They were a group of hunters, werewolf hunters. The tended to be rather loyal to their own... but if they ex-commissioned one... Trouble could only assume Lycanthropy. But a different version. Lycanthropy didn't make the victims into sentient animals, not normally anyway. Of course, wolf hunters might experiment with the curse and get it all wonky... He made a mental note to have a talk with the wolf when he had the chance. Trouble spoke up into the silence that followed Lewis' statements.

"Um... high. I'm Trouble. My name is Trouble, that is, not that I am trouble. Lashkin, Yingkit Trouble, follower of the Prince." As if the charred log he sat on wasn't evidence enough about that connection. "You said our stuff is here with us, correct?" Gods above and below... if Solusek transported everything, the house might have been burned down... He was gonna die. Plain and simple; he was going to die. And not by the 'abomination's' hands... "I'm not much of a traveler... How are we expected to travel swiftly?"

Nature and Arcane check to identify Lewis as a lyncantrope wolf. Local check on the Silver Claw. (1d20+18=24, 1d20+18=32, 1d20+17=26)

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