Assallya

The Raiders of Norn

The elven sorceress breathed a sigh of relief. She had been on the verge of panic before but this new adventurer's arrival shifted the odds from being impossible to only fairly likely that she'd end up being captured, defiled and slaughtered. A quick appraisal at a glance, all she could afford given that two of the goblins were headed towards her, proved somewhat optimistic. The new arrival had all the signs of a hedge knight. From her experience, hedge knights were usually far more taken with nobility and morality then their highborn kin. The smiling face on the face-plate seemed rather strange and perhaps a bit obscene. Why that was painted there was a question she would have to ask if she survived this ambush.

During that glance, the two goblins raced towards Assallya but for the first time she felt a bit more confidant. She was atop her vardo and the easiest way for the goblins to clamor up was to climb the horse which was currently bent awkwardly over and twitching strangely as its crushed mind attempted to make its body gallop. It would take them a moment, Assallya reasoned, to figure out that's what the brass rails on either side of the wagon were for.

In the meantime she had to make another decision. There were three groups to act against. She could help Varrock, at a calculated risk to herself, and thus convince him she was a friend or she could defend herself. Alternatively, she could help the orcs she'd summoned who were likely to be annihilated by that massive goblin creature in short order. She knew what to do and it certainly wasn't helping her new companion. She couldn't be sure her chosen spell might not affect him too.

One good thing was that the goblins seemed to have the idea of taking her alive. That afforded her some leeway in her actions. She turned her attention to the grand melee with the orcs and the goblins. Her ice blue eyes, glittered as she extended her ebony painted fingernails at them. Fingers twisted and gesticulated; magical words slid off her tongue, defying the ability of the mind to comprehend. The spell of sleep slipped over her ebony painted lips and rolled gently down the sides of the wagon, across the ground like a fog, licking at the trunks of trees, curling about their roots until they gathered around the ankles of the goblins and orcs. Seeking the weakest of the combatants the magic took hold and a half score of their number found their movements growing languid, their eyelids drooping and then they found themselves falling to the forest floor.

"By Myrkul's shriveled black balls," she exclaimed emphatically as her slender fingers reached out and wrapped about her light crossbow while trying to figure out where those two goblins beneath her might have moved while she was casting.

The Raiders of Norn

Assallya would just have done about anything for the opportunity to smoke just a little bliss. Unfortunately this was not the place to indulge in such pleasures. This was a dangerous place, and all manner of man and beast were drawn to the power secreted away beneath, earth, rock and stone.

She was circling a massive stone shaped into a hilt sticking up out of the dirt. It was massive. Probably belonging to some great statue to song hero or king of long ago. The pommel of the stone hilt reaching three men high into the night. The blade of it, if intact, must have pierced the heart of the world. What manner of people could construct such a incredible feat of both art and stonecraft?

She had just come around the structure when the giant rock struck. Larger than the size of her head, it slammed into her horse, felling it instantly. Her shocked, wide eyed gaze followed the path back to the ogre sized creature and gaped for a long moment as the goblins came rushing forwards. For a moment she was simply speachless, agog at the ferocity of the ambush. She was might bit smaller than a horse. That rock could have annihilated her and he had thrown it with a great deal of accuracy. It was at that moment she surmised that they weren't interested in just killing her.

This sort of thing was outside her experience. The blonde sorceress was at a loss. More than two dozen assailants! Certainly she could quell such numbers but not without someone to shield her from their advance. Searching her repertoire she considered several options. She could cast a sleep spell. That would affect, maybe, a third of them. The rest would likely be rather upset and opt to kill her swiftly. She could charm the hobgoblin. Him turning on his own might make a huge difference. Another possibility was to summon some monsters of her own. Their numbers would be less than the goblins but they'd definitely be a distraction.

So many choices...

Finally she decided, uttering several arcane syllables and gesturing with her fingers and twisting her wrist. Four orcish warriors manifested, coalescing out of swirls of shadow and thought. It was less than Assallya had hoped for but . After a moment's confusion the green skinned warriors growled while one uttered a shrill cry before rushing into the conflict.

The Raiders of Norn

The vardo wagon was painted crimson with engraving and window shutters limned in yellow. Unlike a farmer's wagon it was built for moving across country. Iron creaked, springs compressed, and the wheel of the wagon clambered up over the upraised root at the base of a massive tree. The wagon see sawed left and right, springs bounding against one another until it leveled out once more.

"By the nine hells," the driver blurted out as she held on for dear life.

The driver flicked one side of the reins, drawing the old horse away from the tree roots and continued onward, then relaxed once more. As much as one could relax given she was traveling the forest of Morkador. Blonde tresses shone beneath the light of the swinging lamp hanging from the pole overhead. Assallya was a vision to behold. Her skin was pale as new fallen snow, blushed with a touch of rose. Her eyes were azure, the colour of mountain pools reflecting the winter sky. She was wearing her black silks, similar in many respects to that which she wore in her time as a slave. After nearly a century wearing them it was what she felt most comfortable in. The dresses of these northern cities was so constrictive.

She sat back with her right ankle underneath her left thigh, leaning into the cushions on the high bench with one hand holding the reins, the other rested gently on her knee and only a short distance from the light crossbow she kept at the ready. Eyes sweeping the darkness just beyond the pool of light cast by her overhead lamp she watched for any sign of danger. Soon, soon it would be too dark to travel even by the light of her torch and she would have to heave to.

The Raiders of Norn

It's a shame you can't embed a poll in a single post as opposed to the head of a topic. I always wanted to run a thread where people voted on new characters or plot progressions on a regular basis. If it had a built in time limit too it would be even more radical.

The Raiders of Norn

Must resist posting... Must resist...

The Raiders of Norn

Assallya Kressair

Elven Enchantress

Personality: Assallya Kressair is a charlatan, con-artist, dancer, courtesan, and really whatever role she can think of that gets her by. She is exceedingly good at lying and feigning emotion. Generally, there are two ways to look at any good deed. One could perform such an act out of honest good will but others look upon it as an investment by establishing a bond that can be exploited at a later date. Assallya is of the latter. She is a coward, a braggart and a bully but what she isn't is needlessly cruel nor traitorous. She would not betray her fellows, not unless the reward involved a sum large enough to alter her life substantially. After all, What use is scoring a gem or two in return for a half dozen angry and resourceful adventurers eager to tan your hide?

She'd probably be the first to flee when things went sour and most likely wouldn't last more than a moment before capitulating to torture (particularly if they threaten to mar her appearance) but she's also the type to plan ahead in case she is captured to ensure she wouldn't have any information to divulge. After all, if she betrays all her allies who is left to perform a rescue?

She also has something of a phobia of the undead which are largely immune to her magical abilities. She, thanks to her upbringing, most unlike an elf, despises all things related to nature.

Abilities: Sorcery, Carousing

Weaknesses: No close combative ability. No armor. Cannot cast most combat spells like fireballs or lightning bolts. Must be able to speak, or at the very least whisper, and move her hands to cast most spells.

Inventory: Spellbooks, light crossbow, dagger, a collection of jewelry. Ring of Regneration. Writing implements: Ink, charcoal and a book of blank parchment. A vardo wagon that in addition to regular household items, possesses a number of reference books, a rug woven with a protection circle for casting spells and a collection of knives coated in strange substances (One is blessed) for different creatures.

History: Assallya Kressair was born in the autumn in a small village on the outskirts of Elven lands. At the young age of 26 (aprox. 11 or 12 in human years) Orcish slavers attacked and killed her entire village except for those taken as slaves. Assallya, her sister Saeliah, and several others were transported far across the continent in order to avoid the elven wrath sure to follow. In the city of Calimshan Assallya and Saeliah were separated when Assallya was purchased be a Pasha. Head of a powerful group of rogues, this pasha purchased her simply as a dancer and concubine for both personal use. His grandson decided to add to her skill set intending to use her for information gathering and blackmail. She was further trained in other roguish arts in order to perform her duties.

She was treated as an object and was given to allies and employees of the Pasha who performed exceptional services. Soon enough, she learned about the many different types of power and discovered that even as a slave she was far from powerless. Her master wanted her to be taught various magical skills. However, succeeding in seducing one of the Pasha's magicians she learned far more than her master intended. At first the magician balked but he was a lonely uncomely man who rarely received a woman to his bed. He placed conditions on his tutoring; refusing to train her in combative magics and warning her that should he ever target him with her spells it would mean her death. She surprised all of them by inventing an inferior version of the invisibility spell which allowed her to sneak away from the Pasha's clutches and return undetected. In this way, by filching jewels and prostituting herself she built up savings with a money lender.

Finally she turned the family against one another. The unrelenting father that showed no respect went up against the rebellious son who wanted to usurp his father's power. Civil war ensued and Assallya made her escape and she has a bounty on her head in that desert kingdom to this very day, a decade or more later.

Moving north, she worked as a courtesan a short while, then purchased her vardo and worked out of it. She adventured a small bit but didn't appreciate the danger of imminent death. She would scry into homes and sell that information to thieves and help them with their confidence games. Later she would purchase a brothel and use it as her base to collect dirt on all the lords in the area. With them under thumb she became a force to be reckoned with so long as she didn't exert her power too far.

Then magic began to fail throughout the lands. It's lessening was slow but Assallya's life was long. For a long while it didn't matter because all mages struggled to hide their difficulties but the magical items in the hands of nobles losing their efficacy was a major clue. Now many suspect the truth and many lords have a grudge against Assallya who may now finally be vulnerable.

As a result, Assallya pulled her old vardo wagon out of storage and has ventured to the ancient city of Norn, a place of supreme power in the golden age and hopefully she will find something to help her survive these trying times.

The Raiders of Norn

Yup. Second edition. I started in first edition where elf was a class, not a race. Second edition was amazing! For the first time everything in one book! Before that there was a folio for each five levels followed by the immortals set and each was in its its own box set because, of course, if it didn't come in a cardboard box then it wasn't a game!

I had two drow characters before there even was a Drizzt Do'Urden.

The Raiders of Norn

It's my old item from Dungeons and Dragons, second edition.

Here's the old text from twenty years back! Not having armor the item proved rather helpful.

The ring of regeneration restores one point of damage per turn (and will eventually replace lost limbs or organs). It will bring its wearer back from death. (If death was caused by poison, however, a saving throw must be successfully rolled or the wearer dies again from the poison still in his system.) Only total destruction of all living tissue by fire or acid or similar means will prevent regeneration. Of course, the ring must be worn, and its removal stops the regeneration processes.

Addendum: It isn't explicit but there are many ways around the regeneration. Being eaten for example, being subject to constant damage effects like drowning, being crushed into paste,having the limb chopped off that wears the ring negates the effects, instant death spells, disintegration… soul destruction...

Then there's being impaled... Taking an arrow to the eye socket or stuck with a stake vampire style would out someone in suspended animation. (Where you would still age of course)

Also in a later errata it also stipulates the wound had to be inflicted on the person while the ring was worn. You couldn't put the ring on after you took an arrow to the chest. Otherwise people would share the thing around.

The Raiders of Norn

I am one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world and I'm in trouble.

My name is Assallya Kressair.  I was born Assa'alliyeh of clan Kressanthair but humans, with their short sorry little lives, don't have the time for long names.  I'm not exactly elven either.  It's complicated.

When I was but a child orcs raided our village.  It was a small outpost, a collection of farms really and there's a reason why elves live in trees.  Slaughtered, the orcs took the survivors far away and sold us into slavery.  They were rooked.  They didn't realize elves were worth many times that is human slaves.  It was also the last place I saw Saeliah, my sister.

I was sold to a Pasha, a crime lord, and served in his palace for multiple human generations.  In time I learned all manner of academics, for as an entertainer for his guests I had to understand politics and when military history in addition to dancing and playing an instrument.  One never knew what stimulation a guest might desire.

It was my original master's grandson that made the mistake.  In an effort to make their loyal servant more useful they tutored me in magic.  I was never versed in the more violent arcane arts but I swiftly learned to bend a man's heart via incantation as readily as I did with a sly look and beckoning finger.  I learned to see far away places in a pool of water, to befuddle a man's mind or move a far away object with a gesture.  For the first time I saw the outside world whenever I wished and I longed for it.

It took time but I had it.  I turned the Pasha's house against itself.  Secrets better kept secret came out, some true, others were sheer fabrications and I escaped in the chaos that insued.  I hear the bounty is still on my head though word of it has died on nearly all lips and the posters likely have been used to roll cigarettes or become so much dust by now.

I'm now one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world.  It is not due to magic but the application of lesser spells.  I now trade in secrets.  I own a brothel, a gentlemen's club really.  I use locks of hair, nail clippings and a man's seed against them to pierce through their protections, slip through their wards and spy on them.  I could destroy this kingdom in which I live and rule it but... Then I would be giving up power.

Unfortunately, the gods be damned, something is happening.  Magic is failing.  My own spells are growing weaker and the lords are beginning to suspect.  In time they'll turn on me.  I don't know what to do.  The south has long been barred to me and the north...  I suspect one of the lords will try to move on me soon, take me and what I know to make a play against the rest.  If I don't do something soon I'm doomed.

That's how I got here, moving through a dark forest in a vardo wagon I haven't used in years, not since the brief foolishness of my adventuring days.  Here I hope to find some sort of edge, maybe a source of power- I honestly don't know.  

My wagon has all the benefits of a home on wheels but for protection all I have is my light crossbow, a curved dagger from my youth and my ring...  My ring is my saving grace.  Imbued with the essence of Trolls I cannot die while wearing it save by fire or acid.  It has saved me many times of the years from monsters and from being assassinated by petty nobles.

Now all I need is a little magic and a lot of luck.

The Raiders of Norn

Yeah. That's what you get when you're rushing on a cellular device between two different jobs.

I miss my old phone.