Have you ever made a decision you immediately regret, like ordering one drink too many at the bar or starting up a conversation with a particularly verbose acquaintance? This was sorta like that, but a thousand times worse.
I’m not even sure why I did it. I knew we had to get across the pit, but we had no clue how to get across such a large chasm. I wasn’t thinking straight, or rather I was thinking in the brashest sense of things again. After all there had to be a reason for that liquid to exist, and everything else we had tried with it thus far had failed. After a sip I didn’t notice anything; some rather thick and bitter taste but it didn’t seem lethal. I guess that lulled me into a false sense of safety because right after that I chugged the remainder like it was a mug of mead over at the Golden Hand Clubhouse.
I don’t remember when I really started to lose myself, but it must have been pretty early on. After just a few moments I was doubled over on the floor; throat clenched with my fingers digging into my arms. The initial feeling was like razor blades pushing against the inside of my skin. The serrated edges ripped their way through my flesh only slightly but as soon as there was an opening it was as though someone forced their fingers into the laceration and began pulling at the edges to widen it.
The pain was immeasurable. I can remember my own painful shrill echoing through the cavern for what seemed like an eternity. I had never heard myself scream before, at least not that I can remember—it’s a horrible sound I never wish to hear again as long as I live. Somehow that one noise was so piercing and violent that it dulled the rest of my senses sans the agonizing pain. I remember writhing in shock with my body thrashing in all directions. In all likelihood I probably slammed my head against the smooth stone floor more than a couple times in my horrid spasms, but my transformation left me numb to those minor inconveniences.
Soon my wounds were large enough to be used as gates, and I felt the long scaly wings start to emerge from my back. Where they came from I can’t even begin to fathom. Was this the power of magic? To make the impossible a reality? If that’s true I worry for the sanity of every mage out there who dares to claim they have the power to manipulate these eldritch forces at their fingertips.
Every nerve on my body was sensitive as if they had all chosen this exact moment to reveal their frailty. The wings extended out from my back in what seemed like an endless march and nothing I could do stopped the pain. I can’t remember what the others were doing during this. I can remember glimpsing during the brief moments my gaze could focus for even a moment, but even in my clearest recollection I didn’t see them reacting. Instead one distorted images fades into a blur of dull tones—likely the floor during one of the many times I was hunched over hacking up a thick wad of blood onto the ground. Or so I’m told. I wasn’t aware I was doing it, but my allies said it must have happened six or seven times as evidenced by the large crimson stain beneath me.
When it finally ended all I can remember was an overwhelming sense of relief. My face was drenched with sweat, but my back was covered in blood. When the wings emerged they forced themselves through my armor, and what tattered remains were left of my clothes were now a ragged ruddy mess. Regaining my senses took time and my body was still adjusting the pain very slowly. My breath was worn and haggard as though I had just ran from Colingrove to Wyrmwick without stopping, and despite my best efforts I couldn’t stop a slight quiver in my body as if my nerves were dreading the possibility that the process could start again at any moment.
After my breathing returned to normal and my eyes could once again focus on a single image I looked up to find myself under the judging eyes of my flabbergasted party members. I was not used to showing a vulnerable side—especially not to strangers, so I quickly discarded my pain-stricken frown and replaced with the same bold grin I had when I suggested our earlier “diplomatic” decisions. “Hey guys,” I said meeting their bewilderment with a smirk, “I bet I can fly now.”
Showing posts with label From Their Eyes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label From Their Eyes. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
From Their Eyes - Juliet (Dwarven Gut Buster)
“It’s not that hard of a plan guys.” That’s what Lord Vane uttered countless of times, but as I fidgeted in my seat I got the feeling that not only were we not on the same page, but I don’t even think we were reading the same book. Viktor, the mercenary, sat next to me but he seemed far more at ease in such a rowdy establishment. Maybe he grew up in taverns like this, but this was the first time I had ever stepped foot in such a place—let alone one with such surly company and with such a cryptic assignment at hand.
“So we are supposed to buy the sand?” Viktor asked, his thick accent dripping over his words in all too exaggerated fashion. Sometimes it almost sounds like he’s desperately trying to remind everyone that he’s foreign, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a certain exotic charm to it.
“Well we need to find their dealer, so I guess we have to at least ask for some. How we do that though I have no idea.” I said, drumming my index finger against the table.
“That is easy. We blend in, and when the time is right, we ask. All we need to do is play it subtle.” Easy for him to say. Maybe these are his kind of people, but I’ve never interacted with someone who wasn’t carrying a pitchfork before, and blending in was already difficult when your attire and gender stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of raffish drunkards and brutish dockhands.
“What will you be having?” asked the waitress with a dull stare. I fumbled around words for a while before blurting out, “Give me something strong.” Both Viktor and the waitress responded with perked eyebrows, but well, I panicked. The waitress quickly left to grab the drinks, leaving me alone with Viktor’s confused glare. “I don’t know. I figured we’d blend in if we asked for a tough drink.”
“We cannot blend in if you are crying and vomiting in corner.” Was liquor that strong? By the time the waitress returned with a tankard of mead I was already having second thoughts, but it would seem even more suspicious to order a strong drink and then leave it sitting there untouched. I took a glance over to Viktor who responded with a solemn nod, and without much more hesitation I ingested the brew and awaited the inevitable stomach churning reaction. But after a moment passed, I felt nothing. In fact, I barely even noticed that I drank it at all. Was this what people were so cautious about? Yesh, people can be such babies.
“Another.” I said with a grin having momentarily forgotten that I was here for a mission. The thrill of the moment took over, and the moment the next tankard arrived at the table I was already chugging. After I slammed the empty mug into the table with an audible thud and wiped the foam from my lips I glanced back to the waitress. “I didn’t say stop.” With that comment I caught the attention of a few patrons eager to see the delicate new customer get her payback for such overzealous drinking, but to their bewilderment I easily downed the next glass as well, and the one after that. I was starting to become a spectacle for the locals and more and more they were turning their attention to our table. I even attracted the attention of the bartender, a grizzly old veteran who looked upon my performance with a laugh.
“Enjoying yourself lass?” He uttered with a chuckle.
“I am, but do you guys have anything stronger?”
“Stronger?!” the barkeep laughed as his customers joined in. “Lass, I got something stronger alright, but you don’t want any part of it.”
“Well I’ve been drinking the stuff you call strong all night, and so far nothing, so why don’t you try me?”
I saw the barkeep’s eyes turn from skepticism to amusement as he raised his hand up to his chin. He gave me a once over before turning his gaze to Viktor, and then back to me. All the while he seemed to be measuring us up and trying to place exactly who we were, but it seemed even he was at a loss for words. “Alright then lass, then who shall we toast this drink too?”
“Bosco.” Wait, what? Why the hell did I say Bosco? Viktor seemed to be thinking the same thing as I swore he mouthed a foreign expletive at me. I don’t know why I didn’t use my real name, or if I absolutely had to come up with a fake name why I didn’t come with something less bizarre than Bosco, but it was too late to take it back.
… I don’t even know a Bosco. Sometimes I have to question my own sanity if these are the first things popping into my head.
“Bosco, eh? Well alright boys, let’s see if ol’ Bosco here can take the Gut Buster!” The tavern erupted into cheers and laughter as the barkeep disappeared into his back room only to emerge with what I can only call the most fiendish concoction ever put in a mug. If it’s murky swamp-like coloring or overwhelming scent didn’t test your resolve, the bubbling foam and visible emission of steam certainly did. He slid the drink in front of me before he began to share the tale behind the Gut Buster. “Dwarven Gut Buster, the strongest ale you’re going to find outside of a Dwarven wedding! Lotta tough men ’ve tried to drink this before, and it didn’t turn out so well for them, ain’t that right boys!”
The tavern responded with a united “Aye!” before the barkeep continued. “The ol’ Concord whelp thought he was tough enough for this drink, and you want to know to know what happened? He took one sip and fell over! Didn’t wake up for a week!” The room filled with laughter as the barkeep raised his voice even louder to speak over his compatriots. “Oh, or what about Dreher!? He thought he could prove us wrong, but he took one gulp and now the poor fool can’t drink milk without retching!” Once again the bar was filled with uproarious laughter. The barkeep lowered his voice so that only I needed to hear his words, and told me to back down and that it wouldn’t be so shameful if a lady lost her nerve and ran away.
By this point I probably was feeling the effects of my earlier chugging, and suddenly my patience was reaching its end. I didn’t care much about the comments regarding my gender, but I didn’t appreciate their efforts to scare me off. Despite Viktor’s barely audible protests, I clutched the mug and began to guzzle the legendary brew. Instantly I felt the ale choking me as it tried to pass through my throat. Quite a few times I felt myself gagging at the taste, but I ignored my body’s warnings and finished the entire tankard, slamming it into the table with my face following shortly after. My senses turned into a blur, and what little I could perceive became muddled by the “Bosco” chants that drowned out the tavern. What happened to my body after that was a complete mystery. I remember standing up to celebrate, and then I remember singing a song about knobs and wizard’s staves, but the next thing I remember was stumbling outside in the street with the rest of the party and hearing Lord Vane berate Viktor and myself.
I don’t remember what they said very much, but Vane did order Viktor to take me to the inn as I would be no more help. They left shortly after, and Viktor proceeded to lead me back into the city despite my best efforts to pass out in the street. My stumbling must have become incredibly distracting because the next thing I know Viktor is carrying me in his arms. “You’re a nice guy Viktor.” I mumbled in much less coherent fashion.
“Yes, and you are very drunk.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“No.”
“Aww…” It’s baffling what liquor can do to a person. I’m not quite sure why I would say those things or afterward rest my head against Viktor’s chestplate, but liquor makes you do the things you’d never do without influence right? It was just an out of character sort of moment I suppose, and I don’t think either of each put much stock into it. Well… I assume. I passed out shortly after.
From what I heard the next morning, it was a good thing I did. All I remember was Grae muttering “fucking Halfling” all the way to Ihestas.
“So we are supposed to buy the sand?” Viktor asked, his thick accent dripping over his words in all too exaggerated fashion. Sometimes it almost sounds like he’s desperately trying to remind everyone that he’s foreign, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a certain exotic charm to it.
“Well we need to find their dealer, so I guess we have to at least ask for some. How we do that though I have no idea.” I said, drumming my index finger against the table.
“That is easy. We blend in, and when the time is right, we ask. All we need to do is play it subtle.” Easy for him to say. Maybe these are his kind of people, but I’ve never interacted with someone who wasn’t carrying a pitchfork before, and blending in was already difficult when your attire and gender stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of raffish drunkards and brutish dockhands.
“What will you be having?” asked the waitress with a dull stare. I fumbled around words for a while before blurting out, “Give me something strong.” Both Viktor and the waitress responded with perked eyebrows, but well, I panicked. The waitress quickly left to grab the drinks, leaving me alone with Viktor’s confused glare. “I don’t know. I figured we’d blend in if we asked for a tough drink.”
“We cannot blend in if you are crying and vomiting in corner.” Was liquor that strong? By the time the waitress returned with a tankard of mead I was already having second thoughts, but it would seem even more suspicious to order a strong drink and then leave it sitting there untouched. I took a glance over to Viktor who responded with a solemn nod, and without much more hesitation I ingested the brew and awaited the inevitable stomach churning reaction. But after a moment passed, I felt nothing. In fact, I barely even noticed that I drank it at all. Was this what people were so cautious about? Yesh, people can be such babies.
“Another.” I said with a grin having momentarily forgotten that I was here for a mission. The thrill of the moment took over, and the moment the next tankard arrived at the table I was already chugging. After I slammed the empty mug into the table with an audible thud and wiped the foam from my lips I glanced back to the waitress. “I didn’t say stop.” With that comment I caught the attention of a few patrons eager to see the delicate new customer get her payback for such overzealous drinking, but to their bewilderment I easily downed the next glass as well, and the one after that. I was starting to become a spectacle for the locals and more and more they were turning their attention to our table. I even attracted the attention of the bartender, a grizzly old veteran who looked upon my performance with a laugh.
“Enjoying yourself lass?” He uttered with a chuckle.
“I am, but do you guys have anything stronger?”
“Stronger?!” the barkeep laughed as his customers joined in. “Lass, I got something stronger alright, but you don’t want any part of it.”
“Well I’ve been drinking the stuff you call strong all night, and so far nothing, so why don’t you try me?”
I saw the barkeep’s eyes turn from skepticism to amusement as he raised his hand up to his chin. He gave me a once over before turning his gaze to Viktor, and then back to me. All the while he seemed to be measuring us up and trying to place exactly who we were, but it seemed even he was at a loss for words. “Alright then lass, then who shall we toast this drink too?”
“Bosco.” Wait, what? Why the hell did I say Bosco? Viktor seemed to be thinking the same thing as I swore he mouthed a foreign expletive at me. I don’t know why I didn’t use my real name, or if I absolutely had to come up with a fake name why I didn’t come with something less bizarre than Bosco, but it was too late to take it back.
… I don’t even know a Bosco. Sometimes I have to question my own sanity if these are the first things popping into my head.
“Bosco, eh? Well alright boys, let’s see if ol’ Bosco here can take the Gut Buster!” The tavern erupted into cheers and laughter as the barkeep disappeared into his back room only to emerge with what I can only call the most fiendish concoction ever put in a mug. If it’s murky swamp-like coloring or overwhelming scent didn’t test your resolve, the bubbling foam and visible emission of steam certainly did. He slid the drink in front of me before he began to share the tale behind the Gut Buster. “Dwarven Gut Buster, the strongest ale you’re going to find outside of a Dwarven wedding! Lotta tough men ’ve tried to drink this before, and it didn’t turn out so well for them, ain’t that right boys!”
The tavern responded with a united “Aye!” before the barkeep continued. “The ol’ Concord whelp thought he was tough enough for this drink, and you want to know to know what happened? He took one sip and fell over! Didn’t wake up for a week!” The room filled with laughter as the barkeep raised his voice even louder to speak over his compatriots. “Oh, or what about Dreher!? He thought he could prove us wrong, but he took one gulp and now the poor fool can’t drink milk without retching!” Once again the bar was filled with uproarious laughter. The barkeep lowered his voice so that only I needed to hear his words, and told me to back down and that it wouldn’t be so shameful if a lady lost her nerve and ran away.
By this point I probably was feeling the effects of my earlier chugging, and suddenly my patience was reaching its end. I didn’t care much about the comments regarding my gender, but I didn’t appreciate their efforts to scare me off. Despite Viktor’s barely audible protests, I clutched the mug and began to guzzle the legendary brew. Instantly I felt the ale choking me as it tried to pass through my throat. Quite a few times I felt myself gagging at the taste, but I ignored my body’s warnings and finished the entire tankard, slamming it into the table with my face following shortly after. My senses turned into a blur, and what little I could perceive became muddled by the “Bosco” chants that drowned out the tavern. What happened to my body after that was a complete mystery. I remember standing up to celebrate, and then I remember singing a song about knobs and wizard’s staves, but the next thing I remember was stumbling outside in the street with the rest of the party and hearing Lord Vane berate Viktor and myself.
I don’t remember what they said very much, but Vane did order Viktor to take me to the inn as I would be no more help. They left shortly after, and Viktor proceeded to lead me back into the city despite my best efforts to pass out in the street. My stumbling must have become incredibly distracting because the next thing I know Viktor is carrying me in his arms. “You’re a nice guy Viktor.” I mumbled in much less coherent fashion.
“Yes, and you are very drunk.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“No.”
“Aww…” It’s baffling what liquor can do to a person. I’m not quite sure why I would say those things or afterward rest my head against Viktor’s chestplate, but liquor makes you do the things you’d never do without influence right? It was just an out of character sort of moment I suppose, and I don’t think either of each put much stock into it. Well… I assume. I passed out shortly after.
From what I heard the next morning, it was a good thing I did. All I remember was Grae muttering “fucking Halfling” all the way to Ihestas.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Moving forwards...
Well peeps it’s been somewhat of a hectic and crazy weekend, but let’s keep our eyes looking forward. I posted last week that I would have three article series to test out: STFU, Inside the Koma, and From Their Eyes. From the response I received that in general was rather positive I have decided to give all three series a full run on this blog on a consistent basis. In regard to From Their Eyes, I still plan on doing the series even after my earlier announcement. There are still plenty of topics that I can try to cover from the time spent with my characters, and I’m still always going to enjoy the great memories I have with them. They might come off a bit bittersweet, but perhaps in the future I’ll be able to continue this series again with a new character in a new campaign. We shall see.
So, basically the last thing I need to get these series off the ground is topics. I have several of my own, but I’m curious to hear what you all think might be interesting topics. So, if you get the time to leave a suggestion I’ll try to return soon with a timetable for when you can expect these articles.
Hmm… this post was rather short. Well, let’s try lengthening it with some wacky conversation. So did anybody else notice that Penny always got captured in Inspector Gadget? I mean yeah, she stopped the crime most of the time, but damn that kid couldn’t go three episodes without getting caught. Women, right? Oh, and why is Andross a big floating head and hands? I mean Star Fox is a franchise where six foot anthropomorphic foxes fly spaceships, but it always seemed strange. Like… how does he regurgitate asteroids at you if he has no throat or digestive system?
… Okay, I’ll stop now. In shame.
So, basically the last thing I need to get these series off the ground is topics. I have several of my own, but I’m curious to hear what you all think might be interesting topics. So, if you get the time to leave a suggestion I’ll try to return soon with a timetable for when you can expect these articles.
Hmm… this post was rather short. Well, let’s try lengthening it with some wacky conversation. So did anybody else notice that Penny always got captured in Inspector Gadget? I mean yeah, she stopped the crime most of the time, but damn that kid couldn’t go three episodes without getting caught. Women, right? Oh, and why is Andross a big floating head and hands? I mean Star Fox is a franchise where six foot anthropomorphic foxes fly spaceships, but it always seemed strange. Like… how does he regurgitate asteroids at you if he has no throat or digestive system?
… Okay, I’ll stop now. In shame.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
From Their Eyes - Juliet (The Scorpion Queen Encounter)
In my effort to return to writing consistent articles for my blogspot I’m going to try out three new series. These series may or not be permanent fixtures because I’m honestly just testing the waters to see if people care about reading these posts or not. I know I ask a lot and you probably hear it from a million sources, but honestly leaving comments here or sending them to my twitter help me know if you like the article or I have no way to investigate the views for individual articles on my blogspot. I’m going to post up these articles once a day, so first series today, second series tomorrow, and the third on Thursday. Let me know your thoughts, good or bad on each one, and I’ll decide which ones to continue on in the future. They could all be well liked and I’ll work on continuing all of them, or they could be reviled and I’ll go back to the drawing board. Constructive criticism appreciated.
Anyway the first article series is called From Their Eyes and is related to our D&D games. Basically I’m using these articles to help satisfy the roleplaying kick I’ve had for months now and cater to the D&D fans since people seem to dig it when I talk about the campaign. So these series of articles are being told from the first person perspective of one of my characters about a notable event in their career. It can be a heroic, dramatic, or humorous moment, but it needs to stand out. I’m starting this week with The Scorpion Queen Encounter and Juliet, so let me know your thoughts. If you’d prefer I only stuck to humorous or other sort of stuff, let me know. Again, all feedback is appreciated. Well, here we go:
-----
We stood at the entrance to that chamber for what seemed like an eternity. We had already encountered traps and ambushes in this pyramid, and it seemed obvious that something was waiting for us in that next room, but none of us dared to be the first one in to find out. We awkwardly stood there waiting for someone to bravely (and stupidly) offer to test the doorway, but any attempt at convincing someone to take the daring initial steps proved to be futile. I even offered the mercenary a sizable pocket full of the King’s gold to cross the threshold, but it appears sellswords aren’t as greedy as I first assumed. Our bickering had gone on too long, and whatever fiend was waiting for us had grown tired of lying in wait.
With an echoing thud the Scorpion Queen dropped from the ceiling in front of our hallway and sprung her surprise attack. With a single movement she kicked up a torrent of sand and sent it towards us with the force of a hurricane. Some of us in the party, including myself, shielded our eyes in preparation for the attack, but a few of our party members were unprepared and found themselves blinded by the sudden sandstorm. As the Scorpion Queen made her presence known, we took to the offensive. The Dragonborn swiftly snuck behind the resurrected goddess and began to use her underhanded tricks to sabotage our foe while the rest of us prepared our most powerful abilities. Unfortunately the Scorpion Queen was powerful even when shackled to this corporeal form, and most of our attacks missed… sans my Faerie Fire.
In retrospect, why did the spirits name that particular ability Faerie Fire. When you think of all of the intimidating forces of nature like howling gales, massive avalanches, and engulfing flames, why does Faerie have to be the first word to come to mind? Well, the spirits are far wiser than I, even if a tad unimaginative, so I won’t judge too harshly and instead be thankful for their power which struck the Scorpion Queen directly. Though initially the Queen would feel nothing, she would find her senses dulled which would slow her movements and allow my allies a better chance to hit until she managed to overcome it.
It came as a surprise to no one that the Scorpion Queen had many powers at her disposal, and she wasted no time unleashing her deadly arsenal. With one glance she looked upon the mercenary with a bewitching look in her eyes. I’m not well learned of the arcane, but I assumed she had some sort of power to dominate men and control their actions, and sure enough the mercenary began to wildly swing his weapon at us. As part of our party was distracted by this, she used one of her enormous claws to snap up the bard. While he struggled in her grasp, the Scorpion Queen reared back her massive stinger before plunging it into the chest of our bard ally, and in that moment I saw the life leave his eyes. Having finished off her pray she tossed the bard’s body carelessly to the side, and if there was any chance of saving him, it was obvious that it was quickly fading.
However the rest of the party wasn’t fairing much better. The mercenary was still trapped by the Scorpion Queen’s charms. The Dragonborn was valiantly fighting, but unable to shake the attention of the goddess. The archer was, once again, proving his ineptitude by firing arrows into the back of someone’s head, and I wonder if there will ever be a day when this raffish ranger will ever strike down an enemy with his arrows. Just as it seemed all hope was lost a brief glow overtook the Scorpion Queen. It seemed she had finally overcome my Faerie Fire, and with that the excess energy inside of her built up into an enormous explosion that tore the Queen into pieces. Carcass and viscera littered the battlefield, but myself and the Eladrin wasted no time with celebration as we rushed over to the dying bard.
With my knowledge of natural healing and the Eladrin’s superior healing magics we stabilized the bard in the nick of time. With the Queen’s death it appeared her palace was now crumbling to pieces. Unfortunately we were stuck near the top of the pyramid, and escaping the way we came in would likely not prove fast enough. Thankfully we managed to spot a lever that opened a secondary exit to outside, but to escape safely we would need to repel down the side of the structure. After the bard started to shimmy down the escape rope, I followed afterwards.
Except I lost my footing. And fell.
“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffffffffuuuuuuuuccckkkkk meeeee-----“
Anyway the first article series is called From Their Eyes and is related to our D&D games. Basically I’m using these articles to help satisfy the roleplaying kick I’ve had for months now and cater to the D&D fans since people seem to dig it when I talk about the campaign. So these series of articles are being told from the first person perspective of one of my characters about a notable event in their career. It can be a heroic, dramatic, or humorous moment, but it needs to stand out. I’m starting this week with The Scorpion Queen Encounter and Juliet, so let me know your thoughts. If you’d prefer I only stuck to humorous or other sort of stuff, let me know. Again, all feedback is appreciated. Well, here we go:
-----
We stood at the entrance to that chamber for what seemed like an eternity. We had already encountered traps and ambushes in this pyramid, and it seemed obvious that something was waiting for us in that next room, but none of us dared to be the first one in to find out. We awkwardly stood there waiting for someone to bravely (and stupidly) offer to test the doorway, but any attempt at convincing someone to take the daring initial steps proved to be futile. I even offered the mercenary a sizable pocket full of the King’s gold to cross the threshold, but it appears sellswords aren’t as greedy as I first assumed. Our bickering had gone on too long, and whatever fiend was waiting for us had grown tired of lying in wait.
With an echoing thud the Scorpion Queen dropped from the ceiling in front of our hallway and sprung her surprise attack. With a single movement she kicked up a torrent of sand and sent it towards us with the force of a hurricane. Some of us in the party, including myself, shielded our eyes in preparation for the attack, but a few of our party members were unprepared and found themselves blinded by the sudden sandstorm. As the Scorpion Queen made her presence known, we took to the offensive. The Dragonborn swiftly snuck behind the resurrected goddess and began to use her underhanded tricks to sabotage our foe while the rest of us prepared our most powerful abilities. Unfortunately the Scorpion Queen was powerful even when shackled to this corporeal form, and most of our attacks missed… sans my Faerie Fire.
In retrospect, why did the spirits name that particular ability Faerie Fire. When you think of all of the intimidating forces of nature like howling gales, massive avalanches, and engulfing flames, why does Faerie have to be the first word to come to mind? Well, the spirits are far wiser than I, even if a tad unimaginative, so I won’t judge too harshly and instead be thankful for their power which struck the Scorpion Queen directly. Though initially the Queen would feel nothing, she would find her senses dulled which would slow her movements and allow my allies a better chance to hit until she managed to overcome it.
It came as a surprise to no one that the Scorpion Queen had many powers at her disposal, and she wasted no time unleashing her deadly arsenal. With one glance she looked upon the mercenary with a bewitching look in her eyes. I’m not well learned of the arcane, but I assumed she had some sort of power to dominate men and control their actions, and sure enough the mercenary began to wildly swing his weapon at us. As part of our party was distracted by this, she used one of her enormous claws to snap up the bard. While he struggled in her grasp, the Scorpion Queen reared back her massive stinger before plunging it into the chest of our bard ally, and in that moment I saw the life leave his eyes. Having finished off her pray she tossed the bard’s body carelessly to the side, and if there was any chance of saving him, it was obvious that it was quickly fading.
However the rest of the party wasn’t fairing much better. The mercenary was still trapped by the Scorpion Queen’s charms. The Dragonborn was valiantly fighting, but unable to shake the attention of the goddess. The archer was, once again, proving his ineptitude by firing arrows into the back of someone’s head, and I wonder if there will ever be a day when this raffish ranger will ever strike down an enemy with his arrows. Just as it seemed all hope was lost a brief glow overtook the Scorpion Queen. It seemed she had finally overcome my Faerie Fire, and with that the excess energy inside of her built up into an enormous explosion that tore the Queen into pieces. Carcass and viscera littered the battlefield, but myself and the Eladrin wasted no time with celebration as we rushed over to the dying bard.
With my knowledge of natural healing and the Eladrin’s superior healing magics we stabilized the bard in the nick of time. With the Queen’s death it appeared her palace was now crumbling to pieces. Unfortunately we were stuck near the top of the pyramid, and escaping the way we came in would likely not prove fast enough. Thankfully we managed to spot a lever that opened a secondary exit to outside, but to escape safely we would need to repel down the side of the structure. After the bard started to shimmy down the escape rope, I followed afterwards.
Except I lost my footing. And fell.
“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffffffffuuuuuuuuccckkkkk meeeee-----“
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