BrazenGolem
2015-01-29, 09:24 PM
Just barely finished this particular campaign, and I wanted to write it all down before I forget. I've always enjoyed logs that are written in character, so I'll do my best to write one that stands up to its fellows :smallsmile:
Aren http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/Titania_7018.jpg
Maxwell: http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs13/f/2007/066/8/5/gunslinger_colored_by_leinilyu.jpg
Brickson: http://cf.geekdo-images.com/images/pic2228918_md.jpg
Pence: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/060/e/9/Thief_by_Mospineq.jpg
Tabitha: http://jrfaulkner.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Elves-Wizard-female_colors.jpg
The Last Seal
Let me say now that my talents do not include storytelling, at least in the written sense. I’ve written field reports, but those make for a dry read at best. There are others, certainly, that would have been a better candidate. Brickson always had a flair for the dramatic. A story like this deserves as much. Unfortunately, I am the only one of us that was there from the beginning left alive. It’s been more than a century since our adventures, and my companions have sadly passed one by one. If I don’t write down what happened, the full account will die with me. Even now, I look and listen and see that no one seems to remember our triumphs, our failures, and our ultimate success in our greatest endeavor.
For those whose memories have failed them, or for the many youths born long after these events took place, know that of all the threats to our existence, none are greater than the Dark Tapestry. Many are the gods: Iomedae the Just, Gozreh the Savage and Serene, Erastil of the Hunt, and many others. All of them united would fall before the gods of the Dark Tapestry. Shub-Niggurath, Yog-Sothoth, Azatoth, even one of them would be capable of ending our existence. Rovagug, the God of Destruction and the progenitor of many nigh invulnerable monstrosities, is often attributed to being the weakest of their number. It took two of our most powerful deities, Asmodeus and my own goddess Sarenrae, to seal him away forever.
Seven Seals keep the Dark Tapestry out of our dimension. Seven Seals that they themselves cannot bypass. Only by great efforts on the part of their varied cults can their spawn be called into the world, spawn that I have hunted on many occasions. I have taken great pains to ensure that their ilk is eradicated, and that new cults that spring up like so many weeds are destroyed before they can take root. In the past, we were not so vigilant. As a result, six of the seven seals were destroyed.
And that, dear reader, is where I come in.
Chapter 1: Futile Grasping
Da-dum
One breath.
Da-dum
Two breaths.
Da-dum
Three breaths. After the third breath, I came out of the state of half-consciousness that precedes awareness and came fully awake. A quick look around told me that I was on a cold stone floor, laying on my side. I could feel the rough stone against my cheek, and I could feel something digging into my hip. I shifted onto my back and lay there for a couple seconds before a thought occurred to me.
Where the hell am I?
I bolted upright. As I did so, I bashed the back of my head on something hard. A more careful ascent caused me to yelp more girlishly than I’d intended. What I’d nearly brained myself on was a statue with a visage more horrifying than I’ve seen since. Carved of black rock and polished to a mirror shine, a monstrosity with many eyes and tentacles stared at me, one appendage in particular looking as if it was trying to reach out and grasp me. As I scurried back, the part of my brain not panicking noticed green shimmers playing out along its edges, giving it an eerie, unwholesome appearance that was almost alive.
Alright, stop panicking! You’ve faced uglier than this! I stopped and wracked my brain. Had I? After a second, I shook my head. Focus! Take a look around, take stock of the situation.
I regretted that decision as soon as I began. That statue was not alone. Its fellows stretched around the room, and others leered at her from the ceiling. No two were the same. All were twisted, grotesque, and terrifyingly detailed. I looked down, if only to avoid their gaze, and noticed first beautiful thing in that room. On the floor was an axe, with an ebon carved haft and two sinuous blades curving out from the head. It may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I scooped it up and fell into a stance that felt natural, putting shining steel and polished wood between me the horrors that ringed the room. My breathing steadied, and my heartbeat slowed. I finally felt a measure of control.
I doubt I’d ever enter a place like this without cause. I grasped at some clue in my memories as to what it was. The last thing I remembered, the last place I remembered being, the last person I talked to, anything that might give me some idea. Nothing occurred to me. I dug deeper. There has to be something, anything!
It slowly dawned on me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t remember the last place I’d been. I couldn’t remember a damn thing. I was grasping at memories that, for all intents and purposes, didn’t appear to exist. Birthday? Nope. Where I live? Nothing. Who my family is? The location you’re attempting to scry doesn’t appear to exist. My name? For a frightening moment I thought that I would be left without any identity to speak of. The statue in front of me appeared, despite lacking a discernible mouth, to be grinning maddeningly at me. I grit my teeth and, finally, grasped ahold of four letters. Aren. I exhaled softly. It was a start.
Emboldened by that scrap of identity, I looked down at myself to see if my identity had a more concrete nature. I was dressed for battle, with a breastplate, vambraces, and greaves. A short skirt of chainmail and matching sleeves covered what wasn’t guarded by plate. A warrior, then. That seemed to match the axe. More curious was my clothing. It consisted of alternating reds, oranges, and yellows, with a symbol in the style of a sunburst. An organization, perhaps? Nothing clicked. A deity? From that, I managed to grasp another name, more complete than mine. Sarenrae, the Dawnflower. I found a holy symbol in a similar fashion around my neck, confirming that particular guess. I thought for a second, then whispered a brief prayer. I waited a few seconds, then shrugged. I hadn’t been certain, but I’d had a feeling it didn’t work like that.
I briefly inspected the amulet beside it, then filed it away for later. Nothing clicked, so it apparently wasn’t integral to who I was. Finding nothing else, I held up my axe to get a look at my face. Brilliant green eyes stared back at me, with long red hair framing pretty feminine features. A brief dusting of freckles covered my nose. The texture of the floor remained imprinted in my left cheek. I must have been here for some time. Speaking of which, I thought, looking around, it’s high time I get out of here.
I walked towards the iron bound door at the other end of the room, axe in hand. I couldn’t help but looking back and forth as I did so, certain that something would try to stop me. I was fortunate in my paranoia. It was on the fourth sweep I noticed the statue I’d bashed my head on was no longer there.
Oh shi-! I instinctively lowered myself into a crouch and tightened my guard just as it crashed into me, jarring my arms to the shoulder. Its skin, once petrified, was now covered in a greenish slime that was at once slippery when I tried to force it back and sticky when its many arms grabbed at me around my axe haft. My armor absorbed most of the blows it rained down on me, but the few that it landed squarely knocked me back. Ah, crap.
I tried to shove it off of me, but it was terribly strong and had too many arms upon me. Slowly, but surely, it began to reel me in. Teeth began to emerge from its skin, biting into my plate and piercing my mail, until I could feel them digging into my flesh. I pushed and battered to no avail. This thing is unreal! No human could be as strong as this thing! At that moment, despite my imminent death, I noticed that when I thought that, nothing clicked. Wait. Not human? Then, when I remembered the runes on my axe, it finally clicked. Aasimar. Child of Heaven.
In one last, desperate shove, I pushed my muscles far beyond what a woman of my size should have been able to. The creature’s many eyes widened as it was forced back, then shrieked in pain as I buried my fist into the closest one. It didn’t open again. Breathing hard, I swung my axe. It leaped back out of reach, but I didn’t care. I had cleared space for me to regain my composure. I reset my stance as it circled me, suddenly wary.
This time, I struck first. Three times my axe lashed out. The first two it dodged, the third caught it. It shrieked inhumanly loud and scurried back again. Its blood, instead of being red, was black. Without warning, it leaped at me again, throwing me to the ground. I rolled to take the impact out of it and knocked it off of me with a powerful kick. Standing up, I charged at it. It easily dodged my swing, shifting to the left just as I drove a powerful left hook into another eye. This time, black ichor coated my fist as the unblinking orb was shattered.
The creature struck back with its many arms and caught me high on my cheek, snapping my head back and tearing a long gash with one of the teeth still jutting out of its skin. I returned the favor by severing the offending appendage. Instead of pulling back as it had before, it dug in and continued its assault. Finally. My arsenal was suited to a knock down, drag out fight in close quarters. And this time, I know where it’s coming from.
Even then, the fight wasn’t easy. I fought with more ferocity and instinct than skill, my muscles remembering and my mind always one step behind. At last, I managed to push my shoulder squarely into its center and drive it through the ironbound door. It smashed against the sturdy wood and cold iron before smashing through it. I tumbled after it, losing my balance and rolling onto the floor. My breath came in gasps, and my face was covered in sweat. Blood poured from half a dozen wounds, some small, others more serious. I didn’t doubt that I was covered in more bruises than I cared to count. I started to close my eyes and succumb to unconsciousness.
Wake up! I groaned and, body protesting, forced myself onto my hands and knees. If you can get up and fight off a black blooded horror, you can damn get up and walk your ass out of here. I grit my teeth and came to my feet.
“Sarenrae, if you’re listening, give me the strength to get out of here!” My voice echoed off of the walls and down a hallway that stretched before me, bathed in darkness further than my eyes could penetrate. After a moment, I sighed. Nothing. I took a step and winced, bringing my hand to my side. When I pulled it back, I took another step and winced in anticipation, then stopped. The pain…it’s gone! I inspected my side and saw that underneath the crusted blood the puncture had healed. Further examination revealed several other healed or half healed injuries. Curious, I pressed my hand against a puncture on my arm and focused. This time when I pulled it away, nothing remained. No bruises, and the last cut on my arm knit itself as I watched.
I smiled. Goddess of Healing indeed! Unafraid, I hefted my axe over my shoulder and started down the hallway.
Aren http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/Titania_7018.jpg
Maxwell: http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs13/f/2007/066/8/5/gunslinger_colored_by_leinilyu.jpg
Brickson: http://cf.geekdo-images.com/images/pic2228918_md.jpg
Pence: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/060/e/9/Thief_by_Mospineq.jpg
Tabitha: http://jrfaulkner.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Elves-Wizard-female_colors.jpg
The Last Seal
Let me say now that my talents do not include storytelling, at least in the written sense. I’ve written field reports, but those make for a dry read at best. There are others, certainly, that would have been a better candidate. Brickson always had a flair for the dramatic. A story like this deserves as much. Unfortunately, I am the only one of us that was there from the beginning left alive. It’s been more than a century since our adventures, and my companions have sadly passed one by one. If I don’t write down what happened, the full account will die with me. Even now, I look and listen and see that no one seems to remember our triumphs, our failures, and our ultimate success in our greatest endeavor.
For those whose memories have failed them, or for the many youths born long after these events took place, know that of all the threats to our existence, none are greater than the Dark Tapestry. Many are the gods: Iomedae the Just, Gozreh the Savage and Serene, Erastil of the Hunt, and many others. All of them united would fall before the gods of the Dark Tapestry. Shub-Niggurath, Yog-Sothoth, Azatoth, even one of them would be capable of ending our existence. Rovagug, the God of Destruction and the progenitor of many nigh invulnerable monstrosities, is often attributed to being the weakest of their number. It took two of our most powerful deities, Asmodeus and my own goddess Sarenrae, to seal him away forever.
Seven Seals keep the Dark Tapestry out of our dimension. Seven Seals that they themselves cannot bypass. Only by great efforts on the part of their varied cults can their spawn be called into the world, spawn that I have hunted on many occasions. I have taken great pains to ensure that their ilk is eradicated, and that new cults that spring up like so many weeds are destroyed before they can take root. In the past, we were not so vigilant. As a result, six of the seven seals were destroyed.
And that, dear reader, is where I come in.
Chapter 1: Futile Grasping
Da-dum
One breath.
Da-dum
Two breaths.
Da-dum
Three breaths. After the third breath, I came out of the state of half-consciousness that precedes awareness and came fully awake. A quick look around told me that I was on a cold stone floor, laying on my side. I could feel the rough stone against my cheek, and I could feel something digging into my hip. I shifted onto my back and lay there for a couple seconds before a thought occurred to me.
Where the hell am I?
I bolted upright. As I did so, I bashed the back of my head on something hard. A more careful ascent caused me to yelp more girlishly than I’d intended. What I’d nearly brained myself on was a statue with a visage more horrifying than I’ve seen since. Carved of black rock and polished to a mirror shine, a monstrosity with many eyes and tentacles stared at me, one appendage in particular looking as if it was trying to reach out and grasp me. As I scurried back, the part of my brain not panicking noticed green shimmers playing out along its edges, giving it an eerie, unwholesome appearance that was almost alive.
Alright, stop panicking! You’ve faced uglier than this! I stopped and wracked my brain. Had I? After a second, I shook my head. Focus! Take a look around, take stock of the situation.
I regretted that decision as soon as I began. That statue was not alone. Its fellows stretched around the room, and others leered at her from the ceiling. No two were the same. All were twisted, grotesque, and terrifyingly detailed. I looked down, if only to avoid their gaze, and noticed first beautiful thing in that room. On the floor was an axe, with an ebon carved haft and two sinuous blades curving out from the head. It may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I scooped it up and fell into a stance that felt natural, putting shining steel and polished wood between me the horrors that ringed the room. My breathing steadied, and my heartbeat slowed. I finally felt a measure of control.
I doubt I’d ever enter a place like this without cause. I grasped at some clue in my memories as to what it was. The last thing I remembered, the last place I remembered being, the last person I talked to, anything that might give me some idea. Nothing occurred to me. I dug deeper. There has to be something, anything!
It slowly dawned on me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t remember the last place I’d been. I couldn’t remember a damn thing. I was grasping at memories that, for all intents and purposes, didn’t appear to exist. Birthday? Nope. Where I live? Nothing. Who my family is? The location you’re attempting to scry doesn’t appear to exist. My name? For a frightening moment I thought that I would be left without any identity to speak of. The statue in front of me appeared, despite lacking a discernible mouth, to be grinning maddeningly at me. I grit my teeth and, finally, grasped ahold of four letters. Aren. I exhaled softly. It was a start.
Emboldened by that scrap of identity, I looked down at myself to see if my identity had a more concrete nature. I was dressed for battle, with a breastplate, vambraces, and greaves. A short skirt of chainmail and matching sleeves covered what wasn’t guarded by plate. A warrior, then. That seemed to match the axe. More curious was my clothing. It consisted of alternating reds, oranges, and yellows, with a symbol in the style of a sunburst. An organization, perhaps? Nothing clicked. A deity? From that, I managed to grasp another name, more complete than mine. Sarenrae, the Dawnflower. I found a holy symbol in a similar fashion around my neck, confirming that particular guess. I thought for a second, then whispered a brief prayer. I waited a few seconds, then shrugged. I hadn’t been certain, but I’d had a feeling it didn’t work like that.
I briefly inspected the amulet beside it, then filed it away for later. Nothing clicked, so it apparently wasn’t integral to who I was. Finding nothing else, I held up my axe to get a look at my face. Brilliant green eyes stared back at me, with long red hair framing pretty feminine features. A brief dusting of freckles covered my nose. The texture of the floor remained imprinted in my left cheek. I must have been here for some time. Speaking of which, I thought, looking around, it’s high time I get out of here.
I walked towards the iron bound door at the other end of the room, axe in hand. I couldn’t help but looking back and forth as I did so, certain that something would try to stop me. I was fortunate in my paranoia. It was on the fourth sweep I noticed the statue I’d bashed my head on was no longer there.
Oh shi-! I instinctively lowered myself into a crouch and tightened my guard just as it crashed into me, jarring my arms to the shoulder. Its skin, once petrified, was now covered in a greenish slime that was at once slippery when I tried to force it back and sticky when its many arms grabbed at me around my axe haft. My armor absorbed most of the blows it rained down on me, but the few that it landed squarely knocked me back. Ah, crap.
I tried to shove it off of me, but it was terribly strong and had too many arms upon me. Slowly, but surely, it began to reel me in. Teeth began to emerge from its skin, biting into my plate and piercing my mail, until I could feel them digging into my flesh. I pushed and battered to no avail. This thing is unreal! No human could be as strong as this thing! At that moment, despite my imminent death, I noticed that when I thought that, nothing clicked. Wait. Not human? Then, when I remembered the runes on my axe, it finally clicked. Aasimar. Child of Heaven.
In one last, desperate shove, I pushed my muscles far beyond what a woman of my size should have been able to. The creature’s many eyes widened as it was forced back, then shrieked in pain as I buried my fist into the closest one. It didn’t open again. Breathing hard, I swung my axe. It leaped back out of reach, but I didn’t care. I had cleared space for me to regain my composure. I reset my stance as it circled me, suddenly wary.
This time, I struck first. Three times my axe lashed out. The first two it dodged, the third caught it. It shrieked inhumanly loud and scurried back again. Its blood, instead of being red, was black. Without warning, it leaped at me again, throwing me to the ground. I rolled to take the impact out of it and knocked it off of me with a powerful kick. Standing up, I charged at it. It easily dodged my swing, shifting to the left just as I drove a powerful left hook into another eye. This time, black ichor coated my fist as the unblinking orb was shattered.
The creature struck back with its many arms and caught me high on my cheek, snapping my head back and tearing a long gash with one of the teeth still jutting out of its skin. I returned the favor by severing the offending appendage. Instead of pulling back as it had before, it dug in and continued its assault. Finally. My arsenal was suited to a knock down, drag out fight in close quarters. And this time, I know where it’s coming from.
Even then, the fight wasn’t easy. I fought with more ferocity and instinct than skill, my muscles remembering and my mind always one step behind. At last, I managed to push my shoulder squarely into its center and drive it through the ironbound door. It smashed against the sturdy wood and cold iron before smashing through it. I tumbled after it, losing my balance and rolling onto the floor. My breath came in gasps, and my face was covered in sweat. Blood poured from half a dozen wounds, some small, others more serious. I didn’t doubt that I was covered in more bruises than I cared to count. I started to close my eyes and succumb to unconsciousness.
Wake up! I groaned and, body protesting, forced myself onto my hands and knees. If you can get up and fight off a black blooded horror, you can damn get up and walk your ass out of here. I grit my teeth and came to my feet.
“Sarenrae, if you’re listening, give me the strength to get out of here!” My voice echoed off of the walls and down a hallway that stretched before me, bathed in darkness further than my eyes could penetrate. After a moment, I sighed. Nothing. I took a step and winced, bringing my hand to my side. When I pulled it back, I took another step and winced in anticipation, then stopped. The pain…it’s gone! I inspected my side and saw that underneath the crusted blood the puncture had healed. Further examination revealed several other healed or half healed injuries. Curious, I pressed my hand against a puncture on my arm and focused. This time when I pulled it away, nothing remained. No bruises, and the last cut on my arm knit itself as I watched.
I smiled. Goddess of Healing indeed! Unafraid, I hefted my axe over my shoulder and started down the hallway.