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Topics - derekjones

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1
Out of Game Posts / Camp Peairs Map!
« on: May 16, 2018, 09:39:03 am »
Maps for Camp Peairs.

2
Out of Game Posts / Smileys
« on: April 12, 2018, 03:09:46 pm »
 :o

I finally noticed that the Smileys were broken and fixed them.

3
Event Teasers! / Season 4 Event 3
« on: April 11, 2018, 08:59:21 am »
"They have abandoned you." Snarl's Jarneth. The Arcane Goblin flashes his wickedly crooked teeth  at the pale young woman riding astride the Nightmare at his side. "You promised them aid, and when they saw what you truly are they turned on you as quick as can be!" Jarneth laughs. "I told you that they have no scruples." The goblin childes. "The may be corrupted, and they may not have scruples, but they sure do cling to that bit about necromancy!" Jarneth begins laughing so hard that he nearly falls from his own mount.

Lady Validoris looks at the Arcane Goblin with disgust. "They are fools, still naive about the ways of the world after a myriad of years. They lack the conviction to use all of the tools provided to them in order to save their own black skins!" The pale lady gives a sly look to the arcane goblin.

"They were not fool enough to believe that you would truly help them bring Felistrahn back to the valley." Jarneth points out. "Personally, I think it was the scepter." The arcane goblin points a wart covered finger to the golden glowing scepter attached to Lady Validoris' waist. "What fool would allow you to get close to their draconic master while you have that thing?"

Lady Validoris smirks "I did tell you about that adventurer, didn't I?"

Jarneth scoffs. "Adventurers are another matter entirely! Adventurers are so short sighted, always grasping for brief moments of power without ever considering the long term consequences. Adventurers, bah!" Jarneth spits a black wad of mucus upon the ground.

Lady Validoris stiffens and forces her gaze away from the stomach turning display. "Yes, yes Your Majesty. However, they do make fine tools and are great fun to manipulate. I pity the Fae that can resist playing with the food before tasting the sweetness of their essence. The richness of their strong spirits sends such delightful tingles through my body. To think that you have had all of the Terran Valley as your playground, and all you chose to do was sulk in your forest. Why, it's a wonder that you've survived for as long as you have. In my day, the Folk would have gone mad with hunger and had you up on a silver pike." Lady Validoris' words fade away at that last thought before she turns to the arcane goblin and asks. "How have the Folk of the Wood been surviving all these years without the mortals for food?"

"We've been busy." Jarneth growls, putting off the question.

Lady Validoris regards the goblin thoughtfully and then seems to dismiss the matter for now before returning to her riding position. "Of course, how could I have not seen it. The great civilization built by the mighty Goblin King Jarneth Dawnbreaker!" The pale lady mocks in a cracking high pitched voice.

"Look, you hag!" Bursts out Jarneth. "Chydrontyss tortured my people for millennia! Great favors were traded and bargains made before the Dragon Slayer was successful in bringing her down! It's taken this long just to get back to where we are now! It won't be long before I have her child under heel where I can listen to her screams of agony as I drain her of her essence slowly." The Arcane Goblin cackles to himself.

Lady Validoris rolls her eyes at the goblin king. "That child is well protected. She is beyond your reach for now. You would do well to keep your focus on the here and now, Your Majesty. First, the Dream will entrap those that tap the Ley magic, putting them under our power. We then secure the Moth'Hadar home and add their strength to our own. Using the power of the Wild we will regrow the Great Forest, destroy those cursed Dragons, bring your vengeance to the Elements, and use the accumulated strength to reopen the locked paths to the lands of Arcadia. We will return home triumphant!" The pale lady's voice nears a high pitched screech as she screams the last words.

Jarneth sits back in his saddle, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Yes, My Lady. We shall all have what we desire. The time has come for the Aos Sí to have its vengeance!" King Jarneth Dawnbreaker shouts the words into the skies. Lightning dances across the clouds, highlighting the broad wings of the legion of Drakes flying above. The columns of Trolls, Giants, Draconnis, Beasts, and the various Fae Folk of legend march, organized into the mightiest army ever assembled within the Terran Valley. A mighty rallying cry rolls through the army as it marches to the outskirts of the Southwood.

4
Out of Game Posts / Season 4 Event 2 Food Menu
« on: March 29, 2018, 11:18:44 am »
Help us save time and keep your money safe by trading your cash for a meal card!
Meal cards can carry up to a $10 balance and are an easy way to purchase food and drink.
Trade back your meal card for the balance at the end of the event!

*Not responsible for lost or stolen meal cards. Please keep them safe and secure.

Ala Carte
Hot Dog - $.50
Pizza Pocket - $1.00
Soda Pop - $.50
Bottle Water - $.25
Tap Water - free
Fruit Punch - free

Breakfast
Pancakes and sausage - $1.50
Pancakes only - $1.00

Lunch
Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup - $2.50
Grilled Cheese - $1.00
Soup - $1.50

Dinner
Spaghetti with meat sauce/garlic bread - $3.00
Spaghetti only - $2.00


5
Event Teasers! / Season 4 Event 2
« on: March 27, 2018, 02:00:17 pm »
Far below the surface of the Terran Valley flows a foul river that has existed for what seems like an eternity. The flowing liquid has bored holes through stone and worn away subterranean mountains over eons. Black stalactites drip oozing muck from vaulted ceilings into the slow, grinding waters below.

From one of the old tunnels that open into a wider void, granting easy access to the underground river, climbs a dark figure possessing black and wart riddled skin stretched over spindly limbs. The lack of light poses no challenge to the narrow red glowing eyes of the creature as it nimbly navigates the rocky terrain and approaches the gooey river below.

The creature carefully dismounts the wooden barrel from the back harness that secures the container onto the creature's back. The dark creature mutters to itself as it lowers the edge of the barrel into the black murk of the river. The river itself begins to bubble and boil, releasing cries of anguish and moans of suffering into the small cavern. Slowly, the black liquid flows willingly into the barrel until the container is full of the foul juice.

Satisfied, the creature hefts the wooden barrel back into the harness and begins its climb back into the tunnels.

6
Out of Game Posts / Season 4 Event 2 Eggs!
« on: March 22, 2018, 02:42:21 pm »
This event takes place over Easter AND Aprils Fool's Day!

Once again reports of strange eggs that are hidden in the woods are being reported from around Varos!

If you find an egg, you can open it, or not. If the egg opens in your possession, whatever is inside can affect you! Please do not touch the eggs if you are not willing to accept the good, or bad, that happens.

Pages are not allowed to open the eggs.

There are buyers in the area looking to purchased these magical eggs.

7
Event Teasers! / Season 4 Event 1
« on: March 13, 2018, 10:07:54 pm »
The territory of New Haven is a massive sprawl of quickly built structures and erratic streets set against the western base of Mount Thane. The stinking hovels of the poor, and the outcast are only separated from the holdings of the wealthy by thin opaque walls of hide stretched over a wooden frame. Those well off enough to build a new home, but not so well off to be able to afford land far away from the dregs of society have designed their dwellings so that no window overlooks the eastern portions of the city, otherwise known as 'The Slaughterhouse'. Strong perfumes are used on drapery to mask the scent of foulness and disease that occasionally wafts through the air.

The western portion of New Haven splits between the heavily militarized district in the northwest, and the heart of wealth and politics within New Haven in the southwest.

Today, the Royal Court of the Kingdom of the Terran Valley is in session. This is a time when the Lords and Ladies of the various noble houses come together and discuss matters of state and policy. Recommendations from this gathering are transcribed and sent to King Lanothyr for his consideration. Should His Majesty find any of the recommendations worth while, he declares the recommendation to be new law or policy. While it is not required for the king to attend the session of the Royal Court, today's court session is made noteworthy by the presence of His Majesty.

The topic at hand that most interests King Lanothyr pertains to the land beyond Mount Thane, the Terran Valley. After the due recognition of the presence of the king, and after several shameless displays of groveling before His Majesty, the session begins with a report from Sir Reginald Thornwell regarding the state of Fort Lightbranch (apparently, the fort is being expertly run by Baroness Murakami). This is followed by a question and answer session from the Royal Court, and the king.

Sir Thornwell continues to restate that Fort Lightbranch is operating efficiently, but requires additional resources in order to address the problems caused by the adventurers living within the town of Varos. Many of the Lords and Ladies of the Royal Court seem to sympathize with the elder knight, and personally pledge to do everything that they can to make sure Fort Lightbranch has all that it needs. King Lanothyr appears bored and spends most of his time absently scratching his long claws upon the marble floor of his royal dais.

After Sir Thornwell concludes his report, the Royal Court issues a call to Captain Stephen Thatcher of the Varos Legion to stand before the court and present his report. The captain (looking much less courtly than Sir Thornwell) presents his report on the activities of the past year, and the progress that has been made reclaiming the Terran Valley for the kingdom. Captain Thatcher boldly states that both Prince Tyrenthiel Tel'Qadir, and the Guardian of the Mausoleum have been recovered from the planar prison of the Silver Dragon. That the magical forces in the Terran Valley are progressively being repaired by the adventurers. And that the awakening of the land has begun to recall lost clans and tribes of those that fled the valley.

When Captain Thatcher finishes his report the Royal Court prepares for the questioning. First come the accusations that the Varos Legion is incapable of holding the adventurers accountable for the acts of necromancy that have been widely reported in the area of Varos. More accusations follow that the area has become a hot bed for elemental activities that threaten the safety of the kingdom citizens that seek to reclaim their ancestral homes. Finally, several Lords of the Royal Court stand to accuse the Varos adventurers of damaging the fabric of Time within the Terran Valley. The Lords reveal to the court their own reports that the lands east of the Dragon's Blood river have succumbed to the ravages of the erratic adventurers and have fallen to an unknown foe of significant power. Captain Thatcher steadfastly refutes the claims of the incompetence of the Varos Legion. As for the claims of the damage done to the Terran Valley by the adventurers of Varos, he remains silent.

Later that evening, well after the session of the Royal Court has adjourned, Captain Thatcher is summoned to the chambers of King Lanothyr to discuss an ongoing situation in the Terran Valley.

Captain Thatcher's arrival is announced by a steward before the old soldier enters the richly adorned chamber. His Royal Highness lies stretched out upon a massive collection of silken pillows stuffed with goose down. Faceless clay golems attend the king by delivering goblets of wine and large hunks of smoked meats.

"Come in, Captain Thatcher." Rumbles the deep voice of the king. The captain walks deeper into the chamber and kneels in deference to his liege.

King Lanothyr turns his head to regard the captain of the Varos Legion. "Quite the display today in the court, eh?" Questions the king.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty. I have failed in the duty that you have charged me with. My failures are reflecting poorly upon you with the Royal Court." Says the soldier.

The king rips a large hunk of meat from the smoked leg of a steer. The hot grease sizzles and pops as the king bites into the beef and swallows it whole. The king's massive head arches backwards as he savors the taste of his meal. "Captain, I did not summon you in order for you to suffer more rudeness and berating. I have more on my mind at the moment. Rest assured, Captain, that I do not find the fault of the adventurers to be your own."

The king moves a massive claw and pulls himself in a position to better look at Captain Thatcher. "Stephen, Lord Greycloak has had a force in place inside the valley for weeks now. The force is made up of members of his household and are operating there at my request." The king pauses for a brief moment.

"Your Majesty, if you had need of a force within the Terran Valley my men and I are at your disposal..." Captain Thatcher states.

The king interrupts "No, I need you and the Legion to control access to Varos from Kjeldor and to stand fast against the Shadows of the East. What I need most from you right now is to enact the adventurers to find Lord Greycloak's men. My people at Fort Lightbranch have discovered that Greycloak's force encountered an Orc clan and were in negotiations with the clan to secure peace and cooperation. Sympathetic clan members have been contacting my scouts with their leaders concerns about the missing negotiators." The king breaths deeply. "My scouts tell me that it would be best if any people we send in order to look for the missing negotiators are not directly tied to the kingdom. Therefore, the adventurers must be entrusted with this task."

Captain Thatcher raises his head as he listens to the king's tale. When his liege is finished explaining the new task that he must undertake, the soldier nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will engage the adventurers to find Lord Greycloak's force and secure the treaty with the Orc Clan."

King Lanothyr stretches out his serpentine neck to look closer at the soldier. "Now, let us discuss a more personal problem of yours."

8
Event Teasers! / November 2017 Plot Release
« on: November 06, 2017, 08:42:57 pm »
The day is long and your mind is weary as you find a quiet place to relax for a few moments. You blink your eyes and find yourself viewing a vast desert of red sand. The vision of a far away land imposes itself in your mind. Movement from a sand traveler catches your attention.

In the chill early morning night air of the Red Desert, a small male Sarr of Isharan (Lynx) origin pulls his woolen cloak even tighter to keep out the breeze. He tugs at the lead of his pony as they traverse the dull red dunes of eastern ancestral home of his people. His large feline eyes can easily see the marking sticking out of the sands ahead of him. The top fifteen feet of the sand worn obelisk stood stark against the deep red of the desert sand. The marker had once been adorned with bright painted colors and symbols of power. Only faint discolorations even hint at the previous importance of the marker, the power of those symbols have long since faded along with the paint.

Once the Isharan reaches the marker he tugs on his pony's lead to stop the beast from advancing further. The Isharan then removes the keffiyeh from his face and spits upon the ground as he reaches into the bundle of supplies that the pony is carrying. The Isharan pulls a leather water skin from its cool storage place beneath the blankets that cover his supplies. Refreshing water dribbles down his chin as he takes smooth pulls from the leather skin.

Nearby, a dust devil swirls and dances as it kicks up free desert flora. The Isharan does not notice the disturbance of a small dune several yards behind him. The brown pony whinnies nervously and pulls at the lead in the Isharan's hand when it notices the sand of the small dune growing into the shape of a scantily clad woman.

The Isharan lowers his water skin and turns toward the disturbance behind him. The woman's skin is well tanned and still slightly covered in patches of the desert sand that refuses to fall away.

"Greetings, Lady Adira." Says the Isharan as he performs a deep bow.

The pony, now sensing real danger, pulls hard at the lead of its halter. The Isharan turns back to the pony and attempts to soothe the animal using assuring sounds and gentle touching.

"His Highness is eager to have your report, Isharan. Were you able to actually be useful for once?" Replies Lady Adira. Disdain for the Isharan can be clearly heard in her tone.


"Yes, My Lady. I have traveled to the West and performed as His Highness has bid. I have answers to his questions and more!" Beams the Isharan.

"Well then, speak Isharan. Prove to me your value, and if I find you satisfying I may bless you with the presence of His Highness." Says Lady Adira.

"My Lady, I have found that there is almost no presence of His Highness' grand works of magic. I have used the diving magic that you have instructed me on and have found few places of power that even resonate the smallest bit of His Highness' power. I have rendered a map of the locations where I had some success. The most powerful of the locations is near a town of adventurers, called Varos.

The land, My Lady, has undergone a recent struggle bearing the hallmarks of a temporal shifting. It was during these shifts that I was able to detect the strongest remnants of His Highness' power. I made haste to investigate the shifts in time. As you know, My Lady, such shifts can be temporary and I feared that I might lose the opportunity to discover more about what has transpired here.

His Highness should know that the enemy is still present in land. They have been vastly depleted in power and number, but they still persist here nonetheless. In fact, several of them have taken on students in order to preserve their knowledge, though I have only heard of a few instances where the student is properly trained and prepared for His Highness' return.

So far, I have only uncovered four practitioners of the old ways. They are poorly trained and now lack a master to properly instruct them. They will certainly only pose a minor inconvenience for His Highness." The Isharan proclaims.

Lady Adria regards the Isharan carefully. "What are the names of the practitioners?"

"My Lady, I hesitate to speak their names out loud. They are powerful beings in these lands..." Whines the Isharan.

"Your fear is misplaced if you refuse my question." Admonishes Lady Adira.

"My Lady, the names are Selesthiel Sith Vernaril, Erren D'Tangiers, Beloc Kas'Duum, and Talmoc Umaris. The master is the enemy named Felistrahn, but that one is lost and beyond my ability to divine a location." The Isharan lowers his head at his failure to find the last master of the practitioners before continuing.

The forests of the Moth'Hadar and the Siol Lear that His Highness has requested that I research were lost during His Highness' last communication in the Terran Valley. The Moth'Hadar were driven mad and corrupted by Selesthiel, but not before they were able to aid the Dark Folk in destroying the Siol Lear and cursing their beloved Gaia and Selene.  The Moth'Hadar became known as the Selesthiel forest in honor of the 'Hero', Selesthiel and the Siol Lear is now known as the Old Southwood. Presumably because the people that had claimed to remove the original curse had failed to do so and wanted to hide that fact by removing all ties to the Siol Lear. Both of the forests were affected by the recent temporal flux which bridged the time between the fall of the forests and the forests as they are known today. The people of the Terran Valley are confused and easily manipulated regarding the forests and His Highness' last communication. It seems as if the last communication from His Highness is misinterpreted as some sort of war for spirits. His Highness will be very pleased, yes?" Asks the Isharan.

"His Highness will, no doubt, be pleased to learn that the adventurers of Varos have essentially ignored the plight of Azmodeus and of the graveyards that he protects. I have already put into place a replacement for the Lord of Death in the case that His Highness decides to put an end to the meddling of Erren D'Tangiers.

I have been unable to discover what happened to The Spell, though my resources have been talking about there being a replacement.  I have not been able to confirm any kind of replacement for The Spell even though I have confirmed that someone has claimed ownership of the Tower of Storms. I would like to reassure His Highness that just because someone has claimed the Tower of Storms it does not mean that they are prepared to assume the role of The Spell." Says the Isharan.

"Yes, you idiot. His Highness is very aware of that. Is that all?" Asks Lady Adira.

"No, My Lady. You see, some of the corrupted Moth'Hadarians have returned from exile and have been in an ongoing conflict with the people of the Terren Valley for several decades now. The Valley has also recently been invaded by a very young Dark Folk that has taken an interest in the Siol Lear. A few of the adventurers in the town of Varos have decided to try their hand at Mantles of Power. This has drawn the ire of the planar beings, as you can imagine.

His Highness, and the others have largely gone unnoticed." Says the Isharan.

Lady Adira suddenly cocks her head to the side as if straining to listen to a faint sound in a vast sandstorm. "Shush!" She commands. The Isharan falls silent immediately.

Slowly the sands of the Red Desert change colors from the blood red that gives the desert its name to a ghoulish glowing green color. In seconds, both the Isharan and the sand sorceress are surrounded by miles of the glowing sand.

The sand sorceress slowly turns her face in your direction. She blinks slowly and when her eyes open, they glow with a sickly yellow hue. "Issh attak wit zeran!" whispers Lady Adira. Suddenly your vision turns dark.

It takes you several hours to wash the gritty green sand from your eyes. The color of the sand is almost as disturbing as how it ended up clouding your sight. As you wipe away the glowing grit, your thoughts keep returning to the scene that you have witnessed.

9
Out of Game Posts / Season 3 Event 6 Site Information
« on: October 25, 2017, 08:53:47 am »
FACILITIES
Main Lodge was built in 1941 and was renovated in 2007. It is used to host program events throughout the year. Main has a flush toilet, fireplace, full kitchen, electric, heat and a parking area. Picnic tables, a deck and a fire circle are available outdoors. Two levels comprise Main. The loft sleeps 25 on mattresses and the main level is used for activities. Tables and chairs are available for dining and activities.

Locust Lodge is available for troop camping and offers bunkhouse style camping. Renovated in 2007, the lodge accommodates 20 people sleeping on bunk beds. A full kitchen, indoor flush toilets, one shower, heat and electricity are available. Users will also find an outdoor fireplace and seating area.

Evergreen Lodge is used as the dining hall during summer camp and is available for groups from April 15th to October 15th. The facility will hold 25 people for sleeping on mattresses. Tables and chairs are available for dining. The lodge has electricity, heat and a seasonal showerhouse is located next door with indoor flush toilets and showers. Commercial kitchen facilities are located within Evergreen but the use of these facilities requires a certified food supervisor. Outside the front door you’ll find a large covered pavilion for activities.

PARKING
You may drive one car only to your building/unit to unload and then immediately move your car back to the parking area. Please stay on roadway. DO NOT drive on grassy or wood chipped areas.

CAMP FIRES
DO NOT leave a fire unattended at any time. All children must be supervised while fire is being used. Firewood carried or brought in is PROHIBITED due to the Emerald Ash Borer and our proximity to the Forest Preserve. Firewood is stocked in each unit and in the lodge. Please come prepared with fire starting supplies. Camp fires must be contained within fire circles and fireplaces. Ensure all fire embers are put out.

219 S Lake of the Woods Rd, Mahomet, IL 61853

10
Lich - The Lich is a necromancer that has finally succumbed to the force that they sought to master in life. The Lich is considered the master of undead, and is known for using their significant powers continue their plans from before their demise, even if it means killing the misguided living in the process . Rotted Figure, spell runes on skin, glowing green eyes. Possible glowing crown.

Mummy - Revered in life, this person was ritually prepared to return from death to continue to lead their followers. Wrapped figure in tattered shroud/bandages, Ancient Symbol on necklace/chest, Yellow glowing eyes.

Vampire - Hunter of the living the vampire is a leech that seeks out the life force within the blood. Pale race, pointed teeth. Possibly no hair, possibly red (not glowing) eyes. Modern take on vampire, or Nosferatu possible.

Death Knight - A failed former knight, often disgraced and called oath breakers. The Death Knight has return to a cursed and pained existence. Armored figure, tattered and broken. Red glowing eyes. Possible tattered standard, glowing sword/weaponry. Possible accompanying undead mount.

Grave Lord - The most powerful zombie in the grave yard, the Grave Lord marshals his zombie horde to spread the curse of undeath. Filthy rotted corpse like figure with spell like runes on skin. Possible glowing crown on head. Glowing red eyes.

Spectre - Killed in the midst of a violent act of passion, the Spectre returns with a hatred from their past and takes out their fury upon the living. Wispy, possibly glowing figure, light green as a color. Red glowing eyes. Anger lines. Signs of a violent death.

Cursed Child of the Moon - A once noble were-creature that fell while battling the cursed creatures of the Southwood, the beast is now itself cursed to devour the spirits of the living. Appearance should be of a type of were-creature approved by plot. The beast should be bloody and show oozing wounds that do not heal. The beast will also possess red glowing eyes. Possible broken restraints.

Ghost - The victim of a violent and unexpected end, the Ghost returns to pursue an unfinished task. Believing that the living are unwilling to help end the anguish of undeath, the Ghost seeks to make the living suffer as it does. Wispy, possibly glowing figure, white as a color. No glowing eyes. Signs of a sudden death.

Ghast - The Ghast is the returned form of the lost souls of the swamps and marshes of the valley. Suffering from an insatiable hunger, and possessing the rank rot of the watery grave, the Ghast seeks warm life essence to sate its hunger. Pale rotted skin with mold and fungus patches. Pus and oozing wounds.

Ghoul - Much like the Ghast, the Ghoul is the returned bodies of the lost explorers of the Avalon's Crown mountains. The Ghoul has suffered a painful end by hunger and that feeling continues to affect them beyond death. Pale and rotted skin looking hungry with recent meals on clothes and face.

Skeleton Lord - Once a great warrior king, the Skeleton Lord now walks Tyrra seeking to rebuild the lost glory of their past. They are haunted by memories of their lost glory and will not stop seeking to bring the living into their domain. Skeletal makeup with spell like runes on bones and yellow glowing eyes.

Wight - Once a renown member of a powerful family, or noble house, the Wight was charged with protecting the barrows of their ancient kin. These Wights have failed in their charge and have been cursed to walk Tyrra in shame and pain until they take enough lives to redeem their families. Pale skin with battle wounds. Clothing bears the symbol of family or house. Broken chains may be added.

Wraith - Wraiths are the remains of evil deeds done in back alleys and dark cellars. The Wraith has been prevented from moving on from their cursed death until they have created enough wraiths to satisfy the Lords of Chaos. Wispy black figure with red glowing eyes, white anger lines. Possible large black cloak.

Corrupted Treant - Once a proud defender of the forest, the Corrupted Treant has succumbed to the madness against the living civilizations of Tyrra and has bargained their spirit to the magic of the Wild for additional power in order to remove those civilizations. Leaves and branches, black flowers and black bark like makeup. Possibly oozing red sap.

Macabre - The creation of a disturbed mind, the Macabre is the amalgamation of several body parts from the left overs of the executed villains of society. The free minded Macabre has killed their creator and found that murder of the innocent is far more satisfying. A mixture of body parts and visible suture lines and scars. Possibly oozing goo from stitches.

Harlequin - The Harlequin was a performer in life that already possessed the odd bent toward the grotesque and horrifying. The Harlequin often shocked and drove their audiences to riots before being forced to leaving the area. Eventually, the timing is off and the Harlequin met its end in a violent way. Possibly burned, hanged, or beaten by mob justice. Bright clothes of a performer and tools of their previous trade.

Revenant - Once an innocent member of society that has been continuously berated and bullied to the point that their death was caused by the actions of a psychotic society. The Revenant has returned from the grave to enact vengeance on the living for the wrongs perpetrated on them at their death. A pale skinned avenging spirit taken form. They have anger lines and possibly names or markings on them to track their vengeance kills.

Banshee - The Banshee is an elven maiden that has suffered immeasurable loss and anguish. Lost in the depth of a staggering depression, the Banshee has taken their own life and has returned to bring the living with them to join their suffering. A wispy female elven spirit with light blue or white as their color. They have black sunken eyes that make them look like they are forever mourning a severe loss. Black lips and possibly a glowing mouth.

11
Out of Game Posts / Halloween Event 2017
« on: October 19, 2017, 12:17:13 pm »
This event will be held at Camp Kiwanis, in Mahomet Illinois

219 S Lake of the Woods Rd, Mahomet, IL 61853

Special Rules

Event Teasers


12
Event Teasers! / Season 3 Event 6
« on: October 17, 2017, 07:40:52 pm »
Near the town of Varos, there exists an ancient relic from the past. It is a massive structure, mostly underground, etched with arcane runes of warding, death, and chaos. It is known to many as The Mausoleum, for the only part of the structure visible from above ground resembles a rather large family crypt.

Since the return of the adventurers to the Terran Valley, a guard has been posted at the doors of The Mausoleum. This guardian is not one of the Varos Legion, nor is she one of the King's Golden Dragoons, this Knight is from The Mausoleum itself. Her armor is blackened and torn, rent in battles long forgotten. Her tabard is too faded and worn to determine her lineage. Her blade is jagged and massive, black blood clings like tar and seems to ooze from the dark metal itself. She stands in silent vigil in front of the warded doors of The Mausoleum.

As the hour passes Midnight, a golden glow surrounds both the Knight and The Mausoleum. The glow fades into tiny specs of magic that slowly dissipate into the brisk night air.

Since the new Master claimed the throne, a guard has been posted at the doors of The Mausoleum. This guardian is not one of the Hartsbury Vanguard, nor is he one of the King's Black Talons, this Knight is from The Mausoleum itself. His armor is blackened and torn, rent in battles long forgotten. His tabard is too faded and worn to determine his lineage. His shield is coated in the old blood of fallen foes, black tendrils cling like tar oozing from the dark metal itself. He stands in silent vigil barring access to the warded doors of The Mausoleum.

The sealed doors of The Mausoleum break ajar and open slowly, allowing the twisted form of the Master of The Mausoleum to pass. The Master's body is wrapped in tightly bound rags, yellow and green stains of putrescence betray the rotting flesh underneath. A black death shroud covers most of the bony protrusions from the shoulders and the ribs. The Master moves to stand next to the vigilant Knight, the chill air of death and fear that surrounds the Master at all times does not affect the Death Knight. The Knight barely seems to acknowledge the Arch Lich at all.

The Master raises his head, putrefying flesh and all, at the sound of a horse approaching from the night darkened road. The rider and steed are quite dead; large wounds in their sides allow various organs to hang limply and jostle about as the horse gallops towards The Mausoleum. As the rider approaches closer to the Master, she brings her steed to a stop and salutes both the guardian and the Master. The Arch Lich waves to the undead rider and bids her closer so that she can clearly hear his instructions.

"Inform D'Tangier that I have secured The Mausoleum as planned. We will meet where The Green was slain to discuss how we should react to the revolt started by Selesthiel. I will need D'Tangier to convince the Siol Lear to accept my assistance in their war. The Siol Lear will not stand my presence for long I'm afraid. It is important that we meet to discuss more pressing matters as well." The Master calls out to the undead rider. "Tell him that I have finished the ritual, the adventurers have been empowered as well as I can manage."

The rider nods her head and replies "Yes, Master Talmoc." She then pulls hard on the old leather reins. The horse bellows a gurgled neigh and turns abruptly to speed off into the darkness of the night road.

The Master turns to the guardian and regards him with a single glowing green eye. "No visitors for now, I have to sort out their spirit bottles." The Master chuckles with a grating laugh and chokes a bit on the harshness of the sound. He was still not sure that the sacrifice was worth it.

13
Event Teasers! / Season 3 Event 5
« on: September 15, 2017, 10:14:13 am »
A sudden silence falls across the rotting forest as River That Flows True steps onto the corrupted ground of the Southwood.

Centuries have passed since his grandfather fled these very woods. A slight tremble is felt under River's foot, the Earth beneath him stirs and ancient memories return to the corrupted horrors buried deep within the soil.

River reaches into his pack and withdraws a handful of purified salt. Carefully, he sprinkles the salt in front of him in a wide arc while beginning to chant a song tough to him by his grandfather. The soil before him recoils from the harsh touch of the salt and an ill breeze sweeps across the ritual, attempting to disperse the salt and disrupt the proceedings.

Ignoring the attempted distractions of the land before him, River once again reaches into his pack and withdraws a handful of herbs; fresh clover and moss still wet with this mornings dew. River tosses the mixture to the ground and raises the tempo of his song.

He has their attention now; dozens of eyes, each burning red from madness and hatred appear in darkness of the black forest.

For the third time, River reaches into his pack. This time he withdraws a bundle of sage wrapped carefully in thin, twisting vines. River waves a hand over the bundle and a brief spark ignites the sage causing it to smoulder and smoke.

The cursed creatures of the Southwood howl and gibber in rage, they pound and claw at the foul earth beneath them. The wind gusts from beyond the forest, towards River, carrying a foul miasma to choke the cleansing smoke of the burning sage.

The monsters cannot hold back their rage any longer now. First one, then another, and then a dozen mangy and muscled forms burst from a wall of thorny vines. Werewolves with twisted forms and slobbering maws of razor sharp teeth rush at the lone Barbarian as he changes his song into a deep and haunting dirge that speaks of honor, sadness, and death.

In the few seconds available to him before being mauled to death, River transforms. Thick, bristling fur erupts from his body as thousands of pounds of muscle is layered onto his thickening frame. River's ancestors had blessed his family by joining their lineage with that of their spirit totem, the Great Bear.

_________________________________________________________________________

"Yes, my Lord, I said that he has completed five of the thirteen tasks required to claim the Throne of the Innocent." said the Arch Wizard.

The man seated across the table from the standing Arch Wizard absentmindedly stroked his chin, deep in thought. Sparse light from the five glittering gemstones inset into his forehead danced across the table top before him. Silently, acts of history, myth, and lore played out in detail on the table as the light from the gems swirled and twisted to give life to the characters like a miniature play.

A miniature black robbed figure, much like his master, dashed about and battled other cloaked wizards, then the figure played out searching the deepest tunnels of ancient Tyrra. The image of the wizard then enacted battling dragon after dragon, collecting power as it went. At last, the image played out the final betrayal; the dagger in the back that ended the wizard's reign of terror.

After a bit of watching the scenes play through, leaving the Arch Wizard in an uncomfortable silence, the seated Lord spoke.

"Fetch the scribe, Reginold, we will require the assistance of some adventurers to fetch some captive Lords for us. Beloc is already far too dangerous to allow him to continue his plans."

"Yes, My Lord." replied Arch Wizard Reginold as he turned and left the room.

14
Event Teasers! / Season 3 Event 4
« on: August 16, 2017, 04:27:10 pm »
A hooded dark figure approaches Varos from the Eastern road. The guards of the Varos Legion barely register the appearance of the new arrival, the eccentricities of the adventurers are well known. Still, the dark figure carefully makes its way through the town and towards The Leaky Goblet.

The figure carefully makes its way around the outside of the tavern, to the rear of the building where it can perform its work undisturbed. From the folds of the cloak wrapped around him, Lorasup pulls a handful of tarnished jewelry and places it upon the ground. Next he opens a pouch at his hip and reaches into it, filling his fist with a fine powder of ground bone.

A passing guard can just barely make out thickly accented chanting coming from the poorly lit area behind the tavern. The guard's throat struggles to swallow the bile that suddenly leaps up from his stomach as he places his watch whistle between his lips and moves into the growing darkness to investigate.

A Gadabari, darkly dressed with black, empty eye sockets softly chants into the darkness while gesturing to a pile of gaudy old rings and necklaces. As the Gadabari's hands pass over the jewelry, wisps of glowing ethereal smoke drift over the pile. The guard's eyes go wide at the sight, this should not be happening! The Wizard's Guild prevents any unauthorized rituals from being performed, and here is this Gadabari performing a secret ritual hidden behind the tavern.

The guard inhales a deep breath and prepares to blow his watch whistle when Lorasup suddenly finishes his ritual. With frightening speed Lorasup flings his hand out at the guard and speaks the incantation for a silencing spell. Lorasup has no doubt that his first spell will be useless against the protections of a Varos Legion guard. Just as quickly as the first spell has left his hand, Lorasup launches another spell and yet another after that. Each spell creates a flash of light as the magical energy encounters the spell protections meant to keep the guard alive.

The fight is over sooner than Lorasup expects, the guard is unable to summon help before succumbing to Lorasup's magic. Lorasup's breath comes in wheezes and gasps as a result of the burst of energy he has just expended. The Gadabari chides himself silently for taking more than single breath. He no longer requires breath to live, but only to speak the incantations for magic. A soft light from behind him causes Lorasup to turn back towards the ritual area. He quickly reminds himself of his purpose for coming back to this place.

Floating not six feet away from Lorasup is the translucent ghost of his deceased wife. The diminutive ghost floats within the circle of binding that Lorasup has created, her eyes are alight with defiance and fury, but she makes no sounds, she cannot.

Lorasup smiles, showing his crooked broken teeth. He quickly reaches into another pouch at his side and retrieves the parchment stowed there. Carefully, and meticulously he reads the incantation written on the parchment. The ghost standing trapped before Lorasup begins to shake and scream silently in her own private hell.   
 

15
Event Teasers! / Season 3 Event 3
« on: May 09, 2017, 10:52:26 am »
Hariko knelt in the thick brush allowing the foliage to disguise her form. If the undead detected her living essence, they did not reveal it. The disgusting monstrosities shambled back and forth as they had for the past several hours since Hariko took up this position to monitor the academy grounds.

The old academy had long since fallen to ruins, even the powerful enchantments on the buildings and fences surrounding the facility had faded decades ago. But still, the upper windows emitted a mysterious purple light that pulsed like that of a heartbeat.

The shambling corpses began to move more frantically, clearly excited about something. It took Hariko only a moment to see what the undead were worked up over. From the old entrance road that lead to the broken front gate of the academy, several larger figures were leading a line of smaller figures into the compound.

The larger figures were badly misshapen, hardly humanoid in appearance, but Hariko had spent long years in the Hatari underground and she recognized Yuan-ti when she saw them. The creatures were part snake, part man, very intelligent, and tremendously dangerous. The Yuan-ti rarely ever left their underground empire, this made Hariko very concerned and thoughtful.

The smaller figures were lined up in order and force marched into the grounds of the academy. Hariko studied the small frames and the lurching gate. From this distance she could not hear the rattling of chains, but she knew it was there. The small figures had been chained together at the waist and the feet and then forced to walk however far it was that they'd come to be here. Hariko then had to stifle an almost audible gasp as she realized why the figures were so small. They were children!

Hariko watched in silent horror as the children were marched past the open grounds and made to stand in line in front of the main building. The undead were frantic now, their broken and yellow teeth clacked in an echoing cadence across the compound. Still, the walking corpses did not advance on the Yuan-ti or the children.

The large iron doors of the main building creaked open, allowing a large armored man to step through. The plate mail was decorated with the runes and markings of a kingdom long dead. The eye slits of its helm contained the burning embers of hatred and evil that made up the creature's eyes. The thing strode forward and smoothly tossed a pouch into the air directly to one of the Yuan-ti.

"Take these to the girls dormitories. The professor will attend to them when he returns." Croaked the Death Knight.

"Yess, Lord Ravenssbane." Hissed the Yuan-ti. The monster motioned to its allies.

The children were pushed and lead past the main building, toward the smaller buildings in the rear of the compound. Hariko steeled her nerves and silently retreated through the brush. She needed to report this to her Watch Commander.

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